>>339039
>find the young master

>>339039
Perimeter check

>>339039
>>find the young master

>>339039
>>find the young master
Unless we have an idea of where he is(being tutored or something), in which case check the perimeter.

>>339106
I'll back this. It does sound reasonable, that we'd know his daily schedule even better than he does.

>>339073
>>339091
>>339103
>>339106
She knows where the young master is; does that mean 3 for Perimeter check?

>>339258
Yeah, sounds good to me.

>>339258
Sure. We'll have time for lewd later.

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Elisabeth walked down the stairs, thinking about everything that had transpired. She was upset that something so dangerous was hovering over the mansion and her master. She would do everything within her power to destroy anything that entered this mansion with any ill intent. She would need to take inventory on her weapons and triple-check any visitor that came to the mansion. Cleaning would still occur regularly. There was only one, major concern for the young woman. Despite her extensive knowledge of the mansion, the outside knowledge extended to the driveway and concrete fences lining the outside. The acres of dense trees and decorative plants were an enigma to her, which could be a huge problem if ever the Gardener failed in his rounds. Coming to an immediate decision, the maid headed for the front door.

As she passed through the main hall, she noticed the cook cleaning up the plates from breakfast. The young master was still seated in the dining room, sipping what remained of his orange juice. Seeing him made her smile, and further cemented her decision from before in her heart. Pushing open the front door, she headed outside into the open ground. The mansion stretched out to the front on the first floor on either side. One adjacent building held the kitchens' cellar and the other was a garage joined to the hallway leading to the cleaning closet and laundry room. They obscured the view of the gardens to either side from the front entrance, which was a hassle. Small cobble paths led to either side, in pristine condition thanks to almost no use. She headed towards the west side, intent on making a loop of the mansion to address possible assassination points. Once she crossed past the cellar, the trees became thicker and sight became harder. She walked slowly through the garden, staring upwards at the trees and the mansion. On the outside, the plain brown walls stretched upwards, as menacing as they were bland. The old man had designed this mansion, which was small and not complex. The landscaping was designed by the gardener according to the paperwork. She looked again into the trees. Bushes at ground level further obscured the view of further in. She noticed a rank smell on a slight breeze. It was the smell of death. She glanced back towards the mansion. She had her first goal, scout the perimeter of the mansion. But this smell, rotting something, was a pressing concern. Which matter should she address?

>scout out the rotten smell
>continue the perimeter check
>Write-In

>>339348
>scout out the rotten smell

>>339348
>>scout out the rotten smell
It was up to the gardener to do patrols? Then lets trust him and go after that smell. He seems like a competent dude.

>>339348
>>scout out the rotten smell

>>339353
>>339363
>>339372
Roll a 1d100, first 3 will be accepted

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>339425

Rolled 56 (1d100)

>>339425

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>339425
I got this.

>>339450
You got jack and shit and Jack just left town.

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(1/2)
Elisabeth pushed further into the brush, trying to pinpoint the direction the smell was emanating from. As she pushed further into the forest, the mansion soon vanished into the distance, leaving her alone in the dark foliage. She continued forging on, only a slight breeze blowing the scent towards her. She paused as she noticed something in the dirt by her feet. Kneeling down, she grabbed the edge of the white shard. Pulling on it, she yanked a femur bone from the earth. It was definitely human. Why was it here?

The wind suddenly shifted and the overwhelming smell of death flowed over her. Trying to cover her mouth, she gagged and hold down the vomit that threatened to come out. Choking down the bile, she glanced around, suddenly noticing the piles of dirt in rows stretching out for almost seventy meters. The sheer number of piles made her pause in shock. Had that man really killed this many? She continued covering her mouth, trying not to breathe too deeply the rotting stench. Stepping back, she stepped on something that audibly snapped. A single dart shot from the tree next to her and she reacted in response. Her sense were being dulled by the horrendous stench, but she managed to throw herself to one side in order to avoid being struck. Whatever that dart had on it, she didn't want to find out the hard way. She started to push herself up out of the dirt and realized she had dived into one of the piles. The urge to vomit overwhelmed her and she did, spewing what remained from her stomach's contents onto the ground. Spitting bile from her mouth, she stumbled backwards and backpedaled away from the burial mounds, if they could be called that. She felt something hard against her back and started to push her way back up onto her feet. When her hand touched something fleshy, she paused to glance back. It was some kind of tanned skin. Peering closer, she suddenly realized what type of tanned skin it was. Pushing herself away from the human skin, she glanced at the trees around her. She suddenly realized that every tree in the clearing had the same human layer wrapped around them, of various shades and sizes. Resisting the urge to just collapse, Elisabeth closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing. What kind of sociopath was the goddamn Gardener?! A sudden crunch made her eyes snap open. She fumbled for her knives, dropping one into the leaves but managing to secure the other. Sticking it out towards the sound in shock, she found herself facing the thin man who was the source of all of this. She laughed hollowly and muttered.

“What the fuck are you?”

“Just a gardener. The road's that way. Don't bother cleaning up the vomit, maid.” His voice was cold, with no hint of emotion. He pointed towards the east and a narrow path through the trees.

(2/2)
She didn't bother trying to pick up her fallen knife, just turning and moving as quickly as she could towards the road. When she finally hit the open air and sun, she laughed giddily and took a deep breath of the clean air. Once she'd composed herself, she looked down at her uniform. It was ripped and torn, covered in dirt from where she'd fallen. The faint scent of death hung on her skin and uniform, sending shivers through her body. She would definitely need to clean up before the young master saw her.
>clean up
>go check the perimeter
>question the damned old man about the Gardener
>write-in

>>339528
>>clean up

>>339528
>>clean up
Well shit, Gardener is hardcore.

>>339528
>>write-in
Find out about the cook now. Because so far we have crazy murderer and fake senile super science man. 5 bucks says the cook is feeding the young master human meat.

>>339528
>clean up

Is the gardener Patrick Bateman?

>>339528
>clean up
You know the masters schedule, you should know where he won't be.

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It only took Elisabeth 10 minutes to get back to the mansion. She let herself in through the garage, taking the back route through the first floor. Ensuring that the young master was writing letters, she quickly made her way to the third floor. The minute she reached the top of the staircase, she began undoing the ties in her uniform. Pulling her collar free, she began undoing the buttons to her soiled top. Leaving it undone, she began undoing the laces holding her skirt tight around her waist. She passed the archives and ignored the old man, who was inside doing paperwork. She reached her room and finished undoing her skirt, letting it crumple to the floor. She pulled her top off and discarded it in the pile. She would burn that uniform. Walking over to her bed, she started unbuckling her holster. Tossing it onto the bed with her two bands of knives, she turned to face herself in the mirror. Her hair had dirt and twigs in it from falling. Her bandage from the other day was coated with dirt and sweat. She would need to redress it after her shower. Her black lingerie, with its useless appeal, fell to the floor next to her uniform. She would burn it with her uniform. The possibility of the scent remaining was more than ample reason for it to burn. Grabbing her brush and peeling the bandage off, Elisabeth headed for the shower.

She sat under the hot stream of water, savoring the feeling of it being just too hot. Pulling a bottle of lavender shampoo from the ledge, she poured a lot into her palm. Massaging it into her hair, she quickly made a lather that she spread to the rest of her body. Stepping back under the water, she let the water slowly rinse the soap off her. Because it was almost noon, she didn't bother with conditioner and began examining herself for any dirt or soap that remained. Satisfied, she turned off the hot water and pulled open the curtain. She stepped out of the bathtub still dripping water and reached for her bath towel. Securing the cotton cloth, she began wiping the excess water from her skin, enjoying the feeling of clean fabric against her skin. She wrapped her towel around her body when she finished and checked the time. 11:30. She still had ten minutes before it was time to clean the entertainment room in preparation for a meeting. Walking into her room, she laid down on her bed and closed her eyes. Relaxing for a minute wouldn't kill her, right?

(2/2)
“Elisabeth, are you in?” The young master's voice spoke from just behind her door and Elisabeth's heart stopped. She heard the door knob start turning and moved instantly. Leaping off the bed, she grabbed the dirty uniform and chucked it towards the hamper. It landed successfully, but she'd forgotten to grab the lingerie lying nearby. She glanced behind her as the door began opening. Her blood froze as she noticed the weapons lying on the bed. She grabbed her towel, yanking it off in one motion. It flew gracefully through the air, landing over the small pile of weapons, as the door fully came open. “I was wondering if this is the right phr-”

His words came to an abrupt stop, as he came face-to-face with Elisabeth. She was standing awkwardly, body turned to one side from her last second toss. He didn't react, just standing there frozen. She tried to find something, anything to break the awful silence.

>Did you ask your grandfather?
>You need to knock next time, young master.
>You're staring awfully quietly, young master. Like what you see?

>>339906
>You're staring awfully quietly, young master. Like what you see?

Oh yeah.

