A Plee for Freedom: Part 4
With a tough phsycial battle won, the Maximals now engage in a most trying mental struggle. It is to the courts where the Maximals must now prove thier story true against all odds.
PART FOUR
The Metal Mug
Rubmur and Weede walked in through the door of the Metal Mug. They did this at the same time, so it was very uncomfortable. This is the consequence of not paying attention in life though. After quick look around Rubmur spots the dance floors. He knew it was the dance floor due to the lights, and the ‘bots dancing. Rubmur darts, and then turns around and runs back. He grabs Weede’s arm and then darts to the dance floor, half pulling half-dragging Weede the whole way.
Me First and the Gimme Gimme, the cover band’s “Walking on Sunshine” is playing and Rubmur goes off. He’s dancing to the ska cover with a relentless passion, occasionally just skeeting. His face is in a huge smile, until he looks over and sees Weede lying on the ground by the side of the dance floor, staring at the different colored lights. Rubmur attempts to grab him and pull him to his feet, but Weede resists. Not knowingly of course, he’s just not doing anything.
Rubmur stands up and gazes around the room, pondering on how he can get Weede to lighten up and start having some fun. A lightbulb appears over Rubmur’s head and he reaches up to pull the string. This is all theoretically of course, there is no lightbulb above Rubmur’s head suspended by nothing. Anywho, Rubmur reaches behind him and grabs the Jitterbug Bubbles. He takes the wand and dips them in it a bit, and then blows. The bubbles fly and pop all over the three-toed sloth. Suddenly, he begins to move to the rhythmic tunes of Macarena that begin to play.
Trance wandered the streets of Cybertron for a while before coming to the conclusion that Buckshot could be anywhere, so he decided to go back to the hotel and wait for the criminal, as he knew he would be going back there. He turned around and began heading towards the hotel, chuckling to himself as he stepped.
Trance made his up the hotel in the elevator, holding his plasma shotgun in hand as he polished it in anticipation. The elevator then chimed as it came to a stop, the doors opening. Trance stepped out as he put away his shotgun and began walking down the hallway, trying to figure out which room the Maximals were in before. He heard a low moaning as he walked down the hallway, and grew louder and louder, until he stopped in front of the door from which the maons were coming from. He then looked at the door next to it and realized that was the one the Maximals were in. He groaned and shook his head as he pounded his fist on the door.
"HEY! Keep it down in there!" Trance yelled as he tried to get their attention, but the moans were still coming. He punded on the door again, even harder, anger growing on his face despite his good mood. "I SAID KEEP IT DOWN!!!!" He yelled again, but once again receiving no response, agitating even more until he was about to snap. He pulled out his plasma shotgun and yelled again. "IF YOU DON'T SHUT UP, I'LL KICK THE DOOR DOWN AND SHUT YOU UP WITH MY SHOTGUN!!!!!!!!!!"
Compromise was becoming excited as he always was when he danced with Nocticia. She had begun drinking with her one arm as she danced as had he. Suddenly, the music stopped. They went to the bar and sat down as another song began. Nocticia ordered a drink that looked a bit like mechfluid but Compromise couldn't be sure. He looked at the bar and saw the snake's body. Yep, it was mechfluid.
Nocticia watched as two male 'bots walked in. One seemed to move not to the music but to his own rhythm. She got up leaving a confused Compensate to stare. The vampire walked up to the bot and wrapped her leg around his waist, "Take me!" she moaned passionately as she fell into his arms.
"Uhhhh, huh huh, where do you want me to take you?" the bot said.
Buckshot took a deep breath to answer the person at the door but Mimi put a finger to her lips and screamed. "HOW BOUT YOU **** OFF YOU ******* ***HOLE BEFORE I COME OUT THERE AND SHOVE A CHAIN GUN UP YOUR ASS!" Mimi smiled at buckshot.
"Wow, you are awsome!" With that he kissed her deeply not knowing of the danger that lurked just outside the door.
--------------------
Wraith and Rhapsody sat together in rhapsody's room arm in arm watching TV. The song bird laughed as wraith kissed her on the cheek. Rhapsody smiled and clicked the TV off. Reaching for some documents she began to look over some evidence she had collected. Wraith smiled snatching one of the documents resulting in a pillow fight.
