Every evil genius needs a place of relaxation and quiet, a place to hoard his stolen loot, a place to scheme and plot. For Magtok, this is the MagCave. Drilled into the side of Mt. Enn, it serves as his base of operations, living quarters, garage, and workplace. It holds damned damsels in distress, places protagonists in perilous predicaments, and is quite likely the fanciest-looking fortress in all of the Nexus.

Or rather, it was all of that. This place has been abandoned for approximately three years now, if you disregard that brief period a year ago where a single MagClone tried to reclaim it. He got as far as scaring off the cyberwolves and wiping out the vines, moss, and miscellaneous vegetation in the foyer before vanishing without a trace, leaving his home-repair project unfinished. That was a while back, and it didn't take long for all the plants and wolves and rot to come back with a vengeance, unfortunately. This labyrinthine complex of deadly science experiments and mechanical monstrosities is still as wild and deadly as it's ever been. Rogue AIs still haunt the mainframes of its darkest depths, an eldritch amalgamation of meat patrols the east wing in search of organics to assimilate, and worse yet, a trail of strange footprints suggests that seven floors down, the lasgeese have broke into the Mesozoic Museum, and...well, life found a way.

All of that is destined to change soon, however. Everyone's sixth-favorite cyborg is back, and this time, he has no intention of succumbing so easily to deadtime! He's brought gardening tools and herbicides from what was left of the MagMart in Inside, he's got a hunting rifle to sort out those cyberwolves, and as many domestic cleaning drones as he could fit in the back of a pick-up truck. It's a monumental task, one that's sure to take weeks, maybe even months. Hell, the project could even extend to years, depending on what manner of carnivorous beasts are still lurking in forgotten labs, and the costs incurred in refurbishing the greatest technological achievements of our era.

"Useless goddamned ****ing scout ****. Left all this mess, didn't even take back a single lab..." We can worry about all of that later, however. First, we have to actually get inside, and just clear out the foyer. Magtok parks the pickup truck in front of the massive skull-shaped entrance of the lair, and scowls up at the heavens. The giant ruby that used to sit in the left eye socket is missing, most likely dislodged by a filthy pack of opportunistic scavengers. That's too bad, a gem of that size would've made financing this reconstruction project a hell of a lot easier. We certainly wouldn't be here with a gun ourselves if we had any kind of money right now.

"Hello? Anyone home?" He calls out, not really expecting an answer. Well, maybe a growl or two from the cyberwolves, but he's got his rifle at the ready for that. His usual violet robe has been switched out with a dark biker leathers, for greater range of motion and some scant protection against the deadly array of tooth and claw within, and his chrome visage has been hidden away within the violet biker helmet the store clerk offered to go with it. It would've been nice to have a proper laser rifle, or maybe a sophisticated suit of power armor, or even a few Magbots to do all of the hard work for us, but apparently Command is a bunch of worthless, penny-pinching scumbags, and it's more efficient to send one expendable clone to do everything himself with whatever he can loot out of an old, abandoned MagMart than to spend a single dollar on Magbot guards. So unfair. Blugh, this outfit is all kinds of uncomfortable, too. We can go back to our usual, more fashionable self later, first we've got to make sure this area is clear of vicious, horrible, man-eating cyborg wolves.