>>339906
>>You need to knock next time, young master.
In a playful manner of course. And with a smirk.

>>339916
Backing this one.

>>339916
>>339931
Thirding

>>339906
>You're staring awfully quietly, young master. Like what you see?

>>339906
>>339916
This

>>339906
>>You're staring awfully quietly, young master. Like what you see?

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>You're staring awfully quietly, young master. Like what you see?

>>339906
>>You're staring awfully quietly, young master. Like what you see?

Engage /ss/ protocol

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Forgot to call the vote; next post will have both options. Still new to this.

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Rolled 12 (1d100)

Rolling to Embrace Young Shota ask him to call you Onee-san.

Rolled 58 (1d100)

>>340012
Seconding.

Oh boy, here we go again?

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>340012
Here we go

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As the young master stood in silence, Elisabeth took a slow breath. Collecting her thoughts, she knew she needed to do one thing. That was get the young master out of the room. Suppressing the urge to blush, she slowly turned to face him and smiled smugly. Setting her hands on her hips, she shook her head. “You're being awfully quiet, young master. Like what you see?”

Her words awoke the young boy from his stupor. He blinked slowly, as if he was taking mental pictures. Then he turned bright red and sprinted from the room, abandoning the letter. She walked forward to pick up the letter and he reappeared. He walked forward briskly and grabbed the letter. He tried to keep his eyes lowered, making the maid feel happier than she should. With a muffled apology, he turned and tried to walk out, as Elisabeth spoke again with a grin.

“Back so soon? As an afterthought, knocking would be the polite thing to do next time, young master. Don't forget your meeting at noon.”

He didn't respond as he ran through the door. She walked over to the doorway and leaned on it, watching as the young master sprinted to the stairs. He was so cute when embarrassed. The old man walked out of the Archives, only sparing the maid a glance. That killed her mood and she returned to her room.

After changing into a new uniform, Elisabeth took the time to replace her knife. She finished securing her weapons in place and tried to decide what to do next. She began walking towards the doorway of her room, recalling what she needed to do.

>meeting at 1200; clean entertainment room
>talk with the cook about the meal
>question old man

>>340038
>>meeting at 1200; clean entertainment room
Work first. Playing detective can come after.

>>340038
>>talk with the cook about the meal


He's the cook

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Rolled 45 (1d100)

>>340038
Talk with the Cock about a nice Meal.

>>340038
>>meeting at 1200; clean entertainment room

>>340038
>meeting at 1200; clean entertainment room

>>340038
>meeting at 1200; clean entertainment room

Have a meeting to attend; will reply later this evening.

>>340038
>>meeting at 1200; clean entertainment room

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Elisabeth walked into the entertainment room with a broom in hand. It was actually the conference room. She called it the entertainment room due to the 100” television that dominated the far wall, with it's own complimentary surround sound setup. She quickly paced the large conference table, ensuring every seat was clean and pushed up properly. Finishing with the chair at the head of the table, she leaned the broom against the wooden table and turned to the windows. She closed the curtains to ensure that the view to the outside would be limited. She started dusting the various ledges, furniture, and speakers surrounding the edge of the room. Finishing her job quickly, she checked the time. 11:45. The guests would soon be arriving. Walking out of the entertainment room, she almost bumped into the old guardian.

“You won't reconsider your stance on assisting me, Elisabeth?”

“Negative, Mr. Vermilion. My place is with the young master. Why not ask the sociopath in the forest outside?” The old man ignored her comment, walking past and shaking his head. She sighed in irritation, before heading to the kitchen downstairs. There she found the cook, working frantically to put the finishing touches on the soup. He paused as he pulled the pot off the burner and glanced up at her.

“Here for a snack before the meeting, beautiful?”

“No. I need answers.” She glanced at the clock. It was too close to time for the meeting. She sighed and pulled a washcloth from the stack. Wrapping it over her arm, she nodded towards the soup. “Get it ready to serve. I'll be offering the visitors a meal after they've been seated in the Conference Room.”

“No need to explain my job. I'll answer all the questions you have later, Miss Stark.” He winked at her and set the pot on the counter, before heading to prepare the meal cart. She exited the kitchen quickly, adjusting her uniform along the way.

She met up with the young master as he was walking towards the front door. He blushed slightly as he noticed the maid and she smiled at the young boy. As they neared the front door, the blush was replaced by a business smile. As they reached the door in unison, the woman leaned forward and pulled open the door. The two men outside were getting ready to knock and both looked surprised at the sudden opening. The young master smiled confidently.

“Welcome to my home. You're the two representatives from Future Technology, correct?” When both men stammered a reply, the young master motioned for them to enter. Elisabeth noticed both were extremely nervous, more so than normal negotiators. “This is our resident maid, Miss Elisabeth. Our meeting will be on the 2nd floor, in the conference room. Feel free to relax.”

(2/2)
The young master laughed jokingly as the two men began taking off their jackets. Elisabeth watched closely for any signs of weapons. Both men were thin, pale, and sweating. Neither of them looked anything like danger. She took both their jackets and offered the towel to wipe their sweat. They did and handed the disgusting cloth back to her. She took it with a smile as both headed towards the meeting room with the young master. She waited till they turned the corner on the grand staircase, leaving her alone with the coats.

>follow the meeting
>ensure the meal was getting prepared
>Continue cleaning like a dutiful maid
>Write-In

>>340574
>>follow the meeting
Best to stay near the young master.

>>340578
>>follow the meeting
>Write-In
Shit is fucking wack. Also, let's get some poison sometime so we can poison the food for specific guests if we need to.

That's the last reply of the evening; will update tomorrow.

>>340578
>>Continue cleaning like a dutiful maid
Get rid of those cloths first and then hang up those jackets.

>>340578
Continue cleaning like a dutiful maid

>>340578
>>follow the meeting
>>Write-In
Stay on hand during the meeting. They might try making a move during the meeting. While it is contrary to directive three, directive one takes presidence.

This is such a great quest, OP. I love it and I'm hyped as fuck to learn more about the gardener.

>follow the meeting
Votes are over; will start typing up the reply.
>>340699
Thanks, anon. Will continue doing my best to make this good.

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Elisabeth tossed the cloth into the trashcan in the corner of the hallway. She set the jackets on the coat rack in on the side of the hallway, adjusting them slightly to ensure they were straight. Turning back towards the main hall, she double-checked twice to ensure the trio had finished going into the entertainment room. She walked into the main hall, trying to think of a convenient excuse to go into the meeting room.

“A bug escaped into the room; I'm worried it might lay eggs. No, that sounds too contrived. This is difficult.” She muttered as she walked up the stairs towards the meeting. When she glanced up, she noticed the old man reading his pager. He shook his head and walked into the meeting room. He glanced at her and nodded once,before closing the doors to the room. She already knew the far door was closed and locked; she had done that before heading downstairs. She had the key, but unlocking it would cause a scene. She'd have to settle for eavesdropping. Walking over to the large doors, she knelt next to them to listen.

“The negotiations from before are being voided. Our company can't afford to ally ourselves with such a...risky business.” One of the two businessmen spoke, voice nasally and weak like the maid had expected.

“Why is that? We had negotiations settled over 3 months ago. Today was merely the paper-signing to make the deal official. What suddenly made the Vermilion company a risk?” The maid smiled as the young master responded powerfully. Despite being young, Alexander had a gift in negotiation. And his grandfather was inside the room, as extra insurance. Elisabeth waited silently for the next reply, when a sudden, sharp sound made her jump.

Yanking a knife from her band, Elisabeth spun in place and prepared to defend herself. She suddenly identified the source of the sound. It was the staff phone, hidden behind a vase in the center of the grand staircase's wall. The phone had been placed in hidden locations in the mansion, to quickly relay messages throughout the mansion. The question now was why is the phone ringing now?

>answer the phone immediately
>ignore and wait for it to stop
>go to the cook and see if it was him calling for assistance

>>340903
>Answer the phone immediately

>>340903
>>answer the phone immediately

>>340903
>>Answer the phone immediately

>>340903
>>answer the phone immediately

>>340903
>>answer the phone immediately

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Pushing away from the door silently, the maid walked down the staircase and reached for the phone. When she grabbed the phone, it stopped ringing. Bringing it to her ear, Elisabeth listened to the voice on the other end.

“I eliminated ten in the forest. The rest stayed on the road and headed your way. That's all.” The Gardener's tone never shifted a beat as he rattled off his message. He sounded more like he was reading a paper than someone warning about an imminent attack. A voice she recognized but never suspected to hear spoke in response.

“Goddammit, I was promised I wouldn't need to do this shit again. Fuck.” The cook's disgusted whining was cut off by the Gardener hanging up his phone. Elisabeth hung up her end as well, before glancing towards the kitchen. So the cook was one of the old man's allies. The Gardener had said ten, but not what. She walked further down the staircase, letting her hand dip into her pocket. She grabbed a small tablet as she stepped out onto the first floor. The sound of wheels scraping marble reached her and the maid glanced over. The cook was pushing a metal cart through the hallway towards the staircase. He nodded once in her direction, relaxed smile on his face. “Hey, beautiful. I have the cheese soup right here. Want to help me get it up the stairs?”

