>>4635314
Welcome to BONES QUEST--thrills and fun for the whole family! Make sure to check out the following resources:
Catch up on previous threads!
>http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Bones%20quest
Twitter account for updates!
>https://twitter.com/DemBonez3
Imgur Page for art!
>https://imgur.com/a/dvF3SCN

STAT BONE-USES (Gained from eating special bone marrow! Nifty!):
>Bone Speed: You’re faster than the average meatbag thanks to stronger tendons and other stuff. You can move quickly and your reflexes are pretty cool too!
>Emu Leg Bones: Leap high, kick harder! Maybe larger toenails, too?
>Beast Claws: Retractable nail claws that allow you to carve, climb, and cling!
>Lil’ Slugger: Harsh practice at the batting cages have made you a demon with bats and bat-like tools. Hit ‘em outta the park!
>Lyd The Way: Talk about an OUT OF BODY experience! Ly can stretch out from your body at a short range to peek around corners! Even better, seems like only magical people can notice him!

Updated ‘LIST OF STUFF YOU HAVE’:
>1 SKULL HOODIE
>1 Pair of BLACK JEANS
>2 SPIKED GOTH BOOTS
>1 PAIR OF SWEET SHADES
>1 CAP with the Good Boy logo and the letters ESC.
>1 coveralls (Note: get these washed)
>2 rubber boots
>1 COMPANY-ISSUED BLACKBERRY.
>1 Dead (and somewhat damp) CELLPHONE
>1 MICROBUCKET (carries around water)
>1 TELESCOPING ALUMINUM MOP (LOANED TO ART)
>1 SPRAY BOTTLE w/CLEANING FLUID! (Note: keep away from skin and mucous membranes. FLAMMABLE)
>1 KEYRING with WORK and APARTMENT KEYS
>1 painfully small WALLET. 67 cents inside made up of various coins. Also a debit card. Chip currently SMUDGED.
>1 super helpful skeleton (Note: Ly insisted you write this down)
>1 TIRE IRON (See Ly, I didn’t forget this. Stop hassling me)
>1 cigar butt
>1 Automated Bone Shaper (ABS) with low battery.
>1 Benetti Handgun that you still haven’t given back to Art. Fully loaded, you hope.
>1 tin of Dr. Harrington’s Hair Wrangler Pomade
>1 TACTICAL FLASHLIGHT

Rolls are handled with a 1d100--I take the best of 3. BONUSES AWARDED FOR WRITE-IN CREATIVITY! Discussion, questions, and critiques are highly-appreciated!

>CONTD.

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>>4635318
“Stay down, Stan…” Ly whispers, “Don’t even THINK about moving!”

The words of your stalwart companion and skeletal system bounce around your braincase like pinballs as you continue to remain as still as possible behind an agave plant. Art lies face-down next to you, his gas mask partly submerged in the sand. Part of you thinks he might be overdoing it a bit, but on the other hand this is the quietest his breathing has been in a while, so… It’ll do.

Sprawled on the ground like fur rugs, you and Art wait for what feels like minutes as the sounds of revelry in the Drive-In below reach your ears. Man, you can smell popcorn too! This sucks!

“Just sit tight, cupcake.” Hisses Ly, peeking past the plant with his astral projection. “He’s right there!”

You’re about to ask who when your skeleton borrows your hand and covers your mouth with it!

“SSSSHH!!!”
Preparing to bite your own hand, you hear an unfamiliar voice ring out along the hill above the Drive-In.

“See anything?!”

Another pair of shoes approaches close enough for you to make them out: sneakers. Wait, what the hell?!

Ignoring Ly’s protests, you peek around the side of the agave and frown--on the ridge stand two pompadour’d greaser skeletons wearing matching leather jackets, jeans, and sneakers carrying hunting rifles in their bony hands!

“Squaresville, baby,” The closer one responds, sparing a hand to adjust his hair, “population US.”

The other shrugs. “Can’t complain about da’ view though, right? Lenny told me da’ show’s about ta’ start.”

As the skeletons continue their discussion, you stare daggers at Ly.

“What?”

Furrowing your brow, you do your best to chew out Ly without alerting the sentries. What does he mean, what?! He made it sound like that specialist was here for you! That Talmud guy or whatever his name was!

“Talbot?” Asks Art’s muffled voice, face still down in the sand.

Yea, him! These guys are small potatoes!

“You hear somethin’?” Asks one of the sentries.

“Somethin’ about potatoes?” Replies the other. You shut up for a second and let silence take over--a moment later the closer sentry shrugs.

“Gotta get a bite ta’ eat. Hope da’ fries aren’t all soggy like they used ta’ be.”

The other chuckles. “Some things never change.”

Suspicions erased, you quietly tap Art’s helmet prompting him to rise from the sand like a zombie.

“Are we clear?”

No, bonehead, but these guys don’t seem like they’re leaving any time soon! Brushing some sand off of his gas mask, Art spares a glance in the direction of the gunmen, then back to you.

“How do you want to deal with ‘em?”

How indeed?
>Push ‘em both off the cliff! Art takes one, you take the other!
>Snap their necks! Quick and easy!
>Sneak up and destroy their skulls--your BONE CLAWS should help!
>WRITE-IN

>>4635322
>Sneak up and destroy their skulls--your BONE CLAWS should help!

>>4635322
>>Sneak up and destroy their skulls--your BONE CLAWS should help!

>>4635401
>>4635604
BOOOOOONE CLAW IS REAAADDDYYYY
Writing!

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>>4635401
>>4635604
You frown as the two sentries continue to discuss movie snacks--if this keeps up you’re going to get hungry again and there’s no damn way you’re doing a mission when your stomach’s rumbling! These guys have to go, but how?

Maybe Sybil or Art mentioned it, but these guys stop working when their skulls are destroyed, right? Like zombies!

“And basically everythin’ else.” Ly adds. Well… Yea. You guess so.

“I’m tellin’ ya--Milk Budds and popcorn? Da’ bee’s KNEES.” Declares one of the guards, shaking his gun for emphasis.

Right, time to dispense some claw and order, you whisper, extending a BONE CLAW out of your pointer finger.

Art responds with the quietest disappointed sigh he can muster as he rises from the ground into what you guess is his ‘sneaking’ posture.

“You KNOW I can’t bend that much right now!” Art hisses through his mask filter. His leg, his leg, HOW could you forget his leg?! When you notice Art isn’t laughing, you stop. He can take the closer goon.

“You got it.” He mutters under his breath. Circling around the back of the agave plant, you and Art approach from behind as quietly as you can…

“Dat’s kid’s stuff. Now usin’ Peanut Butter Plentys? Dat’s da’ bee’s knees, elbows, AND shouldas right there!”

Crap, you’re getting hungry! These guys gotta go!
>Roll 1d100 to succeed in giving these guys one hell of a headache! I’ll take the best of three rolls!

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>4635675

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>4635675

>>4635694
>98
>>4635725
>14

Normally I'd wait a bit longer, but a roll like that? Writing.

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>>4635694
>>4635725
Breathing out slowly you advance, all of your experience playing Frigid Blades running through your mind like a roaring river! Like a homicidal deer you know all of the right places to step without making a noise, and before long you’re creeping up behind the back of the further guard. You wait a moment for Art to get into position, then on a silent count to three, you SPRING!

Placing your hand behind your target’s head, you trigger the ‘switch’ in your hand and unsheathe your BONE CLAW straight through the greaser’s skull AND pompadour! Talk about taking a little off the top!

Before his pal notices, Art clubs him from behind with the butt of his rifle and sends the greaser tumbling to the ground like a sack of potatoes. The skeleton can barely cry out before Art brings a MIGHTY BOOT onto the greaser’s head, crushing it into dust.

Ly lets out a low whistle. “Not bad, you too. You guys even scared ME!”

Before you can reply, you notice the guard in front of you slowly begin to burn away in a burst of blue flames. Hey, you remember this! Art glances between your mark and his, frowning when his skeleton doesn’t catch fire either. You shoot him a smug grin. See, THIS is why you’re in charge!

“Guess so. We haven’t really taken down anyone since the car chase…” Art begins as you snag a burning bone from the floor. “Looks like you were right about being able to snuff these guys out for good...”

You shrug. What can you say, you’re full of surprises! Slicing the tip of the bone off with your claw, you unceremoniously gulp down the marrow inside, much to Art’s disgust. Just like with Terry you feel the fatigue, hunger, and wounds of the day slowly fade! It ain’t popcorn, sure, but it’ll do!

“Wait, it heals you?” Art asks, taking his helmet off to give you an incredulous look. You bet it does! Snatching up another bone before it burns away, you slice it open and hold it out for Art, who gingerly plucks it from your hands.

“You just uh… Slurp it down, huh?” Art asks, voice wavering. What is he, VEGAN?! Just do it, he’ll feel great! Thanks to your encouragement, Art sucks down the bone’s contents, then waits.

Well?

“I mean… It didn’t taste bad, per se…” Art begins, checking his body for any changes, “But other than that…”

Flexing his leg, the operative groans as pain shoots up from his bandaged gunshot wound. Oh great, here he goes again…

“Be nice, Stan.” Ly chastises, waving a ghostly finger at you. Growling in pain, Art plops his helmet back on his head and looks your way.

“Thanks for the idea, but I think the extra benefits are all you.”

Worth a shot, right? Art nods.

“Moving on, nice JOB!” Art remarks, shooting you a thumb’s up. “We took ‘em to the cleaners!”

That you did… But now what?

>CONTD.

>>4635793
>Let’s use the rifles to scout the Drive-In a bit more!
>You cover me from here, Art--I’ll grab a rifle and head for the projection building!
>Let’s try to signal the trio--maybe they know where Rocky might be hiding!
>WRITE-IN

>>4635796
>Let’s use the rifles to scout the Drive-In a bit more!

Gonna hit the sack soon, but I'll check in tomorrow and update around 4PM PST! See you all then.

>>4635796
>Let’s use the rifles to scout the Drive-In a bit more!

>>4635796
>Let’s use the rifles to scout the Drive-In a bit more!
scouting is always good, we should definitely think about how we wanna do our big reveal. I think using the projection screen is the biggest option, we could either project our shadow or something onto it, or drive the van through it at some point.
We got options.

>>4635796
>>You cover me from here, Art--I’ll grab a rifle and head for the projection building!

>>4635796
>>4635835
>>4635897
>>4635959
>Scout it out!

>>4636658
>Head for the projection room!

Writing!

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>>4636857
Now, you begin, you scout with STYLE. Before he can react, you chuck one of the rifles at Art. As he fumbles with the two firearms and TELESCOPING MOP, you pick up the rifle that until recently belonged to the skeleton you just killed and peer through the scope.

Not much has changed since you last looked--looks like a bar fight started in the cowboy movie on screen… Looks like an actual fight started in the parking lot too. Yow, that’s gotta hurt!

Art sidles over to you and starts peering through his rifle’s scope--good, two eyes are better than one, right? Or is it four eyes?

“Doesn’t matter. What do you see?” Ly asks eagerly! You were getting to that! Seems like the fight in the parking lot is still going strong… You shift your sights over to the top of the projection screen and get a glimpse of what appears to be a maintenance catwalk. It takes you a minute, but a pompadour peeking out from behind the screen tells you all you need to know--you’ve got another sniper across from where you are! You nudge Art and point him out, grinning smugly.

“Nice catch.”Art hisses, adjusting his scope a bit. “Whatever we end up doing we’re probably gonna want to take care of that guy too.”

All in good time… What did HE notice?

“More gunmen near the ticket booth--both of ‘em carrying shotguns from the looks of it.”

You peek over at the entrance gate to confirm and sure enough, there they are! Those things will take a chunk out of you, that’s for sure.

“Not going out that way on foot…” Art replies, scanning the rest of the lot. “Looks like the others are enjoying the movie--I don’t see many other guards.”

With a noncommittal grunt your view shifts back to the concession and projector building. Two skeletons stand guard in front with bats while the ba--

WAIT A MINUTE!

Art almost tips over from your sudden outburst! “What?! What is it!?”

That guy near the concession stand entrance! He just mixed Sour Sweeties into his popcorn--that guy’s a MANIAC!

“Yea, totally conflicting flavors.” Art mutters, regaining his balance. “Focus, Stan--we need to find Rocky, remember?”

Yea, yea…

>CONTD.

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>>4636963
That sorted out, you try to get a glimpse of the back entrance to the concession building over the tarp-covered fence. Adjusting your scope a bit you manage to get a glimpse of two guards standing in front of a nondescript door, each one with their hands in their pockets. Guns? Knives? Hard to tell with these goombas.

“Hey, recognize that one?” Art asks, gently nudging your rifle to the right. A skeleton wearing a familiar striped t-shirt approaches the back door, snapping his finger to a tune you can’t hear. Turning the corner to where the back door is, Stripes is immediately accosted by the two sentries!

Pulling switchblades out of their coats, they advance menacingly towards Stripes who, in an attempt to de-escalate the situation, backs away with his hands raised in a placating manner.

