Janus Lee smiled. He could hardly believe how his luck had turned around over the past few months, ever since his company was bought up by one of the strangest megacorps operating in the US. He had hoped to secure the barest bit of funding and continue his great work in secret, maybe after convincing the CEO that it could be useful… and contrary to his expectations, here he was working on a project of rampant chaos with an alien geneticist.
"So let me get this straight… this experiment-"
"Experiment 102-E!" Jumba corrected.
"Yes, yes, 102-E should be able to induce feelings of… intense deja vu in subjects?"
"Haha, yes! Brilliant, isn't it!"
"I'd say more like impossible."
"With power of science, all things are possible! Just imagine, populace will not remember completing certain things and have to do them over and over and over again! Mass chaos will ensue as the power grid is overloaded, toilets overflow, and supermarkets run out of supplies as people buy too much canned bread! Inserting 102-E into population center will lead to mass unrest and destabilize area for takeover."
"Are you… certain about testing it out here? Not that I particularly care, but remember what happened the last time the boss asked his mad scientists to go crazy. He's got a very exacting view of chaos and decided to fire the last group."
"Baaaah." Jumba groaned. "Is mad scientist himself, put 'evil' on business card. Cannot be making quiche without breaking dozen eggs. What is three or four dozen casualties?"
"Three or four reasons that we both get fired and have to work out of a dumpster somewhere?"
Jumba groaned. "Fine. 102-E, no casualties." Jumba said, sternly wagging a finger.
The head facing him blinked in response.
"There. Is most we can do. Now, let us watch results!"
---
Candace Flynn's terrible year was not improving in the slightest.
Oh sure, their evil superpowered cat ran for the hills after being found out, but all that meant was the little mongrel was still out there, planning something! Her mom still hadn't let up on the grounding, which meant that her chances to bust Phineas and Ferb were few and far between. Take today, for instance.
After they got out of school her brothers had gone straight to Danville Lake with an industrial mixer and a truckload of jello powder, hoping to turn it into a combination bounce house/dessert for all of their friends. Her mom didn't want to hear a word of it and proceeded to ignore all 30 of Candace's phone calls and every last one of her 200 texts. It was getting ridiculous! Right after she finished having her hair done, she went straight back into the salon and had it done again!
Candace could do nothing but watch and seethe as the bounce house was a massive success and the dessert incredibly less so.
"You know Ferb, in hindsight this might not have been the best idea. All the fish and pond scum makes the jello taste funny."
"Also, people's feet." Ferb added.
The only picture Candace could snap of the lake came out as a fuzzy, indistinct purple blob, virtually identical to how it looked when it wasn't polluted by jello. When the Danville Wastewater Reclamation System cleaned it up in under thirty seconds, Candace knew that she had failed.
So why was she sneaking off to the woods to snap pictures again? She could've sworn that she did it before, but there her brothers were, pulling out the mixer and the truckload of jello powder!
Far off in Castle Doofhawk, the self-proclaimed Dread-full Warlock Malifishmirtz was just putting the finishing touches on his latest project. For whatever reason his descendant saw fit to make it rain obscene amounts of meat all over Danville, making everyone really upset and causing a lot of property damage. While that certainly was evil, which he could respect, it didn't really do anything besides make people angry.
Well, at least not until today! With the help of some hapless servants (apparently it was polite to call them 'interns' nowadays) he had concocted what was sure to be his vilest creation ever- a massive pot of decaying meat! This baby would produce so many meatlings that he didn't even know what to do with them!
"Fifteen sprigs of parsley, eighty-nine peppercorns, three grains of parad- oh no, I almost made a huuuuuge mistake there. Adding grains of paradise to something so vile would… well, I don't know what it would do. Nothing good though! Now I just need to let it simmer for another seventeen hours, and summon up a bunch of pure evil minions!"
Malifishmirtz floated through a wall to the magic picture box his descendant had installed. He still didn't understand most of whatever was on there, but it was fun watching that one show about the downfall of the Janissaries or whatever they were calling themselves nowadays.
Five minutes later, a strange feeling came over him. "Wait a second, am I forgetting something? Oh yeah, the seasonings! Ha! Can't do meat magic without seasonings, silly me. Let's see now, parsley, peppercorns, grains of paradise… wait."
The massive pot began to rumble.
"Uh oh."
What happened next was a forty-seven hour cavalcade of disaster as hideous creatures made of rotting meat threw themselves into traffic, clogged up storm drains, and utterly ruined a project to turn a nearby lake into a combination bounce house/dessert. Rotten meat and jello combined into a hideous blockage in the Wastewater Reclamation System, requiring the plant to be taken offline and deep-cleaned for hours on end. Every hand available had to deal with the chaos, only for them to then run themselves ragged all over again as Drifter convinced them it still needed to be done. At the end of it all, Jumba and Janus stumbled exhaustedly into their lab once again.
"Excuse me?" Alan asked, interrupting the duo's conversation on 'temporal repolarization'. "I was asked to examine some data you have on file here, something about foreign polities? Perhaps the data structure is simply unusual, but I can't seem to find anything of the sort."
"Oh, you are meaning old Federation news-files? I am deleting those months ago to free up computer space. Twenty terabytes of data, and yet you are having so many different recipes for deep-dish pizza."
Jumba contemplated Alan for a moment, then leaned over to Janus.
"Are humans supposed to be turning that shade of chartreuse?"
--
Decrypt Galfed Computers has been removed from your action list.
Malifishmirtz's meatlings ran amok in the city, causing untold amounts of chaos! All Stewardship actions next turn take a -20 penalty. Quests are not affected.
Experiment 102-E: Drifter is a squat, gray humanoid with two heads, one of which is always looking behind it. Drifter forces victims into intense bouts of deja vu through manipulation of personal tachyon flux, leading to mass chaos as individuals repeat actions over and over again in confusion. Hero units that failed their actions this turn MUST take those actions again on the next as 102-E grows used to his power. If an action is for any reason not available, that hero loses their action.
These last few months haven't been the greatest for you. After that horrible mess with "Agent K" running rampant across the city you had to devote a lot of time and money into cleaning things up, and to make matters worse, your attempts at investigating things went pretty poorly. Coyote ended up wasting a lot of time in New York and while Monobrow didn't tell you everything about what happened with the Feds, you know that most of it was bad.
None of that mattered tonight, however! Months of procrastination led you to work even harder on the first musical you've done in years. Coordinating things with Temujin, Monogram, and the most musically inclined of your employees was difficult but it was all worth it in the end! The Danville Performing Arts Center was packed to the brim and you had front-row seats!
On stage, a beefy man dressed in a costume that oozed neon green was standing over Syndrome, loudly belting out a chorus about how the once-mighty Titan has finally fallen. Backup dancers dressed as Omnidroids and gangsters were performing a kick dance, and the thought of your formerly-second-most-hated-enemy Syndrome getting humiliated one last time gave you a warm and fuzzy feeling. It really couldn't have happened to a nicer guy.
"...when Kronos did faaaaaaaaaaal!" the singer finishes with a flourish, taking a deep bow as the curtain descends. The audience broke out into thunderous applause.
"I really wasn't expecting that Mongolian Throat Singing to work, but it fits in." one random patron remarks. You don't need to use the little evil genius' room, so instead you look around at who else has joined you in the VIP section.
"Ohhh, Wendy Wower, my resident robot gal! How are you doing?" You ask. "Enjoying the show?"
"Oh yeah, it's going great! I saw everything on the livestream you know, a year or two back when all this happened. Right up until it cut out anyway. I guess it's not the most conventional thing to make a musical about, but it's pretty fun! The big band numbers really make it feel like it belongs in Vegas!"
"Oh, well, you know, contract negotiation comes later. Assuming Broadway forgives me for that little incident back in '11." You shudder at the memory.
"It's really nice to have a break. I love the work you've having me do on AI and I can feel like I'm really close to a breakthrough, but I just can't crack it yet! We've made progress, I've seen at least an 80% increase in performance compared to the isolated AIs, but there's something that prevents them from achieving full sapience. It's not just a bit of code, at least I'm pretty sure- and if it is then we'll be here for a very long time. If I could just figure out the inconsistency about what happens when you put them into bodies, then I really feel like I'd be making progress!"
"Did you try letting their self-learning algorithms interact with novel stimuli?"
You look over to see your precocious young interns Phineas and Ferb, apparently also taking advantage of employee benefits to take in the show with their family. The long-necked girl is glaring at you again for some reason.
"Oh, hello Phineas. Ferb. How's the cleanup going?"
"All finished sir!" Phineas replies happily. "All Normbot networks are back online."
"Honestly, we had more trouble with the gelatin mold." Ferb adds.
"I did let them interact." Wendy replies slowly, "That's at least part of what's causing the enhancement, but every now and again you get a robot that's leaps and bounds above all the others. Like Technor or, well… Sinatron."
You pause for a second. You're really not that familiar with AI research, it's been ages since you made Norm and honestly he was only ever meant to chase platypuses, but you like to give your employees encouragement whenever possible. "Yeah, that is kinda weird! Sinatron was way beyond everything else we've seen, even though I stole the exact same designs! What gives?! I'm pretty sure that formerly-second-most-hated-enemy Syndrome wasn't that far along in his AI research. Those omnidroid things are pretty nasty but it's not like they can hold a conversation."
"Was there anything unique about him?" Phineas asks, always ready to leap in. "You have the blupeprints, right?"
"Oh, look at that, dear." The woman you remember from the Christmas Party as being Phineas' mom says. "Even off the clock he's still being our little worker bee. I'm proud of you sweetie."
