All right, then! When we left our heroes, they were in need of some porn comics for Temperance Lector, the password for Dolph's computer, and a safe haven for Drip and Electric Sex to get their freak on. As Gideon mentioned back in the Interface, he and Rachel know of a comics shop, so that'll be our next stop.

Ooh, SEX GODS II! That'd be my favorite...if it weren't for DOGS! and SPUNKO!, of course.

Pap Pap John's Comix Shop: Comics may have been outlawed, but with a wink and a nod, a few places like this have been allowed to operate as long as they restrict their inventory. Things are quiet now, but normally, the place is full of kids hanging out and trying to read comics for free.

Pap Pap John: A disheveled middle-aged man in baggy Army-Navy garb is just a tad too mod for his age. His hair is standing up, and he looks like he can't remember where he left his glasses...except he doesn't wear glasses.

Anna Mae: A middle-aged woman who looks like she's at the end of her rope; she's trim and dressed in hip counterculture duds, but she looks exhausted.

Comics Computer: The comics computer is essential to the daily operations of the shop; a lot of Mom and Pap Pap's business comes to them over the net.

Talk to Pap Pap

You look like you've been reading too many scary comics lately, Pap.

I wish. Hardly have the time. We sell 'em as soon as they come in, which isn't too often lately; the Hand has really been clamping down.

Talk to Anna Mae

Gideon! Rachel! You two look like I feel. What is it? What's happened?

Probably best if we don't give you all the details. Let's just say we're suddenly unemployed, and our former boss has a funny idea about what a severance check is.

Oh, you've said enough. If you need a place to hide, you're welcome. Lord knows you've done enough for us.

That's the truth. The way the Hand hates comics, you could have turned us in a long time ago, and probably gotten a big commendation.

And all those kid hackers who hang out here, some of them real cowboys already...we could have been closed down for that alone. Not that it matters; we're practically shut down now, after all.

What you two here is harmless. Who cares if kids read comic books? I never understood why ARC went after places like this anyhow. But what do you mean you're shut down now?

Haven't you heard? Locusts! It's a plague, like in the Bible!

What are you talking about?

Computer locusts! It's like a virus. It comes up fast, then it starts shredding memory...the way a locust shreds vegetation...and all of a sudden, you've got no programming under you, just a bottomless pit of negative info. You're in a free-fall, being sucked down into this black hole.

You think the locusts are something planted by the Hand?

It would be just like them, to try and lock up everybody's computer, and if this was their doing, it's been successful. Our computers...hell, everybody's computers...are shut down now. But I'll tell you, these locusts are something! It seems like a natural cyberphenomenon, a microburst windshear: locusts swirl up and surround you, eating everything you summon up to try and get out of there, then it creates an info-vacuum below you that sucks you down into the pit. If you stay in cyberspace an instant too long, you're a flatliner for good. At any rate, we're shut down now. We've been sitting around all day with nothing to do except stare at a screen full of jumbled commands. We're afraid to jack in, surf the net, and see if we can get a look at things.

You may not have to jack in. You say you're getting a screen full of jumbled words?

That's it, just letters. If they're words, it's in no language I've ever seen.

That may be your answer.

It's shuffling through those letters for some reason, and the way it's arranging them may be a clue; one organization may have some bearing on the next. It's obviously eating every other memory but its own. All it has to remember is its own failsafe...probably a single word. You can bet whoever implemented this must have had a way to shut it down so it wouldn't eat up their own system. If you can find that code word, you may be able to shut down the locusts.

Why didn't I think of that?

Because you're senile, that's why. ...But listen, contaimnent of artificial realities is your business; think you can help us lick these virtual bugs?

Look, we're really pressed for time, but we'll try and help you with the locusts...but in return, there's something we need from you.

Anything, just name it.

Well, it's not for me, see, but I...we...need some, well...

We need some porno comics. We never said anything to you two about it, but we know you handle that sort of thing.

