>CHECK OUT THE BOOK

>>5912510
>Get up, adjust our tie, smooth out our clothes. Gotta keep up appearances.
>Pick up and open the black book.

>>5912511
+1

>>5912510
>shitpost on 5leaves

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>Shitpost on 5leaves
You don't own a home computer, nor do you want one of those freaky "probes" to the WireNet in your home.

>Get up, adjust our tie, smooth out our clothes. Gotta keep up appearances.
You yawn as you slide out of your comfy white sheets and adjust your tie out of habit.

It may very well be a white mark of shame in this economy, but your tie is your friend. It helps you relax.

You start to smooth out your clothes, but find that there's no need to do so. These kind of suits (which are proliferated everywhere) never seem to crumple or crease even if you sleep in them. It's as if the very concepts of untidiness and filth are bounced off, like water off of a beetle's black shining shell. Handy.

You play with a handful of white hair and contemplate skipping the shower.

>CHECK OUT THE BOOK
>Pick up and open the black book.
Inside the book is a log of your most recent dreams. Mostly they're filled with jumbled words forming noise in your head and other pleasant, addictive-sounding nonsense. Noise dreams, static dreams, with most of it coming from what you heard on the TV.

(You usually drift off to sleep on the sofa to the quiet sounds of music or talking on most days. Well, it is almost every day at this point. A bad habit, admittedly, but there's nothing else to do and you just feel like watching TV. And since that’s what you felt like doing, there is no reason not to.)

Huh? Ah right.

Just last night, you had one of the strangest dreams in a long, long time. If you close your eyes, you can see the vivid image of it seared into the back of your eyelids.

You turn the page and begin writing about a dream of...
>A darkened theatre stage with heavy, blue velvet curtains. Faint music and the sound of gears came from beyond.
>A hunched black figure was sitting on a powerline over the field of pure white lilies. There was a sword in the clearing, and the bird was watching you expectantly.
>A pure white library burning and a very calm librarian tending to her collection amidst the flames.
>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.
>WRITE IN.

>>5912883
>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.

>>5912883
>>A hunched black figure was sitting on a powerline over the field of pure white lilies. There was a sword in the clearing, and the bird was watching you expectantly.

>>5912883
>>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.

>>5912883
>A pure white library burning and a very calm librarian tending to her collection amidst the flames.

>>5912883
>A pure white library burning and a very calm librarian tending to her collection amidst the flames.

>>5912883
>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.

>>5912883
>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.

>>5912883
>A hunched black figure was sitting on a powerline over the field of pure white lilies. There was a sword in the clearing, and the bird was watching you expectantly.

>>5912883
>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.

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>Hooks, ropes, chains, all manner of lengths rising endlessly into a blood-red sky. A woman's high and mocking laughter followed your every step.
A field of fishhooks and intestinal ropes hung from the very top of the sky. You were running, running, as fast and as far as you could without getting caught and torn apart.

Under your feet, biting at your heels, was a living shadow, flickering as if it were made of flame. With every step you took, the wildfire followed and there was a haunting echo of hysterical laughter...

There was no destination. You just had to escape. You ran for miles and miles across a blasted and cracked landscape of dark stone. The sky hummed with electricity and everything was drenched in the deep taste and color of blood.

Then there was a tremendous clap of thunder and the world swelled up obscenely and you tumbled forward like a puppet with her strings cut.

You were shot in the back. All you could do was look at the useless stump where your left leg used to be. Something warm and wet was flowing out of your side.

The shadow loomed over you, and then all you could see was this terrible, triumphant smile as your entire world went black.

You pause before writing the next bit. Even though you remember the words as clear as a waking conversation... ugh. But because you are a good girl and diligent notetaker, you continue writing with great reluctance.

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(Suits: Absolute Power OST - Black Tie Events) https://youtu.be/715qqLMat7A

A hand reaches down and takes you by the scruff of the neck. You were slowly hoisted up into the air and the arm was getting longer and longer by the second. You struggle to raise your eyes and you saw the arm belonged to a very tall woman in an evening dress. You just knew that she was an opera singer, with short black hair and alabaster white skin.

As she took a good look at your face, her smile faded.

"Oh." Her disappointment was immeasurable and her day was ruined. "Oh no, no, no. Absolutely not. You're not the one."

Her gaze moved downwards to your chest. Just like the horrible cliche, you were wearing nothing but your underwear and your tie.

"Geez, you don't even have a job?" The mystery woman gives you a half-sincere smile with pity and disgust in her eyes. "The City's taxes are well spent subsidizing the worthless. We don't abandon people like you."

She tilts her head. "But only if you've filed for unemployment :)"

You try to find the words to defend yourself, but all that comes out is a pained gurgle as you bleed out in her grip. You feel cold, so cold, but there's a burning warmth being forced into your body. (You're sure you woke up last night, but you went back to sleep...)

"Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?" she continues chiding, giggling like a small child. She tilts her head to the other side. There's a shift in her expression (and that terrible mocking smile returns). She begins to regard you much like a poor stupid little puppy which had just vomited on itself. "You look terrible! I thought of taking a wonderful vacation somewhere exotic, but I just had to come here to this land of plenty and opportunity instead. Are you doing this on purpose? Oh, behave..."

For absolutely no fucking reason, she leaned in and sniffed your hair. "And you haven't washed yourself in days, have you? Yuck!" You weakly kick at her as she idly plays with a strand of your hair. "Such a shame. You could look quite nice if you bothered. I used to be quite impressed, but now I have to ask if you're really the same employee as before?"

The Auditor stared at you as if expecting a response, before realizing there was nothing left but a dry, lifeless husk. She let out a pleased little hum and threw your body to the side like a tattered doll. You were hurtling towards the ground, suddenly hundreds of feet below...

"Then I woke up." And that's all you wrote.

Bleh, what a waste. You close your dream diary in disgust.

Not even your dreams are giving you a break about all this mess. It even started out cool, a heart-racing scenario with terror and excitement! Now you just feel embarrassed and incredibly disturbed. A grown woman doesn't act like that.

At least, now you've got the whole business day ahead of you to clear your mind.

Please recommend an action.
>WRITE IN.

>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION?

>>5913781
>SEETHE ABOUT THE DREAM
>EXIT OUR APARTMENT.

>>5913781
Actions
>Comb our hair at least. Not showering is one thing, but going outside with bedhead is another.
>Look in the mirror and force our :< into a :)
>Leave, begin our day.

Questions
>W-we have a job don't we? Just making sure, dream-lady was just mouthing off right? We can't be unemployed, right? That's worse than homelessness.
>Who is The Auditor? Do we know her from somewhere?

>>5913781
>Shower

>When do we collect unemployment checks?

>>5913826
>>5913814
+1 both?

>>5913826
+1

>SEETHE ABOUT THE DREAM
You crawl back under your sheets to vent about the mean words that awful woman said to you. Like morning drool, noises spill out of your mouth and into the pillowcase, somewhere along the lines of "auuuuuuuuugh," "gygygyg," "grgrgrgrgrg," "fhmph bich!" and "ghghgh."

After some time, the wells of petty frustration dry up. It feels good to get it out of your system. Detoxification of the soul. Even this dark view of the pillow seems to lighten up as life becomes a little more bearable.

After quite some more time passes, you realize how close you are to stumbling headfirst into the blissful ravine of rest (or into a new nightmare), so you drag yourself from the edge, out from the bed, and to your feet once more.

>Comb our hair at least. Not showering is one thing, but going outside with bedhead is another.
Ah, this troublesome hair of yours. As white as everyone else's, if a bit longer. It may not have been always white yesterday, but it certainly wasn't this unkept. You take a stray curl in hand and crush it like a most unlovely insect. If it weren't for this, you would be able to get away with not going through the rigors of the morning routine.

You march into the bathroom with comb in hand, intent on setting things straight. As you lean into the mirror, you take a good look at yourself...

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...

>Shower
You decide to take a shower after all. The full works, shampoo, conditioner, everything. You hadn't realized it before, but the thing in the glass made you realize there's unseen layers of filth under your suit, on your skin, in your bones. You want to be SQUEAKY KLEEN. You gotta be. Please?

It's becoming harder to breathe. You lean on the safety bar for support. You stare intently at the water pouring down the drain beneath you, willing all your thoughts away.

...

Today is a new day, Bobbert. Remember that.

...

You get out as soon as your fingers become all pruny. You feel better but not much.

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>W-we have a job don't we? Just making sure, dream-lady was just mouthing off right? We can't be unemployed, right? That's worse than homelessness.
Actually, you do! Assistant PR Officer of P Company, First Class, at your service!

Just kidding, you're still unemployed.

Looks like dream lady was right after all.

To elaborate, the white of a tie is a significant color symbol between the many Companies and corporations of the City, much like the other colors of ties. White shows that you're without a job for one reason or another. No one in the professional field will respect you without good cause, without exception. This also includes the automated defense turrets, so don't be an unauthorized unemployee where you shouldn't!

You used to have another tie before... It was black, you think. The color of P Company employees. It was black, yes. There's a horrid feeling which comes with thinking that it was ever anything else, so you stop immediately.

>Who is The Auditor? Do we know her from somewhere?
You have never seen this particular woman in your entire life. But the more you think about her face, the more "real" it becomes. You don't know how to explain it. You suppose if you were to see her face in a crowd, you'd recognize it immediately... and run the other way.

Certainly, there are auditors in the City, just like every other City. The "The" just makes any title a name to run away from really fast.

>When do we collect unemployment checks?
A check should be in your mail box today, just as it does every week. You don't spend much of it usually. Just enough to occasionally indulge in good food, drinks, products on TV, delicious MEAT!!!, and the hygienic paraphernalia.

>EXIT OUR APARTMENT
You pause at the open doorway and stare straight ahead at the white wall of the hallway in front of you. There's nothing physical stopping you from putting one step in front of the other and exiting your house.

There's just... It's just... Something. You can't go out like this. The more you think about "something," the more the "something" slips away from the blind grasping of your feeble words. The best word here is dread. Dread, closing around your heart, stopping you in your tracks. And just thinking about it makes you miss the sofa in the TV Room already.

Well, to put it another, safer way, this is a totally normal phenomenon among fellow City dwellers. Over half of you are devastatingly agoraphobic. Outside this apartment is unfamiliar territory after all, even if you've been out there dozens of times. Maybe you don't really need to go outside TODAY.

You take a look at your hair, trying to find a stray curl that survived so you can go back inside and...
>AUTORESOLVE. (Roll 1d20.) (Dice set to 1 from URBAN IMPULSE.)
>WRITE IN.
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION.

