>>501209
[2/2]

You pout a bit. “I was hoping we’d have Thanksgiving together.”

“So was I,” says Sumire. She pats her belly, grumbling a bit. “Christine makes a mad turkey.”

A car arrives for the two of them. “Oooh, that’s us!” She hefts her dufflebag onto her shoulder. “We’ll be back, okay?”

“Take care,” says Christine. “Don’t worry, Kirby will be taking care of us. But if you need anything, we’re a call away. Just hit up Operator #5.”

And with that, the two of them head down the dirt road and step into the car. You and Anneliese watch as they’re driven away into the sunset. You sigh sadly, ooohh… you were hoping to get to visit Poland. You don’t visit that many countries even with Liberty. New York has always been your home.

And now you were in a little farmhouse hundreds of miles away from it. At least the forest around the place is nice. So many colors! And that sunset! Wow!

Anneliese leans forward on the railing next to you. “So, Rana.” She smiles warmly at you. “What would you like to do?”

Uh…

> Christine usually cooks. This is your chance to show Anneliese you can cook too! … you think.
> You’ve got guns to play with in the barn, lots of guns.
> Turn on the radio and lounge around, you’re feeling lazy today.
> Other

>>501213
>> You’ve got guns to play with in the barn, lots of guns.

> Christine usually cooks. This is your chance to show Anneliese you can cook too! … you think.
Nothing can go wrong.

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Rolled 1 (1d2)

God everything is so slow today. Time for a tiebreaker.

1. Show Anneliese your guns.
2. Wear the apron, only the apron.

>>501326
Meh, not a fan of magical girl liberty. So i'm going in and out

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> You’ve got guns to play with in the barn, lots of guns.

-

-

Boom! Another bottle bites the dust. Rana holds her smoking rifle up, a Remington Model 8. That rifle was older than either of you, and yet it could put a .35 round downrange with great accuracy. And no need to cycle a bolt either, this was a semi-automatic rifle! One of the many great designs by John Browning himself. You get a little giddy at the thought of you as you hold your own rifle, a Springfield M1903A1 chambered for .30-06, a pretty powerful round if you do say so yourself.

> REMINGTON MODEL 8 <
> A Semi-automatic rifle developed from the blessed mind of John Browning, with a five round magazine fed by stripper clips and loading .35 Remington rounds. Although not adopted by the military before the Great War, it has popularity with the Police and with sport hunters. <

> M1903A1 SPRINGFIELD <
> A development of the US Army service rifle from the Great War, utilizing a new stock to help better facilitate accuracy. A very powerful rifle in the hands of the right person. <

> FIND ALL THE GUNS AND RECEIVE A REWARD <

“Good shot, Annie!” You smile at her. She’s really picking up your love for the firearm.

“Thanks!” She hefts the gun up again, and fires at another bottle. This time the shot goes wide, plunking into a dirt berm behind the targets. “Ah, I missed!”

“Here, lemme try.” You get yourself a steady stance, then squint down the ironsights of your Springfield. Here you go… Squeeze the trigger!

The rifle bucks right into your shoulder. Whooo! That’s some recoil. The .30-06 round smashes through the glass bottle, sending shards of glass everywhere. The shot even kept going and splashes some dirt up from the berm behind it. “Wow, nice one, Rana!” Anneliese looks at your work in awe. “How did you become so versed in firearms?”

“Oh, it just comes to me,” you explain.

“Really?” You shrug at that. Not much else to say, really. There’s no finer invention on this good green Earth than a well-designed firearm. “Hm…” Her stomach growls a bit. “Ooh, sorry-“ She pats your belly, blushing a bit. “We’ve been out here so long, I guess we missed out on dinner!”

“That’s okay,” you say. “I can cook something.”

“Are you sure?” she asks. “I can bring something out to you.” Wait, Anneliese cooks? Since when did this become a thing? “I’d love to keep shooting with you.”

> “Sure, go ahead.”
> “Nah, let’s cook together.”
> “No, you stay, I’ll cook.”
> Other

>>501385
>> “Nah, let’s cook together.”
Shooting on an empty stomach is a shame, but shooting /alone/ while your friend cooks is even worse.

>>501385
>Nah, let’s cook together

>>501385
>“Nah, let’s cook together.”

Team building! We're both on the shooty side of things, we should get to know each other.

>>501385
> “Sure, go ahead.”
me a rebel

> “Nah, let’s cook together.”

