Despite my better judgment, I return to Socrates for my reward and for another job.
So... our creepy 1984-style big-brother cybermind just saw an explosion that mutated a bunch of scientists. He has no idea what caused it or why, or if it mutation is contagious, but he's got the antidote worked out and he wants me to go over there and whip up a batch of the stuff for the eggheads. Well, it's rotten nonsense, but I have to say it's a lot less crazy and shame-inducing than fighting Foxbat. (Of course, the same could be said of using baby seals as a melee weapon to beat up crippled orphans on Christmas Eve.)
I arrive at the scene of the disaster to have a look at the damage.
There are the refrigerator-sized containers strewn around the parking lot amongst the burning cars, mutated scientists, and terrorist soldiers. The containers ostensibly contain the resources I need. The terrorists contain a deep hatred for the establishment. The cars contain fire.
The scientists do not look well:
They're green, confused, and horribly deformed. On the upside they've stopped practicing science for a few hours, which is probably really good for the rest of the city.
Let's see. I've got the shopping list Socrates handed to me right here...
5 Acetylated Gemmulites.
5 Synthetic Chomatin
5 Unstable Ribonucleic Nucleotides
I land next to a container and perform the now familiar process of converting terrorist heads into knuckle-dented balls of mush. Once complete, I rip open the container and find it contains exactly one (1) Synthetic Chomatin. I guess the rest is just full of bubble wrap and Styrofoam peanuts?
Should I be handling this stuff? Shouldn't I be using gloves or tongs or something?
Remember terrorists: I'm not happy until you're not happy.
I take a look around at the sea of crates and murderous terrorists. As far as I can tell, their plans seem to be:
1) Find the site of a recent biological disaster and guard any crates they find in parking lot.
2) That's pretty much it.
I need 15 total science chemical thingies. Each crate contains exactly one. Each crate is guarded by 3 terrorists.
15 chemical things x 3 terrorists = 45 letters the terrorist commander is going to need to write to new terrorist widows.
Once I've secured the ingredients, I head for the apparatus. Apparently the machine to make the mutation-curing serum is sitting in the front lawn instead of being inside and plugged in to something. A few seconds later I have a vial full of some sort of mutant-b-gone. Also note: The science center is still on fire. Someone should do something about that.