You sit on the couch in your cabin, scrolling through the features on your communicator. Looking over, you smile a little bit at Tripe, who sleeps happily in the corner of the room.

Pulling up the call function, you type in the number of the security job offer. The phone rings for maybe two seconds before you hear the click of someone answering. However, on the other line is nothing but silence. Finally you hear something on the other end.

“Yeah?” A voice crackles over the line, modulated to obscure the other person’s identity. You can’t tell whether it is a man or woman, how old they might be, or any other distinguishing features.

“Is… Is this the bodyguard job offer?” You frown as you speak.

There is a solid thirty seconds of silence. “Yeah, I’m the client.” The mystery person speaks with urgency, and even though a modulator is making their voice, you can tell that they are speaking in a worried tone. “You’re a bodyguard?”

“I can handle myself around a gun.”

The voice hums stressfully on the other end. “What kind of qualifications do you have?”

You grumble. “I was in the Federal Navy, and I’ve got plenty of experience in dangerous locales.” You shift on the couch, rubbing the back of your neck. “My second in command is also skilled with weapons and tactics.”

“Second in command?” The voice seems startled with this revelation. “You’re military?”

“No,” you reply simply. “I captain a merchant starship.”

“Oh,” the voice says with apparent relief. “Unfortunately, I only have one position open… You’d have to choose whether you send your first officer, or if you do the job yourself.”

>Go yourself.
>Have Tom go.
Then
>”Okay then. Let’s negotiate payment.”
>”This seems very secretive. How do I know you won’t try something funny?”
>”What are the specifics of the job? How likely is it that I’ll actually see combat?”
>Write-in.

>>1251752
>>Have Tom go.
he's a better fit, clear it with him first
>”This seems very secretive. How do I know you won’t try something funny?”
>”What are the specifics of the job? How likely is it that I’ll actually see combat?”

>>1251752
>What are the specifics...?

Ask about the job firsg before comitting,

>>1251752
>Have Tom go.
>”What are the specifics of the job? How likely is it that I’ll actually see combat?”

>>1251752
> go yourself
Fucks sake, our crew signed on as starship crew. It's bad enough we've taken this job without surprise adorning people to it.
> what are the specifics

>>1251752

>>Have Tom go.

>>1251784
yup, lets not get in over our heads

Mornin', zap.

>>1251752
>>”Okay then. Let’s negotiate payment.”
>>”This seems very secretive. How do I know you won’t try something funny?”
>>”What are the specifics of the job? How likely is it that I’ll actually see combat?”
Why not ask all three? three are valid questions.
And then
>Go yourself.
We're the one who took it. Although we should check out the client when we get there. If something looks fishy we should consider stopping.

>>1251752
>”What are the specifics of the job? How likely is it that I’ll actually see combat?”

Ask Tom if he wants to take this one. If he misses the action as much as Zap has implied he'll likely want to do this himself.

Sorry for the inactivity. Had to step back from the computer for a bit. I'm back now and it looks like Tom's going. Will begin writing shortly.

“What exactly are the specifics of the job?” You lean back and rub the bridge of your nose.

The voice grumbles on the other end. “Nothing too dangerous. I’ll be attending a social function tonight, so I need a person to guard me.”

“So the chances of seeing combat are low?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Assuming nobody learns who I am.” The voice sighs. “Though, if my identity is made public, which is completely possible, things could get dicey.”

“How dicey?”

The voice chuckles. “If you see combat, you will be given danger pay in addition to your contract.”

“That’s good,” you reply. “How much is danger pay exactly?”

“A lump sum of 4,000 Standards.” There is a long pause. “So I assume you are taking the job?”

You sigh tiredly, feeling a dull ache in your ribs. Perhaps it would be best to defer this to Tom. Besides, you have to go to the Magus Temple soon anyway. “I’ll be sending my first officer. He’s reliable.”

The voice makes a strange noise, likely a frustrated sigh. “Normally, I would have reservations about not speaking with my potential bodyguard before closing the deal, but I am short on time, so this will be sufficient.” There is another long pause. “I’ll text the information to you. Is there anything else you will be needing?”

>”The lack of information here troubles me. Can you be less vague?”
>”Wait. Don’t we need to negotiate payment?”
>”Sounds good.” (ends conversation)
>Write-in.

>>1252370
>>”The lack of information here troubles me. Can you be less vague?”

>>1252370
>”Wait. Don’t we need to negotiate payment?”

>>1252370
>”Wait. Don’t we need to negotiate payment?”

“Wait. Aren’t we supposed to negotiate payment?”

The voice pauses for a moment. “Right. I suppose so. Let’s set up a contract…”

>Roll a 1d10, best of three.

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>1252370
>>”Sounds good.” (ends conversation)
>>1252591

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>1252591

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>1252591

>>1252655
what have you done

>>1252681
I don't think Zap is mean enough to have crits override on a 1d10.

>>1252728

I mean we have goten alot of good rolls for looting.
Soo idk depands on his mood.
Also i know i would

File: Tom.jpg (29 KB, 640x480)

29 KB JPG

The voice on the other end speaks up. “We’ll start out at 7,000 Standards.”

You grumble. “Can you do any better?”

“Better?” The voice balks at you.

“Yeah,” you reply. “Considering my first officer might be risking his life, I think you should be paying better.”

There is a long silence on the other end. “What’s your counter-offer then?”

“Twelve thousand,” you say simply.

“Absolutely not,” the voice retorts almost angrily. “8,500.” You frown. It’s better, but not good enough.

“Eleven thousand,” you retort.

There is a loud groan on the other end. “You’re trying to bleed me dry here… Ten thousand, take it or leave it.”

You grin slightly. “That’ll do.”

The person on the other end sighs. “Alright. Ten thousand. I’ll text the details to you soon.” With that, the line goes dead. You look down at the communicator with a frown.

Walking down to the Armory, you find Tom sitting at the workbench cleaning a half-disassembled rifle. Knocking on the door as you enter, you wave at Tom as he turns around.

“Captain,” he greets you. “What’s up?”

“A job came in,” you reply. “Bodyguard work. You want to do it?”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “I suppose so. What kind of bodyguard work?”

You shrug. “Details should be coming in through the communicator. You have one too, right?”

Tom nods, producing an older model communicator. “Yeah, just forward the details to me. I’ll take care of it.”

>”So what are you doing down here?”
>”I just came by to tell you about the job. I’ll leave you to your work.” (ends conversation)
>”Are there any issues aboard I should know about?”
>”How’s the crew been lately?”
>”How are you holding up? Everything okay?”
>PLAY AS TOM.
>Write-in.

>>1252764

PLAY AS TOM

>>1252764
>”Are there any issues aboard I should know about?”
>”How are you holding up? Everything okay?”

>>1252764
>”How’s the crew been lately?”
>”How are you holding up? Everything okay?”

>>1252764
>PLAY AS TOM.
Fuck yeah. Time to gripe about the boss and kick ass.

File: 1425095563073.png (751 KB, 565x510)

751 KB PNG

>>1252764
>PLAY AS TOM.
Yep. It's time.

File: Tom McMurdo.jpg (16 KB, 400x299)

16 KB JPG

Alright, looks like we'll be playing as Tom for a while. Since it's going to be a somewhat major perspective shift, I'm gonna call the session here for tonight and start tomorrow's run at around 4 to 6 PM.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EiR1hmpk-x4

>>1252978
Got it.

File: MSOF Custom.jpg (77 KB, 640x480)

77 KB JPG

You are Tom McMurdo, second-in-command aboard the Bad Habit, as well as a former Marine and co-pilot, carpenter, and amateur gunsmith. However, right now you’re a bodyguard, apparently.

You finish putting together your newest piece with a sigh, racking the charging handle for good measure. It is an exact replica of the MSOF Custom short rifle developed for the unit decades ago. Though the size of a pistol, it fires a full-size .308 round. You think you’ll call this one the ‘Bad Habit Special’. You are somewhat thankful you were almost done with it when the Captain sprang this job on you. You look anxiously down at your communicator, awaiting the details. The Captain left for the Magus Temple about thirty minutes ago, so you assume he’s busy with alien politics or something.

