First for fucking Chinks

FUCK QUEST IS DEAD

LONG LIVE FUCK QUEST

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>>3775200
FIRST FOR >

>sitting in Dallas airport, about to catch a 17 hour flight

I sure hope my flight has some kind of wifi, but if it doesn't, try not to fuck this up lads

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Sorry for the lateness. I realized at 2 minutes to the hour that I forgot to write a "previously on" recap.

>>3775207
We only panicked slightly~

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>>3775207

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June 2, 2018

Stackleford is walking back to Gal's with a big old bag of Taco Bell in his hammy grip. He's sweating like a hog, pores glistening in the dim blueness of predawn. The streetlights are coming back on, so he guesses that all the trouble at Darkbloom Analytics must be finished, one way or another. He's a mess of frayed nerves and he uses food to quell them; even now he gnaws on a nacho fry as he trudges down the sidewalk. He wonders whether he's walking straight to his death. He very well could be. Maybe gangsters will be lying in wait at Gal's, American or Russian, or something else entirely. Maybe the police will be there. But where else can he go? He isn't safe anywhere, anymore. He looks sadly down at his maimed hand, the stumps left behind by Stasi. It still hurts days later.

As he rounds a corner, he hears a pssst from the narrow corridor between two buildings on his left. It almost makes him faint with fright, just the sound of someone hissing at him -- he's not capable of dealing with surprises right now. He tries to hurry past as if he didn't hear, but then the person calls out: "Stacks." He stops. It's Camelia.

>>3775215
Wait
No
what
what

>>3775215
>but then the person calls out: "Stacks." He stops. It's Camelia.
Fuck

>>3775215
>June 2nd
>Camelia

WHICH ONE

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She's obviously not in a good way. Her face is streaked with gunky brown grime -- blood, perhaps a mix of hers and David Darkbloom's. Her blue hair is matted and her skin is pallid. She sways slightly on her feet as if trying to stand in tropical force winds.

She isn't wearing her patented eyepatch.

This is the first time Stackleford has ever seen underneath that eyepatch of hers. Her eye is fucked up, to put it politely. It looks like the eye of a zombie in a horror movie -- white in the middle, bloodshot, the skin surrounding the socket permanently black and scarred, half-necrotic really. No wonder she keeps it covered.

"I need a favor," she says. Her voice is tired and soft, far cry from her usual manner.

Stackleford is hesitant. "I... I'm sorry... I d-don't think I should be seen with you in pub--"

The first thing Stackleford registers is the muzzle of the gun pointed at him; he recognizes it as the very same gun Camelia murdered David Darkbloom with only a few hours ago. So of course that means she's willing to use it. The second thing Stackleford registers, directing his gaze now upward, is Camelia's scowling grimace.

"I'm not done with you," she says.

Stackleford holds his hands up -- finger stumps and all -- dropping his grease-stained bag of food to the ground with a plop. Camelia holsters her gun. She pulls a folded piece of paper from her jacket pocket and forces it into Stackleford's palm, saying simply: "take this."

He's shivering. "Why?"

Camelia does not answer. Instead she goes back for her tracksuit's jacket pocket, this time producing a switchblade. Stackleford takes a halting couple steps backward, but stops stone-still when Camelia flicks the business end open. She keeps him fixed in her cold gaze for a few moments, blade in hand, wordlessly daring him to make another move. He doesn't.

She puts the tip of the blade to her right eye's tear duct.

She takes a deep breath.

She gouges it in.

Even from five paces away, Stackleford nonetheless hears the wet squish of it. This comes followed by a wail of pain not even Camelia can stifle. Stackleford watches in slackjawed horror as Camelia roots around with the tip of the knife inside her own eye, blood spurting like a tiny sprinkler. At last she finishes, and drops the bloody switchblade to the sidewalk. From her ruined eye she unspools and removes the long thin wire. It's like a gory twist on the old magician's trick of pulling a neverending rope of handkerchiefs from your sleeve.

Stackleford is close to vomiting by the time she's done. "Are... are you okay?"

Camelia, through a mask of pain, the right side of her face dripping blood like a faucet that can't be shut completely off, smiles. She goddamn smiles. "Ever get a little fleck of popcorn stuck in your gums? ... know how great it feels to finally dig it out?"

Stackleford opens and closes his lips without finding words to accompany it.

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>>3775215

>>3775228
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

>>3775228
OH

OH DEAR

>>3775228
holy fucking god

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>>3775228

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>>3775207
enjoy your vacation in jail op studios, keeping the internet waiting is a felon

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Camelia uses her jacket to wipe her gore off the device, and then forces Stackleford to take it as well. She deposits it in his palm and curls his hand into a fist around it for him.

"Take that implant, and the note I gave you, to the Rutabaga Cafe. Do it now. Put them under the last bench in the back, on the right. Set them next to a USB stick that's there on the ground already."

"Why?"

Camelia frowns. "It's my make-a-wish wish. That's why."

"But--"

"Stop asking questions. Just go. And when you're done, tell no one. Not Alabaster. Not Whitney, or Rose, or Cerise. No one. You understand? If you tell a single soul about any of this, I will find you. Don't make me mad."

Stackleford stands there stupidly.

"Well?" Camelia demands. "What are you waiting for?"

Stackleford is much paler even than usual, as he makes to leave.

"Oh. Stacks. One final thing."

Miserable, he stops, turns.

Camelia is seriously struggling to remain upright. She's swaying in place even worse than before. Her sneakers make scuffing sounds on the concrete as her feet toddle beneath her in their fight to keep her standing. "You should lose a little weight, huh?"

"Uuuh."

"I'm being serious. Start working out. You'll feel better."

"...Ok."

"One more final thing. Brush your teeth every once in a while. The people around you will feel better."

"Ok."

She stumbles forward to walk past him, but he's blocking the way, staring at her creepily, and won't budge. She sighs. "What is it?"

"W-when...?"

"Once in the morning and once before bed, is what dentists recommend, I think..."

"No..."

Camelia waits for him to say.

"When will we see you again?"

She considers it. "Sooner than you think," she says.

She nudges Stackleford aside and continues on her way to who knows where. Her gait is slow, tipsy and uncoordinated. Near the end of the block, she leans precariously to one side, almost falling, but rights herself. She lurches around the corner, and then she's gone. Even Stackleford is smart enough to know that she's dying.

SEASON 4 OP: https://vimeo.com/354421891
SEASON 4 OP (Creditless): https://vimeo.com/354421989

>>3775228
What the fuck is even happening anymore?

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>>3775244
It all goes back to Stackleford.

>>3775244
So that's how Amber got the implant, huh?

>>3775244
>camelia actually inspired stackleford to get fit

Oddly wholesome

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Over the intercom, a monotone secretary announces that Amber Catch-a-cratic is wanted at the registrar's office. That's a new one, as far as ways to fuck up your last name go. You'll write that one down in your notebook along with the others for sure.

Gilroy Technical College is sort of like a poor man's ITT Tech, all full of glassy eyed veterans, GED recipients and sad middle managers trying to jumpstart stagnated careers. As five years ago, so now; they opened their doors to the displaced students of North High pending reconstruction of the burnt-down school grounds. The commute back and forth from Palo Alto is going to be a bit of a bitch, but thankfully you've got a helpful volunteer on that account.

You find your way to an elevator and press the button for the lobby. But just before the door slides smoothly shut, a hand shoots through the gap and pries them open again. And then into the cramped space steps Auburn Brantly.

