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"Uhh. No. One V-Burger, cooked medium, no cheese or lettuce. V-Fries and a V-Cola, Medium on both. Medium on everything."

**"Nnnnnnnn... Uhhhhhhmmmff... Guuhhhhh... Okay..." It takes him a few minutes, but he begins punching buttons to input your order.

Normally it's a Small on the fries and Velta-Cola, but you know your appetite tonight is as wild as your loins. Your woman crosses your mind.

Should you get ol' Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith anything to munch on? She's getting a bit trim, which you don't mind one bit. Any submissive body is a perfect body.
>No, let her keep eating crumbs of frayed rope and nutrient-recycled saliva. A malnutritioned servant is an obedient one.
>Buy nothing more than a single Jumbo Fried Pickle for the slave to nosh on. You hope she fancies good southern cooking. Soaked in vinegar, then her own punani juices, then her saliva.
>Get her the V-Baby Burger combo with the Darth Woody toy, and shove the toy where the sun don't shine, nyeh heh.
>Get her a matching Medium combo but with a diet Velta-Cola. She's eating good tonight, she even gets to share the dining table with master.
>Lay out a Vour-Person Vamily Veast and watch her de-Vour it all by herself for show, after you've already eaten your meal. She's starving, so she'll slop it all up like a pig.

You inform the dim-sounding employee of your big boy order, no toy needed (for you, at least).

You pull up to the payment window and the nametag of the lackadaisical employee states none other than RICK. He turns around from a young female coworker, chuckling.

Flashing back to the "Mermaid" photo of Lon Lemmings, taken shortly before he died, you recall the corner of a smiling face, with a stubbly chinned grin equal to the one you're staring down now. He was one of Lon's bullies.

Rick's grin turns to a vacant, gaping fly-trap as he looks down and tries to figure out how to use the register, even though you know there are pictures rather than letters or numbers on the cash register's keyboard.

"Buhhhhhhhhhhh....." Rick is nearly drooling.

"Hello?" You remind him to think... And breathe...

"Hang on, I'm looking at your order, man!!" He curtly states, before rudely flipping his sk8r-boi haircut and smiling that familiar dastardly smile at you, the same one from the polaroid in the varsity pool lockers.

Rick Rippler "politely" asks you for $14.87, then if you'd like to round up the rest of the change to donate to Shaved Pussies, Velton's combo homeless and animal shelter. He can't keep a straight face while saying that, even though he must say it 80 times a day.

You don't have tons of time in the drive-thru to stall while Rick Rippler handles your debit card. Rippler knows something about Lemmings' death.
>Try to covertly farm as much information as you can from Rick Rippler about his friend and partner-in-crime, Ronny Higgins (Seth's son).
>Try to farm general information from Rick Rippler about Lon Lemmings and the rest of the water polo team and other big happenings around Pell University.
>Say, "I love 'Shaved Pussies.'" Donate the 13 cents. Silently observe, pay for the food and leave. No need to ruffle feathers early.
>Say nothing to Rick, but politely inform his manager at the pickup window that Rick is an extremely poor worker. He even called you a faggot and a nigger and a carpet-bagging ponyboy while you were looking for sticky nickels in your cupholder.
>Fuck it, abort! Drive home and eat baked cod again. Saves ya $15!
>Write in - ???
(One roll goes to this!!)

Speeding a calculated 7 miles over the speed limit, you make it home in time for Geoff Party. Or whatever that fucking gameshow on TV is called - you've got better things to do!!!

You slip into your home with the food, re-activate the dozen-plus security measures in your home, then enter your basement. Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith, ditzy abducted co-ed, hangs from your cellar plumbing and wooden support beams. You greet her and continue molding her into a faithful puppet, using your abuse as a sculptor uses a chisel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up stifling a yawn, another consecutive excellent night of sleep.

You set out a quart of milk on the counter to warm, and triple-check the locks on your doors as well as the recessed, hidden bolts on the windows. You're golden.

Uncovering the peephole from your front door and seeing nothing out front, you have your hand on the doorknob, ready to open it to retrieve your mail and the morning paper.

That's when your cop instincts kick in. Something feels off. You let the feeling pass, hand frozen on the knob. After 20 minutes of staking out your front porch, your stomach rumbles and your ears ring, your nerves settle and you realize you must have just being parano-

That's not true. Goosebumps rise on your arms and legs. Everything is still silent and still outside. You close your eyes and ritualistically unhook every latch, unlock each padlock as well as the deadbolt and knob lock, silently recoil both sets of chain, and then set the chains back on their hooks near your other "car towing gear" you keep next to the door. Then you're ready to move.

The door creaks fast as you whip it open, you open your eyes and let out a held breath...

The sun greets you with visions of the beautiful flowers and so many vibrant colors.
Vivid yellows and morning oranges wishing they could linger with the comforting blues and yawning whites in the daylong sky.
Rich browns, and mild but complimentary greys give way to grassy greens and taupe southern sidewalks.

Contrasting that; adorning you are drab and exhausted khakis, sharp blacks, an offensive-on-the-eyes bright beet red shirt and a shiny bald head. In the reflection of your brass and black aviators lies your pride and joy, the lustrous shine of your Lincoln's stock bumpers and rims and paint job that's completely flawle-... Sigh.

Your dented door reminds you to take her into an auto shop sooner than later. You look like a fool with this car all beat up, how are you supposed to pick up chicks in this bucket of bolts?

You look down at your porch and see the latest Velton County Journal at your feet. It's still dry and rolled up neatly, so you take it inside to enjoy with your warm milk.

Jenny Jenkins' interview with you should be in print today on the first page. You can't wait to skim the story for praise and bragging points to toss around back at the station.

In your kitchen, glass of perfectly-warmed milk in one hand, you unravel the paper and check the back page first. A full-page ad for V-Sluggers, frosty brews and 12 different live game feeds at Chippie's Sports Bar.

You flip the paper over and your jaw drops to the floor, along with your shattered glass and the lukewarm milk.

The VCJ headline?

VPD LIES AND CORRUPTION - JUNIOR COP TELLS ALL!

You read every word of the story four times, standing in your milk puddle the whole time.

Absurd, libelous excerpts like these stand out:
"First things first, I only became a cop for the amazing pay, elevated status and societal incentives..."
"...Had to hit the methadone clinic on the corner of Pale Walk and Grubba Street to clean up before I could join the force. Luckily, they don't drug test very often and I can usually guess when they will..."
"...My gun is kinda like my little buddy. I nicknamed him T-Rex because he can eat anything. I scratch a notch in him every time I smoke a no-good crook!! Wanna see?"
"...That's why I believe justice is abstract, like a Picasso painting. It's up to the interpretation of each individual law enforcement officer, that the fun part of the law!"
"...So we had to keep pistol-whipping and pistol-whipping and tazing and macing and kicking this homeless guy on the floor, right? He just wouldn't let go of the candy bar he stole from the liquor store! No need to thank us. All in a day's work. Not our fault he's in a coma. Don't do the crime if you can't do the time, kiddos. Especially if you're wheelchair-bound to begin with."
"...And it's like... Who's gonna arrest me? Me?! My home-dawggs?! HAHAHAHAH!!! Y'all are so dumb, I sweeeeeaaaarrrrrrrr."
"...'Cuz at da end of da day, I like emptying my clip in da bad guys. Thanks for the interview, toots."

She does mention offhand that you "had a hand in solving a crime, or whatever, a few days ago". This scandalous, dirty ho. You solved an Amber Alert and she makes it seem like you wrote traffic tickets all day!

You never said a single word of that! You don't even talk like that!! She faked all of your quotes and didn't use a single thing from your interview other than your real name and photo!! Oh, this bitch is so fucking dead. By Hell or high waters, you will see to her incomparable suffering.

Your unsated predatory murderlust makes your hands tremble, before the panic sets in.

You expect you're going to have to beg and plead with Comm'r Seth just to keep your job. Then again, the devil in you grins wide once more, thinking what even unpaid leave or unemployment could look like in your dungeon/household. But you're not totally out of love with police work, despite its stressors. You meet so many, ahem, "interesting" people through your work, and the authority feels right and good in your head and hands, too. Jenny's bogus quotes may have been fabricated, but not all are too far from the truth. Nyeh heh heh heh.

You check your watch and it seems like you'll barely be able to make it to work on time. Can't be late to work on top of this messy, sloppy shit sandwich that just got shot out of VCJ's cannon and launched into your lap at Mach 2 speeds.

Shave? Skipped. You don't grow lots of facial hair but your nose hairs are out of fucking control. Probably shoulda handled that weeks or months ago.
Shower? Skipped. Fuck it, you can keep the rapefunk on your dick. You'll just rub some grass or flowers on your skin or something, that'll smell good.
Breakfast? Skipped. You hope this quart of warm milk doesn't make you shit your pants. You normally pair it with a meal within an hour before or after to fight that...
Home security systems? Triple checked. Know what? Let's go ahead and quadruple check, even though it's not even Monday or a weekend.

After a final, satisfying inspection, your stomach rumbles loudly, slightly distracting you from the urgency of everything at hand.

You grab a breakfast bar from General Nutrition Corp., and start to fly out of the door. Gotta hurry to the Lincoln. The heebie jeebies from earlier have vanished. You hastily reach for the doorknob, ready to jerk it open.

In the distance, there's a piercing shriek. Your neighbor Carolina Smith's familiar voice rings out "GUAT THE HELL!!! STOP!!!! MIS HIJOS!!!!"

Taking your frozen hand off the doorknob again, instead of running outside, you peek through the curtains at the edge of your window. You can just barely see over the fence between your properties.

Carolina Smith's burly blue-collar husband is lurching over her in a wifebeater. The way he's carrying himself, it's obvious he's carrying something heavy in his hands, and probably drunk.

He angrily stumbles away from the property into the street. His smoking hot brown wife runs after him and tugs on his arm, and he unleashes a mean headbutt in response, sending Carolina below the fence line, then he jumps or stomps several times, causing a spike in the crying of the mother. In a chain-reaction, the children begin crying, too.

You see the sweaty brute looking worriedly bewildered in every which direction. He runs to Carolina's compact car, already running in the driveway with her two of children inside, crying hard and beating ineffectually on the windows.

Carolina's irate husband beeps the key fob to open the doors, forehead bleeding profusely. Was that just from the headbutt? He throws in the black duffle bag he was lugging around and their third kid that was under his arms. He then excoriates the kids with curse words, telling them not to "leave the fucking car" or "say a fucking word about" their "whore mother on the ride".

"PLEASE, DON'T CRY!", the man yells while he burns rubber.

You're gripping the wall, trying to maintain secrecy while you spy. The altercation is over within about 15 seconds, you barely realize you didn't get the license plate, and you've been standing still as if frozen in time. Not your best reaction time as an officer. You shake your head quickly to wake up. You pocket the breakfast bar and forget about work.

From over the fence, you see Carolina stumbling to her feet, and letting out the most pained cry ever, the cry of a mother separated from the children she birthed. This is oddly reminiscent of when you saved the Quackenbush kid. You've gotta act on this. But how?
>Don't get too close. Just call this in to the station. Dial 911 and inform dispatch there's been a kidnapping and an assault next door.
>Attend to Carolina's wounds, she's not too bad, just concussed and scraped. A bit of a limp. Drive her into the station with you so she can file a report immediately!!
>"I'll save your hijos, Carolina!!" Make a dash to your driveway and peel off in the Lincoln. You're going straight after the scumbag. Skrrt!!
>Console Carolina and invite her to your home. Ask her how she wants to take care of this. On the books... Or off.
>Jack off behind the curtains. Carolina looks so pretty when she catatonically cries. Debate whether you'll bring over a cheese basket tonight to get her mind off of the situation.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Speeding into the station, you screech and smoke into your normal parking spot. You're so fucking late, you're screwed. You can't stop thinking about Jenny's bullshit story and how it's going to reflect on you.

With a brisk stroll, you enter the building. It looks and sounds like a normal day at HQ. The receptionist notices you and sends you to Higgins' office. You're positive it's about the news story. Dread overwhelms.

On your way through the office, one of the rookies fresh out of the training academy makes a beeline to you from his spot in the water cooler line, landing square in your path to the Commissioner's office.

Once you're about 2-3 yards away, he shoots out his hand in a nervous jerk, then wipes sweat off his brow with the other arm before returning it neatly to his side.

"Hi, I'm So Hung! WAIT NO I MEANT HO SUNG AHHHHHHhhhh I'm so sorry, I'm just so nervous to meet you!!!!"

His buzzcut is as sharp as can be, and his uniform is in tip-top shape.

Since he's a brother in blue, you shake his hand, very confused, and let him continue. "Nice to meet y-"

He blurts over you: "I heard you're on track to make youngest Senior Detective in VPD history!" He lowers his voice a bit and leans in: "And even with a lazy, cranky, old Black and that fat idiot Jimmy as your partners! You must've been doing all the work!! And you still have time left over to get donuts for the whole department on your own dime!!" He leans back out and raises his voice back to it's previous vigorous candor: "I just finished boot camp last week, but I wanna train to be a Junior Detective just like you!! Higgins said if I blaze through the paperwork and courses, I could join you in as early as the end of the month!! Isn't that great?!

"That's grea-"

Rookie Officer Ho Sung cuts you off, "I can't wait!! I'm gonna go study right now!!" He scurries off like a squirrel before you can even get a word in.

He couldn't be older than 23, meaning if he does make Junior Detective in the next few months, he'll take your spot as the youngest officer to make Detective on the force. Oh well, you're not so petty as to care about something like that... Are you?

You make it to Higgins without further incident. You catch the "Commish" off guard: reading glasses on, fist on his chin, your Lon Lemmings investigation folder being combed over; to the side of that, the slander printed on 20 lb. grey newsprint.

You linger in his doorway for a moment before announcing yourself by clearing your throat. Right now Seth kind of reminds you of your Pop Pop, Quiet Quentin.

He looks up, takes off his glasses, smiles and laughs as you walk in, then says, "Well, well, well if it isn't my favorite gumshoe! Ha ha harrr!!" He stands up and charlie-horses your arm. You react with a smile and try not to nurse your arm, which is probably going to be bruised now. He hits hard as fuck, and he was just horsing around. Yup, that's a bruise for sure. You're trying your best to kiss up to him without being obnoxious after that whole plan with the stolen bear claws failed.

Higgins: "So. First things first. This." He holds up the newspaper, your print eyes staring into your real eyes. "This a joke, Skeletor?" Seth's not blinking, and his brow is as usual, furrowed.

Your body stutters and twitches for a second, then Seth bursts into his signature hearty belly-laughter. "I'm just messin' with ya, kid. It's not the first time those ink monkeys have besmirched our good name. You may want to lay low for a while though. Everyone here at the department has got your back, especially now. Even if the public's opinion is being swayed by the vipers at the Journal. Just stay away from Pell University, I'm sure you've read the hitpiece. They know you're posted at P.U. because the Dean told them, the little rat. Not to mention, your picture got blasted front-page, you're not going to be the best undercover agent or interrogator with that kind of recognition. Anyway... You should lay low. How about you use some of those vacation hours, sport?"

You respond, trying to direct your assignment: "But...
>Using vacation time for something like this is unconscionable, and illegal, sir. You may put me on paid administrative leave but I will not use my vacation time because of this."
>Who will carry the department on their back? Hyeh heh, just kidding, sir. Sure, I can take a week of vacation. You guys better not fuck with my desk while I'm gone, or sabotage me like we did to Jimmy's chair last month."
>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."
>What about Detective Black? Don't you want someone to track him down? He's been acting strangely, can we afford to lose someone of his expertise?"
>Who's gonna train Officer Ho Sung? The kid's as green as the Hulk's pecker. Let me tutor him and toughen him up, if you're serious about making him a Junior Detective. When I make Senior, I don't wanna work with goobers."
>Write-in

Seth tells you to shut the door again, and mixes himself a scotch and Velta-Cola again, takes a seat and tells you to join him. Then he responds.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the end of work, you're just glad you made it through. You put in your hours like an average putz, now it's time to go home and blow off some steam like an average putz.

You count your ducats, jump in the bucket, crank up KTWRP and tell the world to suck-it.

DJ Boogie Jay Skeeter sez: "Alright, all you gnarled out werewolves! Let's GOOOO!!! HOW-OWW-OWWWWWLLLLLLLLL!!! C'MON YOU CRETINOUS FUCKERS!!!!! That's right! Coming up NOW, it's the Prince of Darkness with BARK - OW, OW, OW, OWWOOOOOO!!! AROOOOOGA!!! AWOOOOOH!!!"

youtube.com/watch?v=F89-MOy7Xfg

Skeeter devolves from English into a language of howling, grunting, sniffing, snorting and snipping as he fades out and the guitars fade in.

You've got a little bit of time to go home and play with Mandie or just decompress. After that, you've gotta hurry out to Hangman's Falls for the photo shoot, while the sun is still setting. That way you get to watch "Black Rose" get lost in the forest, and ambush her right as twilight hits.

Once you get home you've got about an hour, maybe less. You want to keep up your training with Mandie, but you're also rather in a hurry to meet Black Rose. You've got to be punctual, and even early. What do you do?
>Shower with Mandie! You missed it earlier and your crotch stunk of her fetid pussy juice the whole day, right through your khakis. And now you've got some time to shower in comfort with your main bitch. You can always put your toy away wet and hurry out to Hangman's Falls.
>Skip the house, you've stocked up on what you need in your trunk already this morning. That breakfast bar won't equal half a turd by the time you digest it. Let's hit muh-fuggin' V-Burger. Nothing compares. You doubt that lunkhead Rick is working this shift, too.
>Check up on Carolina Smith to see if she's okay and needs any help.
>Write in - ??? (Suggestions: Prepare something special for Black Rose at the "photo shoot?" - Call up a frien-... Call up an acquaintance or co-worker to chitchat? - Look for a specific item to buy on Craigslist?)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Take your time with this update, since it's so long and it's the opening, I'll give it ~3 days before advancing.)

Remember that all of your actions have consequences, some you could never possibly foresee.

Your Suspicion level is currently 4.01, there is no roll for this until next turn and it may increase or decrease between now and then.

Rolled 19 (1d20)

>>5301396
>You tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the soothing melodies!

>Get her the V-Baby Burger combo with the Darth Woody toy, and shove the toy where the sun don't shine, nyeh heh.

>Try to farm general information from Rick Rippler about Lon Lemmings and the rest of the water polo team and other big happenings around Pell University.

>Attend to Carolina's wounds, she's not too bad, just concussed and scraped. A bit of a limp. Drive her into the station with you so she can file a report immediately!!

>Who's gonna train Officer Ho Sung? The kid's as green as the Hulk's pecker. Let me tutor him and toughen him up, if you're serious about making him a Junior Detective. When I make Senior, I don't wanna work with goobers."

>Shower with Mandie! You missed it earlier and your crotch stunk of her fetid pussy juice the whole day, right through your khakis. And now you've got some time to shower in comfort with your main bitch. You can always put your toy away wet and hurry out to Hangman's Falls.

That's quite a lengthy update chief

>>5301396
>I'll give it ~3 days before advancing.
3 days, 9 posts to read. Thus, the goal is to read 3 posts per day.

>>5301396
>>Get her the V-Baby Burger combo with the Darth Woody toy, and shove the toy where the sun don't shine, nyeh heh.
>Say nothing to Rick, but politely inform his manager at the pickup window that Rick is an extremely poor worker. He even called you a faggot and a nigger and a carpet-bagging ponyboy while you were looking for sticky nickels in your cupholder.
>"I'll save your hijos, Carolina!!" Make a dash to your driveway and peel off in the Lincoln. You're going straight after the scumbag. Skrrt!!
>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."
>Check up on Carolina Smith to see if she's okay and needs any help.

>You wish they were playing KTWRP with DJ Boogie Jay Skeeter, he'd have some sick sounds to slay these suckers with.
>Get her a matching Medium combo but with a diet Velta-Cola. She's eating good tonight, she even gets to share the dining table with master.
>Say, "I love 'Shaved Pussies.'" Donate the 13 cents. Silently observe, pay for the food and leave. No need to ruffle feathers early.
>Attend to Carolina's wounds, she's not too bad, just concussed and scraped. A bit of a limp. Drive her into the station with you so she can file a report immediately!!
>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."
>Check up on Carolina Smith to see if she's okay and needs any help.

>>5301396
>You tap your fingers on the steering wheel to the soothing melodies!
>Buy nothing more than a single Jumbo Fried Pickle for the slave to nosh on. You hope she fancies good southern cooking. Soaked in vinegar, then her own punani juices, then her saliva
>Say, "I love 'Shaved Pussies.'" Donate the 13 cents. Silently observe, pay for the food and leave. No need to ruffle feathers early.
>Attend to Carolina's wounds, she's not too bad, just concussed and scraped. A bit of a limp. Drive her into the station with you so she can file a report immediately!!
>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."
>Shower with Mandie! You missed it earlier and your crotch stunk of her fetid pussy juice the whole day, right through your khakis. And now you've got some time to shower in comfort with your main bitch. You can always put your toy away wet and hurry out to Hangman's Falls.

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Forgot to post the VCJ front page

(Continuing in ~48 hours, voting is still open.)

>>5302400
Can you explain how the dice system works?

https://archived.moe/qst/thread/5182912/#5196519
>deleted his roll post 6 times until he got a 19
bless the cheating anon

>>5302428
Kek... Oh lord. Please don't do this, anymore, anyone, it really isn't necessary. Though, I am flattered.
Even if we get Pinched (arrested), the story isn't all over, so don't feel obligated to get good rolls.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rolls typically work one of two ways:

-Some rolls will be used as a set. (i.e. "Search this dumpster" - Rolls are 2, 37, 37, and 89 - You accidentally reach inside of a maggot-infested dead puppy, and then find two greasy vintage porno mags in used condition, and a mysteriously familiar broken cellphone with the SIM card still intact) In all rolls, high is good and low is bad.

-Suspicion/Pinch rolls and some others are based on an average or mean. You want to roll above the Sus/Pinch level. (i.e.: Sus level is 10.9 and three players roll 3, 10 and 20, the average is 11, meaning you do not get caught. If the rolls were 1, 1 and 20, you'd be in biiiiiig trouble, but, as mentioned, the show will go on.)
(If you lose a Suspicion check, you are under official investigation for a number of "turns", and face the Pinch check instead. If you fail the Pinch check, one or more of your heinous felonies has been exposed and connected to you. Will you submit to the law, fight it legally, run away, barricade yourself in the dungeon, or maybe even off yourself? Or will you be a quick-witted, wise killer who never gets caught?)

>>5301379
For a second QM I thought you were not going to return, welcome back! Let’s hope my rolls are better this time around
>>5301382
>Get her a matching Medium combo but with a diet Velta-Cola. She's eating good tonight, she even gets to share the dining table with master.
Remember to reward sometimes
>>5301383
>Say, "I love 'Shaved Pussies.'" Donate the 13 cents. Silently observe, pay for the food and leave. No need to ruffle feathers early.
>Don't get too close. Just call this in to the station. Dial 911 and inform dispatch there's been a kidnapping and an assault next door.
>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."
>Shower with Mandie! You missed it earlier and your crotch stunk of her fetid pussy juice the whole day, right through your khakis. And now you've got some time to shower in comfort with your main bitch. You can always put your toy away wet and hurry out to Hangman's Falls.

>You wish they were playing KTWRP with DJ Boogie Jay Skeeter, he'd have some sick sounds to slay these suckers with.
>Get her a matching Medium combo but with a diet Velta-Cola. She's eating good tonight, she even gets to share the dining table with master.
>Say nothing to Rick, but politely inform his manager at the pickup window that Rick is an extremely poor worker. He even called you a faggot and a nigger and a carpet-bagging ponyboy while you were looking for sticky nickels in your cupholder.
>Jack off behind the curtains. Carolina looks so pretty when she catatonically cries. Debate whether you'll bring over a cheese basket tonight to get her mind off of the situation.
>Who's gonna train Officer Ho Sung? The kid's as green as the Hulk's pecker. Let me tutor him and toughen him up, if you're serious about making him a Junior Detective. When I make Senior, I don't wanna work with goobers."
>Shower with Mandie! You missed it earlier and your crotch stunk of her fetid pussy juice the whole day, right through your khakis. And now you've got some time to shower in comfort with your main bitch. You can always put your toy away wet and hurry out to Hangman's Falls.

Write-in:
>Call Jenny Jenkins, and congratulate her for outsmarting you.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

Write in for the van:
>Do we recognize any of the plates at all?

>Get her a matching Medium combo but with a diet Velta-Cola. She's eating good tonight, she even gets to share the dining table with master.
>Say, "I love 'Shaved Pussies.'" Donate the 13 cents. Silently observe, pay for the food and leave. No need to ruffle feathers early.
>Don't get too close. Just call this in to the station. Dial 911 and inform dispatch there's been a kidnapping and an assault next door.
>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."

Write in for once we're home:
>Just clean up alone then head out. Fun and "work" don't mix.

>>5302501
I want to cum inside cornholes ghosts

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15 KB JPG

>>5303134
A gift for your secret trophy case, m'lord

>>5301396
Write in
>Do we recognize any of the plates at all?

>Get her the V-Baby Burger combo with the Darth Woody toy, and shove the toy where the sun don't shine, nyeh heh.

>Say, "I love 'Shaved Pussies.'" Donate the 13 cents. Silently observe, pay for the food and leave. No need to ruffle feathers early.

