The Ongoing Story, ever play theatre sports? Options

[Ashbless]

(Tort2 is a clone "a haze of red across his vision" was the clue. I'm running on the assumption that the clones don't know they're clones. Also that they've all Tort's ability to survive.)

Marie locks and loads. She has some trouble shooting at what looks like her best friend.
Making a snap decision she shoots out the front tire. The car swerves off to the side and into a post. Flames start to lick up from the engine compartment. (okay, yes, unlikely - but it's a story.) Smoke obscures the driver's side as Marie and Tort make their escape.

"There" mutters Marie to Tort. "If the crash didn't do it - the flames will. It'll seem an accident." Tort shrugs and keeps driving.

Marie is reassured as to this being 'the real' Tort. A clone couldn't have continued away. He'd of had to go make sure of the duplicates death.

[The Tortured Sou...]

Tort(2) just narroly manages to crawl out the car in time. He's beathing heavily by the side of the road trying to get his breath back, when the mafia turn up and try and get the money from Tort(2) not realising he is a clone and of course he doesn't have clue about it and obviously doesn't have it they kill him, satified with this they then return back and forget all about Tort and maria...

[Ashbless]

Tort sits with his laptop at a local internet cafe. A decription program runs in the background trying to find the password on his savings account. The bank tells him the account is there but his password doesn't work. At least his laptop was still in the safe deposit box.
Wow, Angela the arsonist killer. Who knew?
He distributes the police report clearing his name to the remaining women and men on his old site.
Sipping his coffee he now ponders who could've stolen his two cars. Marie is also missing but a quick bit of charming at the post office got him an apartment address that he'd check out later.
Hacking a little further into her affairs he gets the insurance company moving on reimbusing her for the loss of her house. Obviously a giant monster sized cat is an act of God. The computer chimes success. The bank account is his again.
Tort(3) puts down some of his sandwich for the nondescript cat that's been following him around. Might adopt the thing.

Bob is highly confused. He was sure he scratched this people's leg but the people is unmarked. Curiosity thy name is cat. Might adopt the thing.

[The Tortured Sou...]

(when are these clones gonna end GWAH!!! oh don't forget Tort and Maria don't know the Mafia aren't after them anymore)

Meanwhile Tort and Maria wake up in their appartment, Tort says "we can't stay here too long the Mafia WILL find out and come looking, so lets get moving as soon as possible." they have breakfast then pack up, get in Torts car and again head off to brazil...

Tort(3) finnishes his searching on the net so he packs up his laptop and gets in the car he'd "aquired" and heads off to this appartment...

[Ashbless]

Vincent and a couple "legitimate" gentlemen let themselves into Marie and Tort's apartment using some specialized metal implements. Vincent already "knew" the apartment was empty but thought he would wait for Marie in her own home. Just because Tort is dead doesn't mean both are off the hook for the debt. Business is business. Vincent's "talents" had always gained him a lovely lifestyle and healthy bit of fear from inferiors and he intended to keep that just as it was.

Tort(3) got out of the elevator on the correct floor. The moggy he'd picked up near the coffee shop bounced out after him. He couldn't seem to shake the thing but at least the cat was behaved in the car. The cat wandered up the corridor in front and then froze and slowly puffed out it's fur. Tort stared at it. That was eerie. Bob stared directly at the source of the odd thoughts, behind the apartment door, and started to growl. Tort glanced up and down the corridor and then pulled a gun.

Vincent found himself matched in predatory thoughts. He was distracted from monitoring the building by a mental wrestling match. The other was trying to probe who he was without giving away anything about itself but flashes of teeth and claws. The two gents were tossing the apartment for clues as to where Marie might have gone. Vincent projected himself as stong and dangerous only to find the other brushing off his thought pattern as insignificant. The vision of an ant sized person running for cover slammed back at him with enough force to shoot a pain across his forehead. Something growling filled Vincent's ears and he began to glance around to find the source. The two gents notice his discomfort and Vincent pulls himself together. "I'm going out on the fire escape for some air"
The gents shrug.

