As they climbed the access ladder, the air began to hum. It wasn't a sound, but a vibration that settled in their teeth. Paul stopped halfway up, his eyes widening. He realized the signal wasn't being sent from the tower; it was being routed through it from somewhere deep underground.
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"Paul," Tyler said, his voice sounding like it was coming from miles away. "The cylinder... it's empty. It’s just a conductor." As they climbed the access ladder, the air began to hum
But as his fingers brushed the brass, the violet light surged. The transmission tower groaned, the metal vibrating so violently that Paul nearly lost his grip. For a split second, the radio in Paul’s pocket burst into life, a voice—flat and mechanical—repeating two names: "Torro. Wagner. Status: Confirmed." He realized the signal wasn't being sent from
Tyler adjusted the strap of his gear bag. "You said the client is paying for the drive inside that tower. I don't care if it's broadcasting ghost signals or classic rock. Let’s just move."