>>5234876You utter a quick ‘<span class="mu-i">hello</span>’ into your <span class="mu-g">RADIO</span> as you whip it out of your pocket. Listen, about that guy who kidnapped ev-
“<span class="mu-r">TRIPWIRE NAIL BOMBS</span> at each location–four in each room! <span class="mu-r">SHOTGUN TRAPS</span> at every door–interior and exterior! <span class="mu-r">GAS LEAKS</span>, too! The hammocks are set to <span class="mu-r">IGNITE AND BLOCK THE EXITS</span> if enough hostages are taken off of a <span class="mu-r">DEVILISHLY-HIDDEN PRESSURE PLATE!</span> I’ve been regularly feeding a pack of very ill-tempered <span class="mu-r">PARROT FISH</span> in the water bordering the warehouse–stepping on an <span class="mu-r">ODD-NUMBERED PLANK</span> will drop everyone into their lair! A-and there are <span class="mu-r">RUSTY NAILS</span> at each location, so-”
Okay, you interrupt, motioning for him to stop, you’re pretty sure you got all that! But just to clarify, you continue, face turning serious, he wouldn’t happen to be… well… <span class="mu-i">lying</span>, would he?
“N-no!” The skull cries as he nearly falls off of the bench! “That’s the truth, I swear! Just please… <span class="mu-i">please</span> don’t send the one with the theme song!”
Weeeellll, you muse, tapping your chin in thought, you’ll certainly think about it! Rising from the bench, you plant your hands on your hips as you angrily scan the ice cream parlor for any sign of your god<span class="mu-i">DAMN</span> ice cream! What’s the friggin’ holdup!?
“Do you wanna… I dunno, write dat’ info down or anything?” Ly asks as you stare daggers at all of the hostages with ice cream cones. Nah, you shrug, tapping the side of your head, you’ve got it all up in here! Man, some of those pricks already have <span class="mu-i">SECONDS!</span>
Watching the crowd with growing scorn, the rescuees clear the streets as an APC convoy skids to a halt just outside of the parlor! The vehicles barely have time to park before boots hit the ground–some belonging to <span class="mu-g">GOOD BOY SECURITY GOONS,</span> the rest belonging to similarly-armored donut-chasers with <span class="mu-g">RED CROSSES</span> on their helmets carrying stretchers and medic bags! Man, you <span class="mu-i">hate</span> recolors!
Seeing you a mile away, a particularly-important-looking rent-a-cop makes a beeline for you immediately after hopping out of their ride!
“Parble, right?” They ask as they’re flanked by a pair of equally serious-looking goons, “Officer Wojciechowski–I understand you’re the one in charge here?”
The words ‘<span class="mu-i">one in charge here</span>’ cause you to freeze up like a deer about to be plastered by a sixteen-wheeler on the interstate. Y-yes, you mumble as the officer raises their gloved hand for you to shake, yes you are!
“Chief Blumenkrantz instructed me to extend his thanks–he wanted me to inform you that you are, and I quote, ‘<span class="mu-i">not as useless as you used to be.</span>’ High praises, miss.”
He can say <span class="mu-i">that</span> again!
“High praises, m-”
Okay, <span class="mu-i">chill</span>!
>CONTD. 