>>28578761

...Are we even remotely competent at CPR? If so, that. If not, we're dragging Umair's ass to Sidi Maansay.

Also, good to see you again, Maxim, loved the first session.

>>28578797
Gonna be honest, CPR is just gonna be a 1d100. With a small chance.

>>28578761
>[ ] Grab Umair's money. Kick him out.
He's a goner, man.

>>28578850
...Screw it, holding to CPR. We're just going to kill him if we drag his ass through the sand anyway, and we don't want to be arriving in a strange place dragging a dead body.

I'll give it a bit longer, then 1d2.

CPR.

>>28578904
We do CPR and roll 90; he wakes up. Then what? Even a mile of dragging would kill him. There's just no way he survives now. Bleeding too severe. Shot in chest.

I say we dump both bodies. We've still got the fucker who shot him in the back.

Just in time.

Give me a 1d100 roll. Oh, also introducing a mechanic in a little bit.

Rolled 78

>>28578942

Rolled 61

>>28578946
No luck. Writing.

Rolled 27

>>28578942
You got it.

He'll call you right back. Umair isn't breathing now.

You hit the brakes, haul on the wheel, pulling to the side of the road and beyond, a few dozen meters off of the road. Dust whips up around you, and the truck jostles as it comes off the asphalt and hits the sand. You put it in to park, and swing out the door, rushing to the other side. Bringing back a corpse would mean that Maliki had something over you. The rest of Maliki's militia would see you as a stranger that breezed out of nowhere to kill a friend of theirs.

You go to the opposite side, haul on the door, pull out Umair, set him on the ground.

"Come on," He's lost a lot of blood. Just a bit longer was all. Sidi Maansar wasn't that far. You lay him on the ground, pound on his chest, "Come on."

Blood works out of the hole in his chest, but you place your hands just beneath his sternum, and wrench yourself in to him. He doesn't make a noise. His blood squelches under your fingers. Him dying would make trouble for you. Who shot him? You glance. Wounds too small for rifle rounds. Shots would have gone through the seat otherwise. Come on.

Every few seconds, light filters underneath and around the truck you're hiding behind, washing over you, before leaving you back in the dark. You keep pounding on his chest, but it seems like he loses heat fast. Nothing. Nothing left of him. Fuck. Umair is dead. You let your head drop, shake it. You pat him down, find a wad of blood stained cash. You put the literal blood money away- at least twenty thousand denar. You can get a more exact count later.

Maliki still hasn't called you back.

And you note, there's a constant light now. You glance up. Someone's pulled up alongside the road. Highbeams are on your truck. Whoever it is is opposite of your truck, so you at least have cover.

>[ ] Draw pistol, lay in wait.
>[ ] Look, check out who it is. Dice 1d100.
>[ ] Just go. Leave the truck, run before you're seen.
>[ ] Other.

>Will mechanics in next post.

Rolled 40

>>28579083
Draw pistol, roll under truck, lay in wait.

>Will Points. Current total, 3/3.
>Basically, nabbed the idea from WoD. It doesn't provide anything supernatural, but it represents a bit of a heroic reserve of power in our main character. If there's a difficult shot, you can spend a point of will to better the odds in your favor. If you've got a fractured leg, you can spend a point of will to ignore the pain and run. If you've been up for 51 hours and need to stay awake another 24, spend a will point.

>I'll usually prompt whenever there's an opportunity to spend will points, but if you guys come up with something creative, I'll be glad to let it fly.

>Willpower is regained with a night of rest without stress, or by indulging in a vice. Will pool can be expanded, but I'll go over that later. At any rate-

>Hiding check passed. Writing.

>>28579124
I don't think that's a good idea.
>[ ] Draw pistol, check out who it is. Dice 1d100

Rolled 26

>>28579124
Good idea

Umair can wait. You pull out your pistol, go for your truck, and stop. It's lit up by highbeams. If you roll under it, you'll be spotted quickly. After a few frantic moments, you find a brush you'd parked over. Not quite the most dignified moment for you, but you wedge yourself in the brambles and keep an eye out.

"Hello?" You hear. There's a man moving down the slope. He's got on some white sneakers and blue jeans. You don't see a gun from your angle, but that doesn't mean much of anything. The shoes approach.

You hear something fervently whispered, and then a clunk from somewhere up near the road. A car door opening and shutting. Sounded high pitched. A light purple skirt rushes after the sneakers, and hangs nearby.

"I can't just" is all you hear, before a passing truck drowns out the rest of the noise. The sneakers approach your truck. Skirt stays where it is.

You reach down, set your phone to vibrate half consciously. You lean down, squint through the brush and sand. Looked like a car up there. You can't see what kind. Not a truck though. Your SVD is up in the truck. Your CZ75 can easily hit though.

It'd probably be a lot easier to get through the checkpoint in an unmarked car though. Fitting the mysterious corpse would be a bit difficult, but still, that'd work. Maybe they had money.

They're far from the road. Nobody would see. Really, aside from your hands, you're pretty clean. Zip up the jacket, wash hands in canteen water, get in the car. You'd look like an ordinary citizen.

You have to be pragmatic in these situations. These people might be working for someone. Could report you to the Gendarmerie.

>[ ] Pop sneaker's ankles. He'd have the keys. Dice 1d100, 75 DC.
>[ ] Pop the further skirt's ankles before she could run to the road. 1d100, 70 DC.
>[ ] Roll out. Gun up, threaten them in to helping.
>[ ] Put away gun. Roll out. Be peaceable.
>[ ] Stay hidden.
>[ ] Other.

>>28579358
>[Stay Hidden]

>>28579358
>tfw moral dilemma
Do we go full mercenary? They could be working for someone, you know. Who just follows a car off the road for no reason?

>>28579403
Good Samaritan? In Algeria? I dunno man, this is a tough one.

>>28579437
>>28579403
>>28579381
Welp, so far the only option is hiding, so hiding it is. Writing.

>>28579492
Well shit. Hopefully they find the body, get spooked, then leave, probably reporting it to whoever. We'll have some time to get through the checkpoint.

How moral are we going to be? No problem with killing for hire, evidently.

>>28579644
Kill for hire, but no unnecessary casualties.

Rolled 99

Only an idiot would pull over for a truck in Algeria these days. An idiot, or someone with firepower.

Still. There was a possibility. You keep your pistol trained, as best as you can in the cramped environ, on sneakers. He approaches cautiously, faltering steps trailing one after another. You're uncomfortable, and wish you could spit the grit from your teeth.

He rounds your truck, and then you hear a gasp. He sprints for Umair's body. "Fatima! Fatima!"

The skirt at the other end hurries over. At the sight, you hear an oath, a whispered prayer to God, "Oh, oh no, oh no, God be good, God be good," on and on.

They're pretty focused on Umair's corpse. They crouch around it- the man wearing a sweater and a coat, and you note has a pistol in his hand (An old makarov, you think). The woman only has a light shawl- not rural then. You guess they live in Batan. Why they'd be out and about at 3 in the morning, well, you don't know.

You feel your phone vibrating. That'd be Maliki calling then. They both have their back to you. Heads in the open, looking down.

"He's dead then?"
"Ye-yes, I suppose he is."
"Oh God. He couldn't have driven himself then-" The woman rises, looking back, "God. Do you have the camera?"
"Is now truly a good time?" The man murmurs.
"We have to take a picture. And I have a night sight on the camera. Oh, can you call a doctor?"
"Why? Why bother?"

Foreigner then. You give her credit. Good Arabic- but wasn't the local dialect. Reporter. They have good money.

The phone continues to vibrate. You wish these people would go away. Though, now that they're distracted, you could steal their car easily enough. The rifle would be tricky to drag along though.

>[ ] Drop them. DC 75.
>[ ] Sneak away, see if you can steal the car.
>[ ] Come out, gun up. Shake them down.
>[ ] Come out, pretend to be an innocent bystander.
>[ ] Other.

Rolled 27, 37 = 64

>>28579358
You can not leave snayperskaya in car! kill sneakers, then skirt. Be as clean as possible.

>>28579733
>[ ] Drop them. DC 75
Once she took out that camera it was all over. Both of them. Malik is not paying us to let this get back to him.

>>28579778
Well, the camera isn't out. Apparently the man is hesitant to bring it out.

So far, they have Umair's corpse is all. I say we pretend to be an innocent bystander.

>>28579778
Oh supplemental note- reporter means cover for getting through the checkpoint. We can use this to our advantage to smoothly sail back to Djelfa, and hold on to the bribing cash.

Also, I'd rather not rack up the body count too much.

And we have a tie. Maybe I should have waited for another day. Well, I'll give it five minutes more, then 1d2.

>>28579733
>[ ] Drop them. DC 75
This is why you don't enter alleyways or follow suspicious people.

>Drop them

>>28579880
>>28579778
>>28579880
No good deed. Give me 2 1d100 rolls.

