>>2154314
> (Patient) "Pretty, isn't it? I could stay here for hours."

>>2154314
>[ ](Patient) "Pretty, isn't it? I could stay here for hours."

>>2154314
>[ ](Apprehensive)

>>2154314
Honk her boob

A gesture over the railing draws her attention to the view. "Pretty, isn't it? I could stay here for hours." She laughs at your positivity.

"That makes one of us, I'm just waiting for the shooting to start." The tell-tale flexing of her fingers tells you she's even now imagining unloading an unhealthy amount of bullets into the room.

You're unable to keep the smirk off your face. "Just remember to work out who's on our side fir-"

"ONE TIME!" her arms flail in exasperation. "And all I get is 'look out for the good guys, Masiy!' 'Try not to kill everyone this time Maisy!' 'Don't shoot our friends, Maisy!' And don't you try telling me the Pincers didn't have it coming anyway!"

Your snort of laughter at her eruption is rudely interrupted by the room behind you exploding, showing you both in shards of glass, wood, and squishy bits of flesh. Your world perception is quite suddenly replaced by nothing but searing pain as your face connects with the railing on the way down to the decking.

You're vaguely aware of rapid gunfire going off somewhere above you, and a warm sticky feeling on your cheeks. Maisy is screaming something at someone that isn't you. Probably the mooks the Boss brought along to look like serious business in an attempt to discourage an escalation of violence.

That worked out well.

After getting back to your knees you take a somewhat foggy assessment of the situation. There are three bodies on the floor around the table in the middle of the room; two of them in the suits of the jackals, and one probably used to be Lucas, but there's not much of him left to be sure. Maisy is in the doorway of the apartment, firing wildly into the corridor with two automatic pistols. It vaguely crosses your mind that you definitely all only came here with one handgun each. The oldest guy, Johns, is pulling an unmoving body of the Boss towards the sofa, The younger lad, Nick, is leaning against the wall, with a lot of blood and pink fleshy bits coming from the hole where his stomach should be.

[ ]Check on Nick. He might not be lost yet.
[ ]Check on the Boss. VIP first.
[ ]Grab some weapons. Help Maisy out.
[ ]Look for an escape route.

>>2154355
>[ ]Grab some weapons. Help Maisy out.

>>2154355
>[ ]Check on the Boss. VIP first.
Realistically, we can't do anything to help Nick if he hasn't already stuck his fist in the wound to keep his guts from spilling out, so we ought ensure that the Boss is stable before working on an exit strategy.

>>2154355
>Grab some weapons. Help Maisy out

>>2154355
>[ ]Look for an escape route.

>>2154355
>Grab some weapons. Help Maisy out.

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>Looks like shooting some bitches has the vote. Writing!

You briefly look at Nick, but decide there's no chance for him. He didn't even think to stop his own guys falling out so there's not much you can do to help. That's what you can expect from newbies, really. All show and no play. At least Johns will help with dragging Boss out of here if you can punch a way out.

Drawing your handgun on the way over to the door, you drop against the wall and quickly start sending bullets down the hall to the suits you can see up to no good at the far end. You're feeling somewhat outgunned, since one of them has a sawn-off shotgun and the other has an assault rifle.

"Where'd you get those from?!" You scream at Maisy over the sound of her unloading into a guy who was trying to move up the hall from the left.

"Dead guys," she tilts her head back into the room, and you gather she means the Jackals. So even their bodyguards where better armed than you. A question about where their negotiator managed to escape to enters your mind, very almost followed by a bullet, though you duck just in time and the wall next to you takes the round. You fire another few shots to the right and are gratifyingly rewarded with a yelp as another suit collapses in the hallway.

"Where's yours?"

"Trousers!"

You unceremoniously run your hand around the back of Maisy's belt line to find the mass under her clothes. Under the combined firepower of the both of you spraying anything that moves from either side, you've probably bought a few moments to plan your way out of this mess.
"Where's Rose?"

Maisy grimaces, "we left her with the cars. Basement." You get her on speed dial and her somewhat-worried voice comes out strangely reassuring in this situation.

"Stacey what's up? I can hear shots from all the way down here. And did someone use a grenade?"

You hate that you don't have answers for her right now. "Yeah. We're in a pinch, things got violent-"

"I would say I told you s-"

"- and we're gonna need some help to get out."

"Sure thing. What's the plan?"

You're honestly not sure how well you'd be able to fight off a gang as serious as the Jackals, especially if you give them enough time to call in back-up. But leaving empty-handed now, after you've already lost men?

[ ](Aggressive) "We came here for guns. Let's go get them!"
[ ](Conservative) "Rose, we've got wounded. We're coming to you."
[ ](Pragmatic) "We're cutting our losses and running. Maisy, let's go."

>>2154428
>(Aggressive) "We came here for guns. Let's go get them!"

>>2154428
>[ ](Aggressive) "We came here for guns. Let's go get them!"

>>2154428
>[ ](Conservative) "Rose, we've got wounded. We're coming to you."

>>2154428
>[ ](Pragmatic) "We're cutting our losses and running. Maisy, let's go."

>>2154428
>(Aggressive) "We came here for guns. Let's go get them!"

After taking a moment to consider the options, you steel yourself for what's going to come next. "We came here for guns. We're not leaving without them. Just have the cars ready to go."

"You got it bud. How're you gonna find them?"

Masiy shrugs, "we could follow them?"

"Good a plan as any I guess. If we scare 'em enough they're try to save the goods."

