>>1181077
Fuck yeah, right as I get off work. You da best Raven

>>1181077
Newfag here,can I join?

>>1181139
I can't answer for Raven, but it's a free country, and we like new guys.

Same, can I join too?

>>1181139
>>1181158

You sure can. Reading the archives will catch you up to speed on what's going on, but I try to write this so you can play without it.

Johnny's about to go over the current situation a bit here, so now's a good time to learn what's up.

>>1181158
If you're talking about the discord we only have one rule, don't go in the voice channels. It is taboo.

>>1181139
>>1181158
https://discord.gg/3HegtNU

Discord here faggots.

>>1181077

On your last shopping trip with the twins, you got yourself a whiteboard and some colored markers. At first, you thought about setting up one of those big walls like in the movies, with photographs of everything and colored string pinned between them. But just writing this out is probably easier than trying to get all those photos. Maybe Catherine can get you some later.

You take the whiteboard into one of the back rooms with a lock on it. You bring a portable radio with you and turn the news on as you get set up.

"--burned down in the recent crime wave. Police representatives claim that the HCPD will do whatever it takes to restore order to our city. They cite increasing activity from Heat City's Russian and Asian gang communities as the reason for the streak of violence, and dismiss reports that a single individual or small group could be responsible. "

Yeah, that would be crazy, you think. Imagine the thought of one man and his friends being responsible for all that. Robbed a gang, killed police, stole a helicopter, emptied a skyscraper vault ... you're probably forgetting some other things in there.

To be fair, it's true that the Russians are going at it with the Triads and Yakuza. Business competition long ago became bloody fights in back alleys. Now from what you hear, it's getting worse. Drive-by shootings, armed robbery, and arson are becoming commonplace. The two sides are getting locked into a power struggle like two bulls locking horns, neither able to back down or give an inch. Who knows where it might escalate from here?

Maybe you can get to whoever's in charge and punch their lights out before this city turns into a war zone. Of course, you're not doing it because you're some kind of superhero. It's just because they pissed you off.

"--this heat wave continues, the thermometer might hit one hundred today, so keep to the shade and make sure you stay hydrated. This is RK-1 Radio telling you to stay cool out there, Heat City people, and go your own way."

Soundtrack: Fleetwood Mac - Go Your Own Way
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ul-cZyuYq4

File: crime conspiracy wall 1.jpg (44 KB, 1037x700)

44 KB JPG

>>1181202

You begin to sketch out what you know on the whiteboard. Time you tried to make sense of all this.

It all started with the Russians, so you start there too. The Bratva hired you, then used their pals in Black Spear to stab you in the back. It was all a plan by Ivan Mikhaev, the son of the boss, who would later burn down his father's house and take command. Under his leadership, the Russians have taken street violence and fire-bombing to a new level.

Nick said the Russians had their fingers in a construction company, a fight club, and a string of dive bars, so you write those down, and put a little arrow next to the construction company, since you asked him to focus on that one.

They both have some kind of connection to the Colombian cartel. The Russians help protect the cocaine trade, and it looks like Black Spear sells them special weapons. You remember stealing that EMP device right out from under their noses. Good times. You draw blue lines between the three groups to show that they're allies.

Hesitating, you then write "???" above Black Spear and the Bratva and draw blue lines to it. Ivan doesn't seem like the type to mastermind all this. Black Spear's leader might be, but you don't know anything about who that is yet. For now, you're guessing that someone is pulling their strings.

File: crime conspiracy wall 2.jpg (57 KB, 1037x700)

57 KB JPG

>>1181283

Next you fill in the information you know about the Triads. From what you've pieced together from Zero's information and your own fun times in their hidden drug laboratory-prison, their leader or "Dragon" is someone named Xiang Lau. Underneath you write 5, then, remembering plunging your sword into Fire's heart, cross out 5 with some satisfaction and write 4 Elements instead.

The dock gangs are involved in the shipments of Z, the ones that the Triads made all their money from --money which you stole. So you add them as allies.

File: crime conspiracy wall 3.jpg (57 KB, 1037x700)

57 KB JPG

>>1181345

You add what Ryuji and Ken have been able to tell you about the Yakuza. They were thrown into a chaos a little after a certain someone (you) threw a meat cleaver into their boss's face. But some new guy is here from Japan, someone named Masamune Kojiro according to Ken. He's apparently some kind of badass, and isn't here to fuck around or make friends -- he's here to win a war.

File: crime conspiracy wall 4.jpg (71 KB, 1037x700)

71 KB JPG

>>1181366

Finally, you add another set of question marks above the Triads and Yakuza. Zero told you about listening in on a conversation via phone-tap -- he thinks that someone is behind the Triads and the Z trade, financing or supplying them. You think he's probably right.

You look at the two sets of question marks. Should you put a red line between them, too? Are they the real enemies here, fighting a war with the gangs as their armies? Or -- and here's a crazy thought -- maybe they're actually the same person, manipulating everything for some sinister, unfathomable purpose?

You leave it blank for now.

>>1181077

this quest just has too much gooks

>>1181458
Japs, faggot, they're not Charlies.

>Add or change something on the conspiracy wall
>Looks OK for now

>>1181470
And here I thought we were fighting slopes.

>>1181480
Nah man, Chinks and Russkies

>>1181477
>Add or change something on the conspiracy wall
>add a blue line connecting the two "???"s and mark it as "allies? same person?"
I have a feeling somebody is getting something out of all these turf wars and shit.

>>1181477
>Add your group at the bottom of the board.

Might as well, we're involved in this shit too.

>>1181477
>>Add or change something on the conspiracy wall
Put up Horizon Biotech (or whatever it's called) with a question mark. Their chemicals are being used for the drug, but we don't know if it's someone high up in the company, or if the chemicals are stolen.

>>1181477
>Looks OK for now
I know nothing,yet

File: crime conspiracy wall 5.jpg (82 KB, 1037x700)

82 KB JPG

>>1181502
>>1181512
>>1181528

File: 715933179257ce14cd82729b4(...).jpg (859 KB, 850x1200)

859 KB JPG

Your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of doors slamming and two girlish voices arguing. The terror twins are back. You put away the markers and prepare yourself for another round of wrangling the little psychopaths.

Going back into the main area of the house, you find one of the twins -- the one in the ballcap -- sitting on the couch watching your television. "Hi, shithead," she says cheerfully. She turns her head and calls out to the kitchen. "Hey! Make me a sandwich too!"

"Go fuck yourself!" you hear the other twin shout back from the kitchen. "Make your own!"

The one on the couch looks back at you and shakes her head. "After all these years, our sisterly bond means nothing to her. Sad, really." She takes out a switchblade and flicks it open. "Maybe I should go in there and teach her about it."

"Please don't," you say. "I just cleaned in there, I don't need blood everywhere."

She sighs and rolls her eyes. "Fine ..." She starts using the knife to clean her nails instead.

>Sit down and talk with her.
>Watch TV.
>Pump some iron.
>Train with a weapon.

>>1181683
Add in the Twins under Allies and we'll be good to go.

>>1181705
>>Sit down and talk with her.
>>Watch TV.
Do both.

>>1181705
>>Sit down and talk with her.
>>Watch TV.
time for creamy character interaction goodness
Also what weapons do we have in stock? I forget and am still distraught over losing OUR COLT FUCKING PYTHON TO SOME DIRTY CHINK

>>1181705
>Watch TV and blaze it.
Ask them if they'd like a spare room if they need a place to lie low while the commercial break is playing.

>>1181705
>Pump some iron

>>1181737
I feel madder about the Ultimax.

That shit was basically a modern era Tommygun for us.

>>1181737
This

>>1181737
Rip most 'Murican gun.

>>1181718
>>1181737
>>1181739
>>1181811

Sit down, watch TV, and ... blaze it? Surely you don't want to do drugs in front of these impressionable youths, anon.

Writing.

The Python and Ultimax are gone, but they will live on in our hearts.

Weapon Collection:

Melee: Cleaver-chan
Pistols: M1911, Ruger Redhawk
SMG: Beretta M12 x2
Shotguns: Ithica 37 Stakeout
Assault Rifle: Ak-74, M16
Rifle: Ruger Mini-14
Machine Guns: "The Pig" M60
Sniper: Remington Model 700

>>1181840
You forgot about M79-kun, boss.

>>1181840
I appreciate you calling it "The Pig" Raven.

File: m79-1.jpg (27 KB, 575x192)

27 KB JPG

>>1181853
Right, thanks.
Explosive: M79

"What are you watching?" you ask the girl, sitting down next to her. Addy or Maddy, you don't know which one. You're pretty sure they switch names to confuse people, and you suspect sometimes they swap ballcap and beanie and trade jackets when you're not looking.

"Wrestling," she says.

On the screen, a gigantic muscular man with wild hair is shouting into a microphone clutched by a terrified-looking interviewer. "You punks thought you could take me down, and you failed miserably! One by one you hit the dust! Ultimate Aggro is the strongest fighter in the world, and ain't nobody can say nothing about it!"

