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Your thoughts are interrupted by a woman clearing her throat. You look up from your coffee to see the diner waitress standing next to you. She asks, "How's the coffee?"

"It's, uh ..." You search for a polite way of saying it tastes like boiled cigar stubs. "It's fine."

She smiles. "Anything else I can get you?"

Your stomach growls as she says that. "Better get me a steak 'n' eggs," you say.

"Sure thing!" You watch her turn away and walk back to the kitchen. Damn, she looks good in that uniform.

You pull out your beat-up wallet and take a look. Not good. You have $15 to your name right now. The meal and coffee should run you about $5. You consider trying to skip out on the bill, even though you like this diner ...

Before you can decide, the waitress is back with your meal. "Here you go!" After setting up your plate, she says, "You know, you've been coming here for a while, but I hardly know anything about you. Most of our regulars like a little chit-chat. You're the quiet type, huh?"

"Uh ... yeah, that's me. I'm just real thoughtful."

"Well, why don't you at least tell me your name?"

Choose one or write in your own:

Guy: Boris, Johnny, Mike
Girl: Aubrey, Brianne, Maggie

>>798994
>Johnny

>>798994
>Johnny

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"It's Johnny," you tell her.

"Well Johnny, I'm Lucy. Nice to properly meet you. I gotta get back, but I'll talk to you later!" She heads off to one of the other booths.

Ahh, what a girl, you think. Can't imagine what she thinks when she looks at me. Maybe before I had scars and a broken nose. Probably not even then. A man can dream, though ... a man can dream.

Of course, dreams only last for so long before cold reality asserts itself. Out the diner window, you see a sinister-looking black van pull up to the curb across the street. You get a bad feeling in your gut. It's probably just some rich guy who likes his security, you tell yourself. Nobody I know. Nothing to do with me.

Unfortunately, you know the little bastard who steps out the side door of the van all too well. It's Ivan, the son of a Russian boss. A boss who you recently had a small misunderstanding with. The sort of thing that could happen to anyone, really. Unfortunately, he didn't see it that way. Ivan is, of course, accompanied by three of his goons, hulking ex-KGB agents in ill-fitting black suits. He shouts something at them, points towards the diner. You can't hear what he's saying, but he looks angry. Very angry.

What do you do?

>Meet them outside
>Wait for them in the diner
>Make a hasty exit out the back

>>799146
>Wait for them in the diner

>>799146
>Make a hasty exit out the back

>Wait for them in the diner

You decide to wait for them in the diner. Perhaps there'll be less of a scene if you meet in here, like civilized folks. And after all, you haven't finished your meal. You take another bite of steak, watching out the window as the Russians cross the street and approach the diner.

You check your coat pocket. The comforting weight of your old revolver is still there. Lots of people these days are starting to use these fancy new semi-automatic pistols, but you still prefer the reliability of a proper magnum. The fact that it kicks like a mule is just a bonus. It only holds six shots, though, and there's at least four guys. Here's hoping you can get through this with just a conversation.

The Russians enter the diner. Lucy approaches them. "Can I help ... uh ..." They push past her, ignoring her.

"Johhhnnyyy! My friend!" Ivan thumps himself down across from you in the booth. One of his goons stands at your shoulder. The other two sit down in the booth next to you. "Is good to see you."

"Good to see you too, Ivan." You keep your voice nice and level.

"We have things to discuss, yes? My father ... his feelings, they are very hurt. He is cry. He want to know, why you have done such a wrong to him. But I tell him, father, it does not matter why Johnny has done this thing. Only that he has done it."

It's worth at least trying to talk your way out. "Look. Ivan. Buddy. I didn't know-"

"Sorry, 'friend'. I said it doesn't matter why. Just that it happened. And now you owe us." His eyes get a dangerous look. He leans forward and says, real quiet, "I would like nothing more than to smash your fingers into pieces with a hammer, right now. I could do it, too. I would get away with it. But I won't."

He leans back, a satisfied smirk on his face. "Instead, I offer you opportunity."

>Hear him out
>"I'll get you the money."
>Fuck this guy. Fight your way out.

>>799284
>Hear him out

>Hear him out
>Pull the revolvers hammer back in your pocket
Might as well get ready for a fight if we dont like this deal

>>799284
>>Hear him out
"Hope you don't mind if I keep at this steak, Ivan. This place makes it just right."

>>799284

>Hear him out.

"Okay. What's this opportunity?" You cut yourself another piece of steak. ""Hope you don't mind if I keep at this steak, Ivan. This place makes it just right."

"We have job planned. Is er, how you say. Merchandise transfer, yes? We plan to pick up a significant amount of cargo. We need people like you. People with your skills. You will be of great help to us. Make everybody very happy."

He hands you a business card for a construction vehicle company. You flip it over. On the other side is a time and date - 9:00 AM tomorrow - and an address.

"Be there. Bring your tools. Be ready for work." He emphasizes this last word.

He clearly doesn't want to talk about specifics in a public diner, but it sounds like he wants you to run protection on some kind of robbery.

>"Okay."
>"No deal."
>"I need more information first."

>>799379
>"Okay."

>>799379

>"He clearly doesn't want to talk about specifics in a public diner."

alright then

>I need more information first.

>"I'll let you know. Now I have a steak to finish, so if you dont mind could you let me finish it?"

>>799379
>"Okay. Send further details to my work address. I need to know what exactly you need to get the job done right, you know?"

"Okay, but I need more information first. Give me a call at my work address, this evening." You don't actually have a work address, but you imagine it makes you sound important. "Now I have a steak to finish, so if you don't mind could you let me finish it?"

"Will do, Johnny." Ivan's smile is predatory. "Good seeing you."

You catch the subway back to your apartment. It's a hole in the wall, dirty, cramped, rusted. Striped neon light shines through the blinds from the signs across the street. Despite all that, it's a place to call your own. A man's home is his castle, even if it's a shitty castle.

You drape your jacket across the back of the one working chair, and sit down on the bed. It's been a long day. You managed to get a job off the books hauling at a construction site, but the foreman stiffed you for half your pay. You could have punched the guy's face in, but that wouldn't have fixed anything.

God dammit. You're sick of all this. Shit jobs, shit pay, shit apartment. A shit life. Maybe this job is what you need to get back on track.

You get off the bed and pull out the old gun locker from underneath it. It just has one piece in it, but it's a beauty. A sleek black shotgun, illegal in the country until recently. A real room-sweeper. You also still have a few boxes of shells. With this, your revolver, and the old kevlar vest in the closet, you should be ready for anything.

The phone rings. You pick up. "Hello?"

"Johnny." You recognize the voice, elderly, dignified. It's the Russian boss. "I'm so glad to hear from my son that you are interested in our proposal."

"Yeah, well. I'm glad to help out." And if it means clearing up that little misunderstanding, so much the better. "I'd just like to know more about what I'm getting into."

"Don't worry, Johnny. Everything is planned for this job." The boss pauses. You can imagine him taking a drink of scotch in his study. "We have a deal set up with some upstart competitors. We will show up for the deal, but instead, we will take a little something off their hands. Nothing much. Just to show them who is in charge around here. They don't have the moxie to complain too loudly about it. But just to be sure, I want someone strong there. Someone like you. My people are valuable to me, and I want you to protect them.

"What do you say?"

Saying yes will start a mission running protection in enemy gang territory. Saying no may involve ex-KGB goons arriving to kick down your door in your sleep.

>"I'm in."
>"No deal."
>Other

>>799606
>"I'm in."

KGB is scarier than gangbangers

>If you could hook me up with some body armor and a shotgun, something russian, I'd be far more inclined to say yes

>>799606
>"I'm in, on one condition. I've recently gotten some room in my "tool" storage, and I've noticed I don't have anything to represent your glorious motherland. Any chance you can include something nice with the payment?"

>>799667
I'm thinking something automatic, seeing as we already have a shotty. Maybe a compact AKS-74U?

>>799606
>>799667
>>799675

this

better gear would be neat, some AK maybe or a sub

>>799691
That works. Switching

>>799606
>>"I'm in."

"I'm in, on one condition. I've recently gotten some room in my "tool" storage, and I've noticed I don't have anything to represent your glorious motherland. Any chance you can include something nice with the payment?" You think about your armor situation. "Maybe a new hardhat, too."

"For you, Johnny, I will give you something nice. I know you will take good care of her."

The rest of the evening, you clean and ready your revolver, check over your kevlar vest, and stare at the ceiling, trying not to think about what could go wrong.

The next morning. The vehicle depot where you're meeting the Russians isn't far, so you decide to walk. Your breath fogs in the harsh sunlight of morning.

On the way, you stop at the diner for breakfast. Lucy pours you a coffee. "Who were those guys, yesterday?"

"They're, uh, some people I know from work. Wanted to get my advice on something."

"Oh really? What do you do?"