Johns calls out from the sofa, "what about Boss? He's not waking up and he's gonna be hard to move." Glancing to Nick, you can't see him twitching any more so he's probably not an issue.

"We'll make a hell of a scene on the way out. As soon as we're clear, you get to the lift, get the second car and head home. Quiet like."

Maisy's grimace tightens a little, "you want us to draw a full-on car chase?"

"If that's what it takes to get us out of here." Taking stock of what you have left in the room, you find two grenades on one of the dead Jackals. You prime a grenade each and hurl them down the hallway and take cover. As soon as the bangs go off, Maisy charges into the hallways fire erupting from both hands. You roll out the door, firing off towards the other end of the hallway before realizing there's no-one left up that way.

As Maisy reaches the end of the corridor, you hear a mind-deafening -click- that somehow echoes louder than every gunshot so far tonight. You spin in time to see the last man deigning to stand against the two of you stand up from the corner, a malicious grin on his face, levelling his assault rifle at her.

There's no way you can get a shot from here-

File: Maisy Hopkins.png (667 KB, 811x1200)

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>>2154516
Both automatics falling discarded behind her, she bats aside the barrel of his rifle with one hand and drives her fingernails into his face. His agonizing screams are only silenced when she drops her teeth down to his neck and rips his throat out, spraying herself and the halls with blood.

Maisy looks up at you with a rather unnerving expression on her face. "You said scare 'em, right?"

"That'll do the trick I guess. Which way did they go?" She points her now blood-soaked hand towards one of the doors further along the row of apartments. "Easy", you grin, realizing they've boxed themselves in. The only other way out of that room is a six floor drop to the street.

You grab the short shotgun you noticed before, while Maizy loots her kill of his assault rifle, as well as another grenade. Together, you take up positions either side of the door.

"We just want the guns. Leave and you don't gotta die," you call out calmly. The response is a rather dissapointing pair of shotgun shells exiting through the thin wood of the door between you two. Maisy snickers, and happily plops her grenade through the nice holw opened up in the door for her.
It blows the door away with its blast, saving you having to open it. Stepping into what's left of the room, you execute the two wheezing, crying men on the floor, then gaze at the pile of crates at the back of the room.

"Huh," Maisy muses, "the grenade probably wasn't a great idea."

You try not to consider how you possibly could've ended tonight somewhat earlier than planned just now. "Alright, how the hell are we getting this stuff out?"

"Window?"

"Will it survive the drop?"

"Probably. If it doesn't, at least these cunts won't be able to use them on us."

"Point taken." You grab one of the boxes and hurl it out the window. Maisy pulls her phone out, "Rose change of plan. Get the car round the front and start grabbing stuff."

"Sure. Where am I meeting you?"

You hear loud angry voices and heavy footsteps beating down the corridor.

"Same place, we'll be down in-" bullets start spraying into the room, forcing both of you to hit the deck. "Fuck! Are we trapped?!"

[ ]"Window?"
[ ]"We'll go for the stairs."
[ ]"Is there a fire escape?"

>>2154557
>[ ]"Window?"

>>2154557
>[ ]"Is there a fire escape?"
Safety first!

>>2154557
>[ ]"Is there a fire escape?"

>>2154557
>[ ]"Is there a fire escape?"

File: Rose Foster.png (3.17 MB, 2100x2300)

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"Is there a fire escape?" Maisy checks the ammo left in her rifle and then nods towards the balcony.

"If there is, it'll be out there. I'll cover." She sprays a few rounds over the upturned coffee table she's precariously hidden behind, then sits up to take a proper firing position. You take the chance to dive outside, spotting the car waiting for you outside. There's blood surrounding a spiderweb crack on the windscreen, as well as an obvious dent in the bonnet suggesting Rose met someone on the short drive out. She's already shoved a bunch of the scattered stockpile into the hatchback's boot but there's still enough guns to equip a small army all over the street.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you notice a ladder between this balcony and the neighbours'. "Maisy, it's here! Time to go!" You kick the ladder's release clip and haul yourself over the railing, gripping either side of the ladder and sliding towards the street. You're halfway down the ladder by the time Maisy appears above you, leaping onto the fire escape and following you down.

The Jackals who appear at the balcony seem to be making a call for backup; which at least means they're not shooting at you right now.

Rose' long white hair flows beind her as she rushes over to the pair of you. "I've grabbed enough to keep us alive, I think. Where's everyone else?"

"Not coming this way," Maisy breathes, landing on the street just as Rose reaches you, "we don't have long. Let's go."

The three of you run to the car, and without another word being said you automatically assume the positions you're accustomed to taking. You -

[ ] Take the driver's side, you're always the smoothest wheel-girl
[ ] Ride shotun. You're good at co-ordinating the girls and finding the best route through these streets.
[ ] Take backseat. You can lay down the best cover fire on the move.

>>2154557
>[ ]"Is there a fire escape?"

>>2154670
>[ ] Ride shotgun. You're good at co-ordinating the girls and finding the best route through these streets.

>>2154670
>[ ] Take backseat. You can lay down the best cover fire on the move.

We playing a broad or will there be superhero powers and shit?

>>2154670
>Take backseat. You can lay down the best cover fire on the move.

>>2154670
>[ ] Ride shotun. You're good at co-ordinating the girls and finding the best route through these streets.

>>2154670
>[ ] Ride shota. You're good at co-ordinating the girls and finding the best route through these streets.

>>2154670
>[ ] Ride shotgun. You're good at co-ordinating the girls and finding the best route through these streets

>>2154742
>Ride shota
>Anon, I'm afraid think that' an option yet

>>2154670
>[ ] Take backseat. You can lay down the best cover fire on the move.