Rolled 24

>>28579920

Rolled 12

>>28579920
Roolin

>>28579966
>>28579946
Success. Writing.

>>28579733
Sneak away and steal the car. We didn't sign up to kill these folks, and they seem like decent enough people.

The man with the gun first. You carefully balance your pistol, line up his head in the sights.
"The camera, Ahmed!"
"Alright, alri-" He starts to stand. Can't afford to miss that headshot. Mid word, the bullet goes in the through his cheek, slanting upward, exiting his temple. He makes a choking, sputtering noise, stumbling left, over Umair's body, blood flowing out of his mouth. The woman inhales sharply, looks to where the shot came from. She raises her hands, falling backwards in to a sitting position, heels scraping at the dirt.

The bullet passes through her ring finger, goes through right above her eye. Terrible hole in her head. She makes a rattling noise, trying to scream, kicking at the sand. Dust comes up as she spasms, and you roll out from under the truck, standing. Took less than two seconds.

The man died instantly. She's taking a bit longer. But you can't waste the bullet.

>CZ75: 14/15 rounds remaining. Two more magazines of 15 bullets in jacket.

You stand up, go for the man, ignoring her fading rattles. A quick patdown, and you have the keys. One car key, you glance over- a range rover. And two house keys. A little knit pendant. No camera on him. A nice, fancy smart phone though. The woman is raising her fingers against the sky, caught in a claw. You'll wait until you search her.

The phone buzzes again. Right, Maliki. You pull it out.

"What took you so long?"
"Sticky situation," You glance at the bodies, "Nothing I couldn't handle."
"Hmph," Maliki seems irritated that there could possibly be something more imporatnt than him, "Right, Sidi Maansar. I do have a friend there- he can give you a place to stay. Runs a cafe."
"Name?"
"Mindal's Share. How's Umair?"

Umair is very still, but at least he has company now. The woman stills, staring off in to the desert.

"Dead."
"Shame. Well, remember where he lays. I'll send men over later to pick up his body. Take care."

He hangs up. Well, you've got a safe house at least.

>Another 15021 denar collected. Current total: 44416 dinar. About $555.29.

There's a notepad on the woman's person. You flip through the notes- nothing of interest. Just more accounts of the deplorable situation in the region, names, dates, interview times. You throw it aside. The interesting parts are what makes you money. The woman has some gold and pearl earrings, and a diamond ring as well. Inlaid inside of it, something in Greek. You can't read Greek. You're sure they'll sell well. The man has good boots, steel toed, with fine rubber soles. Look almost brand new.

>[ ] Take boots and jewelry.
>[ ] Leave boots. Take jewelry.
>[ ] Take boots. Leave jewelry.
>[ ] Leave it all.

You figure, as long as you're here, you'll search that other body you've got in your truck. You haul him out. Four corpses in your possession. Busy day.

He looks to be professional military- Umair was lucky he stove in his head, you figure. Three boxy magazines labeled 'H&K' are in his webbing, along with a slim, long, black bladed knife. More made for stabbing than slashing. Perfect for night work. The magazines contain 10mm rounds. You're guessing from the loads designed to be subsonic. Meant for quiet work, you deduce. No radio on him. Don't know how he communicated then. No uniform, badges, wallet, or identification of any sort, aside from on his wrist, a tattoo in Arabic- "No regrets. Fallujah, '04."

No idea what that was about. Perhaps Algerian Internal Security forces? Would fit their MO. Only thing that struck you as strange was the tattoo.

>[ ] Take the reporter's car.
>[ ] Take your truck.
>[ ] Dispose/bury the bodies first.
>[ ] Other.

>>28580241
>Regrettably- a little late.

Oh man.
>>28580252
>[ ] Take boots. Leave jewelry.
We need comfy shoes.
>[ ] Dispose/bury the bodies first.
Just throw them over a tiny hill or something so they're out of sight. Malik wants to pick up Umair, apparently.
>[ ] Take your truck.

Rolled 58

>>28580252
>[x]Take boots and jewelry
then
>[x]Dispose of bodies AND OUR TRUCK. Remove anything that could lead back to us
then
>[x]Take reporter's car

>>28580252
I think we should do something about the reporter corpses. We killed them so nothing could get back to Maliki, but he might see things differently. If he decides he wants more leverage, he can hold them over our heads and I don't want to be any more under his thumb than we are already.

>>28580343
We have gasoline to burn the truck, at least I think we do.
Okay. I'll second this. Let's drive the truck a bit out put them in the car and burn it.

>>28580369
Wait, nevermind. Against Islam.

>>28580369
You do indeed have gas.

So, taking comfy shoes and bling, stuffing corpses in truck, though leaving out Umair for Maliki maybe, and then driving them over a rise and burning it all.

Right?

>>28580377
I find your piety in light of recent events humorous.

>>28580378
Yea, that's good. Just don't burn Umair.

>>28580378
Yes.

It takes some time to haul them in to the truck cab. It'll be nice to be in something won't smell like blood, you reflect. You do your best not to get stained yourself.

Three dead bodies piled in the truck later, you drive further in to the desert, away from Umair who you leave as is. You sling gas over the mess, and throw a match recovered from the glove compartment. It lights up well. You gag at the scent of roasting flesh, but leave it at that. You stalk back to the car, twirling the keys. You try to put her eyes out from your mind. Shame. She was good looking. You hurry away, as the blaze burns merrily.

The lights come on when you open the car door. And there's a baby in the back seat, strapped in to one of those child safety chairs. Okay. Moving on.

The car is comfortable and western. A small, handheld video camera, and a great big expensive kodak with some telescoping lens- you don't know cameras very well, but you guess it's expensive. Dangling off of the rearview mirror, a press pass. Issued by the BBC. You drag it down, take a look. 'Fatima Fraga Mancha.' Spanish then. Her picture is in it, but you take a note that if you can find a forger, you'll be able to do some good work with it. Press passes could open doors. The scent of soiled diapers fill the air, and you hear a confused coo. Moving on.

Blankets and sleeping bags fill the trunk, along with some juice boxes and crackers. Like they were going out for a field trip or something. A confused murmur from the back seat. Oh well. You pack the dragunov with shaking hand in to the back, get it covered in blankets. There's a nice tablet computer as well. The baby is starting to cry. Ignore it. Ignore the damn thing.

>[ ] Drive to the checkpoint with the baby. Come up with a cover story.
>[ ] Take the baby out of the car, set it in the desert. Drive to the checkpoint.
>[ ] Minor conniption. Call a contact on reporter's phone to pick up things. Walk off.
>[ ] Other.

>>28580512
Leave the baby in the desert, but call a contact on the reporter's phone to give them his position.

We may be a monster, but we really can't just off a baby.

>>28580544
>[ ] Take the baby out of the car, set it in the desert. Drive to the checkpoint.

We really can. We just offed his/her parents in cold blood to stop this story leaking further.

Oh man. I like to imagine this as a dark comedy. Easier to read.
>>28580512
>[ ] Drive to the checkpoint with the baby. Come up with a cover story.
My baby now. We can drop it off after the check point. We don't want someone to pick it up and find Umair.

Unless we've concealed Umair, in which case leave baby on desert and do >>28580544

>>28580544
Cover it with a blanket at least, deserts get cold at night.

Hell, we can spread the sleeping bags out so that anybody driving can see him easily, maybe leave the phone so that anyone who finds him will have the necessary contacts.

>>28580566
Umair's pretty far from the road.

>>28580566
Yeah, I'm trying to put a Fargo kind of tone out there when things get darker. I don't want people to feel too bad when things get dark, and I'm just not good enough to go full edge mode.

Anyway, seems we want to take the baby out, arrange comfort/pick up, and then get going.

>>28580512
Take the baby, raise i-
Actually how young is it? Does it still drink only breast milk? Anyway take it

>>28580512
>[ ] Take the baby out of the car, set it in the desert. Drive to the checkpoint.
>>28580592
Don't you want it to be found by some barren couple who always wanted a child?

Baby is bad loot.
>>28580635
I don't want a baby man. We need to be much better at this in the future. No more hiccups.

>>28580635
I'm with this guy. We kind of owe this baby, what with murdering the parents.

>>28580512
How old is the baby?

You slam the trunk door shut and start yelling, kicking at the wheel of the tire. Stupid stupid stupid stupid STUPID! What the fuck did you do? What the fuck did you do? What the fuck were you thinking?

The child's cries pierce the car and you flinch from it. You slide down, against the side of the vehicle and just stare up.

You knew the smart thing to do. Just throw that baby on to the fire with the parents. Callous, cruel, and awful. But you'd already killed the thing's parents. Or parent maybe. Maybe the reporter had a local guide, the man and he had to watch the- stop thinking.

