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You are the young Mercenary-Gentleman Browning and you've been hired for a job to ambush a truck at a stopping point in the capital of Albion, London, and prevent it from crossing the Wall. But before you get there, you take off your saggy cap from your head, the pipe in your mouth and bow to Dorothy, “Allow me to drive, Miss Dorothy.”

It takes her a second to realize it's the same person from the casino catastrophe, “You!” She turns to her partner with a frown, “Where you the one that took some of our funds?”

Ange's face is calm as she asserts, “It was an investment. Here.” She scooches over and pats a little room she made to the reddening Dorothy.

“Fine! You better write it down that you spent the money and not me.” Once Dorothy is out of the Driver's seat, well, as much as she can, you take up the spot and drive off to your destination. “Ange, did you at least tell him of the plan?”

“No, I didn't need to. He's the one that came up with it in the first place.”

“Huh?” She turns her head to you then back at Ange, then once more to you, “You knew where they would stop at? How?”

You merge onto the highway when you bring a finger to near your mouth. “Somethings are better left unknown, Miss Dorothy. May I say you, Miss Ange and Miss Chise are looking well after the casino.” Your words catch Dorothy and Chise off guard as they think of comeback while Stephanie and Sophie keep quiet.

“Ah! Yeah, you're looking quite... different.” Dorothy describes your unattractive fashion choice.

You retort with, “Sometimes it's good to be nobody in the slums. By the way, this car can drive longer than two hours, yes?”

“Of course. I may not look it, but I can take care of my car well enough. So, what's in the bag?”

“Flowers for everybody.” You lie knowing it'll be found out.

Ange and Dorothy counter in harmony, “Liar.” You grin and continue on driving to the destination.

Cont.
>>
>>1934367

You arrive at 1:01 PM, two blocks away from the gangster's little lair in one of the slums sections of the city. Barely anyone is outside on the streets, many less in the crumbling homes held up by the steam pipes and outer reinforcements. That if not your concern though. What matters is how to steal a truck from armed gangsters and not get killed in the process. They'll be here in less than twenty minutes.

As you all sit in the car, Dorothy starts the briefing, “Okay, we know the convoy will be guarded by six people in total. Two in each car. According to this, they'll exchange two of their cars for an armored one. Now, some blocks down, there's a small bridge, we can ambush them there. Sophie, Stephanie, you two will deal with disabling the armored car and their people. Ange, Chise, make sure the truck doesn't drive away but don't disable it, we need it intact. Mr. Brown, you'll be the driver once we've secured the truck. Okay?”

You...

>Have a revelation! There are only three guards at the compound! Only three and one of them is taking a nap inside with three innocent mechanics. You could use take the compound, then ambush the truck and its people safely inside. Why didn't you think of it before? Because you were insane and high at the same time.
>Nod. If you need to adapt to unforeseen circumstances, you will. But that shouldn't happen.
>Suggest that you take the attack on the truck. You want to test out Hellsing on the enemy. And that way you're closer to the truck when you hijack it.
>Ask to scout out the compound, it might be wise to see how fast their response time is. If they know an ambush is in play.
>>
>>1934372
>Have a revelation! There are only three guards at the compound! Only three and one of them is taking a nap inside with three innocent mechanics. You could use take the compound, then ambush the truck and its people safely inside. Why didn't you think of it before? Because you were insane and high at the same time.
>>
>>1934372
>Ask to scout out the compound, it might be wise to see how fast their response time is. If they know an ambush is in play.
>>
A tie
1. Go crazy
2. Scout
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>1934824
>>
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>>1934372

As you think about the plan Dorothy came up with, the second you toss out the burnt grains in your pipe to the street, your mind's thoughts just stop.

---

Penny for a thought?
Do you want to play a game?
If I say blue, do you say red?
Do you like the color blue?
Have you seen Mr. Roboto?
What is the color of madness?
Everything is fine, just fine, right?
Do you know the definition of madness?

UNDENIABLE. THERE ARE SIX PERFECTLY FINE VICTIMS, ADD ANOTHER SIX AND THAT'S TWELVE. TWELVE PEOPLE TO KILL. TWELVE TO STEAL BACK WHAT IS YOUR RIGHT!

GET OUT OF THE CAR. WALK. OPEN THE DAMN BAG. GET THE PIPE IN THERE AND GET THE HELLSING. HELLSING SHALL SING.

Loud//thunder//heard.

SSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. KEEP WALKING. NO EYES. COVER YOUR FACE. BROWN SCARF. KEEP WALKING. PAVEMENT IS A COMPOSITE TYPE.

Gory, Gory, Gory, what a horrible way to die.

THIS ALLEY! RIGHT. GO RIGHT. BEHIND IS DEATH. CRATES TO CLIMB. CLIMB AND KILL! CLIMB AND KILL! KILL KILL KILL KILL. CLIMB FOR GLORY! MISSION ACCOMPLISHED!

NOW....

---

>Roll 1d100
>Or be free. Write-in. Write in all CAPS.
>>
Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>1934948
I honestly had no idea that was a "go crazy" option. I regret my decision now.
>>
Rolled 41 (1d100)

>>1934948
>>
Rolled 20 (1d100)

>>1934948
>>
>>1934948
>>
Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>1935275
Let's try that again.
>>
Rolled 35 (1d100)

>>1934948
>>
>>1934948

TRANSMISSION CUT. Rerouting battlefield control, standby.

Your body returns to your control, the sounds of hissing steam from the houses, the feel of wood in your palm, some boys grumbling over the wall, and you finally wake up as you about to climb on the stack of crates to ambush the two guards outside the compound. Your grip is firm so you're able to let yourself down without much noise as Ange comes from behind you with catlike silence.

Before you go to her, you open up your smoke case and pick one of the cigarettes whole and toss it in your mouth, then moving it to one side of your cheek to suck on the bitter taste of the combination leaves.

Hopefully, it'll keep the madness away for a time, that's all you really need for now. Ange is silence but judging while you come to her. You opt to hand signal her what you can recall from before, the two guards outside you'll eliminate and she or someone can deal with the lone guard and innocents inside after you get the iron gate open.

Ange understands your intent, somehow, but you're happy enough as she turns around and leaves you to do some dirty business in peace. Slowly, you climb up to get over the wall and find the feet of the lookouts under a tin roof. Over at the building, there's no one at the windows.

You're clear for now. One deep breath and you vault over the wall with Hellsing ready. On hitting the floor, the sound gets the attention of the closest man. From your crouched position, you snapshot an arrow at his head then another at his companion. There no words utter from the two as you run past their collapsing bodies for the gate, watching the station closely.

You lift the iron bar lock from its lock hold, next lifting the right gate as you move back to quietly open it enough for Chise and Ange to rush past. They're in and all is quiet inside for a long minute. You keep waiting at the gate, watching both the outside and the building, noting that Dorothy, Sophie, and Steph come in cautiously with their items right as Chise and Ange come on out.

“We've knocked out everyone inside. You were right, they were only a guard and three mechanics.” Ange announces to all but mostly directed to you.

“Seriously? Ah, then I guess we own this place now.” Dorothy scans the scrapyard of a depot, and see the aftermath of your dealings with the outer guards with a pause.

“So what should we do with the men?” Chise asks a good question.

>Just tie them up and leave them in a locked room. First, the convoy needs to be dealt with. Your voices had a plan....
>Tie up the mechanics and toss them out to one of the alleys, leaving some coin purses and a note saying 'Don't come back'. That should deal with them. For the guard, well, he's a murderer so execute him.
>KILL THEM ALL. NO MERCY. NO WITNESSES. No Irish English.
>Let them go by tossing them out into one of the trash piles away from the compound.
>>
>>1936022
>KILL THEM ALL. NO MERCY. NO WITNESSES. No Irish English.
There all in on it

The girls need to atart wearing masks or someting
>>
>>1936022
>>Just tie them up and leave them in a locked room. First, the convoy needs to be dealt with. Your voices had a plan....

>>1936102
I think we've listened to the voices enough for tonight. Besides, a good smack to the head might cause some amnesia but I would not count on it.
>>
>>1936022
>Just tie them up and leave them in a locked room. First, the convoy needs to be dealt with. Your voices had a plan....
>>
>>1936022

“Tie them up and leave them in a locked room. We need to deal with the convoy.” You notice the bleeding corpses in the shadows beside the car, knowing you'll have to move them. “I'll play the gatekeeper, you ladies find some place to ambush them, and I need a distraction that'll make them focus on the building. A sound, or something. Go.” You get a drab brown and green scarf from your bag and wrap it on your face as you begin moving the bodies.

“That's, uh-” Dorothy doesn't finish her words as Ange begins taking charge.

“Stephanie, second floor. Sophie, can you wire the phone inside to ring on its own?”

Sophie smirks and begins walking to the station with Steph, “Too easy for me, but I'll do it.”

“Have the flash bombs ready. Chise, you can charge them from those wreck cars after you hear the bombs go off. Dorothy... you can watch the prisoners.”

“I understand!” Towing her sword, Chise goes to her assigned spot as you've finished freeing the arrows from the guards' skulls.

“Ange, you understand him?” Dorothy inquires even though you're right next to her now.

“No, I'm following the second half of the plan.” She brings out a piece of paper before putting it back and jogging to the station for her position.

“Oh, why aren't you telling me this now!? Hah-” The busty girl turns her head to you and reddens, “-Uh no offense to you.” You gesture her to the garage and go to your position. Soon, the enemy will come. You hide Hellsing in a nearby cut up barrel drum by the armored car before you forget that nobody has this thing, and possibly never will.

On the money, the madness was right about the convoy coming in at 1:19 PM. With your horrible clothing and scarf hiding your face, you were able to direct them through the gate and into the compound without trouble or opposition.

“Oh, finally. Free from that car!”
“Ahh, can't wait to go home.”
“Another hour to go. Let's get this stupid truck fueled and ready people!”
“God, I need a good drink.”
“Here's a smoke then.”

You see at least three men got out of their automobiles. It's time...

Roll 1d100
>>
Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>1936810
>>
Rolled 51 (1d100)

>>1936810
>>
>>1936810

For certain their eyes aren't focusing on you. A mistake on their part. You take back Hellsing to your arms and begin moving behind the first car on the left. The tired but jolly men then catch the noise of the telephone from inside and turn to it.

A flash... flash.... flash? There's no blinding bomb going off! A change of plans then. You run in between the first car and truck, getting right close to the two and shooting both in the head.

“WHAT THE FUCK!?” The guard yells out and tries reaching for his sidearm but you stop him with a throat hit. He gargles on the floor as you sweep right to the readying men and miss your first shot in between the two guys there. The arrow passes through the front glass and into the rear window.

“Fucking ambush! Traitor!” One of them fires in the air and you run back to the rear of the truck to get a new position. Another man screams as you make around the corner then you get sprayed by a bunch metal and wood, twice in short succession. Your left arm and sides are numbed as hell but you can see bruises on your hand and blood dripping.

Two rapid pops from the depot cause your attackers to collapse and that should be all of them. “Clear,” Ange says as she comes out.

On the other hand, you slide to the ground and check for pierces in your soft body armor but there's none, thankfully. There is, however, a 'small' cut on your upper forearm. Today isn't your day is it?

Chise comes from her section and finds you in your sorry state. “Browning! You're hurt!?”

You force your numbed side to stand and you do so with some pain coming. “It's minor. W-we need to deal with other issues.” You limp over the Ange and the others, some more concerned than others about seeing you.

"Browning! Your arm!" Dorothy comes closer as you lean against one of the walls.

“You okay?” Ange asks vacantly.

“Fine. Go... find your thing.” You point to the truck using Hellsing. “It's... under the driver's seat.”

She nods and runs to the truck. As for you...