He pushed it into the middle of the room, pausing as she stepped past him. She was watching the door, as a shadow broke the light through the crack at the bottom. Her hand danced on the edge of the tablet as she strained her ears for the sound of footsteps. The cook looked at the doorway as well. She glanced towards him and saw his eyes go cold as well. He spun his cart sideways as she heard the sound of counting down. It was muffled; those on the outside were trying to remain unheard. As the count hit '3', the maid pulled the tablet from her pocket. On it was a Bluetooth link for a certain set of speakers. Scrolling down the list of songs, she paused over 'Mouths like Sidewinder Missiles'. She selected the song as the count hit one. The entertainment room boomed audibly as the speakers activated. The doors flew inwards with a boom as Elisabeth dived behind the pillar on one side. She switched programs, quickly typing a message for the old man. Once it sent, she slid her phone into the far corner of the room. Glancing towards the cook, she saw him sitting cross-legged next to the food cart with his eyes closed. He was mouthing something. It might have been a prayer. She prepared to fight back against the new enemy, however numerous or strong they were. She had easily 5 to 6 minutes before the young master would figure out how to shut off the speakers.

>roll 1d4 & 1d100; first 3 rolls accepted
>work with cook
>fight solo
>wait for cook to move

Rolled 1 (1d4)

>>341941
>work with cook

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>341941
>>work with cook

He's the cook

Rolled 4 (1d4)

>>341941

Rolled 5 (1d100)

>>341941
>>work with cook
Time to operate.

Rolled 37 (1d100)

>>341959
Meep

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I regret everything.

>>341974
>>341969
Roll a 1d4

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>341941
>work with the cook

Rolled 1 (1d4)

>>341941
>>work with cook
This turned into a mess.

>>342012
A big fat mess like Jeb Bush.

Rolled 2 (1d4)

saving the day

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>1d4:1,4,1
>1d100: 37,5,37
>>work with cook
Voting ended.

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>1,4,1; 2 combatants
>37, 5, 37; major enemy advantage and unable to work with cook

As the door flew in, two metal canisters flew through the air. They slammed into the metal cart and bounced back onto the floor, spewing out smoke. Elisabeth turned into the open, bringing her pistol up to shoot at the incoming assailants. The cook continued to sit behind his food cart, silently praying. As the first screams came through the speakers, a hand shot from the smoke, grabbing her pistol. She tried to pull her weapon free, but the hand only squeezed and shattered the metal gun. Her face paled and she ducked, in time to miss a metal baton slicing through the air above her head. If this thing hit her, she would be spitting up her own organs. She backpedaled, pulling two knives from her sleeves as she did.

The smoke began dispersing, revealing two figures. The one who had destroyed her pistol was a hulking mass of muscle and wore a mask that concealed his face. The mask was stenciled with a grinning skull crying blood. The other was a tall, thin man holding a rifle. Upon seeing Elisabeth, he brought his rifle up and took aim. She threw herself to one side as the weapon fired. Hot shards of metal shot upwards from the point the bullet struck. The shards cut her arm as she covered her face, wincing as blood instantly beaded from the wound. She glanced to either side in shock as the huge mercenary lunged forward, preparing to slam his fist into her, and the thin man prepared his second shot. Forcing her eyes to remain open, Elisabeth waited for death to descend upon her. A sudden, dark object flew in front of her. The cart spun sideways as the bullet hit its metal side and left a dent. The huge man punched the giant pot and splashed it in an arc through the air. It splashed on the ground next to Elisabeth and she crawled away from the steaming hot soup. The cook was finally standing with a cigarette smashed between his teeth. He took a deep breath as he reached into his black cooking jacket.

“You damn sons of bitches wasted my last 3 hours of productivity in 3 seconds. Didn't your mother teach you not to waste food, you fucking shitheads?” As he spoke with complete disgust, he pulled a lighter from his jacket. He flicked it open, lighting his cigarette. His hand was slightly shaking as he took a deep drag of his cigarette. Breathing the smoke out, he looked into the cloud and muttered. “I told myself I wouldn't do it anymore. But I guess I have to.”

Both mercenaries took a step back, staring at the cook standing in the open. Both didn't know how to react to this bizarre show of confidence. The cook glanced towards the maid and nodded towards the cart softly. He seemed to want her to go for it.

>Roll 1d100

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>342144

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>342144

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>342144
thirds the charm

>1d100: 74, 19, 100
Rolling is over.

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>>342183

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Elisabeth dived for the cart, pulling open the darts. She reached into the cart past the pots and pans and felt something strapped to the top. Grabbing and pulling it free, she looked at her prize. A silenced AR-15 with a full clip. She checked the settings quickly while charging the weapon. Safe, semi, and burst; this weapon was an illegal model. She wasn't complaining, though. Rising to a kneeling position, she used the cart as cover and support to shoot from. The cook smirked and spoke as the two prepared to attack him.

“I'm not the only one you need to worry about.”

On cue, Elisabeth opened fire, sending two bullets into the head of the large mercenary. Blood and gore splattered from his mask, as the man growled and coughed mouthfuls of blood onto the ground. He didn't fall though, instead twisting his head towards Elisabeth and sprinting forward. She fired three more shots, one after another, but the huge man just raised his arms to absorb the bullets. Elisabeth prepared to lunge away from the cart, when the cook spoke again.

“Focus on the thin guy, Elisabeth! I got this lump of muscle!” The young man's cigarette fell to the ground, as the man finished his sprint towards the huge mercenary. He slammed his palm into the side of the huge man's side, sending ripples through the sculpted flesh. The sound of cracking ribs reached the maid, making her wince in reaction. The mercenary actually flew to one side, as the cook lowered his hand and took a deep breath. Spreading his feet shoulder-width, the cook waited for the huge figure to rise again. “Hurry and finish off that thin man! I'll hold off this bastard, but I won't be able to kill him!”

Elisabeth nodded, changing her target. The thin man had already hidden behind one of the pillars. She stopped aiming down the sights, trying to figure out where the thin man hid. The song was nearing completion; she was unsure of what would play next. That meant that almost 4 minutes had passed. A sudden movement behind a pillar made her attention snap back to the fight. Firing two shots, Elisabeth finally looked at what she was shooting. The smoke grenade exploded, sending smoke through the air. The sound of more grenades hitting the ground followed, filling the room with smoke. She peered over the edge of the cart into the smoke. A round pierce the air next to her head, cutting her bandage and deafening her in one ear. She spun away in shock, wincing as her ear began ringing. She sat behind the cart, trying to decide her next move.

>take a moment to analyze; you need to collect your thoughts.
>dive right in; the cook needs you to support him.
>Write-In
>Roll a 1d100; first 3 are final

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>342376
>>dive right in; the cook needs you to support him.
Safe to assume the guy has an idea of where we are so we better get moving.

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>342376
>dive right in; the cook needs you to support him.

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>342376
>>dive right in; the cook needs you to support him.

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>342376
>>dive right in; the cook needs you to support him

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Elisabeth realized that remaining still in the smoke was only giving the thin mercenary more time to ambush the cook, who was doing his best to resist the fighter. She decided to charge in and close the distance. Based on the mercenary's smoke tactic, he didn't want a close-range duel. Fortunately for her, close-range was something she excelled at. Setting her hand on the top of the cart, she took a deep breath. Rising to her feet, she vaulted over the chair, spraying bullets into the smoke. A single round flew through the air, hitting the bolt as it slammed back. The AR-15's bolt slammed back and audibly cracked, as Elisabeth was sent staggering back from the impact. How had that bastard made such an impossible shot? In this smoke, seeing your own hand was nigh impossible! Then it suddenly dawned on her, the true identity of the intruders.

Gritting her teeth, she sprinted forward, counting seconds as she wove back and forth. She heard the click of a trigger as she focused and threw herself to one side. As she crashed into the ground, a bullet ricocheted off the floor near her. She rolled to her hands and knees, before launching herself forward. She slammed into the far wall and realized she'd gone too far. Throwing herself backwards to avoid the next shot, Elisabeth forced herself to stay in motion. Pulling two knives from her bands, the maid continued moving sideways in an attempt to find the thin mercenary.

As if to aid her, the wind shifted through the open door. The smoke began dissipating as she continued dodging shots. With each dive, the rounds kept getting closer. As she pushed herself to her feet, she finally located the thin man preparing his next shot. As he started to shoot, she threw her knife.

>Roll 1d100; first 3 will be accepted

Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>342588

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>342588
No crit fails this time, I swear.

>>342609
I'm sorry, I should just stop.

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>342588

Rolled 21 (1d100)

>>342588

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>342588

>>342620
I think I should too...