You pull an empty magazine from the rack and begin loading it casually, whistling as you do. After you load the first one, you lock it into the Bad Habit Special’s mag-well, then begin loading another mag.

You then get a special one-point sling for the weapon, clipping it on and slinging it stealthily under your shoulder. Donning a windbreaker, you look in the small mirror at the back of the armory to see how concealable it is. Grinning, you barely even notice that it’s there. You’re glad that you’ll be able to sling some .308 if shit goes sideways.

You then look over at the workbench upon hearing a loud beep. Your communicator has gotten a message. Walking back over, you see that it is the Captain’s number. He’s transferred the details of the job to you.

Looks like the client insists on remaining anonymous. However, they did forward a portion of the pay already, so that shows they’re serious. I sent them the location of the Bad Habit and they said they’d be sending a car in about thirty minutes.

You grumble, closing the message and getting a pistol as well. You’d rather be over-armed than under-armed. Holstering the pistol, you look around the armory longingly before turning out the light and leaving.

Sitting at the edge of the cargo ramp, you light a cigarette, taking a long drag. While a part of you knows you should quit, you figure it doesn’t matter much. At least not right now.

As the sun begins to set, you see a dumpy, black car rumble up to the ship. A man in a tan blazer with sunglasses steps out, walking up to you. You notice the bulge of a large-frame handgun in his breast pocket, a consequence of his jacket likely not being tailored for an armed man. What an amateur.

“I assume you are the bodyguard?”

>”That’d be me.” (leave with them)
>”You the client?”
>”I want some more concrete details on this job. Now.”
>"What kind of piece are you packing?"
>Write-in.

>>1255731
>>>”That’d be me.” (leave with them)
>>”You the client?”

>>1255731
>”That’d be me.” (leave with them)
>”You the client?”
>”I want some more concrete details on this job. Now.”

>>1255789

Seconding

>>1255731
> you the client?
>I want some concrete plz

>>1255731
>Not based HK53
Toms a disgusting pleb!
>"What kind of piece are you packing?"

>>1255731
Does the bad habit's armoury (read toms room) have any other stuff like grenades or mines?

>>1255982
>Not based HK53
He's got one of those too. He's saving it for a special occasion.

>>1256001
It has all sorts of cool highly explosive stuff.

File: PEM nades.jpg (9 KB, 253x199)

9 KB JPG

>>1256016
Well shove a pair of these in his underwear then, give the ol gal a shocking surprise!

>>1255731
>”That’d be me.” (leave with them)
>”You the client?”

File: Client.jpg (34 KB, 900x400)

34 KB JPG

“You the client?” You frown at the man, taking another drag of your cigarette.

The man shakes his head. “I’m an intermediary. The client is waiting for you at our destination.”

You stand up. “Alright. I’ll go with you, but I want some more concrete details about this job.”

The two of you begin walking toward the car as the man speaks. “The client is a… Procurement specialist. For an anonymous source.” He talks with his hands, and you detect a hint of a Greek accent in his voice. It’s faint, but it’s there nonetheless. “They are requesting a bodyguard to accompany them to a function related directly to business.”

“Why couldn’t they just use you as a bodyguard?” You both enter the car, with him sitting in the driver’s seat. It looks like it was a luxury vehicle, but time hasn’t been kind to it.

The man shakes his head. “I am not skilled in such things. I merely conduct bookkeeping and custodial duties…” He puts the vehicle in drive and speeds off, going down a side road in the city. You soon find yourselves cutting through downtown, but as the sun sets completely, you enter a different neighborhood. The buildings look older, dingier. Humans and aliens alike move about, though all of them look like they’re up to no good.

Eventually, the car comes to a stop in front of a run-down building reminiscent of a hotel. You both exit the vehicle and you immediately realize that it is indeed what it looks like. The guy in the tan blazer leads you inside, up a flight of stairs, and down a hallway. You end up in front of a door at the very end of the hall, and the man steps in front of you, opening the door in a way that reminds you of an old-fashioned butler.

As the two of you enter, you realize that the room is very well-appointed despite the building it resides in. It appears to have doors on either side leading to bedrooms, and the room you currently stand in appears to be some sort of living room. You take a final drag of your cigarette, snuffing it out in an ashtray on a table beside you.

“I’ve brought the client,” the man says from behind you.

You look around to see who he’s talking to, when a woman’s voice calls back casually. “Thank you, Andros. Leave us.” A young woman with blond hair sits on a couch, looking at you with judging eyes. She wears a black suit, with a black shirt and tie. The whole getup looks undeniably sinister. Glancing back, you see the man who brought you here is already through the door, closing it behind him. You look back to the woman, who grins amusedly at you. “MSOF Custom, right? Been a while since I saw one of those. Mind if I take a look?” You glance down, seeing that your windbreaker is still covering the weapon.

>”You’re pretty sharp. Do you deal with weapons often?” (inquisitive)
>”I’m assuming you’re the client?” (professional)
>”I’m getting real tired of all this cloak-and-dagger bullshit.” (annoyed)
>Write-in.

>>1256116
>>”I’m assuming you’re the client?” (professional)

>>1256116
>”I’m assuming you’re the client?” (professional)

>>1256116
>>”I’m assuming you’re the client?” (professional)
>”You’re pretty sharp. Do you deal with weapons often?” (inquisitive)
>Are you trying to look like a cliché spy movie villainess? If that's the intention it'll cost extra, mook duty if horrible.

>>1256116
>”I’m assuming you’re the client?” (professional)
>"X-ray eyes, huh. See anything else you like?"

inb4 the function she is attending is a meeting of arms dealers discussing what to do now that the patron of the unlicensed arms trade on Thalos has been slain in a honourable duel.

>>1256116
>”You’re pretty sharp. Do you deal with weapons often?” (inquisitive)

File: Procurement Specialist.jpg (379 KB, 700x1000)

379 KB JPG

You frown, crossing your arms. “I’m assuming you’re the client?”

“Yes,” she nods with a slight grin. “And you are Tom McMurdo. Former Marine captain, Navy lieutenant, and current first officer aboard the Bad Habit.”

You shrug. “Guess you did your homework.”

She nods, suddenly growing serious. “But there’s one thing that intrigues me. A two-year gap in your service record. You were removed from the Marine 1st Recon, but kept on Marine payroll regardless. Then after that gap, you were assigned to regular infantry…” She raises an eyebrow at you, a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth as she leans back on the couch. “I find myself absolutely fascinated by that.”

Your eyes narrow as you take a step forward. “Must be a paperwork error,” you say flatly. “You know how bad the Navy Department’s bookkeeping was during the early days of the War.”

The woman regards you with an expression that tells you everything you need to know. She’s not planning on pursuing the topic any further. “Fair enough. I suppose things like that do happen. It must’ve been very troublesome.” She crosses her arms. “Anyhow, you may call me Miss Wingate.” She stands up, walking casually over to you. “You’ll be accompanying me while I personally oversee a transaction later tonight.”

“A transaction?” You frown.

She nods simply, her eyes wandering over you, seemingly sizing you up. “It’s a critical sale, but one that I have to do under the utmost secrecy.” She finally sighs, stepping back and rubbing the bridge of her nose. “But this whole windbreaker and blue jeans getup won’t do. You look like a divorced dad or something.”

>”Wingate? As in Westland-Wingate Arms?”
>”What kind of getup would you suggest then?”
>”Approximately how long is this job going to take?”
>”This better not be anything I could get jail time for.”
>Write-in.

>>1256389
>>”What kind of getup would you suggest then?”
>”This better not be anything I could get jail time for.”
>”Wingate? As in Westland-Wingate Arms?”

Disregard the deleted post. I typo'd.

>>1256403
>>>”What kind of getup would you suggest then?”
>>”Approximately how long is this job going to take?”

