As it turns out, things weren’t really getting exciting very soon at all. Full disclosure, I’ve never really lead a raid on a rival gang’s turf. Yeah sure, skirmishes a plenty, and I was involved in a few actual for realsies raids before I became an Enforcer, but this would be the first time I ever lead one. I was not entirely aware of all the planning involved, something Uncle Frank made abundantly clear the morning after the meeting with the G-folks at the Iron Hog.

“Whaddya mean, you don’t have any plan outside ‘Well we’ll go in shooting’?”

Uncle Frank crosses his arms and glowers at me. Even though I’ve got a few inches on the man and he’s also well past the prime of his life, I quaver a bit before his stern glare. “I dunno, this sort of thing tends to sort itself out…”

Uncle Frank shakes his head, the irritation replaced by a surge of weariness. “No son, these sorts of things work themselves out for you. Not everyone has a baseball bat that can shatter a troll’s skull, or is an ogre who can dual wield light machine guns.”

I grunt in acknowledgement. Very few people do have a bat quite like that. Or are ogres. Except people who are ogres of course. A surprising percentage of ogres are ogres. “So, you gotta plan around what the rest of your people can do, son,” continues Uncle Frank, turning away from me and wiping off a counter top. “What does the warehouse look like, what’s the layout? Do you have a backup plan if things go tits up? That doctor lady isn’t going to be able to handle any large number of casualties, what’s your plan for that?”

“I… uh…” I really haven’t spent enough time thinking about that.

Uncle Frank sighs and shakes his head. “Listen son, you need to coordinate this a bit better. And by a bit better I mean a lot better. And by a lot better I mean get out of your diaper and put on your big boy pants.”

I nod, frowning in thought as I try to work my brain back up to something resembling actual cognition. Mornings are hard. “Alright, so what do you think?”

Uncle Frank guffaws loudly, slapping the counter. “What do I think? Son, I’m retired from this shit already. Figure it out yourself or hash it out with people still in the business. I’ve got a store to run. Fucking dumbshit kids I swear to Christ...”

Uncle Frank turns away from me again, shuffling through his supply of ink. I take that as my cue to leave. I hop into my old red BMW and drive off towards the Lower East Office. It’s fortunate that people are there to hash this shit out with, since Frank is obviously unwilling.

But who do I talk to first?

>Dr. Cygne. We need to organize some sort of triage shit, and she’s the expert after all
>Brutus and Gennings. Scout out the warehouse in question, try to hash out strategy for raid
>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan

>>39471866
>Brutus and Gennings. Scout out the warehouse in question, try to hash out strategy for raid
if we don't get shot, we don't need treatment

>>39471866
>>Brutus and Gennings. Scout out the warehouse in question, try to hash out strategy for raid
We will talk to the nice doctor lady after.

Also, Reinhardt should call his mom before the raid.

>>39471866
>>Brutus and Gennings. Scout out the warehouse in question, try to hash out strategy for raid

>>39471866
>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan

>>39471866
>>Brutus and Gennings. Scout out the warehouse in question, try to hash out strategy for raid

Don't worry guys, been writan for a while now. Should be ready to post soon.

In the interim, I'd like to know, which archive source if any do you use to catch up on threads? Mostly just wondering which between archive moe and suptg is more popular.

>>39472536
Suptg is my favourite of the two options.

>>39472536
I've been here for every thread as it ran, so I don't really have a preference. In the past I used suptg, although moe isn't awful.

I decide to scout out the warehouse in question with my favorite pair of demi-humans, Brutus and Gennings. Brutus for his years of tactical experience as an Enforcer, and Gennings for short jokes. Also he’s good at driving, but don’t tell him I said that. I send out a text and wait in the Office garage patiently, tapping my foot. Gennings appears from the elevator first.

“Morning Jason,” he squeaks cheerily, “Don’t think I see you up this early very often. Did Uncie Frank take away your license for staying out too late?”

I roll my eyes. Gennings may be the best driver in the Lower East Office, but my god is he annoying. “Yes, that’s exactly what happened Gen. He also wanted me to drop off your new car seat.”

Gennings squints at you and is about to reply when Brutus appears from the stairwell, rubbing an unshaven face. If you think humans can get bristly, you haven’t seen an ogre go a day without shaving. I swear to christ, his jaw looks like something they’d harvest steel wool from. “Mornin’ Reinhardt,” he grunts. Brutus and Gennings are two of three people in the Lower East Office who were at no point impressed by my position as Enforcer, the other being the Lieutenant of course. Brutus was the Enforcer here before me and as such had seniority. Gennings… well he’s an old friend. And familiarity breeds contempt. “I had to clear my schedule of a few knee snappings, so this better be important.”

“Yeah, we’re gonna scout out the warehouse that we’re raiding in a few days. C’mon.”

Brutus and Gennings look at each other before falling in behind me ass I march to a delivery van. I climb into the passenger seat. Normally I’d drive, but this van is specially designed for Gennings. That means a lot of extensions on the peddles, an extended steering wheel and the sportiest car seat you could imagine. Brutus clambers into the back and we’re off.

Gennings follows my directions until we reach the area where the meeting is happening. We’re in the South Bay Docks again, this time in one of the larger docks. No simple concrete pier, we’re in the land of industrial scale cargo docks, with row and rows of steel shipping containers stacked high upon one another, great cranes pulling them off of even greater ships.

Or at least that’s what is used to be. Ever since the mid nineties, industry in Saintsburgh has been on the decline, and the South Bay Docks used to be where local product was shipped off world wide. Unlike North Bay, where imports went, the South Bay cargo docks have largely fallen into disuse, the cranes by and large have been disassembled and moved to some other place where they can find work, empty and beaten up shipping containers left behind by companies that went under too suddenly to fully liquidated their assets, and hangar sized warehouses now left to rot. The van is idling across a large and empty parking lot between us and the dock containing the warehouse in question. The chain link fence dividing it from the outside world is brown, and the gateway hangs wide open, perhaps the most concrete evidence that there’s nothing worth stealing in there. Unfortunately, the warehouse itself is largely obscured by stacks of shipping containers and outlying buildings. I glance over at Gennings and he shrugs. “Sorry Jason, but a place like this there’s no crowd to blend in to. We come any closer and someone is sure to notice.”

