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As much as you’d prefer not to bother him right now, you know who you’re gonna have to talk to in order to get anything done around here… or get anything <span class="mu-i">period</span>. Flagging down a passing security goon, you ask if they can point you in Blumenkrantz’ direction.
“Hmmmm….” Replies the goon as she strokes her respirator-covered chin, “Well he can’t have gone far given all the boneheads still roaming around… pretty sure comms mentioned something about him heading up to the old observation area, though.”
Grunting a half-hearted thanks, you stick to the patrolled areas of the bunker and try to follow the guard’s instructions.
“<span class="mu-r">You don’t think any more skeletons are gonna break through… right, sis?</span>” Asks Nats as you pass by a barricade filled to the brim with half-dead security mooks. Not if you have anything to say about it, you say with a smirk!
Bolstered by your own self-confidence, you get lost a few times in the bunker’s twisting tunnels before eventually finding the path once more thanks to a chance encounter with a massive fist-shaped indent in the bunker wall!
And another.
And <span class="mu-i">ANOTHER.</span>
Gee, you mutter to yourself as you pass by a section of tunnel plating twisted up into some kind of abstract balloon animal, maybe you oughta… come back later?
“No sweat, kiddo…” Ly replies in a reassuring tone, “Just find da’ guy, ask about da’ chopper, an’ hit’ da road. Easy.”
Yea, you shrug, but <span class="mu-i">still</span>...
“<span class="mu-r">You could always ask Talbot to come with you!</span>” Chirps Nats!
Hey, <span class="mu-i">yea</span>, you nod, he could totally take a hit or seven from Blumenkrantz!
“<span class="mu-r">NNnnot what I meant…</span>”
Oh. Well thanks, you guess.
Turning a corner, you nearly let out a gasp as you spot a familiar mountain of a man peering out across a warehouse filled with rows of black bags.
<span class="mu-i">Human</span>-sized bags.
“...Parble.”
Devoid of its usual vitriol or spite, you nearly fail to answer the Chief of Security. Only after he turns your way do you realize he was referring to you! Oh, you stammer, y-yep, that’s you…
“Hmph.”
Standing in the entryway for a few seconds, you come to the conclusion that he isn’t going to punch you and quietly creep over to his side.
For the first time in ages, both of you are at a loss for words.
>CONTD.
