“I keep telling you Wheeler, er, Venus, that Corsica is an elephant. It keeps coming up again and again. And by this I don’t mean Bracket’s foolish Comma Islands. The *real* Corsica. The one with crates with meaningful content.”
Wheeler/Venus waves her hand dismissively toward the thing both blue-green tinted beings were staring at: the, um, *object* in the middle of the room. “Continent… content. What’s the difference. Just open it will you. Get this photo-novel done.” And I was *so* looking forward to playing Venus Flytrap, she seethes inwardly. Axis is just going to nip it in the bud because he thinks we should refocus on Red Star, blocking up reality like, well, like *Seven* never existed. Seven Across, 7th seal, whatever. Seven is gone. Five is apparently where we’re at and where we’ll stay. Square of Mars.
“I have one more mission to accomplish before we can wrap things up, open the crate. Hucka Doobie is set to go to the northeast corner of Jumboro, right beside your New Orleans Blues Little Rock club, to revisit the *Jumbo* Core related skybox that Baker Bloch got, er, blocked from several days back.”
Wheeler would have had a glimpse of hope for Seven — the lives and potential deaths of Chry State’s Thomas Main and Chry U.’s Nick Barkley, etc. — if it weren’t Hucka Doobie heading the mission, because, from what Baker Bloch told her recently, the bee person seemed to hate her now. No way is she going to produce evidence for the continuation of Venus Flytrap, pheh. Is she?
One way to find out.
(to be continued)