Star Shield Breach

Dead Drop

A Cold February Morning in Maryland
The air bites at her cheeks as she runs, her pace is steady—measured. This isn’t a jog for fitness—it’s a cover.
In the hushed, gray light, a lone figure moved along the winding path of the park. Her stride was even, efficient—not the bouncing gait of a fitness enthusiast, but something practiced. Purposeful. The kind of rhythm born not from health obsession, but necessity.
She wore a runner’s gear: thermal leggings, gloves, a close-fitting vest with a high collar, and a knit cap pulled low. She looked every bit the casual morning jogger, but her eyes betrayed her. They were too alert, too focused. This was no run for cardio.
The park was still the kind of quiet only found in the lull between sunrise and the city’s awakening. She approached the tunnel, a squat, weather-stained underpass of stone and moss-darkened concrete yawning before her, empty and echoing. A faint scent of wet stone and earth lingered as she slipped into the tunnel.
Her shoes made soft slaps against the damp ground as she entered the tunnel. The sound of her footfalls bounced off the walls like a quiet metronome. At the midpoint, she slowed. Her eyes flicked behind her—once, twice. Nothing but silence and shadow.
Under the shelter of the arch, she reached into the tight chest pocket of her vest and pulled out a slim, semi-rigid folder a muted shade of blue, made from durable polymer, entirely unmarked. She didn’t hesitate.
She knows this place—chosen with care long ago.
A narrow crevice in the wall, half-hidden behind a bulging stone. The folder slid into the gap with a soft click.
And she was gone.
The sound of her footsteps faded down the trail as she resumed her pace, vanishing like morning mist. Just another woman in her thirties out for a run before work.
Evening fell with the chill still in the air. The sun had long since sunk beneath the horizon, casting the park in steel-gray shadows. A man now took to the same path, his breath rising in steady white clouds.
He ran with the familiarity of someone who didn’t fear this place. His movements were efficient, economical, calm. The tunnel appeared ahead of him, cloaked in darkness.
He didn’t hesitate.
Once inside, he slowed his pace, glancing behind him in the half-light. Empty.
He stopped at the crevice, his fingers reaching forward without fumbling. He knows exactly where it was. In one swift motion, he retrieved the blue folder, tucking it beneath the thermal layer of his jacket. Flattening it against his chest.
No pause. No backward glance.
He continued on, merging with the shadows.

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