While Captain Mike fumbled for his ID Britney glanced at a pop up on her screen. It was an alert for the whole facility. One of the 'Customers' had returned. Britney wasn't sure how this was possible as the customers didn't 'exit the game' with out being let out by the technicians. And the customer in question, one with more money end ego then technical knowledge certainly couldn't have gotten out on his own. But these were questions for later. The voice in her ear piece was telling her to keep the Captian occupied while this issue was dealt with.

She quickly glanced at the ID but had no clue if it was legitimate or not. And the voice was no longer speaking in her ear piece providing her with help. The silence from the ear piece unnerved her. She needed to figure out what to do but her mind was a blank. And the news on the computer screen didn't help. She turned to the Captain.

"Well, all of our game rooms are busy at the moment" she did her best to lie to him. "But if you can wait right over there," She pointed at one of the sofas nearby "I would be happy to contact one of the technicians and have them show you around. We just happen to be a bit short handed right now."

She glanced at the computer screen again. The technicians really did have their hands full with the 'Customer' and according to the computer read out she glanced at again they were having no luck in stopping him. And if he progressed at this rate soon he would be here.



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Gilhart Hiemlich, Earl of Chichester, finished the last verse of the love song he had composed for his lady companion, slid the lute he was playing around on to his back and turned towards his lovely companion. She looked at him, her beautiful eyes still not giving away a thing. He shifted his weight on the horse he was riding and looked across to Vesta on her horse as it trotted along side his horse. Between the riding boots, full body white dress, and the ever present white veil hiding all of her face with the exception of her eyes. Those beautiful and incredibly expressive eyes. Vesta the Virtuous, Vesta of the Veil and Vesta the Virgin. The most desirable woman in 200 leagues. Many men had courted her. All had fallen short of anything more then allowed to kiss her hand as a good night. But Gilhart knew he would do better. And if today's plans of the Orc Attack worked according to plan he would be ravishing her tonight as her way to say thank you for his saving her. It would be worth ever Crown he paid for if he could get into those bloomers. The thought filled him with great anticipation which came crashing down when he saw the scene before him. The orcs that were supposed to be attacking him were attempting to carry a man in a wheeled chair through the mud towards him. The were being led by an orc in the most unusual costume. He didn't know how this had gone wrong but he needed to rescue this situation and his chances to lay the ravishing Vesta. He would rescue this stranger from the evil orcs and in doing so show Vesta what a kind and benevolent person he was. And for that she would have to sleep with him.

So with that he drew the specially made sword the orcs had sent him through the go-between, spurred the horse on and shouted " Release that poor soul you foul creatures"
This action caused the orcs to scatter, unfortunately none of them held on to the chair holding Falco. Tig and Grek simultaneously screamed "Nooooo!" and dived under the chair to keep it from hitting the ground. The impact against the orcs buffered the chair's fall. Both grunted fro under the chair in pain. The Orcs cowered at the edge of the forest. And Gilhart looked back at Vesta to make sure she was watching before turning back to Falco.

"Greetings I am your rescuer, Gilhart Heimlich, Earl of Chichester and I am here to protect you from these orcs so have no fear." he said to Falco as he dismounted "may I know your name good sir?"

Falco still had no particular idea that he was being saved, per-se, or even that the Orc's weren't just wearing some incredible body suits. Like talking to someone in Uruk Hai garb or such, but he did know when he was being talked to by a very pleasant woman, which was definitely a nice change of pace, though it was interesting to know that it was Gil, Earl of...Chicanery apparently...who had been the Stinky-pig-peoples intended target, who had caused him to be bopped repeatedly around the head and shoulders with fake weaponry. He still really had no idea what she looked like, but her eyes and tone made him feel like a grade school kid with a crush.
That was right though, he really hadn't gotten around to giving his name.
"Oh uh, I'm..." He paused glancing at his hands, and pausing to pull off a fingerless glove muddy from his early attempts to extricate himself. "Falco. Falco Marks." He offered, unsure if he should offer to shake hands or not. Her behavior didn't seem to indicate that sort of thing. "Nice to meet you. Sorry about the mud...this thing wasn't really meant to go cross country." He fumbled over the conversation, trying to change mood gears without a clutch. "Oh that's...Grek and the other one's Tig. I think." He offered, gesturing vaguely to the Orc's.