>”Drive us through the dock, Gennings. If anyone comes out to confront us, we book it.”
>”Stay here, Brutus and I will try to enter on foot.”
>”Stay here, I’ll try to go in alone.”
>”Let’s just stay here for a bit. What do you think of the situation, Brutus?”
>write in

>>39472772
>”Let’s just stay here for a bit. What do you think of the situation, Brutus?”

>>39472772
>”Drive us through the dock, Gennings. If anyone comes out to confront us, we book it.”

>>39472772
>”Let’s just stay here for a bit. What do you think of the situation, Brutus?”
Look for good approaches and route of attack.

>>39472756
>”Let’s just stay here for a bit. What do you think of the situation, Brutus?”

Alright, Writan. Sorry if updates take a bit longer right now, I'm trying to cook dinner while doing this business.

Important question: Why hasn't Jason called his mother yet? She doesn't want to intrude or anything, and Frank says he's been very busy lately, but she is getting worried for her boy.

>>39472944
>Important question: Why hasn't Jason called his mother yet? She doesn't want to intrude or anything, and Frank says he's been very busy lately, but she is getting worried for her boy.
Because Jason is a bad person.

He should call his mother more often.

“Let’s just stay here for a bit. What do you think of the situation, Brutus?”

Brutus grunts as he sifts around, staring through a window at the dock. “Can’t see shit from here Reinhardt. TK15 will almost certainly be watching the dock for uninvited guests, but unless we get a bit closer to the warehouse itself, we won’t be able to determine anything meaningful.”

It isn’t exactly a prospect I’m thrilled by, but he’s right, we do need to get closer if we want to learn anything. “Alright, so what do you think? About approaches I mean.”

Brutus shrugs. “We could drive in. But we’ll definitely get spotted that way. And we don’t want TK15 to cancel their little party, not after all the trouble you and LT went to to coordinate an attack.”

I shake my head. “TK15 is too deep in this shit already. They can’t back out yet. I’d imagine they might even have a large amount of their guns and drugs there already. But you’re right, we don’t want to let them know something might be coming their way.”

“Don’t forget the fact that if we drive in, I’ll get to know the layout of the docks better,” interjects Gennings. “Could be useful if we need to make a speedy escape during the raid.”

“Ach, you’re right Gennings. I’ll try not to,” I chuckle, “Overlook you in my plans.”

Brutus keeps talking while Gennings silently fumes. “So we could try to sneak in. Or you could by yourself. I’m not exactly a lithe bastard, but I always liked having someone on my back for this sort of crap.”

I nod. Sneaking in gives us a good chance of successfully scouting out the area without being noticed. Or at least better than if we drove through. On the flip side, if the presumed guards do catch us we wouldn’t be able to just drive off into the sunset.

“If we do sneak in, I’d be worried about fae hounds. Big magical doggie bastards, smart, great senses, and I hear their bark can paralyze a man.”

Well that certainly doesn't sound fun. I tap my fingers together, thinking hard. Choices, choices…

>Sneak in
>Drive through

>>39473270
>Sneak towards it, but retreat at the first sign of hounds or heavy security.

>>39473270
>Drive through
BOOM BITCH! Get out the way!

>>39473270
>>Sneak in

>>39473270
>>Drive through
Just subtly drive through.

Sensually.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

1 means we sneak, 2 means we drive.

Still taking votes though.

Hello!

“We drive, TK15 will definitely see us. This raid is reliant on the element of surprise. We can’t afford to tip our hands at all. Brutus, you and me are gonna try to scout out the area, see if we can’t get a general idea of where everything is.”

Brutus nods and reaches into the back of the van, pulling out a toolbox and a length of rope. He opens the tool box and hands me a black ski mask. I slide it into my jacket while he reaches around in the box, pulling out some bolt cutters. Fairly well satisfied that we can make our way through most obstacles in front of us, we leave the van and walk up to the abandoned dock.

The docks walls aren’t entirely chain link fence. Those are merely near the entrance. Most of the rest of it are high concrete walls, tipped in barbed wire so rusted that it would probably give the entire Lower East Office tetanus if it didn’t disintegrate when I touched it. Brutus and I look around, and fail to see any potential witnesses in the area. Fairly well satisfied, we attempt to figure out how we’re going to ingress.

The chain link fence would be trivial to cut through, however the only cover it provides is a line of shipping containers about forty feet away. The cinderblock wall, aside from providing cover all by itself, seems to be the back wall of some sort of garage or building, judging from the antennae sticking up over the wall not too far away. That would provide a good vantage point, but it might keep Brutus from following me in.

>Go through the fence
>Go over the wall
>Roll a 3d10 regardless.

Rolled 9, 10, 7 = 26 (3d10)

>>39473808
>Go over the wall

Rolled 4, 3, 2 = 9 (3d10)

>>39473808
>Go over the wall

Rolled 5, 10, 10 = 25 (3d10)

>>39473808
>Go over the wall

Rolled 3, 10, 8 = 21 (3d10)

>>39473808
>>Go over the wall

>Roll a 3d10 regardless.

You're not my dad!

Rolled 1, 1, 7 = 9 (3d10)

>>39473808
>>Go over the wall
Retsu retsu go~go~

>>39472536
I've read every thread as it's been happening. Just leave it open when I go to work or sleep. Love me some auto-update.

>>39472944
Usually from catalog long after it finishes. Since you're in USA the time you start is like 1-2 AM here.