>>3775244
THIS ONLY CREATES MORE QUESTIONS

>>3775256
Ohhhh boy.

>>3775256
Have unironically been looking forward to this

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He turns and faces forward with you. "Hello, Amber."

"President Catachresis. Please."

"Where are you going in the middle of the school day?" He demands.

"Pushy," you tsk. "Do you think you're my owner or something?"

"I think we have a StuCo meeting this afternoon. If you keep missing these things, we'll be forced to kick you out of the presidency."

You fold your arms. "Fucking try it, needle-dick. I've got extenuating circumstances."

"Sure. Fine. Since you've got more important places to be, I suppose I'll just have to pick up the slack." He shrugs, grinning. "I'll take care of all this hard, boring President stuff while you're gone. Don't worry about a thing."

You flip him off.

"So crass -- so unbecoming. You're really not fit to be President."

"This StuCo meeting is about a plan to organize volunteer cleanup duty at NHS -- right?" You say. "That should be in your wheelhouse anyway. Aren't you the one that ordered Tongtong to burn down the school?"

"A paranoid conspiracy theorist as always. I see selling out to take part in the dirty process of electoralism hasn't changed you a bit."

The elevator stops, and you step out. He follows.

>>3775256
>Over the intercom, a monotone secretary announces that Amber Catch-a-cratic is wanted at the registrar's office. That's a new one, as far as ways to fuck up your last name go. You'll write that one down in your notebook along with the others for sure.
I've seen this shit happen all the time. I'm convinced they do it on purpose as some kind of inside joke

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You spin on your heels and stand there in the empty hallway with him.

"It's not a conspiracy theory," you say. "We all know you and Tongtong were bumping uglies. Your yellow fever is well documented. But you really did a number on her, didn't you? You got her so twisted up that she'd do anything for you."

"You are disgusting. As expected."

"But I would have expected better of you. Isn't what you do with her, like, colonializing her body or something?"

He examines his hand, scratching the nail of his index finger with the nail of his thumb. "If she consents to being colonized..." He hooks his thumb in his trouser pocket now and adopts a defiant stance: "Anyway, Tongtong acted alone. Now she's in a mental health facility, where I hope she gets the treatment she needs. And I don't want to hear about morals and propriety from you. You stink like sex."

"You're mistaken. But I'll forgive you. You aren't used to being near people whose bodies produce measurable quantities of testosterone. It's got you confused."

"Since you're so into politics now," Auburn says, "here's a question for you. How has your opinion on George W. Bush changed?"

You try not to wince, and you're not sure whether you're successful. That little shit. Could a question so specific and out of left field possibly be coincidental? Or is he the one who was in your bedroom -- inside your safe? That's impossible, though. A little fuckweasel beta like Raisin Brant couldn't possibly have the wherewithal to crack a safe. Not to mention the fucking temerity.

"George W. Bush is a murderer," you reply. "Pig disgusting."

"Of course," he says, smoothing his trouser leg. "That's always been a rare point we can agree on. But since you're so interested in dictators, maybe your opinion on Soviet strongmen is different? How do you feel about Vladimir Putin?"

That cinches it. It was him all along. He's the intruder who busted into your safe and scared you enough to make you pack your bags for Alabaster Soliloquy's off-brand Playboy Mansion. You wonder wryly to yourself what his reaction would be if he knew that.

The intercom sounds: "Amber Coochiecrisis, to the registrar's office. Amber Coochiecrisis. Registrar's office." That secretary is just full of 'em today.

[ ] Confront Auburn about breaking into your safe.
[ ] Leave it be.

>>3775268
>Coochiecrisis

o i am laffin

>[x] Confront Auburn about breaking into your safe.

>>3775268
>[x] Leave it be.
He's trying to get a rise out of us, let's not take the bait.

>coochiecrisis
Fuckin lol

>>3775268
>[x] Confront Auburn about breaking into your safe.
We kill him next.

>>3775268
>[x] Confront Auburn about breaking into your safe.

>>3775268
>[ ] Leave it be.
If my time on 4chan has taught me anything, it's to not take the bait

>Coochiecrisis
That got a good chcukle out of me

>>3775268
>[x] Leave it be.
I feel like option 1 is what he wants

>>3775268
[x] leave him alone
this is bait and i refuse to take it

>>3775273
Actually, rethinking it, it's true. I don't want to play this douche-canoe's game.

>[x] Leave it be.

>>3775268
>[X] Leave it be.

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>[x] Leave it be.

"I'm not a fan," you say. "He's like a shitty cash-grab sequel. The Episode VII to Stalin's Episode IV, if you get what I'm saying."

"You're mixed up with terrible people. I should report your activity to the--"

You've got him up against the wall before he can react, hand around his throat.

He gasps, and reaches down for something. You stay his hand by grabbing his wrist. And with your knee, you feel it -- something hard in his pants. Not that. Cold and metallic.

"You brought a gun to school?" You breathe. "Trenchcoat mafia creep-ass motherfucker. Fuck."

"You're one to talk," he says through gritted teeth.

"Leave me alone, Raisin Brant. I'm serious. If you fuck with me, you will regret it."

You step back, and let him go. He massages his throat where you held it, not signaling pain -- but more a muted annoyance.

"Oh -- there you are." You turn in the direction of the voice. Standing at the opposite end of the hallway, over by the mouth of the registrar's office, is Dalton Cantor. Or at least who appears as Dalton Cantor.

>>3775302
oh god

>>3775302
>Dalton Cantor
Why The fuck is he here?

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>>3775302
And the wild ride begins.

>>3775316
read last episode

>>3775302
Glad to see Dalton has forgiven us for all the waterboarding! Just some good gags between pals, yknow?

>>3775316
He's here for the reveal that Dalton isn't looking for us, but Auburn, who is his stepson.

>>3775318
?

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You thought it would be Vivian picking you up today, but instead you've got the main man himself. This is too good of an opportunity to pass up.

You put a coquettish finger through your hair and twirl it. "Daddy!" You say in your best impression of a bimbo.

Darkbloom blinks, aghast. You skip over to him like a little girl playing hopscotch. Auburn, of course, follows.

"You -- you're Dalton Cantor," Auburn says, surprised.

"I--" Darkbloom says. This is beyond a compromising situation. He is, as far as anyone knows, a top-ranking executive at a major company, and now he's been recognized by a high school student -- while you, a high school girl yourself, hang off of him like a hooker.

"Let's goooo already," you whine. "I wanna play!"

Auburn is seething, and can't hide it. Darkbloom is trying to get free of you, but you won't let go. Between the two of them, it's impossible to say who's more uncomfortable.

"He isn't your father--" Auburn begins, sputtering.

"Duuuh. He's my Daddy."

"I am no such--"

"Do you have the hotel booked? C'mon. Let's go!"

Auburn's lips tremble, and he points an accusing finger at Darkbloom. "You are vile."

"You are -- misunderstanding the situation, young man. This isn't--"

But Auburn is already stomping off.

>>3775327
pfffffffffffffffff

>>3775327
Jesus

>>3775327
Yes, yes this is good, I like this.

>>3775327
Kek, well played Amber

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>>3775327

>>3775327
You can't keep doing this OP, my best girl ranking is already overcrowded.

>>3775327
Fucking good

>>3775327
>Auburn is seething
I hope we get to see these words a lot more over the course of this season

Also am I alone in the fact that Amber saying Daddy does things to me

>>3775343
Nope.

>>3775343
The "mister" scene is one of my all time favorites behind any given Alex scene, and the Skype calls.