As Vincent stands on the fire escape the door slams back and shots ring out. Vincent drops down to the alleyway as he sees the second gent die from gunshot wounds. The front door is behind cover so it's impossible to snap off a retaliation shot.

Tort(3) checks out the mafia gents and is left puzzling as to why they're in Marie's apartment. Bob dashes to the window to get a good look at his mental opponent. Next time the other one (Vincent) won't get away so easy.

[The Tortured Sou...]

(wtf!!! are you saying bob and this vincent dude are telepathic!!! gwah!!!)

meanwhile Tort and maria still on their way to brazil when tort accidently finds one of his old "friends"... they drove up alongside them and tort looks over and sees him driving the car, stareing straight at him he just yells "MARIA GET DOWN!!!" he grabs her head and holds her down, as a shot shell goes thru the window on his side and out the window on maria's side he grabs the shot gun off maria and in 1 shot takes the head out of his "friend" whos cars swirves off into another car... Tort and maria get away safly... and maria asks "who whas that..." "errrm a mobster i did a few favours for... then accidently ran over his cat, he's had it in for me ever since... ok replace accidently ran over with shot in the head with a shot gun and replace cat with his right hand man who was going to blow up the world or summat along them lines, i forget now... needless to say he's had it in for me ever since..." and they continue on their way to brazil...

(ok I'm planning this car is gonna loose all it's windows, but by the time it looses the last 1 they are gonna be safly in brazil and they are not gonna be in danger till they leave brazil for whatever reason... BTW it's got 3 windows left )

[Ashbless]

(Vincent is the mafia guy who identified Tort as being the real Tort. I figured arachnidoc was going for some sort of telepathic thing. Bob still has a bit of magic from the bag of fairy dust he swallowed. I'm not sure how permanent. It let him fight Vincent and save Tort3. Not sure if Bob is telepathic with non-telepaths. Cats can read body language though. I don't know how many clones are wandering around. Go see Dr. D'Bear and ask. )

[The Tortured Sou...]

(we can't really go to dr.d'bear coz we think we are still running from the mafia)

[Ashbless]

Tort and Marie pull into an all night diner and gas station. They'll only be there for a short period of time and it's near the border of two different states. Marie feels it's safe enough to check on her bank account.

"Whoohoo, my insurance company bought out the house! " said Marie.

"What do you mean?" asked Tort.

"I mean, babydoll, forget Brazil. Let's fly to Scotland and track down Dr. D'Bear. There are who knows how many Tort's gunning for you. Let's get this done."

Later that evening the couple drive to the nearest international airport and are soon winging their way across the ocean.

[The Tortured Sou...]

they land in scotland and rent out a hotel room...

"right where does this Dr D'Bear live???"

"errm we'll hafta check it out in a internet cafe right now i need sleep"

so they go to sleep wake up the next day and head out to fnd an internet cafe...

[Ashbless]

(Another instalment by my friend - we need to lure him into just signing onto the forums. - Ashbless)
(We continue with the tale of mafia Vincent.)

"Fhew! That was a close one in that apartment, Vinny old pal," he says to himself smugly, "I wonder if it was wrong of me not to tell my two blundering-book-ends about the impending attack. Awe well… to late for that. I don’t need them, anyway."

Slipping back into his Red Ferrari, Vincent grabs his still steaming mocha latte in the cardboard take-away cup still resting in the dash cup holder, "Yup, you’re one slick telepath, Vinny." His first swallow of his favorite refreshment caused a bit of a bellyache, though. It felt like the hot coffee missed his lip and spilled down the front of him, scalding him. Looking down he discovers that it was not the latte that gave him the bellyache. It was the points of the five twelve-inch blades sticking out from his stomach that were causing the entire problem. Laughing at the irony of it all, he realized that he was about to die with a silly-*ss chocolate foam mustache still on his face…

"No! It can’t be… you’re… you’re…" … … … And then all went dark.

(Meanwhile, back in Scotland:)

"What an odd dream I’ve just had," sputters Marie, as they she bursts in on Tort sleeping on the couch in the next room, "I dreamt I was having a mocha latte, and some jerk came along and stabbed me in the back five times… how rude."