>>2154757
They're going to waifu the first girl we were introduced with in the first scene and no one else, you know that.

Fuck you for getting my hopes up, this isn't a worm quest

>>2154805
>Fuck you for getting my hopes up, this isn't a worm quest
Thank god.

>>2154805
I too came here in hopes of Worm, but I'm willing to give this a chance.

A chance. Singular.

By the time you're pulling the door shut, Rose is already starting the engine and Maisy is leaning over the back seat to rummage through the boot for the choisest peice for whatever comes next.
"Get us onto the ring road. From there we'll get into The Oaks and hopefully slip 'em there."

As you're mid-sentence, a pair of black sedans come screaming around the junction, clean through the red lights behind you. "I'll do what I can," Rose mumbles with a concerned crease on her brow, gunning the engine and pulling away. The sedans were almost on top of you but now Rose is in play, they can barely keep up with her weaving and speed changes as she hurtles through the night-lit city streets.

In the back, Maisy reveals a nice collection of toys on top of her pile: a couple of eastern assault rifles, some shotguns, and an honest-to-God rocket launcher definitely catches your attention. "Uhh. Try not to use that one just yet, hey buddy? We could do without the collateral right now."
Her face falls at the pre-destruction rebuke.
"I said yet," you add, trying to cheer her up.

The car jolts as Rose clears a pavement, drops down a flight of stairs to cut through the local park and spills out the other side back onto the roadway. "Stace, traffic on the slip road." Rose calls your attention to the group of cars blocking your path up to the ring road.

"Crap. Alright, uh, next left." She swings right. "LEFT."

"I heard you," mutters Rose, "but they didn't." You glance back and see that one of the two cars missed the sly girl's feint, didn't make the corner and spun out, smashing into the back of the waiting traffic. The other sedan skips up onto the pavement but keeps coming after you.

"Hah. Good job."

Maisy looks at you with a cheeky gleam in her eyes. "Only one now and no-one else in the way." Her fingers brush the rocket launcher.

"Not yet!"

Rose' hand slaps your chest hurriedly. "Speed trap!"

You spin back around in your chair, "wha-" and then you see the pesky camera between the street lights, ready to catch anyone breaking the speed limit of 30mph in this little residential area you've ended up in. You're currently doing somewhere around 63mph if you can trust this car's speedo. Enough for Rose to lose her liscence on the spot, if she'd ever actually bothered to get one.
Though a ticket investiation is not something you really need right now.

[ ]"Screw it, just go!" Run the camera.
[ ]"Spin us out!" They can't ticket you if they can't see your plates.
[ ]"Maisy!" Just shoot it. No-one likes them anyway.

>>2154925
>[ ]"Maisy!" Just shoot it. No-one likes them anyway.

>>2154925
>[ ]"Maisy!" Just shoot it. No-one likes them anyway.

>>2154925
>[ ]"Maisy!" Just shoot it. No-one likes them anyway.

>>2154925
>[ ]"Maisy!" Just shoot it. No-one likes them anyway.

"Maisy!"

"Aye sir!" she cries with glee, dropping her full torso out the window to heft the- oh shit. You assumed she'd just use one of the rifles to hole it up!

Smoke billows out the back of the launcher, obscuring the street behind you while the rocket sails forward, finding its mark and obliterating the camera, as well as the street lights to either side, and blowing the windows out of the nearest house.

Once she's back inside, she's met by your flat expression. "Was that worth it?"

"Haha! Yes, moment of the year, right there!"

"And what do we use on the car behind us now?"

"Oh." The childish glee vanishes from her face, for once replaced by actual thoughtfulness. "I could use a grenade?"

The sedan bursts through the cloud of smoke, radpidly closing the distance now that the street has straightened up a little, leaving little room for Rose to wiggle her way out of this one.

[ ]Screw it. Let her use the grenade.
[ ]Brake-check them! Maybe they'll hit us, maybe they'll crash.
[ ]Pull over, we'll try to lose them on foot.
[ ]Other

>>2155058
>[ ]Brake-check them! Maybe they'll hit us, maybe they'll crash.

>>2155058
>[ ]Screw it. Let her use the grenade.

>>2155058
>[ ]Other
>Throw a dummy grenade (or just don't pull the pin) and brake-check them almost immediately after. That way they're almost certain to panic-swerve and crash.

>>2155058
>[ ]Screw it. Let her use the grenade.

>>2154925
>[ ]"Spin us out!" They can't ticket you if they can't see your plates.
Turn 360 degrees and drive away.

>>2155058
Oh, well then.
>[ ]Screw it. Let her use the grenade(s).

>>2155164
>>2155159
I've never understood why people change their vote to be the most popular pick. Shouldn't you just vote for what you want? I'd understand if there was a tie to break, but this makes no sense.

>>2155178
...That was a vote for the previous prompt, anon.

>>2155200
Fair enough, but I've been wondering about this for a while and it finally boiled over.

"Aaah screw it, fine! Rose, ready to brake check them!" Maisy squeals as she pulls the pinand lobs the grenade at the sedan. At your call of "Now!", Rose slams on the brakes, perfectly judging the speed loss and closing distance in order to boost of just in time to avoid being rear-ended by the speeding gangers. The combination attack leaves their driver flapping, skidding in his attempt to not crash and spinning out in his attempt to avoid the small object coming out the window at him.