The girl says, "These guys have the best job in the world. They get paid to shout and punch people."

"That sounds all right to me," you say. Maybe you should have been a pro wrestler.

The giant points at the screen, glaring intensely. "Now this Sunday at Superslam, I got put into a three way match. And those two know they can't beat me in a fair fight, so they're gonna team up! But that don't matter! Iron Russian, Cloud Dragon, I'm gonna show you that the numbers don't matter! The pain train is pulling away from the station, and I am the conductor! This train's gonna smash right into you, because it ain't got no brakes! Next stop is a world of hurt for you! OHHHH YEAHHH!!" The man shouts at the camera and flexes, his traps bulging, spittle flying.

"Oh my gosh," says the girl. "I can't believe he has to fight Iron Russian AND Cloud Dragon at Superslam! There's no way those two will play fair!"

"That's rough," you say, gravely.

You ask the girl about ...

>Wrestling
>Staying here at your house.
>Which one she is, Addy or Maddy.
>Her favorite weapon.
>Any interests of her that don't involve violence.
>Her story, how she got into this situation.

>>1182063
>Her story, how she got into this situation.
Backstory goooooooooo

>>1182063
>>Wrestling
>Her favorite weapon.
>Any interests of her that don't involve violence.

>>1182063
>Any interests of her that don't involve violence.

>>1182063
>Her story, how she got into this situation.
>Any interests of her that don't involve violence.

>>1181470
If you want to get technical, koreans are gooks.

They're all a bunch of soulless chinamen in any case.

>>1182080
>>1182088
>>1182091
>>1182126
>Her story, how she got into this situation.
>Any interests of her that don't involve violence.

Writing.

>>1182063
>Any interests of her that don't involve violence.
>Her story, how she got into this situation.

>>1182178

"Do you have any interests that don't involve hurting people?" you say.

"Like what?" she asks.

"Anything, really. Most of what I hear you two talk about is stabbing or hitting someone. Do you ever do anything else? Take photographs? Play basketball? Dress up My Little Pony dolls? I don't know what girls your age are supposed to like. Girls who are--"

You stop yourself from saying it, but the girl adds it herself. ""Normal"? We aren't normal girls, shithead, if you haven't noticed."

"I really have," you say. "It's hard not to notice with you two. I just wonder, you know ..."

"Wonder what?"

You shrug. "If this is all there is to it, I guess. Do you and your sister just roam around town, sleeping in squats, stealing wallets, breaking kneecaps?"

She shrugs. "So what if we do? Got a problem with that?"

"Not me. I've spent a lot of time punching, stabbing, or shooting people. I can't defend it for myself, but I'm not going go judge other people for it either."

You watch the wrestling on screen for a few moments, seeing a muscular warrior in a colorful costume throw another over the ropes and onto the concrete below.

"Look, I don't mean to pry," you say. "But how did you two end up in this situation? On your own, getting by on stealing and beatings. You two can't be more than fifteen. What happened? Don't you have a family, parents--"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, okay?" says the girl. "Johnny, despite calling you a shithead all the time, I like you. So does my sister. It's fun working for you, and Cat pays us good. And you said real specific that you didn't mean to pry." Her smile turns grim. "So I'm gonna ask you nicely to stop asking about our past instead of using my knife to pry your eyes out of their sockets."

"All right, I'm sorry. You could just say "I don't want to talk about it," you know."

"Yeah, but it has more effect this way," the girl says, digging in her pockets. She produces two sticks of pink gum and offers you one. "Bubblegum?"

"No, but thanks," you say.

She pops one into her mouth and starts chewing. "Since I offered you something of mine," she says. "Can I get something of yours? Like some whiskey?"

"Not today, kiddo," you say. "Besides, it's barely noon."

Maybe your idea about inviting these knife-happy psychos to live with you isn't the safest plan. On the other hand, maybe you'd be doing something good in the world for a change. Catherine said the girls might learn something from you. Maybe that's true.

>Ask them to stay here.
>Tell them they can use the spare bedroom or not, their choice.
>Keep the place to yourself.

>>1182362
>>Tell them they can use the spare bedroom or not, their choice.

>>1182362
>>Tell them they can use the spare bedroom or not, their choice.

>>1182362
>>Tell them they can use the spare bedroom or not, their choice.

>>1182362
>Tell them they can use the spare bedroom or not, their choice.
After the previous question, it's probably better not to ask them directly to stick around, but let's leave them an open offer. They can decide to take advantage of it or not.

>>1182379
>>1182384
>>1182391
>>1182395
These

>>1182379
>>1182384
>>1182391
>>1182395
>>1182419

Back from dinner, writing this now.

"So I couldn't help but notice that you two have been crashing on my couch sometimes," you say. They haven't asked your permission, but you find it hard to stay mad about it. They actually look pretty cute when you walk in on them snoring.

"Yeah, and? You mad that we're getting our dirty mitts all over it?"

"No, I--" You try to think of how to phrase this without her thinking you're either getting rid of her or pitying her. "Look, I've got a lot of space in here, right? Big mansion. I'm planning on having some friends over soon, so I'm gonna set up some of the rooms in that side wing as guest rooms, for if people want to stay over. Get some beds and stuff in there, make them look nice. Most of the time, though, they'll just be empty. No one using them. So it would be fine with me if you and your sister wanted to use those beds, instead of the couch. Your call."

"Hmmm." She chews her gum thoughtfully. "Actual beds, huh? With sheets and everything?"

"Actual beds, with sheets and everything," you confirm.

"Y'know it's a little creepy, a thirty-year-old man inviting two innocent teenage girls to sleep in his bed."

"I might agree with that," you say, "If it weren't for the "innocent" part."

"Fair enough." The girl blows a pink bubble and pops it. "We'll think about it, all right?"

"All right," you say. The twins would probably never admit that they needed help. This is probably as good an answer as you're likely to get.

On the wrestling screen, some kind of warrior clad in fake samurai armor is making his way to the ring. He's accompanied by a woman in a business suit at the height of 1980s fashion, including shoulder pads that make her look like she could lift a trcuk. "Who's this?" you ask.
"That's the Honorable Warrior and Classy Lass," says the twin. "Warrior's pretty strong, but Classy Lass is the brains. She's real smart. When the bad guys mess with Warrior, she shuts them down. That and she knows just when to kick someone in the balls from behind."

"That is a useful skill," you admit.

(Continued)

>>1181458
Too many. Not too much. Too many. Also, pick the correct racist term next time as well.

>>1182918

The phone rings.

You look at the girl. "You're supposed to help fetch me things, right?"

She rolls her eyes. "You're such a pain. When is that leg of yours going to fix itself?"

"Doc says still a couple weeks," you say. "Come on. Please?"

She sticks her tongue out at you, but still gets up and brings you over the phone. You pick it up. "Hello?"

"It's Catherine. How are you, Johnny?"

"Doing all right," you say. "Just doing a little bonding with your murder-happy errand girls here. Yourself?"

She sighs. "Busy. The way things used to be, I at least had time to think. Now it's one thing after another." A pause. You can imagine her leaning back in her chair in the Enigma office. "This city is in troubled waters, Johnny, heading straight for a storm. For a small, flexible operator like myself, it's becoming difficult to stay afloat."

>Anything I can do to help?
>You're smart, you can handle it.
>Who's after you, exactly?
>That's tough, but we've all got problems.

>>1183018
>>You're smart, you can handle it.
>>Anything I can do to help?

>>1183018
>Who's after you, exactly?
>Anything I can do to help?

>>1183018
>Anything I can do to help?
>Who's after you, exactly?
>Ask her if she met with her contact about analyzing the Z.

>>1183048
This

You make a mental note to ask her about that person she said could analyze a Z sample, but for now you stay on topic. "Who is it that's messing with, you exactly?" you ask her.

"Some are simply starving dogs, looking to steal some food from my table while I'm otherwise occupied. The problem is the Yakuza. For years I've struggled to build my own enterprise, outside the shadow of my father's syndicate, but ... I was only even partially successful. I hated myself for it, but I still depended on them."

"And then your father got mad," you say.

"He found out I was investigating the Dragon's Nest. The Triads were his ally. He saw it not only as a betrayal of his business interests, but as a personal insult."

"Was it?" you ask.

"To make a long story short? Yes."

Clearly there's still more to the tragic tale of the Yamada family, but you'll save that for another time. "So he came after you and died for his trouble. Now that he's out of the way, this new leader has shown up, and he's not happy with you."

"You could say that. Masamune Kojiro and his cronies are efficiently and systematically depriving me of resources. Many of my former confederates and contacts have revoked our connection. Some under duress. Others, I suppose, are simply choosing what they think will be the winning side."

"I'm not going to let that happen," you say. "It might have been business, but you stood by me when I pissed off the entire city. I think I owe you at least one. What can I do to help?"

"Well ... I had hoped that you could attend Enigma tonight. I'm having a little soiree for some of my more-or-less legitimate contacts. Politicians, businessmen, entertainers. It'll be a high-class crowd of grey morality."

