Yaaaaaaaaah boi, back again

Been running on coffee and energy drinks for a few days now, so we'll see how long this goes before I collapse.

>>887763

Previously on Thug Quest, you smoked weed, ate pizza, and watched cartoons with Nick and Alex. Oh, and there was something about you stealing a black-market EMP device from a clandestine deal between Black Spear, a criminal organization within the police, and the Colombian cartel.

Things went south, as they usually do, until Alex took out two vans of Black Spear guys with a single bullet. Which made part of you want to ask her to make sweet, hot love to you right there on the hood of the car. Of course, it was Ken's car, and he might object, especially as you were still driving away from the real police at the time.

On the plus side, you've successfully stolen a small thermonuclear device. So that's good. Catherine assured you this wouldn't come back to bite you in any way. Maybe she was even telling the truth.

>>900425
Come home from work to one of my favorite quests, excellent!

File: arnie thumbs up.jpg (44 KB, 500x406)

44 KB JPG

>>900473
>>900551

File: edna.jpg (45 KB, 634x360)

45 KB JPG

After swinging by the staging point to drop off the EMP - Ryuji was there getting things squared away, and had a laugh when Ken described your adventures to him - the three of you changed cars, and Ken drove at your request to Old Edna's place. The blind widow sells a motley collection of refurbished weapons out of a decrepit old house surrounded by a yard of overgrown grass, rusted machinery, and feline predators.

"Watch out for the cats," you say to Alex and Ken as they follow you through the yard. You step up onto the porch, pull open the creaky screen door. "Hello? Edna, you awake?"

"Johnny!" you hear her shout from inside. "Come in, my boy!"

The three of you enter the dimly lit, cobwebbed room, full of stacks of old newspapers and half-assembled firearms. Edna is sitting in her old easy chair. "You're still alive," she says to you. "I'm impressed. Who's that you have with you?"

"This is Alex, she got mixed up in all this alongside me. And-"

Ken says, "Hello, Edna."

"Oh my. Now that's a voice I haven't heard for some time. Kenji Yamada. You rascal! I thought you was out of the game?"

"I still am," he says. "Just a concerned uncle helping out his niece and nephew."

"Is it true, then? About your brother, I mean."

Ken glances at you. You try not to think about how you threw a meat cleaver into his brother's face. "I don't know exactly what you've heard, but, yes ... he is dead."

"Then it sounds like those two will need you to look out for 'em, more than ever. Now," she says, pointing at you without looking in your direction. "What can I do for you, young man?"

>Some ammo for your machine gun. Push always comes to shove.
>A weapon that's quiet and precise. It's not normally your style, but this time, you're sneaking in.
>Some kind of special grenade or gadget, something unexpected.

File: special-agent-dale-cooper(...).jpg (137 KB, 500x374)

137 KB JPG

>>900553

>>900567
>Quiet and precise
Let's get our Solid Snek on

>>900567
Don't suppose we can do all three?

>>900578
Yeah, but that's expeeeeeeeensivve. I know we got a lot of money, but we need to save some for the Montana ranch.

(I so support getting more ammo, though.)

>>900578
You can do all three, but there's only so much you can carry at one time. Especially since you already have the dubious honor of rappelling up a wall while carrying the EMP.

>>900589
We're a big guy. We can carry an EMP and machine gun on our back while we have a silenced pistol or something in a holster. How big is this EMP, anyways?

>>900593
A pistol would be fine, yeah.

It's about the size of a big suitcase.

>>900598
Huh, so if we get a backpack, a rifle sling, and a thigh holster for the pistol, we're golden.

"I could use something quiet and precise," you say. "I know that's not normally my thing, but I'm going in secret agent style on this one."

"Well," says Edna. She slowly pushes herself up to her feet. "Let me think about that. I could get you a nine mil with a silencer. But you know, those things don't work like the movies. Can't turn a gunshot into an angel's whisper. In real life it only takes the noise down from about "airplane" to "jackhammer". Still could be useful. On the other hand ..." She gets a crafty look on her face. "You just hold on. I'm gonna go track something down." She disappears into the back room. You hear some crashing as she digs around for something. "Just a minute!" she shouts.

