>[ ] Walk away.
>[ ] Keep the razor.
We need to see if we can figure out exactly what the razor is, and if there is a safe way we can use it.

Also thank you for starting a bit earlier.

>>26646416
>[x ] Drag Mrs. Abbot to her manor.
>[ x] Keep the razor.
The razor could be recovered by someone who means us harm if it is thrown into the lake.

As for Abbot, Call wants her dead without her blood on his hands; he wants it on ours.

>>26646593
Well, technically I'm an hour and ten minutesish later than when I said I would start. I fear 21:00 4chan time might be the best time to start- I'll try to start earlier though, but right now, can't make promises. Sorry.

At any rate, I'll give it another five minutes, then 1d2 Abbot's fate if the tie isn't broken.

>>26646416
>[ ] Drag Mrs. Abbot to her manor.
>[ ] Keep the razor.

Keep cool and don't play into Delinard's schemes.

>>26646671
>>26646614
Abbot lives.

The razor stays.

Writing.

You look at Delinard. Pretty woman. All malice and smiles. Mrs. Abbot did kill a policeman in cold blood in front of you, did set a pack of madmen on you in a hunt, did kidnap your boss's secretary and nearly killed you.

But Delinard wants her dead. Probably a bad idea to do what she wants. You flick the razor shut, and shove it in your pocket. You're starting to get woozy. Whether from blood loss, or the adrenaline running out, you're not sure.

Delinard titters, shaking her head, "Shame there Tim. I can't protect you forever."

Mrs. Abbot looks up at you as you step unevenly to her, and with your lone good arm, grab hers. Water logged as she is, and weak as you are, it takes quite a bit of effort to drag her from the lake shore, and up on her feet, where she leans heavily on you, cut up as she is. You and her walk to the manor, feeling distinctly cold from the lake water. Mrs. Abbot stays silent the whole while, with Delinard walking after you, arms crossed, providing mocking commentary.

"You work out, Tim? Honestly, real impressive stuff you're doing here- you look like you could walk a whole block without keeling over there. I bet you lift, three, four papers a day! You know, you know she'll frame you, right? For the cop's death," Delinard jerks her head back to Officer Brian's body, "When they come asking around, who's going to get fingered?"

You ignore Delinard, walk Mrs. Abbot to her green house in the back of the manor. There are servants there, waiting gravely. A footman at the front has a revolver at his left, waiting. So much ritual, rite, and formality in these people's lives. So strange. After approaching a sufficient distance, Mrs. Abbot pushes you away, and her servants approach, all in white and black, a little cloud of hands and manners taking her away. Mrs. Abbot holds up a hand, and her servants pause. She looks to you.

"This changes nothing, taxman," She whispers, puts a hand, the one that still has fingers, up to her throat, imbalanced. Her servants hold her aloft, let her get her last word in, "You made a powerful enemy, this day," She looks back to Delinard, and her lip curls in hatred, "As did Mr. Call. I'll not forget this, skin taker."

"I didn't touch you," Delinard says impassively with a shrug, "And if this means I'm not invited to any more of your parties, I don't feel bad about that either."

Mrs. Abbot glares daggers at Delinard, then at you, before the servants take her back inside, shutting off the lights as they go. Her form goes more indistinct with every light turned off, until you can't tell the difference between her and the crowd holding her.

"Oh well," Delinard walks over, "Guess this'll be a learning experience for you. If you survive. Don't do no favors," She makes a face at you. In the moon light, it looks almost like a snarl, "Don't see what Call sees in you. Ah well," She steps away, walking briskly to the forest, "Might as well get something out of this. Remember that Mrs. Abbot didn't call of the hunt. See you around, 'taxman'."

She stressed that last part. Like she didn't believe it.

You're so tired.

>[ ] Go to your car. Go home.
>[ ] Walk home.
>[ ] Go to sleep.
>[ ] Ask Delinard for a ride home.
>[ ] Go to the manor. Ask for a phone so you can call a cab home.
>[ ] Other.

>Keeping the razor.

What the fuck is wrong with you.

>>26647184
Keeping Abbot alive was a dumb move as well. Shame I missed the vote chance. Oh well.

>>26647165
>>[ ] Go to your car. Go home.
After everything they just said, why on earth would we ask them to help us?

>>26647241
Cause our arms are fucked?

I realize it's silly, but I vote that we go in the manor, borrow a phone, and beg Ralph to give us a ride home.

>>26647165

>[ ] Go to your car. Go home.

>>26647165
>[ ] Other.
Well, let's try to get something out of keeping Mrs. Abbot alive. Wait for Delinard to leave, then make a deal with Mrs. Abbot.
Ask her how much hate she has for Mr. Call, and express some of that sentiment as well for what he did to manipulate and hypnotize Tim.

Afterwards, go to the car, then go check on Strahan and Ella. Hope Tim can drive with one arm.
And ditch the razor when we get to the BIA.

>>26647264
>>26647241
Ok.

Writing.

>>26647319
Maybe going to a hospital would be a good idea as well. You know, with our shoulder and all. And because the BIA have said they want nothing to do with us.

>>26647360

Good idea, we can probably just claim we got into a car accident

You drift for a moment. God, you wanted to sleep. You look at your left arm. Why did it start bleeding now, of all times?

You try for a few minutes to wrap it up one handed, but give up.

Hospital. Hospital. Nice doctors, in nice white coats. That's what you needed.

You stumble off, around the house, doing your best to keep focused. It's late at night. Everything of yours hurts. You round the corner, and relax the moment you see your car parked there. Crowbar. Shit, you'd left your crowbar behind. Oh, and that musket. That antique musket. Oh well.

Just get in the car, drive out.

What could go wrong?

>Give me 3 1d100 rolls, 50 and below to succeed.

Rolled 58

>>26647429
Drive safely.

Rolled 90

>>26647429
Doctortron

Rolled 84

>>26647429

>>26647452
>>26647454
>>26647456
Writing.

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>>26647452
>>26647454
>>26647456

>>26647452
>>26647454
>>26647456
Yep. We pass out from the pain and blood loss, and drive off a ditch or a bridge.
Sounds about right at this point.

>>26647505
It'd be a fitting end, to be honest. With all the silly choices everyone has made, driving off a bridge would be a good place to end it.

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"You know what the best hunters do?"

You hobble along, holding your right arm in place, trying to keep the pain from overwhelming you. Just a few more yards. That's all you ask, that's all you ask of God, the world, everyone. Just a few more yards. If you can get in your car, you can rest then. Just a bit longer.

"I asked you, Mr. Johnson, do you know what the best hunters do?"

There is an eyeless man talking to you. It sounds like an eyeless man. Talks like an eyeless man- in that nauseating, excruciatingly smug, lecturing fashion that they talk like. You nearly fall down, and spend a few terrible moments in free fall before stumbling your way back to standing up straight. Just a bit more. Just a little bit more, that's all you'll need.

