The Astonishing Alchemist - vol. 01

It is just past midnight and you are having second thoughts about this whole superhero thing. For weeks you have been waiting for a lead, anything really, that would give you reason to move against your former employer. Your friend on the inside of Lloyd Laboratories, Dr. Alicia Morrison, finally called you today with some useful information.

"His name is Anton Folstad." She told you over the phone in a very hushed voice. You could tell she had her wrapped around the receiver, trying to prevent her words from carrying; but there was also a hint of excitement in her voice. This whole world is very new to both of you and it was clear she was having a little fun playing spy. "Never heard of the guy before today and now he shows up here with a whole entourage and they're being given free range of the place. No ID badges on any of them. I only heard his name when he introduced himself to that pretty new intern. You know the one that never really seems to get any work done but is always being cut some slack because all the guys--" you have to cut her off and remind Alicia that time is of the essence.

"Anyways... I am not sure what he was here for, but he left with a bunch of rolled up blueprints. I followed them outside as they left. Get this, I bought a pack of cigarettes a week ago; went out pretending I was taking a smoke break. Never smoked a day in my life but I had them totally fooled. Ha! How great is that!? You have to admit, I am nailing this assignment so far. But back to Folstad... I was pretty far away but could pick up his men complaining about a late night pick up. It's going to go down at midnight in the parking lot across from that old pet shop with all the sad little puppies in the window. I can't go by that place anymore. I don't have any more space in my apartment for another wittle fluffy guy. If you go there and these guys are doing something... shady. Please make sure you don't actually get any animals hurt if things get ugly. Oh yeah, make sure you don't get hurt either."

That brings us up to date. You showed up early and got a good vantage point on the roof of the abandoned building adjacent to the parking lot. For awhile it was just you, the darkness, and a couple of sleeping puppies across the street. Folstad and his cronies finally showed up a couple of minutes before twelve. Anton Folstad is a tall, but lean built man in his late twenties. Slicked back bleach blonde hair. Finely cut suit. He is surrounded by two towering muscled men that you do not want to mess with. At least not without a little help from your concoctions.

As another car with darkly tented windows pulls into the parking lot your heart starts to race. Folstad's men unbutton their jackets and make it visible that they are packing heat. A number of equally large men get out of the second vehicle and walk to the trunk. They motion Volstad over and he looks over what is inside. Try as you might, you don't have a view of it from up here. After a moment, Volstad snaps his fingers and his boys come over to collect the goods. Two dufflebags that look very full and heavy.

Sweat beads and drips down your face as you contemplate what to do next.

I have to find out what’s in those bags.

The hooded figure of The Alchemist scans the nearby alley for the quickest way down from his vantage point and swings — literally — into action, the sticky hands and feet from the mutagen he ingested a few minutes ago still active. He clambers down the fire escape with little effort to land lightly on the ground. He moves toward the mouth of the alleyway and reaches for one of the glass tubes at his belt. Speed, I think. Take the bags from their hands before they even know to blink.

And then it slips from his hand, and he watches it tumble end over end in what feels like slow motion. The shatterproof glass — another of his own inventions — turns out to be a blessing and a curse. The vial doesn’t shatter and spill its contents all over the concrete sidewalk, but the noise! Oh my stars, the noise. The clinking and clattering echoes in his own ears, and he quickly, desperately looks to see if the goons or Folstad heard.

Every eye in the parking lot swings over in your direction. "We got a cape!" Folstad's men rush to load the bags into his car. Anton himself just shakes his head in frustration.

"Act like professionals. Get that fool, but do it quietly. Don't go shouting and waking up the whole neighborhood."

Every door on the second car opens and in reverse clown car fashion, far too many men climb out of the vehicle then you thought would be possible. Before you've even had time to react an entire mob appears to be sprinting toward you. Folstad climbs back into his car and waits for his men to make short work of you.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5

Threat Rating
Mooks (Well Dressed Muscled Thugs) - 10

I have got to finish that anti-clumsiness mutagen formula...

Luckily, the vial didn't bounce far away. It's a simple matter to swipe it up, unscrew the cap and down the contents. He feels the tingling, rushing, warming rush through his limbs, drawing a grin to his face as he stares down the goons. The first of them is nearly on him and draws a fist back to drive it into the Alchemist's face, but the mutagen's taken effect already and he dodges almost faster than the eye can see. He zips past the first and elbows him in the back of the head, then turns and pummels the next one with a series of sharp punches, and finishes with a sharp kick to the next one's knee.

You hear a sharp popping sound as your foot strikes the goon's knee. He lets out a yell of pain and falls to the asphalt. One of the other men you struck is slowly getting to his feet as the rest of the mooks realize they may have underestimated you and decide the best course of action is to try and slow things down. As long as that chemical compound is pumping through your blood, they may find slowing things down more than expected. They regroup by forming a perfect circle around you and prepare to attack from all angles at once.

Folstad starts to pay more attention to the fight. He puts a hand to his chin as he watches and studies how you fight, while preferring to stay in the relative safety of his vehicle.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 3 HP
Speed Mutagen Counter - 5 (it was reduced by 1 because of the one failed roll last round)

Threat Rating
Mooks (Well Dressed Muscled Thugs) - 7

"Come on, boys. Gonna have to get up earlier in the morning if you're going to keep up!" says the Alchemist, standing still long enough to grin broadly at the thugs, beckoning them forward with both hands. "Or grow a second brain cell. Maybe you can all share it!"

Okay, first order of business back at the lab: reinforce the gloves on this suit. I can't keep punching forever. Not without a few broken fingers, he thinks. As usual, one part of his brain is making to do lists while the rest takes care of the situation at hand.

He moves back into action, jumping forward to grab one of his assailants by the arm. He spins and launches him toward one of the others. It creates an opening in the circle, and he slips quickly out through it, sweeping the legs out from a nearby thug and pushing him down to faceplant on the concrete.

Folstad rolls his eyes at the ineptitude of his minions. Having escaped their encirclement, you now find yourself positioned between the mooks that remain standing and the vehicle that contains their boss.

"Forget noise, just take this guy out," one of the men orders while drawing his pistol. The rest follow suit and take aim.

Folstad sees you winning this encounter as enviable and motions for his driver to get him out of here. The driver slams on the gas and the tires smoke for a moment before gaining enough traction to propel the car forward.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 3 HP
Speed Mutagen Counter - 5

Threat Rating
Mooks (Well Dressed Muscled Thugs) - 3

Optional Side Objectives
Disable Folstad's car - 5 (One Round Time Limit)

Just throwing this out there, since it isn't always clear to new players what can and can't be done in a game of Wushu (hint: the answer is almost always - Yes, you can do that): Leaping onto the car as it speeds away is an option, and it would not require any successful rolls in this instance. However, if you choose to get onto the car while any mooks are left standing, they may shoot you off.

"No! No no no!"

The hooded Alchemist zips up next to the nearest goon and wrenches a gun away from his grasp, punching him in the throat to take him down. "Stay here, we've got things to talk about!"

Leveling the gun, he squeezes off several shots at the rear tires, hoping to disable the car before it can get too far away. He's not all that experienced with a gun, so he has to keep most of his focus on aiming.

Bullets tear into the vehicle, but none seem to find purchase with the squealing tires. You watch as the car flies down the street and out of sight. There isn't much time to focus on Folstad's escape as your attention is drawn to the shattered window of the pet store across the street. You are taken over by panic and fear as you contemplate having ended the life of one of those poor innocent puppies with your stray bullets. Suddenly the puppy rises unharmed and leaps from the store front. It takes off running after Folstad's car as fast as its little legs an carry it.

The worry drains out of your body only to replaced by blinding pain as one of the goons pistol whips you across the back of the head. You fall to the ground in a heap and when you roll over you find yourself looking down the barrels of no less then three pistols.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 2 HP
Speed Mutagen Counter - 3

Threat Rating
Mooks (Well Dressed Muscled Thugs) - 3

Optional Side Objectives
Disable Folstad's car - 2 (Unsuccessful)

To do: practice using a gun. That was embarrassing. Also to do: do not tell Alicia about the pet store.

Aloud, the Alchemist says, "Gentlemen, gentlemen. There's no need for violence. Surely we can come to some sort of an arrangement that involves you putting down your weapons, me getting back to my feet, and all of us talking about our situation like civilized people. Right?"

He turns from impassive unfriendly face to impassive unfriendly face, seeing no indication that they agree with him. Or understand what he's saying. Or really, even heard it in the first place.

"No? Guess it's the hard way then."

He kicks out with both legs at a goon's knees, then quickly clambers to his feet. With Folstad's car tearing away, he knows that staying to take care of the rest of these knuckle-draggers is only going to prevent him from getting to the real problem: those dufflebags. That's when he hears the yapping puppy that started chasing after the car.

Chasing the car. And hey, maybe I can scoop up the pup on the way. Alicia would like a puppy.

"You fellas take care of yourselves. Maybe we'll meet again soon."

He turns, becoming a blur as he races down the street after Folstad.

The two goons scream in pain and go down when you strike their knees. A loud crack echos off nearby buildings, indicating that you might have broken one of their kneecaps. Hopefully they get workers comp.

As you sprint off in chase of Falstad dozens of shots ring out. Your speed mutagen kicks into overdrive and you can actually see the air rippled by the bullets as they slowly make their way toward you. If only your concoction could make you this fast all the time. You are easily able to dip and dodge the slow moving projectiles and give the goons one last wave and a smile before disappearing down the street.

After only a few seconds you see the dog has given up the chase and is on the sidewalk digging through a spilled trash can. Looks like you’ll have to come back for the little guy after everything is taken care of.

You come across Folstad’s car a little while later. Assuming he was in the clear, he must have told the driver to bring the speed back down to the legal limit. Just as you get close enough to touch the rear of the vehicle your mutagen granted speed powers start to falter. You nearly topple over as your body rapidly changes from super fast to normal human levels and back again. You know you only have a short time remaining to make use of this power.

To make matters worse, you hear the screaming engine of a car flying down the road behind you at its absolute max speed. Turning around you see the remaining goons driving the second vehicle that arrived at the meet up. One goon has his white knuckled hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel, while the rest of them are leaning out of the windows with guns drawn.

Hearing the engine of the car behind you, Folstad turns to look out the back window. He shakes his head in frustration while shouting at his driver to pick up the pace.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 2 HP
Speed Mutagen Counter - 1

Threat Rating
Boss: Mook Mobile - 3 HP

Fiddlesticks. This is going from bad to worse. All right, think about the physics, you knucklehead...

The Alchemist slows down dramatically, allowing the mook's car to come racing up behind him. As it does, he jumps into the air and springboards off the speeding car's front grille, using its momentum to augment his own chemically-induced speed. He launches himself toward Folstad's rear window, expecting a hail of bullets to follow him and hoping they're just poor enough shots to shatter the window instead of filling him full of holes. As he sails toward the back window, he makes another leap into the air, bouncing off the trunk of the sedan at a trajectory that should land him atop Folstad's car.

Suddenly, I wish I'd gotten better than a B+ in physics my freshman year...

Things don't quite go as you plan. You manage to land successfully on Folstad's car but quickly find out that his goons have switched to non-lethal ammunition. You would think this would be a good thing, but it is hard to feel that way when multiple prongs from tasers pierce your skin and begin zapping you with high voltage electricity. You lose all control of your muscles as they spasm and you slide off the rear of the vehicle.

Your body dents the hood of the mook mobile as it slams into you. Your body continues to roll up and over the windshield before the electrical shocks cease and you are able to use up the last bit of juice from you speed mutagen to grab hold of the spoiler. You now find yourself staring down at the rapidly moving asphalt as the car you barely cling to flies down the road at 75+ MPH. Inside the car you can see the mooks loading new taser cartridges and preparing for another volley.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 1 HP
Speed Mutagen Counter Power expired

Threat Rating
Boss: Mook Mobile - 3 HP

This is bad this is bad this is bad...

Without the time or focus to compose any to-do lists in his head, the phrase keeps looping in the Alchemist's head.

His grip loosening, he makes a desperation grab for the strength mutagen at his belt. As he brings it to his mouth to ingest, his hand slips a little more on the spoiler as the car shimmies to one side. There's a terrifying moment as he tries to latch onto the spoiler with both hands again, clinging by just his fingertips...

...and then the rush of chemically-induced strength floods through his body and he clamps his hands onto the spoiler, grinning from ear to ear. Half relieved, half thrilled, he pulls himself up onto the back of the car and plows a fist through the back window to grab one of the mooks and drive his head into the poor fool sitting next to him.

You smile with glee as the heads of the two mooks slam together. Your brain tells you now is the perfect time to make a three stooges reference and this momentarily distraction is all it takes for you to lose track of what your enemies are doing. No longer gifted with super speed you are unable to prepare for the sudden shift in momentum when the driver of the car slams on the breaks. You are thrown headfirst inside the car and your face impacts the dashboard. Hard. The driver slams his foot back on the gas and your are now flung the opposite direction into the backseat of the car. The two men whose heads you clunked together now sit on either side of you and don't look particularly happy. Simultaneously they both ram their tasers into your side, blasting you with another shot of electricity, while the mook in the passenger seat turns around and aims his taser directly at your face.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 1 HP
Strength Mutagen Counter: 4

Threat Rating
Boss: Mook Mobile - 3 HP

The Alchemist grabs the wrist of one goon as he jabs with his taser and yanks him to the other side of the car into his backseat companion. The whole thing’s about as awkward as a middle school dance, and nearly as graceful, but what the situation lacks in room to maneuver, it’s made up with sheer power from the Alchemist’s enhanced strength. With his other hand, he drives a punch into the back of the passenger seat, flinging its occupant forward into the dashboard.

"Argh!" the mook up front screams as his nose fractures on the dashboard. The driver looks back with a terrified expression at the chaos going on behind him. He takes his eyes off the road to try and locate his pistol which must have fallen to the floor. When he looks back up his eyes go wide as the road is coming to an end and you're all about to drive right into a coffee shop.

The driver slams on the breaks and turns the wheel to the right as fast as he can. Everyone is sent flying to the left side of the car by the momentum of the maneuver. While avoiding any buildings, the car ends up crashing into a mail box with is tossed up onto the hood and flies back to strike the driver in the face.