As the guards calm down, you notice Stripes scanning the hill you’re on as he retreats. You can’t tell if he sees you or not, but after retreating to a safe place he begins rapidly pantomiming!

He begins with the number 1, then mimes a whistling motion. Flipping a middle finger towards the goons, he then runs in place.

“Hmmm…” Art remarks, “A distraction?”

Quiet down, he’s still miming! A number 2, then whistling again. This performance is easy to understand--he adopts a boxing stance and hops towards the goons.

“Looks like that’s what we want if we want him to start a fight…” Ly mutters.

Lastly, a 3! Stripes just… Walks away. Back towards the gang’s van. You’ve gotta admit, the other performances were cooler…

“Looks like he wants a signal, huh?” Art muses as the two of you lower your rifles. Guess so. Question is, which one should you go wi-

Your train of thought is blown off the rails as the Drive-In suddenly goes DARK! As the sound of skeleton greasers voicing their confusion reaches you on the hill, you’re suddenly blinded by the projector turning on again!

In place of the cowboy movie sits an unfamiliar boney face topped with a humongous pompadour, gold-tinted aviator shades, and, the icing on the cake: gold teeth. ALL OF THEM. You already know who their owner is long before you see the letters R O C K Y etched into their enamel…

ROBBY!

“Rocky, Stan.” Ly huffs.

You meant to say that.. ROCKY!

>CONTD.

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>>4636967
“Goooooooooooooood EVENIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING, CLEARWATER!” With a practiced grin and the voice of a rock star, the leader of the greasers runs his ring-covered fingers through his magnificent hair.

“That must be him…” Art whispers. Duh-DOY!

The Drive-In erupts in a chorus of cheers! “Guess who’s back and ready to set the NIGHT ON FIYAAAAAH!?” Rocky croons, basking in the sound of his own voice. “Rocky’s back, baby, and he’s brought a surprise!”

You frown. Just great--more surprises!

“I know you love it, baby--and I have it on good authority that we’ve got a SPECIAL GUEST HERE TONIGHT!”

You freeze. Wait, wha?

The cheers silence almost immediately as the greasers below scan the area. You can guess who they’re looking for!

“You bet, alley cats,” Rocky continues, demeanor unchanged, “I’m talkin’ about the lady of the hour, the MISTRESS OF DISTRESS, THE BONE-STOMPIN’ BABE HERSELF--STANLEYYYYYYY PARRRRBLLEEEEEE!!!!”

That’s not a special guest at all! Wait, that’s YOU!

“Take it easy, he’s bluffing!” Art utters, patting you on the shoulder, “Just cool down!”

He RUINED YOUR ENTRANCE! YOU THOUGHT HE MEANT SOMEONE ELSE! HE RUINED IT! You were already planning things too! Shaking your fist in anger, Ly floats down to your eye level and points towards where Stripes was.

“We gotta act soon, Stan--these dopes are gonna tear ‘dis place inside an’ out lookin’ for you in a sec’!”

He’s right. What do?
>Signal Stripes to DISTRACT the guards! You can get to the projector through there!
>Signal Stripes to FIGHT the guards! You can help him and regroup!
>Head down alone--Art can cover you if things go south!
>WRITE-IN

>>4636971
>Signal Stripes to DISTRACT the guards! You can get to the projector through there!

>>4636971
>Signal Stripes to DISTRACT the guards! You can get to the projector through there!

>>4637189
>>4637199
Stealthy Stan strikes again! Writing!

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>>4636971
Ly’s right--you’ve got to do something! Getting caught without an appropriate entrance would be lame as hell! Well you’ve got an entrance planned, alright--straight through that BACK DOOR!

Art stares at you for a moment, then nods.

“Alright, I’ll stay behind and cover you from up here. And uh… Whistle four times if you need me. Or scream.”

Easy to remember--you dig it. Giving Art a thumbs up, you wait for an appropriate lull in Rocky’s ongoing speech before letting out the clearest whistle you can muster!

Well?!

“Some of the skeletons are looking around, but--Oh! There he goes!” Art exclaims, pointing in the direction of the back entrance! Stripes comes around the corner running a comb through his hair. You turn back to Art and nod. Showtime.

“Remember,” he begins, adopting a firing position on the ground, “Gene said two LONG whistles to meet up. Just in case we gotta leave in a hurry.”

Yea, you remember! Speaking of hurry, you’ve got a distraction to benefit from! Giving Art one last salute, you jog over to the hill’s edge and slide downwards towards the back entrance of the concession building. In mid-slide you watch as Stripes’ plan launches into action!

You can’t hear what he says to the two goons by the door, but they clearly didn’t like it--he barely has time to sprint around the corner before they chase after him, shaking their knives and shouting 50’s-era expletives as they go. By the time you bump into the base of the fence, the guards are long gone!

“Couldn’ta gone better!” Ly boasts, peering through the fence with his astral form. “Coast is clear, cupcake--move it!”

Yea, yea, no need to tell you twice! Thanks to your BONE SPEED the trip over the fence is easy as pie--they didn’t even put up razor wire or anything! Sloppy mistake.

“Well their mistake is our fortune, right, kiddo?” Ly asks as you drop to the ground on the other side. Brushing the dirt off of your hands, you nod--let’s hope there’s more where that came from! Creeping over to the door, you stick your eye into the keyhole to check inside!

“What do you see?” Ly asks, bending closer to you. Absolutely nothing--you’re pretty sure this only works on old-timey keyholes.

“Lemme try…” Ly pokes his head into the door for a moment, then comes back out.

“Coast is clear!”

With a grin you pull the door open. Or uh… You TRY to. Who would have guessed the guards would LOCK it?

“I guess we shoulda’ saw it comin’.” Ly huffs. “Maybe I can fiddle with it someh-”

No worries, you have a key! Jamming a bone claw into the crack of the door, you slice downwards and chop the lock mechanism in two! With a defeated groan, the door swings open and you enter in silent contentment. Hell yea.

>CONTD.

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>>4637272
Ducking through the now-open door, you and Ly find yourselves in some sort of storage area. Cardboard boxes labelled with various movie concession item brands litter the room, some already opened!

Off in the corner of the room sits an entrance to a hallway--creeping past the boxes of treats you come to a stop right before the entrance and let Ly do his thing!

After surveying the hallway for a few moments, your skeleton’s ethereal body returns to deliver a report.

“Couple a things might interest ya.” Ly states. Okay, shoot!

“First, we’ve got da’ bad: concession counter’s right around da’ corner and it’s packed. Like Intermission packed.”

Okay, you kinda expected that to happen. What else?

“Well, further down the hall is a janitor’s closet.”

And what, he just assumed you’d naturally be drawn there for some reason? Seriously?

“Kinda, yea…”

Well he’s absolutely right! You could probably track down some helpful chemicals and crap in there!

“Lastly, I saw a stairwell down the hall--probably leads to da’ projector room.”

And ROCKY.

“And Rocky.” Ly agrees, nodding his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea ta’ stick around in her for long--they might need ta’ restock the Chewy Creeps. What’s da’ plan?”

Well…
>First thing’s first--this is a ROOM full of CANDY. You’re LOOTING the hell out of it.
>Let’s check out the CONCESSION COUNTER--maybe we can find some cool stuff if we’re sneaky!
>JANITOR’S CLOSET! We’re bound to find cool stuff in there!
>Screw this, let’s head UPSTAIRS. Rocky won’t wait forever…
>WRITE-IN

>>4637275
>JANITOR’S CLOSET! We’re bound to find cool stuff in there!

Getting kinda tired, so I'll check in tomorrow around the usual time--4PM PST. Catch you there!

>>4637275
>First thing’s first--this is a ROOM full of CANDY. You’re LOOTING the hell out of it.
If Rocky knows we're here, they probably set a trap in the janitor's closet

>>4637275
>JANITOR’S CLOSET! We’re bound to find cool stuff in there!

If he trapped it, we have Ly scout it out first. And I now have the idea that we challenge Rocky to a janitorial duel of sorts. Mopo y Mopo.

>>4637275
>>JANITOR’S CLOSET! We’re bound to find cool stuff in there!

>>4637322
>>4637400
>>4638074
>Janitor's Closet!

>>4637385
>Candy!

Writing!

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>>4637322
>>4637385
>>4637400
>>4638074
If there’s one thing being a janitor--er, Evening Sanitation Coordinator has taught you, it’s that janitor’s closets tend to have cool stuff in them. Hell, one time you found this chemical that when you opened it up, it smelled li--erm...

Come to think of it, you don’t really remember that much. Weird! In any case, the closet is your next stop--you’ve spent too long in fresh air today anyways.

Once Ly gives you another ‘all clear’ signal on his ghostly hand, you spring into action! And by that you mean scamper awkwardly out the door and down the hall. As you emerge from the storeroom you finally get a good idea of just HOW many skeletons are at the Drive-In tonight--the sounds of breaking bottles, popping corn kernels, and shouting greasers is almost overpowering--times like this make you glad you quit working retail!

“It was dat’ pizza place, right? Weren’t you FIRED?” Ly asks accusingly as you stoop outside of the closet with a faded Custodial sign on the door. Tomato tomato!

Before he can debate you further, you snap your fingers at Ly and point at the janitor’s closet door. The astral projection droops a bit.

“Seriously? You think ‘DIS place has a janitor around?” He asks, gesturing to the admittedly grimy building. Listen pal, you begin, trying to shake off an ancient piece of gum your hand picked up off the floor, Rocky’s apparently a tricky guy. Which room do you think he would booby trap for us?

Ly floats in place for a moment contemplating the question. “Da’ candy room.”

Right, the Janit--no, the CLOSET! You didn’t even so much as LOOK at the candy in the storage room!

“You totally did,” Ly accuses, “You just shoved a few bags in your pockets while people were voting on da’ next action. I can see them stickin’ outta’ your hoodie.”

Malarky. Stuffing your IMPORTANT ITEMS deeper into your pockets to keep them from falling out, you refocus the subject: Rocky thinks you’ll be checking out the Janitor’s Closet and might have set a trap in there, so go on--check it!

“Would a ‘please’ kill you every now and ‘den?” Ly asks, shoving his head through the door. As he works his magic you spare another glance down the hallway--as far as things go it’s pretty ‘Employees Only’--the hall is barebones save for the stairway leading up to the projector room and the door to the concession counter. You frown--you’re not sure what to think about Rocky calling you out like that, but you don’t really like it!

Ly returns shortly after, a dopey grin on his face. Well?!

“I won’t spoil da’ surprise. Go gettem, cupcake.”

You’ve had enough surprises lately, thanks.

>CONTD.

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>>4638274
You push the door open as quiet as a church mouse and slip in undetected. It only takes a moment for you to feel the familiar dark, clammy, and chemical-laden atmosphere of the Janitor’s Closet, and after taking a moment to bask in the feeling, you smile.

You’re home.

“That’s kinda sad, cupcake.” Ly mutters. Yea, well who asked him? Your mood spoiled, you feel around for the light switch and manage to snag a loose string hanging from the ceiling. With a quiet click the room becomes illuminated by a solitary swinging bulb, and with that the whole room reveals itself to you.

Behind a weathered desk covered in ancient work orders sits a faux-leather swivel chair, its brown color almost gone from years of use. A rack of cleaning agents sits pressed against the wall--some of the labels faded beyond recognition--good thing you can smell!

That’s not what catches your attention, though, no--what grabs your eyes is what’s sitting in its own separate hook behind the desk--a marvel of engineering, style, and power--to call it a treasure wouldn’t do it justice! In truth, you’d need a million years to properly describe the majesty your eyes have laid upon--

“I knew you’d dig it, kiddo.” Ly grins.

Sitting on its own hook is none other than the Floor-Kaiser 500--a TELESCOPING MOP with a thirst for the blood of bacteria and a blue steel shaft… Even better, some magnificent son of a bitch put RACING STRIPES on this thing.

“You uh… You wanna take it for a spin, cupcake?” Ly asks, not wanting to disturb your mirth, “Or do we wanna look around first?”

What indeed?
>Test the MOP! TEST IT!
>Check out those CHEMICALS--those could be fun.
>Maybe that DESK has something interesting?
>WRITE-IN

>>4638276
>Test the MOP! TEST IT!
Our sacred tool, the implement of our conquest. That which cleanses and brings forth brightness. The mop, cleanly be its name. Amen.

>>4638276
>>4638284
actually I change my vote, that mop is so tempting. But we gotta explore our options, but we are NOT leaving until we have that thing in our possession.
>Maybe that DESK has something interesting?

>>4638286
DESK it is! Writing!

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>>4638286
You longingly brush your fingers against the mop handle. No, that will have to wait or you’ll forget everything else. Besides, it’s been hours since you’ve invaded anyone’s privacy--why not kick it off with this desk?

Slumping into the aged swivel chair, you nearly fall on your back as you find out just how far back the seat bends! Scrambling back upright, you adjust your cap and take a look at the desk. The first thing you notice, of course, are the work orders. A LOT of ‘em. ‘Clean the popcorn machine’, ‘order new projector parts’, ‘check the water heater’... The list goes on. You won’t pretend you’re the best employee around, but come on--this is just sloppy!