>You've done your job. They don't actually need the truck. Get paid and tell them to go. You're staying here for unfinished business with the owners.
>You need to tend to your wounds. At least get a stiff drink cause the pain is damn hurting and annoying. Uh, you can't drive one handed. Dammit.
>Grab your arrows and get in the truck and drive. You can sort of bandage yourself and drive to the drop off location. The captured people, Ange can see to them.
>Sometimes, the body has to just pass out from the combination of pain, madness, and drugs.
>Write-in.
>>
>>1937372
>>Grab your arrows and get in the truck and drive. You can sort of bandage yourself and drive to the drop off location. The captured people, Ange can see to them.
>>
>Grab your arrows and get in the truck and drive. You can sort of bandage yourself and drive to the drop off location. The captured people, Ange can see to them.
>>
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>>1937372

You suck some air in, straighten your posture, get your pipe lit and get your ass moving to where your arrows are at. You're not out the door when Dorothy stops with a good push towards a bench. “Are you an idiot!? You're hurt!”

You take off the sling on your pneumatic revolver rifle and use it as a makeshift compress on your wound, “It's only a scratch, Miss Dorothy. And the longer we stay here the more trouble we'll attract.” You open and close your left hand, finding it good enough even with the burning sensation and incoming pain. “Let's leave before the police or more gangsters come.”

You vault over one of the large broken windows and get to picking your ammo from the dead. “Have it your way then.”

“Dorothy, is this what they say, a stiff upper lip?” Chise asks loudly as they return to their vehicle.

“No, it's called being an idiot.”

One after another, you push or pull out the arrows with some effort, being sure to pick up the weapons and other items before you get to the driver's seat. Ange, interestingly enough, has taken the passenger's seat. Neither she or you say anything and you take the truck out on the road, beginning your easy journey to the rendezvous point.

---

A good hour passes until you arrive at a plaza that is the location of the drop. “We're here.” You say, shutting the truck down and relaxing for a moment and massaging your wounds.

“Indeed.” The sound of a revolver smoothly exiting a holster is too slow of an indicator when Ange aims her weapon at you.

You did not see this coming.

>Say nothing, do nothing, except breathe. If she makes commands, you'll follow them. If she interrogates you, well, you'll think on it.
>”It's easier to pull the trigger if you cock the hammer back.” You really, really, really, do not care if you lose your life. An old, bitter personality comes in force. One that is more or less a sociopath from your younger years.
>Looks like negotiations have broken down. Time to exit the truck and RUN.
>Write-in.
>>
>>1938072
>>”It's easier to pull the trigger if you cock the hammer back.” Take a long draw on your pipe, glare at her with your good eye... "Go to hell." Unmask your other eye.
>>
>>1938072
>”It's easier to pull the trigger if you cock the hammer back.” You really, really, really, do not care if you lose your life. An old, bitter personality comes in force. One that is more or less a sociopath from your younger years.
>>
>>1938072
>>”It's easier to pull the trigger if you cock the hammer back.” You really, really, really, do not care if you lose your life. An old, bitter personality comes in force. One that is more or less a sociopath from your younger years.
>>
>>1938072
”It's easier to pull the trigger if you cock the hammer back.” You really, really, really, do not care if you lose your life. An old, bitter personality comes in force. One that is more or less a sociopath from your younger years.

Take a long draw on your pipe
>>
>>1938072

You hold your pipe, taking a long draw while dispassionately returning her glare. Hold it, hold it, and out comes the smoke, going away from the girl. You still have some class in you. But that gentlemanly persona is pushed aside, pushed far away, that voice can be quiet now.

“It's easier to pull the trigger if you cock the hammer back.” You mention due to the nature of double action triggers messing with a person's aim.

Her hand's don't waver as she follows your advice, cocking her automatic Webley still trained to you. “Did you know what's in the package?”

A small grin comes to your mouth, “I know many things. The voices don't shut up sometimes. Such is madness.”

“What is your mission?”

That's almost insulting to you and you frown, “To deliver the package to you so you can do whatever you wish with it. Is that not we agreed to? That is all, Miss Ange. I have no need for your stuff, neither you, mine. Miss Dorothy is calling.”

Dorothy takes a few steps to the truck when she shouts, “Ange! Come on! Let's leave the package and go!”

For a second she looks away, that's when you slowly bring your open left hand to her and get rewarded by the barrel pushing against your head. “Pay me.” The pressure of the cool metal on your forehead is lifted as Ange moves away from you, her facade chip just a little bit. “I did my completed my job. Now, will you be a good employer or a bad one? I do not have all day to wait.”

“Ange!” Dorothy yells once more.

“And neither do you.” Your forehead is smacked by another cold metal thing for Ange threw your sovereign as she exited the vehicle with her items in tow. “Good night, Miss Ange.” She slams the door shut and walks to her peers.

You hit the ignition, gear it in reverse and leave the way you came, hearing several different tunes of another time.

>Go home. Sleep. Return to being a Gentleman Mercenary.
>It's night time. You hunger for a decent fight. A big one. Something that'll be more exciting than a gun pointing at you. How about someone trying to kill you? Those gangsters that are being a problem, for you and supposedly the city. Not so good for Continental business. Time for a change in order.
>Night is a good time for a job. An assassination one. Let see what's paying.
>Return home and sort out the stolen items, maybe there's something valuable to keep. At least properly recuperate your body's injuries and decide what to do tonight then.
>>
>>1941351
>>Night is a good time for a job. An assassination one. Let see what's paying.
>>
>>1941351
>Night is a good time for a job. An assassination one. Let see what's paying.
>>
>>1941351

What sounds exciting tonight? Assassination! You come home late, park the truck in one of the lots with room and enter the basement. Instead of taking the armory hallway, you go to the office section partitioned with the Bakery's legitimate supply room.

Going inside, the desks are empty, the wires are closed and sheets and sheets of paper all over the room. Tacked to walls, stacked on desks, some are even on the floor. Messy, messy, these workers. But most important that requires your attention is the job board.

Not the normal one, the higher risk one.

What, oh what, is paying well?

>'Hey, I need this dog killed. Not a real dog but this fuckinggiant bodyman. His head needs to be cut off and fucking thrown at motherfucker Sergey. FUCK HIM. FUCK THEM BOTH. FUCK ANYONE THAT'S NOT US. I need a point that this guy can't come to our territory like he owns the place.' The rest is written in swearing Russian but it has the details. Seems like an easy mission, given the really shitty apartment the guy owns. Moderate amount of pay, with a bonus for taking a picture, you're not sure how that's going work since you don't have one.
>A Kingdom request, there's been a known mole in the Albion army. He needs to go, quietly if possible. Death for certain, quietly is secondary. Moderate pay, bonus for getting rid of the body, a larger one for finding info on the employer or delivering the corpse to a certain place.
>Local police require help. A kidnapper has taken at least three children/adolescents, leaving a calling card of a ripped teddy bear head at the location of a disappearance. A patrol with a lead went to a certain building but never reported back. When another came, they found the calling card at the door. Low pay, given the police's budget but there may be other non-tangible rewards.
>'Seruously, this gang is aproblem. Them new fellows from Germany are cutting in on our jobs, our customers, and making a wreck of our guys. Not okay, so they gotta go. The head has got to go. Heard tonight he's drinking at the docks with some friends at a bar. You do this for me, I'll put a good word on Miss's about that.' Low pay.
>These sound BORING. Where's the one to cause big trouble? Like robbing a bank, stealing an airship, ohh, stealing a plane, a non-Cavorite one at that.
>>
>>1941843
>>'Seruously, this gang is aproblem. Them new fellows from Germany are cutting in on our jobs, our customers, and making a wreck of our guys. Not okay, so they gotta go. The head has got to go. Heard tonight he's drinking at the docks with some friends at a bar. You do this for me, I'll put a good word on Miss's about that.' Low pay.

Damn Huns...
>>
>>1941843

>A Kingdom request, there's been a known mole in the Albion army. He needs to go, quietly if possible. Death for certain, quietly is secondary. Moderate pay, bonus for getting rid of the body, a larger one for finding info on the employer or delivering the corpse to a certain place.
>>
>>1941843
>>A Kingdom request, there's been a known mole in the Albion army. He needs to go, quietly if possible. Death for certain, quietly is secondary. Moderate pay, bonus for getting rid of the body, a larger one for finding info on the employer or delivering the corpse to a certain place.
>>
>>1941843
>Local police require help. A kidnapper has taken at least three children/adolescents, leaving a calling card of a ripped teddy bear head at the location of a disappearance. A patrol with a lead went to a certain building but never reported back. When another came, they found the calling card at the door. Low pay, given the police's budget but there may be other non-tangible rewards.
>>
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>>1941843

You pick up the page detailing the Kingdom's request, “Corporal Amando, rifleman,” Skipping the boring info, you get to the more important aspects, “Frequents a bar, a brothel, the eastern docks in general when on leave. Believed to be a spy, currently on leave and has a possibility of meeting his handler. Do not kill the handler, only eliminate Amando and any others that get in the way.” Also, there's a picture of his facial features is here. Brown skin, hair, eyes, no mustaches or beards growing.

It's nighttime and a soldier is out on leave, what the hell wouldn't he be out doing you oh so wonder? You roll up the page and light it on fire over the fire pit, having committed to memory all you needed to know. This contract has been accepted.

---

A boat bell chimes by the Thames river as you walk over one of the many stone bridges as the air of coal, water, and machinery reach your nose. You hold close your bag containing your secret weapon, should you need it that is.

There are a few people, mostly workers, out on the street doing their nightlife to the fullest, drinking, whoring, gambling, getting shanked in an alley... it's not your target so you keep on walking by. A few children with fast hands get close, but on seeing your wide, mischievous grin every time one comes close, they always back away in fear and have altogether left you alone.

Now, where's Amando? Not at the bar, that's been unfortunately been smashed and has closed it's doors, maybe forever. Sweeping the docks reveals nothing of value. So, he must be in his barracks or the brothel, of course, he's in the brothel cause when you get on the street of one, you see him walking inside with some others.

Oh boy, witnesses. Well, you can think of something good. Or bad.

>Stakeout the joint and ambush him when he leaves. He's not expecting an ambush now, is he? When he's alone, ask for a light for your pipe. Then put an arrow through his head.
>Bribe the Mistress to allow you to come inside and do your dirty work. You'll clean up, of course. You need that body and you'll promise not to scare the girls.
>Fly to the roof across the whorehouse and find him in one of the room. Preferably alone but you aren't going waste time in not putting a bullet in him.
>Find his room, fly up to it, get his attention by the window and throw him out of it. If he's not dead from the fall, depending on the stories he fell, you'll knock him out and take him to the location. Hey, if they really want him dead, you'll kill him right then and there.
>>
>>1943645
>>Stakeout the joint and ambush him when he leaves. He's not expecting an ambush now, is he? When he's alone, ask for a light for your pipe. Then put an arrow through his head.
>>
>>1943645
>>Stakeout the joint and ambush him when he leaves. He's not expecting an ambush now, is he? When he's alone, ask for a light for your pipe. Then put an arrow through his head.

Or a shiv in his neck. Or a garotte.
>>
>>1943645
>>Stakeout the joint and ambush him when he leaves. He's not expecting an ambush now, is he? When he's alone, ask for a light for your pipe. Then put an arrow through his head.

We can tie him up with some rope and rocks then dump the body in the river for an extra.

Or if anybody wants the larger reward abduct him first and find info on his employer
>>
>>1943645

Choosing the waiting approach, you get to your car and park it in a nearby alley to make a quick escape with or without the body. Preferably with, you like completing things in full. You find a concealed spot and wait it out. What's in the newspaper today?

Emperor of Germania, Wilhelm II, set to build a railway to the Ottomans. Boring.

Stocks, don't care much for at the moment.

