>>5776609
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)
>The night ahead is young and bright. The job's done. Everything's all right. Just need to pick up some milk on the way home...

>>5776609
>Mr. Lead (Start with the Big Iron + normal pheromone capacity; COMBAT focus)
>There's a traitor in the car next door. She's been caught selling trade secrets. Silence her, one way or another.
Never a quiet night for an Enforcer.

>>5776609
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)
>There's a private buyer on the Surface looking for wholesale cuts of MEAT. He wants to buy literal tons of it. You're going up there to close the deal.

>>5776609
>Mr. Lead (Start with the Big Iron + normal pheromone capacity; COMBAT focus)
>There's something making workers go missing in the Hives. Something that leaves behind shells drained of blood and workers struggling to stay awake.

>>5776609
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)
>There's a traitor in the car next door. She's been caught selling trade secrets. Silence her, one way or another.

>>5776609
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)

>There's a private buyer on the Surface looking for wholesale cuts of MEAT. He wants to buy literal tons of it. You're going up there to close the deal.

>>5776609

>Mr. Lead (Start with the Big Iron + normal pheromone capacity; COMBAT focus

>There's a private buyer on the Surface looking for wholesale cuts of MEAT. He wants to buy literal tons of it. You're going up there to close the deal.

At first I thought this was based on the Moth Priests from TES

>>5776643

Supporting

>>5776609
>Ms. Director
>There's a private buyer on the Surface looking for wholesale cuts of MEAT. He wants to buy literal tons of it. You're going up there to close the deal.

>>5776643
Support, not interested in diplomancy

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I will break the tie with my own choice for Mister. See pic related.
Writing now.

>>5776609
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)
>There's a private buyer on the Surface looking for wholesale cuts of MEAT. He wants to buy literal tons of it. You're going up there to close the deal.

>>5776766
I interpreted the 'social focus' as being soft mind control with pheromones, hence the Ms.Director label. Not necessarily only a diplomat. Doesn't matter now though.

>>5776609
>Ms. Director (Start with a stiletto + expanded pheromones; SOCIAL focus)

>There's a traitor in the car next door. She's been caught selling trade secrets. Silence her, one way or another.

>>5776691
Getting a big Fallen London vibe myself

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The Big Iron weighs heavy in its holster, ready and steadfast as a faithful hound at your side. Unequal in power, unbelievable in accuracy, and tremendous in recoil. Bullets which can puncture anything you please. And when you have no bullets left, the gun itself is heavy enough to smash out teeth, shatter bones, knock heads, and cause a lasting limp in your right leg. The biggest, baddest gun in the world. Amen to that.

Real darn shame it can hold only four bullets at a time, though.

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Mission Objective: The Company wants you to officiate the sale of Grade A MEAT to a private buyer on the surface.

You take out the folder with all of the necessary documents inside. They might as well be written in Mandarin, but if the Company wants you to sign here, here, and here, well, the pen's already in your hand.

Here is a photo of a gray little man in a red vest sitting behind a desk. The buyer, Mister John Smith. Typical dusty bureaucrat who's never smiled in his life. As you stare at the photo, you feel a unsettling sense of seeing something vast and grotesque. It's utterly irrational but...

(Suits RPG Ost - Pain Station) https://youtu.be/ip2eciao1es?si=vWRYdRwaVGmHivuw

You shudder before you realize the train's already stopped. As you disembark, you draw yourself deeper into your coat. Take a deep breath. Steam, smoke, oil. The dark silk of the coat seems to draw into itself the din of the thronging crowds and the dazzling station lights which threaten to draw your attention this way and that. You're grateful for this - genuine officer's silk, standard material for police uniforms.

Today, the Railroad Bulls are out in full force. T Company's private security guards, up and down the railway. They seem to be looking for someone in the crowd, someone else, certainly not you. Hopefully not you. But with their meaty hands and their time-shattered visages, you can't help but feel threatened by their unnerving presence.

It's only when you get in sight of the tollbooth do you realize your ticket does not go all the way up. You have to get to the Surface, one way or another. How do you want to proceed?
>Pay the toll. Even though it costs an arm and a leg, you have the money for a pass to the Surface.
>Mug someone. You have the physique and focus to take what you want when you want. And you want a pass now.
>Just sneak onto the lift? You'll have to concentrate your pheromones here for a proper obfuscation.
>Write in.

>>5777020
>Mug someone. You have the physique and focus to take what you want when you want. And you want a pass now.

>>5777020
>>Mug someone. You have the physique and focus to take what you want when you want. And you want a pass now.

>>5777020
>Just sneak onto the lift? You'll have to concentrate your pheromones here for a proper obfuscation.

>>5777020
>Pay the toll. Even though it costs an arm and a leg, you have the money for a pass to the Surface.

We can mug our way back down if we don't have the money. If we get caught on our way up then that means having to fight both going up and down rather than just down because we'll be making this space hostile 'early'.

>>5777020
>Mug someone. You have the physique and focus to take what you want when you want. And you want a pass now.

In the ancient glassy eyes of a railway man, the greatest crime a passenger can commit is being a filthy fucking freeloader. It isn't uncommon for the Bulls to walk people to a lonely corner of the rail yard and teach them a hard lesson on having the proper identification.

Savage beatings, or worse. The police pick up the pieces afterwards. No blood, just pieces. The sand they use for the emergency breaks soaks all of that right up.

No ticket, no ride. So if you're going to pay, it better be on someone else's dime.

An electric current seems to run across your fluff. Your arms get all tingly. You resist the primal urge to wave them threateningly. You swivel your head, looking for an easy mark among the masses...
>Roll d6.
>Due to your COMBAT focus, an additional dice will be tallied, for a total of four dice rolled.

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5777303

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5777303

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5777303
Here we go

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5777303
>>5777391
nice

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A clipboard in one hand and a Surface pass clutched in the other, held like his very own ticket through the Pearly Gates. The clerk is trying and failing to keep a low profile as he scurries on by. It's impossible him to not stick out. His reddened complexion and dark hair mark him as a Surface-born, striking an almost violent contrast against the red-eyed, albino swarms of ordinary City folk. You can literally taste the alarm pheromones radiating from him as you close in. You're getting all riled up inside.

A clawed hand comes down heavy on his shoulder. His eyes bug out as he turns. You flick at your collar, turning on the voice changer embedded within.

"Come along," your second voice growls.

The suit tries to make a break for it, but he has the fear of a mouse and all the strength of one too. You wrangle him far from any wandering eyes then shove him against the door of a maintenance tunnel. The kid finally has the nerve to open his mouth, but you grab handfuls of his shirt and yank him to his feet before he gets a word out.

"Listen up, pinkskin." You flex your forewings and your shadow looms over him entirely. He closes his eyes like it's all a bad dream. "Hand over your pass and you get to live another day. You try and scuttle to those guards over there afterwards? I'm plunking a hole right into your stinking guts. You'll take a damn long time dying with the filth mixed into your blood... So what's it gonna be then, eh?"

"HHhhhHhh-H-Here. J-Jesus, don't kill me-" His grip weakens and you snatch the pass right out of it. Real official, has the wax stamp of T Company's time and tracks and all that. You give him a little love tap right across the jaw as an afterthought. Something cracks. He'll live. Moving right along.

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>>5778784
You have the open platform lift all to yourself. Everyone must be out to lunch. After only a few moments, the creak of unseen and ancient mechanisms begins to draw you up into the sky. The air is becoming thinner and colder. You draw your coat tight again and start beating your wings to keep warm.

(Fear & Hunger 2: Termina OST - Memories) https://youtu.be/spDP_AXUtaE?si=GxoCLVloq9u5UTio

It's quiet up here, atop the world. You're not used to such a peaceful and tranquil atmosphere. The good feeling from earlier is gone. Your mind wanders aimlessly over your cares and worries. You allow it.

Through your compounded eyes, the City below turns into a faint dance of lights and shapes among countless shadows. It's all so distant, so bright, and even now...

You hear the City's voice. A composite vocal message of massed humanity. You listen. Just a whisper now. The millions of hushed and unseen footfalls reverberating into the savage darkness. The comforting ambience of gunfire across the velvet horizon. The breaking of waves across the blackstone shores. She's calling you, calling out to you, a soundless voiceless roar carried throughout the endless tunnels underfoot, across the dark waters, in dark days and bright nights, in rain and in dust...

You can't escape me, Agent. You can't escape yourself. And so you'll come back, as you always will. Come back home, back to my dark streets, my outstretched arms...

Why?
>PRIDE. (There's a job to do. And let me tell you... I do my jobs thoroughly.)
>GREED. (C'mon, why else am I doing this? Ka-ching, baby.)
>FAME. (Someday I'll be like the man on the screen.)
>CRUELTY. (Glory and Terror.)
>LONELINESS. (There's no special someone for me :()
>FEAR. (I had always been afraid. I have always been stronger in fear than even they were.)
>HUNGER. (I've been trying so hard to fill the void in my life...)
>Write in.

>>5778830
>>CRUELTY. (Glory and Terror.)

>>5778830
>LONELINESS. (There's no special someone for me :()

>>5778830
>>CRUELTY. (Glory and Terror.)

>>5778830
>LONELINESS. (There's no special someone for me :( )

>>5778830
>CRUELTY. (Glory and Terror.)

>>5778830
>LONELINESS.

>>5778830
>PRIDE. (There's a job to do. And let me tell you... I do my jobs thoroughly.)

>>5778830
>LONELINESS

>>5778830
>>CRUELTY. (Glory and Terror.)

>>5778830
>>CRUELTY. (Glory and Terror.)
KILL

>>5778830

>CRUELTY

As an insect (insect-man?), we only understand violence

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It might be why the Company selected you for recruitment. It might be why you're chosen for the Missions. It might just be what makes you special. What you know is that this is what makes it personal.

[CRUELTY] - So what's it going to be then, eh? (You are a man of blunted sensibilities and ready violence; a man of restless, aggressively stimulus-seeking disposition; an enthusiastic advocate of pain and wanton destruction. In short, a psychopath. You thrive in situations with high TERROR and gain bonuses when exercising your power over others.)

You've known yourself ever since you emerged from your chrysalis and first spread your damp wings, glistening under the tunnel lights. You worked the neighborhoods as an enforcer, acting on unpaid debts, protection fees, simple viciousness. Organized crime has its place in nearly every city. This City is no exception.

The primitive prey part of your bug brain kept your head down when the bigger players like the Sanitechs and Alphabet Companies swept through the tunnels like heavy weather. You knew the score. So when the Company came to you, it was an opportunity to keep doing what you were good at and enjoy freedom and impunity in doing it. You're stridulating to yourself, lost in fond memories, when the lift rises into a suddenly warm and suffocating air.

What is an Agent? you ask yourself as the desert sand swirls at your feet. A bad man doing bad things to bad people.

It's time to get back to work.

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You arrive onto another train platform - just as the ones below, so above. There is no true sunlight on the Surface from the Tethered Sun, hidden behind the choking clouds of smog and sand. The industrial heart of the City juts into the sky, still beating and impaled on jagged and chaotic outgrowths of the underlying Support Structure. Heavy industry grinds eternal in the distance, underfoot, everywhere, nowhere. Shells of ruined buildings stand side by side with ordinary office towers, and everything is swallowed up in the sea of pipes and dunes.

