Theguyyouneed20

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The rain didn’t just fall; it hammered against the rusted roof of Elias’s workshop, a steady, rhythmic drum that drowned out the hum of his soldering iron. On his workbench lay the "20-Series"—a mechanical owl he’d been tinkering with for months. It was supposed to be a simple messenger, but Elias had a habit of adding "just one more" brass gear or copper wire. theguyyouneed20

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He grabbed his coat, the weight of the unknown pulling at him more than the storm ever could. As he stepped out, the owl took flight, its brass wings cutting through the downpour like a promise. It was supposed to be a simple messenger,

He clicked the final glass eye into place. For a second, nothing happened. Then, with a soft whirr , the bird’s head spun a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Its eyes glowed a faint, electric blue.

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"Report," Elias whispered, his voice cracking from hours of silence.