"So why would you want me there? I'm the opposite of high-class."

"I'd like you there as my date, of course."

You almost choke in surprise, disguise it with a lengthy throat-clearing. "W-what was that again?"

Catherine is laughing on the other end. "You're strangely innocent sometimes, Johnny. I'd like you to protect me. Be my bodyguard. Normally I have Ryuji for such occasions, but tonight I'd prefer you."

"Me? I ..."

>Okay, I'll do it.
>Why me?
>Why not Ryuji?
>Do you expect you'll need a bodyguard?
>I don't think so ...

>>1183182
>Okay, I'll do it.
>Why me?

>>1183182
>>Why me?
>Also, my leg's still kinda broken. Might not be the best bodyguard.

>>1183031
This, thanks.

>>1183182
Im going with Athinar
Also,fuck captcha

>>1183205
RIP me.

>>1183202
This.

>>1183182
>>Okay, I'll do it.
>>Why me?

>>1183182
>Okay, I'll do it.
>Why me?
>Anything I should bring with me?

"Don't get me wrong, I'm willing to do it. I'm just wondering why you'd pick me. My leg is still broken. I might not be the best bodyguard."

"Even with only three working limbs, Johnny, I'd still prefer it was you."

"What about those slabs I met at your club that one time?" you ask, thinking back. "Albert and Bruno, or whatever their names were. They had plenty of muscle, right? Get them to do it."

"They're rather indisposed," says Catherine. "Their bodies floated to the surface at the pier a few days ago."

"Oh," you say. "Damn." Rest in peace, Bruno. You were a dick, but you didn't deserve to die like that. "There must be somebody, though."

"No-one else possesses both competence and trustworthiness to the degree I require. Except for Ryuji, of course, but I need him on perimeter duty. That means his spot is vacant for tonight, and I want you. It mostly involves standing behind me looking ominous, which shouldn't trouble your leg a great deal."

A pause. The faint clinking of a lighter as she lights a cigarette. "I've seen what you're capable of first-hand, even with an injury. You fought your way through a dozen Yakuza at Red Circle with a gunshot wound in your arm. As to trust, well ... I'm still your accountant, after all. If I die, that three million dollars of yours disappears into a bank somewhere. You probably want to keep me alive and well, don't you think?"

That stings a little. Like you wouldn't care about keeping her alive if money wasn't involved? "Not everything's about money to me, Catherine."

"... you're right. I apologize. What I truly believe is this: whatever the financial incentives, you're the sort of man who will follow through on his word. Are you?"

"I try to be." You sigh. "All right, I'll do it. Anything I should bring with me?"

"A suit and a relatively concealable weapon. The particulars are up to you. Thank you, Johnny. I'll see you at nine."

You hang up the phone. The twins are both in the room now, one of them holding a messy sandwich. They're staring at you.

"What?" you ask them.

"Are you going to work for Cat some more?" "Are you two going on a date?!" "She said she liked--" No shut up we said we wouldn't--" "It doesn't even--" "He's too stupid anyway--" "There was that other girl--" "Two-timing bastard--" "What if she--"

"Girls!" you shout at them. "Just shut up and help me get my suits out. If Catherine's going to have me around in front of the city's upper crust, I should at least try to look classy for it."

>>1183307
Where's that slick white suit we bought multiple threads ago? Time to break it out.

>>1183307
Concealed silence weapon or do we go melee folks?

>>1183331
a suppressed 1911 is just so damn nice to look at

>>1183307
suppressed 1911 if this is a vote

>>1183307
Grab our 1911, a good survival knife, and put one of our Beretta SMGs in a briefcase as backup. Leave Cleaver-Chan at home tonight, don't want to bring up bad memories.

I was about to post "vote for weapon" but we'll consider it to have started.

>>1183339
This can never be to prepared and have twins pat us down make sure everything concealed properly have to pass inspections if necessary

File: chris-hansen.jpg (26 KB, 352x707)

26 KB JPG

>>1183334
>>1183337
>>1183339

Silenced M1911, Bowie knife, and a briefcase with a Beretta M12.

>>1183359
>have twins pat us down

Why don't you have a seat right over there anon?

>>1183339
This sounds good

>>1183371

You get your M1911, just like the one you had in 'Nam. You never bothered with a silencer back then, for obvious reasons, but a .45 ACP bullet is already subsonic, so it's a good weapon for a suppressor. Good thing Edna keeps things like these lying around, you think, as you affix the suppressor onto the pistol barrel. Then you grab a briefcase and a Beretta M12. On second thought, you throw the second M12 in there as well. You also grab a nice big survival knife.

While you shower and shave, the twins lay out that classy white suit you bought a few weeks back and haven't had much of a chance to wear. This is the perfect opportunity. It takes a little work to get your busted leg and its cast into the pant leg, but once you get it in there, it looks pretty normal. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, straighten your tie, give yourself the finger-guns. Not bad, if you do say so yourself. The M1911 goes into a concealable belt holster, the knife goes into your inside coat pocket.

You head out of your room and show the suit to the twins.

"Wow, you look--" "--marginally less ugly."

"I guess that's a compliment," you say. "Can you two pat me down? I'm not worried about inspections since this is Catherine's club, just want to make sure I have these concealed properly."

The twins look at each other. "He wants us--" "--to touch him?" "Down there?" "Disgusting."

"It's not like that," you say, feeling your face redden. "I just want--"

The twins laugh at your expression. "Look at him blush." "Relax, idiot." They step forward and their small hands start to rapidly pat you down. "We're experts at this." "Relieving people of their weapons."

One of them gets a little too close to somewhere private. "Hey, watch it, you little twerps," you say. They giggle.

>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>Catherine talks to you about me, right? What does she think of me?
>Want some fancy dresses to go with my fancy suit?
>What are you two planning to do tonight while I'm busy?

>>1183449
>>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>>Catherine talks to you about me, right? What does she think of me?

>>1183449
>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>What are you two planning to do tonight while I'm busy?

>>1183449
>>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>What are you two planning to do tonight while I'm busy?
Please don't burn my house down.

>>1183449
>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>Want some fancy dresses to go with my fancy suit?
>So, judging by what you were saying, when she says she likes me, is it "like" like, or is it normal like?

>>1183449
>>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>>What are you two planning to do tonight while I'm busy?

>>1183457
>>1183467
anons, no, we gotta stay pure for Alex

Or Cleaver-Chan

>>1183449
>Want some fancy dresses to go with my fancy suit?

>>1183449
>Ever been inside Catherine's nightclub?
>What are you two planning to do tonight while I'm busy?
The twins won't want dresses.

>>1183449
Oh, yeah, don't forget about our watch!

>>1183503
yes this

>>1183503
GOOD CATCH MY NIGGA

>>1183503
Can't forget the bling

"So, does Catherine let you two into her swanky nightclub?"

"Sometimes." "Sometimes she meets us at the park." "Other times we go to the fancy place." "Last time she got mad when we broke the--" "--shut up you idiot don't tell him about--" "--it was your fault I didn't even--" "--it doesn't matter who--" "--do you want a fucking--"

"Okay, okay, settle down," you say. You squint at yourself in the mirror and adjust your tie. "I don't know. How does it look?"

"You look fine, dummy." "Better than your usual ugly self, at least."

"Do you think Catherine will like it?"

They shrug. "How should we know?" "What do you care?"

"Well, I mean -- look, she talks to you about me, right? What does she think of me? You said she liked me, right?" You feel flustered. This is a tough subject for you to talk about. "Is that a normal like, or a "like" like?"

"Oh." "Uh..." The twins look at each other. "We weren't supposed to--" "--say anything about that." "Sorry."

You sigh. "Right. Maybe work on the whole keeping secrets thing, girls."

That doesn't give you any more information. Catherine is definitely a fetching woman. She's beautiful, intelligent, powerful, connected. And she seems to have taken an interest in you. But is it the interest of a woman for a man? Or just a cunning operator keeping a muscle-head in her stable?

You turn to a different angle and adjust your jacket. "What are you two planning to do tonight while I'm busy?"

"We haven't decided yet." "Maybe we'll burn your house down."

"Do anything but that, please," you say.

As a last touch, you take the watch that Catherine gave you and put it on your wrist. You hold it up to the light, looking at the fine black leather strap, the slim lines of the clock face. A classy watch for an un-classy man. Catherine said it might take you one step towards being a gentleman. You're not sure about that. It is a damn fine watch, though.

>>1183546
Order some takeout and save me some. We'll put on a movie or some shit when I come back. You pick the movie, so long as it's PG-13 or R.

>>1183546
Short break, then I'll start the nightclub scene.

It's been a while since you first came to the Enigma nightclub, saw those huge neon letters up there above the doors.

Back then you had no idea what any of this was all about. That version of you didn't know anything about Triads or Yakuza or huge criminal conspiracies. He had barely a nickel to his name, only a shit apartment he'd probably be killed going back to. He hadn't fallen off a twenty-five floor building.