Rolled 31 (1d100)

>>342588

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>>342635
Thank you Based Anon.

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>rolled 94; critical success
(1/2)
Elisabeth winced as the bullet cut her side, slicing through her uniform. The knife hit the thin man directly in the throat. He staggered backwards a few steps and clutched at the knife. His blood splattered his black uniform and stained the silver blade a bright red. He managed to yank the knife out, spraying arterial blood into the air. He groaned in agony as the blood continued spurting. Elisabeth pushed herself slowly up and winced as her side throbbed. The mercenary dropped the knife and pressed his hand against his throat to slow the spraying blood. It was useless. That wound was fatal. But she continued watching, wondering if he had the same magic the big guy did. He finally let his hands drop and the blood flow had stopped. She threw two more knives, one hitting him in the chest and the other in the head. He staggered back as she sprinted forward. Since he could heal cuts, she would try something else. As he yanked the blade from his head, she tackled him to the ground, splattering her uniform in his blood. Spinning another knife around into a downwards grip, she slammed her fist and the knife into his sternum. The blade sunk in, as the mercenary tried to push her off. She ignored it, pushing the knife further in and up, twisting it savagely. The thin man paled as his lungs and heart were mangled by her furious motions. He coughed, chest sucking inwards, and splattered the maid with dark arterial blood. She let the blood-soaked knife slip from her fingers as she pushed herself up onto her feet. She stumbled over to his rifle, picking it up. It was a sniper rifle, of a higher caliber than any she wielded before. Kneeling down, she took aim at the larger mercenary.

“Here's your opening!” She screamed, pulling the trigger at the same instant. The rifle slammed into her shoulder, bruising her from the sheer force. The bullet was slightly off, but still tore through the knee of the hulking man. He collapsed to one knee and looked down at the destroyed joint. That was the opening the cook needed. Launching himself into the air and rotating his body, he drove the toe of his shoe into the jaw of the huge mercenary. The large man could regenerate cuts, breaks, and muscles, but the blow to his jaw rattled his brain. The large man crashed onto the ground as the cook landed. The cook walked slowly over to the cart, wincing as his body started aching. Pulling a large bottle of vodka and revolver from the cart, he set the large weapon on the cart top. Removing the lid from the bottle, he took a long, hard drink. Breaking contact from the bottle with a gasp, the cook picked up the revolver and walked over to the large man, still trying to stand. He began pouring whiskey on the large man, completely drenching his torso. Tossing the bottle towards Elisabeth, he pulled out his cigarettes. Pulling one out as the maid caught the vodka, the cook spoke.

(2/2)
“Like I mentioned before, wasting food is the worst crime imaginable. So, your huge ugly ass should go straight to hell.” Pulling out his lighter, he lit the cigarette. Taking a long, deep drag of the tobacco, he held the cigarette out and blew out the cloud of smoke. “I gave up smoking years ago, and you bastards made me do it twice in one day. I fucking despise that. But, because I'm a kind man, I'll give you one last smoke out of pity.”

Flicking his cigarette towards the large man, the cook smiled and raised the revolver. When the cigarette landed on the large man, the vodka ignited and lit the man on fire. He couldn't scream, only growling as the fire burned his flesh black. The cook watched the burning silently, before cocking the hammer back on his large pistol. Firing all 6 rounds, he turned the large man's head, mask and all, into a red paste.

Elisabeth watched all this in shock. She almost took a drink of vodka, but stopped at the last second. As if on cue, the music on the second floor stopped.

>try to hide
>prepare to meet the master with dignity
>cry

>>342816
>>prepare to meet the master with dignity
Hard to imagine being able to fix up this mess without some help. Might as well get ready to face the music if that help doesn't show up though.

>>342769
>cry

We can make it seem like we got attacked and the Cook saved us. Play the damsel angle.

>>342816
>prepare to meet the master with dignity
We may have failed goal #3, but we will not fail to maintain the other 2, begin cleaning up this mess.

>>342816
>prepare to meet the master with dignity

Those fucking businessmen set us up! Get those clowns!

>>342834
Oh shit! Didn't realize this detail! Changing my vote right now.

>>342816
>>prepare to meet the master with dignity

>>342834
This right here.

>>342834
alright the cry fags have won me over.

THIS!

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The maid hear the door unlocking and took a deep breath. She smoothed her tattered, blood-soaked uniform as she rose to her feet. She'd served the master this far, and would let her actions speak for herself. There wouldn't be no begging, no tears, just the simple request to remain as the young master's maid. She looked up at the staircase, preparing to face the blonde boy. The door opened and Elisabeth bit her lip in anticipation.

“Grandpa! For the last time, you can't solve the company's problems with your fucking pistol! Stay out here while I smooth this goddamn mess over!” Elizabeth watched in shock as the young master shoved his grandfather out of the conference room. The old man was holding a smoking pistol, which he lowered as the door slammed in his face. The old man turned towards the two.

“Eric, good to see you made it through the battle. Elisabeth...are you crying?” The maid realized there were tears forming in her eyes. Tears of relief. The vale hadn't been shattered yet; she was still the young master's beautiful maid. She closed her eyes, struggling to bite back the emotions welling up inside. The cook glanced at her and bit his lip.

“Is this a bad time? We can use the corner of the ice closet for these corpses. How long do we have, Adam?”

“About six minutes. I left those two pansies in there nearly pissing themselves. They're not operatives for the Modification Wing. The twelve mercenaries were. The meeting just happened to coincide with a strike. Now, Elisabeth, will you reconsider joining us?”

The maid finished wiping away the tears in her eyes and rose to her feet. The wound in her side was still bleeding, but that didn't stop her from standing firm. She looked around her at the two corpses and thought back on the ten in the forest. These bastards would keep coming, threatening her life with the young master. She took a deep breath, finally coming to her decision.

>”I'll defend the young master till my dying breath; that's all I can do to help you, Mr. Vermilion.”
>”The Modification Wing needs destroyed. I'll aid you and the others, Mr. Vermilion.”
>Write-In

>>342940
>>”The Modification Wing needs destroyed. I'll aid you and the others, Mr. Vermilion.”
We got allies now, should be easy enough. As long as we stop crit failing.

>>342940
>>”The Modification Wing needs destroyed. I'll aid you and the others, Mr. Vermilion.”

>>342940
>>Write-In

If I help you, will you grant me your blessing to marry your grandson?

>>342958
Backing

>>342958
Backing this hard

>>342940
>>”I'll defend the young master till my dying breath; that's all I can do to help you, Mr. Vermilion.”

>>342958
Fuckit, I'll back this as well.

Have to attend to business, will reply later.

>>343010
If the answer is "no" then say "Then, Mr. Vermillion, I will provide an extra painful seat for you in hell should my journey preceed your own."

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Searching her heart, the woman recalled the strange feelings she held for the young boy. One could already tell he was destined for great things. She thought further on it and realized what it was. She cherished the boy with all of her heart. Turning to the old man, she spoke firmly and with passion.

“Adam, if I help you correct your mistake, let me stay with your son till the day I die.

“Go ahead and marry the brat. You'll have to make him fall in love with you first, but I don't care. You might want to hurry up with the cleaning. Eric is decent, but it will take someone with true cleaning potential to make this room passable.” The old man waved his hand dismissively, breaking the maid from her stupor. Marriage? Was she in love with the brat? Deciding to think about it later, the maid grabbed the body of the thin man.

“Fuck, cleaning is hard.” The cook sighed irritably, as he tried to finish mopping up what remained of the soup. Elisabeth had already remedied the pools of blood and was now working on patching up the numerous holes in the ground. The door to the second floor opened and the young master walked out. He bit his lip in frustration before putting on a fake smile and turning.

“My apologies for your discomfort here. I hope we'll be able to fix our relations in the future, gentlemen.” He said with false confidence and cheer. The two men walked out of the building, cursing angrily. True to the old man's words, both had pissed themselves and the marks remained. They walked down the stairs quickly, almost tripping on the wet patches. Walking through the front door, the pair disappeared into the light. The young master's smile vanished, replaced by an angry scowl. “Damn cowards. Both are fucking pawns in the chess game of business. I could send the two of them to an early grave if I wanted it.”

He noticed the maid working on patching the floor and forced a fake smile. He walked down the stairs and sat down near the base. Sighing, he muttered. “Most kids grow up with their parents yelling at each other and threatening to divorce. I grew up with my grandpa shooting holes into business rivals and murdering the opposition. Elisabeth, do I seem normal to you?”

>”Yes, young master.”
>”No, young master.”
>”What do you want me to say, young master?”

>>343133
>”What do you want me to say, young master?”

>>343133
Seriously those pieces of shit PISSED THEMSELVES!

Now I have to throw out those chairs because there ain't no fuckin' way I'm adequately cleaning piss out of those fucking things.

Goddammit!

I'm sorry what were you saying young master?

>>343133
>”What do you want me to say, young master?”

>>343133
You're the best you could be, normal has nothing to do with that.