>>39472944
Dammit, where is our cellphone, let's call her now!

>>39474041
Also meant to respond to
>>39472536
But that's kinda obvious.

>>39474058
Speaking of phones, Google Earth is a thing. It can't look inside warehouses, but at least you can get a plan of the roads and approaches.

>>39474058
Seriously, though I want Jason to call his mom the first chance he gets.

I glance back around again and nod at Brutus, pointing at the cinder block wall. We scurry up to it, as much as one large guy and a goddamn ogre can scurry anyway, and Brutus squats, interlocking his fingers. I step on the handy pad and the ogre heaves me up. I easily clear the wall, the ancient barbed wire far too rusted and dulled to actually do anything more than flake at me, and pull myself onto a flat roof. I lie low, keeping my head down and out of potential sentinels’ lines of sight. After a few seconds of waiting, I squirm over to the edge of the building and look around. Steel shipping containers form rows running parallel to the waterfront, with the space between each row about the same as the width of a suburban road, probably a bit wider. Definitely too far for my ass to jump between rows. There are some more buildings built into the cinderblock wall, but none that come any closer to the hangar sized warehouse close to the waterfront. I continue to look around, surveying the dock for potential watchmen. I eventually spot them, a patrol heading back into a small one story office building. Human sized from the looks of it, with a very very large dog walking slowly in front of them.

Oh shit, the fae hounds. Brutus wasn’t kidding when he called them big. They look to be about Great Dane sized, but with a much stouter build. Sort of like if someone scaled up a pitbull. I have no doubt in my mind that thing could check your average linebacker. I continue to look around for more patrols, but fail to see any. I suppose it’s possible they only have the one to keep things low key, but I’d hate to be surprised.

>>39474088
Wow. This is so brilliant that I'm sure QM will not allow it.

>>39474088
That's pretty smart, let the smartphone do the thinking.

Grimacing at the thought of the fae hound chomping my ass, I squint out at the hangar sized warehouse. I can kinda get a feel for the exterior layout, but things are a little too far away from any good detail. Of course, no one’s noticed me yet, so I could just leave now with what I know.

>What do?
>Just leave now with what little I’ve seen of the warehouse and it’s location. Better than nothing.
>Climb around on some of the buildings on the outer wall and see if I can get a few more angles on the warehouse before calling it in.
>Secure a rope and go down to ground level. Try and sneak closer. Roll a 3d10.
>Write in

>>39474115
Sure Google Earth is good for that, is it going to tell you where the entrances to the warehouse are, etc?

I mean, it's perfectly valid to use that to plan the approach at least.

Rolled 7, 4, 6 = 17 (3d10)

>>39474133
>Secure a rope and go down to ground level. Try and sneak closer. Roll a 3d10.
I believe.

>>39474133
>>Just leave now with what little I’ve seen of the warehouse and it’s location. Better than nothing.
Lets not make tomorrow's raid a rescue mission.

Rolled 5, 5, 5 = 15 (3d10)

>>39474133
>>Secure a rope and go down to ground level. Try and sneak closer. Roll a 3d10.

Rolled 7, 7, 9 = 23 (3d10)

>>39474133
>Secure a rope and go down to ground level. Try and sneak closer. Roll a 3d10.

>>39474191
Woah, that's a lot of 5s bro.

I secure a rope and rappel down the side of the building. As I do so, I realize I probably could’ve just used google earth for half of this shit and been perfectly satisfied. “In for a penny, in for a pound,” I mutter darkly as my feet hit the ground. I leave the rope in place and silently mark it’s location in my head. Should they have any more faehounds aside from the one I saw I’d like to be able to make a quick escape.

Sighing grumpily, I slip on the ski mask and begin moving forward cautiously. The shipping containers, now that I’m closer to them, are as ancient as the barbed wire. There the paint has peeled off the metal is a dark rusted orange. Were I not sneaking around I might try to punch through one, for science of course, and not to satisfy my long standing childhood desire to be the Incredible Hulk. Leaving my purple pants’d fantasies behind I hurry forward, eyes narrowed as I move between rows of shipping containers. The warehouse is absurdly far away, probably a half mile or so, which doesn’t bode well for my heart, considering how hard its hammering.

Scampering between another two rows of shipping containers, I glance around once more, listening carefully.

And a damn good thing I did too, because I hear voices approaching.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” I panic whisper. The voices are muted, maybe a row away. I don’t have much time though.

>Attempt to enter and hide in shipping container. 3d10
>Attempt to climb on top of shipping containers and hide there 3d10
>Write in something. 3d10

Rolled 8, 9, 1 = 18 (3d10)

>>39474495
>>Attempt to climb on top of shipping containers and hide there 3d10

Rolled 4, 5, 8 = 17 (3d10)

>>39474495
>Attempt to enter and hide in shipping container. 3d10

Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>39474516
climb on top

Rolled 6, 8, 6 = 20 (3d10)

>>39474495
>>Attempt to climb on top of shipping containers and hide there 3d10
FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK

>>39474539
Wrong post, wrong dice.

>>39474605
maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan
I fucked this up

>>39474650
You could, y'know, try again.

I briefly consider trying to enter the shipping containers, but if they’re as rusted as they look I doubt I’ll be able to open it without yanking the damn door off. Even if that doesn’t happen, it’d probably been hella creaky. So instead I go for the bangier but probably more quiet option of climbing up on top of the shipping containers.

All things considered, I do it pretty silently. Of course, we’re considering the fact that I’m climbing up empty metal boxes. The layers of rust do a lot of good to muffle my movements, but it is by no means a silent operation. I already hear the guards suspicious voices before I pull myself on top of the last container, peering warily over the edge.

The guards round the corner, both toting pistols, much to my relief. Normally knowing my potential enemies are armed doesn’t do much to relieve me, but they also lack a faehound. Maybe they only have one. I hear that they’re pretty rare.