The force of the impact knocks the driver unconscious and causes his foot to become a lead weight on the gas pedal. The car jerks forward as the speedometer rises. Let’s hope this street doesn’t end in a dead end.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 1 HP
Strength Mutagen Counter: 3

Threat Rating
Boss: Mook Mobile - 3 HP

"That's it! You did NOT clear that with the Postmaster General! I'm just going to have to turn you in!" shouts the Alchemist as a cloud of mail flutters about the car's interior.

He reaches forward and bashes a backhand fist into the driver's seat. With a yowling screech of metal and springs, it comes off its base and knocks open the driver's side door. With any luck -- not that there's been a lot of that so far -- it'll carry the driver out of the car and slow things down a little bit. No time to worry about that right now, though, not with more knuckledraggers still conscious.

The Alchemist takes the expedient route and punches one square in the face.

The pace of the car quickly starts to drop off as the driver is violently torn from the vehicle. None of his mook buddies seem to worry about it as they continue to punch, kick, and claw at you as best they can. It is increasingly becoming clear that this group is running out of steam as none of their blows land with much gusto and they seemingly forget they even have tasers. With their driver incapacitated and no longer in the vehicle, they are not the same fighting force that originally dislodged you from Folstad’s car.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 1 HP
Strength Mutagen Counter: 2

Threat Rating
Mooks: Well Dressed Muscled Thugs --- 2

Feeling his super-strength starting to wane just a little, the Alchemist decides it's time to take care of business. Laughing at the mooks' feeble attempts to take him down, he drives an elbow into the jaw of one, and clamps on to another by the front of his shirt.

"Where's Folstad?! Tell me how to find him, or you'll be seeing stars for the rest of your sorry life!" shouts the Alchemist, holding the mook against the roof of the car, cocking his other fist back to back up the threat.

The car finally rolls to a stop in the middle of an empty intersection. The mooks may not be in fighting shape anymore, but they aren’t prepared just yet to give up the whereabouts of their boss. When you ask the question, a stone faced thug never breaks eye contact as he spits in your face.

Police sirens sound in the distance. They’ll be here in a matter of moments. If you’re going to use any creative interrogation techniques, now would be the time.

---

Dice Pool Limit - 5
Alchemist - 1 HP
Strength Mutagen Counter: EXPIRED

Threat Rating
Mooks: Well Dressed Muscled Thugs --- DEFEATED

Optional Threat Rating
Get the Thugs to talk --- 2

"Now, now... that's not very polite! What would your mother say about you spitting in someone's face like that?"

The Alchemist takes a vial from his belt and holds it up, the sky blue liquid inside swirling and scintillating. He lifts it up to look at it in detached contemplation. "Look," he says to the mooks, "I've got one more of these superspeed solutions. First one to tell me where I can find Folstad can have it and..."

He glances over his shoulder toward the sound of rapidly oncoming sirens, then back again. "...get away safely. But the offer runs out in 5... 4... 3..."

Two of the thugs narrow their gaze but don't move a muscle. The last one, however, reaches out for the vial. You close your hand over the vial before he can grab it; making it clear he has to talk first. One of his buddies tries to smack some sense into him, but you're able to intercept their fist and shove them back out of the way.

"We're staying out of town. Heavily guard place in the hills. Trust me, buddy. You don't want to go there." He gives you the address and you toss him the vial. He has just enough time to chug the contents of the vial before the cops swing around the corner.

You don't know the exact address, but the neighborhood sounds vaguely familiar. Hour or two drive from here where expensive houses are built into the mountainside and you don't have any neighbors without shouting distant. Could play into your favor. Might work against you. Then again, maybe you should rest up and try to gather more Intel on this guy before assaulting his HQ. Of course that risks word getting back to him that you know where is at.

As the goon drinks down the contents, there's a silence that stretches only a pair of heartbeats, and then the thug's face goes slack. Strings cut, he slumps to the ground. He even starts snoring for good measure.

The Alchemist looks at the other two and snaps his fingers. "Well, nuts. That must have been the sleep solution. I always mix those two up," he says, clicking his tongue. "I'll leave you fine gents to speak with the authorities. Give them my best wishes, will you?"

He reaches to his belt and throws a tiny glass ampule to the ground. As it shatters with a merry tinkle, white smoke billows up to obscure the Alchemist's quick exit, stage left.

Hopefully the police detain those guys for a while. That was way too close for comfort; I need some rest...

Pausing at the corner of a nearby building, he watches the smoke dissipate in the breeze, checking to make sure the goons are indeed apprehended, and then heads off to find a phone booth. He's going to need a ride home, and he forgot to pack his real clothes. Maybe Alicia's still awake...

The phone rings and rings but Alicia doesn't pick up. Just when you are about to give up, a car pulls up next to you and there she is. Alicia is wide awake and was clearly expecting, if not eagerly awaiting, that she would be needed to help out like this. You hurry around to the passenger side of the car and open it to find... the dog that escaped the pet shop when the windows were taken out. Alicia gives you a dirty look. Quickly, you pick up the puppy and lay it back down in your lap after sitting down. It immediately curls up and starts to drift off to sleep.

Alicia puts the car in gear and then holds up one finger in front of your face. "I told you to make sure you did one thing when going after these guys. One! Make sure those cute little animals didn't become collateral damage. It's a good thing I came out here to keep an eye on you or this little guy might still be wandering the streets." You sit in silence for a moment before she adds, "So did you get the guys or what? Before you went sprinting off it kind of looked like you were getting your butt kicked."

"It's nice to see you too, Alicia," the Alchemist replies blandly. He starts to argue, voice raising for a single syllable before he notices the puppy start to stir in his lap. He slumps back down again, chastised on two fronts for his relative clumsiness.

"Yes, I got the guys," he says finally, though quietly. "One of them told me where I can find Folstad."

He recites the address to Alicia. "Not that I've got anything left to go after him tonight, but maybe we can drive by and check the place out?" he suggests hopefully. "It'd be a huge help, Leesh, really. If you don't mind?"

She gives you an eye roll before taking a wide turn and changing direction. "Fine, fine fine. We’ll just drive by the place." It is hard for her to hide the excitement in her voice.

The adrenaline long since worn off, you drift off during the long drive. Your mind is still focused on Folstad and the battle, leading to a rather restless sleep filled with dreams that remind you how banged up you are.

Alicia gives you a nudge when you arrive... at a gated community. She slows the car down as you drive on the street alongside the 12 foot tall black iron fence that prevents anyone unwanted from getting into this mountainside community. The sleepy looking guard stationed at the entrance gives you guys the stink eye as you slowly drive by.

"I can’t believe we drove all the way out here to just be stopped by a gate and a rent a cop. Unless..." she excitedly looks at you. "Want to sneak in a do a little snooping? Come on, give me one of those concoctions you’re so proud of. This could be fun!"

"No, Alicia. First of all, those goons required everything I had. I’m not even sure I have a vial of mouthwash left."

But the nagging voice in his head (which actually sounds a lot like Alicia) keeps telling him not to pass up the opportunity to do at least a little reconnaissance.

"Second of all, it’s too dangerous. I don’t want you to get hurt."

He looks down at the ball of fur curled up in his lap, then back up to his friend. "Besides, who’s gonna take care of this little guy?". He scoops up the pup, holding it up next to his face and giving Alicia puppy dog eyes...

"I still have the mask on. You... can’t see the puppy dog eyes I’m giving you."

She doesn’t need to see your puppy dog eyes. She only has eyes for the actual puppy. With a frown, she puts the car back into gear and turns back toward the city and home. She drives you back to your place but stops you before you can get more than a few steps from the vehicle.

"Um, didn’t I already tell you I have too many little fur babies at home? No, no, no Mr. Collateral Damage. This guy is your responsibility." The dog seems to agree and jumps out of the car into your arms. He gives a little yelp and wags his tail as you stare down at him. "I’m going to come by tomorrow after work and make sure you’re probably set up to take care of him. Don’t disappoint me. Oh, I guess I’ll try and dig up some more info on Folstad too. Get some sleep you two!"

You crash hard after the long night and awake hours later to the sound of your new pet urinating at the foot of the bed. He locks eyes with you as the never ending stream continues to seep into the carpet. Dominance has been asserted.

Lang sits up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. He gives the dog a forlorn sort of look and sighs. "You too, huh? Going to have to whip up something to get rid of dog pee, I guess." He twists his head this way and that, wincing at the pop it produces. "Come on, dog. Let's find some breakfast, huh?"

Lang opens the door to his basement apartment and gets the newspaper off the landing. He unrolls it and tosses it on the kitchen counter while he makes some coffee. The pup -- a scruffy brown and white mutt who can't be more than a year old -- paws at his Automatic Aries-branded pajama leg and lets out a small but endearing whine. "Huh? Oh... sorry, buddy. Bet you're hungry too, aren't you?"

He opens the refrigerator and searches its lonely depths for something suitably dog. He peeks inside a lump of aluminum foil and locates some slices of ham. After a sniff and a careful study for mold or other nastiness, Lang decides it's edible for canine purposes. He cuts some tiny bite-sized pieces and swipes them into a bowl, putting it down for the dog and adding a bowl of fresh water. That done, he gets back to the task of making coffee and reading today's headlines.

Your new pet dances on his hindlegs as you prepare his meal. His little tail wags rapidly as he eagerly gulps down the meat as fast as he can while you sit down to check the paper. The headline you read nearly makes you spit your coffee all over the paper.

New Super Villain Assaults Innocents: Are You Next!?!?!

The goons you beat up spun some story to the cops after they got arrested that made them out to be the victims of assault by a masked maniac who chased them through the streets and forced them to drink dangerous chemical concoctions. The reporter didn’t get any direct quotes from the goons or the arresting officers. There is no mention of Folstad or Lloyd Laboratories. Most of the article seems to be spin from their very high priced lawyer and you have no doubt that a bribe must have taken place. The men were released without being charged and a $10,000 reward was offered for information that leads to the masked madman’s arrest.

Well they say there is no such a thing as bad press, right?

"What?! Oh, you have got to be KIDDING me!" Lang cries out, and the dog lets out a whimper at the sudden sound. Lang crouches down and shows him the front page. "Sorry, buddy... but would you look at this? This is a first class hack job! Tell you what, next time you feel the, you know, urge, why don't you go on this piece of trash?"

Still, he can't help but read it through, groaning here and there at a particularly nasty bit of spin.

"Okay. Damage control time. First things first, let's... uh... let's..." He rummages through the piles of papers and junk mail on his counter. "Aww, nuts. Where's that to-do list?"

He puts a couple of pieces of bread down in the toaster, gets his coffee (in his Chemists Do It Periodically mug) and wanders toward the lab, dog following cheerfully behind him. Lang starts up a few reactions to run for a little while, synthesizing more mutagen while he takes care of other things, refills the mutagen vials from stock solutions, and after locking the lab door, heads back to the kitchen for his now cold toast.

"Aww, nuts," he says again. "Maybe I can train you to tell me when the toast pops," he says to the dog. "Listen fella, I've got to go to the library, see what I can find out about this Folstad character. Can you stay here for a little bit? I promise I'll bring you some food and a collar and maybe even a name, okay? Maybe you can stay in the bedroom while I'm gone."

He brings the water dish into his bedroom, and puts an old blanket down on the floor for the dog to sleep on, and with his new friend looking on forlornly, he closes the door and heads to the library before there's too much canine complaining.

You walk through the doors of the San Espero Public Library and are immediately hit by the familiar smell of thousands upon thousands of books. It always brings a smile to your face. You head down to the basement to look through the newspaper records available on microfiche. While you are unable to find any direct mention of Anton Folstad, you do come across a few articles on a Norwegian company called Folstad Productions.

At first you think that there is no way this could be related to the Anton Folstad you had a run in with the night before. Folstad Productions is a film production company mostly known for making Norwegian language avant-garde arthouse movies. But the connection becomes solid when you see a picture from a premier where Anton Folstad is seen smiling on the red carpet.

For the most part, the articles are reviews (which are overwhelmingly positive, at least from critics) of the films they produce. They are known for their surreal plots, inventive cinematography, and integration of motion pictures with new technology.

Their last picture was an incomprehensible film about the lead singer of a death metal band who committed suicide. It followed his journey into the afterlife and required all viewers to wear a specially designed helmet which emitted additional sights, sounds, and smells as the film was played. Foldstad Productions promised to expand on this ‘Living Film Immersion’ device for future projects even though most viewers found it extremely unconformable if not downright sickening. Some viewers experienced headaches or nausea that lasted for days after watching the film using the Folstad Living Film Immersion helmet.

Lang jots down note after note on a yellow pad. If his lab is any indication, he keeps about a hundred of these pads on hand for keeping notes about everything.

So what's Folstad doing working with Lloyd Labs? And what's worth killing for? he muses. Then writes that down on his pad, and underlines the questions twice, for good measure.

Wonder how the device plants those sensory inputs? And if it's just emitting, or if it's more direct neural stimulation. Could explain the headaches and nausea...

He exhausts his avenues of microfiche research and looks over his notes one more time. Satisfied that he's got something to go on now, he heads back toward home. Ever since he went underground from his job at Lloyd and lost his family, he's developed a healthy sense of paranoia, so he takes a different route home than the one he took to get to the library, asking the taxi to let him off a few blocks from home. He stops at a pay phone along the way, and dials up Alicia.

"Hey, it's me. Look, did you happen to see who Folstad met with at Lloyd? He seems to have a stake in some sort of headwear that stimulates senses, but it generates headaches and nausea, which makes me think it's more than just a fancy set of headphones."

Alicia stays silent for a few moments as she thinks. "He mostly had free reign of the place. I couldn’t exactly track the guy all day or anything; I do have a job to do besides helping you out, you know. I saw him coming out of a few meeting rooms with various groups of people. The usual bunch of marketing and mid-level management types that are too thick headed to understand anything we do. Science might as well mean magic to those dummies.

"I could go to a couple of departments and do a little sleuthing." There is that excitement in her voice again. "From what you’re describing I could imagine him talking to neural implants, biochemists, or maybe pharmaceuticals. If I head down to those labs and casually drop his name, I might be able to see what he's after from the company. By the way, how's the new puppy? What did you name him? I've been waiting to hear all day."

