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There's a burst of static from the other end of the phone followed by a brief period of silence before she resumes speaking. “Plus, I mean... corporate repo isn't exactly a career path with a long life expectancy. The last thing I want is some pissed off cultist on some godforsaken barren rock of a world blasting you away when you knock on his door.” You chuckle despite yourself. Primarily because it wasn't some pissed off cultist but rather your creepy ass coworker who blasted you away only a few hours ago. “This isn't something to laugh about, Donny! I'm serious.”

You run your fingers through your hair, a nervous tick of yours. “I don't know, honey. I mean, it's dangerous work. I admit. It's just that... maybe if we didn't have to worry about money, or if I didn't feel like a worthless piece of shit, or if you didn't have to work as often we'd have better luck. I'm used to being in danger. Hell, you know the story about the asteroid hitting my carrier. That time pirates boarded my patrol cruiser and took the bridge hostage.”

That time you got shot and had to face Death itself. You don't mention that time. “Besides all that, we're getting old. I'm closer to forty than thirty and you're not much younger. We might have just missed our chance to get things done the old fashioned way, but there are always alternatives. Now that we're both working we might even be able to afford them.”

(2/3)

There's another burst of static from the other end of the line. The hell is up with that? This time when it subsides Claire is already speaking. -ight. I'm still going to stay at my parents house a few days just to think things over. I'm still pissed off you didn't at least talk to me about it before you went signing a bunch of contracts and liability waivers. Don't even know who you're working for.” You shake your head. “And I still feel a little betrayed that you'd go packing your bags and running off over something as minor as this. Not to mention the name calling, hitting, tearing up the house, dragging our friends into this-” She interrupts. “Can you not do this right now? God, you're such an ass sometimes...”

>Hey, you're an ass? Nah, man. Fuck that. She's a melodramatic drama queen.
>Let it slide. Say your good byes and hang up the phone. You need to get up in four hours for work...
>Try to convince her to come back early, you'll even drive up to her parent's house in the foothills to get her!
>Write-in

>>34538781
>Let it slide. Say your good byes and hang up the phone. You need to get up in four hours for work...
Dying and binding spirits takes a lot of emotional "oomph" out of you. Don't waste your serotonin on useless endeavors.

>>34538781
>Let it slide. Say your good byes and hang up the phone. You need to get up in four hours for work...
Day has been way too long to drag this out any further. We need to think about how we'll deal with Skeletor once we see him at work.

>>34538781
>Let it slide. Say your good byes and hang up the phone. You need to get up in four hours for work...

>>34538781
>Hey, you're an ass? Nah, man. Fuck that. She's a melodramatic drama queen.
Fuck this bitch it's clear she doesn't want to be with us and is trying to blame us for that so she doesn't feel any guilt when she walks out the door

>Let it slide
Writin'

>>34538781
I liked our Claire, I no longer hold this sentiment

>>34539121
>our Claire
She hasn't been ours for a long time

Honestly, you're far too emotionally drained at the moment to care whether or not she thinks you're an ass. “Like I said, name calling. Anyway, I'll see you in a few days.” She's silent for a short while before responding. “Yeah. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I was just sort of-” Another pause. “-I don't know, caught up in the moment I guess.” She sounds almost timid. “I know. I need to wake up for work in a few hours, so I guess...” Ugh, why does this feel so awkward. “We'll talk later, I'll call you tomorrow night, okay?” That seems a tad unnecessary, but whatever. “Sure. Love you, Claire.” When she responds she's obviously relieved. “Love you too, Donny.”

You pull the phone away from your ear and end the call, tossing the device onto your desk wearily. You're done! You're finally, blessedly finished. No more vitally important task for you to accomplish tonight. You push yourself out of your chair and rub your eyes, wandering over to the king sized mattress and pulling back the covers. You take a moment to kick off your shoes and pull off your hoodie before collapsing into the welcoming embrace of your sheets.

You awaken the next morning to the sound of your alarm blaring. You reach over to hit the snooze button, but find your hand smacking wood. As the alarm continues to shriek hellishly you force yourself to sit up. Your alarm has been knocked over and is currently lying on the floor, probably because of you trying to turn it off in a less than conscious fugue. You half expect to feel your wife's arms wrapping around your neck and pulling you back into bed, but it doesn't take you long to remember the events of but a few hours ago.

>Push yourself out of bed and go through the morning routine.
>Pick up the alarm clock and turn it off. You died this morning, you deserve to sleep in.
>Write-in

>>34539623
>Push yourself out of bed and go through the morning routine.

Gotta go to work and meet skelefag.

>>34539623
>Push yourself out of bed and go through the morning routine.
No slacking, king of spirits has no right to rest

>>34539623
>Push yourself out of bed and go through the morning routine.

>>34539623
>Push yourself out of bed and go through the morning routine.

>>34539623
>Push yourself out of bed and go through the morning routine.
Brace yourself gents. It's time to see if Soma is a part of the glorious Brothers of the ABC (apple, banana, coffee) breakfast group, or a filthy Bagel and Black Eastern degenerate.

>>34539858
>Coffee with anything

Disgusting

>>34539858
>terrible opinion - the post

>>34539858
Hes from Texas, it'll be three steaks, a gallon of freshly milked milk, some hashbrowns, and then one final steak, also lots of sausage

>>34539917
I approve

>>34539873
>Not eating a balanced kickstarter cocktail of vitamins, anti-oxidants, and potassium.
How befitting of a Neanderthal troglodytic untermensch. I bet you don't even hydrate, sub-human.

>>34539988
>How befitting of a Neanderthal troglodytic untermensch. I bet you don't even hydrate, sub-human.

Y-you too

Phone call, hang on.

Alright! That's finished. Writin' for
>Morning routine

You haul yourself out of bed, sparing a moment to pick up your alarm clock and put it back in its proper place before turning it off. You stand there for a moment, trying to recall what it was you were doing. Eventually you shamble off into the bathroom and pull open the glass enclosure that constitutes your shower. You kick off your boxers and fiddle with the knobs for a while, eventually submerging yourself in the scalding hot water.

You brush your teeth, shave, and wash yourself as quickly as you can manage. The searing pain of the water against your skin slowly draws you fully into the land of the living. Once you're done you languish for a short while under the flow of water before shutting it off and climbing out to dry yourself off.

You take a moment in front of the mirror to inspect your various markings. The faded image of charred flesh surrounding a throbbing blood blister on your palm. The symbol of a horned man entwined by a snake on your forearm, and the triskelion nested within an ouroboros emblazoned on your forehead. Shit, by the time you're through you'll probably end up looking like a tapestry of weird arcane symbols. Once you're finished poking and prodding you take a moment to style your hair and take care of your various other hygienic needs before wandering out of the bathroom.

