MCT1_Quest

Your band is ready to play! You can hear the audience applaud the act before yours... then the MC announces your band, the Howling Honkers. The audience goes WILD. "Wow," Cho says, "I didn't know we had that many fans! Listen - they're screaming!" "Errr..." Pete says. "I'm not sure that's... umm... happy screaming." The three of you look at each other uneasily. You pull on the pants of your costume and zip them up. "Well, we'd better find out, hadn't we?" you ask. "They're our fans - we have to look out for them! They'd do the same for us." "You're optimistic," Pete mutters. You walk out the door, down the corridor, and onto the stage. It's dark. The floor is suddenly slick under your feet; your right foot slips forward and the rest of you goes backwards. You land on the boards with a thump and... was that a splash? Light flashes over you and then up to the bearer's face - Cho's found a torch somewhere. She returns the beam to you, and you get a chance to see what you slipped in. It's a pool of bright red liquid. "Oh no," says Cho, sounding sick, "that's blood." What do you do? [[Run around screaming for a while]] [[Investigate further]]

Blood? Blood??? You jump to your feet, but land in another pool of blood and your feet slip from under you again. You slam into the floor on your back. Oh, that hurt... and tomorrow you'll be covered in bruises. You realise that you're covered in something right now - blood. There's blood all over your show suit. You clamber stiffly to your feet and start screaming. You scream until your throat is sore, running in small circles to avoid as much of the blood as possible. Ew ew ew ew ew!!! After a few minutes you stop, because your throat is burning with pain and you're aching and shaking all over. You look around: Cho and Pete stand in the wings, holding hands, staring at you and looking a little shell-shocked. You feel a bit silly now. That running around and screaming thing seems pretty pointless, although you certainly got rid of some of the panic. [[Investigate further]]

"We need to work out what happened," Cho says. You sigh. She's right. "Why?" asks Pete. "Why not just call the police and let them deal with... whatever this is?" Huh. Maybe he has a point. You three are just a band of musicians, after all. Why would you try to investigate something like this by yourselves? Why would you even want to know any more than you already do? You can call the police and you'll have no obligation to see any more blood... or worse, bodies. But what if some of your fans are still alive? What if some people are still alive in this very auditorium, and they die before the police and ambulance arrive? Wouldn't that be your fault? Cho mutely holds something out to you, shining the torch beam on it so that you can see it clearly. <blockquote>Howling Honkers, We've taken your fans. If you ever want to see them at a gig again, leave $5000 in the first fork of the big elm tree in the botanic gardens next door. Call the cops, and they disappear immediately. Love, The Screaming Snitchers</blockquote> What do you do? [[Call the police and ambulance]] [[Look for survivors]]

"I know this story," Pete says. "The kidnappers say don't call the cops, and then they take the ransom and you find out that they killed the hostages just after they grabbed the money, so now they have the money, you don't have your people back, and the cops are annoyed at you because you tried to deal with it yourself." You and Cho both nod reluctantly. None of you know anything about rescuing people anyway. You pull your mobile phone out of your pocket and press the power button. Nothing. You shake it... nothing. It must've broken when you fell. You groan. Cho pulls out her phone and calls 000. "No, we can't see anything," she says into the phone, "the power's been cut. Yes, we found blood, but we haven't seen any bodies yet. Yes, there might be; we thought we'd call 000 before we did anything else. We did? OK, so what now? Are you sure? We could maybe help someone... no, no sounds at all. I... I guess so. OK. OK. We'll wait. Thanks." She finishes the call, then bursts into tears. Pete awkwardly puts an arm around her shoulder, and she shakes with sobs. "They... said to stay where we are," she says. What do you do? [[Wait like the police said]] [[Look for survivors]]