Business is business! I'll give you the comics, no problem.

Great! And don't worry, they're going to help a good cause. First, let's go swat some locusts.

Look, I know you've got other things on your staying alive...but you're safe here. ARC doesn't even know we exist, thanks to you. Can't you give us a hand? We're desperate. Without our computer, we're sunk.

No! Our precious pornography! We shall have to take prompt action. Attempting to access the computer gives us...

...this, followed by a password prompt. Entering the wrong code just sends you back to the scrambled-words screen, so I didn't bother to screenshot a failure example. Anyway, I can't remember how I first figured this out, way back when...there's a clue in the text, I think, though damned if I can recognize it now...but the eventual solution involves looking at the second-to-last letter of each "word".


Talk to Anna Mae

Eureka! I knew if anyone could stop the locusts, it would be you two!

Here's a stack of those porno comics you wanted.

Thanks, guys. Believe me, the person who's getting these comics REALLY needs them.

Teehee. It's not much of a "stack", really; either digital distribution has caught on in the comics industry by 2095, or cheap-ass Pap Pap just gave us a bunch of scans.

Comic Book on Disk: Having achieved status as outlawed, rebel lit, comics on disk have become more popular than ever. They're also easy to hide...a real convenience, seeing as how they're illegal.

If we go back to the Clean Machine clubhouse and talk to Gracie, she kvetches at us about dragging our heels on the porn mission.

Talk to Gracie Lovell
I can see that I selected the wrong allies in you two. You can't even produce a few smutty comics.

OK, whatever, we'll take the precious squirtables to Temperance directly.

Talk to Temperance Lector
What is the meaning of...of these vile publications?

No meaning. Call it a gift. They're yours if you agree to ease up on Electric Sex and Drip.

I see. Well, I...certainly do not have any...interest in these awful things, but...I, uh, I will keep these in my possessions to, ahem, prevent them from falling into less disciplined hands. Removing these from the market will be a small victory in the war against sin, but a victory nevertheless!

And you'll leave Sex and Drip alone?

Yes, yes, damn them both to an eternity's burning! I don't care. Leave me to enjoy, uh, dispose of these comics.

Talk to Lector again
What now? You wouldn't have more of those lusty, sinful, violent comics to dispose of, would you?

Now we can properly end the subquest with Gracie.

Talk to Gracie Lovell
We delivered the comics. You certainly had her pegged. She tried to play it cool, but her face went red and her hair practically stood on end when we handed them to her.

Excellent. Let her try something now! I know I shouldn't be happy to have something on Temperance, and I try so hard to love her as much as the next person, but she's so hard and unforgiving. Maybe this will teach her a lesson. Tough love, I think it used to be called. Now Drip and Electric Sex will be free to express their love.

Boy, I don't know if love's exactly the right thing to call it, but they're certainly free to do it.

So that's it for this clubhouse. We've got some further business with Electric Sex, but first, now that we're flush with cash, we can open up the betting minigame.

Talk to Laura Prophet

Well, hello hello hello! Don't you two look like a pile of money? Or rather, like two people who made a pile of money in a disreputable manner? Like, maybe from a little friend of mine named Dickie Covett? I can see you're feeling bad about that, though, so I'll tell you what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna tell you a way you can convert your sudden and mysterious amount of revenues into some cash resembling a major mountain of money, which would allow you to pay back Dickie-Bird and revive his spirits while also establishing yourselves as mini-moguls. You hip?

What's your plan?

Uh-uh, brother; you want to play, you got to pay! Five thousand simoleons, sucker.

I don't think so. Sounds too shaky to me.

Shaky? Shaky?! How you think earthshakers got to be what they are? Get out of my face!

OK, OK. We'll be earthshakers.

Talk to Prophet again
What two again? You come back with the courage of the cash?

Now you come to your senses. Here's what you gotta do. Go to the Off-Track Betting Parlor in Judiciary Square and put it all on the ponies.