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[INFORMATION: Without any interference on part of the players, Bobbert will try to solve the conflict set before her to the best of her ability. Her overall success is determined by random chance and the roll of the dice.

However, players may even the odds and gain extra resolution dice or perhaps outright succeed at a given conflict with judicious write ins.

In other words, geez, just look at her. Please remember to speak to Bobbert or she will probably wither and die :<]

>>5914810
>Hype ourselves up. We can do this! When are we actually going to go out if we end up deferring it until tomorrow? Never, that's when! Just put one foot in front of the other Bobbert! Keep it up until we're outside.

>>5914839
Supporting

>>5914839
+1

>>5914839
+1

>>5914810
>WRITE IN.
Cry

>>5914839
+1

>>5914839
Support

>Hype ourselves up. We can do this! When are we actually going to go out if we end up deferring it until tomorrow? Never, that's when! Just put one foot in front of the other Bobbert! Keep it up until we're outside.
>Supporting, +1, +1, +1, Support
You try to comb each inch of hair for a tangle to play with. You try really hard to give yourself a good pep talk. But eventually, there's nothing else to use for stall for time with. Hope, the wellspring of motivation and resilience, has been struck.

And in the end, without much trouble at all, you step outside and onto the 51st floor corridor.

See? Now that wasn't so bad, was it? In tacit agreement, the apartment door slides smoothly shut behind you. The only sound you hear as you walk the silent halls is that of your own... breath. Not a single peep out from under the doors of your neighbors. You must have woken up before the City was able to.

One step after the other, Bobbert. Baby steps.

...

You go out to the street, your hands in your pockets.

You tilt your head upwards. The apartment tower's shape stretches out seemingly for ever, growing blurry before joining the rest of the ancient Pillar into outer dark. When you look further still, you can see the false stars high above the swirling clouds. Their pale light shines over everything, and you stare for a while. There's a strange prickling feeling under your tie, where your...

No, it's gone... You don't know what you're talking about anymore. Whatever it was, it's just another something to you. But you don't forget.

>Cry
... and the world cries with you. Forget and the world forgets with you. Smile and the world smiles with you.

The phrase just comes to you. You don't know where it's from, but you think it sounds nice. Then you wince as cold and wet hits you square on the head.

Haha.

(SLA Music 01 - "It's Raining...") https://youtu.be/Hs0JXUM8W7U

It's light at first, but seconds pass for the cold rain to start tumbling down. You could cry if you wanted to. Let the tears wash away like misremembered memories, let the earth and deep sea alike drink your hollow-eyed sorrows. The City has done the kindest thing it can do: to make sure no one is around to hear.

But you keep quiet. You tuck your arms closer and hunch over, all tight and uncomfortable, even though looking miserable about the rain won't make any difference to the situation. All because of... something.

It's the start of another fine day at Bristlecone Glen.

You don't have any plans or expectations for the day... so you can go wherever you please.
>WANDER (Walk the fallen City, resolve with 3d100.)
>NEVADA SUPERMALL (THE BIGGEST, THE ONE AND ONLY! PACKED WITH MORE THAN ENOUGH PRODUCT GEARED DIRECTLY AT YOU, YES, YOU!)
>PUBLIC GALLOWS (When there's no one else hanging around, the sight is actually quite romantic.)
>YOUR LOCAL BEETLEBURGER JOINT (MEAT MEAT MEAT!)
>YOUR APARTMENT (Come home.)
>WRITE IN

>CRY (FREE ACTION)
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)
>WRITE IN

Rolled 51, 6, 27 = 84 (3d100)

>>5916394
>WANDER (Wander where the heart desires. Walk alongside whim and whimsy. Be free, maunder over yon hill and see what the horizon keeps over its edge.)

>Cry
>Hide your hollow eyes with your hair, it's too creepy to display in public. Even if everyone else honestly looks even worse, appearance is everything Bobbert!

>Isn't it a little too quiet? Sure, the city doesn't get a lot of early risers, what with most urbanites being more afraid of the outdoors than your average mentally deranged mole, but what about the properly employed folks? Where are all the commuters and stuff? Eerie. Maybe we should keep a brisk meandering pace, if such a contradiction is even possible. (Question)

>>5916394
>PUBLIC GALLOWS (When there's no one else hanging around, the sight is actually quite romantic.)
>Try to remember a song. Whistle it during your walk.

>>5916394
>You go out to the street, your hands in your pockets
Canard begins, just a canary in a coalmine...
>There's a strange prickling feeling under your tie, where your...
>No, it's gone...
SHIVERS [Formidable: Success] - HOME IS WHERE THE HEART IS.

>>5916434
Backing that question too

>>5916437
+1
https://youtube.com/watch?v=lTKrmuU0C3s

>>5916394
>NEVADA SUPERMALL (THE BIGGEST, THE ONE AND ONLY! PACKED WITH MORE THAN ENOUGH
Get a job

Rolled 93, 65, 3 = 161 (3d100)

>>5916394
>WANDER (Walk the fallen City, resolve with 3d100.)

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>WANDER
>51
>27
District 27 is a mostly residential area with a few major commercial hubs. It's more like the suburbs, in the traditional sense. Quiet and full of quiet life.

Just like how cities come to be, this District exists because there were a lot of people who wanted to live in a particular place. Rising demand met with developers, engineers, city planners. An outgrowth of the Eighth Pillar branched out into the air and, with enough eligible voters moving into their new residences, the District was formed. And that's that.

Over the course of however many years, the City was eventually formed as well, because at no point was it feasible for anyone to stop it.

You begin the journey in a westerly direction, toward the hidden sea. The air begins to clear into a light drizzle and you listen to the soft sounds of your shoes treading on the wet pavement. Something is missing.

>Try to remember a song. Whistle it during your walk.
>65
You wrack your brains for a moment, then start whistling American Pie. It's a rich song and you play it on your guitar sometimes. You heard it once on the Midnight People Radio channel before it was taken off air.

For a while, the streets are filled with music. Then the cold and the wet sap out all your energy and it lapses into the long and empty silence again.

Your shadow moves from streetlight to streetlight in the stillness. Light to dark to light to dark. Walking the intersection between a real place and an imaginary place. A City dweller on an empty path, with an uncertain goal.

All this rain is deafening. If it weren't for the constant noise and hum of working machines as if from under the earth, or the rain-smeared lights from distant buildings, you would be sure you weren't anywhere in the City or on Earth...

>Hide your hollow eyes with your hair, it's too creepy to display in public. Even if everyone else honestly looks even worse, appearance is everything Bobbert!
You stop walking.

O-ok. (๑•﹏•)

You flop your hair over your face...

You can't see anything out of the wet mop of hair, so you put it back into place.

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>Isn't it a little too quiet?
>3
There's a tinge of sweet decay in the air, like a butcher's shop at noon or a mass grave whenever.

Under an alleyway with an arch like teeth, you can see a small pale figure as it scuttles down the opening, trusting to the shadows and the assumptions of most people to keep it concealed. It's not doing a very good job staying hidden.

Then it turns to face you. You realize it was a child once. Empty leering sockets drip with an oily black substance. Teeth are bared back, grinding back and forth in a lipless rictus grin. The blood corpse watches you watch it watching you too.

>95
Then the creature slinks back into the shadows of the alley, back into the chaos of the City, just out of sight.

You stay, listen, look, then march on. You just remembered why it's so darn empty around here: the curfew.

There's still a standing curfew order at this time of day and it seems you and you alone had forgotten about it. It's somewhat understandable. Zombie Pest Control gives daily updates on the news channels and there's a few bounty hunters from H Company who come around and knock every so often, but you had simply filtered it all out into background noise. One block cleared, two blocks lost, another rescue, another loss. It was just such a long time ago that the infestation had hit your District. You got used to it.

Well now. You're certainly not safe here. And you're not an idiot. How did you come prepared for your leaving your house this morning?
>P Company Service PISTOL. A bit generic, but serviceable.
>Riot baton. Old Reliable. Veteran of a hundred kneecap crunches.
>M60 machine gun. Heavy weapons handling is a freakishly common skill in the City.
>Sharpened rebar spear. You have pretty good hand-eye coordination, like when you ******* furiously in the dark or spear someone's hand from yards away.
>Actually, you are an idiot. But you're not entirely unprepared. Let's call this option... an investment in your future. (WRITE IN a non-combat skill now. Gain Goodwill later during communion with a higher power, like the Alphabet Companies, City Hall, or a Person of Interest.)
>WRITE IN.

You saunter a little while longer. Rather foolishly.

>6
Your stomach growls. Mmm.

You have been content to let the dice take you where they take you (whatever that means). One foot after the other, forward and for ever. Now, on top of not knowing where you're going, you don't even know where you are in space nor in time. Even though you've only gone in a straight line, you're not terribly sure you'll be able to make it back the way you came. Ah, if only you had a map or an N Company tour guide to help you travel from one place to another in this mad City.

Here looks to be a more livelier place, at least. You see a few kindred souls standing under the morning's streetlights, out and about in the cold. There's a few stores to cater to your growing needs.


CHOOSE ONE.
>THE BAKERY! (There's a "The." An intensifier like that must mean the promise of delicious comestibles, correct? The warm smell of fresh bread is a good sign, even if the place looks abandoned.)
>BEETLEBURGER. (This used to be Nevada's most famous fast food chain! ... Now it's the only fast food chain. Seems you've made it to the morning rush, judging from the swarm of people by the doors.)
>LESTER'S CAFETERIA. (Huh. An old, rundown diner like one of those old Beetleburgers or the ones that came before, but without the warm colors. There's the smell of DELICIOUS MEAT inside.)
>CAFE AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD. (Have you been walking so long already? Cafe tables with umbrellas and coin operated telescopes are lined along the edge of the Pillar for the scenic view. There's a group of men here, in dark coats and black suits, drinking in the fragrance of dark coffee and nothing else.)
>S COMPANY BOUTIQUE. (You need a nice warm coat... You listlessly fish through your pockets and, to your great surprise, you find you have a little bit of money with you. It is not very much, but it is sufficient, and you feel very grateful for getting it.)
>HOT DOG STAND. (Frank's Franks, huh? The big man must be Frank, and he's talking to another man with a boombox about everything and nothing at all. He spits to the side and laughs deeply. HOT DOGS! IT! IS! FOOD!)

>CRY (FREE ACTION)
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)
>WRITE IN.

>>5917717
>CAFE AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD. (Have you been walking so long already? Cafe tables with umbrellas and coin operated telescopes are lined along the edge of the Pillar for the scenic view. There's a group of men here, in dark coats and black suits, drinking in the fragrance of dark coffee and nothing else.)