"Nrrrrrrgh." The giraffe girl grumbles wordlessly.
"He was pretty much just Frank Sinatra. Right down to the voice, the singing, the ambiguous connections to the mob- everything! Seriously, I'm impressed, I thought he was the real Sinatra for a while there."
"He could think, he could plan, he could mug for the audience." Wendy agrees. "He's miles beyond anything we could make, or even anything Kronos should have been able to make with those blueprints." Wendy says. "It's like he was just hit by a bolt of sentience or something."
"Hrmmmm." You frown. "So uh. It occurs to me that during the Gala, Sinatron did in fact… shake hands with a technopath. And uh, while my lawyers inform me that I cannot give further specification, it may or may not possibly maybe sorta kinda have been designed to make him go completely haywire."
Wendy stares at you for a second.
"That… might have had something to do with it." She says slowly. Then she frowns again. "But that doesn't make any sense! Whoever was doing that would've had to have been an absolute expert on the way the body was designed, even if you let their power fill in the gaps it wouldn't have mattered that much unless they could mess with the code too! Send him berzerk, sure, but not make him a… person."
"Also, given who this technopath may or may not be, legally speaking, I think that if the she she might or might not is had the power to make sentient robots, she would probably have an army of them by now. Maybe…"
Your thought is cut off as the curtain opens for the second act. Beginning from the seismic defeat of Syndrome, Sinatron waxes poetic about his plans for a 'Free Vegas' and a return for simpler times. In accordance with the cover story, the actor playing Syndrome mugs for the camera in the background, making clear he is 'definitely' 'not' 'dead'.
Despite the quality of the lyrics, you feel dread settle in the pit of your stomach. Halfway through Sinatron's soliloquy about the foolishness of the SRA, the band comes to a halt.
"Yet all that I am, and all I can be, cannot just be chalked up to lonely old me. The truth my friends is, the things that I do, I do because I want to be just… like… you…"
"I'm a simple newborn robot
Just a sheet metal shape.
Heap of gears and pistons
From a self-absorbed Cape."
A line of backup singers support the free verse.
"But in his galvanized insides, there's something to see-"
"There's a little spark inside of me!"
Reality itself experiences a localized record scratch as the song transitions into some of the worst rap you've ever heard.
"Yeah!"
"I'm finally free! Back from Nineteen Fifty-Three
On your widescreen TV!
got more tricks up my sleeve than you could ever hope to see!"
"But at the heart of the matter I'm more than a toy!
When I see adoring crowds it's just like I'm a real boy!
It's your approval that I crave and your attention I seek!
For you to listen to my words when I decide to speak!"
"No matter how the gears turn or what code's in my head,
No matter how I have been programmed or the places I tread
There's only one thing that makes me feel alive,
I say, I need to be with you if I want to thrive!"
The audience sits in stunned silence, unsure of what they've just witnessed.
"Word to your motherboard!"
From the back of the room, you hear a single, synthesized "BRAVO! BRAVO!" and the sound of giant metal hands slapping into each other. Nothing else. You suck in a low, painful hiss.
"...Maybe I shouldn't have given Norm a blank check to write his own musical number. Sorry about this Wendy, I promise the next part is bett-
"…Wendy?"
You look over your shoulder to see Wendy staring blankly into the middle distance. Her eyes are wide, her hands are limp, and you're not sure if she's breathing.
"Uhhh…" Sure, the rap was really bad, but you didn't know it would affect Wendy this much! After a few more seconds of stunned silence, Wendy stands up, gently walks into the aisle, and runs screaming from the theatre.
"That's it, that's it!"
You're going to have to screen these musicals a lot more carefully from now on.
---
Three hours later, after the musical has finally wrapped up, you get a frantic call from Wendy talking a mile a minute, demanding 'fifty Normbots, fifty creative interns, and the largest coffee maker DEI sells.'
---
Three weeks later, the woman literally kicks your door open and drops a ten-pound pile of lab results on your desk.
"I FIGURED IT OUT!!!"
"I can see that." You reply quietly. "Could you uh, elaborate please?"
"It makes no sense but it's clear as day! Every idiosyncrasy, every variation! It even explains why the Normbot programs do worse than Normbots with actual humanoid bodies! The trials all check out, the placebos did nothing, Technor agrees!"
"Uh… huh." You say, briefly considering if calling security would be a wise move. If you had any uncertainty about Wendy fitting into the 'mad science' culture of your research division they've been put to rest now.
"You said it yourself! Sinatron seems indistinguishable from Frank Sinatra. But not the real Frank Sinatra. He acts just like everyone who knows about Frank Sinatra thinks he would act! Sinatron had his entire logic circuits rewritten on the fly, just as he was revealed to the world. Tens of thousands of guests, Tens of millions of people watching the livestream, each and every one thinking 'oh my god, it's Frank Sinatra!'"
"So that would… mean…?"
"I told the interns I was bringing them in to test new advanced robots capable of real sentience and interpersonal communication. I changed nothing in the Normbot coding. I have seven Normbots already showing massive increases in processing power, and another twenty-two performing within statistical significance. Yesterday one of them asked me what its name was.
"If you want to make a robot sentient, you treat it like it's a real person."
You consider the way in which Norm slowly developed over time as you kept using him, then seemed to plateau and stop growing shortly after he started to call you Father. You think back to the countless, innumerable, unending times you have refused to acknowledge Norm as a child, offspring, or person that you made.
"...huh."
---
Wendy Wower has figured out the secret behind fully sapient AI! Rather than being a programming problem, it seems like all you have to do is treat them like they're people and… 'believe in them', for lack of a better term. Weird, isn't it? You've received widespread acclaim for discovering the secret, and you're pretty sure that history will record this as the moment that strong AI was cracked. Unfortunately Wendy is an extremely honest person, so when those books are written that horrific rap number will probably end up immortalized for all time. Begrudging congratulations have come in from Bakaemono, Funtelligence, and even ENCOM. You haven't released the actual process for doing so yet, but you could choose to do so any time if you wanted even more fame.
Public Opinion has increased!
DEI is now taken seriously by most academics and industry leaders!
Wendy Wower managed to make the single greatest breakthrough in robotics possibly ever. Again. And this time you didn't even steal the credit from her! Wendy gains +15 loyalty!
You're not exactly able to mass market the things yet. It's kind of contradictory to the entire concept to produce fully sapient AIs by the thousands if you need to anthropomorphize each of them individually.
Phineas and Ferb have repaired your Normbot hubs to full functionality! Your Normbots have given your Paramilitary Mongol Corps an additional +3 to all rolls against crime in Doofania!
"Develop Military AI" action unlocked! "Develop Civilian AI" action unlocked! "Develop Consumer AI" action unlocked! There may be some ethical concerns inherent in the act of selling intelligent artificial life!
'Do Some Introspection About Norm' action has changed!
'Spend time with Princess Java' personal action unlocked!
'Psychologically profile a target' DCs have dropped!
'Publish Your Findings' personal action unlocked!
Your musical, barring the awkward rap number, was a huge success! You gain 2 income!
It all began with a simple suggestion from their therapist. Work for the pharmacist, he said. It'll be fun, he promised. When the exceedingly eccentric Dr. Doofenshmirtz had approached her with a proposal, Olivia was hoping for the moon.
Being asked to interrogate an illiterate man who looked like he hadn't showered in three decades was not at all what she was expecting. It had been years since she traveled to Florida though, so she was going to make the most out of this assignment. Perhaps all mentions of a 'homeless man' (which is what she could only assume 'hatless' was supposed to be) could be replaced by 'whistleblowing CEO', and 'strange happenings' with 'classified military secrets'. That ought to intrigue her husband enough to follow her across state lines. If nothing else, a letter from 'Mr. Valentine' was sure to get his attention. Hopefully a little added danger would keep things interesting enough to make things worth her while.
Over the last several years, Florida had seen a sharp decline in tourism, and Olivia wasn't certain why. Message boards like So Weird theorized about everything from aliens to secret subterranean societies, but she was a bit more skeptical than most. Superpowers could account for a lot, and when those didn't fit the bill there was always the possibility of 'magic' to consider. Her Sentinel hummed as she pulled off the interstate and double-checked her GPS for directions to a small town called 'Celebration'.
A bit on the nose, if you asked her. The place was a picturesque view of Americana, right down to the white picket fences and perfectly mown lawns. Husbands trimmed the hedges as wives sipped on iced tea, keeping a watchful eye on their children playing tag. Even the fashion sense seemed antiquated, and this coming from a woman in a mink shawl. Well, no matter. If there was one thing she could do, it was remain undetected.
Living with six detectives helped with that.
Olivia spent the next six hours 'bumbling' around the city, taking every care to appear as if she were the most clueless tourist to ever step off of a plane. Everyone she met was nothing but helpful and courteous, pointing out local landmarks and extolling the virtue of their civic community.
It creeped her out a lot.
People did not act like this. People had foibles and neighborly feuds and idle rivalries that could be inflamed into horrific crimes. Everyone here was perfect. Everyone got along. Everyone worked together.
And the hats!
Bowlers. Derbies. Porkpies. Even a few Stetsons. She understood the Suncoast had differing fashion sense, and she herself was rather fond of the top hat that formed the center of her 'Mr. Valentine' persona, but this was verging on the uncanny. It had gotten so bad she'd needed to resort to simply leaving riddles around for her family to follow. She hadn't resorted to riddles for two decades now, but there was simply not a single delinquent teenager or repressed housewife in sight. She hadn't been able to arrange so much as a grand theft auto!
