Phineas looked himself over in the bathroom mirror.
Where have the years gone, old man? he thought to himself.
His bald head reflected the bathroom lights. Veins were faintly visible beneath his pale skin. His long white beard strongly contrasted with his black dress shirt, a bright red necktie the only colorful thing on his person. Like the man within, the clothes were visibly worn, coated in two decades' worth of turmoil. Phineas gave a heavy sigh. His frown turned into a smile and he headed for the door, a slight mechanical whirring filling the silence with each step.
Phineas stepped out of the bathroom and into the workshop beyond. A party was in full swing and he was expected to make an appearance.

+ July 14th, 1994

- 

July 14th, 1994

“What have you got to show me, Vince?” Phineas asked.
He sat outside in the pleasant summer sun at a café in downtown Portland. The right sleeve on his flannel shirt was neatly rolled up while the left sleeve remained pinned beneath the stump of his left forearm. A meticulously trimmed beard covered his face, easily the most well-groomed part of his appearance. He brushed a few locks of brown hair out of his eyes as he gazed at the briefcase his companion gently placed on the table.
The young man sitting across the table from him sheepishly smiled. His long black hair was tied back in a ponytail, and his tan skin suggested that he had recently spent some time in a warmer region. His dark green eyes focused on the combination lock on the briefcase before triumphantly allowing the lid to open.
“Behold!”
Sitting in the bottom of the box was a small silver rubber ball. Phineas looked at the orb carefully, blinking as a large red dot appeared at its center. The dot focused on Phineas as a series of four needle-like legs emerged from the orb's side. The orb stood up, and then waved at Phineas with one of its tiny legs.
“I've named it Benny,” Vince said with a satisfied smile. “Pretty cool, huh?”
“Vince,” Phineas grinned, “You built a robot?”
“More like brought to life,” Vince replied. “In the same sense that the soul pilots the meat ship that is the human body, I created a simple intelligence to pilot the circuits of this little guy. I found a couple of schematics from a man named Durand while I was in Europe. They were a real eye opener.”
Benny gave a small nod in agreement, and then began to roll around the interior of the briefcase before stopping to look at Phineas again.
“How intelligent is it?” Phineas gently placed his hand in the briefcase and allowed the tiny robot to crawl onto his palm. Benny immediately climbed up his arm and perched on his shoulder.
“Well, I mean, it's not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but it's smarter than your average cat or dog.”
Benny gave a small salute in response, causing the two men to chuckle.
“It can record video and sound too,” Vince added. “I was thinking, maybe I could sell them as reconnaissance droids. I know a few people who would be interested in that sort of thing.”
“You're going to start a robotics company?” Phineas frowned. “You think you have the business chops for that sort of thing?”
“Actually, I was hoping we'd start a robotics company. I have a lot of other designs in mind, and you've always been so good with the kind of incantations we'd need. We'd totally be able to hit the ground running.”
Phineas furrowed his brow. He gently returned Benny to the briefcase and stared at the small droid pensively for several moments.
“I'll let you name the products…”
Phineas gave a devilish smile in return.
“You're going to regret that,” he said and extended a handshake. “I'm your man.”
Vince accepted.
“Welcome aboard!”