In silence they walked down the hall, Cross leading the way to Nocticia's CR chamber, not knowing she wasn't there. As they continued on, the silence was slowly eating Cross away. A conversation must be started!
"So..." Cross began, "How did you join the Maximal resistance?"
“Ok, one, two, three.” With a short grunt, Retro helped Tundra to her feet. Her right ankle was strained, or broken, or whatever, meaning a trip to the CR chamber was a must. Leaning heavily on her new marsupial lover, she hobbled back into the hotel and toward the elevators.
All buildings like this had a couple complimentary chambers for guest uses, just in case. Waiting for the elevator to get to their floor, Tundra hopped a little bit, trying to get a better balance. Even though Retro had his arm around her, and she had hers over his shoulder, any slip or tip could take them both down.
“Well..” Retro started, attempting some idle conversation. “This is actually the first time I’ve done it with a girl that dident want something in return.”
Tundra frowned at him. “What do you mean?”
“See, I have a pretty good reputation as a hacker, so any women that has the right stuff would just have sex with me if I did stuff for them. Bulk up their bank account, get rid of bad credit, find someone, practically anything that needed a good hacker. And once the job was done, poof, they were gone.”
*Ding* The elevator doors opened and the two stepped in.
“It’s not all that bad a business, but just once I wished a girl would like me for something OTHER than my skill.”
Tundra looked at Retro and leaned in to say, "You got one, right here. and don't worry about Vinoc, I'll deal with him." she smiled and, when she saw the doubt in his face said "hey, trust me, if i trust you, i can manage to get Vinoc to trust you." "Do you trust me?" "If i didn't, we wouldn't have been on the veiwing platform, would we."
The elevator stopped, to reveal to them an empty corrador. Tundra hobbles along next to Retro. "Well, this is the first time i did that without it having been an order," Tundra confessed. Retro looked at her, alarmed. "I was used as an assasin several years ago, some crime lord put a Hypnochip in me. so i was not the lady you know. i was a heartless assasin."
Querion picked himself up from his seat, stretched his back, and proceeded to the dance-floor. He tapped Timber on the shoulder, and gestured towards the door.
"WHAT!?" yelled Timber over the noise of beating bass and drums.
"I SAID I'D BE GOING OUT FOR A WHILE! DON'T WAIT UP!"
The she-wolf nodded in acknowledgement, and returned to dancing. Querion smiled as he gazed at Timber for a few more seconds, then opened the door and stepped out.
Cool wind blew around the wolf-bot. His snowy fringe flapped against the breeze, as did his fur, as he transformed. His hind legs sprang to action, as he sprinted down the cement road. In and out of alleyways, up and down streets, buildings passing him in a blur. He finally screeched to a stop in front of a large junkyard.
Pieces of metal were strewn everywhere, in heaps and heaps, like grey mountains. Querion transformed to robot mode, and pushed the gate open. There was a dome-shaped structure inside, with a long tube blowing out smoke. It was dirty and shabby-looking, but still very sturdy. A large old bot rocked himself on a chair outside, smoking a cigar as he eyed the Maximal suspiciously.
"What do ya want, kid?"
"You the smith here?" asked Querion.
"Yea, and de best in de block too. Ya have something ya want fixed?" asked the smith gleefully, tossing his cigar to a side and leaping gracefully, despite his size, from his seat. The wolf-bot nodded, as the broken pieces of his sabre materialised in his hands at the tap of a button. The smith took them in his hands, and inspected them carefully.
"Whoa. Katellan steel. Good stuff. What do ya want it forged into? Ah can do wonders with this kinda material."
"That's what all the smiths say," smiled Querion, watching as the old man's face flushed in anger. He shook his head and reached into his sub-space vault, pulling out scrap pieces of duranium. He laid them on the table, picked up a pencil, and began to draw out some rough schematics.
"Here, this is what I want you to forge..."
Trance's optics shrank as he listened to the female voice yell at him. After she was finished, he let a little chukcle escape from him as his head dropped between his shoulders and he shook it, still chuckling.
"Alright, if that's the way you wanna play it. I ASKED YOU NICELY, BUT NOW I'M GONNA HAVE TO USE SOME FORCE!!!!!!!!" Trance yelled as he pulled out his shotgun and cocked it, before stepping back slightly and raising his right leg and kicking the down door. He moved in to the room slowly as he held the shotgun in hand. As he scanned through the room, he saw two figures on the bed, in a very compromising position. One of the was a female, and the other one was shadowed, but moved up to yell at Trance.