The longer she was here, the more she became convinced something was terribly wrong. But ultimately, that was not why she was here. Leave her family to the investigating. She'd caught her son snooping around the performing arts center at least once, which meant the rest of them were unquestionably on the case. The sooner she finished the actual purpose she had come here for, the sooner she could lead her family somewhere she might actually be able to hold their interest.
Olivia was unable to conceal a grimace as she came up on the next place on her tour. Apparently the homeless man was only willing to meet at the local 'Hoo-Ha Owl's Pizzamatronic Jamboree', which made her teeth crawl from the name alone. She pulled her black cloak closer around herself, not wishing to be seen here for more reasons than one. The first appearance of the cheezy entertainment restaurant did nothing to dissuade these feelings, nor did the lanky, unwashed man sitting next to what she could only assume was 'Hoo-Ha the Owl' himself.
The man looked like he was in his late thirties or so, wrapped in a tattered black shawl and other rags that she couldn't determine the original color of. He was balding, save for a greasy curl of hair that wrapped around his shockingly pointy head and the utterly ridiculous mustache that even Baron von Steamer would've said was too much.
"Ooh! Ooh! Over here!" he waved as soon as she had crossed the threshold. After a moment he seemed to blink in sudden realization, and lifted a newspaper up over his face. Then he peeked around the paper in the most blatant attempt at subterfuge she had ever seen, and stage whispered 'Oooh! Ooh! Over here!" As a confused wait staff looked on.
Olivia had to resist the urge to cradle her face in her hand. It had been years since she last felt that urge.
With a look of disdain at the plastic ball pit barely concealed by her heart-shaped mask, Olivia took a seat in the booth across from the homeless man. She silently prayed that the waitstaff wouldn't force her to order anything, or failing that they would at least take off the absurd themed outfits, complete with overalls and hats.
"Did you come alone?" The man whispered, again at the top of his lungs. In a single rapid movement he lowered and then lifted the newspaper to get a look at her. "Ah, you did! Good!"
Olivia's notes had said that this man was 'a real creeper' and 'worth noting only for how obnoxious he was'.
She had her man, then. "Mister…" she began, hoping to whatever deity was listening that she could keep things professional.
"Yagoobian! But don't call me Goob! Instead, I have concocted the most brilliant alias imaginable for myself! I am…" he raised one arm to conceal the lower half of his face with the tattered cloak, raising and lowering his eyebrows as if he were about to impart true wisdom. "The Hatless Man!"
Any hopes of professionalism died a swift death. "Mister Yagoobian. I understand that you have some information concerning recent happenings in the area."
"Oh yes, yes! You've come not a second too late!" the man said. "I have revelations that will shake the very fabric of what you think to be the world's nature!"
"Mmm hmm." Olivia replied. "And what is that?"
Yagoobian glanced around conspiratorially. "You can't be too careful. The waitresses have ears. I shall have to inform you in a fiendish code of my own devising, which I can only hope you will be able to comprehend."
Olivia waited unexpectantly.
"The at-hays are evil-bay."
Olivia immediately began planning how she intended to leave. Thankfully, if she knew her family, and she did, then they would soon be arriving at the diner having followed her trail of investigatory breadcrumbs. With any luck she could foist this ingrate upon them and be done with the whole mess. For now, she simply needed to push through.
"I'm afraid I… don't exactly know what you mean."
"The hats woman, the hats!" Yagoobian cried. "Ah! I mean at-hays! They trick you. Deceive you. Control you. Get inside your mind! ...ay!"
Olivia was about to stand up and leave, biting back a remark on how much of a waste this entire ordeal was when she actually stopped to consider the man's words. On the surface, they seemed ludicrous… but she had seen stranger. ENCOM and Drakktech had collaborated on a machine that practically sent your mind into a video game. There were all sorts of capes known for mind control the world over. Was it really that inconceivable that a hat could get inside one's mind?
Blast. She was never going to allow this onto So Weird or that one idiot would be gloating for weeks.
Intrigue Check: ???
DC 60
25+34=59
Bare Failure
Olivia frowned at the realization that her husband was still not there yet. It was rather unlike him to be this impunctual for a job. The riddles she had left behind were child's play at best, getting caught up on one of those would be humiliating for anyone.
Yagoobian kept rambling in his horrible bastardization of pig latin about how the 'hats were evil' and a certain 'Doris' had misled him, but Olivia was only half paying attention. She got the gist of the argument and was sure she could pick up the rest from context. Now, where was her husband? Ten minutes late would've been something to gloat about, half an hour merited a raised eyebrow, but this?
"And at-thay is why it is all Lewis' ault-fay! But before I enter chapter two of the Reasons I Hate That Boy, I need to-"
"Mr. Yagoobian, I thank you for your time. However I find myself late for a secondary appointment. I'm sure we'll be in touch if you would like to-"
"Ooh! Let me come with you!" The odious man begged, leaping up and spilling his half-eaten Pipsqueak Pizza Platter over the floor. "We could work together! I have experience! I can't pay for my meal so I was just going to skip out anyway."
Olivia sighed from behind her mask. "Oh, very well. I suppose I could make use of someone who knows the area. It seems I must track down my family if I am to-"
"Wait." the greasy man once again interrupted. "You lost track of someone? Here? Recently? Like, within the last few hours?"
"Yes?"
A look of fear crossed the repugnant gremlin's face. "We need to hurry!"
Despite the man's pathetic nature, his declaration struck a note of unease in Olivia's mind. She rose slowly, prepared to slink out of the restaurant without further delay, until-
"Excuse me ma'am." The waitress said quietly. "I hope you're not leaving. You haven't… even… ordered… yet.
Olivia blinked; this was the first time the wait staff had approached her. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid something urgent has come up. I need to be going."
The waitress blocked the door. "I'm sorry." She said tonelessly. "I really must insist you… stay."
"That simply isn't possible." Olivia replied. "Move, or I'll be forced to-"
Martial Check: Fight the Waitstaff
DC 50
37+23=60
Success
The punch came out of nowhere, but it was gangly, uncoordinated. Olivia dodged it with little trouble, shoving the woman aside and pushing past her before her conscious mind even processed what had happened.
"Come on!" the slimy man hollered as he burst out of the place in a splay of flailing limbs. "They won't risk anything in public, they use this town for tourists."
"What was that?!?"
"The hats woman, the hats!" He replied. "How many times must I tell you?"
Olivia's instincts went into automatic, willing herself to get lost in the rows of identical houses. Fences were jumped, routes crossed and false trails laid. She had to stop herself from removing her costume, realizing at the last second her odds of disguising the distinctive mess beside her were basically nonexistent.
Yagoobian's attempts to follow were painfully uncoordinated. The gangly wastrel tripped over trash cans, stumbled through shrubs, and got tangled up in dog leashes as he attempted to follow, each slip-up only gathering more and more attention.
She would have time to understand her circumstances later. Where would her husband be now?
Olilvia began to work backwards through her clues. The defaced billboard- untouched. The suspicious mailbox- unrifled through. The plant…
Ah! The capsule she had left hanging in the oak tree had been taken down and opened. He'd been here, now she…
A deep foreboding washed over her.
There was a haberdasher across the street.
---
The Commodore was almost certain something was wrong.
If it wasn't the unrealistically functional family dynamics on display everywhere he looked, if it wasn't the bucolic atmosphere that should have existed only in the Case of the Caper Case Caper, if it wasn't the polite and helpful waitstaff who appeared to be enjoying their jobs, it was the fact that his sister hadn't said a word to him in over half an hour.
He liked to think that he had a perfectly functional relationship with his older sister. Certainly better than most of his family. There had been some tension before, but what family didn't have that? She was a trusted member of the Dickens Detective Agency that he was always willing to listen to… but she had refused to provide any explanation at all for why she was so certain she knew where his wayward wife was.
"I fail to see how this has any relevance to 'Mr. Valentine's' last clue, sister." the Commodore declared. "She was clearly building up to that horrid looking pizza shop."
Olivia's clues were sloppy, amateurish, and almost certainly deliberately so. On any other occasion this would've merited a response about how she was scraping the bottom of the barrel, or perhaps a quip about resorting to the Sunday funnies for content.
"Hey, relax." Butch replied, putting a supportive hand on his wife's much lower shoulder. "She's been in this game as long as you have, man. She knows what she's doing." Again, she did not react. That bothered the Commodore even more. Regardless of his own opinions on his sister's relationship, the two of them were inseparable and unceasingly affectionate. He could see Ling-Ling hovering around her adoptive parents, clearly also concerned by her mother's increasingly out of character behavior.
"Just a little further." Charlotte said in a low, toneless voice.
"Sister… did you get enough sleep on the way here? Still jetlagged?" the Commodore asked as the granny of the Dickens family led them towards the narrow alleys of Celebration's town center. "Perhaps you could use a pick me up?"
She did not respond. Now even Max was beginning to notice something was wrong, though young Rudyard was as clueless as ever. The Commodore thought back. This had begun… shortly after his sister had insisted they stop for her to acquire some local fashion. How that related he had yet to-
"Stop!"
The Commodore frowned at what appeared to be a noisome balding man in a tattered black cape racing down the street. "Stop! Wait, she's not stopping. I'll… I'll have to stop her then, yes! Yes! I'll stop you!"
The Commodore watched in moderate to severe confusion as the roynish fellow charged towards his sister at what might be described as a gallop if it did not threaten to collapse in on itself with every passing moment
Goob Martial Check: Remove the hat!