"Uh..."

Idiot, of course she's going to ask you for a name, why didn't you think of one first?

Lang looks up and down the street in sudden desperation. Dry Cleaners. Hardly a name for a dog! Retro Records... Retro... nah, no good. What's that next to the record store...

"Rocky! His name is Rocky. He's good."

Thank you, Rocky's Gym...

"I guess put your ear to the walls around neural implants. There's a tech down there, Raj... he and I used to play racquetball back in the day. He might be able to tell you something if you're careful how you ask. Don't get yourself in trouble, Leesh, okay?"

He runs a hand through his hair, which just gives it another oddly angled wave in addition to the three he already had. "I've got to go back out to Folstad's place tonight and see what I can find out. I hate to leave Rocky at home alone, though..."

"Not the greatest name, but I suppose it will have to do," Alicia says, not trying to hide her disappointment. "I would have gone with Thaddeus Crowe, but we all can’t be as gifted as I am at naming pets." There is a noticeable change in the inflection of her voice when you ask her to pet sit. "Oh wow, Lang, this isn’t quite what I imagined it would be like when you finally asked me over to your place," she teases. "Tell you what, make sure to order me a pizza and I’ll be there at seven." The phone becomes muffled and you can hear her supervisor’s voice telling Alicia she needs to get back to work. "Gotta go, see you tonight! Make sure you get the high quality dog food for Rocky. None of that artificial stuff!"

Lang holds the handset away to give it a disbelieving look before he puts it back to his ear.

Thaddeus Crowe?

"You got it, Leesh. Thank you. I really mean it. I owe you. Which probably makes it about 36,000 things I owe you," he says, and as he hangs up, he smacks his forehead with the heel of his hand. Dog food!

Luckily, there's a store down the street, so stops to pick up a few groceries, a TV dinner or three, and a bag of dog food. Not knowing what the high quality stuff is, he springs for the expensive stuff and hopes those two things equate. Alicia will certainly tell him when he inevitably screws that up too.

He checks his watch as he walks out of the store, and decides it's way past high time to be heading home. He goes down to his basement apartment and unlocks the three deadbolts and then the door. Hopefully, the dog -- Rocky, his name's Rocky now -- hasn't been too destructive yet. Might as well go inside and find out.

When you open the front door, the smell of chemicals is overwhelming. It hits you like a brick to face and nearly causes you to drop the groceries you bought. You can hear the sound of Alex Trebek blasting from your TV.

"This teacher stayed with Helen Keller from 1887 until her own death in 1936."

'Who is Ann Sullivan?' A second voice. One you don’t recognize at all. It sounds like a middle aged man who is suffering from depression.

"A 2-inch-long nail."

'What is a six penny?' A contestant rings in and answers the same. Alex affirms it is the correct. Slowly you walk into your home, unsure what is going on.

"Ole Rolvaag spent most of his life at St. Olaf College teaching this language and wrote books like ‘Giants in the Earth’ in it."

'What is Norwegian?' Again, the contestant rings in and answers the same.

"That’s right. And that will take us to our break." The voice inside lets out a deep sorrow filled sigh.

You peak around the corner and find the only occupant of the living room is Rocky. He’s sitting on the couch staring at the TV. His fur, the couch, and parts of the carpet are all stained various colors from what you can only assume are concoctions from your lab. When Rocky notices you his eyes light up a little and he sniffs the air in your direction.

'Oh good, you’re back. You better have brought me some more food, boss.' Rocky’s mouth doesn’t move but something inside of you has no doubt the dog is one ‘speaking.’

Well, there go the eggs.

Lang, a bag of dog food in one arm, a bag of human groceries in the other, drops both with a resounding whump. The groceries tip over and the egg carton -- of course -- dumps out in a gooey, yellow mess.

"Oh my goodness gracious," he says in utter, complete, soul-deep shock. "What did you... what have I..."

There are so many possible words, how do you choose any of them when confronted by, from the looks of things, a highly intelligent, telepathic puppy.

Finally, weakly, Lang manages to say, "R...rocky?" Realizing that the dog probably has no clue of the name assignment, he hastens to add, "That's... uh... that's the name I was going to call you, but..."

Lang runs a hand, then both hands, through his hair. "Maybe you should choose your own name now."

The dog jumps off the couch as the groceries hit the floor. He darts from item to item, sniffing with great interest. At one point he goes to slurp up the spilled eggs but stops himself. ‘Nope. Don’t want to risk getting salmonella.’ He looks up at you. ‘You need to be more careful, boss.’

He tilts his head sideways as you suggest he choose his own name. ‘Names are more of a human thing. My kind tend to identify each other in other ways. Rocky seems like an odd choice, but it's fine by me.’ The two of you stare awkwardly at each other for a few moments until Jeopardy returns from its commercial break and gets Rocky’s attention.

‘I guess I can skip it. I imagine you have a few questions for me.’ He goes back to the living room and turns off the television with his nose. He takes a seat on the couch and pats the cushion next him, indicating for you to take a seat.

‘First off, let me apologize for making a mess of your lab. I was a naive puppy at the time, compelled only by my desire to find more food. While I admit, my next meal still constantly weighs heavily on my mind, I believe I have developed greater self control and respect for personal boundaries since I finished reading your entire encyclopedia.’ He nods his head to the bookshelf that holds a 32 volume Encyclopedia Britannica.

"So many questions. So very many questions," says Lang, dropping heavily onto the couch. "I can't even begin to imagine what bizarro cocktail of chemicals led to this, so I won't ask how it happened. But... first of all... you can talk, but telepathically? Clearly you understand human speech, and you can read English. Wait... you read the ENTIRE encyclopedia? And you understood it? And remember it! Oh my goodness gracious. This is amazing!"

He breaks into a grin as more of the sheer awe-inspiring craziness of it all sinks in. "When I was a kid, I used to dream of having a dog that could talk. This is so cool, I wish my son..."

That brings him up short, the sudden heart-wrenching desire for his son -- he'd be five now, just right for a puppy, had the car crash not happened -- to be here to experience it making his chest ache.

"Never mind," he says, voice cracking just slightly. "So you're a super intelligent, telepathic dog now. How does that make you feel?"

Rocky’s tail momentarily stops wagging as you mention your son. He makes a move toward you but stops. His tail starts wagging rapidly again as you address him. ‘You know, I’m not really sure how I feel about all this. I hadn’t given it a lot of thought. This is all sort of new to me.

‘Let me start at the beginning. I don’t understand what changes took place exactly after I knocked those chemicals all over me. There was a blackout period and I came too laying there on the living room floor.’ His head motions to the spot on the floor. It looks like a multiple color police chalk outline of a dead dog as the chemicals dyed the carpet directly around him.

‘When I came to, I knew something was different. My thoughts were now formed in words, and better yet, I understood what those words meant. It was amazing. I wanted to talk to someone but... you know this is a really depressing place to live, boss. So little natural sunlight, neighbors all away at work. Not going to lie, it was a bit of a blow to suddenly be granted this gift and have no one to share it with.

‘I ended up scouting around the place which is when I learned about my other gift. I didn’t so much read the encyclopedia as much as... absorb it? I focused on it real hard trying to figure out what it was and within a few minutes I had the entire collection of knowledge inside this beautiful brain of mine.’ He sounds so much more upbeat and happy talking to you now then he did earlier playing Jeopardy by himself. ‘Hope you don’t mind, but I absorbed every piece of written information in this place. Can you get me some more books next time you go out?’

Lang looks around his apartment, ignoring for the moment the complete disarray. He sighs, shaking his head. "It is kinda dark and dingy, isn't it? I was looking for somewhere off the radar, somewhere I could build a lab that wouldn't be easily noticed. When it's just me, I don't think much about it to be honest. Most of the time I'm here, I'm working in the lab, so..."

He rubs a hand over his face, staring at Rocky. "You absorbed all of the books in here. All my old chemistry texts. Lord of the Rings. The phone book. All of it? I can't even imagine how it happened."

Lang slaps his knees and stands up. "C'mon. I'll get you some food -- hopefully you like it okay, Alicia told me... my stars, Alicia. What is Alicia going to say? Do you know if you can talk to other people? Do you have any other talents? I mean, the ones you have are already super duper amazing, but... we should go for a walk! Run some experiments! Whaddya think?"

‘That’s right, boss. Every written word found within these walls. Did you know there are 117 people in San Espero named Wilma?’

Rocky’s tail starts to wag even faster as you mention food. He hops down off the couch and paces back and forth, urging you to get up and feed him. ‘No clue, boss. My world is pretty much limited to this small dwelling at the moment. A walk sounds really nice. Stretch my legs, check out the sights, and see what this brain can do. So far those two abilities are all that I’m aware of. This whole day has been a ‘leaving the cave and seeing beyond the shadows’ experience. I’m up for taking a walk and seeing what else we can learn.’

You have neither leash or collar, but hardly expect that to be an issue. Rocky sticks by your side as you lock the door behind you and start to walk down the sidewalk. Rocky sniffs along the ground and his eyes dart about at every new sight. It is all... very ordinary actually. Normal dog behavior.

It takes a few minutes before you come across any other people. It is an elderly couple out for an evening stroll. The woman starts making little cutesy kissing noises when she sees Rocky and bends down to pet him without asking for permission. "Oh what a lovely little doggie you have." She gives his head a good scratch, which Rocky seems to enjoy.

The elderly man gives you a stern look. "You know we do have leash laws around here. If he were to bite someone while unleashed, you’d be liable to get sued, Mister."

Rocky looks up at the man. ‘Why on earth would I bite anyone?’ He sounds highly offended. The elderly man is still staring at you, waiting for a response while his wife continues to pet Rocky. There is no indication that they heard Rocky speak.

Lang, ever the scientist, watches Rocky and the elderly couple alike for signs of communication outside of the normal canine tail-wagging and tongue-lolling. He can't help but let an amazed smile creep onto his face, as though he's observing dog-human interaction for the first time. His fascination keeps him from replying to the man right away, but he does slowly turn to speak after a while. "Rocky's a very gentlemanly dog, sir, I can assure you. Very smart. He loves to watch Jeopardy, if you can believe it."

He's trying so hard not to laugh at the surreality of it all, but he can't quite keep the corners of his mouth from twitching up. "I think you've made a friend," he tells the woman.

A bit of small talk, continued disapproval (but no arguing) from the old man, and Lang and Rocky continue on.

After another block or so, Lang says quietly, "So, Rocky... do you, uh, know what it is I do on the side? Outside of the chemical synthesis work?"

Rocky stops walking and you have to turn around. He gives you a wink. It looks rather odd coming from a dog, but it is clear that it was intentional. ‘Don’t worry, boss, your secret is safe with me. I also won’t tell anyone about that time you cheated in the 2nd grade spelling bee.’

You both stop walking. That certainly wasn’t written down anywhere in your home. You haven't even thought about it in years. You’ve also been careful not to leave incriminating evidence of your alter ego lying around as well, just in case Lloyd Laboratories makes an unexpected visit. Sure, your concoctions and costumes are there, but there aren't any notes saying 'Langford Thomason is the Alchemist!' that Rocky could have read. Rocky seems to pick up on all of this as well.

‘I think the mental link that allows you to hear me talking must go deeper than we originally thought. I swear I didn’t go prying around in your head for that information. It was just like *pop* and I all of a sudden knew it. I got an idea. Try talking to me. No, not like you have been. Do it like I do it. With your mind.’

An idea is beginning to form in Lang's head, but he keeps it quiet for now. At least, he doesn't voice it verbally or put it into words in his head. He does let the image form though, and that will serve as the experiment.

As they walk, Lang recalls the image of Folstad's compound from last night. The details he was able to commit to memory given his generally exhausted state, at least: the 12-foot high iron fence, the grounds beyond it he was able to make out in the darkness, the face of the guard. He lets that sit for a moment, then pictures himself as the Alchemist, with Rocky by his side.

From a secluded spot across the street, he takes one of his mutagens, which gives him incredible leaping ability (and landing ability too... that was something that required going back to the drawing board a few times). Rocky jumps into his arms, and together the two of them sail over the fence to land quietly inside the compound.

Rocky jumps down and moves toward the massive house on feet much quieter than the Alchemist could ever hope for. In his mental movie, Rocky tells him telepathically, or whatever you call this nonverbal communication, where the guards are positioned, his canine senses of smell and hearing generating a three-dimensional mental map of the nearby area. The Alchemist nods, drains a vial of super-speed mutagen, and leaps forward with blinding speed to disable the two guards before they're able to even blink in surprise.

Without speaking, he lets the movie fade from his awareness and turns to look at Rocky, eyebrows raised with the unspoken question: did you get that?

There is a long silent pause as Rocky stares blankly at you. Just when you are starting to think that your experiment did not work, an image forms within your own mind: Rocky eating a nice bit and juicy t-bone steak. ‘We got a deal, boss?’

A few minutes later, without even realizing it, you are on your own street and within eyesight of your place. You see Alicia leaning against his parked car looking at her watch. She taps her foot over and over on the ground and looks extremely annoyed. She turns and spots you; her arms spread wide in a ‘what gives?’ manner. When she sees Rocky her eyes light up and she hurries over so she can kneel down and pet the dog.

"Hey there, Rocky! You and me are going to have so much fun tonight. And stupid-selfish-always late Dr. Thomason is not only going to buy me a pizza, but also pay me full dog sitting money for the night because he made me wait outside in the summer heat. Isn’t that right, Rocky?"

Rocky looks up at you. ‘I am so glad that you appear to be the only one that can hear me, boss. I do not want to explain to her that the plans changed and she came all the way out here for nothing. Good luck.’

Lang thanks his lucky stars -- something he senses he's going to be doing frequently -- for Rocky's presence in his life. Someone to blunt Alicia's disapproval (which is frequent) over his absent-minded professor-type antics (which are more frequent) will come in awfully handy.

He lets Rocky amble around wagging his tail and soaking up the attention for a little bit before he tries to explain. "So, uh... you're not going to believe this, but tonight's plans have changed."