I lie on top of the container, listening carefully to the soft voices.

“I definitely heard something.”

“I know, me too. Me too.”

“Well then where the hell are they?”

“Could’ve slipped away?”

“Or into the crate.”

I hear someone exerting themselves mightily for a few seconds before they are joined by their comrade.

If I jump down now, my landing would be pretty well padded.

>Jump down, plan attack. 3d10. You are currently unarmed.
>Wait for them to leave

Rolled 3, 3, 7 = 13 (3d10)

>>39474695
Maybe I should senpai. You've given me the strength to do it.
>>39474495
>Attempt to climb on top of shipping containers and hide there 3d10

Rolled 2, 2, 4 = 8 (3d10)

>>39474733
>Wait for them to leave

Rolled 3, 5, 3 = 11 (3d10)

>>39474733
>Jump down, plan attack. 3d10. You are currently unarmed.

Gotta get the fuck out of here. If they don't find us, they are just gonna go looking for a Faehound and bring it back to sniff us out.

>>39474733
>Wait for them to leave

>>39474733
Wait for them to enter the crate, then lock them inside.

>>39474733
naaah man just chill

or jump down and snap their necks and stuff them in the container yeah thats cool as well

Rolled 10, 2, 10 = 22 (3d10)

>>39474733
>>Jump down, plan attack. 3d10. You are currently unarmed.
Mario jump on them.

>>39474733
>Wait for them to leave

I decide that even with elf and manflesh cushioning my fall, I probably shouldn’t run the risk of getting shot if I can’t take out both in one fell swoop. I lie on the top crate for a little while, until I hear the two give up on trying to open the crate.

“C’mon,” pants one, “We’ll double back for the hound. He’ll sniff ‘em out.”

“Yeah,” agrees the other, and I hear two pairs of feet scurry off towards the small office.

Well… Fuck.

I scamper down from the crates feeling more than a little nervous. I’m already much of the way to the warehouse, but that also means the guards won’t have to go as far to get to the hound, although the office is on the far end of the dock, which would give me a fair amount of time before they got there and retrieved the hound. I glance around, licking my lips. Salty air blows in from the bay, bearing the smell of dead fish.

I’d really prefer to not add the smell of dead Jason.

>Go to the Warehouse
>>Run. I’ll need to hurry if I want to gather any intel before they come back with the faehound.
>>Sneak. If they have one patrol, they’ll likely have more. Can’t afford to get my ass shot.
>Go back. He who dares gets mauled by a magic dog. Fuck that noise, I’m playing it safe.

>>39474972
>Go back. He who dares gets mauled by a magic dog. Fuck that noise, I’m playing it safe.

>>39474972
>>Go to the Warehouse
>>Sneak. If they have one patrol, they’ll likely have more. Can’t afford to get my ass shot.
Is there any dead fish nearby?

>>39474972
>Sneak. If they have one patrol, they’ll likely have more. Can’t afford to get my ass shot.
We have a mission damn it!

>>39474972
Fucking weg it.

Rolled 1, 6, 5 = 12 (3d10)

>>39474972
>>Sneak. If they have one patrol, they’ll likely have more. Can’t afford to get my ass shot..

Oh shit, I forgot to ask for rolls.

And this time I can't claim I was drinking. I've only started my first beer of the night!

Gimme some 3d10 rolls.

Rolled 1, 3, 9 = 13 (3d10)

>>39475126
Rollin

Rolled 3, 2, 9 = 14 (3d10)

>>39474972
>Go back. He who dares gets mauled by a magic dog. Fuck that noise, I’m playing it safe.

>>39475126

Rolled 10, 8, 7 = 25 (3d10)

>>39475126

Rolled 5, 2, 1 = 8 (3d10)

>>39474972
>Go to the Warehouse
>Sneak. If they have one patrol, they’ll likely have more. Can’t afford to get my ass shot.
Cover ourself in fish.
>>39475138

>>39475152
thank fuck for you anon, hopefully we use your roll

I’m not what you’d call a dog person. I mean, they’re nice and all, it’s just that as someone who spent most of his formative years living with various criminal groups, I’m more used to the rottweilers of the K-9 units and less used to Fido. Dogs make me a little nervous. They make me a lot nervous when they’re magical evolutionary throwbacks. Still, if I bitch (heh) out now, we won’t have any meaningful intel. Swallowing, I being to sneak my way across the dock towards the Warehouse, moving a damn sight faster than I did previously.

I get quite lucky and fail to encounter any patrols around the rest of the dock. I press myself flat against the final wall of containers, glancing out at the Warehouse. Damn thing is big. From what I can see there are several loading bays for trucks and at least three or four pairs of double doors spaced along the side of the building, with even more wider garage doors cut into the walls for trucks and forklifts.

Still, can’t see anything really of the inside. I look down at the watch I don’t actually wear nervously. I had less ground to cover than the guards, but they had no problem with running back to the office, while I had to sneak between rows of shipping containers. It might not be a good idea for my long term health to linger.

>Try and see what I can see in the warehouse
>Head back man. I know where the doors are now at least.
>Regardless of choice, roll a 3d10

Rolled 10, 1, 9 = 20 (3d10)

>>39475296
>>Try and see what I can see in the warehouse
Fuck it.

Rolled 3, 9, 3 = 15 (3d10)

>>39475296
>Head back man. I know where the doors are now at least.

Rolled 5, 1, 7 = 13 (3d10)

>>39475296
>Try and see what I can see in the warehouse
Do it.

Rolled 7, 4, 3 = 14 (3d10)

>>39475296
>Try and see what I can see in the warehouse

Rolled 9, 9, 3 = 21 (3d10)

>>39475296
>>Try and see what I can see in the warehouse
YOOOOROOOOOOOO

>>39475418
hopefully we can use this roll

I grimace unhappily. Frankly, I’d prefer not to have to bother with this shit, but this might be our best chance to learn about the interior of the warehouse prior to you know, going in guns blazing. “Fucking fuckity fuckers,” I spit, hurrying towards the warehouse.