>>1256403
>”Wingate? As in Westland-Wingate Arms?”
>”What kind of getup would you suggest then?”

>>1256403
>Write-in.
I didn't sign up for clothes shopping. ... Did I?

>>1256403
>”Wingate? As in Westland-Wingate Arms?”
>”What kind of getup would you suggest then?”
>”Approximately how long is this job going to take?”
>Write-in.
You could leave more details in the job description for future employees, or bring a spare suit to your tastes.

“Wingate?” You step back. “As in Westland-Wingate Arms?”

Wingate steps back as well, crossing her arms in amusement. “If I were connected to WW Arms, I wouldn’t be here doing business.” She chuckles a little bit. “You’re a sharp one though. Not many people know what WW stands for.”

You shrug. “Well they stamped it on all their rifles back in the War. So what’s this about me needing another getup? I didn’t sign up to go clothes shopping.”

The young woman in front of you laughs again. “That won’t be necessary, Mr. McMurdo.” She gestures to a doorway to one side of the room. “I’ve got proper attire for you.”

You frown as she promptly leads you to the doorway, opening the door and gesturing into a dark room which you realize is a bedroom. You squint through the low light to see several black suits hanging on a rack in the corner. Flipping the light switch, Wingate leads you into the room.

“I’ve got one that should be your size. Go ahead and try them on.” With that, she turns and leaves, closing the door behind her. You walk over and find a suit close enough to your size to work.

It is identical to the suit she wears, all black, except that it has a vest as well. When you go to put the vest on, you realize that the front buttons are false, and it slips over your head and fastens at the sides. You grin as you realize that it is a disguised plate carrier. Holstering your weapons, you take a look in the mirror, then exit the room.

Wingate looks at you as you enter the living room again, grinning as you cross your arms. “Quite dashing,” she says with a chuckle.

“I look like the Devil’s butler,” you reply with a frown. “But the integrated plate carrier is a nice touch.” You then rub the back of your neck. “How long is this job going to take anyway?”

Wingate nods as she speaks. “It shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.” She walks up and leans to one side, looking at your suit. She then leans to the other side. “That hides your short rifle much better. I can’t even tell it’s there.” She finally stands back, confidently grinning. “So, are you ready to get this show on the road?”

>”Sure.” (ends conversation)
>”Not until I know what exactly you’re selling.”
>Write-in.

>>1256636
>>”Sure.” (ends conversation)

>>1256636
>”Sure.” (ends conversation)

>>1256636
>>”Sure.” (ends conversation)

>>1256636
>"Sure." (ends conversation)

>>1256636
>”Sure.” (ends conversation)

>>1256636
> >Write-in.

For someone not part of the WW family, you sure are sharp about weapons. Not just spotting my carry, but knowing the gun and providing appropriate equipment yourself as opposed to having me or someone else take care of it.

Now, I'm not getting paid to pry, but I am getting paid to protect you so I'd like to know if you're carrying any weapons. Also if not, would it be a good idea for me to take a spare for you if you do need one, or are you untrained and better off staying out of the way?

“Sure,” you nod. “Let’s get going.”

With that, Wingate leads you out of the room and into the hall. The two of you don’t talk as you head downstairs. Waiting outside is a large, black luxury car, much more modern than the one that delivered you here. You both sit in the back as the driver silently pulls away from the hotel.

Wingate looks over at you, an expression you can’t quite read on her face. “You have seen combat before, right?”

You nod, sighing. “More than my share. As long as we aren’t walking into a trap, we should be fine.”

She turns away, looking out the window as you speak. “And you trust me to not get led into a trap?”

You shrug, leaning forward in the seat. “It’s not something worth worrying over. If we get attacked, I’ll act accordingly. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.”

You look over to see Wingate staring at you, seemingly uncertain. “What will you do if it happens?”

You almost chuckle from having to say the obvious. “I’ll kill the enemy, of course.” You frown. “You’re almost starting to sound like you’re expecting a firefight.”

She rubs the back of her neck, shaking her long ponytail. “It’s not that I’m expecting one… Just that the people I’m doing business with aren’t the most friendly.”

You grumble at that. “They’re mafia, aren’t they?”

She shakes her head. “Not as far as I know. But they do have reputations for not tolerating bullshit.”

“Are you planning on bullshitting them?” You frown even more, eyes wide.

Wingate grimaces. “It depends on your definition of bullshit. These people aren’t exactly fond of outsiders trying to haggle them… But I may not have a choice in that matter.”

>”Was all that smug bravado earlier just an act?”
>”Who exactly are you meeting with?”
>”Do you have a weapon on you?”
>”Where is this meeting taking place?”
>Remain silent.
>Write-in.

>>1257036
>>>”Do you have a weapon on you?”
>>”Where is this meeting taking place?

>>1257036
>”Do you have a weapon on you?”
>”Where is this meeting taking place?”
>specifics, as many as you can give, now.

>>1257036
> Do you have a weapon

> How experienced are you with it, and with combat as well

> What kind of opposition MIGHT we face, worst case scenario, and how we can avoid that if things do go loud.

> What's the exit strategy if we have to run

> Is there anyone who might be a threat other than these people you're seeing?

>>1257036
>"Where is this meeting taking place?"

>>1257036
>”Was all that smug bravado earlier just an act?”
>”Who exactly are you meeting with?”
>”Do you have a weapon on you?”
>”Where is this meeting taking place?”

>>1257036
>”Do you have a weapon on you?”
>”Where is this meeting taking place?”

>>1257214
Oh and
>Got a specific phrase if you want things to go loud or get out of there? One for each preferably.

>>1257224
+1

>>1257224
Sure, add this in.

File: Wingate.png (242 KB, 900x768)

242 KB PNG

You sigh. “Do you have a weapon?”

Wingate reaches into her jacket and produces a full-size handgun with an extended magazine and what looks like some sort of folding stock. “It’s an automatic,” she explains.

“Good,” you reply. “And you’re proficient at using it?”

“The reason why I hired you was because I’ve had to fight my way out of bad situations before and I don’t want to risk it anymore.” She returns the pistol to its holster inside her jacket.

“Alright. Let’s get some specifics about what’s going on then.” You lean toward her. “Who are you meeting with?”

She looks away, grimacing. “Members of a large Imperial weapons conglomerate.” Your eyebrows shoot up at the revelation. “And the Empire doesn’t know about it…”

“Shit,” you sigh. “So we’ll probably be facing Imperial mercenaries of things go south…” You lean back, reaching into your pockets. Thankfully, you brought five mags for the rifle and three for the pistol, so you’re set as far as ammo goes. “And what about outside risks?”

“None,” she says almost instantly. “The only people who know about this are the ones directly involved.”

You nod slightly. “Okay then. Do you have an exit strategy if things go south?”

Wingate grimaces. “I do. But it’ll involve using the merchandise itself to destroy the warehouse as we get out.”

“To create a diversion…” You grin slightly. “What exactly is the merch?”

“Mostly small arms. But they’ve included forty crates of anti-ship missiles. The plan is to chuck this bad boy into the pile of missile crates if things go south.” She produces a thermobaric grenade, holding it carefully.

You grin widely, unable to contain yourself. “M800 Thermobaric. Nice.” She seems to be taken aback by your amusement, so you have to focus back on the plan. “Anyway, do you have any code words for if we have to go loud?”

She frowns. “I suppose if we need to spring into action, I’ll say ‘This sure is a funky town’.” She shrugs. “And if we have to escape, it’ll mean things already got loud, so I don’t think we’ll need a code word.”

“Fair enough…” You light a cigarette, rolling the window next to you down. You take a long drag, closing your eyes and rubbing them.

>Remain silent.
>”So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” (pry, roll a 1d10)
>”Give me the grenade. I’ll toss it if shit goes sideways.”
>”You mentioned having to fight your way out of bad situations before. How long have you been doing this?”
>Write-in.

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>1257366
>>”So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” (pry, roll a 1d10)
>”You mentioned having to fight your way out of bad situations before. How long have you been doing this?”

