Canon Fodder stepped into its personal workshop. Large whirring science machines stood on the floor like evil blinking monoliths. Cabinets filled with old projects and filthy tools lined the walls. Sconces lit the room with warm ominous light. The walls were bare of decorations except for the ample amount of warning and inspirational posters. Gizmos and widgets littered filthy tables.

Canon Fodder did not wander in here often. Although it was made to be Canon's personal haven, its instincts almost never pulled this location into the forefront of its mind until a leader had instructed it to do so.

Canon Fodder scritched its russet-furred head with its chitinous hand and began untangling the unkempt fur. It reached for a bucket filled slightly dirty and greasy water and began cleaning up its rust-colored exoskeleton.

Canon Fodder homed on an almost finished device. It was a handheld device with a large dial on the front side and a springy antenna protruded from its top.

Canon Fodder twisted the dial. A feeling emanated on the air, an energy suffused the atmosphere, grabbing it and holding-- hey is my voice getting fainter? Wait! That's a-- Hyperwave interception device activated. Status: nominal. All parameters within acceptable range. Hyperwave disturbances muted. Environment now suitable for hyperwave-sensitive tests.

You are Canon Fodder. You are in the garage. You are currently not assigned to any task. No time-sensitive goals set. What do?

>Look around? Affirmative.

As previously mentioned, you are in the garage. Unfinished machines and handheld tools are stored in here. You create devices primarily for your personal use here. Devices you create for Prometheus are stored and created in another laboratory.

Servers and environment regulators line the walls. Indicators blink and flash; their colors a multitude of green, cyan, blue, and red. Your tools are placed on shelves. They might need to be cleaned. Flourescent bulbs are socketed into sconces, bringing white light into the room.

There is a cot in a corner. It is where you sleep. There is a desk with drawers. It is where you store your personal items. There are some posters on the walls.

>Check drawer? Affirmative.

You pull the drawer open. Inside is a collection of read letters and open envelopes. There is one unread letter.

You open it.

Inside is a handwritten message written on scented paper. It reads:

Dear Canon Fodder,

G'day, my good queen. I've got to tell you of this man who just got into town. He's rad and manly, I tell you. It tickles my girlish senses (don't tell anyone). Anyway, you probably have already heard of him by the time you read this (seriously, you need more free time). You have very skillful hands capable of making things that should have been impossible, but then again, you're a Tinker; it's in your blood.

I know I'm not privy to whatever plan Prometheus cooks up in his conference room, but I'm pretty sure this guy is the guy in the prophecy. I mean, it's in his name: Hero's Prophecy.

When every pint of the Devourer's strength has been siphoned, a hero, wielding a bronze blade shall arise and eliminate the Devourer from the face of the Imaginarium once and for all.

I probably paraphrased that a bit, but it checks out. He has the sword and the skill.

By the way, how are you? Hopefully fine. I'm also fine. Take care, my queen. You have a problem with obeying anyone with even just a smidge of authority. I hope you take care of yourself. I issue thee this command: Read the posters on the walls of the garage.

Love,

Buddy Fable

Evaluation: informal friendly letter. Purpose: information and command. Recognized command: Read the posters.

>Perform command? Affirmative.

You turn your eyes to posters on the walls. They are simple posters with written commands. They read:

You are given permission to do something with your own volition.

You command yourself.

Make something for yourself.

Commands received.

*Tinkle.*

Disturbance detected. Intruder protocols engaged. Locating source.

"Uh... Hi," the source says.

Source apprehended. Source is a small lithoform, a geode. It is a mineral lifeform with a brown rock exterior and violet crystalline interior. It possesses no dangerous natural weaponry; rock teeth are potentially dangerous, but too dull to cause serious damage. Pipe wrench equipped in case of altercation but is to be avoided due to high risk of damage to fragile instruments. What do?

"Uh... Whatcha doing?" It says.

Inquiry received. "I am on break, recreation," you answer.

"What's that?" It says, pointing to the device on the table you previously dialed.

"That is a hyperwave smoother."

"What does that do?"

"It clears hyperwave disturbances within a hundred meter radius. Hyperwave disturbances can have adverse effects on the metaphysics of the surroundings," you explain.

"I see...," it says, most likely rhetorically. "And that means... in layman's terms?"

"It means that it literally silences otherworldly presences, effectively controlling scrying and divination targeted inside its area of effect. It also prevents an observer from influencing the [CENSORED] through description," you simplify.

"Scrying and divination?" It says with a tinge of curiosity.

"Mystical foresight, hindsight, farsight, and insight."

"Ah..." It still appears to not understand, but does not dwell on it. "What are [CENSORED]?"

This is a sensitive topic; you usually have to tread carefully. Thankfully, the realm-wide verbal censor has been actively censoring restricted terms since its construction, so you may freely disclose the information.

"The [CENSORED] are hyper-universal entities that monitor lesser universes such as the Imaginarium through windows. They usually belong to the species [CENSORED], and usually have [CENSORED] as a first or learned language."

"[CENSORED]? Never heard of it," it says. Interpretation: request for further details.

"[CENSORED] and is the lingua franca of the [CENSORED]. [CENSORED]," you elaborate.

"Thank you, but I don't think I understood any of that. I'll be... going now," it says. It drops to the floor and ambles towards the exit.

Wait. This creature is an intruder. Protocols dictate that intruders should not be made free to roam and should be captured.

You procure the portable garage controller, and with it, you remotely close the door. The intruder stops, and appears to be fearful. It runs to the door where it is cornered. You loom above it, looking down at it.

"Please don't hurt me," it says. "I'm not tasty."

"You are an intruder, I realize," you reply. "You should not be here. You should be in the dungeon."

"It's not my fault the spaces between the bars are so wide," it says.

You pause, before replying, "Your admission of non-guilt is noted, but not useful." You grab the intruder by its neck with your lower left hand.

You grab a telecommunications device and contact Master Prometheus. Your Master answers.

"Master Prometheus, I have caught an intruder in the garage," you report.

"Really?" Master Prometheus replies. Interpretation: request for further details.

"It is a lithoform with a brown shell and violet crystalline insides," you explain.

"Amethyst is a prisoner of the castle. Lock her up in any vacant guest room in the dungeon."

Command received.

"Yes, Master Prometheus," you confirm.

"Oh, and make sure she doesn't escape and make her as comfortable as possible," Master Prometheus adds.

Master Prometheus hangs up. You motion toward completing his command. But first, you deactivate the hyperwave smoother.

--ttle two, little-- oh wait, we're back! Yep my voice is now back in business; darned muter.