You cough as you take it all in. You recall that breathing the Surface air for any longer than you need to would spell a long and excruciating death. You slide your ill-gotten pass into the nearby scanner and receive a small oxygen tank and breath mask, compliments of A, F, and R Companies, Bolverk Mining, Toha Heavy Industries, and so on and so on. The visitors guide station drones out half a dozen more names before screeching into static and collapsing.

Goddamn it.

You look around. You feel an incredible consternation. It's all the same pipework and rusted walkways everywhere. You're at the risk of being lost to the industrial labyrinth or to the endless desert, pick your fucking poison.

All you have is an address and a photo. You consider your options. You hate to admit it, but this isn't a problem you can solve by shooting at it. (By your understanding, at least.)

How do you want to do this? [The chosen approach will determine your second best skill, so don't skimp on details for resolving this scene. Even a small sentence start will do.]
>Write in.

>>5780600
Remember your briefing on the assignment. Use that information to find your way on the surface.

>>5780667
>+1
see if there's any points of interest that we can identify

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(LISA : The pointless OST - The Hive) https://youtu.be/NvzQGDY09mY?si=ZmE0vIdq9UIvYTtB

You click your tarsal claws together in the hopes of triggering some hidden mnemonic. It doesn't. But you feel calm and in control even as your oxygen's pressure gauge slowly shifts to the red, tic by tic, moment by moment.

By a flickering service light, you take a quiet moment to plan your aggression and the advance. What did Control say about the case, what did she say, what do you know..?

1. Take the first stairs you see, labeled A1-B. Second door to the right and straight on till morning.
2. Careful where and when you step. Time isn't what it used to be. It is all steel now, hours in every direction.
3. People know how to navigate here, otherwise this place would be empty. Follow the people. Follow their shadows which run along the far walls of the halls.
4. There is nothing for you out there in the brazing sterile desert.
5. Listen to the City's heart and let it guide your steps. Surrender.

A picture begins to form in the mind's eye. You are developing a "feel" for the terrain of the outrageous Surface. The map is useful in its structure. It's time to put the pieces together, then walk the path.
>Roll 3d6.
>With Navigation as your minor focus, you will receive a flat +2 to the total tally.
>You can describe a few things you see as you pass, however long or short. It'll paint a better picture for you, me, and maybe LEAD himself :)

Rolled 6, 4, 5 = 15 (3d6)

>>5781455

File: Agent LEAD doing his thing.gif (1.09 MB, 480x360)

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1. Whoooooooops, I wasn't consistent with the "first three dice are tallied" vs "roll 3d6." It's okay, you will still get your first taste of a 6 dominating the conflict.
>Two more anons, roll d6
2. I'm pleasantly surprised by the voter turn out.
3. Updates will come a little slower due to family, but more substantial choices are coming after this little tutorial is over.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5781455

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5781455

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5781466

Did we sort of create the Mothman Prophecies here or what?

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5781466

>>5781455
A dark building with water pouring out of it.

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The world shifts...

The heat is killing you in this mad landscape of metal and machine. Everything seems like a fever dream on the Surface. Here is a conglomeration of buildings and places without purpose, consistency, even conformation to earthly geometries. You try one path and you find it impossible to retrace your steps. Stairs without destinations and walls behind doors. Always trailing behind some skittering office drone, only for him to vanish into thin air around the corner.

The world shifts...

There's another ruined building here. It's not supposed to be up here. Its surfaces are worn smooth as if by the passage of water over time. The taste of brine and pungent salt water carries on the wind. The sounds of industry are muffled as if coming somewhere far underneath the dark waters.

You can feel the ocean soaking your boots and you recoil only to find yourself stepping back into the sunlight and arid air as the sand crunches underneath your weight. You shiver and retreat into the sweltering depths of your coat. The heat's been stolen out of you.

The world shifts...

How can it be that A Company can create an orderly City but permit its District to exist in this madness? How can the flowers of F Company bloom in the desert? What even is this place? WHERE ARE YOU?

The world shifts...

You are running out of air. You can't sweat as a mothman and you're not going to take off your coat. You don't have the energy to flap your wings to cool off anymore. You are dying at the hands of the desert and no one will avenge you. Your nerves, your nerves.

"Show me a wonder," you whisper at the heart of the world. Succor and hope lie in her byways and mysteries. You demand it to be, so it shall. Please. Please help me.

And just for a moment, there is the Sun. The pains of your body and earthly worries drift away. You fixate on the faraway light. The Sun hangs over the mountains, warm, hot, and very fine.

The heart of R Company... the Tethered Sun, the Slag Sun chained to the distant horizon. The Star of the City rages and boils even centuries after it was struck down and chained to the top of the sky. Molten metal gushes forth like blood from the Christ. The foundries rush to drink their fill.

The light fades. The haze you were in is gone. It's as if the Sun had burned away the madness and insanity. You stand, staring into the clouds with your newfound clarity.

And just like that, it clicks. You turn around the corner and just as the briefing says, there's the wall of doors amid the mess of bridges, walkways, paths...

But there's one door with a barely noticeable red tint to it and a series of numbers that doesn't fit with the others. Something that sticks out within the ordered rows.

You enter.

"Come in, Agent. Have a seat." Sitting at the desk, peering down at you, is a gray little man in a red vest. The man in the photo. "We'd like to commend you on your hard work."

You've made it.

You take a few steps in and collapse from heatstroke.

File: LISA the Pointless Daniel(...).gif (1.12 MB, 720x404)

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What follows is one of the most painful and awful experiences in your entire life.

If you could cry and if you had the water to spare, an endless river of tears would be jerked from your eyes - it was just that fucking boring. You will not repeat the details of paperwork because you were literally half dead in the seat as the little man was explaining every single clause in the folder you were given. He was very thorough and it sounded just about right.

Thank God that he has the full amenities for living in such a horrible place. An AC cranked to full blast, a minifridge with those little Company water bottles, the big blue oxygen tank. You've barely recovered from the ordeal before he offers you a pen and slides over the documents.

"Now, just one more formality. Sign your name here, Agent." [Choose one.]
>LEAD (You've left your old name behind along with everything else. One less Bond tethers you, but you are much stronger for it. Gain two additional focuses of your choosing.)

>Lappet
>Dunbar
>Nines
>X
>Write in.

>>5781758
>Dunbar

>>5781758
>>LEAD (You've left your old name behind along with everything else. One less Bond tethers you, but you are much stronger for it. Gain two additional focuses of your choosing.)

>>5781758
>Dunbar

>>5781758
>LEAD
This is the first name we are given. There may be others given by your targets when you allow yourself to be seen while you do your work, but this... this is your Name.

>>5781758
>>LEAD

>>5781758
>LEAD

>>5781758
>>Dunbar

>>5781758
>>LEAD
Names get in the way of murder.

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You sign your name as best as you can without your glasses. Damn your eyes, it ain't easy being a mothman.

"Very good." The old man takes the file and reviews the document one more time. He stands, old bones a-creaking and hands behind his back, and hobbles towards the small barred window behind his desk. "Very good, indeed. All the MEAT will be delivered on the appointed time. The Company treats its clients well. Even us middlemen, you know."

You hum your agreement. The checks always clear and that's the bottom line.

"You've come at a good time, Agent. Just in time to see the last remnants of light. I'd liked to have basked under that great imperial Sun for only a little while. The sky turning awful pretty, the color of blood and red wine. Will be a long time till we see him again. If my grandkids were here..." Thin beams of the strange light of the Surface fall on his face through the small barred window. "Ah..."

"Can you tell me how to get back down?" You're getting real sick of the sight of white sand, and now the musty smell of an increasingly lonely old man. He turns around and points.

"Oh, it's quite simple really. Just take a left, go down the second stairwell, and you'll be at the lift with those tanks again." A small smile appears on the old man's face, the kind of smile people get when they know more than you do and want you to know it. All his teeth are shining white. You would be angry, but you feel disgusted instead.

You storm out without another word, snatching another water bottle on the way. The old man's voice follows you onto the platform overlooking the former Mojave Desert. "The Syndicate wishes you a swell day, Mister Lead!"

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OPENING ACT - SUNSET
COMPLETE!

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INTERMISSION

The exhaustion fades as you step into your home after another successful Mission (and another painfully long debrief across the phone). Although you can't quite explain what happened to you on the Surface, the job is done and your account filled to the brim. Everything is as it should be. Finished, finally.

"MROOOOOOW?" Your only friend in the entire world comes crawling around the corner to greet you.

"Heya Nigger," you chirp. You put down your groceries and carefully pick up your magcat. He purrs and whirs, comfortable in your arms. It's like holding onto a tiny waterbed. "How I love you, magcat."

"MROW." Good, good cat.

How do you want to spend your Downtime? Choose two.
>Watch television with your magcat. One of the great American pastimes.
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
>STRENGTH TRAINING AT THE GYM.
>Chase after women and other vulnerable people in the darker tunnels. You're a moth, you have peachy keen night vision, you're in your element.
>Write in.

>>5782570
>"Heya Nigger"
I see we're a lovecraft fan
>>5782570
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.

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>>5782570
>>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
Can't end up like those pathetic Bombyx Mori, pah!
>Chase after women and other vulnerable people in the darker tunnels. You're a moth, you have peachy keen night vision, you're in your element.
Good for cardio, and how else will we find a mate?

>>5782570
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
>Chase after women and other vulnerable people in the darker tunnels. You're a moth, you have peachy keen night vision, you're in your element.

>>5782570
>STRENGTH TRAINING AT THE GYM.
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
THE GRIND NEVER ENDS

>>5782570
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
>Chase after women and other vulnerable people in the darker tunnels. You're a moth, you have peachy keen night vision, you're in your element.

>>5782680
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
>Chase after women and other vulnerable people in the darker tunnels. You're a moth, you have peachy keen night vision, you're in your element.

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Stats and System (work in progress, may be subject to change)
- More narrative-based than mechanically crunchy.

Attributes:
CORPUS: 4/4
- Don't lose your life.
- First of the two health pools.

COMPOSURE: 2/2
- Don't lose your mind.
- Second of the two health pools.

CONTROL: In Good Standing
- An Agent in good standing deserves respect :)
- Determines interactions with Mission Control and the Company as a whole.

Skills and Talents:
FORCE: 4d6
- You are good at acting very badly indeed. (+1d6.) [Probably going to add something nicer and more mechanically interesting, but extra dice is good start.]
- Formerly COMBAT. Used in contests of strength, endurance, celerity, all aspects of physical activity.
- Failure in FORCE rolls (ex. smashing down metal grates or chasing after a target across the rooftops) may cause a loss of CORPUS.

INSTINCT: 2d6
- The veins may be cold, but the nerves are not. (-1d6.)
- Used in the exercise of perception, persuasion, intuition, all sorts of mental and emotional bullshit you don't really get.
- Failure in INSTINCT related rolls (ex. calming down a small child or investigating who stole sandwiches from the fridge) may result in a loss of COMPOSURE.

