A grainy satellite image loaded. It showed a small, ramshackle dock on the Paraguay River. Tied to the dock was a boat. And on the boat, unmistakable even in pixelated low-res, was a duck. A massive, unnervingly still wooden duck, its paint peeling, one eye a dark, empty socket.
Aris grabbed his phone. Before he could dial, a second notification arrived. This one was a single audio file, titled QUACKPREP.RG_VOICE. quackprep.rg
He clicked the file.
The line went dead.
Aris stared at the wooden duck on his screen. Its red eye blinked once. Then the feed cut to black. A grainy satellite image loaded
Suddenly, the duck’s empty eye socket flickered. A red light bloomed from within. The image sharpened, and Aris felt his blood run cold. The duck wasn't just a marker—it was a collector . A rudimentary, low-tech drone built from scrap wood and stolen servos. Someone had programmed it to sit, motionless, for weeks at a time, sampling the river water every twelve hours. And on the boat, unmistakable even in pixelated
Aris leaned closer. The duck’s beak was slightly open. And inside the beak, barely visible, was a test tube wrapped in lead foil.