>He's an immortal crooked paramedic who hides his scarred face behind a mask. She's a provocative extravagent Hell's Angel with an evil twin sister. They fight crime!

"I'm pretty sure it was you. Fuck. Anyone else could have died form what you did to me." -- he said. You weren't able to tell by his expression -rarely someone has the chance to do it- but in his voice there was a feeling of betrayed trust. She lighted a cigarrete. "Okay, since you are going to be the ass you always are, I'm gonna tell you something about me... "

>He's an ungodly day-dreaming inventor for the 21st century. She's an artistic African-American traffic cop from beyond the grave They fight crime!

"I didn't exactly expect this to work, y'know? I mean ... this was supposed to be a toaster that also served as a back up hard drive, not a machine that lets you see and communicate with ghosts." He fumbled around a bit with his screw driver while she stared at him, her eyes empty. "You've brought me back, and now you have to do what I can not ... solve my own murder. And read some fucking fiction, why don't you?"

>He's a bookish playboy barbarian in drag. She's an enchanted mute Hell's Angel from Mars. They fight crime!

Last night I saw her again, with the moonlight shining on her skin like blessing. Strongl like my brethen, but beautiful as no one of the women of my tribe can be. She didn't said a word. She just took a steel pipe and joined me bashing heads. I think I'm in love.

>He's a scarfaced devious master criminal gone bad. She's a radical African-American barmaid living on borrowed time. They fight crime!

The drunk mobster pured another glass of rum -- "So miss.. I think I'm screwed... I was double-crossed, anda every single family wants my head now, so..." "Shut up!" -- yelled the woman, trying to clean the puke from the floor. "You think YOU are screwed? The guys you betrayed were my only chance to get a heart transplant! Now they think I'm with you!"

>He's a scrappy guitar-strumming shaman with a passion for fast cars. She's a plucky African-American journalist living homeless in New York's sewers. They fight crime!

"By the great spirit, you better not get that sewer stink all over my Jag."
"Bitch, my stank goes where it wants!"

>He's an all-American chivalrous astronaut with a secret. She's a sharp-shooting goth safe cracker from the wrong side of the tracks. They fight crime!

"I just don't understand young people these days..." He mumbled as cigar smoke filtered out of the open vents in his suit.

Crouched over the telescopic sight of a R700 a girl in a black dress retorted in a hissing whisper. "It's not just a phase, dad! This is who I am! Now put that out you'll give us away."

"If anything, it'll be that silly pink hair of yours that lets them spot us." He lifted the face shield, flicking the stub away to smolder on the roof top.

"We already discussed the hair, dad. It stays."

"I know pumpkin." There was a brief pause. "I love you dear." One more pause.

"I love you too dad." The sound of sniper fire punctuated the last sentence.

>>14513459
>pictures Tommy Lee Jones from Space Cowboys being the father of a scene-girl rogue.
GLORIOUS.jpg

>He's a notorious coffee-fuelled senator haunted by an iconic dead American confidante She's a violent bisexual traffic cop with a song in her heart and a spring in her step. They fight crime!

Charlie Wilson, haunted by JFK, joins with a bisexual traffic cop to bang as many women as possible. Also they blow up MI-24 Hinds.

>He's a notorious white trash messiah who must take medication to keep him sane. She's a provocative gypsy mercenary married to the Mob. They fight crime!

Bullet rained in to the bar Esmarelda crouched behind, as she fumbled to reload her rifle. "This is your fault you inbred lunatic! You DO NOT strut in to a Yakuza gambling parlor and start shouting about the dangers of Lord Xenu!" The shaggy haired actor beside her simply grinned, giving his loaded revolver a quick spin, "Hush now girl, I've going to harmonize their thetans if it's the last thing I do."