Their car rolls, smashing end over end down the street and trashing several parked cars on the way. It's barely even started to slow down when the grenade goes off, hurling a firey ball of metallic coffin 6 foot into the air. The wreckage continues rolling after you as you cruise off into the night, finally free of pursuit.

"Well, that could've gone better," you muse aloud.

The red-head in the back seat shrugs, "how so? I don't think we've ever killed so many people in one go before!"

"Exactly." You barely refrain from facepalming. Granted, you're happy to kill someone if that someone is trying to kill you. Or if they piss you off. Or if you're getting paid. Or if Boss doesn't want them to get paid. But Maisy's a different story. You'd swear with some of the noises she makes, she actually gets off on people getting splattered because of her. Speaking of- "Maisy please stop using our new weapons to pleasure yourself."

She puffs her cheeks at you in response. "Lewd! I'm checking them, see what we've actually got. Whether tonight was actually worth it."

"Uh huh, sure," you concede, in the least conceding tone humanly possible. "Meanwhile I'm gonna see how Boss is doing."

However, it's Johns that answers the phone. "Stacey, it's bad." How bad could it be by this point? "He's dead, Stace."

Fuck.

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>That feels like a good pause point, so I'm going to go play games for a bit. Quest will continue in 3-ish hours probably.
>Please feel free to do whatever chatting/musing/whatever in the meantime.
>Thanks for playing, friends!

>Assuming primary contact is still through twatter I set up a new one, @lolikaleun.

>>2155290
Well shit and here I thought you were Euro.

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>>2155313
Oh I am. But I'm now on leave for Christmas. Which means I can run when I feel like it.

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Quick role-call. Anyone still around, or shall I wait until tomorrow?

>>2156071
Just run 24/7 while you're on leave.

>>2156071
It's been an hour plus. I'd say leave it to tomorrow.

You're doing great so far btw.

>>2154805
>>2154847
Fuck off wormfags XDDDD

>>2156071
Today?

The half-hour drive home is mostly silent. Without the threat of a chase and the adrenaline of the fight quickly wearing off, the gentle rumbling of Rose' steady driving as she merges with the other meaningless traffic of the city night would almost be enough to put you to sleep; if it weren't for the mood hanging over the three of you.
Well, two of you. Maisy is still breathing heavily over the new gun store behind you, but you suspect she is probably hurting just as much inside as you.

The silver-haired driver is the one to finally break the tension by addressing the true problem now. "Someone's going to have to take his place."

"Maybe. But who's going to step up? Fletch? He's doing good managing stores and small time stuff but he's not a leader. And I trust Kai to watch my back but he couldn't beat a five year old at a spelling test."

Your younger friend's nods of agreement don't fill you with any certainty, and you can hear the words she says next before she's even opened her mouth. "Why don't yo-"

"No." No. You couldn't possibly. Sure, you might have clawed your way up to being among his Chosen team before the end, but that was definitely favouritism because you're pretty, right? You're not even sure how you managed to get authority over these two, except that they seem to listen when you speak. But you're still a relative newcomer compared to some of the guys there. The old guards of the crew have been in since before you were born. You'd never have the support.

"You're steady, you're a good talker, you're good in a fight. And tonight: we wouldn't have gotten out of tonight without you, Stace."

"Not everyone did," you growl back.

"He wasn't you fault. There wasn't anything you could do," she soothes you. "But more of us would be with him if you hadn't made those calls back there. You got us out."

"With the good stuff!" Maisy throws in her opinion without looking up. You don't respond. Instead falling back into your chair and staring out the window.
You, the new Family head? Not a chance. There's no way you could do it. Could you?

Finally the red neon lighting of the Westree Diner takes up position in the windscreen. You instruct Rose to go in the back way instead of using the customer car park, and pull up to the delivery shutter at the back. A few of the local boys who work the actual store front hop down to greet you when you exit the vehicle and start unloading the boot straight into the stores.
Inside, Johns is slumped in one of the folding chairs next to the obvious outline of a body on the worksurface covered by a tablecloth.

[ ]Look.
[ ]Don't look.

Then

[ ]Talk to Johns.
[ ]Go find your quartermaster, Fletch.

>>2158442
>[ ]Look.
>Then
>[ ]Talk to Johns.
You need to call a Family meeting to cement your position as The Boss.

>>2158442
>[ ]Look.
>[ ]Go find your quartermaster, Fletch.

>>2158442
>[ ]Don't look.
>[]Go find your quartermaster, Fletch.

>>2158442
[X]Look.
[X]Go find your quartermaster, Fletch.
Am I doing it right?

>>2158442
>Don't look
>Talk to Johns

A hand grasps the sheet above the obvious lump of the head. It tenses, along with the rest of the body, ready to tear back and reveal what so far had only been words on a phonecall. Shuddering a little, the sheet doesn't come back. With a serious burst of willpower, the face underneath is revealed.

Boss looks pale, far paler than you've ever seen him. There are some bloody marks under his chin but most of it seems to have been concentrated to his upper chest. The injuries he sustained are clear to you now.
And the only
single
unwelcome thought
brute-forcing its way
through your mind
is that these wounds should not have been fatal.

There doesn't seem to be any real obvious signs that anything was done to contain the damage or properly stem the bleeding from any of these wounds. Your gaze falls to Johns, slumped beside you, and the situation comes together.
As reliable as he is, he was always a simple thug, muscle more used to stopping a fist-fight or scaring off a knife attacker. He's probably never seen a flash burn or shrapnel tearing in his life.
You should have thought of this. You would have known what to look for. You could have told him how to fix it.
Does that then mean that Boss' death is your fault?