“Nah, nah, let’s cook together, Anneliese.” She opens her mouth to protest, but you quickly place your finger on her lips, shushing her. “No, no, I’m the boss here! I say we cook things together! Then we can go back to shooting random bottles and plates.” And hopefully Christine won’t notice that they’re missing when she gets back. She’s going to kill you if she finds out you’ve been making off with the fine China.

Anneliese nods. “Ja, okay. We can do that. What did you want to cook?”

… that’s a good question. You take the Model 8 from her, then start walking back to the farmhouse as the sun goes dim over the horizon.

-

-

You and Anneliese have put on aprons and observe as the soup boils in the pot. Anneliese continues to consult the cookbook. “… there’s nothing in this recipe that says anything about soup.” How did we get to soup then!? “Perhaps we should just give up and ask Christine.”

“Christine isn’t here, and that phone call is only for emergencies,” you declare.

“But what if we starve to death?” Anneliese asks semi-seriously. “Is that not an emergency?”

“Eh- you- please.” Anneliese giggles a bit at that. Aw, she’s getting her sense of humor back. A bit at your expense, but that’s fine! You giggle a little too, reviewing the recipe. Maybe a sandwich would just do you better at this point. Wait, maybe you can salvage this! You quickly flip through the pages. “Aha! Tomato soup, go chop me some tomatoes while this is cooking!”

She nods. “Ja!” Her little feet tap along the floorboards of the kitchen and she quickly pulls tomatoes out of the bowl left on the windowsill. She places them on the cutting board and starts chopping them up.

You smile. It seems like only a month or two ago Anneliese was being run out of every shop and every ballgame just because she said something in German. Poor girl was devastated. But now, here in the isolation of the rural countryside, she seems like herself again. Maybe it was like home to her, or maybe she was just genuinely enjoying herself. Whatever it was, you were happy that she’s happy. That’s really that matters now. Anneliese looks over, and sees you smiling. “Do you need something, Rana?”

“Oh, no, no,” you say quickly. “I’m good. Are the tomatoes ready?” She nods, sliding over the chopped tomatoes to you. Alright… maybe some spices would add to this a bit?

Anneliese leans over. “Do you know how to do this?”

“Of course I do!” you boast. “I see Christine do it all the time!” And how she does it always confuses you. “Trust me, I’m not burning our farmhouse down just because I don’t know how to…” Anneliese stares at you. “… measure the time! Measure the time, yes, uh- could you go count off how many minutes I need for this to cook? Please and thanks, Annie.”

[1/2]

>>501541
[2/2]

“Alrighty, uh…” She looks at the cookbook, then at her watch. “You know, I have been meaning to ask, Rana.”

“Huh?” You turn to her. Is this about Christine and Sumire’s friendship? They seem like really good friends, a bit grabby you suppose. And they do share a bed and sometimes at night you do hear some creaking and rustling but you're not sure if that was the apartment settling or them playing with each other. It’d be no surprise if she were confused by that too. “What’s up?”

“Before you and Christine met, what was your life like?” she asks. Oh. Oh… trickier question. You remain silent, apparently long enough that it makes Anneliese uncomfortable. “If you don’t want to answer, that’s fine, I only really wanted to get to know you a little better as all.”

> “How about you tell me what Germany was like, and I’ll tell you.”
> Tell her what you remember.
> “I don’t like to talk about it. It wasn’t fun.”
> Other

>>501547
>> “How about you tell me what Germany was like, and I’ll tell you.”

>>501547
>> “How about you tell me what Germany was like, and I’ll tell you.”

>>501547
>How about you tell me what Germany was like, and I’ll tell you
>Tell her what you remember.

>>501547
>Tell her what you remember.
Then ask her what Germany was like

>>501547

> “How about you tell me what Germany was like, and I’ll tell you.”

> “How about you tell me what Germany was like, and I’ll tell you.”

She blinks at that response, then smiles a little. “Well, when I was a little girl, my mother would always let me sit in the kitchen and read my books while she cooked. I honestly don’t remember Papa being home all that often but when he was, it was always so fun. Even with the way the Fatherland was during those times, when everyone was so poor, and when food and good clothes were scarce, we made ourselves happy.” She leans back on the counter, looking up and reminiscing. “I remember long walks in the countryside. Sometimes I’d meet a man wheeling along a wheelbarrow of useless money, other times I’d see women trying to grab at berries or mushrooms growing out of the ground to eat. But when Hitler came to power…” She sighs. “I’m afraid when Hitler came to power, things became better.”