>He's a lounge-singing gay assassin in drag. She's a mentally unstable extravagent hooker with the soul of a mighty warrior. They fight crime!
The night started like any other. I was crooning out the hits in a high-rent sequined dress in a low-rent dive on the wrong side of town, with my Beretta cold against my thigh and my target out there in the crowd, laughing it up with his cheap whores and expensive champagne. The spotlight dimmed, the applause rang out like it always does, and I was gone. But I never made it to the target. One of those whores had jumped up, peroxide and diamonds like a sunburst in the dark, and let out some kind of a... battle cry. And the target was just as dead as any sucker with a hatchet in his face.
...I didn't know it then, but it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

>He's a deeply religious gay dog-catcher with a winning smile and a way with the ladies. She's an enchanted communist femme fatale who don't take no shit from nobody. They fight crime!

This is a whole new ball game my friend... a whole new freaking ball game!

>>14513397
This one wins on economy!

>He's an uncontrollable Catholic matador whom everyone believes is mad. She's a foxy motormouth mechanic in the wrong place at the wrong time. They fight crime!

"Madre de dios! Those pendejos are escaping with the Toast of the Beloved Virgin! ANDALE!"

"Honey, I didn't build this V8 for nothing. Actually, have I told you about the history of the V8 engine?..."

>deeply religious gay dog-catcher with a winning smile and a way with the ladies
>bookish playboy barbarian in drag

You gotta love when you get ones that are just so wildly contradictory.

>He's a maverick amnesiac farmboy plagued by the memory of his family's brutal murder. She's a vivacious nymphomaniac journalist with an MBA from Harvard. They fight crime!

"Let's have sex."
"But we just had sex!"
"That can't be right! Your memory must be acting up again. Don't worry, I'm a doctor I know these things."
"Your a doctor of anthropology!"
"Strip you fucking Leonard Shelby wanna be."

>>14513759
...An amnesiac plagued by memories? Huh.

>He's a war-weary alcoholic shaman haunted by memories of 'Nam. She's a cold-hearted punk mechanic operating on the wrong side of the law. They fight crime!

*WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP WHOOP*
The Huey's rotors cleaving through the fetid air of 'Nam like a pair of warm knives through butter. Coming in over the delta with the sun at their back. Copilot shouting: "Look, Charlies! Down below at 10'a'clock! Giv'em hell!"
The same answer he always gives: "Will do! Safeties off, weapon's free, FIRING!"
The sound of ripping velvet as the doormounted minigun plays it's deadly tune over the small jungle village. Florescent streaks of yellow rain down on men, women and children alike, sowing death and destruction.
*CLANG* *CLANG* *CLANG* Repeated hammerblows on steel takes him back from his reverie.
"Hey, jerkwad! Care to give me a hand with this damn pick-up of yours? The transmissions's shot to hell and back."
A moment's confusion before he recognizes his surroundings. The Last Chance Garage. Molly's rainbow colored hair stained with oil as she's trying to fix their ride. The bottle of cheap whiskey and his .45 on the table beside him.
"Sure. Just give me a sec."
A chug of whiskey to calm his nerves. Yeah. To calm his nerves. And to get rid of those ghost kids.
Those asian-looking ghost kids with their accusing stares...


A bit longer than one paragraph but just couldn't stop. I think these two are so awesome they need a longer text.

>>14513781

Traumatic amnesia is well-documented.

>He's an underprivileged neurotic cowboy moving from town to town, helping folk in trouble. She's a manipulative out-of-work magician's assistant with only herself to blame. They fight crime!

"You sure bustin' this drug ring will get the voices outta my head?"
"Sure, sweetheart! And all that sweet, sweet cash they have will go STRAIGHT to the orphanage! After taxes, of course."
"Well, if you say so... just don't turn me into a hedgehog again."
"Only if you promise to shoot straight this time."

First time writefaggin' so let's see how this goes.

>He's a sword-wielding misogynist gentleman spy gone bad. She's a virginal thirtysomething barmaid fleeing from a Satanic cult. They fight crime!

The autumn air was thick with fog as morning finally pushed back the almost oppressive atmosphere that night had set upon our heroes. It seemed the first reprieve that fate had been so reluctant on giving to old Barton. The veteran spy gripped his cane with a renewed vigor as the hellish heat of the stronghold began to die before them. This was returned with a much more terrible sight as the few sentries and guards that had been posted at the entrance of this compound were replaced with a full horde of so many cultists and depraved souls. “Damn it girl! Why did you feel the need to come along?” Barton’s voice carried a hint of worry under all the irritation. The barmaid that Barton had rescued from the very same cult seemed reluctant to give an answer before another fel bolt bellowed above them. “I was a part of this even if against my will, and I will not let them continue to do these horrible things to people just like me!”