"Nice to meet you, Lady Vesta..." Might as well play along a little? Besides she seemed more like the type to fit the title of 'lady' than someone trucked out in an badly sewn velvet gown and too many rings, like he'd seen at the last occasion padded, fake weapons had been involved, though Grek's speech, and the flourish complete with mud, made him wince again, and put hand to head as though to dismiss a headache or an mouthful of caustic sarcasm.
"...Grek." He started, heaving profound, exasperated sigh. "Grek....please stop making up weird titles...."
Not having called himself any of those things, it was a bit strange to have them listed off in front of a woman who even he was having trouble being caustic about. He had long standing practice seeing pity or disgust in peoples eyes, even if Hannah insisted she didn't see it when he did, they'd fought about it, and weather or not he was seeing it or imagining it. Anyway she'd called him Handsome, he'd almost forgotten what that felt like, since people that had met him since the accident often referred to him as 'that guy in the wheelchair, the grumpy one." As though maybe there were lots of people in town in wheel chairs, possessed of different temperaments, which only made him feel more embarassed and schoolboy-ish.
"It wasn't re...I mean... I'm n..." He fumbled, trying to think how to explain it was really mostly because of Hannah that he'd gotten into all this, but then he'd have to explain who Hannah was...and that felt long and complicated. "Uh, that would be, very nice. I appreciate that."

The Smack across Gillheart's face and made his mood soar to great heights of Schadenfreude, and saving him from having to come up with another angry round of why, damn it, he couldn't stand up for the lady though he'd really love to. God would he love to. He'd marry an goddamn goat if it meant he could stand up for the lady...
And then she'd stunned him completely by dropping down in the mud to be at eye level. "Hey, don't worry about it." He offered. "It's not your fault..." He waved a hand helplessly, wanting to offer her a hand up but not much help on that front. "Geeze don't do that, you're getting all over mud! What about your dress?" Most women he could think of would probably have knocked people down and walked on them rather than get mud on a dress that looked that expensive and handmade, and she was kneeling in it to be at eye level, leaving him baffled and shocked at the gesture. "Is everything going to be OK? I mean....I didn't intend to start a big war with you and your boyfriend..." He had to assume that's what was going on between them. It seemed like the sort of thing you did trying to impress a girl, though it had seriously backfired. "...And wow...I really wasn't expecting you to haul off and smack him one...." He had to fight with a smile over that, which felt malicious, and he didn't want her to think he was a malicious ass. "...You're the first person who noticed...." he trailed off, not inclined to finish the sentence.
Damn, she was some impressive lady, and he barely knew her. No wonder Gilly-boy was practically doing contortions for her, though if he was right, none of that was going to do a damn bit of good unless she was interested to begin with. "But really, you're making your dress a mess and I can talk to you just fine if you're standing, and I'd feel like a louse if you ruined it..."

