File: heat city map 2.jpg (152 KB, 1700x1400)

152 KB JPG

>>2859436

Updates: http://twitter.com/ravenkingquests

Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Thug%20Quest

Discord: https://discord.gg/3HegtNU

File: tv news crime.jpg (34 KB, 398x305)

34 KB JPG

>>2859436


"Heat City is in chaos -- more chaos than usual, that is --"

"--events of earlier today left a city block in ruins--"

"--an actual tank on the city streets, reportedly an M60 Patton "main battle tank" stolen several months ago from US Army storage--"

"--initial reports from HCPD and the FBI say this is likely an attack by a group of domestic terrorists on the Heat City Tong, attempting to take over the city's Z trade--"

"--have obtained these photographs of the terrorist ringleader, who you can see here dressed in body armor and gas mask spray-painted with a patriotic stars-and-stripes pattern. He appears to be running down Parish Avenue while carrying an automatic weapon of some sort--"

"--Lau Xiang, long alleged to be the leader of the Heat City Tong and responsible for the majority of drug trafficking within the city, was the apparent target of this brazen assault. He was found dead of a gunshot wound, nearby a car wrecked by the tank's machine gun fire--"

"--experts are divided as to what this will mean for the city's organized crime networks--"

"--these three men shown here were responsible for operating the tank, which was disabled by some form of high-explosive counterattack from the Triads by the time law enforcement arrived on the scene. In the ensuing firefight, they were killed by police--"

"--others escaped from the crime scene despite the best efforts of HCPD to pursue them--"

"--citizens are outraged that these events occured in broad daylight--"

"--these interviews with shocked and traumatized witnesses on the scene--"

"--just an ordinary day until all of a sudden there's a goddamn tank out my store window--"

"--where was HCPD? How the hell were they able to get a tank into the middle of the city? Not only that, but they got away--"

"--terrorists right here in Heat City--"

"--can't rely on the cops for anything--"

"--scared to go outside--"

"--what will happen to us?"

(Continued)

File: hospital waiting room.jpg (40 KB, 640x427)

40 KB JPG

>>2859469


You sit in the hospital waiting room with the remote in your good hand, flipping through channels on the TV on the wall, and looking over the aftermath of your tank adventure. The news is all over this. Everyone has photographs of yourself in your armor and mask and the devastation wrought by your tank on the city streets.

Your left arm hangs limp at your side, a coat draped over to hide your blood-stained sleeve, and you wince in pain each time you accidentally move it. You haven't looked in a mirror recently, but from the pain and swelling you can feel, you imagine it looks pretty ugly. After getting shot through the shoulder and banged up by rolling your car, you're in a bad way.

Probably not as bad as Alex, though. She's slumped up against your good shoulder, staring off into space. You tried talking to her, but she didn't respond. Looking into her eyes, you get only an empty stare back, and you can see her pupils are different sizes. Not a good sign. She might not look too hurt but she took a nasty knock on the head when her armored car flipped. From what Ryuji told you on the way to the hospital, the Triads had a grenade launcher and managed to land one directly underneath the car. Ever since then Alex has been dazed and unable to speak clearly. She's normally so in control, cool and collected no matter what's happening. It's sad to see her like this.

Of course, the worst thing is losing Kaz. It hasn't hit you yet, but there's bound to be some crushing guilt later on about sending the kid to his death. The last thing you said to him was that he shouldn't worry, he'll be fine, and you'd see him soon. You had a bad feeling at the time that those words would turn out to be bullshit. Turns out you were right. The country boys you brought on as mercenaries to operate the tank died as well, which is probably not going to look great when you try to find more hired guns in the future.

At least they were to do the job before the cops took them down. The Dragon is dead, according to the news. And you were able to get everyone else out. Roxie lost a fistfight with Earth and nearly died before you showed up just in time to bail her out. If you'd stayed with Kaz to help him, she might have bought it instead.

That's the shitty thing about making these decisions. You'll never know if you did the right things, made the right calls. Was there a way to kill the Dragon and keep everybody alive? Was there a better way to do it all? Or was this as good as it gets, and every alternate route just leads to more of your crew lying dead on the street? There's no way to tell. You can never know what other paths would have led to. You just have to live with the choices you made.

(Cont.)

>>2859483

You feel:

>Satisfaction. We got the job done and made a bang doing it. It sucks about Kaz, it really does, but this was probably the best way through it all.
>Sadness. Kaz trusted you and you got him killed. That's on you, and nothing will change that.
>Dread. You just made yourself number one on HCPD's shit list, and opened the city for Ivan and the Bratva to take over. What comes next?
>Resolve. It doesn't matter who stands in your way. You're stronger than all of them.
>Nothing. Just a grim emptiness inside.
>Write-in.

>>2859491
>>Nothing. Just a grim emptiness inside.

>>2859491
>>Nothing. Just a grim emptiness inside.
We care for our friends, but we've been through this shit before. It never changes, whether in the jungle or in the streets.

>>2859491
>Nothing. Just a grim emptiness inside.
Just an old soldier doing what we have always done.

File: catherine black.jpg (134 KB, 894x894)

134 KB JPG

>>2859491
>>2859500
>>2859501
>>2859646

Nothing. You feel nothing at all. Just a grim emptiness inside, resigned to your fate. You're a soldier doing what you've always done. Losing friends is part of the deal. It never changes, whether you're in the jungles of Vietnam or the streets of Heat City. War is the same.

"How is she?" asks Cat, bringing you back to reality. She's standing in front of you. The three of you are alone in this small waiting area. It's in Calvary Hospital, a wealthy inner-city medical facility right where Blue Ridge meets Castle Green. This room is part of the new wing still under construction and not officially open to the public, so there's nobody else around.

"She's not great," you say, looking at Alex slumped up against you. The braid in her auburn hair has partly unravelled, and you can't tie it back up with one hand. "Concussion at best. At worst -- well, I don't want to think about that just yet." You look back up at Cat. "You can go ahead and say it."

"Say what?" she asks.

"That this was stupid. That I should have been more careful, planned things out, that if I'd thought things through I wouldn't have got Kaz--"

Cat shushes you. "It's done, Johnny. Perhaps not the way I would have advised it to be done, yes. But it's in the past. It can't be changed. We need to focus on the present. On what we're going to do now." She sits down beside you. Part of you dispassionately observes her doing so, her prim mannerisms, her dress and pale skin immaculate as always. You try to shift over a bit to give her more room -- you take up a lot of space -- but accidentally move your left arm and grimace at the jolt of pain. "Oh dear. I'm sorry," Cat says, gingerly adjusting the jacket draped over your shoulder. "Does it hurt a great deal?"

"No more or less than the last few times I was shot," you say. "The muscle's torn up but I think the bones and tendons are fine, so it'll work okay a few weeks from now." You lean back in your chair and let out a big sigh. "You say we need to focus on what's next. But I don't know what's next. I have no idea."

"That's a discussion for later," Cat says. "Right now we'll focus on getting you two fixed up."

"Why are we in a hospital?" you ask her, looking around as if properly recognizing your surroundings for the first time. "This is a bad idea. You know doctors have to report gunshot wounds to the police, and we're all over the news."

