There are two cutscenes below. One just after the mini-boss fight. The next after that.
The creature lay in the wreckage of its own body, finally still. For several moments, the only sound was the slow settling of debris, the occasional crackle of dying circuitry, and the ragged breathing of the woman who had brought it down.
Then, somewhere beneath the twisted plates of shattered bone, faint movement.
“Wait.”
Its voice contained none of its former strength, distorted and thin. Sarah turned, raising her weapon again.
“Don’t,” it rasped. “Please. I don’t think I have enough left to make another attempt.”
She aimed her gun at its head to finish the job, but then hesitated upon seeing its face. She lowered her weapon by a fraction, but did not approach. The creature looked up at her. Its eyes dimmed to a dull amber.
“I regret this.”
She frowned. “What?”
The creature did not directly answer. “Johnny,” it said weakly. “Johnny Gigachad.”
“You know something,” Sarah eagerly replied.
“Through this portal,” it rasped, “you’ll find an elevator. Head to the one hundredth and thirteenth floor. That’s where they keep the holding pens.”
Sarah gasped with joy. “Thank you.”
“Forgive me,” the creature said. “I had not the strength to believe in your vision. I could not see the death of ZOG. I have failed you.”
“You fought bravely. You kept your honour.”
“Leave. It is over. The world of White men shall fall. All will come to darkness. Rome will lay in ruin.”
“I do not know what strength is in my blood, but I swear to you I will not let our people fail.”
“Our people… I would have followed you… my sister, my captain… my queen.”
With that it died, its tongue lolling out of its head, eyes dimming.
“Be at peace, Xir of Rome,” Sarah said, kissing the top of its head, and she cradled it until it was cold.
(Next cutscene below)
NOTE:
Before we move on to the next cutscene, I want to share a few images ReCraft spit out for me. I gave it the following prompt, and let it cook.
Make a parody of the scene where Boromir dies in the lord of the rings. Only, instead of Boromir, it’s a weird mutant creature with the private parts of both a girl and a boy.Also, “Aragorn” stands above the creature, only he’s a girl with enormous tits.
I was distinctly unprepared for the quality of its output.
The one below is my favourite, because it is so outrageously stupid in that specific way that only only the Electronic Idiot could be.
I can’t perfectly articulate why these are so unintentionally funny to me, but I’m here for it.
I question the training set required to produce such things…
At least it’s not whining about generating a woman with big bazonkers though. Apparently all that was needed was full frontal hermaphrodite nudity.
Another portal, another trip through the guts of the building. Maintenance rooms, security stations, janitorial closets. Where similar areas had been previously been overstaffed they were now empty.
But she’d found what she was looking for. An elevator bearing the markings the FBI agent had told her about. Assuming he wasn’t lying, she had to go to the one hundred and thirteenth floor, where the holding pens would be found.
She got in, and keyed up the right floor. She watched the elevator car indicator steadily tick down. 88, 89, 90. A voice crackled over the intercom.
“ATTENTION ALL PERSONNEL. DUE TO AN UNEXPECTED CONTAINMENT FAILURE, ALL FLOOR ASSIGNMENTS ARE TEMPORARILY SUSPENDED.”
98, 99, 100, 101.
“PLEASE REMAIN CALM. ALL DEPARTMENTS ARE OPERATING WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS.”
The elevator abruptly stopped and the lights went out. Stuck, trapped, and in the dark, before Sarah could truly start panicking she was inundated with weak, red, emergency lighting. She waited a brief while, but the elevator did not continue moving.
“No matter,” she thought. She had a crowbar after all. The door should be no match.
Sure enough, after a bit of jigging she’d pried it open, in time to look upon a battlefield.
Far from the empty, liminal spaces she had come from this place was a crowded, chaotic mess. A group of Reddit powermods were arguing with a squad of SWAT officers while a social media influencer chased an undead banker around a fountain.
An IDF sniper occupied a balcony above them, shouting vague threats in Hebrew. A group of cabalists had erected a ritualistic summoning circle in the middle of the courtyard, but it kept being interrupted by random people bumping into them. Several activists in black clothing were arguing with a military contractor about the finer points of US Imperialism.