"Well, Mr. Johnson, even if you won't listen, I will tell you."

Your shoes leave grass, scrape along gravel. Just a bit closer. You lean for a moment against Officer Brian's car, catch your breath, and move on, leaving a red stain behind on their fine black car. Your good hand goes in to your pocket, fishing for your car keys- it's on the wrong side, the right hand side. All you wish, all you hope for is to find your way in your car. At least let me die, far from this cursed manor.

"The best hunter knows where to wait."

You freeze at the car door. You hear a crunch of gravel behind you. Your fingers are around your keys.

A shadow is cast over you by the moon light. The tall man. The dog head. Golomir. You don't need to turn. You can smell it, that wretched scent of fear and loam.

It knew you would come here. Content to let you bleed, tire yourself out. To draw out your agony. You see in the reflection of your car's window, something very large arising behind you.

>Every choice incurs a roll. No difficulties listed.
>[ ] Run.
>[ ] Beg.
>[ ] Fight with your razor.
>[ ] Draw your gun, shoot.
>[ ] Scream for help.
>[ ] Other.

>>26647543
>>26647505

Well if we do survive maybe everyone will start treating this more like CoC and start actively avoiding situations that put us into combat because we are way fucking out of our league here.

Rolled 77

>>26647784
>[ ] Draw your gun, shoot.
I guess this is the final stand, then? It will at least attract attention, hopefully of the sort that Mrs. Abbot and company won't be able to deal with.

>>26647850
Okay. Guns blazing.

Give me 3 1d100 rolls.

Rolled 16

>>26647966
To the last.

>>26647784
>>[ ] Other.
calmly turn and greet Golomir

>>26647784
>[ ] Run.

Thanks once again, for running this.

Rolled 59

>>26647966

Rolled 60

>>26647966

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>>26647983
NOW YOU POST?

Rolled 65

>>26647966

>>26647977
>>26647991
>>26648001
One success. Writing.

>>26648003
I was having trouble deciding, alright?

Rolled 48

>>26648003
Sorry....

Do not go gentle in to that good night. If you're going to die at the hands of some cannibalistic horse legged beast, it'll be as indecorous as possible.

You leap to the left, falling on the gravel painfully, as the creature lashes out, putting its clawed fist through your driver's side window. You clamber away with your legs finding poor purchase on the loose stone, your left hand fiddling with your shoulder holster. It's hard to draw on the same side as your hand.

The creature turns, drawing its hand from your car window, a fist full of glass in its paw. Its iron teeth are bared, smiling, the lone eye in the center of its head crinkled in delight.

You draw out your gun and fire left handed, pulling the trigger until the hammer falls on nothing but air.

The first shot, by some miracle hits it, but your already weakened arm can't keep it steady past that- in your fear, you yank on the trigger without a care for recoil. In between the gun shots, you like to imagine you hear the noise of a car on the road behind you. The creature stumbles back on its equine hooves- before it rights itself, iron fanged maw open.

You eject the empty magazine, drop the gun, scrabble for another to try to load it, when the creature is on you, has you, lifting you up by your throat with one hand.

You gasp, go for the razor- but the creature has the same thought, pulling it out, holding it- and you freeze. Shiver, staring forward, feeling a numbing, awful cold. It's all you can do to try to breath- then the creature drops the razor with exaggerated delicacy, and the cold is gone, leaving you coughing and sputtering.

It's all going dark.

>[ ] Hang on.
>[ ] Just give up.
>[ ] Other.

Rolled 77

>>26648237
>>[ ] Other.
Remember what we did the last time we were in a situation like this. Think of what is important to us.

>>26648237
>[ ] Hang on.

>>26648237
>[ ] Hang on.
Hang on to its eye sockets. Preferably both of them.

Rolled 4

>>26648237
[x] Hold on, for the united states of america waits for no man.

>>26648237
>[ ] Hang on.
We still have an audit to complete.

>>26648294
Can we kick him in either his eye, or eye-socket?

Well then. If you want to try to deal some damage, might as well make it a roll.

Give me 3 1d100 rolls, 40 and below succeed.

Rolled 61

>>26648387
Nothing to lose going for it.

Rolled 89

>>26648387
all 90s

Rolled 63

>>26648387

>>26648398
>>26648395
>>26648407
Close.

The sad thing was that I was debating making it a sixty and above roll, just to see what would have happened. Course, that would have broken the spirit of the game. Writing.

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Your throat, your throat is tightening. Not big enough to let air come in to it. All you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears, and the desperate need to breath, breath, breath.

You swing out with your good arm, giving up on breaking the thing's strangle hold on your throat, but you can't reach it, or its eyes. You lash out with your legs, kicking fruitlessly- either you kick it in the chest, which doesn't seem to hurt it at all, or any kick that would reach its face gets batted aside by its good hand.

Can't breath.

Of course. Maybe if you were a soldier, you wouldn't be in this situation? You're a runty little taxman though. Just some soft little thing that looks at books and adds sums and comes knocking door to door for money.

Why was justice precious to you?

Your eye lids are getting very heavy now. You swear you can hear laughter in the back of your head now. Your eyes roll up, you only see the stars now. It's very hard, you feel, to stay in this body now, to stay Timothy. The creature gets a better grip on your throat. Your vision blurs.

There is a man out there. He has his finger on the scales. The scales should balance. They should balance. Must balance. There was a wish made. A dying man has power. When you cry out in the dark, you can only blame yourself for what answers. There is a due that must be paid, must be collected.

Something is really hoping you'll die.

>[ ] Just die.
>[ ] Just die.
>[ ] Just die.
>[ ] Just die.
>[ ] Just die.

>>26648560
>We're not dying.

Keep fighting.

>>26648560
>[ ] Fight.

>>26648560
I'm going for the fifth "Just die" choice.
If only to reflect upon killing those two in the Church while under Mr. Call's influence, personally killing one of those hoodlums, and finally getting Kevin killed.

>>26648560

FUCK YOU, DEATH.

WE'VE MADE IT THIS FAR ON SHEER STUBBORNESS AND LUCK ALONE

WE'RE NOT GOING TO GIVE UP NOW

Rolled 1

>>26648597
>>26648591
>>26648579
Okay.

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Rolled 61, 54, 77, 19, 26, 65, 94 = 396

You can see a very thin, thin, line. Like a hair. All the rest of the world is white, stark, blazing, pale white. But there's a little line there in the middle, black, for absence of anything else to compare it to.

Just a little, thin, wavering line. And, it starts to fray- to peel, to grow skinnier, peeling away, curling away, in black circles, winnowing away that line.

The space bisected does not look different at all from each other. Just that bright white light. But there is a difference. And you know they should not meet.

There is a turn, the vision goes askew- like film going off the track of the projector. There is a man poling along a boat, on a great and bleak river, you can see, working in to the frame, as above, so below-

And then you can breath again, and you flop on to hard gravel, feeling bone crack beneath your shoulder, and you have never felt so good in your life.