Cavorite poisoning on the rise. Treatments don't work?

Marcism on the rise in Russia? That should be Marxism.

Oh, local recipes for making soup! Clam chowder from the colonists huh?

One hour becomes two, people leave but not him. Man, he's really humping the ladies in there or is one of those different fellas that only talks to the girls. It's not your thing to pry, as it helpfully clears the area of all persons as by the time he comes walking out.

Sneakingly, you walk to his side of the street, pretending to find your matches. When he comes close with a light smoke you put on your modest persona, “Oh, bells. Excuse me, good man. Could you spare a light? I can't seem to find mine.”

He doesn't look remotely agitated or tired as you come to him with your excuse, “No problem. Here.”

Oh, poor boy. You let him light your pipe using a match and go on to your separate ways. That is until you turn around and pull a garrote over his neck along with your bag's sling. The sling gets over his mouth, right where you wanted it to be, the wire is the same. Pulling hard, you twist and yank him over your back to keep him off balance. He's not a weighty person and in a manner of some long seconds, you feel his body stop struggling and his muscles loosen up.

Shame, he didn't put up more than a fight. He's barely breathing when you choke pull him to the car and put him in the rear all tied up and gagged. Your job is almost done. You could have gone with shooting his face, but that would have been messy. Now, he's neat and clean when he dies.

>Throw him over the Thames, gagged, choked, and in a heavy barrel. Secretly, of course.
>Deliver to him, live, to the location where you're supposed to deliver his body. Hey, maybe there's more money if he lives.
>Finish his suffering of life and get his body to the drop point. Get paid. Maybe find another job. This isn't enough.
>>
>>1943958
>>Deliver to him, live, to the location where you're supposed to deliver his body. Hey, maybe there's more money if he lives.

Interrogate him first for his employer's details before finishing him.
>>
>>1943958
>>Deliver to him, live, to the location where you're supposed to deliver his body. Hey, maybe there's more money if he lives.
>>
>>1943958
>>Deliver to him, live, to the location where you're supposed to deliver his body. Hey, maybe there's more money if he lives.
>>
>>1943958
>>Deliver to him, live, to the location where you're supposed to deliver his body. Hey, maybe there's more money if he lives.
>>
>>1943958
>>Deliver to him, live, to the location where you're supposed to deliver his body. Hey, maybe there's more money if he lives.
>>
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>>1943958
On the decision on letting him live his life a little more longer, you head out to the finer, more, cleaner side of London. The roads are cleaner, the air is more natural comparatively, and there's a lot of officers out. While none of them stop you, their faces are generally twitchy and their posture shows their nervousness.

You come to a large, secured manor, lights beaming from all of the windows and with many of guests going about inside and out. As you come to the opened gate, the guards there stop you, “Halt! State your business.”

“Delivery for the Duke. One not for the guests.” You answer back to the dismay on the men.

“Take the path on the left and follow it until you reach the second side door. It'll be the middle one. Stay there until someone comes.” You affirm the info back and follow the instructions as he makes a phone call.

At the point, you relax and look at the large, well carved double doors leading to the manor's lower floors. That is until a soldier comes out and beckons you to come inside. He leads you to a room upstairs, one with a desk and other objects of value and tells you to stay there. When he closes his door, the one partially hidden behind a bookcase opens up and a tanned woman veiled in black from head to toe enters.

“Good evening. You had business with the Duke?”

“Delivery. Someone called Amando.” You also add, “He's in breathing condition.”

“Oh? Is he now?” Her voice and body don't change on hearing the news.

“I suppose, that maybe, your country would like to, question his loyalties in private.”

“Please, wait here. Go ahead and sit.” She motions to the chair across the desk.

“I'll stand, thank you.” With a bow, she leaves and you stay at the ready. A glimpse of a later time shows nothing of hostile nature, but you're on alert should it be wrong. Music is playing upstairs, along with laughter, thumps, and the sentries outside talking about food from Scotland.

The door opening grabs your attention as the figure comes back, holding three coin bags in her hands, one of moderate size, a small and smaller one. “The Lord is most pleased. As such, a small bonus will be paid for doing what most would not. Mr.?”

“We don't need to share our names, ma'am.” You hold up your hand for the coins to be tossed. Indeed, she tosses them with great vigor but you catch them all and check the amounts. A job well paid, if boring.

“Ah, I should mention we'll need to keep the car. Another will be prepared for you, so do not worry. In fact, the Lord has an opening that needs filling. Would you be interested in being the first in applying?”

>”No.” Get your new car and leave. Time to go home.
>”If I say yes, what happens?” This job paid well enough, will the next be more and perchance, a challenge?
>”No. And I'll walk home.” You just want to walk/fly home and maybe do something illegal.
>Write-in.
>>
>>1944235
>>”If I say yes, what happens?” This job paid well enough, will the next be more and perchance, a challenge?
>>
>>1944235
>>”If I say yes, what happens?” This job paid well enough, will the next be more and perchance, a challenge?
>>
>>1944235
>>”If I say yes, what happens?” This job paid well enough, will the next be more and perchance, a challenge?
>>
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>>1944235

“If I say yes, what happens?” You're in the mood for more work, one that pays well. Hopefully, a little more challenging.

“Then you'll need a change of clothes. Those will not suffice in your next job.”

“Come again?

---

You look yourself in the mirror, all suited up in matching black coat and pants, a fancy red necktie, your still together silk layers underneath it all, and some brown loafers. It's a good fit, but since it's a good fit, you're not able to be flexible in a hot environment. Well, you did want a challenge.

“Looks like you're ready. Come with me.” The veiled lady leads you further into the mansion, down some brightly lit hallways. You ears hear some guests having some private time in some of the rooms, with sparse waiters, maids, and guards roaming around.

Soon enough, she stops to knock on a door that's answered with a swift, older man's voice, “Enter.”

“The Duke will see you.” She opens the way for you to enter a library where an elderly man in fine clothes, wearing a pair of square glasses awaits you. You recognize him as the Duke of Normandy easily, the head of the Kingdom of Albion's home security, meaning spies and other things.

“Welcome, dear guest. You were the one who delivered the traitor to us alive. Most impressive, Mr.?”

Your minor annoyance for pleasantry gets to you to some degree, “Duke of Normandy, you had another job. Tell me.”

What little facade of manners goes away and his posture is stiffer and commanding as it should be, “Hm, leave us Gazelle.”

The girl acts quite shock on hearing the command, “Your lordship?”

“It's fine. Stay outside.”

“Yes...” The door closes and you're in the Duke's domain.

“Have a seat. Help yourself to a drink if you wish.”

You shake your head and stay near the door, “I'm fine where I am.”

“So be it.” He says neither annoyed or agitated, “I have a spying job, one that pays well and is long term. However, you'll need to pledge allegiance to the Kingdom and I understand that's a high order for a mercenary. I do have another job, one that more suited for a mercenary. It's not a high paying job, but I need a movable guard. You'll be going to boring places that may not be so boring if others had a say about it.”

“Heh, sounds like a mixed bag, Anything else?”

“I do have one more. But come closer.” You do take a few steps away from the door and the Duke takes the rest. “A bank robbery in Germania.” Now that is something! “If you don't find any of them appealing, then I can assume we have a good silence on the matter?”

Cont.
>>
>>1944970

You let out a short chuckle, of course you know of client privacy, “I didn't understand a word you said the past ten minutes, ser Duke. I fear I may have been too drunk to comprehend words, letters, and so on and so forth.”

“Hm, I see. Then should you change your mind, you are welcome to send a message. That does remind me, I do need of another guard for tonight. An assassin had left a note saying he would attack this manor during this party. Though I think it's a false threat, the Queen herself and those that know are concerned. I need an experienced man nearby in the room should an attack be real.”

“Sounds like a problem that needs to be solved.”

“It's on the table should you choose. Have you come to a decision?”

>Spying sounds fun and boring at the same time. Let's do that! You've done none of the spying stuff down but when it comes to war, oh, you know what you can do.
>Guard duty, dull, might be interesting if he does move you around or some action happens. It does give you an insight of London from the inside.
>Bank robbery. IN. GERMANIA. Fucking bloody metal, you are so going to do some international trouble.
>Just for tonight, be a guard. Not like you have anything better to do.
>”Have a good night, Duke.” Nope. Going home.
>>
>>1944978
>>Bank robbery. IN. GERMANIA. Fucking bloody metal, you are so going to do some international trouble.
>>
>>1944978
Ask if you can do both

>Just for tonight, be a guard. Not like you have anything better to do.

>Bank robbery. IN. GERMANIA. Fucking bloody metal, you are so going to do some international trouble.
>>
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>>1944978
Germania, heh, that sounds like a fun vacation. “Germania. That one. I'll also take tonight's job of a guard. Not like you need me to go over the channel overnight, ya?”

For a moment, he grins before dialing it back, “I'll have the preparations in order by this week, be free until then. And doing the guard job as well, a most admirable work ethic. Gazelle!” From behind, the woman returns silently, “Inform the guards of our new addition. Tonight, we have another man on duty.”

“Yes, my lord. Come.” She addresses you but in return, you wag your finger at her when you turn around.

“Ah, ah, ah, I need my tools of the trade. And yes, I need to return to the car for only a moment. And I'll be right back. No need to escort me, I can find my way. Until next time, Duke and Miss.” You bow to your employer and walk out of the room to regain your things. The voices, they try to speak yet you silence them. No, not now. Later, and only when you need to.

Bastards.
--
With Hellsing and your other stored items on your person hidden in a rucksack, your patrol of the interior is uneventful, as you predicted without the madness telling. Still, you get a feel of the large estate. It's not particularly special from others ones, in fact, it's possibly blander than others, like it's only made for the purpose of entertaining others than the homeowner. Red carpet, engraved things, electric lights, tea, maids, butlers.

The carvings and designs, all are common if one knows art. Not you though, you learned that from another source. Moving on, walking in the halls takes ten minutes going at a fast pace. Eventually, you end up near the ballroom entrance. You see and then nod at the butler waiting and observing the room and out prior to entering through the door.

A slow melody of violins, flutes, etc. is played by the musician, to act as a buffer noise so people can speak somewhat privately. As for the biggest surprise, you spot the royal family and nobles mingling far away and to your immediate presence are the fourth Princess and her entourage.

And they see you as you see them. “Ah, Mr. Browning, what a surprise! How are you this evening?” The Princess is delighted to meet you again, while Ange and Dorothy are not entirely sure what to do in your presence. They could not act awkward and let their friends know there's something up, except you and them contribute to the issue by being silent. “Eh? Is something wrong?”

>”There was that time Ange pulled a gun on me. That wasn't very nice. Goodbye.” You walk over to the Queen's escorts and stay there until something interesting happens. Excommunicate with the Princess's posse for the time being.
>”Ah, earlier we... hung out, your Highness.” Try, really try, not to be weird and be as cordial to them. This probably won't end well.
>Smile, give the Princess a wave and go get a stiff drink. You will need something in you. That and food. Something edible, please.
>Write-in.
>>
>>1945890
>”There was that time Ange pulled a gun on me. That wasn't very nice. Goodbye.” You walk over to the Queen's escorts and stay there until something interesting happens. Excommunicate with the Princess's posse for the time being.
>>
>>1945890
>>”There was that time Ange pulled a gun on me. That wasn't very nice. Goodbye.” You walk over to the Queen's escorts and stay there until something interesting happens. Excommunicate with the Princess's posse for the time being.
>>
>>1945890
>Smile, give the Princess a wave and go get a stiff drink. You will need something in you. That and food. Something edible, please.
>>
>>1945890

>"Hello, your Highness, I am well. However, Ange and I had something of a tiff earlier, and I fear it is still fresh for us both. Excuse me for a second, please, I'm famished. We'll speak again before long."
>>
>>1945890
>>”Ah, earlier we... hung out, your Highness.” Try, really try, not to be weird and be as cordial to them. This probably won't end well.
>>
>>1945026
>>1945202
We're going to show the bloody Huns what for! We're the VICTORIAN STEAMPUNK TRANSPORTER!
>>
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>>1945890
Rubbing the back of your neck in part embarrassment, you speak loud enough that only they can hear, “There was that time Ange pulled a gun on me. That wasn't very nice. Goodbye... ladies.” You evacuate from the group's circle and make way to the Queen's royal escorts. At first, they're overprotective, less so when you mention the Duke hired you as another eye, but not by much. Only by being quiet and taking the position on the wall for five minutes gets them to stop eyeing you every second.

