The phone in Galen's living room rung with a certain vigor.
"Who could possibly be calling at this hour?" he thought.
Picking up the receiver with a soft click, he answered in a moderate tone.
"Fowler speaking."
"Hello, is this Galen M. Fowler, the gunsmith?" responded a lively man, possibly of some authority.
"This is him. You are?"
"I am calling from the SFPD headquarters. We are looking for some assistance with an upcoming bust on some gang-run illegal breweries, and your name came up."
"So what, the commisioner wants me on his gang-busting task force?"
"Sounds about right." said the man with a hint of admittance.
"Huh... well, I will have to think on it a bit. Is there any really date set for the first action?" inquire Galen.
"A few days at most. Gotta get to them before they relocate or get tipped-off."
"I will definitely consider it." said Galen, becoming somewhat joyous at the thought of a bit of action, even if it meant getting shot at. Again.
"Thank you for your consideration. Just call the police's secondary number. I am sure you have it somewhere from your past experiences working with us."
"I am sure I do. Good night Mr....?"
"Walken. Mr. Walken will do. Good night Mr. Fowler." responded the man.
The somewhat hasty conversation ended with a click, and left Galen with some serious decisions to make about the upcoming days.