>>5917717
>>5917807
Oh, forgot the weapon
>Sharpened rebar spear. You have pretty good hand-eye coordination, like when you ******* furiously in the dark or spear someone's hand from yards away.

>>5917717
>Actually, you are an idiot. But you're not entirely unprepared. Let's call this option... an investment in your future. (WRITE IN a non-combat skill now. Gain Goodwill later during communion with a higher power, like the Alphabet Companies, City Hall, or a Person of Interest.)
Seduction

>>5917719
>CAFE AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD. (Have you been walking so long already? Cafe tables with umbrellas and coin operated telescopes are lined along the edge of the Pillar for the scenic view. There's a group of men here, in dark coats and black suits, drinking in the fragrance of dark coffee and nothing else.)

>>5917717
>Actually, you are an idiot. But you're not entirely unprepared. Let's call this option... an investment in your future. (Musician: Set hearts ablaze, soothe minds, including your own. We can sing, dance, and play the guitar. Win friends and admirers [...haters too], channel passion, curb idleness, relieve self-anxiety or headspiral from writer's block and doubt. Music is magic after all, sometimes literally. Anything is possible.)

Would be fine with just the rebar spear though.

>>5917719
>CAFE AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD. (Have you been walking so long already? Cafe tables with umbrellas and coin operated telescopes are lined along the edge of the Pillar for the scenic view. There's a group of men here, in dark coats and black suits, drinking in the fragrance of dark coffee and nothing else.)

Y'know, I was gonna pick the S company boutique or the bakery, but if I recall...we've been here before as a victorious moth in another life. M company place or something, with the OCEP twins or something.

If we got a job here it would also go well with the musician skill, if people like it that is.

>>5917717
>Sharpened rebar spear. You have pretty good hand-eye coordination, like when you ******* furiously in the dark or spear someone's hand from yards away

>>5917719
>CAFE AT THE TOP OF THE WORLD. (Have you been walking so long already? Cafe tables with umbrellas and coin operated telescopes are lined along the edge of the Pillar for the scenic view. There's a group of men here, in dark coats and black suits, drinking in the fragrance of dark coffee and nothing else.)

>>5917857
Not the time for THAT yet, if it ever will be

>>5917717
>Actually, you are an idiot. But you're not entirely unprepared. Let's call this option... an investment in your future. (Musician: Set hearts ablaze, soothe minds, including your own. We can sing, dance, and play the guitar. Win friends and admirers [...haters too], channel passion, curb idleness, relieve self-anxiety or headspiral from writer's block and doubt. Music is magic after all, sometimes literally. Anything is possible.)
Seduction

>>5917719
>BEETLEBURGER. (This used to be Nevada's most famous fast food chain! ... Now it's the only fast food chain. Seems you've made it to the morning rush, judging from the swarm of people by the doors.)

>>5917717
>Riot baton. Old Reliable. Veteran of a hundred kneecap crunches.

>>5917719
>HOT DOG STAND. (Frank's Franks, huh? The big man must be Frank, and he's talking to another man with a boombox about everything and nothing at all. He spits to the side and laughs deeply. HOT DOGS! IT! IS! FOOD!)

>>5917717
>Sharpened rebar spear. You have pretty good hand-eye coordination, like when you ******* furiously in the dark or spear someone's hand from yards away.

>>5917719
S COMPANY BOUTIQUE. (You need a nice warm coat... You listlessly fish through your pockets and, to your great surprise, you find you have a little bit of money with you. It is not very much, but it is sufficient, and you feel very grateful for getting it.)

>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)
How long have you been unemployed?
What are your most marketable skills?

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>How long have you been unemployed?
It's hard to keep track of time in the City. And that T Company monopoly on calendars is troublesome for everyone. No one really knows what time it is, and no one really cares past the end of the shift.

You've learned to count the passing weeks by the checks in the mail and the new episodes of MURDERCHANNEL 2: SLAUGHTERLAND! (The original was far better by every account.) Divide by four... So several months now.

Your unemployment benefits might run out soon. You'll have to check when you go home.

>What are your most marketable skills?
Guh.

Well... if you throw yourself into a blender, you'd probably come out as Grade B MEAT.
You like to watch TV and eat delicious MEAT.
You don't have very strong opinions on most things.
You are reasonably competent in most things.
You're still breathing.

...

I keep walking. I... got nothing left to say. I said everything I had to say. I don't know.

Why don't you assign me a skill to be good at?
>WRITE IN.
>DECIDE LATER.

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Theme of Cafe (Dead Melodies & Zenjungle - The Book) https://youtu.be/e4LYOGe3bzA
All this rain is making you feel terrible. Coffee smells better at the top of the world than anywhere else. You can see that the bar inside is polished and the light is very good. So you take a seat and wait for someone to come.

There's a quartet of men in suits and trench coats sitting at another table. Each is so utterly nondescript, you can only describe them as men with sunglasses. (Always sunglasses, always at night. Ridiculous. It is always night in the City.)

One is laughing, one is sitting quietly, one is fingering his briefcase, and the last is cleaning his rifle. None of them are drinking coffee. They all have the air of waiting for something... a simmering sense of hunger and the promise of cruelty.

Yes, these four must be Agents. Dogs of the City. Without ties, without affiliation. You wonder whose pockets they fit snugly into.

Out on the distance, there's a small red glow like a fire on the velvet horizon. You sigh. Looks like it's another REALLY RED DAY ahead. Everyone gets riled up when all he can see is the color of blood. Maybe the Star of the City won't pass over today. Maybe it will all blow over without much trouble at all. Maybe you shouldn't have left the house this morning. Maybe-

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"Heyyyyyyy, hiiiiii. How're you doing?" A red-haired waitress appears. You stare at her. She just stares back, with an expectant smile and that vacant look in her eyes. "Oh. Sorry. That's not right. What would you like to order, miss?"

You just keep staring at her, silently. "Are you okay, miss?" The M Company woman fidgets. "I can tell you more about what we have today, if you like."

You don't say a word as she starts jabbering very quickly, almost incoherently about the menu. Brand new C Company coffee strains! (On sale in the wake of a recent facility raid!) Freshly milked melk, straight from the tap! A new mental stabilizer formula from P Company! You still hear chuckling from the other table. You don't look, but you're sure he's laughing at you like an ant under a fingernail. You can almost feel the laughter writhing under your skin.

You order a small Americano just to make it stop. "I'll be riiiiiiiiight back, sweetheart!" She hurries back inside. The man keeps chuckling as he talks to his companions.

You feel very ill. Somehow M Company Drones always make you ill. You know they are supposed to be endearing, and you should be tolerant, but you wanted to swing on her with your rebar. It's like thinking you found a fellow human being only to find out she lacks a soul and is some kind of childish simulacrum parody monster. Smiling without a care in the world. Instinctual recognition of the uncanny and empty, or worse.

But if that's true, what's all this... pitiful, deep-seated jealousy?

A nauseating feeling congeals in your chest as thick as bile or black tar. It's rotting throughout your entire body.

You just sit there, wet, thinking about all the people you hate.

[HEARTLESS] All because of "something."

"Hey baby." The laughing man is calling you from the other table. You turn. His mouth is open and his lips are peeled back in the smile of a dog. All of his teeth are pearly white. "You want to make an easy hundred bucks?"

"Save it John." The sitting man looks down at his companion. "Don't drag her into this."
>AUTORESOLVE (YES.)
>WRITE IN

>CRY (FREE ACTION)
>SEETHE (FREE ACTION)
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)

>>5919538
>MUSIC. YOU ARE GOOD AT PLAYING MUSIC.
>>5919598
>"I'm not a hooker. Unless it involves copious violence, I'll pass."
>BOBBERT QUESTION: Ever heard of milk?

>>5919601
+1
You know this tune some P Company facilities use to boost productivity and morale. Very exciting
https://youtube.com/watch?v=PRUrlZFty3A

>>5919538
>Why don't you assign me a skill to be good at?
>Hiding. You are good at staying hidden and avoiding attention.

>>5919598
>WRITE IN
>that depends on how "easy" this hundred dollars will be. I'm going to have to get a bit more info before i agree, otherwise i'm out.

>>5919538
>Musician: You could be an idol, if only you were given the chance.

That image...I wonder if these Agents take after the Corporation RPG rather than Moon or other similar inspirations. Scary syfy tacticool bullshit around every corner.
>>5919598
>SEETHE (FREE ACTION)
>"Job. Real job, or..." Give our rebar spear a threatening rattle in his direction until he gets the picture.
>SEETHE (FREE ACTION)

>Question: Do you like redheads, Bobbert?

>>5919538
>WRITE IN.
SEDUCTION

>>5919598
>AUTORESOLVE (YES.)

>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)
WHAT IS THE SECRET TO HAPPINESS?

>>5919598
I'm >>5919680 >>5917956 and >>5916523
I'm backing the question in >>5920082.
If Bobbert is Bongbong, then who is YumYum?

>>5919538
Dancing

>>5919598
>WRITE IN
Whats the job?

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>SEETHE
>Do you like redheads, Bobbert?
>SEETHE
>WHAT IS THE SECRET TO HAPPINESS?

You think about the waitress's smile, how she's secretly mocking you behind her perpetual smiling face, and all you can see is red like the rising Star.

(LISA: The First OST - Anger) https://youtu.be/skbS5OAuHU4

It's in your bones. It's in your veins. It's writhing under your skin, intense and hostile and so so familiar. Contempt spiraling into contempt spiraling into contempt. You grip the side of the table as you try to respond but all you can think about is that bitch that fucking stupid smiling bitch Ill rip her eyes out feel her blood on your hands peel back her face see if you can smile after that you stupid slut for meat

it just isnt fair

You take hold of the long piece of rebar you've been carrying around and drive it into the ground as fast and hard as you can. Little shards of concrete spray from the impact and you think about pieces of bone so you crush down again and again. The cheap thrill of destruction flows to your head.

You look back up. The Agent's smile is subtly, but noticeably strained as he sees your expression. Almost everyone looks uncomfortable. Only the cleaning Agent seems unperturbed.

You don't care at all. You just don't give a flying fuck anymore. But it hurts anyway. It hurts...

>SEETHE and CRY verbs temporarily disabled.
>You feel something straining deep inside you, yearning to be free.

>Ever heard of milk?
You remain quiet as you process the question. You giggle hysterically. It's supposed to be melk, dummy. Malk if you're weird.

Someone coughs and you remember what's happening.

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>"Job. Real job, or..." Give our rebar spear a threatening rattle in his direction until he gets the picture.
>"I'm not a hooker. Unless it involves copious violence, I'll pass."

You hadn't realized it before, but your own voice sounds foreign to you. Seething, weak, and breathy. Hollowed from weeks of unuse.