“Sloppy…” Ly begins, hovering over the desk, “Or intentional…”

You follow Ly’s eyes to a printed missive peeking out from a pile of orders and candy wrappers. Brushing them away, you take a moment to read what appears to be some sort of resignation!

Dear morons, Wow, starting off strong!

I might as well be ‘captain’ considering how long I’ve kept this place afloat, but I’ll be DAMNED if I stick around and sink with the ship. I don’t care about your ‘retro-chic’ fantasies or any of that bullshit--if you morons buy a Drive-In and don’t maintain it, you’re not going to have anything to Drive-In to! I’ve been nice. I’ve been cordial. I’ve been downright ANGELIC, but now I’ve had enough. Maybe when I’m gone you yuppie bastards will learn that you NEED TO ORDER PARTS for your machines to work and you NEED TO ORDER CLEANING PRODUCTS to keep things clean!

I’ve left The Kaiser behind for you two dopes to practice with--consider this my resignation.

P.S: That water heater behind the restrooms is a deathtrap--if someone so much as looks at it the wrong way it’ll turn this place into a crater. Consider yourselves warned. Again.

Go to hell,

Eddie


Yow.

“You said it, kiddo. Interesting bit about da’ heater, though.” Ly muses.That also explains why this room is so damn empty, too… Peering below the desk you almost forget to check the drawers! A cursory search reveals a few items of note--a faded bottle of PILLS, a ZIPPO LIGHTER, some MARBLES, and even a PAINTER’S RESPIRATOR! Maybe that can help you stop smelling that weird MARKER smell around your nose…

>CONTD.

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>>4638426
Gathering up the items and stuffing them into your pockets, you take one last look around the desk for anything of note. Only one last thing catches your eye--as you fish around in the waste basket below the desk you notice some words carved into the bottom of the desk--

‘Eddie was here--6/16/58’

Extending a bone claw, you carve a few words of your own--

‘Stan was too--Day 2 of Skeletons’

With a satisfied nod you come back up from under the desk and contin--

OW! DAMN IT!!

Your head hits the bottom of the desk with a loud THUMP! As you hiss and rub the point of impact, Ly stoops down with a sympathetic look on his boney face.

“Oh jeez, kid… You gotta be careful..”

You’re FINE! Let’s just pick another option and forget it!
>TEST THE MOP! TEST THE MOOOOOP!
>Check out those chemicals!
>Leave. You’re done here.
>WRITE-IN

>>4638428
>Check out those chemicals!

>>4638428
>Check out those chemicals!

>>4638428
>Check out those chemicals!
If we chuck a bunch of random chemicals inside the heater and make it blow up, we might be able to take down Rocky in the ensuing chaos (assuming we don't just straight blow him/ourselves to pieces).

>>4638426
Hey OP, quick question: you ever heard of a webcomic called "dead.winter" ?

>>4638777
>>4638947
>>4638969
Looks like we're about to do some chemistry! Writing!

>>4638969
Funny you should mention--I think an anon in thread 2 or 3 brought that webcomic up as well. I had never heard of it before and decided to marathon it--can definitely see the resemblance now! Pretty good stuff--really like the artist's style and the humor's pretty on point . Sometimes I get a little annoyed with the protagonist, though. Still, not a bad comic to be compared to!

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>>4638777
>>4638947
>>4638969
You take a moment more to massage your aching head, then stumble over to the shelf of chemicals. The labels seem to have faded away eons ago, but at least the caps are still on the bottles, right?

“How do we know which one’s which?” Ly asks, bending closer to the veritable JUNGLE of cleaning agents. Well, you begin as you puff out your chest, cleaning is kinda like cooking--there are guidelines to follow, but a lot of it is improv!

“Meaning?” Ly asks, a wary look in his eye.

Meaning move over, you’ve got this! Cracking your knuckles, you systematically uncap every bottle, then begin the painstaking process of sniffing the contents of each. You think you hear Ly say something, but you ignore it--you tend to get woozy doing this method and you need to focus on the SCENTS!

A few minutes later you stagger backwards and rest against the desk. Once the room stops moving and your vision stops swimming, you manage to pick up Ly’s chalkboard-scratching voice amidst the sound of your heartbeat, waves crashing, and some weird high-pitched whine in the back of your ear.

Probably nothing.

“Ou okay?! Da’ hell were you thinki-” Ly lectures. You’re more than okay--you’ve managed to identify all of the important crap on that shelf!

“Okay,” Ly sighs, “What did you learn, cupcake?”

Bleacho Max, Gutter Getter, Germacide, TILEminator... They’re all heavy-duty products.

“And?”

And, you might have a few recipes floating around in your head for these things. Recipes that will help with the current predicament.

“I’m listenin…”

No, Ly, SEEING is believing! You’ll whip something up for him that he’ll love! One thing, that is--you’re not sure there’s enough chemicals for a lot of stuff.

What do you make to impress Ly?
>A Chemical Flamethrower! Your spray bottle, the lighter, and these chemicals make for a spicy treat!
>Chemical bombs! Always a BLAST to have around! You’re pretty sure you can whip three up.
>Acid Spray! It’s really powerful, especially against LIVING THINGS! You’d better take it with you.
>Something completely different, but still amazing… (WRITE-IN)

>>4639068
>Something completely different, but still amazing… (WRITE-IN)
ACME(tm) Patented Extremely Slippery Oil.
We can use the boiler to blow up the building, so bombs are a bit extraneous. But oil can be spread behind us during retreat to slow down and confuse the enemy.

>>4639168
>>4639068
+1, bone doesn't have good traction either.

>>4639168
>>4639269
Oil begin writing now!

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>>4639168
>>4639269
This time on Stewin’ With Stan you’ll be putting together a treat for the whole family: an EXTREMELY slippery oil--E.S.O as you prefer to call it. Truth be told you came up with it when trying to deal with an extremely nasty bit of mold at work--while it didn’t clean the mold it DID make for some interesting times when people kept slipping all week!

That was a tough meeting to sit through.

In any case, this slippery stuff should be pretty handy given the circumstances. Any weekend anarchist can whip up a flamethrower or bomb--it takes a TRUE specialist to make something useful! Gathering up the chemicals in your arms, you take them over to the janitor’s desk and brush the work orders off of the surface--time to get to work!

>Roll 1d100 to see how well you do and how much product you make! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>4639588
>Roll 1d100 to see how well you do and how much product you make! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!
Lets hope we learned something when we were cheating in chemistry class.

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>4639588

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>4639588

>>4639628
>>4639705
>>4639843
>Highest roll: 50

Writing!

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>>4639628
>>4639705
>>4639843
With all of the ingredients present and the memory clear in your head, it doesn’t take long for your hands to start working on autopilot--a dash of carpet cleaner, a cap full of dish soap… Ly watches you like a dog waiting for scraps, eager to see just what the hell you’re making!

Unfortunately you’re a bit more rusty than you remember--maybe it’s the pressure of someone watching, your uncomfortable sobriety, or that WEIRD MARKER SMELL YOU CAN’T GET RID OF, but whatever it is causes you to spill a lot more than you’re accustomed to.

That being said, with a final spritz of wood cleaner for that oh-so-fresh pine scent, you take a few triumphant steps away from the desk to admire your handiwork--a whole liter’s worth of STAN’S EXTREMELY SLIPPERY OIL! Patent pending!

Ly scratches his ghostly head.

“Care to uh… Care to explain what we’ve got here, cupcake?”

Oh right, no labels. With a twirl and a wink you introduce your skeleton to your latest invention: a marriage of all-natural synthetic ingredients and a little bit of love--a lubricant capable of causing even the most CAREFUL pedestrian to slip, and potentially even a bike or two as well! You hold for applause, but it doesn’t come.

“Slippery stuff, huh? Could come in useful.” Ly remarks, his face unchanging. You shrug--seeing is believing, right? He’ll be begging for someone to help him lift his jaw off the floor when he sees it in action! As your skeleton gives you a polite “Can’t wait”, you tuck the bottle of EXTREMELY SLIPPERY OIL into your inventory with the rest of the crap. You’ve said it before, but man--these pockets are enormous!

“Anything else, cupcake?” Ly asks, glancing towards the door. You respond with a grin--oh, you bet your ass there is!

>CONTD.

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>>4639983
Immersion: https://youtu.be/7Lh_C_Q0BH8

Drawing it from the wall hook like a mythical sword, you take The Kaiser in your hands and test the weight--impressive, whoever owned this before balanced it themselves! Even the ends aren’t lighter or heavier than the other! The cold metal sends shivers down your spine as you run your fingers down the mop handle--barely a hint of soap, dirt, or grease. Not bad at all!

Pivoting, you spin the mop in your hands like a baton, taking a few steps and then tossing it into the air! As it spins towards the floor again you pirouette and extend a hand behind your back, catching the mop in your outstretched palm! With a grunt you flick the mop’s head outwards, sending a mighty gust towards the closet walls.

Planting the mop on the floor you use your newfound BONE SPEED to hop up and spin around the handle like a pole. On the second spin around you kick off of the wall with your feet, flipping towards the desk! The mop travels in an arc behind you, and as it reaches its apex you bring it down on the desk with a SLAM, launching a flock of work orders into the air!

Grinning, you twirl the mop behind your head, transferring the grip from hand to hand, ending with a front-flourish that catches every paper mid-air! Launching the waste basket below the desk with your spiked boot, you bring the mop around like a wizard’s staff--sending a magic missile of PAPERS rocketing into its waiting maw.

Spinning the mop around your head one last time, you slam the hook end onto the ground with a resounding ‘CRACK’ in perfect sync with the waste basket landing on the desk. Clicking the ‘FOLD’ button on the mop’s side, you toss the shrinking tool in the air and catch it in your outstretched hoodie pocket.

The janitor’s closet sits silent for a while, still recovering from the spectacle it just witnessed. A moment of silence later, Ly grins.

“You like it, cupcake?”

You’re absolutely CRAZY about it!

>CONTD.

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>>4639984
Satisfied, you and Ly make for the Janitor’s closet door. You crouch next to the door frame as Ly scouts outside, and a moment later he gives you an ‘all-clear’. Slipping through the open door, you scamper down the hall as a flustered-looking skeleton hefts a crate of snacks towards the concession counter in the other room!

Darting towards the end of the hallway, your eyes come across a narrow spiral staircase covered in a popcorn-encrusted purple carpet leads upwards, the sound of a projector barely audible over the shouting skelegreasers!

“You ready for dis’, cupcake?” Ly asks, a look of determination on his face.

You bet you are. Creeping up the stairway like a cat, it doesn’t take you long to reach the second floor. The carpet ends in front of a set of wooden double doors, the paint all but stripped away from years of use. A small placard with the word ‘Projector’ watches over the two doors. As you survey the landing, you can’t help but frown. No guards? No traps? The hell?

“Your guess is as good as mine, kiddo.” Ly shrugs. Before you can ask him to, Ly is already peeking through the doors with his ghostly powers. A moment later he comes back, a neutral look on his face.

“He’s in a chair--Back’s facin’ us, so I can’t get a good angle on ‘im. What’s da play here, cupcake?”

This is it! Time to give him a proper entrance!
>Kick the doors open!
>Slice the doors into pieces with your BONE CLAWS!
>Open the doors quietly--maybe you can ninja this.
>SOMETHING ENTIRELY DIFFERENT (WRITE-IN)

>>4639985
>Slice the doors into pieces with your BONE CLAWS!

>>4639985
>Open the doors quietly--maybe you can ninja this.

>>4639985
>Slice the doors into pieces with your BONE CLAWS!
>Slice them then kick the pieces in as well
Presentation!!!

>>4639988
>>4640136
>SLICE N DICE

>>4640019
>STEALTH

Writing!

>>4639985
It's a dummy, I'm calling it. You anons went right inro his trap.

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>>4639988
>>4640019
>>4640136
>>4640265
Last post of the night, but I'll check in tomorrow around 10AM PST!

The play? Yea, you’ve got a play, alright.

Taking a few steps back for good measure, you take a deep breath--sounds like Rocky’s saying something, but you have a feeling he’s going to lose his train of thought in a minute or so.

It’s time. Lunging forward with your claws out, you decide to avoid the misstep you made with King before and SLICE the door up BEFORE kicking it. Your practice swinging through the trees earlier pays off--your claws tear through the doors like hot knives through butter, and before the chunks of aged and splintered wood can fall to the floor, you follow up with a spin kick and send a hail of door sailing into the back of Rocky’s chair!

The chunks connect with a loud thump, causing the swivel chair to spin on its axis. You’re already half-way across the room before it turns, though! As you scamper forward claws outstretched and screaming like a banshee, you begin to notice something… Fishy.

For one, Rocky’s a lot smaller than you anticipated, which is even weirder since you remember him having legs. Sitting on the swivel chair is a laptop--one of the kind you’d find on sale in an electronics store--and on its screen is the same image projecting onto the Drive-In screen outside--Rocky’s smug face.