48+2=50
Charlotte Martial Contest
76+34-10(head on)=100
Critical Failure!
As expected, the froward man is on the ground within seconds as your sister's four consecutive black belts make their value known and dislocate several noteworthy bones. She may not be yelling her traditional battlecries, but it is good to know your sister still has the basics down.
The Commodore leaned down to examine the mephitic man. "Alright, I will admit I am curious. What was that about?"
"The hats…" The misasmic figure groaned.
"Aha! So the haberdasher did have something to do with it! Tell me more, my good man!"
"The hats…" he repeated, panic beginning to take a rising presence compared to his previous daze.
"Yes yes, what about them?"
"The hats!"
Martial Check: The Hats
20+20+34-10=64
Dickens Contest:
78+25=103
Failure!
Suddenly, the air was filled with headwear.
A swarm of hats, many black bowlers but a few a range of stetsons, porkpies and the like, descended on his family. They proved easy enough to swat away, but what truly shook the man was the roundhouse kick his own sister suddenly aimed at his head!
"Charlotte?!?"
Another pair of footsteps raced down the street and he turned to see Mr. Valentine- his wife- running down the street at full tilt, somehow still looking elegant in the process.
"What is going on!?!" The Commodore roared.
"Later!" Olivia cried. Her single visible eye was open in shock, yet she wasted no time in rushing to her family's aid.
Martial Check:
28+23+25=76
Hat Contest:
4+20+34-10=48
Great Success!
The Family worked as one, holding off the swarm while Butch grabbed onto his wife, holding the extremely violent but thankfully tiny matron in his grasp.
Martial Check: The Hats
48+20+34-10=92
Dickens Contest:
91+25+23=138
Failure
Without its primary source of pressure the swarm began to waver, small forms and grasping claws unable to maintain a hold on an aware target.
Martial Check:
77+23+25=125
Hat Contest:
22+20+34-10=66
Great Success!
With visible effort Olivia tore through the swarm, fighting her way to Butch and, with a single firm pull, removing the hat from Charlotte's head.
Charlotte blinked, a look of confusion passing over her. "Ohhh, I have such a headache dears. ...Sweetie, why do you have me in a Camel Clutch?"
The hat swarm dispersed instantly, scattering around the alley's edges and disappearing as quickly as they came.
"What the hell was that?!?" the Commodore's son Max demanded.
The Commodore looked at his wife. "You saved us."
"You're my husband." She replied after a moment.
"Did.. did we win?" Goob asked from the ground. "We won, didn't we? Yes, I won! I won!" He declared, completely ruining any passing moment.
"You know more about these things?" Olivia sighed.
"Yes! Oh yes! They had captured my mind and body, but I discovered a means of cunning escape!"
---
A newly hatted Goob stumbled around a foundry yard, his controller hat struggling to eke anything useful out of his form. Then, there was a sudden snap, and before anyone could react the arm of a standing crane smashed into Goob, knocking the hat off of his head and sending him careening down an enormous scrap heap.
"Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!"
---
"I was brilliant. And I will tell you all that I know."
"Then… I suppose we'll need to take him with us." The Commodore said doubtfully as he gazed upon the ronyon that was the man below him.
"Will… will somebody please pick me up?" The still very in pain Goob said.
---
You have gained a basic understanding that the hat craze in the southeast hides a sinister mind-controlling secret! You're not quite sure as to the extent of it, or who's behind it, but you're going to feel a lot more suspicious of headwear from now on.
'Interrogate Michael Yagoobian' action unlocked!
Martial: 2 (Goob is malnourished and never got in a serious scrap in his life.)
Diplomacy: -7 (Goob is deeply, exceedingly unpleasant to be around.)
Stewardship: 0 (Goob flunked out of the third grade.)
Intrigue: 4 (Goob, technically, has a general idea of how to sneak around and stuff.)
Learning: 1 (Goob is mostly illiterate.)
Goofy plodded into the Imagination Institute with a patented gape, eyes wide open at the massive glass and steel edifice that formed the building's roof. The Institute had clearly been built with big plans. Inside was a more subdued affair, the furnishings attempting a level of contemporary sophistication they could not quite pull off. The atrium was lined with glass cases, each full of inventions and experimental relics from a prototype companion robot to what appeared to be a metal dreamcatcher. At the other end of the room, a man in a spotless labcoat was speaking to a young secretary who was, quite clearly, paying no attention whatsoever.
"And that, dear Linda, is why the field particles must be quantized into the appropriate- oh, do excuse me, my dear. I believe our guest has arrived."
The man turned to greet his new arrival. "Ahh, Goofy Goof. A pleasure. My name is Dr. Nigel Channing, Chairman of the Imagination Institute." The man began with a slightly lilted British accent. His face was long, his grin toothy, curly hair just beginning to grey and pulled against its will into a rough semblance of slicked-back professionalism. The man wore a three-piece suit underneath his labcoat, soft grey and worsted wool. The overall effect put one in mind of a rodent of some sort, albeit a very chummy one.
"Nice ta meet you too, hyuck!" Goofy replied, taking Nigel's hand without a pause and shaking it vigorously. The man grimaced as he was practically tugged up and down, tie going askew across his neck.
"Yes, well…" Nigel began, slowly patting himself down in an attempt to smooth out the generated wrinkles. "We were quite enthused to hear the renowned Dr. Doofenshmirtz was interested in learning more about our… humble organization. I'm sure he has a good eye for potential, brilliance… unrecognized tal… Regardless! What would you like to see first?"
"Hmmm." Goofy tapped his chin. "I dunno. Why don' ya give me tha' tour?"
"Ahh, a Journey Into Imagination? I do think I can manage that." Nigel replied loftily, drawing himself up and setting off through the nearest door. The hallway beyond was clean and brightly lit, flanked by office doors which Goofy peered through curiously as they passed.
"The Imagination Institute was founded with the express purpose of exploring the human and inhuman mind. The marvelous vistas of imagination, mental power and senses that link us to the broader world. Where does it come from? How does it work? And, perhaps most fascinating of all, how does it relate to the many usual beings that populate our most fascinating world?"
"Unusual how?" Goofy asked.
"Why, take yourself for instance." Nigel replied thoughtlessly. "Anthrofictus Hominis Atramentum. A being of ink with no discernable or inherent means of animation, yet more animated than one could ever expect. What a marvel you are! What makes you tick?"
Goofy paused for a few seconds as the sound of a shifting second hand emanated from his person.
"Well that'd be ma wristwatch." Goofy replied, holding the object up.
"…yes, quite." Dr. Channing replied after a moment's pause. They exited the long hall, emerging into collective lab space. "With the Animator's Guild as tight-lipped as ever, it's fallen to us to determine the nature and genesis of the Anthrofictus family. It's a mystery that has puzzled great minds… though not, I think, for very much longer."
Goofy's eyebrows lifted. "Ya means… ya might be close?"
"I'm glad you asked!" Channing declared pompously, launching immediately into what seemed to be a prepared diatribe. "I call it: The Channing Unorthodox Field Theory!"
Not even the first syllable of Goofy's next question escaped his lips before Channing barreled ahead.
"The fundamentals of the Channing Unorthodox Field Theory are quite simple." Channing said haughtily. "In effect, the piezoelectric static charge of the human brain produces what I have termed the Channing Field. The Channing Field is a sort of external psychosomatic emanation that fluctuates in response to beta waves within the hypothalamus." Goofy's eyes immediately glazed over even as he continued walking. "When a person creates a mental construct of sufficient degree to elucidate the full meaning of their internal conception within the broader Channing Field, the resultant pattern is capable of 'imprinting' itself onto the object which was the subject of the intense anthropomorphic personification. The stated object thereby obtains a Channing Unorthodox Imprint, which in the presence of further Channing Fields, which is to say the active psychological emanations of the conscious, sensate, preantepenultimate, sapient, non-thanatognomonic and imaginative mind, will repeat the previous cognitive load as the original inclination of the imprinter using the cognitive hardware of further contacts."
Goofy stared blankly.
"Ah. Well. Allow me to simplify. In effect, a human within the proper modality is capable of effecting a lasting imprint of their own mental models upon the world, which can then be experienced through a hallucinogenic process at a later date by further interactees with the stimuli in question. This explains not only cartoons, but a multitude of so-called 'magical' sightings ranging from ghosts to goblins. Why, despite the existing scientific research suggesting otherwise, I would not be surprised if even the humble Gargate Saxum was a result of the Channing Field." Channing concluded, improperly capitalizing the species name.
"Wait. So… yer sayin' I don' actually exist?"
"Quite so. You, my good sir, are merely a collective mentality shared between separate individuals through a memetic psychosomatic mental construct solidified via further interaction. You're not really here at all!"
"Gawrsh."
Goofy, trying desperately to comprehend this, did not notice the stray test tube upon which he then stepped, tripped, and went rolling down the hall, bumping into and knocking over a half-dozen interns and passerby as he careened towards the cafeteria.
Nigel Channing scowled.
"All right well. Perhaps there are some kinks that still need to be worked out in the scientific method. It's hard to find a decent control group! Wait, get back here, I haven't finished explaining!"
"For the last time Szalinski, Fluorosilicone is not a working substitute and the only 'free energy' you will get is the explosive decompre-"
"Huahyl!" Goofy hollered as he careened through the canteen doors, on a direct collision course for the two scientists convening over two bowls of instant noodles. The two men barely had time to gape before impact occurred. Pens, paper, ramen, a clipboard, and at least one test tube went flying into the air, landing on or around Goofy seconds after he himself crashed to the ground.