"Well, you know the public gallows?" Instantly, you perk up. For as long as there were public executions, there were crowds to see them. And you're among those.

He holds that strained smile without moving. Those sunglasses of his hide the fact that he's glowering at you with barely contained... something. "All you gotta do is go to those telescopes over there, pay a quarter, and tell me who the guy in the chessboard suit is stringing up right now. Capisce o no?"

"John," Suitcase says, drumming his fingers on the leather strap. "Stop trying to get your dick wet with the natives. We're on a schedule, remember?"

"Use the GODDAMN codenames, shithead!" Smiley whirls around, suddenly hunched and seething with tension. "Goddamn it! Can't you follow those simple instructions?"

"I'm John. You're John." Suitcase gouges the air as he points with his thumb. "He's John. He's also John. Everybody is John. Who cares?"

"It's your damn disk that's brought us into this mess." Smiling John snorts. "Show some Goddamn respect when you drag us all to Hell. The Devil's due, you know."

"None of this feels right." Sitting John mutters, staring to nowhere on the horizon. "Something isn't right, Tres. None of this feels real anymore."

"Jesus Christ, where was I? All this fucking rain is killing me. Pitter pitter patter patter, pain pain suffering pain." He smacks his head as if clearing his ears.

"The girl, Uno," the John cleaning his rifle states, rather blandly through his bandana. "You were talking to the girl, remember? 'The outside perspective to establish objective reality.'"

"OK." Smiley takes in a deep breath. He turns back to you. Through the glasses, his eyes are shining with a deep red glow. "OK. Look, I'll give you $1000 cash, RIGHT NOW, cause I like you an awful lot, and you've got big tits, and also cause I'm fucking sick and tired of talking to women who aren't actually fucking human."

The Agent reaches into his coat pocket, takes out a quarter, flips it through the air. You snatch it with a free hand. The smile reappears like an old wound.

"4000% profit. Easy money, baby."

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Let the punishment fit the crime... But isn't there crime in punishment?

Whatever the case, beyond the terror and morality of punishment... the execution is a spectacle. Before the curfews started, thousands upon thousands of people used to show up to watch. You recall the revelries, the rope, the eagerness and great expectations. No recordings, because there's nothing else quite like being down there to watch.

If one does not know what she's looking for in the City, she can go her entire life without finding it. It only takes you a minute to find the gallows.
>At first, you think it's another illegal lynch mob. But the thing on the gallows is no more man than an effigy. A protest? Nothing's there but a mannequin. The chessboard man is sobbing in mortal terror as he works the rope. (THE FEAR)
>So their friend is a cop killer. Next to the still line of black coat policemen is the still kicking, elongated form of an Officer. The chessboard man is screaming to the frenzied mob. (THE HUNGER)
>You inhale sharply at the sight. There's nothing more terrifying than seeing yourself about to die. (THE MADNESS)
>WRITE IN.

>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)
>WRITE IN

>>5921138
>So their friend is a cop killer. Next to the still line of black coat policemen is the still kicking, elongated form of an Officer. The chessboard man is screaming to the frenzied mob. (THE HUNGER)

>Question: Refresh our memory dear, what is a cop again? What makes a cop killer special? It's the rain you see, it messes with the memory. Are cops just people with hats and peashooters?
>Question: Do we get a different coloured tie now that we are technically employed?
>Question: Is the mob supposed to be there? What about the curfew?
>Question: How the fuck did that guy see our tits through our suit? In the mirror we look flat as a board.
>Question: It felt good to be recognized as human despite your empty eyes, didn't it?

>>5921138
>>You inhale sharply at the sight. There's nothing more terrifying than seeing yourself about to die. (THE MADNESS)

>>5921138
>At first, you think it's another illegal lynch mob. But the thing on the gallows is no more man than an effigy. A protest? Nothing's there but a mannequin. The chessboard man is sobbing in mortal terror as he works the rope. (THE FEAR)
+1 the questions >>5921211 js asking

>>5921138
>So their friend is a cop killer. Next to the still line of black coat policemen is the still kicking, elongated form of an Officer. The chessboard man is screaming to the frenzied mob. (THE HUNGER)
You've felt that hunger... I'm Lovin' It™
And ask the questions in >>5921211 too
>Question: That man, John Tres... he SEETHES easily too. A potential kindred spirit in that sense?

>>5921138
>You inhale sharply at the sight. There's nothing more terrifying than seeing yourself about to die. (THE MADNESS)

>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)
If we are human then where is our family?

>>5921138
>You inhale sharply at the sight. There's nothing more terrifying than seeing yourself about to die. (THE MADNESS)

>>5921138
>You inhale sharply at the sight. There's nothing more terrifying than seeing yourself about to die. (THE MADNESS)

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>THE MADNESS
The gallows are clean and made of beautiful wood. It is a rare thing to see such material in the City. And so much of it! The police have to keep the crowds from tearing the entire thing down lest there be no more hangings.

But you are not here to engorge yourself on such wonderful sights. There is only terror and madness under the earth.

You are you but you're not you. The woman who is standing on the gallows isn't you either.

From miles away, she turns her head and smiles at you with your wonderful smiling face. It is not your smile. The man in the chessboard pattern suit walks up behind her and says a few words. He is not himself either. He puts a hand on the lever and looks around in a daze, like he's waking up from a dream. There is no one to watch.

Your hands struggle free at the last possible moment. But all you do is smile and wave towards the you who is not you. You need to do nothing more than to savor this wonderful moment. Then the hand swings down and there is a sickening loss of balance and something inside of you yet very distant cracks. The world goes cold and it is very hard to breathe.

The entire world has shrunk to a mere pinpoint of light. A long cold needle of mortal terror has stabbed into your brain. You want to run somewhere else far, far away, but your body does not respond...

Ah, ah, ah.

“But I don’t want to go among mad people," Alice remarked.
"Oh, don't worry about that," said the Cat with a rictus grin: "We’re all mad down here. I’m mad. You’re mad."
"Just do what comes natural."

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"What did you see?" I gasp as the fragile reality of things reasserts itself. My body feels foreign. Uno is only inches away from my face as he grips my collar. "What did you see down there? Answer me!"

"I-I think I saw myself. It was me down there. Hanging." The words are choked out. You find your voice in time.

He looks at you with an indeterminate look, searching for anything but the answer you've given. A scream is building up in his throat.

"Stupid fucking bitch." With a rough shove, the Agent knocks you back into your seat and strides to the telescope station. He peers through. He's made a terrible mistake.

The anger and manic energy drain from his body. His entire posture slackens and his breathing becomes quick and shallow. You feel a strange surge of aggression as the Agent disappears. All that remains is a pathetic jumped up little tool who's gotten into something far over his head.

He steps away from the telescope in a daze and sits next to his waiting compatriots. His hands desperately clutch at his head. You watch quietly as the scenario unfolds.

"The deal's off, Tres," Uno says in a very quiet, scared voice to the man with the suitcase. Tres stares for a moment then stands up, absolutely apoplectic.

"Bullshit, sinner! I've had enough of these fucking excuses! Dragging me along like a pup only for you to jump out at the last moment!" Tres slams the suitcase against the table. "We've gone this far already. We can't go back to District S without-"

"He's dead, Tres. He's worse than dead. Whatever got Cinq got our contact at OTXO too."

There's a deathly silence. Uno's head hangs forward as if he had read aloud the date of his own execution.

"T-Then they'll retaliate." Dos finds his voice, trembling but sure. "OTXO, F Company, Bolverk, Lateralis. A-A-All of them will pin the blame on u-us, then each other."

"We can't go forward. We can't go back unless we make the deal either." Tres grits his teeth. "So what the Hell do we do now?"

"Gentlemen, this is where we part ways," the cleaning Agent intones. He carefully inspects the pieces of his rifle as he places them into his coat. "You will not stop me. You will not follow me. Farewell. For your sake, I hope we do not meet again..."

He stands up and walks off, into the rain, into the dark, into the City.

"Whu-" Uno chokes. His entire body seems to jolt to a semblance of before with a paroxysm of pure indignation. "CUARTRO, YOU FUCKING RAT! GET BACK HERE!"

"Bark all you like, Uno. He's good, he's gone." Tres snickers, then devolves into hateful laughter. The cuff chain rattles as he slams his hand down on the table. "Looks like it's a one way trip for us, boys! We all make it sooner or later."

Uno looks like he's about to tear Tres a new one, but he starts laughing too. Dos too. There's nothing else to be done. "None of this is funny. That's why you should laugh."

>LAUGH verb acquired.

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Then the waitress barges onto the scene.

"Coffee, coffee! Your Americano, miss! It's reaaaaady!" She looks around with that mindless stupid grin on her face. The situation dawns on her. "Oh wow. I sure came at a good time, didn't I?"

It's piping hot.
>WRITE IN.
>ATTACK. (WHO?)

>LAUGH (FREE ACTION)
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION (FREE ACTION)

Posted the picture >>5921163 too early because I got excited and wanted to show it. Take this one instead.

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>Question: Refresh our memory dear, what is a cop again? What makes a cop killer special? It's the rain you see, it messes with the memory. Are cops just people with hats and peashooters?
To protect and serve. A cop is a cop is a cop, wherever you go. When seconds count, the police are minutes away. But down here, the police are friendly and compassionate and they come with smiles.

No one is above the law. If you make waves and disturb the web of connections of the Metropolitan Police Cluster, the reach of punishment is infinitely long. How does that song go again? Ah, "I fought the law and the law won."

Don't fuck with the police.

>Question: Do we get a different colored tie now that we are technically employed?
You don't think these people have the authority or will to do this. Maybe if you ask..? Right now, you have merely accepted and completed a request, with all the legality and binding that entails.

>Question: Is the mob supposed to be there? What about the curfew?
You're too afraid to look down there again.

>Question: It felt good to be recognized as human despite your empty eyes, didn't it?
I don't want to be

...

It makes you feel better, but not much.

>If we are human then where is our family?
...

>Question: That man, John Tres... he SEETHES easily too. A potential kindred spirit in that sense?
There's a familiar sensation, watching them bicker.

[HEARTLESS] But I don't feel any pity towards these bad people. Just because we are miserable people doesn't suddenly mean we are good friends.

>>5923151
>Take a moment to enjoy our coffee. No need to waste good coffee.
>Pay the girl a small tip.
>Proceed to break the cup over the man who shoved us. Asshole.

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>>5923157
I'm hungry, so I've made a mistake. This is the correct image. The last one is something like the edge of the Pillar but imagine how tiny the cafe would be to fit it! Haha!