You look at Ken and Alex. They look at you. You shrug.

"Here we are." Edna returns ...

(Continued)

File: crossbow2.jpg (29 KB, 622x463)

29 KB JPG

"Are you even serious?" you ask. "A crossbow?"

Edna cackles. "Quiet as a mouse! You can still kill a man just as dead at fifty yards with this old thing as with a bullet. What do you say, Johnny?"

>Fuck it. I'll take the crossbow.
>Just take the silenced pistol.

>>900635
Why the heck not?

>>900635
>Fuck it.
No real reason to not take it. When it gets to the gunfight part, we'll use our favorite gun.

Grouse about it, though.

"Jus' cause I gotta machine gun don't make me no Johnny Rambo, ya know. I ain't some 'Nam vet with all that commando shit. Hand it here."

"You know, I'm not Rambo or something. I'm not a commando. But ... yeah, okay. Hand it over." You take the crossbow, heft it, feel the wood in your hands. "It looks pretty old. Is it a replica?"

"Actual crossbow from an actual museum," she says. "Used by some french asshole five hunnerd years ago. I mean, the strings and gears and such are mine. I fixed it up on a whim, thinking maybe one day someone would have a use for it. And here we are. I'll go fetch you some bolts for that thing, dearie. Anything for you, young lady?" she asks, pointing at Alex without turning towards her.

Alex says, "Got any smoke grenades? Maybe a claymore, too."

"Let me see what I can dig up for you." She disappears into the back rooms again.

Alex is looking at you with a certain odd look in her eyes. "Where DID you learn how to fight like you do, Johnny? Were you in 'Nam?"

>Yeah. Uncle Sam taught me how to shoot when I was eighteen, sent me to the jungle.
>My dad was a boxer. Taught me how to use my fists. Just kind of got more intense from there.
>My granddad taught me how to shoot gators in the Glades.

Choosing one option doesn't necessarily make the others not true. It's just what you want to tell Alex right now.

>>900684
I'm up for 'Nam vet.

Also
>Something else
if you have your own ideas for Johnny's history.

>>900688
Oh, then his dad was a boxer, and he went off to 'Nam when he was 18. His dad didn't approve, he beat the shit out of him, but he still let him go.

>>900689
I'm okay with this.

>>900696
Glad you are. I feel bad about posting so much, hope you don't feel like I'm drowning ya out.

"Yeah. I turned eighteen in the seventies. Got myself in trouble. Judge offered me the standard deal: prison or the jungle. I chose the jungle." You try not to remember. You think, not for the last time, maybe you should've chosen prison instead. "So yeah, Uncle Sam taught me how to load and point a rifle, sent me off to the jungle to shoot gooks. I killed some. Made a few friends. Saw most of them die. Then of course, when I got home ..." You trail off, remembering the protest signs, the hippies spitting on the ground at your feet. You shake your head. "Not a good time. For me. For anyone."

"I guess though, really it started when I was kid. My dad was a boxer. Taught me how to use my fists. That was a better time. Of course, he beat the shit out of me when I robbed that place and got myself a ticket to Vietnam. But I guess that was just his shitty way of showing he cared about me."

Alex said, "What happened when you got back? With your dad."

>He died. Before I got back. Never got the chance to talk to him again.
>He lives out West. I still call him now and then.
>We patched things up pretty good, actually. Still go out for beers sometimes.

>>900711
>He died. Before I got back. Never got the chance to talk to him again.
Because sad.

>>900711
beers
b/c sad is cliche as fuck

>>900723
Eh, I'll change to this. Might as well.

>>900711
>>We patched things up pretty good, actually. Still go out for beers sometimes.

>>900711
>>He lives out West. I still call him now and then.
"If this score comes through, I might move out that way too. Getting a little exciting around here."

"We patched things up pretty good, actually. Still go out for beers sometimes. He's an asshole, but he can still throw back a cold one. Johnny," you say, leaning over in an old man slouch, trying to imitate his gravelly voice. "Men these days are fuckin pussies, you hear me? Fuckin nansy pansy faggits with their fuckin pink suits and fuckin shoulder pads. I didn't fight in dubya dubya two for this bullshit, did I boy?"