>Jack off behind the curtains. Carolina looks so pretty when she catatonically cries. Debate whether you'll bring over a cheese basket tonight to get her mind off of the situation.

>The Lon Lemmings case could fall apart without me. Don't you think I should finish what I started? It's practically already over, and I don't want Jimmy putting his name on my work."

>Shower with Mandie! You missed it earlier and your crotch stunk of her fetid pussy juice the whole day, right through your khakis. And now you've got some time to shower in comfort with your main bitch. You can always put your toy away wet and hurry out to Hangman's Falls.

Is a roll needed?

>>5303692
>Is a roll needed?
No rolls are needed yet

>Do we recognize any of the plates at all?
(Before ordering at V-Burger:)
While you do happen to be in your typical state of high alert and sobriety, none of these cars in the drive-thru or their license plates look familiar. None of the parked cars ring a bell, either. You try to focus harder, shutting your eyes... You hear a familiar voice up closer to the checkout window.

Wait just a darned second!! It was your old partner! That Cadillac with the chipped paint on the door that just pulled off is Senior Detective Donavan Black's!! Well, you're sandwiched in between vehicles, and you can't get over the curbs without risking totaling your suspension. No use in making a scene.

At least you know Don Black is still in town... But why? You figured he would've left town to enjoy himself and cool down. He went a little crazy after you and Jimmy blackmailed him using Black's accidental killing of his partner Rodriguez. Still, it's odd that he won't come in to work anymore, you could've sworn he was tougher. He must really have went off the deep end. Hopefully he isn't planning anything...

... (To be continued/addressed in next update)

>>5302557
>Write-in
>Call Jenny Jenkins, and congratulate her for outsmarting you.

... (To be continued/addressed in next update)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voting is closed, writing now. This will take me some time.

>>5303767
*2 updates from now
You're gonna be... busy... muhahaha

>>5301396
its been 3 days, out of the cage you go

>>5301383 (I noticed that I did ask for a roll last time, woops. This time, I will actually use the rolls)

>>>Roll 5d100!!!!

The Southern Sun hangs late in the sky, as if suspended in molasses.

After your heart calms down a tick from unexpectedly seeing Don >>5303767, you re-settle in your re-upholstered leather seat in the drive-thru.

This doo-wop music is tolerable and calming. You wouldn't mind something more aggressive from 92.3 KTWRP, but V-Burger's speakers are really loud for some reason, so you leave your radio at zero volume.

Twenty-three seconds after reaching the intercom: "...and a DIET Velta-Cola for that one. That'll be all. Thank you."

...

"Shaved Pussies, huh? Yeah, I've heard of them before. Good stuff, I'm proud we have something like that in Velton." You hand over one bill each of Hamilton and Lincoln and receive only your bagged food in return.

The lunkhead Rick reads off a script: "All... ... ...13¢... ...of your donation will be used directly for new razors and premium hair products for homeless and animals. Thank you... kind sir or madam..." Rick Rippler gives you the receipt and you zoom off after picking up your two medium combos.

(Suspicion -0.2)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting Mandie out of the basement was easy. Getting her clean will be the hard part. So you decide to eat dinner with her while she is still sullied and befouled. You'll shower her tomorrow.

Mandie is quite receptive to the meal, and they actually got your order right. You sit next to her in your dining room. She's consumed with consuming her meal, launching back in to old, familiar, desperately missed habits. Dunking her V-Fries in V-tchup one-by-one, lifting her pinkies up while eating her burger, slurping on the jumbo V-Pickle, rattling the soda cup when it's just ice, she even unfolded and laid a V-napkin across her lap...

File: clip on magnet siren.jpg (9 KB, 275x183)

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Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith is a feminist activist and liberal arts student. She lived on campus at Pell University before you tricked her into meeting off of Craigslist, where you abducted her in the mountains with the promise of a non-existent puppy. She's been in your basement ever since. Let's get to know this clueless coed a little more.
>Move the meal to the living room and turn on the TV. "Unpowered Rangers" is on right now, and it's the season finale. Casually ask Mandie what she thinks about kids, and being a mother.
>Remind Mandie of her previous naked triathlon performances of her own free will. Ask her politely to strip down. Then ask her if she longs to return to her athletic pursuits - or if she enjoyed the exhibitionism aspect of it more.
>Question Mandie about her career aspirations after she finishes college and what she was doing for money before you started taking care of her.
>This bitch is getting too comfortable. Walk behind her and encourage her to continue eating. When she least expects it, crack her back a dozen times with your recently acquired stiff leather riding crop. Ride her hard tonight.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"In the midst of chaos, you must be the agent of reason. Breathe. Think. Then act." -Seth Higgins, shaking your hand as you walked the graduation line at the police academy ceremony.

Carolina's not going anywhere, and according to domestic abuse and infanticide statistics, her white trash husband probably won't hurt his own kids, wherever he's going with them. Still, you want to hurry. You spend a few minutes triple-checking the locks, then finally emerge to help your neighbor. No one else in the neighborhood is responding - in fact, most of the driveways are empty, seems like people are all at work or in school.

"Oh my god!!!! Carolina!!! What happened??"

She can't speak coherently, but she doesn't look too bruised and she denies when you ask if she wants an ambulance. You ask where her husband went, but she doesn't know. You tell her you'll take her straight to the police station.

The entire ride to VPD HQ, Carolina Smith cries and won't say a thing except for about her children, who are all primary school aged. You try asking where her husband might have taken her kids, why this all happened, and quizzing her for signs of concussion. No response, only cries. Just drive fast and safe, you can't multitask right now.

You stop the questioning, and reach over Carolina's lap into your glovebox and pull out your dusty magnet siren and light it up, then you stick it on your roof. You begin speeding 30 miles over the limit and blowing stop signs.

Carolina's crying is making your uncomfortable. Rather, the origin of her crying. Her husband is an amateur, he only got her to this point because has all the emotional and familial leverage over Carolina. Even without those advantages, you know you could make Carolina scream and weep harder than she is now. You think of Carolina more like an object than a person, but a dangerous object like a surveillance camera or tape recorder that can be used in a court of law against you, especially if you get your fingerprints all over it. Just drive... No, on second thought, you pull out your cellphone and call in the code to dispatch, telling them your next-door neighbor is a suspect on an Amber Alert. Carolina weeps but manages to tell you the license plate number.

The accelerator rises and the brake pedal depresses as you corner yourself into a parking spot. You're almost half an hour late, but you've got a pretty good excuse in your passenger seat to save your ass!

"Can you walk, Carolina?"

"Jyes."

You lock elbows with her, escort her down the cement, and hold the door for her as she limps in the station.

"What the hell, Skeletor!" Great, now the receptionist is openly calling you that. You'll get that bitch later.

"She said she doesn't want a hospital, she wants to file a report. Right, Carolina?" You matter-of-factly respond.

Higgins and a few other police paper pushers respond and get her a seat and a water cup, and double-check her for concussions. She maintains that she wants to give her story and get in a patrol car if possible, her kids are in danger!

Minutes later, three squad cars and a helicopter are revving up to look for Carolina's kids.

Just a week or two ago you were spying on her doing her weekly laundry in her front-of-house garage. That's when you remember!! She's got cameras on her property that must have recorded the whole incident!! It won't tell us where he went, but at least we'll have all the evidence needed to kickstart the investigation!! You bring this up to the officers taking Carolina's report, and the video gets tracked down for analysis...

Seth stands next to you as the scene calms down. "Thought you were pulling a Don Black."

"Huh?" He catches you off-guard.

"Was worried you weren't coming in today!" Seth explains. Seth's been looking visibly worried ever since he found out his son may be involved in the Lon Lemmings case, but he's still verbally jovial. "Glad to see you're still serving and protecting the community in spite of the VCJ hit piece. Speaking of... Listen, kid, I've taken it into consideration, and... For the department's sake, we can't have you on the Pell University Water Polo Hazing-Suicide case. It's too risky, and you know it! Have you been watching the news?"

You haven't, but now you're curious. Perhaps you should.

Commissioner Seth Higgins, built like an apache attack helicopter, continues his line of thought. "I know you did the legwork. You'll get rewarded for that. I know how frustrating it can be to lose out like this. Trust me kid, everything you're going through, I've been through. Blindfolded, with a hand tied behind my back, walking backwards!" He trails off for a minute, boasting and talking about personal responsibility, then he lets loose something that deserves a response. "Just 'cuz I have faith in you, kid, I'll let you pick your assignment. Jimmy can pick up whatever is left."

"..."
(Choose up to two (2) responses.)
[Note: Jimmy will take whichever case(s) and mentorship you do not take.]
>Take on Carolina Smith's case. (Not the pursuit, though. That's already being handled.)
>Keep begging to finish the Lon Lemmings case.
>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung.
>Ask for a random assignment.
>Use one week of vacation time.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

(Suspicion -0.4)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eating last night was easy, enjoyable, even. Now you make the transition from hosing down Mandie in the basement to having her shower with you. There's an element of risk. You've calculated it to be minimal.

Her cuts, bruises, and burns have become noticeably smaller and less colorful.
She doesn't seem to mind your roughness when loosening the ligatures on her limbs as much, in fact she complies(?) with limpness rather than struggle.
Mandie's hair is twisted, teased, tangled, and torn short in some spots - but her lip corners rise in a Mona Lisa smile. (You muse that Leonardo Da Vinci probably had that cunt in his basement for a month or two before painting her).

Leading Mandie from her chains in the cellar up to your lavish, 2nd story bathroom, you can hear and feel her knobby joints crack and pop.

You considered leaving Mandie in her filthy state in the cellar and preparing for tonight alone. But Mandie still needs your rigidity, she's not done being molded yet. This is a critical time in her development as either your property or your assistant. You've been gentle with her recently. If she behaves herself and shows no signs of rebellion or other red flags, perhaps she can be put to use and trusted as more than just an object...

...After you finish off a mostly friendly (but still rigid and stiff) shower, with Mandie cleaning herself for your viewing pleasure, you towel off and decide to flip on the news in the living room for a few minutes.

With your direction, Mandie walks over and sits on the couch and you stand over her and the TV boots up.

File: hangmansfalls.jpg (164 KB, 600x800)

164 KB JPG

Your name and face are immediately blasted all over the screen, just like Jenny's news article, and the news anchor announces "...-s cop is really responsible for, well, really probably all the BS traffic stops and tickets and police brutality in Velton, isn't he? I mean, this jerk..." His tone is lazy and mocking, but you'll receive lots of local hate anyway. The news anchor then announces that Mayor Jack Kinov of Velton is there to speak about the issue. He immediately rebukes you and the department by name, starting with "I'm sick of these bums in blue, going around bullyi..."

Mandie, with her hairy head in the towel, doesn't see the TV screen through any of this, but she could hear it. You turn it off just in time. Mandie takes the towel down. She begins to say something about how she hates cops but you have to cut her off.

"I've got to put you away right now, for your own good." You say without looking in her eyes, locking and tying her straps in.

With a worried twang, Mandie asks "Okay... When will I see you again?"

From the corner of your eye, you can tell she's looking you in the face, and that she can tell something may be off. You answer her after you put her ball gag on.

You've got to get prepared for your date with Black Rose. You don't tell Mandie that, though.

(Suspicion +1.5)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

youtube.com/watch?v=oYKMZUNHTAI

The radio is LOUD. Today you're listening to 106.9 KSLIP - AKA The Slippery Trout. Your boombox leads the wood nymph, Black Rose, straight to your "photo shoot" for a "coffee shop".

She's as stunning in real life as she is in the pictures. Photogenic is the term. She gracefully treads through forest, dressed in scant, bold black makeup and skimpy but elaborate, draping green, white and brown nature goddess clothes. She manages not to get her garments caught on any tree branches. She's carrying a duffel bag, likely full of her other costumes she brought along.

You wave her over, with your old Nycon camera in your hand. You're wearing a ridiculous hat you assume a photographer would wear. Tweaking a fake metrosexual lisp, you signal over: "Oh good, you made it, honey! I'm so happy to see you! I know this place is a little bit out of the way, but you know~~"

She seems to take the bait with no problem. She must not watch the news. "Oh no, babe, this place is perrrrrfect!! Here, wanna look through my outfits with me? Or should we get into the FIERCENESS already?!?!" She drops her bag, pouts her lips, rolls her eyes out, and fakes a tiger claw with one hand while the other is sassily planted on her hip.

"Ohhhh!! Amazing!!" You keep up the act and snap a few impromptu shots, the flash going off each time.

"Tee-hee~~! So, uhh, can I try the coffee?" She picks up a bag of Barstucks coffee you spray painted bright white and scribbled on.

"Unfortunatelyyy, these are just props made special for the photo shoot. But don't worry, the owner of the coffee shop said we would get 2 punches on our punch card every visit! How awesome is that?"

Black Rose doesn't seem to think that's such a good deal. She thinks she's too high and fucking mighty to appreciate a nice deal like that. She thinks she's entitled to more. "Okay, pfft, like, what-ever!! I'm just here to build my resume anyway. Let's just take the stupid fucking pictures for these stingy hillbilly hippie coffee assholes. Greedy pricks..."

Just like that her attitude is completely soured. You frown and offer to assist in speeding up the process. It's a real turn off whenever brats act like brats.

I. Deception
Snapping photo after photo, the flash gets more noticeable as the sun lowers. You don't really have all day to do this - time is of the essence. You drop the fake gay guy accent/act and inform your next girlfriend of her fate.
>Ether. What a magic drug. Put it in lemonade and you can't even taste it. By the time you drop the act, she's slipping hard to the Appalachian leaf litter. Unconscious, for a few hours.
>You want her awake, so you tell her to make nice, get along and let you tie her up. You're going to re-enact her bondage photos, and you've brought the rope. "Don't resist and your makeup doesn't get ruined," you promise. "It'll be over soon," you lie.
>Keeping the act up to the very end, you lead her into a "cave behind the waterfall for the bestest photos!!" When you get under Hangman's Falls, there is no cave. You smash her face into the jagged rock and drag her by her hair and hold her head under water until she swallows a few mouthfuls of lake water. Then drag her out and pump her stomach so she's ready for more torture.
>Live by the camera, get beat by the camera. Under the guise of "showing her the photos you want to use", you approach each other's personal bubbles. When she leans in to look, you savagely beat her with your fists, the camera, the bag of coffee beans, and anything else nearby.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

II. Torture
She's completely dumbfounded finding out your true intentions. She begs and begs, making very cogent arguments, but there's nothing in the world you want more than what you have in your hands at this moment. You politely deny her requests for you to stop.
>Wrap the camera strap around her neck and asphyxiate her over and over again until she's blue. Shake her head like a magic 8 ball that keeps saying "Reply hazy, try again."
>Stuff her panties in her mouth and rip her piercings out with pliers.
>Punt her cunt.
>Mount her and employ light humiliation with classics like "Stop hitting yourself", "I've got your nose", and "Don't be a tattletale! You'll get me in trouble!". She's going to be your spoiled little princess, but she needs humbling.
>Write-in

III. Sex Acts.
There's little will left to resist your pain and humiliation, until Black Rose realizes which direction it's headed. She instinctively shoots her hands down to her pelvis to protect her genitals from voracious predators. But you've already breached her defense. It's almost a futile show of resistance. Optional, too, in your mind, and thus, chiding against your goal. No matter, you persevere through hard times and soft. And right now, times are rock solid. And Black Rose is bound to a Southern Magnolia tree in full bloom.
>Use only her mouth
>Use only your mouth
>Make a creampie
>Humiliating painal ft. loblolly pinecone
>Cut her nipples off and suck the blood
>Write-in

IV. Capture (previously Snuffing)
You perform your sex acts until it's nearly pitch black outside, which must have lasted about 40-50 minutes. You only stop when you notice two STRONG flashlight beams swaying up, down, left and right. They're getting closer, maybe 5 minutes out at their current pace. Gotta clean up quickly, they're probably on a beeline for Hangman's Falls, your current location.
>Your Lincoln Continental isn't too far away, you parked it out here. You'll be leaving behind Black Rose's black Toyota Corolla, which the "visitors" may or may not find.
>Your Lincoln is way back on the highway next to a popular hiking parking lot so you can get it later with ease, you hiked 6 miles to get here. You will scurry out of here using Black Rose's car.
>You're standing your ground. Let the flashlight people come, you can hide away and explain away anything, or even bust out your badge if need be. Gives you plenty of time to clean up the site if you can shoo away the "visitors".
>Fuck it. You don't wanna take Black Rose back after all. Revert to Snuffing. Clear the "visitors" first, then take your time cleaning up the site and the body. (Must choose Disposal next)
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

V. Storage (previously Disposal)
You leave Hangman's falls with Black Rose in the back seat of the car. The moonlight is strong and the drive is long, despite your adrenaline pumping. This is the part that makes you nervous, but you make it home safe, and smuggle Black Rose into your house without being noticed.
>As planned, Black Rose goes straight in the attic. Since she's a goth, she gets a modified upside down cross made from the farmer's sturdy oak workhorse, rough ropes and spare lumber. Hide her from Mandie's sight.
>She'll get to her place in the attic after she and Mandie go one-on-one in gladiatorial combat. Let's see who's tougher and who takes this more seriously. Who has the advantage, the new slave, or the old one?
>Keep both women in the basement together. Could be risky to have two prisoners together, but it's also risky to split them up into the attic and the basement. This way all your eggs are in one basket.
>Revert to Disposal. You made a mess and it's time to clean her up. (Must also choose Snuffing. Will be addressed next update if chosen.)
>Write-in

VI. Celebration
Cold milk goes on the counter immediately so it can warm. Your endorphins are jumping like beads of oil on a steaming hot skillet. How do you decide to celebrate your latest victory?
>Interrogate Black Rose and learn her real name, or give her a new one of your own
>Choose another Sex Act (from III.) to perform on Black Rose
>Tell Mandie she's got competition
>Tell Mandie she's got a new buddy
>Tell Mandie she's got a slave of her own now
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion Check: 4.91
(One roll goes to this!)

Rolled 84, 68, 78, 26, 39 = 295 (5d100)

>Remind Mandie of her previous naked triathlon performances of her own free will. Ask her politely to strip down. Then ask her if she longs to return to her athletic pursuits - or if she enjoyed the exhibitionism aspect of it more.

>Keep begging to finish the Lon Lemmings case.
>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung.
Ho Sung has a lot of potential to be molded into a good minion. He just needs to be tricked into doing illegal things.

>Keeping the act up to the very end, you lead her into a "cave behind the waterfall for the bestest photos!!" When you get under Hangman's Falls, there is no cave. You smash her face into the jagged rock and drag her by her hair and hold her head under water until she swallows a few mouthfuls of lake water. Then drag her out and pump her stomach so she's ready for more torture.

>Stuff her panties in her mouth and rip her piercings out with pliers.
Piecings are disgusting and must be ripped off immediately, without leaving DNA evidence on the site

>Cut her nipples off and suck the blood
That's an extra punishment for the piercings

>Your Lincoln is way back on the highway next to a popular hiking parking lot so you can get it later with ease, you hiked 6 miles to get here. You will scurry out of here using Black Rose's car.

>Keep both women in the basement together.

>Tell Mandie she's got a slave of her own now
This should be the last step to push Mandie to the point of no return

Rolled 4, 6, 1, 12, 43 = 66 (5d100)

>>5304564
Let’s see if my luck has improved

>Move the meal to the living room and turn on the TV. "Unpowered Rangers" is on right now, and it's the season finale. Casually ask Mandie what she thinks about kids, and being a mother.

>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung.
>Ask for a random assignment.
I got a good way to throw off any suspicions: we do our job and do it well!

>You want her awake, so you tell her to make nice, get along and let you tie her up. You're going to re-enact her bondage photos, and you've brought the rope. "Don't resist and your makeup doesn't get ruined," you promise. "It'll be over soon," you lie.
>Stuff her panties in her mouth and rip her piercings out with pliers.
>Humiliating painal ft. loblolly pinecone
>Your Lincoln is way back on the highway next to a popular hiking parking lot so you can get it later with ease, you hiked 6 miles to get here. You will scurry out of here using Black Rose's car.
>As planned, Black Rose goes straight in the attic. Since she's a goth, she gets a modified upside down cross made from the farmer's sturdy oak workhorse, rough ropes and spare lumber. Hide her from Mandie's sight.

>>5304583
Ah forgot to put down celebration
>Tell Mandie she's got a slave of her own now

Rolled 85, 10, 12, 51, 8 = 166 (5d100)

>Move the meal to the living room and turn on the TV. "Unpowered Rangers" is on right now, and it's the season finale. Casually ask Mandie what she thinks about kids, and being a mother.
>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung
>Ask for a random assignment
>Ether. What a magic drug. Put it in lemonade and you can't even taste it. By the time you drop the act, she's slipping hard to the Appalachian leaf litter. Unconscious, for a few hours.
>Stuff her panties in her mouth and rip her piercings out with pliers.
>Cut her nipples off and suck the blood
>You're standing your ground. Let the flashlight people come, you can hide away and explain away anything, or even bust out your badge if need be. Gives you plenty of time to clean up the site if you can shoo away the "visitors".
>Keep both women in the basement together. Could be risky to have two prisoners together, but it's also risky to split them up into the attic and the basement. This way all your eggs are in one basket.
>Tell Mandie she's got a slave of her own now.

I'm officially scatterbrained. That's supposed to be 5d20 not 5d100. If you rolled d100's don't worry, I'll just divide the results by 5.

Gonna give this vote at least 24 more hours.

Rolled 53, 19, 79, 100, 54 = 305 (5d100)

>>5304583
>Remind Mandie of her previous naked triathlon performances of her own free will. Ask her politely to strip down. Then ask her if she longs to return to her athletic pursuits - or if she enjoyed the exhibitionism aspect of it more.
>This bitch is getting too comfortable. Walk behind her and encourage her to continue eating. When she least expects it, crack her back a dozen times with your recently acquired stiff leather riding crop. Ride her hard tonight.

>Take on Carolina Smith's case. (Not the pursuit, though. That's already being handled.)
>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung.

>You want her awake, so you tell her to make nice, get along and let you tie her up. You're going to re-enact her bondage photos, and you've brought the rope. "Don't resist and your makeup doesn't get ruined," you promise. "It'll be over soon," you lie.

>Stuff her panties in her mouth and rip her piercings out with pliers.

>Humiliating painal ft. loblolly pinecone

>Fuck it. You don't wanna take Black Rose back after all. Revert to Snuffing. Clear the "visitors" first, then take your time cleaning up the site and the body. (Must choose Disposal next)

>Revert to Disposal. You made a mess and it's time to clean her up. (Must also choose Snuffing. Will be addressed next update if chosen.)

>Interrogate Black Rose and learn her real name, or give her a new one of your own

She's a witch! BURN THE WITCH!!! BURN HER AT THE STAKE!!!!!!!

>>5305186
Dang, a nat 100. You gotta give us something for this boss >>5305180

>>5305188
Will do, chief.

>>5304663
>Those rolls
Your computer/phone/fingers/virtual dice are just cursed, don't know what to tell ya. I think it's one of those self fulfilling prophecies where you keep bringing attention to it and it just... Lingers.

I still love you, though, even if you don't roll no good.

Rolled 20, 8, 18, 18, 11 = 75 (5d20)

>>5304583
>Question Mandie about her career aspirations after she finishes college and what she was doing for money before you started taking care of her.

>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung.
>Ask for a random assignment.

>Keeping the act up to the very end, you lead her into a "cave behind the waterfall for the bestest photos!!" When you get under Hangman's Falls, there is no cave. You smash her face into the jagged rock and drag her by her hair and hold her head under water until she swallows a few mouthfuls of lake water. Then drag her out and pump her stomach so she's ready for more torture.
>Stuff her panties in her mouth and rip her piercings out with pliers.
>Cut her nipples off and suck the blood
>Your Lincoln is way back on the highway next to a popular hiking parking lot so you can get it later with ease, you hiked 6 miles to get here. You will scurry out of here using Black Rose's car.
>As planned, Black Rose goes straight in the attic. Since she's a goth, she gets a modified upside down cross made from the farmer's sturdy oak workhorse, rough ropes and spare lumber. Hide her from Mandie's sight.
>Interrogate Black Rose and learn her real name, or give her a new one of your own

Rolled 79, 87, 21, 59, 53 = 299 (5d100)

>>5304583
>Remind Mandie of her previous naked triathlon performances of her own free will. Ask her politely to strip down. Then ask her if she longs to return to her athletic pursuits - or if she enjoyed the exhibitionism aspect of it more.
>Keep begging to finish the Lon Lemmings case.
>Volunteer to mentor Ho Sung.

>Keeping the act up to the very end, you lead her into a "cave behind the waterfall for the bestest photos!!" When you get under Hangman's Falls, there is no cave. You smash her face into the jagged rock and drag her by her hair and hold her head under water until she swallows a few mouthfuls of lake water. Then drag her out and pump her stomach so she's ready for more torture.
>Wrap the camera strap around her neck and asphyxiate her over and over again until she's blue. Shake her head like a magic 8 ball that keeps saying "Reply hazy, try again."
>Humiliating painal ft. loblolly pinecone
>You're standing your ground. Let the flashlight people come, you can hide away and explain away anything, or even bust out your badge if need be. Gives you plenty of time to clean up the site if you can shoo away the "visitors".
>As planned, Black Rose goes straight in the attic. Since she's a goth, she gets a modified upside down cross made from the farmer's sturdy oak workhorse, rough ropes and spare lumber. Hide her from Mandie's sight.
>Choose another Sex Act (from III.) to perform on Black Rose
>Cut her nipples off and suck the blood

>>5305565
Didn't see that we should've rolled d20s. Oh well.