"I'm in construction." The old, comfortable lie.
The coffee is still bitter in your mouth as you arrive at the vehicle depot. It's a dingy, barely-used lot full of ill-maintaned construction equipment, surrounded by chain link fence.

Around back, you find a small group consisting of some of the strangest-looking crooks you've ever seen. One guy, a huge bald dude, is probably ex-Spetznaz. Next to him is a guy is wearing a suit. A third guy, a skinny fellow smoking a cigarette, is wearing a construction outfit. There's even a woman. What kind of woman runs enforcer duty? This one, apparently. Her eyes are unreadable behind aviator shades.

The woman speaks first. "You must be Johnny. Your equipment's in the bag there," she says, pointing to a duffel bag nearby. "Load up and let's get moving."

>"Okay."
>"I have questions first."
>"I'll show you my equipment."

>>799811
>"I have questions first."

anything worth noting about the "customers" ?

>>799811
>>"Okay."

>>799811

>"Okay."

No point stalling now.
Time to be professional.

Oh and open and see what is in the duffel bag.

>>799811
>"I have questions first."
Who's the competition?
What should I refer to you folks as?
What's the fall back plan for when things inevitably fuck up?

You open the bag. Just as you hoped for, a shiny new AKS-74U, complete with extra magazines. There's also a ballistic helmet, which you strap on. People say you have a thick skull, but you aren't keen to test just how thick.

As you check over your new rifle, you say to the woman, "Anything I should know about our 'customers'?"

The woman is checking over her own gun, a serious-looking lightweight European assault rifle. "Not really. Just gang bangers, from the other side of the border. Considering the hardware we've got here, they might piss their pants and run away just from looking at us."

You say, "Anything I should know about you?"

She stares at you from behind her aviators. "Don't fuck up. And we'll get along fine."

The giant bald Russian man reaches out to shake your hand. "I am Boris." He sounds exactly like you'd expect a giant bald Russian man named Boris to sound. His handshake feels like a iron vice, but so does yours.

The guy in the suit says, "Call me Mike." He runs a comb through his greasy hair. He looks like he'd be more at home in a sleazy nightclub. "I'm more concerned about the cops. They're getting faster. Getting in should be easy, with me there. Getting out might be another story."

"Leave that to me," says the guy in the construction outfit.

"It's time," says the woman. "Let's move." She begins walking to a nearby white truck. Boris and Mike follow her.

You look at construction guy. "Aren't you coming too?"

He smiles. "You'll see me soon enough."

The woman shouts at you, "Don't have all day, Johnny!"

You follow them to the truck. Just what have you got yourself into?

(Continued ...)

>>799978

The truck roars to life and moves out into the streets. Boris is driving. You and the woman are in the back seats. It's awkward for a few moments, until she says, "Alex. My name's Alex."

"Nice to meet you, Alex."

"I'm guessing the Russians didn't tell you too much about this job."

"Not really. Some kind of fake deal that's actually a robbery. They just said, go here, point guns at people who need pointing at."

"Huh." Her expression is hard to read behind those sunglasses. "It may get a little more complicated than that. Your part should be easy, though. Like you said. Just point guns at people who need pointing at."

"Great." This job gets better all the time.

The truck drives into a bad part of town. Abandoned tenament blocks, shattered windows, elaborate graffiti tags.

Alex unzips a large black duffel bag. "Rifles in here. It'll look too suspicious if we just walk in carrying these bad boys. Johnny, you bring this in. Keep your mouth shut and let Nick do the talking. Stay close to me."

The truck pulls up in an alley. Some shady men in doo rags lounge, watching you with open hostility, as you exit the truck. You're carrying the range bag of guns, Boris is carrying a bag of counterfeit bills. Nick confidently strides forward through a service door, between a pair of guards, and the three of you follow.

Another guard escorts you to a certain room on the first floor. Everyone seems to only be armed with handguns and baseball bats.

Inside the room, sitting back in a plastic chair, is a little man with the most annoying moustache you've ever seen. "Nick! Welcome to mi casa."

"Hey, Chico. Good to see you."

The little man gets out of his chair, swaggers up to you. "Who's this cabron?"

>Play it cool
>Make a wisecrack
>Get tough

>>800106
>Play it cool

>>800106

>Make a wisecrack

>>800106
>>Play it cool

>Make a wisecrack
Don't worry about me El Pollo Loco, lets focus on the deal.
(Casually racist mob type is casually racist)

>>800106
>Play it cool

You're tempted to make some kind of wisecrack about chicken, but in the end decide to play it cool. This guy isn't even worth making fun of. "I'm Johnny," say, evenly.

The gangster, clearly hoping for some kind of reaction, is about to try again, when Nick says, "Chico, if we could just get to the deal?"

"Psshh ... fine. Let me see the money, amigo."

Boris thumps down his duffel bag on a card table, unzips it. Chico begins to examine the money. As the gangster is distracted, Nick looks at Alex and shrugs. She says, "Yeah, this is fine."

Without another word, Nick draws a silenced pistol and shoots Chico between the eyes. He falls backwards with a shocked expression, dead before he could comprehend what was happening.

You look at the other guy, but Boris has already gone to work on him with his knife, dispatching him with incredible efficiency and minimal blood splatter.

There are shouts in Spanish from outside the door. Silencers are quiet, but not that quiet. Boris slams his shoulder against it, holding it in place.

Alex says to you, "OK, Santa, show us our presents." You unzip the bag and take out your AK-74. Alex hefts her HK G3 and hands a SPAS-12 to Boris. He checks it over while keeping his back against the door, which is now shaking as the gangbangers try to kick and push their way in. Nick is taking the silencer off his pistol - he doesn't seem to carry a serious gun. Perhaps he's just here to get you in the front door.

Alex looks around, making sure everyone's ready, then nods. "Target is second floor. Let's rock."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2iAShUxgfs

Boris steps out of the path of the door, and it swings open, revealing a small crowd of surprised-looking gangbangers. Alex fires with the HK, the barks of the gun roaring in the confined space. Blood splatters appear on the gangsters' chests, and they collapse. One of them fires a random spray with his SMG into the ceiling as he falls, and there are screams from upstairs.

The four of you exit the room. From the door you entered the building, the two guards appear. Boris blasts their torsos into meaty chunks with his shotgun.

Another door from the same alley slams open, and two more gangsters run inside, pulling pistols from their waistbands. You've got these ones. You sight and pull the trigger, and the AK-74 thumps satisfyingly in your hands as it fires. A quick burst and the gangsters are cut down in a spray of blood.

"Cover six, Johnny." Alex leads the way to the stairwell. Boris is right behind her, covering the flanks with his shotgun. Nick nervously creeps behind them. You swivel around to guard the rear.

Upstairs there is shouting, orders, running footsteps, chaos, but down here, a moment of silence. Until you hear - was that a toilet flushing? The door to an apartment opens, and a gangbanger exits, still doing up his belt, sighing with relief - until he sees you, and freezes in place.

What do you do?

>Kill him
>Make the "Ssh" gesture

>>800276
>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M2iAShUxgfs

Good call.
Do You Like Hurting Other People?

>Kill him.

>>800276
Point your gun at him and inform him he forgot to wash his hands (lava tus manos). Keep your gun up until he decides to wash them for the next hour and a half.

>>800335
This
oh god this

>>800276
>Kill him
I mean he'll probably pull a gun if we don't.

>>800335
This. Clean your hands fucker.

You level your gun at the gangster's head, trying to remember your Spanish. "Lava ... lava tus manos. Andale."

The gangster nods frantically. "Si, senor." He backs into the apartment with his hands raised. The door closes.

Well, that was one less person you had to kill.

Sweeping your aim across the first floor, you're satisfied it's clear, and head up the stairs to join your partners in violence.

Nick is crouched at the top of the stairs, keeping his head down. Alex and Boris are hunkered down in cover, exchanging fire with a cluster of gangbangers at the other end of the hallway. Some of the gangsters are spraying SMGs: not much chance to hit what they're aiming at, but the sheer volume of fire is forcing your allies to keep their heads down.

Nick grins at you. "Bastards are putting up a fight!"

You think over your options. You could watch and wait for the right moment. You could move into one of these apartments, try to flank. Or you just could just fucking go in there and kill them.

What do you do?

>Challenging actions require a d10 roll.

>Go hard, seize their position by force
>Play it cool, find a flanking position
>Stay sharp, watch for an opportunity

>>800460
>>Play it cool, find a flanking position

>>800460

>Go hard, seize their position by force

>>800460
Initiate Blitzkrieg
>Go hard, seize their position by force

>>800460
>Play it cool, find a flanking position

>>800460
>>Play it cool, find a flanking position

Rolled 7 (1d10)

Rolling to play it cool.