"Yup," agrees Tort, "How rude to interrupt someone right in the middle of having their morning cuppa. Shall we move on, and find an Internet Café, now?" Of course, Tort was being quite patronizing and sarcastic. He had not slept well at all on the couch, but this was the only room the hotel had on short notice, considering that it was the height of the tourist season on the highlands.

"Oh, ha ha," Marie responded jokingly, "Shall we see how you like it, then?"

"Um, yeah, let’s not and say we did," came Tort’s retort, a big grin spreading across his face.

Shortly, in the lobby of the hotel: "No, I dinna know of any ‘Internet’ café… hmmm, ye mi’ try Macmillan’s café just a wee pace doon the street, tho," smiled the perky assistant behind the counter, what passed for a concierge in the highlands, "they serve a very good broo there, I’m told. Though were serve coffee here, too, wi’ room service."

"No, no, thanks anyway," a frustrated Marie responded, "we’re in the mood for something more exotic, and I didn’t see a Mocha Latte on your menu. Besides, it’s not just a coffee we’re after, but also the use of an Internet capable computer."

"Ach, well, you’ll find what yoo’re looking for a’ Macmillan’s," smiled the perky assistant with her built in plastic smile, "there have been a few people this morning looking for that very same thing, the mocha latte, I mean. And Macmillan’s has Internet service, and all. Is there no other way I can be of service?" She asked, taking a sip from her take-away cup of mocha latte.

Tort, quite enamored by this pretty perky wee highland lass was about to take her up on her offer, but Marie quickly clapped a hand over his mouth leading him away, "No, thanx anyway," she called back over her shoulder, and to Tort, "Get your mind out of the gutter. We don’t have time for you to be sweet-talking the local ‘Lasses’ right now. We’ve got to find Dr. D’Bear, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," scowled Tort, "But all crust and no custard leaves Tort a little stale." Marie chuckled wryly at this comment as they strolled down the street towards Macmillan’s Café.

Tort and Marie find that their search on the Internet for Dr. D’Bear revealed very little more than what they had to go on in their earlier attempts. They did discover where the research institute was, but a journey by rented car turned out to be a dead end. Turns out Dr. D’Bear left for their sister institute in Ireland for a short while due to the fact that the wing where all the research he had been involved in burned to the ground only a couple short days before their arrival in Scotland.

A quick trip across the channel on the ferry later, and they found their way to Co. Tipperary. A little more digging around with the locals revealed some mysterious goings on at Leap Castle the past couple of days. Goings on that sounded very much in line with Dr. D’Bear’s research.

It was midnight the following day before they arrived at Leap Castle… well, close to the castle, at least, when they happened to catch sight of a portly gentleman running h**l-bent-for-leather down the garden path, with a couple of shambling shadowing shapes in hot pursuit.

"Marie, do you see what I’m seeing?" Tort rubbed his eyes with one hand, having driven for so long that day that he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

"Yeah, a bunch of skinny guys with clawed hands are chasing the fat guy down the hill. Boy can he move!" Marie was astonished.

"Yeah, I think giving him a lift might prove useful at this point. Who knows, that just might be the good doctor they’re chasing." Tort pulled up close to the running, and very sweaty man in the lab coat, and rolled down the window to ask if he needed a ride, but before he could draw breath, the little fat man was through the window and scrambling for the back seat.

"Drive! Drive fast!" were the only words that came out of the portly gents mouth, in the frenzy of tone that made him sound very much like Animal from the Muppet show. As comical as it was, Tort wasted no time pondering the similarity. Instead, he spun the wheel of the rent-a-wreck hard, and sped back down the way they had come, leaving the shambling mass of figures far behind in a very short time.

Looking out the back window, the chubby scientist looked on counting down from, "Five… Four… Three… Two… One…" As he reached zero and tremendous flash lit up the night sky of Ireland, as the sound of rapidly expanding flames rush outward into the surrounding countryside. The sound of those caught up in the flash-fry was close to the sound of a thousand banshees crying out in the night, calling for their victims.