>>1257366
>>>”Give me the grenade. I’ll toss it if shit goes sideways.”
>>”You mentioned having to fight your way out of bad situations before. How long have you been doing this?”

Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>1257366
>”So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” (pry, roll a 1d10)
?

>>1257366
>”So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” (pry, roll a 1d10)

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>1257366
>”So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” (pry, roll a 1d10)
Cast out of the family business?

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>1257366
>”So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” (pry, roll a 1d10)
>”You mentioned having to fight your way out of bad situations before. How long have you been doing this?”
>Write-in What missile clan are we dealing with.

I hope its not ones from that planet we visited, with Morrigan.

>>1257514
>Morrigan
Fugging who- Oh, Corrigan. That missile clan from Triton. Eh, they wouldn't recognize Tom anyway.

File: Wingate1.jpg (873 KB, 1400x2250)

873 KB JPG

“So why are you even getting involved with these types of people?” You take another drag of the cigarette as you finish speaking.

Wingate pauses, remaining silent for almost a whole minute. “Remember when you brought up WW?” She crosses her arms. “I… I want to destroy them.”

“So you are a member of the Wingate Family…” You sigh. “Why would you want to destroy them then? You could probably run the whole company.”

She shakes her head. “I was slated to run the company eventually… In fact, I would probably be head of a whole production facility by now. But…” She trails off, sighing. “When I was being groomed to run WW, I was put in a team in our Experimental Applications Division.” She looks away.

“Experimental Applications,” you grumble. “That doesn’t sound like anything wholesome. Even by arms industry standards.”

She nods. “It wasn’t. And I knew that I would be shut down if I tried to stop it…” She clenches a fist. “There was no way I could stop them from the inside, so I ran. I was fifteen.” She looks at you with a frown. “I decided that I would run the WW Arms Corporation into the ground, seize all of their assets, and shut the Division down myself.”

“So you’re starting by disrupting their customer base,” you reply. “Sell to all of their potential customers so that they don’t make any money.” You frown. “But doesn’t WW still make most of its money from the military?”

“Not anymore,” she replies. “WW had to switch over almost entirely to the private sector to stay afloat after the War.” She leans back in the seat. “Unfortunately, I don’t have the means to produce merchandise, so I have to procure it elsewhere. I was lucky enough to find an investor who hates WW as much as I do, but money alone isn’t enough to cripple an arms company.”

You merely nod. It’s an ambitious plan, but there’s nothing wrong with ambition, you suppose. As the car begins to slow down, you look out through your window. The car stops in front of a large warehouse. “This the place?”

She looks though the same window. “Looks like it,” she nods. “Let’s go.”

The two of you walk up to the front door of the warehouse as the car drives off toward a nearby alleyway. You take point, knocking on the front door. It opens a crack and you see a pair of eyes on the other side. A young man, obviously a mercenary, looks out at you. “You are the buyer, yes?” He speaks in a thick Imperial accent.

“I’m the bodyguard,” you reply simply. Wingate stands beside you as the door opens and you are led inside. The warehouse is massive, with crates strewn across the whole place. In the dim light, you manage to make out close to a dozen people with rifles walking around in the upper areas. Not only do they have the numbers advantage, but the high ground too. You look worriedly at Wingate, who returns the expression. You are both led into a large, cleared space in the middle of the warehouse, where four old men in fine suits sit at a large table. You are then led over to the table, where Wingate sits down across from the old men. You stand at her side, looking as much like a bodyguard as you can.

“Ah,” the first one of them speaks up. “Miss... Collins, it is good to see you.” He puffs on a large cigar, grinning widely. “Are you ready to begin negotiations?”

And that's it for tonight. We'll run tomorrow around the same time.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M3XEIOqWtnA

What do you think WW's Experimental Applications Division does?

>>1257623
Find new ways to use all kinds of weapons on people. Assumingly on live test subjects.

>>1257610
>"I decided that I would run the WW Arms Corporation into the ground, seize all of their assets, and shut the Division down myself."
Um, you realise that someone else will just step up to fill the gap, right?

>>1257623
Experiment to see what effect they can
get by applying their weapons in a protection/extortion racket.

>>1257701
Pretty dumb of her to run, she could easily take out the division over time.

>>1257623
Experimental bio and chem stuff designed for taking out multiple species, including xeno populations.

>>1257623
Apply SPACE MAJIK to guns and missiles, and test on live targets.

>>1257778
It was probably more her lashing out against her family than the company. People always make it personal.

>>1257927

Im sure she will love the lazzor gun the captain has

Wingate sighs, leaning back in the chair. Though she’s trying to act cool and in-control, you can tell she’s nervous. “I understand the need for our negotiations to be low-profile,” she begins. “But wouldn’t it have been simpler to do the negotiations somewhere more comfortable than a warehouse?”

The eldest of the men speaks in a slightly annoyed tone. “We expected that you would like to see that we have the weapons here. It was merely the best way to show you that we are serious.” He rubs his beard, shooting a glance your way.

“Fair enough,” Wingate replies simply. “Then I suppose it would be prudent to get on with our deal.”

The younger of the men raises an eyebrow, cutting her off. “Two million.”

Wingate sighs. “I think we all know that’s more than all of these weapons are worth.” She crosses her arms. “One million would give me some room to make a profit.”

All three men chuckle amongst each other before the eldest speaks up again. “You must take us for fools.” He shakes his head. “Perhaps we have wasted our time here…” He moves to stand up.

“1.5 million,” Wingate says quickly. The man stops mid-movement, looking at her with a smirk.

“Now we’re getting somewhere.” He sits back down. “But it’s not enough. 1.8 million.”

Wingate sighs. “Listen, I’ve got 1.5 million in cash just waiting for you. Where else are you going to find someone willing to pay in full on such short notice?”

The man looks at his compatriots, and they whisper some things to each other in the Imperial language. You really wish you had accepted that intel officer’s offer to teach you back during the war. Finally, the eldest man speaks up. “1.5 million will be sufficient then,” he pauses. “Shall we begin preparations to transfer these crates?”

Wingate smiles. “That would be excellent. Let’s begin.”

“Very well,” the younger one speaks, producing a form. “Please fill out this delivery form.” Wingate takes the form and begins filling it out.

However, as she finishes it and hands it back to the Imperials, there is a strange sound outside. Almost like the whir of jet engines, only significantly quieter. A turbine-powered car perhaps? You are drawn from your thoughts as the building rumbles, lights flickering. You look around to see the old men confusedly glance at each other. Then you hear it, coming from the far end of the warehouse.

Suppressed gunfire, approaching rapidly.

>”You set us up…” (Blame the Imperials.)
>”This place isn’t safe. Let’s move.” (get Wingate and escape)
>”Gentlemen, how well-trained are your mercenaries?”
>”I thought you said no outside parties knew about this deal.” (question Wingate)
>Write-in.

>>1260298
>”This place isn’t safe. Let’s move.” (get Wingate and escape)

>>1260298
>”This place isn’t safe. Let’s move.” (get Wingate and escape)

>>1260298
>”This place isn’t safe. Let’s move.” (get Wingate and escape)
>"I hope your mercenaries are well trained gentlemen, but from the suppressed gunfire I hear I suggest if your not 100% confident you follow our example."
Or something less mouthy to indicate the reason were hightailing, and that this isn't us in their base, killing their dudes.

>>1260421

This, give the Imperials a warning as well, it doesn't look like they knew about this as well

>>1260298
Supporting >>1260421

>>1260298
>>”This place isn’t safe. Let’s move.” (get Wingate and escape)

Morning, Zap.

>>1260421
Supportin'. We need to express that it is not our doing.

File: Commandos.jpg (985 KB, 1920x1080)

985 KB JPG

You grimace, pulling out your short rifle. “It’s not safe here. We need to leave.” You look down at Wingate, who nods and gets up from the table. You then look over at the old men. “How confident are you that your mercenaries can handle this?”

