Mr. Cleanslate stepped off the elevator into the creaky shack attached to the side of city clocktower that Tenk choose to call an office. Tenk was sleeping deeply in his hammock, oblivious to the rattles and shudders the winds sent through the structure.
“Mr. Tenk,” started Mr. Cleanslate.
Tenk cracked open one eye and looked balefully at the man, annoyed at the disturbance.
“I was experimenting with my radiowave monitor and happened to intercept a message. I think you need to come and listen.”