But it was just a baby. You bury your head in your hands a moment. You wish the thing would shut up. You try to imagine yourself standing up, handing going underneath the jacket, shaking the pistol free, putting it up to the window- but you can't. What would your mother think?

The thing is shrieking, bawling like an air raid siren. Did it know what you'd done? God, you laugh a little. You imagine being bent and weary at fifty, leaning over a table eating your meal, to see a young man, or, let's be fair, a young woman who had led a hard life walking in. He (Or she) would raise the gun, ask if you remembered. You wouldn't. N88? Parents that pulled to the side of the road, offering mercy to someone that deserved none? Ahh, there's the glimmer in your eyes. You remember now. You raise a hand, in protest. You're old, feeble. Dying as it is. Just wait, let us talk. But now. Justice waits for no man.

And then some moron would read it all afterward, and ask how you could be so stupid as to let the baby live? Hadn't you read books? That's always what happens when the villain lets the child get away!

You knuckle your brow, shaking your head. Why oh why had they pulled over. Get a grip. Just a baby.

Be professional.

You stand up, glance around. Traffic whipped by, without a car in the world. But that fire was visible. Had to be quick.

You pull open the door. The bing bing of the car being open was drowned out by the creature's howling. It was going purple in the face. Cold night. You take it gently as it shakes, and set it down on the sand. After some thought, you turn it away from the fire. Make sure it's far from the road, on a rock. You take out the reporter's phone. Contacts. Boss.

"Thank God, I was worried sick-" English. He's talking fast, hard to make out all the words. You learned the language to watch cartoons.
"N88, two kilometers from Sidi Mansaar," Your tongue feels swollen. You have trouble with the alien words. The man on the other end mumbles- goes through some conclusions rapidly, before he gives a small yelp of shock, talks quickly.
"Oh, oh good bloody lord, listen, is, is she alright? Ransom, right, we can-"
"Fast," You set the phone in the lap of the baby. Tuck it in. The man's confusion ends. You set off a flare by the side of the road (Probably unnecessary, considering the fire), then drive hard for the checkpoint.

Checkpoint in sight. Gendarmerie then. They hold up their fists for you to stop. You stop. A man in Algerian uniform approaches, frowns glancing around the car.
"Sorry to stop you. Papers?"

>[ ] No words. Only bribes. 1d100 roll to determine how cheap.
>[ ] "Listen, sorry, I have to hurry. This bossy foreigner wanted me to get her picked up a half hour ago and then all this crisis-"
>[ ] "Sure. Here's my boss's," Pass press pass to guard.
>[ ] Other.

>>28580635
>>28580828
>The thing is maybe 8 months old? You can't tell exactly. You're no baby scientist.

>>28580854
>[ ] No words. Only bribes. 1d100 roll to determine how cheap.
I just want to get out. No risks. People like money.

Rolled 62

>>28580854
>[ ] No words. Only bribes. 1d100 roll to determine how cheap.

Let's get through here quick. I want to get out of any stressful situations as quickly as humanly possible.

>Slight delay. Buying cookies. Be back shortly.

>>28580854
I don't think we have it in us to talk our way out of a bribe. Let's just pass him the money and get out of here.

>>28580854
>[X] No words. Only bribes. 1d100 roll to determine how cheap.

God damn school fundraising. Forcing kids to go out in to the cold to shill these awful cookies. Bleh. I can barely finish this box.

>>28581408
>>28580980
>>28580890
>>28580880
Dosh! Gimme a 1d100 roll.

Rolled 26

>>28581465

Rolled 11

>>28581465
I wonder what it is like if we roll 1.
"Here's one dollar. Let me through?"

Rolled 79

>>28581465
by the power of money

>>28581529
Nah, I think rolling a 1 means that he pays US to go through the checkpoint.

>>28581529
>advancewarspowerofmoney.gif

>I was thinking you'd convince them to let you through without paying through vague promises of favors and having pull. Anyway-

You don't talk. You give the guard a look, and pull out 4000 dinar. About fifty dollars, US.

>New cash total: 44016 dinar.

The guard looks askance at it, "That's all?"

You give him a nod and a shrug, showing him your empty wallet. The Gendarme shakes his head, "Guess you've already been hit tonight, huh? Lucky for you, I'm tired."

He glances up, gives a short, sharp whistle, and the checkpoint lets you through. The guards don't want to be here either- and they're not looking for trouble. The Berbers would go south, after all.

You pass by Sidi Maansar- you need to drive, and can't sleep besides. No point laying low. They'd be looking for a truck. Not a car. You spit out the window. You can't get rid of that roast taste.

By the time you get to Djelfa, the sun has risen. Your stomach is rumbling, and you're starting to get tired. You make sure to go through the same gate you entered last time- sure enough, the checkpoint has a fancy new DShK. The guards try to shake you down, until one recognizes you, and lets you through. They think you have some serious mojo. Which you did, to be fair.

You stop by your stash first, to hide the jewelry, sling the old shoes in, and check your gear. Nothing touched, which was a relief. You slip the cash inside, make sure it's hidden. Maliki would probably cut down on the reward if he saw you made money on this excursion.

You get your laptop online while you're at it. Two emails. First is from Rachim. No subject. 'Stay in the kitchen.' No idea what that means. No other information. The second is from your Sicilian friend, Salvatore Mori, advising you in broken English he'll be leaving next month. 'Do u want lift?!' Guess he'd run out of credit.

Right. First thing's first-
>[ ] Offload the jewelry.
>[ ] Meet Maliki.
>[ ] To Oran.
>[ ] Other.

>>28581737
'Stay in the kitchen'? God damn it Rachim. Metaphors, guys. Think.

>>28581737
>>28581788
Well, 'stay in the kitchen' is, if we take it in the context of woman's suffrage or something, a phrase that isn't really widespread in africa I'd expect.

My guess, he's telling us to stay the hell out of all the messes going down. Or maybe he's telling us to just run straight to Oran and skip meeting Maliki. We did get an 'off' feeling about the job.

>>28581813
I wanna get paid though.

>>28581813
Maybe he is literally telling us to stay in Maliki's kitchen.

>>28581831
One always wants to get paid. The trick is to not led your greed get the better of your common sense and caution. That gets you killed.

>>28581851
were there any windows with good view in the kitchen? we might be getting sniper support... or a bullet to the back of the head

Oh. We should find out who this 'Dirim ibn Mufar' is. Sonatrach guy. Rachim had his business card in his apartment.

Gotta remember to find an expert to get the data from that hard drive he left.

So. To Maliki's? Oran? Trying to offload some loot?

>>28581885
Okay, I apologize for asking this, but I want to get everything straight for our decision here: what's our main objective? And what's in Oran?

>>28581907
Well, at first we were going to Oran where our Sicilian friend and bank account is, but after tricking Maliki's border guards we showed up to make sure we didn't piss him off. He offered us a job to assassinate some arms dealer. We did it, now we want our payment. We don't really have a concrete goal.

>>28581907
Right-

You are on the run from a warlord in Constantine, Mu'awiya. You used to work for him. Now, he's after you cause his son is dead.

In Oran, you have socked away your savings, a great deal of money. Money enough to let you leave this place and start again elsewhere.

So, at its narrowest, you have two options.

1) Escape Algeria. Mu'awiya might be in charge of a fearsome militia, but his reach can't go beyond his borders.

2) Finish Mu'awiya off before he does the same to you. Not exactly easy.

If you want, I can try to recap the last thread if you weren't here.

>>28581928
>>28581952
Right then, thank you both.

Honestly, unless we think it'll piss him off, and even then, only if it'll piss him off bad enough to go looking for us and/or we think we'll be coming back, I think we can easily skip talking to Maliki. And I don't feel like taking any more risks just for a bit more cash.

So, I say we just drive on to Oran.

>>28581885
Maliki's, I suppose.

We've killed three damn people and orphaned a baby for this fucker, let's go see Maliki.

>>28582026
Agreed. We will stay in he kitchen.

>>28581989
>>28582026
See, what I'm worried about, Maliki screws us over, tries to turn us in for the bounty Mu'awiya has on our heads. I don't trust the guy.

To Maliki's!

>>28582026
>>28582026
Sounds good to me.

>>28582063
We have secret weapons: steel-toed boots and kitchen

I'm convinced Rachim is going to fuck Maliki's compound or something. Or I've missed the metaphor. Either we get payed or he tries to kill us. Either way. Fun.

>>28582109
Then why do you want to walk into what you expect to be a firefight?

File: 1385845219218.jpg-(83 KB, 720x540, Fighters.jpg)

83 KB JPG

You secure your things. Shut the laptop. Rachim wasn't usually the cryptic type. He was usually quite literal. You sigh. Stow your Dragunov in the truck, take the silencer off your CZ, and holster the gun. They better let you keep it this time.