>>343133
>>”No, young master.”
No normal person would pick up some random girl like us and hire us as a maid. So I'm glad you're not normal, young master.
Something like that, with a smile of course.

Can we get a group consensus on this?

>>343158
Right here sounds good.

>>343158
I actually prefer this.

>>343158
Yeah this is good.

>>343158
This was the gist of my suggestion anyway.

>>343133
>>343158
This

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“No, no you're not, young master.” Elisabeth watched as he face fell, obviously hit hard by her sudden declaration. She set the tools aside and moved forward, setting a hand gingerly on his cheek. He looked up at her in shock, as she smiled and spoke. “No normal boy would've spoken to a random woman in an alley. No normal boy would've offered that woman a job working for him. And no normal boy could be half as amazing as you are. So hold your head high, young master. You're perfect in my eyes.”

The young boy didn't speak as he stared at the maid in shock. She just smiled at him, her emerald eyes sparkling in the light. His blue eyes locked with hers, before he turned away, looking down. He took a deep breath and muttered. “Thanks, Elisabeth.

Before the maid could respond, he turned and ran up the stairs, heading for his room. The cook leaned on his mop and muttered. “Damn. You practically have him dancing on your fingertips.”

“Don't be stupid, Eric. Let's finish cleaning.” Elisabeth said, rising to her feet. The holes had been filled and smoothed out. Painting would come later. A sudden sharp pain reminded her of the gash in her side. Deciding to stitch the injury, the maid left the cook alone to clean the room.

“Two pairs of stitches in two days. What's it gonna be tomorrow, reattaching a limb?” Elisabeth muttered, hissing as the needle went deeper than expected. Pulling the string tight, she tied it off and cut the thread. Applying a bandage to both her injuries. She noticed the blood-soaked uniform she'd discarded hastily earlier. Picking it up to dispose of it, she noticed something on the ground. A blood-stained card with some form of code on it.

>take it to the old man
>take it to the cook
>burn it
>write-in

>>339039

This wins.

>>343264
Examine it ourselves

>>343264
>>take it to the old man

>>343264
>take it to the cook

He's one of the few people that seem trustoworthy
Plus, he's the cook

>>343264
>>take it to the old man

>>343264
>take it to the old man

Unless we can decide it ourselves of course.

>>343273
*Decode it ourselves

Fucking phone.

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>>343266
>This wins.
Eh?

>>343264
>>take it to the old man
Only after looking at it ourselves.

>>343264
>>take it to the old man

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The back of the card was blank and the front only had a collection of dots. She tried to puzzle together the meaning behind the dots but failed completely. There was definitely a meaning to this card though. Pulling her shirt shut, she redid her buttons and pushed open her door. Walking down the hallway to the archives, she knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

“Elisabeth. I found something stuck to my uniform.” She pushed open the door and walked into the archives. The old man turned away from the book he was reading and looked at the maid. The woman held out the blood-stained card and he took it. Flipping it over, he stared at the dots for a moment.

“I recognize this pattern. Wait a minute.” Pulling an old book off the shelf, he blew the dust off of it. From the title it was an extremely old computer book. Glancing at the illustrated cover and the card, he nodded in confirmation. “It's a punch card. Give me about five minutes to figure out what it is in binary then reverse it.”

The maid watched in silence as the old man wrote down numbers on a piece of paper, quickly doing in his head what computers of the past struggled to do. He finally finished with a short message, two letters, and 8 numbers. He paled and laughed softly.

“Those bastards are challenging us. This is a grid coordinates for their base. They even left us a 'Your move'. Those sons of bitches.” Turning in his chair, he looked back at the young maid, face cold. “Are you ready for a war, Elisabeth? They won't give us any leeway. It will be kill or be killed.”

“I'm ready.” You had come to your decision following the death of those two mercenaries. Threats to the young master had to be eliminated, regardless of their origin.

“We need to leave at least one person behind to guard the mansion. I'm willing, though I'd prefer to be there when we kill that bastard Johannes. Who do you want to leave?”

>leave the Gardener
>leave the Cook
>leave the old man
>Stay behind (Completely skip this arc)
>My last reply of the evening. Will be on tomorrow. Thanks for playing, comrades!

>>343380
>>leave the Cook
Gotta make sure young master stays fed. Or if someone normal can take over food duty, then lets leave Gardener behind. He crazy good at defense and I want to hang out with the Cook some more.

>>343380
>>leave the Cook
As much as we probably need the Cook with us, I feel like the Young Master is safer with him.

>>343380
>leave the Gardener
The master will suffer for good food, but the gardener is a frightening defender.

>>343380
>>leave the Cook

The young master can cook well. Choose as if the assault would take one night.
>Not that it will, or anything...

>>343447
In that case...

>Leave the Gardener

We can't keep the young master waiting too much longer than one night though.

>>343457
>Leave the Gardener
Then I'll go with this.

>>343447
My vote remains as is, leave the gardener.

>>343380
>>leave the Gardener

>>343380
>leave the Gardener
He seems better suited to a defensive stance anyway.

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“Let's leave the Gardener. He's the best suited to defending this place. After all, he fought 10 of those enhanced mercenaries and survived.” The maid spoke firmly, after coming to the decision. It hadn't been easy. By leaving the Cook, the master would have normal safety and a good meal if they didn't make this quick.

“It'll be a five-hour flight to the west. Grocery run?” The old man rose from his chair, reaching for his glasses on the desk. The maid nodded as she walked towards the door.

“I needed some more laundry soap as well. Shall we tell the cook to prepare for the trip?” The maid spoke as she walked through the door.

“Patrick, I'm giving you permission to extend your range to the road for the remainder of this evening and tonight. Feel free to use every means you deem necessary to leave your mark.” The old man's voice followed the maid into the hallway as she continued walking. The gardener's first name was Patrick?

Turning into her room, she walked over to her closet once again. Pulling out the rear panel, she stared at the rows of weapons. She was preparing for what could be a fatal charge into enemy territory. She needed to decide what approach to take while preparing herself.

>Go full daka
>Go full maid
>Try for the perfect blend of both
>Write-In

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>>346273
>>Go full daka
Time to end it.

>>346273
>>Go full maid
We still need to say goodbye to young master, right?

>>346300
Shit. I didn't even realize that. We ideally should say goodbye before arming up.

>>346273
>>Go full daka

>Write-In

After giving an emotional but purposely vague goodbye to the master, for we know we may never see him again if things go wrong.

>>346273
>>Try for the perfect blend of both

>>346273
>Try for the perfect blend of both.

By which I myself mean, don't proceed without ANY protective gear! (She does have some right?)

She's had 2 close-calls with stray bullets clipping her in the first 2 encounters.

Surely there exists some form of protection that's easy to conceal right?

If anything... it'll probably help prevent serious injury with bad rolls.

If there's no way to conceal it though...
>Go full daka

Actually, >>346300 made a great point. How could we pull that off if we're decked out for war?

I can not stress this enough, dress discreetly. 3 out of the 4 residents are heading off to do something. You don't think that quick farewells might be coming?

>>346371
Maybe we should pack a duffel with our full-daka gear that we keep hidden until it's time to use it.

>>346273
>Try for the perfect blend of both

>>346376
That seems wise. It'll let us bring more stuff stealthily, and we can always change out on the 5 hour trip over.

So, the final decision is go full maid with complete daka-set in suitcases for the ride over?

>>346581
Sounds like the best idea to me.

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(1/2)
Lifting the modified AR-15 from the closet, she set it on the ground. Five more magazines followed, fully loaded. Next came an assault shotgun with two belts of ammo. She set the belts and weapon next to the AR and its magazines. She reached further into the closet, pulling out a unique can. This she set to one side after ensuring it hadn't been damaged. She pulled two revolvers from the closet and ensured both were fully loaded by spinning both chambers. The holsters with more ammo followed, set next to the growing pile of weapons.

“Where's that thing...” She mumbled, before pulling out a white shirt. She smiled as she recalled where she'd gotten that shirt. That went on the pile as well. Black gloves, pants, and suit jacket followed, as she pulled more clothes from the bottom of the closet. She set the clothes to one side and finally found 'that'. Pulling it out, she smirked and set it down. It would definitely sway the course of the battle.

She tossed a replacement Glock, her extra sets of knives, and the thread on the pile and sighed. The weapons weren't abundant, but it was all she had. Pulling two suitcases from the closet, she finally replaced the fake wall and sealed it in place. She began arranging the weapons within after disassembling what she could. After a few minutes of jimmying weapons to fit, she closed the locks on both and stepped back. The suitcases weren't too large, but their weight was considerable. She sighed and picked both up before heading towards the door. She needed to link up with the others.

As she passed through the second floor, she noticed the faint sound of the piano. She glanced inside the conference room and saw the young master seated at the end of the large table. He was facing the windows, sleeping quietly. She smiled softly and walked into the room, setting both suitcases down. Walking across the space, she paused behind the young master and leaned forward. Kissing him softly on the cheek, she whispered a short message.