Overhead, a teleportation portal flickered between three different destinations, every few seconds disgorging another group of enemies.
A squad of police appeared. Then a group of robed cultists. Then six FBI agents in business suits, who seemed just as shocked as everyone else.
Then, inexplicably, a dozen more police. One of the officers looked around in confusion.
“Where are we?”
A cabalist pointed at him.
“Someplace you’re not supposed to be, Goy. This floor was promised to us 3,000 years ago. Begone.”
The officer pointed towards the paint on the ground.
“Any modifications to the building require authorized approval. I’m guess you don’t have a permit for that.”
The cabalist hesitated, outraged. The officer nodded to his colleagues.
“Looks like an unauthorized gathering.”
“Are you seriously going to bureaucrat gang us you filthy pigs? You’re supposed to be working for us, not against us.”
Sarah watched with glee as the two groups came to blows. Despite the rightoid maxim of “the enemy of my enemy is my enemy,” it seemed pretty sweet that they were all about to fight each other.
She picked up a discarded MAGA hat and kept her head down as she scurried across the courtyard to the far wall, which had many open portals.
Behind her, the compound descended into an even more spectacular state of anarchy. The teleportation network had lost its destination registry, and the security system was now assigning enemies to floors according to a randomized algorithm created by an H1B contractor to test the facility’s fire alarms.
Unbeknownst to Sarah this floor was one of the least chaotic. Elsewhere a team of antifas went through a portal, only to come out in a toxic wasteland where the air is acid, and watch their skin melt off their skeletons. On another floor a body positive activist came through a portal that was misaligned ten feet above the floor. She landed on a squad of cops, crushing them all instantly while breaking every bone in her body. Meanwhile, an entire platoon of militarized SWAT officers materialized in the holding pens for various Eldritch horrors, and lost a brief, desperate, gory fight.
A bisexual orgy of FBI agents and fitness influencers saw a portal open up on the floor beneath them, pristinely cutting through those unfortunate enough to be on the edge. They emerged, naked, sweaty, and afraid, from the top of a room that contained nothing but a floor of pure lava, underneath which lay Yahweh, the volcano demon.
Synchonously, a gaggle of (P)Redditor Super Mods waltzed happily through a portal, only to emerge on a shooting range being used as target practice by IDF snipers. In this case, the snipers figured out pretty quickly that they were firing on their online footsoldiers, but they were having a really good time doing what they love best, shooting unarmed civilians and harming their own allies, so they pretended to be oblivious.
Even the cabalists weren’t safe from the destruction. Some were fed to Cthulu. Some were shot by the IDF snipers. Others were simply transported to the wrong locations. The same was true for their summoned materials. It was a total mess, which would undoubtedly delay their final summoning ritual for Rabbi Schneerson.
It was a glorious, wonderful scene. But all good things must come to an end. One particularly annoying Reddit system toady noticed her, and in an effort to curry favour, eagerly pointed her out to nearby cabalists. The news spread like wildfire. Soon, the infighting stopped entirely.
The cabalists lowered their staffs. The SWAT officers turned toward the hangar. The powermods closed their laptops. The body positive activists put down their deep fried oreos. The antifas stopped throwing urine bottles at the police, who in turn stopped kneeling for them. Even the IDF snipers stopped murdering people for shits and gigs.
At once they began arguing again, but this time over how best to get her. In a chaotic, disorganized mass they began moving towards Sarah.
She had no chance against a crowd this big, and little time to think. No choice then, but to jump through the nearest portal and hope for the best. She hoped they’d remain too disorganized to all rush in behind her. Either way, she’d have to keep on her toes. She’d be dealing with an eclectic, yet tastefully tuned mix of enemy types from here on out.
Her dreams of a quick jailbreak had been stolen from her, and she wasn’t sure what the plan was now, but she’d cross that bridge when she got there. If she had to win a war of attrition against the Island, so be it.
With a leap and a roll she was through. Greeted only with silence she unholstered her weapon. But soon she saw the familiar sight of the teleporation pads warming up.