You decide to play it cool and find a better position.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a0Q7e9Q6DlI

You catch Alex's eye and make a quick hand signal to a nearby apartment door. She nods. "Cover!" she shouts to Boris, and they open up. Under the cover of their suppressing fire, you dash forward across the hallway and deliver a solid boot to the apartment door, right under the doorknob. The door splinters and falls open with a crash.

Inside the apartment, you don't see anyone, or anything particularly useful. Out the window, though, you see just what you were looking for - a fire escape. After a few yanks on the jammed window, you're outside in the fresh air, standing on the lowest floor of the fire escape. Although the footing is a little awkward, from here, you can just get a hold on the window of the next apartment, and drag yourself in.

The lights are off in this apartment. In the dark, you slam a fresh magazine into the AK-74 and creep up to the door to the hall. You can hear the gangsters shouting and firing, right on the other side. You listen carefully, trying to pinpoint their positions with sound. You wait until you judge the moment is right, then slam open the door and open up with a series of bursts. The muzzle flashes are blinding in the dimly-lit apartment, but you've got the enemy positions right. The gangsters, caught off-guard by your flanking maneuver, are cut down in a bloody swath.

After a few moments of silence, Alex and Boris emerge from cover. Nick pops his head up. "Is it safe?"

Alex walks up to you. That might be a smile on her face. "Nice work, Johnny. Take Nick to the safe. Second door on the right. Boris, you're with me on sweep and clear."

While Alex and Boris clear your flanks, you take Nick to the second door on the right. You peek inside, and see a gangster holding out in there. He's ducking behind a couch, waving a pistol, shouting something in Spanish. Unfortunately for him, a couch doesn't actually stop bullets. Another gangster who's seen too many movies, you think ruefully, putting a spray into the couch and hearing a blood-soaked gurgle in response.

Nick follows you inside. "There she is," he says gleefully, rubbing his hands together. He's probably referring to the huge safe tucked in the corner. "My time to shine," he says, pulling out a safe-cracking kit. So that's what he's here for. "Guard the door and windows for me, will you buddy?"

>Guard the door and windows with your full attention
>Do it, but keep half an eye on Nick, in case he tries to pull something
>Other

>>800460
>>Play it cool, find a flanking position

Work smarter not harder

>>800615
>>Do it, but keep half an eye on Nick, in case he tries to pull something

>>800615
>Guard the door and windows with your full attention
Also, see what those gangers were using. Couldn't hurt to pick up a spare TEC-9 or Škorpion for work.

>Do it, but keep half an eye on Nick, in case he tries to pull something

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>>800615
>Unfortunately for him, a couch doesn't actually stop bullets. Another gangster who's seen too many movies, you think ruefully, putting a spray into the couch and hearing a blood-soaked gurgle in response.

I like it.

>Do it, but keep half an eye on Nick, in case he tries to pull something.

>>800615
>>Do it, but keep half an eye on Nick, in case he tries to pull something

>>800659
>Also, see what those gangers were using. Couldn't hurt to pick up a spare TEC-9 or Škorpion for work.

also, I agree with this

Even if just handguns/jewelry. Loot some shit

You take up a guard position as Nick asks, with you gun pointed at the doorway, and a good view of the windows. That said, you don't know this guy, or trust him. So you keep glancing back at him, real casual-like, as he works away on cracking the safe.

You also take a quick look at the firepower the gangsters were using, or for anything valuable. Most of it is cheap shit, pistols you wouldn't trade your old trusty revolver for any day. Their jewelry is mostly fake gold. But some of these newer submachine guns look like they could be useful in a pinch. You pick up one of the guns - a TEC-9, you think, they just started making these last year. Feels solid. You'll hang on to this one.

From the other rooms on the floor, you can hear the occasional burst of fire or shotgun blast as Alex and Boris finishing clearing the area.

A loud clank, as the safe opens. "Yessss," says Nick. "Now uh, just keep watching the door buddy, while I pack all this up."

You glance over. The safe is full of a mountain of cash. Probably small bills, considering it's likely drug money. But that's still a hell of a lot of money. More than you expected. Nick is busy stuffing two duffel bags full of the cash.

Unfortunately, right at the moment you're distracted, a gangster who somehow got missed in all of this chaos comes charging into the room. He screams some kind of war cry and swings a goddamn machete at your face! You duck back just in time, the huge knife whistling past your face. You fire a burst into his chest, and he collapses, croaking some kind of curse on your mother as he dies.

"Jesus!" says Nick. "That was a close one." His eyes widen as you turn to face him. "Ouch. Are you hurt, man?"

You didn't even notice at the time - thanks, adrenaline - but you raise a hand to your cheek, and your fingertips come away with blood. Damn. That was too close. Another scar for the collection.

Alex and Boris enter the room. "Everything okay?" says Alex, looking down at the fresh corpse.

"Yeah, barely." Nick says. "Good thing our new friend here is quick on the trigger."

In the distance you hear sirens.

"Cops!" moans Nick. "We gotta get out of here!"

Ash says, "Don't worry. We have an escape route."

(Continued ...)

Alex slides open the second-story window. Below you is a narrow alley. It looks like a deathtrap. "Hope you've got good ankles," says Ash, climbing out the window. She lowers herself, gripping the windowsill, then drops the short distance to the ground.

You groan. "This is the escape route? Jump out the window?"

Boris thumps you on the back. "Is good plan. You will see." He heads to the window. You're not sure how a man of that size is able to squeeze through that window, but he somehow manages it. "Okay, I go," he announces, then drops to the ground. You hear him groan from outside. "Not as young as I used to be ..."

Nick passes you, chuckling. "Surely you're not afraid of heights?"

You don't like this, but you can hear shouting coming from the stairwell, and the sirens are getting closer. Whatever these people have planned is your best option. "Fuck. All right."

It's been a while since you did this, but the basic motions are familiar. Swing around, grip the windowsill, aim your landing, bend your knees, let go. The landing is painful, but your ankles survive in one piece.

You turn around to address the others. "So what's- oh!" At the end of the alley is that guy, the smoking guy in the construction outfit, the one who said you would see him soon enough. He's leaning against a large truck that's parked blocking the alley, with the door open for you. He waves at you. Boris is already clambering inside the truck.

You run up to the truck. From here, you can see there's some kind of hatch built into the floor of the vehicle. It's open directly over an open manhole, with a ladder leading down into the sewer. The stench is awful, but you think you get the idea. The truck is a decoy escape vehicle, while your real escape route is underground.

It's not pleasant, but better this than taking your chances with the cops, or the very irate gangsters you've just left behind. Slinging your rifle back, you plug your nose with one hand, and use the other to climb down the ladder, descending into the sewers.

The others are taking a moment to catch their breath.

Alex looks at you. "Nice work up there."

>Thanks.
>I had a good team.
>What the hell was that? I didn't sign up for this.
>What happens next?

>>800862
>What happens next?

>>800862
>>Thanks.

>>800862
>Thanks
>I had a good team
Then.
>So what happens next?

>>800862
>Thanks, whats next?

>>800862
>>What happens next?

>>800862
>What happens next?

"Thanks. What happens next?"

"Next, we have about an hour until drop-off. Rendezvous' at a motel, several blocks that way. We can access it from down here. We'll be safe from the cops, if not from the smell."

Alex and Nick produce flashlights, and the four of you begin your trek. A few times you step in something you'd rather not identify, but otherwise the journey happens without incident.

Nick searches around until he finds a certain service door. He has a copy of the key ready. The four of you pass through the door and into some sort of old boiler room, up a set of stairs, and through a taped-up doorway into the back hallway of what looks like a run-down motel. Nick already has a key for room 108. Your group makes its way there through the back hallways, avoiding suspicious eyes.

In the motel room, Boris immediately claims the bathroom, proclaiming he has a "mighy need". You sit down on the hideously-patterned bed, grateful for the rest. Alex watches the window. Nick paces nervously up and down the room.

The clock ticks away. The sirens in the background fade away. Nick announces he's going to find some coffee and cigarettes, and leaves. You try not to listen to Boris grunting in the bathroom. Alex sits motionless.

Your eyes drift to the duffel bag of cash. That was a hell of a lot of money. You can't help thinking if there's some way of double-crossing the Russians ...

(Continued ...)

... or if maybe someone else has the same plan. Nick has been gone for a long time, now.
Nervous, you stand up to stretch your legs. You walk around the tiny motel room, eventually standing next to Alex.

"You do this sort of thing a lot?" you ask. "Epic smash and grabs, death-defying heists?"

She says, "I do what it takes to get by."

"'Get by'? Huh, with the amount of money Nick took out of that safe, you'll be doing more than just getting by."

She turns to look at you. "It wasn't that much money. Seventy grand or so."

"Uhhhh ..."

She quickly reads in your face something's wrong. "What is it?"

"Well ... there was actually a lot more than that. I didn't get a good look, but, it was more than seventy."