That was barely two months ago. It feels like another lifetime, like events that happened to a totally different person.

You step out of your Lincoln Continental wearing your white suit, still trying to come to terms with this feeling. The old you would've taken the bus here, or walked, not be driven here in the exact car you always wanted, by a pair of errand girls provided free of charge by a woman who may or may not count as your employer. And you definitely wouldn't have been wearing a suit.

"See you two later," you say to the twins inside. "Remember, don't burn down my house!" You thump on the roof of the car, and they drive off.

You walk up to the club. Your leg isn't great, but you can at least get around now with only mild aggrievance, instead of wanting to scream. You probably look normal, if a little stiff-legged. The stairs are a bit of a problem, but you've got some practice from getting up and down at home in the mansion, so you manage.

Interesting feeling, walking straight past the line of beautiful hedonists, their eyes burning holes in you as you walk straight up to the doors. You don't normally care about this sort of thing, but it feels good to piss those people off. The bouncers open the doors for you and step back. You turn back and give the lineup a jaunty little wave as you head inside.

File: enigma.jpg (184 KB, 1280x612)

184 KB JPG

>>1183730

Soundtrack: Madonna - Into the Groove
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F8U22JtfuXs

The inside of the club is like you remember. Lights glow in pink and orange like neon sunsets. The dance floor crowd flows like waves in the ocean, synchronized with the sound system pumping out the greatest hits of the decade. Liquor flows freely at the bar and tables alike. The bathrooms have lineups of people desperate to snort a line of cocaine and hit the dance floor again. Heat City is the place to be in 1986, and everyone who thinks they're anyone needs to be seen at its nightclubs.

You take a look around for security. Not as much as you'd like. There's the bouncers, and you spot a few people who are probably more serious hard-cases. It still feels like there should be more goons to protect what sounds like an important meeting for Catherine. You wonder if she's having more trouble than she lets on.

The 2nd floor, VIP-only, is where Catherine's "little soiree" is being held. You look up at the balcony that overlooks the dance floor, where you can see people in suits and dresses gathering. Then you look over at the long, curving flight of stairs leading up there. Great.

File: cat 1.jpg (51 KB, 564x564)

51 KB JPG

A short time and a bit of sweat later, you reach the top of the stairs. The bouncer here unhooks the velvet rope and lets you through without comment, and you step through into another world.

It's still the same club, of course, but it's the first time you've ever been in any kind of VIP lounge. And the people around you look like actual VIPs, not just rich club-goers. You recognize some of them from having their pictures on the news. You spot celebrities, politicians, business big-shots, all kinds of people high on the totem poles of the city. People of wealth and influence.

And here you are, a Vietnam vet, ex-con, and recent murderer of fifty or so gangsters, strolling casually into their midst. Some of them notice your arrival, and they don't exactly look pleased to see you, but at least nobody makes any smart remarks.

The music is quieter up here, some trick of the acoustics, and the people can talk in regular voices without shouting to be heard. They stand in groups of three and four, engaging in quiet discussion, comparing recent events and accessories, sipping from drinks that probably cost more than you used to make in a week.

You look around for Catherine. The two of you spot each other at the same time. She's talking to someone, but she makes her excuses and leaves to join you before you get far from the stairs. "Right on schedule," she says. "Thank you for coming, Johnny."

"Good to see you."

About Catherine, you say:
>You look great.
>What do you need me to do?
>This is your world, huh?

About the club, you say:
>I actually like this place.
>It's pretty weird.
>It's crazy, but that's okay with me.

About the guests, you say:
>How's the party so far?
>This is a little scary. Lot of power in one room.
>These people are soft. Wouldn't last five minutes in the jungle.

>>1183802
>>You look great.
>This is your world, huh?

>It's crazy, but that's okay with me.

>These people are soft. Wouldn't last five minutes in the jungle.

>>1183807
Supporting

>>1183802
>>You look great.
>It's pretty weird.
>These people are soft. Wouldn't last five minutes in the jungle.

Fuck the upper class.

>>1183802
About Catherine, you say:
>You look great.
>What do you need me to do?

About the club, you say:
>It's crazy, but that's okay with me.

About the guests, you say:
>These people are soft. Wouldn't last five minutes in the jungle.

>>1183802
>This is your world, huh?
>What do you need me to do?
We're meant to be her bodyguard, anons. Be at least a little professional about it.

>It's pretty weird.

>These people are soft. Wouldn't last five minutes in the jungle.
The jungles of 'Nam?

>>1183802
>This is your world, huh?
>It's crazy, but that's okay with me.
>How's the party so far?
Also mention that about the jungle

"You look great," you say, meaning it.

She looks up at you with one eye, her dark hair falling over the other. "Thanks. You don't look so bad yourself. Who would have imagined that you'd clean up so nicely?" Her gaze flickers to your left wrist, and you spot her hide a smile when she sees her watch there. "I suppose I had an inkling, I must confess."

"Guess so, or you would've have given me this," you say. "Thanks again." You look out over the crowded dance floor and the throng of dancers. "This place is crazy, but crazy's all right with me. Okay, so, I'm here. What do you need me to do?"

"I think what I said before was, "stand behind me and look ominous." That just about sums it up. Keep the ominous on a low setting for now, please. I'd like to make friends with these people, not scare them."

"I think you hired the wrong guy for that," you say. "I'll try. But these people are soft. Wouldn't last five minutes in the jungle. I could probably take on the whole lot of them with both hands behind my back."

"Is that how you judge people, Johnny? On a "how long would they survive in Vietnam" scale?"

"Sure is," you say. You think she was joking, but you actually do.

Catherine laughs. "Oh, my. You're just what I needed to keep me grounded, Johnny." She steps forward and straightens your tie, pulling it slightly tighter. "Follow me, will you?" She turns around and walks away, taking maybe a little too long to let go of your tie. You follow behind her.

Catherine makes her way gracefully through the crowd while you tail after her like a scarred guard dog in a suit. Everyone wants to talk to her. One or two at a time, people detatch themselves from the party and make their way over to her. They often compliment her on small things -- the designer of her outfit, the lighting used in the club, the quality of the hors d'oeuvres. Every once in a while, something is said that might be business, but it seems like this isn't the sort of event where crime is openly discussed. High class and grey morality, Catherine said. Most people here aren't what you think of as criminals, even if their hands are far from clean.

Catherine sits down next a skinny young man in a grey suit. If Nick is a weasel, you think, this guy must be a ferret. "So, Mr. Ryan," she says. "Enjoying yourself?"

"I certainly am, Ms. Yamada," he replies. "Always enjoy a trip to your fine establishment." He looks over at you, sizes you up. "Your friend is a big guy."

"He helps me to open stubborn jars," says Catherine. "Johnny, this is Liam Ryan, who's, ah -- what was your title these days?"

"Assistant to the deputy mayor chief of staff," says Ryan. He reaches out a hand on a thin wrist. "Pleased to meet you, Johnny."

"Likewise," you say, making an effort to be polite and not crush his hand like a vice with your return handshake.

A guy with a meaningless title like that could be anything. He could be a nobody. Or he could have half the city in his pocket. Or anything in between.

>So what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?
>What do you think about the recent crime wave?
>You come to this club often, then?
>Want to hear a joke about politicians?

>>1183892
>So what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?
>What do you think about the recent crime wave?

>>1183892
>>What do you think about the recent crime wave?
>>You come to this club often, then?

>>1183892
>>So what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?
>You come to this club often, then?

>>1183892
>>So what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?
>You come to this club often, then?

>>1183892
>So what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?
>What do you think about the recent crime wave?
>You come to this club often, then?
Top-down priority

I'll have to call it there for the night, anons, the writing juice drains from me. I'll be back tomorrow, stay tuned to the thread. Thanks for playing!

>>1183898
>>1183900
>>1183904

>So what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?
>You come to this club often, then?

>>1183915
thanks for running

>>1183915
Thanks for running, Raven.

>>1183915
Thanks and stay Cheeki Breeki

File: ryan.jpg (29 KB, 600x336)

29 KB JPG

>>1183915

"So, Mr. Ryan, what is it you do for the deputy mayor, exactly?"

"Nothing directly," he says. "I merely advise his chief of staff on the coordination of our support teams and aides. I have no real influence on any sort of policy. I'm really just a glorified human resources director." He gives you a polite smile that's probably intended to look genuine.

"Interesting," you say, thinking that he if was really so insignificant, he wouldn't be sitting here with the elites. "This place must make a nice change of pace from the office. You come to this club often?"

"I've stopped by now and then. Ms. Yamada always ensures a certain level of hospitality to the right sort of guest." He raises his glass of amber liquor in her direction, ice cubes clinking together. "And she knows all kinds of interesting people. I always like these little get-togethers."

With one hand, Ryan is holding his glass; with the other, he's drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. Is he scared? You do tend to have that effect on people. But maybe there's something more to it.

"Enjoy the evening, Mr. Ryan," says Catherine. "Your drinks are on the house, as always."