>>5923151
>WRITE IN.
Drink in your coffee, try your best to ignore the simulacrum of a waitress, and let the agents have their moment. When the opportunity arises, cut in and ask about your payment. We can not let debts go unpaid.

>>5923164
I've seen some small cafes that could fit on that, though it's usually just a booth and open air seating

>>5923151
>LAUGH (FREE ACTION)
>Question: How do we take our coffee usually?
>Enjoy our coffee, laugh along, inquire about payment.
>"Do I get a new tie for this job?"

>>5923151
>LAUGH (FREE ACTION)
>Question: How do we take our coffee usually?
>Take a moment to enjoy our coffee. No need to waste good coffee.
>Pay the girl a small tip.
>Tell the girl a small tip. "Don't look in those." Point at the telescope you and the agent looked through.
>Let the agents have their moment. When the opportunity arises, cut in and ask about your payment. We can not let debts go unpaid.
>IF THEY PAY THE $1000: "Do I get a new tie for this job?"
>IF THEY DON'T FUCKING PAY: Proceed to break the cup over the man who shoved us. Asshole.

>>5923151
>Spill the coffee so we can sue the café

>>5923151
I'll support the "if-then" portions of >>5923365

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Coffee Theme: (Dead Melodies & Zenjungle - The Book) https://youtu.be/e4LYOGe3bzA

>Try your best to ignore the simulacrum of a waitress
>Take a moment to enjoy our coffee. No need to waste good coffee.
>Question: How do we take our coffee usually?
With salt and water.

If it's bad beans, the salt makes it a little less bitter, a little more sweeter. Takes the edge off. More water at the very end dilutes the taste.

You take the cup without betraying your visceral disgust of the thing which looks like a waitress and try a sip. It's hot, which is the most important part on a miserable morning like this. To be Frank, you like coffee for its smell, nevermind the taste. Sometimes you order a cup just to watch the steam rising cheerfully into the air.

I had bought it to give myself something to hold on to, something nice and mundane and sensible. There's nothing wrong with the image of a woman in a suit drinking coffee in a cafe, is there? I feel safe, for some reason, and I hear music in the air. Sometimes I think I'm the only sane person in the entire world which is the City...

>Acquired 3 Bobbert Points
>Each BP can be exchanged for one reroll.

>Pay the girl a small tip.
You immediately pay for your order.

"Thank you, Miss! Make sure to come-"

>Tell the girl a small tip. "Don't look in those."
You point at the telescope you and the agent looked through.

"G-gwoagh?" It's clearly caught off guard. You stare at it politely to make the point clear. She looks shaken for some reason. "O-Oh. Okay..."

"Tape it up, otherwise you'll see something you shouldn't see." This seems like the right thing to say.

"I'll let the owner know. T-Thanks for telling me, Miss."

It skitters off. You sigh thankfully.

>Let the agents have their moment. When the opportunity arises, cut in and ask about your payment. We can not let debts go unpaid.
>Enjoy our coffee, laugh along, inquire about payment.
>LAUGH (FREE ACTION)
They're still laughing...

"Ha ha ha." You have to force it out at first, but the more you laugh, the more the hilarity of the situation increases. It really does seem like a big joke. You don't even know what you're laughing about. It just comes gushing out like blood from a wound or water through a leaking pipe. You just laugh until it hurts, then laugh even harder.

When you return under the earth, the Agents are sitting quietly. Uno and Dos are watching you with an inscrutable look on their faces. Tres has a deep look of concentration on his face. Oops. Laugh too strong.

"You," you say to Uno. "My thousand. Now."

The John keeps staring, before his grin cracks open. He looks like he wants to laugh but he's sick of it.

"Can you believe the nerve of this bitch?" Uno barks out a single laugh before suddenly rising with a grotesque smile frozen on his face...
>BOBBERT. ROLL 1d100. TWO ANONS.
>DOGS. ROLL 1d100. TWO ANONS.
>THREE REROLLS, USEFUL ON EITHER PARTY.
>YOU DO NOT WANT TO OVERLY WIN.
>[MADNESS] I LOAD THE DICE IN AN UNKNOWN ORDER...

Rolled 99 (1d100)

>>5924178
Rolling for Bobbert

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>5924178
Bobbert Roll 2
>YOU DO NOT WANT TO OVERLY WIN
He says but >>5924187 scored 99

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>5924178
Dog roll
Let's see how screwed we can be

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>5924178
2nd Dog roll

>>5924271
>>5924320
>[MADNESS] I LOAD THE DICE IN AN UNKNOWN ORDER...
Our saving grace here. We have 3 rerolls we can use or save too

REROLL DICE? I'm ready to load up the dice and write. For peace of mind and sake of time, I will handle rerolls.
>Y (WHOSE AND WHICH RESULTS?)
>N

>>5924344
>Y
Reroll that 18

>>5924348
Supporting

>>5924348
+1

>>5924344
>Y

>>5924348
Was gonna say reroll their 98 to try and get it lower, and then maybe reroll our 18 to try and get it closer to whatever the dog's roll is rerolled to. Seems we don't want to be too far apart but we still want to beat their number, I think.

>>5924367
Since the QM is loading the dice in an unknown way, we risk our 99 going against something way lower if we reduce one of their rolls. I dont know how bad winning by a significant margin is compared to losing by a significant margin, but the safest bet is to just reroll bobberts 18 and minimize the loss

Rolled 12 (1d100)

Rerolling the 18 now...

>>5924379
I wasn't sure if madness was applied automatically or if we had to select it for it to apply. My confusion stems from the prompt making it seem like we get to choose who we are rolling for, though that could just be QM showing how it is done normally if we didn't have madness.

Also, if madness does have to be selected then I didn't think it would apply since only one person voted to use it. I certainly don't want to apply madness.

>>5924388
QM said that they'd handle the rerolls, but okay. Time to...
>Cry

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>>5924391
>>5924379
To clarify:
1. You can reroll for either BOBBERT or DOGS.
2. MADNESS is automatically applied when it shows up.
Writing now. Get ready for fun :)

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You tense up in the face of the much more aggressive man. He smells weakness. But if he approaches directly, why not meet him and his aggression head on? You move forward...

(Cheshyre - Fight or Flight Pt.1 Extended) https://youtu.be/QEOcs09izsk

>99
>98
And see his fist rearing back. You move without thinking, just beyond where his reach would be, as if you had done this so many times before. The Dog swipes from the left, but you dodge into and under the blow! You feel the air move from how close it was.

JUST DODGE!

>Acquired TAC BAR I (Dodge stray gunfire, weak melee hits, and other minor attacks. Does not work on: actually competent melee fighters, salvoes of gunfire, high explosives, local lynch mob tearing you apart, etc.)

The haymaker goes wild! The Agent snarls. You seize the opportunity to drive your elbow like a railroad spike into his side, trying to knock him down. He grunts without falling and lashes out with a weak kick to your side. It doesn't hurt too hard, but knocks you off-balance just long enough for him to recover.

Disengaged, you try to grab your sharpened rebar, but Uno lunges forward suddenly, puts his hands around your neck, and starts choking-

>90
"That's enough," Tres says, with a slam of his briefcase. And the two of you listen, shoving each other away with mutual glares. The Agent's words Resonate with absolute authority.

(Mezzanine Stairs - Questionable Victory) https://youtu.be/ojD4qbdQZZs

Tres sighs. "Uno, act like a fucking professional for once in your greaseball life. You're meant to be the face of the operation, but you've got a real ugly expression when you're hitting women."

Rage seethes on Uno's face. He's muttering curses on you and your misremembered mother under his breath. But he can do nothing else under the watchful eye of his partner. (Perhaps his boss?)

"Man's only as good as his word," Tres intones before letting out a rueful laugh. "You can't even rely on your fists to do the talking, so you lost to a broad of all the things. You're done."

Uno goes quiet. Very, very quiet. The silent shame of a man when he has keenly felt the loss of his manhood. The anger, the bitterness. He seems like kind of man who will have his revenge, sooner than later.

Uno reaches into his suit jacket and you tense up once again. Ah, ah too soon...

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... but all he does is take out a roll of wonderful 100s.

"For services rendered," Uno hisses out. He tosses the roll and the money soaks in the rain. "Get out of my fucking sight, you bitch."

Tres is judging the both of you. You figure this is either out of pity for you or disgust with his partner. Uno has that ugly expression but he's reigning it in. "Listen to Uno, lady. Take the money. Then get out of here and go somewhere far away..."

>Acquired $1000!!!

I say nothing, at first. The situation seems to have settled rather peacefully.

But...
>18 -> 12

I open my mouth and out tumble the worst possible words to say in front of the rabid Dog and his pack.

>"Do I get a new tie for this job?"
As soon as I say those words, the scenario shifts. I've made a mistake.

(LISA: The First OST - Creepy Sax) https://youtu.be/mzHZzSfAM8I

"Oh? You're just looking for a job?" Uno says, suddenly and terribly calm. He lets out a derisive snort. "Miss Unemployed?"

Ah, ah. I've said without thinking what you were thinking earlier. I can't take it back. It's too late. It's already in the air.

I'm sorry.

You look to Tres. His expression is unchanged. However, his only response is to take a step back as Uno takes a step forward. Fuck.

"Here. I think we can arrange something. Take this." Uno throws something else at your feet, but you're watching his hands as they reach into his coat pocket, take out a very shiny revolver, and point it towards your head. He laughs, and it's almost as if the world laughs with him, hellish laughter reverberating throughout the black empty streets...

Staring down the barrel of the gun, the vision of certain death...

[HEARTLESS] You feel absolutely nothing at all.

The fear is there in your mind, but there's nothing in your heart. Evidently, it shows on your face from the way Uno is grimacing at you.

"Put it on, lady. Whether you like it or not, you're coming with us."

The wicked grin appears again. "You're hired, baby. Smile..."

>Acquired A JOB.
>Bobbert has been forced into Uno's party.
>CRY and SEETHE verbs restored. Careful now.

You take a look at what he threw over to you.

As you realize what it is, suddenly, there's the faint sensation of electricity in the air, on your skin. The fly has been buttered. Something in the plot has changed.

Pick your poison. Which Company has just hired you?
>JUST SUNGLASSES. YOU'RE ALREADY DRESSED THE PART. [MAJOR POWER] S Company. Largest manufacturer of high-quality suits, ties, sunglasses, and custom-made guns. Part of the BULLET BALLET with B and W Companies. Extremely ubiquitous, every single Alphabet Company has dealt with S Company in some form.
>A BLACK TIE WITH RED NEON STRIPES. VERY SCIENCE-Y. REINFORCED? [MINOR POWER] Bolverk Mining Company. Powerful industrial conglomerate. Involved with robotics and cybernetics; weapons and defense systems development; and Warp technology. Rumored to be researching the Resonance and Dissonance Citywide phenomenon.
>A BLACK TIE WITH A WHITE OUTLINE. YOU FEEL AN ODD TREMBLING FROM TOUCHING THIS. [MINOR POWER] Lateralis Heavy Industries. Apparently a Surface layer mining company, in cooperation with the foreign Toha Heavy Industries. Relatively unknown, relatively new. Obsessed with the collection of... human hearts.
>WRITE IN.