ACCESS: 3d6
- You're a man of the street, you're still a face in the crowd.
- Used to pull favors in from the Company, speak the corporate tongue, tune in to the City, listen to the distant sound of crashing waves...
- Failure in ACCESS related rolls (ex. networking with the black ties or navigating your way through the pipe nightmare) can result in unforeseen consequences. Or nothing at all. Bureaucracy, baby.
>Navigation (You have a feel for the City's terrain. +2 to tallies.)

>2 Talents have yet to be determined.

Traits and Equipment:
[CRUELTY]
Breaker Bullet (FORCE)
Breaker Bullet (FORCE)
Breaker Bullet (FORCE)
Breaker Bullet (FORCE)
- Traits and Equipment can be used during an conflict to add 2d6 in their respective categories.
- You may use each Trait or Equipment only once, but can use as many as you want during a conflict. For example, you can spend all four of your Bullets to roll a whopping 8d6 for shooting a particularly mean-looking sewer rat.
- Special traits in brackets are not permanently lost when invoked and their 2d6 can be added to ANY type of conflict. Wild card option.

IMPORTANT: 6s are criticals and color the entire result. For example, if a 6,6 is rolled for [CRUELTY], you probably will succeed, but more people will be hurt as you indulge your sick pleasure.

Bonds:
- Nigger, your magcat (Excellent)

>>5782570
>Wing muscle therapy and training regimen. You can't quite fly right, but you sure can straighten up.
>Chase after women and other vulnerable people in the darker tunnels. You're a moth, you have peachy keen night vision, you're in your element.

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The spidermen won't venture this far into the maintenance tunnels on their regular patrols. This is a Gray Zone of influence — even the police can go missing here. Contested ground. Your grounds. Your City.

(Desiderii Marginis - Mantrap) https://youtu.be/NfMpMZuLEU8?si=7Yj7_Hkdl9ClbZpA

It's easy when they're lost, when they're in the dark, when they're alone, when it's a young woman. You've been following her for several lengths of tunnel without her noticing. It's easy.

The giant spider silk of your coat works both ways, dampening both your footsteps and all the sensory input from a normal day in the City. You know every turn and junction around these parts, even if the City shifts, and the darkness holds no secrets to your moth eyes.

But you can see her pretty well already, standing underneath the payphone lamp. She has sleek, tar-black hair, cut short, nice, and neat. Her skirt uniform complements those supple legs of hers real well. She certainly has some wit since her hand keeps hovering over the telltale bump of a gun. And if she wasn't so tense, you can imagine a cute grin spread on that pretty face of hers. She does lose major points for not being a moth, though. And for being Asian.

Enough waiting.

You knock hard on the nearest pipe, then step into the edge of the light. The woman drops the receiver in shock. Your body constantly pushes out pheromones to disguise yourself as a regular human being — to her, it must seem like some huge and smiling Chinese thug had just materialized out of thin air.

You stare each other down. You imagine the smile growing wider. The only sounds in the tunnel are the rush of pipework and the garbled words coming from the other end of the line.

A tender moment of tension. You savor these.

She takes out her gun. You take out yours.

*BLAM*

If this were an old cowboy movie, you'd have shot the gun right out of her hands. You went one better and blew her hand apart in a shower of gore with the Big Iron. Her screams echo beautifully up and down the gray tunnels as she clutches the torn mess of meat, tendon, and bone.

The woman starts running, somewhere, anywhere from here, and the submachine gun is sent clattering to the floor. Bad decision, lady. You give her a headstart, then chase the trail of fear and the blood leaking through the stale air...

File: the punisher conditioning(...).jpg (420 KB, 2847x1829)

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"MrrrrOOOWW?" Nigger greets you inquisitively. He almost doesn't recognize you with all the blood on your coat. You let out a few familiar clicks and he quiets down again.

You'd like to hit the shower immediately after a night on the town, but you're feeling sore and awful after that little trick with the wind tunnel. Your wings hurt.

The doctors within the Company network diagnosed you with a case of mild nerve damage. On a good day, you can move your wings like stiff joints. On a bad day, you're struggling to get even a single good flutter out of them. What a cumbersome mantle! What awful rigidity!

As a mothman, your wings don't have muscles in them. Instead, you need very strong shoulders and chest muscles in order to flap those wings. (The doctors also said that it's impossible for your wings to actually support your weight in flight, but that's bullshit because you've flown before.)

The solution becomes very simple. You enter the gym room, turn on the shadeless lamp in the middle of the room, and put on some good workout music.

(Hulk Hogan's Theme Song - Real American) https://youtu.be/fKJDAVvs_JA?si=U0GjYKK_utFjyJfh

You start with the stretches before anything else. But you make the mistake of staring too hard into the lamplight and you fixate your vision without realizing it. Instead of what the doctors ordered, you start lifting instead.

Landmine presses. Loading up three plates and just do ten plus reps. 307 bench. 328 squat. 426 deadlift. 172 shoulder press. All for reps of 5 per set. 45 minutes of lifts and cooldown.

Your body burns, you might have thrown out your back, you might have fudged the numbers on the weight, but YOU FEEL LIKE YOU CAN TAKE ON THE ENTIRE GODDAMN WORLD!

And at the end...

You hop up into the air and just for a few sweet, brief moments, you rapidly flap your wings and hover without falling...

Then you fall back to earth, where you belong, once more.

Suddenly, while you were eating raw eggs with Tabasco sauce with your magcat again, your landline starts ringing. That phone's been disconnected for a long time. You feel the thrill rising up inside.

When the Company calls, you pick up. What are your talents needed for this time..?
[What is the Mission?]
>"I'M GOING TO GET RIGHT TO IT. YOU NEED TO KILL YOUR FELLOW AGENT."
>A Company client is requesting a bodyguard over the next few days. Guard the VIP and do not let him die.
>Capture the anomaly classified as HUMAN BLOOMING before other Agents do and bring it to the Facility alive.
>Intercept a documents briefcase from the rival Agent ROADRUNNER and deliver it to the extraction point.
>There's only one place for a mentally disturbed insectoid murderman in Western America to go. VEGAS, BABY.
>Write in?

>>5783742
>Capture the anomaly classified as HUMAN BLOOMING before other Agents do and bring it to the Facility alive.
A monster for a monster.

>>5783742
>VEGAS, BABY.
Glory and Terror.

>>5783742
>Capture the anomaly classified as HUMAN BLOOMING before other Agents do and bring it to the Facility alive.

>>5783742
>Intercept a documents briefcase from the rival Agent ROADRUNNER and deliver it to the extraction point.

>>5783742
>Intercept a documents briefcase from the rival Agent ROADRUNNER and deliver it to the extraction point.

>>5783742
>>"I'M GOING TO GET RIGHT TO IT. YOU NEED TO KILL YOUR FELLOW AGENT."

>>5783742
>>There's only one place for a mentally disturbed insectoid murderman in Western America to go. VEGAS, BABY.

>>5783742
>>Capture the anomaly classified as HUMAN BLOOMING before other Agents do and bring it to the Facility alive.

>>5783742
>There's only one place for a mentally disturbed insectoid murderman in Western America to go. VEGAS, BABY.

File: white roses.png (616 KB, 902x739)

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(Lisa the Wise - White Rose (Slowed & Reverbed)) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ASqofnfFDY

"Mister Lead?" A soft, breathless voice you've never heard before comes over the line. Today's Handler must be whispering directly into the receiver. "Please listen carefully to what I'm about to say. Time is of the utmost importance. The Objectives of your Mission are thus:"

1. Extract HUMAN BLOOMING from the C Company facility.
2. Deliver her to the closest Company safe house and await further instructions.

"The Company intelligence division has discovered plans to transfer the HUMAN BLOOMING anomaly to a secure containment site. If you act now before the transfer is executed, you can acquire the anomaly before site security becomes too tight and before rival Agents in the field can stage their own assault."

"Currently, the target is being grown within a C Company pharmaceutics laboratory. The facility is located within an office tower on the 2nd strata, District 3. Look for the numbers 453."

"With the research material provided by the anomaly, the Company will be able to break C Company's monopoly on the pharmaceutics industry as well as provide performance-enhancing drugs for use on later Missions."

"Do you have any questions, Agent?"
>[Write in?]
>Hang up. [Move onto the next scene.]

>>5784425
>[Write In?]
>"IS THERE ANYTHING I SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THE ANOMALY? LIKE IF I SNEEZE ON IT, IT MELTS ME ALIVE OR SOMETHING?"

"In addition, you may requisition one piece of equipment of your choosing." [Please describe what you are trying to acquire from Company.]
>Give me a weapon. (FORCE bonus.)
>Give me a gadget. (INSTINCT bonus.)
>There's no time! Just rush straight to the Mission location.

ACCESS check. DC: 11.
>Roll d6. First three rolls will be tallied.
>This will determine the quality of the equipment and the strength of the bonus when used.

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5784441
>Give me a gadget. (INSTINCT bonus.)
If we're breaking it out of a facility, something to ease in breaking and entering would be nice. Something like a power saw or a crowbar.
And for my roll.

>>5784441
>There's no time! Just rush straight to the Mission location.

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5784441
>Give me a weapon. (FORCE bonus.)
Good to have variety in a fight

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5784441
>>Give me a gadget. (INSTINCT bonus.)

>>5784441
>Give me a gadget. (INSTINCT bonus.)
like what this anon said: >>5784443

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5784441
>>Give me a gadget. (INSTINCT bonus.)

I have all the dice I need for the equipment.
Do any of you have further questions for >>5784425 (since it is not closed)?

>>5784807
Any idea of how much protection they have on this anomaly?

File: DF-SD-02-06018 alt.png (105 KB, 1024x670)

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She hums a few bars out of confusion, almost as if not expecting the questions, then speaks.

"Regarding threat levels, while several lab employees have reported headaches, nausea, and feelings of being 'lured' when working with the main body of the anomaly, the anomaly is rather docile overall. In fact, the fruit is typically used as substitutes for human volunteers, leading to expedited drug development and clinical testing. One such harvest can provide enough material for several years worth of trial testing."

"As for site security, I believe there will be a small division of security guards installed in the secure lab areas. The site is expecting heavier reinforcements to arrive when the time for the transfer is at hand. Since this is C Company, all guards are supplied with some kind of combat cocktail, and will be armed with both non-lethal deterrents and small caliber firearms."

"In addition, the laboratory manager has been using some of the anomaly's roots and fruits as a biological defense system in order to cut corners on his security budget. The fruits are not particularly resilient nor intelligent, and require constant direct orders to function. But the harvest has been good this year and the roots have not been pruned..."

"Tell me what floor the anomaly is on, then summarize," you chirp with some aggravation. A few important-sounding bits stick out, but you don't need all of that science research junk.

Company clients sometimes work with Agents directly — for a higher fee, of course — but they are next to useless when it comes to you actually completing the Mission. And because she's new and certainly not Handler material, she just doesn't get how this works.

All of this extra context and sultry tone is intriguing you, drawing you in, and you fucking hate that. The Company doesn't tell you about all the why's and you don't ask. And aren't you on a time limit!

The Handler lets out a deep sigh, as if speaking takes an incredible effort.