You come to Maliki's hotel again, and again the guard at the door postures and checks with Maliki if it's okay for you to go in. He consents. You walk in. The man at the reception recognizes you, laughs. Let's you know the elevator's working now. You realize belatedly, the door guard hadn't searched you. They warmed up quick, Maliki's men. There's strange men among Maliki's militia, talking and laughing, passing cigarettes and war stories. Berbers, you realize. a few of them, chuckling and talking to one another.

Alliances change fast in Algeria. But not THAT fast. The elevator is open, but you decide to take the stairs.

The flights are hard on your ankle, but you reason that you don't want to be caught in an enclosed space. By the time you reach Maliki's door, you hear his great, brassy laugh. A few knocks, and the door opens to a bare cheeked man with an unpleasant looking beard hanging from his neck. Sometimes, faith or no faith, genetics should be respected.

Maliki is in his lazyboy, laughing uproariously across from a man with a kalpak on his knee sitting on a throw pillow. He has an ugly smile. Between the two, a fine attache case you saw last night.

Maliki, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes glances up at you, and stands suddenly, waving you closer, "Friend! Friend, please, come here- let me introduce you, ah, this is Yaqub, a very reasonable man!"
"Salaam," Yaqub bobs his head. He seems just as happy as he was last night.

The same attache from last night.

"I told you he would deliver!" Maliki waves a hand to you, "Come, take your share, my friend!"

The same attache. These men were idiots.

>[ ] Grab a soda from the fridge.
>[ ] Take your share. Eyes peeled on the window.
>[ ] Other.

>>28582273
>[ ] Grab a soda from the fridge.
Kitchen.

>>28582273
>>[x] Grab a soda from the fridge.
Stay in the kitchen.

>>28582273
Stay in the kitchen.

It's about to hit the fan.

Get in the kitchen while regretting not just driving straight on to Oran.

>>28582359
>>28582345
>>28582318
Gratuitous product placement time.

>>28582273
I'm provisionally gonna say grab a soda from the fridge and meet him head-on with the joviality and confidence. Hell, tell him we're parched, even ask him while we're walking over if he wants one. Killing's thirsty work.

This serves two purposes:
A) If things don't go to shit, we'll piss him off a bit, but he'll probably understand the implicit powerplay, and we'll get a better idea of where we stand with him.
B) If shit goes bad, we're in the kitchen.

What do y'all think?

>>28582273
>>[X] Grab a soda from the fridge.

>>28582424
Agree.

Drink some Serda, stay in the Kitsune.

"Just a moment," You give a benign smile, walk in to the kitchen, "Just a bit thirsty. Do you mind?"
"Please, please, help yourself- but I'll charge you for that!" Maliki points at you, a faux serious look on his face. Then he cracks up to himself. He's in a good mood.

You grab some YEO-CA Cola, pop the tab, and haul back on it. You walk forward to the counter, lean over the counter, trying to get a look at the briefcase while staying on the tile, "What's in there anyway?"
"A million euros," Maliki chuckles. Yaqub adds in something at a murmur that you can't pick up, and Maliki shrugs, "Yaqub tells me I should not be so quick to be honest- but then, Yaqub does not know you like I do," Maliki has a twinkle in his eye as he reaches down, grabs a bound sheaf of bills. He runs his thumb on the edge, and leans back, inhaling the scent as he brushes the sheaf, "Ah. Smells like wealth."

"A million euros?" You do your best to sound impressed, "So, El Puerco was paying Yaqub?"

Yaqub looks at you, wizened face screwed up, but ugly smile still there, "Yes, yes."
"Hostages," Maliki waves his hand dismissively, "Yaqub managed to catch a group of them, but it hardly matters. Yaqub brought us our share. Come on then," Maliki is starting to look annoyed, "Don't be shy friend."

You stay where you are, sip the cola. Flat. You nod, "So, Yaqub was...Huffaz's second in command?"
"Huffaz, ah, Huffaz! Why do you say his name? He's dead and gone, and we don't have to care-"
"Indulge me, Maliki," You look to Yaqub, "I think there was a reason he was second."

That's better. The ugly teeth hide beneath brown mottled lips, and a look of fury, "What?" He barks. You gesture to the case with the soda.

"That's the same attache case from last night," You look in vain for awareness, "A million euros? The same case? They would imbeciles not to put a tracking chip in it."

Awareness dawns on Maliki. Too late. He looks to Yaqub in a fury.

"You-"

> Stay.
> Run.
> Grab the case.
> Other.

>>28582754
>Stay
>Down

>>28582754
>Stay

>>28582796
I concur. The kitchen is our fort. We shall be save as long as we remain inside the kitchen. Maybe crawl into cupboard.

>>28582882
>>28582872
>>28582796
Too bad you don't have pillows. Staying.

>>28582754
"STOP! Perhaps I spoke hastily. Let's see, why don't we?"

Smile calmly. We don't want a gunfight if we can help it.

>>28582920
Here comes the helicopter/drone strike!

You stay where you are. Sip your cola, keep an eye on the window.

The sun's setting opposite of you. As Maliki rises from his chair, and Yaqub from his pillow, the reddish tint of sunset blinds. The guards raise their guns, trying to get Yaqub to back down, but the fierce little man is shouting, and you can hear from below bedlam starting up. You hear heavy footfalls from above.

Stay in the kitchen. You have cover a plenty here. And it mostly obscures the window. But they'd want to recover the money. And probably Yaqub, if they were after the hostages. So, probably nothing explosive. The man with the mac 10 steps back to the door, shouting. Yaqub is standing a bare inch from Maliki, as they shout at each nose to nose, the guards hesitant unsure what to do. Then, you hear the window shatter. You glance to the door- the man with the mac 10 vanished, and it's slammed shut.

That's your cue then. You fall to the floor, hands over the back of your head. You hear confusion, a pair of confused gunshots, and then something loud enough to make you almost feel your breath was taken away. Your skull reverberates, hurting inside out. The door opens again, this time with a kick, and you see a long, thin barrel poking through, spraying fire in. Funny. You can't hear anything. Just this damn ringing.

You roll flush to the wall, keeping out of its angle of fire as it hoses the room. A momentary pause, then the man sprints in- yeah, same guard. Mac 10 was fancy. Shoulda tipped you off. Gasmask is on his head now. Hasn't seen you yet, but there's no way someone like that would lose track of you. Maybe he thinks you're unarmed? You see him rush to the center of the room, loading another magazine to turn and spray shots in to the bedroom to the left of the living room.

You can't hear a damn thing, and all of a sudden up and down are getting remarkably unfamiliar. You don't have much time.

>Get up, and run.
>Draw pistol, shoot. You still need to be paid!
>Stay still.
>Other.

>>28583427
>Stay still.
The kitchen is my home the kitchen is my home the kitchen is my home the kitchen is my home.

>>28583427
Stay still. Stay in the kitchen.

>>28583427
Draw pistol, plug the guard in the back. Rip his gasmask off and take it.

That thing is setting off every alarm I have. We need that fucker five minutes ago. You don't go into a gunfight wearing a gasmask unless you're about to deploy chemical/biological agents.

Hugging tile. Writing.

>>28583509
Agreed. If our enemies are gearing up for something like that, we need to be in on the action.

Just drag the body back into the kitchen with us so that we are still out of the line of sight.

>>28583509
i agree, but i don't want to leave the relative safety if we don't have to.

>>28583661
I think Rachim is behind this. I trust in Rachim. I trust in kitchen. No shooting. Climb in cupboard.

>>28583657
If we do end up just hugging tile, for god's sake, look around for vinegar in case they CS gas the place.

You groan, trying to shake the ringing out of your ears but decide staying low to the ground is better. As you see gasmask drop flat to the ground, and the bedroom answer back. Bullets fly out pell mell at waist and head height, whizzing above and over your head. Your ears are starting to recover, but the fusillade is not helping. You glance from the swiss cheese being made of the drywall, then down to gasmask. He's pointing the mac 10 at you. You freak, roll away, trying to draw your pistol- you see him pull the trigger.

Nothing. He's out of ammo. His chin wobbles beneath the mask. He's LAUGHING. You draw your pistol as the man jumps, and leaps out the doorway. Case in hand. You don't have a chance to shoot him, regrettably. Then you hear the bedroom door bash open, and Maliki's other guards pile out, guns brandished, shouting.

Somewhere, you hear a hollow toomp, followed by a clattering noise. Above. Immediately followed by coughing.

Gasmask would be going for the roof then. With the case.

And to compound matters, you hear off in the city the distinct noise of ZPU chatter. Attack by air? Things were going to shit real god damn fast, and you didn't have a lot of time at the moment.

Recap. At least two guards in the room with you. Gasmask has run off with the money, probably upstairs judging by where the coughing is coming from. Only reason he'd put on the mask. Maliki and Yaqub were down, probably dead. You were left alive in the room. The guards, probably, would assume you had done it.