Good old dad. You wonder what he'd say if he knew the kinds of shit you were mixed up in now.

If this score comes through, maybe you should see about moving him out west, away from all this. In fact, maybe you should move out there yourself. This city is getting a little exciting. You think about that ranch in Montana again.

Edna returns with a bundle of crossbow bolts and improvised explosives. "Three smoke grenades and an IED mine for you, young lady, and some pointy sticks for your crossbow, Johnny. Four hunnerd for the lot. I'm giving you a discount on the crossbow on account of I ain't likely to sell a museum piece to a gangbanger any time soon."

>Sounds good
>There's something else I had in mind ... (write-in)

>>900752
>Sounds good
No reason to haggle, we got what we needed.

>>900752
>>Sounds good

>>900752
Also, Johnny's dad is awesome. I want to hang out with him sometime.

"Sounds good," you say, handing over the last of your cash. "Now uh ... what kind of holster do you use for a crossbow?"

The three of you emerge from the squeaky porch door, start walking through the grass jungle. Alex nudges Ken in the ribs. "So. You and Edna. Eh?"

"Whatever do you mean, Alex?"

"You two knew each other back in the day? Something happen there?"

"She was a married woman," Ken says gravely. "Now we're too old for such nonsense."

"And? There's married, and then there's married, am I right?"

"I don't wish to talk about it," says Ken. "And if you don't want to walk home, then neither do you."

Come to think of it, you're not sure if Ken was ever married, or has his own kids. Hmm.

The three of you are standing by the car. Ken checks his watch. "We're planning to go in about twenty four hours," he says. "Anything you'd like to do before then? I can drop you off someplace, or just take you back to my home."

"I need to pick up some cigarettes and painkillers," you say. "After that ..."

>Go to a bar, have a drink. Just one or two to relax.
>Go to a bar, get shitfaced. You'll be fine tomorrow, no problem.
>Get some money from your stash. (Ken will learn its location.)
>Just go back to Ken's house and go over the plan with Catherine.
>Something else.

>>900799
>>Just go back to Ken's house and go over the plan with Catherine.
Maybe pick up a 6 pack or something.

>>900799
>>Go to a bar, have a drink. Just one or two to relax.
See if everyone wants to come. Get some team bonding in.

>>900799
>Go to a bar, have a drink. Just one or two to relax.
Enough to take our mind off things, but not enough for a hangover.

>>900817
And seconded.

"I might head to a bar, have one or two drinks. I need to relax. You guys want to join me? We can do some team bonding type shit."

"Not me," says Alex. "Need to go over my gear tonight."

"I mostly stick to tea these days," says Ken. "I'll have to pass."

"All right, party poopers. I know a little hole in the wall in the Pines. Drop me off there, will you?"

The bar is literally called the Hole in the Wall, and opening the doors assaults you with the stench of alcohol and vomit. Brings back memories. Your dad used to take you here, back when he used to box. You could get away with bringing a kid back into a bar then. The world's different now. But the bar hasn't changed.

You walk inside, listening to the usual ruckus. A lot of underground fighters and wannabe mobsters still hang out here. Hulking figures sitting slouched over drinks, comparing scars and tattoos. These are your people. Or at least, they were. Are you upgrading from "thug" to "thief"? You're not really sure.

You take a seat at the bar. "Hey, Harry," you greet the bartender. "Get me a beer, will you?"

"Howdy, Johnny," says Harry, fetching you a bottle. "Haven't seen you around for a while."

"I've been busy," you say. You pop the top of the beer and take a nice long drink of the cold, refreshing beverage. "Good stuff. How are things, Harry? Fights still going like usual?"

"They're still going, Johnny, though I don't know about usual. We got an up-and-comer who's kinda rough to handle. In fact-"

You hear the sound of shattering glass from the back room. Harry winces. "In fact, that's probably her now. Don't get involved, Johnny. Just keep your head down, all right?"

>Investigate
>"Did you say "her"?"
>Just drink your beer

>>900859
>Investigate
>"Did you say "her"?"
Consider my interest piqued.

>>900871
Second.