>>3775343
>Also am I alone in the fact that Amber saying Daddy does things to me
No, no you are not. We should get her to say it more often if you catch my drift

>>3775327
I never thought being Amber would be so much fun!

>>3775343
That really seems to be her kink. Even though we only had one Camelia lewd in S2, she never displayed this. Really gives the "Not-exactly-the-first-Amber" theory some strength.

>>3775349
It wouldn't be as hot to say it before she was a high school student so I can definitely see why she would hold off on it then

>>3775348
Shes, like, the most fun. Whitney's fun, but Whitney doesn't have a hardcore desire to fuck everything up for everyone.

>>3775349
>That really seems to be her kink
It's a good kink, we should encourage it

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You let go of Darkbloom's arm, and let your bubbly facade boil away like vapor.

"You are impossible," Darkbloom fumes.

"Thank you. Where's your daughter?"

"She is in the registrar's office. Waiting for you. But I see you live according to your own schedule, as always." He turns and begins down the hall. You trot behind. "Do not test me. I do not have time for your craziness, Amber. The only reason you're involved at all is because Vivian is so insistent. But if you won't be reasonable, I will make her agree to forge ahead without you."

"Pff. Sure. You can't do shit, asswipe. You don't get to make any decisions."

Darkbloom ignores you.

"Your daughter is a rapist, by the by."

He casts a glance back over his shoulder, disturbed but not terribly surprised at this news. "Whitney? It's Alabaster's influence. He's an awful perv--"

"Vivian."

"What?"

"Vivian. Not Whitney. Vivian raped the shit out of me the other night."

"Preposterous." He stops, turns and faces you. That one definitely was a surprise.

"Ask her yourself if you don't believe me. Fuck. Why would I make that up?"

"Because you're a prevaricator, a manipulator and a terrorist."

"Well, yes, but actually no. Everyone wants to say I'm Camelia but frankly I'm not bought in on that theory yet. What I know for sure is that you're a man-sized twat who thought he was a god and died like a dog. True or false?"

"Fal--"

You make a loud, obnoxious buzzer noise.

"You murdered me--"

You do the buzzer sound again.

Darkbloom grabs you by the wrist.

You become all at once aware that you are very small. That Darkbloom is very tall and very strong. Your lip curls up, you begin to say something. But Darkbloom is already turning around again. He tugs you with him, walking briskly, and you have no choice but to stumble and try to keep up.

"What the fuck!" You cry.

"If you want to tell everyone that I'm your quote-unquote 'daddy' then I'm happy to oblige. Someone has to keep you in check, and it may as well be me."

"You motherf--"

"My patience is at an end, Amber. Stop prattling and hurry along."

As you approach the registrar's office, Vivian steps forth from it, and is taken aback indeed to see Darkbloom toting you around like an unruly toddler.

>>3775365
>"Your daughter is a rapist, by the by."
Kek

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"We need to fire everyone who Tyrus ever hired, worked with, or so much as had a fucking conversation with."

Usually Whitney's penchant for firing people is a bit wearying but in this case, you fully agree.

"Understood," Spancer says. "I will go through our rolls and terminate any employee with ties to Mr. Kang."

"Now wait just a cotton-picking chotto!" Rose2 says, hand on her hip. She leans way forward and wags her index finger in the air. "Didn't Spancer himself play with Tyrus at the tennis tourney?"

"That's right," you say. "He did."

"I cannot self-terminate," Spancer says. "But after I have completed the current directive, I will willingly resign."

"I don't--" Whitney begins. Then, to Rose2: "shut the fuck up, will you? I like Spancer. I trust him. He's basically a robot programmed to be loyal to this company."

"Does he even have a place of his own?" You ask. "I'm pretty sure he lives here. -- Do you live here, Spancer?"

"Negative."

"Anyway," Whitney says, turning her attention back to Spancer. "I order you not to go. I order you!"

"Understood."

"We need you," Whitney continues. "In fact, I want to promote you."

Spancer sits there passively, with no outward sign that this news has made him either pleased or displeased.

"We're down a CFO," Whitney explains. "I could make Viv pull double duty, but that's not fair to her. She's got enough bullshit to deal with. So I'm slotting Armstrong over to that spot -- that leaves his spot open." She extends a hand. "Long story short, I'd like to bid a warm adieu to our new CHRM!"

"Adieu means goodbye," you tell her.

"Shove it."

Spancer shakes her hand robotically -- once, twice, a third time, and then relinquishes his grip. Whitney doesn't let on, but as she pulls her hand away, you see her rubbing it as if the force of the handshake hurt her.

"All right then," Whitney says. "Get to firing."

He stands, turns in a precise 180 degrees, and marches out.

"Weird guy," Whitney says as he shuts the door.

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>>3775365
>He casts a glance back over his shoulder, disturbed but not terribly surprised at this news.

>>3775383
Spancer is great

>>3775383
>Now wait just a cotton-picking chotto!"
H e h.


>no "You are Alabaster Soliloquy..."
[nervous laughter]

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"We're gonna need a new security detail, too," Whitney says, staring pensively from her window, one hand behind her back. It's so strange to see her taking charge like this, making decisions on her own -- and the right ones, even. The disappearance of Alex and her mother has lit a fire in her that you've never seen before.

"Any ideas?" You ask.

"Noelle is free, right?"

"You cannot be serious. First of all -- you hate Noelle."

"She warned us about Tyrus. She can't be all bad."

"Noelle is so cool!" Rose2 says. "She's got this super mysterious vibe, you know? Like she's a delinquent who got her life together and she's hiding a really dark, edgy past that haunts her..."

"Who invited you here?" You say. "I swear to God, it's like you just show up wherever the fuck you please."

"Hai!" She salutes you with the back of her palm pressed flat to her forehead. Her knuckles make a hollow noise against her skull.

"I'll leave this one up to you," Whitney says. "You know Noelle better than any of us." She nudges you. "Biblically, even."

"Err."

"Don't even lie. Don't even joke us."

You shake your head.

"So you can decide whether we can trust her or not," Whitney finishes.

[ ] Hire her.
[ ] Don't hire her.

>>3775383
>"Now wait just a cotton-picking chotto!"
I love her

>>3775398
>[x] Hire her.

>>3775398
>[ ] Hire her.

>>3775398
>[x] Hire her.

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>>3775383
>Now wait just a cotton-picking chotto!

It's also nice to get some Spancer screentime.

>>3775398
>[x] Hire her.
What a fucking tangled mess these people's positions have all become. I love it. I want more.

>>3775398
>[x] hire her
Naturally.

>>3775398
>[ ] Hire her.
As if there was any other choice

>>3775398
>[x] Hire her.

>>3775398
>[X] Hire her.

>>3775398
>[X] Hire her.
Easiest choice in the series

>>3775398
>[X] Hire her.

>>3775228
I'm seriously going to have to reread fuckquest and write a time line so I know what the fuck is going on.

>>3775398
>[ ] Hire her.

>[x] Hire her.

You step into the frigid interior of Shake 'Em Up, a local ice creamery specializing in milkshakes where you arranged to meet Noelle. Though it's the first time you've been, the place is a minor sensation, and has 10 or 11 locations around Silicon Valley.

Whitney pulls her phone from her purse and shows the screen to a disinterested cashier girl. "20% off," Whitney tells her.

The cashier taps the offer code into her computer.

"A fucking groupon, Whitney, really?" You say.

"What? It's good value!"

"You're a billionaire."