Oh, that's right. Prophet doesn't play bookie for you herself; rather, her information opens up an actual OTB location on your map. Sorry, it's been a few years. Anyway, that's the one completely optional location in the game; you can readily complete Hell without ever even hearing about it.

That's your plan? That's your expert advice?

Don't you get all proper on Prophet, girl! Why, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even know there was such a thing as OTB. You also wouldn't know about the Solux Stakes, a big race that's coming up...biggest race of the year, as a matter of fact. It's an unnanounced surprise, only I got a tip it's coming up real soon. There's some mighty long odds in this one, only I wouldn't pay much attention to 'em. You hit with a pony in the Solux Stakes, any pony, you gonna come home with a bucket of the real McCoy, none of this virtual scratch. So, that's my advice to you: go to the track, wait for the Solux Stakes, and bet it all.

All right, already, we'll do it.

I really have to side with Rachel's skepticism on this one. Five large seems a bit much to ask for advice that pretty much amounts to "Bet on horsies! :B". Either way, I'm going to pass on the OTB Parlor for now; we'll find a way to rig it in our favor later in the game, and I'll head over then.

Talk to Dick Covett
I see you've still got those great boots. Must be nice! Me, I've got nothing now. Somebody got into my trust fund and drained it! I can't even afford dinner, let alone this Mercedes-Rolex I had my eyes on.

You know, I didn't think I could feel sorry for you, but I do.

Yeah, I guess I do, too...but come on, we'll get over it.

Now we're going to perpetrate a dick move of extraordinary magnitude. Electric Sex and Drip need a safe haven, right? Well, what's the safest haven we know? One for which we happen to have a spare key to give away?

...Yes. Dante's Apartment. Gah, poor Dante. He sticks his neck out and opens his home to us, and not only do we stick him with an old man eating up all his refried beans and pan-fried quails, but we're also going to invite a couple of juviegangers in to leave mysterious stains on the furniture. Well, let's get on with it and hand over the key.

Got somethin' for me, I see!

We found a place. We got a key to a friend's apartment. It's relatively safe.

Thanks, sugar. Just what the doctor ordered. Now for your present! As you may have known, Dolph and I have spent quite a bit of time together. Anyway, old Dolph not only thinks a lot of himself, he thinks a lot of it in his sleep...out loud!...and the one thing that always comes up is the word "BLOODNET".

What good is that? The name of some archaic parlor game? Listen, we went to a lot of trouble getting this key. What the hell does "BLOODNET" mean to us?

BloodNet was also the name of another pointy-clicky cyberpunk adventure game, released in 1993, one year before Hell. "Archaic parlor game", eh? Is this a little dig at the competition?

It means plenty. I'm not risking my own skin just to do in that waste of human tissue, but you two just might be able to take care of this. Use it. Nice working with you! You've given me something sweet to relive for years to come, hmm-hmm. Nothing like a fresh one to make you realize what it's all about.

Talk to Sex again
Sweet, sweet memories...thanks to you two. Mmm. It's a shame about that old moral righteousness of yours. Damn waste.

Well, I feel soiled. Poor, poor Dante. Anyway! Dolph's computer!

Bus~ted! Let's head out to the alley and confront Dolph with the evidence.

You're busted, I hear. Lost your people. Now who's gonna worship the golden idol Dolph? Besides yourself, I mean.

Electric Sex is a whore! That slut sold me down the river.

Sounds like you were here to do the very same thing.

Hey! I am, like, not here to babysit. I'm here to look out for the Dolph and no one else.

What about your people?

"My people"? That is such bullshit. They're all out for themselves. I have, like, had it with these losers. I can do a lot better.

Sounds like Mr. Van Ittey really had gone native. Anyway, nobody in the Deadly Seven has anything new to say about this except for Barbara Bacchus:

You look like you're hitting the juice harder than usual, Barbie Doll.