You nod. “Is that how you met with the Magisch Korps?”

“They found me, and promised me that I could help my country and my family,” she says. “Hm…” She looks down, solemnly.

“Well, I guess that sounds way better than my childhood.”

She blinks again, looking at you. “What was that like?”

“My parents died when I was very little, I… I hardly remember how they died,” you ask. How did they die? You must’ve been so young. “I ended up in the orphanage, that wasn’t… that wasn’t great. It’s not fun when you’re the only girl in an orphanage interested in cars, guns, or planes. Everyone was so mean to me. Eventually I just left, and staked it out on my own for a year or three. And I got my powers from a certain somebody.”

“Kirby?”

“No,” you say. “He and I don’t talk much, but um… yeah, after a couple of years on the streets, fighting mobsters and criminals, Christine found me.” You smirk a bit. “That’s where my story starts in her head I guess.”

Anneliese holds up a finger. “My mother always told me, there are as many stories as there are people to tell them.” That’s a fair point.

“Why don’t you go wash your face for dinner, Anneliese, I can finish this up.” She nods, heading out of the kitchen and upstairs to the bathroom.

You sigh. Those were rough times on the streets of New York. You look up out of the window into the night sky. Winter has already set in it seems, early night, pitch black.

… except for a pair of curious lights heading down the road. You squint your eyes. More lights too. Car lights. How many cars are there?

More importantly, the only people who know where this farmhouse is should be Operator #5, Kirby, and you girls.

…

Who are they?

> Grab a gun and go investigate quietly.
> Go and hide, they might be dangerous.
> It’s probably nothing, go finish dinner.
> Other

>>501735
>> Grab a gun and go investigate quietly.

>>501735
> Grab a gun and go investigate quietly.
>Other-Let Anneliese know what's going on and what we're doing

>>501735
>>501779
Seconding this

>>501779
Seconding, but maybe we should bring her with us?

>>501735
> Grab a gun and go innawoods to investigate quietly.

> Grab a gun and go investigate quietly.

You hurry to the gun locker in one of the closets and open it up. Let’s see, let’s see… Yes! You grab a 1907 Winchester! Haha!

> WINCHESTER MODEL 1907 <
> A blowback action semi-automatic rifle from the Winchester Repeating Arms Company (Famous for its lever action rifles which tamed the Frontier). It loads a .351 Winchester SL round, a powerful cartridge. This item in particular is a plain stock, you’re not interested in the Police Rifle variant. <

“Anneliese!” She comes down the stairs, surprised, her face wet with water from washing her face. “There’s some guys outside. I’m going to investigate.”

She blinks. “Oh, are you sure? D- do you need my help?”

“Just stay in the house, find a gun.” You point to the closet underneath the stairs. “There’s plenty in there.” She nods, hurrying to find herself a gun. You quickly load in the .351 rounds into your rifle, then sling it over your shoulder. You exit out the side door and hurry into the grass. As the cars approach, you drop down to a prone position, then grab your rifle and start crawling. With the encroaching darkness and with the relatively tall grass, you should be concealed.

The cars all drive up and stop just short of the little dirt road leading to the house. You make out some actually really nice models, Ford Model As of 1931, Deluxe Models, and even a 37 Pickup! Climbing out of the cars now come men in sharp suits or waistcoats, wearing fedora hats or newsboy caps, and carrying guns of all kinds. M1921 or 28 Thompsons, Colt SAAs, Remington Model 8s, Colt Monitors, and double barred shotguns!

They all stop up, looking at the house. There must be two dozen at least, maybe even more. “’Ey, bubelah. This the right place?” asks one of his compatriots.

“Should be,” he says. “Ask that wise guy with the mask in the back, yes?”

You blink. Oh no.

They must be Murder Inc. boys.

One of the men steps past you, apparently not seeing you. “Whooo, nice house though, ain’t no shlock in these parts of the woods.” He’s standing right next to you, and he doesn’t see you. Oh Jesus Christ.

“Lights are on,” says one of the men. “Think we should knock?”

“Nah, wait for the freak to give the word.”

“… so what, we just stand out here and look like a bunch of a klutzes,” asks another one of them.

The last one nods. “Yeah.” There’s a bit of a pause. “Hey, I ain’t crossing the freak.”

> Sneak back to the house.
> Stay where you are, let them walk past you if at all possible.
> Ambush them now.
> Other

>>501984
>stay where you are, let them walk past you if at all possible.

crossfire muthafuckas!