Voting is still open for ~9hrs.

(As it stands, your Suspicion Roll is 5.63, dangerously close to the 4.91 threshold, but still a pass!)

>>5305843
By my count the sussy roll is
>>5304626 39/5=7.8
>>5304663 43/5=8.6
>>5304675 8/5=1.6
>>5305186 54/5=10.8
>>5305538 11
>>5305565 53/5=10.6
Total : 50.4/6 = 8.4

>>5306366
I probably divided the 11 by accident, thanks. I'm actually going to go to bed now but I plan to begin writing in the morning.

>>5306366
Thank you, quest accountant.
Can you also keep track of the character's finances and calorie intake?

>>5306550
>>5306366
Well, detective, you do have a few thousand dollars of liquid funds saved up, not to mention some paid vacation time you could use up. I smell a rooooaaaaad triiiiip! There are still a few urgent matters to attend to before we can think about that, though.

Based quest accountant writing spreadsheets containing bra sizes, bruise counts, favorite hobbies/foods, times used in which positions, and the likes and dislikes of all our dreamy, dungeon-dwelling damsels. (And a running count of the payback owed to Don Black. You estimate between him smashing the door of your Lincoln Continental, and his Bear Claw theft, the sonofagun owes you at least $608, two broken tibias, a herniated scrotum, and a few bloodcurdling screams.)

Beginning to write now, this'll take me some time, at least a few hours. Pencils down, class.

>>5306640
So how are our stock accounts doing? What about our investments? Don't tell me we don't have disposable assets!

>>5306640
In my records, it says that we have no more vacation days left
https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive/2022/5182912/#p5184533

>>5306646
Just shut the fuck up Wux. If the chief says we have vacation time here >>5301395 then we have vacation time.

>>5306646
You cashed in your last vacation days right before you were about to earn more, you silly goose. Duh!!

You've earned almost 5 full days, enough for a 9-day weekend-to-weekend rape bonanza.

Okay, gonna actually start writing soon. Still gonna take at least a few hours.

>>5306646
Any further questions about your employment will have to be addressed to Commissioner Higgins' desk.

Rolled 1, 4 = 5 (2d4)

Sometimes I write at a snail's pace, forgive me. Please don't take me back to the basement, master, I beg of you...
When I self-insert myself as your next rape victim, it's just for lulz and the story, really... Don't look any further into the character of Fay S. Miller.

>Choices Made
~Evening with Mandie~
1 Triathlon/strip

~Police Work~*
2 Mentor Ho Sung
3 Random Assignment

~Abduction of Black Rose~
4 Deception* - Metrosexual tricks and promises of false waterfall caves.
5 Torture - STOP! Plyer Time!
6 Sex Acts - Tie between Pinecone Painal and Nipple Removal (1st roll attached to this post. Odds for painal, even for nip-off)
7 Capture* - In her own car trunk she goes.
8 Storage - Straight to the attic she goes.
9 Celebration - Gift Black Rose to Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith.

DICE (Divided by 5, rounded up)
Talk w/ Mandie - 17, ((1)), 17, 11, ((20)), 16 (mean/avg - 13.66 = Swell!)
Police Work - 14, 2, 2 // 4, 8, 18 (mode/sets)
Deception - 16, 1, 3, 16, 18, 4 (mean/avg - 9.66 = Decent.)
Capture - 5, 3, 11, ((20)), 18, 12 (mode/set)
Suspicion - 8, 9, 1 , 11, 11, 11 (mean/avg, 8.5 vs 4.91 = PASS!!!)

Random assignment selection: (2nd roll attached to this post)*
1 Hunt down Don Black and find out what he's up to. Spying on the veteran won't be easy. Get to it, tiger.
2 That groper is at it again at Jon's Supermarket. Seth wants this pervert brought to justice. Bit of a softball.
3 Farmer Green is POSITIVE chupacabras have been gang-fucking his goat for weeks, and he fears what they may do next. Investigate.
4 You can't be seen on P.U.'s campus anymore, but you CAN conduct undercover surveillance on Rick Rippler's house.

* = affected/modified by a dice roll

W R I T I N G

(Sorry nipple-cutters, you beautiful freaks. We're going with a classic.)

(About two thirds done with this update and it's already 8000 characters longer than the last update... Not doing this on purpose, this is just how the story comes to me lol. This update is going to be at least 10 posts... Sorry it's taking so long. Hang tight, should be out in less than 12hrs., may fall asleep IDK yet)

>ROLL 4D20!!!
>ROLL 4D20!!!!!
>ROLL 4D20!!!!!!!

Seth looks you in the eyes as you ask for a heavier workload, admiring your work ethic. You meet and maintain his eye contact as you throw Ho Sung under the bus for being an inexperienced, raw rookie.

"Look, with Don Black gone, Jimmy Waters... Being Jimmy Waters... Don't you think you should let me train up the next guy? At the rate we're chugging along at, I'm going to be the only detective on the force to do any sleuthing!! Oh yeah, I almost forgot about Senior Detective No-Knees... Is he even coming back? He's been out for like eleven months."

Commissioner Higgins listens carefully and thoughtfully... "You're right, kid. Don's gone AWOL, Jimmy's a friggin' butterfingers through-and-through, and Senior Detective Thibodeaux's knees are still smashed up from when the Heaven's Demons motorcycle club discovered his wire when he was undercover. And Senior Detective Rodriguez... May God rest his soul." Seth looks down for a split-second, then returns to your eyes to speak, resolved. "Alright. Ho Sung will be your new understudy. Do right by him, teach him everything you know. He's a bright kid, but he doesn't have your... Flow. He's bound to run into a nasty snag or two if you don't teach him how to fit in in this town... He's from Berkeley."

"California?"

Seth silently nods.

"Hoo boy... How did he find his way out here?"

"Met a girlfriend online, moved out here, knocked her up, had a quarter-life crisis, grinded through the academy, and now he's engaged. Ho Sung and Hoo Flung Dung are getting married in three months. He's a family man now, so let's teach him well, so he can keep himself safe."

Oh no. Another heart you'll potentially have to break. This just keeps getting better and better. You can sense Ho Sung is a straight arrow type, but he's also infinitely naïve and unprepared for the task at hand. This line of work exposes one to the harshest realities, and you know as well as anybody that no one stares into the abyss without the abyss running its course through you in return. So long as Ho Sung follows your lead, there will be no need to pay Hoo Flung Dung a visit, and they can live happy lives.

Seth continues. "Maybe you'll even have to rely on him to save your life one day, who knows. I know this is your first time training a rookie, so do your best." He sips his drink. "My advice? Don't get TOO attached. Just teach him the basics, Skeletor. If he learns from you, he oughta be fine." He slaps his beefy hand on your shoulder and nods. He breaks eye contact to finish his mixed drink.

He then dismisses you, only to call you right back.

"On second thought, uh... Tell ya what, kid... I don't know if I can trust Waters to finish the Lon Lemmings case by himself. We're already getting bombarded by media as to why we haven't solved this case yet, on top of all the flak we're getting from the Journal's hitpiece. We can't have you on university campus right now, but you can still stake out Rick Rippler's house... Maybe make an arrest if you see anything... Suspicious? We need this one done. I know you got it in you, kid."

You dutifully accept, without a hint of needing any preferential treatment. Still, Higgins purposefully locks eyes with you one more time and thanks you. You know that he's thanking you for keeping his super-guilty son "Scrawny" Ronny out of the legal mess. Then it's more or less explicit: "Trust me... I'll sit my boy down at home and set his sorry ass straight."

It's ironic. Seth Higgins trusts you with one of his deepest, darkest secrets now; and he has no clue of your... Proclivities. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. And you actually like Seth. As demented as it sounds, you believe in justice, and upholding society's ideals and morals. Seth is certainly one of those men. He's the spitting image of the all-American freedom lover. And you're... Well... A Craigslist killer. A wolf in sheepdog's clothing. But... Is justice really so far from what you deliver?

Seth also informs you: "Your neighbor Carolina should be fine. Medical team said she could sleep in her own bed tonight. We've got our sharpest beat officers in pursuit. Let's pray her kids make it home safe."

...

Within the hour, Ho Sung has been informed he will be under your tutelage, on the fast track to the detective program. It chides you a bit that he's getting pushed through the program so quickly, when you had to grind through almost a year of traffic duty before you satisfied the requirements to join a higher ranked police program. You still wonder if the K-9 division would've been better than your current post. But... The fur would be everywhere.

You spend the day getting to know Ho Sung, but he's rather quiet, super boring, and oddly polite, to a fault. He doesn't get most of your jokes, and most of his jokes make you want to pull hair out of your bald head. It's an ingratiating experience, but eventually you ask the right questions and find a few things you agree on. Mostly definitions of justice, preference for vagina, and which take-out restaurants in the area are the best. It's a start.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You buy 48 hours of time on the parking meter at the hike site parking lot. People like hiking up Peak Polka, and they pay just to park conveniently at its base. You, however, are walking several miles down the road to the next outdoor attraction.

Hangman's Falls.

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Trekking out to Hangman's Falls is such a beautiful sojourn, you lose yourself in the moment and forget why you're here more than once, just to admire the scenery for a moment. Then your erection reminds you why you're here.

Black Rose.

Once you get to the lake at the bottom of Hangman's Falls, you start setting up your bullshit photoshoot. You have one light on a stand, not professional looking at all, but enough to fool someone from far away. You set your boombox and backpack down on the forest brush, and produce your Nycon camera and some vapid girly music from 106.9 KSLIP. You clear your throat and practice your faggot accent for Black Rose before she gets there.

When she arrives in her Toyota Corolla, she has a reservation or two, but after twenty minutes of snapping photos, she clearly thinks you're just a harmless hipster photographer who loves nature and kissing dudes. When you invite her to check out the "cave" behind the falls, she shrugs and says "No, I think I'm good... It's getting late, I think I'm gonna go home..."

As campy as can be, you shoot back, "Oh, c'mon sister!! It's AMAZE-BALLS in there, there's uh... Bioluminescent mushrooms and... Crystal formations!!"

Black Rose shoots a questioning eye at you. You hate her insipid attitude and irreverent spunkiness. You only barely retain the thin veneer of gaiety, and your hipster's newsboy hat is barely retained by your pulsing bald head. You finally urge her before she walks back to her car and leaves. "Let's just goOoOoOoOo!!!" You run ahead into the lake and splash her with the oddly warm water, tricking her into running after you. "These pictures will look FABULOUS, girl, come ON!!!!" You hate yourself you hate yourself you hate yourself. You're never talking like that again, you swear.

"Ugh, fine!! This better be worth it, you jerk!!!" Black Rose smiles her last genuine smile as she splashes you back. She slows down as she sloshes through the water into the corner. "Huh? Heyyy, there's no cave behind here, you flaming fairy faggot, what's the big fucking ide-AHHHHHHH!!!!!!?!!!??!!!!!!" You fist a clump of her hair and smash her delicate skin and facemeat against the wet, bluish-black rock behind Hangman's Falls. She throws her hands up to defend herself, but she's untrained, slow and frail. Next, you let go of her to shove her with both hands at the top of her back as she rebounds from the first hit, smacking her even harder into the rock as she loses balance and falls over. You stand over her, put one hand on her neck, and the other grabs another ball of dyed-jet-black hair. You kneel on her back and straddle her head under the water. She makes gasping and choking noises, resisting drowning with all her might, even though she was near-limp a second ago.

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You don't want her drinking too much river run-off, especially this late into Summer. Black Rose is dragged out of the waters and has her stomach pumped with your fists. She coughs up clear water tinged with short, slender ribbons of blood, and looks around for a way to escape. It's only natural, you don't blame her. No one's taught her submission. Yet. You walk over and lackadaisically kick her across the lip, snapping her head quickly forward - it then rolls slowly back. You gaze intensely and delightfully at the motions, the image forever branded in your head now.

Your pliers are hungry and immediately seek out and snatch a dangly quartz earring and a golden hoop earring in one pull. The hand over her mouth silences her pain. You're so excited, you fudged up and got two! You meant to savor it one by one, now there are only 4 earrings left in her ears. Oh well, you can always give her new piercings on the spot and rip those out, too...

Your murderlust is making you jumpy and hazy, you even consider snuffing and disposing of Black Rose, but you come to your senses.

You mount her and rip her top off. The nature-goddess costume material rips easier than cotton.

"No, no, no, no, what's this????????!!!!!!" Pierced areolae. You should have guessed. Why do women debase themselves in such a way (without your permission)? You've got to rescue these nipples. Maybe one day the holes will heal over. You carefully remove the ruby-studded sterling silver skull barbell piercings and place them in your coat pocket with the other removed jewelry, then you punch Black Rose in the throat for making you worry about her body. She gurgles blood and wakes up a bit. She begins begging you to stop. Her sentences are incomplete and shakier than a blender. You've got just the thing to shut her up. You walk a few meters away and hear Black Rose thanking her lucky stars that it's over.

That's when you return.

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You flip her over, rip her underwear off, stick her panties in her mouth, pin her cheeks wide open with your knees and elbows, and shove a pointy, young, green pinecone right in her gothic dumper. Her breasts scrape the woodchips and stones on the ground as she unleashes a horrendous, muffled banshee wail. Your favorite.

Her snatch dilates and opens like you just said "open sesame". You rush to produce your swollen wiener, and ramrod it in.

"Close, sesame", you think, as you begin wailing on the back of her head, causing her vaginal walls to tighten around your now-glistening tool. After a few dozen punches, she's not even recoiling anymore. She's out. You lean in and cum hard inside of her lifeless body, then quickly put your dick away. You make sure to remove the rest of her piercings while she's out. She doesn't move at all while you do this. Just bleeds. Fuck, is she dead? Did you go to far? Can you get it up again and cum a second time right now?

Interrupting these thoughts are two hi-beam flashlights swaying back and forth from over your shoulder. At first you think it's a car, but the beams are stilting and traipsing up and down, back and forth, as if from walking while bound to a hiker's hand or head. Is it the Park Rangers?

You glance over at the Corolla. You came prepared for this. You produce a thick mover's blanket from your backpack and wrap Black Rose in it, and drag her to her trunk. Moving limp bodies is... difficult. You need a second to catch your breath. Those flashlights are coming right towards you. Hurry up, detective.

Black Rose's eyes are glazed open like a cadaver's can be. She's currently frozen in time, reliving the horrors you just put her through, on repeat.
Her breathing is being hindered by the water in her lungs and the blood clotting and drying in her nose.
Her movements are restricted to the rising and falling of her chest as she breathes through the blood.
Her bazongas are fully round and visibly firm. Eugh. Implants. Her nipples are flesh darts even in this summer heat. Maybe you should've cut them off.
Her body must be in severe shock. She looks like a proper goth pin-up girl now.

You get carried away and snap a few photos on your Nycon, even though you know you probably shouldn't. "Something for your portfolio or resume or whatever..." You mutter while you snap pictures of the busty, incapacitated whore.

You're reminded of a nursery rhyme.

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall
All the king's horses and all the king's men
Couldn't put Humpty together again

Humpy Dummy came to the Falls,
Humpy Dummy has those sweet walls.
All Velton's surgeons and all Velton's meds
Couldn't make Humpy Dummy whole again

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Shit, that sucked... Better give up your aspirations of being the next Mother Goose, and stick to sleuthing. Don't quit your day job, as they say.

Black Rose fits snugly in her own trunk, as does the rest of the evidence from the scene that you can gather. Your clothes are a mess, so you produce your second set that you were keeping in your backpack and change into them lightning-bug quick. Even if you ditch these flashlight wielders, you don't want to be seen in bloody, slobbery, genital juice-drenched clothes on the way back.

You're finally clean and ready to go, virtually no evidence left at the scene. You pat yourself on the back, take a deep nostril-breath or two, then look up to get one last look at the waterfall.

The flashlights are only a few hundred meters away when they pick up in speed. Are they running this way? No way!!!

You jump in the driver's seat and try revving up the engine. It takes a while for the Corolla to start up, mainly because of all the add-on programs like Serious Exxem Satellite Radio, GoneStar, and the several aftermarket gadgets like a rearview multicam and a DVD players. Everything's booted up. The engine still won't crank...

What the hell??? Why won't this thing start!!!!! You look down and notice it. A fucking in-car breathalyzer hanging below the key slot. Bitch must've gotten a DUI and can only drive her car for shit like work and going to the grocery store. Wait. Fuck. You're going to have to ditch this car later, or at least fry the GPS tracking system. How could you have been so stupid to overlook something like a new car's built-in global positioning system?! It's how the department caught Moldy Dan after all those sperm bank heists!

The flashlight beams get brighter and bigger and the stomps get louder and closer...
Shit... No time to worry now, just blow, man, blow!!!

Your sobriety finishes turning the car on, but not before two completely naked old people, a man and a woman, jog right in front of you and stop when they see the Corolla's low beams flick on. The only clothes they have on are headlamps and shoes, the lady wears a watch and the man carries a large backpack. Not wanting to look suspicious, you roll down the driver's side window and you greet them before they can greet you.

"Hey folks. Happy trails!" You shift the car into drive.

Neither naked septuagenarian makes an attempt to cover themselves up. They keep approaching the lake, which the car is in the way of. "What? I thought I shaved that!! Ho-ho!! Just kidding! Sorry, fella, we thought we would be all alone out here tonight! How's the water?"

Black Rose slumps over in the trunk and makes a loud thumping noise. Other than beads of sweat begging to trickle down, you ignore it. You also ignore the fact that this nudist couple is engaging in... Nudism.

"No worries, I just finished packin' up. Enjoy the Falls, you two. She's all yours. Water's perfect tonight, not too cold. Watch out for the mosquitoes!"

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"Say, thanks, man! Here pal, you seem cool, take a couple stickers!! We're the National Naturalists, you might've seen us on C-SPAN? No? Maybe?" You shrug and he nods and continues without missing a beat. "Right on. Fight for your rights, man! You were naked when you were born, maaaannnn, think about it!! Peace out." He smiles, throws a peace sign and walks around the car to the waterfall, his nude, old wife silently but smilingly following side-by-side the whole time.

(Suspicion -0.15)
(+The National Naturalists will testify for you, and provide an alibi if you ever get Pinched over Black Rose's abduction, or provide character witness in other circumstances. You can also contact them through their sticker - a professionally-made, full-color vinyl copy of the swinger wife's floppy, hanging tits with a simple logo in red, white and blue, and their P.O. box number below it.)

They cheerily see you off in Black Rose's Toyota, saggy buttcheeks hanging in the warm Dixie wind as you make your daring escape in a "hot model", as the local posse members and ne'er-do-gooders call it. Over the scanner, it's called a 503. Stolen Vehicle.

Drives like nothing.

You make an easy, slow crawl over a bumpy dirt road, out of a montane forest, and onto a starlit highway.

Now comes the hard part.

...

Or so you thought. You make it home without a hitch, just not in time for Geoff Party. Pffft!! As if you wanted to watch TV right now!!

You hastily park in the driveway and yank the moving blanket out of the trunk and run it up stairs. Your adrenaline has you throwing this ~145lb. sack of potatoes over your shoulder and running up the stairs like a fucking fireman on steroids. Like, the gnarly shark sperm and bull testosterone steroids that you inject directly to your eyeballs or pectorals or nutsack or whatever.

You SLAM your newest victim to the ground and she dares to moan. You begin pulling down the ladder to the attic. While your mind and muscles still race, you drag out the large chest you keep your shoes in, and stand on top of it. How are you gonna do this??

Maybe you should've thought this through... Even with deranged-madman-in-horny-crisis strength, you only barely got Black Rose in your attic. You dropped her a few times and she went out like a light, stopped moaning and everything, but she made it up mostly in one piece, and with a pulse. You and her should consider yourselves lucky.

Chaining up Black Rose is quick but accurate and effective thanks to your rigorous bondage homework you've given yourself. Tying and untying knots, then tying knots that can't be untied, then untying those - just in case. Then doing it with your eyes closed.

Realizing you left Corolla headlights on and the door and trunk swung wide open, you sprint outside after triple checking your knots and chain connections. For some reason you didn't think it would take that long; and it didn't, maybe only six or seven minutes.

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You got caught up in the hunt and forgot to plan what to do with Black Rose's car. You figured a dumb bitch like her would have gotten a Ḷïfẗẗ. You definitely didn't plan for the stupid breathalyzer attached to the ignition. So, uhh... What do we do about this Toyota fuckin' Corolla?
>Just turn the car off and leave it in your driveway while you figure out what to do with it. So what, you have "girlfriends" that come over. Cover the license plate with mud at least.
(+0.33 Suspicion every single "turn" it's in your driveway. Other options may become available later, plus, hey, free car.)
>Mandie's sunken, shitty, banana-yellow hatchback comes to mind. Take the Toyota to another lake, put another rock on another gas pedal, and say goodbye to another shitty car!
(+0.6 Suspicion)
>Attempt to disable the GPS so you can keep the car in your garage. Alter the VIN #'s and change the plates. This is your car now. Off the books, that is.
(+/-1 Suspicion, QM rolls for success/fail. 50/50 odds)
>Take the Corolla to Peak Polka and retrieve your Lincoln Continental. Pour gasoline and kerosene all over the parking lot, and light a massive forest fire, destroying the evidence and diverting attention from previous happenings around town. Make people more afraid of fire than rape.
(+3.5 Suspicion on fail/-2.25 Suspicion on success. If there are (2) two or more 17's, 18's, 19's and 20's in the Suspicion roll slot - the last slot - it's a success. Otherwise, it's a fail.)
>Write-in (+??.?? Suspicion)
(This amount gets added to THIS TURN'S Sus roll. You've been warned.)

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You finish up with the Corolla and head back inside.

From an outside perspective, your house is in order.

Inside your house... It's late. You've already cleaned up the entrance to the attic and you don't feel like making another mess tonight, climbing up and down and all that jazz. You'll see Black Rose tomorrow.

You've got one more person you intend to speak with before heading to bed, though. You enter the dungeon.

You approach Mandie, less than a foot away from her, and hold her chin up so she can look at you. You tell her "I got you something today. Something special. I think you'll really like it. But I can't show you just yet. In fact, should I even be telling you...? Ah, I can't keep every secret to myself. Nyeh heh heh heh heh..."

"What is it, sir?" She doesn't sound as weak anymore since you've been feeding her, she's still obedient, though. Maybe you'll have her cook macaroni again some time, that was nice.

"Well... Remember the other day, when we were eating V-Burger together?"

"How could I forget, sir? It made me very happy..."

How could she forget? You don't like the rhetorical question asking, even if it is sycophantic. You never told her that was permissible. It signifies that she's not fully broken yet. But can a leopard change its spots, or a bird its wings? No, perhaps she was born into such a quasi-intellectual fate through the lot of her genetics and social norms. Perhaps... No, she's broken in just the right places, you rationalize. You don't need her shattered into a million pieces so that she can't do anything. Save that for the other girls. Moving on.

Steady and straight: "Thank you very much for stripping down for me and giving me the dance after the meal. I know you said you preferred the exhibitionism to the athleticism, you naughty little mink, you, but out of curiosity... Which event of the three did you like most? Bicycling, swimming, or running?"

Your mind pictures the National Naturalists again, this time swimming in the lake under Hangman's Falls. Everything cold and shriveled... It's making you shrivel...

"Swimming was my favorite."

Mandie's talking, but thoughts of naked old people are still surging through your head.

She continues, not sure if she should. You allow it. "I like the way the water felt against my skin..."

You violently shake your head for half a second to disperse the haunting image of the wandering elder nudists. You look back at your prisoner and see that talking about swimming and her old feminist protests made her sad.

"Don't pout like that. We may be able to go swimming again sooner rather than later... If you would like to, Mandie."

"Really? That would be great! ...Is that my present?"

"No. I've got you something much better..."

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"...Now, this is a big responsibility..."

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"...You just tell me if you think you need help with her, okay? Don't hesitate..."

... ... ... ... ... ... ...

"Her name is Black Rose."

Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith smiles an ear-to-ear toothy grin once she understands what you're telling her. She leans in and lightly presses her forehead to yours and begins laughing. You stand in place, grinning back, laughing a more sinister laugh than hers. Mandie leans even closer and presses her hot, wet lips to your cracked, dry ones.
>Return the passionate kiss, grab her head and suck tongue and throat like no tongue or throat has ever been sucked. Unchain her and lay her on the cellar floor and make wild, greedy love to her.
>Pull back and remind her of her place. "Do not approach me like that again or the consequences will be severe. Out of mercy I will let you escape punishment but this one time, and but this one time only."
>Let her finish kissing you. When she's done, fuck her there while she's suspended in her chains. Turn the lights off and close the door on her.
>Strike her. She likes it. Seriously. Beat the fuck out of her. Then give her a kiss and a toodle-oo. "See you in the morning, love."
>Write-in

You didn't think she'd be this receptive and genuinely on-board. You can't wait to see what she does during her first session with Black Rose. Say... Tomorrow, after work?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You've never slept better in your life so many days in a row, and it just keeps getting better. You didn't sleep like a baby, babies across the world are sleeping like YOU! You are redefining comfort and relaxation and rest each night. It makes it easy to pretend to be nice at work and at the supermarket and shit like that.

You spin down the hallway, jump down the stairs, and cook yourself a big breakfast. You've got a big day ahead of yourself, "training" Ho Sung and pinching Rick Rippler.