I peer in through the windows, cupping my hands around my eyes to cut out interfering light. The interior is dark and dank, obviously. However, as my eyes adjust to the darkness I notice a complete lack of shipping containers or shelving inside. The inside is pretty much empty. I continue to look around. The floor around the loading docks is raised, creating a platform where there are a shitlopad of wooden crates lined up, even stacked on top of each other. I notice several tables near the front of the raised area, chairs set behind them. Pretty much no cover at all, for anyone. Since we’re the ones doing the ambushing, I suppose I should be grateful.

The bark is loud and low, practically rumbling the entire dock. My heart freezes as my chest shakes the force of the noise.

“Oh Jesus fuck.”

The fae hound is loose. I need to get going. NOW.

>Head back for the rope and get to Gennings.
>Swim!
>Roll a 3d10 regardless.

Rolled 4, 8, 8 = 20 (3d10)

>>39475596
>Swim!
told you we should have headed back, you don't need to know the interior layout for a hard breach

Rolled 4, 5, 10 = 19 (3d10)

>>39475596
>>Head back for the rope and get to Gennings.

Rolled 4, 6, 10 = 20 (3d10)

>>39475596
>>Swim!
Some fae don't like water.

where'd the others go?

Rolled 7, 5, 4 = 16 (3d10)

>>39475758
They lie dreaming in unknown R'lyeh

Rolled 6, 8, 8 = 22 (3d10)

>>39475596
>Swim

It is a well known fact that some fae don’t much care for water. Honestly, considering how ball shatteringly cold the Bay is at this time of year it’s a well known fact that no one cares for water. I decide to make good use of this fact and peel off for the docks. I’m lucky, the bastards are heading back to the place that they first heard me, rather than charging back to the Warehouse. Although this means I can get to the edge of the docks without being seen, it also cuts off my one dry escape path.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

I don’t yell as I jump into the Bay, and I get most of my screams of shock at the freezing water out before I surface.

Jesus God almighty it is COLD.

Spluttering and drenched, I break the water, splashing about as little as I can manage. I just jumped in to near arctic from the feel of them waters, I would prefer this to simply be one more regrettable incident in a life full of them. Swallowing the pain of the freezing cold, I lower my face into the water and being swimming freestyle back to the next door dock.

Unlike pissant babby strokes like breaststroke or backstroke, or the spastic flailing of butterfly, freestyle is both fast and silent so long as you do it with good form. And I got that shit is spades. I quietly make a note to myself to call and thank Ma for making me do swim team. After a few minutes of kicking I manage to reach a ladder built into the side of one dock, meant for idiot dockhands who fall into the water to climb back up while their mates have a good laugh. This time there are no more idiot dockhands or their mates, just me in another thankfully abandoned dock. I hurry out of the complex, shivering and wet. Brutus watches me approach with an amusedly cocked eyebrow, and we head back into Gennings’ Van. Gennings howls with laughter at my soaked appearance, and gleefully informs me that there aren’t any towels in here.

>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings
>Just give them a quick summary and get back to The Office, you need to speak to:
>>Dr. Cygne. We need to organize some sort of triage shit, and she’s the expert after all
>>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan

>>39475926
>>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings

>>39475950
>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings while heading back
then
>>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan

though we should get dry and a new change of clothes as fast as possible

>>39475926
>Unlike pissant babby strokes like breaststroke or backstroke
You trying to start a fight Uncle?
>>39475950
>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings

>>39475950
>>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings
>>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan
Also, give that tiny asshole a sopping wet hug.

>>39476008
Freestyle best style. Fite me IRL.

>>39475950
>>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings
>>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan
>>39476023
I agree with anon, hug the gnome.

>>39475950
>>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings
>The Lieutenant. Talk about arms and a backup plan

>>39476023
Agreed.

>>39475950
>>>Dr. Cygne. We need to organize some sort of triage shit, and she’s the expert after all
And get a cozy sweater.

Call your mom.

>>39476066
Yo man where you at, I'll race you IRL My relay went to New England Regionals. Backstroke best stroke.

>>39476241
>Call your mom.
yeah we should do that before we finish prepwork for the raid

>>39476279
Backstroke is for dummies who can't do proper freestyle breathing!

I actually don't doubt you'd kick my ass, I haven't swum in years. 50 freestyle, 20 high split.

>>39475950
>>39476241
>>39476301
What anon said, we should definitely call Mom.

>>39475950
>Go through what you’ve seen in detail with Brutus and Gennings
>Call Mom
>The lieutenant

>>39476369
Meh, I did IM, backstroke was just my favorite.

You might give me a good match, I haven't swam competitive in four years.

“I dunno man,” I say, sniffing, “I’m just so happy to be with here alive and well with you guys,” I lean over and give Gennings a sopping wet hug met with a squeal of displeasure from the gnome. I release my driver and sit back smugly before growing serious.

“Alright you bastards. I’m sure that google earth could give you this too Gennings, but the docks are laid out with rows of shipping containers, buildings in the back. There’s a wide clear area leading towards the waterfront from the gate, and again between the final row of containers and the waterfront. A lot of clear space to go fast in. The rows are a bit wider than your average suburban road, so a good deal of maneuverability.”

Gennings nods. “Alright. I’ll check it out when we get back.”

Gennings starts up the car, turning the the heater onto max. It sounds like an AMD card with a reference cooler. IE slightly louder than your average jet. I bask in the gloriously hot air for a second before turning back to Brutus. “The warehouse was pretty much empty.”

“Empty,” asks Brutus, eyebrow raised. “I have trouble believing it.”