“Farewell, young master. I'll see you again if all goes well.”

The young master didn't move, as she pulled away. Smiling sadly, she brushed a blond lock of hair back into place. He didn't stir, as she turned and began walking towards her suitcases. As she picked up both, she heard the young master speak.

“Have a good shopping trip, Elisabeth. I don't know why my grandfather wants you to go along...but I trust you. Come back to me after the trip, Elisabeth. That's an order.”

The maid picked up both of her bags and walked through the door, smiling as her eyes began watering. “I understand, young master.”

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(2/2)

At the garage, Elisabeth paused as she saw her two comrades. Both were polar opposites in dress. The cook was wearing a black chef's outfit. The material seemed thicker than normal, but Elisabeth couldn't place the exact reason. In his hand was a single suitcase. It didn't seem thick, which made the woman worry. Was he honestly only bringing one weapon to what would be a battle of firepower. He noticed her glance and nodded with a smile.

“Elisabeth. I notice you brought two cases; think we'll be fighting an army?” His false bravado was broken when his voice broke at the end. He smiled bitterly as his gaze dropped. He had only brought one suitcase because that's all he had for weapons.

The old man was the crazy one. He was wearing a leather trench coat and had the Thompson submachine gun to match. There was more boxes of ammo on the ground than the Thompson alone could count for. He nodded towards the Humvee.

“I put the rest of my weapons in the truck already. Are you two ready for a war?”

The cook nodded solemnly and began walking towards the drivers seat. Elisabeth took a deep breath and looked at the old man.

“I'm ready. Let's go.”

>roll 1d100

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Need to tend to business; will continue later this evening.

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>346739

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>346739
I'm scared.

Rolled 84 (1d100)

Rolled 75 (1d100)

>>346739

>>346756
Based Anon, saving our ass.

>>346731
>shopping trip
They couldn't think up a better excuse? Jeez, the kids clearly onto us. A hunting trip would at least have sounded somewhat more believable.

>>346768
I'm not sure, anon. A sudden hunting trip in the evening, bordering on the night, is pretty sketchy. Toss on top of that who the young master's grandfather is and the idea of 'hunting trip' takes a much darker edge. So, shopping trip was decent. Better would've been trip to the hospital after reopening her side wound and blaming it on a bursting water pipe.

>>346825
Oh dear. Are we going to have time to treat said would while on our way to the Modification Wing?

>>346834
*Wound

I hate autocorrect.

>>346834
Already did; stitches and bandaged.
>>343264

>>346847
Duly noted.

>>346768
I don't really think he's onto us yet.

His reaction did seem quite odd... but I feel like it could be written off as the loneliness setting in.

There are at least 2 factors I'm speculating on here: #1: I certainly can't see him having many friends considering his upbringing, so you kind of lean on those nearby to quell your loneliness, thus why he asserted that you return.

#2: Didn't Alexander himself hire us? I can't formulate it into words... but it would seem a bit odd that the maid you hired was already being pulled by other family for their business.

Still... as long as everyone returns in 1-piece, everything should turn out fine. More importantly, by taking so much stuff with us, we've left less striking evidence at the house that might otherwise reveal our power level (should the young master Alexander go snooping).

>>346934
I'm most worried for the Cook's safety. Hopefully we can lend him some weapons while we're on the way to our destination.

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(1/2)
The helicopter landed 100 feet away from the ruined building, sending up a cloud of dust that obscured the area. Bullets came from the building, as three guards sprinted towards the helicopter. A loud roar of gunfire came from the open door, as a burst of 7.62 mowed down the guards. As the guards hit the ground, the cook released the trigger on the M60. He lowered the smoking weapon and shouted up towards the cockpit.

“Hey, it's clear, Adam!”

“Got it!” The old man began shutting down the helicopter, hitting various switches and powering down the engine. The propellers began slowing, as the cook looked around outside. Satisfied it was safe, the man jumped out and landed on the ground firmly. He swung the barrel of his weapon towards the building, waiting for more enemies to appear. The old man climbed towards the back of the airplane as the engines finished winding down with a whoosh. Grabbing his fedora from an open box, the old man placed it on his head. Adjusting it slightly, the old man grabbed both the Thompson submachine gun and his satchel of ammo before leaping out of the helicopter. Slinging the satchel over his shoulder, the old man grinned and spoke. “This is like the old days, isn't it, Adam?”

“Let's just get this shit over with, dammit.” The younger man sighed angrily, before pulling two crates of ammo off the helicopter. Letting them slam into the ground, he broke both open and pulled the belts out. Slinging them over his shoulders, he looked up towards the helicopter in weary admiration. “Though I hate to admit it, that looks perfect for you, Elisabeth.”

The young woman had discarded her maid outfit for the black suit. She had left the top button undone on the jacket to emphasize her slight bust. But the outfit wasn't what the cook was admiring. Clutched in her hands was the AR-15, suppressor mounted. The spare clips were in a case on her belt. The shotgun was attached to the belt on her shoulder, with spare rounds clipped into the belt along the front. Her two revolvers were slung on her waist for quick drawing. The spare rounds were in loops along the belts. Her knives were strapped on the outsides of her sleeves, enabling instant access. Her Glock pistols were strapped to the sides of both her thighs, with magazines attached next to the weapons themselves. The can was strapped to her belt on one side. She looked ready for a war. She jumped out of the helicopter, landing next to the cook and old man. All three turned towards the ruined building. She smiled sadly and muttered. “This outfit doesn't feel right after so long. Let's finish this quickly and go home, gentlemen.”

(2/3)
All three headed towards the ruined building. Passing through a hole in one of the walls, they began spreading out and searching for an entrance in. They stumbled upon the hidden entrance in the room furthest from the hole. The three guards had forgotten to shift rocks on top of it, which made it easy to find. The cook pulled the huge metal doors open, revealing a dark staircase that led within. After triple checking the perimeter, all three climbed in, walking down the dark staircase. The door slammed shut behind them and a door further in slid open, revealing a large room further down.

“What the fuck.” The cook muttered as the three stepped into the room. What they had entered looked like any lobby at an ordinary business. There was even a woman trying frantically to run through a door on one side. Elisabeth shot her in the back, sending her to an early grave. Anyone past the entrance was a liability that needed eliminated. A screen above the desk activated, revealing a desk with a figure sitting at it. The maid called it a figure, because the face was just a white mask that had no features. The figure crossed it's hands and spoke, soft and calm voice emanating from hidden speakers throughout the room.

“Welcome to my paradise, Sir Vermilion and friends! This is the Immortal Reign, where I, Johannes, will forge my new empire. But, an empire cannot be forged by one man. I'd first like to extend an offer of partnership to both of you powerful comrades standing by the old man.”

The cook sprayed a burst of rounds at the screen, completely wrecking the visual. The voice continued speaking, not phased by the sudden reaction.

“I knew recruiting the two of you wouldn't be that simple. I wouldn't have it any other way. I disbanded the mercenaries working for me, let them 'flee the coop', so to speak. Ah, that's not the right simile. But I digress! I'm here, with my most powerful subjects and technology standing between you and your victory. Let us have a fun war, Sir Vermilion!”

The voice paused then spoke again. “I should warn you, because I notice you all are packing a remarkable amount of heat. Letting you walk headfirst into a trap without warning would be ill of me. Who'd want the war to end on the first note? The next room is the place where all of my experiments ran their combat tests. The built-in security system is adjusted to automatically react with equal amounts of force. Go in there packing all of those weapons, and the system will pull out everything it has. And I doubt any of you can dodge chain-guns. So, will you go ahead with all those weapons or drop all but the ones you cherish most? It's your choice...and your suicide.”

(3/3)
The voice began laughing before cutting off, leaving the trio standing in the lobby with the dead body. The wall slid open, revealing a staircase next to the dead woman. The staircase leading to the 'Training Ground'. If the scientist had said the truth, it would be a killing field if they walked in like this.

>risk it (roll 1d100)
>choose 1 weapon a piece (will list weapons; roll 1d100)
>use 'that' (1 time use, guaranteed success.)

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>347445
>>risk it (roll 1d100)

Risk it, triscuit.

Rolled 39 (1d100)

>>347445
>>risk it (roll 1d100)

Rolled 21 (1d100)

Rollin
Trusty AR-15

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>347445
>>choose 1 weapon a piece (will list weapons; roll 1d100
What could possibly go wrong?

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For this vote, every roll for a certain motion will be in play, with the highest and most voted option being the pick. Gotta sleep for the evening; let's tear down the Immortal Reign, comrades!

Rolled 93 (1d100)

>>347445
>Take the AR-15

This doesn't mean we leave 'that' behind, right?