From your kitchen, you can see your basement door and your attic door. You think of the special women in your life.

Feed the whores before you go to work?
>Starve both.
>Starve Black Rose, feed Mandie.
>Starve Mandie, feed Black Rose.
>Feed both.
>Feed Mandie full rations, give Black Rose half rations.
>Write-in

Time to zip in to work. You meet Ho Sung at VPD. He's mentions he's happy that you'll be mentoring him. He offers to drive you guys around in his riced out Mitsubishi Lancer, but you pull rank and tell him to hop in the Continental.

You're taking him to Chippie's for beer, wings and to watch the game. "Alright, sounds fun!" He rubs his hands together and smiles. "I got shotgun!" He jokes plainly, and hops in your car. Man, this guy feels so awkward and disingenuous for some reason.

youtube.com/watch?v=sPcTiy34u4A
You hop in and you don't even know what radio station you're tuned in to, but you crank it up a bit, still a reasonable volume. "Awwww yeah, man, you like Tom Petty? Good stuff."

Buckling in, Ho Sung looks taken aback, a blank, almost disgusted or offended look on his face. He curtly requests "Can we turn this hillbilly shit off, please? How do you listen to that crap..." He shakes his head and puts his hand on your volume knob to turn it down.

Okay, that's strike... Like... FIVE already. You don't like him and his polite façade has fallen - he doesn't seem to care too much for you, either. Typical worker drone/brown-noser type.

The ride is quiet and the tension lessen a tad, until he pulls his phone out and starts playing random videos from his social media accounts at full volume and cackling like a hyena, as if you aren't three feet away from him in the same car.

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Getting to Chippie's is a relief. The two of you can't even decide where to sit. You want a table, he wants the bar. You indulge him. You order a pitcher of lite beer and a round of wings. You try prying into his home life, his family back home or his fiance, but he's unusually guarded. He even pretends not to hear you a couple times.

This isn't going as planned. You need this kid's respect if he's gonna join the detective unit.
>Get him drunk and then fist fight him. Win or lose, that always forges a strong bond between friends. Or enemies...
>Cuss him out on the ride back home. Tell him you've been around the block a time or two, and he still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing or who the fuck he's messing with. "HQ can be just as cold as these streets, Ho."
>Try to take an interest in things he's interested in... Manga, Mitsubishis and MOBA's.
>Tell Seth you made a mistake. Rescind your recommendation. Upon getting to know Officer Sung, he'd make a better meter maid or pencil pusher.
>Scare this kid away from the force. Maybe get Jimmy to help. If you can show him that he's not cut out for this job, he'll leave on his own.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lon Lemmings' funeral is coming up in just a few days. You'll be silently attending and watching from the back of the procession. Walid Walidazar told you that no one from the water polo team is going, since Lon's parents don't want to see any of them. Makes sense to you. Since Lon was your old friend in school days, his parents might remember you from all the times they picked him up from the bus stop - you'd usually be talking with him or whooping his ass while playing Gu-Yi-Goh cards.

That's what's on your mind as you pull one house down from the Rippler residence.
Lon, the good times you had with him, and his loving parents who must be devastated right now through all of this.

...

The sky is glowing orange and blue and purple and green. Frogs croak and bugs buzz. You've been staking the house for almost three hours now, and you've got little wiggle room for making a move. You're tired. They're just watching college football and drinking beers in the living room. Rick occasionally comes in the living room to grab beers, shirtless, then goes back to his room.

The TV turns off. You sink into your seat, perk up your ears, and put on your baseball cap.

Binoculars and the naked human ear inform you that Rippler's obese parents and aunts and uncles are waddling out to the local buffet for a few hours. You don't know why they're yelling, and you don't know how those cornfed whales gave birth to Rick, who has near flawless genetics. Dude looks like a young Brock Lesnar.

Minutes later, Rick's parents are gone and the neighborhood is quiet. You can see Rick on his bed, smoking pot and playing Caw of Doody, a first-person shooter game where you are a crow who shits on pedestrians. He's entranced with the screen. He screams "YEAHHH, GET SHIT ON, FUCKING RETARD!!!" into his headset mic. You heard the multiplayer mode in that game gets particularly heated. Rick's completely aloof and vulnerable now.
>Charge in and bust him solo for max credit. "FREEEEEEZE, RIPPLER! YOU'RE UNDER ARREST! YOU'RE WANTED FOR QUESTIONING ABOUT THE DEATH OF LON LEMMINGS!!" Cuff and Mirandize him.
>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.
>Get revenge for Lon. Put lipstick and a wig on Rick Rippler and hang him with a noose. Make it look like Lon's suicide looked. Take photos and spread them on social media using burner accounts.
>Change of plans. Appeal to Rick Rippler and pin this whole thing on his friend "Scrawny" Ronny Higgins. Lie and say Ronny ratted him out already, but if he'll snitch back and help you out, you could pull some strings to get him off the hook... Look at the lad, it could be useful to have muscle like him. On the other hand, Ronny is your boss's son... But he's also a fink and a no-good piece of shit!
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whew. Home sweet home. Let's pull out that milk and put it on the counter so it can warm up.

Before you relax, you've got one more piece of business to address.

It's hard to believe the Velton County Journal would write a hitpiece on you after all the good you've done for this county. Everyone's got skeletons in their closets, but what they published was just lies.

You obviously want to go introduce your ladies to each other, or at least play individually with them, but Jenny Jenkins' Journal article is gnawing away at your attention span and joy.
You can't rest until you've done SOMETHING about that hit piece. You won't take this lying down.

You decide to contact Jenny since it shouldn't take too long to get her attention, and she's too hostile to your operation to leave her alone. Your communication is thus:
>Personally appeal to Jenny Jenkins and/or VCJ's owner, Martin Zinger, that it's imperative they write a good piece on VPD and local law enforcement, so the citizenry will be content and compliant, and crime will go down. Sign it as a ranked officer of the law.
>Write a hurt and heartfelt letter written in your personal name, asking Jenny why she would betray your trust like that, and if she'd be honorable enough to post the original interview you did with her.
>Tell Jenny you're privy to her tricks, and bluff/threaten that you've recorded the whole interview on your cellphone and you'll publish it - completely discrediting her hitpiece. She'll probably never get another job, you threaten! You will let freedom ring!!
>Spam/concern troll the VCJ mail about how brave and awesome the Velton Police Department is, and how vital they are to this community. Contact all the numbers and emails on their site to ensure a response.
>Create a second letter to Jenny in cut-out magazine letters from the Velton Violator, not at all related to your hit piece. With cut-and-paste squares, tell Jenny you've been abducting more women and there's nothing she can do to stop you. Oh, and you know where she lives, "$O w4T¢H 0uT B1tCH". This oughta turn the attention from the public nuisance of Junior Detective "Skeletor" towards the menacing threat of The Velton Violator.
>Actually, let's just leave Jenny Jenkins alone for now.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

After you pocket your smartphone, you drink the warm milk on the counter straight from the carton.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhh." You signal your refreshment to yourself.

You put the milk away in the fridge next to the other nine cartons in there. Can never have too much milk on hand. You close the fridge door, satisfied.

You turn around and look at your basement door, then the attic door...

You smile.

BINK!!...............BINK!!BINKBINK!!.....

You frown.

Who could be at your doorstep right now? Don't they know you're busy!!?

File: hatwtfhatPEEP.jpg (13 KB, 612x459)

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You look out the peephole. It's... What the heck? It's Inspector Cantella De Peña Ortiz! The interagency officer who investigated you last time you were under Suspicion!

She cleared you on your investigation, even though you think she may have had sufficient evidence to Pinch you. Maybe not, though, that's up to speculation. Either way, she's a "back-the-blue" type, and she helped you out in your time of need. Not to mention, she's one fine chica.

BINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINK!!!!!!

What is she doing at your door?

She calls you out for looking through the peephole. Can't fool a sharp-eyed Inspector like her. Not to mention, they teach that trick in academy in the first couple of weeks. "I see jyou, Yunior Detective! I know jyou're in there, open opp!!"

There's an urgency in her voice you can't quite place. There's not much use in trying to shoo her away, she already knows you're there.

BINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINKBINK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Making as little sound as possible, you undo all of the chains and locks, and open your door to see what Cantella wants. "Okay, okay!!! You don't have to break my doorbell!!"

Cantella de Peña Ortiz: "We need to talk. Es muy importante. May I come in?"
>"¡No problema, Cantella!" Invite her in for tea and cookies. Your home is cleaned up and ready for visitors.
>"No. Go away." Slam the door in her face.
>See what she wants. Try to keep the conversation in your door frame, don't allow her in.
>Snatch her immediately into your home and disarm her. Interrogate her.
>Shoot her through the peephole. If she's here, she's not here for anything good, you surmise. Drop her.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion Check: 4.76 + Toyota Corolla mod
(One roll goes to this!)

Rolled 11, 3, 1, 6 = 21 (4d20)

>Attempt to disable the GPS so you can keep the car in your garage. Alter the VIN #'s and change the plates. This is your car now. Off the books, that is.

>Return the passionate kiss, grab her head and suck tongue and throat like no tongue or throat has ever been sucked. Unchain her and lay her on the cellar floor and make wild, greedy love to her.

>Starve Black Rose, feed Mandie.

Let's establish a hierarchy and reenact the Stanford prison experiment. If Mandie is given the powers of a "prison guard" and Black Rose is treated like a prisoner, this will help Mandie to dehumanize Black Rose. It's important that she abuses Black Rose out of her own will.

>Get him drunk and then fist fight him. Win or lose, that always forges a strong bond between friends. Or enemies...

>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.

>Write-in: Call Jenny Jenkins, and congratulate her for outsmarting you. Tell her you'll leak information about your cases if she accepts to go on a date with you.

We are the best detective, she's the best reporter. I can respect that. We can develop a mutually beneficial relationship, and controlling the press might be very helpful in the future, considering how much pressure they put on Commissioner Seth.

>"¡No problema, Cantella!" Invite her in for tea and cookies. Your home is cleaned up and ready for visitors.

Better not act weird around this bitch.

Rolled 7, 6, 10, 13 = 36 (4d20)

>>5307577
>>Attempt to disable the GPS so you can keep the car in your garage. Alter the VIN #'s and change the plates. This is your car now. Off the books, that is.

>Let her finish kissing you. When she's done, fuck her there while she's suspended in her chains. Turn the lights off and close the door on her.

>Starve both.
Feeding is a special occasion and should be treated as such

>Try to take an interest in things he's interested in... Manga, Mitsubishis and MOBA's.
If nothing else you can always bond over weeb shit

>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.

>Actually, let's just leave Jenny Jenkins alone for now.
The media is like pack of bloodhounds. Never drop a hint of scent and they'll leave you alone.

>"¡No problema, Cantella!" Invite her in for tea and cookies. Your home is cleaned up and ready for visitors.

Rolled 1, 14, 13, 16 = 44 (4d20)

>>5307571
>Attempt to disable the GPS so you can keep the car in your garage. Alter the VIN #'s and change the plates. This is your car now. Off the books, that is.
>Let her finish kissing you. When she's done, fuck her there while she's suspended in her chains. Turn the lights off and close the door on her.
>Feed Mandie full rations, give Black Rose half rations.
>Cuss him out on the ride back home. Tell him you've been around the block a time or two, and he still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing or who the fuck he's messing with. "HQ can be just as cold as these streets, Ho."
>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.
>Tell Jenny you're privy to her tricks, and bluff/threaten that you've recorded the whole interview on your cellphone and you'll publish it - completely discrediting her hitpiece. She'll probably never get another job, you threaten! You will let freedom ring!!
>"¡No problema, Cantella!" Invite her in for tea and cookies. Your home is cleaned up and ready for visitors.

Rolled 19, 12, 7, 11 = 49 (4d20)

>>5307579
>Take the Corolla to Peak Polka and retrieve your Lincoln Continental. Pour gasoline and kerosene all over the parking lot, and light a massive forest fire, destroying the evidence and diverting attention from previous happenings around town. Make people more afraid of fire than rape.
We are a simple man, no use having a second car
>Pull back and remind her of her place. "Do not approach me like that again or the consequences will be severe. Out of mercy I will let you escape punishment but this one time, and but this one time only."

>Starve both.

>Try to take an interest in things he's interested in... Manga, Mitsubishis and MOBA's.

>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.

>Spam/concern troll the VCJ mail about how brave and awesome the Velton Police Department is, and how vital they are to this community. Contact all the numbers and emails on their site to ensure a response.

>See what she wants. Try to keep the conversation in your door frame, don't allow her in.

boomping the thread like a cretin

Rolled 15, 13, 12, 7 = 47 (4d20)

>>5307571
>Mandie's sunken, shitty, banana-yellow hatchback comes to mind. Take the Toyota to another lake, put another rock on another gas pedal, and say goodbye to another shitty car!
its like throwing car batteries with extra steps

>Return the passionate kiss, grab her head and suck tongue and throat like no tongue or throat has ever been sucked. Unchain her and lay her on the cellar floor and make wild, greedy love to her.

>Starve Black Rose, feed Mandie.

>Try to take an interest in things he's interested in... Manga, Mitsubishis and MOBA's.

>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.
for shits and giggles

>Actually, let's just leave Jenny Jenkins alone for now.

>"¡No problema, Cantella!" Invite her in for tea and cookies. Your home is cleaned up and ready for visitors

Rolled 2, 19, 16, 16 = 53 (4d20)

>>5307579
>Attempt to disable the GPS so you can keep the car in your garage. Alter the VIN #'s and change the plates. This is your car now. Off the books, that is.
>Let her finish kissing you. When she's done, fuck her there while she's suspended in her chains. Turn the lights off and close the door on her.
>Starve both.
>Cuss him out on the ride back home. Tell him you've been around the block a time or two, and he still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing or who the fuck he's messing with. "HQ can be just as cold as these streets, Ho."

>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.
>Actually, let's just leave Jenny Jenkins alone for now.
>"¡No problema, Cantella!" Invite her in for tea and cookies. Your home is cleaned up and ready for visitors

Rolled 19, 9, 19, 18 = 65 (4d20)

>Attempt to disable the GPS so you can keep the car in your garage. Alter the VIN #'s and change the plates. This is your car now. Off the books, that is.

>Let her finish kissing you. When she's done, fuck her there while she's suspended in her chains. Turn the lights off and close the door on her.

>Starve both.

>Try to take an interest in things he's interested in... Manga, Mitsubishis and MOBA's.

>What's that? His daddy's shotgun is hung up on the wall in the next room? He could be dangerous. Call in the boys to bring their toys and make some noise. Once Rippler's duplex is surrounded by a SWAT team, he'll shit bricks.

>Actually, let's just leave Jenny Jenkins alone for now.

>See what she wants. Try to keep the conversation in your door frame, don't allow her in.

File: Spoiler Image (435 KB, 600x340)

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Voting closes in ~12-24 hours.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Voting closed.

Hopefully I have time to get the update out tonight or tomorrow morning. Thanks for following along, killer. Sorry for the gaps in time between posts, it's because I don't want to pre-write any full bricks of text and have to potentially defenestrate them.

Choices:
>Rolling to disable GPS, etc.: 1 is a success, 2 is a fail.
>Let Mandie finish the kiss
>Starve both (this'll be especially effective when the slaves meet each other)
> youtu.be/CRpbIaTRZ-g
>Leave Jenny alone for now (Anticlimactic, but probably the smartest choice for a serial killer with living victims in his basement and attic.)
>Tea and cookies with Cantella de Peña Ortiz

Rolls:
1 Ho Sung friendship roll - Ho Sung thinks you're pretty lame but you share a niche hobby with him that sticks a foot in the closing door of friendship...
2 SWAT roll - successful mission but all your gumshoeing will be overshadowed by the tacticool SWAT entry that just happened to be captured by the news station.
3 Jenny's confrontation roll - negated/redirected to other VCJ activities. Juicy stories like Rippler's arrest may cool some heat from the hitpiece. Sus goes down.
4 Suspicion roll - easily passed!
(All the rolls were pretty middled due to the number of votes, so I may switch to a slightly different system for more dynamic roll results in the future)

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>
>Roll 3d20!!*(explanation at bottom)
>

You swing your front door open casually.

"Uh, Cantella... It's late... What are y-... Would you like to come in for some tea and talk?"

Cantella's adam's apple fluctuates up and down while she thinks about what you just said. "Uhh- Sure... Yeah."

You whisk her in and make sure to covertly check the street while you close the door behind her. Her car and your property appears empty, she came alone.

You sit Cantella de Peña Ortiz on your couch. She quickly covers her bulging crotch by crossing her legs. Heh, she probably just doesn't want you to see that she's carrying her 9 in an appendix holster.

You come back with a box of crackers and awkwardly put them in front of the Hispanic investigator, then sit across from her on your recliner. "I just put some tea on the stove, it'll be ready in a moment."

"That's... Not necessary." She seems jumbled up. "I've just come to tell jyou something important." She looks you up and down, perhaps a little unimpressed that you obsequiously acted like a maid or butler rather than a rugged loner cop. "...I... Like jyou, Detective... I don't want to see someone like jyou get hurt. I can tell how much jyou care about jyour job, especially compared to Jeemmy and Don... We need good cops like jyou on Velton's force..." Cantella de Peña Ortiz looks down, discouraged. She's mulling over whether or not she should tell you confidential information from her independent investigations.

"Is something afoot at the department? Is someone coming after me? Is someone coming after Commissioner Seth?!" You stand up from the couch.

"Eet's not like that... Baht... I found some eenformation chu absolutely need to know. Eet could be life or death, detective."

You're all ears.

The juicy information? (Chosen by mode not mean - no choice, just a roll.)
1-5 - The whereabouts and recent activities of rogue detective Don Black.
6-10 - A coordinated retaliation effort from an unknown actor related to the Lon Lemmings case.
11-15 - Dirty insider secrets about the Velton County Journal's CEO, Martin Zinger. The reason behind the VPD hitpieces over the years.
16-20 - All of the above.
(First slot rolls go to this!)

This... This changes everything. You need to formulate a plan to combat this.

Cantella didn't ask for a favor, THIS TIME, you think... Either she's working a long angle, or she's just really all about backing the blue.

File: burger.png (1.25 MB, 720x720)

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You thank Cantella graciously and see her off, since she says she needs to go now. She didn't touch the box of crackers you set out for her at all. There's a charged moment in the doorway where the pheromones make you think Cantella might have tried to charge you, pin you down and kiss you wildly, leading to wild, intense, living-room sex, but you just thank her and close the door on her. It's best not to mix business and pleasure, you reckon. Look what happened when VPD made you investigate Ena Fuvya. You got lucky on that one. Lucky that Detective Jimmy Waters can't help himself when it comes to getting frisky with the clientele. You wonder about Jimmy, he's been off in his own wonderland ever since Seth broke up the trio of you, him and Don.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuck. Phew.

Even though Investigator Peña Ortiz just dropped a giant bombshell in your living room, you can only focus on one thing.
Even though you thought the VCJ hit piece would drive you mad, you've been ignoring it, you can only focus on one thing.
Even though there are many more t's to cross and i's to dot in order to save your skin, you can only focus on one thing.

You bring out a pound of ground beef, an egg, garlic and onion powders, and salt and pepper. You form three very large, 1/3 lb. hamburgers, and fry them up in your backyard BBQ pit, which is currently firing mesquite chips.
After washing your hands, you clean the kitchen, and clear the table. You set out two plates opposite from each other, then bring the condiments out of the fridge.
Soon, the three burgers are done. You leave your burger on another plate on the counter, and set the table - a burger on each plate, each accompanied by a cool, tall glass of water.

The girls have been starving for 24 hours.
Before you greet Mandie in the basement, you hear her stomach growl over the creak of the cellar steps.
Waking Black Rose up with a finger in her dry, dry mouth, you pull your finger out and realize the attic air is moister and more humid than the mouth.

Mandie is eager to get out of her ropes and chains, and see what it's like to inflict the pain. To bite rather than be bitten.
Black Rose dry heaves a few times but can't get anything up until the fifth or sixth heave. Just bile. She seems a little sick.

Mandie waits for you under your attic as you bring Black Rose out. You firmly instruct Mandie not to drop Black Rose under any circumstance, or their will be punishment. She blushes but assists you in retrieving the girl, with no funny business. In fact, upon seeing the bruised, bare-breasted, barely conscious Black Rose, Mandie squeals and smiles.

You carry Black Rose down the stairs with Mandie until Black Rose kicks and squirms and struggles, managing to fall from your grip and hit her ribs on the stairs. You and Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith pull her back up and you say in a dominating tone, "stand up. Walk on your own." You and Mandie hold Black Rose's elbows as she faintly fumbles her feet down the stairs. Mandie, fawning over you, imitates your ruthlessness, and smacks Black Rose on the back of her head, while still holding her elbow.

"Keep walkin', bitch!!" -Mandie to Black Rose

You tell Mandie where Black Rose goes, and the two of you set the newest addition down in front of a big, juicy burger. Mandie instantly looks at you, confused and jealous. Who gets the second seat? Her, or You, her master? She very intelligently (or instinctually) waits to be informed. She sits across from Black Rose, who has already begun chugging her glass of water. It's empty now.

Black Rose looks at her burger, then Mandie's water, then Mandie, then you, then her burger again, then Mandie's water again.
Mandie is fixed on Black Rose, ornery as a wild goose and not blinking at all. In fact, Mandie's eyes bulge with intensity.
You look at your girls. Both are trembling for one reason or another.

What do you say?
>"Mandie, share your water with Rose. She looks thirsty."
>"This is what I get for being nice? EAT!!!!" Slam both plates to the ground
>Stay silent and see what they do.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

What do you do with Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith?
>Sexually abuse her, of course. (How?)
>Encourage her to be cruel towards Black Rose.
>Spit on Mandie's face in front of Black Rose.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

What do you do with Black Rose?
>Sexually abuse her, of course. (How?)
>She looks ill and may need medical attention. Search DweebMD online to check out her symptoms and see if you can help her.
>You should probably just kick this faker in her stomach repeatedly once you get her back in her upside down cross in the attic.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You use a screwdriver and yank off all the VIN #'s you can find on Black Rose's car.

You stole some random license plates off an inoperable junker at Willy's Wasteyard. Poor old Willy doesn't have any cameras and his sight is so deteriorated that he couldn't make use of them anyway. The junkyard plates get cleaned and quickly replace the real Corolla plates, and the real plates were thrown in your BBQ pit after the three burgers were finished. They're so distorted once you pick them out, you can just toss them in your garbage can without arousing suspicion.

You struggle with the GPS system and how to disable it. You watch videos on sites like BitchShoot but the mechanics are all speaking Serbian or something, and you can't find what you're looking for. Half a dozen internet searches later and you THINK you've done it... The GPS should be disabled now that you clicked "Disable GPS" function on the GPS menu, and threw away a few chips from the fuse box.

On video, a Central Korean person wearing a black mask and shades shows off an app he designed that helps you track other peoples' cars using the manufacturer-installed GPS. For safety reasons, of course, he says, letting a laugh slip, mocking the premise that his invention would not be abused for nefarious means. You're rather uninformed on all this hacker shit, and you can't exactly just walk into work at the station and inquire if the raped girl's car you stole still has a functioning Emergency GPS unit. This is the only way you could figure out if you had succeeded... (+1 Sus from last turn)

According to the Central Korean guy's app, due to how the Toyota Corolla E-GPS system is wired, you've got to keep the app on and take the car for a drive for at least 40 minutes to see if the unit pings. If not, you're golden.

...

You've been driving for an hour with no blips on the map on the app on your smartphone, so you turn around. You've driven through the city, the flats on the outskirts of town, and you're currently in the mountains to see if that does anything to the GPS unit you're pretty sure you disabled.

You try looking up several other GPS units using information you know off the top of your head. Most of the cars seem to be in the driveways of the places they belong.

Cool, looks like this "FindOurCar" app works. Thanks, Central Korean man.

Normally, you're pretty good at driving while multitasking - eating a donut, using a radio, shooting a gun, stuff like that. You're a cop, after all.

Not tonight.

The fog of the lower Appalachian mountain thickens as you descend into its valley. It's about a quarter mile stretch before the fog ends and the road rises again. It's hot, it's wet, it's humid as humid gets. And of friggin' course, you run into car difficulties on the way home!! (Chosen by mode not mean - no choice, just a roll.)
1-4: The Toyota's radio blared over the mechanical skipping and coughing noises from under the hood due to your poor mechanical work. You took out way more than just the GPS tracker... You ride it until the engine blows out... You pop the hood and she's blowing thick, dark grey smoke. You need a tow. You think you know a guy. It's dark as hell in this swampy mountainous marsh. You hear wolves howling...
(CONT'D)

5-9: You fly through a foggy swarm of skeeters and gnats... It's so thick!! You can't see a thing - **CRASH!!!!** Oh man, what the fuck!!! The Corolla's front window is penetrated by an incredibly rare southern Appalachian bull elk!! You're lucky the antlers didn't impale you! You're going to need to replace the windshield now after you get this thing home! Getting him out isn't easy...
10-14: You hit an alligator and get a flat tire. Before you scrape the rim to scrap metal, you pull over and find the spare, jack and tire iron in the trunk. You know how to change a tire at least.
15+: The Dang AC crapped out. At least it's night time so it's not too hot, but it's still really muggy... Kind of dampens your mood. Also dampens your body with sweat.
(Second slot rolls go to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Waking up this morning was a little less satisfying than the previous wakings...