You pull out the suit you got dry cleaned just for this occasion and lay it out on your bed. It's the only suit you own but it's served you well. Black with a gold pinstripe. You spend a short while selecting a color for your tie before deciding on a simple dark blue. That done, you pull on a pair of fresh underwear and a wife beater before wandering downstairs to cook yourself some breakfast.

(1/2)

Sally trots up to you as you come down stairs, nudging her head against your leg. You bend over to scratch behind her ears and pat her head absentmindedly before continuing on your way. She's still limping, but she seems better than she was yesterday. With her watching over you like a hawk you set a pot of coffee brewing and quickly whip up a breakfast of bacon, eggs over easy, and toast with plum jelly. You pour yourself a glass of OJ and a cup of coffee and then sit down to eat.

It doesn't take long to polish off your breakfast, what few leftovers you have getting passed down the way to Sally to supplement her dry food. With food in your belly and caffeine in your system you wander upstairs to actually get dressed. The last thing you do before heading out is let Sally outside, lock all the doors, and pull on a thick overcoat and a wool cap. It's always horribly chilly in the mornings this time of year.

You pause at the door, a thought occurring to you. One of your coworkers shot you this morning, you'll probably see him. You can't exactly predict what his reaction will be either. You might want to bring a weapon of some sort.

>Grab your pistol and conceal it on your person.
>Leave it, there's no way he'd shoot you out in the open.
>Write-in

>>34540930
>Grab your pistol and conceal it on your person

He's obviously fucking insane. Assuming he'll be sane is...well, insane.

>>34540930
>bacon, eggs over easy, and toast with plum jelly. You pour yourself a glass of OJ and a cup of coffee and then sit down to eat.
What are you, British?

>Grab your pistol and conceal it on your person.

>>34540903
>pinstripe suit
We really are satan aren't we?
>>34540930
>Grab your pistol
If he even looks like hes going to comment get him alone and fucking murder him and burn the body with our stag magic

>>34540930
>Leave it, there's no way he'd shoot you out in the open.

Going to work on the first day with some heat seems like a generally bad idea.

I'm sure we have a handy dandy knife we can take somewhere around here.

>>34541080
We work in repo right? Carrying a gun isn't all that surprising, and considering we're navy we could just claim its a habit we still haven't lost

>Grab dat gat, nigga.
Writin'

>>34540930
>Grab your pistol and conceal it on your person.

better safe than sorry

>>34540930
>Grab your pistol and conceal it on your person.

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You retreat once more upstairs, digging around your closet until you find the lockbox you keep your pistol in. You pluck the key out from under a stack of old magazines and shove it into the lock, popping the case open. The RRA M2300-P is a bad piece of machinery. Essentially a miniaturized fusion reactor, it's slow to fire and horribly dangerous if the containment is breached but it won't pierce a space ship hull and it works well in vacuum. Plasma weaponry has been standard issue in the Navy for years because of those specific properties.

Really it's more a shotgun than a pistol, but it's still issued as a sidearm. You dig around until you find your old shoulder holster and then strip off your coat and jacket so you can pull it on. You fasten the pistol into the holster and then pull your clothes on before spending a few minutes inspecting yourself in the mirror, making sure there isn't any obvious sign that you've got a weapon on you. Once satisfied you head downstairs and out the door.

Maybe it's just your imagination, but there seem to be a lot of spirits hanging around your house. Not powerful ones, most of them formless, faceless, incorporeal beings of mist. Some of them are little more than eyes peering at you from the bushes. You count twelve in all, hanging out at the edge of the woods. It's concerning, but they don't seem particularly hostile.
(1/2)

You opt for the convertible today. Easily one of your more frivolous purchases that you're still paying four years later, it's at least good for showing off. You leave the roof up and the windows closed this particular morning though, it's far too cold and you've got a thirty minute drive, at least, into the office. You whip out of the driveway and start the long drive down the hill. Ugh, you'll need to actually get on the highway. Maybe now would be a good time to figure out just what your game plan is?

>That Molly chick said your assignments would be left on your desk in your new office, #216. Just swing in there and pick a job. Get right into the thick of it.
>You ought to get to know your fellow employees before anything else, hang out in the break room and chat. They'll be your partners after all.
>You don't even care about the job, you've got a mission here. Find that bastard that killed you and confront him about it.
>Write-in

>>34541700
>#216
>6^3
I see what you're doing, Soma.

>>34541700
>Go meet your partners.
Let's establish that we're just here doing our job and (hopefully) make some friends.

>>34541700
>That Molly chick said your assignments would be left on your desk in your new office, #216. Just swing in there and pick a job. Get right into the thick of it.
Its fun being Satan, I wonder if we can abuse our deal making power in our line of work

>>34541700
Too bad we can't go around spreading the truth and liberating people from their ignorance.

>>34541700
>That Molly chick said your assignments would be left on your desk in your new office, #216. Just swing in there and pick a job. Get right into the thick of it.

>>34541700
>That Molly chick said your assignments would be left on your desk in your new office, #216. Just swing in there and pick a job. Get right into the thick of it.

>>34541840
Don't worry, I'm sure Overhuman Quest will be up sometime soon, either today or tomorrow.

>>34541893
When do we get shapeshifting, when do we start banging a one eyed kid who worships us?

>Get right into the thick of it.
Writin'

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>>34541942

>>34542003
Overhuman quest, m80

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>>34541942
___Never_

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You think about it for a moment, as much as you'd like to drag Robert into a dark alleyway and reduce his head to a pile of fine ash you do have a job to do. In the end you decide to put off your vengeance and instead just get into the thick of your work.

You flip on the radio and fiddle with it until you find a station you like, hoping a little music will calm your nerves. The first day of a new job is always nerve wracking, but the fact one of your coworkers murdered you isn't doing anything to better the situation. The closer you get to the city of Richmond proper, the more smog-choked and congested the highway becomes. Even at its worst, Richmond is no Shanghai, but it's still pretty bad. Especially later in the afternoon. Right now it's at least tolerable.

After an agonizing twenty minutes of stop and go traffic you finally pull off the highway and onto the city streets proper. You navigate the cramped, narrow streets towards Main Street, where your office building lies. To your understanding Stelle Inc. owns the entire building, they're certainly one of the larger repo agencies in the business. Hundreds of employees, the vast majority of them merely existing to support the agents themselves. You really hope that 'Molly' chick wasn't just pulling one over on you.

You pull into the parking garage beneath the Stelle building and drive down to your level, parking in the spot labeled '216' in jarring yellow numbers. Conveniently, it's right next to the elevator. You shut off and lock the car before climbing out and straightening your clothes. Gotta make a good first impression, right?