The eldest one frowns at you. “We are confident. This was not out of the realm of possibility. I have a good idea of who these intruders are...” He then looks over at Wingate. “The deal is still on. We will deliver the cargo to your people as soon as this is taken care of.” You then hear the sounds of gunfire somewhere in the warehouse as the mercenaries retaliate.

“Right, let’s go.” Wingate gestures for you to lead the way, which you do. As the two of you move, she produces a walkie-talkie and presses the button. “Anton. Bring Andros and meet us at the safe-point.”

“Roger,” a voice crackles over the other end.

Wingate looks over at you as the two of you make your way between the crates, toward the exit. “The safe-point is in that alleyway where our driver put the car earlier. You remember where that is?”

“Of course,” you nod. “Let’s just focus on getting out of this maze of containers first.” You both find yourselves in a small clearing between some containers, so you crane your neck to try and get a glimpse of the fighting. As you look up, you see some men in black combat suits and gas masks moving along the catwalk that lines the upper areas of the warehouse. They fire down into the clearing where the meeting was taking place.

“This way,” Wingate points to an opening between the containers. You both move through it and find yourselves less than twenty feet from the door that you originally entered through. The area around the door is apparently under renovation, with heavy-looking scaffolding dominating this part of the warehouse. You grimace, it would be the perfect place for enemies to hide.

The two of you head for the door, only for brick dust to fly off the wall next to you. You grab Wingate by the arm and drag her behind cover with you. Peeking out, you get a glimpse of the attackers before you are forced back behind the container by another burst of automatic gunfire. It looks like there are four of them in a relatively tight group. “You okay?” You look over at Wingate.

“I’m not hit, if that’s what you mean.” She pulls out her autopistol, unfolding the stock. “How are we going to do this?” You hear the footsteps of the goons drawing closer.

>Exit cover and shoot at the soldiers. (roll a 4d10)
>Shoot the scaffolding above them. (roll a 1d100)
>Attempt to sneak away and find another way out. (roll a 1d100)
>Write-in.

>>1260666
>four of them in a relatively tight group.

Whelp Grenade time

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>1260666
>Shoot the scaffolding above them. (roll a 1d100)

We don't need to put them down, we just need to get the principle out of here and a distraction will do just that

Also I see your trips Satan

Rolled 74 (1d100)

>>1260666
>>Shoot the scaffolding above them. (roll a 1d100)

Rolled 5, 8, 6, 1 = 20 (4d10)

>>1260666
>Exit cover and shoot at the soldiers. (roll a 4d10)
They have a good enough bead on us that escaping or distraction seems ill fated, especially as they appear very professional.

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>1260666
>>Shoot the scaffolding above them. (roll a 1d100)

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>1260666
> shoot the scaffolding
Sneaking away seems like a fine option too.

You flip the safety on your short rifle off, switching to full-auto and pointing it around the corner, toward the scaffolding above the enemy. You hold on tight as you empty a magazine into the supports.

For a second, you hear nothing beyond the chatter of the soldiers beneath their masks, but then the scaffolding begins to groan. You peek out just in time to see it fall over, crushing two of the soldiers entirely and smacking the other two with debris. The one closest to the crushed men kneels down, trying to pry the broken scaffolding off of his comrades. You hear him shout something, likely calling for a medic, as he frantically tries to move a piece of heavy-looking pipe. You can tell from the amount of blood that if they survived, his comrades will likely never set foot on a battlefield again. You swear silently to yourself as you realize the debris is now blocking the door you originally intended to exit through.

However, the other unaffected soldier hangs back, putting a hand to his left ear as he says something. You can tell that he’s radioed your position. You retreat behind cover as he raises his SMG again and fires toward you.

“Well,” you say to Wingate. “We’re going to have to find another door…”

“What exactly did you do?” Her eyes are wide from what she likely heard happen on the other side of the container.

“Let’s just say those goons aren’t having the best day right now.” You smirk slightly. You then fish into your pocket for a fresh mag, dropping the empty one from your short rifle. As you finish reloading, you hear footsteps somewhere else nearby. When you peek around the corner, you see that the two surviving commandos have disappeared, likely trying to flank you.

>Attempt to find another door. (roll a 1d100)
>Check the bodies of the dead commandos. One of them might have something to clear the debris with. (roll a 1d100)
>Write-in.

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>1260945
>>Attempt to find another door. (roll a 1d100)

Rolled 26 (1d100)

>>1260945
>Attempt to find another door. (roll a 1d100)

Need to keep on the move

Rolled 60 (1d100)

>>1260945
>>Attempt to find another door. (roll a 1d100)

Have errands to run. I'll be back in a couple hours.

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>1260945
Well that was a bit too effective.

>Attempt to find another door. (roll a 1d100)

Alrighty I'm back. Will resume writing shortly.

You turn around, walking toward another part of the warehouse. “Follow me. We’re finding another door.”

“What?” Wingate looks at you with incredulity. “Why? The door’s right over there.”

You shrug. “Not anymore. The scaffolding fell on it.”

Wingate looks angrily at you as she follows you. Eventually, the two of you enter into another small clearing between some containers. It is a long, thin area likely made intentionally to allow people to move through the warehouse. At the end of it is a door, though you know for a fact it opens on the other side of the warehouse, which could pose a problem if there are more goons outside.

You look around in an attempt to find another doorway, and after you squeeze between two tightly-packed containers, you see a large garage door that appears to have been left open. It opens much closer to the alleyway. “Looks like we’ve found a way out.” You grin as you lead Wingate toward the door.

However, you are stopped by a hand on your shoulder. Looking back you see Wingate looking nervously at you. “Are you sure we should just walk out the main door like that? What if it’s a trap?”

You frown. While it’s entirely possible that it’s a trap, you haven’t heard as much of the suppressed gunfire. Not only that, but you hear the occasional mercenaries yelling to each other. For all you know, the attackers may have been neutralized by now.

>Exit through the main door.
>Exit through the rear door.
>Try to find another door. (roll a 1d100)
>Write-in.

Rolled 2 (1d100)

>>1262107
>>Try to find another door. (roll a 1d100)
failing that MAKE a door

Rolled 10 (1d100)

>>1262107
>Try to find another door. (roll a 1d100)

>>1262107
>exit through the door right in front of us
I don't know which that is but there isn't much point in second guessing ourselves. They could have the whole place surrounded for all we know.

Rolled 52 (1d100)

>>1262107
>>Try to find another door. (roll a 1d100)

>>1262107
>Write-in.
Go first, peek slowly ahead, and see if its clear.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Don't read these spoilers. They're just here to keep me honest.
1 for no enemy encounter
2 for enemy encounter

File: SpecOps.jpg (109 KB, 800x1400)

109 KB JPG

“Let’s look for another door close to the alleyway,” you say simply. Crouching low, you both move along the edge of the wall, heading toward the end of the warehouse nearest the original planned escape route.

However, it doesn’t look like any other doors are located on that side of the building. You search for a good deal of time, finding only the door that is currently blocked by the ruined scaffolding.

However, just as you’re about to give up and head for the main door again, you see what looks like a service door hidden behind some boxes. Walking up to it, you move the first of the boxes carefully, making sure to not make too much noise. As you do this, Wingate covers you.

Eventually, you move the boxes and have a good look at the door itself. And you grumble upon seeing the sign reading ‘NOT AN EXIT’ right where a box was until a couple of minutes ago.

Sighing, you turn to Wingate with a shrug. “Looks like we’ll need to find another door.”

“We’ll need to do it quickly,” she says simply. “For all we know, this place could be surrounded.” You nod at her as the two of you head back toward the nearest door that you remember.

As the two of you arrive at the door, you try to open it, only to realize that it has been chained and padlocked on the other side. You grimace. Every now and then, you hear suppressed gunfire, meaning that these guys are still engaged in combat with the mercs.