At least you got a cola to drink out of all this.

>[ ] Move! After that money! RISK 30.
>[ ] Move! Get the Hell out of here, get downstairs while you still can! RISK 30.
>[ ] Move! Quickest way down, through the window. RISK 20.
>[ ] Shoot! Shoot the guards, ASAP. RISK 20. DC 60.
>[ ] Stay still! Kitchen hasn't steered you wrong yet.
>[ ] Other.

>Risk denotes the fact that people might try to shoot you. After you roll, they roll. No initiative yet, so you autowin.

>>28583906
There is some vinegar actually, a bottle on the counter miraculously not shattered in the bullet dance in this room.

>>28583999
we're on, what, 3rd floor? jumping on a sprained ankle isn't a good idea. voting for stairs

>>28583999
>[ ] Move! After that money! RISK 30.

We didn't shoot a reporter to pass up money. Actually, now I believe we're obligated to go after it.

Hm. a tie.

Well, I've been running 8 hours, and I feel exhausted as it is. So, let's call it for now, if that's okay with you guys.

>>28584429
sounds good, sweet dreams OP.

Be back in 8 hours?

>>28584362
Okay, really? Fuck the money, we've got more in Oran! We're not obligated to do anything. And even if we get up to the roof, we don't have a way back down.

Getting greedy gets you killed.

We're getting our of here.

>>28585275
Fuck that. We have vinegar, we have gun, and this fucker did something far more important than take the money:

He laughed at us.

We're gonna be legend in the end. This won't be how it starts. We get paid, one way or another-- Taking the money off this cunt's corpse will do a lot to persuade future contacts to play nice and just fucking pay us what we want.

Hot-blooded? Yes. Operator? No. Effective? Definitely, if we don't die. I'll take the risk; it's not like you ever walk out of a gunfight where the other side has air support unscathed.

>>28584429
Sweet dreams, OP. Thanks for the session!

>>28586219
>He laughed at us
>Far more important than take the money

I have no words. You dun gone full retard there buddy.

Now sit tight and let the adults do the thinking while you try for your Darwin Award.

>>28586219
>Wants to make another hot-blooded loose-cannon MC
No.

>>28586383
Bawwww, you sound like a scared little pussy.

>>28586429
Bluntly speaking? I'd rather another "generic" MC than a little bitch. And this entire thread was "play the pathetic little bitch." We've already proven we're not operator by not throwing the kid in the fire, so let's at least regain a little manhood here.

>>28586787
>Not throwing a baby in a fire
>Not operator.
What sorta mental hoops do you need to jump through to come to that conclusion?

>>28586787
>"play the pathetic little bitch"
>implying throwing a baby into a fire isn't going full sociopath

We left the phone with the kid. Chances are nobody's gonna know we did it, and if they do they can just trace the car *anyway*, making the point moot. We may be a hitman in a country that's slowly tearing itself apart because people are bitching and moaning, but god damn, at least let the MC have a conscience.

>>28586787
You do get this is the sort of game where if you get shot you bleed out painfully and die, right? Not the heroic fantasy where you can carry on through grit and manhood?

Crazy bullshit is going to get the protagonist killed. This is Hardcore Mode. No respawns.

>>28587177
I am aware. I just don't care to play a sandfriend game where the main character sucks. Death or victory.

>>28586884
It was the most tactically sound move. Kill the kid, destroy the phone, ditch the car right before we hit the destination and there is absolutely nothing to trace back to us.

>>28587177
Also-- A thought. It's only going to get worse from here. We need to win big while no one knows who we are precisely because it's Hardcore Mode.

Next time we get a shot at something half this good, we'll be going up against a tank battalion or some shit, because it always gets worse-- both in quests in general, and this quest specifically.

I'm actually kinda disappointed we killed the reporter. Could've been an easy way into government controlled territory with no questions asked, 'cause hey, reporters going into warlord country need some backup, right?

Oh well, what's done is done.

Should we archive this?

>>28588133
Yeah, seriously. We did not use that opportunity properly. We can't even hang on to the car, or sell the equipment without it being traced back to us.

File: 1385884276980.jpg-(58 KB, 405x720, ChickMagnet.jpg)

58 KB JPG

Well, I'm awake again. Any players available?

>>28592518
Eh, I'd hold off until we're past autosage. If it doesn't reach autosage, it's not really worth it.

>>28592967
Sure I'll play. Others will probably show up as we get started.
>>28588133
>>28592901
We have her reporter card or whatever. We can find a forger and use it to get past checkpoints.

>>28583999
>[ ] Shoot! Shoot the guards, ASAP. RISK 20. DC 60.
Now that Malik is dead it will be bedlam. His guards have no loyalty.

Rolled 92

>>28593118
Okay. Well, there's a three way tie. Happen to have a deciding vote?

File: 1385885481228.jpg-(10 KB, 200x250, 200px-StarbuckSystem.jpg)

10 KB JPG

>>28578761
>You are a mercenary.
No I'm not. Neither is anyone in this thread.

Rolled 1

>>28593224
1 - [ ] Move! After that money! RISK 30.
2 - [ ] Move! Get the Hell out of here, get downstairs while you still can! RISK 30.
3 - [ ] Shoot! Shoot the guards, ASAP. RISK 20. DC 60.

Dice God is wise.

Rolled 95

>>28593297
After him! Writing. Rolling for risk.

>>28593306
Nice roll. Hope we can stealth outta that room. Maybe they will realize we did not kill him. Probably not.

>No bullets hit.

You've had to shed a lot of blood for that money. Hearing the men shouting above, you get your legs underneath you, wincing at the ankle. Gotta get a brace for that, damn thing, gotta get a brace-

"What is going on? What is going on? Who's there? Maliki? Maliki, are you okay?" They're shouting just beyond the kitchen wall. You breath, gather yourself. Grab the bottle of vinegar from the counter, and a dishrag. You want out of here. And you know that Sicilian was going to charge a shit ton for that. You crouch, focusing past the pain, then sprint for the door.

The guards, thankful for something that they could understand (Stranger=Shoot), fire. Their aim is off, too high as you crouch low. Rifle rounds. You wonder where those'll end up. You don't head straight for the stairs, instead feinting left before diving right- obligingly, Maliki's men shoot up the hall to the left. No real time left to think.

You vault up the stairs while you hear the men behind you scrabble for spare mags. Sure enough, you see smoke coming down the stairs, and feel your eyes water. Tear gas then. They had been planning for this. You splash the vinegar over the dish rag, clamp it over your nose and mouth. Your eyes are going to get fucked up by this, you're pretty sure.

It's eerily quiet in here though. You hear bedlam below you- probably the tribesmen and Maliki's militia gunning one another down. Shame. They were getting along so well just a little while ago. Through the watering of your eyes, you see white smoke twisting in the air. And a little stream of blood coming down from the stairs up. Like a ship in the fog, the smoke eddies, revealing a hand hanging over the side, stiff in a claw.

>[ ] Search this floor. He wouldn't wear a gasmask just to pass through the CS. Be as quick as possible.
>[ ] Keep going up. Only one more floor left before the roof. Quick as possible.
>[ ] Gun up. Eyes be damned, take it slow. You don't know if there are hostiles.
>[ ] Other.

>>28593446
>[ ] Keep going up. Only one more floor left before the roof. Quick as possible
I think Mr. Gasman will be trying to kill that AA gun. Probably getting extraction by heli.

>>28593446
What does CS stand for?

>>28593507
Up up up.

>>28593539
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/CS_gas

2-chlorobenzalmalononitrile

If the man was going up, he'd be trying to ditch this place. And with the chatter of the AA, that probably meant via helicopter. Who was this guy working for? You sprint through the fog, and immediately regret it. Even breathing the air filtered by the foul vinegar, it makes you cough, and squeeze your eyes shut. Fuck. Your eyes are going to be fucked up for a bit.

>Shooting penalties applied.

Coughing, you stumble up the stairs. Gotta reach the roof, that's all there was to it. You feel the world shake, as something explodes further out in the city. Definite attack.

Blinking through the tears, you make it up to the next floor. Your eyes sting and burn, but at least you're capable of breathing through the vinegar. Same scene. A lot of people coughing, a few corpses. Next floor.

The roofway access is open, and you vault up on to the roof. No one here. Coughing, you squint, looking around. An empty roof. But you do see off in the distance fire rising from a hill. You guess the government's tolerance for Maliki's antics have run out. You still see some tracer rounds rising up in to the air from further south, though you have no idea what they're shooting at. You see yellow dashes flying north. Something on the radar, maybe?

One hand on the rag on your face, the other on your pistol, you hesitate on the way out to the roof. There's almost no cover here. To the left, a bare seven meters away, a chimney, warm air rising from the cold. A slim construction of brick and sheet metal. To the right, an AC unit. A lot more protection, but requires you to sprint a good dozen meters you guess.