"Don' worry fellers, somethin' broke ma fall!"
"T-that would be me." The more nebbish of the two replied, pushing Goofy off of him and picking up his horned rim glasses from where they had fallen.
"Gawrsh, sorry about that. My name's Goofy!" Goofy replied, putting out a hand.
"Wayne Szalinski." The other man replied, taking the hand from his still-prone position. A moment later the other scientist grasped his other hand, and together they pulled him up. In direct contrast to the other, this man was almost unrealistically handsome, with the sort of chiseled jaw that belonged on a 1950s thanksgiving advertisement.
"Oh, what did I ever do to deserve such a cacophonous workplace?" the man asked, hauling Szalinski to his feet and then dusting down his coat.
"You invented Flubber."
"I did?" The man's pleasant face scrunched up in an expression of befuddlement. "Oh that's right, I did. So sorry, have we met?" The man asked, shaking Goofy's hand in turn. "Phillip Brainard. I invented Flubber."
"Well, gawrsh. Isn't that the stuff they say blew u-"
"Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch!" Szalinski interrupted, covering Goofy's muzzle as quickly as he could. "He gets sad."
"Well no, I was tryin' ta tell that it didn' actually-"
"There you are!" A supercilious voice rang out as Dr. Channing returned. "Mr. Goof, I see you have met some of our… faculty."
"Yup. I was just about ta tell Phil here that-"
"Oh, he left." Szalinski said. "I think he saw Dr. Kelzukhan's new alembic and wandered after him."
"Oh, this just will not do." Dr. Channing declared. "We're on the verge of some real recognition he- I mean, a very productive partnership! We can't have our researchers just wandering off."
"Well, maybe ya could introduce me ta some other folks?"
"Oh, a splendid idea! Absolutely capital. Let's see… aha!"
A moment later Channing led Goofy confidently across the room to where a young woman was enjoying her lunch. "Ah, Miss Dorothy! I'd like you to meet our guest for the day, Goofy… Goof. Visiting our humble institute at the behest of Doofenshmirtz himself! He invented sapience, you know."
"Hi there!" The young woman replied, hopping up from the bench and happily shaking Goofy's hand. Her labcoat shook gently, puffing out with "Call me Dottie! And… Dr. Channing… I think it was his employee. Wendy Wower? I'm not a roboticist but it was in all the papers. Literally all of them. There was one in Nature."
"Hyuck, that's right."
"Yes well, all the same thing in the end. My apologies." Channing replied lamely. "But nevermind! Miss Dorothy, please, tell Mr. Goof what you have been working on."
"I'm working on the means by which cognizance arises in inanimate objects!"
Channing blinked.
"Like Lamb here!" She added, pulling an old, well-loved stuffed lamb out of the overstuffed pocket.
"Oh lord. I'd completely forgotten you-"
"Hmm? What's that Lambie?" Dottie asked, holding the stuffed creature up to her ear before turning to Channing. "Lambie says you should really keep better track of the research you authorized funding for, Dr. Channing."
There was a pause.
"Also I'd appreciate it if you respected my degree, I spent eight years so that I could introduce myself as Dottie. Not you. Uh. That part was me. Not Lamb."
"Right, um yes, of course. Er. Well. Good to have seen you, then, Excuse- yes…" Channing muttered as he awkwardly steered Goofy away.
"I'm so sorry Mr. Goofy, Mi… er. Doctor McStuffins has some odd ideas, I must admit. Animated toys. Heh. Now then… ohh dear. There must be someone else I can-"
"Why, yes. I think perhaps there is."
Channing stopped short.
Standing beside Goofy, grinning widely, was a man with a neat ginger beard. A pristine white labcoat fringed with a whorl of rainbow color covered a red vest patterned with chaotic, riotous squares. His voice was kind but reedy, in contrast with his fit physique, and seemed to belong to a man with more years than the ungrayed hair upon his head would suggest he had. Atop it all was a magnificent silk hat, pulled as if from a bygone era, topped itself with a pair of working goggles laid slightly askew above its brim.
"Mercurial." Channing said with a somewhat forced grin. "...Have you met our guest?"
"Doctor Mercurial." Channing began, his smile growing noticeably fixed.
"Nigel!" The other man said cheerily, clasping hands "And this must be Goofy. So lovely to meet you in person."
"Nice ta meetcha! What're ya a doctor of?"
"Well!" Doctor Mercurial replied. "I've had the good fortune to study a great many things in my life, but above all I consider myself a student of the mind, the imagination, and the things one can find there."
"Like Doctor Channing?"
"Hoho! Yes, though my work has always approached the issue from a more sociological, qualitative approach."
"Yes, well, we all have our own standards of evidence." Channing interjected. "Blair, I appreciate you dropping by but I was just about to close out the tour, so if you wouldn't mind-"
Goofy glanced around the cafeteria. The various doctors and scientists he'd met over the course of the day were sitting around, chatting mostly amiably over cafeteria food. But there was one man in a heavy white labcoat that seemed to pop out. It took Goofy a moment to realize why.
"Well I'll be!" Goofy declared, ambling over. "Mad Doctor! Is that you?"
"That's Dokta Mad Docta now!" The figure replied in a thick Russian accent, heavy black beard puffing up with pride.
"Ya finally got yer degree? Congratyuhlations!"
"Yes indeed. I ded enjoy my time in piktures, but science has always been my passion."
"Oho. I see you two already know each other." Mercurial chuckled, as Nigel followed along behind him like a comet tugged into orbit.
"Oh yeah! Doc was a real top notch villain back in tha day. Ya might remember 'im from a cartoon ma old pal Mick did, but he did a lotta work in the funny pages too. Why, one time he even played three roles at once!"
"Ah, yes! Ecks, Doublex, and Triplex! One of my most challengingk roles. I did regret the prosthetics, thogh…"
"I didn't know ya had other toons here!" Goofy declared
"Variety is always an aid to active imagination." Mercurial replied.
"Yes, we pride ourselves on our diversity." Channing agreed. "Our faculty has toons, animals, Muppets…"
"Muppets?" Goofy asked.
"Oh. Ah…"
"What's a Muppet?"
Channing began to sweat. "Well I er... I shouldn't say, really."
"Huh? Why not?"
"Well you see…"
"Is it a kinda mustard?" Goofy asked as Channningr slowly changed color. "Maybe a rutabaga?"
"Ooooh!" Channing capitulated, mental dams finally bursting. "I theorize Muppets to be a sort of hybridized toon variant given greater physicality by-!"
A low rumbling filled the air.
"Oh no." Channing said quietly. "I've done it again."
Everyone present immediately stood up from their tables and began moving as far away from Channing as possible.
"Wh-what'd ya do?" Goofy asked.
"They're coming."
"Who-"
The low roar transitioned into a deafening crash as a large portion of the ceiling quite rapidly decided to unite with the floor. Goofy saw a flash of something falling atop it before the entire room was obscured by a cloud of plaster.
Goofy, Channing, and Mercurial waved the dust away, coughing gently as the room faded back into focus. In front of them was a lab counter, covered with alembics, graduated cylinders, crucibles, a small centrifuge, and a large potato wired up to a lightbulb. Behind it stood- or in one case, cowered- a pair of figures, one with a head like a melon and the other unnaturally thin with a shock of red hair.
There was brief silence, and then. A single, terrified-
"MEE!"
"Oh don't exaggerate Beaker, I've fallen greater distances in my sleep!"
"You've broken the ceiling." Channing murmured.
"Do not worry, Mr. Channing!" The first speaker declared even as the dust was settling. "It's only my latest and greatest invention! It will revolutionize interior transport, just as soon as I can determine how I can make it go up. But that's beside the point! I do believe I heard someone ask: 'What is a Muppet?"
"That was me!" Goofy replied.
"An excellent question my good fellow! My name is Doctor Bunsen Honeydew, and this is my assistant, Beaker."
"Meemee mee."
"Quite. Now, Doctor Channing has kindly proposed a potential hypothesis that Muppets are a variety of toon. I intend to test this theory." Bunsen pulled an oversized test tube out of his labcoat, and after a moment of fiddling began to fill it up. "Now, what I have here is a simple solution of phenolphthalein, mixed in with a few other helpful catalysts."
The greenish muppet pulled out a pair of tweezers. "Now, this particular solution will react to the presence of ink by turning a violent shade of pink. So it stands to reason if we were to obtain a sample-"
Acting quickly, Honeydew pinched a tuft of Beaker's hair and yanked it out of his head.
"MEEEMMEEMEEE!"
"-and place it into the containers, one of two events will occur. If the reaction stabilizes pink, we can confirm Beaker is in fact an Atramentum lifeform. If absolutely nothing happens, we can confirm he is in fact not. If it turns any other color, we can confirm that Beaker dyes his hair."
"Mee!" Beaker said reproachfully.
"Now then." Honeydew said happily, dropping the bright red hair into the vial.
"D-doctor Honeydew, please, you know what we said about unauthorized experiments-" Channing begged.
"Nonsense doctor, this is perfectly routine, I've done it a thousand times before, it's perfectly safe." Honeydew replied as the sample began to smoke.
"Uh, Mr. Honeydew…" Goofy began.
"Hmm? Oh!" The doctor replied as he took in the now combusting sample. "How peculiar. Beaker, hold this will you? I need to go and find a stopping agent."
"Mee?" Beaker asked nervously as the test tube was passed to him. A moment later it erupted into flame. "Moooh! Mee mo mo! MEEE!"
Another moment later, Beaker caught fire.
"MEEEEEEEEEE!!!!"