"Ah, well. You can stop now," said the little scientist, "We’re out of the zone, now. As a matter of fact, it is quite safe to return to the castle. My job was to lure the nasty things into the flash zone."

Marie and Tort simply stared in amazement at the man in their back seat, and said nothing. Realizing what had just occurred might be a little odd to the strange couple, he spoke, "Oh, right. Where are my manners? Doctor D’Bear at your service… I understand you have been looking for me. Ah-ha, Tort! I knew you would come looking for me sooner or later. I rather suspect you are wondering about all these re-Torts running amuck all over the globe, eh?"

"Um… yeah… No kidding!" came Torts astonished reply to the man he barely recognized, at least not with the full beard and the loss in weight. (Dr. D’Bear used to be much larger, and not really a sportsman of any sort to be running a marathon like that.)

"Who’s your friend?" D’Bear was nodding toward Tort’s companion.

"Oh, sorry. Marie… Dr. D’Bear… Dr. D’Bear… Marie," Tort replied as he again turned the car around to head back to Leap Castle.

"Call me Steve, m’d—"

"What the heck is going on D’Bear! I mean, really!" A now very annoyed Tort hastily interrupted, "My friend an I have had one hellish week! My clones, which I never knew I had nor did I give permission for anyone to play around with my genetic material for that matter, are running amuck at home and abroad, framing me for murder and arson, and we come in search of you for some answers only to find you’re fat arse running down a country road in the middle of the Irish countryside in the middle of nowhere and blowing the crap out of it! And here you are making trading pleasantries!"

"Well, I do apologize for the runaround and all," began the good doctor, "But it is a very long story. At the moment, however, you managed to help me rid the world of a rather odd bit of nastiness. I see you’ve found out about the clones’ weakness to fire, but I’m afraid that fire is their only weakness. Killing a clone any other way besides fire and old age has developed an oddity that I never counted on."

"Which is?" A now very intrigued Marie asked.

"It seems that if the clones die by anything other than fire or natural means, namely by violence," Dr. D’Bear went on, "Well… they don’t stay…er… dead. They come back as the living dead sort of thing, and they have a real penchant for revenge using very sharp steel and not so surgical techniques."

"Ah, we’re here. Come into my lab and I’ll explain in greater detail…"

(Tort2 is still around then. Hmm, Nasty. -Ashbless)

[The Tortured Sou...]

(well thats up to you coz i didn't actually specify how the mafia killed him, they are a twisted lot, they could have covered him in petrol and set him alight...)

they return to the castle...

"Dr, is there anyway of finding where all the Re-torts are, like do they have chips linked up to GPRS or something??? we need to find them and collect them up so they will stop giving me a bad name!!!" asks tort

(no idea what the Dr.'s reply is gonna be...)

[DaBear69]

"Dr, is there anyway of finding where all the Re-torts are, like do they have chips linked up to GPRS or something??? we need to find them and collect them up so they will stop giving me a bad name!!!" asks tort

Looking squarely at Tort, the good Doctor replies with some amusement, “What do you think this place is? Do you think this is a research station aboard the infamous USS Enterprise? We’re not dealing in science fiction here, m’lad.

“No, I’m afraid the only way to track them is to use a high sensitivity infrared satellite tracker to plot their movements from space. You see, the clones have a body temperature much higher than a normal human being, thus the problems they have with fire. They are already close to the flash point, you see, for spontaneous human combustion,” Dr. D’Bear pauses to clear his throat with a swig of good Irish whiskey, then continues on in his boring monolog, “The living dead re-Torts, though their body temperatures are much lower, still go up like kindling on a bonfire, though I have no reason why this happens since I haven’t been able to get one still animated without it trying to rip my head off.”

By this time Tort is sound asleep, curled up in one of the big comfy chairs next to the fire, though Marie is still intent on hearing Dr. D’Bear out.

“Dr.—er—Steve,” smiling sweetly, “Is there any way we can use this information to our advantage without resorting to gaining access to top secret military satellites?”