The resolute tone of her voice stirred something deep inside the bitter heart of Barton as the teeming masses of demented worshippers grew closer to their make shift barricade. Barton felt a sensation of pride in the barmaid. “Well Kristen shall we?” With this Barton pulled from his cane a long blade hidden within. Kristen nodded and hefted the crossbow once more onto the debris and prepared to take another shot at her former captors. The scream of the downed cultist was battle cry Barton had been waiting for, and he leapt over the debris to meet them in battle. The old spy still had a trick up his sleeve that his enemies had not seen.

>He's a sword-wielding small-town gangster on the hunt for the last specimen of a great and near-mythical creature. She's an elegant cat-loving pearl diver from a family of eight older brothers. They fight crime!

"Girl, there's no time to worry Emperor McMittens! The Loch Ness monster is getting away!"
"But my schnookums is sea-sick!"
"Bitch, get in the damn water and find Nessy! The world needs to know!"

>Vivacious nymphomaniac journalist with an MBA from Harvard.
brb improving my grades

He's an ungodly moralistic photographer moving from town to town, helping folk in trouble. She's a provocative cat-loving journalist with someone else's memories. They fight crime!

Not going to write about it but I could totally see this as an anime or something.

>>14513997
mash golden boy with a modern chevalier d eon

>He's an ungodly pirate master criminal on the hunt for the last specimen of a great and near-mythical creature. She's a vivacious hip-hop mermaid who don't take no shit from nobody. They fight crime!

...

I think anything I could write would be a disservice. It's basically Moby Dick meets Cleopatra Jones with a dash of Lupin III.

>>14514159
Try it anon! At least as practice

He's an old-fashioned neurotic vampire hunter in a wheelchair.
She's a foxy thirtysomething archaeologist with only herself to blame. They fight crime!

"I can't have a weird cripple slowing me down. I _need_ to find the Holy Grail before the Nazi's do."

"I'm sorry madam, but you will need what I know to have any chance to succeed."

"And just what do you know, Mr. Richter?"

"I know that the Grail is still in the hands of it's original owner."

Barbara froze at that response. "You don't mean--"

"I do," Richter said as he straitened out his smoking jacket. "The grail is in the possession of Count Jesus."

>He's a notorius sword-wielding mercenary gone bad. She's a deeply religious benighted bodyguard from aristocratic European stock.
>They fight crime!

"Ambush? Going all out, huh?"
"If you don't like it, then you can leave!"
"I usually don't do freebies, but I'll make an exception!"
"You patronizing..."

>>14514429
Sir I will buy your book.

>He's an old-fashioned day-dreaming cyborg with a mysterious suitcase handcuffed to his arm. She's a warm-hearted Bolivian stripper who dreams of becoming Elvis. They fight crime!

"I still don't understand why you have to wear that Elvis suit whenever we interrogate a suspect... Its rather unbecoming of a woman such as yourself." He spoke, adjusting the plain black tie of his suit.

"Unbecoming, huh? Well, when we first met, you had a problem with my pink thong and pasties.... Maybe I should interrogate him in that instead?" She looked over at her partner, her short auburn hair gleaming in the florescent light of the cramped interrogation room.

"That will not be necessary..." He responded, though in the back of his mind, he still remembered that night rather fondly. He fiddled with the plain back suitcase handcuffed to his wrist like he always did when he was off in his own world.

She simply smiled, straightening out her Elvis costume, and making sure every rhinestone and sequence was not out of place, "Don't worry, sweetie. I'll have this guy singing The Jail House Rock, soon enough."

> He's a suave shark-wrestling barbarian with nothing left to lose. She's a plucky hypochondriac queen of the dead with only herself to blame. They fight crime!

The streets were calling. We'd been away too long.

It had been two months ago I sent Chomps MacKenzie away. The bastard had been running chum out of a warehouse on thirty-ninth, kept us looking for weeks. Not uncommon in the Great White Underworld, but the man wanted him brought in. The man wanted us.