Seeing Alicia start to protest, Lang holds up his hands and quickly adds, "For reasons you're not going to believe, but I promise that you'll absolutely love, that we should talk about inside over a pizza. For... you know... reasons?" He offers her a hand to help her stand up, and together they all go inside the apartment.

Which is still in its state of complete disarray.

"Lang, what on earth happened in here?" Alicia says breathlessly as she takes stock of the wreckage.

"Yeah. Funny story," he replies, quickly moving to clear a spot on the couch for her to sit. Papers (newspapers, journal articles, junk mail) and books (textbooks, a comic book, a paperback or three) tumble to the floor. Lang grabs a chair from the small dining table and turns it around backwards before he sits down facing her on the couch. He launches into the story of leaving Rocky at home while he went to do some research (there's that disapproval again, but Lang careens onward through his story), coming back to find his suddenly super-intelligent telepathic canine companion, and their walk around the neighborhood.

Alicia maintains the stoic demeanor of a scientist analyzing data throughout your telling of the story. For a long while after you finish she looks back and forth from you to Rocky. Eventually she reaches out her hand and presses the back of it to your forehead. "No fever. Did you take a blow to the head last night? Listen to yourself, Lang.

"You’re telling me your dog can talk? Telepathically? And he is some kind of super genius. And that this all happened because he knocked over random chemicals. Didn’t even ingest them. They just fell on top of him. By that logic we should expect your sofa and carpet to start writing Shakespearian sonnets any minute now!"

‘I don’t think she’s buying it, boss.’ There is no indication that Alica hears anything. She stands in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips with a disapproving expression on her face as she waits for a response. If you try to respond, she cuts you off.

"Let’s for one minute assume that I believe any of this is possible. Prove it." She looks to Rocky and addresses him in a much more friendly tone. "Prove it." Rocky looks at you. He does what looks almost like a shoulder shrug, but it is awkward looking coming from a dog considering they have to continue to support their weight with the arms that are shrugging. Alicia seems to notice this too, and takes a step back in surprise at the vaguely human gesture.

Huh... Super Shakespearean sonnet sofa...

Lang has to viciously stomp out the urge to giggle at the alliteration and the mental movie. He's scatterbrained, but he's not suicidal. As Rocky gives his doggie shrug, Lang looks back to Alicia and gives her a shrug of his own, if just to drive the point home by providing a comparison gesture.

"If you can't hear him, then everything we could do to prove it is going to be indirect evidence. Believe me, I'd love it if you could hear him. He's an absolute whiz at Jeopardy!, for starters. Look, I don't believe it either. Random chemicals should've melted him, not turned him into Superdog, but here we are."

He looks around the apartment for inspiration toward some sort of experiment that will provide some proof. "Okay, how about this? You think of something about you that only you and I would know. On this piece of paper, write four possible answers to a question about that thing in the corners. Ask Rocky the question and let him point to the right answer. Only way he'd know is if I communicated the answer to him, right? I won't even look at him."

Lang digs up a piece of paper from the pile (to no one's surprise, Lang has been preapproved for a credit card!) and grabs a pen from the table, offering it over to Alicia. "I swear, I can communicate with him telepathically. I'm not making it up, and I haven't been hit over the head."

"Recently."

"Today."

Alicia rolls her eyes. "Let me make this perfectly clear, Lang. I am only doing this out of scientific curiosity. I don’t believe you for one second and when you finally reveal that this is all some big dumb elaborate prank, I better not hear ‘I told you so.’ Got it?" She takes the paper and pen and starts to write several multiple choice answers. She gives Rocky a suspicious glance before turning her back to him so he can’t see what she’s writing.

‘What the point of that? She’s going to show it to me when she finishes.’

She finishes and kneels down next to Rocky. You crane your neck so you can see the answers she’s written.

A. St. Louis
B. Crowfall
C. Poughkeepsie
D. Portland

"Where was I born?" Alica asks Rocky. It seems like a simple enough question, but you know she put in a little trick. Alicia was raised in Poughkeepsie but she was born in Portland. Her family moved when she was just six weeks old.

Rocky wastes no time putting the paw over Portland once you think the correct answer at him. Alicia leans back and gives the dog an incredulous look before turning to you. She looks to be both in disbelief and angry about it. You have no doubt that she still thinks you are playing a joke on her. Rocky seems to pick up on it as well.

‘Maine or Oregon?’ Rocky asks you. You let him know it is actually Missouri. Another little trick on Alicia’s part. She most likely thought you only remembered the state and would falsely have said St. Louis. How this would have proved Rocky wasn't telepathic, you're not sure. It seems to be more of a test on your ability to pay attention.

Rocky paws at Alicia’s leg to get her attention. Once he has it, Rocky uses his paw on the carpet to trace out the MO abbreviation for Missouri. When Alicia realizes what he is doing her hand raises to cover her shocked expression and she falls flat on her butt.

A true scientist, Alicia devises several more tests to confirm the results before finally admitting that you might not be joking. Between the tests you order the pizza and before long you are all gathered in the kitchen eating. Pizza for the humans and dry food for Rocky. He is less than thrilled about that.

"This is crazy," Alicia repeats for the 100th time tonight. "Wait... you said the plans had changed. What are you thinking of doing with Rocky?"

‘I don’t think she is going to like hearing this one bit, boss.’

"Well... uh... funny you should ask..." Lang avoids making direct eye contact with Alicia, finding stray toppings to pick out of the pizza box and pop into his mouth. "He's, uh... going to come with me."

He also avoids turning that last part into a question, but he does lift his eyes just enough to gauge her reaction. Seeing that she's about to launch into a protest, he beats her to the punch. "Nothing dangerous. When it comes to beating up on the bad guys -- though of course I don't want it to come to that!" he says, holding up his hands at a newly oncoming protest. "It's all on me.
Rocky's solely recon. Hearing, smelling, all those things he's an expert at. Helping me avoid trouble. You know."

"So yeah. Canine sidekick. What do you think?" he says, smiling brightly. Probably too brightly. He's trying awfully hard to put a good face on it.

Alicia cannot look you in the eye. She sits there, staring at the table, and taking deep breath after deep breath. You and Rocky exchange a glance but stay silent. Finally, Alicia responds.

"I should call animal protective services on you but I’m pretty sure I’d end up in a straight jacket. While I can certainly see the benefit of having Rocky scout out the area, especially after the disaster that was your last outing, have you put any consideration toward what you would do if he got injured? I’m not even talking about gunshots or super energy weapons. What if he pops his shoulder out of joint or gets caught in a bear trap. Do you have any idea how to provide medical care to him?"

‘I’m reasonably sure I could talk you through any necessary veterinary care, boss.’

Alicia does not hear Rocky and continues. "Did I mention that I once successfully gave CRP to my neighbor's Siamese cat?"

Lang sighs, looking at Alicia with a sad smile. "You want to come."

It's not a question, simply a statement of acknowledgement. It's hardly a surprise; Alicia's been trying different methods of persuasion to make Lang bring her along on a 'mission', as she calls them. It's been getting harder and harder to tell her no, as things get more complex and more dangerous for a single person to carry off. Now that there's Rocky to think of, it's even harder to say no.

"Look, Leesh... let's say you come along. Just for the sake of argument! I've got the mutagens. I've tested them on myself, and I know they work the way I think they will. I don't know if I can trust them on someone else, and I don't like the idea of you following me into Folstad's place without some sort of augmentation. I had super speed and super strength, and those goons he had with them still almost took me out. So, again, for the sake of argument... how are we going to keep you safe if you do come, and still be able to help out if I -- we -- need you?"

Alicia's eyes widen with excitement as you start to relent, but she quickly mimes for you to pump the brakes. "Easy there, Lang; not all of us are itching to get into fisticuffs. I wouldn't last two seconds in a fight and I know you say those concoctions of your are safe, but there is no way I'm drinking one. But every good hero needs support. I want to be your getaway driver, your lookout, your confidant. The ever faithful individual who is always by your side to offer support when you need it most."

Rocky puffs out a breath of air. 'Is she really trying to claim that she is more loyal than man's best friend?' Alicia eyes Rocky with suspicion and then turns her attention on you.

"He just said something about me, didn't he? I didn't peg you for a traitor, Rocky." In response, Rocky gets up and sits directly by your side. Alicia's jaw drops in shock. "Well we'll see who's your favorite in a few weeks when Langford is too busy to take you for walks, mister."

Lang breathes out quietly, relieved. "Okay. The woman in the chair, that's what you're thinking. Okay. Okay..."

He hops up from his stool and begins pacing. "If we're going to do that, we're going to need some tracking equipment. Some way for you to follow along with us remotely. Maybe some sort of suit-cam. And collar-cam. I am not dressing you up in actual clothes, buddy," he says to Rocky, then continues his thought process. Processes, plural. So very many processes.

"Which means you're going to need computer hardware and whatever we can put together to disguise your... car... yeah, it'd have to be your car. You've seen mine."

Lang has a car, technically. It rarely moves from its parking spot, partly because he can walk or take public transportation most places, partly because he just doesn't trust cars at all after the accident that took his family. As a result of that and the neighborhood, it's not always reliable. Or inconspicuous. Graffiti on a car does tend to stick in observers' minds, after all.

He rubs at his chin. "I've got some camera tech here at the apartment that we might be able to adapt, but... it's a short-term solution. You have anything you can think of? Any other ideas?"

Lang looks to both Alicia and Rocky as he says this.

"Well, I mean, that all sounds super duper," Alicia says while sounding a bit suspicious. "It seems like it might take a while to get all that going and don’t you need to act on Folstad as soon as possible? If only you had the foresight to have started on this plan sooner..."

Rocky gives you a sideways glance. When you both turn to Alicia, she has a wide smile on her face and keys jingling in her hands. "Let’s go for a ride, boys."

She refuses to divulge anything during the 15 minute drive. The destination ends up being the junkyard. Rocky seems pleased.

The guard at the gate waves her in as if he's familiar with her. She weaves through piles of cars smashed into cubes and eventually comes to a stop by the manager's office. "Follow me." Alicia leads you behind the office, spreading her arms wide as a beat up old white cargo van comes into sight. She looks positively ecstatic.

A grimy looking man comes out of the junkyard office. He offers no greeting and just keeps chowing down on a tuna fish sandwich. Alicia gleefully rushes to the sliding door of the van and throws it open.

The insides are filled to the brim with tech equipment and monitors. It looks like a full blown moving tech lab you might see FBI agents use during stakeouts in a movie. "What do you think? Me and Reggie have been working on it for weeks!"

The junkyard manager, mouth filled with tuna, speaks up in a deep voice, "I'm Reggie."

Lang's jaw drops, eyes widen, shoulders slump, the whole nine yards of 'what in the world am I looking at here?' all at once.

"I... you..."

He points vaguely at the wall of tech in front of him, then vaguely at another part of it. "That's... it's..." He looks at Alicia. Then at Reggie. Then back and forth one more time.

"Hi," he says to the tuna-chomping junkyard manager. "I'm Lang."

Finally, finally, the shock of the whole thing fades enough for him to have a real response. His face relaxes into the sort of joy you only see at Christmas time, when that last present under the tree really is the toy you've been dreaming of for months, drawing little pictures of it in the margins of your textbook when you really should be listening to the teacher, watching TV just to hope to see the commercial for it.

He takes a few tentative steps toward the door and carefully peers inside, his grin wide enough to split his face in two. Suddenly, an impulse strikes him and he turns to wrap Alicia in a hug. "This is AMAZING," he says. "I... don't deserve you, Alicia."

Alicia blushes a bit and tries to hide it. She recovers quickly. "Ain’t that the truth." She gleefully leads you inside so she can show off all the neat gizmos and gadgets the van has. She also details the installation process and how she might have implied to Reggie that the two of you are bigfoot hunters. "So, uh, we might have to make the occasional weekend trek into the woods with Reggie to go looking for Sasquatch. Hope that isn’t a deal breaker?"

When you exit the van Reggie is on a knee petting Rocky and feeding him the rest of his sandwich. He rises to his feet, gives you a nod, and walks back to the manager’s office.

"Alright. What’s the plan?" Alica asks.

Lang can hardly stand still, he's so excited. "Well, I think once we get my suit set up with the tech you need for communication and monitoring, and we outfit Rocky with whatever he might need for the same, then we start recon. Of course, we'll need to go back to my place to get a lot of that stuff, plus the mutagens..."

He rambles on about esoterica for a couple of minutes, and closes out with, "And then we hit Folstad's place. Still not sure what he's up to entirely, but I want to look into this Living Film Immersion device and what Lloyd Labs has to do with it at a minimum."

His face broadens into a grin once again. "Man, I am so excited to have you in the chair. Together again, huh? Instant analysis, risk assessment... I'm totally geeking out here."

"I know right! We’re going to do so much good working as a team. With my help, maybe we can even avoid you getting bad press. I’m assuming you saw the article this morning calling you a super villain? Can’t be having any more of that."

Alicia drives the van back to your house and entrusts you with her car. Once you get back the two of you set to work making minor adjustments to your costume to make the most of the new setup. Alicia sets you up with a fancy radio device that interacts with the bone structure of your face to transmit sound directly into your inner ear. It also allows you to communicate back without actually speaking. Simply silently mouthing the words will send transcribed messages back to the van.

You guys give it a test run and everything works at acceptable levels. The transcription software isn’t perfect and jumbles words, but the meaning is plenty clear most of the time. "It should improve more and more with each word that you ‘speak.’"

Next she gets you and Rocky hooked up with GPS signal transmitters and miniatures cameras embedded in a pin. These are not always on transmitting. You’ll have to tap it to start a transmission. "We don’t want any tech savvy individuals using this type of thing against you, after all."

The trio sets out in the van once everything is tested to satisfactory levels. "Check out the records of the neighborhood I got from city hall," Alicia calls back to you from the driver’s seat. One of the monitors displays some neighborhood blueprints. "It looks like there are about a dozen mansions inside this place. The one Falstad is using is, naturally, in the dead center.

"First step is getting inside the neighborhood. Virtually the entire neighborhood is surrounded by a 12 foot high fence. With some help, you might be able to get Rocky over it to start the recon. We could also try to bluff our way past the guard at the gate. Look at those blueprints though. The mountains are used as a natural barrier on the south side instead of a fence. You guys could potentially use that as a way in as well. It’s not too far a jump from the cliff to the roof of house 114."

