and lame excuses for the slow pace here! I have kind of been dreading
the Psionic League subplot, though, for most of the same reasons I
hated dealing with Gang Alley. It's not that the psionics' story isn't
interesting; it's certainly a lot more engaging than the Clean Machine
and Deadly Seven. It's mainly that there is a huge pile of characters
involved, a lot of events to muddle through, and the whole thing is put
together like dialogue was going out of style. Oh, well...it's not like
this segment is going to get any shorter, so let's hurry on to the
Psionic League HQ!
Headquarters: You'd think the Psionics could just phone
it in, but no, they maintain this general storefront/reception area at
their headquarters in order to interface with the public. The
posters...especially the one over the door...are a reminder to members
and recruitables alike that psionic powers can be as dangerous to the
individual as to society.
(left): A young woman focuses her telekinetic energies as she hones her
(right): A member of the psionic league eyes you suspiciously.
I love the name
Batch Hachardo. It's fun to say. Try it! Batch Hachardo. Batch
Hachardo! BATCH HACHARDO
Talk to Kaitlin
Looks like you're
Columbus pushes us past our endurance and then some, but it's the only
way to develop our powers. Talk to him yourself; you'll see. He's in
the next room with Suzy Toast, who's an ideal example of the work
Columbus does here. She was wilding the streets with a rogue named
Splits Magnola. She got off on using her powers to hurt other people.
Columbus had a big effect on her. She's become one of his most trusted
assistants. It's almost like a father-daughter relationship between
them now. ...I'm sorry, but speaking with you is distracting me. I'm
afraid I'll drop the ball, and I'm working on a new personal endurance
Talk to Connor
Not now. This thing
is getting heavy.
Talk to Batch
Hey, folks, zero in on Kate! She's had that ball moving for close to
half an hour. Spatola's put her on an endurance circuit. She's to keep
the ball going for as long as she can.
What about you?
You're a telepath as well?
I'm not a mover or a looker. I'm a rare one: a synesthete. My
perception of sensory data blends so that I perceive one sense in terms
of another. Colors taste, sounds are tactile, smells prompt visions,
and I can never predict how the senses will sort themselves.
must be difficult to live with.
Damn straight. I couldn't hold a job. Tried working in a restaurant,
but I couldn't take customers' orders. They would ask for burgers and
fries, and I would register it visualy as big yellow splotches dripping
with grease. Tried driving a cab once, but I kept experiencing the road
as a taste, and it gagged me so badly I couldn't drive.
experiencing the road as a taste?
And it was awful! Tasted like rotted flesh and motor oil. Took days to
get that out of my mouth. That was the end of my career as a driver. I
was fast-tracking to derelict status before Columbus took me in and
taught me mastery over my powers.
Talk to Batch
Whoa! I just flashed a color aura on you two. Icy blues, brooding
blacks and grays, and some explosive reds. You two must be out to put a
serious hurting on someone.
to be done with these two; they're just here for seasoning. We'll head
through that door on the right.
League Thinktank: The thinkers' thinktank - the strategic planning room
for the Psionic League's braintrust. The need for a vidscreen shows,
perhaps, the limits of their power; the globe, sticking out of the
conference table like an exposed brain, their desired sphere of
(left): A formidable man keeps several balls afloat telekinetically.
(right): A young, pleasant-looking woman practices her telekinetic
Suzy TOAST? Hell,
we really need to sit down and have a chat about your naming tendencies.
Talk to Suzy
Have you come to
join the League?
Not quite. We're
hoping that the League can join us. We've got some serious problems
that need psionic attention.
You'd better talk to
Columbus. He's the founder of the League. We take our lead from him.
Talk to Suzy
Really, you should
speak with Columbus about the use of psionic powers.
OK, fair enough.
Let's do that.
Talk to Columbus
Can I help you with
something? Are you psionics seeking help using your gifts?
We aren't psionic,
and actually, we've come to help you.
I'm not aware that I
need any help.
You won't know, either, until it's too late. The Hand scrub teams don't
usually call ahead to check if it's convenient for them to stop by.
You say the Hand
wants to kill me? You've got my interest. Keep talking.
No orders have been
issued yet, but your activities are giving some high-ups in the
Transgressors' Office the shakes.
The Hand of God has nothing to fear from us. We aren't political, and
we're sworn to never use our powers for gain. I thank you for the
Talk to Spatola
No use repeating
your warning about the Transgressor. I'd rather be dead than cease my
That's your problem, Spatola. We have more important business. The Hand
wants us dead for sins we haven't committed, and you might be the only
person who can help us.