What else is left when you can't trust your friends anymore? Dolph singing for the Hand choir? There ain't nothing you can count on in this world 'cept a fifth of gin.

Several of the Cleans, on the other hand, have new dialogue after Dolph gets outed, most importantly Chastity Bene.

The word's spreading like wildfire about Dolph. Yeah, hard to believe he was working for the Hand.

Who cares about that? He cheated on me! I heard that Electric Sex let the password on his computer slip out. We were supposed to be dating, and he's got something going with Electric Sex! Is that all guys want? Isn't pleasant company and a trusting relationship worth anything?

Hey, baby, you're not gonna let this get in the way of loving the Dolphinator, are you?

Gang life's not all it's cracked up to be, eh?

I hope the Deadlies kick you out of the city, you conceited creep! ...Maybe my mother was right. Maybe I should give up gang life. I gotta leave here for a while and sort things out; it's too strange here.

Talk to Christopher Modesta

Looks like you got your wish, Modesta. Van Ittey's down.

And out, beyond your wildest dreams. The skeleton he was hiding was so big it needed a walk-in closet; he was a snitch for the Hand.

Oh, I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand. I'm saddened about it all. I mean, there was still hope for Dolph. He's young; he still could have redeemed himself, but now...well, who would have suspected? It's so sad, but none of us expected something of this seriousness, this magnitude, this kind of terrible colossal secret that's going to ruin him forever, that's going to destroy him so thoroughly, leave him powerless and alone and...

Can I hit him now, Rach? Please?

One more minute. He's got to tell us about Brian Avery. Try and get through it without saying "sorry", and I won't let him hit you. Now, start with a physical description.

OK! He was about my height, about my weight, but a little younger...

Wait a minute. Brian Avery was younger than you?

Oh, yes, he was only seventeen.

Shit! I shoulda known! He's way too young to have been on that list with the others...he's a friggin' red herring!

I'm sorry, you didn't know he was so young? I guess I should have told you. Sor-ry!

He said it twice, Rach.

All right, all right. But just this once.

I promise!

(fx: FAPPO!)

Ungh! You hit me!

Talk to Drip
Hey, kid...


Sorry, kid. Just wanted to tell you we talked with Electric Sex.

You did?

Yeah, and we have some good news for you. We just gave her a set of keys to a certain, very private apartment.

Ulp! You did? Ohhh. She's so, um, voracious.

I have a feeling she'll tell you what she needs, kid. Just keep your eyes closed and think of baseball.

What? Baseball?

It always worked for me!

I don't want to know. I think we'd better be going, Gideon.

Coming, dear! ...Good luck, kid.

Godspeed, Drip. Do us proud.

Talk to Gracie Lovell
Oh, please, forget the comics now. Forget everything! Oh, it's so terrible...Chastity is dead! Oh, it's horrible. That unlovable Blood McGrath. He did it. Oh, it's so terrible!

Whoa. I actually wasn't expecting that at all. Guess I never bothered talking to Gracie after ratting out Dolph in my previous playthroughs, because I'm pretty sure I'd remember Chastity getting killed. Uh, sorry about that, Sophia. O Tragedy!

But more importantly... MISSION ALL OVER!

Yes indeed, I never have to return to Gang Alley until it's time to bring Languo a still, and c'mon, I've always got time for more Languo.

If you head outside after talking to Gracie, Chastity and Dolph are both gone from the alley. Sadly, McGrath doesn't have anything to say about the murder. Too bad. Well, now that we've got the Bene family conflict under wraps (albeit with a somewhat unsatisfactory outcome) and a load of ill-gotten funding, we can go pick up that lockpick back at the Cybershop.

Hey, you given any second thought about this picklock?

That's more like it! I can start getting myself clean again with this. Stay close now, and I'll attach the graft.

Lockpick: This lockpick device is made to be implanted in the forearm of the user.