List of weapons for reference:
>Cook
M60, six belts of ammo
Taurus Raging Bull, 25 rounds
Meat Cleaver tucked in belt
>Old Man
Thompson Submachine Gun, 6 clips
Colt Peacemaker, 36 rounds on speed loaders
Bowie Knife
M1911, five clips
>Maid
Everything listed along with 'that'
>>347469
'That' will register as a weapon in the system. In fact, it will register higher than the other weapons do to its unique build.

>>347471
In that case,

>Cook
Taurus

>Old Man
1911

>Elizabeth
AR-15

That should draw the least amount of attention while preserving an acceptable amount of firepower.

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(1/2)
>rolled 93 for 'choose one weapon'

The old man spoke first as he looked towards his two companions. “We need to lose a majority of these weapons. I know that scientist and his warnings. We shouldn't take either lightly. Elisabeth, keep your AR-15. It has the ability to suppress and fire accurately over distance. Eric, take the Taurus. It will be our stopping power. You brought enough ammo as long as you keep it to one-shot, one-kill. I'll take my 1911. It's the weapon I have with the most ammo and is best for supporting the two of you.”

The maid looked between her two companions. The cook sighed in irritation before lowering the M60 to the floor. After setting the machine gun down, he pulled his revolver from his belt and examined the chamber. Satisfied, he tucked it back in his belt.

“I'm keeping the cleaver; it's hidden well enough that the fucking system shouldn't register it.” The cook spoke as he began walking towards the doorway. The old man nodded, placing his Thompson and revolver to weapons stack. His Bowie knife remained on his belt, a sign that the group was keeping their melee weapons.

Elisabeth grudgingly began doing numerous belts, letting her weapons fall to the ground. First was her shotgun, followed by the revolvers and pistols. The can came next along with 'that, all in one large pile. She kicked it over into the pile and walked over to the old man's side.

“Let's see what this 'training room' is like.” She muttered, as all three walked through the doorway into the staircase. The door sealed shut behind them a hiss, leaving them in the darkness. All three carefully made their way down the long staircase, until they pushed out into an open expanse that was black. As they walked into the open, the doorway sealed behind them. The lights suddenly came on, blinding them. An electronic voice spoke as their vision cleared.

“New Subjects. One female, two males. Threat Level Green. Preparing combat tests of appropriate levels. System, activate!”

The room around them was completely white, a barren expanse that seemed to have no beginning or end. The cook ran towards Elisabeth, as the old man did the same. Two pillars shut upwards between them, separating the three. More pillars began rising throughout the expanse, creating a room filled with barriers. Elisabeth raised her rifle and shouted to her companions.

“Hey! Are you two okay?”

“Yeah. Give me a minute to jump over this barrier.” The cook called out from behind the tall pillar. The sound of him jumping reached her and she glanced up. A loud gunshot fired through the area, and the cook collapsed on the other side. “Goddamn piece of shit! That nearly hit me in the back, what the fuck!”

“Climbing over the barrier isn't allowed according to the rules. Proceed directly forward to begin the tests.” The electronic voice spoke again.

So much for doing this the easy way. The old man spoke as both Elisabeth and Eric listened. “Just go along with the system; trying to cheat it will only lead to more troubles. Trust yourselves and you'll make it.”

>Roll 1d100

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>349816
I can't possibly continue getting these crit fails.

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>349816

Rolled 92 (1d100)

>>349809

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>rolled 92

Isolated from both the cook and old man, there was only one path left for the young woman. That was moving straight forward. She began walking forward briskly, keeping her eyes open for any signs of movement. As she reached the area where the hall opened up, two turrets detached from the walls, aiming towards her. She fired a burst towards one, effectively disabling it, before diving behind one of the pillars. The turret opened fire, tearing up the pillar she was hiding behind. As the bullets began shattering the concrete pillar, she dived to the right and into a roll. As the turret began shifting its aim towards her, she fired a concentrated burst that destroyed the turret. Both shattered turrets retracted into the pillars and the pillars returned to the ground. She had only fired 6 rounds, which meant she still had 17 in the clip. She began walking forward, when the electronic voice came on again.

“Reflexes, higher than normal parameters. AR-15 modified to be more powerful and effective. Increasing threat level to Amber.”

The system was a sore fucking loser. Changing the walk into a sprint, she began dashing for the far end of the hallway. More pillars began rising and turrets began deploying as she dashed forward. She ran between two and paused only for a moment. As the buzz entered the air, she dived forward, She winced as the rounds tore through the air and the turrets shredded each other. She brought her rifle up, still falling, and shot a burst of rounds that disabled the turret directly to her front. As she hit the cold ground, she rolled into the motion and managed to roll into a crouch. The entire movement had only taken three seconds, as she continued sprinting forward. The electronic voice came back on.

“Threat Level: Crimson. Deploying full firepower.”

Figures. She looked ahead and saw the panels on the floor beginning to shift. Forcing herself to move faster, she vaulted forward, catching the edge of the pillar with her toe. As the pillar shot upwards, she used the motion to launch herself into the air. Letting her rifle hang from her sling, she drew two knives and lobbed them downwards, catching two turrets in their primary circuits. Both fell limp as the ones in the ceiling came on line. She fell just below the 'cheating line as they whirred to life, striking the turrets on either side of the spot she'd been just seconds before. She lobbed one final knife forward, hitting the final turret spinning to life and killed it. She took a deep breath and continued walking forward as the electronic voice came online.

“Combat Test, completed. Female, above average in appearance, far exceeds standards in combat.”

She walked towards the small doorway that was the exit and glanced to either side. The cook was walking away from his corridor, visibly angry. The old man was soaked in sweat, but seemed uninjured.

“Why did I only activate the fucking Amber status? Fuck that goddamn system.” The cook muttered, reloading the spent rounds in his revolver. The old man glanced through the group and nodded.

“Well, we all made it in one piece. Let's go see what Johannes has waiting for us on the next floor.”

The trio turned towards the doorway as it hissed open. Another dark staircase, leading to god knows what.

>proceed cautiously, minimum sound
>go in guns blazing
>Write-In

>>350217
>>go in guns blazing
No point in trying to sneak if he already knows we're here.

>>350217
> All guns blazing

>>350217
I'm curious... are any of the broken turrets still there, are they salvageable, do they fire an ammunition type that any of us can use, or did they all retract back in?

Anyhow, seeing that there's now a door between us and our gun pile, I'm gonna guess that going back for anything is out of the question now, right?

I'm guessing that the training hallway probably wouldn't have gone much differently (for Adam and Elizabeth) if we had brought everything. If ceiling turrets is simply the worst it can throw at us (full-firepower)

(As for Eric the cook though, maybe. I'm getting the feeling that he's just not quite at our level. He might not have made it if we did.)

In short... we lost out on something. If I were here earlier, I would have gone with us using 'that', to give us a guaranteed success, because the way things seemed, the 3 options were "Take everything, and lose Eric", "Take what we have now, and lose our arsenal INCLUDING our trump card", or "Fuck the police, I want through".

Also, a nice little touch, near the end there. "Female, above average in appearance".

Anyhow, my suggestion:
>>Write-In:
Threaten out loudly that if Johannes touches any of our stuff that you'll force-feed him non-essential limbs and pieces. (And we use non-essential very loosely.) Then just proceed in however manner everyone else wants.

We've got a meat cleaver, it can be done!

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(1/2)
“Did either of you try salvaging the turrets?” The old man asked as they walked into the staircase. The cook shook his head as Elisabeth did the same. “Too bad. I tried, but the pillars locked shut without me obtaining anything. It stopped deploying turrets when I almost tore one of the weapons free with my knife.”

Both the cook and Elisabeth ignored the old man as he continued rambling. When they reached the bottom of the staircase, the door hissed open, revealing a large room full of racks. They were locked shut with some kind of mechanism and contained weapons, armor, and various other tools. This had to be the security floor. The trio walked out into the open, raising their weapons in preparation. The scientist had mentioned that there were only those loyal to him in the facility. Where were they?

“Oi, Johannes! Lay a single goddamn finger on our weapons, and I'll serve your undying ass to yourself. Piece by piece, until you choke on your fucking entrails!” The cook shouted and only received silence as the response. This floor, apparently, was empty. The sound of a bolt being slammed into place brought three weapons to alert. The cook, maid, and old guardian all unloaded on the figure stepping out from behind a rack, spraying blood and gore all over the racks, ceiling, and ground. The figure slowly fell to its knees then face, splattering blood in a pool around it.

“Damn. After all of those threats, we've only been greeted by turrets and two people that died in under five seconds. Is this a woman?” The cook walked forward, prodding the bleeding corpse lying on the ground. Satisfied it wasn't breathing, he pulled the assault rifle from its dead grip. Locking the bolt to the rear, he examined the chamber before locking the bolt back in place. “Some kind of custom assault rifle. Some caliber I've never seen before. Help me find some magazines.”