"You told me your friend Doctor Inch is no longer providing his services. I've had to improvise. But I believe we should have a new arrangement shortly that you'll find satisfactory."

>Thanks for your help.
>How are the others?
>How do things look out there in the streets?
>You said not to worry about it, but I'm sure you already have plans for what comes next.
>Write-in.

>>2859729
>>How are the others?
Check in on the rest of the squa- crew.

>>2859729
>>2859751


"How are the others holding up?" you ask Cat.

"Well enough, considering the circumstances. Roxie was badly beaten. Bruises, lacerations, some minor breaks. Nothing that requires a surgeon's touch. Ryuji was mostly unharmed. He and my uncle are taking Roxie to your latest hideout, where they'll set up a rest area for her. With time, she'll recover. We'll join them after we're done here."

"Assuming we don't get delivered to the cops," you say glumly.

"Please, Johnny. I assure you that you and Alex will receive proper treatment and be on your way without interference." She looks over as a heavyset man in a badly tailored suit arrives from the corridor leading to the rest of the hospital. "Ah, here we are." She stands up and approaches the man while turning on the disarming charm. "You must be Doctor Halbert. We spoke on the phone earlier? It's a pleasure to meet you in person."

The heavyset man grins. "The pleasure's all mine, Miss -- what was it again?"

"Misaki Sato," Catherine says evenly. "I'm a researcher with HCU's biology department. Am I correct in believing you're a former physician, now a lead administrator at this fine facility?"

"I am indeed," Halbert says. He glances in your direction with suspicion, but his attention is soon captivated by Catherine. She has a way of doing that, getting people's attention without actually doing anything. You see his eyes roving hungrily up and down her slim figure. Anger flickers dimly inside you. But you let it die back down into the emptiness. Cat can take care of herself anyway, you tell yourself. Just let her do her thing. Halbert goes on to say, "What can I do for you, Miss Sato?"

Catherine says, "I asked for your assistance because I've been tasked with resolving a problem for certain clients of mine, and I need the aid of a man of intellect and medical knowledge such as yourself." She hands over a small piece of paper. "It's a sort of math problem, really. On this paper there are four numbers. Can you tell me what they add up to?"

Halbert looks over the paper. His shit-eating grin gradually fades into dawning apprehension, and then fear. "I -- I think they add up to you getting whatever you want."

(Cont.)

>>2859919


"Splendid," Catherine says with a warm voice and a radiant smile. "What I want is for my two companions here to be treated with the best of care, then sent on their way. A man of your position and ability would no doubt be capable of that. We require absolute discretion," she adds, emphasizing the last two words. "Am I understood?"

"Perfectly," Halbert says. He takes out a handkerchief and wipes his brow. "I -- I'll see to it immediately."

"Thank you," Catherine says. "You're most generous, Doctor. I'll see to it that you're compensated fairly. This young lady will require an x-ray, I believe, so if you'd begin there--?"

"R-right, of course. There's a new machine in this wing, high frequency digital imaging. Not officially complete, but fully operation. We can begin immediately. I'll have our radiologist take care of it and ensure he knows of your need for privacy."

As you help Alex up to her feet, you ask Catherine, "What kind of math problem was that? How did you convince him to help you with four numbers?"

"Oh, it was quite simple," she says. "They were phone numbers. The first one belonged to his wife. The other three did not."

You reflect, not for the first time, that you're glad Cat is on your side and not an enemy.

While Cat shepherds Alex to get her skull x-rayed, you're taken to an unused room where a young nurse is brought in to clean, stitch, and bandage the two bullet wounds in your shoulder, entry and exit. There's a TV in this room that's still playing the news. The nurse glances at the TV, showing a photograph of you in your gask mask and armor. Then back to you. Then back to the TV.

You say to the nurse:

>Had a little hunting accident, that's all. Nothing to do with that crazy guy on the TV there.
>We're not terrorists. Just doing what we had to do to survive.
>Sure is nice weather, huh?
>Nothing.
>Write-in.

>>2859922
>>Nothing.
Just stare.

>>2859922
>>Nothing.

>>2859922
>>2859928
>>2860090


You don't say anything. Instead you stare ahead, not seeing the paint on the walls or the medical instruments or the posters showing diagrams of the human body. You just see Parish Avenue, the chaos of scattering citiziens, Earth holding Roxie into the air by the throat, the blood on Alex's face as you dragged her over to the car to escape. You hear Kaz's last words to you, over and over. ""If I don't make it, tell my mom I love her, all right? Tell her that -- that I'm sorry I'm such a fuck up." You start seeing other times, other battlefields, other people you knew who died in combat.

The nurse tries to make small talk but utterly fails at penetrating your haze of bad memories, and soon goes quiet. She finishes with your injuries and scurries away as soon as she can.

Alex's x-ray results come back with good news. She has a minor skull fracture, but it's just a crack, the kind that heals on its own. With that and a bad concussion, she should stay away from bright lights, loud noises, and physical activity for a few weeks, but she should be all right. Mostly.

"What about lasting effects?" you ask Halbert, the doctor turned hospital admin.

"Impossible to say," he says. "With this sort of injury, you can't tell what the long-term effects will be. She may suffer mood swings, erratic behavior, memory loss, reduced intelligence. They might be temporary and go away in a few weeks. Or they might be permanent." You start to get mad, and he must be able to tell because he hurriedly says, "I'm sorry, sir, really, but there's really no way of knowing. All we can do is wait and see, and hope for the best."

"Thank you for your trouble, Doctor," Catherine says. "My associates will be in touch about your compensation. And I assure you that as long as you remain discreet, so shall I."

Cat drives you back to South Harbor and your hideout in the warehouse, with Alex in the back. It's weird to see her at the wheel herself. You've gotten used to Kaz in that seat.

Alex and Roxie start their road to recovery, convalescing in the big empty room in the same warehouse as your hideout. You rest in your own little loft, going through the cases of beer the twins bring you, and staring out at the bay, watching the color of the sky and the water change as the sun sets and rises and sets again.

(Continued)

>>2860097


One morning you're woken up out of a hangover by loud, angry voices in the big room. From the sounds of things, the Yamadas have returned, Alex is awake, and they're all unhappy about something. It's good that Alex is back to world of the waking, but this isn't how you hoped it would go. Grunting as you lever yourself out of bed, your arm still in a sling, you splash some water on your face and drag some clothes on. Then you walk down the stairs from your loft and swing open the big door to find an argument in progress.

"I've had enough of this!" Alex is saying. "We've waited long enough!"

"Hold on, Alex, please," Cat is saying. "We have to think this through--"

"No! I'm done thinking this through! We need to go after him. You've been wasting our time long enough. It's time you delivered. Or have you forgotten what you promised us to get us working for you in the first place?"

"I haven't forgotten," Cat says. "It's just a question of priorities."

"Your priorities," Alex says. "Not ours."

You cut in to say, "Hold the fuck up. What is this?"

"I'm going after Ivan," Alex says. "I'm tired of letting him run around doing what he wants. It's time somebody put an end to him. If I have to do it alone, then so be it."

"Woah, hold on--" you start saying.