"Yeah. And I wanna stay that way."

You grumble. Turning your head upward, you scan the menu. Mint chocolate chip sounds good. "Yeah, I'll take a--"

"We'll take a strawberry banana shake," Whitney tells the girl. "Two straws, please."

You huff. "What, is this an executive decision?" You say.

"Ayep. A little birdie told me that the strawberry banana shake here is to die for. I want a second opinion, though. It's important."

"What's so important about whether a milkshake is good or not?"

"If it's good enough, I'm buying the place."

That's Whitney. She'll scrupulously collect her 20% discount on a milkshake, then turn around and buy the entire restaurant on a whim. You'd chastise her for being so erratic but her investments usually pay off. She once made a bet with Vivian on who could get the biggest return on $1 million of seed money. Vivian spent weeks researching startups and proudly showed you all her statistical analyses that pointed her towards the investments she settled on. Whitney threw darts at a board with companies written on it. Whitney won the bet.

>>3775456
YES
YES
YES
YES
YES

>>3775456
I'm so retardedly happy about this scene.

>>3775446
It seems to be a little bit after Camelia killed Darkbloom

>>3775456
Based Whitney

>>3775456
and here's Whitney, proving once again why she's the best.

>>3775478
SMARTEST HUMAN EVER

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My wife Chloe is a miracle of the universe!

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Whitney sits across from you, and you sit beside Noelle. Noelle seems somewhat perplexed by the way you and Whitney share your milkshake like a couple of teens from a 50s sitcom. Maybe it goes against the image she had in her head -- of both of you.

She's also perplexed about Whitney's offer. "Last month you were shouting 'fuck you' at me from the top of a balcony. Now you want me working for you?"

"You don't get it. This is like one of your Japanimes where two enemies have to team up to face an even BIGGER enemy."

Noelle leans back. "So you want me to be your Pinkerton."

"Yes!"

"Do you know what a Pinkerton is?"

"...No."

"I just don't understand," Noelle says. "I mean. You don't hold any kind of -- I don't know, grudge?"

"Naaah. I don't hold grudges, pig."

Noelle is clearly unsure how to take that.

"We'll pay you," you tell her. "Whitney's a good boss. And you do need a job, right?"

"Yeah. I need a job because of you fuckers."

"So consider this our way of making amends," you try.

"Uh huh. How much are you offering?"

Whitney, who's been slurping on the drink since the moment she said the word "pig," finally lets her straw drop from her lips. She's already siphoned up about half the enormous milkshake. Her expression is vacant as the gears in her head spin. "I dunno. What's fair? $1 million per year?"

Noelle can't conceal the exhalation of surprise she makes, as if someone has punched her in the chest.

"Shit. I'm lowballing you. $2 million a year."

Noelle gawks, and then says nothing. Maybe she's thinking that if she stays quiet, Whitney will keep hiking the price to infinity. And she would, but you step in. "That sounds good," you say. "Noelle?"

"Y-yeah -- yeah. That sounds pretty fucking good."

"Then it's a deal?" You ask.

She shakes your hand.

"Where do you live?" Whitney asks.

"An apartment over on--"

"Wrong."

"I'm -- I'm sorry. Wrong? I have an apartment--"

"Wrong. You live in my house. This is a full-time job, Noelle. Full time. That's why I'm paying you so much. You'll be living with us."

"...Fuck."

Whitney does her little wheeze-laugh and keeps sucking on her drink. Through a mouth of half-melted pink cream, she tells you: "This shit rocks. I'm buying it. We'll take Shake 'Em Up national."

"That's a little bold," Noelle says, propping her elbows on the table and resting her chin on the backs of interlaced fingers. "Do you have experience running a restaurant chain?"

"None," Whitney admits. "But we do need to di-vers-if-y, and why not start with some bitching ice cream? Anyway. I pay you to keep me safe. Not to talk."

Noelle frowns. She obviously doesn't like how quickly this relationship has shifted in Whitney's head. "If you take a bath on this place, don't blame me," Noelle says. "You know this restaurant only has a B from the health inspector? Just saying."

You feel a bit ill just hearing that, but it fazes Whitney not at all. She says: "we'll fix that. We'll get the best people on it right away."

>>3775497
>"Wrong. You live in my house. This is a full-time job, Noelle. Full time. That's why I'm paying you so much. You'll be living with us."
NAIL HOUSE

>>3775497
>"Wrong. You live in my house. This is a full-time job, Noelle. Full time. That's why I'm paying you so much. You'll be living with us."
FUCK YEAH

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>>3775497

>>3775497
Oh boy oh boy oh boy

>>3775456
>Whitney threw darts at a board with companies written on it. Whitney won the bet.
Titty Bowser had a HUGE effect on nintendo's stock price, fyi.

>>3775497
>semi-permanent Noelle
I've been waiting for this.

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"They don't want to oust her from the CEO position."

You sit in Vivian's living room. You and she watch as Darkbloom speaks over the phone to Mara. The phone is connected by lightning cable to a PC, which Galatea sits at -- recording, and trying to trace any identifying info.

"Keep pushing them," Mara responds.

"Of course. But we need to decide on contingencies. If they don't agree--"

"If they don't agree, we will simply have to kill them. All of them."

Vivian's eyes shimmer with rage.

"That would invite too much scrutiny," Darkbloom says. "We are too close to the end for that... we must tread lightly."

"Again with this over-cautious nonsense. Once Alex Best and David's little cunt mistress finish their work, what difference will it make who knows anything of what has transpired? Focus on the bigger picture, Dalton."

Now it's Darkbloom's turn to simmer with rage. Hearing Mara speak of Renee like that got under his skin, big time.

"How goes their progress?" He asks, masking his anger with smooth nonchalance.

"Need to know basis, Dalton."

"Of course."

"And how goes your progress on the other detail?"

This is bad. What other detail? You have no idea. And neither does he. He tries for a vague non-answer: "I am still working that end."

"We can't accept any delays. You must find a way. Do it yourself if need be."

"Understood."

"I will speak with you again tomorrow."

"Yes."

She hangs up.

You glance Gal's way. She shakes her head sadly. Nada.

"Great," you grumble. "Big fat fucking nothing on all fronts."

"Mother is speaking of drastic action," Vivian says. "We need to press her harder for information that could pinpoint--"

"I know Mara better than anyone," Darkbloom says. "We cannot press too hard. She will grow suspicious."

"We need to do something pretty fucking quick here," you say. "She's talking about killing everyone. That's not bide-our-time talk. That's roadtrip-to-Vail-right-fucking-now talk."

"Amber has a point," Vivian says.

"I can play this out," Darkbloom tells her. "I can find her location with enough time in contact with her. We do not need to go in guns blazing and alert her before we have the upper hand."

[ ] Press for direct action now.
[ ] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

What'll it be tonight, /fq/-tachi? The end of TI9 is looking like it'll be pretty exciting so far!

>>3775533
>[X] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

>>3775533
>[ ] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.
Hell, he's the person who's been dealing with her and containing her the longest. I'll trust his judgement here.

>>3775533
>[X] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

>>3775533
>[x] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

>>3775533
>[ ] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.
Let David be Davi-er, Dalton. That's why he's there.

>>3775533
>[x] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.
Scary. What other detail?

>>3775533
>[x] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.
He knows.

>>3775533
>[ ] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.
The reason we brought him on is because we can trust him on this shit, it'd be retarded to ignore him

>>3775533
>[X] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

>>3775533
> [X] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.
It's time to finally trust David

>>3775533
> [X] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, and all that

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>[x] Let Darkbloom keep working Mara.