Phineas slowly made his way through the crowded lunchroom before returning to his seat at an empty table, a newly opened bottle of beer in his left hand. He watched the various hobnobbers socialize around him. Most of the crowd consisted of Anderson Robotics employees, patrons, or personal friends of Vincent Anderson. A few representatives of Marshall, Carter, and Dark also were in attendance, their business attire looking out of place among the casual outfits of the majority of the Anderson staff.
Phineas took a long sip from his beer and looked across the room. A banner reading “10,000 SOLD!” stretched across the far wall. He closed his eyes and sighed.
“Is someone being a party pooper?” a bubbly voice asked. Phineas opened his eyes to the sight of a short, middle-aged woman with shoulder-length brunette hair and faint blue eyes. She wore a flowered sundress and smiled warmly as she took the seat across from him. “It's as much your day as it is ours. You should be ecstatic.”
“I think he removed his ability to feel joy when he put on that last prosthetic,” said a tall, lanky young man who took the seat next to her. His eyes were slightly obscured behind a mop of curly blond hair, but the thick glasses he wore were still plain as day. When he wasn't speaking, his lips seemed to permanently be turned up in a smirk. “Still, in all seriousness, you're the man of the hour. The Gyrfalcon series would never have worked without you. This party might as well be for you.”
“Afternoon, Medea, Jason.” Phineas raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Always nice to see the dynamic duo. But your praise is poorly spent on me. You two were ones who finally got the damn things to work. It's your baby now. I'm just the old fool who kept messing it up.”
“Always so modest,” Medea said with a small laugh. “You need to start taking credit, Phineas. Out of all of us, you're the one who has poured their entire being into this company. We'd be dead in the water without you.”
Phineas responded with a small shrug.
“If you'll excuse me,” he said as he got to his feet and began to walk away. He crossed the room and entered the hallway. Jason was quick to follow.
“Hey man,” he said as he placed himself in front of Phineas. “All my mom was trying to do was pay you a compliment. The least you could do is not be a monumental dick about it.”
Phineas swiftly grabbed the boy by his arm and pulled him in close. Jason let out a small gasp in surprise.
“I know about that little Nankeen project you were working on with Isaac, and about Ian, and how you lost him to the Foundation,” Phineas whispered into Jason's ear. “Now, I suggest that if you don't want me to tell Anderson you go right back the way you came and the two of you give me some space for today. I am in no mood to pat anyone, especially myself, on the back. Am I clear?”
Phineas released the young man's arm and watched as Jason took a few steps back.
“Crystal…”
Jason returned to the lunchroom without another word. Phineas took a seat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. He raised his beer in a mock toast.
To the monumental dick, he thought to himself and took another sip.

+ January 10th, 1998

- 

January 10th, 1998

Vince and Phineas sat in the living room of a small Seattle apartment. The room was sparsely furnished, save a couch against the far wall, and two desks weighed down with a menagerie of computers and software disks. A small pennant that read “Alexylva” was visible along the far wall. A little boy with curly blond hair rapidly typed away at one of the computers, the monitor reflecting in the lenses of his thick glasses. The boy's mother returned from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee, her brunette hair tied back in a bun as she handed the beverages away.
“Thank you very much,” Vince said as he accepted the drink and took a small sip. Over the course of the last few months, Phineas had noticed his partner's once tan skin fade into a pale, almost ivory-colored hue. His once proud and rebellious ponytail had been replaced by a shorter and more traditional cut, one that did not make his hair loss so obvious. Phineas accepted his own mug with a kind nod, his new left arm making an audible whirl as he brought the coffee to his mouth.
“So, Medea,” Vince began, “What's this little guy's name, and what on earth is he doing? If he types any faster he's going to melt that keyboard.”
“This little guy's named Jason,” Medea gave a chuckle and ruffled the boy's hair. “And, I'm not too sure what he's currently working on.”
“Star Wars!” Jason replied without missing a beat.
“Oh, right,” Medea smiled. “He's programming himself a computer game.”
Both Vince and Phineas looked to each other and nodded in approval.
“You named your son Jason?” Phineas raised an eyebrow as he returned his gaze back to Medea.
Medea rolled her eyes as she shook her head.
“I didn't name him anything; poor Jason's parents died in a car accident when he was three. When I came across him in the adoption process, the two of us just clicked. The name was just a coincidence.”
Phineas nodded in understanding, and then looked back at the pennant on the far wall.
“I understand you have a PhD in Computer Science. Is that your alma mater?” Phineas asked. “I've never heard of it before.”
Medea frowned slightly.
“That's a long story, but yes. I don't think anyone around here would have heard of Alexylva. All you need to know is that it's a top notch technical college in Tennessee. Anyway… Rick said that you two had a job offer.”
“Indeed we do,” Vince replied, and quickly opened his briefcase. He pulled out a smooth black ceramic disk and handed it to Medea.
“Where on Earth did you get one of these?” Her face flushed for several seconds before she finally broke the silence.
“That's not really important,” Vince replied. “What is important is we like your work, and want you to do similar projects for us down in Portland. In addition to helping us work on a few of our designs, you'll be given plenty of freedom to design your own products. Freedom you were denied from your previous employers, if I understand correctly.”
“I'm… I'm flattered, really… But I can't just uproot everything on the spot. Jason has school, and…”
“I think you should take the job,” Jason chimed in.
“What, dear?” Medea turned to her son in surprise.
“I don't mind switching schools,” Jason elaborated. “And you always talk about how much fun you had working on robots. I think you should take the job Mr. Anderson is offering.”
“You really do, huh?” Medea grinned. She then looked back to Vince, and smiled. “I'd need time to put in my two weeks at my current job… and there's finding out a new place to live… a new school… we haven't even discussed salary…”
“Take all the time you need to prepare,” Phineas interrupted. “Vince and I will mail you a copy of your contract to sign before the end of the week. I think you'll find the pay to be quite generous. Plus there will always be a spot for Jason in our workshop, if he's so inclined.”
“Awesome!” Jason shouted, and ran over to Medea, grabbing her in a big hug. “You have got to take this job now!”
Medea chuckled and nodded in understanding.
“I guess I can't say no,” she laughed. Vince extended a handshake which Medea enthusiastically took.
“Welcome to Anderson Robotics,” he said.
It was not long after that that Vince and Phineas took their leave, stepping out of Medea's apartment and into the cold Seattle rain. Phineas took one look back at their future employee and shook his head.
“I hope she doesn't take too long to get down to Portland,” he said. “We need the extra hands on deck as soon as possible. We're completely back ordered on the Amur and Aplomado series.”