She walks away. All you can do is follow her. You give Ryan a second glance as you do so, and see him watching the two of you leave over the rim of his glass.

"That guy," you say to Catherine ...

>He must be connected.
>He seems like a real slimeball.
>He was nervous about something.

>>1186184
>>He was nervous about something.

>>1186184

>He was nervous about something.

Scan the room.

>>1186184
>>He was nervous about something.
"Who'd you think would win in a sleaze off, him or Nick?"

>>1186184
>>He was nervous about something.

>>1186184
>>He was nervous about something.

>>1186200
>>1186259
>>1186300
>>1186343
>>1186398


"He was nervous about something." You resist the urge to look back at him again, wondering if he's still looking at you.

"Anyone normal would be nervous around you, Johnny," she says. "You're, what, six foot four? Five? Even a well-tailored suit like that one can't hide the fact that you're a mountain. And with the scars? It can be somewhat intimidating." She glances back and up at you, smiling a little. "Of course, in your current role, that's a plus."

"I know I stand out a little, but -- look, I get the feeling he was up to something."

"If I know anything about Mr. Ryan, it's that he's always up to something," she says. "We'll just have to hope it's unrelated."

You scan the room, looking for something suspicious or dangerous. Nothing stands out. Catherine's security remain at their posts, without any bigger problems than the usual scenes made by drunks and coke fiends. "Maybe you're right." But you aren't so sure.

"Who do you think would win in a sleaze-off?" you say. "Him or Nick?"

"Hmm ... hard to say. It would be quite a contest. I'd like to put them both at a poker table and see what happens."

>>1186184
>Character pic is Aidan Gillan
>Paranoia is go.

File: hawthorne.jpg (33 KB, 470x313)

33 KB JPG

>>1186429

Catherine's next target for mingling is a tall man in a suit that must have cost a fortune. He finishes lighting a cigar just as Catherine approaches him. "Glad you could make it, Joe," she says.

"Catherine, my dear," he says, taking her hand and kissing the back of it with a suave gravity. You feel a flicker of something that might be jealousy. "I've heard of your recent troubles. It's good you're still able to make time to host us all."

"I couldn't leave my favored guests high and dry," she says. "Johnny, this is Mr. Hawthorne. He's part of the Ballantine group, an association of financial stakeholders and investors.

"How do you do, Johnny?" This guy's got a serious handshake on him. Used to dealing with other alpha males. You let him off with a draw -- don't want to show up Catherine's guest.

"I do pretty well," you say. "Thanks for coming."

"The pleasure's mine," he says. He gestures with his cigar at the club. "I always try to make time for a visit to one of Catherine's fine establishments."

>So you're some kind of money guy, huh?
>How's business in the city?
>What sort of interests does your group hold, Mr. Hawthorne?
>What kind of cigars are those?

>>1186518
>How's business in the city?
>What kind of cigars are those?

>>1186518
>>How's business in the city?
>>What sort of interests does your group hold, Mr. Hawthorne?
>>What kind of cigars are those?

>>1186518
>>So you're some kind of money guy, huh?
>>How's business in the city?
>What kind of cigars are those?

>>1186518
>What kind of cigars are those?

> I hope the current chaos in the city has provided more opportunity than trouble for you. A good shake-up is sometimes better than a good shake-down.

>>1186531
>>1186542
>>1186558
>>1186630

"How's business in the city?" you ask Hawthorne.

"Good," he says. "Very good. The crime wave brings investor confidence down, but that makes it all the better for a man who knows how to seize an opportunity." He puffs on his cigar. "It also brings cash. Money flows, Johnny, it flows like rivers flow to the sea. And I am the sea. I don't even need to get my hands dirty. Sooner or later, it all comes to me."

"Sounds like a good racket," you say. "Chaos can make trouble, but also opportunities. A good shake-up can be better than a shake-down, know what I mean?"

"I do indeed," he says.

You sniff at the cigar smoke. "What kind of cigars are those? Cuban?"

"They certainly are. A little embargo's not a problem for men with connections." He takes out his cigar case, opens it, hands you one. "Take one for yourself."

"I, uh--"

"I insist. A token of appreciation for a friend of Catherine's."

You accept the cigar. Why not? You're not sure if this guy is being generous or trying it lord it over you. At least this way you've got one more cigar than you did before.

Hawthorne turns to Catherine. "Our usual arrangement tonight?"

"They'll be waiting in the usual office, Joe. Just how you like them."

"Good, good. You've got an eye for details. I appreciate that." He puffs on his cigar, sizing you up with a quick glance. "Johnny, was it? You take care of our girl here."

Escorting Catherine away, you say ...

>He seems all right.
>He seems like a prick.
>He and his friends must be loaded, huh?
>Why are you introducing me to these people, anyway?
>Other

>>1186686
>>He and his friends must be loaded, huh? Got that 'rich person and they know it' attitude.
>>Why are you introducing me to these people, anyway?

>>1186686
QM note: I often forget to add an option for Other or Write-in, but most of the time they're accepted.

>>1186686
>>Other
What's this 'Usual arrangement'?

>>1186686
>He seems alright. So he's probably not.
>Why are you introducing me to these people, anyway?

>>1186686
I still think that sleazy dudes tapping was a signal, not a tic. Would we have known Morse code from the army?

> I assume you want me to be seen? Does that mean people are hearing rumors about me?

>>1186686
>why are you introducing me to these people

It's almost like she wants us strongly associated with you

>>1186706
Probably not. It's not super useful for the common rifleman.

>>1186686
So this dude is a facilitator. We should keep an eye out for foreign luxuries that aren't usually available for him.

An interest in cigars can go a surprisingly long way. We should see if we can get some Japanese whiskey to pair with it.

Yes that's a thing. We wouldn't know but Cat might. It's insanely high end.

>>1186706
>Reading that hard.
Anon, chill. Doesn't even make sense.

>>1186686
>>He seems all right. Then again, after Ryan, many would.
>Why are you introducing me to these people, anyway? Not that I'm complaining, but in terms of working experience, I'm someone that you generally hire, not the one hiring.

>>1186728
It could if he was trying to suss out if we were ex-army or special forces or something.

Or confirm that we were the same guys fucking up the Black Spear dudes since he has a connection with the Mayors office and probably deals with them.

File: 1463987308834.jpg (88 KB, 637x837)

88 KB JPG

>>1186699

"They" are waiting. Women, dude.

"So Catherine, uh. Why are you introducing me to these people? I thought I was just supposed to stand around and look scary. Not that I'm complaining, but ... I don't really fit in here. "

"Despite what you think about yourself, Johnny, you're a smart guy," she says. "Why don't you think about it a little?"

You take a moment to think it over. Maybe she wants you to be seen. Wants you to be associated with her. But she could do that by just introducing you as Johnny, the scary bodyguard, right? Why is she bothering to tell you who they are, what they do? If you're just a bodyguard, you don't need to know that stuff, right? You're just supposed to be watching for threats, not hob-nobbing with the rich and famous.

>>1186799
I was just trying to get Cat to admit it.

>>1186804
Uh, boss, is this a write-in?

File: baron.jpg (31 KB, 600x315)

31 KB JPG

>>1186804

Your thoughts are interrupted when a flamboyant character emerges from the crowd and boldly accosts Catherine. He's wearing some kind of crazy purple outfit with ruffles, something a figure skater would wear, while his curly black hair is piled on his head like some kind of bird's crest. "How do you do, Catherine Yamada," he says in a deadpan voice. "The club is righteous tonight."

Even a thug like you knows who this is -- Baron is one of the hottest musicians and performers in the world right now. His album crushed the charts last year, and since then he's been all over the TV and radio, while his tour gathered publicity from legendary feats of hedonism and excessive customery.

"Thank you, Baron," says Catherine. "Coming from someone with your experience in venues, that means a lot. Have you met my associate Johnny?"

"Hello," you say. "I was a big fan of Violet Storm."

Baron looks up you and down. "Impressive physique."

"Uh, thanks," you say.

"Would you care to shoot a little basketball later?" he asks.

You start to laugh, but his expression is totally serious. You turn the laugh into a cough. "Sorry, my leg's not so great right now. Thanks for the offer."

>How's the tour?
>Enjoying Heat City?
>Where can I get some clothes like that?

>>1186838
>>Enjoying Heat City?

>>1186838
>How's the tour?
>Enjoying Heat City?

>>1186838
>How's the tour?
>Enjoying Heat City?

>>1186838
>>How's the tour?
>>Enjoying Heat City?

>>1186838
> "I like the clothes. Don't think I could pull it off but I'd like to know who makes them. They could probably even dress a brick like me."

>>1186900
this

>>1186900
Yes please.

>>1186900
Not this. Johnny has no need for this sort of fashion.

>>1186946
You neve know, man. Knowing a talented Tailor would make it a alot easier to get custom disguises.

>>1186946
>no need
there's always a need anon

>>1186968
>Disguising
>A 6'4" man mountain with a scarred face.