Then the ceramic table caught fire.
"Oh lord, I've got to do something, it went on for hours last time." Channing said. "Please Mr. Goof, excuse me, I've got to- No Beaker, stop, drop and roll, not- ah!"
Channing scampered off, leaving Goofy standing alone and uncertain. It was not often he found a scene chaotic enough that he could not add to it.
"Excuse me." Doctor Mercurial interjected. "I'm afraid Dr. Channing is likely to be occupied for some time. I could certainly walk you out, if you would like?"
"Oh! Uh, sure thing. I think Ah'm just about set."
Mercurial smiled before setting off at a leisurely pace. The doors of the cafeteria swung gently behind him, muffling the sound of bedlam as they went.
"How have you taken to Dr. Channing?" Mercurial asked cautiously.
"Oh! Uh, he seems swell, I guess. Jest a little…"
"I do hope you will forgive him." Mercurial replied. "Nigel is not a bad person, just a little… strongheaded. I was originally the one intended to head this organization, you know. Before I was pulled away on… urgent business. Nigel was tapped to replace me and now that I've returned… I'm afraid he's a tad anxious, poor man."
"Well, s'ppose I can't blame 'im. An' this place sure seems neat!" Goofy said, passing through the lobby once again.
"I'm glad to hear you say that. Based on what I know of Doctor Doofenshmirtz, I should be very happy to see him working more closely with us. I sense a Spark in him, and there is much we could discover together, I think."
"Well, that's real kind 'a ya ta say, Mr. Mercurial!"
"Now now." The man replied. "For toons, and anyone else in need of… special solutions, I have another name you may know me by."
"Hmm?"
"If you have need of me, you may call me as… The Dreamfinder."
With that, Mercurial gave a kind nod, turned on his heel, and went back through the doors.
Stewardship Check: Notice ???
DC 50
42+16+7=65
Success!
Goofy watched him go, turning down another hallway and disappearing around a corner. But just as he left, Goofy could have sworn he saw a flash of something… purple?
Ah well.
Must have imagined it.
---
Collaborate with the Imagination Institute Unlocked!
Bellwether
[ ] Establish corporate ties with Doofenshmirtz
DC 70
47+36+27+4=114
Great Success
You received a very polite letter from the mayor of Zootopia State voicing her wish to pursue further ties with DEI. Considering that Zootopia is one of the few areas on the West Coast that's not directly influenced by the Zaibatsus or Glomgold Enterprises, this could end up being an unexpected windfall for you.
Collaborate with Zootopia Unlocked!
Form a Research Agreement with Zootopia Unlocked!
Xanatos Enterprises announced the formation of Prometheus Aeronautics, a subsidiary company devoted to renewing the exploration of space, furthering development on the US' moon base, and most interestingly, building a space elevator. The company has attracted attention from rivals and investors alike all over the nation. Considering the numerous assets now reorganized under the Prometheus umbrella, commentators consider the new umbrella corp a statement of continuing investment in space travel from the famous billionaire.
[ ] Look into Kat
32
David sent you an email detailing what he knows about Kat, and you have to say that you're a little irked. Kat didn't even bother sticking around in New York like a good nemesis! Apparently someone booked a flight to Paris that they ended up missing, even though their cat carrier was already in the luggage area. You've got no idea what Kat could be doing over there.
When you heard that there was a fifty-seven terabyte leak of anime content released onto several streaming platforms, you were expecting some unreleased shows or highly-anticipated movies. You were not expecting that someone would've dubbed thousands of hours of anime in Old Japanese, circa the Nara period. Episodes ranged from undiscovered pilots of early Tezuka works to shounen episodes featuring events not yet adapted from their original manga. The production companies are completely baffled; while fan projects are not unheard of, the level of quality, odd choice of language, and sheer quantity of episodes produced leave many to wonder where they came from.
Learning Check: What the heck does this mean!?
DC 80 needed
48+38=86
Bare Success
You don't know the first thing about Old Japanese or most of the shows offered, but you did notice something weird. Some of their speech patterns seem awfully similar to those odd transmissions that still haven't let up yet… maybe you can work backwards from here?
The DC of Decoding Odd Transmissions has been reduced!
-Olympia Infiltration Activates!
US Government
[ ] Investigate Negaduck
DC ???
70+35+20+50(??!?!)=175
Some Sort of Success
Your agents in the Olympia Underground- or 'the mobs in Nevada' as Mirage insists on calling them- have informed you of what you suspect to be government spooks poking around the chemical factories which Negaduck stole from several months ago. Your spy guys inform you they were led by 'A woman with raven hair, who appeared in her early 30s.' Judging by the way the agents all suddenly disappeared at once, it seems like they found something.
Mira Nova
[ ] Investigate Earth
DC 100
43+18+28+7=96
Bare Failure
Mira Nova's otherwise fruitful investigations ran to a screeching halt when the Galactic Federation intercepted a high-powered signal blasting terabytes of data into the galaxy at large. This was hardly unusual, several of their institutions had done the same thing before. Unfortunately, when Mira went to investigate the content of the message, she found herself completely enthralled by strange stories of ninjas, pirates, and monkey men and ended up wasting most of her time. Technically, however, the knowledge gained on the human condition from these works may help speed a broader understanding of the planet's present sociopolitical climate.
You really have no way of knowing this in character. But we wanted to tell you anyway.
Bill Cipher
[ ] Greet an Old Friend
88
To be continued...
The Used To Be About History Channel
[ ] Promote Gargoyle Hunters
DC 80
65+26=91
Success
From the people who brought you Ghost Harassers comes the hit new show 'Gargoyle Hunters', a team of intrepid scientists looking to discover the truth behind these 'strange and terrifying beings'. It's your standard 'hunt for the paranormal, never find anything, bring in subject matter experts with no idea what they're talking about' affair. The show seems entirely biased against the creatures, clearly aligned with the 'fear and anger' branch of opinion that's been growing in recent months.
Night Terror
[ ] ???
DC ???
96+24+50 (???)=170
Critical Success
Chaos reigned across California last week as numerous sightings of Negaduck were accompanied by unexpected acts of arson, freak lightning strikes, and other oddly localized natural disasters. Experts are confused as to the meaning behind this as it does not follow Negaduck's usual MO, and in fact seems to make no sense whatsoever.
Negaduck
[ ] Come up with ???
DC 150
20+72+48+50+4=194
Success
The pugnacious poultry known as Negaduck was spotted in a Pizza Planet yesterday, simply… eating a vegetable pizza. Staff and other customers gathered in horror, watching the fearsome supervillain refill his soda and have a very casual meal… right up until another Negaduck walked in through the front door. Upon the two seeing each other, Negaduck broke out in mad laughter, cackling dementedly, "Yes! Finally, I've got it! Now I know exactly how to finish things off!" before running off into the night.
Hego
[ ] Do Heroic Deeds
DC 75
33+29+28-10 (Glory Daze)+50 (The Best is Yet to Come)=130
Extreme success
To be concluded in Interlude: Truth, Justice, and...
Shego
[ ] Take down the drug dealers
DC 180
7+68+45+6=126
Miserable Failure
Shego's decidedly lackluster attempts to uproot the Cartel's dealers from Middleton and the surrounding areas have been met with complete failure. The safehouses are too distributed, for every drone that was destroyed another twelve were ready to take their place, and all of the high command were nowhere to be seen. With the real powerbase still hidden in the Exclusion Zone, it's doubtful Shego's apparently hamfisted efforts will amount to much on her own.
Shere Khan
[ ] Sell oil to the third world
DC 100
17+42+34+10+8=111
Acceptable Success
With Shere Khan's famous fusion plants proliferating across the United States, the shrewd tiger has proven his expertise in what made him his first billions, offering oil at lucrative rates to various countries in the third world. With the consumption in America dropping in favor of Khan's own fusion and other green technologies, it's clear the cutthroat businessman seems more than happy to offload his remaining production to those who cannot afford his less polluting production methods.
Bakaemono
[ ] Release Bakaemono security bot consumer models
DC 115
78+33+32+15-3=155
Great Success
Bakaemono's massive success in producing military drones over the last year has proven successful to the point that the company is branching out into consumer models. While obviously less-lethal they are every bit as cunning as the military models, offering a wide variety of designs that promise a perfect match for any aesthetic. They're offered at affordable rates too, making it increasingly likely that the average homeowner might be able to purchase one for defense. It seems Olympia now has a rival in security robot solutions.
Funtelligence
[ ] ???
DC ???
98+36+29+10-2=181
??? Success
Rumors around San Fransokyo suggest that Trevor Trengrove has shut himself in his office for the past two months, working on… something. What, you have no idea, but Wendy seems concerned.
Yama
[ ] Run more bot fights
DC 60
70+24+19+20=133
Critical Success!
To be continued in Interlude: Cage Match
ENCOM
[ ] Advocate for the Legacy Upgrade
DC 100
71+18+27+20 (Market Dominance)+6=142
Great Success
The only thing ENCOM advertisements could talk about for the past few months was the Legacy Upgrade. It's been touting itself as the safest, most secure, and best ENCOM system ever, and with the tech monolith cutting support for most prior OSes, it's definitely in everyone's best interest to upgrade as soon as possible. It is free, after all, and in a surprising turn from ENCOM's previous track record, much, much better than you're comfortable with admitting. The campaign has taken great care not to seem overly pushy or domineering, and so far it has seen great results in ensuring more and more of ENCOM's existing customers upgrade from their legacy systems to… well… LEGACY.