No, no, no. I can't help you. The League cannot be distracted from its
chief purpose, the development of psionic power for its own sake. We
can't become involved in things like this, no matter how important the
But surely this is
The gift is too easily corrupted. A psionic's power is as natural to
him as your sight is to you. It requires discipline and effort NOT to
use the power. Any use for individual gain, political advantage,
profit...any exception...shatters the discipline, leaves the psionic
open to corruption. I know. I've seen it happen too often, seen too
many good people lose themselves.
No. Really, I'm
sorry. The League's not touching something that could destroy it.
Talk to Spatola
Listen, I told you I won't involve the League in this. Your empathic
auras are aglow with sincere passion, and I can't help but feel your
intensity, but you'll have to look elsewhere. Lord knows there are
plenty of psionics willing to sell their gifts.
I don't think we're
going to get anything more out of
Professor X Columbus. Maybe
Ms. Toast will be a little more forthcoming now that we've met her
Talk to Suzy
I heard what you and
Columbus were talking about. You need psionic help?
Looks that way, but
from what Columbus was talking about, it doesn't look like we're going
to find it here.
Don't be too sure
about that. I owe Columbus a great deal, but not all of us are as
strict as he is about non-intervention.
volunteering to help us out of this mess with the Hand? What's in it
I'm not the one who's going to help you. That would violate my
principles as well, and cost me Columbus's trust and friendship. No,
there's someone else who might help you, someone who has already fallen
from grace, someone I still might redeem. His name is Splits Magnola.
He was a member of the League once, but Splits...Splits was a free
spirit. He was jazzed on mind-surfing, couldn't resist the touch of
another's mind, and he couldn't submit to Columbus's authority.
He read a few minds,
big deal. I'd probably do the same thing if I were psionic.
It's not as simple as that. The power is seductive. Splits started out
innocently enough...skim a woman's mind to see if she's interested,
project a scan during a card game to see if anyone's cheating... but
it's a small step from there to planting an urge in a woman's mind, or
looking at someone's cards through their eyes, or playing all the hands
at the table, making people throw away cards they should have kept.
Things like that. Once you're inside, once you're inside, once you
flash on the brain's unending possibilities, you can't resist
exploring...and Splits was careless, lacked the mastery to be gentle.
He would make mistakes, mistakes that left permanent brain damage.
All right, so Splits is a Rudy, and he got blackballed from your club.
Why should we want to hook up with a disrep like him, and what's your
share in this?
Splits isn't the
lost cause Columbus thinks he is. I know him. He isn't evil, just weak.
"Know him"? You mean you two were lovers? Sorry, girl, we don't have
time to run love errands. You want your boyfriend back, YOU go get him.
Jesus, Rachel. Were
you forced to leave your Not Be a Huge Bitch medication back at the
apartment when the scrub team busted in?
Oh, you're a tough one, aren't you? I wouldn't have him back if he
wanted me. Sex is different between psionics. We share countless
connections, body entwined with body, mind pressed hard against mind.
I've been inside his head, and I'd never trust him enough to love him,
but I know that I can't let him destroy himself. The last we heard of
him, he was involved with a gang of psionic psychotics calling
themselves the Menials. They work the black market for empathic
resonances in order to fund their drug habits. If you can get him away
from the Menials and bring him here, we might be able to save him from
himself, and gain you a psionic ally.
interested. Where do we find the Menials?
They have a dive
near the Capital South station.
And they're dealing
in empathics, right? What's their source? They aren't just randomly
panning the malls, are they?
All I know is that they're strip-mining pure emotion from the patients
in a mental hospital. I don't know which hospital. For that matter, it
might be a no-name crisper, just keeping the patients alive and scared
so the emotions keep coming. The Menials have to be stopped, and you
can help me.
Why should we?
Because that's my price for helping you with Splits. You bring him
here, and I'll see what he helps you. The Menials aren't empaths...they
don't care about anything...so they have to employ collector units,
they call them "diggers", to help them harvest emotional energy. If you
can bring me one of the diggers, I'm certain I can add a cyberfry to it
that will stop them. Help me stop the Menials and bring Splits to me,
and I'll make certain he helps you.
Talk to Suzy
You don't have the
digger. Don't disappoint me. Too much is at stake.
As you might
expect, the Menials HQ now appears on the DC Map, in the Capitol South
area. To the ARCmobile!