Then again, the guy might not even be here. You can't see too well from where you are. You see something shriek in through the cloud cover, fly somewhere south. The world shakes again, and thunder rolls over the town. Probably don't want to hang around here for long.

>[ ] To the chimney.
>[ ] To the AC.
>[ ] Just walk out in the open.
>[ ] Call out. "Rachim?"
>[ ] Other.

>>28593848
>[ ] To the AC.
I don't suppose the chimney is large enough for Santa Claus extraction?

We should see if there is some sort of fire escape or a close building nearby.

Rolled 69

>>28593933
Nah, it's one of those thin things. To the AC then. Writing.

>>28593848

>Shooting penalties applied.

We need to get a knife or something. Are we any good at hand-to-hand combat?

>>28594033
Pretty meh at that. We do have a knife, though. Got it from the dude who killed Umair.

Rolled 52

You can't see anything. You cough, ditch the vinegar rag. Fuck your eyes sting. You do your best to blink away the tears, and then run.

Your ankle is slowing you down a lot. You hear a barking burst of fire, and dive, scraping your cheek on the roof top, crawling the last few feet behind the AC unit. Someone was watching you then. You peek your head around the corner, and get another burst of fire your way. You duck back, only one bullet making it through your cover above your head.

Gasmask is at the other side of the building. He had a rope over the side of the roof. He'd be dropping down to the street then.

Fuck.

Was he waiting for you to pop your head? You cough, wipe at your eyes with the back of your shirt. Only makes the pain worse. You drum your fingers on your CZ. Had to make a decision quick. Either he was going over the side, and escaping with your attache, or he was waiting for you to pop up.

"Hey! Let's talk! Be friends!" You hear him shouting across the way in a high pitched voice, "Come on. We get off on the wrong foot, you know? Here," You hear something clatter on the roof, "I throw away my gun. Come on out. Let's be diplomatic, eh? What kind of music you like?"

He wasn't running off. Wonder why. It could just be that he enjoyed fighting. You somehow doubt he just threw away his gun though. He would have to be a lunatic for that. God damn your eyes.

Somewhere in the distance you hear whistling, then another peal of thunder rolls across Djelfa. The ZPU chatter stops abruptly.

"Wowwww, did you see that!" Gasmask laughs, voice muffled, "Wow! That was so cool!"

>[ ] Up. Shoot him. DC 50.
>[ ] Up. Cover him with your gun.
>[ ] Stay. Stay quiet.
>[ ] Stay. "I can talk just fine from here."
>[ ] Stay. "I just want what I'm owed is all."
>[ ] Stay. "Do you know Rachim?"
>[ ] Other.

>>28594033
>You've got a knife in your boot. But...You're not really good at the CQC.

>>28594130
>[ ] Stay. "I just want what I'm owed is all."

>>28594130
>[ ] Stay. "Do you know Rachim?"

>>28594130

>[ ] Stay. "I just want what I'm owed is all."
Keep him talking. We probably have one exchange to get information out of him before we need to dispose of him.

Rolled 55

>>28594293
>>28594249
Mentioning owed money. Writing.

That rappel seems like a good way to get out of here. I wish we had a flash bang or something. Need a good plan to burn will point.

"I just want what I'm owed is all," You shout. You're about to mention Rachim- but think better of it. Friends don't mention friends when it involves bullets. Then a burst of fire hits the AC unit and you jump, slide down. More bullets hose out across the roof. Son of a bitch. Thank God you didn't hide behind the chimney. You wouldn't behind that. Thing wouldn't hold up to a stiff breeze, much less these bullets.

"Thanks, thought I hit you!" The man shouts, "You're not screaming, so I guess you're fine. Dang!"

You couldn't count the amount of bullets. Something like a two second burst? You listen carefully- you hear him scrape on the roof, and a rope creaking taut.

"Oh well. Just business, you know how it is, right?"

Is he trying to goad you to head out in to cover? He can't have many bullets left. You're tempted to sneak a peek- but that could be dangerous.

You breathe out. You hear a scuffling of brick. Is he going over the edge?

You hear a supersonic scream overhead. Then more whistling, more explosions shaking the world. The ZPUs are gone now. You're guessing that's a bomber hitting checkpoints. You really have to get out of here!

>[ ] Up and over!
>[ ] Peek. Risky.
>[ ] It's a trap. The guy loves being a tricky little shit.
>[ ] Try to engage him. Somehow. Keep him long enough for you to see what he's doing, who he's working for.
>[ ] Other.

Ah. Should have remained quiet.
>>28594364
Throw the bottle of vinegar at him then pop up on other side of AC and shoot. If we get lucky and hit him it'll fuck up his aim, even if for a moment.

>>28594429
Maybe we can put the rag in it so it looks like a molotov.

Rolled 67

>>28594440
>>28594429
Inventive. Let's go with it. Writing.

You knew there was a reason you held on to the vinegar bottle. You jam the dishrag in on the end, and heave it over to the right. You hear a noise of surprise- what you needed. With his attention divided, you push hard to the left, round the corner with your gun up. Your eyes are still fucked up, and your ankle isn't entirely stable for a firing platform- still, you see him.

Gasmask has his gun up, pointing in a haphazard grip at your holed cover, hanging from the side of the roof, the other hand on the rope- around his neck hanging a little bag on a string. The attache is on the roof, open, euro bills spilled across it haphazardly, tugging in the wind.

He sees you, fires a burst- it goes wide. He's more focused on rappelling down the side of the building. He's about to drop from view.

>[ ] Take the shot. DC 40 and below.
>[ ] Don't shoot. Go for the money.
>[ ] Other.

>I realize it's probably a formality, but fuck it, might as well make sure.

Rolled 26

>>28594548
>[ ] Take the shot. DC 40 and below
I want to use his rope. I don't care much about loosing even hundred thousand euros.

Rolled 61

>>28594575
I figured. Writing.

You're not letting this guy get away, cash or no cash. You take aim, settle the sights on him, and fire. It catches him on the wrist, a burst of red causing his hand to twist away from the rope. His other hand lets go of his Mac-10, and you see him scratch at the edge of the roof- but it's too late. You see a fingernail pop off in his desperation, and then he's gone, screaming over the side.

You holster your CZ, and dash for the attache. You pile the money inside- you have no idea how much went missing. You've also no idea where the tracker is in this mess. But you're god damn certain there is one here.

You hear another whistling over head, and see a fireball at the edge of town. Gunfire is starting up all over the city. A million euros. With that cash, you could live like a prince. Doesn't mean much if you can't spend it though.

You paw through the cash, look in the attache. No, no big blinking computer chip with an antenna here. It might be in the lining of the attache, or folded in to one of the collections of bills or-

You didn't have time for this. You hear gunfire at the eastern edge of the city. Your truck is that way. A few kilometers through a town under siege. What's the worst that could happen?

Well, you know one thing for certain. Staying in Maliki's HQ was probably a bad idea. There'll be a great big bull's eye on this place. You hear helicopters in the distance. They'll probably head to the soccer field to land- wait, wait, wait. First thing's first. How to get out of this building?

>[ ] Take cash.
>[ ] Leave cash.

>[ ] Go down via the stairs. Though filled with CS, you can at least not worry about being shot in the street. Maybe Maliki would still be alive?
>[ ] Take the rope down. Fastest way out of here.
>[ ] Other.

>>28594732
>[ ] Take cash.
>[ ] Take the rope down. Fastest way out of here.

Will need to examine cash and put it in a different container unless we want to be chased by this freaky fella.

Who else is reading this? I don't want to be one of the only people playing while most of the audience is gone. You usually start around 11:00 so that might be it.

File: 1385894698498.png-(541 KB, 1280x544, 31241.png)

541 KB PNG

>>28594761
Forgot pic

>>28594732
Take the cash. and go down the rope. It will be a tough landing with our leg and all but I feel living is better. Also, if we have to, just stuff a few stacks of euros into our pockets and run for it. I don't want to carry a tracker everywhere we go.


>>28594761
I',m here

>>28594811
>>28594761
Cash and rope.

Anyway, I am pretty impulsive about scheduling. Would there be a better time to run, you think?

>>28594856
Well, the most important thing is to stick to a schedule. You get regulars that way and they are a lot better than most of the riffraff most quests get.

You slam shut the attache, tuck it under your arm, and hobble for the rope. This'll be tricky. You're pretty damn far up, and don't have much experience rappelling. That is to say, none at all. But necessity was a great teacher, and you were eager to learn.

Daylight struggled against smoke and dust. Despite the height and temperature, you feel a hot breeze from the north. Further downtown, a fire was raging. Probably not intentional. One of Maliki's ad hoc fuel depots probably. Didn't change matters. The city was in a tumult, the guards below you shouting and trying to get order. You're descending in to an alleyway, slowly lowering yourself hand over hand, your good foot acting as a brake, bracing itself every chance it got on any ledges you could find. No fire escapes in this building. Probably not built to code.