"Get away from him!" You hear bellowed. Blinking away the dirt, and regaining your sight, there is a third car. Cadillac Suburban. Your throat and lungs burn like fire, as you gasp, breath in.

India. India has men that fast themselves to death, to bring enlightenment, and leave this world free of despair. To work off their sins. Read it in a book once- sallekhana? Perhaps? There is something so frightful, and so special about dancing with death. You have the frightful realization that part of you was extremely comforted, there on the threshold of death.

But the majority of you knows that you have a duty to fulfill. Your hand scrapes on the gravel, as you try to lever yourself up, gasping.

A big man in a suit has tackled the creature in to your car. A tie flies behind him like a comet. From the Suburban, you hear somebody calling a name. Mr. Johnson.

>[ ] Crawl to the voice.
>[ ] Find your razor.
>[ ] Lay still. Get your bearings.
>[ ] Other.

>>26648864
>[ ] Find your razor.
>[ ] Crawl to the voice.

Have we paid our price yet?

Rolled 100

>>26648893
Fuck off with the razor.
>>26648864
[x] Sit up, lean on our car for support.

>>26648864
>find your razor

>>26648864
>as above, so below-
The second time I've read this in this quest.
Reminds me of some foundations of Feng-Shui or some such.
Though, I don't know how prevalent that is in 1920s Chinatowns...

>[ ] Crawl to the voice.
Whoever it is, he (or she?) is pretty much our only hope here.

>>26648864
>[ ] Find your razor.
Even if it is bad for us we can't leave it here. We have powerful enemies here who would use it to hunt us down, as well as the issue of the police. Our fingerprints are all over the razor and it has been used to murder several men.

>>26648913
Fine.

>>26648926
>>26648914
>>26648893
Razor dazer. Be back in twenty or so minutes, gotta cook dinner.

Your razor. Your razor!

You ignore your pain, the exhaustion, how heavy everything is, and crawl, one armed. Where did it go? Where is your razor- it dropped it, around here somewhere. Your dizzy, unfocused eyes try to focus.

There is a howling noise, then the noise of protesting steel as the man in the suit gets a grip on Golomir's head, and bashes it in to the hood of your car. The dog headed thing braces against the hood of the car, growling, before viciously lashing back with a free elbow, sending the man stumbling back, and over you. Fat man, looked livid, a moustache- Ralph? Ralph Buhl? He rolls out of the way as the snarling monster leaps for him, kicking something- your razor!

Ralph rises to his fight, bringing his fists up like a boxer- looks like he has some knuckle dusters on. Bleeding out of the corner of his mouth, but Golomir's lip is torn back, iron teeth showing, it stalks forward, as Ralph waits.

Who cares? Your razor waits. You were safe, as long as you held your razor. Really, this isn't paranoia, or supernatural influence, so far it's the only weapon that you've got that's helped you against all this weird, unnatural crap.

"Mr. Johnson!" You hear again from the car. Sounds like the Strahan boy. Don't care.

You clamber forward, with one arm, stretching, reaching for the razor, as Mr. Buhl rushes the monster at the last moment, getting his hands on its torn lapels, and trying to heave it down to the ground. The thing's claws are digging into his face.

Your fingers wrap around the cold steel, and all of a sudden, everything's okay again.

>[ ] Get up. Try to help Ralph with your razor. 3 1d100 rolls, 40 and below succeed.
>[ ] Get to the car with the Strahan kid. You'll just get in the way otherwise.
>[ ] Get to your own car. You can't trust the Strahan boy.
>[ ] Other.

>>26649706
>[ ] Get to the car with the Strahan kid. You'll just get in the way otherwise.

>>26649706
>[ ] Get to the car with the Strahan kid. You'll just get in the way otherwise.

i don't know who is messing with this quest thread with people wanting that damn razor, QM, please keep in mind i feel we might have a spoiler anon in here that does that just to screw this quest up.

>>26649706
>[ ] Get to the car with the Strahan kid. You'll just get in the way otherwise.

>>26649706
>[ ] Get to the car with the Strahan kid. You'll just get in the way otherwise.
>[ ] Other.

Have Strahan drive by with one back door open, then pull Mr. Buhl into the car. And make the get-away.
Turn the monster dog into roadkill, if necessary.

>>26649739
>>26649803
>>26649810
>>26649814
Writing.

>>26649842
(sorry i am late to the thread, i often find my self at my Pathfinder game on thuesday nights so i often return midway though. but i have been here from day one QM)

Rolled 11, 22, 73, 15, 45, 17 = 183

>shit forgot to roll something on my end. Sorry folks.

Rolled 4

"Fuck's sake, Johnson!"

You blink away your reverie, look back to the car, see the Strahan boy has come out of the car. You hide your razor immediately, has he grabs your hand and shoulder, getting you up, and over to the car.

"Mr. Buhl! I got him!" He shouts over his shoulder. Buhl gives a grunt in reply, sweating and straining at the tall man's strength. He tries to step off to the right, but this unbalances him, gets him hurled to the ground by the monster. It dives in, jaws wide. Ralph lifts an arm, cries out as the monster bites deep, but kicks the creature free, and scrabbles for the car.

You know better than to tarry Strahan. The moment you get on to your feet, you rush for the car, stumbling, shaking bloody left arm pulling open the back door, then, after a moment's though, the passenger side front door, and then you dive in to the back. The college kid does his part as well, rushing for the driver's side door, starting the car.

Ralph stumbles to his feet, running for the car the dog headed beast hot on his heels. He slides across your car's hood, the creature behind him snatching after it, sending up peeled paint with its claws. It's jaws clank with fury, the ragged chunk of Ralph's arm chewed and squirting blood. Strahan pulls toward Ralph, letting him swing in. Golomir stands tall on the opposite side of your car, lone eye glowing with hate.

You're tempted to ask Strahan to drive in to him, but Strahan nearly stalls the car in his rush to get away.

"Fucking go!" Ralph roars in Strahan's ear, not really helping. The car makes an anguished noise as the boy pushes the pedal to the metal, and then it's roaring off, down the drive way. Away from your car, and your gun.

"Mr. Johnson?" That's Ralph talking to you, "You okay?"

>[ ] "Doctor. I need a doctor."
>[ ] "Ellie? Where's Ellie?"
>[ ] "They were hunting people out there, Ralph."
>[ ] "I'm fine."
>[ ] "You're about to hit me, aren't you?"
>[ ] Other.

>>26650223
[x] "Ellie? Where's Ellie?"
[x] "You're about to hit me, aren't you?"
[x] Other
"Mr. Tom is most cross with me, isn't he?"

>>26650223
>[ ] "Doctor. I need a doctor."
Scratch that, both need a doctor.

>>26650223
>[ ] "Ellie? Where's Ellie?"
>[ ] "They were hunting people out there, Ralph."
>Other
"I have a broken arm, but i'll Live i think. Thanks for saving me there."
Also, once we get clear. ask if we stepped into deep this time and messed everything up, or cleared out a problem.