You relax, taking the calming music, then play some in your head as repeated emissaries come and go to the Queen and her associates. Kneel, bow, compliment, so on and so forth. Ahhhh, boring.

What's on the platter? Cheese and crackers? You'll take one. Wine? Not now. Cider? Sure. You need nutrition. Food is good, usually.

As the party goers do their thing, sometimes you spot Ange's group coming together and coming apart several times, but they all remain in the room. So, they're not doing a job right now? Never mind, it's not your business.

You're paid to protect the participants here, not delve into their lives. “Mr. Guard. Mr. Guard.” The Queen calls for someone, it isn't until you realize it's you when one of the guard elbows you and gestures to her.

It's very baffling, but you go to her majesty's side. “Oh, come to my front where I can look upon you.”

“Uh, I would not recommend such an action unfitting to this person.” You deflect and step back behind her.

Yet she persists, “Nonsense. You were at the casino event, were you not? Come, no need to be shy. Let me see the face of the hero from then.”

At the bare minimum, you correct her when you go a little more forward so she can see you from the side, “It's mercenary your Royal Majesty. And yes, I was there.”

“How rare! Nonetheless, I wish to thank you for your actions then. Violent as it was, you saved many people from harm.”

You suppose so, the 'good guy' in you sure did, “Just completing the job. Nothing more.”

“Mmm. I saw you speaking with my granddaughter Charlotte. You two close?”

Honestly, you reply, “No, aside from the casino, I don't have contact with her. It's for the best.”

The guards eye you cautiously but forget them, the Queen is rather shocked, “Oh, how so?”

“Changing loyalties, that sort of hogwash. Mostly it's weird, seeing an employer when not on a job or doing a job against them.” You're very truthful in that regard. A reason why there's the policy of not meeting contractors if possible and being all personal about betrayal, yadda yadda yadda.

Cont.
>>
>>1947215

“Well, then I pray that we stay on good terms. You're working now, yes?”

You nod and reply, “The Duke of Normandy hired me.”

Her tone shifts on hearing your boss's title, “I see. May I know your name?”

“Nope.” Oh those glaring men around you, almost makes you grin. “My name changes frequently and isn't a good way to contact me. Just call me merc, mercenary or Mr. Guard for now.”

“Hmmm, I can understand your position, Mr. Guard. Have you ever thought of settling down? In one place to call home.”

Why would you? That means being stuck in one joint! “Not in the slightest, Queen. That would mean I don't get to travel anymore.”

“Oh, sounds fun. Been to many places then?”

You think of the past, a unique childhood if you think about it, “Yeah, Africa, Europe, Asia, the Americas. Usually not long, but I've been to many places.”

The Duke comes into the room with some other men and heads to your position. “You must have some tales worth telling? Care to share some?”

“Nothing in polite company.” You retreat back to your spot when the Duke bows to her Majesty.

“My Queen, how fares your evening? I take it all is well?” His faux gentlemanly way is back when he speaks.

“A most entertaining. I was having a nice chat with Mr. Guard. Did you know he was at the casino from a few days ago?”

“I had a suspicion.” Liar. “Finding good help is troubling at times.”

>Someone is trying to get your attention. It's Ange, you think. Ignore her. At least until she throws a piece of cheese at you. Then go to her.
>>-A QUESTION OF HONOR IS IT? WAR IT SHALL BE THEN. FOOD FIGHT. Gotta enjoy life.
>Oh, you feel them, you see them, the intruders, five, they are coming. Hehehhahahhahahahahaha. Ah... let them come here. You will...
>>-Skewer them.
>>-Engage is some jolly close quarters fighting.
>>-What are these? Dual Sawn-off shotgun.
>The enemy has come. Seems to note is real. Go greet them, privately.
>You're gonna head to the bathroom. The call to nature must happen, can't be helped. It's also to not be near the Duke and Queen.
>Be brain dead for just a moment to stave the boredom away. The other guards are dealing with them, effectively.
>>
>>1947217
>>Someone is trying to get your attention. It's Ange, you think. Ignore her. At least until she throws a piece of cheese at you. Then go to her
>>
>>1947217
>>Someone is trying to get your attention. It's Ange, you think. Ignore her. At least until she throws a piece of cheese at you. Then go to her.
>>
>>1947217
>>Someone is trying to get your attention. It's Ange, you think. Ignore her. At least until she throws a piece of cheese at you. Then go to her.
Totally not tsundere.
>>
>>1947217
>>The enemy has come. Seems to note is real. Go greet them, privately.
>>
>>1947217
>>Someone is trying to get your attention. It's Ange, you think. Ignore her. At least until she throws a piece of cheese at you. Then go to her.
>>
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>>1947217

Something in your peripheral vision catches movement from the right, behind some dancers on the floor. Is someone waving their hand at you? It isn't until you see a clear view of Ange's face that you confirm the waver is her and promptly ignore her.

At the same time you stop paying attention to the conversation, something about security, you're more focus on finding more food while not leaving your station. If only a Butler could, a thing thunks the side of your head followed by another tiny object landing on top of your head. Your hands reach for it and bring it in sight, you see a cube of Swiss cheese. What's so important that she needs to throw food at you?

You stealth away from your post and take a circular path to her, noting that's she is also by herself. When you're by her side you stay completely, refusing to even turn your body in her direction. “...”

“...” Not a very active conversation you're having with her. It's nicer in fairness, given she's not pulling a knife or gun at you. You try spotting some of her friends and they are around but split up. “Sorry.”

Woah! What did she say? You turn over to see her donning her glasses and observe a change in her character. “Mr. Browning, I humbly apologize for my rudeness from earlier. Please, forgive me.” Her phony high-pitch voice reaches your ears and you have to filter it to get the real meaning. 'I'm not sorry.'

You legit have to put your fist to your mouth in a physical effort to not laugh at this freaking girl lying her ass off. It puts a huge grin in your soul and she's not so keen on seeing your body shake so much.

“W-what's so funny?” Oh, she needs to stop before you lose control. Centering your mind, being, soul, you gesture that she should take off her glasses as an allusion of her to not being such a dork, while you attempt to have a smaller smirk but fail horribly.

Cont.
>>
>>1948720

This damn dork does so though and she's more normal in her restraint demeanor. “Really, I am a little sorry about earlier, mercenary.” You nod in accepting that truth, but you have no forgiveness to give and therefore remain silent in your interaction with her. “Hmm, you're really giving me the silent treatment. The Princess is doing that too.”

What? Oh, all your smiles, you did not need to know but it sure is a coincidence. Ah, you should stop and speak, “Do you at least admit that you're a horrible employer?”

That seems to bite Ange as she glares at you, “It wouldn't have been hard if you didn't show yourself to be all-knowing. That's wasn't a nice lie to tell.”

Closing your eyes, you feel the body change by your will alone, and your blue eyes come and you peer very close to her face. “Miss Ange, your statement is a lie, I said I know much and that is truth and fact. I just neglected to mention that I neither care for nor wish to remember it all. Ignorance is bliss, yes?”

>Come World! By sheer fucking will, you will peer a little bit into Miss Ange's life. Make that… well. Don't worry, it's only a boring secret to you. Legit the fuck would you want to know in the first place? Political crap is boring. Oh! A Happening!
>Below, if you listen and focus, the enemy is downing some of the people below. Professionals, no doubt. The alarm hasn't been raised yet. Time for them to come to your stage. Hunt them. Spare none.
>Have a fake makeup time with Ange and go along with her to show her friends you both are at least cordial in public.
>You'll forgive her, if only if she'll sleep with you. You're joking of course.
>>
>>1948724
>>Below, if you listen and focus, the enemy is downing some of the people below. Professionals, no doubt. The alarm hasn't been raised yet. Time for them to come to your stage. Hunt them. Spare none.
>>
>>1948724
>>Below, if you listen and focus, the enemy is downing some of the people below. Professionals, no doubt. The alarm hasn't been raised yet. Time for them to come to your stage. Hunt them. Spare none.
>>
>>1948724
>Below, if you listen and focus, the enemy is downing some of the people below. Professionals, no doubt. The alarm hasn't been raised yet. Time for them to come to your stage. Hunt them. Spare none
>>
>>1948724

You feel a thump from the floor below, someone was too rough and smacked the person enough to shake ceiling. While the dancers don't notice, you and Ange do as you both look to the floor. Gun check time.

Thinking fast, you pace to hallway that has the nearest stairs to the basement. In behind is Ange following in close. “Why are you coming?” You ask semi-interested.

Her reply is straightforward and you can't find a fault with assistance from the voices, “To protect the Princess.” You barge through three doors, readying Hellsing past each door, Ange her revolver until you both get to the staircase.

For the second it's clear, you lean over the railing with your pneumatic revolver out, right as the door below opens softly, barely a wisp. But that bloodlust, oh, no, that's all you. A man in army clothing with the only difference is the irregular green scarf and patch on his arm. He's the first insight so he's the first to die as you pull the trigger and send an arrow into his supper spine.

He staggers only a step before falling and letting blood all over the carpet as his companion behind him tries to not tumble over his body but fails. This person is carrying a large backpack and sack, dressed in high dress attire, slips and falls on his stomach, getting messy in the process.

He yells out muffled, “SHIT!” Afterwards, you pull the trigger twice and his neck and spine have two bolts piercing out of them.

You see a foot step out into the light but it nearly immediately falls back with more sounds of feet running back through the door. Cowards, are they? What a shame, again. Where's the bite and bark?

>Well, charge! What a fox hunt this will be. Come out, come out, you'll only die slower.
>Using a weapon is making this too easy. Go CQC on them.
>Order Ange to pursue them this way while you fly out the window, land and enter inside on the same floor as the invaders.
>Re-conceal your weapon and inform security of some uninvited guests. In addition, someone should check the floor below.
>>
>>1949008
>Well, charge! What a fox hunt this will be. Come out, come out, you'll only die slower.

But have Ange go through the window
>>
>>1949008
>>Order Ange to pursue them this way while you fly out the window, land and enter inside on the same floor as the invaders.
>>
>>1949008
>>Well, charge! What a fox hunt this will be. Come out, come out, you'll only die slower.
>>
>>1949008
>Order Ange to pursue them this way while you fly out the window, land and enter inside on the same floor as the invaders.
>>
>>1949008
>>Re-conceal your weapon and inform security of some uninvited guests. In addition, someone should check the floor below.
>>
>>1949008
>Order Ange to pursue them this way while you fly out the window, land and enter inside on the same floor as the invaders.
>>
so like, there's a shit ton of fires where I live. So evacuation preparation fun time, then driving, then waiting, then no fire at home, so come home and it's fucking late and I might have work tomorrow. Thanks Trump, thanks nature. Thank you whoever started the fucking fires in the first place. Keep voting, see you in the next post, maybe Wednesday or late Tuesday
>>
>>1950611
Shit dude, that's awful. Stay safe out there.
>>
>>1950611

You in California wine country... Or in Anaheim Hills. Good luck!
>>
>>1950611
Get a fucking twitter!
>>
>>1950768

when the states not on fire and if I can remember my password
>>
>>1950781
You're a Great Fuckng guys and I wish you the best
>>
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>>1949008
You wonder what their numbers are? Must be low if you consider the fact that they ran away after losing two guys. No matter, “Ange, go. I'm flanking.” She doesn't show an acknowledgment when you run past her, then that changes to a distorted 'what the hell' when you unlock the window, climb out, close it, then backflip perfectly back to Terra and sprint to the nearest door.