>>501984
> let them walk past
How many of them are there, do we even have enough ammo?

>>501984
> Other
Get captured during a cutaway. We are Rana after all.

>>501984
>Stay where you are, let them walk past you if at all possible.
Annie can take care of herself right?

> Stay where you are, let them walk past you if at all possible.

You press yourself down to the ground as best you can, trying not to be noticed. A few of the men light up some cigarettes, waiting around, their weapons slung. “So how’s the misses, Jimmy?”

“Eh, she’s doin’ alright. That goyim next door’s been ogling her though, probably gonna give him the ice pick when I get home, put a stop to that.”

“You’re a real Lothario, you know that?”

But the men stop their chatter however someone arrives from the back of the pack. He wears a black trenchcoat, a black suit with a black shirt and black tie. His hands are gloved in brown leathers. And his face is concealed by a gasmask and a black fedora. “… look at this fucking guy,” says one of the mobster. The man looks at the guy who said that, and he immediately shuts up.

The masked man stops in front of them, and takes a look around. You can hear him breathing beneath that gas mask, even from the distance you’re at. But something feels… evil about him. Not like Nazi evil, or Jap evil, or even small time hood evil. Just plain dark. It makes your stomach queasy, and it makes the skin break out in goosebumps. Even staring at him is making your eyes burn and tear up.

He snorts. “I smell them.”

“You got a bigger nose than we do, pally.” One of the mobsters, a brown waistcoat with an M1928 Thompson with a drum mag and a forward grip walks up to him. “You sure this is the right house.”

“Positive,” he says. “Smoke them out, but be careful.”

He snickers. “I think we’s can handle some little girls. Come on, boys.” The mobsters grab their guns and start moving towards the house, lighting up some rags and bottles. Oh no, they’re gonna burn the house down!

The masked man stays where he is, grabbing one of the mobsters with a Colt Monitor by the collar. “You. I smell one around here. Find her.”

“What am I, your fucking errand boy?” The masked man stares him dead in the eye. “… Guess I am.” The two of them start sweeping around, looking for you. Oh no no no, Anneliese!

> Open fire!
> Keep hiding where you are.
> Hurry and sneak away before they find you.
> Other

>>502084
>Open fire!

>>502084
>Open fire!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=49OZ0M_0fhg

>>502084
Um, still don't know how many there are, makes it kinda hard to judge on attacks.
Can we get behind side cover, like one of their cars and then open fire?

>>502110
There's at least two dozen plus change

>>502084
Open fire. Get them with their pants down.

> Open fire!

You stand up out of the grass and pop the Colt Monitor wielding mobster in the head. The masked man turns around and watches him fall. And when he does that, you’re stunned right in place. Oh God, what is he!?

The mobsters turn around. “Hey! Get her!” They raise their guns. OH JESUS CHRIST. You dive for cover beneath one of the cars. Their rounds explode and bounce all around you, smashing up the car’s engine, bodywork, and tire. “Hey, that’s my fucking car, you bitch!”

“Stop your whining and get her!” yells another mobster. “Flank around the side!” You crawl your way to the other side, getting covered in grease and motor oil by the end of it. You come up to a crouch and lean over. One of the mobsters sees you and fires at you. The shot skims off the side of the car, nicking your cheek.

“Ah!” You yelp in pain, grabbing your cheek.

“Get her!” yells the masked man. “Kill her!” The mobsters keep up the fire.

You stand up and fire another shot. This time nailing a mobster in the heart. He falls over, dead on impact.

“Fuck you, you little goyim shikse!” One of the mobsters charges at you, ready to lay into you with his double barreled shotgun, heedless of his comrades suppressive fire. As he rounds the corner, you grab the barrel of his gun and force it up right as he fire. The heat of the round sears your hand, but it’s enough that you plant the barrel of your gun right into his chest. You rip him a new one, dead on arrival.

“Get around, get around!” No no no, they’re starting to surround you. You check your ammo. 2 rounds left, plus 10 in reserve. Dang it.

What would Liberty do!?

> Cry for help.
> Run away.
> Fight to the bitter end.
> Other

>>502186
> Fight to the bitter end.
Rana kind of idolises Christine, for better or worse.

>>502186
> fight
Are the keys in the car? We can go monster bowling.
Maybe we should target the spooky guy when we get the chance too

>>502186
> OTHER

Magical Girl Bomber time!
Gasmask knows we're here, he could sense us. No point fucking around. Twin Thompson Time!