(1/2)

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You press the 'up' button on the elevator and the doors slide open immediately. Isn't that nice! You step inside and absentmindedly hit the button for the second floor. The elevator zips up to your floor in seconds flat and you step off as the doors open. You're greeted by the sight of rows upon rows of cubicles ringed by rather fancy looking offices with big glass windows and privacy shutters, most of which are currently drawn. You make your way down the row until you find #216. While you're busy digging the key Molly gave you out of your pocket you feel a weighty hand clap you on the back.

“You must be Stan's replacement!” A cheery voice exclaims. Turning around you find yourself face to face with an aged looking man chewing on the stub of a cigar. You'd guess he's about fifty, though he could pass for younger if it weren't for the grey hairs. He sticks out his hand and you take it, shaking it firmly. “Bartholomew, but everyone just calls me Bart. What's your name, stranger?”

>Introduce yourself, it's only polite.
>Brush him off, you really just want to focus on your work.
>Write-in

(Gonna go grab some din din. Back momentarily.)

>>34542546
>“You must be Stan's replacement!”
>Stan
>Satan
Coincidence? I think not.

>Introduce yourself, it's only polite.

>>34542546
>>Introduce yourself, it's only polite.
I kinda wish we could lie about our name, so we cold make more stupid Lucifer references
>>34542573
God damn it we are Satan's replacement

>>34542546
>Introduce yourself, it's only polite.

>captcha: killcairn drunnn
I've got a bad feeling about this handsome, grizzled stranger.

>>34542546
>Introduce yourself, it's only polite.

>>34542546
>>Introduce yourself, it's only polite.
Could be our boss

>>34542546
>Bartholomew
>google it
>apostle of jesus
God damn it soma.

>>34542948
Wait until we run into Jud(as)ie.

>>34543074
Oh I'd like that, considering we're satan

Why does anon think we're satan?

>>34543221
>Our office number is 6*6*6.
>We're replacing Stan, which sounds sorta like Satan.
>Our power relates to contracts and binding.
>A massive conglomerate of hundreds of corpses totally sounds like an Old Testament angel.
No real reason, it's just fun to talk about and I think Soma is playing along.

Writin' for
>Introduce yourself.

>>34543271
Uhm....

Legion

>>34543306
When do we meet jesus?

>>34543330
How would 1000 tattoos on our body work again? Would we be all black? Or can we somehow store and replace tattoos.

>>34543390
When you visit the HomeDepot.

>>34543396
Overlapping. Once we run out of clear skin, and it's so thick that we're solid black with ink, we go over it again with white ink.

>first power we got was fire
>light bringer
How deep is this rabbit hole soma? Someone look into women named Claire.

>>34543422
10/10

>>34543422
Can you post the pastebin?

>>34543458
Yup, sorry about that. Forgot.
http://pastebin.com/2Pq9VM9q

>first part of the quest is how we betrayed our wife
Son
of
a
bitch
We are actually lucifer

>>34543474
Did you do it on purpose?

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>>34543522
Did I do what on purpose?

>>34543539
You know what faggot

If only we'd picked Lucas instead of Donovan...

>>34543444
Clare of Assisi, a saint
>>34543649
A true shame

>>34543693
Robert Bellarmine, saint, doctor of the church, didn't we find him playing doctor on a corpse in the woods?

Sally is a diminutive of Sarah, who was the wife of Abraham and also of a fictional patron saint of Gypsies.

I kinda love this more than banished quest right now

>>34543765
>Greyhounds are an Egyptian breed of dog
>Sarah and Abraham spent a lot of time in Egypt.
DAMN IT SOMA!

>our mark for the fire stag is a stag bound by snakes
>snakes are a symbol of the devil
>stags are a holy symbol

>>34543951
This is insane. There is no way these are all just coincidences.

>>34543978
W̦̻̙̣͈͕̔̈̓̆̃͂͜E̵̙ͩ̿ͦ͗̑ ̸͖̰̝̗̗̳̾ͤ͂Ă̫̫̐͌ͪͦ͆͠R͖̠͂̅͠E̜̋̓ͬ̏͌ͪ͑͡ ̜̟͕̻͗̽͟S̱̝̞͈̯̪̰̐̍̓Ą̖͕̘̬̰̯͖̏̄͛ͩ͆̒̍Ț̖͔͎̯̈̈́̔ͣ̐͊ͤA̪̪͇̯̯͒ͮ̈̄͐N͔̑̔̈̅̏̊ ̜͔ͤ͋ͨ̓R̷͔̜͚̒E͔̥̖̪̐͜B̼͈̩̲ͫ͑͊̉͌́O̬̣͂͑ͤͧ̓Ṟ̨̜̯̗N̻̖̫̣͜!͉̓ͣͤͪ̇̓

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>Soma's face this whole thread

>>34543978
Well he did say it was a mashup of ideas and what not so it's to be expected there'd be references to things considering people are trusting the spooky ghost... Again.

Or anons is crazy and digging deep.

>>34544247
Actually I just read up on our little princess. She is not to be trusted, mainly because shes not Anastasia, she isn't even a good fake.

>>34544312
Actually, isn't Anastasia one of the most commonly faked dead people? Like, everyone in their mother has claimed to be Anastasia.

>>34544330
Well yeah, she would be in place to take the throne. Of course people would claim to be her

You grin. “Donovan, but everyone just calls me Don. Pleasure to meet you, Bart.” He lets go of your hand and gestures to you door. “Why don't we have a chat in your office? More comfortable that way, Don.” You nod, stuffing the key into the lock and twisting the handle. The door swings open to reveal a well appointed office, the focal point of which is the bank of computer monitors on the desk. There are four in all, arrayed in a semi-circle around the office chair. That seems a little excessive, if you're being honest.

There are also various cabinets, an ornate standing lamp made mostly of mahogany with an intricately carved base, a fully stocked bar, and a cork board presumably so you can decorate the place as you like. You slip off your overcoat and hang it on a coat rack by the door, it's actually sort of creepy looking. The spokes are shaped like little grasping hands. You pull off your cap as well and set it toss it on your desk next to the keyboard before taking a seat in the office chair and swing it around to face Bart, who's taken a seat across from you at the desk.

He's leaned back casually, cigar still firmly clenched between his teeth. “You ever worked in repo before?” You shake your head. “No, I was in the Navy for eight years.” He grins. “Good man! I was an Army lad myself. Six years garrisoned on New Mumbai in the Maharashtra system. Another eight on the Yerevan Two mining asteroid as an MP. Been working repo for... oh, sixteen years now.” Vague memories of your high school history class filter to the forefront of your thoughts. Wasn't Yerevan Two the focal point of that Armenian terrorist organization?

