General Crisis Fluxfax, commander of the army forces in the operation to quarantine Daisingdale, furrows his leathery brow much as a stout ox would score a rain-starved dustbowl field with a rusty plough.
He remembers The War – not fondly, but at least they were over there and not on American soil. Not to mention that the enemy was easier to deal with than this infernal double amnesia virus.
Intel is seriously lacking about how the breakout had occurred. All they really know, Crisis thinks, is that no poor schmuck within the radius of the quarantine has any idea what’s going on… or even of who they are.
The general’s trusty assistant, Corporal Telemachus Tsang, enters in a hurry.
Telemachus: “I’ve got good news and bad news General.”
Crisis: “I’m in no mood for either Telemachus… Give me the good news first.”
Telemachus: “We managed to track down the world’s leading expert on double amnesia… He’s the best of the best, and probably the only person who could stop the bastard virus in it’s tracks. But…”
Crisis: “Let me guess… he lives in Daisingdale.”
Telemachus: “Yes… His name is Gnarlhawk Sinclair… but how did you know sir?”
Crisis: “Fate and I go a long way back Telemachus… So Dr. Sinclair, where in the blazes of blue hell are you?”