“Well well well, look what the cat dragged in…” The skeleton croons, shooting you a shiny grin from the safety of the computer screen. You pause in mid-stride, a goofy look cemented on your face.

“Ain’t technology a kick? Lemme tell ya’ somethin’ pussycat--I know I sound old-fashioned, but you kids don’t know how good you’ve got it!”

“Stan…” Ly begins, his voice wavering, “Da’ guys outside--they’re hearin’ dis conversation…”

That means two things: ONE, you might be able to use that to your favor, and TWO, you really don’t want to sound lame right now--you’re on TV after all!

“Sorry, dolly,” Rocky sighs, “I didn’t get ‘dis far in life by rushin’ into one-on-one duels, dig? Sometimes ya’ gotta use dis’ thing right here…” The greaser boasts, tapping himself on the skull--Smug bastard!

Well, here you are. And here he… Kinda is. Now what?

“Now?” Rocky asks, with mock consideration in his voice, “Now I leave you to my boys, let my boss know da’ good news, and hopefully retire as the new ruler of da’ West Coast. Not a bad plan, huh?”

It isn’t, but hold on a sec, you’ve got a bone to pick with him! With an unamused sigh, the greaser narrows his eye sockets.

“Alright, toots, ya’ get one sentence in. One. Figure ya’ deserve some last words ‘dat ain’t screams…”

>CONTD.

>>4640277
What do you say? Remember, you’re on camera!

>You and your boney buckaroos are DEAD.
>Hold--what you are doing to us is wrong! Why do you do this thing?
>That’s it? Didn’t peg you for a wuss…
>Your boys aren’t as loyal as you think…
>WRITE-IN

>>4640279
>Hold--what you are doing to us is wrong! Why do you do this thing?
Provoke the villain monologue to buy us time!!!

>>4640279
>Ruler of the West Coast? You're about 70 years out of date, you've gone past retro and into FOSSILIZED! Rockabilly stopped being cool a long time ago.

>>4640277
>Shoulda expected this, you were a huge coward even when you were alive. Everyone from East Side knows that. The only thing you were good at was making your boys eat bullets while making you money, and you're still at it. The one time you accepted a fight you cheated, and looks like even that was too scary for you!

>>4640279
>Write-In: "Send in your cronies! I'll just mop the floor with them, taking out the trash is my job!" *followed by dramatically unfolding our new weapon.

>>4639984
Looking at this, I dread the day Stan gets her hands on a halberd.

>>4640340
+1

>>4640340
>>4640461
>Call him out

>>4640285
>Monologue

>>4640334
>Insult

>>4640380
>Challenge

Writing!

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1.66 MB GIF

>>4640285
>>4640334
>>4640340
>>4640380
>>4640461
You pause for a minute as everything sinks in. Here you are ready to fight the big bad greaser, and instead you get a laptop? What is he, a Saturday Morning Cartoon Villain?

Unable to control yourself, you begin giggling--Then flat-out laughing! Rocky’s smug face turns confused, then perturbed.

“Stan?”

You clutch your sides, but you can’t hold it in!

“Stop it!”

Rocky, you’re pitiful! You should have expected this crap from him--after all, he was a huge coward even when he was alive…

You see Rocky’s jaw vibrate as he tries to maintain his cool composure. Maybe you struck a nerve?

“You…” He stammers, “You callin’ me a chicken, freak?”

Hey, if it looks, sounds, and smells like a chicken, then… Well, he knows the rest. And so does every other bony throwback from East Clearwater!

If he still had veins you’re sure there’d be one bulging on Rocky’s forehead right now. Good thing Art gave you the deets in the van!

“What are you sayin’, kitten?” The greaser growls, narrowing his eye sockets.

You’re sayin’ the only thing Rocky was good at was making his ‘boys’ eat lead while he made money! Look at him now--he’s going to let his cronies do all the work again!

You can hear greasers talking outside--maybe you’re going somewhere with this!

“What are… That’s baloney, kid--”

Is it? The name ‘Cliff’ ring a bell?

That shuts up everyone, especially Rocky. Ly nods at you approvingly like a dad watching his kid in the school play.

“Hey now--”

Hey is for horses! That chicken race with Cliff was the one challenge he didn’t back down from, and look how that turned out! Brake malfunction? PLEASE.

“You weren’t there, don’t you even’ think abo-” Rocky’s sweating now--you’re not sure how given the whole ‘skeleton’ thing, but he’s sweating!

The one time he accepted a challenge, he CHEATED.

Each letter blasts out of your mouth like a cannon ball--hitting Rocky with a similar amount of force!

Even then it looks like it was too scary for him--how far did he even drive before mashing the breaks, big guy?

The whole Drive-In falls silent as you utter those last words--you’re pretty sure you heard some popcorn drop on the pavement! Crossing your arms, you await a response from the greaser’s stalwart leader…

>CONTD.

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>>4640789
It arrives a few moments later. Forcing a good-natured laugh, Rocky regains his trademark composure and smiles in the camera.

“Well, someone’s done their homework…” As the words come out of his mouth, Rocky’s grin falls for a second--it only falls for a moment, but on his face you recognize the unmistakable look of a cornered animal.

An animal that REAAAAALLLY wants you dead.

“Tell you what, then, kitten,” He begins, his face regaining shape, “How about you and I put our money where our mouths are… If you really want a final duel, I’m more than happy to give ya’ one...”

Weird, two seconds ago he was going to leave that to his goons!

“Let’s just say you convinced me.”

Sure you did. Let’s hear it, then, you say, crossing your arms.

“Speakin’ of homework, you know who didn’t always do hers?” Rocky asks.

Uh, bullshit--Sybil always does homework. She’s… Oh. He means you.

“Yea, funny thing--did you know these schools keep everyone’s records even after they graduated?”

You hear the shuffling of papers. No, he can’t be!

“Turns out you an’ I went to ‘da same Alma Mater--guess ‘dat makes us siblings in academia, or whatever…” Rocky purrs. “Maybe that’ll clue you in on where I am.”

Clearwater High. That son of a bitch!

“You want a duel? Let’s make it honest AND entertainin’--seein’ as how it wasn’t back in da’ Cliffy days…”

You frown--what kind of duel can you even do at a school? Cafeteria food fight? Spelling Bee? Rocky shakes his head.

“Guess you ain’t much of a pugilist… There’s a boxin’ ring stowed away in da’ gymnasium.”

So? What does liking pugs have to do with THAT? Rocky and Ly both sigh.

“Boxing, kitten. Let’s settle ‘dis with our fists…”

Hold on, what if you don’t want to meet at school OR box? Why does HE get to choose? Rocky shrugs.

“Thought you wanted an’ honest fight, kid, but if you’re too chicken ta’ go mano-a-mano, well…”

Crap, he’s doing what you just did to him!

“I guess I could just read off a few things from your records here…” He muses, papers shifting off-camera. “Wow, paydirt! Hey guys, wanna hear what Stan talked to da’ school counselor about?”

A roar of cheers rises from the Drive-In as you look on in horror! NO WAY! You stay the heck away from those records, punk!

“Come down to da’ school and make me, kitten.” Rocky sneers, back in his element. “I’ll even sweeten’ da’ deal for ya: if you manage ta’ make it here AND beat me fair n’ square, I might just do somethin’ for you, whaddaya’ say?”

What DO you say? What are your terms?
>If I win, your gang is MINE.
>If I win, you tell me where your other pals are hiding.
>If I win, you tell your goons to stay away from humans!
>If I win… (WRITE-IN)

>>4640794
>If I win, you tell me where your other pals are hiding.
either this or the Gang, but this might be more directly useful.

>>4640794
>If I win, you tell your goons to stay away from humans!

>>4640794
>If I win, you tell me where your other pals are hiding.

>>4640805
>>4640915
>Intel!

>>4640825
>Humans are off-limits!

Writing!

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>>4641091
You can’t help but frown--it looks like your gamble worked, but at what cost?! Now you’ve gotta fight this guy in a boxing match… At SCHOOL. You never thought you’d head back to that prison, that’s for sure…

Alright, you begin, but if you win you want INFO. Info on Rocky’s fellow bosses! The greaser snorts.

“Deal--it’s an all-or-nothin’ kinda thing in my mind anyways--if I’m not going to win, why should any of them?”

Not exactly a team player attitude, but okay. So you’ll uh… Just see him at the school then?

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it.” Rocky smiles. “Oh, one more thing, though.”

Depends on what it is!

“What do you call a bird that hangs out in lakes and eats breadcrumbs?”

“Stan, DUCK!” Ly shouts! Yea, you know--you were just about to sa--

OH, GOT IT!

>ROLL 1d100 for absolutely no reason at all. Really, no biggie, but I’ll take the best of three rolls anyways! Your BONE SPEED might give you a BONE-us here too, who knows?!

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>4641113

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>4641113

>>4641115
>>4641138
Gotta hit the road in a little bit, so I'll write an update now based on the rolls I see!

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>>4641115
>>4641138
Ly’s warning and your natural speed send you tucking and rolling, dodging who or WHATEVER was behind you with the added bonus of knocking Rocky’s laptop out of the chair.

Scrambling to your feet, you turn around to get a glimpse of your would-be assailant. Barely fitting through the doorway stands a colossal greaser skeleton wearing dark shades and a leather jacket carrying a long pipe, but that’s not what catches your eyes!

immersion time! https://youtu.be/ApreCAQiZ4w

On the skeleton’s ribcage is an etched image of a wolf, the letters N I C O carved into the top near the collarbone!

“Nico’s gonna rip out your arms and strangle ya’ with em’, TWERP!”

Ohhhhh crap.

As you step back towards the projector window, Rocky’s voice crackles throughout the projector room and the Drive-In:

“Sorry, kitten--some of da’ boys are real go-getters--can’t help it if they wanna piece of you first! But hey, assuming you get to ‘da school in one piece, I’m all yours, baby!”

With one last wink the laptop and projector go dark. As you turn back to Nico, you barely avoid the pipe from before spinning towards you in the air! The projectile whizzes by you and slams into the projector room’s wall with a loud CRACK! Regaining your footing, you freeze as the entire wall crumbles, revealing you, Nico, and the remains of the projector room to the whole Drive-In!

“ANYONE INTERFERES,” Nico roars, “AN’ NICO’S COMIN’ FOR YA NEXT!”

An audience forms, half excited, half confused at the spectacle. You spread your feet out a bit and adopt a fighting stance as Nico cracks his neck back and forth.

“Careful, cupcake…” Ly begins, “Dis’ guy’s no slouch!” Yea, you sense that!

With a bestial roar, Nico charges at you, arms outstretched! You’ve gotta do something, but WHAT?
>Dodge! Maybe he’ll fall!
>Counterattack with a weapon (CLAWS, MOP, WRITE-IN)
>Block!
>WRITE-IN

>>4641285
>>Counterattack with a weapon (CLAWS, MOP, WRITE-IN)
MOP!

>>4641291
+1
MOP TIME BABY!

>>4641291
support

>>4641291
>>4641303
>>4641537
Mop counterattack it is! Writing!

>>4641291
>>4641303
>>4641537
Sorry folks, was gone the whole day. Thanks for being patient!

As the frenzied throwback closes in, you stand your ground and reach for The Kaiser! Feeling your fingers wrap around it, you wait for the perfect moment for a counterattack!

>Roll 1d100 to succeed--I’ll take the best of three. Remember, creativity can only help your rolls!

Rolled 4 (1d100)

>>4642021
>Roll 1d100 to succeed--I’ll take the best of three. Remember, creativity can only help your rolls!

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>4642021

Rolled 29 (1d100)

>>4642021

>>4642046
>>4642051
>>4642066
>Highest roll: 54.
Writing!

>>4642046
>>4642051
>>4642066
Nico charges towards you roaring like the skeleton of a very pissed off grizzly bear!

“Steady, cupcake!” Ly adds, spoiling your concentration. Zip it!

You rest your hand on the TELESCOPING MOP in your hoodie pocket and wait for the right moment--timing is everything when cleaning a mess!

As Nico gets in range of your mop, you STRIKE!

Clicking the ‘extend’ button on the mop, you tear The Kaiser out from your pocket with insane speed and swing for the brute’s legs!

That’s how it goes in your head, anyways. Turns out you haven’t really gotten the hang of this mop yet and your hands were a little sweaty, so it almost slips out of your grasp and you end up snagging it and stumbling to the side at the same time.

To your credit Nico doesn’t exactly CATCH you, but he doesn’t really miss you either--with a loud WHUMP you and the skeleton topple out of the convenient new exit in the projector room and topple to the parking lot below!

Both you and Nico land on a hot rod with a crunch, and while you use your momentum to roll off, Nico grabs at your legs!

“SIT STILL, YA’ FREAK!”

Of course you realize that isn’t an option. Leaving the crushed hood of the car, you retreat a few steps back as a crowd of skeleton greasers forms around you. Fuming, Nico hops off the side of the car and advances, murder in his eyes!