"How's the tour?" you ask Baron.

"Exhausting," he says in the same deadpan voice. "Endless amounts of beautiful groupies throwing themselves at me, parties, drugs ... it's unbearable."

"Yeah that, uh, that sounds real tough. What do you think of Heat City, then? Enjoying the place while you're here?"

"I am," he says. "This city is fascinating. It truly has everything. The other day I wished to serenade a white tiger as I took my tea in the garden. My manager made it happen. I had a delightful afternoon with Snowball."

"A tiger, huh? Yeah, that sounds an average day here. The city never runs out of surprises." You wonder if your mansion's yard has enough space for a tiger. "Hey, your clothes are pretty damn impressive. Don't think I could pull it off, but I'd still like to know who made them." You have no intention of actually wearing a Zorro outfit like this, but maybe you'll get one for Nick as a joke.

"It's from a local man, actually. I don't remember his name. I can have my people send it to you." Baron checks his watch. "I must go, sadly. Entertainment empire to run. Thank for you for inviting me, Ms. Yamada. I've had a lovely time." He backs away with a theatrical bow.

You say to Catherine ...

>I can't believe that was the real Baron!
>That guy's some kind of musical big-shot, right?
>What a poof.
>How the hell did you meet him?

>>1186990
>How the hell did you meet him?

>>1186990
>>How the hell did you meet him?

>>1186990
>How the hell did you meet him?
>Please tell me you helped facilitate that meetup with Snowball.

>>1186990
>>How the hell did you meet him?

>>1186990

>How the HELL did you meet him?

>>1186987
>>1186990

It's not about disguising, it's about getting a possible contact.

Tailors are just about as good as barbers for gossip.

Also it could help our relationship with Nick.

And nothing like surprising a Date by showing up dressed shockingly well.

>>1186990
>>I can't believe that was the real Baron!
>How the hell did you meet him?

Forgot to add votes lol.

"How the hell did you meet him?"

"I happened to run into him at a meeting with other venue owners here in the city. We had a conversation, I offered to comp any of his visits to the club, and he actually showed up. He stops by sometimes when he happens to be in the neighborhood."

"Is he, you know ... involved? In your other business?"

"Oh, Johnny," she sighs. "So naive sometimes. Do you think a man claws his way to the top of the billion-dollar music industry while keeping his hands clean?"

"Point taken," you say, watching the man in the ruffled purple suit rejoin his entourage and begin his exit. You wonder what kind of shady things Baron is involved in.

Over the next few hours, you meet many people like Ryan, Hawthorne, and Baron -- men and women of wealth and influence, power and respect. It's a world you've barely imagined, let alone experienced. Your life has always been barely a few inches from the gutter. Graffiti and rust, cheap beer and cigarettes, faded jackets and ripped jeans. Now here you are. Luxurious seats, fine cigars and bourbon, yours for the taking. Beautiful women in elegant dresses and gem-studded jewelry laugh at the remarks of men in well-tailored suits and expensive watches. Bouncers keep the riff-raff at bay. Dancers glance enviously up at the second-floor VIP lounge, where you stand, looking down on them.

(Continued)

>>1187016
>Please tell me you can facilitate my meetup with Snowball.

FTFY

>>1187256
Musician? I'm betting he's involved with drug and info smuggling.

Star power goes a long way.

File: cat 2.jpg (39 KB, 515x588)

39 KB JPG

>>1187256

"Did you have something to do with arranging that meeting with Snowball?" you ask Catherine. "Actually, never mind that. My real question is, can you arrange MY meeting with Snowball?"

"Sadly, no. Producing a white tiger on demand is not yet within my purview." She pushes back a loose strand of hair and looks out at the crowd. "Let's take a breather. Join me in my office, will you?"

In her office, you close the door behind the two of you, muting the music to only the dull thumps of the bass drum. Catherine lets out a deep sigh of relief. "Phew. Verbal jousting with the city's elite can be exhausting." She undoes her jacket as she walks to her desk, drapes it over the top of her chair. She moves over to the small bar in the corner, rolling up her shirt sleeves. You watch her slim, pale arms move as she pours two glasses of bourbon.

"So, Johnny," she says, walking up to you and handing you one of the glasses. "How are you enjoying your brush with the lifestyle of the rich and famous?

"I'm not sure," you say. "I'm still trying to get my head around it. This is strange to me, you know? My whole life, I had nothing. Couple times I didn't even have a roof over my head. Now I'm here, with ..." You gesture outwards at the club. "All this."

"Hmmm." Catherine takes a drink from her glass, turns around and heads back to her desk. "Have you thought any more about your little puzzle?" She sits down, leans back in her chair. "Why I might be introducing you to my friends?"

(Continued)

>>1187338

You take a moment. For a while you thought maybe she wanted everyone to know you two were associated. Maybe to scare off her enemies with your face. Or maybe to protect your own reputation with hers. You even considered the idea that she might just be parading you around and showing you off, like a new pet on a leash.

Then you realized ...

She's showing you a life you could have. With her. If you wanted it.

"Catherine, I ..."

You trail off, looking past her at the window to the rest of the club. The dancers and club-goers on the first floor are moving strangely. Like they're running away from something at the front door.

"Oh, shit," you say.

>>1187388

Gunshots ring out through the air. A woman screams at a pitch that could shatter glass. The crowd flies in chaos, a frenzy of limbs and clothes as they surge away from the doors.

A group of Asian men in dark suits enter the club from that direction, the muzzles of their MP5 submachine guns flashing as they fire over the heads of the crowd. A pair of nearby security guards try to draw their pistols. One of them gets his face blasted off with an MP5. The other gets knocked to the ground. As you watch, one of the men in suits draws a familiar-looking curved sword -- a katana -- and skewers the downed guard.

You feel hands grip the back of your jacket tightly. "J-Johnny," says Catherine. You look behind you to see her clutching your jacket. "Th-they came for me. Masamune, he's really doing it. I-I didn't think ... oh god ..."

>I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.
>Yeah, we're fucked.

>>1187396
>>Yeah, we're fucked.
A joke.
>I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.

>>1187396
>Calm the fuck down. We both know I can handle this. Probably.
>Do you have a safe room?

>>1187400
Nice pick Ath. Seconded.

>>1187396
>>I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.

>>1187396
>Yeah, we're fucked.
>Worst comes to worst, we're jumping out of the building. Hey, I survived it once.

>>1187396
>I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.
>But we need to move.

>>1187400
thirded

>>1187396
>I won't let anything happen to you. I promise.
>Any safe rooms?

"Yeah, we're fucked," you say light-heartedly.

Catherine's grip tightens, her eyes widening in bewilderment. "B-but ..."

"Sorry, just trying to make a joke. Not the time, I guess."

You gently pry Catherine's fingers from your jacket, clasp one of her slender hands between both of your fists, and look her straight in the eyes. "I won't let anything happen to you. I promise."

Catherine stares back up at you. "Johnny, I ..."

Another burst of gunfire interrupts her. Okay. You'll have enough time for touching personal moments later. Right now you've got to get yourself, and Catherine, out of this alive.

Looking down at the club floor, the Yakuza continue to pour inside. There's over a dozen of them by now. The lot of them have MP5Ks, and some have those damn jap swords too. A group rushes over to the basement stairs and hurries down. Others fan out, herding the civilians while they search through them for their target. One squad approaches the stairs to the VIP floor.

"Any safe rooms in here?" you ask Catherine.

"There's the counting room," she says. "It's nearby, and has a security door."

>You go there. Lock yourself in.
>Let's both go there.
>On second thought, forget it. Stay with me.

>>1187583
>You go there. Lock yourself in.
>Give her a weapon
We don't need a repeat of the last time she got raided.

>>1187583
>>You go there. Lock yourself in.

>>1187583
>>You go there. Lock yourself in.
>Give her one of your MP12s and tell her to try and contact Ryuji.

>>1187583
>You go there. Lock yourself in.
>give her a weapon
we must have more than one gun, right? RIGHT?

>>1187583
>>You go there. Lock yourself in.
>Give her an MP12 and tell her to contact anyone she can.

>>1187583

We need explosives. Or a smokescreen. Or to activate the fire sprinklers.Something to turn this into twelve one-on-one fights, not one twelve-on-one fight.

Hmmm, the fire system would get the cops here, too. We could probably duck out while they kill each other in the crossfire.

Catherine has GOT to have an armory around here. Even if it's just riot guns for the counting room and that would be absolute bare minimum.

"You're going there now. Lock yourself in." You left your briefcase in here earlier -- you slam it onto Catherine's desk and pop it open, revealing the two Beretta M12s. You pop the safety off one and hand it to Catherine. "I know you're not a gun person, but take this anyway. It looks scary, but it doesn't kick that hard. If anyone fucks with you, point and shoot." She takes the gun from you, her eyes blazing with a mix of fear and determination.

"Do you have an armory or something around here?" you ask her.

"In the basement," she says.

"Great. Of course. Well, that might be useful later."

