Late in the night, twenty four hours after thier masked adventures, they hit a wall.

Awash in pure frustration, rage, and primal screams, they could go no further. Human language failed them, and they mewled, groaned and screeched like animals in iron traps, wandering and crawling around their environment.

One of them loped to the copy machine, and screamed into it's glass plate and phosphorus white scanning light.

A black and white image of his screeching visage emerged. Soon they were all clustered around it, capturing their horror in the page.

And so emerged this portrait of desperation.


(click on it. it's really big...)