My partner caught up first, got her pretty self in a firefight right about the time she realized the sharkbait was still moving. Can't blame her. Someone takes your hand and leaves the chill of the grave, you're gonna blow your cool. MacKenzie's thugs heard her cry out when the shamblers tried to introduce themselves and opened fire.

Damnedest thing though- they went to bat for her. Two stiffs got themselves chewed up real bad by the jawheads before I caught up, and two others were staggering into the fray. For her part, she was popping away at any of the fishboys dumb enough to take a bite out of her new chums.

But that wasn't my scene. They had Chomps' boys nailed down, but the big man would be making his play any second now. I made for the roof, ran for the sound of an engine.

MacKenzie was nearly past the gate by the time I'd put my fist through the driver's side window. It hurt, but I didn't let myself feel it. Rage twisted around my wounds and squeezed out the pain. Another second, and I had him on the tarmac.

You ever wrestle a Hammerhead? Don't. They fight dirty. Ol' Chompsy pulled a knife on my headlock. If I'd felt it, it would've been the end of me right there.

I didn't. It wasn't.

I put MacKenzie down and walked it off. He was sent away for twenty-plus.

But now he's back. I can hear it in the scared whispers of the alleyways.

Time to fillet him for good.

>>14514429

holy fucking shit.

I must read this, I must.

>He's a superhumanly strong Republican gentleman spy moving from town to town, helping folk in trouble. She's an enchanted junkie Valkyrie looking for love in all the wrong places. They fight crime!

"You know the old saying: never trust a Democrat bearing free health care." He crushed what was left of the Democrat-driod in his large hand. The quarter inch steel plate that used to be the robot's head crumpled like paper.

"Tell me about it. You'd think people would learn after you exposed that vampire ring a few towns over..." She spoke, eying a nearby medicine cabinet. She flipped her long golden locks with a finger and bit her lower lip.

>He's a hate-fuelled Jewish romance novelist from a doomed world. She's an elegant foul-mouthed hooker with an evil twin sister. They fight crime!


Elijah Judenstein raced through his chateau as fast as any crippled old man carrying an unconscious woman can be expected to. Her bloodstained hair dragged along the 100 feet of Berlin Wall that paved Elijahs main hall. Her blonde curls painted a thick red streak as harsh as Stalin. Elijah would have appreciated the symbolism if he had time to think. He put action before thought for the first time since his escape from Auschwitz. The change of pace was refreshing. The pain in his leg was searing. And the woman in his arms was finally awake.

Barbara Heimler could hardly see him through the blood in her eyes. What she could see, she didn't like. She didn't like the thick grey strands that jutted from his liver spotted scalp like iron beams in fresh rubble. She didn't like the tiny yellow teeth that constructed his sagging scowl. And she especially didn't like the fact that he was still holding the piece of bloody rebar that had put her to sleep earlier that night.

"Did you really think you could escape justice, Mrs. Heimler?"

>>14515491
Barbara knew she was dead. She had seen too many of her friends ride away with a customer only to end up on the news. She saw the cities most depraved men every night, and she knew that one day one of them would choose her. She had dreamed of leaving that corner and never coming back. Now she knows she won't.

"Fuck you. If you're going to kill me, go ahead. I don't regret my work."

"Work? You call murdering innocent Jews work? I'm going to enjoy killing you more than I thought Annika."

Elijah laughed. It was fake.

"Hah! It all makes sense now. I should have known you were looking for her when I saw your necklace. Annika is my sister, the Nazi. I'm just a prostitute."

Elijah paused, but not for long. This wasn't his day of vengeance, but he was one step closer.

"That means we're in business then. You have 3 days to lead me to her. If you don't, well... you do look just like her. I guess that will have to do."

>He's a fast talking gay shaman from the 'hood. She's a high-kicking thirtysomething vampire from the wrong side of the tracks. They fight crime!