Darkbloom stands and starts for the front door.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" You demand.

"Home. To my loving family."

"The facade must be maintained," Vivian tells you. "We cannot allow Dalton Cantor's loved ones to grow suspicious, either."

"Suspicious, fuck. You want to let David Darkbloom roam around on his own?"

"Not particularly," Vivian says. Darkbloom can't help looking hurt.

"Have him leave his wife and kids," you say. "He can come live here, with you."

"Under what pretense?" Vivian says.

"Under the pretense that older men leave their wives for pretty young girls like you all the time."

"That is absurd," Darkbloom says. "Dalton Cantor is many things, but he is a committed family man. His wife and children would never believe such a story."

But Vivian is less skeptical. "Why not?" She says airily.

"For them to believe that their patriarch would suddenly and without warning turn their entire lives upside-down to elope--"

"Don't patriarchs often lead double lives?" Vivian says. "Don't they often do things for selfish reasons, leaving their families in sudden disarray?"

Darkbloom sighs deeply. "And if Mara finds out?"

"Then you are using sex to manipulate me, and turn me against Whitney," Vivian says.

Darkbloom doesn't like even the mental image of it.

"Tell Dalton's family that you are leaving them for me," Vivian instructs. "You will stay here, where we can coordinate more reliably."

"You don't trust me."

"No. I do not."

"This is not the right course of action," Darkbloom says. "You must see reason. I will keep up appearances with Dalton Cantor's family. There is no need to try to -- to cage me, like some sort of wild animal."

[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
[ ] Make him live with Vivian.

>>3775383
>"I cannot self-terminate," Spancer says. "But after I have completed the current directive, I will willingly resign."

God I love Spancer

>>3775586
>[X] Make him live with Vivian.

>>3775586
>[x] Let him stay at Dalton's house.

>>3775586
Sorry Vivian, have to disagree with you here. This sounds like an awful idea.

>[x] Let him stay at Dalton's house.

>>3775586
[X] Let him stay at Dalton's house.

>>3775586
>[x] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
I really really hate this choice.

>>3775586
>[x] Make him live with Vivian.
This is safer.

Also important to note, even the real Dalton knows that Vivian allies herself with Whitney mostly out of her obsession with Ally. Nobody would believe this charade for half a second.

>>3775586
>[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
We’re doing this to avoid suspicion.

>>3775586
>[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
I think at this point, any machinations David may have would be a walk in the park compared to everything else going on.

>>3775497
>"Wrong. You live in my house. This is a full-time job, Noelle. Full time. That's why I'm paying you so much. You'll be living with us."
>"...Fuck."

Fuck is correct, Noelle.

>>3775586
>[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
Though it kinda feels like the facade has a greater chance of being unraveled when there's frequent contact with the Dalton family. Try to keep it at the necessary minimum.

>>3775519

I would like to know more

>>3775586
>[X] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
It's hard to believe that Mara wouldn't get suspicious of the sudden shaking up of things, especially because Vivian is already living with us, and I guarantee that Mara is aware enough of that relationship.
Working in one of the largest technology companies in the world in an executive position should be pretense enough to call him away at a moment's notice.
He might actually be safer at Dalton's house, honestly, and he fooled us once, knowing about SR, so he should be able to do it again to a reasonable extent.

Not that I trust the guy.

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>[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.

"I am going," Darkbloom announces. "And I am going alone."

Darkbloom waits for anyone to say boo. No one does.

"I will see you all tomorrow," he says. "Goodnight."

He doesn't exactly slam the door on his way out, but he doesn't shut it gently, either.

You kick back on Vivian's couch, propping your feet up on the table.

"Please do not do that," she says.

You stick your tongue out at her.

"I will be forced to punish you if you persist..."

"What? Are you gonna rape me again?" You nod at Gal. "Right here in front of Cerise's fiancee and everything?"

Vivian laughs haughtily. "If needs be. She has seen worse."

Gal squeaks. She looks away, blushing. "i..."

"We're joshing you," you tell her. "Well. I am, anyway. I don't know about this crazy bitch."

"are you really camelia" Gal asks suddenly.

You blink. You clear your throat. "Uh. Maybe. I dunno."

"i missed you," she says. "if you are."

"Would you feel better if I said I missed you too?"

She nods.

"Well, I did."

>>3775586
>[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
Anybody with half a brain would realize that something is up

>>3775622
Gives me an feeling so complicated.

>>3775586
> [X] Let him stay at Dalton's house.
I mean, what's the risk, he's not gonna side with Mara and surely by now he realizes that taking a third side means fighting his daughters and former lover

>>3775622
Cute

>>3775622
;_;

>>3775622
Keep her safe Ambs ;_;

>>3775586
>[ ] Let him stay at Dalton's house.

I feel bad for his family, honestly.

>>3775650
It's probably an upgrade. #darkbloombestdad

>>3775650
His new family is probably going to be confused that he's suddenly speaking so eloquently.

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You sit with Nelson in a conference room, idly passing the time.

"You and your wife have such a toxic relationship," he says.

"Yeah? And how do you recommend that I fix that?"

"I dunno, man. Be more complimentary?"

"Have you met Rose? Do you need me to introduce you to her?"

"I'm just saying--"

He stops himself short as the woman herself walks in. You nod at him and whisper, "watch this."

You glance Rose over from head to toe, looking for something you can use. Spotting it, you cut her off before she can begin talking: "Did you do something with your hair today?"

"What?" She barks.

"Your hair. It's different today. But I can't put my finger on how."

"I--" she stammers. She's already blushing. She fiddles with one of the pins holding her ridiculous drills in place. "I've got some new hairpins in." She bows slightly, so you can see the crown of her head, and the bronze pins there. You noticed them right away of course, but you wanted to give her an opportunity to show off.

"Oh," you say, "how cute."

Rose goes suddenly rigid. Her right eye twitches. "Cute? I'm not trying to be 'cute', Alabaster. You fucking prick. How dare you use such infantilizing, sexist language towards your own wife. Disgusting. That's a classic microagression. Not that I should have expected any better of you. But you can't just -- hey -- are you listening to me? You misogynistic--"

You lace your fingers behind your head, and let Rose's tirade wash over you. You glance over and grin smugly at Nelson.

>>3775655
Didn't he already do that though?

>>3775656
Now this. I love this.

>>3775655
This is what I'm most afraid of, honestly. Darkbloom is kinda stiff. I mean, remember when he was pretending to be Cerise?

>>3775656
>Making rose mad by treating her gently and only having sex with her for the sole purpose of procreation

>>3775656
I love them

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>>3775656
Best

>>3775657
I'm honestly not sure. Dalton isn't really a character that's stuck with me. But speaking like a walking thesaurus seems like a trait unique to David and Vivian in this story.

>>3775650
Wait until Mara eventually murders Dalton to cover her tracks, totally irrespective of whether or not she knows he's really David.

>>3775656
>how cute
Good to see we've been brushing up on our Chinese.

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>>3775656
>"Oh," you say, "how cute."

>>3775656
greatest love story ever told

>>3775670
He wasn't a walking thesaurus per se but he usually spoke quite eloquently. His family might think it's odd but nothing to write home about

>>3775676
Besides, David knew Dalton for at least a while right? He probably has a decent grasp on how he is supposed to act.