A harsh impact of a soft hand on your shoulder rips you from your sudden morose state. "Ain't nothing could be done. Stop thinking." Maisy's dead serious frown barters no argument from you, who returns the cloth while nodding.

Rose pulls up another folding chair next to Johns while you and Maisy move into the diner offices. The rotund, bearded form of Fletcher hunched over a high-piled ashtray, tattoos flexing in time with his flexing fist, deeply lost in a phone call, is the only sign of real motivation in the room. The few other souls here all seem limp and lifeless, leaning against the desks or huddled around the coffee table.

You forge towards the would-be Hell's Angel who acknowledges you with a flick of the fingers. "-and then you lay low too. Not even street sentries tonight, you hear?"
He spins the computer chair around to greet you properly. "Girls. Good job getting out like you did. This is a fucking mess. The Jackals at least will take care of the dead we left on their end. Our boys may not get a proper burial but they won't get found. Were you followed?"

"Yeah, Maisy confirms for you, "we blew 'em to bits up Three Elms' way." Fletch's face darkens at that. Then you realize why. That's in the center of Pig territory- the higher quality new-built estates specifically sold to the immigrating browns on the grounds that it's safer for them to stay where the government can keep the undesirables out. No gangs operate anywhere near them for fear of the reprisals from the government hit squads who are so desperate for the Caliphate backing that they openly support the genocide of their own people.

[1/?]

>>2158744
"Shit. I'll make some calls, there are a few bent cops. Enough money, they'll be able to make it go away. Maybe. Shit. Shit!"
His thick palm smashes the table, and he lets out a deep sigh. "At least the guns are in. I'll sort out getting them to the outposts and storing the rest where they won't be found. But we're going to need to consider ammo requirements from now on."

You know he's just telling you this as idle chatter while he's thinking about his own job, but a small corner of your brain is screaming that it's like he's already assuming you're the new Boss or something.

You finish the conversation with a little more small chatter, then consider your current standing. You're not really sure how much more productive you can get done tonight with the mental state you're in, but similarly you don't exactly feel like resting up right now.

[ ]Family Meeting. You need to establish who's going to take over.
[ ]Go out. You need to shake your head up a bit. Maybe a club or something would help.
[ ]Sleepover time. Keep the girls together tonight.

>>2158770
>>[ ]Family Meeting. You need to establish who's going to take over.

>>2158770
[ ]Family Meeting. You need to establish who's going to take over.
Business first

>>2158770
>[X]Family Meeting. You need to establish who's going to take over.

>>2158770
>Family meeting

>>2158770
>[ ]Sleepover time. Keep the girls together tonight.
First we should make tajeover plans.

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>not even waiting for the body to get cold
>I don't know what else I really expected

>>2158839
If we don't move quickly word will spread and we'll get screwed.

>>2158839
If we don't move quickly to staunch the bleeding, the gang will die just like the Boss did: unattended by us.

>>2158839
Did you expect us to go clubbing instead? After someone we presumably were very close to died, we're gonna pretend it didn't happen and go out and party? Have a good time while other members bury the body?

How about that sleepover? Pretty fitting for gang members who just killed a dozen or more people between them to do that as well. Are we going to go on a playdate tomorrow as well? Did we remember to ask our parents for permission?

How surprising that we picked the most reasonable and realistic choice.

"Hey Fletch," he raises an eyebrow at you, "as soon as you're done, we need to call a Family meeting. We're weak right now. Let's officially sort out where we go from here before anyone outside finds out how bad we are."

The cigarette dances around his lips, "you got it girl. I'll call you when everyone's ready. Get some rest upstairs until then."

Maisy gives you a reassuring knuckle to the shoulder before heading towards the back, probably to find Rose. You make your own way to the flat above the offices and collapse onto one of the beds always left free for whenever a Family member can't make it home. You must've been more tired than you felt because it feels like barely a blink has passed when Rose is gently rustling your shoulder.
"It's time. Everyone's downstairs."

Below, you find the desks have been rearranged to look more like a conference table with all the biggest hitters gathered.
At the head of the table the weasley blond Boss' son, Andy "Stains" Westree, has his feet up, a bottle of cheep beer half empty in front of him, surrounded by the largest slabs of muscle in the room. You can't remember their names, but Tank #1 and Tank #2 usually suffice.

To your left, quartermaster Keith Fletcher is lighting up another smoke before offering it to the hard-ass military-cut Kai Ronaldson opposite. Kai's personal team are lounging around the edges of the room, not taking up the spaces obviously left for them.

Besides the names, the room is a collection of the outpost presidents who are only really here to cast a vote. Rose sits herself down next to Maisy, whose armed are folded, eyes keenly scanning back and forth across every face in the room, ready for trouble.

"So what's this about, Fletch? I got better things to be doin' tonight so this better be important."

You cut Fletch off before he can answer. "I called this meeting, so we can work out what the hell we're gonna do next. Most importantly, who's taking over for the Boss."

Andy suddenly sits up, his beer clattering to the floor. "Who the fuck else but me? I'm his goddamn son. What, you tryin' to steal my inheritance, bitch? Don't go thinking you're important just 'cause the old man got hard at the sight of that ass."

You notice Maisy's fingers twitch, but thankfully she's not jumpy enough to do anything stupid (yet). Fletch's hold both hands up in an attempt to placate the young man. "No-one's stealing any inheritance. The Diner goes to you, obviously, along with all his property. But the gang is something else. You don't inherit people. Unless the Pigs brought in some new law I don't know about yet."

