Whatever comms device the CSS might have in their hideout begins to buzz with strange static, a couple of snatches of words…
If they investigate, and tune it just right, they can barely hear half of a conversation.
"...walked in smelling like--I can't even describe it," a nasally, masculine voice says. "They said something about needing their splatana fixed and then just collapsed on the floor. ... Yeah, I called ... hope they're okay ... yes I cleaned everything ... no I didn't actually fix the splatana, it was covered in that gunky ink, I wasn't touching it! ... Yeah, I think I'm okay. Just a little shell-shook, that's all. Didn't sleep great ... I sleep fine sometimes! ... have to go open up ... later."
( @askammoknights )
What? ... No this cannot be-
Pyro rushed over to the radio, nabbing the other members from the break room. All now gathered around the device, the air tense around them.
"Shelby, can you see if you can get this radio to get a clearer signal?"
"I can try. Just give me 5."
The Ammo Knights shopkeeper carefully dialed the radio's buttons carefully, seeing if the radio waves could match the signal. Pyro was sure they heard every detail they could grab from the distorted calls. "Gunky ink" was something very common amongst the infected. They also heard "smell" and "collapsed on the floor".
When the radio waves synced with the signal, the CSS team all heard the horrific message that the radio had begun to relay.
"Could it be...? No-"
"Patient zero," Line and Sinker both usher.
"Impossible! This makes no sense in a scientific or medical matter!"
Shelby furrows his brows, listening in to the static voice.
"Wait, this is someone who runs Ammo Knights. A Shellendorf..."
"He succumbed to Ink Rot centuries ago, didn't he?"
"Yeah..." Shelby replies solemnly. "We can only hope he'll not end up as their universe's Patient Zero."