You draw your short rifle and prepare to fire when a bullet impacts the brick wall next to you, sending dust flying everywhere. Aiming your rifle at the place where the shot originated from, you see six of the masked commandos approaching you, weapons at the ready. One of them speaks up, a speaker in his mask amplifying his voice. “Drop the weapons. Kiss the ground, hands on your heads.”

>Engage them. (roll a 6d10)
>Surrender.

>>1259289
Lazer gun is our true waifu

File: dead_inside.jpg (338 KB, 943x422)

338 KB JPG

>chained and padlocked on the other side
You know, I'm not gonna delete the post to correct that typo. The chain and padlock are on the inside, that's why Tom was getting ready to fire the short rifle.

Rolled 3, 1, 6, 8, 9, 10 = 37 (6d10)

>>1262387
>>Engage them. (roll a 6d10)

Rolled 4, 1, 5, 2, 10, 5 = 27 (6d10)

>>1262387
> >Engage them. (roll a 6d10)

GRENADES!

Rolled 4, 8, 10, 5, 2, 5 = 34 (6d10)

>>1262387
>>Engage them. (roll a 6d10)

Rolled 1, 2, 4, 6, 6, 10 = 29 (6d10)

>>1262387
>Engage them. (roll a 6d10)
Did we experience dejavu while looking for doors and rolling really low?

>>1262453
The whole "nearest door you remember" thing just means the nearest door from a previous search. (Which is the rear door from the previous search, in this case.)

>>1262470
I was making a matrix joke!

Oh shit, a run.

File: 1479965101340.gif (1.36 MB, 260x260)

1.36 MB GIF

>>1262490
Oh.
I feel really stupid now. It's probably been ten years since I watched the Matrix.

>>1262511
Time flies, huh?

Rolled 39 (1d100)

Also, rolling for something.

You pull the trigger and send some ammunition downrange in the middle of the goon’s sentence. The first couple rounds miss their targets completely on account of you being virtually unable to aim such a short rifle. However, the third man you aim for takes a round to the chest, falling back into a container hard enough to bounce off and fall forward. You can tell that he was wearing a plate carrier by the fact that he is alive enough to shout profanities over the sound of gunfire, but you’ve at least broken some ribs. As you continue firing, Wingate opens up with her autopistol as well, sending an entire magazine downrange in a little over a second. Her target’s face takes the brunt of the barrage, his mask exploding in a bloody mess as he falls over limply. You take aim at the fifth and sixth soldiers as they prepare fire on you. Luckily, your shots slam into their heads uninterrupted, taking both down.

However, there is still the problem of the two men you missed in the opening of your sweep. One tends to his downed but injured comrade, while the other raises his SMG and fires a burst right into your center-mass. You feel your breath leave you as you are knocked into the wall behind you. However, the plate carrier built into your suit vest seems to stop anything from killing you outright. You topple over, hitting the ground with a dull thud. However, pistol rounds aren’t enough to break bones behind a ballistic plate, so you’re crouched and ready to go almost immediately. It isn’t needed, however, as Wingate empties a magazine downrange toward the man who shot you.

While her machine-pistol isn’t the most accurate, you see at least four rounds hit the enemy soldier in non-lethal locations, including a graze that shatters the glass of his mask. He falls back, seemingly dazed, and drops his SMG as he puts a hand to his face to check for injuries. You see blood spurt from a wound in his shoulder as he grunts a command to his surviving squadmates.

You pick up your short rifle with a grunt as the three survivors rush away behind a container, the dazed one being carried by the other two.

You look over at Wingate, who worriedly kneels beside you. “Are you hurt?” She carefully helps you to your feet.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “Probably bruises, at best. Thanks for that plate carrier.” You knock on the steel plate under the fabric of the vest. “Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

File: Amanda Wingate.jpg (55 KB, 586x514)

55 KB JPG

You sit tiredly in the rear seat of the luxury car as it speeds off into the night. Wingate pulls out her communicator and talks with someone on the other end for the rest of the ride. You don’t pay much attention to that however, instead focusing on any potential threats outside of the vehicle.

Eventually, the car comes to a stop and both of you get out, heading back up to the hotel room. As you enter, Wingate rubs her eyes tiredly, gesturing to one of the couches. “Feel free to relax. The job’s been completed…”

You point to the room where you had gotten the suit from. “Mind if I get my clothes back?”

She shrugs. “Go ahead.”

You enter the room and remove the suit jacket and vest, tossing them onto the bed. It hurts a little bit to move your arms right now, and you feel an ache whenever you twist your torso. You remove the shirt and look at yourself in the mirror. It appears that the worst of it is bruising, as well as a few scrapes where shrapnel from the bullets grazed you, and compared to some of the scars you have, it’s nothing.

You finish getting dressed in your regular clothes and return to the living room to find Wingate standing apprehensively. Upon seeing you enter the room, she walks over to you. “I was just thinking… I have some medical training, and I’d like to make sure you’re completely alright before I pay you and let you go…”

"Miss Wingate..." You shake your head tiredly. “It’s fine, really—!”

“Please,” she cuts you off, gesturing to a chair with a first aid box sitting next to it. “Just let me be sure.” She frowns, looking away. "And you can call me Amanda, if you want."

>”Sure.”
>”The ship I work aboard has a fine medbay.” (decline)
>”So does this mean I get that danger pay bonus?"
>Write-in.

>>1262722
>”Sure.”
>”So does this mean I get that danger pay bonus?"

>>1262722
>"Sure."
>"So does this mean I get that danger pay bonus?"
Come on Tom, stay a while, think of your blue balls.

>>1262722
>>”Sure.”
>>”So does this mean I get that danger pay bonus?"

>>1262722
>”Sure.”
>”So does this mean I get that danger pay bonus?"
Man Tom is a real action movie protagonist ain't he

>>1262742
I like where this is going

>Implying the danger pay isn't between her legs

I'm gonna call it here for tonight since I have to be up early in the morning. We'll run tomorrow afternoon and hopefully finish up the thread then.

Mood music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMAy_ynMn8M

>>1262832
Thanks for running!

>>1262722
>”Sure.”
>”So does this mean I get that danger pay bonus?"
Ooh, money!

File: Amanda Wingate1.png (171 KB, 300x450)

171 KB PNG

You walk hesitantly over to the chair. “Sure,” you grumble as you sit down.

“Take the jacket off,” Wingate says as she stands in front of you. You remove the jacket and sit it on the floor beside you, resting the short rifle atop it. However, Wingate merely crosses her arms. “Take the shirt off too.”

You sigh. “Is this really necessary?”

She frowns, rolling her eyes. “What, are we in middle school or something? Shirt. Off.”

You comply, removing your t-shirt and tossing it to the floor unceremoniously. Wingate kneels in front of you and pulls out a pair of white surgical gloves, donning them carefully. First, she prods your bruises with her fingertips, eliciting a pained groan from you. “Well these bruises are going to hurt in the morning.”

“They hurt now,” you reply with a scowl. “So… Does this mean I’m getting that danger-pay bonus?”

She moves her hand to your side, poking around near the part of your torso where your ribcage ends. “You’ll be receiving the cash bonus, yes.” She then raises an eyebrow at you. “That wasn’t supposed to be an innuendo, right?”

You chuckle. “Not originally. Why, are you suggesting there’s another bonus?”

However, you stop talking the moment you feel something painful tugging at your side. “It looks like part of the copper jacket from one of those bullets got lodged in your side…” She frowns, getting a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a rag from the box. “This is going to hurt.” You nearly double over from the shock of the tiny piece of shrapnel being yanked out of you. She immediately disinfects it and puts a bandage over it. “Looks like that was the worst of it…” She looks up at you with a curious expression. “But there’s supposed to be a rib here,” she pokes you just in front of where the bandage is.

“Bullet completely shattered it,” you reply. “That was probably… Eight years ago?” You shrug. “There wasn’t much point in trying to stabilize what was left of it, so they just yanked the whole thing out, fragments and all.”

Her eyes widen just a little bit as she looks over at the other side of your abdomen. “And what exactly happened here?” She pokes the large, ragged scar that runs along that side of your abdomen.

