Episode 1: Debacle of the Magically Inclined

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No one is above consequences. People often think they are, but they are unequivocally incorrect. It is an undeniable fact of the reality that we all coexist in. This is a story about consequences, or should I say, a series of stories. Four stories to be exact, that might seem disconnected at first, but I assure you, they will be far more intertwined than you might realize.

And the key players in this story are two miscreant animal detectives, that you may or may not be familiar with. A canine shamus, and a hyperkinetic rabbity thing, who have never known any concept of consequence. That could soon change, however... Because soon, Sam and Max: Freelance Police, will find themselves thrown into a series of mentally and physically grueling trials they could never prepare themselves for.

Before they are, however, why don't we catch up on where exactly they've been?

It's been one year since the Freelance Police's maddening case of the Devil's Toybox, that left the reprehensible little lagomorphic scamp Max deader than a grotesque 50-foot monster with explosive psychic powers. Luckily, he was swiftly replaced by a paradoxical branching timeline version of Max, and the duo continued their esoteric brand of crime fighting as if nothing ever happened.

So now, we rejoin them, back in their mundanely bizarre office, after a long year of relatively uninteresting cases compared to what they went through not too long ago. As they're lounging around without a care in the world, Max decides to take the honor of having the first words in our slowly spinning tale. "Sam, you know what the best part of this job is?" He asked, his permanent toothy-smile fixed on his adorable face. "What's that, little buddy?" Sam replied, relaxing behind his sizable desk. "We never have to face the consequences of our actions! No matter what!" Max states, bluntly enforcing the dramatic irony of my setup to this story. "You said it little buddy! And we probably never will!" Sam responds with a slight laugh, once again reinforcing said dramatic irony.

Suddenly, this icebreaker opening scene is cut short by the familiar ear-shattering ringing of a familiar phone. Sam immediately rushes over to it, but is perturbed by the lack of action from Max. "Aren't you gonna try and fight to answer the phone?" Sam asks. "Please, Sam, I've evolved past such trivial antics. I'm a matured lagomorph." Sam looks a bit puzzled at this, but shrugs and turns around to answer the phone, and Max somehow appears on the side-table, ready to pounce on the phone. "I GOT I-"

Max is immediately clocked straight through a freshly-made Max-shaped hole in the wall. Sam answers the phone.

"Hello? Oh, hey Commissioner, how have you been enjoying your six-month-long vacation to Mount Vesuvius?" Max casually re-enters the office through the door. "No, seriously, HOW has he been enjoying it?" He remarks, as Sam continues talking to their faceless employer. "That's nice. I've missed your cold authoritative orders for us to go on idiotic and baffling assignments." Sam leans onto the side-table like a teenage girl gossiping to her friend. "A lot of things have changed since you've been gone. For one, Sybil and Abe's horrifically deformed child finally started marginally solid foods!" Max shudders at this. "Eugh. I'm not usually one to express hatred for babies, but man, that's one messed up baby."

"Bosco is still in Vegas, and he's somehow in even more hot water than he was a year ago. Doubt we'll be seeing him until maybe the next leap year." Sam rambles. "Ooh! Ooh! Tell him about The Geek!" Max interjects excitedly. "Oh right, we also adopted an adorable ward/tech geek/forensics expert/daughter/unofficial third member of the freelance police by the grotesque and hard to pronounce name of Darla Gugenheek, but she prefers to be called The Geek. She's a real treat. I'll give you her contact info." Sam writes down The Geek's phone number on a piece of paper, and shoves it down a chute labeled "things to send to the commissioner."

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