Friday, 30 July 2010

Something happens.

Sitting in the early morning sun, itching myself occasionally, but generally staying still, I watched. I'd heard that some mystery surrounded the local nursing home. Old people acting peculiar, even for old people. Strange equipment was taken to and from the place. High staff turnover, and a few disappearances. A huge satellite attached to the roof. Nuclear warheads placed underground as a self-destruct fail-safe. You know, the usual mysterious signs that could only trigger the suspicions of a genius like me.
 Dressing the blind alsatian man in my clothes and sending him to a coffee shop, I managed to doge my suited followers. Camped out near the carehome now, I searched the area with binoculars, looking for any signs. Any clues that Max could be here.
 After about an hour, something happened. A wall near what I understood to be a harmless genetic manipulation room (I understand old people often need such manipulations to jeans) exploded open in a shower of bricks and plaster. A giant figure, 20 feet tall, burst forth on muscular legs. Pulling with him a colossal zimmer frame, the Goliath Grampa made an energetic hobble for the exit. A team of armoured men ran from the hole in the wall, jabbing at him with stun batons or shooting tranquilizer darts. Another group ran from a doorway to cut him off, offering a similar treatment to the geriatric giant. Eventually, the figure collapsed, smashing a small car and a wall on his decent. Lashing him with ropes, the security guards dragged the ancient big person back into the facility.
 I sat back, putting the binoculars down. That, I'll admit, was rather strange. Still, this wouldn't be the first time I had to infultrate a carehome that experimented on the elderly, and it wouldn't be the last.

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