In which they kick themselves upstairs.
Chris: Wow! You’re already training to take down the corrupt spy administration!
Vanessa: So you’re saying this isn’t a salon hair dryer.
Jizelle: Bone jewel, moan sir!
Vanessa: Back at you, sister.
Vanessa: SO I GUESS I SHOULD’VE DRIED MY HAIR HUH
Yeah, sure, let’s start over.
Vanessa: I’m feeling kinda stretched-out.
Chris: Must be pregnant.
…if we ignore it, it’ll go away.
Jizelle: Juzt like BREGNANZY
Theresa: Nancy who?
Theresa: I prefer to think of myself as a female James Bond.
Don’t look now, but M followed you home.
Theresa: More like MONEY followed me home!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Hey babes, I was spiralling out of control in the neighbourhood and I thought I’d land in the most awkward place possible.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Besides, you know, inside of one of you.
Brandi: You wanna shoot him, or should I?
Brandi: Oh! Tell him he’s fired, too.
Theresa: Yes. I want to do both of those things.
Brandi: I’ll tell him to tell you you’re fired.
Brandi: You’re all fired.
Brandi: And I’m keeping all the mints in the departmental mint bowl.
Theresa: Come inside so I can see if that’s an “I’m just kidding” face you’re making.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: You can’t FIRE us!
Brandi: I think I’m gonna take back those outfits, too. That’s real leather!
Theresa: Alternatively, we could leave you dead in a gutter.
Brandi: No, I think I’ll go with my original idea.
Brandi: Sorry, dude. Corporate restructuring.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: The SCIA isn’t a CORPORATION!
Brandi: That’s why we’re restructuring.
Theresa: Who’s gonna do all the spy stuff? You? You’re a soulless automaton.
Brandi: Yes, I expect to be particularly good at the shooting parts of the job.
Brandi: ‘k, well… bye!
Theresa: This is where I live.
Brandi: Well, bye!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I think you guys have too many dirty butlers.
Theresa: I forgot how refreshing complete ignorance is.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I love me some ethnics.
Theresa: Yeah, never mind, I’m better off without him.
Cory: Did I miss an invite to a spy convention, or something?
Theresa: If these are spies, they’re not doing a great job blending in.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: GET ‘ER, BOY!
Bailey: .oO(Don’t call me BOY, you RACIST!)
Theresa: You need to let go of your anger.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: My anger is a CLIFF, though.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: And below the cliff is a big ol’ lake full of crying like a baby.
And then they exploded.
Theresa: Did you grope me in mid-teleport?
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Did you PICKPOCKET me in mid-teleport?
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Yes.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: You know how the song goes. “First comes hug, then comes gropage.”
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: THEN COMES YOUR BITCH WIFE WHO’S A BIG BAG OF NOPEAGE
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: So how are yoooou?
Theresa: Oh, you know. Stab wound’s healing.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: You’re not the only person who’s ever gotten forked at a wedding, you know.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I thought it was funny.
Theresa: It’s getting kinda chilly up here.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I think that’s just your attitude.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I’m calling you an ice queen.
Theresa: You do know that monarchs have the power to kill and let live, right?
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I think you’re messing that up. It’s live and let die.
♪ *percussive explosions and Paul McCartney* ♪
Jizelle: Ztop ‘tumping arount up dair!
♪ What does it matter to ya ♪
Chris: Is he still alive?
Chris: Paul McCartney.
Chris: How come?
Theresa: Do you think we should reconcile?
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I’ll do some research on it.
Theresa: Maybe we should wait for a sign?
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: That’s very unscientific of you.
Theresa: …I’m glad you feel that way.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: What’s this?
Theresa: A future plot device
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: OH MY GOD I LOVE DEVICES!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: This will reflect well on you in my report.
My first cat’s name was Corie.
He slept in my bed a lot.
I didn’t know what to do with that story, so, like all my stories, I’m passing it on to you.
Theresa: Who are you writing a report for?
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: The SCIA.
Theresa: The SCIA just FIRED you!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Oh, wow, SOMEBODY doesn’t have much COMPANY LOYALTY…
Theresa: Alvin… I think the SCIA is actually ENTROPY.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Oh, and your new secret spy group is-
Theresa: ALSO ACTUALLY ENTROPY.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: …I honestly didn’t expect that.
Theresa: Yeah, well, you haven’t been looking at which paycheques come from what bank accounts.
Theresa: We need to stick together on this. I think the bad guys are planning something big.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Like… storyline big, or…?
Theresa: Storyline ending big.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I wouldn’t worry about that. Pretty sure we’re pivoting to magic shit for the foreseeable future.
Theresa: That storyline doesn’t involve us at all!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Yes, I have high hopes for still being alive in Chapter 600.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Sorry, Chapter SIX HUNDRED!
Formatting is important.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I am really sorry about how our wedding went.
Theresa: Don’t be! Michael fucks much better than you do.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: …why you gotta-
Theresa: On a roof, too!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: No foolin’?
Theresa: SO MUCH foolin’!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: You and me, babe. We’re makin’ it to the end.
Theresa: Or we’re makin’ the end early.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: Right! Causing the apocalypse sounds like one hell of an experiment!
And then they exploded again.
Theresa: That would explain all this dust…
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: THAT is called SNOW.
Theresa: YOU are an IDIOT.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: No, really, it’s called-
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: It’s cmmmmmph.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: You love my idiocy.
Theresa: It’s my least favourite thing about me.
Theresa: I hate what I love.
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: I love who I hate!
Alvin Woodrow the Warlock: And then she exploded.
Vanessa: And then the chapter ended.
Theresa: It certainly feels like a chapter ending.
Chris: Or a new beginning!
Cory: I hate those.
Jizelle: Az long az I don’t ‘aff to get drezzed vor eet.
Getting undressed is the traditional way to start storylines in this neighbourhood.
Oh, so we’re just ending on exploitation, today?
That’s cool, that’s cool.
Past Grugly: It’s fine, I’ll stop updating the journal before we get to these pics.
Cory: We’re living beyond the end!
Chris: That doesn’t sound like us.
Next time: Shiloh the Teenage Witch.
This chapter depicts gameplay from 21 February 2013.