He flinched inwardly, thinking about the number of times when he probably would have done exactly what Gilheart was accused of doing, though granted, the women he'd chased after certainly didn't object to being chased, or he would have given up a lot sooner. Taking the chances of actually getting anywhere out of the equasion, he guessed, had changed the way he'd dealt with women a little bit, though he wondered how often that was the case. It had taken a fairly well life altering event to change him at all, and mostly he'd just become reclusive. Even he would admit he was outright resentful of the life he'd had taken away from him.
"I don't know, I wouldn't lay great odds on him changing much." He admitted, looking away and turning fervently red. "It was my uh, caretakers idea. She thought I could do with a change of pace, blah blah. I need to get out more, blah blah." He shrugged, avoiding eye contact out of embarassment. "So she reads something about some adventure nonsence and drags me off to 'cheer me up if I like it or not', and off I go kicking and screaming...metaphoricaly speaking." A wry smile at this, and he cast a sidelong look toward Greck and Tig. "What did you uh..." He pointed vaguely, curious, and blinked at her dress, still trying to sort things out. "....And that was...pretty impressive. I uh, can't do that. Actually I can't cast anything. The guy who was running everything said he'd hand me something to use for the game but then he didn't and then I just stuck in the mud... Which is about where you found me..."
Damn her perfume smelled nice. Hannah had nice perfume, something that smelled exoticly floral, but then Hannah was twice his age and attractive only in a sort of 'grandmother with warm melty chocolate chip cookies' sort of way. This wasn't anything like that, and it reminded him it had been a while since he'd been that close to an attractive woman, and one that wasn't treating him as a sort of entertaining, interesting pet.

Mike watched as Britney's attention turned back to the computer screen she was watching when he arrived. Watched as her expression changed ever so slightly from one of a cool businesswoman to something more akin to panic. It was a subtle change, but one he was practiced in being able to detect. He hazarded a quick glance at the computer screen while Britney was focused on it.
"Is there anything I could do that might help?" he asked after being directed to one of the sofas. "I'd be happy to assist, if I can."
Mike was't sure what all that he had seen meant, but it didn't seem at all good, not from Britney's reaction. Probably best to just sit and let this all play out. Might find out more than looking for a opening to poke around would reveal.
"Have to admit, though. This is all making me more and more curious about what exactly this game is..."

And who exactly was this 'customer' that had 'exited the game'? He unconciously patted the place where his gun rested just under his overcoat.

Without having a slightest clue about what was going on around him, he felt a faint flutter of doubt about answering this line of questioning. He wasn't a technical expert, but he couldn't think of anything he'd heard of that had this sort of realism. Of course to assume it was real was deranged, but even if they were actors, there were things in motion he didn't quite have the ability to put together. ".....Well I didn't make the chair..." He offered, glancing at Grek with a blink. "It's graphite. It's supposed to be light weight, makes it easier to get around."They make them out of other materials but this was the most practical one... And it's a wheelchair. Not a chariot." This was also not the sort of spotlight to which he was accustomed, and it felt like a lot was weighing on his answers. "And last time I checked I couldn't magically poof from one place to another, let alone cast a cleaning spell... There was a guy there who set everything up. And some kinda spacey looking assistants. Come to think of it, he hadn't caught the man's name. They'd been sort of rushed past that part.

The noise from the alarms hurt his ears. He shifted the helm he had made from an animal skull further back on to his head to better cover his ears and hopefully deaden some of the sound. He gripped the crude battle axe better in his hands as he dashed onward. He hoped not to run into any more soldiers. The ones he had knocked down turned out to be ladies, no, they were just girls. Yet they intended to do him harm. The items they carried that shocked him everytime they touched him. And with his head already fuzzy from the trip back, and other things he couldn't quite put his finger on, the shocks didn't help him. His time with the tribe had helped strengthen him and teach him to with stand such punishment. It also taught him how to repair his tattered and nearly destroyed suit with the leathers he now wore. He was told he now looked like a warrior and he was certainly not going to let the tribe down.

He charged down several more hallways trying to find a way out. To warn people. That is why he made this journey back. To warn everyone...but about what? His head hurt even more when he tried to remember what it was. He just needed to get away from all this noise then he could remember better. Then he saw the door with it's red lettered sign that gave him hope. It red, EXIT. He charged towards the door, shoulder dropped like the tribe had showed him, and smashed his way through. And on the other side he saw only two figures. A woman sitting behind a desk frantically working at a...computer. Why were these words so hard to remember? He couldn't tell. But he recognized the other one. The man. He wore military clothing and a long coat and a demeanor that commanded respect. He must be the girl soldier's leader, possibly even the one who had first opportunity to mate with them. If he defeated this one the others would surely see him as the "top dog" and then either obey him or just leave him alone.

