The note was tucked beneath the inn's rickety door, its edges frayed as though hastily torn from a larger sheet. Liora picked it up carefully, the dim light from Karael's torch flickering over the hastily scrawled words: **"Catch me if you can."**
"Thane," Karael muttered, his voice edged with frustration and concern. "What is he playing at?"
Liora examined the note, her brows furrowed. The handwriting was sloppy, almost erratic, and yet unmistakably familiar. It was Thane's.
"This doesn't feel right," she said quietly, her mind racing. "Why would he leave like this? And why now?"
Karael paced, his boots grinding against the wooden floor. "Maybe he found something and didn't trust us enough to share it. Or…" He trailed off, his sharp gaze locking with Liora's. "Maybe someone made him leave."
Liora didn't respond immediately. Instead, she stared out the window at the silent village below. The shadows seemed to grow deeper, more oppressive, as though the very air around them conspired to hide the truth.
"Let's question the villagers again," she said finally, slipping the note into her pocket. "Someone here knows what's going on. They have to."
The village was as unwelcoming as ever when they stepped outside. The few villagers brave enough to venture into the open scurried away at the sight of them, their faces pale and guarded. It wasn't long before Liora and Karael managed to corner a middle-aged man near the well.
"We're looking for our friend," Liora said, her voice calm but firm. "Tall, broad shoulders, dark hair. He was with us last night, but now he's gone."
The man's eyes darted around nervously. "I don't know anything," he stammered, his hands trembling as he clutched a clay pot.
Karael stepped forward, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the man. "Try again," he said coldly. "We don't have time for lies."
The villager swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the ground. "I… I saw someone leave," he admitted reluctantly. "Early this morning. A man. He headed toward the ridge."
"Why didn't you say this earlier?" Liora pressed, her patience thinning.
"Because it's dangerous," the man hissed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You don't understand. This village… we don't get involved. People disappear here. It's better to stay quiet."
Liora's jaw tightened, but she nodded. "Thank you," she said curtly, turning to Karael. "Let's go."
As they headed toward the ridge, the wind picked up, carrying with it an eerie stillness that made the back of Liora's neck prickle. The villagers' fear wasn't unfounded—something about this place felt inherently wrong.
Meanwhile, in the grand yet sinister headquarters of the **Goodie Hunters**, Dr. Solis sat in a dimly lit room, her hands bound to the arms of a sleek metal chair. The walls were smooth and gray, devoid of decoration, the air sterile and cold. Across from her, a figure stood silently, his back to her as he stared out a large, reinforced window. Beyond the glass stretched a vast expanse of desert, the Martian sun casting an orange glow over the barren landscape.
"Manav," Dr. Solis said, her voice steady despite the circumstances. "I assume this is your idea of hospitality."
Manav, the enigmatic president of the Goodie Hunters, turned slowly. His expression was unreadable, his sharp features devoid of emotion. He was dressed immaculately, his presence exuding quiet authority.
"What does life mean to you, Dr. Solis?" he asked, his voice soft yet unnervingly detached.
The question caught her off guard, but she didn't falter. "Life is… resilience," she said cautiously, studying his face for any reaction. "It's the ability to adapt, to survive even in the face of impossible odds."
Manav regarded her silently for a long moment before nodding. "A pragmatic answer," he said. "Fitting for someone like you."
He began to pace slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "I want to cure this virus," he said, his tone calm and deliberate. "To end the suffering it causes. That's why I've brought you here. You and Dr. Voss."
Dr. Solis narrowed her eyes. "And you expect me to believe this is all for altruistic reasons? That you're not doing this to consolidate power? To become world president?"
Manav stopped, turning to face her fully. His eyes were dark and piercing, his gaze unwavering. "Power?" he repeated, almost disdainfully. "I don't need power, Dr. Solis. Power is an illusion, a fleeting shadow that blinds the weak. True strength lies in understanding, in mastery over oneself."
He paused, his expression unreadable, before reciting a line from the *Bhagavad Gita*: **"Karmanye vadhikaraste ma phaleshu kadachana. You have a right to perform your duties, but not to the fruits of your actions."**
Dr. Solis stared at him, her mind racing. She couldn't decide if he was genuine in his convictions or simply an unparalleled manipulator. "So what is it you want from me?" she asked carefully.
Manav's lips twitched into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Your mind, Dr. Solis. Your expertise. Together, we will end this virus and reshape the future."
Before she could respond, he stepped away, pressing a button on the wall. The door slid open with a soft hiss, and a woman stepped inside—a striking figure with an air of quiet confidence.
"Priya," Manav said, his tone softening slightly. "Take Dr. Solis to the lab. Ensure she has everything she needs."
Priya nodded, her sharp eyes locking onto Dr. Solis. "Of course."
Manav lingered for a moment longer, his gaze sweeping over Dr. Solis as though assessing her. Then, without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, the door closing behind him with an ominous finality.
Dr. Solis took a deep breath, her mind a whirlwind of questions and doubts. Whatever game Manav was playing, she knew one thing for certain: she was now a pawn on his board.
And the stakes had never been higher.