She interrupts you, saying, "Have you forgotten what he did to us, Johnny? How he used us like cheap toys and then tried to throw us away? Are you okay with letting him walk away from that? Instead of actually going after him, we've been spending our blood fighting the Triads on their behalf --" She points accusingly at the Yamadas, "-- which just gives Ivan the leverage to take the half of the city he didn't control. Now he's got it all. Do you get this, Johnny? The guy we're trying to kill -- he's the man! He's the king shit! Do you get what kind of mountain we have to climb now if we want to come anywhere near him? Do you understand how much harder this is becoming, every day we let him live?"

Ken holds up his hands, trying to calm her. "Now, look. We've all become friends, right? Friends help each other out with their problems."

"Yeah, they do," Alex says. "And when was the last time you did anything to help us? Johnny and I are running around the city doing your dirty work like your dogs. Kill this guy, kill that guy, sure, okay, great. When do you actually get around to doing what you promised us? When do you give us what we need to go after Ivan?"

"Soon," Cat says. "I keep my promises." She speaks softly, but with steel underneath. "For now, though, we've drawn the attention of the authorities and the media, and of course your wounds will need time to recover. Once you're sufficiently well, we'll continue to lay low while setting in motion a series of preparations--"

"Oh no," Alex says. "Fuck that. We're not doing this song and dance again."

(Cont.)

>>2860123

Cat is caught off guard. "Ahh -- and what dance is that, exactly?'

"The one where you keep telling us these jobs are about helping us. But it's really just about making your own position stronger. Setting everything up for your power play. What is it, Catherine? Is it the Z? Are you already in position to take over, make yourself the city's drug queen?" Alex painfully pushes herself off her bed. Even in her current state, wearing her bloodied and dirty clothes from the day of the tank assault, her auburn hair dishevelled and ragged, there's a power and presence in her. She moves towards Cat, fists tight at her sides. "Did you have contacts in the Triads all along, ready to hand over operations once the right people were dead? Is that where you get all this intelligence?"

Cat is at a loss for words. You can see in her eyes that she's trying to calculate what to say, what line will get her out of this. She can't come up with anything. Alex approaches, raising her hand -- you don't know whether it's to strike her or just gesture -- but before you can find out, someone reaches out to grab her by the wrist. It's Ryuji, who levers her arm up and locks it in place. Not a painful hold, but very easily turned into one.

"Step away from her," Ryuji says with quiet intensity.

"Let go of me," growls Alex between clenched teeth. "I don't want to hurt you."

"That won't be a problem," Ryuji says. He stares her down a moment longer, then releases his grip. Alex takes a step back, while he adjusts and straightens his shirt. Then he says, "I will not go after Ivan. Neither will I lay low," he adds while looking at Catherine, much to her surprise. "I will kill Kojiro Masamune, the man who attacked us. That is what I will do."

Alex scoffs, "What's the hurry? Are you just mad you lost to that fat man and got kidnapped like a damsel in distress?"

"I'm not doing it for myself," Ryuji says, a rare flash of anger beneath it. "Kojiro dared to abduct my sister. He almost killed my uncle, who was only trying to rescue his foolish failure of a nephew. They are the only family I have left in the world. They are all I have. I will not this insult against them stand. I will not let his actions go unpunished any longer."

"Dear brother," Catherine says with some urgency. "While I appreciate the gesture, what's necessary at this time is discretion and forethought. Stabilizing our organization, reaching out to potential allies, laying the groundwork for future operations --"

"No," insists Ryuji. "Kojiro must pay. The Yamada name must be honored. Maybe that means nothing to you, but it means something to me."

Cat's tone hardens severely. "Ryuji, you're my brother and I love you, but you also work for me. I'm telling you that honor doesn't matter. Vengeance doesn't matter. Business is what matters. Your loyalty is what matters. Do you understand? I'm telling you to stand down."

"I am sorry, my sister," Ryuji says. "But I cannot."

(Cont.)

>>2860142


"Having some family squabbles?" Alex says wryly.

"Be silent," hisses Catherine.

Ryuji turns to glare at her. "Stay out of this."

"Or what?" Alex challenges them.

The three of them -- Alex, Ryuji, and Cat -- stand off from each other, locked into icy stares.

>Alex is right. We've waited long enough to deal with Ivan.
>Ryuji is right. Kojiro has to pay.
>Cat is right. We need to lay low and build up our strength.
>This is crazy! You guys have to stop this!
>We're a team. We have to stick together.
>Don't worry, everyone. I have a plan.
>Write-in

>>2860149

>We're a team. We have to stick together.
It sounds like both of them are targets on our hit list, and we can't wait around any longer.

>>2860149

Seconding
>>2860168

>>2860149
>>2860168
>>2860191

You have to say something to stop this from happening. "Guys, listen -- we have to stick together. Whatever we're doing, we're stronger if we do it as a group. If we have each other's backs. We're a team!" You look around, not seeing a lot of agreement. Your hopes begin to sink. "Right?"

Alex says, "Sorry, Johnny. But you're wrong. We're not a team. We're just a bunch of criminals whose goals happened to meet in the middle. Now they don't." She shrugs. "That's it."

You look at Roxie, who's still lying back on her futon, not saying anything. "You have anything to say about this?"

She snorts. "Fuck no. I don't care about any of this stuff. Revenge, glory, whatever. I just want to get paid."

Cat tries one last time. "Please, Alex. Ryuji. Think about how much attention we've drawn from law enforcement. Think about what will be required to attempt assaults on the two remaining major crime figures in this city. If you simply go straight for them, without our support no less, it's inevitable that you'll --" She hesitates, unable to complete the sentence.

"That what?" Alex says. "That we'll fail? That we can't get anything accomplished without you pulling the strings? Sorry, Cat. I was getting shit done long before I met you. I've got other friends. I don't need you. So if--"

The door to the outside bangs open. Everyone wheels, expecting an attack. But it's just Nick, holding up a pack of cigarettes. "You wouldn't believe how long it took me to find a newstand --" He realizes everyone is glaring at him and stops in his tracks. "Did I miss something?"

In the end, there's nothing you can do. This is a diplomatic challenge beyond your skill. Whatever thread was keeping the group together has tangled and finally snapped. The Yamadas leave, arguing with each other in Japanese. Alex soon departs as well, pausing to look back at you with sorrow before turning away and walking out the door. Roxie leaves as well, claiming she'll be back but has "shit to take care of." That just leaves Nick, who still looks bewildered by what just happened, and you.

With a groan of pain and exasparation, you sink down onto the ground with your back against the wall and hold your head in your hands. You thought you'd built a solid crew. That you had friends. And it all came crashing down so fast.

"Tough break, pal," Nick says, reaching down to offer you a cigarette. "What are you gonna do?"


>No idea.
>Just keep my head down, for now.
>What about you? What will you do?
>I'll help Alex. I started this with her, and I owe her the most for saving me more times than I can count.
>I'll help Ryuji. Without me, he might something stupid and honorable, and get himself killed.
>I'll help Cat. She's right that the cops are on top of us, and we need to lay low and set the groundwork for future jobs.
>I'm going to leave this fucking city and go get that ranch in Montana, like I should have done a long time ago.
>Write-in.