World Headquarters: The Menials' World Headquarters seems like a crash
pad for college boys drummed out of their frat house for being too
rowdy and slovenly...and, of course, there's nothing in the fridge but
Mick: A Menial
slumps in his chair, all bad attitude and unfocused anger.
The Menials' refrigerator is always well-stocked with Ausgezeichnet Alt
Brau, their beer of choice. Mick routinely levitates bottles from the
refrigerator to ease his seemingly unquenchable thirst.
Unit (on table): By clamping the jacks to their victim's nervous
system, psionics can use this device to collect empathic resonances.
If we try to grab
the collector, the game just tells us we can't do that with Mick
Talk to Mick
Whazza? Who're you?
You're lucky I've been partying all day, or I'd scan all your secrets.
If I even think I
feel your drunken presence stumbling through my mind, I'll shoot you
full of holes.
Got yourself a
killer, Charlie. She must rough your ass up good.
"I haven't been
into pegging since that one time at the Academy!"
Listen, here's the pitch. We're out of Chicago, jobbing for a Yakuza
family that's branching out from designer drugs to experiential
imprints. Supply's reliable. Got a pair of surgeons in the Central
Clinic giving us access to anaesthetized patients.
Menials got wallet enough, Jack. We're stripping empathics from the
loonies in Arioch Asylum over in Foggy Bottom. The Nations are paying
serious coin, and there's no detente between the Japs and the Redskins.
Circuits-Overloading and his braves would have our scalps for dealing
with Yakuza. That's that, Jack. You two can leave me to my beer now.
Well, at least he
spilled the location of the asylum. Guess where we're headed next!
Waiting Area: What looks like a holding pen for cattle is actually the
former dining area of this once-prestigious sanitarium. The modern
addition of a barbed wire-topped fence reveals that patients are often
herded here while waiting to be taken off to patient areas for
"treatment". At other times, it's where the Ghost Dancer, Phyllis
Dancing-Till-Daybreak, holds office and issues instructions to her
staff of Menials.
Dancing-Till-Daybreak (right): A large woman with eyes like burning
coal supervises the havoc being wreaked upon the unfortunate in the
next room of the asylum. Dressed in Indian clothes, she looks like some
smug, demented earth mama.
Clap (left): A
nasty-looking Brit in leather smokes and scowls. Pity the asylum
patient left to this fellow's mercy.
Talk to Phyllis
Well, lookee here.
My people used to say that evil spirits walked the earth at night...
Well, then, your ancestors must be real proud of you! Those your
henchmen out there, sucking these people dry? You're Phyllis
Dancing-Till-Daybreak, right? Looks like you're the evil spirit now,
It's something to see, isn't it? My people, hard at work, mining the
white man for natural resources. The Great Spirit has brought us full
Yeah, either that or
you're a common, run of the mill sociopath.
And what do you
mean, "your people"? The Menials look like a bunch of white trash to
me, not Indians.
I know exactly how
to use these scum. They are an evil I control completely. Besides, I am
a Ghost Dancer. We are impervious.
Bullets bounce off
Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Yes...something like that.
And you have no
qualms about messing with people's souls the way you're doing here?
None. Perhaps you'd prefer that I simply slit their pale throats? I've
done that, too! ...But I find it more satisfying to leave them
wandering, soulless, the same way your people left my ancestors
wandering the sparse confinement of the reservation. That's the thing
about whites; you feel no responsibility toward your ancestors. I honor
mine, and take pleasure in revenge.
Not to mention a
You think I care for the white man's money? My wampum comes to me in
the currency of bloody, soul-shattering retribution. I plan to devour
them. I'm going to take their money from them, their feelings, their
emotions, their souls.
That must be how you
got your name, huh? Phyllis Dancing-Till-Daybreak, because you're such
a happy sort.
Do not mock me,
demon, or it will be your blood dripping from my chin.
That would be "chins", and don't kid yourself, tubby. People like you
are only tough enough when it comes to beating up on wrecked people
they find in asylums. You mess with us, it's gonna be your own blood
I have to admit,
that first line was a pretty good burn on Rachel's part. She's probably
been looking to recoup ever since the robot uterus shut her down back
at New Corporeals.
My, my, my...all
this talk of blood has my taste buds tingling! Are you really feeling
all that lucky?
Kind of an
interesting character, Phyllis, if a bit heavy on the stereotypes. She
never comes up again after this conversation, but she's one of the more
colorful one-off flavor roles, I reckon.