>>26650223
>[ ] "Doctor. I need a doctor."
>[ ] "They were hunting people out there, Ralph."
>[ ] Other
After we have the minimum amount of conversation we nap. Ralph is a friend, and Strahan is an ally. We can trust them to keep us safe while we get the rest we desperately need.

>>26650315
don't sleep yet. we can't affored to sleep till we get to a safer place. that and find a way to break the curse that &^%$ razor blade as over us! Mr. Tom might know what to do about it.

Rolled 2

>>26650260
>>26650277
>>26650312
>>26650315
Right, well, conversations.

You have time for one question. I'll roll among the three that were chosen twice.
>Ellie
>Doctor
>Hunting

>>26650364
pardon my languge. this is rather frustrating we are so in the dark here and way over our head. I think it's time to recoup, learn the whole deal, and get some training in. It might be time to take some built up vaction time from the IRS to do so.

>>26650364
If we tell them to take us to Tom and wake us when we get there sleeping could be helpful. It saves our energy and makes it less likely for us to fall asleep while talking to Tom. Which means we get more information and have a clearer mind about how to present our arguments and get rid of the damned razor.

>>26650396
can we add the extras in as well?

>>26650405
>learn the whole deal, and get some training in
Training with who?
We did fail the entrance exam for the Bureau, and Call is the only other person who might have used us, and we probably pissed him off fairly badly with not killing Abbot.

>>26650414
good point. i do HOPE he IS taking us to Mr. Tom.

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Ha ha, Tax Quest!

>>26650466
basic shooting training, phyical work out to improve our condision ( a desk job does not make you stronger, faster or etc), learn how to sneak/tail someone better. we might not become a G-man, but that alone will help. i hate to think we are becoming a bull in the china shop with what we have done.

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>>26650483
welcome back Mr. Red.

We really need to ditch this fucking razor. It's only going to cause problems we saw how the ither guy that owned it was! Also how th hell are we gonna dig ourselves out of the hole we're in now? I mean we really fucked up in a few places. I feel like the BIA isn't going to help mop up our mistakes...

We really need to ditch this fucking razor. It's only going to cause problems we saw how the other guy that owned it was! Also how the hell are we gonna dig ourselves out of the hole we're in now? I mean we really fucked up in a few places. I feel like the BIA isn't going to help mop up our mistakes...

>>26650483
Red.
>>26650564
Kuwagama.

Anyway, I've got to duck out soon, hopefully you'll still be going when I get back later.

Oh and try not to devolve into an argument like last thread will you?

>>26650572
considering we might have kicked off a supernatural gang war, Mr. Tom MIGHT have a use for our MC as a loose cannon some how. i do worry about Ellie and what happened to her.

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>>26650525
I don't think this is that kind of quest. It hasn't looked nearly like such a straight line to me.

Dumbass.

And we should have asked about Ellie first.

>>26650638
>>26650638
I'm just worried we've really goofed. We killed a man with a obviously wicked razor. Who knows what long term affects that's going to cause. Along with what we just did to Abbot and how our choices basically lead to Brian's death. My god Ellie is going to be devastated.

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Internal Revinue, I just want to say that Ralph is the man!

>>26650697
>Brian's death
His character description is literally one word: Idiot.

There's no saving schmuck bait, only enduring the fallout.

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>>26650671
i KNOW! Ellie is the only other person who can vouce for us if we get grilled on the mayhem that went down tonight.

as to this quest. it might be allowed. we learned how to work with a thompson gun better when we tried. I would like to hear from our QM to clearify this question.

>>26650749
It was three, Stupid, heroic and Gloryseeker.

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>>26650735
I agree with you there!

>>26650749
I know I just feel really bad about it. Even though it was heavily hinted that he might have been connected to some sketchy stuff. Poor Ellie... But us holding onto the razor is a bad idea we really got to get rid of it. Fuck I hope what we did isn't going to put us on even worse grounds with the BIA. We're going to need to navigate this very carefully.

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"Doctor," You swallow, you've got a lot to say, but just say the most important thing first. Ralph leans forward, cursing at his arm, popping open the glove compartment, "I need a doctor, no we both need doctors, my arm-"

"Yeah, figures you'd say that," Ralph interrupts, as he turns around, grabbing your shirt by the tie, and dragging you in painfully close. He looks- it's hard to describe. Angry. His eyes are watering. Must be from the pain, "You fucking idiot," He whispers to you, breath stinking of chewing tobacco, "Strahan! Keep your eyes on the road!" The Strahan boy looks away from the scene, going back to driving, as Ralph reaches with his other hand some sort of damp rag, and presses it over your mouth.

"We'll get you treated," Ralph hisses, as you struggle against him with your hand, "You idiot."

Chloroform. Probably isn't the best thing for a person that's lost a great deal of blood.

It's an awkward scene, as you flop in the back seat, trying to pull away from the rag as Ralph switches from strangling you with your tie to holding the back of your head hard against the rag. You hold your breath, hold it as long as you can- then you breathe.

"Easy, easy- what'd I say! Eyes on the road, moron!" Strahan swerves out of oncoming traffic.

You've been passing out way too much lately. Maybe a quick nap would invigorate you. Your eyes shut.

You dream of drowning in a river. Eyeless men watching from the shore, pencils and sketching pads at the ready. A young boy, with a distinctive handsome face is in a boat, over you. Reaching in to the water.

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>>26650840
>>26650803
And people think we can save that?

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>>26650780
We should have talked to her because as a character, Tim obviously cares about her. I don't mean he's in love with her or any bullshit. But he went FAR out of his way to save her. He pushed himself to save her and to try and save Brian, and thematically, we should have been more concerned about her than ourselves.

Whatever happened to us, we had coming because of our actions. What happened to her was because of us. The accounts are quite unbalanced.

You come to, cold water splashing over your face.

"Finally up," You hear Tom's voice. You blink- you can't see. Bag over your head. Burlap. You flex your left arm- find it bound. Same for your legs. Tied to a chair, if you had to guess. Rough rope rubs along your wrist, and on something else on your wrist. Bandages? "Ralph, give me the razor. Oh, also, a light."

Your jacket is gone. You're just down to your undershirt. You pull around your head, try to listen. You're somewhere that sounds small. Noise doesn't travel far. It's claustrophobic. Smells a little moldy. Behind the burlap, there is light.

You hear heavy footfalls to your right. Hear a rattle- sounds like something in a tin can. It ends somewhere where Tom's voice was. Then the noise of a match catching, and the smell of smoke.

"Thank you Ralph," A long, contented sigh from Tom, "Go get Munro for me, would you?"

Silence. Then the heavy footfalls pass you, and a door creaks open, and shuts.

The gentle noise of a cigarette burning is all you hear for a while. Then, Tom speaks.