>>900871
Thirded.

File: mother_russia_bleeds_by_g(...).png (832 KB, 1024x1357)

832 KB PNG

You place your beer back down on the bar. "I'm going to check it out," you say to Harry. "Wait. What did you mean by "her"?"

"Yeah, it's the new fighter. You want to stay as far away from her as possible. Johnny, I really wouldn't if I were you, just finish your beer. In fact, maybe just get out of here before-"

The door to the back office crashes off its hinges onto the ground as a heavyset man comes flying through it. He lands on his back on the door. He looks in a bad way, with his scalp bleeding. He shuffles backwards on the ground, holding up his hands. "Please ... I-I didn't ... please no ..."

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6_zsJ8KPP0

A figure emerges from the back hallway. A woman. Wiry. Muscular. Tattooed. Long haired. A look on her face and a gleam in her eyes you might describe as "demented" or "psychotic" or "scary as fuck".

She walks straight over to the man on the ground and, without ceremony, kicks him in the ribs with a heavy boot. "And that-" she shouts, punctuating each few words with another kick to the ribs. "Is why - you don't - fucking - stiff me! Got it?!" She spits on the man's face, then turns to the rest of the bar. "What about the rest of you shitheads? I just beat up your boss! Gonna to do something about it? Fucking pigs?"

Six of the huge street fighters slowly stand up. One of them cracks his knuckles.

>Help her fight the thugs
>Help the thugs fight her
>Try to defuse the situation
>Go back to the bar and drink your beer
>Get out of here
>Something else

>>900882
Just watch and appreciate her skills, we have no stake in this fight. Unless one of those dudes piss us off. Or draws a piece.

>>900882
>Try to defuse the situation
The guys know you, you can calm'em down. All you wanted was to drink in peace.

>>900888
>second

>>900888
Cmon, it's just a fight. Would we do any different? She's just trying to send a message, we were young once too.

>>900896
True, but she might smash up the bar if the fight spills out into the front.

>>900897
If she causes too much damage sure, but right now? why bother? We don't know her, save your energy for the real fights. Not stopping her doesn't mean we're a pussy fellas.

Also, gonna have to go to sleep and pick up the rest later. See y'all next time.

>>900900
Later anon, thanks for playing.

You step forward. "Woah, hey, guys. Let's not let things get out of control here."

"What the hell, man." spits one of the younger toughs. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Kid," warns one of the older fighters. "You don't want to be messing with that guy."

"Fuck you!" screams the woman. "You don't want to be messing with ME!"

She walks right up to you, stands maybe a foot away from you, staring right up at you with barely contained energy. Looking into her eyes, you can tell she's fucked up on something.

You're taller than her. Bigger. Stronger. More experienced. Somehow none of this gives you any comfort at all. You feel like a bear cornered by a wolverine.

"You got some kind of fucking stake in this, guy?" she hisses. "You some kind of fucking cowboy here to save the town?"

"No," you admit. "I just like this bar. I don't want it smashed up."

A manic grin crosses her face. "Then I'll make you a deal, cowboy. I won't touch the bar. Or the tables, or the chairs, or anything. I'll just smash these fucking punks whose boss tried to stiff me out of my money. Deal?"

>Deal.
>No deal.

>>900905
Deal.

>>900905
>No Deal
We tried the peaceful route, everyone saw.
Also tell the boys the stand back and let us handle this.

>>900900
Thanks!

>>900906
We get where she's coming from. Maybe not the drugs, but needing to prove shit and being fucked over sucks.

>>900907
Why? she hasn't done shit to us man,besides we can drink our booze while she fights.

>>900911
How much of a bitch would we look like if we backed down though?

>>900912
We're not backing down. We are making a deal. If she breaks that deal...we fuck her up. She didn't walk up to us trying to start shit, if anything we walked up to her. Looking like the boss of these fuckups.

>>900914
Besides, what do we have to prove? We are death on two legs. We killed a yakuza boss with a clever throw. We fought an armored behemoth. We have our shit on lock down.

>>900914
She's a crazy lady who just showed up and started beating people up. She instigated this whole thing when she came into our favorite bar. She can either take it outside or deal with us.