"WHAT THE **** DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING YOU ******* PIECE OF ****! I'LL **** YOU UP WITH MY ******* SHOTGUN, MOTHA *****!!!!!" Buckshot yelled as he sat up, looking at Trance, who finally got a good look at him and raised his shotgun to Buckshot's level.
"So, you're Buckshot. There's a bounty on your head friend, and I'll be the one to collect it." Trance revealed as he moved closer, keeping an eye on both of them.
"Actually, I didn't join the Resistance. I was picked up during the last battle with the Predacons. I ended up coming along for the ride. And now it seems I've been bundled into this... and I kinda like it. It's like a giant group of friends... but not."
"What about you? Why are you here?", the fox bot continued to walk alongside the larger bot - periodically skipping to keep up with his larger strides.
Wraith and Rhapsody had caused quite a ruckus in the lounge. Their little pillow fight had lasted a good hour or so, since neither of them would surrender, and they were both a bit tired.
They settled back onto the couch and relaxed. Rhapsody laid her head on Wraith's chest and turned on the TV. "I wonder if our crew made the news?" She wondered aloud. Wraith shrugged. "You think the council's gonna put something like this on television?"
The songbird looked into his optics and grinned. "Good point." He grinned back at her. "I'm full of good points. Wanna see?" He said with a hint of a smirk. Rhapsody laughed and he kissed her again.
Cross nodded at Phyphen's experience, understanding her point of view of her own situation. He was young, young enough to be immature yet old enough to that reach that point of maturity. The medic turned to look at Phyphen and smiled, shortening his stride.
"Well, it seems this group does not have a medic." Cross said as he stopped at the door of CR chamber that once held Nocticia. "I decided to stay because I thought I be of much more use then my last job. They made me do things out of my function."
Cross opened the door and immediately frowned. Nocticia was not in her CR chamber. People leaving without the doctor's ok is fine. I just wish they tell us ahead of time.
"Hmm..." Cross mused as he walked around the room, "Looks like she went out the window. No point in tracking her down. So let's go out and have some fun. What'd you say?"
Phyphen's optics lit up at that time.
"Yea! Let's go have some fun! Why don't we go where everyone else went... I think they went out for a drink. That's what Querion was saying as he left."
The wolf bot paused for a moment.Phyphen glances in the room, where they ended up. "by the way, why did we come here? Are you supossed to be waiting for someone?"
"Nothing but protoform waste. That's all it was, they said I didn't get the security job for the trial against those resistance members from that dirtball planet whatever the hell it was called because it was too risky to let someone with my background handle it bahhhhh the slag with them."
Tremors mumblings could be heard all around yet non questioned him or tried to stop him when he shoved those who were in his way to the ground because even though he was now a maximal security officer for the military he still had a past reputation for being a scrapper, and it seemed that he was especially steamed over something which happened to him today so that made him twice as dangerous to confront. As he continued to mumble to himself about the job which should have gone to him and what idiots his superiors were he made his way through alleyways and streets, not reallly paying any attention to where he was going and not really caring as long as he enede up near a bar where he could drown his troubles in liqour he was surprised to see that he had enede up in front of just such a place called the Metal Mug and it seemes just as good a place to drowen his sorrows as any other so in he went. What greeted his eyes when he entered was the last thing he wanted to see tonight it was those fool maximals that had formed a rebellion against the preds on that planet which Tremor couldn't recall the name of, yet either way he didn't care he disliked the preds as much as any other maximal that was in the military but for these fools to go up against them then come home and try and go up against the elders to Tremor they were beyond fools they were merely bots without processors in his opinion. Tremoe considered leaving for a moment then decided against it because
as long as he could get drunk he couldn't care who was in the bar with him.
"I came here to check on someone who was severly injuried during last night's battle, but I guess she's fully functional." Cross said and shrugged, making look as though he didn't care, but the worry could be read in his optics. "Well, hey, let's get out of here."
Cross gently grabbed her hand and lead her out of the room. "I seen them going towards the Metal Mug which is probably where they went." He said, once out of the room, "Since it's the only bar close by. Come on!"
With a smile on his face, he lead Phyphen out of the hotel and to the Metal Mug.