(1/2)

Bart leans across the table, resting his elbows heavily against the desk. “Listen, I give this advice to all the newbies as a matter of course. Be careful who you work with, and read your job description carefully. The secret to a long and happy career in Repo is to work with friends, and don't do jobs you're not comfortable with.” He leans back, once more adopting a relaxed posture. “Can't tell you how many folk get done in because their partner ran on them when the heat got turned up or it came down to doing the unsavory work that is our job. If you just go for the highest paying jobs you're gonna end up dead sooner rather than later.”

He grins, standing up. “Welp! That's all I wanted to say. Oh! That, and always carry a piece. Never know when you're gonna flit down planetside to pick up some old lady's cargo transport and find yourself ambushed at the port by a bunch of pissed off teenagers with shotguns.” He moves for the door, but that really just raises more questions than it answers. Why did he need to be in your office to say that?

>Ask him to wait, you want to ask him about any gear he thinks you ought to get.
>As above, but ask him about your other coworkers.
>Write-in

>>34544438
>>Ask him to wait, you want to ask him about any gear he thinks you ought to get.
Gotta build that arsenal

>>34544438
>Let him go, focus on picking out a job.

>>34544498
Don't use a company computer to do that

>>34544438
>Close the shutters and search for recording devices.

>>34544312
I was talkimg about the one that brought us back to "Life"

>>34544438
>Ask him to wait, you want to ask him about any gear he thinks you ought to get.

>>34544643
Oh, we don't trust him, we're just under contractual obligation to do what he wants, however we have no reason to not trust him, so far at least

>>34544469
>>34544670
>'Bout to tech up real fuckin' fast.

>>34544516
>Shadowruns

>>34544497
>Jobs

Writin'

>>34544674
That shitlord made a lot of claims with not a lot of evidence.

>>34544412
we took off our coat which concealed our ccw this will not end well

>>34544967
Nah, our gun is hidden under our suit jacket.

You raise a hand. “Hang on a second, Bart. You wouldn't happen to have any suggestions for gear an aspiring Repoman ought to pick up, would you?” He pauses at the door, turning around. He strokes his beard contemplatively for a moment before snapping his fingers. “Alright, if you don't have a gun already I'd say grab something ballistic. Ballistics will work in vacuum just as well as in atmosphere, but they're more likely to put holes in things that shouldn't have holes. If you need to pick something up quick, come see me. I got a guy.”

He begins to pace back and forth in your office. “If you're going out on an offworld job, grab a RIG suit. Those things have saved my life who knows how many times. Body armor, grab that too. Ceramic plate and kevlar works just as well as anything, especially against plasma, but if I were you I'd spring for INP armor. Light weight, more maneuverable, absorbs impact better.. Make sure it's subtle enough that you can wear it under your clothes. I'd recommend a pair of those contacts that provides the heads-up display. Really handy when you're trying to ID a target but a bitch to calibrate.”

He claps his hands together. “If you wanted to you might look into getting a gun just a tad bigger than a pistol, something like a submachine gun or shotgun would be what I'd recommend. Most always our jobs involve working in tight confines and a rifle would probably be a waste. Other than that... Rope, handcuffs, a mirror. They'll serve you well. Best of luck to yah, Don.”

He smiles in a friendly enough manner towards you before turning and pushing open your office door. It closes behind him with a soft thud, leaving you to your thoughts. You hadn't really thought his advice would be so combat focused, ideally not every person you go to collect from is going to be shooting at you. Right?
(1/2)

You spin around and glance around your office. It takes you a moment to identify the stack of folders tucked behind the bank of computer screens. You quickly count out the folders, finding three of them in all. You splay them out on the table and activate the privacy shutters to avoid any prying eyes, then get right down to the business of reading.

The first case seems to revolve around Dr. Jacob Knightly, an archaeologist. Apparently after his university refused to fund an expedition he wished to launch he borrowed a lot of money and used it to buy all sorts of equipment from a subsidiary of the Aerocorp conglomerate. Just listed here you see a cargo helicopter, a tunnel borer, half a dozen snowmobiles, and various prefab buildings. After that he retreated to the antarctic circle for an unspecified research project and word hasn't been heard from him sense. He's now in default and Aerocorp wants you to journey down and repossess any salvageable equipment. No mention of a partner, which you find odd.

The second case revolves around a “Professional Escort” named Lily Bancroft. Apparently one of her clients provided her with the generous gift of a cutting edge computer program without notifying the corporation itself. The job is to find her computer, secure the program, and completely destroy any evidence of its existence. The corporation it belonged to isn't mentioned, but it provides a dead drop location for you to drop off the flash drive containing the program once the job is concluded. Your partner on this mission would be 'Lothario', whoever that is.

The last folder is the shortest of the two. It contains only a series of galactic coordinates that, if memory serves, would be somewhere near Alpha Centauri and the directive. 'Bring the girl home'. No other information is given.

>You think you'll take the first job.
>The second job sounds more up your alley.
>How could you resist the third job?

>>34545672
>You think you'll take the first job.

Something simple hopefully

>>34545672
First one sounds like the premise for a horror story, so
>You think you'll take the first job.

>>34545672
>Literally "At the Mountains of Madness"
>Actual shadowrunning.
>Mystery box.

I'll go with
>How could you resist the third job?

>>34545672
>>You think you'll take the first job.

Guys...what if there's a Wendigo? We should totally get a Wendigo. Or an abominable snow-man. But I'd really love a Wendigo.

>>34545779
I bet it's going to be fucking Necromorphs, or something very similar to them.

>>34545672
>How could you resist the third job?

>>34545779
>Wendigo

Why they're terrible spirits.

>>34545724
>>34545740
>>34545779
>Numero Uno

>>34545865
>>34545759
>Numero Dos

To the antarctic it is! Writin'.

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>>34545959
Why did I say numero dos when I meant numero tres?

>>34545979
Too much final destination voting Soma.

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>>34545924
Dude. They're evil native American stealth bomber, cannibal shape-shifting spirits. They're like Vampires, only badass and not raging faggots; they're the only shape-shifting, human eating monsters that haven't been given an alignment lobotomy, neutered, and hit with a sex-ray by the entertainment industry.

>>34546100
>Cannibalistic.
Sounds like we'd get along great.

>>34546100
you forgot smell like horrid rotting meat

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>>34546100
Nah I'm good.
Thanks for the offer.

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>>34546100
oh and are perpetually starving

>>34546294
>>34546170
>>34546385

You know what this is? Pure Racism.
Ya'all ethno-centrists can't handle the existence of proud indigenous spirits. Can't stand the sight of Mr. Injun stepping up and doing some good for himself and folks of his situation. Bigots.

>>34546399
Sorry more of a wolf spirit kinda git

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You push the second and third files away. You'll deal with this Doctor Knightly character before anything else. You quickly scrawl your signature across the bottom of the front page and stand up, making your way out of the office. You're careful to lock the doors behind you, don't want anyone snooping around. Molly said to meet her in her office on the forty second floor when you had picked out a job.