"My apologies, Agent," she says in that luxurious voice of hers. "HUMAN BLOOMING can found on the fourth floor of the building. Please use proper respiratory protection and keep an eye out for additional security patrols and anomalous growths."

"Better." You hang up and get moving.

File: The Great War 1964 by Ren(...).jpg (164 KB, 600x834)

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MISSION ONE - CROSS-POLLINATE
START!

File: RE1 entrance lobby.jpg (348 KB, 862x630)

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It didn't seem like Control was able to provide equipment, so you left the drop-off site instead of waiting any longer. You walk into the lobby of building 453 and look around. This time, you have your glasses.

There's a road of colored tiles laid out like a red carpet leading to the receptionist's desk and up the stairwell behind it. There's soft glowing light everywhere, reflecting off the smooth tiles and polished stone. Along the walls, there are glass enclosures housing leafy white plants and more lighted wall scones. It's all very sleek, open, and modern.

Beside the stairwell, you see a freight elevator alongside the ones for visitors. One of the workers swipes his ID in the scanner and the doors open. In goes a few handcarts and pallets, out come several researchers in lab coats and clean suits, followed by a guard with an unsteady gait. It's already lunch time, come to think of it.

A class of students walks past, armed with lab coats and varying looks of interest. You're suddenly a lone figure in black in the sea of white. The tour guide is talking about C Company research opportunities in a peppy voice. Looks like she has an ID card of her own...

You breathe in. The air smells like people, antiseptic, cleaning chemicals, and delicious chocolate.

How do you want to begin?
>Write in.

>>5785362
>tour guide has an ID
>she's a woman
>activate neurons, sneak over to her, and try grabbing that keycard from her. We were designed to chase women.

>>5785386
>+1
didn't the nat 6 cancel the nat 1 roll ? it's strange that we didn't get any equipment from the company

>>5785386
>Support
Continue chasing woman

>>5785391
The tally was a total of 10, didn't pass the check. No 6 vs 1 canceling, mechanically.

>>5785362
Can't forget this:
(03. Pharmacreep) https://youtu.be/58Y1_qQwByA?si=H9lPC8HeC9DIaQjI

>>5785386
+2

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You assess the situation calmly, then come to the conclusion on what exactly you need to do.

You march towards the tour guide without hesitation and unleash a wicked right straight into her jaw. She instantly crumples into a heap. You kneel down to grab the ID card from her neck, when one of the students starts screaming.

Something feels wrong, something sickly is in the air, there's a chill coming through the ventilation shafts like the feeling of narrowly avoiding your own death. The combination of smells, faint chemicals, and the sudden, high-pitched noise cause your instincts to ignite.

Your fight-or-flight response kicks in. Your entire body tenses. The moth brain starts screaming for release! The hate-and-murder pheromones steam out of your body!

YOU FEEL FEROCIOUS!!!

(04. Combat Cocktail) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FdQUUBOWzOo

The panic spreads like a wave. Everyone in the lobby is trying to get away from the giant fucking moth who started screaming and twitching violently. You spread your wings as far as you can manage, dropping any pretense to stealth, and let the nerds run.

Terror is the tool — you're using it to clear the path to your Objective. The Objective is not where you are. You need to advance constantly and aggressively to get there. Anyone trying to prevent that is already fucking dead.

In fact, here comes one of those dead men walking.

The lone guard who arrived with the science team takes out a long ceramic knife. His glazed eyes are set upon you. There is no change in his blank expression as he steps forward, drops down on all fours, and starts sprinting straight towards you!

You sidestep erratically and claw at his uniform! His flesh instantly yields as if cut with a knife. Something clear oozes out from the wound and it tastes sweet on your hands.

The guard aims a counter punch, but you swiftly dodge and retaliate with another claw! You catch it in the neck, severing the unnatural vasculature! The body drops to the floor, going still far too quickly. White plant matter flesh starts oozing out of its wounds.

Whatever this is, it is NOT a human being. The Fruit for Human Endeavors dies.

You don't have time for questions. You're just going to break any bowl of fruit you come across before more guards arrive and everything goes down the shitter.

You swipe your ID across the scanner, but think twice and start your ascent up the stairs. Don't get caught in an elevator deathtrap — that's how they got your wings.

Far above, the alarm starts screeching and the intercoms crackle and the emergency orders start rattling off, but that doesn't seem quite right. Whatever.

You reach the 2nd floor stairwell and immediately there's a pack of guards, both human and inhuman together. They raise their voices and their rifles. You can only react...

THE FIGHT BEGINS IN EARNEST. [HOW DO YOU WANT TO CONTINUE?]
>Write in.

>>5785776
>SCREECH AS LOUD AS WE CAN
>STAY LOW TO THE GROUND BEFORE CHARGING FORWARD LIKE AN ANIMAL.
>AIM FOR THEIR LEGS.

>>5785792
I'll support.

>>5785776
>Don't get caught in an elevator deathtrap — that's how they got your wings.
that explains it.
>>5785792
>+1

>>5785792
+1

>>5785776
Sure, this >>5785792

Had a job interview, went well.

Your mind suddenly hyperfocuses on the sound of sirens wailing, up above. Your entire body is tensed, preparing for an explosive movement...
>[FORCE] Roll d6. The first 4 rolls will count towards the total tally.

[Information: The violence has escalated. Due to the increasing TERROR of the scenario, invoking your [CRUELTY] trait will now grant you an additional 3d6 to a given conflict.]

Rolled 5 (1d6)

>>5786450

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5786450

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5786450

Rolled 3 (1d6)

>>5786450

Alright, I'm still working on the system and its presentation. From here on out, I'll declare the DCs. The tally is 11 and there are no 6s, so LEAD succeeds the DC of 8 without much difficulty or spectacle.

File: BULLET.png (340 KB, 640x480)

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You void all the air in your lungs out of every spiracle and orifice, and the voice changer mangles it all into a single, sustained, and terrifying shriek! You sense the release of stress hormones as the guards hesitate to open fire. The fruits mutely rush forward with their knives. You drop low, rush forward, then slam up into the closest fruit with your bulky momentum, ramming him into the crowd like a Penske truck!

A fruit swings from your side. You counter with a crushing elbow, but his flesh doesn't break like bones and muscles do. So your third arm unfolds from your body and literally pulps his head.

Meanwhile, your fourth arm has reached into your holster and taken out the Big Iron. You start blasting holes into the fallen guards before there's time to recover. One, two, three, four. Movement behind you. You turn around, wrench the last surviving guard's gun out of his hands, grab him by the leg, and throw him down the stairs. You don't look back to confirm the sixth kill.

You reload your gun frantically as you storm up the stairs to the 3rd floor. The stairs to the fourth are entirely blocked by a thicket of thorny vines. Now you hear the intercoms more clearly — and your bad feeling gets worse — as they drone incessantly "WARNING! WARNING! CONTAINMENT BREACH, HOSTILE INTRUSION ON FOURTH FLOOR! WARNING! WARNING!"

FUCK! You're already late to the party...

File: The Forest filled observa(...).png (1.51 MB, 1919x1075)

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But just in time for the massacre.

Several guards lie dead on the vine-choked floor with slashed throats or with bites taken out of their arms and armor. Still more of the strange fruits have been slashed apart and shot to pieces. White flowers in various forms of bloom and wilt are everywhere. There's a clear path cut through them, leading to the end of the hall. Has another Agent beaten you to the punch?

The heavy unbearable stench in the air smashes into you like an ocean wave. The entire hall smells like coppery blood and the special odor of spilled viscera underneath an entire department store's equivalent of dumped perfume. Then there's another smell. You find no words in any human language to directly describe it. You can only say that that pheromone is an object of pure desire. Your claspers start groping around uncomfortably. You let out a primal moth squeak and the noise murders your unnatural arousal. You can't lose control of the situation, much less your own body, any more than you already have...

You get a grip and focus on your surroundings.

This hallway is filled with numerous containment cells, protected with glass walls and housing the experiments located within. To your right, a vivisected fruit with various metal instruments juttng out of it. To your left... it's filled with compacted plant matter, like grotesque flesh. Goodness, that's disgusting. It writhes and squirms, brimming with vitality as it slaps against the glass.

This entire scene reminds you of a visit to the your own Company's Monster Facility, which every serious company seems to have a copy of, where you would rather not have to visit personally again...

You raise your handcannon and start to walk forward slowly. The sirens blare and everything is cast in a hellish, lurid red. How do you want to proceed?
>Rush through and blast anything that stands in your way.
>Continue at a measured pace and dispatch any attackers in melee.
>Write in.

>>5787126
>Continue at a measured pace and dispatch any attackers in melee.

>>5787126
>Rush through and blast anything that stands in your way.

>>5787126
>Rush through and blast anything that stands in your way.

>>5787126
>Continue at a measured pace and dispatch any attackers in melee.

>>5787126
>Continue at a measured pace and dispatch any attackers in melee
SAVOR THE FLAVOR

>>5787126
>Rush through and blast anything that stands in your way.

This is what we get for trying to wait around for a gadget. I guess if we fail because of that we can always blame the lack of communication on the company's part for not telling us we wouldn't be getting anything and wasting our time.

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You start running. It's go time.

You pass more and more horrors in each cell. More bodies strewn across the floor, cleansuits, labcoats, guards. The smell of death only intensifies. The foliage becomes denser. Delicate buds recoil as you stomp past. Suddenly —

The unwithering flowers violently blossom.

You hear the shattering of glass behind you, and in your 360 degree periphery, a heaving roiling mass of slick writhing humanoid bodies erupts out of a containment cell! The ravenous clicks of dozens of teeth echo even stronger than the sirens' blare — the familiar sounds of newborn hunger!

You point your gun, but realize that it's futile to take a stand. Even with the ludicrous power of your Breaker Bullets, there are simply too many disparate entities for the "breaking" to kill all of them. Unless..?

Your next course of action becomes clear.

GET THE HELL OUT OF DODGE!
DC: 10
>[FORCE] Roll d6. The first four rolls will be counted towards the tally.
>The violence has escalated. [CRUELTY] -> 4d6.
Remember to invoke your traits and equipment for extra juice :)

>Write in?

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5787621
>start knocking oved and shoving anything we can in the directon of the horde if it only buys a second or two, hopefully it slows them down

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5787621
Push everything out of our way

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5787621
>Invoke [CRUELTY]
>Use a Breaker Bullet
>Rhythmless fighting retreat. Wade into the fray, pile corpses high, disrupt their pursuit. Then run, we've got other shit to do.

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5787621
>start knocking oved and shoving anything we can in the directon of the horde if it only buys a second or two, hopefully it slows them down

>>5787621
>it's mothing time, moth all over the flowers

>>5787989
>>5787968
>two 6s in a roll
uh oh, niggas

>>5787968
>Support, no innocents nearby so [CRUELTY]maxxing it is

File: House of the Dead BIOLab2.png (187 KB, 400x300)

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You start running.

(Mother Russia Bleeds Soundtrack: Black Racers) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Tx8lphVLro

You slam down carts, shelves, bodies, anything with weight is thrown to the surging horde behind you. Even the thorns and roses which had borne fruit hamper the fruits' advance, tearing into the pale sweet flesh, seizing, entwining, strangling. And yet the mob stampedes onward, heedless to injury, mindlessly pulping the tender flesh of those who fall underfoot...