In another part of the city, cool silvery optics looked out into the glittering Cybertronian night. It was a beautiful sight, the figure supposed, but he could find little joy in it. Below, thousands upon thousands of tiny lights picked out the cityscape in hues of yellow and off white. It was difficult to imagine that each pinprick represented someone or something going on.
So many, thought the ‘bot with the silver eyes. How many, I wonder, will never know of what happened here today? The figure sighed. How many would even care?
The Maximal Councilman Garrak unclasped his hands from their place behind his back, and stepped away from the thick wall length window. As he did so the night panorama of Cybertron shrank, the edges of curtains and marble flooring stealing into the picture. Garrak shook his head sadly and turned back to his desk. Very likely none of them would care very much what became of a small group of roguish Maximals. Under different circumstances, he might have found it hard to care himself. They were so few among so many many others… Garrak sank heavily into his padded chair. “Comes with the job, old friend,” he chided himself. Opening a heavy, unornamented drawer, the Elder removed a thick manila folder. He thumbed through the pictures as he waited for his guest. File photos of the Resistance, and some of that evening’s battle at the hotel. The minutes passed.
“Elder,” came a voice at length. “Councilman Nova has arrived. Shall I have him come in?” Garrak looked up from his work to see his Chief Aide silhouetted in the doorway. Carefully, he replaced the materials in their folder, setting the whole document off to the side.
“Yes Verine.” he replied. “Please send him in,”
The imposing Transmetal wolverine nodded once and disappeared from the door. A moment later he was replaced by Nova’s thinner form. He entered the room alone, and without ceremony. Garrak stood to greet him.
“Nova, my friend,” Garrak began, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I apologize for strange location, but under the circumstances, I hope that you understand,” The junior Elder made a short dismissing motion with his hand. He took a seat across the desk from the older ‘bot. Garrak too eased himself back into his chair.
“Have you read the reports on the attack from earlier today?” Nova asked. He produced a small data pad and laid it on the desk facing Garrak.
“Not all of it,” Garrak confessed picking up the proffered data pad. “But just enough to realize that I’m not being told the whole truth,” The Elder scrolled through the report politely before setting it back down on the desktop. “A collection of lies and half-truths, this,” he said. “It’s disturbing. I don’t trust a word of it,”
“Neither do I,” replied Nova. He let the data pad lie where it was. “Needless to say that it has disturbed me as well, but perhaps for different reasons,”
Garrak frowned. “Nova,” he intoned gravely, “I see where you’re going with this, and I don’t like it. You’ll need more than an inaccurate report to accuse the High Elder of…” Garrak’s voice trailed off. “I won’t even say it. Not even here,”
Nova‘s mouth pressed into a thin hard line. “You must at least admit that his behavior has been strange lately. So quick to brand them as outlaws, and so vehement about it. How maintains that they’re below our concern while at the same time…”
“Yes, yes,” Garrak cut him off. “While going on about their insignificance for an hour or more,”
Nova nodded. “Something is wrong here, Garrak. I have a bad feeling about it,”
“I know,” Garrak conceded. “I said as much to you at our last little meeting.” The older Transformer reached up to massage his temples. “This…” he started, but halted abruptly. “This must all be done the proper way, though. No charging in with wild allegations, even if they prove true. Tachyous will rip us to pieces. Perhaps literally as well as figuratively,”
“I know,” Nova said softly.
“It will take time to prove,” Garrak continued. “Whatever we do end up doing, it must be done very obliquely. So as not to raise undue suspicion,”
“I agree,” the other affirmed. “And with that in mind I would like to propose that we break with protocol and have the Resistance members taken into our armed custody,” Garrak’s eyebrows raised a fraction of an inch. “Between us we should have the resources to implement it. Just as a precautionary measure mind you. I want to make sure that these ‘bots make it to the Citadel tomorrow and say what they have to say. And he could never fault us for it,” Nova shook his head in mild frustration. “Something about this whole mess has got Prime walking on eggshells,” He looked Garrak in the eye. “I want to know why,” he said.
For a long moment the older ‘bot sat silent, thinking. Looking in he young Elder’s eyes, he could sense that the boy was determined. He could stick with this for the long haul, and do it the right way. Still…it was an awful risk…
Finally Garrak nodded. “Very well,” he said softly. “But I want you to understand that there will be no backing out of this, do you understand. No half attempts,” Nova agreed. “Good. Go get your men then, and round up our Maximals. They have an appointment with the Council tomorrow, and I’ll be slagged if they don’t keep it,”
“I’ll see to it,” Nova said. The junior Elder turned to go. Garrak stopped him.