She looks at you a moment longer, then walks over to the duffel bag of cash and unzips it. She's taken aback by the sheer volume of cash. Then she flips through a roll. "Johnny. These are hundreds."

"What?"

"These are hundred dollar bills. The Russians told me seventy grand. But there's probably ..." She does a quick count. "I don't know. A million dollars?"

You sit back on the bed. "Jesus. A million? But ... that's way more than some punk ass gangbangers should have." Your heart is racing. "What the hell have we gotten into?"

She takes off her shades for the first time. She looks you in the face. Her eyes are blue. "Johnny, I don't-"

BLAM! A gunshot echoes from the bathroom. Boris crashes through the door and falls to the ground. The back half of his skull is a bloody mess. His body goes limp.

You see a shadow moving next to the window. Alex is shocked, frozen. "Alex, get down!" You tackle her to the ground, right as a burst of automatic fire cuts through the room. The two of you lie on the ground as bullets fly overhead. You look for your rifles, but they're on the other side of the room.

The automatic fire stops, and you hear the sound of reloading. From the bathroom, you hear breaking glass, as whoever shot Boris forces their way inside.

What the hell do you do now?

I'm going to call it for now, fellas. Thanks a lot for playing Chapter 1 of Thug Quest!

I'll be back tomorrow at about the same time to resume Thug Quest. Same thug-time, same thug-channel!

>>801128

nite brah

>>801114
Guns.Alex. Cash. Bail.
Do we still have that borrowed Tec-9 on us?
Regardless the guy working his way in from the bathroom probably went around.
They also probably know about the sewer escape route.
Keep an ear out.
But we should be able to take advantage of them reloading.

>>801128
Thanks for running RK.

>>801114
>What the hell do you do now?

Toss Alex the tec-9, whip out our magnum

Have her cover while we blast the fucker coming in through the bathroom window, grab cash and go out through it

Thanks for running, poor Boris.

>>801128
I already have high hopes for this quest; It has good writing, great timing, an interesting premise, and might run regularly.
Thanks for running Raven

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>>801128
>>801174
oh yeah, RIP Boris
we hardly knew ye

>>801128
Thanks for running!

This is good shit even just to read along.

>>801114
Pass the Tec-9 to Alex, then bring out the magnum, have her grab the cash as we snag the rifles.

I'll say we've got the classic bang bang, a Colt Python.

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>>801174
>>801242

Thug Quest will resume shortly. Ready your magnums.

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Welcome back to Thug Quest.

When we last left our thug hero, Johnny, you were pinned down under automatic fire in a cheap motel room, with a girl, a bag with a million dollars cash, and another bag full of guns. Boris was lying on the floor looking dead as a doornail, Nick was long gone and maybe part of the set-up, and Alex and you were in a real shit situation.

At least one asshole was out front of the motel room, firing in. Another asshole, who had just wasted Boris, sounded like he was climbing in through the bathroom window. In between deafening bursts of gunfire, you were trying to figure out what the hell you were going to do about this.

Fuck it. You're not a complicated guy. You're just going to shoot your way out.

As bullets whiz by overhead, you reach behind you and pull the Tec-9 out of your waistband. Grabbing this back at the gangsters' tenament seemed like just a random free gun for later, but you're sure as hell glad you have it now. You can never have too many guns.

"Alex!" you shout at the girl pinned down beside you. She turns to face you. Damn, she has pretty eyes without those shades, you think, then scold yourself. Really not the time, Johnny! You hold out the SMG. "Take this!" She grabs it from you, flips off the safety.

You pull out the Colt Python from your jacket. You say to her, "I'm gonna count to three. On three, you grab the cash. I'll grab the guns. We head out the back. Ready?"

She nods.

A crash from the front door. Someone's trying to kick it in.

"One-"

Another crash. The door buckles, splinters.

"Two-"

The front door slams open, and there's two assholes in bad haircuts and street clothes, raising their guns at you.

"Three!" you shout, firing the magnum. Asshole two sprouts a bloody flower in his head and tumbles backwards. Asshole one ducks back out of sight, but Alex gets to her feet and sprays a burst from the Tec-9 at the wall. Cheap plaster motel walls don't do much to protect the guy, judging from the cries of pain on the other side.

You swing the bag of guns over your shoulder and approach the bathroom, magnum held ready. Asshole three back here hasn't made his move yet.

What do you do?

>Challenge! Roll a d10 and decide:
>Go hard, charge in there
>Play it cool, wait for the right moment

Rolled 10 (1d10)

>>803275
>>Play it cool, wait for the right moment
Let's do this!

>>803275
>>Play it cool, wait for the right moment

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>803313

Seriously

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>>803300
>>803313

You hold up just behind the corner to the bathroom, magnum held low, close to your stomach. You wait for just the right moment ...

There. The end of his shotgun pokes around the corner. With perfect timing, you reach out with your free hand to shove his gun away from you, step forward, and pull the trigger. You put two in his chest and one in the bathroom mirror. He falls to the ground, sputtering, but with his last once of strength tries to point the shotgun, so you step in and wrestle the thing away from him. And you put a blast right into his head.

Fuck that guy.

His blood's all over your face and shirt now, though. Not the first time. Looks like it won't be the last.

Alex is right behind you, with the bag of cash over her shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

It's tough avoiding the broken glass, but the two of you get yourselves, and the bags, through the broken bathroom window without any major cuts.

You're in the back parking lot of the motel. Nearby there's an alley, with a dumpster and a couple back service doors.

>Steal a car
>Head down the alley, make for the subway
>Hide through one of the service doors
>Hide in the dumpster (??)

>>803376
>>Steal a car

Cant well be seen walking around all bloody and such

>>803376
>Steal a car
Check the goons for car keys and for possible clues for who they're working for. Best guesses involve either the Columbians or the Russians.

Also, did we grab our rifles?

>>803376
>>Steal a car
Let's get outta here.

>>803408
Yes, you are carrying the range bag with your AK-74, Alex's HK, and Boris's SPAS-12. Alex has the bag with the cash.

You decide stealing a car is your best escape route. No sense walking around in the street with that guy's blood on your face.

You and Alex cautiously make your way around, to the front parking lot. There's a few cars here, and the bodies of the first two attackers. "Search 'em for keys or info," you say to Alex. "I'll get us a car."

Part of you is hoping to find something badass, to rip down the streets in a turbo-charged muscle car. But you're not likely to find something like that in front of a crap motel. And even if you did, this gun battle will be drawing heat fast, and you don't need to be driving something big and obvious. You need something ...

There. A Toyota Corolla, the most generic car in the world.

You brace yourself and smash the driver's window with your elbow. "Any luck?" you ask Alex, as you reach inside and fumble with the door lock.

"No keys," she says. "Got a wallet."

"Good," you say. "Maybe we can-"

You stop talking as a nearby engine guns it. A white car comes racing down the street, and screeches around the corner into the parking lot. You can see two more of the assholes with bad haircuts inside. The passenger has a gun in his hand and is rolling down his window.

You raise the magnum and pull the trigger, but hear nothing but empty clicks. Dammit! You duck back behind the car again, reach inside, and yank open the wiring under the steering wheel.

Hotwiring cars is like riding a bike for you. When you learn the trick as a kid, you never really forget. It's easy, as long as you ignore the bullets being fired your away. Easy, you think, feeling sweat on your forehead.

A few seconds of work, and the car rumbles to life. Alex crouches beside you.

You say to her,

>"You drive, I'll shoot."
>"You shoot, I'll drive."

>>803467
>>"You drive, I'll shoot

>>803467
>>"You drive, I'll shoot."
Use the SPAZ to shoot out their tires. Should save some ammo for later.

>>803482
>>803490


The assholes in the white car have pulled up sideways to give the passenger a better shot. But in doing so, they haven't blocked the exit. Alex throws the car into reverse and slams her foot on the gas.

The little car zips backwards out of the parking lot. Alex yanks over the steering wheel, then pulls the handbrake. The world outside the car spins and you almost fall out of your seat as Alex pulls a J-turn. She cranks the shift to forward and accelerates. Damn. Guess it's good you let her drive.

In the side mirror, you can see the white car has turned around and is following you out of the parking lot.

"This shit is kinda out of my league," you say to Alex. You open your magnum and start to reload. "What should we do?"

"I have an idea," she says. "Just hang on, and try to get those fucks off our tail."

You unroll the window. The wind whips by at blistering speed. Keeping a steady aim under these conditions won't be easy. Then you get an idea. You turn around and reach into the backseat, where you threw the bags.
A bullet strikes the side mirror on Alex's side. "What the hell are you doing back there?" she shouts.

"One second - aha!" You triumphantly reveal Boris's shotgun in your hands. "Hard to miss with this bad boy."

You lean out the window, trying not to think about a street sign slamming into the back of your head while you're facing backwards. You level the shotgun at the white car's front right tire and pull the trigger.