"Stuff that," you say. "Those rotters have always been envious of us! We need to save our fans!" You grab the torch from Cho and shine it around the stage. There are a couple of pools of blood, but none of the dead bodies that you feared. In fact, the place feels completely deserted. You push through the curtain into the auditorium itself, and flick the beam around the rows of seats. Nothing. You walk up the very back of the room, just to make sure. As your beam flicks past a chair, something seems to flutter. You direct the light back... nothing. Hmmm. You walk over and peer down the row itself. Huddled on the floor is a shape. It could be a bundle of fabric, or it could be a small person. "Hello?" you call. "Don't be afraid. We're the Howling Honkers." The shape unfurls and stands up. "Oh, thank the stars!" it says. "I was so scared! I thought they were going to get me!" Pete clambers over the previous row and hugs the shaking person. "It's OK," he says. "But we need to find out what happened to the others. Is there anything you can tell us that might help?" "All I saw was a big, glowing circle and people disappearing," the person says, sniffling. "And... wait. There were people dressed all in white, with white balaclavas. One of them was a woman. She said something about getting back to the fjords." What do you do? [[Go to Antarctica]] [[Go to Norway]]

The three of you bunch together in the wings, as far from the blood as you can get. After a few minutes, you hear the wail of sirens approaching, getting louder and louder. Bright lights flash through the wings, illuminating bits of the floor and stage... too much red for your liking. The lights are held by paramedics in green uniforms, who grimly walk through and onto the stage... then into the auditorium itself. "Excuse me," a deep voice says. "You found the... errr... situation?" You all turn. Two men in dark blue stands waiting. Police officers! Finally! The men sit down with you, Cho, and Pete separately to record your testimonies. One of the paramedics approaches afterwards and whispers in a police officer's ear. "So," the police officer asks you all, "what did you do with the bodies?" You, Pete and Cho look at each other. "What?" you ask simultaneously. "The three of you are here. One of you is covered in blood. You're all telling the same story. No one else is here. It seems clear that whatever happened, it's your fault." Despite all your protests, the officers won't listen. An hour later, you're all at the police station, locked in separate cells, with only a bed, a toilet, and a sink. Surely soon they'll figure out that it wasn't your fault?

"Where do you find fjords?" Pete asks. "Antarctica," you say. "Fjords are in Antarctica. I remember seeing it on a documentary." "Uhhh..." says Cho. "I don't think that's -" "How on earth are we supposed to go to Antarctica?" Pete demands. "It's not like you can just hop on a plane and fly there!" You frown. "I think I have a solution," you say. "I know a magician. She might transport us there if we ask very nicely." Cho shrugs. Pete frowns. "Magik? Seriously?" he asks. "Right after we eat," you say, feeling a familiar light-headed sensation. "I think I'm having a hypo." Ten minutes later, the three of you are sitting around an orange plastic table, sharing chips and salad. You prick your finger and press the bead of blood to a test strip in your blood glucose meter. "Nailed it!" you crow. "I'm at 7.4. Let me think... I had about 20 grams of carbs then. I can get away with one unit of insulin, right?" Cho shrugs. "No idea," she says. [[Visit your magician friend]]

"Fjords!" Cho says. "Fjords are in Norway! Why would the Screaming Snitchers go to Norway?" Pete frowns in thought. "Hang on," he says, "The lead singer, Nora? She's Norwegian. We uhh... dated once. It didn't end well." "Well," Cho says, "that could explain why they don't like us, couldn't it?" "Fine, let's go!" you declare. The three of you walk out the main door of the auditorium into the dusk and climb into the band's van. "Ahh, crud," you say, struck with a thought. "I need to test my sugars and eat something." Cho and Pete nod and wait patiently while you prick your finger and press it to the test strip. The meter thinks for a second, then flashes up a number: <blockquote>2.4</blockquote> A hypo! What do you do? [[Ignore the hypo and drive to the airport]] [[Go find some food]]

You shrug. What's a hypo when the lives of dozens of your loyal fans are at stake? You open the driver's door, sit down, and start the engine. Cho and Pete jump in and put on their seatbelts. You slide the gearstick into gear, take the handbrake off, and press your foot firmly down on the accelerator. The van reverses with a roar while Pete yells beside you, grabbing at the panic strap. "What the hell?" Pete yells. You just laugh, brake, slide into drive, and accelerate again in the direction of the airport. You glance into the rearview mirror: Cho's white face stares at you, worried. Five minutes later, the three of you are making excellent time through the evening traffic. "See?" you say to Pete. "Nothing to worry about, dude." Pete raises an eyebrow and gestures at a traffic light about 100m away that's just turned orange. "No worries," you say, and stamp on the brake. At least, you try to, but you're having a weird problem: your legs don't work properly. Your right leg just flails and hits the accelerator pedal, pushing it down. Your van rockets through the intersection, just in time for a truck on the right to smash into its side. The three of you - Cho, Pete and you - float in a grey cloud. You can see through Cho and Pete. You look down. You're see-through too! "I think we're dead," Cho says, dreamily. "You know what?" Pete says to you. "You're an idiot. You really are."