You're at a rear garden lot, very small within the manor made of mostly bushes so far, yet to the left you see two sentries on the ground, one dead via a stab wound to the check and his arm cut off, the other is more 'fortunate' and was strangled but not to death as his chest rises and falls weakly.

You continue past them and enter the door find the whole interior black with no light sources, except maybe some candles in certain places. Well, that's no surprise, cutting the power. Locking yourself in, you lightly run around going through the process of locking as many doors before the invaders come. Not much time as they're making so much noise as they run about, each time they come closer and closer.

Not much you can do in a minute when you hear the stomping and music from above get louder in the same hallway. You hear someone's muffled crying, a distant gunshot further away, and more footsteps. Given the hallway is normally for two persons, you aim within the middle and fire a steel arrow into the abyss.

You count to two seconds when a resounding, yet short, manly cry of agony followed with the sound of a loud thud and creak of the floorboards. Nearly right after that, the flash and sound of a pistol goes off and manages to hit the wall next to the man. You fire another arrow, using the flash as an indicator to his vital organs, and this time a painful groan is made.

Then a surprising whipping sound, in addition to your arm felt like it was nudged and the wall to your left splinters come from a pair running away. D-did you get hit by a pellet? Feeling the area hit, you feel some hot lead on your upper sleeve. That was a gunshot. A quiet gunshot.

HOW INTERESTING.

You march forward, giving barely a thought to the dying man except for another arrow in his skull and reloading Hellsing with bolts and air.

Cont.
>>
>>1951612

Moving on through the hallway partially lit with candles along the walls, you find some less lucky guards as you go past. Finally, you stop at a door due to hearing some muffle sniffling. Peeking in reveals boxes upon boxes scattered around, no sight of the intruders.

Ange strolls up on the other side of the doorway, so quiet that you didn't hear. She gestures to you, 'I killed one. Another ran that way the opposite way.'

You nod in acknowledgment and motion, 'Two people inside. Don't know if more.' Then you hear a whisper from inside.

It's really hard to hear, so you remove your shoes and creep to the nearest box for cover. “-leave?”

“Shhh.” They're female as far as you can tell. You walk one box closer, “Be a good younger sister and be quiet, okay?”

“Can... we give up?”

“No! If that happens, terrible things will happen to us.”

>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mlsSiEpZMQY&index=2&list=PLQGm88aU9WILa4QizU3BOvBVAz1fxRNwhFIGHT. WIN. PREVAIL. NO MERCY. All hostiles shall perish. You're going for the kill, Ange can cover.
>Tell Ange to eliminate the other guy that ran, you'll torch this team out. Hey, alcohol. Oh, make sure you have water nearby to put it out. You don't want the entire manor on fire.
>Throw your empty revolver in their direction to begin negations. As in...
>>-They will surrender to you! Not the Duke.
>>-Give up now, or the punishment is a long dying process. Hey, you did get a bonus from the Duke in capturing the last man alive. Why not double down?
>Ange can deal with these female team, you'll hunt the other guy down. You'll... cheat, to make things faster.
>Got another idea? Write-in.
>>
Now with Twitter account to those that care

https://twitter.com/fakeqmname
>>
>>1951629
>Ange can deal with these female team, you'll hunt the other guy down. You'll... cheat, to make things faster.
>>
>>1951629
>>Ange can deal with these female team, you'll hunt the other guy down. You'll... cheat, to make things faster.
>>
>>1951629
>Ange can deal with these female team, you'll hunt the other guy down. You'll... cheat, to make things faster.
>>
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>>1951629
You fall back to Ange and get your footwear back on, whispering to her, “You deal with these girls. I'm after the other guy. Deal with them as you see fit.” Regardless if should she need it, you give her your pocket pistol and go on your way for the other runner.

Your mind is clouded by images, sounds, all unimportant things. You push, punch, force the irrelevant away and grab hold of the one info you need, WHERE IS THAT PERSON?

[B]He's waiting two hallways down in a dead end room.[/B] Waiting? A cornered snake? You hear a volley of pistols shots behind you. Look like Ange doesn't mess around. ARE THERE OTHERS? [B]No.[/B]

Coming to an opening, you spot Ange's previous target on the ground dead as can be. He's wielding some alien curved sword. Nice looking though, got no blood on it, you take that and its sheath and put it on your belt. Worth something to someone you bet.

A short sprint later, you follow the mental path to the last remaining opponent trapped in a wine cellar with no other way out. No windows, no doors except the single, you poke your head in to see the figure leaning against a liquor barrel.

On noticing you, he darts to cover, saying, “H-h-hey, -yyou! I know you're there! Doorman! You! Let's... let's be gentlemen about this and talk, eh?”

Rather than being vocal, you knock on the wood loud enough so he could hear. “I take that as a yes, ay? You let me go and I'll pay, yeah? Sound good? Ten shillings and five pennies to look the other way. It sounds better than fighting, much better, yes? I mean, I can be a mean man when I'm cornered. You might lose that fight, yeah? Even after taking all the others out, one left can be the last.”

Ten shillings is okay, but is it enough to not kill him? He did say he could fight...

>KILL KILL KILL.
>>-Start singing something. It'll be fun.
>Only if he leaves his weapons, tools, and clothes behind. Really, he's only coming out alive naked. Then all the rest is on him. See if his life is worth more than dignity.
>Throw a Molotov cocktail to shut the man up. Burn him out. Fuck it, you don't care about the building now. That comes later.
>Wait for Ange to come here. Then you'll get him together. While you really want to go head-to-head, living is better.
>>
>>1951904
>"Omae wa mou shindeiru."
>Remove eyepatch.
>>
>>1951904
>>KILL KILL KILL.
>>
>>1951904

>Start singing something:

"To-tal Slaugh-ter, To-tal Slaugh-ter/
I won't leave a single man alive.../
La-de-da-de-da... An ocean of blood/
Lets begin the... killing tiiimmmeee....!"

Lulz aside, if he panics, take him alive. Coin is always good, proving competence and discretion is better.
>>
>>1951904

You will accomplish your mission! You will take off the ridiculous excess clothes and get in his face. Whether he lives or dies depends on him! Too bad you took off your contacts. He's scared, capable when not, will he soil himself? He had more money the liar, that sword is awfully sharp. YOU GO!

Roll 1d100+15
>>
Rolled 67 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>1951988
>>
>>1951904
>-Start singing something. It'll be fun.

Just whistle:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=3v9BPxHBogs
>>
>>1951988

And I forgot to roll this dude's life.
>>
Rolled 14 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>1951988
I knew i should have refreshed the page.
>>
Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>1952008

twice, maybe triple?
>>
Rolled 81 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>1951988
>>
Rolled 29 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>1951988
>>
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>>1951988

You have Hellsing in your right hand and an empty cylinder on your left during your mad charge forward, whistling a little tune with a much joy. You know he'll try thrusting his sword the second you emerge from his side, hence you deflect the entire strike with the metal circle in preparation. In return, you punch his holding hand with Hellsing making him drop it.

Almost instantly, he recovers that he comes closer so he can knee Hellsing to your hip and begins wailing on your face but you hold. With your left hand alone, you're not able to block each jab or pummel one after another against your face or body. Yet he makes a dumb mistake by bringing his hands together and trying to bear it down on your head.

You lean away just enough that he scratches your chest, leaving him open for you to grab his collar and pull him with a headbutt to his nose. You follow up with an uppercut to his chin and a push to the chest.

In the darkness, you spot him trying to reach for his sidearm or an item on his belt and counter with a hip shot to the belt. The whole thing lands with a thud and you're very happy. More so when he kicks Hellsing so hard that he hurts his foot and unaligns the whole weapon so it can't fire.

For fucking with your weapon, you unload the cylinder and throw that at his leg, the sharp edges causing him to grunt and bleed. Plus, you throw the rest of your non-working pneumatic rifle at him and for whatever reason, he catches it. Strange.

Well, you get some momentum in as you go in and punch his face, but then receiving a stomp on your right foot and a weak rifle butt to your left chest. Grabbing hold of Hellsing, you tug it with enough power that he's pulled along that his back is exposed before letting go. Now grasping his shirt collar and lower back, you reverse and aim at the pillar behind you, the one holding the barrels up. If not that, the barrel will do. Except, what you don't expect is your left foot hitting the sword's hilt and causing you to trip as well.

You land painfully on your ass to the stone floor and him on his face, not quite hard to kill him though, enough that he collapses and doesn't get back up. Also, you think the sword spun around and cut a piece of your ankle.

So... that was entertaining of a bad fight.

>"Omae wa mou shindeiru." Finish him with cutting his head off with the curved sword. That's how to fucking win.
>Hogtie the man and secure the area of important things while finding out who's dead or needs medical attention. Then, report to the Duke. And not a care of how you look in public.
>>-Okay, maybe get him to come to you. Also, you want the car so you can go home since, well, you're done.
>Liqour! Get a taste and make sure this guy does too.
>>
>>1952369
>>"Omae wa mou shindeiru." Finish him with cutting his head off with the curved sword. That's how to fucking win.
>>
>>1952369
>>Hogtie the man and secure the area of important things while finding out who's dead or needs medical attention. Then, report to the Duke. And not a care of how you look in public.
As much as I want to go with option 1, decapitating an unconscious man is rather crass and barbaric.
>>
To kill or not kill, that is the question.
>>
>>1952369
>Hogtie the man and secure the area of important things while finding out who's dead or needs medical attention. Then, report to the Duke. And not a care of how you look in public.
>>
>>1952369
>Hogtie the man and secure the area of important things while finding out who's dead or needs medical attention. Then, report to the Duke. And not a care of how you look in public.

Although i think it's anti character going all banged up since after the shooting we took the time to adjust ourselfs.
>>
>>1952369
You check on the little ankle cut and patch that up with your sock, the thing's barely bleeding but there's the prick of pain like it's a paper cut and it won't go away. Next off, you get all the dangerous thing off of the man and floor and put them in your bag or belt. For that work, you get a rough drawing of the manor for your trouble, some old rapier, pocket knife, another generic revolver and ammo, twenty shillings and twelve pennies. The balls on this guy.

Well, dying is too good for him, now you're a prisoner! Ha. You partially strip him and use his own clothing as binding until you get some real rope and a lot of it too. As you pull him during you finding of some rope, you see Ange in fine order. “Ange.”

“Browning, I dealt with the two.” Good news all around then! Oh, and thanks for returning the pistol.

“Nice work, my lady. Go ahead and go back up, I'll be up there, eventually. And do try to get rid of the cordite smell you have. Until another time.” You lift the barely conscious man over your shoulder and go on searching the area with minimal hassle in part to your glowing eye.

The overall patrol and searching takes less than ten minutes, you getting the man safe and secured inside a crate with breathing holes and much rope fashion to be famous, counting total casualties on your side that being 24 injured/knocked out and 4 dead, purses, weapons, the enemy's numbers, any writings or notes, you make an internal report of it all.

Last but not least, you safely fix the wiring and the electricity comes back on this floor, making all the lights turn back on, minus the ones that were shot out or loosened from their screws, and temporarily blinding you. That was not painless.

With your work down here done, you return upstairs, looking as gentlemanly as possible that a bruised eighteen-year-old with an eye patch on the left eye, pipe in the mouth and using a rapier as a cane could with a wrinkled suit.