>>502186
This and >>502198 fight to the bitter end

>run away
You are not acting like the magical girl Libby knew you could be

> Fight to the bitter end.

You stand up and drop the Winchester. The boys stop firing to look at you, surprised that you’re suddenly apparently surrendering. The masked man steps in front of them, wielding a very large revolver, a black finished Smith and Wesson Model 27 chambered for .357 Magnum. One of the mobsters raises his hand, lowering his Remington. “Alrighty, girly. You just raise your little hands in the air, and we’ll make this quick, alrighty?”

You clench your left hand into a fist, the hand with your Soul Ring on your ring finger. “Hey, you hear what he said?” yells another mobster. “Put your hands up!”

You’ve got only five words to say to them, “I heard you, wise guy.”

A powerful burst of light explodes from your ring, blinding all the mobsters. Even the masked man has to cover his eyes with his arm. Your clothes tear away and are quickly replaced by a flowing black dress. A scarf wraps around your neck and lower face, billowing in the imaginary wind. And out of a soft white starburst comes a big fedora hat to sit upon your head. Your hands are gloved up, and you quickly reach beneath your skirt and pull out a pair of M1921 Thompsons.

> MOM AND POP <
> A pair of magical M1921 Thompson Submachine guns, light enough for Bomber to comfortably duel-wield, as well as possessing an amazing amount of stopping power and range beyond what Thompson should do. <

You charge the bolts on the Thompsons, and point it at the mobsters. They all step back, surprised.

“Oh shit,” says one of them. “It’s the Shadow!”

> MAGICAL GIRL BOMBER! <

You spray a whole load of .45 ACP right at them. They scatter, but not before several of them are cut to pieces by the firepower you lay down onto them. The remaining men hurry into cover, with some even getting into their cars and making a break for it. “Hey, where are you going!?” yells one of them. The pickup immediately squeals as its tires skid across the dirt before driving off. “Fuck you, you cowards!” The remaining mobsters, of which there are at least ten or eleven, take cover.

>>502266
[2/2]

All except the masked man. He raises his 27 and fires at you. The shot flies past your ear, making it ring for a few seconds as he slowly advances on you. You point your Thompsons at him, then fire an intense burst. He stumbles, the .45 rounds perforating him like Swiss cheese.

But at the end of your mags, he still stands. He dusts himself off, continuing to walk towards you.

Th-… that’s impossible.

Well, you’ve seen a lot of weird things! But no living man should’ve survived that, even with a vest!

“Torch the house,” says the masked man to one of the mobsters. The remaining mobsters quickly run towards the house. He looks back to you. “You’re mine.”

> Raise the stakes.
> Keep firing your Thompsons, it has to work at some point.
> RUN RUN RUN
> OTher

>>502268
> Raise the stakes.
Escalation of force time.

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>>502268
> Raise the stakes.

Blow parts off of him.

>>502268
>Raise the stakes.

> Raise the stakes.

“Not if I can help it, tough guy!” You throw up your Thompsons, and let them spin in the iar, glowing white with magical power. They then merge together in one solid metal construction, a new gun, a bigger gun. You wield it by the spade grip and by a handle on top of the weapon itself.

A Browning M2 heavy machine gun.

> THE BROADWAY SPECIAL <
> A Browning M2 firing .50 caliber cartridges. This particular beauty has been modified by Bomber to be wielded by hand. Built for the biggest targets there are, very little can hope to stop this gigantic weapon.”

You squeeze the trigger. The Browning kicks and bucks against you as you fire it against the masked man. The shots rip and tear right through him, the shots smashing against the ground behind and ricocheting off into the sky. Dang it, what is this guy made of!? He doesn’t even seem to be phased by this! You step back, continuing to fire at him.

As this happens, the mobsters throw some fire bottles into the farmhouse. The few remaining ones with automatic guns shoot up the walls, hoping to coax out anyone else brave enough to risk the mobsters. The windows are smashed up, the wooden walls are pierced straight through. Oh, Christine is going to kill you! You’ve only had that house for a month!

You look back to the masked man. The Browning’s barrel glows red as the shots get hotter and faster. “Die, die!” you scream. He refuses to, continuing to advance. Even the Storm Ace would’ve stopped by now. What is this guy’s problem!? Once he’s close enough, he grabs the barrel, jamming the weapon. He throws it aside right out of your hands. You step back.

Oh Jesus Christ. You reach into your skirt and pull out a Browning Hi-Power. He slaps that aside as well. Oh, no, no, no. You stare right through the lenses of his gas mask.