Andy opens his mouth to retort, but Kai throws in his opinion first. "We'll have a proper vote on it. Every man who thinks he should lead can speak first. Obviously I've seen more fighting than the rest of you combined and I'm still here, so I'll be expecting your support." He gestures for Andy to continue.

"I've said my peice," he growls, kicking back into his chair again. "You all know better than to rob me of what's mine."

Fletch sighs, "well I guess I'll put my name in. I've been doing most of the work up until now, just never had the title or the paycheck. Don't see why much should change now, but-" he trails off his unconvincing speech.

The table goes silent.

Who to support?

[ ]Andy
[ ]Fletch
[ ]Kai
[ ]Other
[ ]You?

>>2159070
[X] You?

L E G E N D S

>>2159070
>[ ]You?
C O U P

>>2159070
>[ ]Fletch

You're very close to voicing your support for Fletch and calling for the vote when you finally meet the gaze Rose has been fixing you with this entire time. Under her pressure you finally fold and stand up. "I think I was probably the closest one here to the Boss. I may not have intimate knowledge of all the operations, but that's what we have Fletch for. He can fill me in on what I need to know. More importantly, I've been around him while he's been making the big calls. I know the people he talked to outside the Family. And I think I know how to make the hard calls like he would. If you're happy to have me, I'll try to live up to his memory." You slump back down into your seat, not really expected much support from anywhere, but Fletch is giving you an approving nod, Rose is beaming, and Kai seems to be in deep thought.

"Alright, time for a vote," declares Maisy. "All for Stains, raise your hands.
Tank #2 would've forgetten to raise his hand if it weren't for Tank #1 giving him a swift kick to the ankle. The only votes he gets. The entitled blond spits in disgust, a lump of phlegm landing with a thud along the table.

"Kai". The stoic figure doesn't look around, but keeps his gaze fixed on you. Somewhere just under half the room throw their support in with him. Your stomach sinks a little. With that, you or Fletch'd need almost unanimous support from the remaining voters to take the title.

Maisy finishes counting and moves on. "Fletcher." Around three quarters of the remaining votes go to him. Your heart sinks. It's not enough for him to beat Kai's vote.

"I guess that decides it," Andy growls. "How should we pleasure you first, Oh Glorious Leader?"

"Not yet," Kai doesn't avert his gaze. "Finish this properly." Andy collapses in exasperation once more as Maisy calls for your supporters.

Apart from herself and Rose, and a few newer members of the Family, you'd have little support; except Fletcher has his hand firmly raised. Kai snorts. "As per tradition, if you're voting for her, she also gains the support of your faction. I guess you have it," he smirks at you, "Boss."

"No!" The moment is interrupted by the scream from the far end of the table, Andy upending the first desk and both Tanks leaping to their feet also ready for action. "I will NOT take orders from this prissy little SLUT! You can't pull this bullshit on me-"
He starts drawing.

[ ]Shoot him first.
[ ]Take cover.
[ ]Stand your ground.

>[Shoot him first]

Time for a lead salad!

>>2160303
>[ ]Stand your ground.
You go against the vote, you go against the Family. If you're not taking orders, it's you against everyone who is.

You're always free to take your leave of the Family, Andy. You know the way.

>>2160303
>Stand your ground
We're a boss now, we get other people to shoot for us.

>>2160303
>[ ]Stand your ground.

>>2160303
[ ]Stand your ground

>>2160303
>[ ]Stand your ground.
We'll see who's the quicker gun: Kai, or Maisy? Or perhaps a dark horse sharpshooter?

>Apologies for the lack of any form of posting. I've kind of being having a pretty heated fight with my other half since yesterday afternoon and it's kind of harshing my writing mellow.

You don't so much as flinch as he pulls the pistol and levels it with your face. "Maisy, wait," you state calmly. Or in what you hope comes across as calm: your heart is jackhammer in your chest and it's a good thing you have a chair to grip or everyone might be able to see just how tense every muscle in your body is. You're desperately hoping he's not dumb enough to straight-up shoot when Maisy already managed to get a sawn-off shotgun pointed at him before you even registered her moving.

Tank #1 has a peice aimed at her in response, while Tank #2 has an automatic pistol aimed in the general direction of the rest of the room. A few of Kai's men are poised ready to draw in response, watching him keenly but haven't committed yet. Kai himself has folded his arms and closed his eyes, a look of thinly veiled disgust on his lips. Fletch, you note, is trying to look nonthreatening while both hands are surreptitiously covered by the table.

"You know the rules as well as I do, Stains." You're trying your best to fix your eyes on his, and not the mouth of the barrel that could end your existence with a happy little squish. This is the first time in your life you've let someone potentially murder you without doing your level best to murder the fuck out of them back.
"The vote is the word of the Family. You go against the vote, you go against the Family." His snarl worsens. "You can either take my orders," you pause, looking around the room, "or take your chances against everyone else who is."

You make a mental note of the faces who visibly blanch at being included in the potential list of death match participants. Might be worth mentioning to Fletch to question their integrity later too.
You wave a hand idly towards the door. "You're always free to take your leave of the Family, Andy. You know the way."

You're not sure how long it takes him to uncock your weapon of execution. It was probably barely seconds, but it could've been days. He doesn't fully lower the gun though, still very on edge. "Fine. You win this one. I'm not gonna die over this. But don't you worry, I'll still be the one to kill you."