You take the other M12, head to the door, open it, and carefully peek outside. Chaos as the VIPs and their guards try to negotiate passage with the Yakuza. "Okay, we've got a moment. Let's go. Keep low and stay behind me."

You shield Catherine as she makes her way to the counting room, trying to ignore your busted leg as you hobble along beside her. You make it to the door without incident. As she steps inside, she looks back. "Stay alive out there, will you, Johnny?"

"I'll do my best."

The security door shuts between you and locks. Okay. Catherine is safe for the moment. Now it's just you with your broken leg and a submachine gun versus a dozen Yakuza -- more now, from the sounds of it.

How hard could it be?

The VIP crowd is clearing out. Some of them have made it past the Yakuza, apparently able to convince them they aren't involved. Others seem to have disappeared. Maybe they know about a back exit you don't. You'd bet that the Yakuza have gunners watching every door of this place for Catherine, though, so just getting her outside isn't going to cut it. You're going to have to defend the nightclub as best as you can.

Where the hell is Ryuji in all this? Catherine said he was watching the perimeter. How the hell did these guys get past him?

The Yakuza on the main floor are tied down for the moment mopping up the rest of the security staff in a one-sided gunfight. One squad is pushing past the VIPs on their way up the stairs. Another made their way down to the basement for some unknown purpose.

>Charge the squad on the stairs before they expect an attack.
>Stand your ground, defend the second floor.
>Move under cover to the first floor, attack from someplace unexpected.
>Get a better read on the situation, look for an advantage.
>Something else.

>>1187702
>>Move under cover to the first floor, attack from someplace unexpected.
>Get a better read on the situation, look for an advantage.

>>1187702
>>Move under cover to the first floor, attack from someplace unexpected.
Move like we did in the jungle.

>>1187702
>>Move under cover to the first floor, attack from someplace unexpected.
>>Get a better read on the situation, look for an advantage.

>>1187702
>Get a better read on the situation.
What would the Sarge' say in this sutuation?

>>1187702
Any booze around we could turn into molotovs?

Otherwise

> Support remaining security

>>1187722
Shit's fucked, raise command on the radio and get some fucking napalm on those gooks!

>>1187708
>>1187709
>>1187713
>>1187722
Tie game between move under cover to the first floor and read the situation. Next vote takes it.

>>1187777

>read the situation

>>1187777
nice quads

File: tmp_23525-1460161008808-1(...).png (189 KB, 587x439)

189 KB PNG

>>1187781

>>1187777
>>1187781

Okay, get a grip on yourself. What would the Sarge say in this situation? Probably something about "Shit's fucked, soldiers! Those fuckwads in command have fucked us right up the ass again! Get on the radio with a firing solution and put some fucking napalm on these gooks! Burn 'em back to the stone age!" Good old Sarge.

You peek your head over the railing to scan the room while you still have a moment. The Yakuza haven't yet noticed you in the chaos of shouting and panicked civilians.

Thanks to your Ambition: Discovery, you get a +1 on perception rolls. Roll 1d10+1 and choose 2:

>Which enemies are vulnerable to you.
>Which enemies are the biggest threat.
>What you should be looking out for.
>Who is in control here.
>The best escape route.
>The best way past the second-floor squad.

>>1187805
>>The best way past the second-floor squad.

Rolled 9 + 1 (1d10 + 1)

>>1187805
>>1187809
Shiiieeet
>The best escape route.

Rolled 1 + 1 (1d10 + 1)

>>1187805
>The best way past the second-floor squad.
>Which enemies are vulnerable to you.
FUCKING JAPS

Rolled 4 + 1 (1d10 + 1)

>>1187805
>Which enemies are the biggest threat.
>The best escape route.

Rolled 6 + 1 (1d10 + 1)

>>1187805
.>What you should be looking out for
.>Who is in control here.

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>1187805
>Which enemies are the biggest threat.
>Who is in control here.

>>1187811
>>1187810
oh boy, this is gonna be something

>>1187805
>>Which enemies are the biggest threat.
>>Who is in control here.

>>1187810
10 gets you 3 results, which gives us:
>Get past the second-floor squad
>Which enemies are the biggest threat
>Who's in control here

Writing.

>>1187859
First you think about what enemies are the biggest threat here. The guys coming upstairs are closest, but they'll probably be frustrated by Catherine's security door for a while -- at least you hope so. What you're worried about is those guys who ran straight for the basement. They seemed to know what they were doing. At best, they're looting the armory and they'll be back upstairs shortly with more guns. Otherwise, they might have some other sinister purpose in mind down there.

The Yakuza have locked down the first floor. The civilians who didn't escape in time are crouched and huddled in fear, the gun barrels of two of the gangsters pointed at them while the rest spread out to cover the angles. You search them for some kind of leader. They all seem to be wearing the same black suit and tie. A few of them seem to be senior members, ordering the other ones into position, but nobody looks like they're in charge. You think again about how you haven't seen Ryuji. Maybe he's right now engaged in an epic rooftop katana duel with the enemy leader.

You look around for a way downstairs without attracing the attention of the squad coming upstairs. You spot a service stairway nearby. That should do the trick.

You prepare to go down the service stairs and ...

>Go aggro on the goons guarding the first floor.
>Evade the first floor guards, get down to the basement. Find out what's going on down there.
>Get outside, try to find Ryuji.
>Call the police.

>>1187886
>>Evade the first floor guards, get down to the basement. Find out what's going on down there.
We need bigger guns before they get bigger guns

>>1187886
>Evade the first floor guards, get down to the basement. Find out what's going on down there
>Get outside, try to find Ryuji.
Gotta get more firepower if we wana do anything. Also we gotta find our buddy.

>>1187886
>>Evade the first floor guards, get down to the basement. Find out what's going on down there.

>>1187886
>>Evade the first floor guards, get down to the basement. Find out what's going on down there.

>>1187886
>Evade the first floor guards, get down to the basement. Find out what's going on down there.

>>1187892
>>1187893
>>1187897
>>1187902
>>1187908

Roll a d10 to be a sneaky thug.

>>1187912

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>1187912

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>1187912

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>1187913
fucked up the dice and dont even know if im suposed to be rolling

>>1187915
>>1187917
>>1187918
Fail, success, fail. Not looking great, anons. Writing.

Soundtrack: Le Castle Vania - LED Spirals
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Pv0u7uMn-g

You stalk down the service stairway clutching your M12, hoping you can somehow evade the first floor guards and get down to the basement. Whatever the Yakuza's plan is, it involves those guys somehow, you're sure of it. Worst case scenario, you get the bigger guns yourself, and come back.

You open the door at the bottom of the stairs at the exact same time a Yakuza gangster opens in from the other side. The two of you stare at each other for an awkward moment.

"Konnichiwa," you say to him, which you think means "hello" in Japanese.

He shouts to his friends and draws his gun. You shove him and grab him by the wrist of his gun hand, but he pulls the trigger anyway, sending wild shots into the floor.

So much for being sneaky. You raise the Beretta and blast him in the gut, knocking him down. A red stain spreads across his white shirt. You put a killshot in his head and move on.

Striding forward into the nightclub, you open up with the Beretta at the closest knot of Yakuza gangsters, firing in short bursts. One gets hit and goes flying into the bar, crashing into the liquor bottles. Glass shatters, fine liquor spills everywhere. Another takes a shot in the knee, cracks his head the bar as he stumbles, spills to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Their friends return fire, and you duck behind a thick pillar to take cover. Fragments of the pillar fly off as bullets strike it. You eject the M12's magazine and slam in a new one, listening to the Yakuza shout at each other in Japanese, giving each other orders and encouragement.

You step out from behind the pillar and fire another burst, this time at the gangsters between you and the basement. When you force their heads down, you make a break for it, shuffling in an awkward half-run to the basement stairs. Goddamit it'll be nice when your leg works properly again. If you survive this--

As you reach the door to the basement stairs, bullets strike the wall next to you. You turn to see a group of four firing at you from by the front door. You shoot back, taking one down, but the others go aggro and charge your position, shouting war cries. You're forced to beat a hasty retreat down the basement stairs instead of creeping stealthily, which means that the basement squad notices you right away. Caught between a rock and a hard place at the bottom of the basement stairs, you have no choice but to fight. What you wouldn't give for a grenade right now.

>Stand your ground.
>Suppressing fire!
>Charge into the basement.
>Charge back up the stairs.

>>1187965
>>Charge into the basement.
ad rather fight in the basement then out on the open dancer floor or a stairway

>>1187965
>Charge into the basement.

Who says THEY don't have grenades? Heck ricochet from shooting at us is a possibility right now.

>>1187965
>Charge into the basement.

hopefully we can get a better weapon

>>1187965
>>Charge into the basement.

>>1187972
>>1187973
>>1187977
>>1187983
Roll a d10 to go aggro on these mothafuckas.

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>1187984

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>1187984

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>1187984

>>1187985
>>1187986
>>1187988
Fail, success, partial success. That's ... slightly better than last time. Writing.