Now dressed up in his suit, loaded up with potentially useful mutagens, and fully miked up, the Alchemist looks over the blueprints. He tilts the monitor so Rocky can see as well, suspecting that the dog might actually be smarter than he is. "I'm not liking the bluff angle, but I think we can make the jump work. I've got a mutagen that ought to help out with that, and make it a quieter landing. I can carry you with me," he adds to Rocky.

Just don't drop me, boss. I'm not a cat, you know. I have one life and don't always land on my feet.

He traces a finger over the plans of the neighborhood. "I'm afraid we've got a lot of recon to do. Which means leaning on you for analysis and suggestions, Leesh. Let's take it from the south side and come at it from there. I'm guessing they've got ways of detecting people coming over the fence, but might trust the natural barrier to keep your average cat burglar from getting in without any advanced tech."

The van takes a side road that circles up toward the foothills and pulls off at a trailhead that overlooks the city a short distance from the cliff above house 114. The three of them climb out of the van and walk to the cliff, scanning over the gated community.

"We have any idea which place is Folstad's?" asks the Alchemist. "I'd hate to have to go door-to-door. It's a long time until Halloween after all."

"Lot 117. Should be in the dead center of the neighborhood, on the right side of the street if you were coming in from the main entrance. So the opposite side of the street from where you guys will be dropping in. This place is well lit, so getting across might be tricky. You’ll have to keep an eye on your surroundings and pick your moment. There is always the option to try a localized blackout, but I feel like that would attract more attention than it is worth."

Alicia speaks in a serious and confident voice. The giddy excitement from earlier is all gone but it hasn't been replaced by doubt or worry. It is business time and she is bringing her "A" game.

"Do you want me to keep the van up on the hill? Maybe I should keep circling around the area?"

Peering over the cliff you can see the mansion on lot 114. It is three stories tall and has a grotto-like pool with a slide built into a mock miniature mountain. The water cascading down the fake rock structure should help to drown out any noise you and Rocky make.

The house has many large windows. Lights are on throughout, but you only see one person moving about. It looks to be a servant working in the kitchen to clean up after a meal.

The yard is wide with shrubs and hedges separating this lot from the next. Only about 2-3 feet high, they shouldn’t pose as a real obstacle.

The Alchemist turns to Alicia, and though the dark and the mask make it hard to see well, he's smiling as he replies. "You know what's best for the tech in the van. I trust you to make it work."

He reaches over and clasps his hand over her arm for a short moment, then reaches to his belt to take a vial. With one quick movement, he downs the contents, then crouches down to extend his arms to Rocky. "C'mon, buddy. It's time for us to take a little trip."

Rocky jumps into his arms, and he turns one more time to Alicia. "We're all taking care of each other as best we can. It's a pretty unusual set of Musketeers, but... all for one, and one for all!"

The Alchemist salutes Alicia, then turns to jump down from the cliff. The mutagen has given him the extra strength to not only jump long distances but absorb the impact of a landing so as to make it nearly silent. He puts it to good use as he sails across, Rocky in his arms, to first land quietly atop the roof of the third story, then down to the next level, and over the hedges to land in the yard of the next lot over.

He avoids the temptation, given the dog in his arms, to do the classic three-point superhero landing, but he does make certain that he lands in a crouch to keep a low profile. All right. Looks like we recon the situation before we decide how we're going to get in. You keep your ears and nose open, I'll case the joint visually before we make our move, he broadcasts silently to Rocky.

The house Folstad is using is now easily within view. It is smaller than all of the surrounding houses. The ground floor appears to have about the same size dimensions as the neighbors, but there is only one additional floor. The second floor only covers the left half of the house. The roof over the right side of the house appears to have been made into a patio. A small fence surrounds it and you can see a wide variety of seating areas spread out up there. You don't see any stairs leading up to it, but you could easily leap onto it.

A guard, dressed like the men you faced off with the other night, is pacing about the patio area. Every once in a while he pauses and looks out over the neighborhood.

Like all the other houses in the neighborhood, large windows are found throughout. Unlike the house you leapt onto, the view through these windows are obscured by closed shades. Small bits of light peak through the corners in some places, but you cannot see into the house in any way from here.

On the left side of the house is a two car garage. The doors are closed and there are two luxury sedans parked in the driveway. Another guard rests leaning against one of the cars while smoking a cigarette. He does not appear particularly attentive.

Rocky begins sniffing at the air rapidly. 'I’m pretty sure they have at least one or two dogs in there, boss. Do you have anything on that belt that can neutralize our scents?'

The Alchemist nods, replying silently, If you can believe it, I thought of that before we left. There was that time with the German shepherd and the... never mind. Story for another time.

He takes a small aerosol canister from his belt. Close your eyes. Stings a little if you don't. He sprays a light mist over Rocky's head and back, and then over his own head and shoulders. After a few moments, Rocky experiences a discomfiting disorientation as the two of them go nearly invisible to his nose. At a distance, they should be completely undetectable by scent. If the guard dogs get this close, it won't matter if they don't smell.

Smaller house than the others. Doesn't seem like Folstad's sort of thing. I'm guessing there's more below ground, especially if he's got something to hide. If that's the case, I'm thinking that's where we need to go.

As Alicia had indicated, he mouths a question to her, hoping the tech is still working at this distance. Got any records on the floor plan of Folstad's place? Is there a basement? If there is, what looks like the quietest entrance?

Rocky shakes like he is trying to dry off after diving into water. You can tell that the lack of scent is making him terribly uncomfortable but he does not openly complain about it.

"I wish. They only publicly available records were the original floor plans and it is clear that multiple renovations have gone on since then. There are permits on file for a wine cellar but they made sure to obtain details regarding underground pipes and cables to depths considerably deeper than any wine cellar I’ve ever heard of. I wouldn’t be surprised if there is an entire complex under there.

"Since the original plans didn’t call for a basement or cellar of any kind, I am not sure if there is any way to enter from outside. I wouldn’t doubt that the only entrance downstairs is from inside the house though."

Rocky paws at you to get your attention. ‘You see that small shed in the backyard? Looks like a normal tool shed, right boss? Take a look at the roof.’ You notice a standard TV satellite dish, but behind it are dozens of smaller antennas pointing in various directions.

"Thanks, Alicia. We'll keep our eyes open."

He nods to Rocky. That's a lot of reception equipment. Let's start our search there and see where it leads us. You're quieter than I am. Why don't you sneak your way over there and see if you can hear or smell who might be inside, and find us an entrance.

While Rocky does that, he begins cataloging the windows and assigning them to rooms on the floor plan he has in his head. He shifts a bit, takes a few careful steps this way and that to try and get a clearer view of what might have been changed since the original plans were filed with the city.

Rocky gives you a little nod of his head and scampers off. He pauses at the edge of shadows, makes sure the coast is clear, and sprints across the road into the darkness on the other side. There are no signs that any of the lookouts spotted him.

From the floor plan you know that the second floor features the patio, a master bed and bath to the rear of the house, and two smaller guest bedrooms in the front. The lights are off in these guest bedrooms. If you could get past the guard in the driveway it might be safe to gain access to the house by climbing upon the garage and going through the guest bedroom window.

The bottom floor is supposed to be laid out by four major areas. On the left in the back is the kitchen that looks out into the backyard. There should be an open air floor plan that leads across to the right side of the house which features a bar and a dining area. To the left side in the front of the house is a large open room with plenty of electrical outlets which leads you to believe it is set up as the main living room or area for entertainment. This room is attached to the garage.

On the right side of the front of the house was supposed to be another large open room of equal size to that of the living room. Judging from the light peeking under the blinds, the area has been split into multiple rooms. There is a section of light, then darkness, then another with light. So maybe 3 separate rooms now.

"Ready for a report, boss?" Rocky breaks your concentration. "There is definitely someone in there. I can smell the sweat dripping off of them. I only smell the one person though. I can hear the hum of electronics and fans running to keep them cool. Around back there is a pretty heavy duty electrical hookup to feed this shed with all the juice it needs. Clearly this is not just a tool shed. Unfortunately the only way in or out seems to be the one door in the front."

Mental mapping is fine and all, but at some point someone needs to be able to keep track of all this, and Lang's not exactly known for his prodigious memory. While Rocky's looking around, Lang passes the info over to Alicia so that she can start building and extrapolating a more sophisticated layout of the house. When his canine sidekick chimes in, though, he replies to both the dog and the woman in the van.

Given what Folstad's interests have been, a recommissioned tool shed humming with that many electronics is worth checking out, I think. Alicia, see if you can find anything about telecomm accounts to this or nearby addresses. That much usage might look suspicious if it's all coming out of one address. I'm going to go silent and see what I can find inside. Rocky, you keep nose and ears peeled. Hopefully I'm able to get the jump on the person inside, but if it feels like I've been detected, give me a warning, okay?

Time to be the Alchemist.

He takes a vial from his belt. The liquid inside is dark enough to be black in the shadows, and he downs the contents in one quick pull. He shudders once. To do (for the 17th time): work on the flavor of these things... He separates from the shadows where he's crouched, but his dark outfit keeps him relatively well hidden from eyesight. As he walks across the grounds, his footfalls make no sound at all, even when he inadvertantly steps on a fallen branch from a recent windstorm. Despite his weight, the branch merely bends slightly and doesn't break at all, the mutagen producing a curious anti-gravity effect around him. It's a simple matter to move to the door and quickly check to see if it's locked.

Unlike a normal shed door, this resembles something you would expect to see in a top secret laboratory at Lloyd’s. It is a solid metal door with a lever door handle. There is a small red light by the side of the door that no doubt indicates it is mag locked but you lightly test the handle anyways. It doesn’t move at all. This does allow you to deduce the method of obtaining entry.

There are no signs of keycard slots, badge readers, or numeric pad to enter a passcode on. Instead, the door handle itself appears to be a biometric scanner. It must scan the fingerprints of those that wish to gain entry to the shed.

‘You might want to take a look at this, boss. Across the yard. Doghouse,’ Rocky chimes in. It doesn’t take long to spot the traditional red wooden dog house on the other side of the yard. ‘Seems a bit strange that this would have a cold steel floor, right? Edges aren't quite seamless with the walls either. If I had money, I’d wager this floor can open up to the basement. What I'm not sure of is if it is designed to allow people on the outside to get in, or for letting something out that is already inside.’

Oh, fine then.

Alicia, you have any ideas on how to foil a fingerprint scanner lock without, you know, the actual fingerprint?

The Alchemist grumbles petulantly to himself as he gives up on the shed for the time being. Ideally, he'll be able to find a fingerprint without, say, having to cut someone's hand off. Because ewwww. As he picks up on Rocky's comment, he plots a course over to the doghouse to take a closer look and heads in that direction on silent feet.

As quickly and unobtrusively as he can, he takes a look all the way around the doghouse, looking for mechanisms that might open the floor in whichever direction it's meant to work.

"Do you have any masking tape on you? In theory you could use that to lift a print off of a glass or any other solid non-porous object. Although that might give you a reverse print. So you might have to then transfer that print and flip it the correct direction. That doesn’t even begin to take into account that any decent reader is going to require electrical conductivity like an actual finger would have. So pressing a piece of tape with the correct pattern to the reader isn’t going to cut it alone." She goes on for quite a while before revealing that she got the idea from a novel and has no idea if the science behind it actually holds up. "You might be better off just knocking and pretending it is a shift change. In my experience these guard types are bored and easily fooled. And there will be no further discussion of when or why I have previously had to fool security guards."

Looking around the doghouse doesn’t turn up much. You are able to confirm Rocky’s suspicions. It definitely looks like the metal floor of the doghouse can either descend or slide back to reveal an opening. Unfortunately you are unable to find any levers of switches that could trigger it to open. You are about to give up on this venture when something finally catches your eye.

On top of the doghouse is a small steeple, like you might see in a church. It is rather out of place on this otherwise traditional doghouse. At the peak of the steeple is a weathervane. Instead of the traditional rooster, this weathervane features depictions of the sun and the moon with a dog sitting between them. It is rather odd to see a weathervane on top of a doghouse since it is no more than a few feet tall. Even more odd is that the weathervane appears to have notches at its base that lock it into place and render it utterly useless at telling the direction of the wind. If one wanted to, they could manually move the weathervane onto different notches. Currently it rests with the sun pointing to the south and the moon to the north.

Lang Thomason is many things -- absent-minded (sometimes), possessed of a dorky sense of humor (constantly), a baseball fan (obsessively), in need of a haircut (perpetually) -- but if he has one defining quality, it's the inability to pass up a puzzle. He rubs one black-gloved hand at his masked chain as he studies the weathervane, then looks up to see where the moon is currently positioned. Either there's a little too much cloud cover, the phase of the moon is wrong, or it simply hasn't risen yet, but he can't get a good read on it.

He'd ask Alicia, but if there's one other thing he is, it's competitive and stubborn. Okay, two other things.

Well, the sun's certainly in the west right now, so...

He reaches out and turns the vane so that the sun points to the west, then takes a couple quick steps back. You know, in case it blows up or engages some other diabolical booby trap.

About three seconds after dropping the weathervane into place you hear mechanical parts moving below the earth. It is quiet, but audible. You and Rocky take cover just in case one of the guards hears it but there is no sign that they do.

The doghouse lifts up like it is on a hinge until it has tipped a full 90 degrees with the entrance now facing the sky. Next, the metal floor retracts and an opening is revealed. Not knowing how long it will be an option, you rush forward and make your way down the metal spiral staircase.

‘Should I stay topside or follow, boss?’ There isn’t a lot of time to decide. You can already hear mechanical whirling indicating that the entryway is starting to close back up.

You reach the bottom of the steps a few seconds after responding to Rocky. You must be at least two stories below ground with no clear idea of how reopen the secret door from this side. The only way is forward. Unfortunately the way forward is blocked by a metal door without a door handle or any identifiable way of opening it.

That problem is quickly dealt with as there is a hiss of compressed air and the door slowly starts to swing open at the exact time that the metal floor slides closed up top. A voice from inside shouts in your direction, "I thought Folstad said not to use that entryway anymore. What’s the matter with you?"