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The sun is quickly setting and evening's periwinkle pall through the windows is blotted out by the conference room's garish fluorescent light. The rest of the board filters in -- sans Darkbloom of course. You've made it more than clear that you don't want him involved with any real decisions at Darkbloom Analytics. Whitney agreed with you.

"So what's today's shitshow?" Armstrong asks.

"Nothing," Whitney says. "We're talking shitshow cleanup here."

"Oh yeah?"

"We have one advantage," Whitney tells you all. "Sand Reckoner."

You tsk. "If we could use it. Unfortunately, that's out of the question."

"Why?"

She should know why. Most of the Sand Reckoner platform is disabled. Federal statute prevents Darkbloom Analytics from turning it back on without explicit military approval. You try to explain this to Whitney in a way she'll understand, simple and to the point: "We can't do that. It's illegal."

"Pff. Illegal how."

Nelson tries to field the question. "Well, I mean -- it's the law. 'No private citizen, nor military personnel acting without the express authorization of designated et cetera... shall make knowing, deliberate use of Sand Reckoner based platforms as defined by section yadda yadda...' You know. The law that makes it illegal to use almost any of our own technology."

"Fuck the law," Whitney says. "Sand Reckoner is our property. We can use it how we want. And if anyone wants to come and tell us otherwise, we can take them to court. Saul told me that. Saul knows a shit ton about the law. He told me if a law's illegal, well... it's illegal. They can make any law they want, but we can sue. And Scootus will tell them to fuck off. Constitutionally speaking."

"...Scootus?" Nelson says.

"Yeah."

"Do you -- do you mean SCOTUS?" He asks.

She points at him. "Yeah. That one."

"Whitney," Armstrong says. "Do you know what SCOTUS is?"

"He's, like, the main judge. He tells the other judges what to do."

"Oh my God," Armstrong groans.

"What?"

"SCOTUS is a court. The Supreme Court."

"I don't see how a guy can be a court."

Armstrong is shouting, pounding the table. "It's not a guy! It's just a court! No guy!"

"Pipe down. Jeez."

"Litigating a case all the way to Scoo-- all the way to the Supreme Court takes years," Rose says. "Meanwhile we could still face legal consequences."

"Rose is quite correct," Vivian says. "Trying to make use of Sand Reckoner would only invite unwanted attention."

"Then let's hope no one finds out what we're doing to begin with."

The room glances uneasily from one to the other.

"This is our trump card!" Whitney says. "Chloe doesn't believe in using her own tech. Mara doesn't have it. It's the one and fucking only thing we've got that they don't. If we could actually use the fucking thing, we could probably stop them both dead before they knew what hit them."

Vivian glances across the table towards you. "Alabaster," she says.

[ ] Turn it on.
[ ] Keep it off.

>>3775685
>[x] Turn it on.

>>3775685
this is kinda tough

>>3775685
We did just get told how Whitney has an uncanny ability to be right despite all logic, so...

>[x] Turn it on.

>>3775685
>[ ] Keep it off.

I don't know what's the right decision here.

>>3775685
I want to take a moment to laugh about Scootus, but this choice is even more terrifying than the choices this episode already, and I'm already having heart palpitations as is.

Sure, SR can give us all the answers. But we also know what else it's capable of and that's super fucking dangerous.

On the other hand, what the other sides are doing is potentially even more dangerous. We might be trying to fix it, but do our ends really justify the means?

I'm holding my breath typing this, but...

>[x] Switch on the power line.
Remember to put on protection.

>>3775685
The rational side of me says that this could go really bad and only add to the list of enemies he have. But a part of me also knows that it'll probably work no matter what cause it was Whitney's idea and she has plot armor for this shit

... Fuck it, I'll trust logic this time and hope for the best
>[ ] Keep it off.

>>3775685
> [X] Turn it on
I don't think we stand a chance without it. The Feds are the least of our worries at this point.

And besides, Whitney is always right.

>>3775685
>[ ] Keep it off.

I mean we can reevaluate this decision later in an emergency.

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>>3775685
ffffffffffffffUCK
i hate the potential this has to be leverage against DA, and eventually, to escalate towards even further conflict. SR should be a last resort, and were not there (yet?).

[X] Keep it off.

>>3775685
>[ ] Turn it on.
1. Acquire some out of nowhere island outside US jurisdiction
2. Continue SR research
3. ???
4. Profit

... is what Mara and Qiangxiang style name Chloe would probably have in mind.

>>3775685
I'm getting some huge "unforeseen consequences" vibes from this, but
>[x] Turn it on.
Fuck it

>>3775711
Actually, this guy has convinced me

Changing >>3775701 to [x] Turn it on

>>3775685
>[ ] Keep it off.
Sand Reckoner can make everything even worse than it is now. It should be saved when as a last resort

>>3775685
>[x] Turn it on.
Let's go full bad end.

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT

Fuck I got here just on time

Mara is pressuring Dalton to do something. What it is we don’t know.

What if Mara wants us to turn on Sand Reckoner? What if she needs us to turn it on for her plans?

>>3775685
> [X] Keep it off

>>3775721
Oh and

>[x] Keep it off

>>3775721
If she needed that to happen, then why not flip the switch on her way out the door before pulling her hail mary with Alex and Renee? I feel like that's just an oversight on her part.

>>3775709
This. Let's not do this just yet.
>[X] Keep it off (for now).
I'm half-tempted to consult David on this, in spite of myself.

>>3775721
Okay actually I'm terrified of this and changing my vote. We can turn it on when we need it.
>>3775705

>>3775685
>[ ] Turn it on.

>>3775685
The Feds (and Tyrus) are snooping around, China's got a foothold in R&D, Mara's asking Daltbloom to make unknown moves, Sable lost her damn mind over this thing, and we have 0 geopolitical allies.
>[ ] Keep it off
I don't like the idea of bringing the wrath of everyone down on DA without a pivot.

>>3775743
In its defense, Sable lost her damn mind even before designing this thing.

>>3775685
>[X] Keep it off

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>>3775685
REPEAT AFTER ME!

> TURN IT ON!

It's time for a sand reckoner BLITZENDEGEN!

>[X] Keep it off

Closing the vote here.

>>3775751
Why is every fucking choice this episode making me terrified?

>>3775751
I'm proud of you guys

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What will alabaster look like when he grows old?

I reckon he will look like this.

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>[x] Keep it off.

"You're inviting disaster," you say. "The last thing we need is to get fucking RICO'd by the feds."

"We tried your way, Ally. With the kidnapping and the whatnot. Your way brought bio-dad back to life. I know how happy you are about that. So maybe let's try my way next. If we turn on Sand Reckoner, we can figure out where mom is. Where Alex is. We could get them back, today."

"Maybe this is what Mara wants," you say, eyes darting around.

"Sure. She wants us to find her and murder her. Makes sense."

"No. Think about it. What did Mara do?"

"She kidnapped our people. She put a big fat fuckin' target on her forehead."

"And what didn't she do? She didn't kill us. She could have. She didn't turn on Sand Reckoner. She didn't steal anything, at least that we know of. Why?"

"Because she's a psychotic cunt."

"Because she wants us to do this. She needs Sand Reckoner on, and she expects us to do her dirty work. Whatever she's making Dr. Carte and Alex work on, it's a derivative project... and she doesn't have direct access to our servers anymore, so maybe somehow... maybe somehow this plays into her hand."

Whitney makes a sour face.

"Alabaster's right," Rose says. "And there's too many unknowns regardless. Even if this isn't part of Mara's plan."

"We're handicapping ourselves," Whitney says. "I'm trying to make us handicapable here!"

