The call

Thomas awoke with a start, the shadows of sleep still clinging to him as he blinked against the pale morning light streaming through the window. He lay in bed for a moment, his mind catching up with reality, replaying the events of the previous night. The encounter with Chen, the mysterious flame that devoured the monstrous creature, and that strange, persistent sound.

*Tick*

*Tick*

*Tick.*

The memory of the noise pulled him back into those moments of uncertainty, the moments when his breath had caught in his chest. He shook his head, trying to brush off the unease that lingered, but it stuck with him like a stubborn shadow. What had that sound been? The question gnawed at him, but he forced himself out of bed, swinging his legs onto the cool floor. The creaky floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved through his small apartment, the familiar clutter of his life greeting him—a stack of textbooks, a pair of scuffed sneakers kicked into a corner, and the loose change that always seemed to spill from his pockets.

He glanced at the clock, the numbers glowing a stubborn red. It was still early, too early for most people, but not for Thomas. His mind buzzed, thoughts and questions colliding into each other as he tried to make sense of everything. With a sigh, he grabbed his phone from the bedside table, his thumb hovering over a contact name

'Franco'.

Or as he always called him

'Man'

The nickname was an old habit, one that had stuck with them through the years. Thomas couldn't quite remember when it started—probably back in high school when Thomas had visit him and they spent their summer going to the gym and drinking Mate while watching enjoying the view of the coast.

But it had stuck, like a lot of things between them.

He tapped the call button, bringing the phone to his ear, listening to the low hum as it rang once, twice, three times.

A groggy voice finally answered on the other end.

"Hey, Man," Franco mumbled, the sound of rustling sheets in the background. "Why are you calling me this early?"

Thomas let out a small chuckle, leaning back against the counter in his kitchen. "Sorry, did I wake you up? Just... felt like I needed to talk, you know?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's fine."

"What's up? You sound off."

For a moment, Thomas considered telling Franco everything.

The watch.

The monster.

Chen.

The strange conversation they had shared.

But he caught himself.

What would Franco think? It sounded insane, even to him.

So, instead, he settled for something lighter, skirting around the edges of what had really happened.

"Nah, nothing major. "

"Just wanted to hear how you've been."

"You doing okay?"

There was a pause on the line, a brief hesitation before Franco replied, "Yeah, the usual, you know. Working at the shop, grinding through those real estate classes. It's... something. Not as exciting as the stories you always come up with, but it pays the bills."

Thomas smiled, picturing his friend's usual half-smirk that always softened his self-deprecating comments. "Hey, you're almost there, right? One of these days, I'll see you selling fancy apartments downtown and wearing those awful suits."

Franco laughed, a short, dry sound. "Yeah, yeah. I'll make you proud, Man."

"What about you?"

"What's going on with your job?"

"The work is treating you okay?"

Thomas rubbed the back of his neck, glancing out the window at the quiet street below. "Yeah, it's fine. Same old grind, nothing too crazy. Keeps me busy, I guess."

Another pause, and Thomas could hear Franco shifting, maybe sitting up in bed. His voice sounded more alert, more focused. "But enough about that. You're not the type to call this early just to talk about work. What's eating at you?"

Thomas hesitated, the words catching in his throat.

How could he explain it?

The feeling of being watched, the fear that had clawed at him during the encounter with that creature.

Instead, he deflected, turning the conversation back on his friend.

"Honestly, just wanted to make sure you were good."

"Haven't heard much from you these last few days."

"Everything alright?"

Franco exhaled slowly, a sound that buzzed through the phone's speaker. "Yeah... mostly. Just had a rough patch, you know? Bad luck. It's nothing."

"Bad luck?" Thomas frowned, his curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

Franco chuckled, but there was a tinge of frustration in his tone. "You won't believe it, but a spider bit me. Yeah, like a regular, everyday spider, but I guess I'm just unlucky like that. My arm's been feeling weird ever since. It's probably nothing, but I feel... off. I might have to go to the doctor later if it doesn't get better."

Thomas's frown deepened, a knot forming in his chest. He tried to keep his voice light, but concern crept into the edges. "Damn, Man, that sucks. Maybe it's an allergic reaction or something?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's not like I have superpowers now or anything, it would be cool if i had power would you imagine me as Spiderman? That would be awesome" Franco joked, though his voice lacked its usual enthusiasm. "Just feeling a little queasy, that's all. But hey, don't worry about me. I'll call you later when I'm feeling better. Right now, I just need to sleep this off."

Thomas forced a laugh, though his mind was already spinning with questions. "Yeah, sure. Rest up, okay? And don't turn into Spider-Man or anything."

Franco chuckled softly. "It would be cool to be spiderman"

"Talk later, Thomas."

The call ended, leaving Thomas standing in the silence of his apartment, the conversation replaying in his mind. He stared at the phone, frowning at the sudden shift in his friend's mood. Franco always brushed things off, always made light of his problems, but there was something about his voice that made Thomas uneasy.

A spider bite.

Queasy.

'Bad luck'.

It felt wrong, somehow, like a piece of a puzzle that didn't quite fit.

Thomas moved back toward the small living room, glancing at the Rider Watch on the table.

His fingers brushed against its cold surface, but he quickly pulled away, shaking off the thought that had begun to form.

He couldn't afford to get distracted by his own mysteries, not when Franco might be in trouble.

Maybe it was just a bug bite.

Maybe he was overthinking things.

But then again, the world didn't feel like it used to.

The ordinary had begun to bleed into the strange, and Thomas couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

He sat down heavily on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair, thoughts churning.

He wanted to believe that everything would go back to normal—that he'd wake up tomorrow and find that all of this had been some bizarre dream.

But there was a weight pressing on his chest, a feeling that told him that nothing would be simple anymore.

And then, as he sat there, trying to quiet his racing mind, he remembered it again.

That noise.

That fuc**** noise.

*Tick*

*Tick*

*Tick.*

 That noise had haunted his last moments of consciousness the night before. He shivered, the sound creeping back into his thoughts like an unwelcome visitor.

Thomas shook his head, trying to brush away the unease.

He goes to the kitchen to prepare himself a good breakfas and as he was waiting for the water to boil. He closed his eyes to relax for a moment before going to work, the unease lingered, twisting into the edges of his thoughts.

And then, just as sleep began to threaten him to pull him under, he heard it again.

*Tick*

*Tick*

*Tick.*