The fucking bitch's car broke down even after all that expert (subpar) mechanic work you did on it.
You've got Lon Lemmings' funeral to attend tomorrow, and you'll have to dust off your suit, hopefully it fits still.
Your neighbor Carolina Smith has locked herself in her house, somehow her husband and kids haven't been found yet. She's breaking down, sometimes you hear her sob and scream.
You go outside to retrieve a copy of the Velton County Journal, only to have the headline read about a brutally conducted SWAT raid on a University student's parents' house, and a reminder of the corruption in VPD, mentioning you by name and picture once again. There are also high definition photos of the event. They even show your Lincoln Continental at the scene, busted door and all.
And on top of that, you only have 1 egg in the fridge left for breakfast, so you'll have to go to Jon's Supermarket soon, or travel out of town to another market so the locals don't notice you from the Journal articles and form a pitchfork-and-torch mob to chase you out.
(+0.2 Suspicion)

Maybe you can just wear that hipster photographer hat as a disguise and lay low if you need to go out. Nyeh heh. But, you're not afraid. Velton is afraid.

Some people lower their guard when they are fearful, because all they can do is panic; which is nice for you.

But then there is the other type of person. The person that fear draws out of the woodworks, who feels compelled to confront and vanquish it. Most are foolhardy and unprepared. Maybe you were unprepared when you signed up for police academy or got placed the Sex Crimes Task Force. Maybe you weren't ready when you heard the call to duty, or maybe you were given false promises or inadequate training. It could be your peers, your leaders, your environment... Or maybe you were just born to be a Craigslist killer.

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After sipping warm milk and simultaneously cracking the solitary egg into the free corner of the hot pan, you pull the sausage links off the crowded side, and jiggle the meat-chain on a paper towel to degrease. You let the egg sizzle as you reminisce on the SWAT raid with the Journal in your hand. Easily a top-notch raid, some of the best work you've seen - and you've seen hundreds of tactical arrests on BitchShoot and LifeLeek. You recall certain angles and scenes of the raids from your position, from behind a blue spruce tree, one house down and across the road. Some of the photos in the paper may as well have come from your eyes.


Trashy yard, puddles of nasty still water, peeling-paint facade.
Broken glass, a flashbang, exactly seven bean bag rounds.
Jangling, silver cuffs on a yelling, cussing Rick, headset still on his head. Restrained chatter from everyone else. A van of VelTV's Channel 4 news team asking questions to the SWAT Captain.

A cameraman and boom operator ambush the ambushers, catching the SWAT team off guard. The boom guy almost gets arrested after several warnings not to stick his tool where it doesn't belong.
Jenny Jenkins wasn't tagging along this time, but you know the Journal is affiliated with Channel 4, so you stick around to see if you can sniff out anything fishy or worth knowing.
There's a fine looking native woman reporter, maybe only a few years older than you, boldly hounding the Captain while he reads the boiler plate "can't comment on an ongoing investigation" spiel.
Happy not to get a microphone thrust in your face again, and not willing to stick around and tempt it, you jet from the scene.
(-0.17 Suspicion)

You stride to your living room and turn on the TV and tune in. One kitty cat shitbox filler material commercial later, you're reliving the raid, but from a camcorder's perspective.

They show a blurry angle and freezeframes of Rippler getting his pinkie bone busted backwards from a stray bean bag shotgun round when he had his hands up in a defensive surrender stance.
They bring on a skinny, balding, mole-infested, old lawyer to explain why this is the gravest abuse of human rights.
Pschhh. You thought it was funny. And you consistently abuse human rights more gravely before breakfast.
It'd be nice to get some praise every once in a while for the things you're good at, but alas.
Such is the nature of the beast.

Your attention snaps back to the screen when the pants-shrinking Native American woman takes the screen. Her presence is so erotic.
The news chyron tells you her name. Mashi Nawash. She's babbling about... Blah blah blah... Holy shit, you can't bring yourself to care. You've filtered it out. Huh.
You sip warm milk until the segment ends, not taking your eyes off of Mashi Nawash. That's a cute name... The segment ends, you're a little high. No! Perish the thought! She's too high profile...

The next segment comes on. It just so happens to be a story by the senior anchors, with updates on the wars in Asia. "U.S. forces launched a volley of semi-nuclear Mk.69 'Rocket Man' missiles at Central Korea today in an attempt to get that one last guy hiding out in the villag-"

You suddenly remember you're going to be late for work if you don't hurry.

...

You make it in on time, a few minutes early, even.

When you walk in, everyone in the department has their backs turned to you. They all face the TV on the opposite wall, watching a re-run of the news story. They boo and hiss at the beautiful swarthy woman with the high cheekbones. They must not like her coverage or questions. The SWAT boys are all on call/paid leave, none are in the station to say what they thought about Mashi asking them questions.

Even though she's visually stunning and has a confident, even, tenor voice... Yadda yadda yadda. You still tune out whatever the hell she's talking about. The receptionist looks up from her phone, behind her desk, and notices you're still standing next to the front door. She just gives a creeped out look and returns to her phone. You snap out of your naughty thoughts and walk towards the gun locker to stock up on another box of bullets so you can go to the range and practice.

Ho Sung is in the armory on a bench, spraying too much Ballistol on his service weapon, and hogging all the dry wipes. There are a few other guys in there, standing and prepping their weapons with no mind to Officer Sung.

He's a baby bird who needs to be pushed out of the nest so he can fly. You get a bright idea. But before he's ready... Let's give him the equivalent of a sonic noogie or a wet willy to remind him of his place. You start blasting music on your phone and singing along as you make your presence known.
youtube.com/watch?v=skdE0KAFCEA

"Hey Ho, let's go! Hey, Ho, let's go! Hey, Ho!!-"

The other guys in the armory look at each other, then snicker at the rookie, and probably you, too. You were kind of hoping they'd join in. The snickering onlookers mind their business when Ho snaps, and stands up from the bench and walks to you, pistol still in his hand, albeit with no magazine and with the slide locked back.

"WHAT?! YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY??" Ho shouts, inches from your face. You push him easily back with your palms.

"Hyehehehe... Mellow out, Ho, you gotta learn to keep your cool if you wanna be a detective."

"I think I can do just fine without your help or your advice." He's calmed down, but he's still upset you're singling him out.

File: armory.jpg (9 KB, 245x205)

9 KB JPG

You can't stop until he's fully red in the face around some of the other guys, so you continue you conversation about BabyBlades you were having with him at Chippie's. You haven't played with the things since Freshman year, which is still pretty late, but it gives you access to Sung's mind, who mentioned to you he has nearly three dozen of the toys... Er... "Figurines" on display in his room. "Who's your favorite Baby Bladist? Mine is Kagome"

"Grr... That's a totally different anime!! And I already told you my favorite Baby Bladist was Ichika-chan!"

"Oh, right. Sorry..."

The other guys in the armory have mystically finished cleaning their weapons at the same time, and they all poorly hide their laughs as they close their lockers and leave. One does the cliché "Cough-while-calling-you-gay-nerds-then-cough-again trick". Whatever, you never cared about playing popularity contests. And now you've brought this dorky rookie down another peg. He quivers his lip and gives in.

Ho Sung: "So... What are we doing today, partner?" First time he's called you that, but you can't tell if he was being snarky, because of his sad, flat tone.

"Let's go to Higgins' office together and find out. Shall we?" You motion towards the door.

"My gun-"

"-Can be finished getting cleaned later. Come on." You lead out the door, since Ho won't. You hear him clack his slide back and holster his pistol.

Higgins is watching VelTV's Channel 4 news, which just went to a commercial for a medicine that combats nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach, and diarrhea. He looks down to you, since his TV is mounted above the door.

He welcomes you both: "Gentlemen. Welcome to my office. Mind closing the door behind you? Nothing serious, it's just a little noisy outside this morning."

Once the door is closed, Higgins continues. "Skeletor. Great work on the Rippler case. We're putting together his charges now, and preparing a media statement."

Ho Sung foolishly laughs, and attempts to ridicule you in front of the Commissioner. Typical brown-noser. "Hee hee hee, that was your fault, Skeleton?!!! Ooooh, you're gonna be in biiiiig trouuuubleeee!! I can't believe the news stations are all over our backs because of you!!" Trying to paint himself as the ingroup and you as the out, what a weevil.

Higgins flattens his attempt. "Actually, Ho, you're standing next to the brightest, finest Junior Detective that Velton has ever seen. The Lon Lemmings case would've been dead in the water if it weren't for his diligence; same story for countless other cases he's solved. No, this stink is all because Martin Zinger is thinking of running for mayor again in the upcoming race, and he knows he has no chance of taking out Mayor Kinov withou..."

File: joykinov.png (1.2 MB, 892x672)

1.2 MB PNG

Joy Kinov. Your brain melts into la-la-land when you think of the mayor's daughter, one of the mean girls in highscool, and one you've already designated as your next victim. With all the huff and puff of Black Rose, you question whether you should capture another target so soon.

When you get a chance, you're going to...
>Look up Joy Kinov on social media and see what she's been up to. You're safe and sound behind an LED touchscreen.
>Snoop around the Kinov residence in your hipster photographer outfit. You never know what you could find or overhear.
>Go around town tearing down posters and flyers for Mayor Kinov's re-election campaign. Losing status could weaken the family unit and the individuals in it.
>Forget about the mayor's daughter, you've decide you don't want to play with her after all. Kidnapping the Mayor's daughter? Who are you, Lex friggin' Luthor? Fish in the sea - there are others.
>Formulate a plan to release your murderlust on this bratty pig once you get your hands on her. You fight off the anger-shakes and memories of being tormented by her in high school.
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

The daydream ends when you realize Seth called your name more than once.

"...aying attention to me? Are you?!" Seth asks you.

"Huh? Yeah."

"Anyway... She should be re-united with her niños this afternoon, we just have to ask the kids all the usual questions... Her husband is in the slammer now, $50,000 bond. He gave up right away. Motel room 200 miles down the road in Florida. We're throwing the book at him. He's looking at about twenty charges in all... It's a real good thing Carolina's next door neighbor is a stud like you, kid. Maybe you should pay her and the kids a visit later, see how she's doing."

You agree that it would be a nice idea, then ask for your assignment.

"Well, I'd like you guys to keep knocking out the files that are gathering cobwebs, but there's a reason most of those haven't been solved yet. Let's get Sung's feet wet with something like this file. Just came in last night. It's... Around here somewhere..."

After nearly two minutes of searching and denying help, Seth finds the folder he was looking for.

"I think this is just what you need, Ho. Some joyriding teenagers stole a pickup truck from a subdivision last night, and have been riding around vandalizing houses and businesses, as well as doing drive-bys with BB guns. It's all fun and games until they get recruited by the Drips or the Blubs and start popping off real guns. Bring the truck and these kids in, and try not to hurt 'em. We want to reach these kids and show them the light, not just punish them and make them hate police for the rest of their lives. And we of course want to get Mister Flaherty his Phord back for him in one piece. I'll lecture him about leaving his doors unlocked and keys in the ignition once we get it back to him, though the dispatcher already chewed him out over the phone for it."

File: carolin.png (111 KB, 213x294)

111 KB PNG

Ho Sung looks at you, nervous. He doesn't know if he's ready for this. You straighten your back and take lead, grabbing the manila folder from Seth and commanding Ho to follow you to your car. "I'll make Senior Detective in no time," you think to yourself. You rev up the Lincoln and head out to the neighborhood the BB gun calls came from. While driving, you think of ways to make Ho indebted to you...
(One roll goes to this!)

Ho Sung never got to finish cleaning his weapon, and forgot his magazines in the armory. He doesn't notice, and neither do you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Getting off work makes you feel ambitious to pick up some side projects or tie some loose ends. (Choose one.)
>Choose a fourth girl to abduct from the roster after you deal with Joy Kinov. (If this is chosen, we can review the list next turn. Otherwise, this will likely take 5+ updates to get to, if you choose to do it at all.)
>Spy on your two favorite media bimbos - Jenny Jenkins from the Journal and Mashi Nawash from VelTV's Channel 4 news team. Start with privately stalking them online so you don't raise any unnecessary Suspicion.
>Visit Carolina and see how she's handling everything. (That's her in this post's picture.)
>Buy something off of Craigslist (What?)
>Post several ads on Craigslist's Rants & Raves section in different writing styles, spacing each post out about an hour, pretending to be from different parts of Velton county, using different burner emails. Don't make it obvious. Discredit VCJ, post thin-blue-line images, and write red herring articles praising criminals and saying we should release sex offenders from prisons and abolish the registry. [-1d20*0.05 Suspicion - QM rolls for this if chosen]

Free Action: Any other quick little missions or fixes you want to make to rectify the past, or pave a way for the future? Any why's, what-if's, or otherwise? Now's your chance!
>Write-in (can be as broad or specific as you would like.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Suspicion Check: 5.79
(Third slot rolls go to this!)

*(1st slot rolls go to Cantella's info. 2nd slot rolls go to car troubles. Last slot rolls go to Suspicion Check, AND the "One roll goes to this!" Checks, one-by-one in order of post number, with only one dice roll being used per each prompt. If need be, it will start over at the top of the second slot and continue down. This is to combat the bell-curve effect and to make each roll matter more.)

Rolled 4, 7, 12 = 23 (3d20)

>>5311373
>Stay silent and see what they do.
>Encourage her to be cruel towards Black Rose.
>Prepare to kill this bitch, she's no fun. Ask Mandie how she'd like to do it. Suggest something to do with fire. She deserves to burn.

>Formulate a plan to release your murderlust on this bratty pig once you get your hands on her. You fight off the anger-shakes and memories of being tormented by her in high school.

>Post several ads on Craigslist's Rants & Raves section in different writing styles, spacing each post out about an hour, pretending to be from different parts of Velton county, using different burner emails. Don't make it obvious. Discredit VCJ, post thin-blue-line images, and write red herring articles praising criminals and saying we should release sex offenders from prisons and abolish the registry. [-1d20*0.05 Suspicion - QM rolls for this if chosen]
#BACKTHEBLUE

Will think of something for the free slot later.
Can you elaborate on the dice thing? How do they work exactly? And why not averages? I prefer averages.

>>5311362
>"This is what I get for being nice? EAT!!!!" Slam both plates to the ground
Mandie and Black Rose
>Team up with Mandie to hold down and torture Black Rose. Mandie can cut off one nipple, you'll take the other. Let Mandie get creative as long as we do it together.

>Go around town tearing down posters and flyers for Mayor Kinov's re-election campaign. Losing status could weaken the family unit and the individuals in it.

>Visit Carolina and see how she's handling everything. (That's her in this post's picture.
>Do some community work as a cop. Find lost pets, help grannies cross the street, return lost wallets etc and make sure people know WE did it.

Another Mandie's POV segment would be great

Rolled 9, 19, 10 = 38 (3d20)

Rolled 13, 4, 4 = 21 (3d20)

>Stay silent and see what they do.
>Encourage her to be cruel towards Black Rose.
>She looks ill and may need medical attention. Search DweebMD online to check out her symptoms and see if you can help her.

If Black Rose dies, it must be of abuse, not some boring medical condition. Also, let's see how cruel Mandie can be. If she's too kind, she will be severely punished.

>Forget about the mayor's daughter, you've decide you don't want to play with her after all. Kidnapping the Mayor's daughter?
>Choose a fourth girl to abduct from the roster after you deal with Joy Kinov.

I'm more interested in the media bimbos Jenny Jenkins and Mashi Nawash.

>Write-in: Teach a lesson to Officer Sung. As partners, trusting each other is a matter of life of death. How he behaved in the Commissioner's office was not appropriate.
First a verbal lesson, but then, since he forgot his magazines in the armory, it can be a practical lesson.

>>5311391
>>Do some community work as a cop. Find lost pets, help grannies cross the street, return lost wallets etc [scratch last line]
Also do this. Not to improve our reputation, but because it's part of being a good cop.

Shamelessly bumping on the go

>>5311391
>Another Mandie's POV segment would be great
Noted

Rolled 19, 17, 7 = 43 (3d20)

>>5311362
>Stay silent and see what they do.
>Encourage her to be cruel towards Black Rose.
>She looks ill and may need medical attention. Search DweebMD online to check out her symptoms and see if you can help her.

>Look up Joy Kinov on social media and see what she's been up to. You're safe and sound behind an LED touchscreen.
Learn her routines

>several ads on Craigslist's Rants & Raves section in different writing styles, spacing each post out about an hour, pretending to be from different parts of Velton county, using different burner emails. Don't make it obvious. Discredit VCJ, post thin-blue-line images, and write red herring articles praising criminals and saying we should release sex offenders from prisons and abolish the registry. [-1d20*0.05 Suspicion - QM rolls for this if chosen]
We need to

>>5311795
Having a black rose POV would be pretty cool
Also do we not know her real name yet?

Rolled 7, 10, 18 = 35 (3d20)

>>5311362
>Stay silent and see what they do.
>Encourage her to be cruel towards Black Rose.
>She looks ill and may need medical attention. Search DweebMD online to check out her symptoms and see if you can help her.
>Go around town tearing down posters and flyers for Mayor Kinov's re-election campaign. Losing status could weaken the family unit and the individuals in it.
>Post several ads on Craigslist's Rants & Raves section in different writing styles, spacing each post out about an hour, pretending to be from different parts of Velton county, using different burner emails. Don't make it obvious. Discredit VCJ, post thin-blue-line images, and write red herring articles praising criminals and saying we should release sex offenders from prisons and abolish the registry. [-1d20*0.05 Suspicion - QM rolls for this if chosen]
>Write In: Do some community work as a cop. Find lost pets, help grannies cross the street, return lost wallets etc and make sure people know WE did it.

>>5311831
Noted.
And not yet, soon, though... (I'm tired of calling her Black Rose still, too.)

>>5311385
>elaborate on the dice thing?
I tried writing it out, but I think it's easier to show you than tell you. Let me try a couple updates this way. I'm open to criticism on it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Voting closes in 18-24 hours!

>>5311385
Forgot to answer the second part.

Averages are too average (I feel it works great with fewer players, like 1-4. I'm floundering for solutions to keep the rolls dynamic and meaningful since I'm a little surprised how many people are playing, but if votes begin dropping off I may use more averages. Like I said, I'm open to criticism on the systems. Closing unnecessary parentheses... Now!)

Rolled 19, 2, 14 = 35 (3d20)

>Stay silent and see what they do.
>Encourage her to be cruel towards Black Rose.
>She looks ill and may need medical attention. Search DweebMD online to check out her symptoms and see if you can help her.
>Go around town tearing down posters and flyers for Mayor Kinov's re-election campaign. Losing status could weaken the family unit and the individuals in it.
>Post several ads on Craigslist's Rants & Raves section in different writing styles, spacing each post out about an hour, pretending to be from different parts of Velton county, using different burner emails. Don't make it obvious. Discredit VCJ, post thin-blue-line images, and write red herring articles praising criminals and saying we should release sex offenders from prisons and abolish the registry. [-1d20*0.05 Suspicion - QM rolls for this if chosen]
>Write ins: Do community work
>Find out Black Rose's real name
>Try to engineer a bonding experience with Ho
>Trash Mayor Kinov on social media anonymously. Blame him for the rise in crime.
>If other anons are interested in this we should try to meet Zinger, make a deal to support his mayoral campaign in exchange for protection and fullthroated support for the VPD
>Search for new methods to dump bodies. After our sloppy work last time we need to make sure the next one is undetectable.
>Remember those photographs of Black Rose we took? Destroy them, destroy the memory card, destroy every trace of it. We have never met her for all we know. A good killer never leaves a trail.

>>5311385
For the free time, let's have a heart to heart chat with Mandie. Ask her what her dreams were and what her dreams are now. Ask her about family, kids etc. Ask her if she's ready to die for her master. If she answers every question correctly and convincingly we will allow her to eat and wash herself daily (under our supervision of course). The chains are going nowhere though, she looks cute in it and a master cannot be too careful with their pets.

>>5311795
Remember that you promised flashbacks of our first and second murders.

>>5312686
>Write ins: Do community work
>Find out Black Rose's real name
>Try to engineer a bonding experience with Ho
>Trash Mayor Kinov on social media anonymously. Blame him for the rise in crime.
>If other anons are interested in this we should try to meet Zinger, make a deal to support his mayoral campaign in exchange for protection and fullthroated support for the VPD
>Search for new methods to dump bodies. After our sloppy work last time we need to make sure the next one is undetectable.
>Remember those photographs of Black Rose we took? Destroy them, destroy the memory card, destroy every trace of it. We have never met her for all we know. A good killer never leaves a trail.
support

Great write-ins and reminders, everyone, thank you.

The voting session is now closed.

My internet is out indefinitely, but it shouldn't interfere too much, other than I'm probably going to lose my formatting privileges for the thread.

Rape, murder and corruption resumes soon.
(Estimating 8-24 hrs., hopefully not more than that.)

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5311363
(Doing this on my phone sucks more than I thought)

Tie break roll for car troubles
1 for severe troubles
2 for negligible troubles

Double 19's on the first roll-set will arbitrarily override the other rolls, because, hey, doubles. Cantella will spill the beans on everything she knows

Rolled 14, 12 = 26 (2d20)

>>5314139
1st roll is for Rants and Raves sperg power
2nd roll is for sightly braggadocios community work to build clout

Minus (2d20*0.05) Suspicion!

File: IMG_20220624_095720~2.jpg (572 KB, 2448x1863)

572 KB JPG

>>5314148
Update is more than half way done. I didn't want to leave you guys hanging (or lose your interest), though. I won't have internet on my computer again until Monday so... Still doing this all on my phone and WordPad. Posting the full update is going to be tedious. Should be out in 4-12 hours.

I've recently thought quite a bit about the future paths this quest could take, so I'm excited to keep writing several more chapters and seeing where this goes with all of you. Thanks again for all the great write ins.

-

The picture includes little to no new information, it's just the rolls and loose structure I use as a guide.

>>5315356
Update has been ready for ~12 hrs but I was super busy today, and just now I had to travel to a nearby McDonald's for free wifi to refill my phone's data, for the second time in two days lol.

Posting very soon

>>5317032
What's wrong with the PC? Are you moving or something?

>>5317043
Using PC for WordPad. Internet is out, company won't/can't work on it until Monday. Which luckily, is likely the length of the voting session for this update, so I'll have my dirty pooter back in time for next update.

Thanks for your patience.

-F. Smelly

>

>Roll 2d100!

>

Before Investigator Peña-Ortiz leaves your living room, she spills los frijoles on a bevy of schemes going on right under your nose.

First and foremost are flyers that were posted on all of Pell University's Campus Community Boards. These boards contain campus-wide notices about policies and classes, but also allow committee-approved advertisements for dorms, sports, student interest groups and study sessions with tutors. The flyers in question were none of the above, and according to the dean, Cantella relays, were "not approved by any committee". They were all machine-printed neatly on white paper, stating that "Whoever is looking into the water polo team... better just stop. Or else. I'm not joking around." There's a huge skull-and-crossbones image under the sparse words, the skull taking up a good 60% of the paper. No one on campus has come forward with information, not even with a $1000 reward posted. On top of that, you'll have to go in yourself to review P.U.'s security tape footage.

Cantella de Peña-Ortiz shifts her legs. That holster or pistol she's carrying must be too big, so it is uncomfortable for her to cross her legs like she has been.

Next, your fellow law enforcement officer informs you that there are big, big movements in the business world in Velton. Entire apartment complexes brought down for a single golf course. A 97-year-old great granny's house being cordoned off in to the middle of a billionaire's exotic hunting range because she wouldn't sell like everyone else in her neighborhood. Media companies being bought out so they can peddle infomercials and promote car dealerships instead of disseminate information. All doings of notorious CEO and daring playboy, the ebon-haired mayorial candidate, Martin Zinger.

Why does this matter to you? Well, as the cherry on top, Don Black has supposedly taken on a private security job for Zinger. It's expected his resignation as Senior Detective for VPD is already penned, or about to be. This bizarre relationship might explain the more intimate details of the hit piece in Zinger's Journal.
(Please pretend Journal is still in italics.)

Cantella takes her leave shortly after telling you. She offers you no advice on what to do with the information, she only makes it clear that she trusts you with it.

Wow. That's quite the load to take in. What to do, what to do... You're not quite sure. (Choose up to 3)
>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Attempt to stalk Don Black on your own.
>Report the flyers on P.U.'s campus to Commissioner Higgins.
>Investigate the source of the flyers on your own.
>Report Martin Zinger to Higgins.
>Confront Martin Zinger and tell him you want in on his operation.
>Write-in (Up to 3 allowed)
>Report all 3 developments to Commissioner Higgins.
>Ignore all of this bullcrap! Sayonara, señorita!
(Up to 3 rolls go to this)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The table is set.

*Glug, glug glug*

Black Rose, the little scamp, has taken Mandie's glass of water and chugged damn near half the glass while Mandie was looking away. Miss Mandie reaches over and grabs the glass, jerking it from the goth girl's mouth.

They struggle for the glass a second, spilling most of the water. You watch. Mandie is much stronger and willing to be mean than Black Rose right now. Mandie jerks her near-empty water glass out of Black Rose's hands, standing up while she does so to gain leverage over her new foe. She no longer fights against you, or the chains in the basement, Mandie fights against... This little attention-seeking whore who drove all the way out to the forest to do glamour shots for a bogus coffee company.