"You said it yourself," Nelson offers. "Sand Reckoner is our trump card. We can keep it stowed away for a rainy day. No need to act rashly."

Whitney is unconvinced, but she's a surprisingly reasonable CEO; she knows that when her entire board contravenes her, she can't act unilaterally. "Fine," she says. "Then let's move on to shitshow cleanup part two. We're still down one board member."

"There's an excellent front-end dev on my team who would make a great CPO--" Nelson begins.

"Yeah, no." Whitney says. So... not always so shy about acting unilaterally. "You're the new CPO."

"Huh? But--"

"And I'm about to go extend the offer to our new CIO, too. You guys are gonna love her."

>>3775768
>when

>>3775768
He'll look like Dad. What does Dad look like? The world may never know

>>3775747
Point. But Sable knew SR inside and out. And even still the prospect of what it could be used to do drove her into a fit.
Anyway, I think we need Diogenes to make use of Sand Reckoner properly. What's the status on that?

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>>3775770
Not even upset. It's a reasonably healthy amount of paranoia. Good on you guys.

>>3775721
I held fast with my vote, but your timing was fortuitous.

>>3775768

>>3775770
Also, oh god, Galatea is going to look fucking adorable in office clothes.

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>>3775770
>"If we turn on Sand Reckoner, we can figure out where mom is. Where Alex is. We could get them back, today."
I feel like we made a terrible mistake

>>3775770
>>3775776
There aren’t enough smug anime girls in the world for this I told you so.

>>3775770
I feel like we've avoided a huge mistake

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"Smells like NEET sweat in here," Noelle says. She stands at attention at the front door of Galatea's loft, all suited down, hands in front of her, aviators over her eyes. Ridiculous looking. Galatea regards her fearfully.

Whitney picks up the purple geode from Galatea's computer desk and shakes it like a magic 8-ball. "Whoa. What is this thing?"

Galatea grabs for it weakly, but Whitney turns, and keeps her from taking it.

"it's a crystal"

"Duh. What's it for, is the question."

"it's a healing crystal"

Cerise doesn't try to suppress her groan of disapproval, nor her eyeroll.

"Oh shit," Whitney says appreciatively. "I didn't know they made these. What does it heal?"

"anxiety"

Whitney makes rather a show of looking from the geode, to Galatea, then back again. "Is there a money-back guarantee on this thing?" She asks.

"Give it back to her," Cerise says. She doesn't believe in crystals, but she also doesn't like to see Galatea being bullied.

Whitney sets the thing gently back on the table.

"What do you want?" Cerise asks. "Gal's had a long day. Going out is rough for her."

"I'll make it quick, then," Whitney says. "Ya hired."

"erm... i'm sorry... what"

"Ya hired. I want you on the board."

"i... don't understand"

"CIO Anna Soliloquy. What don't you get?"

There's a long, awkward silence. Finally, all Galatea can come up with is:

"why me"

"I need some of that same juju you used to hack my company back when it was bio-dad's."

"for..."

"Don't get mouthy, Gal."

"Wait a second," Noelle says. "You mean--"

"i can't," Galatea says. "i could never..." she spins in her chair and puts her head on her desk, as if to hide in her hands.

"You're Galatea?" Noelle breathes. "The most dangerous -- oh my God. No fucking way."

"yes way" Galatea says, voice muffled.

Noelle shakes her head in disbelief. "We spent so fucking long looking for-- and you-- fuck."

"We really need your help," Whitney says. "We need someone on our team who can keep this Chloe bitch at bay. That someone is you."

"i can't. i'm sorry. i can't."

"There's always the other way," Whitney says. "I know you were behind 3/10, and the FBI is still looking for someone to arrest..."

Cerise is on her feet. "How dare you. You can't threaten Gal like that--"

"I'm sorry," Whitney says, "did your mother get kidnapped by Russian mafia too? Is your company being invaded by the Chinese too? Sit the fuck down."

Cerise does not comply.

"Sit down," Whitney repeats, more sternly.

You gently take Cerise's hand. "Cerise," you say. And this is enough to finally make her sit.

"I like you, Gal," Whitney says. "You're great. I'm sorry I threatened you -- I don't want to force you to do something you're not okay with. I want you to want to do it, because it's the right thing to do. And it'll be good for you."

Gal turns back towards you again, but she's still staring into her own lap. "i don't see how"

"That's why it'll be good for you," Whitney says.

>>3775800
>Noelle in aviators
heh

And Whitney's logic is dizzying, but she's... kinda right? I think?

>>3775800
>"That's why it'll be good for you," Whitney says.
Flawless logic.
>Noelle says. She stands at attention at the front door of Galatea's loft, all suited down, hands in front of her, aviators over her eyes. Ridiculous looking.
Alabaster is a man with no taste

>>3775800
>Whitney picks up the purple geode from Galatea's computer desk and shakes it like a magic 8-ball. "Whoa. What is this thing?"
Amethyst best crystal.

>>3775800
>"i can't," Galatea says. "i could never..." she spins in her chair and puts her head on her desk, as if to hide in her hands.
>"You're Galatea?" Noelle breathes. "The most dangerous -- oh my God. No fucking way."
>"yes way" Galatea says, voice muffled.
I've been waiting for this

>>3775819
It's even funnier when you consider that not only A) she was literally right under her nose the entire time and B) half the world was convinced Cerise was Galatea for so long, and now they're getting married.

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"I'll give you some time to think it over," Whitney says. "But one way or another... well. Welcome to the team." She nods at you. "I'll be waiting downstairs, Ally."

She motions for Noelle, and together, they stride from the loft.

"I can't believe her," Cerise says.

"I -- can't, either," you stammer. "She's on a fucking warpath."

"She's going to do something stupid. Like always. And when it blows up... we'll all be caught in it."

"She really wants her mom back. And she's scared of what this Qiangxiang is capable of. You can understand that, right?"

"I want Renee back, too. That woman saved my life. And Alex -- I care about him just as much as Whitney does. As for the Chinese, of fucking course I'm scared too. It impacts me just as much as anyone. But she's on some dangerous shit here, Alabaster. She's not thinking straight."

"What do you suggest we do, then?"

She doesn't have an answer.

"You should come live with us," you tell Galatea.

"mm"

"I've been trying to tell her that," Cerise says. "It doesn't seem to be sticking."

"You know -- spouses do tend to live under the same roof," you tell Galatea.

"mm"

"It's a fun place to live," you try.

"mm."

"Okay," you say, standing. "I guess I'm gonna have to go there. This is an order."

Galatea looks up at you, agog.

"An official order," you add "An order from -- uh, from sir."

"Come on, Alabaster," Cerise begins. "Do you really think--"

"ok"

Cerise looks over. "What."

"yes sir"

"Oh Jesus Christ," Cerise groans. You smile at her smugly. Shaking her head, Cerise says: "I guess I better get her packed up, huh."

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>>3775824

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>>3775824

>>3775824
What a good slave

>>3775824
wew

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You walk with Whitney back up to her bedroom at home.

When she opens the door, you see something you can hardly believe -- you do a literal double-take. There, in one corner, is a life-sized kennel, made of thin white mesh bars. Like a giant hamster cage. Or maybe more like a rabbit cage. And inside, curled up, is a human being.

"Oh," Whitney says, "she's here."

Whitney's voice wakes her up. She rises, to all fours -- about the tallest posture the cage's dimensions will allow -- stretches her back luxuriously. She yawns, her entire face twitching, and makes a high-pitched, staccato "aaa-hhhh-nnn~" sound from the back of her throat. Blinking rapidly, she smacks her lips a couple times, and then she's looking at you. Samantha Smatters.

