Now we're here at this "top secret" training facility. Brandon's not though, he's missing in action. Typical. And Davis the half-insane, I hesitate to say lest I unwittingly become a part of his elaborate fantasy, "time-traveler" is out looking for him, either that or we're meant to be, I don't know, the instructions we were left with were kind of vague. My brothers in arms are the three-quarters insane zombie guy, who speaks only in grunts and groans and may one day murder us in our sleep, and to round things out we've got the completely-out-of-his-mind-bonkers, Erhard, who is obsessed with dressing in hot colours and suffers from a personality delusion were he believes himself to be the pied piper of Hamlyn. I guess Napoleon and God were already taken. All that and he's really, really annoying.
I don't know how Davis managed to spirit us away to this place, but I can't wait to get out. He says that the eighties are coming for us. I don't know what that means, but he left a note on a white board on his way out: START TRAINING NOW! I'LL BE BACK. He also assured us at one point that space is unevenly distributed here, and that time functions slower than normal so we might just be able to pull this (whatever this is) off. Everyday we sit around and do nothing. Somehow, I don't think this is what he had in mind. This is crazy. We're here expected to go through an eighties style training montage, to prepare to stop the oncoming eighties onslaught, I find that ironic (in the Alanis Morisette way and not the real way). Where's our Mr. Miyagi? Where's Brandon? I want to go home. --what Melanie would have written in her diary if she'd brought it along.