FREE ACTIONS
>CRY
>SEETHE
>LAUGH
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION
>TALK TO PARTY MEMBERS
>WRITE IN

>>5924712
>A BLACK TIE WITH A WHITE OUTLINE. YOU FEEL AN ODD TREMBLING FROM TOUCHING THIS. [MINOR POWER] Lateralis Heavy Industries. Apparently a Surface layer mining company, in cooperation with the foreign Toha Heavy Industries. Relatively unknown, relatively new. Obsessed with the collection of... human hearts.

>SEETHE
>LAUGH

>>5924712
>A BLACK TIE WITH A WHITE OUTLINE. YOU FEEL AN ODD TREMBLING FROM TOUCHING THIS. [MINOR POWER] Lateralis Heavy Industries. Apparently a Surface layer mining company, in cooperation with the foreign Toha Heavy Industries. Relatively unknown, relatively new. Obsessed with the collection of... human hearts.

>voting against SEETHE or LAUGH
I really don't want to tic this guy off while he's set up to show us a .460 Magnum slideshow with the projector aimed at our face.

>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION
so reading the situation, what are the other agents reactions to this. And what are the chances to turn this guy's head into a rebar shishkebab when he isn't looking and get away with it.

>>5924781
+1

>>5924712
I'm >>5924853 adding on
>Smile slightly at Uno. He did tell you to, didn't he?
>(Grab the tie. Your time is coming...)
>Finish up your coffee before it gets cold!
>"So what's this deal you're on your way to make?"
>"Where are we headed?"
>QUESTION: What's Dos in this group? Uno's the hothead. Tres is the leader. Cuatro, the rifle-cleaning man who left, doesn't matter anymore. Cinq is dead from what Uno slipped; he got got by a vague something deadly. That leaves Senor 2. Observe Dos in the meantime.
>QUESTION: If you keep clowning on Uno at this rate and he doesn't kill you, what does that mean? Is he the type of guy who secretly wants a girl to match his seethe or something? He complimented you on your chest but not your hair, damn it!
>NEVER get a haircut

Just so we are forearmed with knowledge, can we reroll rerolls?

>>5924712
>A BLACK TIE WITH A WHITE OUTLINE. YOU FEEL AN ODD TREMBLING FROM TOUCHING THIS. [MINOR POWER] Lateralis Heavy Industries. Apparently a Surface layer mining company, in cooperation with the foreign Toha Heavy Industries. Relatively unknown, relatively new. Obsessed with the collection of... human hearts.

It must be done. The plot hook is too big to ignore.

If only we had chosen a non-combat skill to begin with, but perhaps then we wouldn't be as good a CQC fighter.

>Smile as asked

>Don't want to seethe right now, even though I feel like crying and am certainly seething like the Bobbert brainworm I am. [voting against using any verbs right now, now that we have an impression of their effects]

>Support gauging everyone else, especially Dos

File: BBQ bob thumbs up.jpg (170 KB, 1696x1942)

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>>5925102
No, you cannot reroll rerolls. For now at least.

The 99 and 98 roll going together was simply just too good an opportunity to pass up, hence the
>acquired

So in totality, Bobbert has:
>SHARPENED REBAR SPEAR (Weapon)
>MUSICIAN (Non-Combat Skill) (Comes with a guitar at home)
>TAC BAR I (Combat Skill)
>$1000 (Money)
>2 BP (Bobbert Points)
>A JOB (Not Determined Yet)
>VERBS: LAUGH, CRY, SEETHE, AUTORESOLVE, WRITE IN, ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION

>>5925191
So are we still going to have to avoid winning by too much in all future rolls is that only in certain scenarios. Also, if it won't spoil too much,what would have happened if we won by too much in those 2 rolls?

Please don't wordlessly drop this thread 1 like you did the last 4 times
>GUY the WORTHLESS
>MINIMUM WAGE COMMANDO
>IDIOTS COMMIT MURDER
>MOTH AGENT

>>5926406
>Moth Agent

...?

Moth Agent's 1st thread reached completion, falling off the board before our mission was completed. I think QM is just trying different characters like he mentioned at the end of that thread to try and warm up before continuing.

I can't speak for the first two, since I dropped the 2nd for lack of time and never participated in the first though.

It's not lack QM has never run a quest past one thread, shit happens, the curse is real, etc.

>>5924712
>JUST SUNGLASSES. YOU'RE ALREADY DRESSED THE PART. [MAJOR POWER] S Company. Largest manufacturer of high-quality suits, ties, sunglasses, and custom-made guns. Part of the BULLET BALLET with B and W Companies. Extremely ubiquitous, every single Alphabet Company has dealt with S Company in some form.

>>5926406
tbf moth agent wasn't dropped, he reached the end of the 1st thread, now the others are a different story

>>5939901
you got my hopes up

now im dying

aaaaaaauuuuggghhh

>>5939916
saaaaaaaaaaaaaaame

File: OTXO by Greekoid .png (91 KB, 1101x820)

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>LATERALIS HEAVY INDUSTRIES
You take off your old tie and put on the new tie. Another string for your rotted soul. It speaks to you, warmly.

You walk over to the other table and take the empty seat as if it was prepared just for you. Like you belong there. An Agent among other Agents. Your new allies in purpose glare at you with red eyes hiding behind sunglasses, and you can do nothing else but return their inscrutable gaze.

I start to feel something rather strange...

[MADNESS] The look of hungry dogs, probing for weakness and vulnerability, the kill spot to bring you down to their level. Already sat down, already hired.
[MADNESS] You're just here to fill in the newest empty seat. Nothing more than hands and how well they can use a weapon. Grease in the wheels.
[MADNESS] Without even knowing it, the Agents are treating human beings as sacrament and sacrifices to higher powers. Now are they the priests or the sacrifices? Does that really matter?

The world snaps back into place. No one is looking at you. Their heads are turned intently towards the ever-reddening horizon. You gag slightly as the warm taste of blood fills your mouth, down the back of your throat. You're thankful they aren't looking.

Another darn nosebleed. Drip drip drip right into your cup of watered-down coffee.

>Finish up your coffee before it gets cold!
The taste of seawater and pennies fills your mouth. It's already lukewarm.

>+1 BP

(Hypnobooster - Transparent city) https://youtu.be/3DMK7Afoq4E

"Using a woman as a weapon? That's a new one." Tres snorts in contempt. "You contractor types are really scraping the bottom of the barrel."

"Tres, shut the fuck up, alright?" Uno says. "Lateralis is just a Minor Power. And you! You don't have anything but your pride and that fucking thing in the briefcase. I'll take what I can get to survive this."

Uno leans back on his chair, looking more resigned than casual. Neither men are looking at each other or at you.

[HEARTLESS] You say nothing, and the conversation takes a different turn.

"We can still work things out, Tres." Uno makes a vague gesture as his other hand slips into his coat. "Talk things over among ourselves, come up with something to make you happy. Make us both happy. If it's like that. How 'bout it, huh?" Uno drawls with affected nonchalance.

"If it makes you feel any better. You're only hurting your own chances, at any rate."

Uno turns to Tres with a grimace. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"Our work is not yet done. Remember the contract, John?" Tres returns Uno a wan smile.

Disgust fills the Agent's eyes. Contorts his face, twists him inside. He can't bare to look at Tres any longer. So Uno turns, his expression brightening and you almost yelp as you realize he's trying to talk to you. He tries to don that self-assured, in-control smile again, but...

File: faces.png (111 KB, 442x630)

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>Smile slightly at Uno.
>Smile as asked.
[HEARTLESS] You're not smiling either.

"Come on, baby, cheer up. We're still here, aren't we?" He waves his hand and plucks a handkerchief with a flourish. His tongue clicks, obviously proud of the little trick. "Hey. You'll need this more than I do."

>Acquired John's Handkerchief
>Made with black silk locally harvested from giant spiders. A revolver and the letter S is embroidered on one corner.

"I... Mmm. Thanks," you murmur.

"Penny for your thoughts?" He tries to strike up a conversation. This man, who threatened to shoot you not a few minutes ago. And since you don't feel like talking to begin with...

You stare at him in dead silence until he gets the hint.

Whatever tatters of his smile fade entirely. He rubs his nose and looks down without another word, pressed by the overwhelming silence at the table to remain as such. Everyone is uncomfortable and unmoving. The entire world, on pause.

But I am thinking...

>QUESTION: If you keep clowning on Uno at this rate and he doesn't kill you, what does that mean?
>And what are the chances to turn this guy's head into a rebar shishkebab when he isn't looking and get away with it.
What does it mean?

[HEARTLESS] You know what he's trying to get at...

No matter how you look at his face, no matter if he's not smiling now, you can't help but see the uncomfortable, inappropriate, leering smirk etched across his face. It's there, only hiding under the surface. Thinking about the return of that expression makes you more and more uneasy.

So if he's trying to hit on you, if Tres weren't there... You don't know what will happen next. You don't really want to think what will happen next. You and him together? He's the most doglike among these other dogs. He'll be smiling as he puts a bullet in your head.

Or worse.

You sit there quietly, staring at the grounds at bottom of your empty cup.

You should get him alone on even footing. You and the Agent. Always smiling. No. Wouldn't work. He'd kill you. Or... He'd have his fun, one way or another.

So how about running him through when he isn't looking? Rip him open from behind. Bear the pipes and powerlines of his own flesh for all the world to see. Maybe the zombies will get to him first and you could simply close your eyes and walk away from all the mess. If the others won't get to you first.

[MADNESS] There's a lot to think about, but the most important thing to keep in mind is that murdering your recruiter less than an hour into being hired is going to make a terrible first impression on your new coworkers.

How the hell would you put that incident on your resume? You squirm on your seat. Just thinking about it is starting to make you sweating...

So you do your best to not to think at all.

>SUPPRESS verb acquired.
>Instantly separates thought from delusion. Increases success rate but numbs emotional processes. You can fantasize all you want once you're in a safer place. After all this...

File: MWC AGENTS.png (23 KB, 744x406)

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>"So what's this deal you're on your way to make?"
The Agents stir to life.