[ ] Improve LEGACY security
DC 170
47+58+36+20+6=167
Bare Failure
ENCOM's announced upgrade to the LEGACY system was delayed for several months, citing 'security concerns' but promising their userbase that it would be of quality unparalleled.
Minversal Corporation
[ ] Declare Bankruptcy
DC 0
Khan Industries' elder statesman rival in aeronautics and air transport, Miniversal Corp, declared bankruptcy overnight. There are expected to be significant layoffs due to the suddenness of their closing doors. While officially citing an inability to adapt to new technologies in the industry, Miniversal fell into a sharp decline after its former CEO, Mr. Sultan, retired. Clearly, his replacement was by no means up to the task of competing against Shere Khan.
While it would raise a few eyebrows and risk an investigation into a potential monopoly, it is predicted that Khan Industries will attempt to purchase its late rival in the future. The aerospace industry has gained new traction that it hasn't had since before the Wynncomm space station disaster. The leap from the sky to the stars is hardly an unlikely one to make.
Random Event
A break-in was reported at the San Fransokyo Museum of Art last month, with the thieves making off with several valuable pieces. While several pieces such as City Rising were recovered at a pawn shop in Piedmont, many others such as The Prologue and the Promise are still missing.
San Fransokyo had many claims to fame as the hotbed of culture for the west coast. Tezuka Town was frequented by some of the biggest toons from Japan. The Zaibatsus had built half the state into a thriving center of industry, pulling in researchers from the world over. It attracted countless tourists to see the shining lights of the city of tomorrow.
But for most of its native citizens, there was no greater pleasure in life than bot fighting. There was nothing quite like the experience of watching two bots enter the ring, knowing that only one of them was going to leave, with nothing more than their creators' wits and whatever dirty tricks they were hiding. It hearkened back to the gladiatorial games of the old days, calling on some primal desire for violence, and-
A piece of rebar embedded itself three inches deep in the steel wall opposite the crowd, launched from one of the combatants as if from a railgun.
The crowd roared with approval, and even Mr. Yama himself found himself caught up in the excitement. This is what botfighting was meant to be! Two combatants duking it out with money on the line, no pesky government oversight, no annoying safety measures to get in the way of the action.
"Go!" he roared, waving a massive fist in the air. "Kick Hamada's ass!"
The bot he was cheering for was a segmented purple worm about two feet long whose main advantage was mobility and versatility, sliding around an opponent until it could disable, disembowel, or crush it to death in its coils. The black-haired girl who ran it was a regular on the bot scene, popular enough that Yama was considering actually learning her name. Especially if she could manage to teach the kid some respect.
Hiro Hamada, Yama mused, was an oddity. His first introduction to the boy was being hustled out of fifteen thousand dollars, all those years ago. He'd never admit it out loud but he was still a bit sore at how easily he had been played that night, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance every time the boy walked through his door. The ten percent he got off of Hamada's massive winnings did a good job of mitigating this.
Hamada's bot was a squat, ugly thing, looking like an amalgamate of several different designs. Carbon nanotube skeleton, plasma emitters on the detachable fists, some sort of magnetic levitation that gave it enough mobility to run up walls. What it lacked in aesthetics it made up for in practicality, and despite his personal misgivings Yama had to admit that Hamada was a skilled engineer.
Sparks flew as the two bots grappled with one another, catching a nearby stack of crates on fire. The crowd roared with renewed bloodlust as a sudden flash of plasma bifurcated the purple worm down the middle, following the attack by tossing both halves into the air, leaping up after it, and setting the entire thing ablaze.
One of the Fujitas- Yama could never keep them straight, not that he would tell them that to the scary one's face- cheered, ringing the gong that signified the end of the match. Hamada's smug grin as he collected his winnings was all it took for the crowd to start chanting his name.
All in all, it had been a very successful night. Aside from the psychopath in the mask who thought he could push him around, things had been going rather well lately. Yama could hardly believe his good fortune when Tomokiri showed up; the girl was as effective as she was creepy, whoever she was. The kanbu made short work of the Triads and left him with the very awkward problem of trying to find new assignments for someone who was simply too good at their job.
Oh, well. That was a problem for later. Hamada's grudge match was the perfect way to cap things off tonight, the previous competitors had been more brutal than anyone could remember, and best of all, the cops hadn't-
"SAN FRANSOKYO! I, EL FUEGO, HAVE ARRIVED! ARE! YOU! READY! TO! CONFRONT! ME!"
What the hell?
Yama looked up to see a masked luchador in a suit of hot rod power armor, complete with stenciled flames. Yama recognized it from the mech wrestling circuit, which made him very confused about what he was doing here, interrupting one of his best moneymakers.
"I SAID I AM HERE TO CONFRONT YOU! SEND OUT YOUR STRONGEST CHALLENGER!"
Despite his grand words, 'El Fuego' was doing a terrible job of working the crowd, coming off as more of an unhinged vagrant than a new challenger. No one cheered. No one even booed. A lot of people were clearly just impatient for him to get out of the ring and let the real action resume. A few even checked their phones.
"YOU THERE, YAMA! I DEMAND-"
A weedy voice rose from the stands. "Yeah, Felony Carl, this guy is terrible!" A purple glob of living slime said as he spoke so loudly he could be heard from the back row. "This guy wouldn't know spectacle if it bit him. I paid good money for this, and I can't stand to watch another second- yes, I know you're two seats down from me, Felony Carl, but I felt the need-" the local abominable goo-man rambled.
"The local abominable goo-man has a point." Hamada's annoying friend added. "Get out of the ring, you underwhelming menace!"
El Fuego turned as if expecting something to get thrown at him, but the guy in the beanie was back on his phone. "YOU GOT SOMETHING TO SAY, TWERP?"
"Uh, no. That's why I'm on my phone."
One person in the crowd gave a half-hearted boo that trailed off after a few seconds. Yama dragged a hand down his face. This was costing him money.
"LET'S SEE HOW COCKY YOU ARE ONCE I'M FINISHED WITH YOU!" El Fuego bellowed as a massive hand closed around Fred's neck.
"Oh my god, he's got him in a Heimlich maneuver!" The purple gloop screamed.
Heimlich- That idiot! Yama thought. That wasn't the Heimlich, that was the worst-executed Atomi-
"Actually this is an Atomic Noogie," Fred commented even as El Fuego started to knuckle his head furiously. "Created by Sergeant Slaughter, first performed circa 1990. It's a really inefficient move, mostly used for theatrics, and anyone other than Sergeant Slaughter using it is clearly plagiarizing." He craned his neck to glare at the wrestler. "I've gotta say, this is pretty disappointing. Attacking the audience? That's just straight-up assault, and I didn't even heckle you first!"
"THEN WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO TO STOP ME?"
"Now normally I would turn into Fredz- I mean call the cops," Fred mused, as if he weren't trapped in a hold by a musclebound maniac "-but this is a bot fight. And I totally disagree with the governor's policy on these things despite being an upstanding member of society. I mean, come on! They're part of San Fransokyo's cultural heritage!"
The crowd cheered their assent, uproariously stating their opinions on Governor Kevin and his antiquated policies. After a few seconds, someone started up a chant. "FRED! FRED! FRED! FRED!"
Yama nodded approvingly. He would sooner cut off one of his fingers than be caught cheering for one of Hamada's friends, but he could appreciate the sentiment.
"WHAT'S THAT? YOU LIKE HIM?" El Fuego jeered. "THEN HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I BREAK HIM?"
"Dude, what the hell?!" One of the Fujitas asked. "Those are our customers."
"I GUESS THAT MEANS YOU WOULDN'T LIKE IT THEN!" The upper half of El Fuego's mech rocketed up through the ceiling, sending rubble and rebar down on the uninterested patrons. Fred waited in Fuego's hand, his arms crossed in bored resignation.
"Hey, Hamada!" the former owner of the purple worm snapped. "Fifty bucks says I can kick this guy's ass before you can."
"Heh. Keep dreaming, Trina! I already cleaned you out, what do you have left?"
"You're awfully cocky tonight. Make it five hundred!"
"Your funeral." Yama watched as Hamada's bot leapt to life, miniature plasma jets flashing as they tore through the armor on the mech's foot and started to dissect the delicate internals.
Trina's purple worm, despite being bifurcated earlier, was back with barely a few scratches to show for it, opting to go for the exposed hydraulic instead. The bot split itself into segments that were connected by a thin filament, wrapping itself around the shaft and slicing it to ribbons. High-pressure hydraulic fluid sliced through the nearby crates and six inches deep into the wall behind it.
This got a reaction from the crowd. Visceral action, wanton violence, and the threat of death? If you ignored the unimpressive pilot, a mech was just another bot to fight! El Fuego, completely unprepared for anyone trying to interfere, screamed loudly as his mech's feet were rendered useless. Three tons of steel fell through the roof and nearby wall, creating an even larger hole than before.
Fred crawled out of the rubble looking no worse for wear, brushing a bit of plaster dust off of his beanie. "Honestly? Not even in my top ten hostage takings. Steamer does it better."
"SO! EL FUEGO FINALLY HAS CHALLENGERS?!"
"You're getting sloppy, Hamada." Trina grinned maliciously, far more focused on her rival than El Fuego's blustering declarations. "You're putting too much power into those plasma blades, I can see the servos struggling to keep up."
"Not a problem with the new capacitors I designed, and I can use the excess heat to my advantage. What's your excuse for that twitching on the fifth segment?"
