Dr. Henshin shot them out of a cannon.

Yeah, let's just get that out there in the open, right out of the gate. They came back a couple days later, Dr. Henshin took them through an underground and underwater tunnel, out into the harbor to some strange, floating platform, loaded them all into mysterious little windowed capsules, and proceeded to shoot them out of a giant railgun that accelerated the passengers with nearly organ-mashing force, propelled them literally outside of the atmosphere, and brought them back down on the other side of the planet.

He said this was cheaper than buying a jet.

He later corrected himself and admitted it wasn't cheaper, but it was a lot more interesting. He never told them what it was, though, and left it to them to figure it out after they had been fired across the globe.

Too bad the parachutes needed a little work.

It was with car-crash force that the group found themselves smashing down into a white, wintry wonderland as living crash test dummies. It'd be hard to tell where they even were at first, beyond the fact that there was snow everywhere, and more snow coming down from the sky. There was a pleasantly timed snowstorm, in fact. Furthermore, while most everyone hit a plush, cottony snowbank, not every member of the team was so fortunate.

One more thing to get out in the open: If something bad is going to happen to anyone by Dr. Henshin's fault, it's going to be Mako.

In fact, it just had to be Mako's capsule that bounced on impact, rolled uphill about half a kilometer, teetered at the edge of a cliff (with the window pointed straight down the drop), only to rock back and come rolling right back down the hill the way it came, past everyone else at high speed—probably right about when the rest of the crew would be steadying their spinning heads and stomachs and beginning to climb out of their terrorizing rides.

The hefty little capsule was going about 60MPH, too. Figuring out how to stop it could prove as interesting as the mystery. Or just wantonly painful, proving that fate hates Mako.


searchindextag
chapter3asearch

If they listened closely, there was a faint, consistent screaming from inside the runaway pod.

Apparently, the travel pods were virtually soundproofed*, too!

*And air-tight and stain-resistant, with a bonus two-year warranty if you call now

Slowly, oh so slowly, pulled back by the tortoise's bulk, the capsule skidded and slowed down. The rope began to fray, the strands unable to withstand the unbelievable strain of both Tank and the pod in either direction. After a moment, however, it seemed to pay off-- the shark container skidded to a gradual stop, digging into the snow and ice. The top (or, what would normally have been the side door) opened up, and out tumbled a very, very unhappy looking shark, who proceeded to belly-flop into the snow, his head still spinning something awful. He seemed to be muttering something through gritted teeth: "I hate the world and the feeling is mutual, I hate the world and the feeling is mutual, I hate the world and the feeling is mutual..."

One eye, though both were very, very wide, was twitching repeatedly. His jaw was clenched. His fingers dug into the snow below him, and it seemed that the bangs-like fins on his head were standing up rigid. After a few more repetitions of his little mantra, he remarked, slowly, as his jaw unclenched:
"I don't know how we're going to get back, but if that crazy old moth has anything to do with it, I'll just swim, thanks."

The delights of the snowy wilderness--cold, and wet, and windy, and... cold. With some more cold. Their little pod race had taken them quickly down out of the mountains to lower altitudes where powder-dusted pines and barren, leafless oaks flecked the rolling hillsides. Snow sprinkled down only lightly here, and the blanket their feet crunched into was not as thick as where they started out. Nonetheless, it was frigid and cloudy, and would likely drive their desire to find shelter.

Fortunately, there seemed to be some sign of life not too far away--Just farther down the hill, through the haze of snowfall, there were some very thin pillars of smoke, as if from fireplaces, or ovens, or something similar. Searching for their source, the group would soon find that a seaside town was not far.

It was a small, quaint village. Tall, skinny homes and businesses with steep roofs lined cobblestone streets (which seemed to have been kept clean of snow), dotting a slope that led up to a majestic little peak rising out over the ocean, crested by an equally quaint manor. A car, boxy, foreign, and a little ugly looking, could be seen puttering its way out of town, but otherwise, there didn't seem to be much traffic.

If one watched where the car drove to, though, they could also make out another locale, not much farther away at all: a much larger city. It wasn't like Grand Metropolis or Spring City or anything else they may have been used to in any way. The buildings were all much shorter and more drab, with architecture that was less about mirrored glass and concrete, and more about arches, pillars, and points, stately gothic and old-worldly. And, though it wasn't directly on the ocean, it still seemed to be a big port town, with a huge river running right up its center, and many ships bobbing in the water--most all conspicuously docked.

It would seem they had at least a couple options in deciding where to begin their investigation--or, rather, begin their survival. The investigation could probably wait until they had some of their basic needs met. For once, they were in a place where the Doc couldn't deliver his incessant instructions and advice, so they could take things at their own pace.