>>900905
>>Deal.

>>900923
The bartender himself knows her and knows what's up. She's shown enough restraint not trying shit with us, stop acting like a geenhorn and realize not everything is about posture. We have bigger fish to fry duders. This bar has probably had more than enough of it's share of fights.

>>900926
We've got our tiebreaker vote.

>>900929
We don't even know these mouth breathers anyways.

>>900921
A cleaver throw, too.

>>900929
>>900921
>>900914
Fine, I concede.

>>900931
Sweet, I'm tired of arguing reason. We are a veterean goddamn criminal/fistfighter. Not a posturing kid.

>>900935
Look man, hot blood has it's time. Just wait until we have an archnemesis. Then we can go all out. I appreciate your enthusiasm.

File: drinking.png (455 KB, 1024x571)

455 KB PNG

You think about it. On the one hand, this crazy lady is starting some shit in a bar you like. On the other hand, you don't even know these mouth-breathers. As long as the bar itself is fine, you could care less. And after the events of the past week, you feel like you don't have shit to prove to anyone.

"Deal," you say.

"Good! Haha!" She spins around to face the group of toughs. "Now where were we, boys? Oh, that's right, I was about to rip your fucking faces off! Come here--!"

It's six huge men, seasoned veterans of street fights and underground boxing, against one woman. It's a massacre. Totally one-sided. You can hardly bring yourself to watch. You sit down at the bar again and try to concentrate on your beer.

Some time later, after the sound of snapping bones and pummeled flesh has faded away to be replaced by groans of pain, the woman plops herself down on the barstool next to you. Her face is a crimson mask. She says to the bartender, "Get me a fucking drink. Leave the bottle."

"Y-y-yes ma'am." Harry quickly gets her a glass and bottle, uncaps it for her. She pours herself a full glass, tilts her head back, arching her neck, and drains it all in one long go. Lowers the glass, pauses a moment. Then lets out a loud belch.

She notices you looking at her, grins at you. "Don't worry. It's not my blood. I think." She tests a spot gingerly. "Ouch. Maybe it is. Fucking Z is wearing off." She grabs a bar napkin, wipes the blood off her face. Turns towards you, crosses her legs. "Anyway, what's your deal, cowboy? I think I saw you at one of the fights a few weeks ago. You didn't do too bad for yourself. You wanna meet me in the circle sometime?"

>Maybe someday.
>I'm not really fighting these days. Getting into other things.
>You're my kind of woman. I like you.
>You're fucking crazy.
>Z, huh? Haven't tried it. What's it like?
>Something else.

>>900935
I'm serious though, keep up with the anger. If we ever get to boss level, we'll need that drive. It's like fire, it's great when it's raging..but it's gotta be controlled or it'll die out. We've been through enough shit that we can pick and choose our battles, but oooh man...if someone steps over the line. Boom, instant extinction.

>>900952
>You're fucking crazy
>Smile
>Maybe someday
>Z, huh? Haven't tried it. What's it like?

>>900952
>>Something else.
You'd be a great damn fight, that's for sure, but nah. Back in the day I'd be ready to throw up with you...but now I have other things to do, other jobs, better payouts. Also, Z? I ain't one to judge, but what's that like?

>>900959
this seems good.

>>900961
Throw down rather.

"You're fucking crazy," you say, smiling. "Maybe someday." And you take a drink of your beer.

"Yeah, that's what the doctor said," she says. "Crazy. Thought that might've been after I put a chair through his window. Fucking doctors, right?" She pours herself a drink. Reaches behind the bar to grab second a glass. Pours a drink into that. Slides it over to you. "Cheers."

"Cheers." You take a drink, enjoying the familiar burn. "Hey so, that Z stuff. I know it's the big thing now. I haven't tried it. What's it like?"

"What is it LIKE?" she asks, shocked. "It's like ... it's like the rainbow fucking road to Valhalla, man! Like the Valkyries are descending from the heavens in beams of light and they're all singing together and they lift you up on angel wings and give you a giant golden hammer, and you take that hammer and you fucking smash it into someone's face!!" She slams both fists down on the bar. "It's ... it's ... uuuugh." She sags on the barstool. "Fuck me. I'm crashing. I don't suppose you got any of the stuff on you, huh? No, you just said you never tried it. Goddamn."

