The diplomats and the others nodded, still confused about a serial killer "keeping watch". It must be police code for a bad neighborhood. The TurtleShroomers discussed this as they, pushing the Gift with them, kept as close to the lantern holding soldiers as they possibly could. They looked up and saw the shimmering lights of the buildings and the flying cars.
"So... on the way in, we saw several famous monuments from Americaland, in ruins. Was there some sort of nookular apocalypse in your nation?" the mushroom scientist asked, floating along with his friends and the Gaurds, making sure not to keep his eyes off the lanterns.
"The Washingmachine Obelisk was half-gone, the Americaland Capitol had its dome caved in, and the upper half of Smithstonian Palace was razed. On our way here, Lanta's golden dome capitol was collapsed, and the entire city was desolate! If I recall, Lanta was a thriving Americanese metropolis... but it's just wasteland now. What exactly happened there, and what about here? Why are the lower streets, where we are, so desolate and unlit? I mean, dirt roads and no streetlights, while those bridges up there are glistening? Have your people abandoned ground travel?"
The diplomat interjected.
"...-and is it a job requirement ta look all spooky down her on the unlit streets? Seriosuly, ya'll look like them villains in a science fiction movie. You know, where the government has a secret nookular response team that cleans up hazardous waste and silences the press when they come a-investigatin', 'cause it wasn't REALLY a nookular spill, but an alien attack? The black robes and gas masks don't help nothin'."
A soldier rambled along.
"That's a sweet weapon you got there, sir." he said respectfully, complimenting the Gaurd's glowing rod. "All we've got are these here shotguns, some tasers, and some novelty weapons."
The procession continued along, and things went silent as everyone ran out of ideas to say. Every now and then, some rustling or faint chatter could be heard. One soldier, being attentive as he was, could have sworn that he heard a guy with a Yankee accent "making an offer you couldn't refuse" somewhere in the dark. Frightened by this, the soldier, refusing to leave formation, tapped the diplomat on the shoulder and forwarded his message.
"Gentlemen, one of our sold-uhs back there thinks he heard some guy in the mob in one of the unlit alleyways." the soldier told him.
The diplomat chuckled nervously. This was the tenth time a soldier thought he heard the Mafia. Or a chainsaw. The Mafia had a huge alcohol smuggling circuit in TurtleShroom, and obviously, the godfathers didn't like TS law enforcement. The diplomat was nervous for the soldiers.
"There ain't a Mafia down here, is there? Surely, a nation with such advanced police could handle the Mafia, right? RIGHT? ...-and why do you keep speakin' 'bout serial killers? Is that po-lice code fer a bad neighborhood? My colleagues have been telling me that they've been hearin' chainsaws and Yankee accents all night. I'd laugh it off, but TurtleShroom soldiers are taught to hear EVERYTHING that goes on around them. You, as soldiers yer-selves, probably know what we mean. However, I think they're hearin' things."
He paused as he scuffled up a little closer to the lantern. Everyone did the same, not wanting to get lost.
"Just reassure the TurtleShroom soldiers that there ain't no Mafia down here... or chainsaw wielders... or crime... I swear, someone's 'gonna jump out and chop my head off!" the diplomat stated in fear.
