This was definitely a message meant for someone, and whoever did it was pretty slick. It could have been done at the bar with a few simple things every bar has. A toothpick to write the message. Receipt paper for the object. And the kicker, lemon juice for the invisible ink. She remembered doing this as a kid, writing silly messages, letting it dry, then heating it from behind to heat the lemon juice into brown ink. All she needed to do, to expose the missing letters, was to flatten the paper and heat it just a little more in a few spots. 2 minutes later in the kitchen, she had her answer. It was all there, mostly legible and with surprisingly good handwriting, considering how it was done. She unconsciously bit her bottom lip a little as she read the simple message.
I need to see you again. Call me. – DEC
She remembered how this all started; the silent, sudden crab claw grab at her elbow. Dec pointing towards the cameras near the bathroom during their talk. The All-Seeing Eye ring on his hand. The cryptic phone number on the napkin, which was still on the table. Her banter with him and the vets at Meatspace a few days ago, when the fox just happened to fall at her feet as everyone left. At the very least, Dec wasn’t boring or stupid. He was clever, but subtle. He had brute force thanks to his size and his Terminator arm, yet here he was folding delicate origami and casually dropping it off right where she would find it. Nobody noticed, she thought, not even the cameras. He must have been taught all kinds of quiet methods to communicate, during the war, and he’s using them to reel her in. The worst part? It was working. Res was intrigued. She wanted to know more, a lot more, about what made Dec, Dec. What other surprises does he have in store? What made him think she would even manage to heat the fox enough to see the message? What does he know about her already? More than he let on, she imagined. If he’s working for Splicer, on some level she’s not aware of, he could have read a thick dossier about her before ever approaching her that first night. How long had he been watching her, waiting for the right moment? The strange thing about being comfortable around strangers is that you don’t ever really notice them until you’re introduced. He could have been coming there for hours, or days. But all the ghost talk coincided too closely with what she and Sheepdog were working on. There’s no doubt, someone at Splicer had sent him to warn her off the footage she was reviewing, which made her believe that she would have cracked the secret given more time.
She decided to sideline this whole “call Dec” thing, and talk to Sheepdog first. But it was the first day of the weekend, and she didn’t feel like doing it right away. There were more mundane things to do first; a pile of dirty laundry, grocery shopping, and Res thought it had been a while since her last good haircut. Weekend chores. She checked her comms device and there were no notifications from anyone; nice and quiet. Res decided to keep the origami and feebly tried to coax it back into its original shape. She failed. It looked more like a retarded cat, which made her laugh quietly to herself as she moved it to the mantle above the fireplace. Might as well hang onto it, but the napkin wasn’t necessary anymore. She paused for a moment and considered another depth to these messages. They were both on paper. Not a coincidence, so she turned on the stove one more time and burnt the napkin to ashes before tossing it into the trash. His contact was already in her comms device so nothing was lost besides physical evidence. She jumped in the shower, got dressed, then peeked out the window to see heavy clouds rolling in from the east. “Another rainy day in rainy town,” she said sarcastically, as she grabbed a beanie, her favorite jacket and a dry umbrella, heading out into the coming storm with still-drying wet hair tucked mostly under the beanie. The last few notes of Through The Lonely Nights echoed from the speakers as she closed the door. She grinned.