Talk to Clap
Ah, visitors to our humble institution. Make yourselves at home. How
might we help you? A parent or relative you wish to have committed?
Can the sales pitch, Clap. We're facing for a megacorp in Manhattan
that needs a few hundred terabytes of pure existential fear and sex
drive. Can you harvest something like that from this dump?
Pump up the boys on runners and work them a few days straight, they can
fill any order, especially fear. There's plenty of fear here. Who the
hell did you say you're working for, anyhow?
Take a look in the
next room, and you tell me if your bugger-happy paymasters in New York
can drill brain shafts like a Menial!
(Tell us about
You know how to queer a deal, Yank. Splits wasn't really a Menial,
although he partied with us and went psionic wilding a few times. He
lost his nerve, though, when he showed him this mining gig. He took a
powder on us and made off with a multi-terabyte d-base of empathic data
that's worth millions! I don't know where he thinks he's going with it
or who the hell he's sellin' it to. You don't just walk into a pawn
shop with six terabytes of illegal emotions!
So you're after this
I don't care if Splits washes up in a trash heap along the Potomac, but
I want that d-base back, and I've hired a gun from the Midwest...calls
himself Milwaukee Jack...to track Splits until he's stupid enough to
flash that d-base, and then the Mil-Jack is going to do him!
Splits must be
pretty paranoid if he's running from you. How's Jack gonna evade
Splits's mind scans?
The Mil-Jack is psionic as well. Better than Splits, too. He won't even
see it coming. Splits thinks his powers make him safe, so he drinks in
the same bar every night, a speak called Fitzgerald's.
Fitzgerald's? I know
that place! It's over near L'Enfant Plaza.
(How do you mine
How do you mine the
That's right, pump me for information so that you can rip off our tech!
Not that you'd be able to dupe it or have psis ace enough to pull it
Didn't ask you for a
how-to. Just checking that your action backs up your talk.
Right, if we can do it better than New York, we must be lying! The
secret's in the power of the Menials and the efficiency of the diggers.
A mind link isn't simple, right? A brain's not just some freakin'
computer! Takes countless parallel neural transfers to create the
simplest images or concepts.
So it's a complex
Yeah, it's a complex job. No two brain structures are alike, either.
Mining the empathics would take too bloody long if a psi had to prep
each dig. Luckily, the Nations had some genius tech come up with the
diggers. You program them for specific neural energies and the diggers
channel the psi's power to where he can start mining. Go on, look
about. You think the wankers in New York can match our act? Not bloody
Will do! Thanks,
Chlamydia! We can amble off the screen to the right from here, bringing
us to another room in the facility.
Asylum Dormitory: Few people are ever given the chance to sleep in the
beds lining this musty, rat-infested room, where the walls seem
pockmarked from the searing agonies of the residents, past and present,
and the weird thing that looks like an electric chair seems permanently
galvanized from those sounds, too.
Bora (leftmost): A woman is having her empathic resonances ripped from
her psyche by a sadistic Menial. A manic depressive, her mind wrestles
with the infidelity crime for which she was institutionalized.
Cora Bora. Hell.
NAMES. Rumor has it Bin Laden might be hiding somewhere in this woman.
(left): A Menial is draining the empathic resonances from a patient.
It's evident that this cold, heartless bastard is in this for the pure
pleasure of it, as well as for money he'll undoubtedly make on the
Troit (right): The demeanor of housewives hasn't changed much over the
years, except that this one has a frazzled, exhausted, terrified look
that comes from something other than watching the kids.
(rightmost): A Menial uses a collector unit...a digger...to extract
empathic resonances from a patient.
Talk to Cora Bora
You ougtta watch me
drain this one's brain. It's like soft-serve, man.
Must be secret. Getaway.
Spill it, bitch!
Yes! Yes! Naughty,
naughty! Tuesdays, and Thursdays too! Sneaky dirty. Damnation be
damned. The hell with it!
That's it. This
Talk to Hump
Hey, get a load of this! These old bitches are a motherlode, man. The
guilt, sex, vague dissatisfaction...hormonal rollercoaster!
Looks like you're in
this for more than the money.
Better than any
holovid, man. It's real, man!
Hey, you gonna let
me suck this basket case dry, or are you gonna be my next drain?
Go right ahead. You
say you make out pretty good on these?
