At 2:30 in the afternoon, a flight from New York landed smoothly at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport in Washington, D.C.
Half an hour later, Lucas Kane stepped out of the terminal carrying nothing but a small bag.
Traveling light had been intentional.
He walked straight to the taxi line, opened the rear door of the first cab, and slid into the back seat.
"Quantico," he said. "There's a motel in the town outside the base."
The young Black driver glanced back, nodded, started the meter, and pulled away from the curb.
The Marine Corps base and the FBI Academy were both located in Quantico, but that didn't mean civilians couldn't visit the surrounding town.
The restricted areas were heavily controlled.
The town itself wasn't.
Lucas watched the scenery roll by through the window as the taxi merged onto the highway.
Most people would have spent days preparing for something like this.
Lucas had taken less than twelve hours.
The moment he walked out of Osborn that morning, he had headed straight to the airport and bought the earliest flight to Washington.
He hadn't even returned home to pack extra clothes.
Fortunately, he had spent the entire previous night studying satellite maps of Quantico.
Without that preparation, he would probably be wandering around the area right now with no plan at all.
Lucas reviewed his strategy again.
Plan A.Enter quietly.
If possible, get in and out without anyone noticing.
Plan B.If discovered—move fast, grab the Gammaion, and disappear immediately.
Dragging things out inside a military base was suicide.
The taxi continued down the highway.
Lucas leaned back slightly.
Then his eyes flicked toward the rearview mirror.
The driver was watching him.
Lucas didn't react.
Instead, he calmly pulled out his phone—the one he had forgotten to turn back on after the flight—and powered it up.
The screen lit up.
A moment later, a series of text notifications arrived.
Lucas raised an eyebrow.
He had just started unlocking the phone to check the messages when—
A cold voice spoke from the front seat.
"Don't move. Hand over the phone."
A handgun appeared, pointed directly at him.
Lucas went very still.
For a moment, he genuinely didn't know how to respond.
He stared at the weapon.
Then at the driver.
"Let me get this straight," Lucas said slowly. "You want me not to move… but you also want me to hand you the phone?"
The driver froze for a second.
Then his face twisted with frustration.
"Motherf— Just give me the damn—"
Ring.
Lucas's phone suddenly began ringing.
He glanced at the screen.
Gwen.
He only had one number saved in the phone's contacts.
And that was it.
Lucas answered without hesitation.
"Hello?"
The driver stared at him through the mirror in disbelief.
The gun was still pointed at him.
And Lucas was casually taking a call.
The driver slammed the brakes.
The taxi screeched to a halt on the side of the road.
"Are you kidding me?! I'm robbing you and you're—"
Thud.
Crack.
"AAAGH—!"
On the other end of the line, Gwen paused.
"Was that someone screaming?" she asked.
Lucas had leaned forward across the back seat.
One hand clamped firmly over the driver's mouth.
His other hand held the phone to his ear.
"Yeah," Lucas said calmly. "Someone nearby is watching a movie. Sounds like an action scene."
Gwen hesitated.
"That scream sounded pretty realistic."
Lucas glanced at the driver, who was now half-folded over the steering wheel.
"I'd say it was convincing," he replied.
"You know," Gwen continued thoughtfully, "it kind of sounded like someone getting their ribs broken."
Lucas blinked.
"You can tell that from a scream?"
A laugh came through the phone.
"Of course. My dad's a police captain. I've heard enough stories growing up."
Lucas looked down at the man he had just punched.
Specifically at the rib cage.
"…You might be right."
Gwen laughed again.
"I'm kidding. That would be impossible."
Lucas exhaled quietly.
"Good to know."
Then Gwen's tone changed.
"By the way, why was your phone turned off earlier? I tried calling you several times."
Lucas shifted slightly, keeping his hand firmly over the driver's mouth to prevent further screaming.
"What's up?"
"I'm outside your building," Gwen said.
Lucas froze.
"What?"
"Dr. Connors heard you got fired," Gwen explained. "He knows you weren't responsible for the accident, so he wanted to give you something. I tried calling, but your phone was off, so I drove over."
Lucas processed that.
"You're… at my apartment?"
"Yeah."
He heard a car door slam on the other end.
Gwen continued talking as she walked.
"I'm downstairs now. You're in the top-floor unit facing the street, right?"
Lucas's brain stalled for a moment.
"How do you know which one is mine?"
"Your shorts are hanging out the window," Gwen said matter-of-factly.
Lucas blinked.
"They're the same ones you've had since sophomore year. I remember when you cut them into shorts during tenth grade."
Lucas stared at the taxi dashboard.
"…Right."
"Well," Gwen continued, "your window's open. I'll just go up the fire escape and leave the envelope inside your place."
Lucas rubbed his forehead.
"You're breaking into my apartment."
"I'm delivering something," Gwen corrected.
Lucas sighed quietly.
"Fine."
"Alright," Gwen said cheerfully. "I'll leave it on your table. I have to get back soon anyway."
The call ended.
Lucas slowly lowered the phone.
The driver beneath his arm whimpered.
Lucas looked down at him.
"…This day is getting weird."