BLAM! The tire shreds. The car thumps down, diagonally skewed. The passenger is shouting at the driver, but he keeps driving forward with grim determination.

You take aim at the back right tire. A trickier shot, but after a moment it lines up just right. BLAM! The tire shreds. Sparks fly. The white car slumps further. Swerves. Tilts. Rolls. Crashes in spectacular fashion, eventually landing on its roof, upside-down.

You lean back inside the car, breathing heavily. "Never fired a gun out of a moving car before. First time for everything, I guess."

"Good job," says Alex. It's hard to tell when she's smiling, but you think that might be it right there.

"So," you say. "What now?"

Alex has slowed down to a more normal speed. "I know a place nearby where we can ditch this car. After that ... " She doesn't complete the sentence.

What do you do?

>"We need to find out who did this to us."
>"We need to find out whose money this is."
>"We can use this money."
>"We can split the money and go our separate ways."
>Say nothing, for now.

>>803611
>>"We need to find out who did this to us."
>>"We need to find out whose money this is."

we need information

>>803618
Agreed

Wouldnt suppose she might know where we can find Nick?

>>803611
>Need to find out whose money this is
>Need to find out who did this to us.
We can reassess our options from there sound good?
We could just split the money but then we're both targets with no idea who's aiming at us.

>>803618
>>803630
>"We need to find out who did this to us."

God damned dime a dozen back stabbing scumbags.

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"We need to find out who did this to us, and whose money this is. Maybe they're the same people."

"You want to track them down, huh?" Alex says, unreadable.

"Yeah, I do. We can't just go our separate ways with targets on our backs, no idea who's aiming at us." You lean back in your seat, watching the world go by out the window. "Wouldn't suppose you might know where to find Nick?"

"I know a few places. But I suspect he won't be an easy man to find, if he doesn't want to be found."

Alex pulls into an unused dirt lot, underneath a set of elevated train rails. Broken bottles, graffiti, old newspapers blowing in the wind. Nobody comes here. A good place to take a moment and catch your breath.

Alex sighs. She massages her forehead. Then she looks at you. "Do you have a cigarette?"

"Yeah, I do." You reach into your shirt pocket for the pack. "Wouldn't take you for a smoker."

"I'm not." You open the pack and she takes one out. "I quit seven years ago. But today seems like a good day to start again."

You light a match for her, and she leans forward. The reflections of the match flame dance in the darkness of her shades. She leans back, exhales a puff of smoke.

"So, tough guy," she says. "You want to find out who's behind all this. Let's say we do find out. Then what?"

>"We take them down."
>"We try to give them back the money, see if it gets them off our back."
>"I'll figure that out later."

>>803675
>>"I'll figure that out later."

Hard to say til we know what we're dealing with

>>803675
>"I'll figure that out later."

"I'll figure that out later," you say. "Don't know what we're dealing with yet."

"I figure the Russians betrayed us," she says. "Simple as that."

"Well, maybe. It could also be some other guys who found out about the robbery. Or maybe some other guys, working along with the Russians. We don't know, that's the problem." You lean back in your chair and groan. This is too many questions for you. You usually solve questions by punching them.

You sit up as you remember something that might be useful now. "What about that guy's wallet? What's in it?"

"Hmm." Alex pulls it out, looks through it. Shakes her head. "Just some cash and a driver's license. Some white guy. 'Harry Jones'. Local address."

"That's all?"

"What, were you hoping he'd conveniently have a matchbook from a certain bar? That only happens in- wait." She looks again. "No, wait. There is actually a matchbook from a certain bar. A nightclub, even." She hands you the matchbook. It's reads ENIGMA in a fancy script.

You have a few leads on the people who shot up your motel room. What do you do?

>Investigate Mr. Jones
>Investigate the Russians
>Investigate the nightclub
>Talk to one of your old friends, see if they can help

>>803767
>Investigate Mr. Jones

>>803767
>Talk to one of old friend see if they can help
If they can't
>Investigate nightclub

>>803675
>>"I'll figure that out later."

>>803767
>Mr. Jones
>Nightclub
Kills our day but what the hell

"I have this old friend. He might be able to help us investigate this Mr. Jones. If we'll still alive by evening, let's check out the nightclub."

"First, here." Alex hands you a handkerchief, and you realize you still have that guy's blood on your face.

"Right. Thanks." You clean yourself off as best you can. "So yeah, this guy. He knows all about databases and public records and stuff. He should be able to find out who this Mr. Jones guy is. I don't know about you, but I don't fancy our chances just walking up to his front door and asking politely."

"Sounds good."

"There's one problem, though. I don't know if this guy will be happy to see me. Because ..."

> I "borrowed" some money from him
> I had to beat the shit out of him
> I met him in prison. It's awkward to meet up outside.

>>803842
>> I met him in prison. It's awkward to meet up outside.

>>803842
>> I met him in prison. It's awkward to meet up outside.

>>803842
> I met him in prison. It's awkward to meet up outside.

"I met him in prison. It's a little awkward, you know? For prison friends to meet up in the real world." You look out the window, remembering your time behind bars. "On the inside, friends can be the difference between life and death. Outside, they're just a reminder of that place you want to forget. And sometimes a big problem, if you want to stay out.

"Anyway. This guy was doing time for phone phreaking. You know, you whistle into a phone, you get free long distance. Since then, I hear he's expanded his operation. He should be able to get into some kind of database and figure out who 'Harry Jones' is."

Alex nods. "Sounds like the best shot we've got for now. Where's this guy live?"

"Old warehouse. Not that far from here. We can walk," you say, opening the car door. "Time we ditched this thing."

The two of you walk down the streets, trying to look casual while carrying a bag of a million dollars cash, and another one of assault weapons. You attract a few stares. You tell yourself it's just because you're ugly.

Soon enough you arrive at the warehouse. It looks pretty generic from the outside. A squat building with a big padlocked door in front, and a small security door on the side. The big door looks like it hasn't been opened in years, so you head to the side door.

The door seems securely locked. There's a keypad next to it, and above it, a security camera angled down.

You try knocking. No answer.

You try waving into the security camera. No answer.

Frustrated, you start pushing buttons on the keypad at random. Suddenly the camera swivels, and a speaker on the keypad crackles to life. "Stop that! Get away from - wait a minute. Johnny? Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me pal. How you doing?"

"Good! Very good, Johnny, thank you! How are you?"

"Not so great, to be honest. I was hoping you could let me in and we could talk about it."

"Hmm." The camera swivels to Alex. "Who's the girl?"

"She's a friend. She's cool. Let us in, will ya pal?"

"Hmm-mmmmm ...." After a few moments, a red light on the keypad blinks off, and a green light blinks on. "You may enter."

Inside, it's dark except for the light from screens. Your eyes take a few moments to adjust. You're in a huge room full of machinery, electronics equipment, and computers. You can hear a keyboard clacking away ahead of you, and you move forward to meet with your friend.

How do you want to handle this?

>Intimidating
>Persuasive
>Practical

>>803939
>Persuasive

Let's slick our hair back and put on our best door-to-door salesman smile.

fuck you too captcha

>>803939
>Persuasive
We the big bad who's good at making people do what he wants.

>>803939
>Practical
Some guys tried to murder us and we don't know who.
Would you mind 1986 googling that?

>>803939
>Persuasive

We've got plenty of reasons we can give him for a lil help

Maybe even for some hired help if he would know anyone

>>803842
>> I met him in prison. It's awkward to meet up outside.

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You decide to be persuasive. You old grandma used to say, Johnny, you'll catch more flies with honey and vinegar. Or something like that.

You pass through the maze of equipment and servers. In the center of the room is a man with thick glasses, a mullet, and a sweaty t-shirt. He types rapidly on a computer. "Johnny, man. Good to see you. Make yourself at home." He sweeps his arm around, indicating you should sit down, which will be difficult considering the total lack of other furniture in the room. He goes back to typing. "Give me a minute here, I'm in the middle of a little job. Check it out, man. This new deck is top of the line. Comes with a 56.6k modem AND 256k ram. The Pentagon couldn't keep me out with this bad boy."

Yeah, he's pretty much how you remember. "Glad to see you too, Marvin."

He rolls his eyes. "GOD, Johnny, I told you. It's ZERO CRASH."

"Right, sorry, uh, 'Crash'." You indicate the girl at your side. She has her arms folded. You suspect she's trying not to laugh. "This is Alex. She's kinda mixed up in this whole mess with me. I was hoping you could do us a favor and look up a guy's license. See if you can find any info on him." You try a smile. It feels uncomfortable on your face. "I think I'm in a real jam here, Crash. I could really use your help."