Ariel chased the man down an alleyway, the moon glistening in the puddles leftover by a recent rainshower. Her black, leather coat trailed behind her, and a black man in a pink cardigan trailed behind even further.
"Stop right there criminal... stud..." Ariel gazed at the man as he turned around. His stubble amplified his manliness, and licked her lips as she imagined his big strong hands on her hips, instead of on an elderly woman's purse.

"Hands off sweetie I saw him first," Roger bumped his hip into hers, pushing her out of the way. He sauntered up to the crook, one hand on his hip, and the other poised confidently in the air. The crook pulled back in a grimace.

"Hey, big guy," Roger said, "Why don't you hand over the purse? Turn yourself in, and maybe you can get off with a light spanking- I mean sentence."

Ariel hissed, and kicked Roger upside the head. He grimaced in pain, and stumbled into the brick wall of the building next to him. Quickly regaining his composure, he stood up straight and fixed his gold, horn rimmed glasses.

"Damn it Ariel, why are you always trying to steal the good men!"

"Good? He's a thief! Guilty of... stealing my heart..."

"Heart? Sounds like he stole your brain!" Roger quickly snapped his fingers in a Z formation, "Mhm."

Looking around, Ariel and Roger noticed that the crook had disappeared.

"Oh, look at that!" Ariel fumed with anger, "Now he's gone!"

"Oh relax," Roger said. He turned to a spectral figure standing across the street. It was grey, and completely see-through, and was just barely holding a human figure.

"You, ghost," Roger yelled, "Which way did he go?"

The ghost held his hands in the air and shrugged.

>The premise actually sounds like the kind of tripe vampire novel my mother would read.

>>14513066

As short as this thread is, it already deserves archiving for simple hilarity's sake

http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/14513066/

>>14515293
This is fan-fucking-tastic. I applaud you, sir.

>He's a leather-clad alcoholic sorceror living undercover at Ringling Bros. Circus. She's a transdimensional psychic bodyguard from the wrong side of the tracks. They fight crime!

Nobody expects real magic from a circus magician. Clever, huh? Hiding in plain sight.

I did a good job of it, too. It gave me a costume, and nights to spend by myself, drinking away the past.

Until she came along, guarding the guy in the snazzy suit. She looked at me, the piercings dotting her face gleaming in the circus lights, and she read me, cold, for what I was.

Long story short, he wound up dead, she drafted me to take down the killer, and now my laundry bills have gone through the roof. Even magic can't clean this many stains out of leather pants.

>He's an all-American drug-addicted sorceror who dotes on his loving old ma. She's a sharp-shooting bisexual bounty hunter on her way to prison for a murder she didn't commit. They fight crime!

I just... well hell, it kind of writes itself.

>He's an otherworldly sweet-toothed vampire hunter moving from town to town, helping folk in trouble. She's a blind gypsy single mother who inherited a spooky stately manor from her late maiden aunt. They fight crime!

OK, someone here has Joss Whedon's phone number. Let's get him on this.

>>14518543

no, he will just cast Summer Glau in it and Fox will cancel it

>He's a lounge-singing zombie assassin fleeing from a secret government programme. She's a chain-smoking extravagent traffic cop with a knack for trouble. They fight crime!

"Just keep singin', sugar-tits," she rasped with a voice that would be alluring but for the subtle, emphysematic edge that hinted she'd be breathing through a tube before the decade ticked over. He heaved a sigh, the novelty of unlife having yet to fully sink in and make breathing superfluous. Grey fingers tugged his velvet evening jacket back into place before he resumed his crooning. They weren't buying it, and hands were darting into jackets to find weapons. He looked nervously at Sergeant Sally Soldato and broke off his singing abruptly. "Get down!" Pinned under nearly two hundred pounds of corpse and velour, the officer curled her nose and blinked suddenly-watery eyes. "What? It's not like lounge music can die again." He looked down at her and sighed again.

>>14518564
I laughed heartily.

But seriously, I hate Fox for continually destroying his efforts.

>He's a genetically engineered voodoo waffle chef with a secret. She's a cynical French-Canadian research scientist with a knack for trouble. They fight crime!

Waffles. Delicious. Simple. They were what he was made to create. Every ounce of his body, every single cell was engineered to create the perfect waffle each and every time.