“Hey, mack, dat’s my CAR.” A tough-looking skeleton pushes through the crowd, rolling up his sleeves as he approaches your assailant. Before he can get a word in, however, Nico interrupts him in classic Nico fashion by picking him up and chucking him your way!

How do you react? Hopefully well!
>Duck and dodge!
>Send this goon back at him!
>Run for cover behind a car!
>WRITE-IN

>>4642111
>Send this goon back at him!
Tell Nico "Hey! This is between us! You don't mess with another guys car!"

Feelin' a bit tuckered out and need to prepare for work tomorrow, but I'll check in again tomorrow around 4PM PST!

>>4642111
>Duck and dodge!

Friendly reminder that the water heater behind the restrooms can still be used as a bomb.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4642129
>Send him back!
>>4642215
>Dodge!

Flipping a coin and writing the result!

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>>4642129
>>4642215
You didn’t order a plate of goon--time to send it back to the kitchen! You feel time dilate as your reflexes kick in--raising your mop in a batting position, you choke up on the handle and prepare to hit a home run!

“Square your feet and bend dem’ legs, kid!” Ly hisses, moving your legs a bit farther apart!

A single, at least. Frankly you’d just rather not get hit by this guy.

“Mmrmrm…” You hear a faint mumble emanating from your pockets. “I needed that shut-eye…”

Your pal Sybil, still broadcasting from that weird doll, emerges from your hoodie and stretches a bit.

“Oh, what did I miss?”

Kinda busy here!

>Roll 1d100 to knock ‘er outta the park!

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>4643058

bones we maid it

>>4643644
>>4643699
That you did! Had dinner and thought I wrote down the 'I'll take best of 3' bit, but I didn't!

Writing!

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>>4643644
You grit your teeth and grip the mop tighter as the memories of all of the nights at the batting cage come back to you. You remember the sweat, the sound of the ball leaving the pitcher machine, and, coincidentally enough, the texts and calls you’d receive from Sybil in the mid-pitch.

Yes, you think to yourself, the conditions are almost perfect! Ly watches from your side and Sybil from your pocket as you bring The Kaiser back, and with a swing only several hundred dollars’ worth of batting cage sessions could provide, you feel the mop handle connect with the greaser-turned-projectile.

“Jus’ washed dat car-”

You feel the skeleton stop in mid-air, then rocket the other way like a tape rewinding! Nico’s eye sockets go wide behind his shades, clearly not expecting this course of action, and before he can move his bulk to the side the flying goon connects with his center of mass, exploding on impact into a shower of bones, 50’s apparel, and cigarettes!

Stumbling backwards, Nico manages to keep his balance by steadying himself on the smashed car behind him.

“Why I oughta...”

The big greaser wraps his bony fingers around the side of the car and starts tugging. You don’t know what the hell he’s planning, but it’s probably something painful!

“Get him, cupcake! He’s open!” Ly cheers.

“Wait, he might be baiting you!” Sybil says, slowly regaining her bearings.

You don’t know what he’s doing, but it looks like your turn! What do you do?

>Time to clean up his act! Get him with the mop!
>You’re gonna CLAWbber this dope! Bone Claw attack!
>Use an ITEM! Now’s your chance! (WRITE-IN)
>He’s distracted--run!
>Do something else! (WRITE-IN)

>>4643728
Also going to head to bed now, but I'll check in tomorrow around the usual 4PM PST time. Seeya then!

>>4643728
>Time to clean up his act! Get him with the mop!
Nico didn't seem like someone to resort to bait.

>>4643728
>Time to clean up his act! Get him with the mop!
Lets wash the floor with this rockabilly wannabe

>>4643728
>Time to clean up his act! Get him with the mop!

>>4643763
>>4643785
>>4644069
Mop Mob has Spoken! Writing!

>>4643763
>>4643785
>>4644069
You’ve seen how this knucklehead works and you know that leaving him to his own devices is hazardous to your health! Ignoring Sybil’s warning, you scamper forward with the mop clutched in your hands ready to give Nico a few dents to match those on the car!

As you close the distance, you hear the shriek of tearing metal as Nico’s hand slowly pulls away with a chunk of HOT ROD! Better act fast!

>Roll 1d100 to determine the success of your Mop Attack--I’ll take the best of 3! Detailed attack descriptions give your roll bonuses, so describe away!

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>4644829

Rolled 17 (1d100)

>>4644829
>Roll 1d100 to determine the success of your Mop Attack--I’ll take the best of 3! Detailed attack descriptions give your roll bonuses, so describe away!
Clean his dome!

>>4644911
>>4645043
>Highest roll: 88

Also, in the interest of eventually finishing this quest I'll probably start calling votes if they go long enough--can never tell whether I'm updating too fast or two slow in here!

Anyways, writing!

File: f302ef2b2ebfab57d7c029e5b(...).gif (1.7 MB, 500x665)

1.7 MB GIF

>>4644911
>>4645043
Unfortunately this will also be my last update of the night--will check in tomorrow around 4PM PST as usual along with the new voting policy. Thanks for your patience!

You bring the mop downwards as the gorilla-sized greaser tears a door from the crushed car to presumably crush you with! Your two weapons clash together with a CLANG that rings throughout the Drive-In, and while you’re no match for Nico’s sheer strength, you find an opening and seize it!

As Nico’s door slams against the top half of your mop, you use the force to propel the bottom half upwards! Before he can duck, you slam the end of your mop square into his jaw, causing his whole skull to spin around like a roulette wheel!

Stumbling to regain his equilibrium, the greaser roars and swings the car door at you, an attack you barely duck underneath.

Retreating a few steps, you correct your fighting stance as Nico stops his head from spinning with a solid slap. Adjusting his misaligned jaw, the giant charges at you with his makeshift weapon!

Hey, look at that, Ly--That car make was an Evade!

“He’s gonna clobber you, cupcake.”

Yea, but that doesn’t change the fact that it was kind of funny...

Oh, right--goon getting closer! What do?

“He’s certainly confident in his strength…” Sybil muses, still peeking from your pocket, “Maybe that could come in handy for taking care of him!”

Or she could just poof him away with… You know… magic?

“Still recharging. Also, I have a headache.”

Okay, you get it--looks like this is all you.

How do you stop this charging chuck?
>Trip him with the mop!
>Counter with your own BONE CLAW charge! Like in anime!
>Wait, don’t you have an ITEM you could use here? (WRITE-IN which one)
>Let’s change the scenery a bit--moving to another spot might help!
>WRITE-IN

>>4645224
>We happen to have our extra slippery oil. Spill some in front of us then dodge.

>>4645224
>Wait, don’t you have an ITEM you could use here? (WRITE-IN which one)
SLIPPERY OIL GOOOOOO

>>4645237
>>4645272
Tell you what--ONE LAST TINY UPDATE and then I really gotta go to bed.

Writing!

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>>4645237
>>4645272
A dim lightbulb flickers to life above your head as an idea forms! As the bellowing greaser gets closer with his car door, you rummage around in your pockets for a specific item--

There!

Wait, that’s one of the bags of cand--er… IMPORTANT ITEMS from earlier--you don’t need that.

Ah, the E.S.O! The oil! Grasping the bottle in your hand, you quickly calculate the distance remaining between you and Nico along with his velocity!

“No you don’t.” Ly groans.

He’s right, you don’t, but you do guesstimate where to toss the oil to not only catch Nico in it, but also give yourself plenty of room to dodge!

Hope you remembered to carry the zero!
>Roll 1d100--I’ll take the best of 3 OR whatever’s waiting for me at 4PM PST!

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>4645305

Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>4645305
>Roll 1d100--I’ll take the best of 3 OR whatever’s waiting for me at 4PM PST!
We do have those BONE LEGS Our dodging opportunities include vertically.

>>4645327
I thought about it, but if Nico is going for an overhead strike it's better to jump to the side.

Rolled 1 (1d100)

>>4645305

>>4645448
I... I am sorry

>>4645310
>>4645327
>>4645448
>CRIT-FAIL: 1

Don't apologize, anon--this is the first valid crit-fail of the quest!

Writing!

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>>4645310
>>4645327
>>4645448
It only takes you a second to find the perfect spot for the oil--THERE! That area of the asphalt a foot or two in front of you oughta take Nico for a wild ride!

Striding forward, you fish the oil out of your pockets and flick open the cap--if Nico knows what you’re doing, he doesn’t show it. Like a chef greasing a pan, you coat the ground with a thick coat of oil, thankfully managing to only use about half of it.

“Pins are set up, kid,” Ly begins, “Time ta’ knock ‘em down!”

Yea, touchdown! Glancing at the approaching greaser, you can’t help but freeze a little bit--even after pouring the oil he doesn’t seem to be slowing down at all--maybe he’s going too fast already?

“Dodge, Stan!” Ly warns, pulling at your bones!

Not yet--you’ve gotta make sure he falls for i--

Wait. What the?

The Drive-In lights reflect off of the puddle of oil on the ground, creating a mirror image of the sky, the Drive-In, and you.

Why, then, does your copy have a mustache??

“Stan, don’t worry about it, MOVE!” Ly yelps!

What the hell IS that? Is this a portal to some sort of bizarro dimension? Is that your evil twin!?

“STAN!”

You’ve had enough mystical shit for one day--raising your mop above your head you notice your double--Yelnats, you’ve decided to call them--does it as well! Shit, you weren’t prepared to fight two people…

Wait, that’s right. Two--

“OPEN WIDE, TWERP!” The skeleton greaser brings the car door back in preparation to clobber you with it, but as his foot reaches the puddle of oil, everything changes.

You feel the wind get knocked out of you as Nico slips at terminal velocity, his massive shoulder connecting with your stomach. Gasping for air, you feel the massive weight of the greaser collapse on top of you, pinning you to the dirty Drive-In floor. Ly pulls at your bones to help you up, but you’re too busy coughing and wheezing!

“Nice magic trick, FREAK.” Nico growls, regaining his balance much quicker than you do, “Now Nico’s gonna show you one!”

You make to roll out of the way, but are foiled when Nico’s hand presses down on your windpipe, pinning you to where you are. Raising the car door above his head with his other hand, Nico glares at you with murderous intent!

“NICO’S GONNA MAKE YA DISAPPEAR!”

Oh, you get it.

>Roll 1d100 to escape--I’ll take the best of 3! Remember, descriptions = rolling BONE-uses!

Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>4645821
>Break his arm with our TIRE IRON
You didn't forget we had it, right?

Rolled 89 (1d100)

>>4645821
>Roll 1d100 to escape--I’ll take the best of 3! Remember, descriptions = rolling BONE-uses!
Tire iron is a good idea, I also like the idea of leveraging our mop against the ground to really give him a nice shot.
Quick question, do we know how flammable that oil is?

>>4645958
Good question! Since it's a slapped-together goop made of several heavy-duty cleaning products by a person who probably thinks the Periodic Table is some kind of furniture, I'd say it's pretty flammable, yea.

Rolled 68 (1d100)

>>4645821

>>4645934
>>4645958
>>4646092
>Highest Roll: 89

And we're back! Writing!

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>>4645934
>>4645958
>>4646092
Raising your TELESCOPING MOP in front of you, your fingers just barely avoid being smashed by Nico’s car door! While it keeps your head from being caved in, it doesn’t solve the other problem--the greaser’s got his hands on your throat and his fingers don’t seem to be loosening!

“Gimme dat, fink!” Tossing the door to his side, Nico grabs the mop in his free hand and yanks it out of yours--man, he’s tough!

Maybe too tough. Letting go at the perfect moment, you can’t help but smirk as the greaser slams the handle of the mop into his face!

BONK!

You snatch the mop back as he recovers and start smacking it repeatedly against the arm holding your throat, but he doesn’t let go! As your vision starts to fade, you bring the mop close to your chest, twirl it so the hook side is facing him, and then THRUST with all of your might into the center of his chest!

It’s not enough to knock him far, but it does send him back, and that will do! Stumbling backwards, one of Nico’s feet makes contact with the oil on the ground causing him to fly into the crowd of greasers watching the show!

You rise to your feet once more, wheezing as air returns to your lungs.

“Close call, kid!” Ly pants, appraising you for injuries. “Don’t scare me like ‘dat again, you hear?!”

Not like you had a choice! Where’s your oi--

Oh.

The bottle that held your concoction sits several feet away, the rest of its contents drained on another patch of asphalt. Damn it!

“Coulda been worse--what if you lost Sybil, or da gun?”

This is still pretty lame, Ly--you were going to use that later!

“Well, we still have a bit on the ground, right?”

You frown. Yea, along with your doppelganger. You haven’t forgotten about them, no sirree.

“Stan, what you saw was just a reflect--” Sybil begins.

Not now, Syb--you’ll get to the bottom of it after this guy gets to the bottom of…

Nico stumbles to his feet, his shoes covered in oil!

A grave, or something. Crap--you had a one-liner for this!

“Dat’s your plan, creep?” Nico taunts, doing his best to stay upright, “Just gonna bat me around wit’ a broom?!”