“It’s adorable that you’re trying to fight me off. But everyone has to visit the Doctor at some point.”

You blink. “Wh- who are you?” Standing in front of him feels… wrong somehow. You can’t describe it!

He tilts his head. “The cure to a plague.”

> THE WITCH DOCTOR <

[1/2]

>>502378
[2/2]

He grabs your wrist. A searing burning pain shoots right up your arm. “AAAH!” you scream, kneeling down and grabbing your arm. It feels like he’s setting it on fire! No, worse, WORSE! He lifts you up, then plants the barrel of his 27 below your chin. “Don’t worry, this will hurt you more than it will hurt me.”

Suddenly, the house explodes open. The mobsters step back, shielding themselves from the debris.

Stepping out of the wreckage is the giant steel armor of Anneliese, with a mini-88mm cannon her shoulder and a machine gun gauntlet on the other. She points her weaponry at the mobsters and at the now distracted Witch Doctor.

Anneliese growls. “Let her go.”

> MECHA MAGICAL GIRL TIGER! <

The mobsters blink, staring up at her. “Fuck this!” yells one of them, he drops his gun and runs. The others follow suit. One tries bravely to fire at Tiger. But she simply smashes him under her fist.

He drops you, letting you writhe in pain on the ground. Your arm! You look at your wrist, it looks like a piece of wood that got burnt right where he grabbed you! The Witch Doctor raises his revolver, firing it at Tiger. The shot blows off a panel on her armor, making her flinch before she tries advancing.

> “Anneliese, no! Run!”
> “Get him, Anneliese!”
> Other

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I got work in the morning so I'll pick up whatever vote wins tomorrow when I get home. Hope you all enjoyed, discuss things amongst youurselves, yeah? Yeah.

>>502385
Thanks for running Schteel.

>>502380
> “Anneliese, no! Run!”
Whole lotta nope going on here.

>>502380
>> “Get him, Anneliese!”
>> Other
Time to draw our bootknife and put it into the base of this cunt's skull.

>>502380
> Other

Re-group and flee.

Thanks for running, Boss. I'll catch up tomorrow evening.

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>Get him, Anneliese
Maybe she'll have better luck with her mini-88

> “Get him, Anneliese!”

“Get him, Anneliese!” you yell. The Witch Doctor fires another shot, this time dodged by Tiger. As the Witch Doctor closes in, you take a look at your arm again. God, the pain! You touch it, it doesn’t even feel hot or anything. What did he do to you!? You blink. Wait, Anneliese!

The Witch Doctor fires another shot, this time grazing Tiger’s cheek and splattering some blood against her armor. “Agh!” She flinches back, touching her cheek for a second before focusing on the fight. She grabs the handle on her 88 and points it straight at the Witch Doctor. “Feuer!” she screams.

The shot explodes against the Witch Doctor, disintegrating him entirely. Fires and flames go up along the grass right where he was. The remaining mobsters get in their cars and flee the place, tires squealing as they run off and away.

Anneliese looks around, panting heavily. After a few seconds, she hurries over to you. “Bomber! Quickly, we have to go now!” You steady yourself, groaning in pain.

“B-…” You look past her as she helps you back onto your feet, and lets you steady yourself on her. “But the house!” The house is completely aflame, fires spewing from the windows and the bulletholes. It’s optimistic to call it a house now, it was more like a bonfire.

Good god, Christine is going to kill you.

Suddenly, the Witch Doctor appears right behind Anneliese. “ANNIE!” you scream. She turns around, training her guns on him.

But alas, this Doctor was but a mere apparition it seems. His silhouette is smoky, almost like a Messenger like Kirby. He says to you two, “This is not over. I will be back for you.” His image disappears into the wind.

The two of you stand there in silence.

After a few minutes, Anneliese breaks the quiet. “We have to find a phone and warn Operator #5 now,” she says. “And we need Liberty’s help as well and-” She looks at your arm. “Gott im Himmel what happened to your arm!?” You look down at the wound inflicted on you, just from the Witch Doctor grabbing it. It was blackened and shriveled, almost like wood in a fire. And yet, you couldn’t feel a thing from it. The area around it stung but… something about it felt incredibly off.

“I’m fine,” you say.

“But-“

“I’m fine!” you say loudly. “W-… we need to think. That- that guy is going to be back for us.”

You need to get back to New York City. But how?