“Believe it,” I reply, “They cleared out the entire floor of any shipping containers and shelving that might’ve been there earlier. From the looks of things they already had some stuff in place, all along a raised area near the back.”

“Shit,” grunts Brutus, “this’ll be like shooting fish in a barrel.”

We continue to discuss the implications of an empty warehouse all the way back to the Office. Once we get there I wave off Gennings and Brutus, heading back into the bathroom with some spare clothing to get changed and dried. I only keep an extra pair of underwear and socks in the office, so I have to wait for my pants and shirt to dry out. While that happens, I figure I might as well get this out of the way. Sighing I pull out my cellphone, which was somehow not in my pocket when I jumped in the Bay or something. I don’t question it, so why should you?

I flip through my contacts until I find the right one and press down on it, sighing. This might be a little painful.

A few rings, and a matronly woman’s voice answers the phone. “Yes, hello? This is the Reinhardt residence who’s calling?”

>”Mom, you know who this is. You have caller ID.”
>”Hello young lady. I’m looking for one Mrs. Reinhardt, do you think you could put her on?”
>”Hey mom. What’s cooking?”
>Write in

>>39476642
>”Hey mom. What’s cooking?”
>"No seriously I could use a bite to eat after that swim."

>>39476642
>”Hello young lady. I’m looking for one Mrs. Reinhardt, do you think you could put her on?”
>”Hey mom. What’s cooking?”

>>39476642
>”Mom, you know who this is. You have caller ID.”

>>39476642
>"It's nice to hear you too."
>"Alright, I KNOW I should call you more often, treat you like a person I actually know, etc."

>>39476642
>>Write in

Hey yo ma. You know this, it's your boy. (Don't know why but I immediately thought of him talking to his mom in a Boston accent.)

>>39476642
>”Hello young lady. I’m looking for one Mrs. Reinhardt, do you think you could put her on?”

>>39476642
>>”Hey mom. What’s cooking?”
>>So, did you forgive me for the small pasta related incident last year?

>>39476642
>>”Hey mom. What’s cooking?”

>>39476642
>”Hello young lady. I’m looking for one Mrs. Reinhardt, do you think you could put her on?”

>>39476642
>Scream 'Ma!' In as annoying a voice as possible

“Hey mom. What’s cooking?”

“I’m sorry sir, I think you have the wrong number, I don’t have a son.”

I know she’s just giving me shit about not calling for a while. Still, two can play at that game. “Listen mom, I’m SORRY about the pasta thing last year okay? If I had known Mrs. Donnal was al-”

“Ohhhh Jason Jason Jason! I’m not mad about that still! Oh my, no wonder you haven’t called so much, I’m so sorry sweetie! I shouldn’t have gotten so cross, I know that. I love you pumpkin, no matter what.”

Urgh, she’s really good at countering my shit. “I love you too mom,” I say, balancing the need to placate her with the desire to not be heard wishing my mother love by my hardened criminal acquaintances. “So, what’s up?”

“Oh… nothing much dear,” my mother says over the phone, sounding like she emans it for once. “Have you checked your PO box? I just sent that knit ski mask you were asking me about.”

"Oh? I haven't gotten a chance to look. I'll be sure to check it out once I get back."

"That's lovely sweetie. I included some brownie mix for you too, and the last few ingredieant for the special cake!"

By special cake she means pipe bomb. I told her I didn't want a pipe bomb. I told her I didn't care how no one would know if you just shipped the ingredients to the explosive seperately from each other. Ma being Ma, she sent it along anyway. I restrain the sigh building within as mom continuess talking. "Sweetie, you just have to let me know what you do with it. I've just been so excited to hear about who you deliver it to."

Great. G-R-E-A-T great. Now I'm obligated to use it. Time to change the topic.

>So, have you been talking to Frank recently?
>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?
>You think you could include any ferrocores in your next care package?
>Write in

>>39476991
>So, have you been talking to Frank recently?
>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?
>You think you could include any ferrocores in your next care package?

All of them because Ma a best.

>>39476991

>So, have you been talking to Frank recently?
>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?
>You think you could include any ferrocores in your next care package?

>>39476991
>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?
Gotta love that good old motherly love.

>>39476991
>So, have you been talking to Frank recently?
>If you hear talk about pink powder, don't get involved. Stuff's nasty.
>You think you could include any ferrocores in your next care package?

>>39476991
>>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?

>>39476991
>>So, have you been talking to Frank recently?
>>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?
>>You think you could include any ferrocores in your next care package?

>>39476991
>So, have you been talking to Frank recently?
>Have you heard what me and LT are up to?
>You think you could include any ferrocores in your next care package?

"Anyways, Ma, did you put in those chocolate chips (ball bearings) that I like in the cake? You know I love them chocolate chips."

“So, have you been talking to Uncle Frank recently?”

“Oh, all the time Sweetie. Honestly, he’s the only reason that I know you haven’t been killed and dragged off by some horrible vampire. He keeps telling me not to worry, that you’re perfectly capable on your own…”

Hell yeah Uncle Frank, covering for me. I owe him a thanks later. Ma can be pretty insistent.

“But Jason! I know it’s silly of me, but I do worry.”

“You’re not being silly Ma,” I reply soothingly, knowing I’ll regret this later, “I do dangerous stuff, it’s alright for you to be a bit worried for me. It’s perfectly normal in fact.”

“Oh, thank you Jason. Sometimes I just can’t tell.”

“It’s alright,” I reply, patting my pants. They’ve been sitting under the blow dryer for a while now, and the crotch area at least seems pretty dry. I decide to bit the bullet and put them back on. “So you’ve heard about TK15?”

“Oh those awful faerie thugs? Of course. Do you still have those hershey kisses I sent? I think they would be just wonderful for that... ahem… party you’re planning later.”

“Yeah, I think I still have a… box. Although I wouldn’t mind if you could send some more my way. I think I’ll be out pretty soon.”