Uno looks at Tres, expecting him to speak. Tres looks back to Uno, not quite expecting you to speak. She's all yours, Tres seems to say.

"Ahem. It was meant to be a clean deal." Uno starts gesticulating. "We show up with the agreed-upon negotiation site and Tres here hands over his blueprints for OTXO rep's disk. A briefcase for a briefcase. But now..."

Tres's grip on the briefcase tightens.

"The deal's off, baby. OTXO is dead."

"With the elimination of the OXTO representative," Tres chimes in. "We don't have the additional security from the other company's presence. The scenario has been compromised."

"So it's become a free-for-all. Lateralis and OXTO's enemies, rival companies and the like, are going to show up and try to nab the disk before we can. Hell, if we're late or just plain unlucky, a Major Power might just show up with its own forces to muscle in on the deal."

"So, in summary..."

OBJECTIVE: SECURE THE DISK OF THE LATE OTXO REPRESENTATIVE BY ANY MEANS.
RISK LEVEL: HIGH
REWARD: YOU GET TO WALK AWAY FROM ALL THIS + ???

"No questions?" You shake your head. Uno smirks. "Good girl. Now is a fine time as any to get going."

Tres fiddles with the combination of his briefcase. "We might have a small head start. They might be in the area, but the Agents of other companies might not know about the deaths of the OTXO."

>QUESTION: What's Dos in this group?
>Support gauging everyone else, especially Dos
"Alright buddy, we're going down now. You can stand up still, right?" Uno snaps his fingers in front of the still seated Agent.

"Just leave her alone, Uno. Don't drag her into this," Dos repeats hollowly. His voice is dry and quiet speaking from somewhere far far away from here. Stiffly, almost mechanically, he staggers to his feet and stares at Uno's face.

"Where-?"

"We're still on the Mission, Dos buddy. Come on. You still got the submachine gun, right?" There is indeed something black, large, and blocky in his jacket. "Good, good. Just follow us and we'll get you through."

Dos only mutters to himself in response.

[MADNESS] There's almost nothing left of Dos. His mind is gone. He's going through everything as if it all were a dream...

[HEARTLESS] For some reason, you feel this sharp burning envy. You don't even want to look at him.

>"W-Where are we headed?"
You swallow the sudden acridness and spit out your question.

"We continue as planned," Tres says. He points a finger. At the long end of the viewing platform is a white door waiting for all of you.

(Madness Retaliation OST Main Building) https://youtu.be/Uoa-z6tXPfg

"There's only one path from here."

DOWN.
>ROLL d100. THREE ANONS.

>FIRST ROLL DETERMINES PROGRESS.
>SECOND ROLL DETERMINES ENCOUNTER.
>THIRD ROLL DETERMINES CIRCUMSTANCES.
>3 BP AVAILABLE. ONLY 2 REROLLS CAN BE MADE HERE.

File: here comes green.jpg (172 KB, 1320x1711)

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>>5925416
Not the default, the "avoid winning too hard" message was just for that roll.
Like what happened, but Uno freaks the fuck out and so might Dos as well.

>>5926406
>>5926425
>>5939901
>>5939916
>>5939938
Alright. For the last weeks, I did buttfuck nothing but draw cute girls and slack off. I apologize to you guys for my terrible behavior and track record so far. I am not a responsible person so I've just let everything slide quietly as usual. I'm going to keep writing and try to become more consistent.

File: blue.png (126 KB, 370x253)

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>>5944218
I'm going to be honest, and say that I can't promise that I won't do any of this again, but neither am I going to give up. I have brainworms but also cool brainworms which give me ideas to continue putting to paper. So I'm going to continue.

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>5944211

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>5944211

Rolled 86 (1d100)

>>5944211
You slimy corpo-cat, Bobbert-betraying, moth-eating ratfuck, pencildrawing, coffeeslurping, teastirring motherfucker!

...

...

...

...Welcome back. sniff~

So in order,
>29 PROGRESS (Pretty bad!)
>12 ENCOUNTER (Also very bad!)
>89 CIRCUMSTANCE (INTERESTING...)

>Reroll?
>No rerolls of rerolls.

>>5944302
Reroll 12

>>5944302
Reroll that 12
And welcome back QM, we missed you

>>5944218
Tits too big, no thanks

>>5944228
Hat not big enough, thank you

File: hhhh.png (151 KB, 357x354)

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>>5944302
REROLL THAT TWELVE, NIGGER FAGGOT.

Rolled 75 (1d100)

(RE)ROLLAN

>>5944302
reroll 12, plz and thank u.

>>5944189
>the result of thinking about Uno
Yeah no, I was wrong. He's going to get the rebar once we're done with the mission. That or we simply wash our hands of him and never see him again.

>>5944211
GRAB THAT FUKKEN DISK!
>Dos
Yeah he's a lost cause to us

>>5944342
Bad progress
GOOD encounter (or no encounter, which is still better than having to deal with unknowns, but it just means the path itself is going to be annoying instead of third parties)
Interesting circumstances

File: Samosbor elevator alternative.jpg (103 KB, 1920x625)

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The four of you file into the elevator and make the descent to... somewhere. No complimentary music. Everyone is quiet. From an outside perspective, you'd like to say you all look very professional indeed.

Maybe.

The stale air feels uneasy but with a sense of long awaited progress.

>29
The cab hardly descends more than a few floors before grinding to an awkward halt. kerclick crunch crunch Hidden mechanisms whir on loop, uselessly.

[HEARTLESS] Just another ordinary shift in the City...
[MADNESS] Hurrah for the world of progress! Hurrah for the underground!

Tres presses the open door button. He presses it a few times. No response is forthcoming from the jumble of switches and buttons. He clicks his tongue.

"Stuck," he observes.
"No shit," mutters Uno.
Tres makes a vague gesture. "This is how we killed all the Chinese, you know."
"Keep mentioning that and you'll really jinx us this time around. Really."
"If it's true, it's worth mentioning."
"You think R Company built this?"
"Sure."
The two shuffle around awkwardly.
"Solutions?"

[HEARTLESS] A deep calm fills an empty space within you. No one here seems worried, much less yourself. If they weren't, you suppose you would have needed to appear to be worried, but then again you don't have the interest nor energy to do so. You don't really see the point as well but what do you have to say for yourself anyway?

You look around.

You vaguely recall watching an action movie or reality show or something like this on TV. Actually, you might have been in this situation before, from how familiar this all seems. Things break down all the time and this District is not as well developed as the others. Was it yesterday perhaps? Ah, whatever. It's not so important to the here and now, so-

There.

You point upwards at the emergency exit panel.

Uno nods. You don't flinch this time as he takes out his revolver and aims it. Tres holds out the briefcase above the barrel. You hear muffled clicks from within..?

"Hold on, Uno. You will blow our ears out if you do it like that." Tres raises his hand and pushes, the panel easily giving way. A fine layer of dust rains down onto your wonderful hair.

"Pfftt, sure." Uno looks towards the two of you. "Give me a boost, Dos. And Seis? You're coming up second."

[HEARTLESS] He's smiling, of course, all the way through helping you up. His touch is gentle, but firm. Best to keep his eye on you, a potential turncoat, so make no suspicious movements, no idle and nervous talk...

You put your hands on cold metal, ascend the elevator shaft...

File: ZPCI sniper headshot.png (13 KB, 94x128)

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>12 -> 75
Uno grimaces. "Hold your breath."

... and step through into a bloody aftermath.

(S.T.A.L.K.E.R Soundtrack - Cordon) https://youtu.be/0IpfjwuU4u0

Holes are marred into the gray walls and white doors of an almost familiar corridor. Smells like spilled blood and charred meat. Gunsmoke lingers in the air, harsh and acrid with a hint of burnt. The fighting seems to have been finished only a few minutes ago...

At the end of the hall, a giant white sheet is covering a corpse. It seems human from the distance, but as you trace the contours, it begins to suggest something not quite human; too long limbs, a head far too strange and misshapen, and are those wires piercing, no, melding with the end of one arm-

Footsteps.

Uno's eyes widen at something behind you, his mouth open as if to say something.

There's no time to turn. There's no time to react.

[HEARTLESS] So why aren't you dead yet?

>89
The crackle of a voice modulator breaks the unnatural silence. Uno curses, Tres stares unflinching. You hold your ground under the menacing visage of the glowing visor. In his hands is a very large, almost unwieldy bayoneted rifle aimed squarely at you four. (This better not be a recurring theme...)

Oh cool. You've seen these guys before on TV. Zombie Pest Control.

"Halt. This is an active ZPCI operation zone. State your business."

"Hey, relax!" Uno holds his free hand up and holds his revolver down. "We don't have a bone to pick with you guys. Just here to meet with a friend."
"We are on a business trip," Tres growls.
"We're on a Mission," Dos echoes.
"Ditto," you repeat.

The sniper keeps his rifle trained on the four of you. He makes a slight nod to someone around the corner. "Sergeant, we got a group of type Cs here. Four total."

"Let them through, soldier. It's their funeral."

Armed in blue and silver, like an ancient knight in armor, the double visor of a ZPC fireteam leader glares down at you. Of your party, he holds a vague, superior contempt. In one hand, he holds a similar rifle with ease, and a crumpled and bloodied Beetleburger bag in the other.

[MADNESS] You lick your lips. Boy, maybe you should get something to eat after all this.

"Sir?"

"Let sleeping dogs lie," he addresses his subordinate, not really looking at him, but instead straying towards your party.

And to you, he continues, "We have not yet begun our operation, so do as you please. We have better things to do than chase mutts like you around."

File: the flayed ox.jpg (80 KB, 650x912)

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"What's your angle here?" Uno presses on.

"Man, if we were talking under different circumstances, I would give you a different answer. Or maybe you'd be dead on the floor. But it's lunch right now, so who gives a shit?"

He gestures obscenely, and you notice the overcompensation, the sluggish movements, the slight sway of his body.

[MADNESS] You feel an overwhelming mix of disgust and disappointment.

The sniper sighs and walks off. "I'll be watching the perimeter, Sarge." He doesn't acknowledge his leave.

"Can you believe people live in this shithole of a District? (You bristle.) I've had enough of this - the zombies, Public Safety prowling around, that friggin red Star of the City hanging over our heads."

He coughs and the noise is horribly garbled.

"The infestation is surging up again from the lower levels. There must be an entire strata underneath us, just underfoot. Imagine that! An entire level of this wonderful, shining City filled with the hungry dead, just waiting down there in the darkness, waiting, waiting, waiting."

"And if things weren't bad enough, there's H Company gutting our Before team right on the onset of the operation. For what fucking purpose? Bunch of homicidal psychotics wearing suits and ties, like you... (The four of your bristle at that.) But with a worse sense of fashion. Maybe not suits, but all of them have hats."