You kiddin'? Some accountant somewhere will pay enough for a smut bit
to keep me livin' like a freakin' Hand Legislator for a month...and the
best thing is, once they start gettin' a taste, they crave the harder
stuff. ...Yeah, yeah. I heard that already, baby. Open up! Listen, I'm
gonna have to work this one harder than I expected. Get lost!
Talk to Hump
C'mon, Cora baby, gimme somethin'. Anything! Dammit, I'm not gettin'
nothin' on her. What, did someone give her a lobotomy or what? Who
knows, in this freakin' toilet of a hospital.
Talk to Rita
Geez, Gid, I don't know who's more zoned out, this poor woman or the
friggin' vampire Menial. Should we take a chance and try to talk with
It's worth a try.
Hey, lady, can you talk while you're, uh...
answer, do as told, ignore...lies, don't believe, talk back
nice...don't tell, don't tell, don't tell...
It's OK, it's OK!
We're not with the Menials.
We're just looking
friends, not since hell. Just...husband, no lover, husband, no lover...
Ask her, Gid. She's
breaking my heart!
split up, won't let me go...
It's hopeless, Rach.
It's like she's been condemned to hell forever.
Talk to Chet
Don't fight it now,
girl. Don't fight it. Give me something pleasant.
warm wet Carrie womb die for you red mommy daddy. Ooooeeeehhh!
That's it, girl.
Slight change now.
There's nothing we
can do here, for now. That'll change soon enough, but for the moment,
we'd better just move on to Fitzgerald's speakeasy and find Splits.
Speakeasy: The checkerboard floor comprises a virtual
sobriety test for the patrons of this upper-middle-class speak. They
rarely notice it, though, as they are too busy slumming by watching
professional wrestling on the holovid, which sometimes gets them so
excited, it's a good thing the rifle on the wall is safely out of
(leftmost): A man who looks as though he were born guilty slumps in a
chair, contemplating a drink.
(left): A woman in brick-textured tights attends the bar with great
(middle): A lean man with a sociopathic stare pretends to relax in the
Couerter (right): A rough-looking woman strokes the hair of the man
sitting next to her. Both intently watch the fights on the vid.
(rightmost): A bar patron and his date watch the fights on the vid
Alt Brau (on bar): The Excellent Old Beer first brewed by the Nazis in
Berlin, this is the label of the upper crust in the days of the Solux
Eye Lager (on bar): The snooty brew of choice for 2069's happening,
now, upwardly-mobile-in-their-dreams people. Guaranteed to get you the
car, the girl, or at least unconscious.
(far left, on wall): When the design is good, you stick with it. A
classic shotgun, first developed in the late nineteenth century, and
essentially unchanged since.
Vid Screen (left, on wall): Sporting events play out on the bar's vid
screen. The place seems to be packed with sports fans; all the patrons
seem to have their eyes glued to the screen.
We can't take the
shotgun or monitor, but we sure can grab the beers, and so we do. Lots
of folks to talk to in here.
Talk to Ged Dandy
You two fight fans,
huh? Here to watch the fights?
You two ever see the Cross-Species Slugfest in Natchez, Mississippi?
Cyber-amped bears taking on rabid wolfpacks, rams with
explosive-charged horns, humans fighting mammals of all
Talk to Ged again
Hey, you gonna sit
down and watch these fights? You're makin' me nervous with all the
Talk to Lissa
Don't block the
view, Rudy! My man Whip crushin with Spike Bronze, a puncher out of
Big fight, huh?
Got me and my man Ged in a lather! Whip's the best metal thrower, but
Spike's never been down. They're both so even is what it is. Both are
recons, with Fenner-Walters torso architecture, mechs in the torso
juicin' up every punch. Spike's undefeated in Mexico, but Whip's no
Aztec. He come up fightin' from Louisiana, dominated the Dallas Hub
battle royals. He gonna drive Spike into the canvas.
Talk to Lissa
Hey, I said don't
'scure the screen! Fights are happenin'.
Good game, eh?
We're not sports
Something on your
mind, folks? I'm trying to relax. I'm kinda tense.
Talk to Carla
Ye gods! They
weren't kidding about those brick-printed tights. They can't be too
good for her Camo Index against that background, though. The GRU's
gonna find you, Carla!
I can make a pair of disreps from forty paces. You two got predator's
eyes. Fitz don't abide hunting in his place. People here just lookin'
for a safe place to watch the fights. You got bad business with
someone, take it outside.