Hmm, now what? Well, looking at the map, it appears rescuing General Mangini a few updates back gave us a destination at the Pentagon. Seems kind of an unsafe place for a couple of fugitives, but hey, what the hell.

Pentagon Reception Area: Ever since the Joint Chiefs of Staff were sent to hell, the Pentagon lobby hasn't been quite the bustling place it used to be. A lot of the traffic it does get is dragged through, across the floor and on through the airlock doors. Traffic has been further lessened by the fact that these people rarely come back out.

Mech Receptionist: Without a side view, you'd never guess that the person sitting behind the reception desk is actually part of the reception desk. Usually, they're genderless, but this one is apparently a custom model.

Talk to Mech Receptionist

Say, I like the cut of your jib! What say you ditch the dame and you and I go...ashore?

I don't believe this. The last one to program her must have been a sailor.


He must have been at sea a long time. Let me adjust her. Idiom change, receptionist: mature professional, non-military.

How may I direct you?

We've only got one option right now: General Mangini's office. Later, as we learn about other locations of interest within the Pentagon, we can be sent to them by talking to the receptionist and selecting from this menu.

Oh, crap. Rumors of Sanguinarius's death have apparently been somewhat exaggerated.

Gen. Mangini's Pentagon Office: The palatial office of the former Army chief of staff looks big enough to muster the troops. The paintings of various world capitols look fitting, but the tapestry behind the desk looks like the flag of some other, darker force.

Examining Sanguinarius here just gives you the same text as doing so when you first meet him in hell.

Talk to Sanguinarius

Wait a minute, we nuked you! I saw you, we were...

What the hell's going on?

Ahh, I was playing with you! Why, you were in hell, man! How do you think you get to hell? You've got to be dead in the first place!

Something's fishy here...

Of course it is, but you're barking up the wrong tree. Pazuzu's the one you ought to be watching out for. He sent you to me, didn't he? He sent you to find out where I get my weaponry, and how did Pazuzu get you to approach me? Simple: he has something you want. But, do you actually think he's going to give it to you just because he said he would? So I tell you again, you are on the wrong side. No, the long and the short of it is this: if you want to get something out of Pazuzu, you're going to have to get something on him.

I suppose you're gonna make us fight you again before you give us something on him.

Much as I'd like to, lady, it's unnecessary. How strong are your allegiances to him?

They're nonexistent.

I thought as much. You two are talented, but you're no more than mercenaries. In any case, what you probably don't know about Pazuzu is that he likes to play mobster. His biggest service to the mob is that he maintains a hell pit where the mob can hide hostages and stolen goods.


That's when warring mobs agree to parley, and each gives a hostage to Pazuzu to insure good-faith negotiations. He's got a couple right now, as a matter of fact. He's also got a kidnap victim the mob's holding for ransom: Krystal Getty, heir to the limitless Getty fortune. If anything were to happen to if she were to, ahem, escape...Pazuzu would be in hot water with the mob.

Useful information, if we know where this hell pit is.

Well, son, I've been thinking of sending you two back to hell, in return for you freeing that disgrace to the uniform, Mangini. Heh. Only thing is, this time you'll be prepared. 'Til we meet on the battlefield once more! Are you ready to go to hell?

What are you waiting for, soldiers? The enemy is before us and our mission clear. Are you ready to go to hell?

Talk to Sanguinarius again
Now then, are you ready to do your duty? Are you ready to go to hell?

Are you ready to go to hell? Are you ready to go to hell? ARE YOU READY TO GO TO HELL?!

To Hades, then! Attack!

We get the psychopomp skullface scene again, and resume in Mr. Beautiful's hell pit.

On arrival, Gideon and Rachel automatically initiate conversation with the trio sitting around the poker table.

Hey, whaddya want from me? I gotta card game here!

Beautiful's not around, is he?

Yeah, he's over there takin' an acid bath. Ha, ha, ha. Who're you guys supposed to be? This is a hell of a place to be takin' a stroll, ha ha ha. That's a good one! Heh heh heh.