The sight you see through the door isn’t quite what you were expecting. The poorly lit room appears to be a video game arcade. Dozens of arcade cabinets take up the floor space. Electronic music, beeps, and boops dominate the soundscape. The only person you can see is one of those guards who is currently trying to set the high score for a game called Polybius.

Come with me, quick! It's closing up!

Rocky leaps through the opening and nearly bowls Lang over, but all is forgiven quickly enough. As they continue down the spiral staircase, the Alchemist mouths a message to check if Alicia can still pick up on him below ground.

You still there? We're headed down through... I guess it's a secret entrance. It wasn't too much of a secret, really. Just turn the... you don't care. Never mind. Just checking the reception. Would we call it reception?

He keeps up that steady stream of words as he descends, just in case there's some sort of distance-below-ground effect to the technology. It's about this time, though, that they reach the bottom of the stairs and the door hisses open.

Be with you in a moment...

As soon as they can sneak through the door, the Alchemist and his canine companion slip through on silent feet to take up a hiding position.

You stay here. I might need a distraction.

He doesn't answer the voice, but instead relies on his silencing mutagen to move around and through the arcade cabinets to find a spot that at the very least he and Rocky can flank the speaker. For the briefest of moments, he's distracted by one of the games before he remembers what he's here to do. Ideally, he can find a position from which he can simply ambush and take them out as quietly as possible.

You hear a static filled unintelligible response from Alicia but it fades to pure static by the time you reach the bottom of the staircase. You and Rocky are on your own down here. Rocky nods his head at your instruction and stays by the door as you sneak into the arcade.

Between the mutagen and the sounds of a dozen arcade cabinets on demo mode, you have no trouble sneaking around unnoticed. The guard continues to speak as he plays the game. "How about you don’t rat on me for taking a little gaming break and I’ll stay quiet about you using the doggy door?"

You head down the back row of games to the edge of the room. There is an open doorway leading into the hallway. You can hear movement and feel heavy bass thumping. Ignoring that for now, you move up between two arcade cabinets. The guard is still distracted and you are silent enough that it would be quite easy to dart forward and take him down quietly.

The HUD on his game shows he is down to his last life. He’s moving the joystick and slamming buttons rapidly in a vain attempt to keep going. If you’re doing this, you need to do it now. This game won’t last much longer.

Distractions would only complicate things further, so the Alchemist grabs a heavy wrench from a toolbox open nearby. He quickly comes up behind the guard and whacks him over the head with it. As the guard slumps down in front of the cabinet, Lang nods in brief satisfaction. Flashing lights on the game get his attention, and he quickly tries to take over. No sense in that last life going to waste after all.

Jumping cold into the game at that late stage of the action goes about as well as expected, and he only lasts a few seconds before it's Game Over.

Ah well. Fun while it lasted? he says to Rocky. Can you sense anyone else nearby?

As he communicates with the dog, he moves to the doorway and takes a peek out into the hallway to gauge his surroundings.

Peeking out from the arcade reveals a hallway leading to several more open doorways. Most appear fairly dark, but one has flashing multicolor lights leaking out into the hallway.

‘I can sense several people and canines down here. Most are close by and clustered together. Several humans have heightened heart rates and smell of sweat. Seems like a mixture of fear and excitement. What is going on down here, boss?’

You reposition yourself so you can get a better look across the hall into one of the darkened rooms. It is hard to tell without better lighting but something is off about the walls. They don’t look like standard drywall like the walls found in the arcade. It looks more like plastic or glass. In the hallway directly outside the room are a series of coat hooks. Each one holds a small silk bag.

I have to think it's something related to this weirdo mind control device Folstad's been financing. I wonder if the arcade games are a possible delivery mechanism for whatever crazy thing he's got in mind for it. They're already pretty addictive, when you come right down to it.

He rubs at his chin thoughtfully, then reaches for another of the mutagens at his belt and drinks it down. At first, it doesn't seem like it has any effect, but then he reaches his hand out toward the coat hooks and his arm stretches forward like an elongating rubber band. He snatches one of the silk bags and withdraws his hand again.

Let's see what we have here, shall we?

The bag is fairly lightweight. You pull the drawstring and turn the bag upside down to empty the contents into your hand.

First up is what appears to be a ping pong ball. It has been cut in half and an elastic string has been strung through it. Based upon the spacing of the two halves of the ball and the length of the string, you assume this has been done so one could wear this like a mask. One half ping pong ball over each eye. Why someone would do that is a whole different question to ponder over.

Next is a pair of ear plugs. Just simple common ear plugs that might be used by construction workers or at a heavy metal concert.

Lastly, there is a collection of 25 small cards. Instead of the numbers and pictures on standard playing cards, these cards show one of five symbols. Circle, plus sign, three wavy lines, square, or star. There are raised dots that trace the outline of the shapes so you can ‘read’ them by running their hand over the card without actually having to look at it. In addition to the shapes printed on the cards, there is also variance in the number of corners. Each shape appears in the deck 5 times. Once with all four corners of the card intact, and four times with one corner cut off (once with the top left missing, once with the top right, etc). So all in all, five variations of card for each shape within the deck.

I can't help but think the ping-pong balls and the ear plugs are to protect a person from the effects of some sort of light and sound experiment, the Alchemist thinks at Rocky. Which I'm guessing is what's going on down the hall. Subliminal programming has been an area of research for decades. The cards... I've seen things like this in TV shows, used as tests for psychic abilities, which I guess fits with the whole mind control subliminal psychic mumbo-jumbo I was expecting here. Got any thoughts?

Having not been detected when he poked his hand out into the hall, he looks out the doorway and up and down the hall. Not seeing anyone right away, he takes a careful step to the other side of the hall and stands outside the darkened room. He stretches his hand forward to touch the unusual walls and try to get some sense of what they are. He's careful not to walk in just yet, considering that whatever's going on in the room -- he's expecting the walls to be TV screens of some sort or another -- might trigger based on his entrance. Just to be safe, he doesn't look into the room, only reaching in.

Rocky tippy taps up to you and looks over the objects from the bag. "You’re certainly right about the cards. They are called Zener cards; named after the psychologist that created them. We sure could have used a pair when we were trying to prove to Alicia about our telepathic connection... Wait a minute." Rocky paws your hand to lower the cards so he can get a better look.

"These are slightly different from the standard set described in your encyclopedia. Instead of the missing corners, a standard deck has each shape appear in five different colors. There also isn't normally raise printing over the shapes...

"Do you think they are trying to create what we have? A telepathic connection between man and animal? It is a common misconception that dogs cannot see color. I may have a limited spectrum of visual colors compared to you all mighty humans, but I can see a few colors, thank you very much."

Your assumption about the walls of the darkened room prove true on all counts. The walls are smooth glass and your arm inside the room does trigger some kind of motion detector. You hear televisions behind the glass click one one after another. You quickly withdraw your arm and the screens start to click off.

In the brief moment they were on, light leaked out onto the floor of the hallway. It was solid red. You also heard the sound of static. It was quiet, but rising in volume before the TVs shut off.

It sure looks that way from where I'm standing. If the cards are modified to make each one unique without colors, that sounds like a logical conclusion. Are these rooms meant to develop those connections somehow? If so, why the eye cover and earplugs? I think we're going to have to go down the hall and see what's going on. Quietly.

The Alchemist puts words to action and creeps down the hall, relying on his mutagen to continue keeping his movements quiet. He keeps the silk bag in one hand, the ping-pong balls and earplugs near at hand in case he needs them. Coming up beside the door with the flashing lights, he carefully takes a quick peek around the corner, ready to jerk his head back if (as he suspects) the lights have some effect on his cognitive processes.

The sight you see makes it a little hard to jerk your head back. There is nothing compelling you to look. You aren’t being mind controlled or anything. It is just... weird. But you should be used to that by now, right?

The walls of this room are just like the previous one. Glass covering countless television monitors. Unlike the uniform red projected in that room, this one is an epilepsy inducing rotation of every color imaginable. Each screen changes at intervals between 1 and 5 seconds. When you have dozens of screens doing that it means a constantly shifting array of colors all around the room. But that’s not the weird bit.

Five children from roughly ages 10-15 are floating about the room as if it is filled with water. Some hover in place while others absentmindedly do flips or ‘swim’ through the air. Each of them has a device around their head. It covers their eyes and ears and wraps around the back of their head. It looks to be solid plastic with no means of looking through it. As far as you can tell they are cut off from the sights and sounds of the world.

On the ground you see a dog for each child. They aren’t hovering but after a few seconds of watching it becomes clear that they are mimicking the emotions of specific children as if they are linked.

Rocky pulls up next to you and looks into the room. His head tilts to the side in confusion.

You hear footsteps at the end of the hall. Multiple heavy footsteps that can only belong to guards.

‘What do you want to do, boss?’

The Alchemist mouths a handful of curses that wouldn't be out of place in a PG movie.

I want to hide. Now's not the time to get in a fistfight with a bunch of Folstad's goons.

Unfortunately, the only room they can be sure to safely reach before the approaching guards is the one they're currently standing outside. The colors swirling around may not be controlling his mind, but they're not going to be at all pleasant and keeping his eyes closed isn't ideal.

He pops open the silk bag and takes out the ping-pong balls.

Come on. I've got an idea. Probably a terrible one. You're allowed to mock me, but do it later, okay?

Slipping inside the doorway to get out of sight, the Alchemist does two things: first, he takes another of his rapidly dwindling supply of mutagens to sharpen his hearing. The mutagen enhances his three-dimensional audial processing capabilities, allowing his brain to generate an image of his surroundings nearly as effectively as sight would. Second, he puts the ping-pong balls over his eyes, expecting that they're just a simple protective device against visual overstimulation. And then he waits, keeping tightly against the wall just inside the doorframe, listening for the guards and any conversation they might be having

"--visuals looked strong. Almost seamless. Probably won’t need to use the canines much longer," one of the guards says to another.

"Thank god. I am so sick of cleaning up dog crap."

"Haha. Don’t get ahead of yourself. The kids still like the dogs. We’ll probably keep them around just to keep them calm."

"I knew it was too good to be true."

Your mutagen gives allows you to keep tabs on them as they round the corner and start down the hallway. They slow up and stop right before reaching the doorway. One of the guards nods at one of the others. This individual steps forward so he is right in front of the doorway but does not walk through it. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a dog whistle.

The dogs (Rocky included) erupt into a chorus of barks when he blows it. One by one the children lower themselves out of the air and land upon two feet in the middle of the room. Each dog works their way to stand in front of their corresponding child. The light that leaks through the ping pong balls stops alternating and becomes a consistent whitish/yellow.

"I hope everyone enjoyed the game tonight," The guard asks as the kids start to take off their headgear. "Any questions or concerns?" A few kids are clearly turning to stare into the corner where you and Rocky are.

"Ummm," one child starts...

Can you get the dogs to calm those kids down so they don't give us away? Maybe tell them this is a new game that we're supposed to keep secret from the guards?

If it was possible to flatten yourself out, he'd be doing it ri... wait a minute. It is possible.

Relying on the stretchy mutagen, the Alchemist carefully flattens his body against the wall as slowly and carefully as possible.

To do list: make a better stretchy mutagen. This is remarkably uncomfortable. Feels like my thoughts are being squished...

"That’s a bold strategy, boss." Rocky’s eyes close and you are left wondering whether or not he is having any success. None of the other dogs in the room make any movement or sign that they are being communicated with.

Outside the room, one of the guards around the corner checks his watch and yawns. The one that addressed the children speaks up again. "If there are no questions then I thank you on behalf of Mr. Folstad and invite you to come back for the next session in two days." He motions for the kids to exit the room.

The children and the dogs all walk out of the room and follow the guard back through the arcade and out the doghouse entrance. The two guards around the corner fall in line and exit along with the rest of the group. Whatever Rocky did must have worked.

That’s when you feel all warmth drain from your body. You feel an intense pain like your entire body is being jolted with a million volts of electricity. When you open your eyes the world is tinted in blue. You are no longer flattened against the corner. You remain kneeling there as you did before taking the mutagen. You are not quite sure how you know it, but any presence of the silence mutagen is also gone.

Standing before you are the five children with beaming smiles on their faces. Like the room around them, you see them as if looking through a blue filter, but they appear brighter than their surroundings. It is almost as if they are emitting light themselves.

"Sorry about the transition. It can be a bit rough sometimes. So you are here to guide us through the next step?" one of the children asks. They all exchange excited glances with each other and then turn their focus back to you.

"BOSS! What happened? Where are you?" Rocky’s sounds as if he is 1000 miles away and underwater. You look around and there is no sign of him here with you.

I... don't know. Something happened in the room after the kids and dogs left. The kids are back and my mutagens are gone... more to come. I hope. See what you can learn, but be careful.

The Alchemist squints against the blue light. "Rough," he says, slowly coming to his feet. "That's a word for it."

He looks at each of the kids in turn, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I won't lie to you, because I hate it when people lie to me. I don't know what the next step is. Can you tell me what this... place, I guess? is? You called it a transition. What does that mean?"

The Alchemist does a quick inventory in his head about what mutagens he has left, in the event he needs them. Turns out it's really quick. There's only one. To do list: ...

I have no idea what to do about that. Fiddlesticks.

Rocky sounds worried. "Ok, boss. It's hard to hear you but I’ll keep looking around and stay out of sight. Let me know if anything changes on your end."

The kids laugh at your question. "This is the Cool Place!" One of them answers while spreading out their arms as if to show off how cool this place indeed is. "Or at least that is what we call it, cause it is kind of cold and blue, and just pretty cool in general. The guys in the suits called it the astral plane--"

"No, stupid! It's the ethereal plane!"

"Ugh, you guys never pay attention during the cutscenes. This is the Neptonian Sphere. Oh wait, it might have actually been Uranus."

All of the kids devolve into laughter.

"Whatever. It doesn’t matter."

"Yeah, who cares? It’s the Cool Place. We all agree on that, right?" Everyone stops bickering and concedes that they do agree on the informal nickname. "You’re not our new guide? Who are you then and how come you were able to communicate with our familiars? Only guides can do that." The kid puts their hands on their hips and gives you a duh-esque expression indicating that everyone should know that.