I mean… If it works…

What DO you do?
>Soften up his head a bit with the mop--that’ll end this!
>He’s too mobile--let’s CUT down on that a bit. With BONE CLAWS!
>Okay, the other item worked out okay--maybe another one will help? (WRITE-IN ITEM!)
>Maybe we should move this fight somewhere else… (WHERE IN THE DRIVE-IN?)
>WRITE-IN

>>4646173
>Soften up his head a bit with the mop--that’ll end this!

>>4646465
Whoops, fucked up the formatting--sorry about that.

Also, writing the last update of the evening!

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>>4646465
Last post of the night--I'll check in tomorrow around the usual time--thanks again for playing!

They say the best defense is a good offense, and it’s about time you defended yourself! Sure, Nico probably could have torn your throat out if he stopped to think about it for a second, but as you watch him struggle to stay upright thanks to the EXTREMELY SLIPPERY OIL on his feet, you can’t help but feel like now’s your chance!

“Don’t give ‘im a chance ta’ breathe, cupcake!” Ly cheers as you sprint forward! Seeing your approach, Nico beckons to two skeleton greasers on the edge of the crowd.

“YOUSE TWO! GET OVER HERE!”

“I uh… You ain’t gonna hurt us, is ya?” Frutier asks while the other twiddles his thumbs.

“I WILL IF YOU DON’T GET OVER HERE in TWO SECONDS!” Nico replies.

Shrugging, the two saunter over. With a beastial growl, Nico picks them both up by their legs and hurls them at you! Man, talk about a team player!

“Just focus on the big one, Stan!” Sybil hisses, “He’s not a lieutenant--you can take him!”

Man, you hate when friends put you on the spot like this…

>Roll 1d100 to clean up Nico’s act! I’ll take the best of 3!

Rolled 13 (1d100)

>>4646696
>Roll 1d100 to clean up Nico’s act! I’ll take the best of 3!
another idea, Lets try and run our mop through the oil and get it real soaked, then we can oil shit easily. Wait fuck, we should have just oiled the mop to begin with, its a fucking mop. It applies liquids to surfaces, I basically main ss13 janitor, I should have remembered this earlier.
We could also potentially use it like a torch, but then we would have another problem literally on our hands.
As for the flying goons, maybe we could try and do some sick baseball slide on the oil as they fly over us?

>>4646696
Charge forward, do a sick slide through the oil and under the thrown skellies and cut Nico's legs with our claws.

Rolled 62 (1d100)

>>4646741
Guh

Rolled 71 (1d100)

>>4646696

>>4646730
>>4646748
>>4647046

>Highest Roll: 71.

I'll try to combine a few of these ideas in the next update--writing!

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>>4646730
>>4646748
>>4647046
As the undead projectiles rocket towards you, you drop onto your back in mid-stride letting the puddle of E.S.O carry you towards your opponent! Both greasers glance down at you as you slip underneath them, sharing a look of disappointment as they rocket into the other side of the crowd with unsettling CRACKS.

With the grace of a baseball player stealing a base, you run the head of your mop along the puddle behind you to catch some goop and bring it in front of you like a lance! Struggling to remain upright thanks to the oil on his shoes, Nico crouches as low as his center of mass will allow and prepares to grab the mop--good thing you aren’t aiming for his hands!

Right when he’s about to grasp the tip of the mop, you spin it around in your hands and out of reach! Before he can react, you raise the mop above your face like a hurdle, catching both of Nico’s legs as you sail between them!

The Goliath to your David tumbles forwards onto the ground, his face slamming against the asphalt with a sound akin to someone smacking a xylophone! Hopping to your feet, you spin around to face him, mop extended, only to be a bit disappointed.

“You…. You FREAK!” The giant spits, picking himself up off of the face of the parking lot. The oil on his hands aren’t making it easy for him, though, and as you draw closer you can’t help but notice a jagged segment of leg bone jutting out of a hole in his jeans near where his left knee usually is! Grody!

“I… I promised Stanley Ciccarelli...” The brute grumbles, slowly regaining his footing, “Dat I’d make a name for myself…”

He turns your way, eye sockets burning with killing intent!

“I promised I’d KILL YA!

In a surprising display of willpower, Nico scrambles towards you on his arms and legs--well, the leg that’s still working. It’s kinda creeping you out, to be honest!

“Now, cupcake!” Ly shouts, pointing at the approaching skeleton, “Now’s your chance to take dis’ guy out!”

“Wait a minute, Stan!” Sybil interjects! What, does she want you to spare him or something?

“Hells no.” She replies. “I was just going to tell you to be prepared for however the crowd reacts--please get rid of this creep.”

You heard the lady. What do? It ain’t over yet, but you’re clearly at an advantage!
>Try to pop his head off--you’ve got questions to ask him!
>Smash him up or stab him up--doesn’t matter!
>Wait a minute, let’s talk this out! He doesn’t need to die like this!
>Appeal to the crowd--Hype is everything!
>WRITE-IN

>>4647854
>>Appeal to the crowd--Hype is everything!
Forgot trip

>>4647874
Yep, it's been a day and a half--sorry everyone. I've failed you...

>>4647854
>Appeal to the crowd--Hype is everything!

>>4647874
>>4647922
Win the crowd, win the match! Writing! With a trip this time, too!

>>4647874
>>4647922
You back away from Nico a little bit, contemplating the words of your pals. Sybil’s usually right about this stuff, and as a popular podcaster she probably knows a thing or two about handling viewers. If you’re gonna get out of this alive you at least need to get them distracted, the question is… HOW?

Taking a few more steps away from the slowly-approaching greaser, you take a moment to scan the crowd--looks like what you’re doing isn’t making them any more excited. Hell, even if you DO win what’s stopping them from just mobbing you afterwards?

No, you need to win them over a bit--and FAST!

>ROLL 1d100 to enthuse the crowd--don’t forget to write in any sweet crowd-pleasing techniques while you’re at it for BONE-USES!

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>4647995

>>4648197
Forgot to mention 'best of three', so I'll roll with this for now! Writing!

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>4647995

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>>4648197
Wait a minute, you’re a professional at hyping people up!

“Stan, wait--”

No, Ly, you’ve got this. Or did he forget who the Clearwater--

“Stan…”

WHO the Clearwater Cod was?! Sure, you don’t have the costume, but this is basically the same thing, right?

“Stan, no--all you ever did was start fights with the away team mascot and get dehydrated…”

Aw yu eVur DuD wUz StAht foiTs--Come on, Ly, you didn’t start them, you ENDED them. And besides, this is even easier--you don’t have to hop around in a ratty Cod suit!

“Yea, but--”

BUT BUT BUT. Take it easy, you’ve got this.

You take a few steps away as Nico slips towards you some more and eye the audience. Skeleton greasers of all shapes and sizes watch the spectacle unfolding in front of them, some gnawing on popcorn, others sipping beers. None of them seem to really know how to react to the fight so far.

“They’re most likely scared to show support for anyone other than your opponent…” Sybil murmurs, scanning the crowd from the safety of your pocket. “Still, I have to agree with Ly that this doesn’t seem like the best course of--”

Listen, you don’t tell her how to run her podcast, she can’t tell you how to hype a crowd! Adjusting your sunglasses (no WONDER it was so dark), you start bobbing your head to an imaginary beat, then begin a slow, rhythmic clap. Circling the makeshift ‘ring’, you clap louder and LOUDER, waiting for the greasers to join in!

“What’s uh…” A voice begins from inside the crowd, “What’s she up to?”

“I think it’s some kinda… Head game?” Another replies.

“Should we join in?”

“I’d rather not. Her actions confuse and anger me--I’d rather just throw stuff at her.”

“Me too!”

Your hype attempt is foiled by a volley of popcorn bags and beer bottles! Wait, don’t! They… All they need to do is clap...

“Stan…” Ly begins, but doesn’t finish.

Damn it, this is just like your first night as the cod! It’s all coming back now!

You feel a dark flashback coming on, but it's thankfully interrupted by a bottle bouncing off of your head. Ow, by the way.

As the pain sets in, you stagger a bit and raise your hand to your head, wincing as you feel tiny bits of broken glass embedded in your hat!

>CONTD.

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>>4648352
“Awww, did you hurt your widdle HEAD?!” Peeking through the pain you watch as Nico gathers up several shards of glass off of the ground and pinches them between his fingers.

“He seems to be getting the hang of those oiled-up shoes, Stanley.” Sybil reports.

“Yea, and he’s got some claws of his own, too…” Ly adds.

Advancing slowly like a tiger about to pounce, your opponent swishes his new claws through the air, grinning madly.

“Gonna cut ya’ head off an’ use it as a hood ornament, twerp…”

You grit your teeth and do your best to will the pain away from the bottle hitting your head--okay, clearly the crowd angle didn’t work--what’s next?

“Attacking?” Ly asks.

Sure, let’s go with that.
>Attack with some CLAWS of your own! BONE CLAWS!
>The MOP can keep Nico at a distance--let’s use that!
>There’s an ITEM I’ve been saving for this… (WRITE-IN which ITEM)
>Let’s MOVE somewhere else--Nico’s still not very mobile!
>WRITE-IN

>>4648353
>The MOP can keep Nico at a distance--let’s use that!

>>4648353
Gonna head to bed now, but I'll check in tomorrow around 4PM PST at the latest. Until then!

Rolled 55 (1d100)

>>4648353
>Attack with some CLAWS of your own! BONE CLAWS!
I'm really bummed I missed the last roll, for some reason my mobile connection is IP banned for someone elses posts so I'm having trouble posting from work. I was going to suggest we skank to victory and hope Nico realizes that we are about to beat him twice.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4648382
>1: MOP
>>4648442
>2: BONE CLAWS

>>4648442
I'm sorry about that--I've been wrestling with how and when to update lately and didn't mean to cut you off. Unfortunately participation has been really sporadic lately, so I find myself wondering if I should wait longer or update to keep things moving. If it makes you feel better you should still have an opportunity for victory skankin' in the future! Thanks again for all of the patience!

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>>4648382
>>4648442
You grip the mop in your hands as the haze around your brain brought on by the bottle starts to clear.

Okay, a little more…

Almost there……

Crap, guess that’s about as clear as it’s going to get. You really oughta get that checked out later, assuming you live through all of this. Keeping your distance from Nico, you do your best to analyze his movements like you did with King and Terry the Terrible.

His leg doesn’t seem to want to repair itself, which is good because he’s a lot less frightening when he can’t charge at you. The downside is that those glass shards look really sharp--if he gets a good shot with those, well, let’s just say there are downsides to having meat, blood, and stabbable bits.

“We’ve gotta put an end ta’ dis.” Ly warns, “Da’ crowd’s chompin’ at da’ bit for their chance to butt in…”

Yea, and you doubt Rocky’s just going to wait patiently with all of your private information. You shudder… Yea, this fight’s gotta end, and you’re gonna end it. It’s gone on long enough anyways--that marrow from earlier is wearing off and you’re getting tired!

Flecks of oil drip from the head of your mop as you twirl it around. Nico jabs a few times at the air in response, snarling. Yep, you’ve gotta end this soon--he doesn’t seem to mind the broken leg OR the fact that you’ve been scrapping for like… Eight updates now.

>Roll a 1d100 to deal a decisive blow with your mop--I’ll take the best of three rolls, so do your best! As usual, descriptions of attacks can only help your chances!

Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>4648807
>Roll a 1d100 to deal a decisive blow with your mop--I’ll take the best of three rolls, so do your best! As usual, descriptions of attacks can only help your chances!
Nah you updated at the right time, I just gotta figure my end out.
Like the other anon mentioned, we still have a tire iron right? We should do some attitude adjustment to finish this

>>4648878

We DO still have a Tire Iron! In fact, I think everyone could do with an updated inventory:

Updated ‘LIST OF STUFF YOU HAVE’:
>1 SKULL HOODIE
>1 Pair of BLACK JEANS
>2 SPIKED GOTH BOOTS
>1 PAIR OF SWEET SHADES
>1 CAP with the Good Boy logo and the letters ESC.
>1 coveralls (Note: get these washed)
>2 rubber boots
>1 COMPANY-ISSUED BLACKBERRY.
>1 Dead (and somewhat damp) CELLPHONE
>1 MICROBUCKET (carries around water)
>1 TELESCOPING ALUMINUM MOP (LOANED TO ART)
>1 SPRAY BOTTLE w/CLEANING FLUID! (Note: keep away from skin and mucous membranes. FLAMMABLE)
>1 KEYRING with WORK and APARTMENT KEYS
>1 painfully small WALLET. 67 cents inside made up of various coins. Also a debit card. Chip currently SMUDGED.
>1 super helpful skeleton (Note: Ly insisted you write this down)
>1 TIRE IRON (See Ly, I didn’t forget this. Stop hassling me)
>1 CIGAR BUTT (Trophy from King)
>1 Automated Bone Shaper (ABS) with low battery.
>1 BENETTI HANDGUN that you still haven’t given back to Art. Fully loaded, you hope.
>1 TIN of Dr. Harrington’s Hair Wrangler Pomade
>1 SYBIL DOLL (She communicates through it)
>1 TACTICAL FLASHLIGHT
>1 PAINTER'S RESPIRATOR MASK
>1 ZIPPO LIGHTER
>1 TELESCOPING BLUE STEEL MOP (The Kaiser)
>1 Handful of MARBLES
>1 FADED BOTTLE OF PILLS
>7 Bags of CANDY

Still at work, but never be afraid to ask clarifying questions. Will check in and update stuff later around the usual time.