What do you know
about those two guys, the jack with the beard and the punk with the
See, you're starting something. I knew you were here to start
something! The kid is Splits Magnola. Been in and out for a few years,
but lately he's been a real regular. Don't trust anybody, even though
he's a psi and can probably tell who's gonna rat him out. Big spender
these days, like he did a big job or something.
What about the scary
Been coming in steady for a few weeks. I thought he was trouble at
first...I'm certain he's packing...but he's been steady. Guess there's
no crime in LOOKING like a killer, huh?
Talk to Carla
Whatever it is, take
it somewhere else. We got enough problems here.
The upcoming puzzle
is a bit broken. It's necessary to talk to Splits in order to get a
hint on what to do next, but talking to him usually results in his
death immediately after the conversation ends. Occasionally it doesn't
happen, but that's rare, and there doesn't seem to be any real rhyme or
reason as to whether or not the chat with Splits triggers his
assassination. It is, therefore, a real good idea to save the game
before swapping yarns with Mr. Magnola.
Talk to Splits
Hold it, Daddy. I'm glimpsing your short-term memory, and I'm glommin'
on Suzanne P. Toast, who's only the most psycho bitch I've ever met
except for maybe my morphine-crazed mother. Whatever you're pushin', if
it's got Suzy involved, I ain't interested.
Stay out of my head,
you damn psi. Suzy and Columbus said you got your kicks from screwing
with people's heads.
Yeah, like Saint Suzy would never do something like that. Don't speak.
Think. Just think it, and I'll hear it, but nobody else will. I gotta
be a little careful these days.
What're you saying,
Just sayin' that Toaster Pastry's got her dark spots like everyone
else. What d'ya want? You can't reall be here just 'cause of Suzy.
Haw, even Splits
makes fun of Suzy's name.
Actually, we're here to warn you about a gun your old pals from the
Menials have contracted to kill you. He's sitting over there. Goes by
the name of Milwaukee Jack.
Damn, I'm not packin'! You two are gonna have to help me. There's a gun
hanging over the bar. I don't have to move to levitate and fire it, but
he might get hot to my play. Throwin' up a shield around your thoughts
is one thing, but cloaking a telepathy is something else. I might
manage it, but I might not, and then the Jack there will blow my head
off. If you two can create a diversion, I'll be able to get a jump on
Who cares? Anything, so long as it's something big. Make it something
that'll involve the losers in this place, something that'll create an
emotional response...what we call a psychic event. Hopefully, that will
confuse him long enough for me to cash his chips.
And yep, right on
cue, before I can do anything else...
...Jack jumps up,
pulls a gun...
Splits dead as a can of Spam.
Unless you want to
end up like your friend Splits, you'll just walk out of here and forget
you ever saw that.
Talk to Carla
You two better make vapor. I don't want to see you around here. Leave
me with the damn janitor work. Damn, what a mess. Wind up in hell for
sure this time!
Ged and Lissa have
absolutely nothing to say about the murder that just took place in the
other half of the speakeasy. Anyway, we are now officially boned; it's
impossible to complete the game without Splits.
So, we reload, and use the Tiger's Eye Lager (we'll be needing the
Ausgezeichnet Alt Brau later) on the vidscreen. Since we haven't
actually spoken to Magnola about creating a diversion, this basically
means Gideon decides to rear back and heave a beer bottle through the
monitor for no reason whatsoever.
suggested by the parallel universe in which he died, Jedis the shotgun
over from the wall and...
Wait a minute.
Wasn't that supposed to be a "classic shotgun", essentially unchanged
from the original design back in the 19th century? Because I'm pretty
sure they don't fire lasers.
Talk to Carla
Damn, I told you to
do the job someplace else! This is bad, bad, bad.
You're as steady as
a rock. Gunplay doesn't shake you?
What shakes me is Solene Solux putting our asses on a raft heading down
the Styx and burning us for twenty. I don't want to see your face in
here again. I'll do the cleanup on this guy. Don't trust you two doing
the job right.
Talk to Lissa
You better get lost
before Fitz learns what you did to the vid!
Talk to Splits
Nice work! Maybe this will back the Menials off for a while. Man,
Fitzgerald's gonna want to kill me when he sees what you did to the
OK, Splits, we
helped you wipe out the Jack. You owe us.
Don't get pushy, sweetie. I sincerely appreciate the save, but don't
think I couldn't have handled Milwaukee here without your help. I'll
come with you as long as you take me to Suzy Toast. I can't have that
frail sendin' people after me.