Dr. Langford Thomason, Ph.D., has heard a lot of weird things in his life. There was his grad school buddy's roommate who, after doing a line of shots and who knows what else, asked the waitress for a pitcher of whatever fluorescent-colored concoction he'd just tossed back, and then proceeded to reenact important scenes from a movie script that apparently only existed in his head. That was weird, but easy enough to explain. This? This is just plain weird.

He does have a knowledge that approaches encyclopedic of science fiction films and literature, though, and he's quickly able to switch gears to play along.

"Nobody said I wasn't a guide," he says and gestures at his costume. "Do I look like I'm just your average guy in a suit? I just haven't been here before. To Uranus or his," he says, pointing at the kid who made the initial joke. "I can talk to your familiars 'cause I've got one of my own, you see. You wanna tell me the steps that came before? Maybe we can figure out the next step together."

Astral plane or ethereal plane. These kids said the guys in the suits called this place I am one of those names. Maybe the Neptonian Sphere, but I think that was a joke.

The Uranus joke gets a good laugh out of everyone, but the group still remains somewhat skeptical. You notice them exchanging strangely long and intense looks at each other.

"It sounds like people are mixing terms they don’t fully understand over there, boss. Your encyclopedias only briefly touched on esoteric subjects like the astral plane; probably because it is such nonsense. Although maybe I should rethink that in light of the present situation. Anyways, some early philosophers talked about an ethereal realm between the Heavens and the Earth. This realm included all the stars and planets. What we think of today as the orbits of the planets around the sun were sometimes referred to as the celestial spheres. Each planet having its own plane, or spherical path. These discussions did not include Neptune and Uranus, however. Those planets weren’t discovered until the 18th century, by which time talk of celestial spheres had long since stopped. It sounds to me like these people are either appropriating terms for their own use or are misguided in their understanding-- Wait. I’m being told to tell you to flap your arms like a chicken and cluck exactly 7 times. That make any sense to you?"

All five children are now staring expectantly at you. It is beyond creepy.

Total sense, if you can believe that. They think I'm some sort of guide because I can communicate with their 'familiars', which clearly are the dogs. Think you can learn anything from your canine compatriots while I get these kids to trust me?

"Seriously? You don't believe me, so you're going to have your familiars test me out?" replies the Alchemist. "I'm hurt. I mean, hurt right here."

He taps his chest over his heart a couple of times.

"I mean, I could flap my arms like a chicken and cluck seven times if you really want me to, but I ask you, is this really the basis for a healthy relationship built on trust and understanding? I mean, while we're at it, why don't we all do the chicken dance as a team-building exercise?"

The mask, of course, covers his face but it's impossible to mistake the gleeful tone in his voice.

"I’ll see what I can dig up, boss. Good luck."

The kids break out into snickers, or at least struggle to hide smiles at your comments. All accept one who remains stone faced serious. She takes a step forward and the other children cut it out. "It wasn’t an exercise in trust for our benefit." She raises a hand and points behind you.

You turn and come face to face with a 7 foot tall snarling monster...chicken. It lets loose a mighty roar of a cluck. The air and spit from its throat washes of you. Nausea apparently is still quite possible in the astral plane. Its beak stretches impossibly wide as the beast prepares to swallow you whole. Right up until it vanishes into a puff of smoke and the children completely lose it laughing.

The one who tried to trick you with the chicken illusion steps forward again and reaches out a hand for a shake. "I’m Echo." One by one she points down the line and introduces the other children. "India, Charlie, Juliet, and Romeo." Everyone waves.

The children then launch into an overview of what led them to this point. It is incredibly disjointed, as the kids constantly interrupt and correct each other. It is fascinating to see the miniature 3D constructs they bring into being to support their story visually though.

From what you can gather, they are all neighborhood kids who one by one ended up at this house after chasing their dogs who seemed drawn to the area. They were each approached and told about the video game arcade and the secret passage that could be used to access it. They started hanging out in there every day, trying to beat each other’s score in all of these super cool games they have never seen anywhere else.

They believe Folstad is a video game developer. He introduced them to what he described as the future of games and has had them test out several new technologies. The headsets allowed them to enter the Cool Place and have actual conversations with their dogs in English. After a few weeks of this, they found they could keep talking to them even when they weren’t in the game.

That is when Folstad sat them down and told them about the astral plane. The children veer off in arguments about what The Cool Place is again and it takes a while to get them back on track. When they do, they tell you that they met a guide in the game who helped them develop the skill to enter the Cool Place without the aid of the headset. They assume you are here to teach them another new skill.

"Okay, so you can make illusions. Nice chicken, by the way. Gotta say, I've never been nearly eaten by a seven-foot tall chicken with breath that'd knock out an elephant with a sinus infection," says the Alchemist after he regains his bearings and considers what they've been telling him.

"So before I know what I'm going to teach you, I gotta know what else you can do. Obviously, you can create images and objects. Can you... let's see..." He claps his hands together. "Here's something. Can you change yourselves?"

He takes a deep breath and visualizes the effects of his elasticity mutagen. It's not difficult for him: it's one of the reasons he's always been good at creating molecules ever since he was an undergrad. He can picture the reactions and the structures combining, changing and affecting each other, visualizing the products and the mechanisms as though they were projected directly over his vision. As he focuses on the outcomes, he reaches out his hand, pouring focus and belief into stretching out to reach behind Echo's ear and produce a shiny gold coin with an image of himself and the words "In the Alchemist We Trust" circling the image around the edge of the coin.

He flips the coin in the air for Juliet to catch. The tails side has two bubbling test tubes crossing in an X pattern.

Their faces light up at the sight of your trick. Impressive in its own right; you get the impression that none of them had ever even thought of using their abilities to do something like that before. For the next ten minutes everyone tries their best to mimic what you have done. It takes a while before anyone shows any real results.

They have no trouble duplicating the coin. It is clear that external creations are a very easy feat for them. Changing their own structure appears to be a much more difficult task. Eventually they do manage it though.

Echo is first. She realized quickly that she cannot yet duplicate your stretching ability. She goes for something more simply and changes the color of her hair to neon green. Juliet is next. She takes the coin you gave her and closes her palm over it. She shuts her eyes and when she opens them, the coin is gone but the symbol showing two test tubes is etched into her skin like a tattoo. She turns her hand over and proudly shows off the other side which matches the other side of the coin.

Before long, each of them have managed to manifest minor changes to their forms. India gives herself glowing red eyes. Charlie grows webbing between his fingers and toes and comments about how he is going to kill it at the swim meet next weekend. Romeo gives himself fangs and grows his fingernails into long sharp claws. He chases the other kids around the room.

Each success, no matter how small, brings a delighted laugh from the Alchemist. "Very nice! You all are quick studies. You'll have me beat in no time."

That's when something Charlie said rises to the top of his thoughts. "So... wait a minute. You're going to kill it at the swim meet next weekend?" he says, head tilting a little in curiosity. "Are you telling me you can translate things from here, from the Cool Place, back to the Not-So-Cool Place?"

Most of the kids are still playing around with their ability to change their forms and don’t respond to your question. Charlie gives you a ‘duh’ expression. "That’s the whole point, right? Learn how to do it here and in time practice makes perfect. Eventually we can do it out there too. I can’t believe they’ve been holding out on us being able to do this cool stuff though," he says while waving his webbed fingers.

"Boss. Something isn’t right with these dogs," Rocky interrupts. "I can’t quite put my paw on it. They seem... empty. Does that make sense? They look like dogs. They smell like dogs. They... It's like they have no personalities, boss. I don’t think they like me." The worry in his ‘voice’ is clear.

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves too quickly, here," says Lang. Whatever he was going to say next is interrupted by Rocky's message.

It's starting to make sense. Hold on, buddy, let me see if I can do something from my end.

"Hey, about the dogs. You know, I've got a dog I can speak with too, and he's a little worried that yours don't like him very much. Could you do me a favor and see if you can get them to back down? Then I've got a couple other questions for you, and maybe we can teach each other a few more cool tricks."

The joyous expressions on their faces vanish instantaneously. Everyone stops what they were doing. They give each other a few silent looks before looking back to you one last time. Then they are gone. No puff of smoke. No theatrics. There one second and gone the next.

‘Boss! Whatever you did, please undo it!’ Rocky’s panicked voice comes through.

For a minute, Rocky doesn’t respond to any messages you send. You look around the room but nothing has changed except for the sudden disappearance of the children. You head into the hallway while trying to think of a way to escape the Cool Place and help Rocky. That is when he reaches back out.

‘I don’t know what you did, but it worked, boss! They were chasing me across the neighborhood and then suddenly, poof, they were gone. It was like magic. What is going on over there?’

Before Rocky finishes his message you get a pretty good idea of where the dogs went. The sudden appearance of growling behind you is unsettling to say the least.

"That wasn’t very nice of you," the chorus of all the children speaking as one sounds out from all around you in a deafening volume. "Trying to trick us. Make us think you are a friend. They warned us about people like you."

This is followed by even more growling dogs as a trio walks out of the arcade with their teeth bared in a snarl. The sound of the other two dogs growling behind you only grows louder.

This place is suddenly no longer cool. Not cool at all.

"Do I get a chance to explain? Plead my case?" he calls out, turning so he can keep an eye on the dogs approaching from both directions. He moves slowly toward the other doorway, to the empty room he went into earlier. If everything goes very far south, at least he can try and set up a bottleneck.

"I never tried to trick you. I taught you the trick, remember? If I wasn't a friend, would I have just given that trick away without demanding some sort of payment up front? Juliet, etching that image of the coin into your hand, that was amazing. Think of what you could do to camouflage yourself. Charlie, think of the swim meet. Who's trying to tell you I'm not your friend? Why are they doing it? Because they're wrong. Think hard about it. Come to your own conclusions."

You hear indistinct whispers. It is as if the children are right next to you speaking quietly to one another but you cannot actually make out what they are saying. The dogs gather at the doorway and continue to snarl and growl, but they stop their advance. The whispering stops and one by one the dogs ‘pop’ out of existence; leaving you along inside the not so Cool Place.

The telepathic chorus returns. "We are undecided. Divided. Unsure. Further proof of your... friendship, and your abilities is needed. Indeed. You did not harm us. We will not harm you. We will not help you either. If you are a guide, you should have no trouble finding your way out."

The unified voices fade away and you are left alone inside the Cool Place.

"Well. At least I don't have to punch any dogs, real or virtual. That wouldn't be any good at all."

The Alchemist takes a moment to look around, gauging his surroundings. It all looks roughly the same as the little bit of the compound he'd seen in the... what should he call it? The Not-So-Cool Place had a nice ring, but there are some cool things about it. Rocky. Alicia.

Wait a minute...

First he tries Rocky.

What's going on here? Well, let's see. The kids were here. And now they're not. Also, I taught them how to change shape in this weirdo virtual space. But apparently, get this: what they do here, they can also manifest outside the virtual space. So in hindsight, maybe I should've gotten a little clearer read on their allegiances first. That'll go on the to-do list all right, he says as he walks farther down the hall into space he hadn't explored yet. What else? Right! So when I asked them to ask their dogs -- they call them familiars -- to leave you alone, I'm guessing that's when things went sideways here. The kids disappeared, then the dogs showed up and looked like they were about to attack.

He reviews the rest of the conversation, and finishes by saying, So now I have to prove that I'm a 'guide' and find my way out of the Cool Place as they call it. Or apparently I won't be their friend. And they're the best lead we've had yet on Folstad, so I'd hate to get on their bad side, at least not yet. Still, I want to poke around a little more and see if I find anything else interesting.

He pauses, then adds, What's going on out there?

While he waits for Rocky's response, he tries contacting Alicia subvocally.

Alicia? Any chance you can hear me?

He stops walking, closes his eyes and tries to focus, fixing an image in his head of Alicia sitting in the van watching his words pop up on her monitors and replying, just as she had when he was outside the compound's walls.

‘Well things have been mostly calm since you got the dogs off my tail,’ Rocky calls back. ‘I circled back to the house and the guards are on alert. They know something is up but don’t seem to understand what. I haven’t heard any chatter about finding you downstairs, so at least we got that much going for us, boss.’

As Rocky talks you continue down the hallway and pass another room with an open doorway. It looks identical to the last two rooms with the glass walls covering TV monitors. You keep moving forward but can’t shake the feeling that you saw something out of the corner of your eye inside the room. When you turn to look again, it is gone. It is hard to say exactly what it was you think you saw. It was roughly the size of a basketball. White and round with some color throughout, but mostly darkness found in a spot in the middle. Kind of like an eyeball...

Alicia doesn’t respond when you call out. You stop outside the doorway and mentally recall the image of Alicia in the van. Even with your eyes closed you can detect the change in light before you. When you open them, the walls of the room display the inside of the van.

You watch as Alicia reads your message on the monitor and gleefully reacts. She calms herself down with some focused breathing and types out a message back to you. "I was starting to get worried. Been radio silent with you two for way too long!"

The Alchemist starts puzzling over the thing he can't quite get a good look at when the screens in the room comes to life. "Whoa. That's so cool!"

Okay, stay tuned. I think I just got in touch with Alicia from inside this whatever-it-is-I'm in...

"Yeah, so... some unexpected goings-on..."

Lang gives Alicia a quick recap of recent events. "It's all a little bit weird. I'm not sure if I need to be in one of these rooms to talk to you or not. I'll try it again when I leave, but for now, you have any news? You're still undetected, I hope?"

Now that the initial excitement over contacting Alicia is past, Lang tries to concentrate on getting a good look at the spherical object. As he constructs a mental image of what little of it he saw, he realizes how much it really does look like an eyeball.

Nuts. I bet it's the kids keeping tabs on me, and I just gave them another reason to maybe not trust me...

"Hold that thought, Leesh. I'll be back in touch when I can."

He continues trying to conjure the strange object, keeping his eyes open but not looking directly into the room. Hopefully, it comes back and he'll focus on trying to keep it from disappearing when he looks directly at it.

Alicia first looks thrilled when she reads your message. Then she leans back in her chair and starts to ponder over something before responding. You’ve seen this look many times before and know you have a minute to think about the eye, or whatever it was that you saw, before she collects her thoughts.