>>2860283
>Just keep my head down, for now.
>>I'm going to leave this fucking city and go get that ranch in Montana, like I should have done a long time ago.
overwatch quest when

>>2860283

>I'll help Ryuji. Without me, he might something stupid and honorable, and get himself killed.

>Can you help Alex while I'm busy?

>>2860283
>>No idea.
>>Just keep my head down, for now.
>>What about you? What will you do?

>>2860283
>I'll help Cat. She's right that the cops are on top of us, and we need to lay low and set the groundwork for future jobs.
>What about you? What will you do?

>>2860289
>>2860337
>>2860398

>>Just keep my head down, for now.
>>What about you? What will you do?

Writing.

File: nick suit.jpg (46 KB, 310x750)

46 KB JPG

>>2860283
>>2860471

"For now, just keep my head down," you say. "My picture's all over the news. Any cop who bags me will be a hero to the people. Any crook who bags me will be a hero to Ivan." You test your left arm. Still not working so good. "That and my arm's still out of commission. It'll be a couple weeks at least before I'm in fighting shape. It sucks, but I guess I'll just keep sitting here in this warehouse and drinking away my troubles."

You check your pockets for a lighter, don't find any. Nick hands you one. You light your cigarette and give it back, while asking "What about you?"

He shrugs. "Get out of town, probably. That's the smart play, seems to me. Do a couple of quick and dirty jobs on the down-low, get a bankroll going, and then vamoose."

"You're not sticking around?"

"Why would I? Without this crew, I got nothing here. Once Ivan takes over, it's bad news for people like us who crossed him. My ma lives out west. Might be nice to see her again before she croaks or I take a bullet." He takes a drag on his cigarette, thinking. "Probably head out west to the Meadows. Maybe look into that gig you mentioned about providing security to casinos. Set a thief to catch and thief and all that. Spend half my money on the tables, the other half on broads. Sounds like a good gig."

"Yeah. It does." You can imagine Nick with his cheap suits and carefree laughter having a grand old time at the Meadows casinos. "I hope it works out."

"Thanks, pal." Nick thinks it over. "Hey, look. Like I said, I'll have to do a couple quick jobs to get some cash. Safebreaking. Jewelry stores or something. I could use a reliable meathead to watch my back out there. You interested?"

"Maybe. I'll think about it," you say, not feeling able to commit to anything right now. "Appreciate it."

"Yeah, okay. All right, I better head out. I'll see ya, Johnny." He gives a quick wave before heading out, leaving you alone in the warehouse.

(Cont.)

>>2860655


For the next few days, you do just what you said you were going to do: keep your head down. The twins bring you groceries and beer, and make fun of you for staying indoors so long, but you aren't in the mood for jokes. Cat leaves several polite but increasingly insistent messages on your answering machine, but you don't know what to do say to her.

The heist crew was keeping you propelled forward, one job after another. Now you have no idea what to do. Everyone is off doing their own thing, dealing with their own shit. You feel caught in the middle, unable to commit to any course of action. Who should you help? Alex is the one you owe the most, but she's also probably the one who can take care of herself the best. Ryuji's pursuit of Kojiro feels like the least urgent thing to you, but maybe that's just because you don't understand how bad this guy is. Cat's probably the one who's right about what should be done next, but that doesn't mean you can just leave the others to their fate.

You watch out your window as the sun rises and sets and rises again. The pile of empty beer cans gets bigger.

Finally you've had enough. You're going stir crazy in this warehouse. You need to get out and do something. You throw on a clean-ish shirt over your undershirt, grab your wallet and a weapon -- just in case -- and head out the door.

Weapon:
>Pistol
>Sawn-off shotgun
>Knife
>Crowbar

Destination:
>A friend's house (say who)
>Lucy's diner, where this all started
>Bar
>Nightclub
>Pizza parlor
>Movie theater
>Racetrack
>Write-in

>>2860670
>>Sawn-off shotgun
>Bar

>>2860670
>Pistol
>Alex's House
She's right we stalled for too long

>>2860670
>Pistol
>Lucy's diner, where this all started

Thematically appropriate. Here's where it started, here's where we go when it looks like it's all ended.

>>2860670
>Sawn-off shotgun
>Lucy's diner, where this all started

>>2860800
As much as a sawn off pistol would be hilarious, I'l swap to
>Sawn-off shotgun

Raven has had too many goddamn ties.

>>2860670
>>2860687
>>2860800
>>2860801
>>2860821


>Sawn-off shotgun
>Lucy's diner, where this all started

Over 30 threads later, we finally return. Writing.

File: wolfies21stcollins.jpg (85 KB, 884x564)

85 KB JPG

>>2860670
>>2860832


Your car isn't where you left it in the run-down garage nearby. You find a hastily scribbled note that you can't actually read, but it's signed with an "R". You slowly crumple the paper in your fist, thinking about what a pain that girl can be sometimes. Briefly you consider calling a cab, but the Heat City taxis are notorious dawdlers and you're not interested in waiting around for one to show up. Fuck it, you'll just take the metro. You didn't magically become too good to take public transit in the past few months. A quick stop at a neighborhood store to buy a baseball cap and some sunglasses, and you're inconspicuous enough for a quick outing.

The train is crowded and hot and often filled with the sound of squealing metal, just like you remember. You watch the buildings go by outside through the windows, growing in height and opulence as you get closer to the city center. It's been a while since you saw Heat City from this perspective. It looks just as glamorous as you remember it. Someone looking at the place from here would never know about the violent clash of crime and greed that boils just under the surface.

Everyone tries to keep their eyes averted from you. It's not wise to provoke a man of your size with eye contact. One little boy though hasn't learned that lesson just yet, and is staring up at you with wide eyes. It briefly flickers into your head that maybe he recognizes you from the TV news. But it's more likely he's just never seen a guy as big as you before. You briefly stick your tongue out at him and are rewarded with a smile.

Were you ever like that? It seems crazy to imagine that you yourself were once a little boy, innocent of the darker edges of the world. Somehow that kid turned into you, this hulking, violent savage. You think of Edna telling you how you'd be more at home in a Viking longship with an axe than in the modern era. How did that happen? Was there some event that pushed you over the edge? Vietnam, maybe? Or were you always like that, just waiting to grow into yourself?

The metro screeches to a halt at your stop, and you disembark, making your way through the crowd onto the city streets, and from there to your destination.

Standing outside the diner, looking up at the battered and broken neon sign, you think about the last couple times you were here. It wasn't actually that long ago. Less than a year. But it feels like another lifetime, another man who barely had enough money in his wallet to afford a meal, another man who was just killing time until Ivan walked in with a job he couldn't refuse.

(Continued)

>>2860884

The little bell rings as you step through the door. You sit down at the same booth as always. You're hoping to see a certain blonde in a waitress uniform with a cheerful smile, the one who was willing to bring a scary-looking guy like you into her home to help him out. But it looks like Lucy isn't here. Some old lady with her hair in a fishnet comes to take your order. You get the same steak and eggs with black coffee as you did that last time.