“Long story,” you reply. “Let’s just say dock workers have a variety of creative improvised weapons at their disposal.”

Wingate sighs, moving around to your back. You feel her hand run over your shoulder blade. “What’s this?” She pokes the center of your shoulder blade, causing you to gasp a little at the feeling of the steel plate there being pressed on.

>”A steel plate they put there when I broke it.” (professional)
>”You’re giving me a shoulder massage now? I’ll have to repay the favor.” (flirt)
>”Just another reason I don’t like military doctors…” (bitter)
>”I’m a cyborg killbot from the future.” (joke)
>Write-in.

>>1264223
>”You’re giving me a shoulder massage now? I’ll have to repay the favor.” (flirt)
>”A steel plate they put there when I broke it.” (professional)

A mix of these two, might as well answer the question while flirting, get some Tom she seems cool

>>1264223
>”A steel plate they put there when I broke it.” (professional)
>”You’re giving me a shoulder massage now? I’ll have to repay the favor.” (flirt)

>>1264223
This >>1264302

>>1264223
>>”A steel plate they put there when I broke it.” (professional)

>>1264223
>>”A steel plate they put there when I broke it.” (professional)
>>”You’re giving me a shoulder massage now? I’ll have to repay the favor.” (flirt)

You smirk slightly. “Giving me a shoulder massage? Looks like I’ll have to return the favor.” Amanda’s hand stops moving, just for a moment, before she continues prodding your shoulders. “But to answer your question, there’s a steel plate in my shoulder blade where it got cracked.” You glance back at her, seeing just a touch of crimson on her cheeks as she walks back in front of you.

“You’ve been through a lot…” She removes her gloves, tossing them into the first-aid case.

Comes with the territory,” you reply simply.

“I suppose so,” she says. “Go ahead and put your shirt on. You’re not in any immediate danger.”

You nod, picking your shirt up and pulling it over your head. “Thanks for the checkup, in any case.”

“No problem.” Wingate walks over to another part of the room, removing her jacket and tossing it onto a couch. You swear you can hear her mutter something as she stretches tiredly. “It’s been a long week. I’ll be glad to finally get a chance to unwind.”

“Spend a lot of time on the move?” You rub your shoulder.

“As much time as I can,” she replies. “I’ve pretty much been focusing on business ever since I left the Corporation…” She rubs her eyes tiredly. “With this deal though… I should be able to get some breathing room.”

“Sounds nice,” you say. Putting your jacket on, you walk toward the door. “So, I assume the payment will arrive at the ship in the morning?”

“Wait…” You look back to see Amanda walking toward you sheepishly. She has removed her necktie, and you can’t help but notice that the top two buttons of her shirt are undone. “If you’d like, I wouldn’t mind having you stay the night. It is pretty late, after all.” Glancing at the clock on the wall, you see that it is indeed quite late, the middle of the night, practically. She makes eye contact with you, a hint of a smile on her face.

>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)
>”I’ve to stuff to do in the morning. Sorry.” (leave)

>>1264603
>>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)

>>1264603
>>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)

>>1264603
>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)

>>1264603
>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)

>>1264603
>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)
Ooooh snap.

By the way, just a heads-up for future reference. I don't write smut. Mainly because I'm irredeemably bad at it. So any such scenes will be fade-to-black type things.

>>1264807
Zap, you should have written a very saucy sounding scene that turns out to be just Tom non-metaphorically cleaning his gun before heading back to the ship from the Windgate place the next morning. But now they know you don't do the smut! Oh well.

>>1264937
Oh, there will be plenty of saucy gun-cleaning if you guys ever play as Tom again. Don't worry.

>>1264950
Yeah, just lamenting the loss of an innuendo infused fake out, ya know?

19 threads and Allen still hasn't gotten with one of his potential waifus.
Half a thread and Tom's already having intimate gun cleaning/discussion with his.
Tom's game is so good.
That was embarrassing. Never been a namefag before.

>>1265013
To be fair, that's because the Tom sequence is like a mini-quest. I had to condense things that would normally take multiple threads to flesh out. Also, yes. Tom's game is fire. He's got like, a hundred ex-girlfriends and one-night stands across the galaxy.

>>1264603
>>”Let me send a message to my captain so he knows where I am.” (spend the night)
>>1265037
dose he hvae any kids runing around??
might bump into one or 2

>>1265048
Maybe.
Anyway, write-up will be going up in the next five or so minutes, then I need to take a break for dinner.

>>1265037
You'd think having large pieces of himself missing and like 1/4th of what's left being replacement parts would slow him down.
Or I guess not, since that's probably why he's chasing the excitement from his MSOF days.

“Let me send a message to let my captain know where I am,” you say as you pull out your communicator. Typing your message out, you send it and pocket your communicator and look up just in time for Amanda Wingate’s lips to connect with yours. She wraps her arms around you tightly. It’s a very honest kiss, and you can feel the inexperience and desperation in it. She pulls back from you, blushing furiously.

“Don’t look too deep into that,” she says as she drags you toward the bedroom.

--

“What do you mean he hasn’t arrived back yet?” You are Allen Starwind, captain, veteran, and occasionally babysitter to your own crew. Last night, you went to the Magus temple and helped Virgo negotiate his new position as the only traveling member of the Elder Council. Tom wasn’t back at the ship when you arrived home, though you figured he was still doing his bodyguard job. Now, as you sit in the wardroom with Cynthia and Virgo, almost twelve hours later, you aren’t so sure.

“I don’t know,” Cynthia says. “He left around sunset last night, right after you did actually, and he hasn’t returned.” She frowns at you.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself. “He was doing a bodyguard job.” Standing up, you grimace and clutch your side. The pain meds haven’t kicked in yet. “We need to start looking through the city for him.”

“Is it possible the job required him to remain with the client overnight?” Virgo raises an eyebrow at you. He wears his flowing, white Magus Elder robes since he just got done testing the q-band conference system.

You sigh angrily. “He would’ve sent a message if that were the case.”

“So you think something bad might’ve happened to him?” Virgo leans back, rubbing his face tiredly.

“It’s possible. Either way, we have to—!” You are interrupted by the sound of your communicator receiving a message. Opening it up, you look down to see that it is from Tom himself.

Sorry for the late message, sir. Had it typed out but must’ve forgotten to press send. Stayed with the client overnight. Job is completed and I’ll be back at the ship with the full payment in about half an hour.

You sigh with relief, sitting back down. Cynthia looks confusedly at you. “It’s him,” you explain. “Apparently he forgot to hit send last night.”

“Well that’s one less thing to worry about,” Cynthia sighs. “Anyway, you mentioned something about heading into town last night before you passed out.”

>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out.”
>”It’s nothing actually.”
>”I was thinking of heading into town, but on second thought, let’s just get into space. Our cargo was delivered this morning, so as soon as Tom arrives, we’ll be ready.”
>Write-in.

>>1265083
>>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out.”

>>1265083
>>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out.”

>>1265083
>”I was thinking of heading into town, but on second thought, let’s just get into space. Our cargo was delivered this morning, so as soon as Tom arrives, we’ll be ready.”
Eh, fuck shopping. Anyway, we are heading to mars where we have friendly discount.

>>1265083
>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out. Serendipitously, they had everything we wanted.”

>>1265083
>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out.”

>>1265083
>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out.”

>>1265083
>”Right. There’s a store with some Oberon parts I wanted you to check out.”

>>1265070
[Spoiler]We can rebuild him, we have the technology!

>>1265083
>Write-in
Wonder were that pesky arigoto mr robotoe went!

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“Right,” you nod. “There’s a store in town with some Oberon parts. I figured you might want to take a look in case there’s anything we need.”

“Fair enough,” Cynthia nods. “Give me a few minutes to get ready before we head out, yeah?” She stands up.

“Sure.” You wave her off as she returns to her quarters.

Virgo looks over at you. “Captain,” he begins. “I just wanted to thank you for going with me to the Magus temple last night. It would’ve been a shitshow if you hadn’t been there to be the voice of reason.”