In your opinion, you're looking way better than most field campaigns. You open the ballroom door without much noise and go about finding the Duke still at the side of her Majesty. You only get halfway there before people start noticing the man clicking the floor with a sword and going over to the Royals.

Cont.
>>
>>1953055

Though the guards are in the know, the guests are either beginning to back away from you or are readying their hidden personal defense weapons should crazy you do something.

The Queen though is utterly shocked by your face, “Mr. Guard! Are you alright? Your face-”

You smile and move your pipe to say, “Fantastic, your Majesty.” Putting your pipe back and smoking, you get out the somewhat valuable pages from the infiltrators to give to your employer. You see him make a smirk as he takes it and pockets it without bothering to read it.

His ice-blue eyes are judging when he asks, “They've been taken care of, haven't they?”

Putting you pipe to one side of your mouth without the use of hands, you oddly answer back, “Got one prisoner.”

Though his exterior form does not show it, you find that he is amused by your actions, “Hmm, then all I can say is good work. Go ahead and rest here. I'll hear of your heroics later.” He turns to his sovereign and bows to her, “My Queen, I take my leave now.”

“Of course.” Will her blessing, the Duke of Normandy goes to ascertain the events of the last hour.

As for you, you clear space on a nearby table for yourself and your belongings, it's just a tiny pot with flowers that you move to the windowsill. Since there are no chairs, you plot your ass and things on the sturdy table and relax to the discomfort of the rich.

>No, no, you're not taking any duels, challenges, or talks to people. You just want to smoke and bask in the fact that you're deciding to stay up all night working. TIME FOR ANOTHER MISSION until Germania.
>The Queen really wishes to speak to you. You suppose you could white lie your way into her grace.
>Oh, the younger grandson of the Queen, the heir Prince. What the fuck do you want? Uhhhh, you want my what now? You want to learn from me? You and your friends?
>Hello, fourth Princess. What do you want? Just to talk? Uh, okay. You can humor her as you recover.
>Some asshole challenges you to a duel since you're very barbaric. You get his point but do you really need to beat his shit in? The answer is apparently yes.
>>
>>1953060
>Hello, fourth Princess. What do you want? Just to talk? Uh, okay. You can humor her as you recover.
>>
>>1953060
>>Hello, fourth Princess. What do you want? Just to talk? Uh, okay. You can humor her as you recover.
>>
>>1953060
>Hello, fourth Princess. What do you want? Just to talk? Uh, okay. You can humor her as you recover.
>>
>>1953060
>Hello, fourth Princess. What do you want? Just to talk? Uh, okay. You can humor her as you recover.

Thanks for the twitter QM, I won't miss future threads/sessions due to lack awareness anymore.
>>
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>>1953060

You're smoking away when Princess Charlotte comes over to you, away from some suitors no doubt, alongside her is Beatrice and none of the others. “Princess.” You greet and don't bother being too gentlemanly like getting on your wounded leg and bowing.

“Mr. Mercenary, your face has a bruise here.” Charlotte indicates with her face that it's your right cheek yet you're numb enough thanks to natural painkillers and the fine leaves.

“I'm fine.” Your answer seems to agitate the underling given by her glare.

“You don't look fine. What happened?” She comes closer to you that you reflexively bring your bag closer to your side and fix a gaze at her.

Still, she doesn't budge and you reply, “Guard duty. I'm working for the Duke of Normandy tonight.”

“My uncle?” Her demeanor changes apprehensively when you say his title before calming down, “Is everything alright?” She looks around to not find him, obviously.

“All is well. Just some intruders had to be captured. Nothing more. Except one gave more of a fight than the others. That was interesting.” You do your utmost to not show you malicious smile and grab a glass of cider from a passing waiter. “Ah, what a challenger. The world doesn't have many individuals of great merit. So how's your evening, Princess? Staying out of trouble?” You slowly begin downing your glass.

“Of course she is!” Beatrice butts in angrily, “Compared to you, she's-”

“Ah, that's enough, Beatrice. It's okay.” Charlotte calms her friend enough that she returns to watching you. “Browning.”

“Hm?” You clean house and slide the glass to the near edge of the table and give your attention to her.

“Do you have another job lined up?”Too late Princess.

“Mmm, I do. Probably won't do it soon, but I'll do it this week.” Your answer disappoints her.

“Well, good for you. And... about Ange.” You put your finger out, so very close to her lips, then you go up so she can see you wag no no no and you bring your finger to your lips before returning to you relaxed posture.

>Tell her to go and be among her own kind. You wish to be left alone and not be in the view of a lot of people. Until the Duke and his people come, you're relaxing.
>”Don't worry about it.” Is the answer to the Ange issue. All is okay, should she not do that again as an employer. And if you two were to be on opposite sides, so be it. Ah, the Duke is calling you.
>Someone is now very displeased that you are acquainted with the Princess and probably the Queen. Yeah, a rich boy wants to fight you for pride and nonsense. Still, you'll give him a beating. Just a shot of Whiskey will do to really get you going.
>The Queen wishes to speak to her granddaughter. Happily, you'll get out of the way. Wait, why you too? Ugh, fine.
>Well, you suppose you can keep chatting with the Princess about minor things. And uh, her friend too. Your past? Sure. You'll either lie or tell the truth.
>>
Last post for tonight. Assuming I'm not evacuating, UTC-7 at 11AM-12PM the quest will go on
>>
>>1953630
>>Someone is now very displeased that you are acquainted with the Princess and probably the Queen. Yeah, a rich boy wants to fight you for pride and nonsense. Still, you'll give him a beating. Just a shot of Whiskey will do to really get you going.
>>
>>1953630
>”Don't worry about it.” Is the answer to the Ange issue. All is okay, should she not do that again as an employer. And if you two were to be on opposite sides, so be it. Ah, the Duke is calling you.

I think that's enough bloodshed for the night.
>>
>>1953630
>>Well, you suppose you can keep chatting with the Princess about minor things. And uh, her friend too. Your past? Sure. You'll either lie or tell the truth.
>>
>>1953630
>Well, you suppose you can keep chatting with the Princess about minor things. And uh, her friend too. Your past? Sure. You'll either lie or tell the truth.

Then since nobles will always be nobles

>Someone is now very displeased that you are acquainted with the Princess and probably the Queen. Yeah, a rich boy wants to fight you for pride and nonsense. Still, you'll give him a beating. Just a shot of Whiskey will do to really get you going.

Although i would like to avoid killing nobles. Maybe just a small wound.
>>
>>1953630
>>The Queen wishes to speak to her granddaughter. Happily, you'll get out of the way. Wait, why you too? Ugh, fine.
>>
>>1953630

“Classified.” You puff with a small smile, “Any other questions?”

The Princess turns her head over to the side towards nothing in particular before asking, “Then, how old are you?”

“Eighteen.” That gets some eyes on your from the nearby guests and a surprise face from her Highness and Beatrice.

“Eighteen? You look much older than that.” Most fortune that you're not a girl, that would have been an insult.

“War is not fun, ay. I know that from experience.” You snatch a new cider glass and take a sip. “A different time.”

“Then what was life before that?” Hm, good question.

You...
>Lie.
>Tell the truth.
>>You recall being born to some fancy noble house. Where or who, you don't recall, but you do. It might have been minor or moderate power. Not matter, cause when you were seven years old you were kidnapped. Twice. Third, if you do count your mercenary company kidnapping not becoming a rescue.
>>Your parents were not the nicest bunch. And were in debt. Enough so that, uh, they got killed. By you. Accidentally. You were a teen then so after a running away, you joined the Albion Army where your regiment got wiped out in Africa and you grouped up with some mercenaries to survive.
>>You remember being an orphan, living on the streets, surviving, all that jazz. Your former orphanage burnt to the ground during your younger years so you were taken into another place and another and kept going round and round till you finally left and wandered around until you did a job you weren't supposed to. You succeeded of course.
>>Automatic lie- You were birthed by a female wolf in Russia, taken care of by your father, a giant bear. You survived the winters, springs, summers, and falls until you were forced out to become a human. And make up some more fun bullshit along the way.
>>You came from the North Americas. Part American-English, you were both a tribesman and a colonist. Your childhood, you remember riding on horses, doing archery, firing guns sometimes, and learning both the old and new. Nothing special, until you were drafted at the age of fifteen into a colonist regiment. That job was trash and you legally left when you could due to an injury. After meeting a certain someone, you became a Mercenary.
>>Write-in.
>>
>>1954487
>>Your parents were not the nicest bunch. And were in debt. Enough so that, uh, they got killed. By you. Accidentally. You were a teen then so after a running away, you joined the Albion Army where your regiment got wiped out in Africa and you grouped up with some mercenaries to survive.
But maybe leave out the part about killing our own parents. That sort of thing probably shouldn't be said publicly.
>>
Any more takers? any at all?
>>
>>1954487
>You remember being an orphan, living on the streets, surviving, all that jazz. Your former orphanage burnt to the ground during your younger years so you were taken into another place and another and kept going round and round till you finally left and wandered around until you did a job you weren't supposed to. You succeeded of course.
>>
>>1954487
>>>You recall being born to some fancy noble house. Where or who, you don't recall, but you do. It might have been minor or moderate power. Not matter, cause when you were seven years old you were kidnapped. Twice. Third, if you do count your mercenary company kidnapping not becoming a rescue.
>>
>>1954487
>Lie
>You remember being an orphan, living on the streets, surviving, all that jazz. Your former orphanage burnt to the ground during your younger years so you were taken into another place and another and kept going round and round till you finally left and wandered around until you did a job you weren't supposed
>>
Rolled 1 (1d3)

1. Not orphan
2. Orphan
3. Noble
>>
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>>1954487
A long breath in, a long one out, you start thinking of your childhood. You haven't considered ever telling about your boring self anymore, the only one the time to the Colonel and Doc. “I've said that my past is boring. Honestly, it was really boring. My parents weren't the brightest bunch. Getting in debt, running away from debtors, having a baby, that sort of story.”

Thinking back, the moment you learned to crawl, you had to run almost immediately after that. From people, dogs, sheep, everything really. Run to live, or else. “Your parents, are they still alive?” You look at the Princess and shake your head. You accidentally made sure that was not the case. “Ah, then any other relatives?”

“Not that I know of. No point really. I managed to survive by being a running boy, then a running teen, always running around in the great Empire of Albion. Hell, not even the revolution stopped us from running across the Commonwealth and the Kingdom.” Ah, those were the days, going from place to place, trying to either survive off the land, generosity, or the rare work that unsurprisingly involved delivery.

“Do you remember them fondly?” Beatrice asks that question.

One time as a teen, you ran to get water from a well for your tired parents who were ill at the time. Surprise to you then, the water was contaminated, hence why that village had many sick people. You, on the other hand, were drinking from your water flask that day filled from another source so lucky you. You recall dropping the water at the hut you all were staying, leaving to deliver something, then coming back to find their unmoving bodies together, their faces open-jawed, eyes wide.

Death wasn't new back then, you had seen dead animals and people before, nothing new. At the time, you thought you should have felt something, but there was nothing. You were coasting on life without much care aside from living day by day. So you took what items and money you could and walked away. And walked and walked.

Walked so much that you got to London and walked into a recruiting station and join the Albion Army. Not that it was a smart decision but that would be unfair to your past self.

“Nope, can't even remember their faces.” You lie and empty out the ashes in your pipe to the ash pot and begin the process and making adding new leaves in. “Too busy trying not to die on the streets. Well, until I joined the army. Then it was not dying to stupid nobles.” Oh, those bad times in the army, that you can see clearly in great detail. Many tales, many.