You press the 'up' button on the elevator and once more the doors immediately swing open. You press the button labeled '42' and the elevator lurches upwards. It slows to a halt after only a few seconds and the doors slide open smoothly, allowing you out. Immediately you note how much nicer this floor is than the second floor. Everything is hard wood, the floors, the walls, the doors, the ceilings. Brass nameplates are fastened to the front of each door, glowing warmly by candlelight. Actual candelabras line the walls in evenly spaced intervals. Who the hell even still owns candles?

An attractive young woman dressed professionally, though showing a bit more cleavage than you'd imagine necessary, clears her throat softly to get your attention. “Who are you here to see, sir?” You hold up the folder. “Molly, about a job.” The woman cocks her head to the side. “Molly Gladwin?” You think back on what you remember of your employer. “Fauxhawk, tan skin, freckles, has a dragon tattoo on her left arm?” The girl smiles and nods. “That's her! Her office is the last one on the left.”

(1/2)

You nod your head, smiling politely. “Thanks, appreciate the help.” The girl nods primly. “Don't mention it!” You brush past the desk and start your trek down the long hallway. Maybe it's just your imagination, but it almost seems to stretch out and shrink and twist right before your eyes. You find yourself stopping in front of the door labeled 'Molly Gladwin' without really understanding how you got there.

You knock three times, but there's no answer. You try again, and the door yet remains closed. Just walking inside doesn't quite seem proper, but you would've thought the front desk lady would tell you if she was out of the office...

>Wait, maybe she's indisposed.
>Pound on the door a bit harder.
>Barge inside, you're not standing here like an idiot.
>Go ask the front desk later if she's certain that Molly is in her office.
>Write-in

>>34546635
>>Pound on the door a bit harder.

Well, we are a knuckle dragging Navy boy. And a Repo guy.....so.....yeah. Let's be persistant.

>>34546635


>Wait, maybe she's indisposed.

>>34546635
>>Wait, maybe she's indisposed.
>Go ask the front desk later if she's certain that Molly is in her office.

>>34546635
>Pound on the door a bit harder.

>>34546608
>Fauxhawk, tan skin, freckles, has a dragon tattoo on her left arm?
Muh.
Dick.

>>34546635
>>Pound on the door a bit harder.

>>34546608
Holy shit. Do you make up Quest-characters and get luckier than Norwegian prison inmate? Or do you build charcters around art floating already around on the interwebs?

>>34546785
>>34546742
>>34546707
>Pound it, Brahsef Stalin.

>>34546723
>>34546711
>Wait.

>>34546723
>Ask front desk lady.

>>34546836
Mostly the latter, appearance wise. I spend a lot of time browsing art websites for shit that catches my interest.

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>>34546868
>Brahsef Stalin
i thought i was the only one who used that

>>34546635
>>Barge inside, you're not standing here like an idiot.

You raise a fist and pound on the door. The noise seems to reverberate through the quiet hallway, echoing excessively. The door is jerked open a few moments later and you see an irritable looking Molly standing in the doorway. Her fauxhawk has flopped over to one side and she's drenched in sweat. The rage seems to abate once she sees that it's you at the door. “Oh, Donny-” You cut her off. “Just Don, thanks.” Only your wife calls you Donny, it's weird when others do it. “Pft, whatever man. Come on in.”

She turns around abruptly, the two rings tied around her neck jingling lightly. You push past the doorway inside and close the door behind you. Molly's office, in comparison to your own, is massive. One side of the room is entirely taken up by a large plastic mat on which various exercise equipment sits, including a punching bag, a weightlifting bench, and a squat rack. She snatches a water bottle and a towel off of the rack and dries her head off absentmindedly while wandering over to her desk, dominated by a single massive screen which is currently turned off.

She slumps into her office chair and swings it around to face you, you take a seat opposite her at her desk and lay out the assignment file in front of you. She snatches it up, flipping through it briefly before tossing it back to you. “The Knightly Job, eh? About fuckin' time someone picked this up. Let me tell you something, man. We've had this open for two months now and nobody's been willing to pick it up. Nobody wants to go to fuckin' Antarctica, and honestly I don't blame them.” She waves a hand dismissively. “We'll need to find you a partner, I'll probably just draft someone. You got any preference, done the meet and greet thing?”

>Confess that you haven't met everyone yet, so it doesn't matter who she picks.
>Request Robert, no better place to go missing than Antarctica.
>Request Bart, he seemed like a nice enough guy.
>Write-in

>>34547242
>>Request Robert, no better place to go missing than Antarctica.

>>34547242
>>Request Robert, no better place to go missing than Antarctica.

>>34547242
>>Request Robert, no better place to go missing than Antarctica.
We hunger for his fleeesshhhh...

>>34547242
>Request Robert, no better place to go missing than Antarctica.

>>34547242
Robert de Sable, one of the most prominent crusaders of the Holy Wars.

>>34547242
>>Request Robert, no better place to go missing than Antarctica.
sounds like we're getting our revenge early.
Also when we talk to our spirit friend, It'd be nice if we could ask her more about consuming spirits/ and what not. and how to do it and blah blah. SO we can go ahead killing small time spirits and after 15 small spirits we have the beginning of a tribal tattoo. And a few few shity buffs

>Request Robby
Writin'

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>>34547274
>>34547291
>>34547298
>>34547300
>>34547362
>>34547367
Revenge mind is alive and well it seems

An opportunity served up to you on a silver platter. How could you deny it? “I think I'd like to work with Robert on this case.” She looks at you skeptically. “Robert? As in, Robert du Saude? I can tell you that in four years of working here nobody has actually wanted to work with Robert. You sure about this?” You nod your head seriously. “Absolutely, I'm not looking for a friend I'm looking for a man who's going to keep a cool head and watch my back.” You're lying through your teeth, yet it almost seems to come naturally.

Molly acquiesces. “Alright, suit yourself. I'll tell him he's getting Shanghai'd and hop on the phone with a travel agent to get y'alls book tripped. More than likely you'll be taking the intercontinental down to Argentina and then hopping a flight over to the Antarctic. Satellite images show the Doctor's camp was set up at the foot of Mount Sidley, so you'll be landing at McMurdo Station and crossing the rest of the distance on snowmobile back.”

Your knowledge of geography must be really lacking, because that means absolutely nothing to you. You really hope they'll be giving you a map, or something. “What about pay? I saw none of the assignments mentioned a salary.” Molly nods seriously. “Your base pay will be forty thousand dollars, before taxes, and depending on your performance you may earn more or less than that.”