You follow the signs of passage through the spreading undergrowth. Cut stems and fallen petals mark the path, along with that scent of pure desire. Your lungs burn with that wonderful, wonderful smell.

More of the horrible plant spawn emerge, tearing forth from man-sized ovaries growing on the thorns and hurling themselves to the floor. Your Big Iron roars death, shredding anything which tries to grab hold of you. Red haze of hallway turns blue with every muzzle flash. The recoil slams in your hand, one, two, three, four —

THIS WAY TO THE EXIT.

You shoulder bash through a hastily-made barricade and ascend to the fourth floor in a frantic cloud of flying papers and gunpowder!

Your target, at last!

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SPECIAL ENCOUNTER

Everyone in the stairs landing turns their heads as the 200 pound giant moth comes through the door with a gun in his claws.

The contingent of armed guards smelling bizarrely of chocolate stares you down but holds its fire.

A horrified little man in an important-looking suit looks at you pleadingly, choking on the bladed edge held to his throat.

And holding the stiletto is a beautiful mothwoman in an elegant and bloodstained coat dress.

(11 Nanto suichouken Rei no Theme) https://youtu.be/eApcQbj0N8w

The smell of her is utterly intoxicating. You have to tighten every muscle to resist walking over to her and burying yourself in her fluff. You force yourself to concentrate on one point. The Mission. You need to accomplish your Objectives, no matter what. Down the hall is the sweet, alluring smell of flowers. HUMAN BLOOMING is there.

She moves at last, fluttering her delicate wings in surprise.

"Ahh finally! Backup! It's about time you finally showed~" she chirps in an voice range inaudible to human ears. "Don't worry, prettyboy. The guards won't fire at us as long as I have their site director. Now, listen. We need to leave before the flower down the hall ruins our evening together, okay?"

YOU CAN SMELL HER PHEROMONES SO MUCH. Your head hurts from processing all these different scents. What do you do?
>Reload then start blasting into the crowd.
>Follow her lead and cover the escape. But... HUMAN BLOOMING has not been extracted.
>Start squeaking out your mating call.
>Write in.

>>5788412
>Reload then start blasting into the crowd.
>Write in: "THANKS YOU TOO." Drop absolute all of your spaghetti in front of her as you do so.

>>5788412
>Reload then start blasting into the crowd.
"Ma'am, we're leaving after getting the package, entendido ?"

Traits and Equipment:
[CRUELTY] Currently 4d6. Increases in strength as the overall Scenario escalates in TERROR.
Breaker Bullet (FORCE, 2d6, Special). Manufactured by B Company. You have four of these impossibly powerful bullets. Used to fire a "breaking" effect (ex. breaks bones, breaks bread, breaks confidence, breaks hearts) as well as an ordinary bullet (ex. if this is used to break someone's heart, she's probably going to die from the bullet now wedged in it).

>>5788418
+1

>>5788418
>Support

>>5788418

Picking this. I sort of think she might be an illusion?

>>5788418
+1

>>5788412
>Reload then start blasting into the crowd.
>[CRUELTY]

I can't tell if the seductive act helps her pheromones control people or if she is just playing cool to hide her surprise or if she really just thinks we're her backup, but I DO know that we can deal with the horde without her. It's possible she's actually after the site director instead of HUMAN BLOOMING and not just using him to fend off the guards on the way to our mutual(?) target, but I wouldn't trust her. Better just hope we can control ourselves enough to blow away the potential competition.

File: white satin moth2.jpg (230 KB, 900x600)

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You take out spent casings with one hand and motion with another. The Agent wrestles her hostage over, visibly struggling even with a size advantage. The security team moves forward.

"Say," she whispers. There's a trace of suspicion in her voice now and even then it sends shudders down your carapace. "Weren't you supposed to have a partner in crime?"

"Relax, baby," you mutter. You can't help yourself. "It's just the two of us now, everything's alright. There's always time for fun. It's Friday night. What's your name?"

"Oh? Who the HELL are you supposed to be! You're not my backup at all!"

"O-Oh. S-Sorry. I'm L-Lead, and—"

Then she stabs you in the face with her second knife.

-COMPOSURE
COMPOSURE: 1/2

It's only a surface cut. But there's hemolymph running down your face. And there's pain now, biting and hot, the first time you've been hurt this entire evening. You grab a hold of it. The haze of chemical fumes and pheromones burns away from your mind.

A sense of clarity washes over you.

With a clear head comes clear thoughts. You feel fucking embarrassed for letting another Agent get the drop on you. You're disgusted with yourself for being weak. You're madly in anger with her for making you feel this way.

You want to hurt her. You want her.

You sense some dipshit point man trying to flank, so you quickly load in a round and punch a hole in his head. The other Agent takes advantage of the distraction, but you grab the edge of her coat before she skitters away. You point the barrel of Big Iron to her head.

Whether at the hands of the C Company guards, the strange fruit experiments, or your own, she's definitely not going to make it out alive if she tries to fly off on her own.

"Follow me if you want to live, girlie," you growl as you always do. "Stick with me, we both get what we want. Reinforcements are coming and that dinky butter knife just isn't going to cut it. So what's it going to be then, eh?"

She hesitates. The site director starts struggling even harder.

"Not like I have any choice here," she mutters darkly. "But I can't say I prefer the alternative. Fine then."

She spreads her wings once and a very spicy scent fills the air. You're brimming with vigor!

"And my name is Miss Director, just so you know~"

You slam four more long steel rounds into the hungry chambers of Big Iron. The gun is in your hand. Everything is making sense again. Now all you have to do is take control.
DC: 35
>[FORCE] Roll d6. The first SIX rolls will be counted towards the tally. (+2d6 from Miss Director's Frenzy Pheromones.)
>Burn any traits or equipment?

How do you want to do this?
>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
>Grab the hostage from her and advance. If he's as valuable as she says, those guards are going to fold when you go all in.
>Write in.

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5789376
>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
>Burn everything we got. All of our bullets and our cruelty trait. We don't have room for failure, especially with that high DC
https://youtu.be/W7y-4aUF3k4
Let's show them why our name is Mr. Lead. Rolling just 1d6, in case the others want to be more reserved with our resources.

1. I'm still working on the dice and conflict system, and will have the results by next Mission. Trying to figure out representing degrees of success/different flavors of results (ie. the 6s as narrative influences).
2. You can roll more than one dice per post to speed up to the next update. If it's not declared, I'll count dice as regular Force first, then Cruelty, then Breaker Bullets, etc.

Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5789376
>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
https://youtu.be/LcYNqLwkM8I

Rolled 4 (1d6)

>>5789376
>>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
>Burn 1 Breaker Bullet and invoke [CRUELTY]
We wanna make sure the way the clear, also plz anon use consummables

Rolled 1 (1d6)

>>5789376
>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
>Burn 1 Breaker Bullet and invoke [CRUELTY]
It is probably unhealthy to catch Lead's interest.

>>5789376
>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
>Burn 1 Breaker Bullet and invoke [CRUELTY]

Rolled 3 (1d6)

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>5789376
>Killing is the tool. Make them pay for every inch. Make them too scared to approach. This should buy Miss Director time to escape and you time to get to the target.
>Burn 1 Breaker Bullet and invoke [CRUELTY]
You're going down

Rolled 4, 1 = 5 (2d6)

>>5789376
>>5789529
Since it seems we're going with this, I'll roll 2d6 for the breaker bullet

Rolled 4 (1d6)

Aight. Since most people agree to invoke CRUELTY and ONE BREAKER BULLET, I'll roll another d6 for the final F O R C E dice.
We are at 21/35 right now. With 3d6s left, I'm not liking our odds.

>>5789727
I thought >>5789657 was the final force die, though if things aren't great maybe we can vote to use a second bullet

>>5789731
Brother
This >>5789386 counts, we're at 25 with the breaker shot and now at 29 with your first roll, we got 3d6 remaining. If all that isn't enough we can go for another bullet.

>>5789732
Lemme recount.
FORCE: 4+2+4+1+3+6 (20) [QM said the first six rolls are counted as Force rolls.]
Breaker Bullet: 4+1 (25) [an extra 2d6 per bullet]
One roll on Cruelty (my second roll): 4 (29) [an extra 2d6 for using Cruelty. No one has rolled the last Cruelty dice yet]
We got six rolls for Force, an extra 2 from your breaker bullet, and one left from Cruelty that no one has rolled.
We need a perfect six to make it hit.

>>5789743
We actually have 3 more cruelty rolls to go, since as stated here >>5788435 the scenario has TERROR

I'm sort of curious what the other character traits like pride, fear, or hunger would have given. Or what trait Ms. Director has.

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Rolled 2 (1d6)

>>5789745
Ah. Fuck me, huh? Guess I glossed that over Shit, yeah, we're fine. Might as well roll another d6, so someone can roll the final 2d6 on the Cruelty Dice.

>>5789376
Oh yeah, we forgot to specify which Breaking Effect we're using
>Break the Crowd

Rolled 6, 3 = 9 (2d6)

The VOICES told me to, but I did it because I felt like it

>>5789759
If I'm not mistaken we pass the 35 DC now. Cruelty for the win.

>>5789386
>>5789477
>>5789529
>>5789578
>>5789594 >>5789595
>>5789657
FORCE = 20

>>5789725
BREAKER BULLET = 25 (+5)

>>5789727
>>5789748
>>5789759
CRUELTY = 40 (+15)

Just plain old FORCE gets the lion's share, eh? Nice.

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FORCE and CRUELTY dominate.

The mooks down the hall start to move as if through deep and heavy water. You feel that familiar rush inside and your hands feel tingly. The excitement and adrenaline overload washes over you and it feels as if God Himself has graced you with all this clarity.

There is no fear. Miss Director watches as you step out of cover and into the firing lines of dozens of soldiers.

The Big Iron comes up again, faster than ever before, and a tremendous thunderclap roars down the hall like the wrath of God! The light and noise is overwhelming as the Bullet shatters through the air, but with their formation thoroughly Broken, you seize the momentum and enter the offensive!

Blindfire whizzes past, you ram into a guard, and hold him tight. The human shield turns into a limp hunk of meat, you toss it into another security member, and leap upon another. One two three four, you barely feel your own claws even as you crack skull and the blood and brains spill out.

Everything is happening so fucking fast, it's going in slow motion. You're feed Big Iron as fast as you can fire and every shot finds their homes in flesh, bone, armor. Your other claws are ripping guns out of hands and tearing apart anything they can get a hold of. You pick up the body of a dead fruit and smash it against a guard until there is nothing left but its legs. You dodge gunfire furiously and break bones as you retaliate, one two three four one two three four. You crush bones into flour, press in flesh, throw corpses, dedicate every wild movement towards the utter destruction and contempt of all other living beings.

The killing frenzy rages on and on, until, at last, you are the last man standing. The enemy has been degraded utterly — Company dogs retreat to lick their wounds. Live to murder another day, yes, yes, yes.

"Baby," you say in your real voice. "Before I met you, I didn't know what I was missing."