"I need to grab some food," you say to Cho and Pete. "Can someone drive to a 7-11 or something? I'm out of lollies." Cho nods and grabs the keys. You slide into the passenger seat and Pete gets in the back, everyone putting on seatbelts before Cho will start to drive. She takes the van a couple of blocks to a convenience store and parks out the front. "What do you want?" she asks you. "Just stay there and relax." "Starbursts!" you say, grinning. "And a packet of nachos corn chips." "Diabetics," she says with a smile, rolling her eyes. In a couple of minutes, she's back with a packet of corn chips and a bag of lollies. You eat a few lollies, then relax and watch the city go by as Cho drives to the airport. The three of you leave the van in a short-term car park, hoping that this rescue mission won't take too long. You walk into the international terminal and explain to a customer service person what you need. "You're in luck," she says. "You're all Australian citizens? You don't need a visa. And there's a plane leaving for Oslo in two hours." Three hours later (because what's an international trip without a few delays?), you're seated between Pete and Cho, listening to a safety lecture as the plane taxies down the strip. [[Disembark in Oslo]]

"Now what?" asks Pete. "Norway's kinda small compared to Australia, but it's pretty big when you're looking for just a few people." "Not really," says Cho, waving a hand. "Think about it: they had a big group of people and a hole in the sky. All we have to do is look for unseasonal reports of the northern lights in weird places." You stare at Cho. You had no idea she was so smart as well as an awesome bass player.

You knock on the door of a white, wooden house in the middle of suburbia. "This does not look like a witch's house," Cho says. "It's not!" you say, laughing. "She's a magician, not a witch." "There's a difference?" Pete asks. "Sure," you say. "I don't know what it is, but Bella keeps insisting that there is." Pete sniffs. The door opens, and Bella stands in the doorway, leaning forward to hug you. "It's been too long!" she says, smiling. "Why on earth do you need to go to Antarctica?" "Secret band business," you say, grimacing. She shrugs. "Well, it's an easy enough spell to do, so I won't ask too many questions. I owe you enough favours, after all." She draws the three of you into a chalk circle. "Hold hands, and don't move," she cautions, then starts to chant. "Is that... JavaScript code?" Pete whispers, squashing your left hand. "No idea," you whisper back. Then no one can talk any more, as a swirl of colour appears all around you and obscures the room. A deep chill falls over your group. "Oh. My. Goodness," Cho says, teeth chattering. "It's so cold!" You look around. All you can see is an impression of 'white' and blinding light. You close your eyes. "Why is it so bright?" you ask. "Sun on the snow and ice," Cho answers. "You know... it didn't sound like that group had survival gear with them." "So they ported to a supply camp," Pete answers her. "What's so unlikely about that?" "Well... their hostages would die pretty fast. What if we demanded to speak with one before we paid up?" "Crud," says Pete. "Norway. Norway has fjords. The lead singer of the Screaming Snitches is from Oslo." You turn and stare at him incredulously, then wince as the bright light hurts your eyes. "Why couldn't you remember that earlier?" you ask. "Why couldn't you answer correctly?" he retorts. You sigh. The three of you sit down and shiver. "We should be moving," Cho says. "We'll freeze if we stay here." "In a bit," Pete says, and Cho nods dreamily. You seem to be getting used to the cold. You're actually feeling warmer now. You drift off to sleep, determined to start looking for help as soon as you've had a nap. The three of you wake up in a grey, nebulous place. Pete and Cho are see-through. You look down and realise that you're in a similar state. "Are we..." you ask. "Dead?" finishes Pete. "We sure are. Oh well, we tried, right?"