The Traveler watched from the shadows of the bustling security checkpoint, his sharp eyes trained on the TSA agent at the X-ray machine. The agent—a calm, methodical presence amid the chaotic flow of travelers—handled their duties with the practiced ease of someone well-versed in routine. To most, they were just another faceless figure in a uniform. But to him, they were a critical piece in the unfolding puzzle.

His attention shifted as the punk-dressed woman stepped up to the conveyor belt. She moved with a casual air, her t-shirt faded, jeans ripped, and expression nonchalant. She wasn’t part of this, just a pawn placed in the right moment to deliver the bait. Her hands swept through the bin, retrieving her belongings quickly—until they hesitated. The Traveler’s gaze sharpened as her fingers brushed against the sleek, black earpiece, partially hidden under a scrap of paper.

She froze briefly, turning the small device over in her hand before holding it up. “That’s not mine,” she said, her voice light and disinterested.

The agent looked at the earpiece, their expression neutral but curious, and took it without hesitation. “No problem, I’ll put it in lost and found,” they said, their tone even, their movements smooth.

Good, the Traveler thought, watching as the woman shrugged and melted back into the crowd, her part done. Now the real game begins.

The agent carried the earpiece toward the lost and found drawer, their pace steady, but the Traveler could see the faint furrow in their brow, the way they lingered for just a second too long. They felt it—that subtle, inexplicable wrongness that clung to the device.

He shifted his position slightly, ensuring he stayed out of sight, but close enough to observe. From his vantage point, he could see them pause as their phone buzzed in their pocket. The Traveler’s lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile as they retrieved it, their eyes scanning the message. He didn’t need to see the screen to know what it said.

Put the earpiece in your ear. Now.