Phineas looked up when heard footsteps. A middle aged man with dark skin approached, his face permanently pressed into an expression of worry. He carried a bottle of beer in his hand, and gave a small nod to Phineas. Trailing behind him was a young man in his mid-twenties. His skin was the same tone as the first man, and his head was shaved.
“Thought you'd be running a little empty right about now,” the middle-aged man said as he handed off the bottle to Phineas. The old man chuckled and popped the top off the bottle with his left hand.
“Thanks, Jeffery.” Phineas took a long sip. “How's it going? Enjoying the jubilations?”
“It's not really my thing,” Jeffery sighed.
“How about you, Miles?” Phineas looked towards the young man.
“It's just a bunch of employees sucking up to the rich and successful.” The young man shrugged. “Not really my cup of tea, either.”
“Guess we could start our own club,” Phineas chuckled and took another sip from his beer.
“Miles, I'd like to speak to Phineas alone for a bit, do you mind?” Jeffery asked. Miles nodded and headed back into the lunchroom. Jeffery watched the young man leave before turning back to Phineas.
“I always appreciated that you call him Miles. Isaac insists on calling him Saker-00.”
“Well, for all intents and purposes he is Miles.”
“For the record, I told Anderson that this party wasn't the best idea,” said Jeffery. “But he insisted that we have a reputation to uphold now and that this event would be the perfect opportunity to up the ante with the investors.”
“Anderson sure does love causing a spectacle,” Phineas sighed. “I appreciate the attempt, though. Thanks.”
“Any time.” Jeffery began to make his way back towards the lunchroom door. “Are you coming back inside soon?”
Phineas slowly nodded.
“In a bit. Just let me finish this last beer.”
Jeffery briefly smiled and headed back into the din of the party.