Then you turn around and realize she's gone. Both directors are. Looks like she's gotten what she's wanted.

Emergency lights burn red in your ommatidium. Blood plasters your coat to your carapace. Only a trace of that smell lingers. You stand there in the aftermath of all the mayhem and terror you've wrought, but all you can think about is when you'll see her again.

:)

You've acquired a Memento.

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Then the moment passes. Moving on.

Following the strong smell of flowers down the hall, you catch your breath, step through the thorn-wreathed doorway, and —

(Lobotomy Corporation Full Soundtrack "story 4") https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sKGh9WDDqKM

You raise your arm as a sudden bright white light falls upon everything. You find yourself standing in a deep forest in the middle of... somewhere else.

A flower blooms upon the plot of disturbed earth in the center of the clearing. Its petals are delicate sheets of marble; a lonely and lovely shade of pink among the sea of milk-white roses.

Warped and unfinished fruits slide and dance about in careful movements, side by side with the thorns spreading out in all directions.

Shedding flower petals in place of tears, a quiet voice whispers in the language of the still-yearning heart, desperately, hopelessly, madly in love.

Everyone is politely smiling. This aroma is not one you will soon forget.

What should be done?
>Start hacking away at the thorns.
>Stop and smell the roses.
>[FORCE] Pick the flower.
>[CRUELTY] Drink the nectar.
>Write in?

Captcha: PMJ0Y. Hehe.

>>5792253
>Stop and smell the roses.

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I apologize about missing yesterday's update. Ate too much Chinese food and the MSG tanked me. More yardwork today. Have a moth.

>>5792253
>>[FORCE] Pick the flower.
Is this HUMAN BLOOMING?
>>5792259
Also it's alright QM, sometimes the curse slams you into a wall

>>5792253
>[FORCE] Pick the flower.

>>5792253
>[FORCE] Pick the flower.

>>5792268
I think so, reread our briefing, unless this is an illusion then it fits the description of something being grown rather than being synthetically created or merely held.

Though I do wonder what happens if we drink the nectar or smell it. Maybe some radical transformation. Hell C Company has a monopoly on pharmaceuticals, could be super special buff if we consume it. I don't want the potential side effects though, or for the flower to suddenly wilt after we drink from it, leaving us as the only remaining sample or something lame like that. Then everyone would want to use us as a lab rat and dissect us.

Just do our job and grind that rep, get that money.

>>5792253
>>[CRUELTY] Drink the nectar.

>>5792253
>>[CRUELTY] Drink the nectar.

>>5792253
>[FORCE] Pick the flower.

>>5792256
Changing my vote to Cruelty.

>>5792253
>[FORCE] Pick the flower.

>>5792253
>[CRUELTY] Drink the nectar

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You decide to approach. The whispers coalesce into warm words, "Mon amour, it's you for me, me for you in life. We could go away together. Dearest, I beg of you. Press me to your heart. Speak to me!"

You pause. A thought that is not your own appears. How long has she been here, dwelling in this place of great happiness? Another world apart, such a secret place, this life in pink, this land of tears. It is too sad, too sad. He was too young to know how to love her...

But you are too strong, too willful. You will not be swayed by the sweet scent. It's an awful smell, the smell of white mourning. All you know is that violence is the City's language of love. You harden your heart and march on towards the bloom.

You cup the cracked flower in your hands. Its petals are pulsing with life, heavy and hot to the touch, like a still-beating heart. The shrub and roots are anchored down in the unbearable weight of her grief.

So you pull as hard as you can and HUMAN BLOOMING is plucked from the grave earth. Blood spills from its petals, leaving it ivory-white. The thudding of the heartbeat that animates her voice stops, like it had a heart attack. The thorns of her heart tighten. The muscles squeeze tight around and crush you into nothing.

-CORPUS
-CORPUS
-CORPUS
CORPUS: 1/4

OBJECTIVE COMPLETE.

You are in the bloodstained halls again. Your entire body hurts and now your own insect blood soaks into what's left of your ruined coat. And good fucking grief, here come the stomping boots of those reinforcements. You weakly raise your gun and start to reload, but they move fast, too fast in their drug-fueled agitation, moving right past you..?

Awful and as crushing as it is, the smell of grief is strong enough to hide you like a shroud. You mutter a superficial prayer as they brush past without knowing.

You limp down the stairs. Fourth floor, third, second, first. Everyone is shouting, looking for the anomaly, certainly. But they all pass you without looking back.

You stand in the dark streets once again. It's raining. The cold water washes away the rage, the blood, and the smell of flowers. You bring your tattered wings together into a waxy mantle and sink back into the safety of the darkness and chaos of the City...

OBJECTIVE COMPLETE.

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MISSION ONE - CROSS-POLLINATE
COMPLETE!

SPECIAL ENCOUNTER: 1/1

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(Lone Survivor - Home (Extended)) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YGt7P5elZ2M

The knocking at the door is so sudden and unexpected, you are instantly roused from your torpor. There is no drowsiness even in your convalescence; not while you are still on the job. You retrieve Big Iron and point it towards the person just beyond.

"Copper." Your handcannon drops down to your side. All the tension inside of you goes slack. It's the voice of your usual Handler. You open the door to the Red Room and greet the man standing there.

What head is his head? [This man is your closest associate within the Company. You may be working closely with him on future Missions.]
>Utterly nondescript, a regular John Smith. ("Agent." He nods and you return it. There is mutual feeling between professionals.)
>Chrome dome. There's dents on the door where he knocked. ("IT'S ME, YOU FUCKING INSECT. AH, AH, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU STASH AWAY THAT GUN SO QUICK." The two of you laugh. You fucking needed that.)
>White butterfly. His voice is slow and lugubrious, like velvet decayed. (Tut-tut. He writes something green on his clipboard. "Did you really have to use the Breaker Bullets in the City proper?")
>Nothing. There's an empty suit there. ("We both know how to keep a secret, don't we?" You think he smiled. If you had teeth, you would too.)
>Write-in.

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Lads, I'm getting into the groove of writing and Questing. So I'll ask what you all think: How do you feel about the pacing and structure of this Mission?
>It's too fast!
>It's too slow!
>It's just right!

>Write-in any comments.

>>5793323
on one hand, there's a bro, but on the other, a nerd prime for BULLYING

>>5793323
>Nothing. There's an empty suit there. ("We both know how to keep a secret, don't we?" You think he smiled. If you had teeth, you would too.)
I'm a sucker for the mysterious.

>>5793323
>White butterfly. His voice is slow and lugubrious, like velvet decayed. (Tut-tut. He writes something green on his clipboard. "Did you really have to use the Breaker Bullets in the City proper?")
A bug for a bug. I'm fine with whatever, though.

>>5793330
>It's just right!
>Write in: BUG AGENT COOL I WANT HIM TO KILL MORE PEOPLE

>>5793323

>White butterfly. His voice is slow and lugubrious, like velvet decayed. (Tut-tut. He writes something green on his clipboard. "Did you really have to use the Breaker Bullets in the City proper?")

>>5793330

>just right!

As a QM myself, I can tell that you’re enjoying the work - it shows in your writing. Honestly, though - I have tons of questions about the setting itself. Are we even on Earth???

>>5793323
>Chrome dome. There's dents on the door where he knocked. ("IT'S ME, YOU FUCKING INSECT. AH, AH, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU STASH AWAY THAT GUN SO QUICK." The two of you laugh. You fucking needed that.)
>>5793330
>It's just right!
man, I'm liking this story with some non-sense anomalies. gotta ask, what was your inspiration for making this ?

>>5793311
Draw us a sheep later QM. You promised.

>>5793330
>It's just right!
>>5793323
>Chrome dome. There's dents on the door where he knocked. ("IT'S ME, YOU FUCKING INSECT. AH, AH, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU STASH AWAY THAT GUN SO QUICK." The two of you laugh. You fucking needed that.)

>>5793323
>>White butterfly. His voice is slow and lugubrious, like velvet decayed. (Tut-tut. He writes something green on his clipboard. "Did you really have to use the Breaker Bullets in the City proper?")
All our frens are bugs

>>5793323
>Chrome dome. There's dents on the door where he knocked. ("IT'S ME, YOU FUCKING INSECT. AH, AH, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU STASH AWAY THAT GUN SO QUICK." The two of you laugh. You fucking needed that.)

>>5793330
KILL KILL KILL

File: Welcome to NEVADA.jpg (35 KB, 680x453)

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>>5793343
I refuse to explain too much outside of what Agent LEAD experiences. That and I don't have a 100% unified lore document to throw at people.

As for being on Earth... You can drive or take the train to Las Vegas from the City. Good women, good cards, some of the best restaurants in the world (as well as every whacky American regional memefoods). Indulge in refined gluttony, pure Vegas style. Just as man is man, some things stay the same.

"'Journey to the Center of the Earth' if Julius Verne got a hateboner for Macdonalds" - Lammar

"McDonald's truly is a monument to the arrogance of Man. Every time I succumb to temptation and eat a combo meal from there, my insides churn and the salt stings my mouth. And yet, eating it instills a sick euphoria" - /wbg/

"There is always a city of men. There is always a magic work of men. Man always falls. Tell the story again, arrogant man. Tell the story again, prideful man. Tell me the story again, man of greed, says God, as Babylon falls. Et-fucking-cetera." - Anonymous

>>5793345
Spoilers for inspirations, naturally. Not a completely comprehensive list, just the ones off the top of my head.
For the main crux of the Quest (playing THE ULTIMATE IN BADASS COOL AGENT MAN): Lacuna Part I. The Creation of the Mystery and the Girl from Blue City, and Hollowpoint TRPG
For the setting: Project Moon (Lobotomy Corporation and Library of Ruina), SS13, Don't Rest Your Head TRPG, Fallen London, LISA: The Pointless, and BLAME! and other Nihei works.
For themes: The Ocean Game TRPG, Madness Combat series, SS13 again, a lot of thrillers and action movies and comic books, real life.

Big thanks to my friends Jack and Lammar, /tg/'s /wbg/ server, and (You) :)

CAPTCHA: ANKPM

>>5793572
>Madness Combat
Based, you got Project Nexus QM?

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>>5793595
N-No. I'm waiting for the next sale.
PN1 was the fucking shit, me and my brother got all of the unique mercenaries and so far into Arena mode that it starts lagging just moving around. Epic times on the craptop.

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>>5793608
>waiting for the next sale
Poorfag. Great tastes, though.

>>5793608
Get you with the craptop, only recently upgraded myself, by a pretty massive margin.

>>5793323
>White butterfly.

>>5793330
>It's just right!

>>5793323
>White butterfly. His voice is slow and lugubrious, like velvet decayed. (Tut-tut. He writes something green on his clipboard. "Did you really have to use the Breaker Bullets in the City proper?")

>>5793323
>Chrome dome. There's dents on the door where he knocked. ("IT'S ME, YOU FUCKING INSECT. AH, AH, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU STASH AWAY THAT GUN SO QUICK." The two of you laugh. You fucking needed that.)

>>5793330
>It's too fast!

