If there's one thing that irritates me more than anything else, it is not knowning what in the Sam Hill is going on. I like to be focused and in control and aware of everything at all times. So sitting there with Michael and Clark, scratching our noggins and wondering where we were, why we were there, and having just been told a load of complete nonsense by some cheap illusionist typewriter-headed hack called Tie-Po was sufficient to cause me to have a near meltdown.
Especially since we knew were going to have to find and join forces with that irritating chain-smoking toddler Henri Petit to fight against the situation that we currently found ourselves in.
But where were we? That was the first item on the agenda. Looking around, it appeared to be an abandoned parking garage.
"How incredibly Streets of San Francisco" remarked Michael. "It was always an abandoned warehouse or an abandoned parking garage."
"Well, in that case we need to find an exit and look for the nearest pile of cardboard boxes on the street and wait for the squad car to smash into them!" said Clark flippantly.
"Actually, that's not the worst idea I've ever heard" I replied.
Time passes slowly when you're looking for an exit door and none is to be found. We had been looking for a good fifteen minutes when suddenly we heard the familiar sound of squealing tires.
We spun around to see a red Renault Espace heading towards us.
|Not unlike this one.|
|"Hop in, mes amis!"|
~~~to be continued yet again some more~~~