The jokes you practice mark you funny, but I tire of wit and want your money. Do your deed and make the pot less scanty; shut your mouth and up the ante!

All right, there you go, we're all in.

I recognize this guy, Gid. That's Delmonico Ferlinghetti. He's a capo in the Chichio family.

Yeah, you're right, and the other guy's Carlos Portillo with the Colombians. Italians, Colombians, and the Apache-Sioux fusion have been shooting holes in each other for years...savage turf wars over empathics trading. I take it these two are willing visitors to this charming pit.

I'll go fifty.

I'll see it. That's right, my good friend Delmonico and I are voluntary hostages. Our two organizations are trying to work out our differences, live in peace.

Bold openings! Your cards must be nifty! ...But talk is cheap. I'll raise you fifty. I stare right through your poker faces; up my sleeve I've fifty aces.

Yeah, peaceful coexistence. There's your fifty and here's another, you scaly little bastard.

Madre dios, no offense, huh, Chamo, but it's too hot for me; I'm out. I can't figure these empathics. Men paying to cry like little girls or to be frightened outta their wits. What happened to simpler pleasures?

Unnhhh! Aaawww! Help me, do something! Aaaarrggh...

Keep her quiet, Chamo. I'm trying to think about my cards here.

Quiet your pleas or make me nasty. I'll rip your heart with angioplasty. My cigar burns bright if left apace. Brighter still, jammed in your face! ...As for you, my wagering Italiano, hold your seat; hit the galiano. I see your bet and, what's more, stand tall; the plot's afoot. I beck, I call.

Three Jacks, Chamo.

A worthy hand! The table is hush, but three Jacks don't beat my royal flush! Dealt a flush? Do I lie and sell? Don't check the deal...the deck's from hell! Ahahahahahaha!

Lousy cheatin' demon! This waiting around wouldn't be so bad if you'd let us win a few hands.

We regain control at this point, and can take a look around at the room and its contents.

Beautiful's Hostage Hellpit: Although most of the hostages of this hell pit are temporary, the various accoutrements of the room...the cauldrons of scalding liquid, the compression tower with limbs sticking out...suggest tortures beyond the imagination.

"Compression tower"? That's a new one on me, but if it works the way the protruding limbs suggest, that's...that's pretty messed up right there.

Delmonico Fehrlinghetti: A rough, older Italian man, stripped to his undershirt, plays cards with a second man and a small demon. Other than heavy sweats, he seems comfortable.

Carlos Portillo: A dour old man plays cards with another man and a small demon. Unlike the other man, who seems to be enjoying himself, Portillo wears a pained expression.

Chamo: A short, cigar-smoking demon sits on a bone-stuffed pillow and deals. A thin sheen of fire plays over the surface of his scaly skin. He draws hard on the cigar, but exhales no smoke. He has a disturbing minty odor.

Krystal Getty: A young woman's eyes bulge in pain as the garotte stretches the vertegrae in her neck to the breaking point.

Beer Mug (on table): A large metal beer stein.

Steel Lid (left): A big iron lid made to fit over a smaller vat than those in Beautiful's hell pit.

Acid Vat: A large vat containing highly potent acids. Noxious, poisonous fumes rise from it.

Naturally, I grab the mug and lid. I'm also going to scoop up some acid in the beer mug. Why, you ask? Well, because if I don't, I'm just going to have to backtrack for it later, silly!

Beer Mug with Acid: This large stein of beer seems a bit frothier than usual, what with the acid that's been added to it.

This seems like a good time to mention that Rachel and Gideon have separate inventories for hell and the living world; you can't take objects from one plane into the other, but you'll get your stuff back for the appropriate world every time you cross at least we won't have to carry a highly potent, toxic solvent all over DC in a beer mug. That would likely end in tears.

Talk to Krystal Getty

Unnhhh! Aaawww! Help me, do something! Aaaarrggh...