"Yeah, man. I can help out an old friend. Should be easy for a hacker of my skills." Marvin - sorry, Zero Crash - spins around in his chair. "Let me see have a look." Alex hands him the driver's license. "Harry Jones, huh? That might be the most boring name I've ever heard. Let me have a look." He turns back to his bank of computers.

You exchange looks with Alex. "Can you do that from here?"

"Uh, have you heard of a little something called the 'In-ter-net'?" You shrug. You sure as hell haven't. "God, Johnny. The eighties are the future! You gotta get with the times already." He waves a hand dismissively. "I'll be a few minutes here. You two just, I don't know. Hang out." He begins typing furiously.

You and Alex step away. She looks at you. "So. You trust this guy?"

> He saved my life.
> I saved his life.
> I don't know, but I hope so.

>>804014
>> I saved his life.
And maybe point to one of our many scars as proof.

>>804014
>> I don't know, but I hope so.

>>804014
>> I saved his life.

>>804014
> I saved his life.

After we get the information on that drivers license, we should ask him about any groups who would be willing to buy a group of Latino gangbangers a bunch of Tec-9s. That's a recently created leadspitter, not something you're likely to get from that side of town.

"I saved his life." You pull open your collar a little and show her scar under your collarbone. "Got this one from a prison shiv. Spent a few days in the medical center. But I made sure nobody messed with him." You look back at the hacker. "Still. Sometimes gratitude turns bad over time, on the inside. Like rotten fruit. The truth is I don't know. But I hope so."

"And there - we - go!" Zero Crash enters a few last keystrokes as he says this, and pulls up text from some kind of database. "Come on over and have a look, guys."

You lean forward, squinting at the little white letters on a black screen. You can hardly read it. "Er - what's it say?"

"It's Harry Jones. I found out his information. Home address, credit history, badge number-"

"Wait, what?" You stand up. "Did you say ... badge number?"

"Yeah, it's two-one-five-"

"Zero. Are you saying. This guy. Was a cop?"

"The information corroborates."

You flash back to your attackers. The bad haircuts. The plain-looking street clothes. The organized tactics. The white car which, thinking back, might've been a Crown Victoria.

"Jesus," says Alex. "They were cops. They were fucking COPS."

"But that-" you say. "How could-" you try again. "I can't-"

Zero Crash looks at you from behind his glasses. "Wow," he says. "Sounds like you guys are fucked."

What do you do?

>?
>??
>???

>>804077
>What do you do?

If the Russians were just going use corrupt cops for a hit, they could just as easily had the money stolen from the latinos that way.

Might be worth getting in touch with them after checking out that night club. My money is on them getting double crossed as well.

>>804077
>Well, shit.

Think about it for a minute. If these cops were plainclothes the entire time, then something's going on in the police department, something they want to keep quiet. They'd go loud and tell you to drop your shit first if they were going in uniform.

We still need to get evidence to see why those guys are giving good guns to the Mexicans.

>>804077
drink copious amounts of alcohol

Alex says, "Stay cool. If it was the actual law, they would've come in loud, in uniform. These guys must be working off the books."

She leans in. "Er, 'Crash', is it? See if you can find anything on a group that might've sold some Tec-9s to a Latino gang. That's not something you normally find on that end of town. Not police hardware, either."

"I'll see what I can find." He begins typing.
Alex looks at you. "This doesn't feel like the Russians' style. If they control these cops, why not get them to steal the money in the first place? Something else is going on here."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Damn." You think about it. "Maybe we were both double-crossed. If we're still alive tomorrow, we can get in contact with the Russians, see what's going on with them. Tonight, let's check out the nightclub. I don't know about you, but I could really use a drink. A lot of drinks."

"Agreed. One problem, though. I hear this Enigma place is pretty upscale. Neither of us are exactly dressed for the occasion. And I don't think either of us should be going home to change anytime soon. It'll be the first place they look. How do you plan to get inside?"

>Shopping trip! Use some of your stolen money to buy a snazzy suit, and walk in the front door.
>The money's too dangerous to use. Get a suit using a five-finger discount.
>Disguise yourself as a nightclub employee, go in the back

>>804178
>Shopping trip! Use some of your stolen money to buy a snazzy suit, and walk in the front door.
>Disguise yourself as a nightclub employee, go in the back

Girl through the front door
us through the back

>>804178
>Money's too dangerous right now.
>Also, hey, Crash.
>You got like a shower or working water spout around here?
Last I checked we were both pretty bloody.

>>804178
>>Shopping trip! Use some of your stolen money to buy a snazzy suit, and walk in the front door.

Rule of cool

"I don't think I'll get in the front door, even with a suit. Not with this mug. But you, you're pretty cute under those sunglasses. With a nice dress you could get in no problem. Er-" You stop for a moment as you realize she's blushing. She probably doesn't get called "cute" often. You hurry on. "Anyway, I'll find myself a cook's outfit or a waiter or something. Head in the back door, pretend I work there. It's a big place, lots of people. Maybe I can blend in."

She thinks it over, then sighs. "Okay, you're right. It's the best way. It's been a long time since I wore a dress, but I'll take one for the team. I'm not wearing heels, though."

"Fine with me." You look over at the hacker. "Hey, Crash? You got like a shower or working water spout around here? We're both pretty bloody."

He's absorbed in his work, tracking down shipping manifests. He waves distractedly. "Yes, over there. In the back. Fully functional shower."

The "fully functional shower" turns out to be an industrial shower head over a drain. With no shower curtain.

"You go ahead," says Alex. "I'll phone ahead to a fashionable place I know."

"Okay," you say. "No peeking."

The water from the shower head is cold and scouring, but right now it feels like just what you need. The blood washes out of your hair and off your skin, circling with the water down into the drain.

You find an old, ratty towel next to the drain, dry yourself off, and put on your clothes again. Stained jeans, old boots, a battered jacket. Maybe you should have bought yourself some nice clothes after all.

Alex walks past you without a word, disappears around the corner. You hear the shower water turn on.

>Be a gentleman
>Take a peek

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>>804270
>Be a gentleman

>>804270
>Ge a gentleman

>>804270
>Be a gentleman

consume liquor

>>804270
>>Be a gentleman
She doesn't seem the type to just let it go if she catches you

You decide to be a gentleman. You've already got yourself in enough trouble for one day. (That and who knows what she'd do if she caught you.)

The water shuts off. Shortly after, Alex emerges wearing regular clothes, toweling her hair off. "I'll head out to the store in a bit. I'll tell them I just flew into town, my luggage got lost, and I absolutely need a fabulous dress for an event. You go see what you can find about an employee uniform. Do you know any place to stash the bags?"

"I'll put 'em in lockers at the bus station. The station people never look inside, so long as you pay up ahead of time."

She nods. "Then I'll see you at the club. I'll show up around ten o'clock."

"Okay. See you there." You pick up the bags, one over each shoulder, and prepare to head off.

"Hey. Johnny." You turn back. She says, "Stay safe out there."

"Yeah. You too."

Back out onto the cold, windy streets. It's mid-afternoon. It's only about six hours ago that you killed a dozen gangsters, and less than that since you almost got shot by crooked cops. It's been an eventful day.

Stashing the bags in the lockers is easy enough, despite the paranoid feeling that everyone sitting around reading a newspaper looks like a cop to you. You hand over a few bucks from your own wallet, the bored supervisor gives you two small keys with plastic number tags, 207 and 208. You slide in the bags, one in each locker, and leave with the keys in your pocket.

Wandering the streets, you find a resturant with an open back door. From inside, you can hear cooks shouting loudly at each other in Chinese. You sidle up to the door, have a look in. Some kitchen outfits are hanging on the hooks by the wall, and no-one's watching. Real casual like, you reach inside, unhook a set of clothes, bundle them up under your arm, and walk away.

So that's a couple things checked off the list. Now all you have to do is waste a few hours until evening, and stay out of trouble until then. How hard could that be?

You round a corner and come face-to-face with someone familiar. It's the waitress, Lucy, from the diner. Her eyes widen in happy surprise as she sees you. "Johnny! How are you- oh my goodness, what happened to you?"

You're not sure what she's talking about, until you remember a guy almost cut open your face with a machete this morning. You touch the wound which, now that you think about it, is still pretty painful. "Oh, I, uh ..."

>Cut myself shaving
>Got in a bar fight
>A gangster tried to slice my face off with a machete, so I shot him

>>804376
>Cut myself shaving

do not multitask and shave

>>804376
>>Got in a bar fight

Try not to freak the fuck out.

>>804376
>A gangster tried to slice my face off with a machete, so I shot him.

>>804376
>A gangster tried to slice my face off with a machete, so I shot him

>>804376
>A gangster tried to slice my face off with a machete.
Truth as deadpan humor

>>804376
>>Cut myself shaving

File: waitress2.jpg (84 KB, 600x1048)

84 KB JPG

"A gangster tried to slice my face off with a machete," you say, deadpan. "So I shot him."