It takes a gargantuan effort to not inform him that it would only be possible if you hadn't killed him first. Instead you let him and his meat slabs leave the room. As soon as he's gone, you tell one of the goons nearest you to put a tail on him - quiet like, don't upset him, but see where he goes.

Kai is next to speak. "Well then. We've established where we all stand now, I hope. Can we move onto what we intend to do moving forward?"

One of the outpost boys speaks up from beside him. "Yeah, like what are we doing about the Jackals? Sure this trade went record-breakingly south but that doesn't have to mean war."
Another voices up from across the table. "We need to reinforce our home turf as well. There's gotta be some retaliations coming our way. If not from the Jackals then from the cops for shooting up the neighborhood. We can barely hold off the local kids as it is."

"The best defence is a good offence," Maisy helpfully adds. "And what better way to make your mark than smearing it through the streets in blood?"

This is all suddenly making you feel so very tired. Well your first concern is going to be...

[ ]Patching up relations with the Cobalt Jackals.
[ ]Reinforcing the home turf.
[ ]Organizing a raid.
[ ]Getting some rest.
[ ]Other?

>>2163582
>[ ]Other
Delegating. Ah, that is, 'assigning roles'. You're decent at most things, but you know enough to direct tasks to the people who are best at them.

Priorities lie in reinforcing our turf, and sending an olive branch to the Jackals so they at least leave off long enough for us to take them when they come calling - so that's at least two teams, one to work on each task.

Stretching ourselves thin with a raid probably isn't the best idea now, not while everyone's thoughts are obviously distracted with recent events.

This should go without saying, but leave ourselves something we can do as well - idle hands and all that.

>>2163582
>Reinforcing the home turf

>>2163582
>[ ]Reinforcing the home turf.
We use the home field advantage in the next couple fights, and then we mend relations with the replacement leadership of the Jackals.

>>2163582
>[ ]Reinforcing the home turf.

File: Kai Ronaldson.jpg (211 KB, 460x650)

211 KB JPG

Alright, time to do the thing you're best at- getting other people to do the right stuff. "We're not running any more blood. At least not if I can help it." Your redhead battle buddy is a little put down by that one. "Our first focus needs to be on shoring up what defences we have. Kai, I want you to take charge on this. If there's any more fighting it'll be them bringing the fight to us, so prepare for some all out frontal attacks and we'll use the home field advantage on 'em." Hopefully his long years of street warfare will give him to the edge to know where and how to build up for maximum resistance, and where to leave weak without being a target.

The toned muscles ripple as he released his crossed arms and stands up. "Right away, Boss. I'll let you know of any major holes or if there's anything we need." He strolls out the office, team in tow. Most of the rest of the room begins leaving too.

"Fletch, try to make contact with the Jackals. If you can work out how much damage we actually did to them that'd be good, but most importantly I want you to stress that we don't want any bad blood from this."

He strokes his beard in thought, "I'll see what I can do. I'm not making promises though."

That's most of the Family tasked off now, which just leaves-
"Breakfast!" Rose announces loudly.
In response to you expression of confusion, she grabs your hand and drags you towards the door. "Come on, we haven't eaten. Let's go. They can handle here for now." Maisy cackles and follows you out.

A short walk later you find yourselves settling in for an al fresco breakfast in a cute little cafe. You've seen most of the staff around before, so you can imagine they probably recognize you too. But they don't make an issue of it. You certainly find it refreshing to be able to relax with your friends like this, sharing a few laughs over nothing of importance.

It's as you're settling up the bill that your phone rings. Fletch lets you know that the Jackals have not only agreed to a cease fire, but also offered the return of your personal motorbike which you happened to leave in their garage. You just need to go pick it up.

Maisy's puffed upper lip makes you glad she's so easy to read. "You're thinking it's a trap."

"Yep." You raise your eyebrows in an unvoiced question. "Of course I want to go."

Rose is chewing her thumbnail, her brow wrinkled. "It'll only take two people to pick it up. And they didn't say you needed to pick it up personally. I could take my bike with Maisy riding baton. We shouldn't risk another Boss in the same day."

"Orrr," Maisy drawls, "we could stop being pussies, take a gang and fuck these guys up. Then take the bike as well. Come onnn, we're going to waste these guys at some point anyway right?"

"I already said no blood," you reproach her sternly. But she does have a point.

>What do you do?

>>2165121
>"Stop being paranoid, this is clearly a peace offering. I'll just waltz over and pick up my bike easy peasy."

>>2165121
>"It can stay there for now."

>>2165121
>"Rose, you're with me. Let's pick up that bike while the pretense of a ceasefire lasts."

File: Rose Bike.jpg (916 KB, 1400x827)

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You pat Rose on the shoulder, "don't be such a downer." She puffs her cheeks in protest. "We asked for a ceasefire and they're offering something tangible. Obviously they're hurting too. Either way, this is probably the best chance to get my bike back while we're pretending to not hate each other."

Rose starts to point out that this is also the perfect time for them to blow you into little chunks of idiot while pretending to play nice but Maisy interrupts her by standing up. "Aaw, well I'm gonna go find something else to entertain me. I'll be in the pits if you need me." She tosses you a mock salute as she leaves.

"Well I guess you're with me Rose. Go get your bike."

You start flirting with the cute girl behind the counter to occupy yourself while you wait for her to get back. The distinctive roar of the crotch rocket coming to a halt outside lets you know when she's returned.