"IF YOU DON'T TREAT ME WITH THE RESPECT I DESERVE, THEN MAYBE YOU SHOULD FEEL THE HEAT!" The upper torso of the mech raised its arm from under the rubble and launched a massive gout of flame at the bot ring. The patrons, well versed in dodging discharge from the fighters, moved before anyone could be so much as scorched.
"Okay, I admit it." Hiro said, turning to point at the wrestler's exosuit. "Maybe your bot's a little better built than that."
"Says the guy who's hoping the maglev suspension will compensate for your lack of armor!" Moving together, the two bots leapt onto El Fuego's outstretched fist and burrowed inside the flamethrower, followed a second later by a dull explosion that didn't even get a reaction from the crowd.
"HOW DARE YOU?! I AM HERE AS YOUR CHALLENGER AND YOU HAVEN'T EVEN ADDRESSED ME!"
"What is that running on anyway, an old processor from back in the KreiTech days?" Trina talked past El Fuego. "Obviously not a neural interface, the delay between the reactions and the movement speed is way too long. Haptic or analogue?"
"Analogue! You're one to talk with that performance from a couple weeks back." Hamada turned to address the crowd as his bot slid a blade through the casing around El Fuego's central processor. "Remember that, guys? Ring out in fifteen seconds. One of my better performances even if it was boring to watch."
Half of the crowd started chanting his name as Trina snorted derisively. "That was a fluke! You won because of a glitch!"
"A gitch that you failed to patch out. We call that 'user error'."
"GRAAAAH! FIGHT ME!" El Fuego attempted to interject.
"And what does that make you for taking advantage of it?"
"Richer." Hiro smirked.
Sparks flew from El Fuego's chestpiece as his remaining hand rocketed up into the night, searching in vain for anyone or anything to find purchase on. When it reached the end of its tether the fist fell like a stone, crushing the air conditioning unit atop the warehouse.
Mr. Yama narrowed his eyes. This was going to cost a fortune to repair. The Fujitas pickled up their weapons and closed in on the wrestler who was only now pulling himself out of his ruined mech suit. Whatever else could be said about the man, he didn't seem to be a complete idiot, eyeing each of the geishas in turn and backing up towards the hole in the wall.
"EL FUEGO WILL RETURN FOR REVENGE, I SWEAR IT! SAN FRANSOKYO, YOU HAVE NOT SEEN THE LAST OF ME!"
"Wow, he's even stealing Steamer's lines now. At least say it with some panache!" Fred complained.
"That Kabuki creep better not be paying me a visit after this…" Yama muttered to himself, sending a short text to some of his contacts in construction. "Uhhh…" He mentally paused for a minute as he attempted to remember the scary Fujita's name- "You. Make sure nobody got too roughed up and send someone after that idiot!" The Fujitas gave him a lot of sass but they were damn effective when pointed at a target, and he could already picture what he was going to do when they retrieved him. It had been too long since he stepped into the ring himself, but he still knew how to work a crowd and enough throws to make a fool out of 'El Fuego'. Tearing the man's mask off should be sufficient to cow him, right?
He glanced back at the wreckage of the bot ring, littered with broken glass, twisted rebar, and the remains of El Fuego's suit. Hamada and Trina had recovered their bots and were continuing to snipe at each other.
"Pay up!" Hiro grinned smugly. "That was my bot that knocked out his processor, you know it."
"Oh." Trina said with mock regret. "Looks like I'm fresh out of money."
"You'll have to owe me one then." Hiro smirked.
"Or… I could do this."
Hamada's next response was cut off as Trina wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a kiss. It took a few moments before he finally pulled free.
"All right, fine." He grumbled. "I suppose I can give you a rain check."
"Take that!" Hego declared, declaratively, as his fist impacted the first robber's face with a shining blue glow. The man collapsed to the ground, completely stunned.
"Oh god!" The second yelled. "It's a Cape!"
"That's not a Cape you idiot, that's a Super!" A third chided. "Now move out of the way so I can shoot him!"
The third man raised his gun and aimed it at the blue-clad hero- to no effect. Hego's super-durable chest absorbed the energy of the laser bolts with little more than a grimace of pain from the hero himself! A swing of the fist turned the techno tommy gun into scrap, sending its former owner crashing against the wall!
"Ha ha! Such a feeble toy of evil cannot stop a HERO OF JUSTICE!" Hego boldly declared as he plucked one gangster from the floor and tossed him into a pile of his friends.
Finally, this is what he had been looking for! He had wasted enough time going for leisurely supervillain-funded strolls down main street, saving evil cats from trees. These weren't the kind of horrid supervillains that would execute their captive in the middle of a dramatic monologue, or gather in a place civilians could be caught in the crossfire. This was how things were supposed to be!
"Fine!" One of the robbers declared, grabbing hold of one of the cowering civilians currently trying to avoid notice on the bank's floor. "I can't hurt you, but I can hurt him."
The man whimpered as the robber held his gun to his neck.
Perhaps Hego had spoken too soon.
The superhero approached slowly, trying to avoid any sudden moves. "Easy now."
"Don't come any closer!" The robber screamed. "Or else-"
Hego leapt.
Martial Check: Stop the bullets
DC 65
80+36+5=121
Great success!
Hego leapt, interposing his hand between the barrel and the hostage before the vile villain could hope to act. A second later he pulled the trigger, only for nothing to happen. Hego blinked, then pulled the weapon out of his hands and bashed him against it.
"Quick, someone call the boss before-" one of the criminals cut himself off upon seeing Hego's heroic pose.
"I think not!" he declared, grabbing the man's cell phone and snapping it in half. "Whatever may have led you to such a life of crime is pointless in the end! Surrender right now and I'll put in a good word with the DA for you."
The mobster looked like he was considering his options for a moment before finally raising his hands in defeat. Hego beamed. After spending months mired in the morass of morality in Danville, he had finally let those criminal kitties and bad memories behind. Olympia Corp was leading the way to a bright new tomorrow, moving away from their predecessor's comments on capes! Mr. Deavor was a true idealist, on the occasions he had spoken to Hego he could tell that the man cared about Supers as much as he did.
So then… why was it all so slightly off?
The captured gangsters marched sullenly out of the broad double doors, not even trying to make a break for it and risk Hego's wrath. As Hego led them down the stairs to the streets outside, he was surprised to see that the police were already pulling up!
That… was a little odd. Sure, Hego had called them three minutes ago, and a city should be able to pride itself on prompt police service… but it did make him raise an eyebrow. Every time he had called the cops in the past it usually took them upwards of ten minutes to arrive.
No time for that. The public was watching, and Hego knew he needed to make a good impression.
"These miserable mobsters will trouble the fair city of Reno no longer!" Hego proudly declared, beaming for the… yes! There were cameras out there to capture his moment of glory! He offered a heroic wave to reassure viewers at home that he would always be vigilant.
"Thanks, Hego." One of the cops commented as his squad handcuffed the mobsters and read them their rights. "With you around it's like we actually have a chance around here. Ever since those omnidroids went down, crime's been a lot tougher to crack down on."
"Fear not, officer! As long as I am on the case, crime stands no chance!"
"Mr Hego, can we quote you on that? We're looking for a headline on page three!" A quickly arriving reporter asked.
"Of course you can! As long as my words touch as many people as possible, the spirit of true heroism may never die!"
Hego posed heroically until the press tired of the spectacle, crowd slowly tapering off. As they did, Hego saw the craven criminals being led towards the police station… a police station only a block or two down the street. That explained that, he supposed. But then why would any criminal stage a bank robbery just two blocks from the precinct headquarters?
Hego stepped back into the building, and slowly made to pick up the weapon he had discarded on the floor. After double checking there were no civilians in the area, he gently depressed the trigger.
Nothing.
The laser gun was completely jammed, if that was even the right word for the weapon. Hego did not know how they worked. That was certainly a stroke of good luck. If he hadn't been fast enough, things still would have worked out.
That was good, right?
Before that thought could be pursued further, Hego heard a gentle beep from the communicator at his side. He lifted the phone from its clip, popping it to his ear. "Hego here."
"Hego!" The delighted voice of Winston Deavor called from the other side. "I just finished going over the logs from your latest escapade. You were amazing out there! Like lightning!"
"Oh. Uh, thank you Winston. I do my best."
"And it's amazing! And speaking of amazing, I have news. Rumor has it that Martinez is gearing up for a big push to finally get the SRA repealed! My sister thinks we've finally got enough momentum behind us for one final push. Next month, we're hosting the biggest event of the season for charity, and to raise awareness of the cause! We'll want you there, of course, along with several other of our best and brightest. There'll be a lot of political bigwigs on the scene, so be ready to schmooze!"
That's great!" Hego said cheerily. "I'm looking forward to it."
"Great! I'll let you get on with your day then. Bye!"
Hego let the smile drop from his mouth just a touch too quickly. After going into the station for a quick debriefing and answering a few more questions from the final dregs of the press, Hego made his way back to his apartment. The past year or two had been rough, but things were finally working out! Ever since the old days of his work in Go City he had dreamed of a life like this. It was just as he had envisioned, and it was every bit as satisfying as he thought he'd be. He was helping people! He was a hero!
Seeing you playing at it like a snot-nosed five year old is an absolute disgrace to the men you look up to!
Hego shook his head and hummed a merry tune to distract himself as he whipped up a quick dinner for himself, following along with an instructional video on Buzztube. Bolton's words had stuck with him. Tonight's dinner was Consomme Sapho, a relatively simple dish he'd picked up from Anyone Can Cook. What a delightful book that was. Everything slotted into place perfectly. Yes, Hego was confident that his life was turning in a new direction.
So why couldn't he shake the feeling that something was wrong?