"Tim- no, no, sorry. Mr. Johnson. What am I, again?" You inhale, but before you can say anything, you hear Tom shout, "Rather, more importantly, what am I not?" A few steps forward, "Not a FUCKING DOCTOR!"

Your ears ring a bit. Tom breathes in something, then the smell of smoke reaches your nose.

"Try something, Mr. Johnson. Try imagining, the upset I felt when Eric god damn Strahan shows up to my door, with a god damn woman missing a leg," He sniffs, "Seemed scared though. Points for that, Tim."

"So," You the can click, slightly, then a drawer being pulled open. Then something heavy, scraping from the bottom of the drawer. The noise of a spring, being pulled, "Tell me. Why send her here? There's these things known as hospitals. They have doctors."

>[ ] "You helped me.
>[ ] "I can do whatever you want, just help her."
>[ ] "I have an arm broken, tying me up seems a bit much."
>[ ] "Where's the razor?"
>[ ] Other.

>>26650876
>[ ] "You helped me.
>[ ] "I can do whatever you want, just help her."

And that's all from me folks, see you around.

>>26650905
Sorry that you had to leave on this note.

>>26650914
Its fine, I have to leave this time, almost every time. And that annoys me, but that's how it works, isn't it?

>>26650876
[x] "Believe me, the doctor was my first choice, but it wasn't. Intruding on your hospitality is impolite, and I regret doing so."
[x] "I can do whatever you want, just help her."

>>26650876
>[ ] "You helped me.
>[ ] Other.
Bring up points about the fact that a hospital would ask questions about the wounds, where they came from, and get more policemen involved in the supernatural.

>>26650876
>[x] "You helped me.
>[x] Other.
"And you can do what doctors cannot. Is that not correct? I was afraid that more might be wrong with her than just the missing leg."

>>26650876
>[ ] "I can do whatever you want, just help her."
>[ ] Other.

Strahan seems to be under their jurisdiction or whatever, judging from how spooked Tom is right now.
Ella's just caught up in it and can't very well go to the hospital alone with a missing leg. So send her off to a hospital right away afterwards.

Also, Strahan made a promise/deal with Tim.

>>26650876
"I don't... Yeah. A hospital... It's not that easy any more Tom. I'm- I'm sorry, Mr. Tom. It's just isn't. I don't know who you are, or what your bureau REALLY does. But I do know a lot more things now than I did a week ago. I know about God forsaken ... not people, that live out in the woods, hunting men. Eating them. I know about monsters now. REAL monsters. REAL evil. I feel like it's so prevalent, so thick, that it's all coming in on me now. Like I'm gonna drown on it. All of it. All this new truth. This real world.

Ellie. God damn Ellie. Is she okay? Did you help her? Of please God, please Mr. Tom. Tell me she's okay. I just, I knew she wouldn't understand. I don't even pretend to understand, and I knew. No, I didn't know. I had an idea though. I had a fear, of what we were getting into going there. She was just like a little girl though. Playing cops and robbers. She didn't deserve any of that. And she wouldn't understand any of it. And neither would any hospital in Detroit. What was she going to tell them, huh? The doctors? That some fucking monsters out in the dark had hurt her? Huh? What was I supposed to do!?"

>>26650876
>Other
"Sorry about this Mr. Johnson, when i asked for a doctor, i was not thinking about your skills at the time. none the less, here I am. It is probably better that we wound up here anyway. Ellie and myself saw quite a lot tonight. I was worried Ellie might say too much in a normal Hospital. It would be better to not let this spread too far to the open public."
and also.
"i think that razor is cursed me, i need to get rid of it before things get worse."

Okay. A lot to adapt. Theme seems to be, "You helped me, and I'm sorry, I would have gone to a hospital but it's not that easy. Whatever you do, just help Ella."

Writing.

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>>26651088

>>26651013
>>26651049
man, lets put both of these together!

>>26651088
and ask about that cursed razor and how to break it away from us!

You lean back your head, stare up. The bulb is above you. Your right arm. They didn't bother to tie it, it's hanging loose to your right. You wince when you test it. Nope. Not fixed. It takes you a minute to find your voice. Tom sighs in annoyance, and you smell another gout of smoke. Makes you cough a bit.

"Yeah, hospital. I would have, I would've sent her there. But did Strahan already tell you about what happened back at Mrs. Abbot's place?"
"I wasn't asking about Mrs. Abbot-"
"They hunt people out there," You stay calm. Stay collected. Stay rational, "They, they had her, and Officer Brian-"
"I was asking about why you sent-"
"I sent her to you, because, I didn't want to risk her getting picked up at the hospital!" You wait. Wait for Tom's rebuke, but he's silent. You forge on, "It's just insane. Outside of Detroit, a private wood, devoted to hunting human beings. Doesn't seem like something you'd hear about in America. And," You shake your head, "They acted like, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. That's why I asked Strahan to send Ellie to you, because- well, you helped me."

"Not willingly," Tom mumbles, but doesn't say much else.
"Yeah, not willingly. But, I was worried if I sent her to a normal hospital, she wouldn't have made it back out. That maybe somebody would have been there to pick her up, or she would have mentioned the wrong thing, and had to have been-"
"Yeah, yeah," Tom interrupts, but without venom, "I get it, I get it."

You hear his foot steps walk away from you, then a gentle creak of a desk as he leans on it.

"I'm still not a doctor, y'know."
"She doesn't know anything Tom, she's hardly involved. I went in eyes wide open, but she- look, do whatever to me, but she never should have been involved."
"Doesn't take a genius to guess that one," There's a rustle of papers, then Tom starts reading, " 'Eleanor Peavy, secretary employed by IRS. Engaged to Officer Brian,' " A flap, as the paper goes down on the desk, "How's he doing?"

>[ ] "Dead."
>[ ] "Murdered by Mrs. Abbot."
>[ ] "I...Screwed up."
>[ ] "I lost track of him."
>[ ] "Before I say anything else, please, just tell me, is Ellie okay?"
>[ ] Other.

>>26651312
[x] "Dead."

>>26651347
Shake our head. "You already know."

>>26651347
>[ ] "Before I say anything else, please, just tell me, is Ellie okay?"
Assurances and small comforts before we spill the bad news, and be reminded of our own failings.

>>26651347
>[ ] "I...Screwed up."

>>26651347
>[ ] "Dead."
>[ ] "Murdered by Mrs. Abbot."
both of these can be used.

>>26651389
we can ask about her and admit we messed up after we get Mr. Johnson's response.
>>26651383
no he doesn't we need to tell him

Deaded. Writing.

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>>26651475

Gotta pass out, but thought I would drop something off. Thanks for running the quest, IR.

>>26651581
Awesome! The first Tax Quest fanart.
Thank you and excellent work, good sir.

Rolled 39

>>26651475
Yeah after this next post i think i will go to bed too

>>26651581
whoa, this is awesome! IR, note this! only the few truely great Quests get their own fan art!

"Dead."