By the time you touch bottom, the long hours without sleep take their toll. You try your best to be careful, but still the weight makes your ankle flame anew. You really have to rest it before you do permanent damage.

There is a body here, laying face down. His gasmask lens shattered on the ground. His neck, purple and twisted. You crouch, flip him over, search him. A wallet, a few denar inside. An empty Mac-10. A shattered cell phone. You don't have time to mind him, another screaming shot reminds. You hobble down the alleyway to your right, leaving him to his fate.

In the name of keeping the veneer of civility, Algeria had no acted against Maliki. You wonder darkly, as to why they act against Maliki now. No mere hostages would motivate this. But, that's not your worry now, you suppose. You're a new made millionaire.

You stalk through the city. Not very crowded, you think. People know better than to walk the streets during wartime. Militia men run about, guns high, yelling, sometimes in technicals, for little purpose but to bolster their own courage. The government was bombarding select targets in the city. Probably scouted out by a snitch.

Maliki's checkpoints would at least be destroyed, but you imagine that the government would be watching for people running through, and arresting them.

You get to your stash and busted truck. Everything is still there, thankfully. No bombs came this way. You go to your duffel bag, unzip it, start cramming euros inside. They don't all fit, and eventually in frustration, you dump the rest on the floor, and cover it with a blanket. You could ditch your clothes, food, and water, but that seems unwise at the least. You smell smoke on the horizon. You hear gunfire chattering at the nearest checkpoint. Just a few blocks away from you. The direct way out of town. Maliki's men might be idiots, but they wouldn't shoot their guns at helicopters. There had to be someone there.

The other options then were simple. Go East, away from Oran, but away from the gunfire. Try to get through the barricade there while people were distracted, loop around to Oran- or Hell, anywhere. You have a million euros. If you could survive holding it, the world was your oyster. Go north, apparently the city was on fire there. Escape under the cover of smoke.

Or hide out. Wait for this to blow over, and sneak out when the government came to occupy the place. Bribes could see you clear. Only question was if they'd recognize the money.

You throw the attache case aside, away from your truck. Contemplate the reporter's car.

You couldn't hide all your weapons. You could hide the dragunov, the CZ, but the type 69 and the RPGs would be something else. Not even talking about the AKs. Still, it had a press pass. A dead woman's pass, but a pass.

A lot to think about. You lean against your truck, hearing rockets scream through the sky. You check your laptop. No new emails to guide you.

>>Take mundane truck.
>>Take reporter's car.
>Through the fire. North.
>Through the guns. West.
>Through the checkpoint. East.
>Stay. Wait it out.

We don't need the RPGs, AK, or 69; at least hopefully not. We really need to get to a safe place and recover from our injuries. I'm tired of hobbling like a cripple. Let's try to stay in the car.
>>28595166
How damaged is our truck? Does it still have blood and broken windows? If it is damaged enough to be suspicious take the reporters car. If passable the truck.
>Through the checkpoint. East.
Still have a good amount of Denar to bribe.

>>28595166
Stick the RPG and type69 into the truck and take the reporter's car. We'll make up a story about how we were the driver of the reporter if we get cought or questioned. And we'll go North, gotta be some civilians running and driving away and we can hide among them.

>>28595166
>Through the fire. North.
No more strenuous physical activity.

>>28595274
This truck has a bent grill, shattered windshield, and some blood. You mopped up most of it, but you keep noticing new stains in your paranoid mind.

The reporter's car though, is undamaged.

>>28595306
>>28595284
To the north, through the fire. Writing.

Something just came up- rather, came up twenty minutes ago, and I ended up losing my data. Long story short, won't be back again for about an hour or two. Sorry folks. Long delay.

>>28595356
>>28595691
Well, missed this thread yesterday. Might be around to participate today. Just gotta say, really enjoying this quest so far. Really disappointed we popped the reporter and her guide, though. We're supposed to be a professional, not a robber and a murderer.

>>28596538
Yea. There was another way. Oh well. Gives the PC some regrets. Also interesting to play a bad guy.

>>28596620
We're a bad guy either way; we murder people for money. I'm just disappointed by a lack of professional ethics concerning unnecessary collateral murder. Still, yeah, gives us something to regret.

>>28596538
I tried to stop it, but everyone was too busy being "Hurr Durr muh badguy"

>>28596538
Just came here from the archives and I agree with everything, except a professional in a rush might do the same thing we did.

>>28596714
I didn't agree with the decision either, but they didn't do it just to be a dick/evil.

>>28596847
I'll try to look at the silver lining. It gives our character something to regret, and a motivator for being significantly more professional in the future. "I don't want to fuck up a murder uninvolved civilians again. Especially if I don't have to."

That kind of thing.

>>28597013
Yeah, I guess he'll have to deal with leaving that baby in the desert.

It's not like he could've taken the thing with him, but still, leaving the baby alone in the desert is some shit.

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>>28597038

>>28597038
It's probably still alive if he swings back past there on the way out of dodge. That or it will likely be discovered when someone else comes to check on the truck. Still, yeah, that's some heavy shit.

>>28597013
>>28596847
The real unprofessional thing was our panic over Umair. A professional does not call his employer in a panic or try to save dead man. The killing innocents was more monstrous than unprofessional.

So I'm thinking we get to Oran and take up our Sicilian friend on his deal. Go to some Italian island and wait a month until the heat is off and we've healed.

>>28597065
>>28597038
We called the reporter's boss to pick the baby up.

>>28597074
Agreed. We'll need to comb through the money once we're somewhere semi-out-of-the-way, though, to see if we can find any trackers. This much cash is a great reason to be paranoid. Sure, it was probably in the attache - why else would they use the exact same case - but a little paranoia in this line of work doesn't hurt.

And I am back. Sorry about the delay. Writing double speed. I'll not weigh in on the 'in character/out of character' thing- the character's up to you guys. Although, I do feel that it was unfair of me to run at random times. I'll start after I get to a good stopping point.

>>28597054
Ooh, neat pic. Thanks.

>>28597267
>neat pic. Thanks.
np, I'll check my laptop, might have some more pics tucked away there. After I finish reading the archive and this thread.
Your writing is good OP.

Shame you never had a chance to try an RPG. Oh well. Not your style anyway. You take the necessities- money, Dragunov, CZ75, suppressor, ammunition, sleeping bag, clothes, food, water, laptop- gosh you have a lot of stuff. The back of the reporter's car looks like a homeless person is living in it. Which you might well be doing soon enough. So long Maliki's comfortable hotel. Hello one million euros.

You'd have to launder the money though. You sigh at the thought as you start up the car. Salvatore, your Sicilian friend might be able to help there- though he's quite adamant he's entirely above board, you're sure some investment in his business would not be turned down.

You turn the engine, pull away from your shelter. You doubt you'll be able to come back for that stuff. Oh well. The world is flooded with weapons, if one knows where to look.

You leave the camera out in the open. It'll help your story. Make for the north. Explosive hail comes streaking in from the south, so you at least have the advantage that you're driving away from the trouble.

As you approach the turn on to the N1 road, you note that somehow, a firestorm had started. Probably not intentional on the part of the Algerian government, but you can see the blaze burning away what little snow and frost there used to be. You're not the only one that's trying to get out of Djelfa at the moment, as you can see cars and trucks trying to weave in and out of traffic on already overcrowded roads. It takes time, time you don't want to waste. The bombardment has stopped, mostly, and that meant that the government would be moving in. You didn't want to try to explain your way out of a dead woman's car.

We kept Rachim's hard-drive, right? Will need to get a man to repair it later.

Traffic makes that difficult. You end up having to go off road a good way, tearing up property and brush to get around the panicking citizens, and at one point nudging a particularly aggressive driver off the road. Scuffs on a car were to be expected. You hit N1 eventually, and pick up speed, catching up to a few other early birds on the evacuation, people willing to leave their lives behind to avoid the firefight.

You round the corner to get on N1 proper, passing the smoldering remains of a checkpoint. Once a friendly grassy roundabout with a sign welcoming people to Djelfa, reduced to a pockmarked crater collection, twisted steel and people at the bottom like an infernal stew. The man ahead of you slows, and you swear, angle around him- ah, you see why they were slowing down. A BTR 60 was rolling down the road, probably to plug this very gap. You could guess there were more men further down the road. Possibly moving in tandem to tighten the noose.

You're pretty sure your car can't just this one aside. The turret tracks you. You're pretty sure they wouldn't shoot civilians. Pretty sure. There'll be Gendarmerie down the road to deal with patting down civilians, and frankly, you'd rather tango with the Gendarmes. Army had been waiting for a chance to open up.