You take your time, slowly drinking your coffee and eating your steak while looking out the window, watching the people go by. They're all in such a hurry, all wrapped up in their own little worlds. It takes a special girl like Lucy to care about a stranger. And you get the feeling that she liked you. A girl like that, feeling something for a big lug like you? You would have been the luckiest guy in the world if you just left all this behind and made a life with her.

You fucked that up good and proper by letting her go. But really, it was for the best, or at least that's what you tell yourself. She wouldn't survive in this world you've let yourself be dragged down into. Even if she lived, she'd be forced to become a different person in order to keep her sanity. You don't want that. You want her to stay her the same sunny, helpful person as always. Ruining that is something you can't have on your hands.

You're disappointed she wasn't here, but it's for the best, you tell yourself, trying to ignore the growing sadness you feel inside.

When your meal is over, you get up and toss a twenty onto the table. At least money isn't a problem now. Until the funds from Dragon's Nest run out someday, that is. What you'll do then, you don't know. For now, it's back out onto the city streets, darkening as the sun sinks in the sky.

(Cont.)

File: Lucy.jpg (191 KB, 745x1073)

191 KB JPG

>>2860889

Still wrapped up in your thoughts as you leave, you bump into someone just outside the door and almost knock them over. Stammering your apologies, you help the person to her feet, only to look into her face and see with a shock of recognition that it's Lucy. Already dressed in her waitress apron. Cute as a button. Her hair is just like you remember, that shade of dirty blonde that looks brown in the dark but turns golden in the light.

"Oh, hey! Johnny!" She gives you that same big smile you remember and you feel your heart warming. "I haven't seen you in forever! How come you haven't been stopping by lately?"

"Uhhh --" She doesn't seem to have connected you to that brawny figure in the gas mask on television. Either that, or she doesn't watch the news. "I've been busy. With work."

"Construction, right? You must have a big job going on."

"I've had several of them, actually," you say, thinking about all the things you've done since you last saw her. Shot up a gimp club. Stole an EMP device from the US military. Knocked over the vault in the Triad's private skyscraper. Fell off a building. Raided an FBI office. Did all the dirty work necessary to set up your boss as a major player in the city's underground. Killed dozens, if not hundreds of people. "Yeah, it's been a busy few months. Lots of big jobs. How are you, Lucy?"

"I'm good! My neighborhood is still pretty noisy after dark, but that's okay. I moved my shifts here to the evening so I can go back to school. Trying to get my education. Don't want to stay a waitress forever, you know?"

"Well, that's good," you say. "You're a smart girl. Got a good heart. I'm sure you'll make something of yourself."

"Thanks, Johnny." She smiles, embarassed at the praise. "You're a good guy too, you know? You might look kinda scary, but I can tell. Hey, look. I've got to get in there for my shift. Al, that's my boss, he doesn't like it when I'm late. But you should come by more often! I like seeing you here. Maybe we could--" She looks like she's about to say something else, then stops herself. "A-anyway, yeah. I hope I see you here soon."

You consider what to say.

>Maybe I will. (Truth)
>Maybe I will. (Lie)
>Hey, uh -- maybe we could see each other sometime. Outside of work.
>I'm not the guy you think I am. I'm not a good person.
>Write-in.

>>2860897
Part of me votes for just telling her all of it, but maybe it isn't fair dropping it all on her. I bet that Johnny is going through a lot right now, but it's a tough choice.

>>2860897
>Maybe I will. (Truth)

>>2860897
>>Maybe I will. (Truth)

>>2860897
>Maybe I will. (Truth)

>>2860897
>Maybe I will. (Truth)
Ah the bleeding out of all our sins before a innocent beaut.
A classic I must say.

>>2860897
>>Maybe I will. (Truth)

>>2860897
>>2860905
>>2860908
>>2860911
>>2860913
>>2860963
>>2860991


"Maybe I will," you say, meaning it. "I missed this place. And I missed my favorite waitress," you add with a crooked smile.

"Oh, stop it," she says with a bashful smile, giving you a light slap on your gun-shot shoulder. You keep smiling through the pain, determined not to let a hint of it show and put a damper on her affectionate gesture. "All right, I've really got to get in there, but it was great seeing you," she says. She moves to go inside, but pauses at the door to wave goodbye. "See you soon, Johnny!"

You wave back, feeling your smile turn into a stupid grin of happiness.

Walking away from the diner out onto the streets, your step feels a little lighter. Part of you wanted to unburden yourself to her right then and there, dump out all the fucked-up things you've been doing this whole time, bleed out all your sins. Maybe some other day you'll do that. But not today. Today it was good just to see her again.

You feel a bit better as you head towards the metro station. This was just what you needed, you tell yourself. You'll return Cat's phone calls, get in touch with Alex and Ryuji, figure something out. Maybe they won't stick together as a team anymore, but that doesn't mean you stopped being friends with them. You can still help them out, even if it's one at a time. You can still do this.

Then sometime soon you'll return to the diner and have a nice lunch with Lucy as your waitress. Yeah. That sounds great.

You board the metro, feeling good about the future for the first time in days. The car is pretty crowded, so you end up standing, but no problem. The train starts up. You watch out the windows as the city scrolls past, neon lights flickering on as night descends.

(Continued)

>>2860997

A couple stops later, a certain movement in the car catches your eye. You realize that three people just stood up at the same time. That's normal, sure. You try to forget about it. But then you take another look, and you realize that all three of them are staring right at you. Two men and a woman. Asian, light builds, but from their stance you can tell they know how to handle themselves.

You get a bad feeling about this.

That feeling gets worse when they reach under their collars and pull something up to cover their faces.

Animal masks.

You've seen this one before, you realize, and then it hits you. The night of the Yakuza's big attack on Enigma. When you were speeding after Catherine. That woman who was driving away with her, who you ended up fighting, had the exact same mask. The weasel mask.

Now there are three of them.

The masks get people's attention, but it's not until they draw their blades that the ordinary people around them notice. A cry of "Knife!" goes up, and they start to panic, racing to the exits at either end to escape into the other cars of the train. Neither you nor the weasel masks move, standing still as the crowd flows past, a crushing flood of humanity.

Finally the four of you are alone in the train car. You look back and forth, trying to keep track of all three. Two are carrying that same weapon the woman had back then, a curved blade with a wooden handle attached to a long weighted chain. The third has a pair of knives. They slowly begin to step forward, closing in from both sides. You feel the weight of the sawn-off shotgun in its holster at your hip. Only two shells in the thing. No time to reload. Even if you manage to hit twice, you'll have to deal with one of these assholes the hard way.

This is going to get bloody.

>>2861003
I just figured out, after 30+ threads, what this reminds me of. That HBO show Quarry it hits some similar points as this

File: a6946a702527741d26d4da3b4(...).jpg (30 KB, 564x565)

30 KB JPG

>>2861003

That's all for tonight, anons. Tune in tomorrow evening to find out what happens.

>>2861008
I hope you keep running quests, you're too good to not write more

Good stuff Raven, great to see you back.

File: b3c85fd1cd4f8e2ba4ea1d53c(...).jpg (6 KB, 271x253)

6 KB JPG

Back in 2-3 hours.

>>2861055
>>2861464
Thanks!

>>2861007
Apparently that show is about a Vietnam vet who becomes a hitman? Sounds about right.

