Welcome
W̵̞͖̜̫̥̉̓͠e̷̡̢̮̥̮͓̼̯̻̹̋͑̓͋͆̌̽͂͘͜l̵̰̳̳̱͍̅̔̈̍̔̾͑̑͛̉̚ͅç̴̨̻̳̜̯̝͖͚͕̠̋̂́̂o̵͙͙͇̰͌̀̀m̸̡̨̦̮̣̘͉͍̫̭̻͓̩̘͒̔ë̶̯̆͐̓̄͘͘̕̕͝ aboard Lady Justice, weary explorer v2.0.0!Sometimes it feels a bit overwhe(*$#lming when you're all alone out there in sp#4ace, does#$#n't it?
Well, it's a go#$od thing you've arrived here, then. Our ba&&%$r is a s(#3mall refuge for t#$he lonely and lost; a home aw#$(ay from home, your #($*amongst the stars.
̶͎̤̞̯͎̰̞̳̭͍͎͑̿̐̇͘W̶̨͚̳̤̦̉̒e̶̡͓͇͗͆͑̈́̍̑ ̵͉͖̠̯͓̹̤͔̻̙̦̦̫̣͊h̴̡̲̲͓̻̣̱̥̠̞̝͕̣̓̿̉̒͂̄͜o̶͔̪̺̜̤͍͚͌̿͂̓̂p̶͚̥̭̂̊̿̃̊̐̈̽̄̃̄͒̈́̕ȅ̷̡͎̫̹̇̃͐̾̒̓̒͗̂͆̏͝ ̸̡̧̝̪̩̞̣͕̥̻̪̜̫͆̏̕͜y̵̨̨̛̦͎̜̜̜̭̼͕̬̼͚̅̅̈͛̊o̸̲̻̘̭̜̳͓̼̪̫͖̘̼͗̈́͒̽̅̆͌̈́͘͝ǔ̶̯̰͈̥͎̣̝͈̥̜͇̂͂́̃͋͐̈́ ̵̧̧͍̰̫̯̋̍͂̉̄͌̌̄̃̓͝ȩ̴̥̤̱͎̬̱͖̼̟̈́̓͜ͅn̸̨͖̼̲̹̟̯̼̿̈́͋̕̕j̶̻̯͇͔̼̬́ǒ̸̥̜̦́̑̑̾̈́͆͗̚y̶̛͖̠̼͓̙̮̍̎̈̒͛̚ ̵̢̢̠̘̰̞̪̫̮̲̉̍͛̇̂̂͆̋̈́͝͝͝y̷̨̢̠̤̦̫̫͖̫̹͎͖̜͂ö̴̡̨̝͎͖͎̙͉̫̰̰̹́̿͛̓͛̄͐͋̇̈̂͒͜͠͠u̴̺̼̜̘̝̮̯͑r̵̥̣̟̠̦͈͎̼̺̝̅͗̈́̃͂ ̵̯̫͓͇̇͛͆̋͆̐̂͋̓̈́̈́̈́͜ş̴̫͚̙̫͈͕̆̉̕̚ẗ̶͖̞̮̝̰́̌̐̆̓͑͂̿͜͝ã̶͓͐̒̃ȳ̸͈̳̙̯̦̙!̴̲̦̲͇̦͈̠̥̞͚͍̲̽̽
You swear you've had this dream before...You recall two friendly explorers, inviting you aboard their spaceship, at the end of the universe.There was a bar somewhere , wasn't there...?
What You Ails?
The bar is empty, quiet. On the benchtop is an ashtray, filled to the brim. Beside it, a book titled, "Presence."You recall the chef wandering off to find you a new menu...The shelves are well-stocked with liqour; not ransacked by opportunistic scavengers.You run your fingers along the countertop; there's not a single speck of dust. The bar seems well-maintained and cleaned.A neon sign on the wall faintly flickers above. The sign reads, "What You Ails?"...quite an unusual name for a bar.You do recall from your last visit that one of the Captains mentioned his husband was renovating the ship. But was that sign always like that?Surely the Captains are nearby...
Perhaps they're asleep in the Captain's Quarters?
The door is locked, not a sound within. Or anywhere.Something doesn't feel right.
Everything is too still.Your stomach drops.You know this feeling.
There's a fresh trail of blood and oil, the wet path crawling along the length of the corridor, leading towards the flight deck.
The blood seeps under the door of the flight deck, the sickening sound of squelching as you slowly make you slowly creep towards the door.You could turn back now, if you wanted to...
Lightning crackles, the vibrations rattling the windows of your room, waking you from your slumber.A bad dream...You want to go back to sleep, but your bedroom smells heavily of oil and necrosis...You step out of your bedroom, stepping into the corridor, in search of light...
You see a well-worn leather jacket draped over the back of the seat. It is missing a sleeve.The red glow of the terminal in front of you entices you...The screen beckons towards you...