Upon standing up, Mandie looks to you, puppy-dog eyes, afraid you'll punish her for acting on her instincts, which you've punished her for hundreds of times before. Meeting Mandie's fearful eyes with your approving, dead ones sends your slave into a permitted frenzy. You give a final nod of approval, giving Mandie the green light. Mandie grins, turns, and suppresses a blasphemous chuckle as she blasts the unexpecting, afraid, and hungry Black Rose in the forehead with your glass. It shatters and causes a bleed to trickle on both Black Rose's head and Mandie's palm.

Mandie's eyes bulge and she laughs hysterically, and covers her own mouth eagerly with both hands to mute the sound.
You run in to jam your hand over Rose's mouth a tiny bit too late.
Black Rose shrieks once, and tries a second time, then fails.
(+0.1 Suspicion)

Mandie feels an incredible rush, and slumps backwards into her chair. The adrenaline of aggression completed is something she hasn't tasted in close to a month, and it clearly intoxicates her.

The Artist Formerly Known As Black Rose panics and bucks and brays and kicks at you, but you wrestle her to the ground until she silences herself. She throws up pink-orange, watery bile through your right hand, which is still covering her mouth. You wipe it off on the bitch's nude chest and stand up, then kick her in the stomach once for good measure and spit on her, disgusted from the smell.

"This is what I get for making you a burger, huh?" You pick up Black Rose's would-be burger, take a large bite... You take a second, unexpected bite, unable to control your lust for carnage, then you throw the thing on the pathetic crybaby on your floor. "Look at this fucking pathetic worm, Mandie."

Without hesitation, gripping the side of the dining table, out of her seat, near jumping with glee: "FUCKING WORM!! HEEEHEEheeeeee-"

Black Rose writhes silently on the floor; screaming silent screams and crying silent tears. Yuck, what a pitiful sight.

"Why don't you get over here and feed this slut so that she doesn't starve." You dryly command Mandie.

>>5317277
Mandie goes rogue and slaps a pickle chip on Black Rose's face, punches it, then takes both buns and starts smearing them all over Rose's face and exposed breasts. Black Rose musters the strength to shoot her arms up and fight with Mandie over the buns.

The result is two naked beauties in your kitchen, bread crumbs in their hair, meat chunks spewed on their faces, with their necks and breasts smeared in condiments. "Ladies..." You say, "break it up. That's enough."

Mandie stops immediately, but Black Rose still wants to fight and get revenge on Mandie. She weakly palm-tosses a mustard-covered pickle chip, but the arc on the throw is pathetic due to her weakened state and bad form. Hmm... You begin to worry. Even Mandie wasn't this bad when you first got her. You'd better check this out. As you wipe the withering Black Rose clean, she sharts diarrhea everywhere in your kitchen, so you start over. Mandie looks at you teary-eyed, as if she's scared she'll have to clean it, but you do the cleaning. After, you tell Mandie: "Help me take her back up."

After the attic is secured, you return downstairs with Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith. You're quite proud of her creativity in belittling the new girl. It'll certainly teach Black Rose her place. If she lasts long at all... You boot up DweebMD on your phone to check out Black Rose's symptoms, since they seem a bit abnormal.

...

Turns out that drinking river water isn't good for you, folks. Black Rose oughta be fine in a few days, but you will need to keep a close eye on her this weekend. Maybe acquire some generic antibiotics if she doesn't improve in a day or two.

Still on your phone, while receiving oral from your top slave, you research Black Rose. She can't be all that secretive if she's a model.

It only takes a few minutes and a few "no-teeth" reminders (new unit of time) to Mandie for you to find Black Rose's real social media profiles, including an old "deactivated" MyFace account.

Black Rose is...

!!!!

...Geraldina Cooper. Huh. Not the hottest name ever. You can see why she longed for something more exotic/erotic.
>Fuck it, you'll call her Geraldina.
>Fuck it, you'll call her Miss Cooper.
>Fuck it, you'll call her Black Rose.
>Fuck it, you'll call her (Write-in).

You throw Mandie in the dungeon for the night after a rather quick cum. You've begun to get comfortable with the positions and abuse with Mandie, it's strange. She really likes whenever you come down to the basement now.

You consider rewarding Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith with something you know she'll like, so she'll continue being faithful and motivated to put your bitches in line like she did earlier.
>When you met Mandie, she wanted a golden labrador retriever puppy. You oughta get her that puppy. Let's see if she can care for it while chained up in a cellar most of the day.
>Let's take her swimming in the mountains. Black Rose can come, too. This'll be a good exercise for Mandie to show leadership and control.
>Parade her around naked and tightly ball-gagged at the next feminist march. You'll probably have to travel out of Velton, but so be it. As a plus, no one knows who you are outside of this county.
>Nothing. Whores get nothing. Cry about it, trash.
>Lunch with the master. Mandie gets to eat TWO knuckle sandwiches. Punch until a couple teeth start flying out, maybe give her a cauliflower ear.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Putting Mandie to bed was sweet and easy, you almost wish it didn't have to end. But you've got work to do, like on this stolen Toyota Corolla. If what that Central Korean guy told you was true, you should be well on your way to an untraceable vehicle.

...

Traversing through the mountains and swamps is kind of cool with all the fog and the stars out at night. The GPS disabling worked like a charm, you can't find yourself anymore, but you also don't know if you did all the steps right. You lose the thought of worrying about that as you hear a skipping and a mechanical coughing from your new Toyota air conditioning unit. Looks like it sputtered out. Oh well, not a big deal, the girl probably never took care of this thing. You note to yourself to change the oil soon. As summer draws to a close, you won't need the AC as much, anyway.

You park the car in your garage again, out of public sight.

You sink into your bed and try not to focus on all the work you've got to do. Just... relaxxxxxzzzzzzz....

You lie in place with your eyes closed a little too tight for a few minutes, unable to let go of your worries, but eventually you fall asleep anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You enter the dreamworld, and begin floating down a chasm.

You see Ena Fuvya, your second victim. Images of her waterlogged fat face are grotesque but funny to you, even while unconscious.

Moving on, your psyche has you encounter a stranger scene. No longer floating, you're on a cliffside cave with a rushing waterfall, and Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith is in a wedding dress. You look around and there are faceless shadow people cheering on the ceremony.

The waterfall roars louder and louder until it calls your attention, but you ignore it. You look Mandie in her eyes. She's beaming a pearlescent smile and she's not dirty, bruised or scarred at all. She's pristine like she was when you first met her. Wedding symphonies play while the water rushes. You look down and notice you're in a blood-red satin tuxedo.

The priestess taps your shoulder, and you look to see that Black Rose is the priestess; dressed in all black, but with no make-up. She opens her mouth but instead of saying anything, she vomits pitch black fluid onto you. The band stops and a violin string snaps. The waterfall is so loud, it's all you can hear.

You look down and now you're naked, other than the pitch black, warm, slime that was projectile vomited onto you. The shadow audience laughs at you, like canned laughter from an old TV show. Dead voices, you think. Whatever that means.

You look to Mandie, and she is still smiling at you as if nothing happened. You look at Black Rose, steaming mad. You raise your hand to strike her down, when the blast of the waterfall in the cave becomes so loud you think you might start bleeding from your ears. You recoil and cup your hands over your ears and look to the sight of the danger.The waterfall collapses and floods the cave until the stone roof morphs to celestial sky.

You're stuck floating in an ocean and it's dark out, other than the stars in the sky. It's so cold... Other than your head, which is hot with blood. The waters begin drawing into a whirlpool, you feel yourself being sucked in, breast-stroking won't help you now.

In seconds that seem like hours of fighting tides, you succumb to the water and plummet an unknown distance... Everything is dark... You've not experienced anything like this... You try to open your eyes but everything is obscured in shadow and the depths of this strange sea.

You open your mouth to breathe and begin drowning in your dream, a recurring dream you've had since childhood. Lon Lemmings told you that it was falling off a skyscraper for him, and he'd wake up screaming. Usually you wake up every time you encounter drowning in your dreams, but this time... You just drift further into the dream... Or the nightmare.

You raise up to the surface of the same ocean under the same starry sky, but this time, you hear a voice. A voice you've heard before, that you never thought you'd hear again. It penetrates through your skull, louder than the waterfall. It's... HER voice... Your first victim. The last thing she ever said to you, with her last breath:
>Sunken, defeated, collapsed: "...Whyy...? I don't... Underrr...staaand... Why would youu... do this..."
>With a smile: "Finally... I win... Hah... I can finally... Die..."
>Apologetic, but nearly emotionless: "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you do this... Please... Forgive me..."
>Eyeballs bulging as you choke her: "You... GACK... Don't... HAKKK... Have it in you... EEEEEEeeeee!!!!"
>A series of crying, incoherent begging and screaming. She couldn't speak much at that point, but her death-wailing cuts to the bone.
>Write-in

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You have to change your sheets when you wake up. You... You pissed the bed last night. You just, uh... Won't tell anyone about that.

Contrary to last night, you try not to think about anything OTHER than the work you've got to do today. Gotta stay on task, you can deal with whatever last night was... Later. You cruise into work with a lead foot and a cranked stereo.

DJ Boogie Jay Skeeter sez: "I remember getting 2 of my ribs cracked at a concert these guys were playing when I was just a wee little Skeeter. When that drunk Polish guy stage-dived onto my chest, I was sure it was gonna be my... LAST BREATH!!" The music fades in as Skeeter's story fades out.
youtu.be/T4B5gT3TtJQ

Today is Lon Lemmings' funeral, but first, you're fixing to help Junior Detective-in-training Ho Sung bust these boys with the BB guns and see if we can recover the stolen truck.

Ho Sung convinces you to ride shotgun in his Mitsubishi Ricer for this mission. You might be in pursuit, so you agree. Better his car gets totalled than yours, but you don't tell him that. Then again, the Lincoln's frame is all steel, and the foreign import is, what, aluminum? plastic? cardboard? You get in a car wreck in this piece of crap, you're crunched! It's hard to feel like the authority in the passenger seat rather than the driver's seat, since another man is in charge of your safety, but you try to appear wise by quoting Comm'r Seth. "Rotten apples spoil a whole tree, Ho. Er... No, no... They don't spoil the whole tree... Uhh... A few bad apples, and, ya see, Ho, they can uh... Uhmmm... A moral and righteous apple seed..."

Ho Sung cuts you off. "We're here at the Jon's Supermarket parking lot, where that stolen truck was last seen this morning, along with a suspicious theft of Wisher Wheats Blunt Wraps, PooNorts menthol cigs, and a variety of candy bars. Let's go in and see if security or management can fill us in, maybe we can look at the video footage and..."

Ho Sung begins opening his car door and you stop him. Perfect time to show him why alertness is in the job description. "C'mon kid, you're just gonna rush in? You gotta be more alert than that."

"Well they were just here not even an hour ago, we gotta follow the trail before it goes cold... Right?" Ho Sung is questioning his training now, ever though he's right, you need to get on top of this. But there's always time for some friendly subversion.

"Fools rush in." You tell Officer Sung matter-of-factly. "First of all, you parked way too close to the front of the store. Drive off to the side or behind a tree so we don't spook any potential suspicious activity. Next, pull out your binoculars... You don't have any? Ugh, c'mon kid, I didn't think I'd be wiping your ass and blowing your nose today. Bring your freakin' gear next time."

"But I'm not a Detective yet, so I haven't been issued binocu-"

"Yeah, yeah, excuses, excuses. Here, use mine. Today only! I'm not lending these things out again, they'll start smelling like... God knows what you smell like, but I don't want it all over my binox. Kapeesh?"

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Ho Sung unenthusiastically "Kapeeshes" you back, and sticks the binocular lenses up to his eyes. After only about 30 seconds, you know the magic marker has set around his eyes.

"Ahh, nevermind, kid, let's just go in and do this the ol' fashioned way."

Ho Sung pulls down the bino's to reveal perfect black rings around his eyes.

"Wha-?" Ho Sung is confused why you made such a fuss about the binoculars and the parking, but doesn't question you. Lucky for you, he doesn't glance in his rearview mirror or the reflection of his windows, and doesn't notice that you gave him the oldest trick in the books, the rings-around-the-eyes.

As you walk past a shopping cart return, a wine box with its wine mom and her little girl both laugh at Ho Sung, who has no idea how ridiculous he looks.

He frowns after being laughed at, but continues his stride and asks you if you've watched the latest episode of Fae(l) Smelter Alchemist: Sisterhood. You don't really watch any anime anymore with your hectic schedule, but you feign interest. "Aww no, I didn't, did Kagome finally get the Sharingan?"

"KAGOME IS FROM A TOTALLY DIFFERENT ANIME, I TOLD YOU THAT YESTERDAY!!" Ho Sung attracts more attention as you two enter Jon's Supermarket, he's still in his cop uniform since he doesn't have permission to go undercover like you. With the raccoon-like ink circles around his eyes, he attracts pointing and laughing from more shoppers. He just chalks it up to his anime sperg outburst, which may have contributed to the looks.

"Let's split up, I'll go see if Jon, the owner, is in. You go talk to the security staff over there." You point to a large black man and a skinny teenage boy, both with SECURITY vests on, and walkie-talkies on their hips, shooting the shit by the hand baskets and motorized scooters with baskets.

You pretend to split up, but just watch the security team bust up laughing at Ho like he's crazy for a second, before being kind enough to tell him he has ink all over his face. Ho Sung realizes what happened, and wipes at his face with his hands, checking to see that their is, indeed, black ink. He stomps down the aisles, hands out by his side, big dumb goofy grin on his face. He walks right up to you, even though you were doing your best to hide behind a rack of bread. He found you, probably clued in from all your snickering and knee-slapping.

"Alright, partner, that was pretty good. Ya got me, you skeletal sonuvabitch." Ho Sung chuckles gently and smiles wide, punching your bicep lightly.

"Oh it's not over yet, rookie, just wait to see what else I have in store for you..." You have a classic playbook of over a dozen maneuvers you've heard of or experienced first-hand.
Suspending duty weapons in green jello.
Grinding down handcuff keys so they don't work.
The infamous squirrel in the jar trick, and so forth.

You tell him about the ones you don't plan on using on him on the way back through the parking lot.

In the Mitsubishi, Ho Sung turns the engine on and rolls down the windows for both of you. Not finding any info at Jon's Supermarket, you split down the street and get stuck at a red light.

First, you hear them. "YEA NIGGA, WE GON' FINNA KILLA NIGGA, YOU FEEL ME, NIGGA - NIGGA, WASSUP N-", over a simple, repetitive beat with computerized drums and grade-school xylophone. "I love this song..." Ho Sung mutters while he bops his head.

Second, you sense them by scent. Dank, sweet marijuana, rising above the gasoline/diesel smell of traffic, due to the tobacco leaf wrapper. You remember smelling it every day in the locker bays in high school.

Third, by sight. Three "urban youth in a stolen Phord PH150, toting an orange-tip BB gun out of the back window", as described in the report. Three white boys with Luke Skywalker/Justin Bieber haircuts, all singing along to the lyrics.

Finally, you feel them. They must have seen Ho Sung in his uniform.

"FUCK THE POPO, NIGGA!!" The lily-skin lanklet in the back seat opens automatic fire on the Mitsubishi through the open window; 600 BB's per minute, though he runs out in seconds. You and Ho Sung get blasted in the face and bare arms multiple times.

The driver scorns "BRYLER!! WHY'D YOU DO THAT, NIGGUH?!!!"

"Shut up Zeke-Zane, just drive, mane! Go, nigga, go!!! Chadwick, quit hogging the boof, nigguh, pass that shit already!!" The teens rev hard and peel off in the hot truck while the light is still red, nearly getting T-boned by a shiny purple sedan.

Ho Sung shouts "Stop! You're under arrest! Pull over immediately!" He looks to you.

You say: "Well, kid? What're you waiting for? Go after 'em!"
(First set of rolls goes to this - used as a set!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After work, you rush through King Junior's drive-thru for dinner and then head home for a quick shower.

You try to ignore the goings-on in your house so you can achieve some spiritual release and rejuvenation at a ceremony for your friend, but it's impossible not to think of the girls. Especially when you're dressed in your Sunday best on a Saturday. You kind of wish you could take a date, as ridiculous as it sounds.

You reach the cemetery and step out of your car. It's busy so at this hour so you have to walk quite a bit to the casket. The air is warm and the sky is dark. There are about forty people or so, a dozen and a half filling the folding chairs, and the rest standing. Most of the attendees are twice your age or more. You fill in to the back. Next to Lon's casket, there's a large photo of him at Christmastime, opening a present with a wide smile on his face. The cardboard photo is surrounded by a wreath of flowers. The ceremony is a somber, strenuous, strongly religious affair. You almost doze off on your feet more than once. You cry exactly one tear. Like Geronimo.

Mrs. Lemmings comes shuffling over to you after the sermon-givers have all finished. "Is that you? Ohh, it's been so long since I've seen you! I'm glad you came. You and Lonny were such good friends, playing your... your... What was it, Yoogheeyoh cards at the bus stop all the time?"

It's Gu-Yi-Goh, but you don't correct her. "Yeah... Me and him were good buddies. My condolences. It's nice to see you two again. Lon is in a better place now..." You don't know what to say in these situations, but that seemed like a decent crack at it.

Through a robot-sounding electrolarynx device attached to his neck, thanks to his decades of chain-smoking, Mr. Lemmings calls you a "FAGGOT", once again. Just like old times.

"Honey! Don't say that! He's one of the people who helped bring peace to our little boy... Thanks to him, that nasty Rick Rippler devil is going to be held accountable for... for... Waahhhhhhhhhh" Both of Lon's parents break down in tears uncomfortably in front of you, collapsing into you for a hug. You hug them back.

Robot voice: "IF THERE'S. ANYTHING. YOU. NEED. FROM. US... YOU. JUST. CALL. US..."

After the hug ends: "HERE'S. OUR. TELEPHONE NUMBER.............. THANK. YOU."
(-0.11 Suspicion)
(+Mr. and Mrs. Lemmings will act as character witnesses or vouch for you in court if need be. They may also be open to other interactions.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The funeral disperses. On the way back to your car, you see a man you recognize, even from the back. You're one of the last people in the cemetary on this side, but he hasn't seen you yet.

The dark-haired Martin Zinger in one of his typically flashy suits and stark, slick-back, black hair. He's a tall guy, about your height, perhaps an inch or two taller.. Or are those just lifts in his Italian hand-stitched loafers? He's about 40, maybe a few years over or under. He's holding a slender young woman's hand and says something you can't hear from this distance. The entire time, Zinger's head is fallen, as he gazes upon a small and humble tombstone flush with the grass.

His secretary or girlfriend or escort kisses his cheek, gives Zinger's hand one last caress, and walks away to get in a stretch limo, which goes way too fast for a cemetery, and way too fast for a stretch limo.

As the smoke settles and the tire screeches stop, you look around and see Martin Zinger's ride... and his bodyguard. The bodyguard is parked, hanging out at a far corner of the cemetery, about a half mile away, no doubt with binoculars. In fact, there's no doubt he's noticed you and your Lincoln Continental's busted-ass door... That he busted up.

It's Don Black in his Cadillac.

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Your feet are frozen for a second, like when you witnessed Carolina's husband kidnap the kids. Don't just stand there, Detective, make a move.
>Leave Martin Zinger alone. Leave Don Black the Buster alone. Do nothing. Get in your Lincoln and calmly leave.
>Approach Martin Zinger openly and ask him questions about his rag's reporting on VPD. Why's he actively trying to demonize law enforcement in Velton through the Velton County Journal and Channel 4 News? Question him about his connections in the city and his bid for mayor. Let him know you have your eyes on him. And you don't fucking blink.
>Approach Martin Zinger from behind, put your arm around him, and tell him you want in on the biz. Tell him "it's good to have friends that are ACTUALLY on the force, Zinger..." Look Zinger straight in the eyes, then nod to Don Black's Cadillac to show Zinger you know about his and Don's arrangement. "...Friends that don't have a history of BACKSTABBING their partners, like some of the old guard." Poke Zinger sharply on the spine with your index finger to emphasize "BACKSTABBING".
>Don's already seen you, and he's probably watching you now. It doesn't seem like Zinger is aware of you. Time to make a statement. Slowly point a finger-gun at Zinger and "pull the trigger" with your thumb. Deliberately blow away the imaginary smoke from the hot imaginary barrel and smoothly put it in your air-holster. Give Don a smiling wink and walk back to your car.
>Ignore Zinger. Drive or walk to the end of the cemetery and approach Don Black and say/do something to him. (What?)
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)

After "leaving", you come back to the cemetery when no one's around so you can investigate the flat grave marker... (pictured)

...

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~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Regardless of what you think of his opponent Martin Zinger, you know that Mayor Kinov is a somewhat decent man, though he's prone to all the pitfalls of the usual disgraceful small town politicians.
Golfing when he should be leading.
Accepting bribes he didn't realize were bribes.
Leaking information to foreign governments through shoddy opsec.
Breaking campaign laws left and right out of sheer ignorance.

For instance, these flyers on the side of the road tied to the chain-link fence. Those aren't up to ordinance, you realize. Better do the county a favor, rip 'em down. Saves the community workers from having to get off their keisters. You pull over on the corner, approach the fence and use a small cutter on your keyring to snap the zip ties bonding the posters to the fence.

A soccer mom in a minivan pulls up to the intersection and sees what you're doing. "Hey! What have you got against Jack Kinov???"

Aw, shit! Busted!!! Wait... Busted??? Meh, what's she gonna do? Stupid Karen needs to mind her business. You don't even tell her you're within your right to do this. You continue ripping up the last of the local propaganda, shredding it, trampling it and throwing it to the wind.

You're thinking of what you can get from Joy Kinov.

"License plate number F-4-3-5-M-3-..."

!!!

You turn around and the Karen is recording you! "Yeah that's right, I've got you on video, you liberal commie coward onions boy!!" You cover your face with your jacket and run to your car and take off. Shit. "Yeah, that's right, your ass is going up on FaceSpace!! The Patriotics are gonna hear about this!! Jack Kinov for Velton!! I bet you're working for Central Korea or one of the other corporate shill sellouts like Zinger!" She sees you walking back to your car and hastily clambers to end the video and get back in her minivan. "Eek!" You peel off in opposite directions.

Trolling the FaceSpace local political groups every 10 minutes, you finally find the soccer mom's post. The shaky video renders your face completely blurry, and the license plate read-out was cut off at the last number, which should weed out all but the least lazy "activists". There's only like 40 possible characters that could be the final number or letter in your license plate, it won't take a rocket surgeon to plug in all of the possible combinations, figure out how to cross-reference a database, and find out who the Lincoln belongs to. You instantly mass-flag and report the video. It's about all you can do.

Good thing most boomers can't manipulate modern tech as good as they think they can. This could still get ugly, though, if you get ID'd as some political loon.
(Suspicion +0.24)

Any time your face or name is in the paper, social media, or similar, it's not a good thing. Unless... Time to generate some publicity that counters your Suspicion and poor public image. Saving the Quackenbush kid ~3 weeks ago isn't fresh in people's minds anymore, it seems.

While you were waiting for the video to drop, and long after, you began posting on the Rants and Raves section on Craigslist. Absolute gems of social engineering and political pandering like:

"if u dont support the police then u can swim to mexico buddy cuz this is AMERICA!!!!!!! and u can kiss my ass if u dont like it!!!"
"VELTAN COUNTY JOURNAL SUPPOARTS KILLING BABBIES IN THE WOOMB"
"I'm a registered sex offender getting off the registry next month, and I'm going back to my kindergarten teaching job. AMA."

You post several other posts you considered wittier and much subtler, but those three mentioned posts raked in over a hundred emails by the night's end all by themselves. People in the emails inform you they've been reduced to vitriol, tears, prayer, and more. It's bleeding over from your favorite local marketplace/community messageboard (Craigslist) to social media, and now people all over the tri-state area are talking about how much they support police, how much they hate criminals, and mentioning the exploits, real and imagined, of the VC Journal. Some people push back and call your personas retarded or ill-informed. You've successfully poked the hornet's nest, it would seem.
(Suspicion -0.7)
(Two rolls go to this to build a profile on a fun Craigslist contact)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...Waking from a terrible nightmare, going on a high speed chase, attending a funeral, some spy work and some political volunteering, all by 7:30PM. You've been getting so much accomplished today, (and you're so shook with fright from your dream, maybe,) that you decide you should just continue with this momentum and keep doing normal stuff, like before you started kidnapping and butchering people a few months ago. Cop stuff. Neighbor stuff. You stuff. Stuff that paves the way for more murderlust relief. Stuff that throws shade on others or puts you in a better light, after little SNAFU's like the minivan mom's video, or being spotted by Don in the cemetery.

You're a police officer. People used to trust you. Some still do. You've seen a few of the limelight chasers and FaceSpace "thumbs-up" fiends on the force. They've got tried-and-true, but morally dubious methods of making themselves look good. No need to re-invent the wheel, just copy what those soulless husks do to gain approval from the equally vapid public.
>Download the ChinkChonk app and create an account where you post 45 second videos of yourself frivolously dancing and shaking your booty in a kinky halloween store cop costume. 95% of the views are Central Korean government bots, but the userbase doesn't know that, despite the relentless reporting on it.
>Pay a hobo $50 to fake a suicide threat at the top of a tall parking garage in downtown. You talk him down from the ledge, which another hobo with $50 just so happens to be recording on your phone from the sidelines. What? It's a heart-warming story, it doesn't have to be real!
>Save some junkies by singlehandedly cleaning up an amateur heroin den or crackhouse in the southside. They're everywhere and most of the dealers only have fake guns, or they're so high on their own supply, they can't stop you from blowing their brains out on their Gam-Gammy's paisley-patterned sofa.
>Volunteer at the nursing home in your old uniform. Play a little gin rummy, a little checkers, listen to riveting tales of the veterans from the harrowing U.S.-Laotian War of 1955. So many human's rights abuses... It gives you a stiffy!
>Write-in
(Fixed -0.6 Suspicion)
(One roll goes to this for narrative/plot!)