> One of the mobsters left their cars, take that.
> The train station is a short walk away, take the train.
> Walk there, and stay off the main road.
> Other

>>503557
>The train station is a short walk away, take the train.
hopefully the train's crowded enough for us to blend in

>>503557
Can we drive? If so, take the car.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Guess we got a tie.

1. Lewds on a train.
2. Auto-erotica.

> The train station is a short walk away, take the train.

-

-

The train station is relatively deserted at night. It’s not like people travel too much during the darkness. Especially with gangster types running around. But you and Anneliese were able to secure a pair of tickets for the two of you on the next overnight to New York. You were able to hide your wound underneath the sleeve of your coat, and with some pretty broad hats and some dark clothing, you’re hoping to blend in the minute the train arrives.

As you stand on the platform, you bite your lip. Come on train, come faster! Little faster! Who knows when that guy will show up again.

Who was that guy anyway!?

“How is your arm?” asks Anneliese for quite possibly the tenth time since you left the house. You humor her, and roll up your sleeve. See, Anneliese, it’s-…

You blink. Is it getting bigger?

You immediately roll the sleeve down. “It’s fine,” you say quickly.

“A-… are you sure?” she asks worriedly.

“I’m fine.” You take a deep breath. You are feeling just the slightest bit lightheaded right now. “I’m alright. Things could be a bit better I suppose. I was really looking forward to a Thanksgiving of peace and solitude in the woods with you, Anneliese but I guess we can’t have even that.” Anneliese frowns a little at that. “I’m sorry.”

“Well, it’s not our fault I guess,” she says. You hear a whistle in the distance. The train! Yes.

The train arrives, a sleek looking number from the great factories of Detroit probably. Smoke billows out of its top as it arrives. The passenger cars roll up to you two. The Conductor riding along yells out, “This train to New York City, overnight!” You hand him your tickets, and quickly he checks them off and allows you two aboard.

You and Anneliese have lucked out, you’ve found a crowded car to sit in. You quickly find yourself a booth and sit down, her across from you. Everywhere else is taken by people reading the news, sleeping their way through the journey, or waiting patiently for the train to get moving.

“Alright,” you say. “We head back, make a call, then we’re safe,” you explain quickly. Anneliese nods, hugging herself. “Don’t worry, home stretch!”

A stewardess comes by for the two of you. “Would any of you like some coffee or the evening newspaper?” Anneliese nods, and the stewardess hands her a newspaper. You shake your head, waving her off. She moves on happily.

You sigh, leaning back, thank God.

> Talk with Anneliese, that was a harrowing experience. See what she has to say.
> Get up and explore as the train leaves, your legs are feeling kind of dead.
> Take a nap, it’s gonna be a long trip.
> Other

>Get up and explore as the train leaves, your legs are feeling kind of dead.
That creep with the gasmask didn't follow us on, right? Should probably stay alert

>>503692
>Talk with Anneliese, that was a harrowing experience. See what she has to say.

>>503768
Seconding this

> Talk with Anneliese, that was a harrowing experience. See what she has to say.

“Anneliese.” She looks up from her newspaper, smiling at you. “I hope if Christine comes back she uh…” You look around the train, seeing all the people around you, then you quickly look back to her. “She won’t be mad about what happened to the house.”

“I think her big priority would be our safety,” says Anneliese. Oh- oh, that’s true. That’s actually more fitting for Christine you guess. Damn, Anneliese got you right there. “Houses can be replaced, lives can’t be.” Oh, that’s another thing Christine would say. You bounce in your seats as the train starts moving forward.

“Well, yeah, I suppose.” You lean on the window, looking out into the night.

She gently rests the newspaper on her lap, then comes to sit next to you. “You shouldn’t worry yourself, Rana.”

“I know, but…” You twiddle your fingers a bit, moping a little. “I don’t like disappointing Christine. She cunts on me you know? And I count on her.” Ever since the day Christine found you and offered to make you part of her world, you’ve been thinking on the ways to repay her. And you still haven’t found it. Just the thought that you might disappoint her is agonizing.

“She’s a tougher woman than that,” says Anneliese. “You’ll see. When we meet with her again, I guarantee she won’t even remember the house.” Perhaps. But you were looking forward to spending the winter there. “You’re still alright though, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, you?”

“As long as you’re fine, I’m fine.” Awww… She gently rests her head on your shoulder, shutting her eyes. Anneliese…

You hear the soft taps of heels coming your way.