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>4648807
HOOK THE LEG
BEAT THE HEAD

Rolled 16 (1d100)

>>4648807

>>4648878
>>4648958
>>4649249
>Highest roll: 88

That's what I'm talkin' about. Writing!

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>>4648958
>>4649249
>>4648878
You wait for Nico to get closer, your fingers white-knuckled around the mop handle in anticipation.

“NICO….” The skeleton snarls, advancing menacingly, “NEVER GIVES UP, PIPSQUEAK.”

Well that makes this all the more easier to do, then. Nico lunges forward, claws outstretched, but you’ve seen enough of his strategies by now and easily duck under his attack. Flailing out with his other hand, you weave past another attack and smirk--he’s just not fast enough!

Before he can wind up another blow you swing your mop downwards, sweeping both his fractured AND healthy leg. Maybe it’s the remains of the oil on his shoes, maybe he wasn’t expecting it, but whatever the reason, Nico loses his footing and tumbles backwards towards the ground.

Not wasting any time, you step forward, bringing your mop back around in an arc. He raises his arms to shield himself, but it’s too late--your mop sails past his defenses and lands with a loud CLANG on his forehead, splitting his sunglasses in two.

“DAAAAHHH, CRIPES!” Nico roars, lashing out with his glass claws. Deftly dodging between the blows, you continue smacking his head as hard as you can. Slowly but surely a small fissure begins to form in the center of the greaser’s skull, and as you bring the mop down for one last attack, he manages to backhand your mop away and out of your hands.

Clattering on the asphalt a few feet away, you take a step back to avoid Nico’s grasp. The giant rises again to his battered legs, grunting from the effort. One hand still grasps the shards of glass, the other rests on his forehead--holy crap, he’s literally holding himself TOGETHER!

“Nico…..” He whispers, the fissure in his head growing wider with each word, “Nico made a promise…”

The greaser staggers forward, snarling at the dumbfounded crowd.

“None-a-youse… And I say NONE-A-YOUSE, can hold a candle ta’ me!”

You backpedal a bit further, rummaging around in your pockets for an appropriate weapon.

“I’M NICO, YA HEAR!?” Nico bellows, causing the crowd to recoil. “AND I’M KILLIN’ DIS’ FREAK!”

With one last roar, the giant you met in the diner sprints as fast as his legs will allow him--each step making the cleft in his skull even wider. You watch as he comes into range, screaming like a banshee and barely holding the two halves of his skull together with his hand.

That’s when you strike.

Pulling out the TIRE IRON you picked up during your escape from the storage unit at the doggie bone factory, you deftly duck under his glass claws and bring the tool slamming into his face with a resounding CRACK!

>CONTD.

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>>4649329
The skeleton greaser charges a few more steps, then crumbles to the pavement like a sack of potatoes. Regaining your balance, you put the TIRE IRON back into your pocket, then wordlessly grab The Kaiser off of the ground. The crowd, still speechless, watches you like a cat watches a dog.

“Yrrr… Eeegck… Grr..!” You hear noises coming from the pile of bones sitting a few feet away from you. Approaching the body, you remove your hat and shake a few remaining shards of class onto the ground.

The behemoth once known as Nico glares at you from the ground, his skull slowly splitting into two halves, the crack glowing with blue flames.

“Grrn… Dorrt. DDORT!”

>Any last words or actions for your pal Nico?

>>4649332
>Any last words or actions for your pal Nico?
>"Ya dance well, Nico"

>>4649334
>>4649332
+1

>>4649334
>>4649349
Writing!

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>>4649334
>>4649349
Adrenaline wears off and you find yourself panting as you stop in front of Nico. The skeleton greaser stares you down with contempt on your approach, the flames between the two halves of his skull growing every second.

“Ggrngghhh…” He hisses, eye sockets narrowing. Wiping the sweat from your forehead, you take your hat off and fan yourself.

“Ya dance well, Nico.”

Confused, the greaser’s eyes flash with recognition as you channel your energy from the diner and skank above him.

“Nnnng! Staargh?!” The giant whines as it all comes back to him. You nod, grinning. You just beat him twice.

“Fcrkdng…Twerp…”

Yea, you’ll buy him a whiskey in the afterlife. He can save you a seat.

With that, Nico’s body is set ablaze with blue flames sending the crowd around you running for cover. As you watch the greasers dive behind their hot rods, you snatch up one of Nico’s bones off the ground and cut the top off with a bone claw.

Their boss? He’s next on the docket.

With a grim smirk, you bring the bone to your mouth and ingest the marrow inside, feeling its healing powers work their way through y-AAACK

Okay, that went down the wrong tube. Coughing up a bit of the marrow, you clear your throat and finish the rest, feeling new energy coursing through your weary body and pain disappearing from your wounds! THAT’S the ticket!

Feeling rejuvenated, you scan the Drive-In and weigh your options. The greasers watch you warily, the ones carrying firearms clearly doing some math in their heads. Past the crowd you can make out the large silhouette of Wyatt T waiting by the van. Past that sits the bathrooms and, presumably, the water heater you read about earlier.

A quick glint of light on the hill tells you that Art’s still up there providing overwatch--the question is, what next? You've got a High School Reunion to attend!

>Address the crowd. They need to hear what you’ve got to say!
>Head for the van--this situation’s waaaaay too awkward.
>Excuse yourself to the bathroom--maybe you can clear out the Drive-In!
>Signal Art to do something--maybe he can make a distraction?
>WRITE-IN

>>4649414
>>Address the crowd. They need to hear what you’ve got to say!
>>4649414

>>4649414
>Address the crowd. They need to hear what you’ve got to say!
>"Now who wants to see a real fight!"

>>4649414
>Address the crowd. They need to hear what you’ve got to say!

>>4649439
>>4649471
>>4649512
The voice it is! Writing!

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>>4649439
>>4649471
>>4649512
You start towards the bathroom for a moment, but something causes you to pause.

“Come ooooon,” Ly mutters, “Let’s get outta here before we have ta’ deal with another contestant!”

Ly, THINK for a minute!

“.... Okay, check. Still think we gotta go.”

Stow the attitude for a second and think--you know that moment in the movies where the hero finally beats the bully and the whole school falls in love with him?

“...Yes…”

This is your part! If you leave now then that huge fight was in vain--this is the perfect opportunity to get them to do something for you!

Ly puts his astral hands on his astral hips and sighs, shaking his head.

“Dis’ ain’t no movie, kiddo.”

You’re painfully aware--the script is atrocious.

“If I may,” Sybil interjects, “Stanley might have a point--the spectacle they just witnessed could be a useful tool for getting something we need…”

Yea, see? Sybil manipulates people all the time--she knows what she’s talking about!

“For the last time, it’s not manipulatio-”

Super. Brushing the excess dust and glass shards off of your hoodie, you adjust your hat to a roguish angle and hop atop the crushed hot rod belonging to the guy Nico threw. The greasers stay put, but you’ve seen these types of glances before in your mascot days--they’re deciding whether they should throw stuff at you or cheer!

“No pressure, kiddo.” Ly whispers.

Clearing your throat, you make sure you’re at a good angle for your audience and prepare to address them.

What exactly do you WANT?
>Attention greasers: Please leave!
>Attention greasers: You’re in MY gang now!
>Attention greasers: Follow me to the school if you want to see a REAL fight!
>Attention greasers: WRITE-IN

>>4649631
>Attention greasers: Follow me to the school if you want to see a REAL fight!
Seems our best bet so far, but we should start thinking of how we are gonna box Rocky, chances are he ain't gonna play fair either.

>>4649631
>Follow me to the school if you want a real fight

>>4649631
>>Attention greasers: Follow me to the school if you want to see a REAL fight!

>>4649631
>>Attention greasers: Follow me to the school if you want to see a REAL fight!

>>4650569
>>4650846
>>4650875
>>4650208
Sorry folks, my eyes were giving me hell today. Should be good for now, though--thanks for the patience!

Writing!

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>>4650208
>>4650569
>>4650846
>>4650875
As all eyes settle on you, your mind flashes back to the corkboard in the Good Boy Doggie Bones Security Office--specifically to another pinned message on the board that didn’t seem relevant… UNTIL NOW!

In case you ever need to ROLL DICE to USE YOUR WORDS, remember that INCLUDING WHAT YOU’D LIKE TO SAY can give you BONE-USES! Workers who fail to do this might face consequences such as MISCOMMUNICATION (See: The ‘Glass Him’ Effect), DISAPPOINTMENT, and worse: BAD WRITING! Remember--whether you’re the voice of reason or the serpent’s tongue, always let your voice be heard! ~MGMT.

Huh. You’re not sure why you couldn’t remember that note before… Moreover, you’re not entirely sure why you’re remembering it now. You’re the one in control of your actions, right?

Right?!

>Whoops, almost took the blinders off of the horse! Roll 1d100 to determine the success of your message and don’t forget to include some of what you’d like to say! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>4650960
>Attention greasers: Follow me to the school if you want to see a REAL fight!
simplistic, yet effective.

Sorry folks, eyes are acting up again. I'll try again tomorrow around 10-11AM PST--thanks for your patience!

>>4650960
>Whoops, almost took the blinders off of the horse! Roll 1d100 to determine the success of your message and don’t forget to include some of what you’d like to say! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!

>"So! Who thinks Rocky can't even beat a girl in a straight fight!"

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>4650960
>>4651292
Forgot my roll, whoops

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>4650960
Supporting >>4651292

roll 1d100

>>4650960
I am also supporting >>4651292

roll 1d100
>>4650960
I am also supporting >>4651292

Rolled 3 (1d100)

crap. ignore those, I'm new at this. still supporting >>4651292

>>4651521
No problem--thanks for giving BONES QUEST a try!

>>4651196
>>4651294
>>4651356
>Highest Roll: 83
Not too shabby! Let's write!

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>>4651196
>>4651292
>>4651356
>>4651521
So, you bark, bringing all of the greasers to attention, Who wants to see a REAL fight?

The crowd remains silent with a hint of confusion.

“Guess they didn’t think you’d actually be able to beat Nico, kid.” Ly whispers. Oh come on, everyone knows that boss fights with multiple baddies are harder than a fight with one! It’s simple math!

In any case, they don’t seem to be shooting you yet. That’s good--that’s good! You repeat your earlier question: WHO WANTS TO SEE A REAL FIGHT?

You see a hand raise in the back, but it quickly lowers. Alright, time to spin this another way. Adopting the most smug look you can muster, you smirk at the crowd.

Okay, how about this: who thinks Rocky can’t even beat a GIRL in a fight?

The crowd begins to murmur. Words are being exchanged, ideas are being formed.

Five hundred bucks says she can.” The words barely register above a mumble, but they carry! You look in the direction the mumble came from and find Wyatt T staring at you, the faintest hint of a grin etched on his face.

“AY I’LL MATCH DAT!” Screams another voice.

“I WILL TOO--I COULD USE A NEW JACKET!”

“HEY, I’M BETTIN’ ON DA’ DOLL TOO!”

In seconds the crowd of homicidal skeletons changed into betters at a betting parlor--wads of cash fling back and forth in the crowd as interest in your big scrap grows!

“You did it, kid!” Ly praises, “You united ‘dem all under a single cause!”

Friendship?

“No, money. Guess ‘dis will make things easier gettin’ to da’ venue…”

“Stan! Can I borrow a fifty?!” Art pushes through the crowd, a tub of popcorn balanced between his hands, your old TELESCOPING MOP, and the rifle on his back. “I swear I’ll pay you back after the fight!”

First of all, no, you say, snagging some popcorn from the bag and stuffing it into your mouth. Hey--buttery! Mpfh--second of all, this isn’t about money, it’s about sending a message!

Art pulls his mask up and stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth, confusion once again making itself comfortable on his pale face.

“Wasn’t Rule 1 or 2 or whatever about making ‘fat stacks’?”

That was hours ago, Art--try to keep up! Gangs evolve with the times and can change ideas at the drop of a hat! Take Rocky’s gang here--they were told to kill you and now they’re betting on you! How does he explain THAT?

“So,” Art muses in between bites of popcorn, “It’s kinda like the--mpfgh--Constitution?”

You guess--wait, they can’t change that. It’s on papyrus or something, right? It would break.

Art begins to say something, but it's interrupted by the sudden grasp of a skeleton’s hand on your shoulder! EEK!

>CONTD.

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>>4651798
“Ey, freakshow!” Some skeleton greaser you don’t recognize pats your shoulder vigorously, “Da name’s Perry Pitstop. You and your pal need a lift to da’ scene?”