“Nova,” The ‘bot paused and looked back. “If there is something going on with Prime, we’re going to find out what it is, come hell or high water. You got that?”
Nova smiled. “I do,” He left as quietly as he had come.
After the door had closed Garrak stood and returned to his oversized office window. In the distance he could see the Maximal Citadel, meeting place of the Council of Elders, and Tachyous Prime’s less than humble abode. It was awash in a sea of tiny lights. Tiny lives.
“Tiny, but not unimportant,” Garrak whispered to himself. He had a responsibility to that glittering multitude. He did, Nova did…Tachyous Prime did too. That responsibility needed to be upheld. No matter the cost.
“What the hell,” Garrak told himself. “I never liked the guy anyway,”
And that, once again, was that.
[The Citadel]
The apartments were large and well appointed, even by the standards of Cybertronian elite. Warmly glowing stand lamps and heavy velvet draperies gave the large chamber a snug secure feeling. The far wall, nearly all glass save for the wide sliding door, opened onto a generous marble balcony overlooking the vastness of the city. Plush rugs covered the richly tiled floor, topped by expensive, and now antique, Earth furniture. It was a place fit for a king, yet it gave Tachyous Prime no solace. In his mind he had become nothing more than a pawn; a lickspittle to Cicadon and his ilk. In the past, Tachyous had always managed to keep a semblance of control over his own destiny. Now, however, even that was gone.
And he didn’t like that at all.
The High Elder was unsurprised when the large wall vid opposite him sprung suddenly to life. It was the middle of the night, true, but he had been expecting the call. Events had not gone well that evening for the creature that held his invisible leash. His Generals, those that had not fled, head either been killed or captured. In the case of one, he had heard, both. Cicadon would be desperate, he knew. And desperation would make him turn to the one player he head left on the chessboard. Tachyous.
Tachyous Prime watched as the vid screen flashed through row after row of numbers. A highly encrypted ‘secure line’ transmission. It was the Tripred’s preferred means of communication. The High Elder stood slowly and faced the monitor. It flashed once, and suddenly went dark. An instant later, Cicadon appeared, wreathed in shadow and glaring with blood red optics. There was a short silence, and then the Elder spoke.
“Ahh, Cicadon,” he rumbled in a deep tired voice, “To what do I owe the honor of this call?”
The Tripred snorted contemptuously. “Honor is the last thing I have come to expect from you, Prime. It has never suited my purposes. What I do require, however, is your assistance in a small matter that you will come to discuss in Council tomorrow. I believe that you already know what I refer to, yes?”
Tachyous nodded. He did indeed. “I know all too well,” the Elder replied. “The Endport Resistance,”
Deep within the obscuring shadow Cicadon nodded back. “Yes,” he confirmed. “The Resistance. A painful thorn which I would have you remove,” Cicadon smirked to himself. “I trust that I shall have your cooperation in this matter. Bear in mind the rather dire consequences should you refuse,”
The High Elder forced himself to smile brightly back. “Of course I remember. How could I forget the fact that you’re blackmailing me for my life?”
Cicadon grinned wickedly. “Excellent. In that case I shall explain to you what I want. Tomorrow, when the Resistance comes to trial before the Council of Elders I want them destroyed. You understand me? Destroyed. Utterly and completely. Pull what strings you feel that you must, but I want them out of the picture permanently. By this time tomorrow evening, I want to hear the entire Council branding them traitors and murderers,” Cicadon paused to look his lackey in the eyes. “Do you understand?” he growled.
“Perfectly,” Tachyous replied “Though I should not expect to sway the entire Council to my point of view. Enough yes, but not all of them.”
“It will be sufficient,” Cicadon said, cutting him off. “If you shall be so kind as to remove their credibility, I shall attend to the rest. I have already taken steps to eliminate other ‘loose ends’,” The High Elder shuddered imperceptibly. Looking at it from a certain angle, he could be considered a loose end. He prayed that that was not the view Cicadon himself held.