Don't worry. We'll get you out.

You don't understand. My neck will break and then heal again, over and over!

If anyone gets their neck broken it'll be Beautiful. I thought hell was supposed to punish sinners! What did she do wrong? I can't believe the Hand knows what Beautiful's doing.

We can't get them back, but we can damn well stop them from sending anybody else here.

Talk to Getty again

Please hurry! Do something to get me out of here!

Talk to Delmonito Fehrlinghetti

C'mon, deal the cards.

Talk to Carlos Portillo

A poker game in hell? Watch yourself. The demon's dealing from the bottom.

Of course he is. Everyone cheats down here.

Prepare your bets. Chance is the law. The name of this game is five card draw. All are equal when the game begins...but screw integrity, the cheater wins! Heeheeheeheehee.

You've done this before, then?

Too many times. We've been trying to make peace with the Italians for a long time. Every few months there are new negotiations. Then somebody pops somebody, and we fight. Then more negotiations, and Delmonico and I sit here and play cards so that everyone stays honest upstairs...but I won't do this again! This is the last time we play cards, Delmonico! Look at him. That soulless guinea button man's at home in this place. Me, I can't take this. Look what they're doing to that poor girl over there. Used to be that when you kidnapped someone, they were like your guest, but today? Pssh, it's all brutality. And this Pazuzu! He pushes everyone to be vicious, to torture people.

They seem to be treating you pretty well, except that Chamo's winning all the hands. You're not being tortured, at least.

Not tortured, but not at ease. They feed us whenever we ask, but I'm always hungry. I drink gallons of wine and water, yet I'm always thirsty. I have recurring images of my wife crying in pain on her deathbed. Even breathing hurts; it's like my lungs were lined with cinders. I tell you, one doesn't have to be garotted to be tortured.

Talk to Carlos again

One hand. What I wouldn't give to win just one hand!

Talk to Chamo

You leave your home and daily bread to traverse this land of woe and dread. You tread on ground that angels fear. How brave! How bold! What brings you here?

We're, uh, jobbers for Mr. Beautiful. He's got us running aphrodisiacs from Dis to DC and asked us to look in on these two.

They are, you see, full of zeal and zest. Unlike most others, they're each hell's guest. Ah, Pazuzu! A hearty, hale fellow. He should see them himself...or is he yellow?

What're you doing to that woman, you little scuzz? You're gonna break her neck with that garotte. Beautiful's holding her for ransom. I don't think the Gettys will pay for her dead.

Pazuzu's orders were vague and few: bind her tight, all else may I do. Her eyes will weep, her blood will spill. She'll suffer daily 'til I've had my fill. With the garotte, my skill's past reproach. To harm tendon and bone I need no coach. Should I misjudge...should her neck crack...pain's forever in hell, it'll just heal back! Eeheeheehee.

Talk to Chamo again

Don't crowd me in. If you must stay, ante your soul, sit down, and play. The cards reward if you have the skill, but should you lose, you're mine to kill.

What a dick. Anyway, the game doesn't offer any hints about it, but you can rescue Krystal by using the Hell Blade (that big sword we nicked from Sanguinarius) on her restraints.

Getty is freed? What perfidy is this? I'll have her bound in the dungeon of Dis. Turncoats! You don't work for the boss! Surrender the girl or your lives are your loss!

You come over here and try and put me back in that thing, I'll dunk you in one of these acid vats, you little shit!

Remember where you are, Krystal. Cut your losses and run.

That brings up a short cutscene of Getty's skeletal, freshly Endusted soul rising up from hell - same cutscene we saw after freeing Mangini. This doesn't have any immediate repercussions, but it does set an important flag for later events. We'll also have the steel lid and mug of acid for any future descents into hell, and of course, we'll be needing them.

Mission accomplished, we return to Mangini's office to find Sanguinarius gone! What could be next for our intrepid former tech-narcs?