Dr. D’Bear considers her request, pondering momentarily, stroking the Orange tabby that has found a place to curl up in his rather generous lap, “Hmmmm… well. Bob here seems to think that he can help me design a hand held thermal imaging device that would identify the Tort clones, and you will be able to sort out the living dead ones without much trouble.”

“Excuse me?” Marie asks the portly researcher, “Bob? Who’s Bob?” Confused she looks around the room trying to locate the person the good professor is referring to, but finds no one.

“Why, Bob, my cat clone,” offers D’Bear, looking somewhat amused.

“The… cat,” Marie replies dubiously, believing that this whole business has sent the poor man over the lip of reality.

“Why yes,” the short bearded scientist responds, “Oh, of course. I forgot to introduce you to my genetically altered kitty-clone. I played with his genes until I got a mentally superior domestic feline. I went through quite a few of these little fellows before I achieved this level of purrrfection, if you’ll pardon the pun. The others have been shipped off to several good homes all over the world… some three hundred of them.

“This research worked so well on my kitties that I just couldn’t resist trying it out on a human, you see, but manipulating human DNA is a great deal harder to do, and I wound up creating hundreds of Torts without much success. The only good thing about it all was that the re-Torts only seem to live about 7 years before they kick off, so to speak,” now the truth was coming out about the re-Tort clones, so Marie let the fat professor continue his monolog even though his voice was droning on hypnotically, “And I suppose you are wondering how they all got spread all over the globe, too.

“Well, m’dear, it would seem that good help is hard to find in Scotland. Two of my bumbling assistants thought it would be a great idea to take the two Dollies (the sheep) for a wee walk and a graze in the country, but they opened the wrong security door, and before you knew it, we were overrun by the remaining 50 re-Torts. Considering the original Tort’s resourcefulness, you can see how they got to be so widespread in a very short time.

“Well, we managed to capture a few of them, but they immediately revolted and burned down the lab in Scotland trying to kill each other off. My assistants and I managed to shoot four of them, but the rest fled to parts unknown. We brought the bodies back here to study, only to get the nasty surprise of them sitting up and grabbing scalpels, knives and whatever, and jamming them into their hands to make nasty scything claws out of them. Come to think of it, the last time I saw my assistants, they had fallen into the oubliette, just off the main kitchen area. I’ll have to fetch them out, shortly. I just hope they missed the spike at the bottom…

“… Marie? … Marie? Oh dear, she’s fallen asleep, too. Oh well. Come along, Bob. I’ll need your help to make the scanner for them.”

* Don’t’cha think we should let those idiots out of the oubliette, first? *, Inquired the sleepy kitty, * I just checked on them and they seem to be fine… one with a broken leg, and the other seems fine having his fall broken by the first one and all. *

“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” replied the professor, “I guess we will need their help, too.”

Off they went, leaving the two sleeping travelers to their dreams by the fire in the library. There they slept, both having a fitful rest, dreaming of some weird black sheep with a man’s twisted face, and reeking of rotting meat…

--
by Da Bear (a.k.a. Dr. D'Bear),

Hi everyone.

[Ashbless]

(Hi Steve,
Welcome to Matazone.
*duct tapes you to a convenient place on the ceiling*
Mwha mwhahaha
If you'd posted over in Introductions you would've gotten cake to help you back down. As it is you're stuck with posting your way out of NoOb category. )

[DaBear69]

mfflmfbrmstfk

--
df brrf

[The Tortured Sou...]

(yeah welcome to the matazone dude )

[Ashbless]

Meanwhile back at Marie's apartment.