“Of course dear,” I can practically hear her beaming from behind the receiver. “You know I’d like nothing better! Do you need anything else?”

>Brownie mix (actual baked good)
>Hershey kisses (ferrocore rounds)
>Cinnamon bread mix (actual baked good)
>Cheese bread mix (gun cleaning kit)
>Request a knit item
>>You may include colors, patterns, etc if you so choose.
>Write in

>>39477447
>Brownie mix (actual baked good)
>Hershey kisses (ferrocore rounds)
>Cinnamon bread mix (actual baked good)
>Cheese bread mix (gun cleaning kit)

>Request a knit item
>Let Ma pick, she knows us best

>>39477447
>>39477488
This, Ma likes to spoil her boy.

>>39477447
>Hershey kisses (ferrocore rounds)
>Cinnamon bread mix (actual baked good)

>>39477447
>>Request a knit item
Bat cozy

>>39477447
>All of them.

For the knit item maybe a protective cardigan we can wear under our suit or something similar?

>>39477447
>>Brownie mix (actual baked good)
>>Hershey kisses (ferrocore rounds)
>>Cinnamon bread mix (actual baked good)
>>Cheese bread mix (gun cleaning kit)
>>Request a knit item
maybe some feet warmers that make us surefooted or silent even when wearing shoes? maybe make them socks or something? i'd say something not really embarassing, but then she'd make it extra embarassing, so she can pick the colors and patterns, we'll still wear it

>>39477447
>>Request a knit item
A garish knit sweater with three kittens meowing at a sun.

>>39477447
I'll second >>39477488 if we can, we gotta let Ma dote on us.

>Hershey kisses (ferrocore rounds)
>Cinnamon bread mix (actual baked good)
>Cheese bread mix (gun cleaning kit)
>Egg pie (actual baked good)

>Request a knit item
A gift for someone else, if there's ever anyone who could use a hand. But what specifically:
>Let Ma pick, she knows us best

“Well, some of those cinnamon bread mixes might be nice Ma. And some Hershey kisses obviously.”

“Of course, of course,” Ma replies, “Anything else sweetie?”

Ah hell, I figure why not just go ham? “Yeah sure, I’d love a cheese bread, and some brownie mix too. Me and Frank ate all of the mix you sent us last time.”

I can tell Ma’s beaming so hard, it’s like the fucking sun is on the other end of the line, plasma is shooting out of my phone. “Of course dear! I’m so pleased you both enjoyed the mix.”

“Nothing near as good as homemade, but we’ll settle.”

Ma’s going supernova over there. “Of course, of course. Are you two coming for Easter?”

I mull that one over. “... Yeah probably. I think so anyway.”

“Oh that’s just wonderful. Jason, you will go to chur-”

I decide that now is a pretty good time to continue getting dressed. I pull on my shirt and jacket and set out finally replacing the phone as Ma finishes talking. “-nd Father Francis hasn’t seen either of you two in so long, he’s worried you and Frank haven’t been going to confessional.”

I’m only half catholic and Frank’s like technically Presbyterian or something and neither of us are practicing, but lord knows something minor like that isn’t about to stop Ma. “Yeah, we’ll see what happens Ma.”

“Oh, alright,” she replies, sounding a little put out. Hey, she flew too close to the sun. Nothing, not even God himself, is making me wake up early on a weekend. “I suppose I shouldn’t push my luck like that.”

I decide to change the topic before she can start trying to guilt trip me. Talking with Ma is a deadly conversational dance of parental obligations and guilt. “So… have you heard what me and LT are up to,” I ask, referring to the raid in a few days.

“LT…? LT,” Ma ponders the nickname for a little while before snapping her fingers. “Of course! Victoria! Jason, when on earth are you going to ask that girl out!”

Naturally she asks me this as I’m in the middle of the hallway. I splutter for a second. “Ma! She’s my boss dammit!”

“Jason! Mind your language,” Ma scolds, “Besides, you need a girl like that in your life! You’re just too lazy. It pains me to say it, but you need a woman who can whip you into shape. Frankly, I’d also like to see a grandchild or two, and Lord knows, I’m not getting any younger.”

While this is technically true, Ma’s penchant for witchcraft means time isn’t nearly as much of a pressing concern for her.

>Respond to Ma
>That’s completely unprofessional Ma!
>You only fixate on Victoria because she’s my only female friend you actually know.
>Ma, I am 27 years old I am not about to have kids.
>Christ on a cracker Ma, now I remember why I don’t call more often.
>Write in

>>39478001
>Write in
"Fine I'll ask her out but after that no more nagging me about it."

Drinks with Vikki before and after the raid count right?

>>39478001
>>You only fixate on Victoria because she’s my only female friend you actually know.

>>39478001
>>You only fixate on Victoria because she’s my only female friend you actually know.
>>39478073
With a bit of this.

>>39478001
>>That’s completely unprofessional Ma!
>>You only fixate on Victoria because she’s my only female friend you actually know.
and >>39478073

>>39478001
>>39478139
this

>>39478001
>>That’s completely unprofessional Ma!

>>39478001
>>That’s completely unprofessional Ma!
>You only fixate on Victoria because she’s my only female friend you actually know.

I groan loudly. “That’s completely unprofessional Ma! Besides, the only reason that you fixate on Victoria so much is because she’s my only female friend you actually know.”

Ma doesn’t have a response ready for this. By and large because it’s true. The silence goes on for longer and longer, the lack of sound becoming increasingly wounded. I sigh and shake my head, relenting. “Listen. I’ll ask her later, okay? Now get off my case.”

Ma rallies with this, “Oh that’s all I needed to hear sweetie. How about we talk later?”

“Yeah sure,” I reply grimly. “I’ll call back when I can, okay Ma?”

“Of course dear. I love you! Bye now!”

