The 12 PM Cipher

*The 12 PM Cipher*

The clock struck 12 PM, and the roads of Blackwood were frightfully quiet. Criminal investigator Marcus Reeves remained under a glimmering streetlamp, the virus wind gnawing at his skin. The call had come in only an hour prior — a mysterious message left at the location of a horrible homicide. It wasn't the initial time. Throughout the course of recent weeks, three bodies had been found, each joined by an unusual code, written in an old content.

Reeves had spent his vocation pursuing lawbreakers, however, this case was not normal for some othrs. His stomach let him know that there was just no time to spare. The executioner wasn't simply leaving signs — they were playing a bent game, and Marcus was their reluctant rival.

The most recent casualty was tracked down in a neglected distribution center on the edges of town. As Marcus strolled inside, the smell of rot hit him hard. The body was drooped against a wall, encompassed by a circle of candles, their flares flashing feebly in the soggy air. On the floor alongside the body was the code, attracted chalk. It was not quite the same as the past messages, more intricate and point by point, as though the executioner was turning out to be more certain.

Analyst Sarah Lennox, Marcus' accomplice, was at that point at the scene, gazing at the code. "It's getting more complicated," she said, her voice scarcely over a murmur. "The images… they're old. Mesopotamian, perhaps? We want a specialist to disentangle it."

Marcus gestured. "I've proactively brought in Teacher Eldridge from the college. He represents considerable authority in antiquated dialects. He'll be here in the first part of the day."

However, the morning felt like a lifetime away. Marcus knew that as time passed, the executioner was drawing nearer to their next casualty. He needed to move quickly.

---

Back at the area, Marcus sat at his work area, the code spread out before him. His eyes filtered the images, attempting to figure out the example. He had forever been great at puzzles, however this… this was past him. His psyche hustled, attempting to draw an obvious conclusion. What was it that the executioner need? Why leave these messages?

Abruptly, his telephone hummed. It was an obscure number. He delayed prior to replying.

"Criminal investigator Reeves," a contorted voice snapped through the speaker. "You're using up all available time."

Marcus' heart skirted a thump. "Who is this?"

"You know who I'm," the voice answered, quiet and provoking. "You've been pursuing me for quite a long time. Be that as it may, you're dependably one stage behind. Continuously past the point of no return."

"What is it that you need?" Marcus requested, attempting to keep his voice consistent.

"I believe that you should comprehend. This isn't about the people in question. This is about you. Each code… it's a piece of the riddle. What's more, when you at long last settle it, you'll know why I picked you."

The line went dead.

Marcus threw his telephone down in disappointment. The executioner was messing around, playing with him. However, why? What was the association?

As the night wore on, Marcus' weariness started to grab hold. He reclined in his seat, eyes weighty, when an unexpected acknowledgment shocked him conscious. The codes weren't arbitrary — they were organizes. Each arrangement of images highlighted a particular area in Blackwood. Also, assuming that his hunch was correct, the following casualty was at that point in harm's way.

---

With Sarah close by, Marcus sped through the abandoned roads, the directions directing them to an old church on the edges of town. The structure had been deserted for a really long time, its once great exterior currently disintegrating and congested with ivy.

They burst through the entryways, spotlights slicing through the murkiness. The sound of strides reverberated through the vacant corridors. Somewhere far off, they saw a figure remaining close to the special raised area, a blade glimmering in the faint light.

"Stop!" Marcus yelled, weapon drawn.

The figure turned gradually, a contorted grin all over. "You're past the point of no return, Analyst. Very much like I realized you would be."

In any case, Marcus wasn't past the point of no return this time. He lurched forward, handling the executioner to the ground, the blade banging to the floor.

As Sarah bound the suspect, Marcus checked out the room. There, on the floor, was the last code. However, this one was unique. It was anything but a riddle to be tackled — it was an admission, written in plain English.

"I realized you'd get me," the executioner murmured, their voice quiet and frightfully fulfilled. "Yet, the game isn't finished at this point. Not so much for you, Marcus."

Marcus gazed at the message, a chill running down his spine. He had gotten the executioner, however something let him know the bad dream was not even close to finished.

---

The game had recently started.