He looked at the Soldier man with a sneer. He looked at the man with a face that tried to imply 'fearme'. He then spread his arms wide tilted back his head and released his war cry at the top of his lungs.

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Grek eyed greedily this metal Falco had called Graphite. Oh the things he could make with this metal, strong and hard as steel yet light as wood. He must know it's secret. But later. IF he rushed too quickly he might give away his desire for it and that was one of The Man's golden rules. Not letting people know you were really interested in something. He would bide his time but he would also keep track of this man and even make himself indispensable to him. He may not be a wizard but he did know one and he must know where to get more of this metal.

"Well Lord Falco and Lady Vesta i has been the Skull Mountian Tribes pleasure to serve you and we hope to be able to serve you more in the future. If there is anything else we can do to help you with this game feel free to call upon us. We live to serve" Said Grek doing his best to continue to charm Falco.

"Well Grek," Said Lady Vesta "you can always start by hooking up your harness to Falco's chair" She smiled at falco as she backed towards her horse.

"As My Lady wishes" he grunted and whistled to his brother like a Matra-de calling a waiter. Tig did not seem pleased to be whistled at but Grek knew in the end Tig would do what he was old. Tig didn't want to upset the Chieftain. He watched as Tig walked over to Falco's beautiful chair. He then pushed the chair over to the harness hanging from the back of the horse. It was fine Craftsmanship, the harness was. He ws very proud of it and was positive the Lord and Lady would enjoy it too. And more Crowns would fill Grek's pockets.

Mike had just gotten seated on the sofa when the door crashed open. As he jumped to his feet, what he saw was comething completely unexpected. When Britney's computer had indicated that a customer had left the game, he had expected to see someone dressed in typical street clothes, or even in some sort of suit. This man looked more like a barbarian, judging from the leathers he was wearing. He was also carrying what looked like a poorly made battle axe. A very real battle axe.
"What the devil?" Things were starting to suddenly fit into place. The spike in chronal energy, and now this. The man's eyes glanced over the room, stopping for a moment on Britney, then focusing on him.
Mike turned toward Britney, not taking his eyes off the barbarian. "Get behind me."
He turned his full attention back to the barbarian. "Okay, buddy. I don't know where you came from, but I think we need to get you back..."
The war cry cut him off. Mike hesitated, but quickly took advantage of the man's vulnerable stance, and charged, shoulder down, trying to tackle him to the ground.

Harness? He'd missed it's construction talking to Vesta, but he turned the chair now to have a look at what was going on behind him. "Wait...Harness? Whats the Harness for?" He demanded, not sure he wanted to find out. Why would they need to harness his chair, or had he just made a really bad decision? Having the towering Tig take over control of the chair raised his doubts on that front, though making one futile grab for the wheel grips to try and stop progress until he was answered was enough to remind him how much more powerful Tig was, and that the only thing he was doing was slowing them down an half an inch or so.
"Heyyy Tig. Somebody...explain the tow-service set up please." He joked, a little nervously. It was one particular disadvantage to his state, aside from the obvious, that if someone wanted to take over, it wasn't particularly hard. The only breaking power he had was in locking the wheels or using his arms, and Tig had already demonstrated that he and his companions could lift the entire affair -with him in it-.

Harness? He'd missed it's construction talking to Vesta, but he turned the chair now to have a look at what was going on behind him. "Wait...Harness? Whats the Harness for?" He demanded, not sure he wanted to find out. Why would they need to harness his chair, or had he just made a really bad decision? Having the towering Tig take over control of the chair raised his doubts on that front, though making one futile grab for the wheel grips to try and stop progress until he was answered was enough to remind him how much more powerful Tig was, and that the only thing he was doing was slowing them down an half an inch or so.
"Heyyy Tig. Somebody...explain the tow-service set up please." He joked, a little nervously. It was one particular disadvantage to his state, aside from the obvious, that if someone wanted to take over, it wasn't particularly hard. The only breaking power he had was in locking the wheels or using his arms, and Tig had already demonstrated that he and his companions could lift the entire affair -with him in it-. If Vesta turned out to be a black widow in white veils, that wasn't a great position to be in.

