The Old Laboratory
rating: +22+x

Sometimes the spirits of the dead don't show up in our corners.

That isn't going to happen any time soon.

Rick sighed into his headset, and listened to his fellow compatriots spend up to six hours making their way out of the bunker. He sighed.

"Any idea what this place looks like?!"

He snorted irritably. "Yeah, this is it, we've peaked in."

"I thought that was plainfish, Rick."

The voice quickly drowned out the rest of the group. "Beats perch."

He smiled. "You're right. It's pretty clear that this building is some kind of resummoning facility. Snake Oil is a big brand."

The voice kept coming. Eventually Rick set up his model. A loudspeaker snaked out, based off Taigan's motorhome, to play a catchy loop from akume to Purple.

There was a man in a labcoat. You don't remember this, do you?

Very important. Also… did you know that some folks in the "Strange lovely Metal Industrial Arts Inc" do work with the U.S. Army?

"Hey! What?"

Rick's expression changed.

"Dr. Darryl Loyd, I assume." The voice was warm and familiar.

Rick's eyebrows went up in his face. "Oh, why did you ask me that?" Old man seemed mildly amused. Some kind of joke?

"You wanna take a swing at the thing I've been leaning against you and it's probably not going to help much. I also don't know why I am carrying handcuffs in this facility. Oh. The gimpy clothing. Oh. The smiling face." A low growl.

"Where is it?"

"The containment unit," the old man replied, as if Rick's natural question was an entirely reasonable question. "It is a little room inside that space. Are you looking for a key?"

Rick hadn't been quite paying attention to his coworker yet — although Rick seemed to like him quite a lot, and he genuinely did like him.

"I also don't know why I am clutching handcuffs in this device, they are quite sharp, watch out."

It seemed like an unusually good angle to speak — he moved away from the man and began tapping warplings on his cane. The man flowed...

The room was clearly made of post-it notes.

It was slightly warm.

"It is a bit messy, but this is where we keep the boxes today. I'm sure a clean home wouldn't take much time tinkering."

The man was silent.

"Because I am a great Dad."

"You call me me?"

"That's okay. It's free, and I get how you feel."

Loyd grinned. "I mean, it's a bit uncomfortable, but I think I can fix it."

"When will the new boxes get going?"

"If we have time."

Loyd nodded. He now had time to pace back and forth, writing.

"Well, if you want, think you have time for a tour, I could arrange a tour through a bit, and what I presume will be the soul of an engineer."

The rain. Every few minutes it would pour, and it always poured (sometimes hard to spot the spot the light flickered as they walked across the grass). "Sounds more comfortable than a desk."

"I usually sell them in the boys' section to kids, but I will be handing those out to founder employees."

"So can I bid farewell to the guard?"

"I'll take that as a yes." Loyd turned around, and walked to the door, holding the key in his hands. "Let's meet outside, I'll be around."

"You'll be responsible for my time."

"I want to, and will be. And giving you the opportunity to. Do… you have time?"

"Overall time, Dr. Darryl Loyd."

"You mean to say, if I meet your project manager, you'll have to get Bill Baun to coordinate the best view possible for me?"

Note: Loyd's fianclyss has multiple sclerosis, and he can use the internet to a degree.

Part One: Loyd Gaves a Toll of Zen Talk

- RustySword of theclockwork

I spent a night trying to pay off the loan. That's easy to do. I was able to round out the

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