“Excuse me.” You and Anneliese look up to a girl wearing a frilly dress with a billowing skirt, with almost no exposed skin whatsoever. Her gloved hands hold an umbrella, opened up to shade her from the light. Her brown hair is done up in a neat bun, topped off with a mushroom hat with flowers on the band. She looks as if she walked out of 1918. Her bright blue eyes look down on you two. She points to the seat across from you two. “Is this seat taken?” she says with a soft voice.

> “Yes, sorry.”
> “No, go ahead.”
> “Who are you?”
> Other

>>503954
>No, go ahead

>>503954
> “No, go ahead.”

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>>503954
I have a feeling that we should be more paranoid around people, all thing considered. But at the same time, I don't think we have to be rude just because we've got the attention of the mob.

> “No, go ahead.”

You nod. “Go ahead.” She stiffly walks into the booth, then shuts her umbrella and rests it by her side as she sits. She stares ahead at you two, a light smile on her face.

Like the Witch Doctor, there was definitely something off about her. Unlike the Witch Doctor, it wasn’t that he felt evil. This girl just felt… off somehow. Maybe it was the light glow of her eyes, or her incredibly stiff posture. Whatever it was, you were in no position to just say, “Please get out of here.” No need to make a scene with the Mob running around.

Anneliese looks back at her. “Um. So what is your name?”

“Val,” she says simply and quickly.

…

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Val,” you say. “Um, I hope you don’t mind but-“

“You want to get to New York,” she says. Your breath is taken right out of you. “The train is headed there, yes?” For whatever reason, the way she said things, it was as if she was… automatic. “I heard there was a vicious housefire over yonder.”

Anneliese glances at you, then back at Val. “Er, listen, Val, we-“

She takes Anneliese’s newspaper, then opens it up and begins reading. “You are very interesting people. I will keep an eye on you.”

…

“Who are you again?” you ask, this time really wanting more than just her name.

“Val,” she says again.

…

> “Um, okay.”
> “Well, listen, Val. We don’t want any trouble.”
> “So… where are you going then?”
> Other

>>504210
> Other
"What are you?"

>>504222
Seconding this. Is this train going directly to New York? Because we should probably get off at the next stop and take another train if things look like they're going to get ugly

>>504210
>Well, listen, Val. We don’t want any trouble.

> Other

“What are you?” you ask.

Val blinks, staring at you. “… Val.”

…

“Okay, Val. Um. Well, we don’t want any trouble or anything. You seem kind of-“

“I apologize if you are intimidated by me,” she says. “Do not worry, I am not looking for trouble if you are not.” Oh. Um, okay, that’s fair enough. Val holds up her newspaper, upside down. “It appears there is some good news in the papers today, would you not agree?”

You and Anneliese glance at each other. What is this girl’s malfunction? Did she escape from a sanatorium or something? Oh, you shouldn’t say that aloud though, that’d be rude. But… still, what’s wrong with her!? It’s scaring you, and it’s probably scaring Anneliese too!

“If you wish to sleep, go ahead, I do not mind,” she says quickly. She continues to read the newspaper.

Anneliese sighs, rubbing up closer to you. “I guess you’re my pillow for tonight, Rana.” You grumble a little. She wraps her arm around, shutting her eyes and very quickly drifting off to sleep. The nights events must have tired her out. Truth be told, you were looking forward to an overnight sleep on the train to New York but…

You blink, looking at Val again. She continues to stare at you. “Is something the matter?”

“Are you um… just going to stare at us like that?” you whisper, taking care not wake Anneliese.

“How will I keep my eye on you if I am not looking at you,” she says simply.

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. “Look, Val- we’ve been through a lot, can you-“ She tilts her head, and her smile drops. That shushes you.

“I simply wish to watch out for you. For now.”

…

Alright, well. Guess you’ve picked up a hitchhiker. You lean back in your seat a bit. She might seem friendly, but Christine wouldn’t take her eye off her for a second. Neither will you. You’re going to stare at her until she cracks, even if it takes all night.

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>>504428
That's it for tonight, I'm out of steam and this seems like a good stopping point. Hopefully you'll join me for on this story next time I decide to run it.

Follow at: https://twitter.com/GermanSchteel
Ask at: http://germanschteel.tumblr.com/
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See you next time.

>>504449
Any idea when that'll be?

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>>504512
Maybe next week or the week after next, we'll see how it goes.

>>504449
Thanks for running Schteel, looking forward to this week's LGA.

>>504449
Just caught up and its over.

Thanks for the fun, Boss.