Clusterfrag

The general complies with all of Doc's orders, moving slowly and deliberately.

"We surrender. The battle is lost... the revolution is lost..."

Tyros reaches an arm out towards the general (centering) and tunnels into his memories (mind probe, f4, looking for information on this war they are apparently fighting).

Max pats down the prisoner and asks,

"Tell us about the revolution. I want to see how well you know your history."

Tyros' mind burrows into the Generals'.

He feels a slight headache as he does so.

Tyros frowns, puzzled by the results of his spell. "There is something wrong with his memories. They feel... synthetic. Maybe implanted?"

"Implanted? Are you sure?"

Doc looks at the man, while trying to come up with a mundane, but detailed question.

"Let me ask you something," he says to the Russian. "What is the name of the last piece of music you listened to?"

The General looks at Doc quizzically.

"Johnny Meltdown's Nuclear Winter, why?"

Max cocks his head to the side and asks,

"What year is it, General?"

The General moves his mouth, but Doc fails to catch his response.

Max shakes his head,

"Johnny Meltdown hasn't been born yet, General."

The events preceding the shootout in Russia come flooding back.

[ ??? ]

Mr. Lo sighs and waves his hand. The Triad enforcers turn and leave the room. As soon as
they're gone, Mr. Lo retrieves a small gray box from his shirt pocket and sets it on the table.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave this room. This is not just for my safety, but for yours as
well. There are forces--powerful forces--that could crush you or I with very little effort in order
to gain this knowledge."

Mr. Lo gestures for Tyros to place the canister on the table and turns to Max.

systemConfig_error;
syntax error line 942303411556;
_mr.lo: ' variable '
buffer_overflow detected;

Mr. Lo smiles at the runners.

"You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job.
You've done a good job."

[ College of the Awakened, Scotland ]

An older man in a tweed suit turns to Tyros and clasps his hand appreciatively.

"Welcome, Tyrosthenes. Welcome to the College of the Awakened."

Rawhide smiles at everyone.

"Boy, this sure is a joyous occasion. I can't believe that our good friend Tyros was named magician of the year!"

Max promptly throws up into a planter containing a ficus, suddenly having gotten quite nauseous.

Doc gives a meaningful look to Max, before turning away.

His hands are still being held up in front of him, as if holding something. He lets them fall to his sides.

"Yeah, um yes, it certainly is!" He says, collecting himself.

Max continues his tempestuous boot into the soil around the ficus, holding up his left hand in the direction of the ceremony with his index finger extended in the universal gesture for 'give me just a minute; I'll be right with you.'

Tyros gives Max a hard glare before bowing to the old man. "It is truly my honor, sir. I'm so grateful my work has garnered such attention. I don't think enough attention can be paid to the threat of insect spirits. I hope to convene a conference on the subject in the spring."

Tyros has the sudden, strange sensation that there is something he should be remembering.

The man in the tweed suit smiles broadly.

"Ahhh and your dealings with the Renraku corporation haven't gone unnoticed. Tell me, what was that business with the Triads?"

Dash Danstar picks something out of his teeth with the tip of a combat knife.

"This sure is a fancy school. Too bad it's for fairy princes and wizards. Can't say I wouldn't look significantly awesome in one of those uniforms though. Say, did you guys ever finishing collecting all those whats-its for that Chinese dude?"

Max nods,

"We did, but I don't know if Lo ever got the fifth. I don't seem to remember for sure."

Tyros eyes Dash, "But you know that buddy, you picked us up after retrieving the fourth one. Can't seem to remember about the fifth, but seems like we must have been successful, otherwise we would be dead! Strange that I can't remember the end of that mission."

Doors at the north, west, south and east open simultaneously. Through each doorway steps a man in a white robe, with hallowed-out eye sockets. They all bear the tattoo of a rising sun on their forehead.

"You should..." says the first man.

"...not have..." says the second.

"...come to..." says the third.

"..this place!" finishes the fourth.

Tyros feels a swell in astral energy as each of the four men begin to channel combat magic.

Doc flinches, and pats himself down, hoping that he has a weapon somewhere.

"Nice school you run here, gramps!" He says to the older tweed-suited man.

Upon closer inspection, it appears the man in the suit is Colonel Bell!

His mouth moves mechanically.

"I hear it's amazing when the famous purple stuffed worm in flap jaw space with a tuning fork does a raw blink on Hari-Kiri Rock. I need scissors! Sixty-one!"

"You and me both, pal!" Doc responds.

"Tyros, make us a hole, and let's get the frag out of here!"

( intrusion_detection:yes; )
code fault 47;
abort_process: colonel_bell;
reconstitution.init

"You can't begin to imagine to begin to imagine to begin to imagine to begin to imagine..."

Colonel Bell lunges for Doc, his fingers cocked like claws.

Max, out of it from his battle with the bushes, lunges to interject himself between Bell and Doc. Max is only too happy to beat the hell out of Bell.

Doc, inexperienced as he is in melee combat, awkwardly raises his fists in front of his face to ward off the attack, while backpedaling across the room.

Bell claws at Doc's face with his fingernails.
Doc wards off the attack with a clumsy swat.

Max leaps into the fray, aiming a right hook at Bell.
Bell takes the full brunt of the punch.
Although struck by the blow, it doesn't seem to deter the tweed-wearing Colonel.

Max changes tactics and goes again for the tried and true tackle, aiming to take Bell to the ground.

Violet lightning begins to ebb out of the cultists' fingertips, surging forward like hungry serpents.