Still no luck. At least she would still have Ares when she got back. Plus, who knew how much time Ethan had left before Machina got impatient with them.

His eyes, solemn and sad, met Lise's, before he turned away and beckoned them to follow.

Lise sighed softly, then began following the leader.

After a whole other two minutes of trying, she reluctantly follows.

They walked for hours, and gradually, the tunnels turned into natural caverns, dripping with water and stalactites. The pack rats loaned them flashlights. The floor was littered with strange items, a fender here, a toy robot there. It seemed they were heading deep into the pack rats' nest, for the farther they went, the more junk lay strewn about.

Lise took the flashlight, shining over anything and everything they came across.

She follows quietly. She doesnt say anything.

At last, they entered a cathedral-like cave, where the ceiling soared up into blackness, and the walls were piled with mountains of trash, resembling the Wasteland in miniature.

In the center of the room, sitting on a throne made entirely of junk, was an old, old man. His skin was gray, and I don't mean pale or ashen, but metallic-gray, mercury-gray. His white hair flowed past his feet, nearly touching the floor, as if he hadn't moved from his chair in centuries. The pack rats shuffled around him, holding up various items, placing them at his feet. The old man smiled as the pack rats chittered and milled around him like eager dogs, then his pale green eyes looked up at the girls.

She stared up at him, shining her flashlight up at him.

She doesnt even meet his gaze. She stares quietly at the ground.

He blinked several times, as if he couldn't trust what he was seeing. "Well," he wheezed at last, "my subjects have brought me many curious things over the years, but I do believe this is the most unusual. Who are you? Why are you here?"