He strummed his fingers on the desk as he watched the play back on the video tape. What he was watching had happened hours earlier and though he regretted not being there to prevent the damage to the complex there was little he could do about it now. All he could do was try to clean up the damages. He thought about punishing the Britneys responsible for this but he couldn't bring himself to do it. In the end he demoted them to bathroom duties, like scrubbing his back in the shower. Waste not want not he always said.

And he recognized the 'barbarian' as one of his financial backers and unintentional 'customers'. A billionaire, known to the world as The Ronald or The Man, who when his questions about how the money was being spent got too numerous, had to be disposed of. So when The Ronald dropped by to see where his money was going he had The Ronald's mind wiped, his body replicated and the real body dropped back into his little testing ground. The replicated Ronald, a perfect match just like his Britneys went about taking the real Ronald's place and made sure the money kept coming to him. But the real Ronald shouldn't have been able to get back on his own. At least not with out some kind of help. One mystery that needed to be solved.

The other one was this Captain Mike. He recognized the type. Operative from some super secret agency sent to track down what he was doing. What surprised him was two fold. First, normally in these types, there background was a blank slate. In this man's case, he was tracking appearances as far back as 17th century London. This was obviously impossible. Captain Mike certainly didn't look that old and the only time travel device in existence belonged to him. Second the agency he tracked him back to was protected by computer security the likes of which he had never seen before. Another mystery.

He thumbed the play button and continued to watch. The Captain lowered his shoulder and bowled Barbarian Ronald off his feet before he could finish his war cry. The axe skidded off to the right, lodging under the couch. The helm, 'expertly crafted' out of some animal skull flew off. At this distance, he was positive Captain Mike would recognize Billionaire real estate mogul Ronald Crump, with his arrogant well tanned face and horrid pompadore ala comb over. The Ronald's head hit the floor hard enough to momentarily daze him. Surely leaving him at The Captian's mercy.

At the same moment his time platform, at that time still unstable from the return trip of The Ronald, Gave out it's strongest burst of Chronal energy causing computer terminals and light fixtures to explode in a spray of light and dropping everything into near darkness. And that was only the beginning. The worst, he knew from what he saw when he returned, was yet to come.

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Vesta smiled to herself as she pondered the things Falco had said. I must learn more about this Game he talks about, she thought, and how it might effect the land I call home. She, like Grek, also had questions about the chair and the strange metal it was made of. She could see the greed and covetous nature growing in Grek's eyes, which was something she did not share. And the sooner she could get Falco away from Grek the better. Grek, according to rumor was mostly harmless but better safe then sorry. She could more trust Tig, who took great joy in being able the push Falco around finally. His occasional Orcish snicker told her both he was enjoying this momentary power but also ment Falco no harm.

"I'm sorry" said Vesta "I felt I would be an uncouth host if I asked you to roll your chair all the way to my house on your own. So I took the liberty of asking the orc's to create a harness with which we could tow your chair back while you rode up front on the horse with me. If that is okay with you?"
With that she let her eyes sparkle with her charm once again. He was a sweet guy somewhere underneath that gruff exterior. Could he be the one to lift the curse from her?

Mike Landed in a heap on top of the barbarian. The skidding clatter of the wild-man's weapon was something of a relief as it disappeared off to the side somewhere. That was one less hazard of going head on with this man that had been removed. Mike rolled off, grabbed and lifted him by the chest plate, and pulled his arm back to subdue the barbarian, when something about the man made him stop.
"Oh, you have gotta be kidding me.. Ronald Crump?" He looked to Britney. "What's he doing here?" His answer came in the form of the room suddenly plunging into darkness, and his wrist band practically screaming at him. Glancing at his wrist band, Mike dropped Crump, and headed for the door the millionaire-turned-barbarian had come through, pulling his gun out for safe measure.
"I'm afraid I'm giong to have to shut this place down." He looked back to Britney, smiling pleasantly. "I hope you don't mind."

