Borken Wold

"If that's not what you had in mind, tell me what was. I want to have satisfied customers!" The Innerji gives a thin 'grin' which reveals brown disorderly baleen teeth.

"Oh, Mercs." The German says.

"Hey Sarge, we're mercs!" the Frenchman shouts enthusiastically.

"Wait a moment..." The German looks behind him at the employee that is sweeping the building.

"Why are you doing that? Take a break or relax. All humans need to relax!"

The employee keeps sweeping and says half-heartedly, "I'm just sweeping, sir."

"Tell me exactly what you are doing, boy."

"I'm just sweeping-"

"WRONG! Stop immediately! I'm warning you! You are in red level suspicion right now!"

"I'm only sweeping!" He sweeps harder in anger.

"Ha! You thought you could trick me but you can't you robotic swine! You are exhibiting classic synthetic fool-hardiness. I ask, 'what are you doing?' and you respond the same way every time! A person who acts and responds in a mechanical, routine manner is a robot!"

"I AM ONLY SWEEPING, SIR!"

"NONSENSE! YOU TAKE NO BREAKS AND MAKE NO ATTEMPT TO AMUSE YOURSELF, YOU ONLY DO MECHANICAL, ROUTINE TASKS ON COMMAND FROM YOUR 'EMPLOYER'! YOU ARE WORKING AUTOMATICALLY AND YET YOU STILL CLING TO YOUR PHRASE, 'JUST SWEEPING!" He spits this out with hate and stands up from his stool. "YOUR KIND ARE ATTEMPTING TO THE CAUSE OF THE DESTRUCTION OF THIS WORLD AND I WILL NOT HAVE IT! YOU HEAR ME? BE GONE AT ONCE FOUL BANE-DEMON!"

The cleaner angrily gestures his broom at the German. "I'M JUST SWEEPING! LEAVE ME-"

In an instant, the German has a rifle in his hands. The sweeper falls over dead with a significant portion of his head missing. There was no sound of a gunshot.

The Frenchman shrugs. "Wow Sarge, I thought for a second you'd realize that he wasn't a robot!"

"SHUT UP! YOU AND YOUR FICTIONAL AUTOBIOGRAPHIES MAKE ME SICK!"

"But everyone was in the last one! I was going to finish it too before you threw it into the camp fire. You even said you liked the part where you shot the helicopter pilot heroically!"

The Innerji looks cautiously at both of them and begins to back away.

The German remains standing and fishes a few bank notes out of his pocket. "Try not to hire robots next time. Heres for the mess and the trouble."

The Innerji smiles again and takes the money. "The mess will be gone soon enough. Trouble yourselves not. Let me assume that you are the leader of the Nazi Anti-robotics Party? Very prestigious position, I am told."

"Somebody has to stop the robots from taking out organic life. I'm just the one who has taken the title of life upon his shoulders." He looks at Max and Daniel. "Don't worry, I'm sure that's the only robot in the city. They are very tricky, but I haven't seen them work in groups--yet."

Meanwhile...

You are ready to depart for the Howling Winds, the last stop on the map to destroying the blues. Dwayne begins to take you there before the German soldiers halt you and climb onto the sides of the vehicle. Dwayne drives with everyone on board towards the Howling Winds. He pulls up out front of the building. It is an average pub, with a sign that reads, "We also sell hats" hanging above the door. The soldiers disembark and halt you from doing so.

One of the soldiers turns to shout to all of you.

"Totesauge is very dangerous and wanted on multiple accounts of destruction of Erlangen property. You are to remain in the vehicle until we come back out to arrest you for your role in today's rampage."

They position themselves outside the front door and prepare to enter with lightning speed and eagle deadliness.

"Ah. You read the articles? But we have not been formally introduced. I am Genaues Totesauge. This is my associate, Hugo Cabret."

Max looks over the man better this time. Totesauge has a trench coat on, and something tied up right behind his neck. His K98 is made out of the darkest brown wood, and when he fired it, it did not produce any noise whatsoever.

Totesauge slings his rifle over his shoulder and gets an ornate pack of cigarettes out from his pocket. He produces a lighter from one of his pockets and lights up. He takes a breath and blows out. "French made cigarettes are hard to come by in this day and age... More so since the Garcos won't open up their boarders for free trade. Yet somehow I manage."

Meanwhile...

Joe screws