What is it with you
two? Suzy seemed disgusted with you.
Disgusted 'cause she
doesn't have her hooks in me.
You could do worse
than Suzy Toast, Splits.
Just take my word for it, she's bad news. I'll go with you, but only if
you agree to take me to the League so that I can case-close that woman.
Then we'll see about my helping you. You ready to shoot?
We'll pass for the
moment, because we can't finish the Menials subquest with Splits in the
group, and we've already got a full party. We'll only need Scub Stevens
for one more thing, though...which we'll do while finishing up with the
Menials...and then we can swap him out for Magnola.
Why don't you two
debug your circuits and decide what you want from me? Let me figure how
I'm gonna explain this vid to Fitz.
So, we roll on back
to Menials World Headquarters...
...and use Scub's
dream powder on the Brau.
Ausgezeichnet Alt Brau: This particular bottle of
Ausgezeichnet Alt Brau packs a bit more of a wallop than usual. It's
laced with a heavy sedative.
You may recall that
the Menials' fridge is full of Ausgezeichnet. We slip our doped bottle
into the fridge, and the next time Mick magics a bottle into his mouth,
he gets the ringer...
passes out. We're now free to collect the collector, and take it back
to Toast at the League HQ.
Talk to Suzy
We have the digger
you wanted, and we've learned that the Menials are working Arioch
You've decided to help me, then? I'm so relieved! This is a Psionic
Distorter, a cyberfry. It creates a distortion effect in a radius of
two hundred yards, causing intense psionic feedback along any external
Cut to the chase,
It will fry the Menials' brains like a large order of fries. They won't
be able to harm the inmates at Arioch anymore, and I'll have done it
without using my powers against anyone.
What good does that
do? It's only one gang, one hospital. There are others.
It's just a start,
Rachel, but it's a good start.
Collector with Cyberfry: A cyberfry device that has been combined with
a collector unit, then altered to counter the effects of both
Talk to Suzy
You must hurry and
stop the Menials. I sense that time is running out for Splits.
solved his little hitman problem, but no matter. Next on the agenda:
return to the asylum, and use the cyberfry on Hump or Chet; activating
it on either Menial will hit them all with its effects.
C'mon, baby, gimme some...oh, god! What the hell are we doin' in this
tunnel? It hurts my eyes! What the hell...aaaagh! The pain! My brain is
comin' out through my ears! Help me! Oh, god, help me!
Talk to Cora Bora
Thank you. Oh, my
god, thank you!
Talk to Rita
I'm free! Thank god,
Stay strong, Rita
Back to the other
Talk to Clap
Aaarrrgghhh! What the bloody hell have you done?! I'm bleedin' out me
nostrils, for god's sake. You've maimed me, you've ruined me!
Oddly, Phyllis has
nothing to say about any of this. Just like saving Oscar Drexler, the
whole cyberfry business is completely optional...you can recruit Splits
and take him back to League HQ immediately, which cuts you off from
obtaining the cyberfry and shutting down the Menials, without
penalty...but it's a nice thing to do, and I'm being more-or-less
completionist here. Anyway, back to Fitz's.
Talk to Splits
Hey, family man. You
decide whether you and the wife are gonna take me to Suzy?
This time we say
yes. Since we've got a full party...
...the game prompts
us to ditch one of our current bandmates. Scub's done everything we'll
ever need of him, so as much as we'll miss our little chugmeister, we
now release him back to the Interface from whence he came.
Let's do it!
Splits doesn't join
with anything but his mad psionic skillz, but we'll definitely be
needing them soon enough. Aaand so, once more back to League HQ.
Talk to Batch
Splits? I thought I
smelled a rat.
We'd better move
Splits along before someone else tries to kill him.
I hate these damn
synesthetes. So damn artsy and sensitive.
Connor has nothing
new to say, but I'm sure Spatola and Toast will!
Talk to Columbus
I think you know
this guy, Columbus.
Hmph. I know him.
I don't get a hug? I'm prodigal-sonning here, and you're high-hattin'.
This isn't easy for me, y'know. I mean, you know, I gotta be
registerin' all reds and yellows in your emotive centers.
The rest of the
conversations in this update contain some psychic exchanges, which
Gideon and Rachel don't hear. The game distinguishes these with an
distortion effect on the characters' voices; I'll be putting them in
(I told you when you
left that you could never return.)