Bob had found a sunbeam in the window. Purr sunbeamy goodness. He idly watched much battered version of his Tort pop up out of the back seat of a shiny car, stab the bad thoughts man to death, and then climb out and look around.
*You really stink* sent Bob towards the figure. Who hears cat insults anyway? It was fun to idly insult them when they were to stupid to understand.
The figure glared sharply and directly at Bob. Started grabbing blades from the car.
Uh oh. Bob jumped down and over to the computer. His Tort was playing with the keys.
*Trouble coming* Bob meowed.
Tort3 nearly fell out of the chair. "You talked."
*Trouble coming now! (mental image of the undead Tort2) Move your tail!* sent Bob.
He lept back onto the windowsill to see Tort2, missing part of his skull from a gunshot wound, climbing quickly up the fire escape. The undead clone didn't seem hindered by the blades on it's fingers at all. Bob glanced around for his Tort to see him duck into the bathroom.
Bob lept down and across to the front door and streched up to the unfathonable technology of the doorknob. I know if I touch this properly then I can go OUT.
*OUT! NOW!* he meowed loudly.
Tort3 returned from the bathroom with a aerosol hairspray bottle and took out his lighter. Just then the window is smashed in by the horrible looking Tort2. Mutual and identical expression of hatred cross both clone's faces.
Tort3 lights the lighter and directs his improvised blow torch directly at the undead clone to watch it go up in flames. His own finger, unnoticed, also catches fire. The automated sprinkler system clicks on as the the fire alarm sounds. Tort3 is left looking at his burnt right hand, now missing the pinkie and ring fingers, as water pours down. The undead clone is destroyed and lays face down on the floor of Marie's apartment.
Marie's computer sparks and smokes. Tort's laptop, thankfully closed after downloading the information on Marie's machine, seems fine. Bob meows loudly again for *OUT!* as he hates the rain from the ceiling. Tort3 grabs up the laptop, the cat and heads back to his car. Oddly, his hand not hurting, craving a mocha latte.

[cait]

Meanwhile, somewhere far far away several entities are narrating a story about Bob, Marie and Tort by means of advanced computer technology. One of these outlandish beings is shaking her head and sighing, for she has come to realize that the characters of the story were doomed from the beginning. Marie, formerly known as Maria, is destined to have identity problems, and the frequent change of tenses has distorted this reality which is undoubtedly soon to fall apart.

Yet the story is continued by others of this world and shall resume shortly.

[DaBear69]

Marie? Maria? Could Maria of the past tense be the original to the would-be clone of the present Marie? Does Marie know this? Does Tort? Has Dr. D'Bear dipped his dexterous digits into everyone's jeans--I mean--Genes? Have his assistants finally helped the original Dolly the sheep over the fence? Do any of the Bob the cat's clones even give a rat's-backside?

Tune in tomoorow for yet another fur raising continuation of The Ongoing Story... same Cat-time, same Cat channel.



--
o/` Na nana nana na... Batma-er-Da Bear! o/`

[Ashbless]

Back at the internet cafe, sipping a mocha latte, Tort3 looks at the long line of people waiting to be served by the harried staff and strokes Bob's fur.

"When did you learn to speak?" whispers Tort into the purring cat's ear.
Bob flicks his tail slightly and continues purring.

Tort3 sighs and examines his hand. When he washed up in the bathroom the flesh proved to be healed. He was still missing the two fingers, which would make using a gun in his right hand difficult, but the side of his hand looked as though it had been healed for months. He opens the laptop and reads about the clones and their vulnerability to fire.
Tort sings softly under his breath "I'm a clone, can't you see. D'Bear's in a far country. Mmmmhmmmhmm. I'm a clone." Shakes his head slightly and sips from his mocha latte. The drink tasted kind of vile but then again he never had liked them.
"So, what should we do, Bobbycat?" said Tort to the curled up cat.
*idiot, less nattering and more petting* slit eyes opened slightly to look at him.
"Speak up puss or no more pets"
Bob jumped down, put his back to Tort and washed his face.
"Should we go to Scotland? There's enough in the bank account."

Tort tapped out a ticket request on the laptop and booked an evening flight.

"Well, " he said getting up and depositing the nearly full drink into the trash. "come if you're coming then Cat."
Bob trotted out to the car and leapt in the window. He curled up on the passenger seat and appeared to go to sleep.

[cait]

Marie?  Maria?  Could Maria of the past tense be the original to the would-be clone of the present Marie?  Does Marie know this?  Does Tort?  Has Dr. D'Bear dipped his dexterous digits into everyone's jeans--I mean--Genes?  Have his assistants finally helped the original Dolly the sheep over the fence?  Do any of the Bob the cat's clones even give a rat's-backside?

