"Nnnnnngggggh."

Another hangover. Not that it's unusual at this point. Just once you'd like to win the "no hangover" lottery. Why can't alcohol be like lottery tickets, instead of the opposite? You roll over and attempt to bury your head in your pillow to ease the throbbing in your head.

......Hang on.

You don't have a pillow.

........Or a bed, for that matter.

Your eyes snap open and you hoist yourself up from the bed, only to immediately regret it when you are blinded by the white of room. Squinting, your vision is met with what appears to be.......

.......a hospital room?

What the FUCK. You can't afford a hospital! That's valuable booze money you'd be wasting! What idiot brought you here? You don't----

Suddenly, what's truly wrong hits you like a Old Jimmy's cane.

Wait.

You're sober.

You're in a hospital and you're sober.

OH GOD YOU'RE IN A HOSPITAL AND YOU'RE SOBER NONONONONONONONONONONO


>What do?

[ ] [Freak out]

[ ] [check for stolen kidneys]

[ ] [search for escape route]

[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

[AWAITING COMMAND....]

>>21392535
[X] [check for stolen kidneys]

Kidneys first, freak out later.

Can't believe I forgot to post previous threads.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/21008795/

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/21315449/

>>21392624
>[X] [check for stolen kidneys]

You manage to restrain your sanity from leaking out your ears long enough to attempt to rationally approach your situation. By which you mean you let your well-honed hobo paranoia take over.

"NOBODY'S GETTIN' MY ORGANS!" You shriek, throwing off the sheets to grab the edge of your---wait, WHERE THE HELL DID YOUR OFFICIAL HOBO ATTIRE GO!?!?? It's been replaced with this fucking.....smock....thing....is this a fucking dress!? It's clean and it's a dress and it doesn't smell like bourbon and you are NOT OKAY WITH THIS.

Hold on, Lincoln. Kidneys first, clothes later.

You manage to figure out how to pull the weird dress of cleanliness up to get at your torso. With a sigh of relief, you see no signs of organ thieves, alien or human.

You fall back onto the bed, relieved. With the immediate worry averted, you find the presence of mind to observe your surroundings.

As you noticed before, you're in a hospital bed. Thankfully, you don't have any of that weird medical shit hooked up to you, or there would have been much more screeching. And blood. Well, except the heart monitor thing, but you'll let that slide because you think it's fun to watch.

Heh. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BE--wait, what the hell is that?

....Is that your reflection? That can't be your reflection, it doesn't-----

You feel your face. What you feel is more terrifying than the thought of any organ removal.

YOUR BEARD. THE DEVILISH MEDICAL BLACK WIZARDS TOOK YOUR BEARD.

"NO AMOUNT OF PENANCE CAN PAY FOR THIS TREACHERY!!!!!" You bellow, hurling the sheets off your body. You leap out of the bed, and predictably-----

"WooooooaBLAAAGGFHHH!"

--you proceed to eat it, because you have all the grace of.....well, of an alcoholic hobo NO MATTER! Revenge must be sought.

You force yourself to your feet, somehow having avoided much injury besides a slightly worse headache. You march over to the door, intending to burst it asunder to rage at the black magicians on the other side. Your rage shall be vented upon them, with ALL THE FURY OF----

------aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand the door's locked.


.............Fuck.

>What do?

[ ] [Throw a tantrum and go back to bed]

[ ] [pick the lock on the door]

[ ] [Look for another way out]

[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

[AWAITING COMMAND.....]

OP is still here, and am perfectly willing to keep writing for anyone who wants to play, just as a heads-up.

imbibe liquor

seems the only thing we can do, barring that any liquid

Oh damn, good thing I woke up to drink more

>>21392905
Drink more, clearly the best choice

>>21396534
>>21397775
>>21397792

Wellll, shit. Sorry, people. My laptop's screen decided to die, so it took me a while to find a solution. I will resume if y'all are still awake.

The stress of the situation begins to drive you towards your rambling instincts again. You, being the reasonable, settled in his way type, reach for your old standby, your flas---

It's gone.

Your flask is gone. So is every other source of alcohol.

You're in a hospital, you're wearing an ugly dress thing, and ALL OF THE BOOZE IS GONE.

>The OP takes a drink to distract himself from the horror of this plausible scenario.

This......no. NO. THIS CANNOT BE.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" You scream, Darth Vader channeling himself through you. You must get out. You must get out and find more of your sweet, sweet lifeblood, lest the madness overtake you.

The last time that happened, there was a funny accident that involved a train, a petrochemical plant, and a massive explosion.

You swing your head frantically, looking around for exits. There is the door, in front of you, of course. There's also a window, which doesn't seem to have any bars, though they could be invisible. There's also the option of tunneling through the wall with your bare hands.

You are wrenched from your thoughts by a strange voice from above. OH GOD, THE VOICES, THEY'RE BACK AGA----

Oh wait, that's the intercom. False alarm.

"Paging, Dr. Clarkson. Dr. Clarkson, please bring General Williams and report to Room 304. The patient of interest has regained consciousness."

...........Right. Scratch that. Back to panicking.