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>>3775824
>pulling out the "sir" card
Oh yes.

>>3775824
>"yes sir"
HAH god that girl is so fucked up

>>3775837
Oh my fucking god.

>>3775837
what in the fuck

>>3775837
>Smatters
>In Whitney's bedroom

I think we all see where this is going.

>>3775837
oh fuck

>>3775837
FUCK YES I LOVE YOU OP

>>3775837
HOLY FUCK, YES

>>3775846
Myxomatosis?

>>3775853
>The Californian strain, which is endemic to the west coast of the United States and Baja in Mexico, is the most virulent, with reported case fatality rates of 100%

So this is how Fuck Quest ends.

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>>3775837
SHE'S BACK

>>3775837
Best girl has arrived

>>3775855
Not with a bang, but wit--well, yes, I guess, with a bang. Several, probably. Numerous bangs.

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"Masters!!" Samantha cries with joy. She loops her fingers through the white wire bars of her kennel. She fixes her attention on you. "My name is Samantha Smatters! Maybe you remember cumming inside me! Ms. Whitney hired me to be everyone's live-in bunny onahole!"

You're beyond words.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Whitney asks, feigning displeasure.

"Oh!" Samantha pips. "I'm so sorry! Please forgive me!" Still on all fours, she turns in a semicircle. She hikes one of her legs up, way up, like a dog about to urinate, and presses her bare foot against the place where where the cage's wall and ceiling meet. Her dainty toes grip the bars just like her fingers did moments prior. With Samantha in this lewd position, you see that she's been naked from the waist down all along. Presenting herself like this, her smooth and glistening lower holes drift partway open. Her anus and her cottontail alike twitch invitingly. "Do you want to dump your load, master?" She asks.

You wipe the sweat from your brow. "What are you paying this poor woman to do this?" You marvel.

"Ms. Whitney is paying me with a place to live and lots of dick to cum on!" Samantha says, enthusiastic, still presenting herself.

"Great," you mumble. "So you sold me off as a signing bonus."

"Why just you?" Whitney says, laughing. "Samantha's a cumdump. I was thinking I could give her away as a party favor for all our execs at company functions..."

You're not sure whether you approve. But your dick lurches in your pants of its own volition. Unfortunately, before you can disrobe and give Samantha the payment she so craves -- from behind, you hear footsteps. Amber is approaching with Mom close behind, taking the grand tour from Rose2.

"Alabaster," Mom begins, "We just got in, and I was t-- ghh-- what!!!"

Amber breaks into peals of uncontrollable laughter. Rose2 is too stunned to speak.

Samantha turns back around and grabs the cage again. Her voice strains with adoration and excitement. "Even more masters? Oh my goodness! Hello!"

"S-Samantha?" Mom sputters.

"Scarlett?!"

"What are you d--" Mom looks from her, to Whitney, to you, and can't find an emotion to settle on. Bafflement, anger, raw shock... allurement?

"Don't forget your manners now," Whitney needles.

"Oh!" She locks eyes with Mom. "I am this residence's live-in cum receptacle! Do you want to use me? My mouth is very skilled!" She lets her jaw hang open and her tongue loll wetly out. Thick strands of saliva spiderweb between her incisors and roll down off the tip of her little pink tongue. She sits there like that, expression vacant, mouth awaiting anything any of you care to put in it.

Mom spins and practically runs away; her two daughters follow, one still laughing, the other stuttering. Whitney is already stripping. "You wanna go deal with that?" She asks. "Or try out the new toy?"

You know where your priorities lie.

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>>3775861

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>>3775861
>You know where your priorities lie.

>>3775861
>You know where your priorities lie.
inb4 we actually go deal with Mom instead of our pet bunny

>>3775866
>>3775868
Reminder that Smatters was the school bicycle when Charlotte and Scarlett were at North High

>>3775861
>She fixes her attention on you
Seems Smatters is in heat again, can't be helped

>>3775870
And now Whitney wants to make her the company bicycle. Shou ganai.

>>3775870
And? You don't win by being the only dick they've experienced, you win by being the best dick they've experienced. Just look at Renee.

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Down in the living room, Mom is trying to get her breathing back under control, hand to her breast. "This was -- a terrible mistake." She looks at you. "Amber, maybe we should go back home."

You wave her off. "And miss out on all this tanoshii?"

Rose claps. You knew you'd get her on your side with a little bit of her own lingo.

"You told me yourself that Alabaster's a pervert," you say. "So they keep a literal sex pet in their bedroom. Is that at all surprising? But they're all consenting adults, right? What difference does it make?"

"Just promise me you won't get mixed up in all this debauchery," she says after a turn.

"Oh, sure. You got it. Sure thing." You squint at her. "Should I make you make the same promise?"

She stomps indignantly.

"Nevermind," you say.

Rose leans way off to one side. "Heeeey, Amber."

"Heeeey what."

"Where are you gonna sleep, huh?"

[ ] Your sister's room.
[ ] Your mother's room.
[ ] Alabaster's room.
[ ] Your own room.

>>3775861
>"S-Samantha?" Mom sputters.
>"Scarlett?!"
I'm suprised they still remember each other

>>3775871
Realistically, when isn't she?

>>3775875
> [X] Your sister's room
Tempted though I am to pick "Smatters's cage"

>>3775875
>[ ] Your sister's room.

>>3775875
... well we are in front of our dear mother, after all.
>[x] Your sister's room.
... But that doesn't mean we can't sneak off to >[x]Alabaster's room later, does it?

>>3775875
>[ ] Alabaster's room.
NEED. MORE. AMBER LEWDS

>>3775875
>[ ] Alabaster's room.

>>3775875
>[ ] Alabaster's room.

>>3775875
>[ ] Your sister's room.

>>3775875
>[ ] Your mother's room.
Oyakodon setup?

>>3775875
>[x] Your sister's room.
Sisterly love, anons

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>>3775875
what in the fuck, OP
this might go down in history as episode with hardest choices
[X] Your mother's room.
time to show okaa-chan some affection, billionaire style

>>3775875
>[ ] Your mother's room.

It's hard to say if Ally will actually be sleeping in his room, but we can get a two for one if we lure him to Mom's room.

>[x] Your sister’s room

>>3775881
And who says this won’t lead to more lewds?

>>3775881
"My (non-blood related terrorist) little sister can't possibly be this lewd!"

>>3775875
>[ ] Alabaster's room.
LET'S DICK

>>3775892
I mean, they probably all will but some more than others. Just imagine fucking Amber from both perspectives

>>3775875
>[ ] Alabaster's room.
I'm realising that I don't think Whitney has had her way with Amber yet.

See the funny thing is, I don't think half of you realize that Alabaster isn't even in his room right now.

But Rose probably is.

>>3775875
>[X] Saying your sister's or mother's room.
Then moving to
>[X] Alabaster's room.

>>3775875
>[ ] Alabaster's room.
I'm ready

It's a tie

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I'm gonna call it for tonight. You guys can keep voting and discussing, of course.

Sunday evening at 9 PM EST:

Something lewd!
Something lewder!
Marriage?!
Forgeries?!?!

And more!

>>3775912
Sweet dreams OP

>>3775912
YOU FUCKER good night, OP

>>3775912
Night OP!

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>>3775912
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Sweet dreams~

>>3775912
Thanks for the run, OP!