“Bye Ma,” I reply hanging up on the call. I jam the phone back into my pocket unceremoniously. Goddamn mothers. They just know how to needle a man.

I turn around to see LT staring at me, an eyebrow cocked. “Mrs. Reinhardt is fixating on me? Should I be honored or worried?”

>Roll a 3d10 to contain spaghetti!
>No but seriously, either:
>Shrug it off. “Oh it was nothing. I think she views you as a surrogate kid, won’t stop bugging me to have you call her.”
>Change the topic. “So, I was thinking we need to discuss a back up plan if this raid goes south.”
>Write in

Rolled 7, 7, 10 = 24 (3d10)

>>39478531
>Change the topic. “So, I was thinking we need to discuss a back up plan if this raid goes south.”

Rolled 7, 3, 9 = 19 (3d10)

>>39478531
>Change the topic. “So, I was thinking we need to discuss a back up plan if this raid goes south.”
if she presses
>Don't ask.

Rolled 3, 8, 10 = 21 (3d10)

>>39478531
>Shrug it off. “Oh it was nothing. I think she views you as a surrogate kid, won’t stop bugging me to have you call her.”

Rolled 4, 9, 6 = 19 (3d10)

>>39478531
>Write in
"A bit of both maybe? Also you want to get a drink later?"
then
>Change the topic. “So, I was thinking we need to discuss a back up plan if this raid goes south.”

Rolled 10, 3, 3 = 16 (3d10)

>>39478531
>>Roll a 3d10 to contain spaghetti!
MY MA ASKED ME TO ASK YOU OUT

Rolled 10, 7, 3 = 20 (3d10)

>>39478531
>>39478573
This.

>>39478531
>>39478573
seconding

also whats up with these rolls, we can't sneak for shit and get shit dice in combat, but when it comes to running away or being suave we roll well

>>39478531
>>Change the topic. “So, I was thinking we need to discuss a back up plan if this raid goes south.”

“Uh, a bit of both I suppose? It’s definitely a mixed bag.”

LT chuckles. “Perhaps she can send me one of those knit scarves of hers.”

I flush a little. The three cat frolicking scarf is something of a legend back in Downtown. “Yeah yeah yeah. So anyway I was thinking we need a backup plan if this raid goes south.”

LT immediately becomes serious, and walks past me. “Walk with me Enforcer.”

I fall into step next to her. It’s times like this I really appreciate my height. LT is a masterclass power walker and if I didn’t enjoy a significant advantage in stride length I might be jogging right now. “I was thinking the attack team would ingress following the EnRA team. They have some fancier kit, namely tear gas, that we lack. We’d have body armor, SMGs, ferrocore rounds, and I was thinking we could probably spare a cold iron knife for each member of the attack team if things get desperate. Brutus would be provide overwatch with the LMG of his. I don’t want to tip how much firepower we have on hand to the feds.”

LT bites her lip. “I understand the need for secrecy quite well Enforcer, but we do have grenade launchers. That would certainly be nice if we had those on hand if there was something really… significant in the warehouse.”

I nod. I can’t overlook the non-insignificant armory LL has on hand either.

>We really can’t afford to tip our hands to the G-men Boss. Our best plan is to bail if things look like they’re really going out of control.
>That’s why we need to have some cavalry on hand. Heavily armed cavalry.
>Write in

>>><<<
Hey guys, getting late in Spiritland. I don't think I'll be able to do the Dr. Cygne scene tonight. We can either do it on Friday or just assume it got done and start the raid with a Jensen thread on friday. Your call.

>>39479007
>That’s why we need to have some cavalry on hand. Heavily armed cavalry.
I don't mind having the Doc scene on Friday, she needs more screentime

>>39479007
>That’s why we need to have some cavalry on hand. Heavily armed cavalry.

>>39479007
>>That’s why we need to have some cavalry on hand. Heavily armed cavalry.

Do it on friday

>>39479007
>>That’s why we need to have some cavalry on hand. Heavily armed cavalry.

do it on Fri

does this mean thread end now or in an updates time?

>>39479067
update or two

“Which is why we bring in the heavily armored cavalry. We have a few technicals,” I say referring to the three converted Toyota Hiluxes with machine guns attached to the bed of the truck, “On hand. I’d like to have two of those available, with a gunner in the passenger seat armed with a grenade launcher. I’d like to think that amount of firepower would be sufficient for any surprises TK15 might have on hand.”

LT sucks air between her teeth. “That certainly would be, Reinhardt. I can’t readily think of anything short of a Tuatha or a Dragon that could withstand that much firepower for very long.”

LT nods at the door guard, who lets both of us in to her office. I immediately collapse onto one of the seats, while LT takes her position behind the desk. “Yeah LT,” I reply, “The way I figure it, if TK15 actually had something around that could endure any length of fifty cal fire, they wouldn’t bother settling for a shithole like Lower East.”

LT sighs and nods. "Fair enough point Jason. I would love it if we had a mage on hand. That'd be worth a technical in and of itself."

"A whole fleet if we got another Gorgorgux," I reply, thinking of our goblin former pyromancer whose power only grew with senility. That was a massive problem. "That on the agenda?"

"Yes, once we take down these TK15 interlopers that is," replies LT, smiling tiredly. "Getting a mage will be a top priority."

"So, was there anything else you wanted to address Jason?"

I pause to think about it. Eventually I figure making good on my promise to Mom could wait until both of our schedules had cleared a bit or something. I dunno. "Nah, but I do need to see Dr. Cygne about triage."

LT nods. "Of course. Don't let me hold you up."

>>><<<

Arright guys. I'm dead tired. Next thread on Friday and the people have spoken so we'll talk to Dr. Cygne first.

>>39479591
thanks for the thread SG/FG/MG/UG

>>39479591
Thanks for running boss, wish we would have asked her out for drinks at least.

>>39479591
Thanks for running, senpai~

>>39479617
Should we call him a G-man