You get home and feed both women small amounts of food, just enough to keep them going. You... You don't feel like you want to have sex toni-... Er... You don't feel like you want to have rape tonight. You just go to bed. The women have no chance to say anything while gagged, and only Black Rose even tries, Mandie knows better... You're just... Just not in the mood right now. You try not to think about it, but your first victim's face and final words replay briefly before your sleep cycle begins...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You manage not to have another nightmare last night, in fact, you don't recall any dreams at all. You feel not quite rested, but certainly not tired. You jump out of bed and realize you fell asleep in your work clothes. You worked the whole day to make sure you didn't have to confront any qualms and demons you may have, until...

A dark thought creeps in your head, first thing in the morning. It was jolly good sadistic fun to snap those photos of Black Rose in the forest, but keeping them as souvenirs is inexplicable. The real souvenir from that day is in the attic, anything else would never do. So much so that even in a jail cell you'd no longer want to posess these images, if it meant you couldn't have the real thing. You value freedom and the vivacity of life far higher than you value material objects or sentimental relics.

Destroying the polaroids is easy, and with the cleansing of the photos comes a cleansing of your attitude. You can't help it. You're feeling ambitious still. It's a Sunday, and your day off. There's so much work to be done, so many opportunities slipping away with each tick and tock.

You pick up another extracirricular activity or two to complete today. (Choose 1 or 2):
>Visit Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills for another occupational therapy/receptionist-ogling session.
>Visit Slappy's Sex Shop and spend your money (On what?)
>Visit the old farmer's widow and stalk her property. If you find an opportunity... Kill her.
>Visit your next door neighbor and her niños to see if they're okay.
>Visit Carolina Smith's husband in the holding cell and ask him why he did it.
>Visit Rick Rippler in the holding cell. If you're lucky, he hasn't hired an attorney yet and you can talk with him off the books.
(One or two rolls go to this! No write-ins for this one!)

While carting yourself around for these petty errands, you have plenty of time to think.

Discarded bodies being found is easily the quickest way to land in the slammer for a long, long time. You can't let any more pop up in the future. Your murderlust causes your hands to shake, but you calm it by methodically going over every step of the next disposal in your head.

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>>5317316
When you encounter another corpse you're responsible for, you'll know just what to do with it, no panicking.
(Remember, after you're done with it, the body will likely shows signs of severe abuse and obvious foul play that could arouse suspicion. Choose your plan wisely, as this is your pre-meditated, on-hand, go-to corpse disposal solution. Switching later is possible but may incur unknown penalties.)
>Water burial. There are quite a few freshwater lakes in the area that'll chew through DNA and leave bodies as nothing but bone dust in a short time.
>Land burial. Just go far, far away and dig a deep, deep hole, stupid. Don't overthink this.
>Incineration. There's no way you'd be able to explain away the ghastly, sinful smell if you did this in your backyard BBQ pit. You'd have to go somewhere else... There'd be nearly no sign her body ever existed after, though.
>Melted Into Liquids. They say you can dissolve a body in a bathtub and then drain the tub. Is that real? You'd certainly need to find a discreet supply of the chemicals, or risk having a paper trail.
>Mountain Lions, Timberwolves and Brown Bears, Oh My! Let nature have her way with the body. Attempt to summon a bald eagle to peck the eyeballs and/or genitals out.
>The Ol' Switcheroo/Weekend at Skeletor's. Leave the body in a hospital morgue, funeral home or the police precinct's basement mortuary. Just pretend they belonged there. Maybe throw in some bogus paperwork to make it look legit.
>Eternal Imprisonment. Mummify the corpse and keep it locked in your house. Could get messy or smelly, but at least you'll never lose track of where they went.
>Grotesque Exposure. Get cocky and do something special with the corpse, like hang it from a tree or throw it in front of City Hall. You're asking for trouble, though, bub. Have some self-control! But the reactions... You shiver at the thought.
>Write-in (big brains only)
(Feel free to add-on, get creative or brainstorm with this.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It won't be long until someone in the tri-state area gets killed by your hands again.

Soon...

(Two players' dice go to "qualms and demons" rolls to see if your qualms or demons "interrupt" you during your day off.)
1-4 Major interruptions
5-9 Minor interruptions
10-16 Easily ignore qualms and demons
17-20 Something fortunate happens

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion Check: 4.72
(Second set of rolls goes to this!)

Coming next: Perspective Shifts return!

Rolled 30, 87 = 117 (2d100)

>>5317332
Are you sure you want d100s?

>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report the flyers on P.U.'s campus to Commissioner Higgins.
>Confront Martin Zinger and tell him you want in on his operation.

>Fuck it, you'll call her Miss Cooper.
>Let's take her swimming in the mountains. Black Rose can come, too. This'll be a good exercise for Mandie to show leadership and control.

>A series of crying, incoherent begging and screaming. She couldn't speak much at that point, but her death-wailing cuts to the bone.

>Approach Martin Zinger from behind, put your arm around him, and tell him you want in on the biz. Tell him "it's good to have friends that are ACTUALLY on the force, Zinger..." Look Zinger straight in the eyes, then nod to Don Black's Cadillac to show Zinger you know about his and Don's arrangement. "...Friends that don't have a history of BACKSTABBING their partners, like some of the old guard." Poke Zinger sharply on the spine with your index finger to emphasize "BACKSTABBING".

>Save some junkies by singlehandedly cleaning up an amateur heroin den or crackhouse in the southside. They're everywhere and most of the dealers only have fake guns, or they're so high on their own supply, they can't stop you from blowing their brains out on their Gam-Gammy's paisley-patterned sofa.

>Visit your next door neighbor and her niños to see if they're okay.
>Visit Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills for another occupational therapy/receptionist-ogling session.

>Incineration. There's no way you'd be able to explain away the ghastly, sinful smell if you did this in your backyard BBQ pit. You'd have to go somewhere else... There'd be nearly no sign her body ever existed after, though.

Rolled 66, 41 = 107 (2d100)

>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Investigate the source of the flyers on your own.
>Confront Martin Zinger and tell him you want in on his operation.

>Fuck it, you'll call her Black Rose.
>When you met Mandie, she wanted a golden labrador retriever puppy. You oughta get her that puppy. Let's see if she can care for it while chained up in a cellar most of the day.

>Write-in: Choking on spite moreso than what you were doing to your hands: "Fucking...loser."

>Approach Martin Zinger openly and ask him questions about his rag's reporting on VPD. Why's he actively trying to demonize law enforcement in Velton through the Velton County Journal and Channel 4 News? Question him about his connections in the city and his bid for mayor. Let him know you have your eyes on him. And you don't fucking blink.

>Save some junkies by singlehandedly cleaning up an amateur heroin den or crackhouse in the southside. They're everywhere and most of the dealers only have fake guns, or they're so high on their own supply, they can't stop you from blowing their brains out on their Gam-Gammy's paisley-patterned sofa.

>Visit the old farmer's widow and stalk her property. If you find an opportunity... Kill her.
>Visit Rick Rippler in the holding cell. If you're lucky, he hasn't hired an attorney yet and you can talk with him off the books.

>Write in: Mountain Lions, Timberwolves and Brown Bears, Oh My! Fancy Edition. Coat the body in as much delicious seasoning and sauce you can for your soon-to-be dinner guests. Adds in an extra layer of sickly sweet rot once rotten flesh mixes with BBQ sauce.

Rolled 15, 99 = 114 (2d100)

>>5317271
>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report the flyers on P.U.'s campus to Commissioner Higgins.
>Confront Martin Zinger and tell him you want in on his operation.

>Fuck it, you'll call her (Write-in).
Miss Gooper, hehehe
>Write in
Allow her to shower and wash every 2 days. A hygienic bitch is a good slave.
>Sunken, defeated, collapsed: "...Whyy...? I don't... Underrr...staaand... Why would youu... do this..."

>Approach Martin Zinger openly and ask him questions about his rag's reporting on VPD. Why's he actively trying to demonize law enforcement in Velton through the Velton County Journal and Channel 4 News? Question him about his connections in the city and his bid for mayor. Let him know you have your eyes on him. And you don't fucking blink.

>Volunteer at the nursing home in your old uniform. Play a little gin rummy, a little checkers, listen to riveting tales of the veterans from the harrowing U.S.-Laotian War of 1955. So many human's rights abuses... It gives you a stiffy!

>Visit your next door neighbor and her niños to see if they're okay.

>Incineration. There's no way you'd be able to explain away the ghastly, sinful smell if you did this in your backyard BBQ pit. You'd have to go somewhere else... There'd be nearly no sign her body ever existed after, though.
It's even better when they're still alive.

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>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report the flyers on P.U.'s campus to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report Martin Zinger to Higgins.

Always delegate petty tasks to your minions

>Fuck it, you'll call her Black Rose.

I actually thought it's a nice name. Only her piercings offended me.

>Let's take her swimming in the mountains. Black Rose can come, too. This'll be a good exercise for Mandie to show leadership and control.

>A series of crying, incoherent begging and screaming. She couldn't speak much at that point, but her death-wailing cuts to the bone.

>Leave Martin Zinger alone. Leave Don Black the Buster alone. Do nothing. Get in your Lincoln and calmly leave.

>Volunteer at the nursing home in your old uniform. Play a little gin rummy, a little checkers, listen to riveting tales of the veterans from the harrowing U.S.-Laotian War of 1955. So many human's rights abuses... It gives you a stiffy!

Not for a stiffy, though

>Visit Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills for another occupational therapy/receptionist-ogling session.
>Write-In: Ask Dr. Lipschitz if he's been defrauded by his previous receptionist (cf. post #5206409); offer to help him with your detective skills

A reverse Hannibal Lecter moment is always appreciated

>Mountain Lions, Timberwolves and Brown Bears, Oh My! Let nature have her way with the body. Attempt to summon a bald eagle to peck the eyeballs and/or genitals out.

This would be a nice occasion to go on a field trip

>>5317731
>Write in
Allow her to shower and wash every 2 days. A hygienic bitch is a good slave.
Support

>>5317558
Sigh... No, I wanted d20's again. I'll divide and round up the numbers again. My bad. Thank you for pointing that out. D'oh!

As a heads up for the thread, I will be departing on a camping trip in the mountains and will not have cell service (or a computer) for most of July 1-4. I am not abandoning the thread. I will get another update out before I leave.

Voting closes in ~48 hours, I'll announce the closing with a post.

>>5318341
I'll do it real quick, assuming you're dividing by 5.
First batch: 6 and 17.4
Second batch: 13.2 and 8.2
Third batch: 3 and 19.8 (nat 20, basically)
Fourth dude didn't roll so either roll for him or have someone else roll again

Rolled 19, 14 = 33 (2d20)

>>5317271
>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
Let him handle it

>Fuck it, you'll call her Miss Cooper.
Should spook her enough
>When you met Mandie, she wanted a golden labrador retriever puppy. You oughta get her that puppy. Let's see if she can care for it while chained up in a cellar most of the day.
We deserve a pup

>With a smile: "Finally... I win... Hah... I can finally... Die..."

>Leave Martin Zinger alone. Leave Don Black the Buster alone. Do nothing. Get in your Lincoln and calmly leave.

>Volunteer at the nursing home in your old uniform. Play a little gin rummy, a little checkers, listen to riveting tales of the veterans from the harrowing U.S.-Laotian War of 1955. So many human's rights abuses... It gives you a stiffy!

>Visit Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills for another occupational therapy/receptionist-ogling session.

>Water burial. There are quite a few freshwater lakes in the area that'll chew through DNA and leave bodies as nothing but bone dust in a short time.

We should gaslight a teenager into doing all of the things we do so that when the heat picks up they get the jail time. Does not have to be that but we should prepare to frame someone plausible.

>>5318555
Thanks!

To properly emulate a d20, anything with a decimal will be rounded up, including .2's and .4's.

Rolled 10, 14 = 24 (2d20)

>>5318555

Rolled 16, 17 = 33 (2d20)

>>5317332
>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report the flyers on P.U.'s campus to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report Martin Zinger to Higgins.

>Fuck it, you'll call her Miss Cooper.
>Let's take her swimming in the mountains. Black Rose can come, too. This'll be a good exercise for Mandie to show leadership and control.
>Allow her to shower and wash every 2 days. A hygienic bitch is a good slave.

>A series of crying, incoherent begging and screaming. She couldn't speak much at that point, but her death-wailing cuts to the bone.

>Approach Martin Zinger from behind, put your arm around him, and tell him you want in on the biz. Tell him "it's good to have friends that are ACTUALLY on the force, Zinger..." Look Zinger straight in the eyes, then nod to Don Black's Cadillac to show Zinger you know about his and Don's arrangement. "...Friends that don't have a history of BACKSTABBING their partners, like some of the old guard." Poke Zinger sharply on the spine with your index finger to emphasize "BACKSTABBING".

>Volunteer at the nursing home in your old uniform. Play a little gin rummy, a little checkers, listen to riveting tales of the veterans from the harrowing U.S.-Laotian War of 1955. So many human's rights abuses... It gives you a stiffy!

>Visit Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills for another occupational therapy/receptionist-ogling session.

>Incineration. There's no way you'd be able to explain away the ghastly, sinful smell if you did this in your backyard BBQ pit. You'd have to go somewhere else... There'd be nearly no sign her body ever existed after, though.

Rolled 16, 17 = 33 (2d20)

>Report Don Black's new job to Commissioner Higgins.
>Report the flyers on P.U.'s campus to Commissioner Higgins.

>Nothing. Whores get nothing. Cry about it, trash.

>Approach Martin Zinger from behind, put your arm around him, and tell him you want in on the biz. Tell him "it's good to have friends that are ACTUALLY on the force, Zinger..." Look Zinger straight in the eyes, then nod to Don Black's Cadillac to show Zinger you know about his and Don's arrangement. "...Friends that don't have a history of BACKSTABBING their partners, like some of the old guard." Poke Zinger sharply on the spine with your index finger to emphasize "BACKSTABBING".

>A series of crying, incoherent begging and screaming. She couldn't speak much at that point, but her death-wailing cuts to the bone.

>Volunteer at the nursing home in your old uniform. Play a little gin rummy, a little checkers, listen to riveting tales of the veterans from the harrowing U.S.-Laotian War of 1955. So many human's rights abuses... It gives you a stiffy!

>Visit your next door neighbor and her niños to see if they're okay.
>Visit Dr. Lipschitz in Millard Hills for another occupational therapy/receptionist-ogling session.

>Incineration. There's no way you'd be able to explain away the ghastly, sinful smell if you did this in your backyard BBQ pit. You'd have to go somewhere else... There'd be nearly no sign her body ever existed after, though.

Forgot this one
>Fuck it, you'll call her Black Rose.

Tallying and closing the vote a little early... Only ~6 hours left!!

(We have quite a few votes already, my internet is still down, and my schedule is restricted, so I want to make sure to get a full update out before I leave.)

[Previous Suspicion Check Roll: 15.57 (Super duper pass, additional -0.2 Suspicion subtracted!)]

>Roll 3d20!!
>Roll 3d20!!
>Roll 'em!!!!
~The Hunt for the BB Gun Bandits~

Ho Sung is still recoiling from the teenage boys' volley of plastic BB's. One of the kids - Bryler, you think - shouts something at you, but it's drowned out by distance and the Doppler effect. "C'mon, partner, drive!!!!" You whip out your portable magnetic siren, flip it on, and stick it on Ho Sung's roof. It falls immediately to the pavement. Huh, you guess this car really is made of plastic or cardboard or some shit.

The civilians seemed to have gotten the message, though, as the siren is still incredibly loud. Ho Sung finally rips his Lancer on a direct trail towards the fleeing suspects. No car enters the intersection, and you spot the boys in Mr. Flaherty's stolen Phord PH150, and alert your partner. "Partner, look! There they are!! Floor it!!"
**REN-REN-REN-REN-RENNNNGGGGAGGAGGAGGA-POPP-POPP!!!!**
Woah!!!!!!!! Ho Sung's Lancer has some incredible horsepower!! You're on their tailgate in no time! "Don't P.I.T. them, partner, don't P.I.T. 'em. Just keep following 'em for now..." You're a surgeon, not a butcher. You don't want to cause any damage unnecessarily. As far as you're concerned, the truck and the city's infrastructure doesn't deserve to be threatened; they're just tools. On the other hand, these little shits might learn a thing or two about stealing if you did decide to P.I.T. maneuver them into a wall or an upside-down flip...

You silently think these thoughts as Ho Sung takes over the pursuit. His car has none of the loudspeakers, sirens or markings of a police car, and neither of you have many ideas as how to pull the wild and reckless teens over... The problem takes care of itself when the driver, Zeke-Zane (Is that his REAL name?) plows into a street lamp and knocks himself out with an airbag deployment. The other urban youths, Bryler and Chadwick, split from the vehicle, just like the front bumper splits off the frame of the PH150. Darn it. You wanted to get this thing back in one piece.

"Oh, shit!!" -Hung says in awe, peeling off to the side and handily avoiding a collision.
"C'mon partner, foot pursuit, let's go!" -You.
With a smile, your partner exits his vehicle in sync with you, and you chase down the fleeing perps. You glance in the stolen car and it seems to be in good condition mostly, and Zeke-Zane is knocked almost clean out, but you can hear him moaning. Not screaming, not silent. That's good.
You and Ho keep hustling, and in a flam of force, Ho football-tackles Bryler to the ground then dry-tazes him into compliance, as you smear Chadwick on the sidewalk, using your knees to assist you in cuffing him. As Ho Sung gets his cuffs out, you both yell in unison: "STOP RESISTING!" Miranda Rights are read, and you and your partner resolve the climax of the arrests with a celebratory fist bump.

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>>5319546
It doesn't take long for a marked squad car to arrive and take in the three slim shadies to the dawg pound. You drive the truck back to its rightful residence, and Ho Sung follows in his personal car to pick you up and take you back to the station. Once you're in the truck owner's doorway making the return, Ho Sung chimes in and mentions that you guys managed not to hurt the kids, and you got the truck back in two pieces; the bumper, and the rest of the car!
"It oughta buff right out," you mutter, but get overwhelmed by the loud response from the truck owner.
Hillbilly John Flaherty responds: "Hot dawg! Aww yihh, mane, this is why I support you boys in blue! Excillint work, fellers. Oh mah gawrsh... I don't know how I'd git to the welfare office withou' ol' Hillary." Funny name for a Southerner's truck, but you let it slide.

Mister Flaherty mentions his appreciation for your hard word, and the minimal amount of bullet holes in his Phord truck. He says: "Boys, iffin' you EVER need anything from me, jus' gimme a holler!"
(Suspicion -0.23)
(Mister Flaherty will act as a character witness or vouch for you in court if need be. The weight of his word may not be as hefty as some others, but every card up your sleeve helps in your situation, and he seems to have really taken a shine to you "fellers".)

Getting back to the station, you assume Commissioner Seth might have something to say about the way you handled the case, being slightly off-the-books and all, but he was just happy that "no one got hurt, and my newest detective is being trained by one of my best."

Seth puts his hand on your shoulder and swigs his mixed drink in his office, something he's been doing a lot more, ever since his son was caught up in the Lemmings investigation. Through the distractions, Seth tells you that "this time next Thursday, Ho Sung will be an official Junior Detective. No hard feelings to your department-wide record, he's only getting pushed through so fast because the department's lacking in gumshoes... That, and he's got phenomenal marks on his tests for marksmanship, tactical driving, and knowledge of the laws on the books... I think he'll be a great addition to the team, and a great partner for you."

"Speaking of Detectives, sir..." You start.

"DAMMIT! Did Jimmy get his arm stuck in the vending machine again?!?!!" Seth's eyes bulge and he pounds his desk.

"No..."

"Oh. Then... Don? Well, spill the beans, Skeletor, I'm not getting any frickin' younger here!!" The handegg game comes back on the office TV above and behind you. "Hurry it up, I've got... Things..." Seth sips his drink empty and rotates his hand in circles, gesturing for you to get on with it. "Things!! Hurry it up!!!"

No doubt he wants to relive his glory days on this 42" LED screen. You start to feel a little sorry for him, seeing him stressed out like this is... A little pathetic, but aren't we all? You think to ask him about his son and home life, but you realize it would be a too antagonizing, and could put you on his shit list. You skip that line of questioning and get down to brass tacks. "Don hasn't issued a resignation letter yet, has he?"

"No. Not that I'm aware of." Seth says matter-o'-factly as he pours more Velta-Cola over ice. How many drinks has he had today? He's not even wobbly or slurring his speech... Has he always operated like this?

"Well. Check this out, Commish... Don's been moonlighting as a bodyguard or security detail of some sort." Having considered your options, you decide to leave Zinger's name out of it. "Investigator Cantella came to me and told me last night. I know it's against protocol to gather evidence like this, but we've got Don dead to rights betraying his sworn oath."

"..." Seth is looking down, mixing alcohol into his concoction.

You consider invoking Senior Detective Rodriguez, the one whom Don Black slayed in the line of duty. Manslaughter... Murderer... You keep those words out of your mouth. "Why is this guy allowed to operate like a loose cannon? When's the last time he's even punched the clock? Week and a half? Two? He's a terrible example for newbies like Ho." You press the issue without raising your voice too much, allowing the quality of your arguments to seep through.

"Alright, alright, I get it. But I don't want you, OR ANYONE ELSE for that matter, to approach Don. I'm doing this by the books. We'll send him a notice letter in the mail. If he ignores it, we'll just have a clerk serve him a court summons. No need to go guns blazing." Seth looks down and muttersto himself or no one: "Dammit, Donavan, what are you-...? Why?"

While here, you uncrumple a flyer from your back pocket and hand it to Seth. "We've also got some vague kind of threat being posted all over P.U. campus. I know I'm not supposed to be there on account of the heat from the media right now, but Cantella also showed this to me when she came over. She said the Dean knew nothing about these flyers. What should we do about them?"

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Seth looks it over for a while. "Nothing. We should do nothing. Just watch the situation unfold. We can call on campus police to step up their patrols, maybe assign a few more beat cops. We don't have any detectives to spare. Jimmy's been blazing through some of the old files on the stack. I'll have to check his work to make sure he's not getting sloppy..." Seth looks back up at you. "You want something to do? Why don't you take a few days off. Go to Miami or the mountains nearby, or go fishing or something. Enjoy yourself. Just come back before Thursday so you can help induct Ho into detectivehood - and be ready for any cases that might pop up."

One or two vacation days couldn't hurt... And you don't feel like arguing with Seth about this again. And if there's truly no cases to work, Seth might make you organize the evidence folders again... That'll take hours. Then you think about the "promise" you made to Mandie, to take her swimming. Really it's more of a promise you made to your boner. You've made up your mind.

"Sir, consider me on vacation!" You loosen your tie, raise it, and tighten it around your bald forehead, elicitting a pity-laugh from your boss.

"Get outta here, you wiry-framed rascal! I'll see you back on Wednesday or Thursday. Wear something nice for Ho Sung's induction ceremony, don't come looking like a shlub like you always do." Seth laughs more at his low-grade insult than your tie buffoonery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before Lon's funeral started, you had plenty of time to see the effects of your trolling on Craigslist. One man seems to have responded to every single Rant and Rave you posted. He agreed with you that Mayor Kinov was a crook, and not only that, but he adopted his family through a Russian mail-order family service. With another one of your emails, he agreed that the VCJ was not only lying about their headlines and omitting information, but trying to brainwash river toads to overthrow the pet store in Millard Hills. You talked with him for a good length of time, encouraging him to share his craziness with you. Most of it was gibberish, but one email you got back was particularly interesting to you. In much worse grammar: "On top of this WHOLE conspiracy, everything goes back to Creole women, who cast voodoo spells that mesmerize our politicians into believing in moon demons. That's why I chop them into nine pieces and send them to God's hell, where they belong." Attached is a picture that yields no results when reverse image searched. Taken from an oldschool early 2000's point and shoot camera. Dated today, 2AM, this morning. Eight bloody but clean-cut half-limbs, and a full-breasted torso with the head still attached, sporting a surprised face. There are no signs of sexual foul play, other than the body being naked, which was probably done only to chop the body up easier.

This picture...
>Entices you. You never had a taste for Creole... Until you've seen one sliced into pieces.
>Bores you. Your murderlust isn't getting any more sated by gazing upon works from others, especially when it's not even in the present. You may as well be looking at pictures of a desert or forest or ocean. This does nothing for you.
>Inspires you. Pretty decent work. Not amateur by a longshot. He's had practice. Maybe he can teach you a thing or two, if you ask nicely. Maybe a partnership of sorts?
>Disgusts you. You didn't create this heap of body parts, and you're the only one who should be doing stuff like that. Besides, he could've at least raped her a couple times.
>Write-in
Despite what you think of this crazy person and his photo, you realize the opportunity he provides. If you can stalk this guy, you may be able to use him as a fall guy, and pin a murder, or maybe multiple murders on him. He'll be none the wiser, and he's likely a total burnout living in mommy's basement, or a homeless schizoid. You're waiting for him to respond to your last correspondence through the anonymous craiglist email system.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slyly walking up to Zinger to surprise him, and keeping an eye on Don Black in the corner, you launch your gambit. Power has made you hungry for more power, or at least the keeping of the power.