You peer through the crowd towards the van where Wyatt, Stripes, and Gene wait, the latter giving you a lazy salute.

“STAN!” Whispers Art, pieces of popcorn blasting out of his mouth, “No one will pull a fast one if we’re in a big group, right?!”

Well, you…

“Maybe,” Begins Sybil, creeping out from your pocket, “But we might benefit from staying and snooping around for a bit, right?”

“Oh, Sybil! Uh.. Welcome back!” Art stutters, swiftly choking down the rest of his popcorn. "That's a great idea too!"

Ugh, someone please take you out of the GROAN ZONE.

“Whaddaya think, cupcake?” Ly asks.

>Hey, I like the idea of a Pre-Victory Parade--let’s do it!
>I’ve got my own ride, but you guys warm the place up for me!
>I’ve got some things to do here first, but I’ll meet you all there!
>WRITE-IN

>>4651806
>Hey, I like the idea of a Pre-Victory Parade--let’s do it!

>>4651806
>Hey, I like the idea of a Pre-Victory Parade--let’s do it!

>>4651806
>>Hey, I like the idea of a Pre-Victory Parade--let’s do it!

>>4651806
>Hey, I like the idea of a Pre-Victory Parade--let’s do it!
Style points are still points, and we need as many as we can get.

>>4651806
>>Hey, I like the idea of a Pre-Victory Parade--let’s do it!

>>4651878
>>4651981
>>4652112
>>4652403
>>4652405
>PRE-VICTORY PARADE IS GO, BABY

Writing!

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>>4651878
>>4651981
>>4652112
>>4652403
>>4652405
You put on your friendliest grin for Perry. Hey, that would be swell! Thanks, Perry Pitstop!

“Perry’s fine,” He laughs, “No need ta’ wear it out, dig? I’ll come get ya when we’re ready ta’ cruise.”

Perry Pitstop saunters away into the crowd--the skeletons still ablaze with discussion and debate over the upcoming brawl. Finishing his popcorn, your trusty hostage Art huddles closer to you and puts his helmet back on.

“Gotta say, Stan, this is going surprisingly well! Back during the fight I thought I’d have to give you a mercy bullet.”

What can you say? You aim to disappoint!

“Not from where I was standin’!” You turn and find Stripes scampering over, shoving other skeletons out of the way. Gene and Wyatt linger close behind, wry smiles on their faces. Extending your fist towards Wyatt, the giant observes your hand for a second, then lightly bumps it with his own. Not a bad idea with the bet, T.

“Wasn’t nothin’.”

“Gotta say, kid,” Gene begins, giving Wyatt a playful elbow to the ribs, “You might be more cut out for leadership den’ you realize.”

Pssssh, wha? I mean… Nah!

“Don’t let it all go to your head, cupcake.” Ly chides in a playful tone. Stripes shakes his head, grinning.

“Apologies, boss, Gene’s been actin’ funny ever since we met up dis’ mornin’!” Stripes goes for an elbow of his own, but pauses as Gene’s hand reaches into his jacket pocket. “Maybe a worm felt sorry for ‘em in da’ ground and donated its heart or somethin’--he’s turnin’ into a softy!”

Ignoring the jab, Gene shrugs. “Guess you’ve got an escort to da’ big fight, huh? Don’t worry, we’ll be tailin’ ya.”

“I’m riding with you!” Art exclaims, tapping the rifle on his back, “Just in case you or Sybil need backup, you know.”

Yea, you know. Speaking of Sybil, the doll in her image peeks out from your hoodie pocket, blue energy returning to her eyes.

“This arrangement works to our advantage--while we ride to the school we can debrief about what you and Ly saw during your Astral Dive.”

You nod. Yea, you’ve been meaning to go over that! Ly’s astral projection pops out of your body to rub his chin.

“You ain’t gonna have trouble talkin’ shop with all of these goons giving us a ride, right?”

Of course not! You’ll just sit back and watch the scenery--that’s it!

>CONTD.

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>>4652513
Immersion note: For best immersion, click link and crank volume as high as possible: https://youtu.be/Uf4rxCB4lys

Several minutes later you find yourself in the center of a full-scale parade of hot rods surrounded by skeleton greasers. Slapping the seat to the beat of Franky Be Cool blaring through the radio, you watch as your fellow passengers dangle precariously from the sides of the rod smoking cigarettes, singing along with the radio, and engaging in generally disruptive behavior.

Art sits like a corpse in the center seat, his eye lenses turning a peculiar shade of green from being stuck in the middle. Hey, if he didn’t want that seat he should have called DIBS.

“So uh… About the fight.” Ly shouts, barely registering over the singing skeletons, “What’s da’ plan?!”

Oh, ishe referring to Back To School Fight: SkeleSlam?

“Yes, that. You don’t have to keep saying it just because you came up wit’ it, ya know.”

You don’t, but you will. What’s his point?

“My point is…” Ly begins, pausing as a half-finished beer and the skeleton drinking it tumbles into the back seat, “Dis’ guy’s got more tricks up his sleeve den’ a magician--you got any ideas for how you’re gonna beat him?”

You frown. Yea, the same idea you’ve had since the beginning: GO WITH THE FLOW.

“Stan, you can’t just apply dat’ to everything in life.”

Says WHO? It worked out in Part One, didn’t it? No one DIED.

“Art almost did.”

First of all, that was Part TWO. Second, he got better! You gesture to Art who appears to have been forced into an impromptu sing-along. See? Fine!

“All I’m sayin’ is--”

Yea yea, be careful, don’t die, save the day, you’ve got it. What’s the big deal anyways? This is probably the best way this whole thing could have gone--no fights, no running, no problem!

With a huff, Ly’s astral form fades back into your body--great, there he goes SULKING again. Looking around for any distraction you can find, you notice that the procession has made it back into Clearwater proper. Though the dark of night makes it difficult to make things out, the several towering building fires help you make some things out.

Tim’s fort still looms in the air challenging you along with the rest of the city--the coast, the hills, the suburbs, downtown… Everything you remember from growing up has been taken over by skeletons… You can’t help but wonder--are your parents okay? Your coworkers? Other friends?

>CONTD.

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>>4652521
“Eyyyyy killer!” Shouts the now-familiar voice of Perry Pitstop, “You thirsty? Got some beverages if ya’ want ‘em!”

Before you can ask for a menu, he raises a six-pack of Bowie Brew in one hand, a corked bottle of what appears to be bourbon in the other.

“I know what ya’ thinkin’,” He begins, grinning cheekbone to cheekbone, “Deez’ ain’t been tampered wit’, no worries. Got ‘em outta a few liquor stores when we took over. Greasers always hydrate before a fight, ya dig?”

Well, Art, Ly, and Syb don’t seem to be yelling at you yet. What do?

>No thanks--I want a clear head for the fight.
>Mind sharing a beer or three?
>It’d be rude not to try some of that bourbon…
>Say, what’s That sitting behind your leg? (WRITE-IN BEVERAGE)
>WRITE-IN

>>4652528
>Say, what’s That sitting behind your leg? (WRITE-IN BEVERAGE)
>Is that... Absinthe? Why does it have a skull on it?
Alcohol is well known to enhance ones ass kicking abilities, doubly so if you are dead drunk with your pants around you ankles and a skeleton full of skelebilities.

>>4652528
>It’d be rude not to try some of that bourbon…

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>4652530
>>4652706
Gonna go with a coin on this one. Writing!

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>>4652530
>>4652706
Those choices are nice, Perry Pitstop, but you gotta ask--what’s that bottle behind you?

“Seriously, you don’t have to keep usin’ my full name, ya’ frea--You know what? No problem!” Perry Pitstop brushes his annoyance away and reaches behind his leg, grabbing a bottle that would look more at home in an antique shop than a liquor store. Carved into the bottle is the increasingly-familiar shape of a skull--the emerald liquid within giving it an otherworldly glow.

“Dis’ old thing? Yea, funny story--found dis’ in the BACK back room of a liquor store. Trut’ be told, haven’t been brave enough ta’ try it yet--supposedly it’s called ‘absint’--at least that’s what Joey told me.”

Perry Pitstop turns around towards a hot rod behind you and yells, “EY JOEY! WHAT IS DIS’ CRAP?”

“Absinthe!”

“DIG!”

Perry Pitstop turns back to you, a mischievous grin on his face. “Word is dis’ stuff will put some spitfire in your v6, dig?”

Uh… Absolutely.

“Tell ya what, les’ do a swig togetha, you an’ me--dat’ way I can brag whether ya’ live or die!”

Seems reasonable, yea! As Perry Pitstop uncorks the bottle, you feel the air intensify around you--like something bad looms on the horizon.

“STAN.” Ly pops out of your body again, glaring holes into your face. “You stay the HELL away from that drink, you hear me?”

Come on, what’s the big deal? You’ve drank absinthe before! Perry Pitstop raises the beverage to his mouth and takes a swig.

You think…

“STAN.” Oh good, now SYBIL’S getting huffy. “That beverage contains power you can only just barely imagine! Wicked power--that of the Fae itself!”

That’s what she says about EVERY cocktail you order. With a satisfied gasp, Perry Pitstop regains his balance, then shoves the bottle into your hands.

“That…” He slurs, “THAT’S a drink, right there…”

Pfft, lightweight. Shrugging, you lift the bottle to your lips and take a swig!

Or at least you TRY to. Your arms lock in place as you feel Ly’s influence over your body along with an unfamiliar one--glancing downwards, you notice your arms are bathed in a blue glow!

“Yow, baby…” Perry Pitstop grumbles, steadying himself on the back of the driver’s seat.

“We can’t let you, Stan!” Sybil barks, intensifying her hold on your arms!

“It’s not a good idea, cupcake!” Ly adds, stiffening your arms more! Art, need assistance here!

Art grunts listlessly, his head between his knees in the center seat. Some hero HE is!

>Roll 1d100 to take a little sippy! That’s all--just a sippy! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>4652855
>Roll 1d100 to take a little sippy! That’s all--just a sippy! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!
I'd ask God to help us, but I think we might be beyond his gaze right now.

Hitting the hay for tonight, but here's the good news--I should be able to update earlier tomorrow and for most of the day! I'll check in around 10-11AM PST, so hope to see you then!

>>4652855
>Relent and don't drink
Our friends want the best for us, and random anons with lolrandumb write-ins don't.

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>4652855
>Roll 1d100 to take a little sippy! That’s all--just a sippy! I’ll take the best of 3 rolls!
This is our moment, show that we have the POWER to overcome this adversity!

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>4652855

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>4652855

>>4652871
>>4653216
>>4653252
>Highest roll: 83

>>4653047
>Don't drink

Good thing we have a designated driver! Writing!

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>>4652871
Gods are watching, just not the ones you might think...

Gritting your teeth, you tap into every reserve of power you have in your body--it’s time to GO ALL OUT.

Granted, you could also say that the fight with Nico and the upcoming battle with Rocky would be much better times to GO ALL OUT, but come on, when’s the next time you’re going to be able to drink Absent?

No… Your friends are cool, but they’re not stopping you from getting a sippy, no sirree.

“HOLD HER!” Ly shouts, his grip on your joints waning.

“I…. I’m TRYING!” Sybil replies, her doll somehow sweating from exertion! “I’m still weak and her sheer will… It’s overwhelming!”

You form a devilish grin as your skeleton and magical goth best friend struggle to contain you! The bottle slowly approaches your mouth as the hot rod’s other passengers watch in awe and confusion. As you begin to smell alcoholic fumes, you see Sybil’s eyes light up with inspiration!

“ARTHUR! Help me stop Stan!”

Hearing Sybil’s voice, Art snaps out of his queasy repose, his eye lenses targeting you with grim determination!

“What do you have in your mouth, Stan?!” Art scolds, addressing you like a dog. Snarling, you yank the bottle closer towards your mouth causing Ly and Sybil to grunt in surprise!

“Hurry, Arthur!” Sybil shouts, her hold on you fading, “We mustn’t let her drink--it could have dire consequences!”

“Leave it to me.” Arthur replies, cracking his knuckles. The other skeletons in the car back up a bit to give you and Art some room, and with one last crack of his neck he approaches, determination visible even through his mask!

A second later and Art is on the floor of the car dry-heaving. Man, car-sickness is no joke, huh? Defeated, Sybil glares holes into your face. “Stan, absinthe is known to cause hallucinations. Some even used it to commune with other planes of existence--do you really think it’s a good idea to be drinking something like that before a duel?!”

Oh come on, Perry Pitstop drank it and he looks okay. You gesture to Perry’s comatose form dangling over the side of the hot rod.

“You’re playing with dark forces, Stan,” Sybil continues, “I only hope you’re ready to face the consequences…”

Ehh. Go with the flow, right? You bring the bottle to your lips and, true to your word, take a LITTLE SIPPY. The moment the liquid heads down your throat, you can’t help but sense you’ve done something horribly, HORRIBLY wrong!

>CONTD.