>Ask Molly something else. (Write-in)
>Take your leave, you've got shopping to do.
>Take your leave, see if you can find some people to shoot the shit with.
>Write-in

>>34548095
>du Saude
>de Sade
>As in, the Marquis de Sade
>For him Sadism is named.

>>34548095
>Take your leave, you've got shopping to do.

>>34548095
>>Take your leave, you've got shopping to do.

>>34548095
>Take your leave, you've got shopping to do.

Shit man I don't know if we should tag and bag him I mean
>New Guy request Robert
>Robert Experienced agent? Doesn't come back
>New guy does
I understand people don't like the dick but killing patnas is a bad rep bruh.

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>>34548095
>>Take your leave, you've got shopping to do.
Get some guns, armor, and grill accessories. Might as well make sure Robert is palatable.

>>34548230
>Dude, the fuck is the grill for?
>...It's cold in Antarctica, figured we might like a fire at night.
>Good thinking, man!

>>34548261
God, we're gonna go down in history as the next Dahmer.

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>>34548230
>>34548261
>>34548283
sounds like a pro-pain, but all in the name of clean burning revenge I suppose

>Shopping spree~!
Writin'

>>34548095
>You're lying through your teeth, yet it almost seems to come naturally.
We're totally Satan.

>>34548095
>to get y'alls book tripped
Tripping books is mean, Soma.

You rise from your seat. “If there's nothing else, I believe I have some purchases to make.” She waves you off. “Nah, go ahead and ditch.” You nod, heading for the door. You're fairly close to all the shops downtown but you're not entirely sure you want to go to those shops specifically. They're mostly the chic, expensive stores. You may also want to see about getting body armor and a ballistic weapon before worrying about proper arctic weather gear.

Actually, you might want to ask Bart about his 'guy'. He said something about getting you a gun quick. You're not entirely sure what that means, it's not like there's a waiting period on guns. You could walk into a store and walk out with anything you like. Then again, it's not like you can just get military hardware at the local superstore. The stuff they sell to civilians has all sorts of artificial limits placed on it.

>Ask Bart where you can meet his 'guy'.
>Go shopping for camping gear first.
>Go shopping for combat gear first.
>Go shopping for clothes first.
>Write-in

>>34548712
Mystery guy first.

>>34548712
Ask Bart and then go shopping for combat gear

>>34548712
>Ask Bart where you can meet his 'guy'.

I love getting "used" items from shady deals in Little Tokyo alley-ways. So much more personality and funny quirks, unlike those boring China-slave factory guns you get from brightly lit gunshow rooms.

>>34548712
>>Ask Bart where you can meet his 'guy'.
Guns first, camping gear second.

>Ask about Bart's "guy"
Writin'

Just a heads up, I'm probably going to call it in a few more post. Probably as you reach the weapons dealer. After this thread, Life Quest will be put on hiatus for the foreseeable future. I'll probably break it out every now and again to give myself a break or it might just be abandoned, not gonna lie and say it isn't a possibility.

We might only need a rifle a pistol and a knoife

Plus plans for how we gonna explain Robs death

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>>34548986
Aye aye Capn

>>34548986
Aw shit, I was really enjoying this. Please keep up with it.

>>34548986
sad to see it happen but, thanks for running it anyway OP.

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You step out into the long hallway outside her office and are surprised to see a figure waiting for you. It's large, with... well, you can't actually tell how many limbs it has. At least four, you think closer to six or seven. It skitters about in a rather insectile fashion, rusted iron chains rattling loudly whenever it moves. Where its head ought to be, it instead has a massive bronze mask decorated to look like a man's face, various symbols etched into its surface. Two lion headed motifs are attached to the shell on its back.

You close the door behind you slowly, staring at the spirit as it stares at you. After a few tense minutes standing stock still you take a hesitant step down the hallway. It mimics your motion. You take a few more steps, and it again mimics you. The voice of the front desk lady distracts you from the beast. “Sir, are you okay?” You look away for a moment. “Yes I'm-” A hellish screech, like rusted gears grinding together, echoes through the hallway. You wince, though the woman shoes no sign of having heard it.

“-fine.” More screeching, this time louder. The beast rears back, prompting you to start quickly walking towards the elevators. It slams back to the floor and skitters after you rapidly. It takes all of your willpower not to break out into a run as you hear the jangling of chains growing closer. Just as the elevator comes into reach the noises cease, and you're plunged into silence.

>Look behind you.
>Just press the button and get on the elevator.
>Write-in

>>34549186
>>Just press the button and get on the elevator.
Wait for the spirit to enter the elevator before closing the doors.

>>34548998

Don't kid yourself. We're going to need some damned good armor, because as soon as Rob sees us he's going to know as well as we do that only one of us is going to come back from this trip, and he's already killed us once!

>>34549186
>Just press the button and get on the elevator.

Horror Movie 101

NEVER FUCKING LOOK BEHIND YOU GOD FUCKING DAMMIT

Also

Modi Magni pls

>>34549186
>Look behind you.

>>34549186
>>Just press the button and get on the elevator.

>>34549186
>Look behind you.
What could go wrong?

>>34549186
>>Just press the button and get on the elevator.
Then kick his ass in the elevator.

>>34549186
>>Look behind you.

>>34549284
>>34549271
>>34549240
>>34549205
>Press da button.

>>34549300
>>34549272
>>34549257
>Look back

>>34549186
>the woman shoes.
Remember the typos in the earlier threads of BanQ?

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>>34549413
I'm tired, Anon.

You calmly reach forward and press the 'Down' button on the elevator. Hot breath stirs the hair on your head, flecks of spittle landing on the back of your neck as whatever the creature is pants. You remain stock still, face blank, as panic builds rapidly in your gut. This is not at all how you intended on spending your first day on the job. This thing is huge. How the hell are you supposed to even fight this thing?

The doors slide open slowly as you withdraw your finger from the button. You step on, and feel the lumbering beast behind you follow. You feel around the floor buttons until you find the one you think corresponds to the second floor and the elevator lurches into motion the moment you press it. Oddly enough, the spirit's breath is still hot on your back.

>You're away from prying eyes, attack it with everything you've got. Use that flamethrower power the spirit gave you.
>Pray to God this thing isn't in a raping mood. The last thing you would want to do is irritate it.
>Write-in

>>34549532

Make a deal with this bitch

>>34549532
>Write-in
>Try to communicate

Me friend. You friend. You stay. I go.

>>34549532
>>Pray to God this thing isn't in a raping mood. The last thing you would want to do is irritate it.
You know, what, it hasn't attacked us yet, and an elevator is pretty damned confined space for a firefight. A LITERAL firefight. Honestly we could set the building on fire quite easily that way. But if it does attack us, hit it with everything.

