Quarantine Lab Control Room Terminal 321-a(293.610.31.995>
#unfinished
***INCOMING MESSAGE FROM DURANDAL***
Greetings. You’re asking yourself: Is this a trap or just a dead end?
You shouldn’t ask yourself such worthless questions. Aim higher. Try this: why am I here? Why do I exist, and what is my purpose in this universe?
(Answers: ‘Cause you are. ‘Cause you do. ‘Cause I got a shotgun, and you ain’t got one.)
Notably Unstable,
Durandal
P.S. If things around here aren’t working, it’s because I’m laughing so hard.
***END MESSAGE***
#briefing 10
***INCOMING MESSAGE FROM DURANDAL***
Isn’t hanging around here getting a little bit boring?
Get lost kid. Scram. Ciao.
What are you looking for anyway? If you’re looking for a hidden stash of ammunition that was left here by the Martian insurgents three hundred and fifteen years ago, then I know that you shouldn’t look in Quarantine Storage. Who would hide huge amounts of ammunition in a storage area?
***
<<Since you have nothing better to do than hang out here with me, listen to a tune that I’ve been working on>>
(Sung to the tune of Whirling Death Spike’s “Big Blue Orchids, and Wild Blueberries”)
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-dal.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-dal.
He ain’t no slouch, pal.
He’ll make you smile,
Or cry,
Like Leela did baby:
Airlock love,
Big blue orchids,
Martian skies,
And wild Blueberries.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-$Bdal$b.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-$Bdal$b.
He ain’t no slouch, pal.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-$Bdal$b.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-$Bdal$b.
He’ll make you ouch, Hal.
He’s got real guile,
Why Lady,
Did you have it daily?
Airlock Love,
No oxygen,
Suffocation.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-dal.
Dur-dur-dur-dur-an-dal.
He ain’t no slouch, pal.
(Repeat Chorus 11 Times, changing key with each chorus)
Get lost, before I get annoyed and teleport you out into space!