Just be straightforward. You can't blame any one else, or permit yourself to fall in to self pity. It's as simple as a number on the page.

"Tut tut, Mr. Johnson," Another creak, as Tom steps away from the desk, "A police officer, fallen in the line of duty. I suppose the hunters got him?"
"Mrs. Abbot, to be specific- we'd nearly got away, and then she-"
"Spare me the details," You hear a glass being pulled, and then the noise of something being poured.
"Is Ella alright then?"
"Well," A slurping noise, "Not dead. I think Strahan might have fucked up something though, in the process."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, she hasn't woken up yet. Fine for me, but, well, I'm not a doctor. Don't know how good it is to be under that long."
"Tom, enough about not being a doctor, just, why don't you-"
"I have a few tricks to help with numbing, with wound sealing. But Strahan already did what he could, and apparently, did a bad job of it," Silence, as Tom considers matters, then sighs, "Christ. Enough of this shit," You hear the clatter of a drink being set down, and then footsteps approach, and a bag is pulled from your eyes, leaving you blinking in the sudden light.

Tom is holding on to a mauser, leaving it hanging by his side. He looks down on you, sadly, shakes his head.

"You never should have gotten her, or her would be husband involved, Mr. Johnson."
"They approached me-"
"I get it, I really do. But you went, to a bad, bad place, Mr. Johnson. Take her to a hospital, huh? Also-"

You can barely see beyond the light that's around you. Tom walks out of the light, grabs something that rattles, and walks back. Mauser gone, tin can, with your razor rattling in it to replace the pistol.

"Take your razor with you. I don't want to keep it."

>[ ] "No."
>[ ] "What the Hell is that anyway?"
>[ ] "Of course."
>[ ] "There's no magic that can heal?"
>[ ] Other.

>>26651581
>I am as giddy as a high school cheer squad. Thank you! It's excellent! I'm saving that.

>>26651581
>>26651670
Also, sorry everyone going to bed. I think I'll keep this puttering along for another hour, but at least we're out of the woods.

>>26651742
>[ ] "What the Hell is that anyway?"
Hell probably being a key word here.

>[ ] Other. "I don't think I want to keep it either."
State our intention to ditch it.

>>26651742
>[ ] "What the Hell is that anyway?"
>Other "i don't want either! but it's doing something to my mind. it isn't right!"

>>26651742
"Neither do I."

>>26651742
oh yea, tell Tom about what Mr. Call did to us!

Just say no to razors. Writing.

>>26651834
that razor is a super natural meth. we need to get clean even if we have to go cold turkey.

>>26651860
The important thing is that it is disposed of properly, instead of being left around for our enemies to acquire.

Abbot, for instance. We will kill her, but only in self-defense. We will not go after her, though she will undoubtedly come after us. We must keep our accounts balanced.

>>26651879
it would be better if Abbot and Call killed each other off. and just maybe they will.

>>26651767
I just got up, so do continue if you're still good.
Also:
[x] What the hell is that thing anyway?

>>26651767
this /tg/ IR people are on 24/7. remember you are doing internationally.

>>26651742
What the hell is that anyways? It has a strange aura...
And then take it back anyways.

>>26651834
Thanks if you are continuing, if not, I had a fun read ;P

>>26652078
NOPE! don't touch it again. leave it alone!

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"I don't want it either," It catches light strange, this thing. Very tempting little tool. Quite a good tutor. You shiver, as you remember the man's gurgled cries as you slit his throat. Green eyes. Orange hair. Mole mask.

Tom raises an eyebrow, "Really? Ralph was scared of you grabbing it. Chloroformed you for it. Said you were pretty good with it."
"What is it?" You can't stop looking at the thing, force yourself to look up at Tom. Tom's raised an eyebrow. He steps back out of the light, you hear the noise of a chair being dragged over. A heavy wood chair, just like the one you were in. Tom sits in the chair, setting the can down between the two of you. Careful not to touch the razor at all.

"I don't really know," Tom says, looking down. He shrugs, "We had a bunch of these, floating around about a month or two back. From what I heard, it has to do with ghosts," He looks up at you, seeing if you'd laugh. You don't make a move. Tom nods, relieved, "Right, good, anyway, there's usually supposed to be two parts to them- a little bit of fools gold, and then the tool. Usually, they're knives, or guns, or other things made directly to kill," Tom leans down, lifts up the can, and leans it in to you, "Not like this. I mean, the others, they bought- this one, this one was made."

He sets down the can, looks at you, "It's giving you bad dreams then?" Not really a question, the way he said that.

"It has been influencing me," You're irritated just saying that, "I don't want to be influenced."
"Fair enough, fair enough- expensive looking thing. Very well made. Usually, these things come apart at the seams- and influencing you? That's kind of funny actually," Tom gives a grin, "You don't have any fool's gold on you, do you? Ah, I'm sure you know," Tom pushes the can aside gently with his shoe, stands up, goes around you, untying you, "I'm sure you'd know that at any rate, hm?"

>>26652139
we did find that ring in Abbot's basment/bone yard. ask Mr. Johnson about.

The door creaks open, letting in white light- and you see the BIA office you were in earlier- guess you're off in one of the side rooms, and you see Ralph there, with a craggy faced man behind him. Ralph hesitates, then excuses himself as soon as he sees you, leaving the older, beak nosed man there. He scowls at the sight of you. Vest, trousers, and shirt, all pinstripe, a jacket in his left hand. He's visibly sweating.

"I was sleeping, Tom."
"Of course Bill," Tom draws away the last of the ropes from you, letting you stand up, "My friend here needs a sling."
Mr. Munro's scowl deepens, "He needs a coroner. He's about to keel over, an-"
"Bill, you can fix a sling if you can treat a bullet wound," Tom turns to you, "As soon as you're done, come to my office. I'll let you see Ellie, if I don't get another patient," Tom walks past Munro, "Earn your pay check, Bill."

"I put in my hours already tonight!" Shouts Mr. Munro after Tom, before he turns to you, sour and mad, "God damn indian giving. Okay," Munro turns on the light, revealing the room- a little affair. Looks like a bottle of water, a glass left on the desk next to a mauser, and the rest is bare stone. Munro steps past, walking to the desk, opening it up with practiced care, and draws out a sling, and a little needle. You turn down the morphine offer. You have had enough done to your system tonight as it is.

Excruciating. But, it ends. And your right arm doesn't flop about so much any more. Munro recommends you see a real doctor, though, he "wouldn't see any future for that shoulder outside of it going to the chopping block, probably infected to hell and back anyway." Mr. Munro, after leaving you with that good cheer, makes for the door.

Charming fellow, Mr. Munro.

>[ ] Go see Tom immediately. Ellie can't wait.
>[ ] Go see Dorothy. You learned gun maintenance already from her.
>[ ] Go find Ralph. See why he did what he did.
>[ ] Go find this Eric Strahan. Find out what's so important about him.
>[ ] Other.