+ December 17th, 2002

- 

December 17th, 2002

As they sat at the kitchen table in a residence located in Beaverton, Phineas looked over Vincent out of the corner of his eye. His employer's skin was now completely ivory in color. His hair had long since fallen out, leaving him with a smooth scalp. Over his left eye he wore a silver eye patch. The changes had been gradual, but now that he had had the time to look his friend over, the time had come to acknowledge Vincent was not necessarily the same man who had offered him a job that summer day in Portland. Phineas then looked himself over. He felt he might not be in any position to judge. After all, his left arm and both his legs had been replaced with prosthetics of his own design. Maybe this was just what working in their field did to people like them.
Phineas then looked over to the android that stood at the far side of the room. A dark-skinned gentleman in his early thirties examined it in awe. Eventually, he returned his attention to Vincent and Phineas, and then whistled.
“I have to hand it to you, it's an impressive design,” he said. “But what exactly is it?”
“That's the prototype for our new Peregrine series,” Vincent replied. “They're guaranteed to be one of our top sellers once we get all the bugs hammered out. That's actually why we're here, Jeffery. I'd like your help to finish it. A mutual associate of ours informed us that you were working on a new form of AI at Prometheus Labs before their big meltdown.”
“I'm going to stop you right there,” Jeffery sighed. “That project was a dead-end from the start. The tech won't exist for a long, long time.”
“You're saying that while we literally have an android standing behind you?” Phineas asked with one eyebrow raised.
“An android that I'm assuming is dumb as a post,” Jeffery returned. “You guys want me to provide you with AIs, right? Well believe me when I say that it's not going to happen.”
“Why is that?” Vincent inquired.
“You want the explanation? Fine,” Jeffery snapped. “My model basically involved mapping out a human brain digitally, and then replicating that consciousness in digital space. I got the mapping part up and running, but then PL imploded, and soon after that my son was diagnosed with small cell carcinoma. I tried to finish the project on my own to hopefully save Miles, but like I said, the technology simply wasn't there, and then Miles died. You're wasting your time!”
The room fell silent. Jeffery simply looked down at the floor.
“I'm sorry for your loss,” said Phineas.
“Yeah… so am I,” Jeffery replied.
Vincent then placed his briefcase on the table, breaking the silence with the clicking of the locks. He pulled out several papers and diagrams and slid them across the table, most were labeled “PEREGRINE” but the page on top said “SAKER”. Jeffery read them intently and then looked behind him at the Peregrine unit for a few moments before snapping his head back to Vincent.
“We have the technology you're missing,” Vincent smiled. “Well, technically I suppose it's more of a form of magic, but I digress. Did you map out Miles's mind before he passed?”
“I… uh, I…” Jeffery stuttered for several moments before he nodded.
“Come work for us,” Vincent cooed, “Help us smarten up the Peregrine series, and I promise you that Phineas and I will help you get Miles back.”
Jeffery nodded. He closed his eyes, and turned towards the window.
“Deal,” he said with a deep breath.
Vincent gave Phineas a satisfied nod. The two men placed a trench coat over the Peregrine unit and began to make their way towards the door. Along the way, Phineas stopped and placed a hand on Jeffery's shoulder.
“Welcome to the team,” he said.
Vincent and Phineas then left the residence, loading up into a plain white van they had rented for the occasion.
“That should solve the Peregrine problem,” Vincent said with a satisfied smile.
“Maybe if we're lucky we'll get the Saker series up and running too,” Phineas added. “Looks like we're really starting to go places.”

Phineas had just finished the second beer when he heard the doors to the lunchroom open again. Looking over, he saw a muscular man in a business suit approach. The man's hair was neatly combed back, and a faint scent of aftershave seemed to follow him where he went. Phineas rolled his eyes.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Isaac? There's no one out here for you to schmooze.”
“Funny,” Isaac replied. “Anderson wants you. He's about to do his big announcement.”
“Does he need me to talk for him?”
“Stop being such a little bitch and come along,” Isaac said flatly. “Anderson doesn't want to begin without his best friend and partner, and you should want to be there. The Taita series was your design after all. A little socializing won't kill you.”
“Socializing with MC&D reps might,” Phineas mumbled under his breath. He then sighed and got to his feet. Isaac trailed behind him as the two made their way into the lunchroom.