File: weasel mask.jpg (216 KB, 801x998)

216 KB JPG

>>2861003

Okay, so you're in an elevated train car speeding along the metroline. In the car with you are three assholes in weasel masks. They probably want revenge for their dead friend, who you killed, or maybe they've just been sent to take you out to make their boss's life easier while he picks off your friends. Everyone else has fled in a panic to other cars in the train, so the four of you are alone. Outside the car you can see Heat City racing past, neon lights flickering on for the night, the pink light of the sunset fading away as darkness falls over the city.

You think back to what Cat said a few days after you rescued her. "The weasel demons, or kamaitachi, are said to come in threes. They ride on whirlwinds and cut people with sickle-shaped blades." There was some other stuff, but this Japanese mythology thing Kojiro's elite goons are running with doesn't seem super relevant right now. What matters is they want blood. Yours.

The weasel masks are on either side of you, two on your right, one on the left. The one on your left is a guy wearing a leather jacket and faded jeans, holding that sickle-blade and weighted chain combo that Ryuji told you is called a kusari-gama. The two on your right are a girl in a skirt and short jacket, holding the same chain-sickle, and a guy in a black shirt with the two knives. You've got a sawn-off shotgun on your hip with two shells, sure, but you've also got only one properly working arm, with your left still in a sling. You test it by rotating that shoulder slightly. It still hurts to move it around, but you can feel your heart racing and you know the adrenaline is already starting to take hold, and pain won't matter soon enough.

You try to watch all three of them at once, but it's impossible with them directly on opposite sides of you. With the racket the train makes chugging along the tracks it'll be hard for you to hear them attack before it's too late.

>"Can we talk this out?"
>"I don't suppose you three just want me to buy some girl scout cookies."
>Whip out the shotgun and blast one. (Say which -- left with sickle, right with sickle, right with knives)
>Charge straight at them (left or right)
>Concentrate, listen, and wait for them to make the first move
>Write-in

>>2862794
>"I don't suppose you three just want me to buy some girl scout cookies."
>Whip out the shotgun and blast the one on the right, then the one on the middle if possible

The knives are gonna be more dangerous on a subway train than a chain sickle thing.

>>2862794

>"I don't suppose you three just want me to buy some girl scout cookies."
You never know.

>>2862794
>"Can we talk this out?"
While you talk:
>Concentrate, listen, and wait for them to make the first move
And when the talks inevitably fail
>Whip out the shotgun and blast left with sickle
>Then right with knives
>And then bullrush the girl with sickle to your right

>>2862794
>"I don't suppose you three just want me to buy some girl scout cookies."
>Whip out the shotgun and blast one (right with knives)

>>2862794
>>2862804
>>2862805
>>2862818

>"I don't suppose you three just want me to buy some girl scout cookies."
>Shotgun the knife guy.

Roll! 1d10, first three rolls count separately.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>2862848
10 pls

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>2862848
>>2862849
Hah!

>>2862862
oh no

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2862848

>>2862794
>>2862848
>>2862849
>>2862862
>>2862868

Soundtrack: Hotline Miami -- Roller Mobster
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-awWHKaAgzg

"I don't suppose you three just want me to buy some girl scout cookies?" you say as you casually move your good arm into position, getting ready to quickly grab hold of the shotgun's handle. "Maybe doing a fundraiser? Some kind of wildlife preservation group? Save the exotic weasels?"

They don't answer. The sickle-wielders start to whirl their weighted chains, while the knife guy steps forward, both of his long tantos at the ready.

You say, "Yeah, I didn't think so."

The knife guy charges you with a shout that turns into a battle cry. He leaps up onto the seats and dashes across them to get a height advantage before leaping into the air, both his knives gripped backhand to stab downwards. You manage to get your sawn-off shotgun out from its holster and aimed just in time, and fire at him in midair. Hard to miss at this range with this gun. You blast his chest with buckshot, and you get a glimpse of his shirt and some of his chest underneath turning into a bloody shredded mess. His grip on the knives goes slack just before they come within striking distance. You step out of the way as he falls, letting him crash to the ground where you just stood.

You swivel the gun to aim at his female companion, but before you get a chance she hurls the weighted end of the chain. Instinctively you block with your forearm, and the chain wraps itself around your wrist and hand. You struggle to lower your weapon and get off your second shot, but she yanks on her end at the critical moment, tugging your arm off-kilter, and your second shell fires point-blank into the window, shattering the glass and letting the roaring noise of the train at full-blast into the car.

The other guy, the one on your left, throws his chain as well, but you manage to duck under it just in time, and the weight whistles over your head, clanging against the grip poles. He tugs it back, catching the weight in his hand.

With your good arm locked up like this, your options are limited. You aren't about stand around here waiting for the other guy to come at you while the girl has you tied up in the chain, so instead you go at her, fast and hard. She might have a blade, but you've got size and reach, and you plan to use them to your fullest advantage.

Choose 2:
>Deal serious damage to her.
>Avoid some damage to yourself.
>Grab her in a hold.
>Force her to drop her weapon.

>>2862904
>>Deal serious damage to her.
>>Avoid some damage to yourself.

>>2862904
>Avoid some damage to yourself.
>Grab her in a hold.

>>2862904
>>Deal serious damage to her.
>>Avoid some damage to yourself.
She's got our good arm so unless we get that chain off that hold option seems a little moot

>>2862908
My reasoning here is that grabbing her in a hold is the next step is throwing her out the window.

>>2862904
>>2862907
>>2862920
>>2862922

>Deal serious damage to her.
>Avoid some damage to yourself.
>the next step is throwing her out the window.

Writing.

>>2862904
>>2862938


Bellowing, you barrel into the woman at full speed, shoulder tackling her around the waist. She hacks and slashes at you with her sickle even as she's pushed off balance, cutting your forearm, digging the point into your backside, and you wish you were wearing your armor right now, but before she deals any more damage you slam her up against a pole. Stunned for a moment, she quickly goes back to the attack, but it's enough time for you to rip your left arm free of its sling and grab her right arm around the wrist, blocking her from attacking again. You grab hold of her jacket with your other hand, turn, and fling her headfirst at the shattered window. She goes about halfway through, so you plant your foot on her ass and shove her the rest of the way out. You hear her scream as she pitches off the elevated rail to the ground below.

Something small and heavy thuds into your back and you stumble, falling down to one knee. Savage pain radiates through your back. That hit a kidney. Fuck. If you make it through this you're going to be pissing blood for a week. Could be worse, a liver shot would have meant you were done and dusted. You grab hold of one of the seats and force yourself back up to your feet. You turn around to see the third weasel pulling back his weighted chain and beginning to spin it around for another go.

"You motherfucker," you growl, raising your fists. "Okay, let's go. I'll kick you out the fucking window too."

>Roll! Same deal, 1d10, first three rolls count.

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>2862968

Rolled 6 (1d10)

>>2862968
Meh that’s what the other kidney is for

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>2862968
>

>>2862968
>>2862969
>>2862974
>>2862977

You move forward cautiously towards the last weasel mask, keeping an eye on the whirling chain. When it comes, the weight comes straight at your face. You dodge by shifting your head to the side, and you do it in time to avoid taking a crack to your skull, but the weight still clips the fleshy part of your ear, sending a jolt of pain through your head and disrupting your balance. You stagger but keep moving forward, supporting your weight by pushing yourself along on the seats.