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>>26652139
>He steps back out of the light, you hear the noise of a chair being dragged over. A heavy wood chair, just like the one you were in
Well fuck. We can't touch that blade now.

>>26652194
I...don't get it?

>>26652179
>[ ] Go see Tom immediately. Ellie can't wait.
if that doesn't work out.
>[ ] Go find this Eric Strahan. Find out what's so important about him.
ask him what happened while we were under if we can.

>>26652227
Lame joke involving chairs and fruitknives that can cut through anything with the special eyes of the protagonist.

>>26652227
it's a Visual Novel. go ask in /jp/ about it.

>>26652179
>[ ] Go find Ralph. See why he did what he did.
We need to thank him, at least. Then...

>[ ] Go find this Eric Strahan. Find out what's so important about him.
There's a slim chance we could keep Mrs. Abbot off our back with his help, but I'm not too optimistic about it.

>>26652179
Go see Dorothy. See if we can improve our skills a bit.

>>26652254
Oh god.

THERE'S NO ESCAPING NASU

THIS IS JUST 1920s TSUKIHIME

>>26652179
>[x] Go see Tom immediately. Ellie can't wait.

>>26652281
>>26652249
Talkin' to Tom. Writing.

Also, how much later do you guys want to go on?

>>26652300
let us have a few more talks and visets if we can. then close it for the night.

>>26652300
I can't go any further.

>>26652300
You can pretty much go on forever.

>>26652300
I'm up as long as you are good sir.

Also im reading the archives now so I'm not completely caught up.

>>26652300
I'm wide awake.

>>26652300
Just end it if people stop posting. They won't. Another favorite quest of mine goes on til 5:00am routinely and survives because of the Australians and the Eurofags.

>>26652300
Well, my day goes on for another 12 hours, so have at it!

You go through the office. Again, it impresses you how big of a building it is for how few people there are. You awkwardly fish in your pocket for your watch- 12:38AM. You double check it against a clock, which states it is 12:39AM. An acceptable divergence. You snap the watch shut, and slip it in your pocket, then go to see Tom. Ella can not wait.

Tom is sitting behind a desk, nursing a cup of coffee, and scratching at a note pad. He looks up as you enter, and folds the pad shut, shoving it under some papers.

"Straight away, hm? Good to see that Munro was willing to help you."
"He said that he doubted I'd ever get use out of this arm again."
"Is that so?" Tom looks sympathetic for a second or two, before rising from his desk, "Well, at any rate, you probably want to see Ella. Still unconscious-" He steps out of his office, leading the way to the back, to a door next to Dorothy's, "Which really might be for the best."

He gives a few quick raps at the door. You glance behind you, you see the brick faced man at his desk, in quiet, urgent conversation with Ralph. Eric Strahan sits nearby against a wall, looking distinctly miserable. You try to make out what they're saying, before Tom nudges you, "C'mon, she's waiting."

You linger a bit at the door way. Clearly, this room wasn't made for this. A desk has been cleared, with some cushions laid upon it. Ellie is set on it, with a blanket over her. There is a dreadful asymmetry to her legs. Where a foot should be, the blanket lays flat.

She is very pale, very still. But at least she still draws breath.

"She started bleeding, a little while ago," Tom turns his head, glances out of the door, points, "Smith! Why are you lollygagging? Hurry up!" He shuts the door before a reply could be formulated, goes back to looking respectful, "Sorry, sorry. Anyway, we dressed the wound, stopped the bleeding."
"But she won't wake up?"
"Not yet," Tom shakes his head, "You've done what you can. Time has to run its course now."

You both contemplate her for a time, before Tom speaks again, clearing his throat, "You need a ride home probably, right?"

>[ ] "I can call a cab on my own."
>[ ] "I've walked plenty tonight. A few more miles couldn't hurt."
>[ ] "Yes. I suppose I would need a ride home."
>[ ] "Can't I stay a while longer?"
>[ ] Other.

>>26652446
>[ ] "Can't I stay a while longer?"
>[ ] Other.
Ask what will happen to Strahan, and why Ralph came to our rescue.

>>26652446

[x] What will happen with ms Abbot and Dellinard now? What's Call gonna do?

>>26652446
[x] "I can call a cab on my own."
[x] Other
"When will it be safe to have her moved to a hospital?"
We've already used up the Bureau's resources and we're not even an agent; worse, we FAILED their entrance exam in a spectacular fashion.
We really shouldn't be abusing their hospitality.

>>26652446
[ ] "I can call a cab on my own."

>>26652532
>>26652491
>>26652484
>>26652479
Cab calling, and throwing in questions as well.

>>26652446
Can't I stay a little longer?

"When can you move her to a hospital?"
Tom shrugs, "As soon as I can come up with an alibi for a one legged woman," You look beleaguered at Tom, "Look, my badge can only take me so far."
"And, then what happens to her?"
"She gets her leg taken care of, and learns to ignore constant pirate jokes."
"And Mrs. Abbot? She, she just gets away with this?"
"Well, not exactly. She killed a cop. Unless she can get a fall guy for that, one of her own will give her a talking to," Tom turns away from Ella, "You mind if we leave Ellie be? I'm getting a bit creeped out looking at her."
"Fair enough," You follow Tom outside of the room. Ralph and Smith have gone. Strahan is still there, while the man in the thin mustache talks to him.

"What about him?" You nod to Eric Strahan. Strahan looks your way for a moment, before Tom shoots him a glare. Eric returns to staring at the floor.
"I'm sure his father, or one of his servants will be along soon to pick him up. I gave him the phone, and heard him talking to his family. I don't touch 'em."
"And I'm guessing, Eric came by and told you I was trouble?"
"Not exactly. He brought Ella, mentioned he was working with you- got a bit peeved when we told him you don't work for us. Went to leave, but Ralph got pissed, asking what was going on," Tom chuckles, "After asking my permission, he dragged the kid to the car, and got rolling to the manor."
"I thought you said you were only in collections."
"We are. But, Ralph suddenly thought you might have known where Albigram's second payment was. Didn't feel like standing in the way of a hunch. So," Tom looks up at you, "Anything else?"

"No, thank you sir. I'm sorry for intruding so long. I'll just call a cab."
Tom shrugs, "Suit yourself. I'll call a tow for your car then."
He leaves the fact that he knows where you live unspoken. You call a cab. It'll be here soon.

>[ ] Talk to Dorothy and Eric (I presume you'll want to talk to both)
>[ ] Just head home.
>[ ] Other.

>>26652661

Give courteous goodbye, but do not tarry long. We've had enough and need to recuperate.

The State might not sleep, but Its servants need to in order to be able to perform at topmost efficacy

>>26652661
>[x] Just head home.
As tempting as it is to talk with Dorothy and Eric, remember that we made them work overtime, probably without pay, and we've done nothing but make their lives more busy and miserable.
We are not well-liked around the Bureau, and we really need to stop effectively pissing in their office coffee machine.