+ May 9th, 2003

- 

May 9th, 2003

Phineas sat in an uncomfortable chair within a small private office in San Francisco. In the chair next to him sat a completely hairless, ivory-skinned creature in a charcoal suit. Veins were visible beneath the room's bright light. Its head was without ears, and its face was obscured beneath a silver comedy mask. Its name was Vincent Anderson.
Across from the duo, behind a large desk, was a young muscular man in a business suit. His had a sly smile as he looked over several documents, and then turned his attention to Anderson.
“I have to admit,” Isaac said coolly, “When Jericho told me that I was meeting with a man named Anderson, I was expecting something with a little more rust.”
“Heh,” Anderson replied in a metallic voice. “Uh, yeah that happens all the time. Rest assured, however, that I have no affiliation with James Anderson or his, uh, factory.”
“So what is it exactly you are looking for, in terms of my services?”
“To be frank,” Phineas chuckled, “we need a businessman. Right now, the company consists of the two of us, a few designers and computer specialists, our fab team, and some hired muscle. The books are getting beyond our ability to manage, and we are soon going to outgrow our customer base. Jericho said you'd be the perfect man for the job.”
“Not to toot my own horn, but he is correct. So now that we've established that you need me. Let's get down to why I'd need you. I mean, you do have a promising company, with a very interesting line of products, but the same could be said about any paratech firm. You're not the only ones who have asked to have me on the payroll. So, what does Anderson Robotics bring to the table?”
“Well, as you probably saw, your salary would be very generous,” Phineas frowned. He quickly flipped through notes to find the pearls within the oyster. “You'd have a massive discount for any of our products, including use of the Saker Series, not to mention…”
“Phineas,” Anderson interrupted, “I know, um, what needs to be done.”
“We agreed that would be a nuclear option,” Phineas protested, silencing as Anderson snapped his fingers with a surprisingly loud volume.
“You're, uh, on Sycamore Gordon's kill list, right?” Anderson asked. “What, with the whole Vegas incident, if you step foot in Nevada again, uh, you'd be a dead man, correct?”
“What the hell are you getting at?” Isaac demanded. His smirk turned into a scowl.
“Nothing too complex,” Anderson replied. “We've, uh, simply done our homework. If you join our crew we'd make sure old Sycamore was, um, no longer a problem for you.”
Isaac remained silent, cocking his head as he spun around in his chair and looked out the window.
“How long do I have to decide?”
“Until Phineas and I leave this room. After that, uh, we'll simply look for someone else.”
Isaac spun back around.
“Jesus, you guys play hardball,” He said with a whistle. “Fine. I'm yours. I expect Sycamore to no longer be a problem before I arrive in Portland.”
“He'll, uh, be out of the way before the end of the day,” Anderson replied. “Glad to have you on the team.”
Phineas and Anderson then quietly collected their papers and left. As they moved through the isolated halls of the surrounding office building, Phineas cleared his throat.
“Was that really necessary, Vince? He puts up a little resistance and you agree to kill a mob boss for him?”
“He is exactly what we need,” Anderson shrugged. “Sometimes you have to break eggs and make the omelet, or uh, however that saying goes. Besides, it's not like the world will be a worse off place when, uh, Sycamore is gone. Hell, in some circles we'll be heroes. Just make sure Saker #21 is, um, ready to act within the hour.”
Fuck me… Phineas thought, slowly trailing behind his old friend as they made their way back to the car.

The room quieted down as Phineas slowly made his way towards the front. Awaiting him, next to a large object obscured by a sheet, was Anderson. His employer wore a blue dress shirt, with a silver vest and matching slacks. The silver comedy mask gleamed in the lights of the lunchroom. Eventually, Phineas took his place by Anderson's side.
“The, uh, man of the hour has arrived,” Anderson chuckled. The audience laughed in kind. “As you all are aware by now, this little shindig is to celebrate the sale of our 10,000th Gyrfalcon series prosthetic. This, um, the milestone would not have been possible without months of dedication by this man here.”
The crowd burst into applause. Phineas frowned slightly and then turned to Anderson. His old friend placed a hand on his shoulder and quieted the audience.
“But, uh, on top of such a wonderful achievement, today we are pleased to announce the completion of a new prototype. The Anderson Robotics Taita Series Security Droid. This, um, the new line is Phineas's baby, and is going to easily become our new high-selling product.”
The crowd began to cheer once more as Anderson handed Phineas a corner of the sheet.
“Would you do the honors, my friend?”
Phineas nodded, sighing as he turned to face the crowd, the corner of the sheet in his hand.
“Before I reveal the Taita series, I have something I would like to say.” The crowd instantly quieted down to hear his words.
“Most of you who have worked with me know that I don't give speeches often. Not my cup of tea, I suppose. However, I have something I've wanted to say for a long time. All you hobnobbing bastards can kiss my ass. Especially those of you from MC&D. And especially Skitter and that soul-sucking Lana Fuentes.”
With a fluid motion, Phineas reached into his pocket and pulled out a glob of neon blue goo, effortlessly chucking it at the sheet-covered object. The droid beneath let out a horrid death wail and crumbled into rust. The crowd fell silent as Phineas gave a bow.
“Have a nice party,” he said with a smile and stormed out of the lunchroom.