The man swings his sickle at your chest, but you lean backwards just out of range, and the blade cuts open your shirt but nothing else. You swing your fists, but he dodges away, staying just out of reach. You lunge forward to grab hold of him, but the slippery bastard squirms away through the gap between the grip poles and the seats, swings around for another strike, and the point of the scythe lodges in your bad shoulder.

Roaring in pain and fury, you grab hold of the man, hurl him to the ground, and plant one knee on his chest. Then you rip his sickle out of your shoulder, lean down, and slash his throat open in one quick strike. A jet of blood fires out, spurting with his heartbeat. The man clutches at his throat, gurgling, but can't stop the outflow of blood, and soon collapses, unconscious and dying.

Bruised and bloodied, pain radiating from your wounds, espicially your left shoulder and your back where you took a kidney shot from the throwing weight, you nonetheless push yourself up and onto one of the seats. There you sprawl, taking a moment to catch your ragged breath.

The train is slowing down, you realize, as the recorded voice-over announces the name of the next stop. The station appears outside the windows, and the train brakes to a halt. You stand up, your balance wavering, but you're able to stay on your feet. You're about to head for the doors to get the hell out of this blood-splattered train car. But some instinct warns you of danger, and you stop dead in your tracks.

(Cont.)

File: shisa mask.jpg (392 KB, 1600x1920)

392 KB JPG

>>2863028

The doors to the car woosh open. Instead of the usual press of commuters, only two people step inside. One from the door at either end. Sure enough, they're wearing animal masks. Lions or something, from the looks of it, with huge fangs and elaborately sculpted manes. One of them is a man, his mask's lion mouth open and roaring. The other is a woman, her lion's mouth closed. Both of them are much, much bigger and more muscular than the three weasels you just fought. They each have brass knuckles on both hands.

"You too, huh?" you ask, still breathing heavily, trying to put on a front of bravado. "You think this is a good idea? I just fucked your friends up real good. You sure you want a piece of me?"

The lions don't say anything.

You let out a heavy sigh. "Okay, why not. Let's fucking do this."

>Stand your ground and slug it out.
>Try to get around one so they aren't flanking you.
>Grab the shotgun, reload it as fast as possible, fire it.
>Grab one of the weasels' weapons on the floor, use it.
>Grab one of the weasels' weapons on the floor, throw it.
>Write-in.

>>2863035
>Grab one of the weasels' weapons on the floor, use it.

>>2863035
>Fake a 'last stand', let them charge at you, but bamboozle them at the last second so you end up on the station and them inside the train with the doors closing.

>>2863035
>Grab one of the weasels' weapons on the floor, throw it.
If Overgrowth has taught me one thing, it's that throwing weapons is the best way to deal with humanoid fighters with animal faces.

>>2863035
>Grab one of the weasels' weapons on the floor, use it.

>>2863035
>>2863047
>>2863085

>Grab one of the weasels' weapons on the floor, use it.

Roll them bones. 1d10, first three rolls count.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2863104

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2863104

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>2863104

>>2863035
>>2863104
>>2863106
>>2863109
>>2863112

You reach down, next to the guy you blasted with the shotgun, to pick up one of the tanto knives. You'd pick up both, but your left arm is seizing up pretty bad. You glance down at the weapon, sizing it up. It's a long knife, sharp and sturdy, a good weapon. You hold it close to yourself in a defensive position. Looking left, then right, you wonder which lion mask is going to come at you first.

At it happens, the answer is both. On some cue, the two lions step forward at the same moment, striding boldly towards you. Simultaneously their strong arms explode into motion, swinging their hefty fists, the woman striking high, the man striking low, with expertly timed coordination. It's all you can do to block one attack with the lower part of your knife, the metal clashing against the woman fighter's brass knuckles, while raising your leg to block the man's punch with your knee. You're off balance now, so you use that to fire a kick at the man, but he takes it with a crossarm block. They're using some kind of hard style kung fu, solid stances and brutal power attacks, the opposite of the light, agile weasels you just fought.

The woman takes the opportunity to drive her other fist into your ribs, and you hear one break with a sickening crack. You swipe at her with your knife, a quick series of slashes, and you get in one good cut across the stomach, but she jumps backwards out of range. At the same moment the man lunges upwards to attack.

Their teamwork is flawless. They've obviously trained together. Two against one isn't always the advantage it seems like, unless the two have practiced fighting together and coordinating their attacks. These two have.

You block the man's swing with your bad arm, grimacing in pain as you move your torn-up shoulder again, and manage to get in a good cut on his attacking arm. He backs off, shakes it out, relaxes his stance for a moment. You glance over to see the woman doing the same. Looking back to the man, he sees the blood dripping down his sleeve. He lifts his mask just enough to expose the lower half of his face, where you can see his five-o-clock shadow. He raises his bloodied hand to his mouth, takes a lick of his own blood. He grins. Then he lowers his mask and takes up his fighting stance again, lowering his center of gravity. The woman mirrors him, leading with her left hand while he leads with his right.

You got in a good cut on each of them. But you're a in bad way. Breathing hard, ribs broken, kidney bruised, shoulder busted. You're the toughest son of a bitch you know, sure. But even for you, there's only so much you can take. You're going to hit your limits soon, and you have a pretty good idea what will happen when you do.

You're starting to think you might be trouble.

File: cassette.gif (49 KB, 200x150)

49 KB GIF

>>2863142

Done for tonight. I'm going to be busy tomorrow, so we'll pick this up Thursday night. See you then, anons.

>>2863144
See ya Raven.

>>2863144
Thanks for running!

File: Spoiler Image (1 KB, 400x400)

1 KB PNG

>>2863144
Ayyy Raven, I know you're busy and all and you'll probably not read this, but I just wanted you to know that i'm a huge fan of your work and I'm looking forward to what you do next!

Silently Prays that the next forum is Overwatch Quest.

>>2863142

Soundtrack: M.O.O.N. - Quixotic
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bh66pGIhysQ

Everything inside the train car is still for a long moment, outside of blood dripping from the end of the male lion's sleeve. Outside the city races by, the wind howling as it whips in through the broken window. You grip the knife in your working hand, looking back and forth, getting yourself ready for whatever comes.

Again syncing with each other through some unspoken communication, the two lion masks attack again. This time they mix things up, the woman going low with a leg sweep while the man leaps up with some crazy vertical jump kick. You dodge just in time, and his boot shatters one of the train lights with a burst of sparks and shattering glass. The broken lamp sends a short-circuit through the entire train car, and every light flares blindingly bright, then switches off.

The train is now lit only by the city lights streaming past outside as the train races past, flashing between darkness and bright colors, pink and blue and green. The lions and yourself are lit only as silhouettes highlightened in neon as you strike and block and counterattack, a series of heavy blows as each side tries to overwhelm the other through power and desperate will.

>Roll! 1d10, three results.

Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>2866651

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2866651
Thank me later

Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>2866651

My first 4chan roll ever.

