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garblagblaglbgarglegarblestorytime.

February 14th, 2006

I decide to take a run for it, and its all like betchew betchew betchew, and there are bullets zinging around everywhere, kicking up dust and causing general chaos with the alarm blaring and the floodlights going back and forth, and me bouncing around like a kangaroo that just chugged five cans of Red Bull, going like whew whoop whoosh while I do, trying to find were my guns are... then having to go back into the prison compound, stealing a guard's gun and asking him where they are, and then, after all of that, he says that they're confiscated and aren't here. I ask him where they were, then he says the confiscation room at the local sheriff's office... I knock him down and sprint like hell to the prison gate, shoot the chain link in a little line and dive out the hole. I made it.

February 16th, 2006

It took a bunch of lies and me dressing up as a police officer to get my stuff back, but eventually, I did it. Now to find Mr. Secret-cult-guy. Well, I go and check out the San Diego Airport, but, unfortunately, no luck. Aahhh. what to do? How will I find them. I go to a coffee shop to think it out. Once I get there, I sit down on the way to big leather couch with a Fredochino (The manager's special version of a "Frapachino") and start to think. I get distracted by the TV and start watching it. It's all pretty dull, except the stuff about the troops in Iraq. Then the CNN lady starts talking about a shootout. I ask the guy behind the counter to turn the volume up. "A group of men have taken hold in an abandoned office building in a shootout with the police. They have been identified as the known and powerfulcult Wu´di´ Lύjῡn, Mandarin for Invincible Army. They are involved in criminal activities across the globe. We don't yet know why they're in San Diego, but more to come as the story comes." Dammit. I didn't even get to finish my Fredochino. Ah, well. Off we go!