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The Call (1) : An unknown number calls you. Maybe you pick it up, maybe you don’t, but the message is the same–someone on the other line is warning you about something. They seem to have details that give credence to whatever they’re warning you about, but there’s something particularly unbelievable about it all–because, they sound like you. And they know things only you would know. And then, the line drops, and you’re left alone. If you try to call the number back, it’s been disconnected. If it was a prank, it was a good one. But, maybe there was something more to it.
Things were complicated, not that it would be a problem for Luciana, it just meant a different approach had to happen. Things needed to be looked into and more dirt had to be dug up, not just on René but on whoever that little blonde was. It bothered her though she honestly couldn’t really day it was a surprise that the moment they got out of her reach that the Frenchman went back to his ways.
Looking over the shelves down on the first floor, she set up things here and there to make sure she could started getting a proper count on inventory and materials. The shop would be opening up soon, hopefully before the new year, but not before she had everything perfectly in order and ready to go. A few more things would be arriving from overseas in the coming days, machinery and tools she would need to do repairs and machine new parts for special orders. Not everything could be done completely by hand but she did draw up all the designs herself before machining and testing each piece.
There was a level of peace in her work, the quiet ticking of clocks and pocket watches as she worked on other ones at her desk. Winding and shaping each piece into place, making sure the balance and clearances were just right so the face could be put on and the final touches adjusted. Everything was clean, organized, and perfect when it came to the pieces she made. More stylized for those in business than the gaudy and filigreed pieces her grandfather had made. It was something she knew how to do though, even if she didn’t quite use those styles in her work.
Deep in her work, she missed her phone pinging on the kitchen counter. It was only after it ceased and a louder notification for a voicemail went off that she went to go check. Cursing slightly at how she might have missed a call from a supplier or customer, she looked through the call log and saw the most recent call had come from an unknown number.
Tapping on the message, she held her phone up and listened as a staticky buzz began. Freezing, she recognized the voice as it came through.
“НЖТИ НЖТИ ОБЪЯВЛЕНА КОМАНДА 204”
Looking around her studio, nobody appeared to be outside any of the windows or the front door.
“U29tZXRoaW5nIGx1cmtzIHdpdGhpbiB0aGlzIGNpdHk=”
Blinking, she grabbed a pencil and began to write things down. Looking over the mix of letters, numbers, and symbols, she took time to slowly decode it as the voice, her voice, repeated it through the buzz and static on the line.
Something lurks within this city
That was ominous and then the voice spoke up again.
“До свидания.”
The voicemail clicked and then ended, leaving her standing there and staring back and forth between her phone and the coded message sitting on her desk. Her grandfather had always worked with codes, and told her of the number station, but this was… different.
But what was lurking in this city? And how did the voice on the phone sound so similar to her own? Setting down her phone next to the paper, she stretched and took a moment to think. Maybe she had been spending too much time working on her newest timepiece and some fresh air would help. If anything she could go for a walk and look into some of the buildings and architecture here while she tried to figure out what was supposed to be lurking here.
