[center][h2][color=turquoise]The Cereal Killer: At the Finish Line, Skipped the Race[/color][/h2][/center]

Runch and his newly enthralled associate, or "mate" as he called Serhan, stood before the Old Basilica. Even compared to the rest of the structures around this building was a testament to the burden of time, and the perseverance of a strong will standing against that time. The pirate's eyes opened wide in wonder. It did not matter that it didn't have the same mystique as the Cold Monastery, or the splendor of the Three Rivers Mosque. This building, this basilica, held a quality uniqur to itself. Something he couldn't quite identify or put into words. It was just... It. The Old Basilica.

The two approached, and Runch caught sight of the additions. The lights, the added walkway, etcetera. He furrowed his brow a bit, thinking. [color=turquoise]"Someone has great interest in this place. The College must have setup shop here, methinks."[/color]

"Or whatever group caused that massive explosion earlier today," Serhan added in a neutral, somewhat spiteful tone. He spoke as though talking down to an idiot.

[color=turquoise]"What makes you say that, mate?"[/color] Runch inquired, tilting his head, either completely missing or completely ignoring the assassin's condescension. 

"Whoever had the resources to affect this city on such a foundational level surely has the manpower and resources to extend their reach in other manners."

[color=turquoise]"I hadn't thought of that. You'll be of great use to me yet! Omnomnomnom!"[/color] Runch laughed deep, the joy practically bouncing from his belly. [color=turquoise]"Come to think of it, Oren did mention some new 'factions' that have been showing up. I suppose I shouldn't take anything for granted."[/color]

Serhan did not respond, but the two of them caught sight of... Something inside the Old Basilica, through the open doorway. Some sort of strange, large machine. Without acknowledging one another, they took off toward the thing in question. Up the stairs, through the doorway, and up to the dais that the monolith-like technology. Runch stopped in front of it, while Serhan strafed about the whole machine, taking in all of its details. The captain placed his open palm on the circle, rubbing his fingers into a small recess that seemed to serve the purpose of containing something. But what would one put into it? 

[color=turquoise]"So many pipes and pieces and doodads. And all these little bowls on this circle. I wonder how many there are?"[/color] Runch spoke mostly to himself, so he was surprised when a voice answered him. He nearly jumped, but mentally reminded himself of his current companion.

"Thirty-three," Serhan answered simply. Thirty-three. Curious. That was how many fighters were in this contest the College sponsored. That's how many souls the machine was supposed to ta-[color=turquoise]"Oh. My. Gooseberry."[/color] Realization set in, and the captain slowly turned to face Serhan, who had taken place near Runch's right. The assassin was looking over the strange light illuminating throughout the machine. 

[color=turquoise]"This is it. We've... We've found the machine!"[/color] His words started as barely a whisper, overtaken by shock, but his natural joy and excitability soon bled through and his voice became a shout. [color=turquoise]"We found the wishing machine! Omnomnomnomnom! We found it! Omnom!"[/color] Serhan was taken by surprise as he found himself victim to a large bear hug. Unable to fight back, he protested with the face of disdain. A few seconds later, the pirate captain released him, clapping a hand onto the Turk's shoulder. 

[color=turquoise]"This means we're ahead of the game, mate! Omnomnom!"[/color]

Serhan fought back the urge to spit in his "master's" face, rationalizing that he couldn't fight back against anything the pirate did to him in response. "What do you mean 'we?' My soul hangs by your neck, my body follows your will against my own. I am a tool in your arsenal to victory, infidel."

Runch shook his head, never once dropping his grin. [color=turquoise]"Don't get the wrong idea, you're my mate now! Once this whole tournament business is done, I'll be returning your soul and everyone elses to boot! You can go about your way from there, but until then we're one more step toward victory! Omnomnom!"[/color]

Serhan sighed a mixture of irritation and relief. He wasn't sure what to make of this old fool. For now it would be best just to move things along. "Yes, well, at the very least we won't have to waste time locating the machine in the future. Assuming the College staff were not simply going to tell the winner where it sat."

[color=turquoise]"That's the spirit, mate! Omnomnom!"[/color] The captain clapped his hand on Serhan's shoulder one more time, but then brought his tone and volume down a bit. He was still jolly, but spoke with a more serious edge. [color=turquoise]"Now, the additions here are probably from the College, but there's no guarantee that nobody else is here. I say we scout around a bit, see if we can find anybody else. Well, by 'we' I mean 'you.' I may be an honorable man, but I see the merit in preparation, aye?"[/color] 

He gave a knowing wink to the Turkish hitman, who could not help but shake his head. "You are not as much a fool as you make yourself out to be. Maybe a little." Serhan turned to scout the rest of the building.

[color=turquoise]"Omnomnom, I thought you found that out when I beat ya!"[/color] the Cereal Killer called out. Laughing a moment longer, he turned back toward the Wishing Machine. All glee dropped from his face, replaced entirely by a steely stare. His eyes could pierce brick, his mustache could cut diamond. The machine was here. He had found it first. With any luck, and a little preparation, it would stay that way until he came back for it later. Extending both hands toward the machine, he began to pour on his powers. Hardened wheat and grain streamed forth like liquid slurry from twin firehoses. The cereal kept coming and coming and coming, splattering around the machine, but never touching it. The moment it made contact with a solid surface it solidified. Cereal, denser than steel, harder than most quartz. He poured it on and on into a protective dome, covering the machine from every side and angle, then recoating every side again and again. By the time he was done, the Wishing Machine was kept inside a dome six feet thick in all spots of ultra dense, incredibly hard cereal. 

Wiping his brow, Runch took a look at his work. It wasn't the most pretty, but by golly it was efficient. It'd get the job done.