Phineas stood on top of the Anderson Robotics office building, his eyes staring into a rare Portlands sunset as he took a long drag on a cigarette. The sound of a door opening behind him indicated that he was no longer alone.
“You, uh, really made an ass of yourself today, Phineas,” said Anderson as he approached. Phineas looked over his shoulder. Anderson's mask had changed from comedy to tragedy.
“Perhaps I did,” Phineas said with a shrug. “But I finally got to say what I really wanted to say.”
Anderson stood next to his friend and looked out at the sunset. Phineas offered him a cigarette. Anderson hesitantly accepted, and slowly took his mask off. In place of eyes, he had what appeared to be two small camera lenses that glowed with a faint green light. Rather than a nose, he had a triangular grating that occasionally hissed with the passage of air. Anderson lit the cigarette and took several short puffs.
“So, um, was all of that supposed to be your two-week notice?”
“More or less. I'll have my office cleaned out by Monday.”
“You just really can't accept the fact that we are successful now, can you?” Anderson continued to query. “You just have to be the underdog, huh? It, uh, just gets to you that you might actually be, uh, The Man now.”
“Success is a funny way to look at turning a small custom shop into what is little better than a terrorist cell,” Phineas replied. “Especially if you consider that our company not only regularly engages in espionage but has catapulted an entire section of the population into an arms race to become the bigger and better cyborg. And the real cherry on top is that we're doing all of that on MC&D's dime.”
"Who are you to judge anyone for improving themselves, you hypocrite!" Anderson yelled. "How on earth do you have a leg to stand on?”
Phineas dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, turning back to face his friend.
“You're right,” he said with a melancholy smile. “I'm guilty too. Tried as hard as I did to cut off the hydra's head, two more would always take their place. Eventually, it was easier to just roll with things. But not anymore. I quit.”
Phineas began to move toward the stairs, stopping when three Peregrine units emerged ahead of him, each brandishing a high-caliber pistol.
“So this is how it's going to be, then?” Phineas asked, turning back around to face his friend.
“You're, uh, more than welcome to stay,” Anderson replied. “In fact, I insist. Please don't go, Phineas. Don't leave me alone.”
“Don't do this, Vince. Just let me go.”
“I, uh, know for a fact that if you leave this company, you'll be back to throw every monkey wrench under the sun into our operation. Just don't leave.”
“This isn't what I signed up for back in '94, man!” Phineas shook his head.
“I know, right? Boy did we ever sell out,” Anderson said with a sad laugh. He then placed his mask back on his head and threw his cigarette butt away. He gave the droids a nod.
The droids opened fire in unison. At the same time, Phineas clapped his hands together, sending a sonic wave across the rooftop. The incoming bullets scattered. The Peregrine and Anderson were thrown backward, clattering across the concrete like discarded toys. Losing no time, Phineas turned on the spot, throwing a wide arc of neon blue goo at the Peregrine units. The three droids wailed and writhed in pain on the ground before disintegrating into piles of rust.
The old man then began to sprint towards the edge of the building, turning his head briefly to see Anderson sprinting behind him. Anderson's right hand was extended the index and ring finger pointing as if they were a gun. Phineas immediately jumped to the side. A bolt of lightning shot past him, striking the concrete on the far side of the roof with a loud bang. Lightning continued to sail past the old man as he approached the ledge of the building. With a great leap, he jumped over the side, but not before a final bolt nailed him square in the chest. Phineas then fell nine stories to the earth below.
Anderson gave a heavy sigh as he approached the ledge of the building. He glanced down to the parking lot below. Phineas lay crumpled below within the small crater he created upon landing. His left arm and legs arced with electricity as he shouted in pain. His right hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a large wad of black goo, quickly slamming it into the pavement beneath him. Anderson quickly raised his hand and fired off one last bolt, but to no avail. Phineas vanished into the black goo and was gone. The bolt harmlessly struck the pavement below.
“See you around, old friend,” Anderson whispered to himself. He then turned around and headed back inside.

Agent Sasha Merlo sat alone in her office at Site-64. She took a long sip of stale coffee, and quietly brushed a strand of her brunette hair out of her eyes as she read over MTF Gamma-13's most recent string of reports. As usual, all their current leads had turned into dead ends. She let out a heavy sigh. She didn't know what she would say to Director Holman this time.
Bzzzzzzzt
The sound of her cellphone receiving a text and breaking hours of silence almost caused her to fall out of her chair. Lazily she opened the text message, her brow furrowing as there was no listed sender. The message itself only contained a single phrase
I know how you get him.

Austringers | Realignment»