The ride over to the Jackal stronghold is loud and uncomfortable, the bitch pad of Rose' bike offering absolutely no padding to your nether regions. It's with some relief as well as trepidation that you dismount at your destination.
The place you've been sent to is the same apartment complex last night's deal went south in, though this time you've been directed to one of the ground floor suites. It's after you rap your knuckles twice on the thin door that you hear an agonized scream from inside.

Rose meets your gaze for a split second and you're considering pulling your piece and kicking this door in when it swings inwards, giving you free passage into the larger-than-expected space inside.

The powerful stench of herb smoke rolls out to greet you. The suit who opened the door announces your arrival then goes back to whatever he was doing. On the sofa in the main living space, a thirty-something dark-haired man with a goatee is reclined, joint in hand, staring at the ceiling. You recognize him as Mason Payne, second in command of the Cobalt Jackals, and as far as you know filling something like Fletch's position. A handful of men are moving about on busy work around the apartment and seem entirely ambivalent to your presence.

What focuses your attention far more keenly is the image visible through the door to the bedroom. From here you can see a bunch of quality looking cameras set up around the bed where a rather well-curved, naked teen girl is tied face-down to the bed and being worked over by two toned, muscular pigs.

"Glad you could join us," Mason calls happily without looking down. He holds the joint out in your direction. "Come sit with me. Let us talk, you and I."

[ ]Take the joint.
[ ]Don't take the joint.

And

[ ]Ask about next door.
[ ]Shoot the breeze.
[ ]Discuss the bike.
[ ]Other

>>2167570
>[ ]Don't take the joint.
>[ ]Discuss the bike.

>>2167570
>Take the joint
>Shoot the breeze

>Not sure what to do with this vote. I guess I'll wait for now?

>>2167570
>[ ]Don't take the joint.

>[ ]Shoot the breeze.

Waving the burning herb away with one hand, you give to his request. "Sure, then talk." Dropping into the vacant space beside him you immidiately appreciate how he's positioned the furniture. From the sofa you have a pretty good view of the bedroom and kitchen, as well as the front door. Only the balcony, behind you, is out of your vision. He doesn't hesitate to stretch out his right arm to wrap it behind your shoulders, twist dancing in his fingers. Rose perches herself on one of the armchairs to your right.

Mason gestures to one of the men scurrying past you both with his free hand. "You know, Johno here was born two streets away. I knew his sister, before she found a man and moved away. His momma still lives down Old Miller Street. And Ziggy," he nods towards the man in the kitchen, "is desperate for cash right now thanks to some, complications, at home. We've got him covered though."

You can't say you really care for the life stories of two mooks in someone else's employ. You tell him as much. He laughs, a genuine smile on his lips. "I'm trying to say, if you'll listen, that it's good to have men you know, men you can trust, surrounding you. Men whose pressure points you know, so that if the need should arise, you can be confident in manipulating them."
"Don't think we haven't seen you riding with this beauty," he winks at Rose, who blushes a little, "and the yummy little red-head before. What's their story, eh? Are you keeping them around because you know them? Or, and I suspect this to be the truth of it, is it just the Old Man's legacy? Were you all just gathered by the Boss because he knew your pressure points?"

"Boss didn't know my pressure points," you tell him with certainty. You know that for a fact, because no-one does. You've buried your past with your own hands and unless something goes horribly, terribly wrong, it won't rise again.
Mason smiles again, apparently accepting your conclusion without argument. He pulls you into an impromtu half-hug as he draws another deep breath from the cigarette in the arm still around your shoulders.

Another of those brain-splitting screams sounds out from the next room. From your vantage point you can see crimson-slick blades flashing over the girl's body, long gashes appearing across her smooth skin. Excepting a startled yelp from Rose, no-one in the room reacts. She looks to you, going deathly pale. You glance to Mason and back, shrugging when you can glean nothing from his expression as to what might be occuring.

It's at this point Mason changes the subject. "Whatever went down last night, I can't say. I wasn't there and I gave no orders. But I don't want it to tarnish what we have in the here and now. Bad blood is bad business. I want this ceasefire. You can take your bike back with you and I'll even let you keep the guns. I just hope you're willing to remember this favour in the future."

[ ]Ask about next door.
[ ]Take the offer and leave.
[ ]Other.

>>2168951
>[X]Take the offer and leave.

Fuck that lol.

>>2168951
>[ ]Ask about next door.

>>2168951
>[ ]Take the offer and leave.

"I can't agree more, blood is bad for business." At least as far as your Family goes at the moment. Blood certainly could be good, but only when you look to gain from it. "Nobody is gaining from this. We'll take your offer, and we'll forget anything happened. As long as your boys forget too," you add with a pointed lowering of your tone.

He cracks you a grin. "That's good. Between you and me, there are other people I want to spend my energy on and I'd appreciate you disappearing back into your little corner of this shithole for a while and not getting in the way." You move to take your leave and he dismisses you with a nod.

As soon as you're clear of the Jackals, Rose confronts you. "So we're just leaving that girl in there, no questions asked?" You sense tears barely being constrained.

"Cameras probably means porn. Which means she's likely volunteered. And it's their business not ours. So no, we're not getting involved." She doesn't argue the point, but still doesn't seem content. "Come on, let's get back."
Back in the garage, the two of your straddle your own crotch rockets, gunning the engine out into the open air.

Never mind struggling porn starts. You've got a city to take over.

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[End Thread]

>Thanks for reading, folks.
>Next thread will not be until some time in the new year. News will be posted via the regular channels.
>And I promise that in future threads I will do my best to stick to regular update times, instead of whatever this mess of a thread was.

>Merry Christmas!