>>5793323
>>Chrome dome. There's dents on the door where he knocked. ("IT'S ME, YOU FUCKING INSECT. AH, AH, DON'T THINK I DIDN'T SEE YOU STASH AWAY THAT GUN SO QUICK." The two of you laugh. You fucking needed that.)

NO MORE HANDLER VOTES PLEASE.
My heart is set. The Butterfly Man cometh.

>>5793330
It's cool!
Being a complete psychopath murder bug is a unique concept and its working out so far

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"Pineapple." Your code response seems to wither in midair as the Handler himself steps in.

The Butterfly Man. Thin and long-legged, with his large white wings folded upright. Always dressed in that same dark gray trench coat and bowler hat. Never in a hurry, moving like he has infinite time.

You don't say another word. You don't breathe. The sounds beyond the doorway have died away, as if the City is holding its breath. The Handler looks around, his clubbed feelers swaying from beneath his hat, then at you.

"Agent LEAD," Officer SILVER says.

"Yes?"

"Let's review tonight's results, shall we?" He motions to the table, for you to take a seat. He will, as always, be standing.

DEBRIEFING

Tut-tut. He writes something green on his clipboard. "Did you really have to use the Breaker Bullets in the City proper?"

"It was either them or me, and I've decided to live another day," you explain.

"Hmmm. The results are quite spectacular, aren't they? But there are laws, statutes, and regulations that must be adhered to. Today's casualties are quite... acceptable relative to your prior numbers." A high note of praise, coming from him.

...

"And she was alone?"

"She mistook me for her backup, but they were a no-show." The Handler cocks his head. The pen moves. You squirm like the insect you are. "Yes, she was alone. We traded a few words, cooperated against the guards, then she left. Her target and mine were not the same, thankfully."

"So it seems." He clicks to himself. "By the by, from our own intelligence, another party had disabled the camera systems before any Agents arrived. You have a very memorable profile, Mr. Lead, so that effort saves us the trouble of executing our own media veil-out. A happy coincidence."

You nod quietly, whether it be a threat, an insult, or a mere statement.

...

"I was somewhere else... I stepped out of the lush forest," you struggle with your words. Everything feels fuzzy to recall. "But when I looked back, it was really a lab room."

"Given the circumstances, it seems you had been exposed to a psychoactive substance. Were you properly equipped to handle the anomaly?"

"That fucking client!" You can barely restrain your rage in front of this man. You've realized just how bad you were affected by the anomaly, both you and Miss Director. "I was standing by the equipment pipe for so damn long! Nothing came through!"

SILVER stops writing for a moment. You remember who you're talking to and force yourself back down. He sighs and presses a claw to his head. "Requesting your services and not providing guidance in the field? It will simply not do for our clients to behave this way. I will have to speak to the Directorate about this... breach of procedure. Hmmm, hmmm." That's his way of apologizing, you think. He must have been in your position, once upon a time, you think...

"I didn't even know flowers could cry. Its feelings were manifested... Like a physical force." You approach the end of the debrief with as much as you can say about the anomaly. It's hard to put into words.

"I can't offer an explanation for anomalies. It is by definition, of course." He titters, politely. "One more case for the files. That's all. There are millions of such stories in the City. This was just one of them." You accept that. Sounds more reasonable than whatever emotional nonsense you were being exposed to.

"Under these... extraordinary circumstances, the Company is very pleased with your recovery of the anomaly." The Handler takes out a half-full sheet of gold star stickers and places one right on your coat. Huh. You're just one away from getting promoted. "Your payment will be disbursed in the usual time and method. We will discuss further compensation later."

"Now then. Let's wrap this up." He claps his claws together, then slides a Potentializer 3000 across the table. You force your terrified moth brain to relax as you place it under your head. You can't get used to this.

You pull the trigger with an unshaking hand. A roar of static reverberates throughout your carapace. You struggle for a moment, then succumb to the pain. Oh, it is so, so dark here...

Your realization awaits...
Rethinking prior experiences...
Inserting into the deep blue...
Employing immediate heuristics...
Assigning semiotic importance...
Who will you be today..?
Initialization... OK.

You may realize your two unassigned Talents.
>Sweetness filled the air and it was getting hard to think... (Disguise)
>Did you see the look on that student's face? Hah! (Terror)
>My aim is getting better. (Gunplay)
>Write in. (Talents must be specific and related to your experience in the latest Mission.)

[Information: You do not have to assign all your Talents today. Acquiring additional Talents requires more experience in the field...]
[Information: Talents now grant an additional dice to their corresponding Attribute pool. For example, Navigation will supplement ACCESS to use 4d6 in the Conflict.]

You may realize your Memento of Miss Director. [This will give you a lead in your... personal investigation, if you so choose.]
>Broken Pocket Watch (Well, it used to be right more than twice a day.)
>Wilted Rose. ("They bloom so wonderfully under the neon lights, don't they? A fellow child of the City...")
>Torn Cotton Fabric. ("This heavy material reminds me of my own coat... Fitting, yet alarming.")
>Spent Pheromones Vial (Stinks to high Heaven. Reminds you of stealing honey from the Hives before you got hired...)
>Perfumed Knife ("Goodness, have you been walking around with *that* stuck in your head? Hold still.")
>Write in?
>Nothing. (In the story of love, you've chosen to forget. But you're growing even more powerful in your misery, your hatred, your isolation... Gain a Boon, a moment of tremendous power to be spent at will.)

>>5794576
>My aim is getting better. (Gunplay)
>Not gonna get surprised by a knife again(Melee)

>Perfumed Knife ("Goodness, have you been walking around with *that* stuck in your head? Hold still.")

>>5794576
was it a needle or a bullet ?
>Sweetness filled the air and it was getting hard to think... (Disguise)
>My aim is getting better. (Gunplay)

>Spent Pheromones Vial (Stinks to high Heaven. Reminds you of stealing honey from the Hives before you got hired...)

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When you come to, SILVER is already packing away his briefcase.

"So what happens now?" you ask as you groggily stand. Your insides feel dazed, but you feel... different. Stronger?

"You must be well, LEAD. Be well. But you've said that already. Much better than I can now." SILVER turns to give a knowing (and all-knowing) look from the doorway. "'It's Friday night. There's always time for fun.'"

"Bastard."

Your Handler laughs, unfolds his wings, then vanishes past the threshold of the door. Once he's well and truly gone, do the sounds of the City start to come through again.

INTERMISSION

How do you want to spend your Downtime? [Prompt: Convalescence; What does LEAD do for his break days?]
>Watch television with your magcat. Your ratty old throne awaits.
>Walk around the City and watch the people. People-watching. Mothing.
>Visit a nice restaurant as a man. Suffer because you can't eat solid food as a moth.
>Go shopping for..? (Write-in.)
>Write-in.

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>>5794576
1. I didn't like the filename on the image, but I wasn't going to change it either. Here's his replacement.
2. Play killer7.

>>5794576
>Wilted Rose. ("They bloom so wonderfully under the neon lights, don't they? A fellow child of the City...")
>Sweetness filled the air and it was getting hard to think... (Disguise)
I'm keeping one slot open in case we can get something better later.
>>5794586
>Go shopping for..? (Gear for future missions. Crowbars, lockpicks, the works)

>>5794590
Support for shopping
>>5794586
>Convalescence: Chase women at night

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>>5794592
Gonna have to veto that. Choose another Downtime activity.

Funnier answer: Unfortunately, you have lost too much blood to honor the age-old moth tradition of CHASING WOMEN AT NIGHT. You'll probably gas out in the middle of the chase and find yourself in the clutches of the Spidermen. You might die to police brutality or, worse, have to show up at court at an appointed time.

>>5794598
Aww, well do this instead
>Walk around the City and watch the people. People-watching. Mothing.

>>5794576
>My aim is getting better
>Did you see the look on that student's face? Hah!
>>5794586
>Visit a nice restaurant as a man. Suffer because you can't eat solid food as a moth.

>>5794576
>Did you see the look on that student's face? Hah! (Terror)
>My aim is getting better. (Gunplay)
>Perfumed Knife ("Goodness, have you been walking around with *that* stuck in your head? Hold still.")

>>5794576
TALENTS
>My aim is getting better. (Gunplay)
>Write in. (Talents must be specific and related to your experience in the latest Mission.)
Everybody's heading somewhere, good or bad. One way roads leading to dead ends, currents that carry many along to their destinations, doors that can be opened and closed and walked through freely if one wishes, and more. Even as all the people of all walks of life walk their ways through life, you too feel the innate nature... to reach towards the light... (Guidance. Direction. Navigation.)
MEMENTO
>Perfumed Knife ("Goodness, have you been walking around with *that* stuck in your head? Hold still.")
>>5794586
INTERMISSION
>Walk around the City and watch the people. People-watching. Mothing.

>>5794586
>Watch television with your magcat. Your ratty old throne awaits.

>>5794576
>Did you see the look on that student's face? Hah! (Terror)
>My aim is getting better. (Gunplay)

>Perfumed Knife ("Goodness, have you been walking around with *that* stuck in your head? Hold still.")

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You've become more trigger-happy.
You feel menacing.

Unassigned Talents: 0
Current Talents:
Navigation
(NEW) Gunplay
(NEW) Terror

P Company wishes you a very secure shift :)

THEN

"... hold still." You brace yourself. SILVER walks over and, with a firm yet gentle touch, slides the knife out of your face. As you put pressure on the wound, he inspects it under the wan light of the bulb, turning it this way and that. SILVER takes one of the medical spray bottles in the Red Room and spritzes into the puncture. You squeak in rage and indignation as it gets onto your eyes, that shit stings!

"My apologies. I was merely lost in thought. This knife presents a most curious case." His antennae twitch upright like receiving signals from Heaven. "I've seen this manufacture of weapon in the hands of members of the Bolverk Mining Company and those foreign investors from the East. Many of these have been disseminated throughout the City. Quite lethal in the hands of... skilled combatants."

"Can you help me?" You whisper, low but with intent.

"In what way?" Another head tilt.

"I want to find the other Agent. Miss Director. It's her knife." You keep your voice as neutral as you can. This may be between Agents, but this time... it's personal.

"Quite a bold request, LEAD." Tut-tut-tut. "I'll grant it, however. I'd like to see where you go with this. Knowing you, you'd probably try to 'return' it. Ha-ha-ha."

It's not blood you're out for, but you stay quiet. SILVER scares you, to be Frank. You feel giddy, having made some headway already.

"A few words. Don't go rushing off straight after her on your own. Wait for my assistance. I would advise you to be discreet in your investigation, but valor is better suited on a man of your Talents. And do try to reign in those... impulses. You've gotten enough blood on your hands already."

"Thanks SILVER." A man is only as good as his word. SILVER's word is gold.

"Hah."

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Rolled 85 (1d100)

In the City, in a split second, time changes and the pipes shift...

NOW

You come to this bar at the top of the world when you want peace of mind and a damn fine cup of coffee. There's a word to describe the fact you've just attacked a major C Company facility and are now enjoying the smell of their beans, but it slips your mind. Quarters jingle in your coat pocket. Even though the binocular stand is free, it just makes more sense like this.