>>2866651
>>2866659
>>2866685
>>2866694


Pound for pound, blow for blow, you stand against the two lions and their relentless assault. They go at you, hammer and tongs, and you match every strike with blocks and counterstrikes. Time and motion blur into themselves. There's only fists and flesh, blood and sweat, pain and will. A final, brutal exchange sees forearms and shins slamming into each other with bone-breaking force. Both sides are forced to back off, limbs in agony, barely able to stand.

The train lights flicker back on as the emergency circuit kicks in. Beyond one of the lions you see the door to another car opening. Men in dark suits begin to crowd inside, four, six, eight of them. These ones aren't warriors, not like the ones in the masks, but they brought guns to the knife fight, each of them holding a sturdy pistol. The fight inside you wavers as fear threatens to take hold. There's no way you could get close enough to them with the knife before they pull the trigger, and even then, with how you are now --

-- is this it? --

The gang of yakuza parts to reveal a tall figure in a well-tailored suit, with a heavy coat draped over his shoulders. He moves forward with a slow, confident stride, the walk of a man who knows he's in control. You can see see a katana in a simple black sheath at his side. He stops several feet from you, his pistol-holding goons behind him.

"Do you know who I am?" he asks.

In between labored breaths, you manage to say:

>Kojiro Masamune
>The man who hurt my friends
>Fuck you, asshole
>Nothing
>*Spit blood on his shoe*
>Write-in

>>2866719
>>*Spit blood on his shoe*

>>2866719
>*Spit blood on his shoe*
Don't give him the satisfaction

>>2866719
>*Spit blood on his shoe*
Maybe we should have taken an uber or something

>>2866719
>>2866727
Changing to
>*Spit blood on his shoe*
>"A dead man."

>>2866740
I'll change to that too, if we get beat up it'd better be for a good one liner. I can't believe I didn't think of this.

>>2866740
thirding

>>2866719
>>2866721
>>2866727
>>2866734
>>2866740
>>2866751
>>2866779

You work up a wad and spit a glob of phlegm and blood onto Kojiro's shining shoe. "A dead man," you say in a hoarse voice.

"And how do you think that will happen?" he asks. "Who will kill me? Hmm? You think your so-called friends will take vengeance for you? Or do you think that you're somehow in a position to beat me?" He smirks and spreads his gloved hands out. "My men won't shoot you unless I order it. Try it, if you like. Come at me. Kill me, if you can."

Not seeing any other way out of this, you do it. Summoning every remaining dreg of strength for one last attack, you lunge forward with the knife. But he's fast. Too fast. He evades each attack without even using his arms, weaving and dodging with quick steps like a boxer. Even if you weren't fucked up this would be damn hard. And with nothing left in the tank, it's just not enough.

With a contemptuous smile, Kojiro lashes out with a palm strike, sending the knife flying. The second attack comes right after, before you can even react, a hammer blow to the gut that causes an upswell in your stomach. You vomit on the train car floor, sinking to one knee as your insides buck and heave, and that puts Kojiro in exactly the right position to kick you in the face and knock you over onto your back.

You try to stand up, but you can't even tell which way is up. No strength to stand if you did. There's nothing left.

With hazy, red-stained vision, you look up at the spinning ceiling of the train car. Is this really where it ends? The dirty floor of a metro car, killed by this asshole because of his beef with somebody else? All because you couldn't be bothered to wait for a fucking taxi? All because you wanted to see --

Lucy. That's right. You left the house because you went by Lucy's diner, hoping to see her. And you did.

You remember saying to her that you'd make sure to come by the diner again soon.

You remember her bright, cheerful smile as she waved goodbye, looking forward to your next visit.

Sorry, Lucy. Looks like that was a lie after all.

You see Kojiro leaning over you. You try to at least sit up, but he plants one shoe, the expensive shoe you spat on, square against your chest and forces you back down onto the ground. He raises a hand, and a goon places the tanto knife there. Kojiro holds the knife against your throat. You close your eyes, waiting for the cold slice, the stinging pain, and then oblivion.

At least it'll finally be over.

(Continued?)

>>2866827

"I could kill you right now," you hear Kojiro saying. "It's important to me that you know that. But you're more useful to me alive. As a bargaining chip. Do you understand? I've given you to someone."

Through the haze, you hear the train braking to a stop. Kojiro removes the knife. He gets off you. You open your eyes, trying to think of who it might be. Cat? Did she strike some kind of deal?

Kojiro laughs, a grim note in his voice. "Don't thank me yet. Before they're finished with you, you'll wish I had killed you."

The door whisks open to reveal a knot of uniformed police officers, all with their police batons out. They step into the car. You're expecting them to ask questions, try to arrest some people, but they just nod politely to the Yakuza. There's tension in the air, but not the tension of cops and crooks.

One of the cops says to Kojiro, "This the guy?"

"That's him," the Yakuza boss confirms. "Mister John Bones, in the flesh. I know you said to deliver him unspoiled, but this was the best we could do. He's rather difficult to handle, as I'm sure you know."

"Good enough," the cop says.

"I trust this to mean I've satisfied my end of the agreement?"

"For now, yeah," the cop says. "We'll talk about that later. Right now we got business with this asshole." He and the other cops surround you, looking down with their batons in hand. With a smirk, he says, "Heya, pal. We've been waiting a long time for this. You probably know about us by now. We're with a group of police with certain special interests. You know what I'm talking about, don't you, boy?"

You have to spit out another glob of something-or-other before you manage to say, "Black Spear?"

"You got it," the cop says with a big smile. "You killed five of our guys. You thought you could get away with that? You were wrong. Those were good men, good officers. One of them, he was Officer Pulowski here's brother-in-law. You're fucked, you big ape. We're gonna take you down to the station, where you're gonna have a little accident. But before then, we're gonna make it hurt."

You feel a laugh forcing its way out from inside you. It hurts to laugh, but you can't help it. It turns into a deep, belly-shaking laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"You think this is funny?" demands the cop, stepping forward and jabbing his baton down to within inches of your face. "You think this is fucking funny?!"

"Sorry, I just -- haha -- five fucking guys! Do you have any idea how many people I've killed since then? I've completely lost count. Dozens, maybe hundreds. I've pissed off so many people." You have to stop again for laughter. "And you want me for five fucking guys I killed all the way at the start of this. It's just -- oh man -- hahaha --"

The cop scowls and gestures to his friends. "Whatever. Do it, boys."

Everything disappears under the pain as the policemen set on you with their clubs, a pummelling barrage of blows that doesn't let up until it all goes dark.

File: blood splatter.png (195 KB, 1019x571)

195 KB PNG

>>2866842

Outro Soundtrack: Static
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcDxVQLoQyk

That's the end of Thug Quest 33. Join me in the next chapters to discover your fate.

Hope you enjoyed yourselves, and thanks for playing.

>>2866852
Good shit Raven

>>2866852
>everyone ignores us when we say we should stick together as a team
>we end up getting taken down when alone

That'll teach'em, good job Johnny.

Thanks for running, Raven.

>>2867100
Ir might be what gets them back together.

And when Alex finds out, those words can come back to haunt her. We're just thugs with a common interest. Why should she give a damn.