Cont.
>>
>>1955432

“Hey. Trashman.” An unexpected manly voice. You were too busy with thinking and getting your pipe up that you neglected to see some physically inferior band of five brats coming over to you. First, though, they address her Highness, “Excuse us, my dear Princess. But we must voice our complaint about this filthy man. His dress and manners are degrading our class. Please, stay excuse yourself from this mockery.” Beatrice and Charlotte are rather overtaken by the surprise intrusion and get out of the way between you and them.

Then one kid comes a bit too close to you and your things, “Would it kill you to go be useful, like a waiter?” You shift over so the bag is somewhat covered by your body.

“Hey, you're asking too much. Besides, I wouldn't want to be severed by someone with his face. He might have spit in our drinks.” Another adds to the growing bad insults.

“Ah, better leave him in the streets.” They're not so loud to attract everyone's attention, but it's concerning enough that the adjoining guards, the Queen herself, and the musicians are taking notice. “Must be nice being near kind people, huh guy?”

“Bet he's only here for the food and drinks, look at all those glasses. And I bet you he took everything in that bag without-” The second almost tries to grab your things, but you bringing your head to his forces him to retreat rather too fast and he collides into his buddies. “Ugh, ahem.”

“Oi, what are you, a bloody queer?” One of them counters with your odd action.

“Oh, we better stay away now. Let the guards handle him.” A few chuckle, yet they come a little closer.

“But wouldn't it be better if we took care of this thing ourselves.”

>”You want a fight, then get over here.” You will not be the first to fight. Let them make that move. Fist to fist, sword to sword, if it becomes a gun well they default to dying. But you reckon they won't go that far.
>Princess is a little too quiet. Oh, no, she has a plan. Oh, and determination. Let her handle the weak brutes.
>Don't even speak. Give them your killing smile. Oh, it'll be fun. Should the fools be dumb enough to take anything from you, your action will be swift and painful. Living is suffering.
>Ask for some white gloves from one of the waiters then proceed to throw them at all five of these nobodies. No guns, you would just kill them. Either sword or fist, you'll make them pay.
>Write-in.
>>
>>1955451
>Don't even speak. Give them your killing smile. Oh, it'll be fun. Should the fools be dumb enough to take anything from you, your action will be swift and painful. Living is suffering.
>>
>>1955451
>>Don't even speak. Give them your killing smile. Oh, it'll be fun. Should the fools be dumb enough to take anything from you, your action will be swift and painful. Living is suffering.

I was going to make a big write in we should avoid then because we are here to do a job. But then i remembered we are already done with it so what we do on our free time it's us to decided. Even if we defend ourselfs from a couple of nobles.
>>
Give me a war smile!

1d100+10
>>
Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>1955736
>>
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Rolled 56 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>1955736
>>
>>1955753
>>1955743
Ah we should have used killing intent we are terrible at smilling.
>>
Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>1955736
Nat 1
>>
Highest is 66...

So uh, how violent do you want to be?

>Nonlethal. Crippling, but nonlethal.
>Fuck them up real good. Fight like those street scraps you've been in. Or the guy earlier. Anyway, fists and kicks.
>Ha ha ha, guns.
>>
>>1955832
>Nonlethal. Crippling, but nonlethal.
And critique their form as we fight, like a bored school teacher going over a disappointingly subpar essay.
>>
>>1955832
>>Fuck them up real good. Fight like those street scraps you've been in. Or the guy earlier. Anyway, fists and kicks.
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

To beat the shit out of, or to less beat the shit out of
>>
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>>1955451

You feel the drums of war again! The smile comes and forms a little less evil one than your fight with the valorous robber. The boy that retreated before, retreats again after seeing your face and makes some excuse about going to the head, leaving four twits in play.

You puff and smile, puff and smile, no words to say for these louts. Beatrice tries strongly to pull away the Princess before the insanity hits, but her Highness holds her ground, ever watching you and the brutes from the side.

Calm she is, the boys, not so much. “Why the hell are you smiling!?” The first kid comes in with an overextended punch aim for your face. THIS IS WHAT YOU WANTED.

You lean far right to dodge the obvious attack and counter with gripping your foreign sword by its sheath and thrusting the grip right at his left kidney area. You follow up with a double kick to the chest and that sends him flying at his friends, giving you enough time to gather your things on your person and stand up. Beatrice is utterly shocked at what just happened as do others that saw. Oh, the musicians have stopped playing, you got an idea!

You come over to instrumentalists, as the boys are getting their buddy up, and you turn the page to a certain song you want playing with some coins for their services. With lightening reactions, the lead composer begins silently directing his players to work in getting the needed instruments out for the song.

So you move to the middle of the floor with much of the nobles going away from you. By now the moron cast is up and heading to you with fight in their spirit. Right as the music plays you raise your arms out to the side as a gesture of, 'Cometh at me.'

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fDkxQBjgFU

And for added insult, whether he knows it or now, you sing the opening lyrics, “Votre toast, je peux vous le rendre."

Cont.
>>
>>1956351

"Fuck you." Your opponent says, going into an upright boxing stance as he approaches which you counter by throwing the heavy bag right at his face. It's too much for him to catch and he immediately falls over. That's one down.

To the rest, you motion that they can come take their beating any time and you toss away the swords you collected as a gesture of 'I'll reave you.'

Number two man, being around your height and weight, steps in, again a boxing stance, and throws some single jabs that you dodge easily. He's defending with one hand and attacking with one, but only those hands. You can feel the power in them, it's too bad that you predict the right moment to grab the wrist of his punching hand and expect him to release his reserve hand and grabbing that one too.

You put some pressure on the nerves but mostly you use his hands to get some momentum in headbutting him three times, once in the nose since your aim was off, then double to his forehead. The aches you gain are much less than his as you witness his eyes are unfocused and his body is to the point falling over. You help it so by tripping his right leg with yours. Number two has failed.

Since there's only two remaining and it's unfair to them, you gesture both of the lads to fucking come at you at the same time. After the two share a look together, they accept and charge forward. Third, being a foot shorter than you, goes circling around for a flank attack and four tries swinging at anything really.

You cheat using the powers of madness to look behind you and nothing more. You keep moving away from four who kicks and punches air and when you spot third makes a bad tackle, you twist aside, grab him and toss him in the attack four was making, in this case, a punch. The surprise throwing is a success as their head collide just where you wanted them too. They don't get up when you walk past them, too dizzy from the head wounds.

Hm, you begin singing what stanza the musicians are on, slowly getting your things in order and returning to your previous position.

Cont.
>>
>>1956361

The guests are awestruck at the minimum from witnessing a farce of a fight. On the other hand, once the song is over, you take a good whiff out of your pipe and blow out the smoke. You pipe has come to no harm and that all matters now.

“W-w-w-what just happened?” Beatrice inquires in disbelief from the performance.

“Mr. Browning.”You turn your head slightly to the Princess. “Could you teach me how to fight?”

“Ppppppffffff.” You're fast enough to get you pipe out before laughing hysterically, “Go ask someone else.” Normandy and his men come waltzing in and finds the injured kids on the floor with the same stone-cold expression.

He looks you and you start heading to him.

---

You have the money, the contract, no demerits, and the party is over! You're rolling back home with your goods and the new car, life is good.

>Time to sleep sleep sleep!
>As a night owl, more missions! More money! More fun!
>Oh, you better get arrange a backup plan should the Germania job be a bust or a betrayal. Best to be ready, always ready.
>>
>>1956412
>Time to sleep sleep sleep!
>>
>>1956412
>>Time to sleep sleep sleep!
Awesome fight scene especially since those guys were a bunch of Chavs


I'm a bit confused though, Isn't hitting them in the nose the objective of the headbutt or are you saying that Browning missed and hit them in the forehead by accident?
>>
>>1956466
>I'm a bit confused though, Isn't hitting them in the nose the objective of the headbutt or are you saying that Browning missed and hit them in the forehead by accident?

Intended target, forehead since it's very painful for both the target and actor. Given in crazy state, pain means shit.

The nose was not the main target but still effective.
>>
>>1956412
>Oh, you better get arrange a backup plan should the Germania job be a bust or a betrayal. Best to be ready, always ready.

First thing we learned in the army. Nobles will always try to fuck up with mercs.
>>
>>1956412
>>Oh, you better get arrange a backup plan should the Germania job be a bust or a betrayal. Best to be ready, always ready.
>>
>>1956412
>Oh, you better get arrange a backup plan should the Germania job be a bust or a betrayal. Best to be ready, always ready.

One last vote for the road since its early morning in Europe.
>>
>>1956412
>>Time to sleep sleep sleep!
>>
>>1956412
>>Oh, you better get arrange a backup plan should the Germania job be a bust or a betrayal. Best to be ready, always ready.
Always have a second way out
>>
>>1956412

You know people that know people in Germania. And you old comrades too. Hopefully, they're fine, either they're retired or doing normal jobs that don't involve less savory tasks, except for some. You'll check with your people... right now! The brakes squeak as the car comes to a halt in the lot and you get your things and leave.

You like the full cabin car very much, less smelly outside smells when you drive. You enter via the back entrance to where Butler is taking inventory. “Oh, Mentat-”

You remove your eye patch, “Yes! I am Mentat.” You declare and head into down the stairs. “I ask for some tea and a sandwich, if you would be so kind. First Office.”

You don't see it, but you feel a smirk on Butler, “Ho ho, welcome back, Mentat.”

Down below, you enter the First Office, a separate place to do planning and other important tasks away from people. You begin selecting choice maps of Germania, some empty parchments, ink, and a pen when Butler enters, “Jasmine tea and a club sandwich.”

“Thank you, Butler.” You lay down your thing on the table and begin setting this up.

“No no, you can thank me by letting me see your work. It's been a long time since I've seen it in person.” Butler puts your midnight snack by a nightstand and watches you in amusement, “What's the job?”

You point to the still wide open door and he slams it shut. “A bank job in Germania.”

“Ahh, the Deutschland." Butler peers over your shoulder as you finally get a map of Germania and begin your descent into madness. And for fun, he speaks in German, "What will the Kaiser do?”

“Forget the weak man! I need a backup plan should Albion betray me during the job! If my predictions are true, the original plan of me having the support of some robbers will go only so far.”

“Who's supporting?”

You take some info on your four-man team from the void. It's plus one if you count yourself, “Some bank robbers from Russia and Albion, and maybe one from Germania and some nobody. Not counting myself.”

“What bank?”

“Someplace in Hamburg.” And you spot Hamburg on the map. “The contract only said to try and rob it. Never did it state to be successful. But, we keep what we take so I know what I'm doing.”

“How will you get there?”

“The employer will have an uncharted guest on one transport airship to Berlin, then go by train to the region. I foresee nothing wrong.”

“Armaments?”

“Needs to be German. Maybe Austrian. Has to be light and portable. I'll also need small explosives to get as many gains quickly in their vault.”

“Transport in the state?”

“Local cars. Probably shitty steam ones made in Germania.”

“Tea?” He says pouring a cup and brings it to you.

“Yes! Bless you, my good friend.” What else needs to be planned?

Cont.
>>
>>1958330

“Escape?”

The major issue at hand, “Yeah, that's the biggest problem.” You take a sip and draw on another sheet of paper the road to the nearest docks where the escape boat back to the Kingdom will be. “The docks are our leave route out of the country. That's a long way and the longer the route, the higher a chance we'll get caught. Unless we do some sabotage but, would it really be worth it then?”

“Down the power lines and cut the telephone cables?” A good suggestion.

“That's making hell, which I do enjoy, but that's not our main job. And if we do too much work and stay in the country too long, that'll be a problem.”

“You'd prefer to just leave after the job.”

If you were staying in Germany and had everything sorted out in less than a month, it wouldn't be an issue. “Always the best option if I'm not staying. But...” That would mean getting an expensive aircraft charter since they're the quickest way out.

“Mentat, our friends in Germania may provide-”

“I know they have airships around the country. It's just really expensive. I know that I could pay for it and get the entire group in and out. Probably have the airship here, around these plains, hidden. If we're not chased, should be easy.”

