A vampire cult is on the rise. Shapeshifting Lizardmen are on the prowl and Sam and Max are on the case. This perilous adventure will keep you hanging onto your seats as the daring duo come face-to-face with their most deadly foes yet.
Oh, and there's cheese too.
Amidst a quiet, blackened room a group of people sat in a circle. A symbol was painted on the floor in the middle of them, a red eye. The people began chanting hauntingly and touching the eye in the centre. One of the grim figures stood, his facial features revealed by the small glow of light emanating from he few flickering wax candles in the room. His hair was slicked back, his eyes were burning red like a roaring inferno; his teeth pricked out from his gums. “Brothers of the red eye. Tonight you have received your full power from the great one and in two days at nightfall, you will go out into the city and feed upon the living,” he boomed, spreading his arms wide dramatically.
“I feel strong my lord, and I lust for the most exquisite blood,” one in the circle said. “Excellent my minion of dusk, on the eve of Thursday we will strike into the heart of mankind and drain the scarlet liquid from him,” the leader gave a sinister laugh.
Up on top of a building a dog and a lagomorph did what they do best. “Hold it bonehead, the jig is up,” Sam ordered the guy who was veering dangerously close to the edge. “That’s a funny expression Sam,” said his rabbity sidekick Max,” Can we waste him now and rid this rich and fair world of his scummy visage, huh Sam can we?”The guy held something in his hand, grasping in tightly. He threw his head back and laughed, lost balance, and plummeted ten stories. “The criminal’s inane arrogance was his own untimely undoing,” said Sam looking over the edge at the splat mark below, “Let’s go claim our prize Max.” “I’ll get the good spatula!” Barked Max.
Sam found the criminal’s hand halfway up the street still clutching the stolen possession. He prized the cheese from the hand and held it aloft in glorious victory. “I love your glorious victory pose Sam, it’s inspiring,” said Max while he scraped up the mess with an immense spatula.
“What seedy depths drove this mutilated offender to steal cheese?” Sam asked himself.
“Rat mafia?” Inquired Max. Sam shook his brown shaggy head.
“I don’t think so little buddy, the rat mafia never hire humans to do their sinister and under-payed bidding. We may only get to the bottom of this by visiting the quaint and wholesome cheesemongers down Eleventh Street, they may have had the same dairy based problem.”
“Will we need an overblown and seemingly unlimited arsenal of fine American designed weaponry Sam?” Asked Max eagerly, a bloodthirsty look in his tiny black eyes.
“I think just the grenades should do the trick. After all, we’re only questioning the buggars.” Max produced a box full of grenades.
“My favourites are the RKG-3 anti-tank grenades Sam, they fill a void in my short and empty lagomorph life.” Sam patted his rabbity friend on the head and chuckled.