"And let's not forget the monsters... Always the fucking monsters. Always 'sometimes' monsters." He points a thumb at the covered body. "I'm not paid enough for this shit..."

"Any way to proceed further down?" You ask. You think you're meant to go down, at least. The others seem to know where they're going.

He points to the stairs and mutters something else under his breath. "Go on. Bark at me all you'd like until the Second Coming! But we're both alike, we're both sick, we both can't rest until our work is done. We can't stop each other even if we did, so go on! Stop looking at me as if I entertain you..."

[HEARTLESS] He would be sneering if it weren't for the mask.
[MADNESS] He would be screaming if it weren't for his task.

>AUTORESOLVE (DOWN. Thank him for his service and be on your way.)
>[HEARTLESS] OPTION LOCKED. ROLL 1d100 TO OVERRIDE. ("We have a spare pen, don't we?" "We're not helping a stranger, Uno." "Look at him. Dos can't use these anymore, anyhow.")
>ATTACK
>SUPPRESS
>LAUGH, CRY, SEETHE
>ASK BOBBERT A QUESTION
>TALK TO PARTY MEMBERS
>WRITE IN

>CONSUMABLE ITEMS: 3 MEDIKITS, 2 MENTAL STABILIZER PENS, 3 SMOKE GRENADES, 1 FLASHBANG

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>5947469
>LAUGH~...just a little though. He is entertaining though, isn't he?
>[HEARTLESS] OPTION LOCKED. ROLL 1d100 TO OVERRIDE. ("We have a spare pen, don't we?" "We're not helping a stranger, Uno." "Look at him. Dos can't use these anymore, anyhow.")
>Ask Bobbert: Do mental stabilizer pens alleviate madness? For how long?
>Ask Bobbert: What Before team do you think he is referring to Bobbert? Bounty hunters? Which companies wear hats but not suits?
>Ask Bobbert: Red Star? Explain to us Bobbert. What does he mean?
>Brush the dust out of your hair Bobbert, it's unseemly.
>Write-in: "Any specific monsters stand out? Always gotta be on the look out for baddies, ya know?"

>>5947469
>LAUGH
>STARE AT HIM. KEEP STARING AT HIM. STARE AT HIM EVEN MORE.
>LAUGH.
>AUTORESOLVE.

>>5947469
Also on our way down, away from the ZPC...
>TALK TO PARTY MEMBERS: What happened to Cinco?

>>5947469
>CRY

>>5947481
+1
this guy's drunk
>you notice the overcompensation, the sluggish movements, the slight sway of his body.
as depicted and implied here

>>5947508
+1 this too

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>LAUGH
You giggle a little bit.

The ZPCI leader grunts. "So. I must amuse you, eh?" His hand twitches.

The laughter comes before the joke. THIS is what your tax dollars are paying for? A private security company that can't even defend itself against the City it was meant to secure and protect?

Haha! 'Tis nothing more than a corporate vulture engorging itself on the urban blight. No, a maggot. A human maggot in shining white power armor.

You laugh out loud at the thought. It really is quite funny!

[HEARTLESS] He could kill you right now but that fact just makes him all the more pathetic. Look at him, this fool playing the hero. A drunk in power armor! Drunk on the job! A miserable man, worthy of nothing but scorn!

Your own face twists and you don't know why your right hand is put to your mouth, as if to stop it, to hide it. The laughter keeps pouring out like a waterfall. Hideous mirth fills the room.

"Hey, Seis." Uno puts his hand on your shoulder, but you violently wrench away as another paroxysm of laughter wracks your body. Everyone just stares at you.

"Completely hysterical," Tres assesses under his breath.

You wheeze out a final laugh as your energy diminishes. The ZPC member is still standing there, awkwardly, certainly more conscious of himself and his place in the world.

Yet, the object of your study has not moved or or put a hand upon you.

>STARE AT HIM. KEEP STARING AT HIM. STARE AT HIM EVEN MORE. STUDY HIM.
There's only one conclusion to all this.

[HEARTLESS] He's looking down upon you. Just as you consider him entertainment, so he looks down at you, entertained.
[HEARTLESS] As if he's not in a difficult position himself, under the mantleweight of the world. What is this then? This cowardly pride, this haughty shame?
[HEARTLESS] You hate it. You hate him, so, so much. Hate. Hate. Hate. You feel a sudden viciousness. Roiling, seething contempt.

You'd like to lash out at him, for lashing out at you in this terrible way. But you can't act on this seething. Not in a way that wouldn't leave you with a bullet in your head. In the end, you can only...

>LAUGH.
"Ha HA ha hahA HAHA-" You're laughing again. It hurts and hurts and hurts and you laugh even harder because of it. None of this is even remotely funny. But you laugh all the same.

"Hahaha?" Through tears, you can hardly make out Tres smirking, in spite of himself. Uno looks completely mortified and you feel betrayed for no fucking reason at all.

"Ah." Your laughter hitches-

>20
>CRY
And the tears begin to flow in earnest. An overwhelming deluge surges into the inner chambers of the heart. The empty cavity threatens to burst.

[HEARTLESS] You don't understand. You can't understand.

[MADNESS] But a sudden clarity fills your mind.

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There is a room full of Agents, awash in blood and shit and light.

They carry themselves with pride and purpose, and strength of meat-eating beasts is carried in their arms. They know how to live and how to make death. You were one of them in the past, in a time before yesterday, before that something happened to you. But even now, past your peak, you still retain the training of an Agent.

Competence is scarce in this economy, you know :)

Outside the window, a deep red glow of hateful light falls upon the City. A great star of the earth, A REALLY RED DAY, has already begun its ascent to the top of the sky. Slowly, inexorably, it inches towards the apex.

And when it does, the people will be trapped in the world, playing out their fears, their angers, their passions, their deepest and heartfelt desires. In the ensuing chaos, the corporations will rally their forces and fight to remake the fallen world in their image, one Mission at a time. The sun also rises and the sun goes down, and hastens to the place where it rises.

And beyond all this...

The monsters are already here. The monsters are always returning.

There's always something pressing against the boundaries, probing for places where the skin is weak enough, thin enough, that they can break through. Blood can be a door after all.

And here you are, in the grand scheme of things, in the middle of it all.

On the verge of yet another nervous breakdown.

Sobbing into your tie like the detached fucked up loser you are.

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I start crying. Crying at the top of my lungs.

[MADNESS] So thoughtless about the others. The stars will not wait for you.
[MADNESS] You're fucked up, fucked up beyond recognition. Degraded into such a beast.
[MADNESS] It's funny. You think you're out of control. It would be easy to fight this, to reign in your emotions. But you chose the easier option of stepping away from the ordeal of being human... and letting something else take over.

[HEARTLESS] Maybe you deserve this.

From within my heart surged hideous feelings that should not exist there.

The world seems to collapse into a tiny pinprick of light. It becomes very, very hard to breathe.

I hear a sound from far away and everywhere at once, more the keening of a wounded animal, no more human than a beast. My suit soaks up tears and lets fingers tear into it without losing its faithful composure. Ugly and hateful feelings continue to overflow, uncontrolled.

I'm tired of this. I thought... If I lived like this... I could just go numb and not think about anything... But all I do is feel everything!

[HEARTLESS?] I, I want to understand. That's why I need you. I need you to help me understand. Please tell me - What am I becoming? How can I let myself turn out this way? No, what am I to begin with?
>YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ARE FRIGHTENING. YOU ARE NOT HEALTHY LIKE THE OTHERS. YOU MUST MASTER THIS FEAR. [HYSTERIA. I must hide away from the world.]
>YOUR WAILING REACHES A NIGHTMARISH CRESCENDO. AN INDESCRIBABLE VOICE RUPTURES YOUR VOCAL CORDS. YET, THERE IS CARTHASIS. [MANIA. Power in misery.]
>SUPPRESS. ALL AT ONCE, I AM STRICKEN BY A HORRIBLE AND FAMILIAR SENSATION OF CONTROL. YOURS. [RESENTMENT. We know we're playing with the toy, and it finds us terrible in that regard.]
>WRITE IN.

Or...
>WE NEED YOUR MIND PRIMED AND CLEAR. NO ANSWERS. NO MORE FREAKOUTS. UNDERSTAND?

>>5949638
>SUPPRESS. ALL AT ONCE, I AM STRICKEN BY A HORRIBLE AND FAMILIAR SENSATION OF CONTROL. YOURS. [RESENTMENT. We know we're playing with the toy, and it finds us terrible in that regard.]
DIALING IN.
WE GOT YOU.

>>5949638
>WE NEED YOUR MIND PRIMED AND CLEAR. NO ANSWERS. NO MORE FREAKOUTS. UNDERSTAND?

Oh boy, QM did tell us to be careful after we got Cry and Seethe back. I guess doing it while under the effects of Madness is extra bad. Or just verbing too much in general.

If I understand right, this makes Bobbert okay, but maybe we can't ask questions anymore? Or are just choosing not to help Bobbert at all and letting her deal with her freakout on her own while demanding she somehow deal with it.

I think Hysteria means either she needs to isolate from others while she process her feelings or she cuts us off.

Mania is just her going crazy but feeling better.

Suppressing her lets us gain way more control, but causes her to hate us. I don't want Bobbert to hate us, we're helping her.

>>5949638
Aaaaaannnnnd... I instantly changed my mind after not even a minute. Bobbert needs help, she's asking for it. I'm not ready for her hate though, even for her own good.

>YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ARE FRIGHTENING. YOU ARE NOT HEALTHY LIKE THE OTHERS. YOU MUST MASTER THIS FEAR. [HYSTERIA. I must hide away from the world.]

Changing my mind from >>5949642

We'll go at this solo if need be.

>>5949638
>YOUR THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS ARE FRIGHTENING. YOU ARE NOT HEALTHY LIKE THE OTHERS. YOU MUST MASTER THIS FEAR. [HYSTERIA. I must hide away from the world.]
But... once you master it, the game can change. Steps forward into experience, young one

>>5949638
>>YOUR WAILING REACHES A NIGHTMARISH CRESCENDO. AN INDESCRIBABLE VOICE RUPTURES YOUR VOCAL CORDS. YET, THERE IS CARTHASIS. [MANIA. Power in misery.]

>>5949638
>>WE NEED YOUR MIND PRIMED AND CLEAR. NO ANSWERS. NO MORE FREAKOUTS. UNDERSTAND?

You better continue this slacker. Bobbert will wither and die unless we're there to speak with her. Those are your words >>5914830 :<

I wanna at least go until we complete this job or help Bobbert into a better place mentally.