You move forward, pricking Martin's spine with your finger while you greet him. Needless to say, you surprise the shit out of him, and show him the gaping holes in his current security program. He can't fathom it at all. Compounded with the grief of the grave he's standing over, he once again realizes his own vulnerability. Ever a recurring and humbling moment in any man's (or woman's) life. Donavan Black is still trying to get his premium junker's engine to turn over. You think: "Looks like it died, heh heh. That's karma for dinging my door and stealing the half-dozen bear claws from me, you wrinkly, cranky, old prick!!"

After reminding Martin Zinger of his fragile mortality, you push the issue, and with ease, you replace Don as Zinger's watchdog. You'll be gaining money, power, and maybe even women from this partnership. Let's set the tone for the rest of the partnership:
>Show Zinger the lengths you're willing to go to, and confront Don. Then offer to take Zinger home in your Lincoln so he won't have to use Black's Cadillac.
>Call a Tuber rideshare service taxi for your new friend, have a conversation about business on the way to Zinger's next destination, then take the Tuber taxi back to the cemetery to collect your car.
>Say: "Don't contact me. I'll contact you. And if you say one peep about our partnership to anyone, consider that a fatal mistake. Now. Let's both live long and prosper, what do you say? Scotty, beam me up!" You pretend to get beamed back to your car, leaving Zinger scared and confused.
>Tell Zinger he needs to hire a whole team, not just you. Suggest another person or two to work under you as Zinger's security detail, and he'll "never have to worry again."
>Write-in
(Two rolls goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The night in the cemetery was actually pretty moving for you.
Not just with Zinger and Don Black, but also Lon's funeral.
It made you re-walk all the major choices you've made in life.
Got you to realize some of your mistakes.
Reaffirmed some of your paths taken.
Revitalized some of your ambitions.
While the eulogies were being read, put you face to face with your devil.

You saw her face in a nightmare last night, but now you can fully see...
1) Her face:
>Janey Squall. A funny, flirty, tomboy redhead who lived in a poor neighborhood, and would get into fights with girls and boys alike all the time.
>Mabel Martinez. This hot goth chick wouldn't talk to ANYONE. Not even you... No matter what you tried. She... Broke you... With... Silence...
>Tiffani Lemoni. Joy Kinov's BFF and the meanest, prettiest, platinum-blondest girl in school. There was a flame in your loins whenever you saw her.
>Shea Blarthington. The ass was fat. The titties were fat. Everything was fat. But, dammit, you loved her. And she loved you... Oh, god, why did you do it?
>Create-A-Corpse (Write-in name and short description.)

And

2) Her fate: (CONT'D)

>Buried in a swampy bog near the coastline, a hundred miles away. You figured the sea or the swamp would swallow her.
>Lit on fire in the desert and left to the buzzards and the cay-otes.
>You buried her here in Velton County, and you still have the map for it. (QM rolls a location)
>Ritual sacrificed on top of the highest snowy mountain peak in the tri-state area.
>Create-A-Corpse (Write-in execution and disposal. Some methods will be restricted.)
You can't regret a thing. If you allow yourself to do that... This whole thing unravels. But you do have one regret...
Like your childhood friend Lon, she's never coming back.
You killed the woman you loved most. You tried hiding from this fact and this feeling, but there is no getting away from either. The only thing you can do is what you've been doing, and that's... Keep moving on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hold up chained Mandie's head by her chin, staring into your woman's draining eyes. She's a different person than she was when she answered your Craigslist ad. You call that progress.
You've made your mind up last night that you'd be taking Mandie and Miss Cooper back to Hangman's Falls. It's the next stage for both girls.
Mandie B. Reckin-Dwith must sharpen her ruthlessness now more than ever before, or she, too, will learn another lesson of pain and humiliation side-by-side with her fellow slave.
(Two rolls go to this!)

Black Rose, no matter how you choose to shape her, will feel vulnerable, revisiting the place her life-as-she-knew-it ended only mere days ago.
>You want Miss Cooper, ahem, Miss "Gooper", to endure ever more extreme punishment than she experienced the first time she came here. Do unspeakable(r) things.
>Begin training Black Rose to be a sadistic, vindictive (but loyal) bitch, and Mandie's #2.
>Just sit back, crack a few beers, and observe how the girls interact with each other.
>Do a weird, perverted coffee company ad photoshoot and have Mandie bark like a dog and piss on Miss Cooper. Whatever it takes to get your rocks off, right?
>Write-in
(Two rolls goes to this!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You've planned a little vacation, but there's still time to pursue some brownie points, using your old uniform, and a trick you picked up from a pretty boy on the SWAT team who used this tactic after everyone in the department found out he was mercilessly beating his wife every Tuesday night when they lost at their amateur bowling league. You surmise she deserved it, probably sucked at bowling or threw the game on purpose, so you have no problem keeping the silence that the blue brotherhood enjoys on such topics. In fact, you hope that same silence will cover your ass one day if need be, after all you've done for the department and the city.

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If only Jenny Jenkins could write about some sloppy amateurs like the SWAT guy, rather than fabricate lies from thin air to slander you with. She made you sound like a Yankee city-slicker, you don't even talk like that! Maybe things'll change now that you have an in with the owner of the Journal.
(One roll goes to this!)

Anyway, the trick is this. Not so much a trick as it is just a nice thing to do, unless you're a psychotic bastard. Most people might consider it normal or even noble to do, but when you do it with fame in mind, and the goal of doing such a thing just to hide your dirty secrets... It's hard not to feel a little scummy, even if you can completely tune out empathy, sympathy and the feelings of most people 9 times out of 10. These old veterans from the U.S.-Laotian War... You feel a kindred spirit in them.

Many were maimed and mutilated for the sake of a government who would draft them into frontline service, some boys as young as only 15 years old, barely able to shoulder the massive, lumbering, heavy-recoiling rifles of the time. You feel some qualms about doing this, but you rationalize them away by telling yourself you're still doing something nice, even if it isn't entirely genuine. You take a breath and walk inside the grey building.

Charlie Moe Kevins AKA "PeeWee" tells you of how he used all four of his names and nicknames to sleep with four Laotian quadruplets all in one night. They asked each other the next morning, "Who you fuck?", and one would reply Charlie, the other would reply Moe, one would say PeeWee, and the last would say Kevin, but it was all the same dick! You bet that guy tells that story to anyone who'll listen -- twice. His skin is now covered in patches of grotesque wounds he sustained from Agent Purple and Zyklon C that was deployed over his unit in the Laotian forests. Probably gets zero pussy now.

Rodney Stromborg, or "Hot Rod", is a wheelchair bound, diabetic double-amputee. He says he stopped lying about how he lost his legs a few months ago, but he used to tell people it was from shrapnel in the war, or sometimes he'd say it was a hungry tiger that he ended up killing with just his bayonet. His veteran's assistance checks still come in every month at the boosted rate for a grievous wartime injury for his lost legs. He explains in a deep baritone: "The system don't give a damn about me, I was supposed to get a mobility scooter to replace this dumb ol' wheelchair in 2007. I don't feel guilty at all, gaming the system that's been gaming me since I was a boy! Take a lesson from me, kid. Don't get stepped on, get to steppin'! Some advice for you and yours, boy."

The last guy you sat and played Checkers with was known only as Sergeant Ducky. Okay, the orderlies called him Peter Robert Johnson, but all the cool kids called him Sgt. Ducky. Sgt. Ducky is currently off-limits from seeing his own grandkids after punching one in the mouth after not realizing that it was a young family member trying to hug him from behind, not a Laotian ninja trying to assassinate him in the Mekong delta. He's still open to adult guests, though. You ask him about his days in the Marines. He tells you all about his adventures as a helicopter gunner, and boatswain on a small watercraft. He descends into a rant about how much he hates mosquitoes... You want to break him out of those negative memories... Boating, huh? You find something to bond over with Sgt. Ducky, and he ends up showing you a thing or two about tying knots, some you've never even heard of. You can see yourself putting some of these to use in the future!

You started early in the morning, and now it's almost noon. Roughly three hours have passed and you decide it's time for the polite, delightful charade to end. But first, you've got to get your proof. Your pound of flesh. You take out your smartphone and open the camera app from the lock screen, then punch in your code to finally access it.

"Hey, Sgt. Ducky..."

"Yeah, kiddo?"

"Would you mind if I got a picture with you?"

"What fer? You some kinda fairy?"

You think for a second. "I had such a good day, I just want to have a memento for this occasion! That way I'll never forget you, Ducky. You won't forget me, will you?"

With a coy smile and stiff movements, Sgt. Ducky bashfully laughs and says, "Nooo, I won't forget you son. Don't worry 'bout that. C'm'ere" He makes eye contact with you, with a wild smile, and you return them both nervously, in a subconscious reaction. You feel like a greedy little pig as you go in to hug him. You snap the photo and say goodbye to the veterans and the staff. Someone poops loudly as you leave.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You return home and you're... Kind of tired. It'd be a good time for a nap. Lingering in the driver's seat of your Lincoln for a moment, you exhale and grab your coat and metal water bottle so you can wash it and refill it once you get inside. You snap off the radio, and take the keys from the ignition. Just the usual humdrum of a craigsl-"EEEEEEEEEEEKH!!! ACK!!"

Your cop senses go off, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. That came from inside Carolina's house! You drop everything and make an Olympic sprint towards the next door neighbor's house. She could be in trouble!!


The door won't budge, it's bolted. "Carolinaaaaa? Are you in there???" Putting your ear to the door, you can hear faint signs of a fight. Bursting into the living room is a confusing scene. The house is completely clean and serene, other than sounds of muffled struggle coming from upstairs.

You produce your service pistol and clear Carolina's kitchen, dining room, living room, first floor bathroom, garage and two closets. This takes just under 30 seconds. It's all clear.

"GAAH!" A high-pitched, distorted, pained voice. You gotta go upstairs.

Pistol packed and pointed at low ready, you silently but quickly ascend 15 feet in the air to the second story. The house is mid-day dark, except for one room lit by bulb - either a bedroom or the Master bedroom, you're not 100% sure of the layout of this house. You approach the door, which is already cracked open almost a full foot.

Two of Carolina's niñas are unconscious, in a corner, with tape around their mouths and severe contusions and bleeding. Their hair is ripped, teased and clumped, like they were dragged by it. You approach the door further, maintaining silence and seeing more of the room. You can't see the whole room, but you see enough. Carolina has her last niño writhing in pain on the bed, choking for air. She's choking him with both hands!! The kid is turning purple in the face. Carolina coos to her boy while she sweatily strangles him. "Mami te ama, Lucas, mami te ama mucho, mucho, mucho..." She digs her thumbs in to her son's throat...

...

...

...You were frozen again!!! It's time to act!!
>Call this in to the department through an anonymous tip, let them know it's urgent. Make sure they send an ambulance. Detail the possible trauma.
>Run in and pull Carolina off of her child. Question her. Why, Carolina? What could possibly drive you to do this?
>Ignore this... Just walk away... The kids haven't seen you and neither has Carolina. This... This is none of your business. Your only regret is sticking your nose in.
>Smoke Carolina with your .38 Special. You had to do it to save the kids. Now, run them to the hospital in the Lincoln!
>Write-in
>Optional add-on: Tell Carolina Smith's husband what's happened. You'll have privacy in the holding cell, since he can't afford to hire an attorney.
(Suspicion +0) + (Auto-success on this option.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After what you just dealt with, you decided you could use some occupational therapy. You don't even linger in your house for more than 5 minutes, you know you can't stick around on your street after what you just saw next door. You quickly grab a snack and load back up in your Lincoln, and zoom to Millard Hills.

Dr. Lipschitz' practice is somewhat underwhelming, though you remember it this way. The white walls, piped-in nature sounds and denatured tones of speech from the staff... These parlor tricks may soothe others, but you're a full-on nutcase, you just haven't cracked yet... You're like a walnut. Nyeh heh.

The real reason for your visit is two-fold. There are things you want to talk about and try to find a new perspective on, but more than anything, you wish to interact with the hotties that Lipschitz always hires as receptionists.

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You walk in the door to the therapist's office with swagger in your step, your chest puffed and your back fully erect.
You deflate like an untied balloon when you see a soft-looking, chunky neckbeard with a goofy face behind the desk.
He couldn't be more happy to see you and do his job. Ugh. What a servile fink.

You fill out the form and get an appointment without a wait. How does Lipschitz stay in business when he hardly has any clients booked? Must have a rich family.

Decked in two flashy gold rings, ostentatious designer suit, shiny designer glasses and a slick silver chain, Dr. Lipschitz interrupts his new receptionist's greeting routine and welcomes you into his office.

After the pleasantries, it's hard to disguise your disappointment as anything other than curiousity. You try your best to make it convincing and not off-putting. "What happened to your niece Genita? And Brenda?"

"Oh, my niece went back to college, and Brenda... I don't know, she took a vacation and never came back... I can't get her to return my calls... I think she blocked my number... Now, anyway... It's great to see you again, officer!"

"Please, call me detective."

"Of course, detective. What is the purpose of your visit today? What can Dr. Lipschitz help you with?" The shrink shrinks into his shrunken chair and smiles at you, tapping his fingers together in a manner that suggests he has hundreds (but not thousands) of hours of finger-tapping under his belt. He tries to look in your eyes and psychopathologize you. "Of course, everything you tell me is legally privileged and confidential."

You tell Dr. Lipschitz...
>you just need a break and someone to talk to. What's up with the new receptionist? Who are you voting for in the mayoral race? Any funny stories from other patients you can share without naming names?
>about the situation with your neighbor Carolina and how you responded to it, and ask for his opinion on how you did.
>you want to know more about him and his life. Try to sneak in a question about Genita Schwarz, his niece, the previous receptionist.
>you are a detective, and (without seeming paranoid or creepy,) you want to know if he thinks there's anything weird going on with previous receptionist-gone-AWOL, Brenda Su. Did she just disappear suddenly?
>Write-in
(One roll goes to this!)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

youtube.com/watch?v=63MPq2nnrWs

The radio is dialed to 106.9, a cool new station you've been tuning in to. The music dusts your journey, influencing you in ways you perhaps cannot understand. Your blood boils from pent-up, near-overflowing anger.

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You're cruising uptown to find your next victim, Joy Kinov, the mayor's daughter. You've got her address, her phone's GPS, her phone number and social media accounts, and a Lincoln Continental full of bells and whistles you want to share with Joy.

Normally in your zone, but now blinded with rage, you phase out of paying attention to the road for a second, and nearly swerve into oncoming traffic. You right your driving, but you keep seeing your first victim's face... Combined into Joy Kinov's face... Then the faces morph and transform back and forth.

Can't focus... Your first victim is whispering to you. Punishing you... Pushing you over the edge, a familiar threshold you've been at before... Normally you've coldly killed another person in a calculated manner before you reach this point. It's only ever happened with the first one... But you need to kill... You needed to kill even sooner... You thought you had control...

Your nerves fray, split and snap. Your actions jerk and embolden into harsher, less controllable actions. You begin babbling, then asserting, then shouting at yourself and the bystanders on the sidewalk. Horn-honking and aggressive driving ensue.
(+0.15 Suspicion)

All you can think about is terror, rape, death... And fire.
The overwhelming compulsion to inflict it all.
Can you calm yourself down?
(First set of rolls goes to this!! - Avg./Mean)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Perspective Shift: Joy Kinov]

You roll your eyes, double-thumb your cellphone, and think: "Like, ohhhh, emmm, geeee. I told Kim we were besties last week, and here she is on her ChapSnizz Storyline taking dick from Paul even though she knows that Paul gave me chlamydia when we hooked up in the club bathroom a week and a half ago! Like hellooooooo???? What a slut!!"

You pat yourself on the back for not being as big a slut as Kim, take your prescribed antiviral pill, then pull out your compact makeup disc from your purse and begin applying lipstick and eyeshadow. The smoky look is in style, but Brad probably doesn't know that!! You can't wait to suck his dick in a bathroom stall and see if he noticed your recent botox injections. He complimented you on your boob implants, that's why you fucked him two weeks ago in between fucking Paul, and why you want to fuck him again now. Last time he bought three bottles of champagne. What a gentlem-**SKKKKKKRRRKKKK**!!!

Like, ugh, what iS tHaT nOiSe?!!!?!1! The hillbillies in this town should have some consideration for a girl like you who needs her beauty sleep, or you could end up just as ugly as them one day, and they'd have no one to jerk off to. You cringe and shudder at the thought, and return to the larger mirror in your room so you can more accurately apply makeup.

**SKRREEEEEEEE**

Ugh. You smeared your eyeshadow and now you have to start all over!

The cars in the street just, like, won't give it up! It's SO hard to focus!! Stupid hicks! Some dumb redneck must be battling with his low-IQ demons outside of your villa-style condominium. Ewww. You won't let the crazies stop you from getting crazy on your own, though!! After your makeup is perfected and exactly 1% of each of your nipples are popping out of your bra and t-shirt, you're ready to hit the streets. Brad is gonna suck on these puppies tonight!!! You hope he uses a little teeth again like he did last time on accident... That was naughty!

You sneak down your daddy's staircase and see him at the dining room table, stressing out and filling out campaign finance paperwork with his secretary slut. She tries to act like your mom, but she's only 5 years older than you. Stupid betch.

"Joy! Where are you going, dressed like that!!" The new secretary hoe is trying to gain goodie-two-shoes points, but your dad keeps filling out papers. Daddy doesn't even notice your low-cut dress or the 25% of your asscheeks that are purposefully exposed to air.

Respond to daddy's new whore with:
>Something over-the-top, smarmy and irreverent.
>Something over-the-top, smarmy and irreverent.
>Something over-the-top, smarmy and irreverent.

...

You chose:
>Something over-the-top, smarmy and irreverent.
"Whatever, you stupid fucking cunt, stop telling me what to do. Stupid ass hoe. Shut the fuck up." You instruct, with an insincere smile.

All of a sudden daddy cares. He takes his glasses off and looks up at you. "Joy, you will not be speaking to your new step-mother this way!"
What??!!?! Step-mother??!?!?!! Oh, hellll no!!! Daddy hasn't even known this bitch for a month yet! You didn't even bother to learn her name after the last half-dozen "secretaries". You don't even vocalize your dissent, you just stomp out so you can go to the party and ride Brad's cock.

"Joy!! JOY!! YOU COME BACK THIS INSTANT!!" -Your New Stepmother™

You don't listen to the hoe, and your daddy tells her: "Let her go... If we try to stop her she'll just jump out of her bedroom window again or end up calling Kid's Protective Services on me again... Or take to FaceSpace on her phone so she can lie about how I abuse her, and how I'm a terrible, cock-sucking, closeted, racist faggot... Again..."

Heh. Stupid old fart. He spends so much time being mayor, he's forgotten what it means to be your dad...
Even though you ARE getting your way by getting to sneak out, you're also not entirely satisfied...
Something's... Off...
Something's... Missing...
Something's... Not whole...
How can you fill this whole?
Maybe you'll find it while you're out on the town, riding the cock carousel!
It's worth a try, right? Right??? ...Right...?
(Second set of rolls goes to this - Mode)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Suspicion Check: 4.46
(Third set of rolls goes to this - Avg./Mean)

(Vote open for ~4 days, take your time.)

Bumping for visibility

Rolled 9, 16, 13 = 38 (3d20)

>Inspires you. Pretty decent work. Not amateur by a longshot. He's had practice. Maybe he can teach you a thing or two, if you ask nicely. Maybe a partnership of sorts?

>Show Zinger the lengths you're willing to go to, and confront Don. Then offer to take Zinger home in your Lincoln so he won't have to use Black's Cadillac.

>Tiffani Lemoni. Joy Kinov's BFF and the meanest, prettiest, platinum-blondest girl in school. There was a flame in your loins whenever you saw her.
>Ritual sacrificed on top of the highest snowy mountain peak in the tri-state area.

>You want Miss Cooper, ahem, Miss "Gooper", to endure ever more extreme punishment than she experienced the first time she came here. Do unspeakable(r) things.

>Run in and pull Carolina off of her child. Question her. Why, Carolina? What could possibly drive you to do this?
Super neighborhood cop saves the day again
>Optional add-on: Tell Carolina Smith's husband what's happened. You'll have privacy in the holding cell, since he can't afford to hire an attorney.

>you are a detective, and (without seeming paranoid or creepy,) you want to know if he thinks there's anything weird going on with previous receptionist-gone-AWOL, Brenda Su. Did she just disappear suddenly?

Rolled 20, 18, 19 = 57 (3d20)

>>5323288
>Bores you. Your murderlust isn't getting any more sated by gazing upon works from others, especially when it's not even in the present. You may as well be looking at pictures of a desert or forest or ocean. This does nothing for you.

>Tell Zinger he needs to hire a whole team, not just you. Suggest another person or two to work under you as Zinger's security detail, and he'll "never have to worry again."

>Janey Squall. A funny, flirty, tomboy redhead who lived in a poor neighborhood, and would get into fights with girls and boys alike all the time.
>Create-A-Corpse (Write-in execution and disposal. Some methods will be restricted.)
Burned at the stake like the redheaded witch she is

>Run in and pull Carolina off of her child. Question her. Why, Carolina? What could possibly drive you to do this?
>Call the department before going in, say you hear the sound of kids shouting from outside

>you just need a break and someone to talk to. What's up with the new receptionist? Who are you voting for in the mayoral race? Any funny stories from other patients you can share without naming names?

Rolled 18, 12, 17 = 47 (3d20)

>Bores you. Your murderlust isn't getting any more sated by gazing upon works from others, especially when it's not even in the present. You may as well be looking at pictures of a desert or forest or ocean. This does nothing for you.

>Tell Zinger he needs to hire a whole team, not just you. Suggest another person or two to work under you as Zinger's security detail, and he'll "never have to worry again."

>Janey Squall. A funny, flirty, tomboy redhead who lived in a poor neighborhood, and would get into fights with girls and boys alike all the time.
>Create-A-Corpse (Write-in execution and disposal. Some methods will be restricted.)
Burned at the stake like the redheaded witch she is

>You want Miss Cooper, ahem, Miss "Gooper", to endure ever more extreme punishment than she experienced the first time she came here. Do unspeakable(r) things.

>Call this in to the department through an anonymous tip, let them know it's urgent. Make sure they send an ambulance. Detail the possible trauma.

>about the situation with your neighbor Carolina and how you responded to it, and ask for his opinion on how you did.

>>5325293
Forgot a most important thing
>You want Miss Cooper, ahem, Miss "Gooper", to endure ever more extreme punishment than she experienced the first time she came here. Do unspeakable(r) things.
Time to cut off those offending nips

Just got back in town. Thank you for your patience. I'll try to have the next update out in 24-72 hours.

Voting is closed

Slow thread. I blame the long weekend.

>>5328233
Perhaps so. Everyone's out and about having fun, what can ya do?
t. made s'mores, road ATV's and shat in the woods all weekend

>>5328284
Make sure you didn’t wipe with poison ivy or something

>Suggest another person or two to work under you as Zinger's security detail, and he'll "never have to worry again."

I suggest "Scrawny" Ronny and maybe Ho Sung

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Very anticlimactic update:
Real life is very busy right now, I'm going on another trip and going to have to do another update exclusively on my phone, this time without even an offline desktop's word processor to assist in spacing and finding errors, etc. (Laptop is broken lol) This update may take a few days longer (and be slightly less formatted) than previously anticipated.

I thank you all for your patience and enthusiasm.

There is probably time enough for 2-4 more full length updates before this thread archives. I have other quests on my list I have promised and wish to return to, but I think I may just jump straight into Part 5 of this quest, especially if interest picks back up in these next few updates.

Apologies for the sluggish pace, just one of life's lovely little unavoidable serendipities. Cheerio, chaps. Off I go to the metaphorical writer's den.

>>5331771
Remember to come outside of the den sometimes QM

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I ponder if this quest is based off the QM's real life

>>5333088
Sometimes I wish
>>5329919
Noted and interesting, working possibilities into the next post (along with the offending nips)
>>5331821
Forgot to stay in the den and just relaxed and had fun/was busy the whole time. I only got a few segments done during my trip - reading, researching and writing an average of 6000+ words all on a smartphone is less desirable than it sounds. I feel bad for the delay, but you get what you pay for! Lol. I wish I could get paid to write this murdersmut. Maybe I'll pitch a "Facebook Marketplace Killer" show to Netflix or something, just gotta add a tranny character and I'm in like Flynn. Update dropping hopefully in another day or two.

>>5335620
good idea, what could possibly go wrong?

>>5335972
Fuck, page 9 already...
What shall I do...
Fufufu...

>>5331771
Those 2-4 updates are more likely to be 0-1 (for this thread).

Blah blah blah life money work etc.
Sorry, folks. Gonna try to get the train rolling again when I can.

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>>5335620
>Sometimes I wish

Just so you guys aren't left hanging...

The next update is sadly less than half ready, and the thread will be dead within a few days.
I don't want to have an early cutoff for the next voting period, and by ending the thread now, we are conveniently left at the cliffhanger of Joy's abduction, Zinger's partnership, the approaches to your new partner Ho Sung and the veteran traitor Don Black, Black Rose's breaking, and many other action packed sequences which I believe will make good hooks for the beginning of part 5.
All previous answers and ideas are still being used to craft the next update.

Your reign of terror continues... In October.

>>5339312
Dammit fae

We are at the end of the world, so the world might not exist in October