>>26652661
>[ ] Talk to Dorothy and Eric (I presume you'll want to talk to both)

But first.
>[ ] Other
Mention the fast rotting of our teeth, and the presence of Delinard the skin taker at Ms. Abott's.

>>26652682
addendum: commend Eric for staying true to his word and thank him for helping save Ella.

>>26652661

These >>26652687 >>26652692

We don't know if it's relevant information, but it's the least we can part with for now.
And I'm pretty sure Mrs. Abbot pleaded for mercy. Dunno if sparing her might count as a deal at this point though, and if it'll keep her off our back.

>>26652682
>>26652683
>>26652687
Oh yeah, Delinard was in the listed questions. Dang it, sorry I didn't mention that. I'll tack that on.

Otherwise, it seems the consensus is to take a cab ride ho-
>>26652740
Dang it. Give it another two minutes, then 1d2.

>>26652661
>[ ] Just head home.

>>26652770
Calling it for heading home, asking a quick Delinard question, and giving a thank you to Eric.

"Thank you for calling the tow- one last thing."
"Yes?"
"Have you heard of some woman named Delinard?" You remove your glasses, rub them on the rare clean spot on your shirt, "She apparently was described as some sort of skin thief."

Tom clenches his fists at that, and a dark look passes across his face, "Yeah. Delinard. I've heard of her," He says something in a strange language, rolling off the tongue unpronouncably, "One of Call's. What'd she want?"
"Well, near as I could tell," You replace your glasses, "She was hoping I would kill Mrs. Abbot."
"And you didn't, right?"
"Of course not, I'm no assassin," Aside from that one man.
"I see," Tom smiles at this, "Thank you. That's very interesting. Heh," He shakes his head, "No idea what he's up to. Well, BIA stuff this, can't confide in much more. Thank you for letting me know though," He glances over your shoulder, "It's late. If you don't mind-"
"No, no, not at all," You wave your hand, equally exhausted, "I'm just glad that you're letting me go here."
"Like I said," Tom turns, walks for his office, "I'm just in collections. Anything criminal is up to the police. I'll leave it up to you, Mrs. Abbot, and Delinard to determine if you want them involved."

You'll take that for a compliment from Tom. One last thing, before you go. You approach Strahan, him sitting on the chair, nervously picking at a loos strand on his sweater, under the lazy gaze of the blonde man at his desk. Eric sits up at the sight of you. You raise your good hand.

"Thank you for keeping your word, Mr. Strahan."
He looks left and right, and then says, "Wasn't nothing. What kind of man wouldn't?"

The mustached man gives a short, bitter bark of laughter. You don't delve too much in to the meaning. A final nod to Eric, then you walk out front.

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It doesn't take overly long for the cab to arrive. Ten dollars for a cab ride. A rip off, but one you can't bear to argue at the moment. $22.78 left in your wallet- not bad really.

Once you're home you update your journal, tally the logs. You're remarkably tired. Your dog was sleeping when you first arrived, but soon it's up whimpering and pawing at you. You pat it on the head, turn off the light, and go in to bed.

The eyeless men are waiting on the other side. A sea suits and boater hats, and you nestled under the great machine. It feels remarkably cold here.

There is a figure at the head of the eyeless men. You can make up more details. Different from the others. A peaked cap, boots with spurs. A long coat, the sort you'd see stained in mud and blood. His heads rest on a sheathed cutlass, set before him, point down in to the ground. Not a color you could ascribe to him, not even white, or black. Just gray, and only then, for lack of anything else.

The machine above you sparks, and the eyeless man asks you a question. Do you respect the laws of the United States of America?

>[ ] Yes.
>[ ] No.
>[ ] Don't give them a response.
>[ ] Other.

>>26653072
>[ ] Yes.

>>26653072
>[ ] Yes.
And if this is about offing that one guy, he was hunting for us, Kevin and Ella, so we can stuff that under self-defense.

>>26653072

We're a tax man. Naturally we do.

>>26653107
CALL THE COPS EYELESS FUCKERS

I DON'T GIVE A FUCK

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>>26653119
>>26653119
>>26653107
>>26653107
>>26653099
Of course.

Of course you do. You're a civil servant. You've sworn an oath to serve the country of your birth. Why wouldn't you.

Another crack behind you, as the machine rumbles on. A spark flies free, over the crowd. There are a lot of them out there, waiting in the dark.

The eyeless man with the cutlass turns it in his hand, letting the sheathe spin, slowly. What was on the ground? You can't look down.

Very good. The eyeless men turn to one another, nodding, in satisfaction. Very good. Very good.

An ominous feeling to see them all nodding to one another.

You awake Sunday morning, feeling no pain.

You don't feel like doing anything in the day light.

>And here, I gotta call it. 1:11AM here. Sorry folks, I'm feeling very sleepy, and I gotta turn in for tomorrow morning. See you on Thursday- I'll aim for 4:00PMPST/19:00 4chan time start, but I can't guarantee it because I'm a terrible sub human.

>Good night!

>>26653131

Actually we do. We're a part of the system, not apart of it. If the law judges us to have failed, then so we have.

Somehow I don't think it will though. There is a whole lot of mess in these books somebody should take a good look at. They need some *balancing*

>>26653237

Thanks for the ride, mr IRS man.

>>26651581
>Oh, also, I just want to double post to thank you for making this art. It really is quite good. I hope I can write well enough to live up to it.

>>26653237
Thanks as always, IR.
Time for archive then?

>>26653294
Oh, right, thank you for reminding me. I gotta remember to archive instead of shifting the burden to other people.

>>26653237
>I still can hardly believe we finally left the forest. Good night!

>>26653317
I am remarkably bad at going to bed.

Yes, we really should have left the forest a long, long time ago.

Thankfully, you sent Strahan with Ellie to the Bureau permitting Ralph to get a heads up as to where you were. Meaning this didn't end with you finding out what's on the other side.

>>26653237
Thanks for running, and see you next friday.
I'm intrigued where the story will take Timothy next.

Pity about the razor. Oh well.

>>26653424
I think Tom wants to give us the razor.

I'm pretty sure it's going to end up in our hands again. We're tied to it, somehow.

>>26653424
Well. The razor showed up in the fanart. It's going to have to come back now.

>>26653424

Let's cut the chase: I don't think Timothy is not one used to live on the edge, even though he prefers his surroundings to have pretty sharp contours.

He has his Watch and his Briefcase.

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Do we still look like this guy, actually?

I don't think this quest should go on much longer.

>>26654249
Why?

>>26654262
It sucks.

>>26654275
That's your opinion. Other people enjoy it.

>>26654281
Too bad it sucks.

>>26654284
I'm sorry we're having fun, when you obviously cannot or you would not be here detracting from the enjoyment of others. I pity you.

>>26654284
I for one enjoy that there is a far better sense of realism and danger than in other quests. Just imagining how this arc would have been done by other QMs makes my skin crawl.