(Kiss my ass, Columbus. I'm only here because of these two ARC rejects,
and I'm only hangin' with them because they helped me toast a Menials
(ARC? These two are
Containment knuckles? What's going on here?)
What's going on
here? They having a staring contest?
Splits and I are
getting (Are) reacquainted (you bringing), aren't we (the Hand down on
us, Splits?), Splits?
(You think I'd Judas
you to Solux's goons? How bad a guy do you think I am? I surfed their
gray matter. They check out.)
(You scanned them
without their permission, I assume.)
(They don't even
know I was there. No headaches, no dizziness. I'm better than when you
knew me, cuz!)
(You chose your fate when you sided with the Menials. You have too much
to atone for to just walk in here and expect to be welcomed. Don't try
corrupting Suzy Toast or...just watch yourself!)
You almost threatened to fry my circuits! Not a very League-like thing
to do, is it?)
Talk to Spatola
(You're not welcome
here, Splits. Keep yourself in line, or we are going to clash.)
Talk to Suzy
Game's up, Suzy. I scanned these two once they mentioned your name.
They think you don't want me back, but I know better. Rachel here
thinks you're pathetic. I agree with her, by the way. Ol' Gideon likes
the look of your legs. I agree with him, too, although your ankles look
a little heavier. While I was in their heads, I noticed massive
scarring and memory overlays. They're holding something out on you. You
should scan them, but then, you don't pierce the skull. I forgot,
sorry. Doing a nice job blocking my scans, though.
My thoughts are my own. I got involved because I want to help you. When
I learned you were running with the Menials...how low can you fall,
Every jack strikes a bad bargain in his life. I bolted the Menials when
I flashed on their op in Arioch. Managed to finger a d-base that should
stake me for years. Interested in a vacation? Thailand's indoor beaches
sound good to me!
You owe us your
life, Magnola! Now we need your help.
I didn't ask you kids to get involved. I had Milwaukee Jack pegged and
scanned. I knew his motives, his moves, his mother's maiden name. I'd
have made Suzy Toast outta him, and I'd have done it without blowin'
Fitzgerald's vid. Sorry, guys, but I don't do pro bono jobs.
(I've had enough!)
(I'm more powerful
than before, Splits.)
(Get outta my head!)
(I'll show you the
(You want to fight,
(...of your way.)
('Cause I'll singe
(You can't stop...)
(Fry you as soon as
I find you.)
(...me. I've been
preparing this for months.)
(Hey! Get out of
introduce new Jung banks into your...)
(Stop it, Suzy! I
sense what you're doing, child, and I will not let it stand.)
(You'll make me a
(Can stop you,
child. Absorb your force.)
(Make you love
(Gonna kill somebody
MINDS COLLIDING LOOK OUT)
(Make you over. You
will love me, you will love me, you will love me, you will love me...)
(I've always loved
Gideon, what just
happened? Why do I have a headache, and what's with these three?
discharge. Their minds just came together, hard.
there. My whole life...just a nothing that smells like whiskey.
This is one of my
favorite lines in the game. Sometimes getting a good look in the
mirror, with clear eyes, can be a hell of a thing.
you...what I felt...?
There are no secrets when minds collide, Rachel. Apparently Suzy has
more feelings for Splits than she was admitting to. You're out of the
League, Suzy. You were attempting to cripple Splits, to force false
memories and images into his mind to make him love you. After all of
this work, all of this time...only to have you seduced by the power.
But you...you said
that you loved...me?
False projection! I...I was...alarmed. Concerned that both of you would
be killed. You've ruined what we had here, Suzy. You have two hours to
vacate your chambers.
Crazy bitch! Almost...snif...killed me. You two still want a psionic,
I'm yours. Maybe it's time I use these...snif...powers for something
worthwhile. So long, Suzy. Try not to blow your circuits.
All wrong. This is
all wrong! Wrong, wrong, wrong!
Talk to Spatola
I'm sorry for that
scene with Suzy. I feel...very protective of her.
And you've obviously
got a problem with this Splits fellow.
Splits is a potent psionic, but he's morally weak and lacks discipline.
He abused his gift and chose those demons in the Menials over the
League, and he did his best to drag Suzy into ruin with him. I don't
know what that girl sees in him. What could make her love someone like
What indeed? Also,
sweet Christmas, does everything Gideon and Rachel touch turn to shit?
Well, we've done enough damage here, and with Splits's allegiance
secured and just a bit more prep work, we'll soon be able to pursue
another avenue of Hand investigation to completion. 'Til then, folks!