Tune in tomoorow for yet another fur raising continuation of The Ongoing Story... same Cat-time, same Cat channel.

   

--
o/` Na nana nana na... Batma-er-Da Bear! o/`

*giggles*

*wonders why people are still talking about the supposedly dead Tort3*
*didn't actually read most of the ongoing story*

[Ashbless]

DRAMATAS PERSONAE (in order of appearance)

Bob - a nondescript cat.
Marie - aka Maria, our hero. Currently in Ireland with Tort.
Tort - Marie's strange friend with survival and extralegal skills, likewise our hero. Currently in Ireland in the home/lab of Dr. D'Bear.
Bob and Bill - the Cops. They patrol a dark desert highway in America's heartland searching our evildoers.
Angela Morrison - aka TheLostSoul. A homicidal flame wielding killer, consumed by jealous love for Tort. She hacked and slashed his reputation before being killed by a giant cat. Dead.
Twinx - a fairy that managed to dodge a fairicidal cat about to chomp.
Dr. Steve D'Bear - a potentially evil scientist who's clones are slowly taking over the storyline. He has played with the genes of Bob the cat and Tort the hero. Gleefully decanting Re-Torts and setting them loose.
Vincent - A mafia gentleman with psychic powers and a weakness for mocha lattes. He could tell the clones from real people using his powers. Killed by an undead clone of Tort after threatening our heroes. Dead.
Tort(2) - a clone of Tort's who attempts to kill Tort. He is killed by the mafia to avenge a debt. He climbs out of the grave as an undead killing machine and kills Vincent. In attempting to kill Tort(3) and Bob, he is destroyed by flame. Dead.
Tort(3) - a clone of Tort's. He's missing a couple fingers of his right hand from flaming Tort(2) and being caught by the fire. Currently keeping company with Bob and about to fly to Scotland.
Nameless henchmen. - Mafia henchmen of Vincent's. Killed by Tort(3) in a hail of bullets. Dead.
Perky Scottish lass - lives in Scotland and works at a hotel where Maria and Tort stayed. She knew exactly where D'Bear's scottish lab was located.
Bob the clone - Dr. D'Bears orange tabby with human intelligence and psychic powers. D'Bear's assistant or is that the other way around?
Bumbling assistants - Two henchmen/lab assistants currently sitting in D'Bear's obliette. One with a broken leg. They fled there after an attack of undead Tort clones. The clones were dispatched but D'Bear has been too busy entertaining to fetch out a ladder and save them.
Outlandish Entities - these strange other dimension entities are watching and playing with the fate of our heroes for some purpose known only to themselves.

[The Tortured Sou...]

errrrm, another note on the outlanish entities... thats who WE are from a story point of veiw, so they won't be mentioned much in the story...

[Ashbless]

Well, the story can go where it wants. That's the game bit. So the entities could form part of the story if somebody wanted to write them in.

[The Tortured Sou...]

it would confuse the hell outta me tho if they did!!! anyway lets continue

------------

Tort(3) arrived in scotland and stayed in the nearest hotel and the Perky Scottish lass at the desk, looks up (if you translate this into a scottish accent i'll edit the post later) and says "hey, didn't know you'd be staying with us again, how are you???" thinking he should play along Tort acted like there was nothing wrong, "i'm fine, i just want to check out Dr.D'bears place."
"did you not find what you were looking for last time???"
"errrr. no you see i... errm... forgot the directions and then got a phone call and had to be off somewhere else... you know what it's like..."
"and where is your lady friend???"
"Maria!!!... errm i mean... errr... i lost her, she hasn't been in contact with me since..."
the Perky Scottish lass hands over a piece of paper with the directions to Dr. D'bears place and says "so you don't forget again"
"oh... thank you, but i would like to stay in a room first i'm a little tired"
the Perky Scottish lass checks her computer... "room 23 is free" and hands over the keys, Tort(3) makes his way to the room, the Perky Scottish lass notices the cat following him and altho the hotel doesn't allow pets she lets him get away with it coz she likes Tort...