>Actually, I happen to have a hit of the stuff. You seem like you could use it more than me.
>Tough luck.
>Something else.

>>900974
>Actually yeah, one thing led to another and I wound up with a hit of it. S'why I asked, but you could use it more.

>>900978
Second

>>900974
>>Tough luck.
>>Something else.
Tough luck, I'm not one for adding on to my fun. Not saying shit about you, I just like it me versus them.

>>900978
>>900980
+1

>>900978
Yes, let's encourage junkie behavior. Next you'll want us to take that junk.

>>900985
Nope.
But taking advantage of it to build a bit of a relationship here that we may be able to use later is probably to our benefit or mostly harmless.

>>900989
Plus if we ever get her to be our flunkie we know how to get her in line.

>>900989
You wanna turn us into a manipulator? Playing chess with people? Currently she's a liability, if we can help her out, cool. if we can get her sober great, but we still have bigger fish to fry.

>>900993
I'm just advocating for a wait till later approach, at least.

>>900993
Can't do any of that without opening the door somehow.
Also Catherine's dad would probably agree with you.
We can't manipulate for shit. That's how he won.

>>900997
And so we go down his path? that's how you get a cleaver to the face anon. I still say we just let this powder keg go for now. Maybe we can give her a job offer more suited to her talents later?

>>901000
Less "hey here's that drug you want!" and mpoe "I definitely see the skills you bring to the table, I might have something more for you later."

You have a short debate with yourself about the ethics of enabling drug abuse. In the end, you decide a favor's more important.

"Actually, yeah. I wound up with a hit of it, which is why I asked. But I guess you could use it more."

"Are you serious?" She reaches out to grab you by the jacket in urgency, thinks better of it, slowly lowers her hands to the bar's surface. They tremble as she tries to force herself to stay still. "You'd give it to me, just like that? What's in it for you?"

"Consider it a favor," you say. "I like to have good relationships with people." And maybe I can use you as a flunkie later, you don't add.

You fish in your pockets. It's in here somewhere. No, not there. Not there. "Ah, here we go." You withdraw a small folded-up paper square.

The girl has to restrain herself from snatching it. She waits with forced patience, like a dog watching its food bowl. You hand it to her, and she grabs it. "Fucking yes. Thank you, Lord in Heaven. And thanks, man, whoever you are. You're a good guy."

"Listen," says Harry the bartender. "I don't mean to rush you two, but the neighbors might've heard all the ruckus and called the cops. Maybe you'd best be on your way."

The girl groans. "Yeah, you're right. Hey, sorry about the mess. I didn't break anything, like I promised this guy. But I still got blood on your floor and stuff." She slaps a couple twenties on the bar, stands up, weaves towards the door. Turns back around.

"And you, cowboy," she says. She points to her eyes, then to you. "I'll see you around." Then she staggers through the door, and out onto the pavement. You hear her stumble, trip, yelp, smack onto the pavement. "I'm okay, I'm okay ..." Her footsteps trail away.

"You'd better get out of here too," says Harry. "I'll forget that I saw you."

"Thanks, Harry. I'll see you around."

On the way back to Ken's house, you think about the fighter girl. What a crazy bitch. Psychotic. Violent. Possible drug addict. Weirdly attractive. You shake your head. No, definitely not that last one.

You start thinking about the heist, instead. The whole situation. Your friends, old and new. A vault holding millions. A skyscraper fortress. Rival criminal empires. And you, some dumb thug, caught right in the middle of it all.

Tomorrow's the big day. You could be rich.

All you have to do is survive.

File: driving at night 2.gif (728 KB, 400x300)

728 KB GIF

Done for tonight. I hope to be back tomorrow. Thanks for playing Thug Quest.

Thanks for running, this is the first one I was able to catch live. Good times.

>>901020
Damn, I missed the action. I would have loved to be here to meet Z-girl.

I think I'll call her Zoey.

>>901020
If anyone's wondering,the source for this is "Wicked City",a horror anime film from 1987.