THE MAN IS COMING FOR YOU!

>What Do?

[ ] [Escape through window]

[ ] [pick the lock on the door]

[ ] [Tunnel through the wall]

[ ] [Wait for THE MAN to arrive]
[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

Pick the lock

>>21398391
>[X] Pick the lock

No, you can't waste time with needlessly complicated escape plans. Straight forward is the only way to go. And the first way to do that is getting this door open. Thankfully, all your time as a Hobo hasn't left you completely bereft of skills. You happen to be a MASTER LOCKPICK! Plus, by peaking through the crack, you can see this door has a weak lock.

You back up across the room to get a head start.

BLAM

The door flies open with a sharp crack, the lock mechanism crumbling before your mighty Hobo Charge. Truly a skill of the Gods. As is the equally powerful technique, "Hobo Crash Into The Wall Due To Momentum And Bad Reflexes".

You slide down the wall to the floor, your headache now even worse.

Thankfully, the yelling of the hospital staff rouses you to your senses. They're talking about retraining you. HA! NO MAN CAN KEEP A GOOD HOBO DOWN!

You scramble to your feet, beginning your flight down the hallways, before the evil medical demons can strap you to one of the hell tables or whatever those things on wheels are called.

Sprinting as fast as your achingly sober limbs will allow you, you elbow aside what looks like an intern as he's coming out of the elevator. Running inside, you quickly flip around and jam the button for the ground level. One of the medical monsters attempts to get a hand in to pry the doors closed. You grab his arm and Indian rug burn him with the urgency of a man possessed, and he withdraws his limb with a yelp as the doors shut.

Taking a moment to catch your breath, you look around for anything that could be used as a weapon.

Aaaaaand nothing. Why can't they just leave bonesaws lying around here like they should be? The doctors have no sense of how adventures should work.

A "ding" announces your arrival on the bottom floor. As the doors woosh open, you rush out, managing to snake your way through the amassed hospital staff that have attempted to cut you off. Following the signs on the wall, you make for the lobby.

HAHA! YES! You're nearly home free! Just down this hallway, out the doors, and you'll-------uh oh.

There's a man in a military uniform standing at the end of the hallway. He does not look happy. And you are rapidly approaching him.

THE FINAL BOSS OF THE HOSPITAL HAS APPEARED.

>What do?

[ ] [Reverse course, find another way out]

[ ] [Break through the military man with you HOBO WRATH]

[ ] [Tunnel through the wall]

[ ] [find out what this obvious THE MAN wants]

[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

File: 1351853566187.jpg-(291 KB, 1742x994, 1349806895252.jpg)

>>21398492
>Master lock pick
>Body check door
Bwahahaha

>>21398497
Tunnel + drink

>>21398497
[X ] [Tunnel through the wall]

>>21398515
I get the feeling this will become a running gag.

Glad to know I didn't miss you. Passed out for a while after my laptop decided to be a dick. Got it hooked up to an external monitor now.

>>21398531
[X] Delusional Hobo Combo

"AAAAAAAAARGH, YOU'LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE, MILITARY STOOGE! MY HOBO SPIRIT SHALL NOT BE BROKEN!"

The time has come for drastic measures. You probably can't beat this guy in a fight; much as you hate to admit, THE MAN trains his cronies well. And there's a massive wave of hospital staff behind you. You have only one option left.

You immediately hang a sharp left and plaster yourself against the wall. You immediately begin clawing at masonry with your well-callused fingers, willing the obstruction to give way before you. Yield, dammit, YIELD!

In the meantime, you begin licking and slurping the wall. The whole place smells like rubbing alcohol anyway, perhaps you can siphon off some of the essence that has soaked into the building.

So engrossed are you in your masonry angry make-outs, that you don't notice the military man has made his way behind you until you feel his annoyed gaze on your back.

.........Feeling a beatdown eminent, you begin sucking on the wall harder. It is in vain.

You find yourself hurtling airborne, only to come crashing down on a gurney that you swear wasn't there before. Oh right. Hospital demons. The military man, who appears to have some kind of devil-justu, quickly straps you down before you can actually react.

"Mr. Bismuth, would you please contain yourse----"

"YOU CAN TAKE MY BRAIN, BUT YOU CAN'T TAKE MY HOBO SOUL, YOU GOVERNMENT DOG!"

The military jerk narrows his gaze. You decide it might be wise to stop insulting him. Even if it's true. You content yourself with glaring defiantly, though you may just look like you have to sneeze.

"Are you finished?" The medal-wearing menace asks. Glare.

"Well, in that case, I suppose you should know why I need to talk to you. I am Brigadier General Williams, of the United States Army. And though you are possibly the most unqualified person for anything I have EVER seen, we....." He pauses, grimacing, as if it physically hurts him to say.

"......we.......need your.....help."

>The OP takes another drink, in honor of the sober suffering of Lincoln.

>What do?

[ ] [Listen to his proposal]

[ ] [NOPE]

[ ] [Attempt to roll the hell wagon down the hallway]

[ ] [imbibe liquor]

[ ] [other]

It would make for a good one. I like the mental image of attempting to dig through and drink a wall at the same time.