Lucy looks at you in confusion for a moment, then bursts out laughing. "Wow, you had me going for a second there. You're a funny guy, Johnny." Her expression changes back to concern. "Seriously, though, that looks really bad. You should get that stitched up at the hospital."

"Oh, uh, I can't afford those doctors. Just gotta tough it out." If you hadn't recently come into possession of a million dollars, that would be true.

She bites her lips. "Well, I mean - my apartment's not far from here. I have a sewing kit. I could stitch it up for you."

>"Okay."
>"Sorry, I'm in a real rush today."
>"Lucy. You should stay away from me. For your own safety."

>>804456
>>"Sorry, I'm in a real rush today."

>>804456
>"Okay then"
Take what you can get.
We can discuss the "I am a danger to your continued living" in private

>>804456
>>"Okay."

>>804456
>"Sorry, I'm in a real rush today."

Though I do really appreciate it.

>>804456
>Okay

You think about taking off, not letting Lucy get involved. In the end, you agree to go to Lucy's apartment and let her stitch you up. Wouldn't want that cut to get infected, after all. At least that's what you tell yourself.

On the journey, you mostly let her talk. She tells you things from back home. How the trees looked in a certain season. Her old cats' names. What her mom and dad made for dinner on Thanksgiving. It's like a window into another world, a world of sunlight and laughter, a world without gunfire and blood and broken bones.

Her apartment's in a bad part of town. You mention this to her. "It's tough for a single girl without a degree to make a living in this city," she says. "So you either live with four roommates, or you live out in a place like this. And I like living alone."

Three floors up. She opens the door on an apartment that looks pretty ordinary for a young girl who lives alone. Fluffy pillows. Clothes lying on the ground. Posters from concerts here in the city.

"Sorry for the mess," she apologizes, throwing some of the fluffy pillows from the floor to the couch, where they immediately fall off again. "I'll go find my sewing kit. Why don't you check out the kitchen and find something to eat? You look like you're starving. Have you eaten anything since I saw you at the diner this morning?"

Damn. That was this morning? It feels like a week ago. "No, I guess I haven't. I'll find something, thanks."

Her kitchen is full of weird health-food appliances you don't know the names of. That one is maybe for making juice? You don't even know. Eventually you find a frying pan and settle on frying up some eggs.

While you're frying the eggs, you think about your situation. How are you going to play this?

>No funny business. Just let her stitch you up, thank her, and leave.
>Try to make a move.
>Tell her that you're dangerous to be around.

>Tell her that you're dangerous to be around

We don't want a sweet girl like her to get killed.

>>804564
>Tell her that you're dangerous to be around.

>>804564
>No funny business. Just let her stitch you up, thank her, and leave.

Best not to involvve an innocent any more than necessary. Lord knows her helpful nature will have her trying to assit us.

Maybe speak with her later, though. No reason you can't be friends.

>>804564
>>No funny business. Just let her stitch you up, thank her, and leave.

Would suck if just going to her apartment and being seen with her put her in danger

>>804564
>>No funny business. Just let her stitch you up, thank her, and leave.

Not really the time

>>804564
>>No funny business.

Lucy comes back with her needles and thread. "Just got to clean this up. I brought these from home. My mom and I used to-" she stops, and hits herself lightly in the forehead with her palm. "I'm sorry, Johnny, I've been going on and on about myself. You must think-"

"No, no. It's okay." You pause to try to find the words. "It's nice, just listening to you talk. About normal stuff."

She smiles shyly. "As long as I'm not boring you." She cleans off the needles, then says, "Ready when you are."

You swallow your bite of eggs and head over. You sit on the footstool, leaning forward, she sits on the couch. She gets her needle and thread ready, and leans in close. "Just hold still."

The needle stings a bit, but it's no big deal to you. You just sit there patiently. Lucy is concentrating on her work, her tongue stuck out a little. There's no sound but the two of you breathing, and the faint noise of traffic from outside.

This moment is like an oasis of calm. The eye of the storm. Nobody to fight, nothing to break. No-one to escape. Just you and her.

"All done!" she says brightly. "Soon you'll be good as new." She packs up her kit, walks off to put it away.

"Look. Lucy." You half-turn on the footstool to face her. "I'm real grateful. For you fixing me up like this. But ..."

She looks at you, expectant. You think about what would happen if you tried to tell her, I'm dangerous. You can't be around me. Don't try to help me. Would it really work? Would she really stay away?

"But what?" she asks.

You smile, and shake your head. "But nothing. Never mind. I'm real grateful. That's all."

You stand up and put on your coat. "Thanks for the stitches. And the eggs."

"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help. See you at the diner?"

"Yeah. See you there."

Outside, you blow on your hands to warm them. It's getting dark.

You still have the bundled cook's outfit, which Lucy didn't ask about, fortunately. You have a wallet with $7 in it, a revolver with no spare bullets, and two keys to lockers in a bus station, that hold your guns and the cash. Alex will be arriving at Enigma at ten o'clock. You think about if there's anything else you want to do ahead of time.

>Do something ahead of time (write in)
>Go to the nightclub early
>Go to the nightclub around ten

>>804639
>Go to the nightclub around ten

>Scope out the surrounding area, make sure there are multiple escape routes.

>>804639
>Do something ahead of time (write in)

Go see Edna, the crazy bag lady. She collects cats in her firetrap of a house, and supports them all by finding guns used in gang killings, refurbishing them, and selling them off the books.

>>804639
>>Do something ahead of time (write in)

Go buy a box of shells

You decide to head to old Edna's place. You don't have much cash - well, useable cash - to buy anything. The money in the bag is too hot. But she might know something useful.

You swing open the gate to the rusty, waist-high chain link surrounding her property. The lawn is overgrown and full of trash and old furniture, a paradise for the dozens of scraggly cats that make this their home. They emerge from the grass now, making mewling sounds, twining around your feet. Damn things have no respect for your personal space. You can't bring yourself to hurt them, though. You step gingerly around the cats up the front walk, to Edna's door.

You knock, and she invites you inside. She can barely see or walk, but she knows everybody around here by voice. Her house is full of cats, dust, dismantled guns, and bullets. She makes you a cup of tea.

"I hear things, Johnny," she says, as she rummages in her kitchen. "I hear you've had a busy morning."

"You could say that." You take a sip from the teacup. "Listen, Edna. Do you know anything about a Latino gang running around with new, high-quality SMGs? Or who might've sold a shipment of guns like that?"

"Hmm." She shuffles towards her old chair. "I don't know about that. I have had people bring me some pretty new things like you mention. But I don't know who might be selling them." She sinks back into her chair. "Old Edna will keep her ears open for you."

"All right." You stand up to leave. "Thanks for the tea, Edna."

"One more thing," she says. She leans forward, picks up a box from the floor, hands it to you. As you take it, you see it's a box of .357s for your magnum.

"Edna, I can't-"

"Don't worry about it, boy. You've always done right by me. Least I can do is give you a little present."

The sky is dark overhead. The time is close. Before going inside the nightclub, you decide to scout out the building and area, looking for escape routes.

There's the glamorous front entrance facing south, with ENIGMA emblazoned in huge, elegant script in neon, and a lineup of wannabe club-goers already forming, dressed in the height of 1986 fashion. On the west side, an alley just wide enough for a truck, between the club its neighbor, some kind of high-end business, closed for the night. On the east side, there's no alley, but the roof of the building next to the club is about the same height. The north side, the staff entrance, is where you plan on going in - the area is walled off, but the walls are potentially climbable. A nearby small park, to the southwest, has some places you could hide in the dark.

That's about all the information you think you can get from the outside. It's time to go in.

What do you plan to do inside?

>Just try to blend in for now. Pretend to be an employee.
>Your time is limited. Start scouting for info right away.
>Look for Alex
>Other

>>804754
>Your time is limited. Start scouting for info right away.

>>804754
>Your time is limited. Start scouting for info right away.

>>804754
>Your time is limited. Start scouting for info right away.

You head down the western alley into the back lot. The employee entrance requires a key, but you wait to one side until somebody exits, and slip in behind them before the door closes.

Acting like it's no big deal, you head to the employee's area, stash your coat, and throw the chef's outfit on over the rest of your clothes. Your dark boots look good enough from a distance. You almost look like you actually work here.

You don't have time to mess around, though. Time to start looking for information right away.

You take a quick look through the back of the kitchen, but there's not much here. Who orders food at a trendy nightclub, anyway?

You move to start looking through the other back areas, but to do this, you have to temporarily pass through the actual club. You just play it casual and walk right through, following the wall, trying not to look at the insane lights display, or the gyrating crowd, or the drinks at the bar which you could so desparately use.

You find yourself in a back hallway of closed doors. You wonder just what it is that you're looking for. It's probably too much to hope that you stumble across an open crate full of Tec-9s.