Though, maybe that was more of a reason to stop. The steaming APC is coming down the road at a good clip. It probably didn't want to stop. If you stop, it might just put holes in you and write you up as collateral damage to be safe. If you keep going, it might think you're about to charge it.

And to top it off, your cell phone, formerly Umair's is going off again.

>[ ] Bob and weave, get past this at top speed. DC 55.
>[ ] Stop. Don't give them an excuse.
>[ ] Fuck this, turn around, back in to the city. You'll find a way to avoid the government.
>[ ] Other.

>>28597705
Yeah, you've kept Rachim's hard drive. Forgot to mention that one, sorry.

Also, that last one was supposed to autopost. Was wondering why I wasn't getting replies.

>>28597733
>[x] Fuck this, turn around, back in to the city. You'll find a way to avoid the government.
If we lay low for a while escape will be easier. What if they search us and find our cash?

>>28597762
seconding

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>>28597815
>>28597762
Back to town. Writing.

>>28597074
You know, I respectfully disagree here. We weren't panicking when we called our employer, we tried to preserve his assets because he foolishly didn't tell us the value of them to begin with, and we confirmed the job immediately after it happened.

We couldn't have been fully professional because frankly our employer wasn't remotely professional. To be fair, though, the fact that he's lying face down in a puddle of blood at the moment is a good argument for being professional in the future!

>>28597888
we have a million euros. we can leave this life if we play our cards right.

>>28597762
This gonna look suspicious as fugg.

You haul around the car, burning rubber on the street, and pass around the corner, and hopefully out of 14.5mm range.

Djelfa was large. You could find a place to hide out. At least until the soldiers entered the city, their lines stretched thin, and they could be porous. You note that the other cars do the same. No one wants to be staring down a machine gun, no matter who's holding it.

You don't feel yourself coming to pieces in a hail of gunfire, so you count that as a minor victory as you head back to the north of Djelfa, burning itself down. Cell phone, right. You glance at the screen. Name withheld. Nothing to lose by answering it then. You put it to your ear.

"Hello?"
"It's Rachim. Are you still in Djelfa?"
"Rachim? How the Hell did you-"
"No time, are you still in Djelfa? Do you have the money?"
"Not my desire, but yes," You pull off the street, wait by the side of the road, letting cars and people stream past.
"That is fortunate my friend. Good that you survived," A silence, "I suppose you got my message."
"I did."
"Then, is Maliki dead?"
"I couldn't make certain," You glance back to N1. The army would stay by the N1 entrance. BTR or no, they wouldn't want to go diving straight in to the city. Still, best to keep an eye on it, "He got shot with quite a few bullets though. Your man?"
"No, not exactly- I'm in over my head, I'll just admit that straight up. Listen, they- my friends, they want to know where the attache is. They haven't heard from their man yet."
"One thing at a time Rachim. I'm caught in a city about to be taken by government forces. I'd rather not get arrested and have a Gendarme see a chance to collect Mu'awiya's bounty. Can you get me a way out?" You hear some cross talk, raised voices on Rachim's end. Muffled talk. He comes back to the phone, sounding on edge.
"Leave that. Do you have the money?"

>"No. Your man took it and ran."
>"Right here. If you want to see it, I need a way out."
>"No. But I know where it is."
>Other.

>>28598231
>"Right here. If you want to see it, I need a way out."

Looks like the only way out of the city at this point.

>>28598231
>>"Right here. If you want to see it, I need a way out."
I like this option, but it's risky. If we still have a tracker, he might be blackmailed into having people drop down on us. I don't see another good way, though.

>>28598322
>>28598286
Be honest with a friend. Writing.

>>28598322
>"No. But I know where it is."
we need to find a safe place so we can check the money for trackers.
this response leaves the most doors open i think. we can still give them the money later if we want to, or we could not...

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"Right here. If you want to see it, I need a way out."
"You have it? Oh, but God is great. Did you ditch the case?" Rachim sounds genuinely relieved.
"Of course."
"Great, great. Look, meet us at the Stade Ben Djerma. We can pick you up, right?" He sounds like he steps away from the phone somewhat to shout this. Vague noises of assent. Rachim comes back on the line, "Just get there, but don't let anyone know you have that, okay? It's very, very valuable."
"Just remember Rachim, you owe me."
"Of course! Of course, of course I do!"
"Good. Be there in twenty."

You hang up the phone. You had saved Rachim's life once. You hoped that Rachim would remember that.

The money though, that would be an issue. You sigh, get the car going.

The closer you get to the core of the city, the less activity there was. The further from the edges people were, the more fatalism they had- or perhaps they were more loyal to Maliki's men. You weren't sure. All you knew was that it was a short, fifteen minute drive that was eerily quiet through the detritus strewn streets. Somewhere in the distance you could gunfire, but things would be picking up soon.

The stadium is nothing impressive. Flat grass and bleachers. A soccer ball has been left unattended. An errant shell had churned the west side of the field to mud and dirt. You notice that the majority of activity is taking place at the nearby middle school just two blocks away. Parents going to their children to stay with them in the hopes that the government wouldn't be there. You don't see any technicals, but you'rs guessing there are some members of Maliki's militia there.

You pull on to the field itself- it seemed the barrier had already been knocked over. No one pays you much heed. Only an idiot would be out in the open.

You have some time to prepare.

>Take cover in the building overlooking the field. Set up sniper rifle.
>Stay out in the open. No reason to hide.
>Hide under the bleachers. Unclear shot, but stealthier.
>Other.

>>28598861
>>Hide under the bleachers. Unclear shot, but stealthier.

>>28598861
>>Hide under the bleachers. Unclear shot, but stealthier.
Good middle ground.

>>28598890
seconded

>>28598861
What do we know of our friend"Rachim"?
Do we have any idea what faction he could be working with?

>>28599026
Rachim in the militia was a bit of an odd one. You actually knew him before you rejoined him in Mu'awiya's company. Your father had business in Constantine, and the two of you met as kids. He actually went to university, while you drifted in search of work without an education. Mechanical engineering. However, for whatever reason, when you blew back in to Constantine, Rachim was working in a dingy mechanic's shop under the yoke of a foul man called 'Seth'. A strange name for Constantine. Rachim isn't a genius, but he was a darn sight smarter than most of the men Mu'awiya had available, so you were quick to find him a job. With Rachim's assistance, and a few deals to purchase machine tools, Mu'awiya made himself a high quality low scale gun shop that helped to reduce over head and produce weapons on the side. Little call for it when Algeria flooded with arms dealers later, but very useful in the early years.

Rachim and Mu'awiya's son Aghali never got along. Not that that was involved in Aghali's death or anything, but Aghali and Rachim were eternally at odds due to Rachim's insistence on how things were to work, and Aghali's bitter pride. Did not help that Rachim snubbed Aghali's intellectual ambitions by declaring the boy dumber than dirt.

He left Mu'awiya quietly when you left loudly. By the time anyone sought him, he was gone. He wouldn't be working for Mu'awiya. As to who might be his friends- you don't know. Someone with money at any rate. Sonatrach maybe?

Anyway- hiding in the bleachers. I'm sorry for being slow. I'm unreasonably tired today.

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>>28599216
THE SUSPENSE IS KILLING ME

>>28599216
anyone home?

>>28599216
Maxim, did you get banned?

>>28601040
i guess. or he left. anyone want to take the helm?

>>28601174
Nah, this is Maxim's story, and this isn't some 2bit Civ quest. We archive it and wait for the next one.

>>28601174
That's not how this works.

>>28601174
lol

I miss when we didn't have captcha. I've erased a long ass rant about work and the importance of school, but that's besides the point which is to say I fucked up and didn't make sure the message went through. Staying up late and working unpaid has kind of killed my mood to write. Sorry folks, I'm a flighty fuckhead.

I'll be back Wednesday at 11:00 4chan time. I'll also get a twitter then as well.

By the by, if somebody else wants to pick this up, feel free. Just let me know so I don't step on your toes.

>>28603205
That'd be a dick move. We want you, the real you the real QM.

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>>28603238
Well, okay then. Ignore what I said earlier. I'll be back Wednesday. And social media the fuck out of things. And suppress the fear I'm going to end up on a watch list checking stinger specifications and using google maps to look at Algerian towns..

I'm going to go lay down now.

>Next episode: Rachim's Employers!

>>28603284
>Rachim's Employers!
Ominous.

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this is a cool quest. bumping with fanart if anyone's still around

>>28605099
>boots
Oh god.

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>>28605099
...Well shit, here I was so proud of my innawoods thing.

That's pretty damn cool bro.

>>28605099
Who are you. Who.

>>28605099
Cool shit.

>>28608659
The coolest.

I swear to god I've seen the art style somewhere before though. And it's god damn eating me up trying to remember.

Archived.

Also, Maxim, relax. Do not worry about update speed. Post at your leisure. No one is going to hijack your quest. You are good QM.