>>34549532
>raping mood
men.png

>>34549532
>Write-in
>Communicate
it's weird, hasn't attacked, and we can talk with it. And it's WEIRD.

>>34549532

>Write-in
Talk to it

>Talk to it
Writin'

>>34549532
time for spirit subjugation

>enclosed space
>big monster
>seems like a mad animal
LET'S TALK TO IT SURE WHY NOT THIS WON'T BACKFIRE HORRIBLY

>You're away from prying eyes, attack it with everything you've got. Use that flamethrower power the spirit gave you.

>>34549730
>>34549707
He's already writing Anon.

>>34549730
Maybe it's just really socially awkward

>>34549778
Well shit.

>>34549730
>Using Flamethrower
>In an Elevator
Heh

>>34549812
Hey, you might be immune to your own flames.
Sort of like snakes and poisons
wait
no

“Hey there... uh, let's just call you Buddy.” You're greeted by silence. Is it just you, or is this elevator moving far slower than usual? You feel a finger sliding down the center of your back and an intensely awful feeling overwhelms you. A voice, husky and masculine, whispers in your ear. “Look at me.” It shifts, taking on a far more feminine tone. Almost like your wife's voice, but not quite. “Donny please~”

What the fuck is going on. “Nah, nah I think I'm alright. This wall is pretty interesting.” You clear your throat uncomfortably as a hand massages your earlobe. You honestly think you might vomit. “Tell me, spirit. Why do you follow me?” You hear chains jangling, and the creature blessedly removes its hands from your person. The oppressiveness of the tiny compartment you're crammed into seems to lessen. That awful, hellish screech fills the compartment, loud enough that you're forced to scrunch up your eyes and cover your ears with your hands just out of some misguided hope that it will lessen the noise. It does not.

The screech grows louder, louder, and louder still. You feel as if at any moment your ears might burst or your legs go weak. Then, all at once, the shrieking stops. The presence is gone. You tentatively remove your hands from your ears just as the elevator dings to indicate you've arrived at your destination. You hear the doors sliding open, but you're not sure if you want to turn around....

(1/2)

A voice brings you back to the land of the living. “What the blazes are you doing, Don?” You sigh in unexpected relief, Bart's voice. You whip around, half expecting to come face to face with an angry demon ready to rip out your throat with its teeth. There is nothing of the sort, just Bart with a cup of coffee in hand staring at you confused. “Ah, sorry. I was... distracted.” Yeah, that works! You step out of the elevator and fall in line with Bart as he resumes his walk to... wherever it is he's going. “Say, could you tell me a bit more about that friend of yours? How to contact him, specifically.”

Bart raises an eyebrow. “Need a little 'oomph', eh? Sure. You know how to get to Norfolk, yeah?” You nod, it's just a little further east of Richmond. “Head down that-a-way, Warehouse 3 on the docks. Knock on the door, tell the guy that answers Bart sent you. He'll tell you where to find my 'guy'.” You can practically hear the air quotes whenever he says guy. You nod in acknowledgment. “Thanks, Bart. I appreciate it.” Bart grins. “Ah, don't mention it. Although, I was wondering... what job did you end up picking?”

>Tell him, what could it hurt?
>Lie, say you took the Lily job.
>Lie, say you took the mysterious Alpha Centauri job.
>Just toss out something about it being classified and extricate yourself from the situation.
>Write-in

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>>34550366
I'm uncomfortable.

>>34550390

>Tell him, what could it hurt?

>>34550390
>>Tell him, what could it hurt?
Oh god the spirit was in rapey mood. Sleep with one open Don.

>>34550390
>Tell him, what could it hurt?
Wow fuck me I didn't even notice that there were new posts

>Tell him
Writin'

>>34550390
>>Tell him, what could it hurt?

“Ah, I picked the mission to Antarctica. You know, about that Doctor Knightly guy?” Bart snaps his fingers. “Ah! I know exactly the one. You know how long that thing has been sitting around waiting for someone to pick it up?” You grin. “Yeah, Molly told me. Months, right?” Bart nods. “Good on you, Rookie. I mean it. Getting the crap done nobody else wants to put up with, and we didn't even have to pressure you into it.”

He slaps you on the back, a little harder than you would've liked. “Anyway, good luck with my 'guy'. Do try not to piss 'em off, I'm a frequent shopper and I'd be real sore if I had to go finding someone else to buy from.” There's a certain edge to his voice, beneath his friendly tone. That's obviously a warning. You nod. “I don't intend to run in there guns blazing or anything. I'll be good.” He wanders off, his worries apparently satisfied. What did he mean they didn't even have to pressure you into taking the shit job? Was that some kind of backhanded insult?

You really hope you don't get embroiled in office politics. All you want to do is your job. Well that, and you'd like to kill Robert. Maybe consume his flesh. That's a side thing though, that's not your primary goal. With the information you gained from Bart you hesitantly return to the elevator, eyeing it nervously for a moment. You're not sure if you still trust it, after all that's happened...

>Just walk the four flights of stairs down to your car.
>It wasn't the elevator itself, just that creepy ass spirit. Ride it down.
>Actually, you wanted to do something else in the office before leaving. (Write-in)

>>34550769
>Just walk the four flights of stairs down to your car.

>>34550769
>>It wasn't the elevator itself, just that creepy ass spirit. Ride it down.

>>34550769
>It wasn't the elevator itself, just that creepy ass spirit. Ride it down.

>>34550769

>It wasn't the elevator itself, just that creepy ass spirit. Ride it down.

Don't be a pussy!

>Take the elevator.
Writin'

You swing by your office briefly and unlock the door, retrieving your overcoat and hat. You note with some confusion that the other two files are gone. Ah well, presumably some orderly snatched them up. You slip out of the door and swing it closed behind you, locking it and heading back towards the elevator.

You hit the button and the doors slide open. You pause at the threshold for a moment before stepping in, hesitant. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing on end and an unpleasant shiver runs down your spine as you step inside. You turn around swiftly, facing the doors, and press the button labeled 'B2'. The doors slide closed.

The doors slide open. You're confused for a moment, No time seemed to pass at all. You step out, slowly, and see your car sitting near-by. You fish around your coat pockets until you find your car keys and when you hit the unlock button the lights flash and a chime dings. It's your car, alright. You turn around to inspect the elevator, but the doors are already closed.

You back away, and then turn and make your way to the car. Just... ignore it. Nothing happened, right? Right. You climb into the car and shove your keys into the ignition. The engine roars to life and just as your about to kick the car into reverse a paranoid notion seizes hold of your thoughts. You jerk around, checking the back seat for any sign of foul spirits. There are none. Relieved, you face forward once more and kick the car into reverse, sliding out of your parking space and motoring towards the up ramp.