“It will be done,” assured Tachyous warmly. “Have no fear of that. It will be an easy task to turn the Council. I will not fail you,”
“Of course you won’t,” Cicadon sneered. “The price of your failure would be…unfortunate, to say the least. Do not think that I am above snuffing out your pathetic excuse for a spark. I will contact you if I have further demands,”
Without another word, the vid screen flashed again and shut off.
Tachyous made his way to the far end of the room, by the window where he kept his ample stock of Transformer alcohol. He poured out a large glass and downed it in a single draft. Immediately he poured another. As much as it galled him, he knew that he had no choice but to obey.
He drained the second glass. It was going to be a long day.
[The Streets of Cybertron]
Loose ends. Something in their lack of resolution has bothered almost every intelligent species at one time or another. They beg to be tied…or cut. Even the ones that think they have flown away.
All but forgotten once the fighting began at the hotel, Cutter had used the opportunity to make his escape. Dashing from cover to cover, he had slowly made his way down to the lobby, and then to the darkened streets beyond. He had run after that, run until his chest plate heaved and his breathing came in fits. He ran himself to exhaustion, and then collapsed helplessly to the ground. The middle of a Cybertronian alley was a bad place to fall asleep, he knew that. But in his estimation, nearly anything was better than the hell he had just been put through. So Cutter slept. And dreamed.
He dreamed that he was running again. Sometimes it was on Gaiana; through the wide streets of Endport. Other times he ran in the shadow of Cybertron’s great buildings. In the shadow of the Citidel most especially. Cutter fled from friends and from co-workers. He fled from the crystal clear images of the Predacon Generals. Spat and Grapple loomed as tall as skyscrapers, engulfing him in darkness. Blood poured from a crude gash in the winged monkey’s neck. Grapple’s face was a mass of burns and blisters. Toungs of superheated plasma licked at the patches as yet untouched. It only spurred him on faster.
In dreams, Cutter was always running. Running from himself he realized with a start. He had always done so. In his subconscious he had always known it. Yet he had never once allowed himself to admit to it out loud. He had though of it as a survival mechanism, and maybe it was. Regardless, however, it seemed to be ruining his life. Always had ruined his life. Always would if he let it.
It was a powerful dream to be sure, born of fear and worry. Perhaps he could have changed. Stranger things had happened to even less likely candidates. Sadly, neither he nor the world would ever know.
Cutter awoke to the blinding light of a thin red beam as its endpoint played across the area between the cobalt Transformer’s bleary optics. Somewhere behind the shaft of light stood a number of tall dark shapes. Cutter raised a hand, shading his eyes protectively. For an instant he was disoriented, confused. Understanding came quickly, but ultimately too late.
A moment later Cutter fell limply back to the cold pavement. His optics even closed a final time. Cutter slept, but no dreams came. They never would.
One loose end tied. One piece removed from the board.
And the endgame was only just beginning.
“Ah.” Retro turned his gase back down the hallway. ‘Geat, an assassin too. This is weird enough, pray I don’t learn anything more about her.’
“What’s so funny?” Tundra asked, wondering why he was smiling.
“Oh, nothin. Heh. Here we are.”
On reaching the chambers, the diminutive teen-bot helped Tundra into one of them and waved to her. “See you when your better. I’ll be waiting here.”
Tundra smiled back and gave a little wave before the door closed her in for the duration of her repairs. Even after she was safely in stasis, Retro still looked at her chamber longingly. Finally, he walked over to a nearby table, pulled up a chair, and sat in silence.
After a while of deep thought, the little hacker pulled out a triangular device and set it on the table before him. Activating it, a holographic deck of cards appeared next to it.
Retro sighed and started playing solitaire.
Vinoc looked around the bar. It didn't look like anything was going to happen here. "I might as well go back to the hotel, make sure that teen-bot didn't do anything to my sister." he mutters under his breath.
As he stands outside the door, trying to get his bearings, he notices that there was something in the sky. He looks up, to see a head-like object, with horns out the top. "Unicron." he mutters, shaking his head. He walks back to the hotel.
Once there, he walks to Tundra's room. He knocks, and gets no answer. He then heads towards the CR Chambers. Once there, he spies Tundra in the Chamber, and Retro sitting playing Solitare. "Boy, you are either suicidal, sitting there next to the CR Chamber that holds the sister of the former leader of a Major Endport gang, or your mighty brave. either way, your about to be severly injured"
Graphics Provided by Riboflavin