And he did. Delicious waffles, no matter your personal taste. Every time. And he never messed up a single one. Each was perfect and golden.

But he hated waffles. You can only make so many of them before you begin to despise them. He hates waffles so much, but they're the only thing he can cook. The last time he tried to make toast, he ended up with waffles. He wasn't sure how, but he did.

And then she came in. Wanted to research him, and his 'Waffle Genes'. She didn't like waffles much either, but apparently, his were delicious. That's what they all said. She was surprised, too. Thought it would taste just like any other. Nope. Like somebody was having an orgy in your mouth.

Fucking waffles.

>>14518622
Be fair: some of those efforts are bad and deserve what they get.

>He's a scrappy crooked Green Beret with no name. She's a violent streetsmart journalist from the wrong side of the tracks. They fight crime!

I couldn't resist. I flipped his suitcase onto the rickety bed and opened it. Inside was his usual collection of boring, ugly clothes. But just a few moments of searching produced just what I was looking for: dog tags! I grinned and yanked them up, standing up with my prize in hand.

"You shouldn't go digging around like that."

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked up, and sure enough "Mr. Green Beret" was standing in the doorway, room key and food in his hands. I was caught, but at least I still had my prize.

"Lawrence Wilcox... I gotta say, to don't look like a Lawrence."

He frowned and tossed the food onto the rickety coffee table. "Those ain't mine. Larry Wilcox died a few years back, and no I ain't gonna tell you how or why I have his tags. All that matters is he's dead."

I peered at him and asked, "did he die like this two men at the wharf?" As soon as the question left my lips, I knew it was the wrong thing to ask. He crushed a packet of chips in his hand and tossed them into the grubby motel trash bin.

>>14518667
"I saved your life from those scum! And this... this is how you repay me?" I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued, "and don't give me lip about how you could have handled yourself. I saved your ass... and that's what Green Berets do."

He stood there, defiant. I shook my head and sighed, it was all so clear to me now. "but I know you, 'Mr. Green Beret.' You did kill Wilcox. or you act like you did. Couldn't save him... but you did manage to save me. eh?" He took a step back like I had punched him in the stomach. I gulped again. Damn, me and my big mouth. "Look..." I added, changing the subject, "sorry I brought it up. We gotta catch this crazed lunatic, and the deadline is only two days away."

After a long moment he sighed, then nodded. "You're right..." And that, I guess, was that. For now.

>He's a time-tossed umbrella-wielding dwarf looking for a cure to the poison coursing through his veins. She's a psychotic impetuous queen of the dead living homeless in New York's sewers. They fight crime!

"Now listen to me, son of the Earth. I brought you here, to this city and this time to help ME. I am not interested in your family or your descendants. The world has moved on, Dwarf. Only you and I remain of the forgotten age. And..." her smile grew even more, further twisting her gray skin, "if you want your heart to last more than a day, you'll do as I command. One of my Priestesses has been murdered and you WILL help me find the culprit!"

>>14518648
Firefly was amazing though. Jayne is what we should all aspire to be when we roleplay chaotic neutral.

I have read every single one of these posts and there isn't one of them I wouldn't absolutely read an expanded novel about.

but especially these:
>>14513644
>>14513459
>>14513091

I love all of you, and I love this board.

He's an otherworldly arachnophobic librarian from the Mississippi delta. She's a blind gold-digging barmaid in the witness protection scheme. They fight crime!

"For all of my otherworldly knowledge and reading from infinite texts, there is one thing I don't understand" He said, carrying upon his face a confused look.

"What is it?" The reply came, her voice slightly quivering with worry about what would follow.

"How in the name of fuck did you see the crime?"

>He's an immortal ninja cowboy on the wrong side of the law. She's a cynical belly-dancing magician's assistant who inherited a spooky stately manor from her late maiden aunt. They fight crime!
>ninja cowboy
I tried to write that, but it's too awesome for me to handle.

>He's a scrappy neurotic dwarf who dotes on his loving old ma. She's an artistic mutant cab driver with an evil twin sister. They fight crime!

That was the night it all started, not that she knew it back then. Sitting in her cab waiting for the next fare, staring at the people and lights dancing in the dark. The scene always warping and changing, presenting her with new compositions and inspiration.