>Head for Norfolk, and the weapons dealer.
>Grab camping supplies and clothing first, they're closer.
>Go to a legitimate gun shop instead.
>Write-in

>>34551099

>Head for Norfolk, and the weapons dealer.

>>34551099
>Grab camping supplies and clothing first, they're closer.

>>34551099
>>Head for Norfolk, and the weapons dealer.
Moar Dakka.

>>34551099
Norfolk.
Don't forget to bring money.

>>34551099

Camping supplies first on the way

>>34551099
>>Head for Norfolk, and the weapons dealer.

>>34551281
>>34551175
>Camping

>>34551290
>>34551238
>>34551190
>>34551171
>Guns

Writin'

Actually, quick vote. How much money would you like to bring, in cash? You currently have $5,000 readily available, you could get it in an instant. You'll have to jump through some hoops to get $18,648.

>Bring 3,000
>Bring 5,000
>Bring 10,000
>Write-in

>>34551338
>>Bring 5,000

>>34551338
>>Bring 10,000
This is a long term investment into our future well-being and effectiveness at our job. And we will recieve 4 times that amount once said job is concluded.

>>34551338
>>Bring 10,000

>>34551338
>Bring 10,000

Remember lads, we're looking to get some ballastics. Nowadays, a good, reliable Armalite runs $1200. A JPC and 7.62 Nato proof plates costs $400.

>>34551429
Man they've got starships and handheld fusion generators at this point, I'd be willing to bet that kind of firearms tech can't be found outside of museum.

>>34551338
10k

>>34551523
It was meant to be a parallel comparison in order to establish and compare real life equivalents to in-game material. Besides, if the American military complex hasn't somehow managed to keep Armalite platforms in production going in the far future despite their glaring flaws, I'll eat a boot.

Phone posting is suffering.

You bolt into the street, keeping your eyes peeled for a bank. You'd just go to an ATM, but you plan on making some big purchases. You'll have to actually talk to a real life person in order to get your money. Eventually you spot a Wells Fargo and swing into a parking space in front of the building. You get out, taking a moment to observe a small, vaguely rodent-like spirit pouncing on the back of a mosquito the size of your head and digging its teeth into its swollen blood sack. Instead of blood, a sort of ethereal red vapor oozes out.

Weird.

You pass the two fighting spirits and enter the bank. Unsurprisingly it's more or less abandoned. Nobody actually goes inside banks anymore unless they plan on robbing the joint. Speaking of, the guy at the front desk is looking awfully nervous. He subtly shifts his arm, likely getting ready to press some kind of emergency call button. You're not that scary, are you?

You hold up your hands in mock surrender. “Relax, I just need to make a big withdraw. Ten thousand dollars.” The attendant removes his hands from beneath the desk, setting down a thumb print scanner and passing it through a small hole in the glass barricade that stretches from the desk to the ceiling. He clears his throat awkwardly as you approach. “I didn't actually think you were a bank robber.” You pause, thumb poised above the scanner. “I didn't!” You shake your head slowly, pressing your thumb to the glass surface.

(1/3)

Your name pops up at the top of the device and the teller scoops it up, keying in a few numbers and eventually setting it back down beneath the desk. “Very well Mister Murphy, ten thousand dollars?” You nod. “In that case I have some forms for you to sign.” He whips around in his chair, tapping a key on his keyboard to banish the screen saver. You wait listlessly while he taps away, doing God knows what. Might be playing a game for all you know. Finally a printer hums to life and spits sheet after sheet of paper...

The teller staples them all together and passes it through the glass barricade. You take the stack and pinch your fingers together. “Pen?” The teller nods, passing one through as well. You retreat to a padded chair and spend what feels like hours filling out useless, redundant form after useless redundant form stating that you are indeed who you say you are and that you surrender this right or that right in the event of this catastrophe happening. It's all fairly standard. When it's finally done you pass the forms and the teller's pen back through the glass barricade and he hands you a fat stack of hundred dollar bills, bound with a rubber band.

You tuck the bills into a pocket inside your coat and nod your head in thanks. “Please come again!” The teller says cheerily. He's a little odd, actually. Why is he so happy? He's sitting in a massive room with hardly any color alone, likely for hours upon hours. He has nothing to be happy about. Creep.
(2/3)

You retreat, leaving the bank behind and climbing back into your car. You have to wait a long while for traffic to clear, but eventually manage to pull your car out of your chosen parking space and bolt off down the road. You get back on the highway eventually, actually managing to make good progress now that the rush hour traffic has cleared. You turn on the radio and fiddle with the channels until you find something you like, and then just sort of turn on mental autopilot.

It takes almost an hour solid of driving to get to Norfolk. You find yourself dipping into the reconstructed Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel. It collapsed a couple decades ago, but instead of building a new tunnel they just reinforced the old one and patched a few leaks. The shoddy workmanship is evident by the pools of water dotting the road. Fortunately you're out of the tunnel after only a moment and find yourself right next to the docks. You pull off of the major roads and wind your way into the rows of warehouses and piers, looking for number three.

You find it after only the briefest of searches. It's a shoddy, run down ruin. The roof has massive, gaping holes in it and the front gate is eaten away by rust. In short, it looks shady as all hell... You stop for a moment to consider that it's your first day on the job and you're already buying illegal weapons from a shady warehouse in the next city over. This doesn't even phase you, you're barely nervous. What the hell?

>I'll end it there for tonight, exhausted.

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Life%20Quest
Archive here.
Banished Quest later today, when I wake up.
I'll probably run Life Quest irregularly, but I hope to continue running it. At least until the end of Mission 1.

>>34551956
Thanks for running Soma. Out of curiosity, on the illegal scale of one (pot-selling) to ten (uranium smuggling), how shady is this transaction?

>>34551987
6-ish, if a 5 is trawling for prostitutes in a shitty neighborhood.

>>34551995
Soo, we gonna se that weird arm/face spirit again? now i'm curious

>>34552032
Come on man, what's that one rule about theater productions? If a pistol appears in act 1 it ought to be used in act 2. Of course you'll see it again.

>>34552059
Thanks for running Soma, and thanks for not dropping it entirely, I'm enjoying this quest quite a bit. Are you running any other quests at the moment?

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>>34552059
awesome, time for subjugation

>>34552100
Yeah, I'm running Banished Quest. This is my only side project though.

>>34552113
I'll have to check it some time then, cheers.

>>34552113
next BQ when?

>>34552144
Anon, pls.

>>34551983
>Banished Quest later today, when I wake up.

>>34552140
The early threads are typo-ridden shit fest. I hope it gets at least slightly better later on.

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>>34552156
Soma, pls.

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>>34551983
>At least until the end of Mission 1.
I'd follow this as a series, just saying Soma

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>>34552197

>>34552224
That's probably what I'll end up doing with it.

Anyway, bed time for me.