You try a door at random. Some kind of office, lit only by the desk lamp. Papers, files, filing cabinets. An envelope that might contain photographs.

>Read the file marked DRAGON'S NEST
>Read the papers. Shipping manifests?
>Look at the photographs

>>804888

>Read the file marked DRAGON'S NEST

While shipping manifests and photographs might be more practical, DRAGON'S NEST sounds suitably dramatic.

>>804888
>Read the file marked DRAGON'S NEST

it has a cool name

it must be important

>>804888
>Read the file marked DRAGON'S NEST
Hopefully we'll get to the shipping manifests, but if not, oh well...

>>804639
> Try to get more ammo and scope the place out. Entrances, security, distance from police stations, public presence.

You open the file marked DRAGON'S NEST. If it has a cool, suitably dramatic name, you figure it must be important.

You can't make heads or tails of what's inside, though. The first few pages are some kind of blueprints. Another page looks like a financial record. This other page is in Chinese or Japanese or some shit, you can't even read it. What the hell is this?

Shaking your head, you

>stuff the file into your coat
>put it back

and

>Read the shipping manifests
>Look at the photographs
>Leave

>>804958
>stuff the file into your coat
Take it, of course! If we're going to get in over our head, then we shouldn't take any half-measures.

>Look at the photographs
Quicker to look at, so we don't get caught.

>>804958
>stuff the file into your coat
>Look at the photographs

>>804958
>stuff the file into your coat
>Read the shipping manifests

>>804958
>stuff the file into your coat
>Look at the photographs

>>804958
>>stuff the file into your coat
>>Look at the photographs

You stuff the file into your coat. Might as well go all the way. Then you quickly open the envelope and have a look at the photographs. They still smell a little, must be freshly developed. And when you see who's in them, you understand why.

It's you.

It's everyone, actually. From the construction vehicle depot that morning. Where you met your short-lived team of crooks for the heist. Somebody was watching you, that whole time. They have photos of you with a zoom lens, of Boris, of Nick, of Alex-

Alex! Fuck. They know who we are, you think. They're expecting us. They're expecting her. And she's just going to walk right in the front door-

You jump at a sound from the door. The door taps again. It's a polite knock. You hear a man's voice from the other side. "Sir? Would you step out of the office, please?"

You instinctively draw back and reach for your magnum. The voice says, "There's no need for violence, sir. We just want to talk. In fact, somebody upstairs would like to have a conversation with you. I think you'll be interested in what they have to say about your situation. We don't intend to harm you ... or your friend."

>Go with them
>Gun them down
>Use your fists
>Run

>>805051

>Go with them
But cock your gun and keep it ready.

>>805051
"Mind if I finish reading these, first? The articles are quite intriguing this time around."

Grab those shipping manifests.

>>805057
Backing

>>805119
<3

You decide to go with them. "All right. I'm coming out." But you make sure your gun is ready before you do.

Exiting the office, you see two almost identical slabs of humanity, two giant men who look like squat granite obelisks shoved into suits. They nod politely. "If you'll follow us, sir?"

You walk out of the back areas and into the neon-soaked club, the lights pulsing in time with the thumping music. One of the slabs walks in front of you, the other behind. You scan the crowd and the bar for Alex, but you can't see her anywhere. You're not even sure you'd recognize her without sunglasses and body armor.

The slabs escort you up a wide set of curving stairs to the second floor. Past some more security goons. Then up to the door of some kind of manager's office, with a window looking out over the club floor.

The security guard at the office door steps forward, intending to frisk you for weapons.

>Give him the magnum, hope he doesn't find the file
>Give him the magnum and the file
>Tell him, "Not happening."
>Tell him with your fist

>>805145
>Give him the magnum, hope he doesn't find the file
Maybe we can throw them off if we hand it over willingly.

Also, if weapons come out, we can make for the window, or run back through the door.

>>805145
>>Tell him, "Not happening

>>805145
>Tell him, "Not happening."

You tell him, "Not happening." The look the door guy gets on his face makes you laugh. It was worth it, just for that. But it still leads to a tense moment of standoff.

For a moment, you think you've blown it. They really did just want a friendly conversation, and you're fucking it up, and putting yourself - and Alex - in danger.

Then you change your mind. They want me out of the picture, and I should waste them now, before they can get my gun away-

One of the slabs says, "It's okay. His friend is downstairs. He won't do anything stupid that might put them both in danger. Will you, Johnny?"

You take a deep breath. "Just here for a conversation," you say. "That's all."

The door guy, still with that look on his face, opens the door and steps back.

The other slab says, "Go ahead, sir."

You're not sure what to expect, when you walk into the office ...

But it definitely wasn't this.

>>805230

Calling it for tonight, guys. Time to make dinner and then play Sombra.

I will return soon with a new thread for Chapter 2 of Thug Quest. Probably Tuesday or Wednesday evening (PST).

Thanks a lot for playing Thug Quest! I hope you had fun.

>>805242
Thanks for running

>>805242
See ya, thanks for doing this, see ya soon.

>>805242
Thanks for running boss!

So I'm guessing next session's around 8:00 PM (EST) tonight or tomorrow night?

>>807529
Yep. Busy tonight, so I'll have to take a break. But I'll be back tomorrow, and ready to rock about then (8 EST). Hope to see you there anon.

In the meantime, if anyone has suggestions for Johnny's future plans, or feedback for me as QM, now's a good time to let me hear it.

>>807866
Not so much a plan, more mission ideas for future employers:

GTA style midgame heist. Something involving the stealing of an art piece or historical artifact for some crime boss with a taste for it.

Working with those corrupt cops in some capacity. Maybe one of them needs us to do something off the books for them while they're being investigated by the FBI.

One or two investigative jobs, like looking into a new drug being pushed out into the streets, or a series of murders on the local prostitutes becoming a bigger problem when the killer starts going after high quality escorts. Their madame hires us to figure out who's fucking with her girls and to get them to stop before the police find him first.

How's that for some ideas?

>>798994
>Brianne

Having our own gang would be cool.
Not even worrying about taking over the town underworld. I'd be ok with just trying to hit it big so we can all retire in style and comfort.
Oh, the waitress lady is super nice but i don't want to fuck her over by being too close. we'll probably end up with that girl thats in the dress and in the club with us.

>>808060
I actually kinda want for Johnny to get out of the criminal life and settle down with Lucy.

Alex is nice, but she's one of the boys, one of the people you roll with on a job.

Don't want none of that Bonnie and Clyde shit, that'll get notoriety quicker than you can say 'Prohibition'.

>>808106
We can't let this thing end until we get rich and safe baby

>>808106
>Alex is nice, but she's one of the boys
We've been on one job with her but we're already making great headway with her. Her reaction when we called her, the badass criminal, cute was priceless.

>settle down with Lucy.
You know you're gonna get her killed, right?

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>>807866
>>807866
I kinda picture us looking like one of my favorite comic book characters. Who just happens to be a mob like guy that's smarter than he looks.

>>808106
Yeah...That will never end well. A story book ending isn't something Johnny can hope for, just something he needs to nip in the bud.

>>808721
Seriously. Alex is probably our best bet, since we can trust her to have our back, and she can trust us.

>>807866
Seriously though. Either us free and clear should be our top priority, any plans of starting our own shit can come later. We are in some serious shit right now. It's time for survival, which means taking care of us and our people.

>>807866
>In the meantime, if anyone has suggestions for Johnny's future plans

We could always break into being a proper gangster ourselves

>>808106
I agree on the ladies

>>808106
I'm gonna disagree.
You have everything ass backwards if we aren't planning on getting out.

Even if we are getting out, Alex is still the better choice if/when our former life comes and bites us directly in the ass.

Lucy will just wind up a hostage or shot in the back of the head to piss us off.
So the options are really:
1.Enforcer mistress/fuckbuddy/possible marriage material
2. Dead Lucy/Lucy getting us killed by talking to the wrong people on purpose or accidentally
3. Strings of gold diggers everybody barring them knows we don't really give a fuck about
4.Options One and Three if we don't marry for whatever reason.
5. Options Two and Three if we don't marry for whatever reason. Likely hiding her by blending her a bit into the gold-diggers. Though she's likely to take it the wrong way and carries many of the same risks as two.
5. Currently unknown future women that we actually give a fuck about regardless.
6.Marriage into a rival crimeboss' family. If female possibly the rival crimeboss themself as the bride. Might still be able to get out, easiest option if in the family, likely hardest if another or future crimeboss.
7. No dating or marriage. Possibly hookers.

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>heist
>have our own gang
>someday get out of the life
>waifu wars

Noted.

Thug Quest will be resume in a a new thread in 1 hour.

>>809105
True, but my thoughts on Johnny are that he's probably sick of the life now, and might want to get out after he gets rich.

And I'm fine with whatever, it's crime time, but still. Lucy is best girl.