“Don’t mention it,” you reply with a smile. “I was glad to help.” You rub the bandage over you eye, feeling a slight pain beneath it. However, you notice the pain in your rib subsiding.

Virgo stands up. “Well Captain, I should head back to my quarters for a bit.” He turns around and heads down the corridor without another word, leaving you alone in the wardroom. You lean back, closing your eyes and sighing.

While the last couple days have certainly been hectic, you find yourself getting accustomed to this sort of thing. Perhaps part of it is because you are a veteran, but you’ve always been pretty adaptable, you suppose. You remember moving around a lot when you were really young. Dad never told you why you had practically been nomadic back then, but you figured he just went wherever work was available.

You are pulled from your thoughts by a slight gasp from the front of the room. Looking up, you see Corrigan standing there in her pajamas, apparently having just woken up. You immediately realize that she hasn’t seen you since you returned to the ship injured.

“Captain,” she says with a shocked tone. “Your eye!” She walks over to you, worried.

You raise a hand meekly. “It’s temporary.” She sighs with relief as you explain. “I got dragged around by a Magus up at that temple. Virgo put a stop to it before things got worse.”

“But you are going to be alright?” She sits across from you, still seemingly apprehensive. “Cynthia said that you had been roughed up, but I did not realize it was this bad…”

You shrug. “I’ll be fine.”

She frowns. “You seem to get injured a lot, Captain.”

>”I just seem to have strange luck sometimes.”
>”Well I do occasionally go looking for trouble when I shouldn’t.”
>”I swear, it wasn’t my fault this time.”
>”Me and Cynthia are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)
>Write-in.

>>1265681
>>”I swear, it wasn’t my fault this time.”
>”Me and Cynthia are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)

>>1265681
>>>”I swear, it wasn’t my fault this time.”
>>”Me and Cynthia are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)

>>1265681
>”I swear, it wasn’t my fault this time.”
>”Me and Cynthia are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)

>>1265681
>"I'd say something profound,(dramatic pose) like ask not for a easy life but instead a hardy will, yet if I'm being honest I make most of my own troubles. Heh. Don't you go following my example you hear?"

>>1265703
Oh and
>”Me and Cynthia are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)

>>1265681
>>”I swear, it wasn’t my fault this time.”
>>”Me and Cynthia are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)
We are making so many people worried, despite the intro to this session. I find that humorous

>>1265681
>”Me and Cynthia and Trip are going to visit a parts store today. Want to come along?” (divert)

File: Lt. Tom McMurdo.jpg (31 KB, 386x330)

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You grin apologetically. “It wasn’t my fault this time, I swear.”

Corrigan sighs, nodding. “Okay. I believe you, Captain.”

You can immediately tell she doesn’t believe you. Rubbing the back of your neck, you decide to change the subject. “So uh… Me and Cynthia are going to a parts store in town today. Do you want to tag along?”

Corrigan rubs her chin thoughtfully. “I do not have anything that I need to do today. Sure.” She crosses her arms. “What kind of parts do they have?”

“Well,” you begin. “There was this targeting computer I wanted you to look at.” You lean back. “Other than that, I kind of thought it might be nice to walk around outside the ship for a bit. The voyage to mars is going to be probably a week and some change, so we’ll almost certainly be going stir-crazy when we land.”

“I see,” she nods. Standing up, Corrigan smiles slightly. “In that case, I will go and get dressed.” She walks out of the wardroom, taking a look back at you as she leaves.

Deciding you aren’t awake enough right now, you walk over to the coffee machine and start making some. It takes a couple minutes to brew, so you decide to watch a little TV while you wait.

The news program appears to be translated into English, judging by the way the reporter’s mouth doesn’t match up with the words. “And last night, authorities were alerted to the sounds of gunfire in the Warehouse District…” The shot cuts to a warehouse of similar architectural style to the other buildings in this town. “However, when the police arrived, they found only signs that guns had been fired, indicating that whoever had broken into the warehouse was long gone.” You frown, turning the TV off and getting a cup of coffee just as Corrigan and Cynthia enter the wardroom. You notice that Corrigan is wearing that yellow sundress again, though Cynthia is merely wearing an extra-clean mechanic’s coverall.

“Ready to go?” Cynthia puts her hands on her hips as you finish your cup of coffee.

“Yeah. Let’s hit the road.” You all head downstairs, and as you exit the cargo bay, a black luxury car pulls up.

You are about to tell the girls to head back inside when Tom steps out of the car with a grin on his face. Interestingly enough, a young woman steps out with him, saying goodbye before getting back in the car. It speeds off as Tom walks up to you. “Captain,” he greets you, holding a wad of cash.

>”Hey Tom.”
>”Was that woman the client?”
>”There was gunfire at an abandoned warehouse last night. Your work?”
>”Is that lipstick smudged on your neck?”
>Write-in.

>>1265898
>>”Hey Tom.”
>”Is that lipstick smudged on your neck?”
Based tom

>>1265898
>”Was the gunfire at that abandoned warehouse last night your wor-
>”Is that lipstick smudged on your neck?”

>>1265909
This one.

>>1265898
>”Hey Tom.”
>"Keeping busy I see, coffee's still in the pot."
>Subtle thumbs up when ladies aren't looking.

>>1265898
>>”Hey Tom.”
>”Was the gunfire at that abandoned warehouse last night your wor-
>”Is that lipstick smudged on your neck?”

>>1265931
Heh. Supporting.

They're all good.

You raise an eyebrow at your first officer, smirking. “Was that gunfire at the warehouse last night your wor-?” Your eyes then dart to the red stain on the side of his neck, near where it meets his collar. “Is that lipstick?”

Tom smirks widely at you. “Well you know me, sir…” He chuckles, gesturing down the street where the car went.

You smile. “You get her number?”

Tom chuckles as he slaps you on the shoulder. “You know it, sir.”

You nod toward the ship. “Nice. Coffee’s in the pot. Go ahead and take a breather.” He salutes you casually and heads toward the ship. You wave back at him as you rejoin the girls.

“What were you two talking about?” Corrigan raises an eyebrow innocently at you. “Why would he have lipstick on him?”

Cynthia, thankfully, intervenes for you. “I’ll explain it later!” She grins as she leads the three of you away. “So Allen, where is this store?”

You chuckle a little bit to yourself. “Follow me.” You take the lead as Cynthia and Corrigan begin talking about ship parts and other stuff. You rub your abdomen, feeling the dull ache replacing the sharp pains. Silently, you wish you had better pain meds aboard the ship.

“This is a very pretty town,” Corrigan says as you all reach the town square.

“It sure is,” Cynthia replies. “I’d never thought I would see so many humans on an alien world though.”

You shrug as you lead them toward the parts store. “Most of them started out as refugees from the War…” Gesturing to the mountain with the Temple on it, you continue to explain. “Apparently this planet has an almost identical day cycle to Earth’s, so it’s perfect for humans.”

“I see…” Corrigan rubs her chin thoughtfully as the three of you walk through the town square. She and Cynthia resume talking about work as you walk. It’s nice, seeing them act like old friends after working together for less than a month. It gives you hope for your little endeavor. You think to yourself that you probably have one of the best crews around. You hope it can stay like that for a long time…

Aaand that's it for Episode 20! The next thread will go up on Thursday afternoon, barring any interruptions, and we'll finally get the hell off of Thalos.

Mood Music:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqWcCJKVHhk

Do you think Tom will stay in contact with Wingate?

>>1266067
>Do you think Tom will stay in contact with Wingate?
yes, she is a useful contact if nothing else.

>>1266067
Maybe. Does he stay in contact with a lot of people?

>>1266060
>You hope it can stay like that for a long time
Well that isn't ominous!

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>>1266144
I wouldn't worry about it.

>>1266067
Judging by your choice of end music, probably not.

Great taste in music though.

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New thread!
>>1274832
>>1274832
>>1274832