[indent][indent][indent][quote=H.O.B.O. MESSAGING SYSTEM (TM) LABYRINTH CORP][b]1 NEW MESSAGE
N48.51.30.131 E2.17.40.139
COORDINATES LOGGED
CALENDAR ENTRY CREATED
3258.27.5.13.30 SUBJ "RENDEZVOUS" RMDR 1D
CALENDAR UPDATED
REMINDER SET
REMINDER: "RENDEZVOUS" TOMORROW 1:30 PM DOZING, ENIGMA[/b][/quote][/indent][/indent][/indent]
[right][color=009CEC][h3]PROLOGUE: RENDEZVOUS[/h3][/color][/right][hr][url=http://poolsofchrome.tumblr.com/post/133732531005/koloss]THE RUINS OF DOZING[/url], nestled in the widelands of Enigma territory, used to be a peaceful little city full of bright and friendly little people who were very good at manufacturing weapons. Great innovations and advancement in cannons, guns, mech suits, artificial limbs and mechanized armor took place right here in little Dozing --

-- until an explosion in the night blew it all to smithereens.

This was centuries ago, of course. There are only a few now who remember the city of Dozing, and the threat it could have been to LABYRINTH CORP had it survived.

Oh, well.

Of course there are conspiracy theories that surround the ruins -- some of a supernatural nature, as there must be -- but after countless research by countless organizations (some more legitimately titled than others) the widely accepted conclusion is that the explosion that blasted Dozing had been a simple accident in its central hydrogen warehouse, and the case has been laid publicly to rest.

Now the ruins are a bright and sunny picnic spot, carpeted with soft grass that [url=https://mynoise.net/NoiseMachines/meadowCreekSoundscapeGenerator.php?c=0&l=2020202020202020670000]flows and ripples in the gentle breeze[/url]. Peruse the broken and half-buried remains of beautiful architecture, meticulous wiring systems and hand-crafted machinery that has beautifully withstood the test of time and weather. Feathered birdlike nebulae (for our purposes, 'birds') nest peacefully in the barrels and sockets of machines once built for the purpose of destruction. It's a perfect spot for a philosophical discussion of irony and impermanence and the true nature of things and moral comeuppance --

-- or a rendezvous for the future crew of a slightly illegal (by some interpretations of a few laws) ship of vigilantes.

At the day and time of this rendezvous, the sky was bright and full of moving fluffy clouds. A warm breeze rushed through the synthetic grasses, which glistened blue and silver in wooshing ripples. The broken pillars and turrets and mech-pieces, illuminated happily by the sun, cast only small shadows on the bits of metal and wire that stuck out of the ground. 'Birds' chirruped happily all around, fanning their three-to-six wings, drilling into stone pillars with their beaks, catching insects with their whiplike tongues.

Within the ruins, among the rush of the wind and the warble of 'birds', [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FyFwko9O2UE]a song played on repeat[/url].

It was coming from the heart of the ruins, where a little box radio sat upon the stump of a broken column. There appeared to be no one around, and the radio certainly wasn't plugged into anything -- there was only the glass casement of bioplasm screwed into the back of it, enough power to keep the song going for days without pause.

The time of the rendezvous came . . . and went.