>>1187991
Fuck it, you're not about to let yourself pinned down here. Better to fight in a crowded basement with cover than out on the dance floor, right? You vault over your cover and run straight into the teeth of the gunfire. A couple of bullets tag you, and you grunt as the pain sears into you, but they don't hit anything that stops you. You charge into the midst of your enemies, firing your M12. Bullets crunch through flesh and bone. Blood splatters on the walls and floor. Men scream in pain and die. The ones still living retreat back further into the basement.

Your M12 clicks empty. Shit. Only one magazine for this left. You eject and reload, and take a moment to look around. Where's the armory, exactly? What the hell are these guys doing down here?

From down the corridor, you can hear them shouting. You follow them. Before you get far, though, you find something. And suddenly it all makes sense.

What you find is a fucking plastic explosive, attached to a support pillar.

You can hardly believe it. They're going to blow Enigma sky-high. This isn't a dust-up between rival crime organizations anymore. This is a fucking war zone.

>Chase after the basement squad. Take them down before the other bombs are planted.
>Go back upstairs, find Catherine and Ryuji, and get the hell out of here.

>>1188029
>>Go back upstairs, find Catherine and Ryuji, and get the hell out of here.
Go go go

>>1188029
>>Chase after the basement squad. Take them down before the other bombs are planted.

>>1188029
>Go back upstairs, find Catherine and Ryuji, and get the hell out of here.

>>1188029
>Chase after the basement squad. Take them down before the other bombs are planted.
They probably carry the denonater with them. If we can stop them then we're good

>>1188029
>>Chase after the basement squad. Take them down before the other bombs are planted.

>>1188029
>Chase after the basement squad. Take them down before the other bombs are planted.

I don't have faith we can keep up to stop them with a bum leg

>>1188036
>>1188043
>>1188045
>>1188048

Chase down those fucks with some d10 rolls.

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>1188062

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>1188062

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>1188062

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>1188062
Fuck you Crabbbb!!!!!

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>1188062
Arg

You stagger as fast as you can after the Yakuza demolition squad. You can hear them shouting to each other, but the echoes down here mess with your sense of distance, and you round a corner only to come face-to-face with two of them.

You whip up your M12, but one of them hits you with some kind of damn karate kick and sends the SMG flying right out of your hands. The second gangster fires a burst from his MP5. Two or three bullets hit you in the kevlar. You get flattened onto your ass, the wind knocked straight out of you. Shit. Breathe, Johnny, breathe--

The karate-kick asshole says something in Japanese, probably some kind of taunt, and sticks the busines end of his pistol in his face. Even without any breath in your lungs, you know how to deal with this. You clamp your fist over the pistol's handle and wrench it up and to one side. The gun goes off with a thundering roar, and you feel something strike your forehead. For a moment you think that you weren't in time, the bullet went straight into your brain, you're dead, that's it -- but it just nicked your forehead, struck the ground right next to your ear. Good thing you've got a thick skull.

Your breath sucks back into your lungs, and with it, some ofyour strength. You use your grip on the guy's hands to yank him forward, kick him in the knee while he's off-balance, then twist the gun up and force the trigger, putting two rounds into his friend. You reach into your jacket with your other hand, pull out your bowie knife, and jam the entire blade into this asshole's eye. He drops without a sound, instantly dead, a thin stream of blood squirting into the air from the imperfect seal of your knife.

Next to you, the other Yakuza groans in agony. You pick up the pistol and put a shot into his head. He stops groaning.

You shove the pistol into your coat pocket. You get your M12 and your knife back. You stand up.

That bullet cut on your forehead is bleeding into your eye. You try to wipe it off, but it just keeps coming.

No time. Keep going.

(Continued)

File: Wedding_Suit.jpg (220 KB, 574x1080)

220 KB JPG

>>1188099
We look like pic related by now don't we?

You stagger forward. You took a couple of grazing shots earlier, and the red stains are spreading across the white fabric of your suit jacket. Two or three in the vest just now, a new set of ugly bruises. Your busted leg is starting to hurt real bad again. Your forehead is bleeding into your left eye, leaving half your vision blurry and tinged with red. None of this matters. Only the job matters.

You take out your silenced M1911 and keep moving.

You find the last two Yakuza of the basement squad. One stands guard with an MP5 while the other attaches another plastic explosive. You put three subsonic .45 rounds into the guard before the demolition guy even hears it and turns around. He just realizes what's happening before he takes a bullet in the skull and falls to the ground.

You shuffle up to the two dead gangsters and rifle their pockets. You find some kind of remote control that might be a detonator. You switch it off, then drop it to the ground and stamp on it, crushing it beneath your boot.

Okay. Enigma's not blowing up. Not tonight, at least.

From the way you came, you can hear a commotion. Those Yakuza you dodged on the way down here to the basement must be coming after you.

You pick up the two MP5Ks the gangster demolitionists were carrying.

You can hear the Yakuza talking. They sound confident. Excited, almost. They probably think you're injured, tired, ready to give up.

They don't know you're just getting started.

File: IMG_3871.jpg (255 KB, 1080x900)

255 KB JPG

>>1188144
Aw Yeah

>>1188144

That scene would always be a little blurry later. You remember firing both MP5s at once at a crowded hallway, the two muzzle flashes going off together, shell casings flying, yourself laughing, a line of white shirts blossoming in blood. You remember picking a man up, slamming him into the wall, then throwing him into the air at his allies. You can see yourself kneeling over a man with his head in your hands, crushing his skull against the ground, leaving a wet red splatter, again and again and again ...

Some time later, you reach the top of the basement stairs. You can't remember everything you had to do to get here. You look down at yourself. Your suit is a lot redder than before.

Back out into Enigma, onto the dance floor. The civilians retreat from you in fear. You maybe just saved their lives from that bomb, but they're terrified of you. Maybe they should be.

You're wondering just who you have to kill next, when the front doors to the club slam open as someone gets thrown straight through them. The person practically bounces off the floor, rolls to a stop not far from you. Some kind of metal object clatters to a stop next to him. You shuffle in that direction, faster when you realize who that is.

"Oh shit," you say, kneeling beside Ryuji. He's in a bad way, worse than you. One eye is swollen shut, his jaw is broken, and he's got some kind of crazy impact bruises on his chest. He coughs, and blood comes out. "What the fuck man? Who did this to you? Who--"

"Even if ..." Ryuji struggles to speak. He reaches out to grasp the handle of his sword. "I sacrifice ... my body ..."

A shadow falls across the lights from the doorway. A massive figure enters.

Ryuji tries to use his katana to pull himself up to his feet. "I will -- never --"

You try to stop him. "Ryuji, bro, you can't--"

You hear a woman's scream from upstairs.

"My sister needs you, Johnny," says Ryuji. Somehow he stands,and raises his sword. "You must protect her, now! Go! Leave me!'

>Fight with Ryuji.
>Help Catherine.

>>1188195
>Help Catherine

>>1188195
>>Help Catherine.
Obviously. Ryuji needs help, but Catherine can't defend herself, and Ryuji wanted it this way.

>>1188195
>Help Catherine.

But toss Ryuji a gun before we leave.

>>1188195
>>Help Catherine.

>>1188195
I-i-i can't choose

>>1188195
>Help Catherine
Man is willing to sacrifice his life so we can save his sister. Least we can do is honour it. But yeah toss him a gun

>>1188195
>Help Catherine.

we will honor the fallen

>>1188190
Cant we pick up ryuji and skedaddle to catherine?

>>1188195
>Help Catherine
But definitely pick up our bro and bring him with us. Or at least give him a gun, damn it, no man left behind!

File: red oni (2).jpg (142 KB, 570x696)

142 KB JPG

You try to think of a way out of this. Maybe you could pick up Ryuji and carry him to Catherine? But how would you fight like that? You couldn't rescue Catherine and carry Ryuji at the same time. And whoever's coming in this front door wouldn't have anybody to stop them. You'd just end up getting pincered in and have to fight both groups at once.

Dammit.

No choice.

"All right, Ryuji. If that's what you want ... I'll go help your sister." You check to see if you have any guns or weapons left. To your surprise, you're still holding one of the Yakuza MP5Ks. You hand it out to Ryuji. He shakes his head, gripping his katana fiercely with both hands.

"Jesus," you say, taking the gun back. "Y-you don't make it easy to be friends with you, you know that? This samurai honor bullshit. I ... I'll get back here as fast as I can, okay, Ryuji? Just hang on. You hear me? You hang on."

"Johnny," he says. "You are a good friend. You have the soul of a warrior."

"Man, shut up. Don't talk like you're -- just -- son of a bitch. Fuck me." Clutching the SMG, you stride in the direction of the second-floor stairs. "Fuck!"

At the top of the stairs, you can't help yourself but turn back. Ryuji is still there, clutching his sword in two hands. Opposite him is a man, or what might be more accurate to call a mountain. Taller than you. Bigger than you. And his face -- he's wearing a mask.

The face of a demon.