This was the kind of thought she often let herself indulge in, to help distract from the "situation" with her sister. And she was almost lost in her day dreams when she heard the the steps of small feet coming towards the rear door.

The door opened and in climbed the small man. A dwarf he was, standing about 3ft tall, but surprisingly well built for someone of such short stature.

"Where will it be to, s-" Stopping mid sentence out of surprise, not expecting to see the little man in the back seat.

"Wha' tha fuck are yah lookin' at? I've killed people for less than starin'." An aged and rough voice replied quickly to the situation.

"My apologies I just wasn't expecting a-" She was interrupted again, this time not by surprise, but by her offended customer.

"A wha'? A midget? Well it ain't everyday yah see a fuckin' mutant either, but yah don't see me starin' do yah?" He said, remaining really quite calm for someone in such a hurry, and with such a temper as his.

"I'm sorry, sir. So, where will it be?" She said, smiling slightly now, if only to cover her embarrassment.

"21, Seymour Lane. And get there quick will yah, I need t' see my motha'."

"Yes, sir."

And so the both of them headed off unknowingly to the start of their adventure...

He's a witless sweet-toothed farmboy with a mysterious suitcase handcuffed to his arm. She's a foxy hip-hop vampire from a secret island of warrior women. They fight crime!

"I Don't recall much o' ma first meeting with her, only tha she wanted ma briefcase pretty hurried-like. but a made a promise to ma pa ... a promise ah mean't to keep. still, she seemed pretty eager to follow me and ma briefcase after that ... now we just need t' get to the big city, even if we only travel at night time"

>>14519086

Also, sorry for it being a bit tl;dr.

I got a bit carried away.

>He's a deeply religious drug-addicted Green Beret who's haunted by memories of 'Nam. She's an elegant red headed research scientist from Aristocratic European stock. They fight crime!

...jesus christ this is terrifying but I'm playing in a game with a set up very similar to this between my character and my SO's. They even have kids.

rolled 6 = 6

He's an uncontrollable vegetarian matador on the run. She's a virginal psychic bodyguard with the power to see death. They fight crime!

..I don't have the ability to write something awesome enough for this.

>He's an obese arachnophobic assassin looking for 'the Big One.' She's a man-hating African-American former first lady from Mars. They fight crime!

I don't have a story, but I can't help but imagine that the obese assassin is one of those youtube weeaboos with their katanas and anima shirts and the man-hater has a tsundre relationship with it.

>He's an old-fashioned vegetarian cowboy in a wheelchair. She's a mistrustful tempestuous detective with only herself to blame. They fight crime!

>>14514883
...what

I love paladin mounts

>He's a suicidal alcoholic paranormal investigator who must take medication to keep him sane.
>She's a hard-bitten extravagent hooker with the power to see death.
>They fight crime!

... I could actually see this working, in a darkly hilarious Chuck Palahniuk sort of way.

He's a fiendish overambitious Green Beret fleeing from a secret government programme. She's a psychotic renegade schoolgirl from a different time and place. They fight crime!

>>14518945
>"How in the name of fuck did you see the crime?"

I fucking lol'd

>He's a suicidal white trash vampire hunter She's a transdimensional insomniac bounty hunter from aristocratic European stock. They fight crime!

"You almost got yourself killed back there! What the fuck was that? He took twelve bullets to the chest and still moved like nothing!"

"Nosferatus are hard shit yo. They killed me family. Now I just want to join 'em taking as many wit'me as I can"

"Now, that's ridiculous. I've been on places you'll never imagine, seen things most men would dismiss as madness, my deluded chap. I have never seen anything that could point that vampires exist...."

"The educated yuropean lady learn't something huh? And bitch, do you even sleep? You have keep going since 72 hours ago."

"Lately? A couple of times a month, Not much work these days."

>>14513781
Ever seen Memento?

>He's a deeply religious devious senator on the wrong side of the law.

>She's a cynical impetuous magician's assistant from a secret island of warrior women.

They fight crime!

John McCain and Wonder Woman?

OP here, goddamit, all these stories are amazing