Falco cleared his throat uncertainly, glancing nervously at Tig and then at the horse, this being the closest he'd ever been to one. He'd just never gotten into that whole 'amazement with horses' phase, never even had a cowboy phase, and here he was eying a lawn mower with hooves that towered over him, at least as tall as Vesta at the shoulder.
"I...uh..." He offered uncertainly, debating taking another swing at Tig to make himself feel better and to make him stop sniggering. Damn jock. "...Is now a good time to mention I've never been on horse back? Ever?" And he really wasn't sure this was a good time in his life to start. He'd always pictured part of riding to have to do with the legs, and his weren't much more use than a pair of paperweights. Let alone he had no idea how he would get -onto- the horse to inevitably fall off again. "I mean how far are we talking?" He fished. He considered himself to be in decent 'rolling' shape, though he had no idea what the terrain was like between here and her home. Mud? Rocks? Other unidentified pits that were unfriendly to wheel chair progress?

Britney was unable to figure out what to say in response to Captain Mike, first because the instant the lights and computer went, so did the voice talking to her through the ear unit and also because this situation was completely beyond her ability to understand or even comprehend. With the lights out only the emergency lights and the eerie glow coming down the hallway that the Barbarian came from lit the room.

She watched the glow so intently she didn't notice Mike's watch registering a massive build up of Chronal energy that could only be caused by the rift in the space time continuum. One that if not stopped soon would tear the known universe and beyond in half.

She pointed at Ronald Crump but all that came out was a lost "Uhm..." The next flash from down the hall caught her attention and when captain Mike asked if she minded if he shut it down, all she could say was a tiny "no" and she stuck close to him hoping that being close to him might keep her alive.

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"Well, there is no time like the present, and Shiva is the gentlest animal I have ever ridden. You have nothing to fear from her." she offered as she patted dappled grey stead who through all of this continues to munch on some tasty looking grass nearby. But what Falco said surprised her even further. She knew of no one, from the poorest farmer to the richest king, who didn't know how to ride at some level. What kind of person would never have ridden a horse. She must know more about him. This oh so fascinating man.

"And we are only three leagues from my house. If you would be more comfortable you can roll yourself. But I do promise you I will be right up there with you have my word as a Lady, no harm will come to you while you are riding with me." She said that last with her best convincing tone hoping to relax him and get him to trust her skills as a rider. She was no expert but there were few men or women who could ride better then her.
"Whatever makes you most comfortable" she finished looking into his eyes.

Shiva didn't sound like a particularly gentle or comforting name, and he gave the horse another uncertain look. But then he didn't know exactly how far Three Leagues was either. They'd sort of passed up converting feet, yards and miles into Leagues that he was aware. "...I guess I can give it a try...If I fall off I'm going back to the chair though." No matter how long it took, he wasn't planning on falling off of something that huge more than once.

Clearly, he'd lost his mind somewhere in the last few minutes, and he wasn't sure what of the goings on made him more uncomfortable. Being hefted around like a sack of potatoes...or Vesta's colorful choice of expression. Being compared to an barely born puppy wasn't exactly comforting...and it didn't do much for his sense of pride either. "Hey!" He protested, as he was lifted around as though he weighed nothing. The knife was even more confusing, though by comparison to Tig's size one might well have argued it closer to a short sword, though with the conspiratorial look in Tig's eyes, he was even less sure what to make of it, though he put a hand on it to keep it from sliding off. It was a huge, nasty looking piece of work with no visual relation to the knives in his kitchen. No this thing was definitely meant for stabbing things, not cutting steak or apples. The look in Tig's eyes was sort of the wink and nudge look you gave someone at the bar when you thought they were going to score bigtime though, so how THAT tied in with any of this....
God he was so confused.