All three spread out, looking for a way to unlock the cases and search for more weapons. After pushing all the way to the back, the maid found the door further in. Deciding to leave that for later, she pushed back to the bunks. In there, Elisabeth found a book with hand-written notes. It might hold the key to unlocking the cages, but she couldn't be bothered to look through it. The trio met back up in the center of the room and declared the results of their searches.

(2/2)

“The cages are sealed and bullet-proof. There's some type of electronic lock that undoes it. Not sure how to activate it, but if it's related to the system from before, I”m guaranteeing we can't break it.” The old man muttered, sighing in defeat.

“I found the exit near the back. Another staircase, already open. Not sure if this helps, but here's a notebook.” Elisabeth held out the notebook, which the old man took. He began flipping through the notes as Elisabeth turned her attention to the cook.

“Didn't find any magazines for the weapon. Not sure why that cunt was charging the bolt if there wasn't a magazine to begin with. Some bitches are insane.” He muttered, tossing the rifle to one side.

“Wait! Where's the body!?” The old man shouted, causing the other two to raise their weapons in response. The cook laughed and pointed towards the pool of blood.

“It's right fucking there, Ada-...Oh shit. Where the fuck did it go?”

The pool was smeared, as if something had thrashed its way through it. The gore from before still covered the walls, but something else hung in the air. All three backed up to one another, raising their weapons slowly.

“Old man, explain.” Elisabeth muttered, eyes darting around. She spun her rifle towards movement behind a rack, but it was her imagination.

“There was some experiment the guards feared. Called her a 'Nachzehrer' or 'night waster', if my understanding is correct. She would help them in assaults, get mowed down by rounds, and get back up afterwards. She was practically immortal. Unfortunately for us, they didn't ever see her get severely injured in combat. Meaning we get to try to figure out a way to kill someone who is practically immortal.”

All three readied their weapons. Elizabeth had 12 rounds in the mag, Eric had 3 rounds in the chamber, and Adam only had 6 rounds left in his clip.

>roll1d100

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>351465

Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>351465
I-I'll get above 50 this time, I swear.

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>351465

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>351465

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(1/2)
>rolled 99

All three lowered their weapons, when a sudden sound caused the trio to whirl in unison. The girl was on the ceiling above them, preparing to drop. Elisabeth held her fire, as both men opened fire in unison. The bullets splattered the experiment's blood onto the ceiling, as the girl tried her best to hold on. A shot hit her hand, shattering the bones and making her slip. She fell with a gasp, slamming down at an awkward angle. Her bones audibly shattered as she fell, causing the girl to scream in agony. The cook stepped forward as the girl tried to push herself up with her good arm. Setting his revolver against her head, he pulled the trigger. Her head jerked to one side, as brains, bone, and blood splattered in a blast away from the weapon. He lowered his gun and began reloading.

“Search her, Emily. She might have the key on her.” The maid nodded at the old man's words, kneeling down next to the girl. Ignoring the blood literally covering the girl, she began searching for something that even resembled the key. As she worked her way along the torso, she felt the girl's heart start beating again.

“She's waking up, Cook.” He had already finished reloading his gun. As the girl took a breath and tried moving, he fired another round straight down. Her head audibly cracked as the bullet sent her head into the ground and blew open her face. She fell against the ground, as he sighed in irritation.

“Damn...this is pretty fucked up. I've killed girls before, but having to shoot the same bitch multiple times is fucked even by my standards.” Emily finished searching the girl and pulled away, wiping her bloody hands on her legs. The girl took another shuddering breath and the cook followed it up with another round. “Hey, Adam, did it mention her name in the book?”

“Karin; it didn't give her last name.”

“Fine.” The cook walked over, slamming his foot into the back of the girl's skull, forcing her face into the ground. The girl started breathing, spluttering and making bubbles in the blood on the ground. “Hey, Karin. We can keep doing this all fucking day. I blow your goddamn brains out, and you grow 'em back. Or you can be of service to us. You understand?”

The girl spluttered something from the blood. He knelt down in the gore, lifting her face from the blood and shouting. “Answer me, bitch, or I'll chop your goddamn head off!”

“I'll do it! Don't shoot me again! Please, you fucker!” The girl screamed, spitting blood and gore from her mouth. The cook shoved her towards the puddle and pointed his gun at her. She stared at him from the pool of blood and spat in his direction. He locked the hammer back and nodded towards the weapon. She began speaking, getting the hint. “I'm not sure if I can help you that-”

Boom! The revolver went off, destroying the girl's knee. The cook sighed and cocked the hammer again, as the girl screamed profanities and clutched at her knee. He walked forward and pushed her head back with the barrel of his revolver. “I only have 18 bullets left, cunt. But I have no problems using every last one of them to send your regenerating ass to the afterlife. If that doesn't work, I'll cut your limbs off and see if those grow back. You get the fucking message?”

The girl nodded, choking back her tears and curses, as the cook pushed away, ignoring the blood that stained his pants and sleeves. Elisabeth could only watch in silence as the cook did his old job. The girl began frantically telling him everything she knew.

The lockers couldn't be accessed without the key Johannes had taken. There were five other experiments like her spread between the living quarters, science lab, and quarantine room. Johannes was in his room in the lowest level of the headquarters. She didn't know what kind of enhancements the other freaks had, but they were insane if the rumors were to be believed. She was a First Generation super soldier, last of her kind. She had a more powerful form of super-regeneration than the rest, which was what enabled her to survive so long. The second generations and further had given up on super-regeneration as a skill, instead focusing on other abilities to make a more powerful soldier.

“Well, that's all we can get from you. It was a nice chat, Karin.” The cook locked the hammer back on his revolver as the girl raised her hands in surrender. He was reaching into his belt for the cleaver as well. The old man was standing by, not willing to raise a hand and stop the young man. Elisabeth bit her lip, trying to decide which route to take.

>”Don't kill her just yet! We could use her!”
>stay silent; she would just betray us
>write-in

>>352040
>>”Don't kill her just yet! We could use her!”

>>352040
>>”Don't kill her just yet! We could use her!”
She seems easy enough to control, just keep a gun on her at all times or something.

>>352040
>>”Don't kill her just yet! We could use her!”

We got anything to tie her up with? If so >>352118 this

>>352040
>>write-in
Keep her so I can have my yuri options while I'm pursuing the shota dick

>>352083
>>stay silent; she would just betray us
Changing my vote to silent since it just doesn't feel right to take her along.

“Don't shoot her! We could use her!” Elisabeth's cry came before she realized what she was doing. Something about the girl reminded her of herself. The cook looked at the maid in exasperation, before shaking his head and tucking the cleaver back into his belt. The girl looked at the maid in shock, as the woman knelt next to her. “Don't worry, Karin. We won't betray you as long as you help us.”

The girl turned pale as she shook her head and whispered. “Get away from me, you fucking monster.”

The maid reached to touch the girl's bloody cheek, and the girl screamed. She scrambled through the blood, choosing to hide behind the cook. The cook finished reloading his pistol and looked down towards the girl. He looked between the cowering girl and Elisabeth.

“Did you threaten to shoot her? She's more terrified than when I threatened to kill her.”

Elisabeth lowered her hand, biting her lip. She glanced at her hand then back at the girl. What had elicited such a sudden and terrible reaction? The old man knelt next to the girl and handed her a white handkerchief.

“Here, girl. Go ahead and clean yourself up. I'm sorry we had to go to such lengths, but we're here to defend something extremely precious to us. I'd welcome you to serve in my mansion in a heartbeat. We're currently lacking in staff. What do you say?”

The girl looked at him, with his sincere smile and kind words. Grabbing his chest, she began sobbing. Stress, weariness, and the other two had made the girl completely shut down inside. The old man held her until she got control of her emotions. She glanced back at Elisabeth and muttered. “Is this the first time...you've been here?”

What? The maid narrowed her eyes, before answering the stupid question.

“Yes. Why ask something like that?”

“I won't bother explaining. It'll come to light soon enough.” The girl, Karin, pushed herself up onto her feet after mopping what she could off her face. She tossed away the stained handkerchief and pointed towards a door in the back. “That leads to the living quarters. I'd like to take a shower, time permitting.”

“Whatever, cunt. Let's see what horrors await us on the next floor.” The cook walked towards the doorway, followed by the maid and old man. Karin fell in step behind the trio, making a squad of four. The door hissed open, leading further in.

>roll 1d100

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>352196

>>352197
yeah lez the fuck out

>>352197
Beautiful anon

>>352199
>that 100
Holy shit, anon. You enabled miracles

>>352199
YOU WERE GRANTED A NAT 100 BY THE DICE GODS AND YOU WISH FOR THIS?

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Had some issues crop up this evening. Expect another reply tomorrow. New thread imminent.

>>352348
hey man. If shota's the end goal then I want some nice maid yuri to tide me over until then.

And it's not like any man could possibly live up to the master so we'll have to take out our lusts on something that can't rob us of our virginity or our purity.

Really, this is to prevent us from raping the master more than anything.

>>352363
We're a virgin?

New thread >>353624