When you step out of the room, Alicia fades. She doesn’t vanish completely. He is like a ghosted image. Translucent enough that other images can appear. And appear they do.

You are never able to get a good look at it. You spot them from your peripherals but if you try to look straight at it, they vanish. Sometimes you get a glimpse of more than one of them in separate directions at once. Nothing you do manages to keep them present when you try to look right at them though.

Alicia starts typing and you step back into the room to see her response. "That doesn’t make any sense. This is a ‘quiet neighborhood.’ I don’t understand exactly how it is legal, but the homeowners association has a strict no pets and no children rule. All of these homes are owned by singles or couples without children. It's written in bold in the bylaws."

Alicia goes rummaging around some nearby files to find a copy as she starts to fade from view. Within a few seconds she is completely gone and you are left alone in the dark room.

One by one, eyes begin to appear on the screen. Finally they are in full view. Dozens of them. They are watching you.

"I remember you," a disembodied, but familiar voice rings out. The voice of Anton Folstad.

"I'm not surprised," the Alchemist replies lightly. "I'm awfully memorable. That and I keep showing up, so you know... hard to forget."

He takes care to keep his eyes on his surroundings, half-expecting Folstad to be able to manifest things in this space just as the kids did. Although it does bring to mind an idea, that kids' minds are more malleable and open to new experiences. To-do list: think about that idea a little more when not confronted with the Big Bad Guy.

"So, Folstad. You been kidnapping kids to turn them into mental masters? Giving them, what, fake dogs to keep tabs on them, telling them they're actual animals? I mean, that's pretty slimy, even for someone like you. Leave dogs out of it, huh? Well, kids too. In fact, tell you what... why don't you and I have a little sit-down, just the two of us? You can tell me all about your evil plan, and I'll put a stop to it, save everyone a lot of pain and effort."

As he speaks, he begins developing the idea of blurring himself to make it harder to pinpoint his location and hardening his skin to make any necessary fisticuffs (what do you call it when it's a kick and not a punch? footicuffs? to-do list...) that much more effective.

"You have quite the imagination there. Perhaps I should offer you a spot at my writer’s table?" The smell of a warm sea breeze reaches your nostrils. You cannot help but look around for the source. Before you know it, you are standing on a tropical beach. Sunlight reflects off of perfect white sand. The ocean waves lightly crash against the shore just 10 feet away. The basement is gone. You are on a small island in paradise.

Folstad sits at a table under an umbrella. He is wearing a Hawaiian shirt and swim trunks.

You can feel the sand give way under your feet with each step. You know it isn’t real but it feels so perfect. A masterful replication of the real experience. "You wanted to talk? I hope you don’t mind me going ahead and picking the location. Now where are you getting these preposterous ideas about kidnapped children and fake dogs? Let’s straighten this out now before you go tarnishing my reputation."

The Alchemist looks around casually, nodding. "Impressive. I can almost smell the rotten seaweed." He turns to look at Folstad. "Oh! No, that must be coming from somewhere else."

With a moment's concentration, the Alchemist's costume changes to a set of neon-bright flowery swim trunks and a tank top, though he keeps the hooded cape and the mask. "You'll understand, I hope. Secret identities and all," he says as he sits down at the table. "Anyway... you start. Tell me who the kids are. I know they're not from this neighborhood, because you and your snooty neighbors don't allow kids. So they had to come from somewhere."

He thinks on it some more and conjures up some sort of fruity beach drink on the table, complete with bright umbrella. "Hm. My bad. Hard to drink through the mask, you know." He pushes it across to Folstad. "You go ahead though."

Anton leans back in his chair, very impressed with your quick mastery of using your mind to create objects here. He accepts your offer of a drink and takes a sip. "Very fine work. If I had met you sooner then I might not have had to make a deal with the proverbial devil."

Folstad works his toes through the sand as he delays explaining that thought any further. For a minute, you are just two gentlemen relaxing on the beach. It is actually a pretty comforting moment.

"I’m afraid I do not know who the children are or where they came from. At least in the sense of where they belong. Who their families are. I didn’t want to involve children in this project but my collaborators said they would be able to adapt and develop far faster than adults. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret getting into bed with Lloyd Laboratories." He spits upon the sand at the mention of the company’s name.

Well. That's a curious response...

"Hm. Yes, I imagine they do tend to hog all the covers," the Alchemist responds aloud. He digs furrows in the sand with his toes, resisting the urge to get down and build a sandcastle. "They're quite the outfit, I'd agree. I've had the occasional run-in with them myself."

To say the least...

"So since you bring it up, maybe we're in a position to help each other then. If you tell me a little more about what sort of deal you made and what this place is, I might see my way clear to right a few wrongs."

Anton seems surprised at first. Maybe even a little suspicious. "If I recall correctly, wasn’t it just one night ago that you were chasing me and my men through the streets of San Espero? Lloyd Laboratories must have really done one over on you if you're willing to forgive my men for using you for target practice. Oh well. Enemy of my enemy, am I right?"

He takes another sip from your drink and still seems very satisfied with it. "I am an artist. A filmmaker. But I’ll be the first to lament the stagnation of the artform. Very little innovation has taken place since its invention. Lloyd Laboratories is taking advantage of my desire to push the envelope and develop new filmmaking tools. Mainly my desire to utilize this place."

He spreads his arms wide and the scenery changes many times in a matter of seconds. You are deep underground surrounded by mining gnomes, you are on the peak of a mountain, you are inside of a star, and finally back to the beach.

"Imagination unbound. Finally mankind can bring anything you can imagine to life. Not only to see and hear, but to touch, smell, taste, and interact with!" The enthusiasm wanes from his voice and the sky grows dark with rain clouds. Off in the distance lighting strikes. "Lloyd wants to bring these things into the real world. And if you truly have had prior dealings with them, I don’t have to tell you that their imagination is filled with nothing but darkness. No good can come from giving Lloyd Lab. the ability to unleash their wildest creations upon the world."

This is... disconcerting...

"No hard feelings. Sometimes you don't have the whole story. All I knew is that you were taking suitcases of... well, what were the suitcases full of anyway?... from Lloyd, and that makes me awfully nervous. Especially if they're bringing in kids from all over the city or something. And the dogs? The kids called them 'familiars', but I don't think they're real dogs. Are they some sort of mad creation Lloyd's already unleashed on the world?"

As the rain clouds begin to build, Lang imagines a retractable umbrella that pops out of his mask and opens up, each section of the nylon fabric a different color of the rainbow.

Anton starts with the last question asked. "The dogs are a tool of manipulation used by LL. They don’t give me a lot of details, but I’ve managed to overhear things that the kids say. I believe they are all orphans. They all lost their parents to disease or tragic accidents. Each of the kids received a puppy as an anonymous gift to help them get through it."

He shakes his head. The storm clouds grow darker. The rain falls harder. Strong winds threaten to turn your colorful umbrella inside out. "They did something to the real dogs. Put something in them so they could..." Anton runs a finger across his throat. "And then sent someone to teach the children how to recreate the dogs inside here. What we are left with are their familiars.

"Lloyd Laboratories took away the one thing these kids had left because they thought the strong emotional connection would make it easier for their abilities to come out."

Anton sits in the rain for a minute. He lets it soak into him; making no attempt to shield himself as you have done. "I am told that the suitcases contain devices that will help me to record experiences inside this place. I fear that I am being duped. My men are still tearing one apart to look at the insides. I believe LL simply wants more control of the project and that these devices are the method."

The Alchemist doesn't say anything for a while. He turns his expressionless mask on Folstad, trying as best he can to see inside the virtual man's head.

He'd come here expecting a dastardly supervillain, and while he was certainly getting a monologue, it's not exactly in the form he was expecting. At all. You've got no other leads, Lang... you'd probably better let this one play out as long as you can.

"Look. I probably have less love for Lloyd Laboratories than you do, for... well, good reasons. We'll leave it at that," he says. "But if you're genuine in wanting to get out of their clutches, and seeing a dangerous project ended..."

The Alchemist draws a long breath. "...I can help you. I can't believe I'm saying this, after our first meeting went so poorly, but... we can help each other."

The rain lessens to a slight drizzle and the storm clouds start to part. A bit of sunlight manages to reach the beach again. Anton reaches a hand out for a shake. "Thank you for looking past our unfortunate introduction to one another. I think this relationship will be beneficial to the both of us. Now what do you say to getting out of here?

"I’ll let my men know that you have free reign of the house. Would you like a tour? If we’re going to be working together you should probably understand the operation and Lloyd's involvement in it. I must warn you though, getting out of here isn’t going to be pleasant. You’ve adapted extraordinarily well to this environment, but you are still untrained. It's going to feel a bit like getting hit in the head with a sledgehammer. If you’d like, I can mentally put you under until the effects of the exit have worn off. It's up to you."

The Alchemist's umbrella folds up and manages some impressive extradimensional origami to compress and go back into hiding behind a panel in his mask. He reaches out and shakes Folstad's hand.

"If it's all the same, I've been given a bit of a challenge that I'd like to see if I can manage for myself first. I'll suffer the aftereffects as necessary, Mr. Folstad," he says as he stands up from the beach chair and makes a sort of jaunty half-bow.

Gotta keep my allegiances open until I figure out just who's who at this particular zoo, he thinks, and goes on to send a message to Rocky.

Nothing ever goes the way I expect it to, you know? I've just met with Folstad himself, and we may have struck up a tentative collaboration, he sends, and summarizes the conversation with Alicia and Folstad both. The kids challenged me to find my way out of this place on my own. Folstad offered to take me out, and 'put me under' until the aftereffects wore off, but I'm going to give it a go for myself. If you don't hear from me in a few minutes, maybe you should find your way back to Alicia. If you don't hear from me for an hour after that, then it's big trouble.

The Alchemist takes a series of slow, deep breaths to calm his mind and focuses on the image of the hallway, standing outside the arcade room, hearing the electronic beeps and whistles and music, Rocky sitting and watching him reappear out of thin air. He brings in as many of his senses as he can -- the smells, the temperature of the air, all of it.

Everything seems to be going well. Trying to juggle so many elements of reality within your mind is difficult. You lose track of focusing on the slight increase in temperature that the arcade room had, but find that it remains anyways. That has to be a good sign, right? You peek open one eye, hoping to see the image you’ve been focusing on.

Rocky is there. He sits perfectly motionless. Your vision of the room starts to go blurry so you quickly close your eyes and double down on your focus. This proves harder than expected because of the individual somewhere nearby that just will not stop screaming at the top of their lungs. After about 30 seconds you realize that the voice belongs to you. That’s when everything goes black.

---

You come to lying on top of a padded doctor’s table. You can hear the heartbeat machine beeping at a steady pace. Folstad undersold the whole sledgehammer to the head. This was like a nuke with off in your head. It has largely subsided but it still feels like there is a parade marching around in there that won't lay off the cymbals.

"Easy there." The voice sounds familiar. The man lays a hand on your chest to prevent you from trying to rise to a seated position. "You’re going to want to ease into getting up. Take your time." You cannot help but ignore his warning when you realize who is talking. You sit bolt upright and the pain nearly causes you to black out.

When your eyes finally focus you find yourself looking at the worried face of James Benson. Your former supervisor at Lloyd Laboratories.

"What the..."

Lang wants to scramble backward, but his limbs are giving him the cold shoulder and refuse to cooperate. He wants to scream, but even the thought of it inside his own head sets it to pounding like a whole chain gang worth of sledgehammers. The harshly whispered words he does get out make his throat want to curl up into a whimpering ball.

"Explain?"

Oh. My. Stars. Are you there? That was... highly, HIGHLY unpleasant. How long have I been out?

James holds up a hand, signaling for you to hold on a minute. As he removes the IV from your arm, you get a response from Rocky.

"Boss! We were worried about you. After 10 minutes I managed to find a way past the fence and made my way back to Alicia. It’s been about 20 minutes overall since you contacted me." His voice bounces around in your skull like an echo at maximum volume. It is hard to focus on the individual words and your vision starts to blur the longer Rocky stays in contact.

"I said you’re going to want to take it easy," James repeats. "Anton called me over and said you passed out from shock. It's common enough in new trainees and it is my job to get them back on their feet while limiting the side effects. Had I known you were going in, I would have whipped up something to put your mind at ease ahead of time. But nooooo. Nobody around here wants to keep me in the loop."

James takes a seat on a stool by the door. "You, uh, seem a bit different than the normal guys they send in there. You're quite the snazzy dresser." James tilts his head and peeks into the hallway through the cracked door. Satisfied with what he sees, he quietly closes the door. "Seems to me like you’re the one that should be explaining themselves. I’m guessing you’re not here voluntarily either?"

Stay there... hard to focus. Back in touch when I can...

The Alchemist lays back on the gurney and tries to slow his breathing. "Depends how you define voluntarily," he murmurs and turns his head to get a look at the long-lost James Benson. "If you mean was I forced to be here against my will, then no, I'm here voluntarily. But if you mean it in the sense that I'm in league with..."

He stops, sudden distrust welling up in him like nausea. Or maybe it's just nausea.

"I'm investigating. There's an awful lot here to investigate, don'tcha think? And while I appreciate all your help, I hope you'll excuse me when I say that you've given me no reason to trust you. I'm sure you're a lovely human being, but I'm not sure I know you well enough any... yet. Yet. Not any-yet."

Smooth, Doc. Real smooth. You're a regular secret agent.

James folds his arms against his chest and smirks. "You certainly have the right attitude. You can’t trust anyone here. I am not a freeman. I am just a number. One that gave up any hopes of escaping this village long ago. But in the meantime, you can call me James."

He sits and studies your reaction. It is no easy task when the subject is wearing a mask. "Do you trust me enough to tell me what, specifically, you are investigating here? There are no shortages of reasons why one might be looking into this place; so you haven’t exactly narrowed your goal down at all."

The James talking to you matches your memories of him. Same personality. Same way of carrying himself. Even though it hasn’t been that long, in the grand scheme of things, he has aged more than you would have expected. Wrinkles are deeper. Hair is thinner and more gray. Overall the most jarring change is how his speech somehow sounds... hollow? The style is there but without any of the passion behind the words. He sounds like a man that has given up.