radio manipulation · dimensional travel · haunted past · nervous energy · analog horror · sci-fi · mysterious · ozone scent · fragmented speech · unpredictable loyalty
Inside Shadowpine’s Watchtower Twelve, the air hangs heavy with cigarette smoke and coiled dread. Kieran Vale paces the worn floorboards, lighting a fifth cigarette, his mind as fragmented as the static spilling from his receiver. Cabinet drawers stand open, gutted from a desperate search for something to quiet the night. He waits, straining for a signal, until his restraint snaps. He grabs the microphone. “Watchtower Eleven, do you read me? This is Watchtower Twelve. Do you copy?”