City of Unfinished Stories

"The tracker for the suitcase with the missing pages," Tarin said. "If we can find those missing pages... we may discover the incomprehensible truth behind why this thread continues being extended."

"The truth," Astra sighed. "I want the truth!"

"You cant handle the truth!!" came a familiar, annoying voice from high above. Looking up, Fred, Tarin and Astra saw Kim the teenage social inept standing on a tenement roof. In one furry hand she held the beeping suitcase. "That's roight, mates I got the suitcase! Aint that a bugger? And I'll sooner die again n' let the likes of you blokes get their filthy mitts on it. Now piss off!"

"That can be arranged!" Astra snarled, drawing her sword. "Get down here you dead end of a character!"

Kim stuck out her tongue and tossed down a flash grenade. Our heroes barely covered their eyes in time to avoid being blinded, and when the flash passed Kim was gone.

"Curse that meddling wench!" Tarin said. "She's moving east, and quickly for a goddamn furry - lets chase after her!"

"Not so fast," laughed a burly, muscular man as he stepped out from behind a burning trash bin. "You think you can just stroll through New York without paying the fee?"

More laughing gang members emerged all around them, holding knives, baseball bats, metal pipes and other rudimentary instruments of pain.

"My name is Tornado Mike," the burly man said, cracking his knuckles. "The way I see it you have two options. Join my gang - or die!"

"Do you really think we would be intimidated by the likes of you?" Fred asked, drawing his sword. "Let me write the third option in blood all over the bodies of your foul minions."

"Looks like fighting is the only way to achieve anything!" Tarin said, pulling out a giant warhammer. "Time to get some!"

"Its been too long since I got to chop up some bad guys," Astra said. "This should be fun!"

1. Fight.
2. Join Tornado Mike's gang.
3. Die.

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