On the verge of passing out myself, have to be at work in 6 hours

>>21398614
Well, this seems like a good place to stop anyway. Make one more decision and I'll wrap it up. I'll run another thread either tomorrow or Saturday.

>>21398601
"I doubt you have half of the liquor it takes to hire me."

>>21398601
[X ] [Attempt to roll the hell wagon down the hallway]

What time OP? This is going to be the first quest I will take part in because fucking hilarious

>>21398649

See @HoboRiftQuest for announcements. Probably sometime after 5pm, due to work and such.

>>21398634
>>21398649

"Help." You take a moment to remember what it means. It's been a while since someone asked you for that.

......Oh right. It means they want something from you.

"........My humble hobo services are, sadly, not cheap. I highly doubt you'd have even close to HALF the liquor it would take to hire me." Managing to sound slightly composed (so as to catch him off guard), you immediately buck your body forward to try to get the hell wagon to roll towards the lobby doors. Maybe you can still make it and-----

-----Dammit. He's got his foot wedged under the front wheel. Clever bastard.

"Your escape attempts, Mr. Bismuth, at least show off your persistence, if not also your rampant alcoholism. But this is not something you have the option of fleeing from. Too much is at stake."

You stop grumbling curse words under your breath to regard that statement for a moment. "Stake? What's at stake is my sanity, from staying sober too long. Are you telling me my sanity is a matter of national securi-watchacallit? If so, BRING ME THE FINEST OF LIQUORS!"

THWACK "Ow!"

The military man withdraws his fingers, leaving you unable to believe someone can flick that hard.

"No, Mr. Bismuth, as far as the government and the military are concerned, your sanity has obviously long been compromised, and probably have been more of a detriment to this country than a benefit."

"Thank you." Another grimace. You're starting to enjoy annoying him.

"Be. That. As. It. MAY. There has developed a situation that IS a matter of national security, and potentially one of a global security. And through some strange, cruel twist of fate, YOU were the one at the center of it."

"............I didn't think Old Jimmy's whiskey was THAT bad......"

"Wha-----LISTEN, please, Mr. Bismuth, and stop hallucinating or being a moron for just a moment. At approximately 8:37PM yesterday, what can only be determined as some sort of dimension rift appeared at the New Orleans location of Lee's circle. YOU were seen both going in and coming back out. Multiple unidentified hostiles also came back out, and killed seven people before they all were killed, forced to retreat, or surrendered. Do you understand the GRAVITY of the situation?"

You pause for a moment, suddenly forced to confront the gravity of the situation. It feels heavy, aching on your soul, like.......no, wait, that's probably withdrawal symptoms, never mind.

"Nope." You grin. The Man Who Calls Himself Williams massages his temples, appearing as if he is reconsidering your status as alive.

"Whatever. As it stands, you are the only one who has seen what was inside there, and therefore, we need you in order to make sense of the dangers we may face."

Uh oh. He's asking for facts. You hate facts. They're hard to bullshit and---

"We've cordoned off the area, and since last night the rift has swelled in size. This is both good and bad, as we can now fit military equipment through as well as personnel, but anything big on that side can get through as well. We've already lost two men to the things that have come out of it."

Wait. You sense an opportunity for bullshitting. "What sort of things, General?" You pour on the fake respect.

"Weird things. There were only two of them, but they managed to kill a man a piece before we were able to kill them. It took flamethrowers to do it, as bullets seemed to have no effect. Some sort of gelatinous lifeform, capable of taking the shape of a female human, though not a very good fake. Managed to get them close enough to dissolve two of my men, though. Their deaths were......less than dignified. I won't say anymore about that."

What. What. No. There's no possible way.

"The hostiles that were apprehended by police, upon questioning them about it, said that they must have been feral members of another species on the other side. I believe he called them----"

"Slimes." You interrupt him. A ridiculously unhinged grin adorns your face.

"Wha----yes. How do you know this? Did you speak with the hostiles? Why are you grinni--" He stops as you start laughing like a man who's just found an oasis in the desert.

"BwahahahaaaaaaaaaHAHAHAHA!! OH, THIS IS A GLORIOUS DAY! I MUST HAVE BOOZE TO CELEBRATE!" You wind down to mere giggling. General Williams looks rather unnerved.

"What on earth do you know, Mr. Bismuth!? What exactly is so FUNNY!?"

"Oh General-person. Don't you see? Don't you see what we've just been lucky enough to find?"

You crack another grin, wiggling your eyebrows perversely. There's just one word to speak.

"Monstergirls."

>The OP downs the entire rest of his drink in celebration.

Aaaaaand that's all from me tonight. Or this morning, as the case may be. This thing only gets more fun to write as I go.

More from me either Friday or Saturday, depending on work necessary. See @HoboRiftQuest for updates. I'll be on for a little while longer to answer questions, I guess.

And so it begins. Good thread, shame I didn't wake up sooner. Until next time, because I am passing out

>>21398812
May your dreams be filled with the vore-fuelled sounds of HUEHUEHUE