The City is divided into several vertical layers: Surface, Urban, and Suburban, which are further divided into strata, floors, and subfloors. Since you are currently in the upper-central floors of the Urban layer, you can peer both up and down into the residential districts, above the lives of people and under their feet. You used to do this when you were younger; it was always a treat to see the City's shifting skylines when you were safe.

If people can go mothing, a moth can go people-watching. So you peer through the binoculars and start watching.

And so on.

The hostess of the cafe keeps flitting around and asking too many questions, like the busy bee she is. "How're you doing?" and "did you like the coffee?" M Company women annoy you to no end. But you like the owner of this cafe and the bartender is a good fellow, so you just politely push on her face to make her go away.

She runs away crying, betrayed by a similar-smelling "friend," but that's better than getting her blood on the nice tablecloths.

And so on.

Two men stagger out of a nearby bar, fighting all the while. Without fail, a random woman starts screaming like an alarm clock. You reach for Big Iron, but the words of SILVER echo in your head.

Jesus. She's not even slightly involved, or at any risk, but she's been screaming for several minutes now, long after the two were scared off by the pursuing cop...

And so on.

A man in a gray gas mask hands his fellow City dweller a few dollar bills before walking away. The hobo throws the money on the ground, hissing at it like he was burned.

And so on.

Looks like Public Safety is on the prowl. An entire line of those lanky Hazmat Workers with their bulbous heads and long cloaks goes marching round the block.

"Keep your City clean," so say the recycling signs. Or PS will, you add. Don't fuck with the Department and they won't fuck with you.

And so on.

A small child runs around with a toy pistol, blasting off a few foam darts. The faint outline of an Officer sneaks up behind him... but only tussles his hair. They talk for a bit. The Spiderman reveals his holster to the kid. You swear you can see sparkles in the kid's eyes afterwards.

And so on.

A woman in a long coat wanders down the street. Something small, black, and many-legged is kept close to her chest. She cradles it like it was her own child.

And so on.

A young man is showing off his cool and new butterfly knife to the girl he's talking to. He does his best to attempt a badass knife trick. He fucks it, cutting himself and dropping it to the ground. The girl laughs. So do you.

And so–

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>>5795064

File: NH OCEP goons.jpg (350 KB, 2022x2777)

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(Hyperfun (Slowed + Reverb)) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPwdEWmDzBQ

"Hello!" "Hello, sir!"

Two very identical women are staring at you, armed with smiles and clipboards. You realize, for a moment, that they don't smell like M Company Workers do. Or like sisters. Or anything alive either. No sweat, no body odor, no human pheromones. Just the smell of new clothes and plastic.

It's fucking creepy.

"Hello," you growl with your second voice. They don't seem to react at all.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if I could have a moment of your time, please?" No one else is here by the binoculars at this time of night. She leans in with a finger raised. "My name is Sarah, and I'm a representative from the Organization for Containing Extraordinary Phenomenon, or OCEP. We're working towards creating a safer environment for all of us."

"OCEP is an organization dedicated to understanding and managing extraordinary phenomena." Right lady chimes in. She makes the same gesture with her other hand. "These are unusual and sometimes dangerous events that occur, and we work tirelessly to protect communities like yours from their potential harm."

"We're currently gathering signatures for a petition to raise awareness about the importance of funding for scientific research into these phenomena. By signing this petition, you're supporting the efforts to keep our communities safe and informed. Your signature can make a significant impact!"

"O-Okay? Uh huh? Sounds pretty good? I guess?" You realize they're trying to box you in. No way but through. You hold your hand out and Leftie gives you the petition in question.

There's two boxes of categories. All other signatures except for the owner's, the hostesses', and Ed's are gibberish letters. What the fuck.
>RED
>BLU

>Just stand up and walk away.
>SHOOT THEM IN THE HEAD. Figure things out from there.
>Write-in.

>>5795092
>Write-in.
>"No GRN? No YLW? Not even a PRP? Fucking scam." Scribble out the other signatures.

>>5795095
+1

>>5795092
Support >>5795095

>>5795095

This is correct, supporting

>>5795092
>>SHOOT THEM IN THE HEAD. Figure things out from there.

>>5795095
>+1
I dunno what those letter mean, but sounds funny

>>5795258
GREEN
YELLOW
PURPLE
RETARD

>>5795095
+1

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>"No GRN? No YLW? Not even a PRP? Fucking scam." Scribble out the other signatures.

"Sir, we worked really hard on collecting those signatures..." Leftie starts muttering. Her entire body tenses up and you brace yourself for the tears. If you could scowl, you would.

"Ah, ah. Ah, ah." Rightie can't believe it. She looks at you, then at the petition, then back at you, like you've just murdered her partner.

"So?" You growl. There's that good feeling again, the feeling of dominance over the scene. "Get more signatures."

"Sir, we worked really hard on collecting those signatures..." Leftie repeats, staring at nothing. "Sir, we worked really hard on collecting those signatures..."

"Can you fix her?" you ask Rightie. You're getting riled up again, but the fear and the discomfort keep creeping in, like the taste of a bad cocktail mix.

"Ah. I. Uh. Can you please repeat the question, sir?"

"I just said-"

"Can you please repeat the question, sir?"

You must have flipped the switch for executive functions to OFF. They just keep repeating themselves. Completely bricked. Ah well. You reach into their pockets and start looking for loot. There's nothing on Leftie, nothing on...

There's a small hard paper in Rightie's pocket. It's a business card. There's just a lot of gibberish letters embossed on the malk-white paper like the petition, but the address is left perfectly coherent...

You've kept your cool and a secret is revealed! You acquired the coordinates to an OCEP containment site.

You step away from the binoculars. Those two weirdos can go freeze to death out here, you don't care. All the energy leaves you. You feel extremely tired. You are tired of bothersome women, and from the debriefing with SILVER. You know it is only Company policy, but you cannot resist. You are tired of the day's demands, physical and mental. It must be very late at night, certainly. You flap your wings. It's too cold.

You want a drink. You step into the clean and pleasant café. It is well lighted. The light is very good and very bright, and the bar is polished. The barman is still there. Ed likes to stay late and the old man permits him. For there are those who need a light for the night, those who need the café...

"Ed," you chirp in your real voice. You don't ever snarl at Ed, even if your voice is embarrassing. "The one with the honey, lemon. Warm."

Ed sets down the glass mug and a little metal stirrer. The steam feels good against your face. You unfurl your proboscis and the whiskey burns down the whole length of it, like the sudden recall of the word "irony." You pause. You squeak repeatedly as you laugh.

"Ed."

"Yes, LEAD?"

"I've met a girl. I don't really know her name, but... She smells really nice. Know what? Let me tell you about all the shit I had to deal with today..."

"WITH REGARDS TO MISTER LEAD." SILVER's immaculate handwriting can be read even without your glasses. Just for you (and for any others), he gives the large print treatment. "WE CANNOT GIVE YOU A LEAD FOR YOUR INVESTIGATION TODAY, BUT WE CAN GIVE YOU HELP FOR YOUR SERVICES RENDERED. - S"

Nigger is purring neotenously as you approach, but you walk past in your excitement. Not now, gattino. You undo the neat spidersilk ribbon...

WHAT'S! IN! THE! BOX!!! [What will Control provide during Missions?]
>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)
>A featureless white disc mounted on a five-point harness. (Equipment. Utilizing proprietary Warp-In technology, you will acquire the right tools at the right time while on a Mission. This requires an ACCESS roll every time.)

Now let's see what work the Company has you in mind for... [Select your Mission.]
>Incident in the Sewers. Recover the remains of a Health and Sanitation squad in depths of the Suburban layer.
>Steal a Dead Man's Dreams. Acquire the prototype bionics combative module used in the development of combat Paradigms.
>Nethack. Track down and kill this piece of shit fucking hacker skirting around on the Wirenet.

OR

So what's it going to be then, eh? [EXPERIMENTAL - Post one phrase or image to generate the next mission.]
>Find and kill this target:
>Take this item from a secure location:
>N/A. Just take this and make the Mission yourself, OP.

>>5796095
>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)

LEAD to mission Control, this is your favourite moth speaking.

>Incident in the Sewers. Recover the remains of a Health and Sanitation squad in depths of the Suburban layer.

Just one more job and we get a promotion. Don't want to deal with wacky shit or a hack that can mess with our new toys.

>>5796108
+1, let's take it simple for this post-tutorial mission. After that I wanna do a spicy write-in

>>5796095
>A featureless white disc mounted on a five-point harness. (Equipment. Utilizing proprietary Warp-In technology, you will acquire the right tools at the right time while on a Mission. This requires an ACCESS roll every time.)
>Incident in the Sewers. Recover the remains of a Health and Sanitation squad in depths of the Suburban layer.
those OCEP niggas were weird. Wonder what their whole deal is.

>>5796095
>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)

>Steal a Dead Man's Dreams. Acquire the prototype bionics combative module used in the development of combat Paradigms.

>>5796095
>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)
>Nethack. Track down and kill this piece of shit fucking hacker skirting around on the Wirenet.

>>5796095
>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)
>Nethack. Track down and kill this piece of shit fucking hacker skirting around on the Wirenet.

>>5796095
>A featureless white disc mounted on a five-point harness
>Nethack. Track down and kill this piece of shit fucking hacker skirting around on the Wirenet.

It's a bit ate now, since everyone's voted, but here's another Mission to select.
>Kitty Cat Rescue. Find and return the little girl's lost cat!

>>5796095

>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)

I like the idea of becoming an insane biohacked moth serial killer.

>Incident in the Sewers. Recover the remains of a Health and Sanitation squad in depths of the Suburban layer.

I finally figured out what this quest reminds me of:

https://m.imdb.com/title/tt0119675/

>>5796095
>A small vial marked with a large biohazard warning and a greenish fluid inside. (Information. Utilizing the symbiotic Informant organism, you will be able to communicate with Control at any time in the field. This does NOT require an ACCESS roll.)

>Steal a Dead Man's Dreams. Acquire the prototype bionics combative module used in the development of combat Paradigms.

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You inspect the vial. Even though it seems to be filled with that puke-green fluid, it feels a little heavier than it should. The enclosed instructions book looks intimidating in its distressingly dense font, but SILVER has helpfully written his own summary in red pen:

"Ether Solutions Has a Solution Just For You
Type HCV19 "ORACLE" and Informant Communications Manual:"

"WITH REGARDS TO MISTER LEAD. 1. TAKE YOUR MEDS. 2. WAIT FIVE MINUTES. 3. SPLASH VIAL UPON NECK. 4. WAIT UNTIL THE INFORMANT GETS SETTLED, HE WILL KNOW WHERE TO GO. 5. REPORT TO CONTROL FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. -S".

...

You were busy playing with lil' Nigger when you saw the microphone in the corner of your eyes. You put down your magcat ("Mrow?") and check yourself in the mirror. There's a radio headset growing out from under your head, just above the thorax. There's no pain or discomfort where it's sprouting out. It might as well been there since you matured. Tapping on the microphone produces a little feedback in your right side.

Huh.

You press the PTT button and speak. "Control, this is Agent LEAD. Control, do you copy?"

"Agent LEAD, this is Officer SILVER." His voice comes through, clear as night. "Let's review the Mission."