“Are you confident in escaping to the docks?”

“I know I can. But I don't like leaving the support behind. They could be captured and they're carrying the other valuables.”

“A possibility of having our people in on the job?”

“... That is an option.” You'd take volunteers if they're up to the task.

“How long before you leave?”

“Ha, he didn't say, but I know it'll be in two days, not counting today.”

“Sandwich?”

“Yes, please.” Hmm, what to focus on?

>Escape plans. Be it boat or air, you'll have to consider the road first and foremost.
>Items and equipment. Man made tools to enforce one's will upon the world!
>The volunteer plan seems like something to be worth looking into. Reliable people that you meet face to face are better than ones you've never met.
>Sleep now, you can do the rest tomorrow. You've done enough brainstorming for tonight. YAWN.
>>
>>1958335
>>The volunteer plan seems like something to be worth looking into. Reliable people that you meet face to face are better than ones you've never met.
it's better to know their skillset so that we can coordinate better
>>
>>1958335
>>Escape plans. Be it boat or air, you'll have to consider the road first and foremost.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

The tie I've been waiting for.

1. Recruit
2. Escape
>>
>>1958335

You munch and think of several plans should shit hit the steam. And that will take time. “Shall I have another meal ready?”

You bow to the ever vigilant elder, “Do, please. Ah, turkey, ham, cheese and egg.”

“In a jiffy.” Butler takes his exit and you return to plotting.

>A somewhat risky escape plan would be you taking a train back to Berlin and hopefully ride back to Albion on an airship if things remain completely stealthy. It's possible, but the trains would have to not be bothered by explosions and shit, the train personnel would either need to be bribed or threatened one being better than the other, otherwise, don't get caught by the police and it could be smooth. You'd run it with the Duke, of course.
>Leasing a Continental plane and kinda hide it nearby is doable. You'd have the backs of a reliable team, but it's expensive. Hopefully, the job is in the black after all said and done. And if things do get chaotic, the pilots are no slouches in a fight. It's a tradition after all in the company.
>If you go by road to the docks, it's cheap, but it's a long drive. Maybe there's some shortcuts and places that cops don't look for. A hideout, yes, that would be smart. And who says you won't return to the land of the Huns? Time to pick, where oh where shall you hide?
>This would be a nice time to have your own airship. Then you wouldn't need to worry so much. It's only the fact that they're so expensive. What if you could get a smaller one? Or make a frame? Or invent a working plane that could travel just enough to get to the Kingdom? Hmm...
>You could just hijack an airship from a superpower and don't get caught.
>Europe's politics could work in your favor. You could just drive to another country, the nearest being the French Republic and go about your merry way to Normandy. So long as you don't be a troublesome bunch, that would be much easier without worrying about being tailed or worrying about the reaching the docks whole. The roads to France are much better anyhow.
>>
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>>1958568
>This would be a nice time to have your own airship. Then you wouldn't need to worry so much. It's only the fact that they're so expensive. What if you could get a smaller one? Or make a frame? Or invent a working plane that could travel just enough to get to the Kingdom? Hmm...
I like the idea of having a small private zeppelin.
>>
>>1958568
>>This would be a nice time to have your own airship. Then you wouldn't need to worry so much. It's only the fact that they're so expensive. What if you could get a smaller one? Or make a frame? Or invent a working plane that could travel just enough to get to the Kingdom? Hmm...
>>
cutting the session for today since I got called to work midnight. Yay.
>>
Last... post!

Roll 1d100
>>
Rolled 80 (1d100)

>>1959739
>>
Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>1959739
>>
Rolled 69 (1d100)

>>1959739
>>
Man it would be awesome if we managed to get a Bugatti 100p or a Hughes H1 as our own plane.
>>
>>1958568

Your mind speculates the fuck out air, how the hell do planes work? Okay, not counting Cavorite which is everything really, there's never been a person in the air without the use of the freak gem, metal, rock, thing.

You suppose that people aren't trying hard enough! What would be nice, is an air machine that could fly up and fly down without the use of the bothersome airship systems, those giant water mains, big internal storage, the very peculiar can't touch the ground reason that you don't know about.

Makes you mad since... no matter. You'll solve it. You'll solve many things now that you have the will! Yes... yes... Butler calls to you but your mood of doing your job has shifted into creation making. Woe to any that tries to get in the way of your GENIUS VOICES, SOULS, and mindS.

Cont.
>>
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>>1961305



“Let me get this straight.” The smuggler of your awesome things, Jackal, says as he paces the office with his cup of coffee in hand, “You were supposed to come with an escape plan for your next mission, yet, from last night to this afternoon, you made all of these things?” His eyes are on your little working models and blueprints and sketches all over the table.

“It's the future, Jackal! Aircraft that can finally land and not be a little bitch!” You toy with your zeppelin that has a model ramp to simulate the utility of dropping things like people or cars into places. Yeah, that would have been so nice in Africa. You get the thing to land, drop its ramp, pull back up the ramp, and take off with some hassles, “Look, the model can do it without Cavorite! Why can't we have a big boy one to test it out? Eventually, later, not now. I know, production and shit.”

Jackal closes his eyes and looks to Butler who gives him the 'You know when he gets into designing nothing can stop him.' “Mentat, haven't you been up over twenty-four hours now?”

You flip open your watch and don't even look at the time to reply the known answer one second ago, “Yes and not a shit to give, Jackal! Air revolution! Willest persists! Marketh extraordinarii!”

“M-mentat, please get some sleep. Your revolution can come when you're ready.”

That!
>Sounds excellentary! Pass out right here and think about nothing until dreams happen.
>”No! Sleep allows weakness to get behind rudders! You shall not dreameth the false god's coming! Uh, wait! Wait! Wait! THERE! Helicopter! I will call this piece a helicopter!” You would be wise to invest in a new portfolio.
>”I am tanke or the air-sea. Fly from sea to air! And land at sea and land! Somehow. Next twenty months. No Butler, says! Tonight! A... flying boat...” Oh, ah, look at it go, from the sea to the air.
>”If twenty pistols are not high enough for the bet, then two more rifles will earn fifty percent in savings from this year hereafter.” Your belly is empty! That's is a problem! To the floor ten feet above you! Away!
>”The escape plan is to kill any sons of bitches in the way. Loud or quiet. And...
>>”Charter a Continental Airship cause I don't like being stranded by anyone. Okay, good night....”
>>”I will go to the Republic next door and be like bribes and brides. Brides? Marriage by money! Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.”
>>”Everything will be fire and that's okay with me.”
>>
>>1961308
>>”No! Sleep allows weakness to get behind rudders! You shall not dreameth the false god's coming! Uh, wait! Wait! Wait! THERE! Helicopter! I will call this piece a helicopter!” You would be wise to invest in a new portfolio.
>>
>>1961308
>Sounds excellentary! Pass out right here and think about nothing until dreams happen.
>>
>>1961033
The tech levels are all over the place, but I guess a Fokker Triplane would be state of the art.
>>
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>>1961308
>Sounds excellentary! Pass out right here and think about nothing until dreams happen.
What next? Land Battleships?
>>
>>1961308
>Sounds excellentary! Pass out right here and think about nothing until dreams happen.

Deserving of the name I see.
>>
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>>1961308

You point to Jackal and fall to your side to the ground before uttering a word in of what a smart idea it is when your mind closes in for the night.



“Boy...”

“Son...” You can see the mouths of your parents move but not the noise. You've long forgotten their voices, “After you're done handing this note over, you can go play. Remember we're leaving at night to the west, okay?”

Little old you nodded and you run off to shitty brown London to go on an adventure. A boring, uninteresting one after all that happened. Gray clouds and the steam made the day muggy. Running down the stone roads, ignoring the poor, rich, everything except for the job.

Failure would be bad, Dad and Mom said time and again. You go leave the note where you were supposed, some old man at the address. He gives you money and you pocket it somewhere safe on you and leave.

Playtime, but there's nothing to do. No friends. Nothing interesting. Cars aren't many. Police's attention at other things if you ever spot one. Many people doing nothing. The slums aren't very special and continue being slums.

Some dead birds and dogs as you jog past. Why walk and be even more bored? Run. Don't hit anything. Don't hit people. Don't get pick-pocketed.

Hm? Something interesting? A little person is nabbing something from a patrician. Several. Good, until she got caught. “What the!? You thief!”

She runs in your direction.

>Do nothing but watch is safety.
>Ha ha ha, kick a lever and support beam that'll drop some food from above.
>Trip the girl.
>Continue jogging on your way past the nobles and guard and mugger. Boring. Nothing new.
>Write-in. Something that a could be done by a smart kid.
>>
>>1962892
>>Ha ha ha, kick a lever and support beam that'll drop some food from above.
>>
>>1962892
>Ha ha ha, kick a lever and support beam that'll drop some food from above.
>>
>>1962892
>>Do nothing but watch is safety.
>>
>>1962892

Ha ha! You look up above some ruined food vendor to see a barrel and possibly rotten food, not even the birds are touching it. You time it close enough and smack the decayed lever and the wooden stand that holds the whole thing.

The barrel goes first, smacking the stone ground after the passing person and sending the rotten pears, apples and other black things everywhere. The guards back away then run away as the wooden arm that held the barrel tilts in their direction and begins to crumble along with the rest of the stand.

You run one way, through a canal shortcut. The thief follows you even though you never communicated. She-



BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK BARK

The mind stirs, originally feeling a whole lot of hurt all over your sore body and face, then a growing sound of a muffled dog barking come clear and rambunctious. Then comes a headache at your temples. “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” You moan and get up, noticing your half-naked attire. “Uhh, what the Jesus H Christ is this noise? And what the time is it?” You fumble around looking for your things, one of which is the watch telling the time of 3:58 PM.

Not even four hours of sleep, superb. “Dog no! No! Don't go up there! No! Bad dog! Stay!” You hear Pixy downstairs and a whole of kids cheering at the sight of a canine.

“Doggy!”
“So big!”
“Look Sam! Dog!”
“Aw, who's a good dog?”
“Come here doggie!”
“Puppy!”

That's, huh, animals aren't supposed to be allowed in the orphanage. Ah fucking hell, you need your pipe before dealing with anything. Where, there. You breathe in deep the lightly scented smoke and at the very least make sure your silk shorts are in order.

Now...

>Where the hell is Pixy? Or this dog? What the hell happened since you were out?
>Tea time. Fuck everything else, you missed lunch and you require bread and butter and liquor. Go as you are now.
>Get some clothes and take a walk outside, The park should be quiet.
>Get dressed and go back to doing, uh, work. Planning, yeah, that thing you don't recall doing.
>Earplugs. Time to go back to sleep. You were having memories and that's rare enough as Cavorite.
>>
>>1963134
>>Get dressed and go back to doing, uh, work. Planning, yeah, that thing you don't recall doing.
>>
>>1963134
>Tea time. Fuck everything else, you missed lunch and you require bread and butter and liquor. Go as you are now.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

1. workaholic
2. It is gentlemanly to have tea time!
>>
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>>1963134

The empty stomach twists inside you, making a pinching pain that resonates stronger than anything else. The mission, have tea time. You clean your wounds and whatnot, getting your shoes on, eye patch, another pair of shorts, a sling to hold your pouch and holster for you're going shirtless today and nothing will stop you from showing your minor scars and muscles. Also, you think that you need to get some new clothes later, yours keep getting ripped.

While going down to the bakery, you see an exhausted Pixy climbing up the stairs looking around for something. On seeing you, he manages to catch his breath when he comes up to you, “Hey, hey, you've seen a dog?”

Oh, his responsibility. “Nope, but I heard one. I woke up because of it. Try the kids. Later.”

“Kids... fuck!” You both go about your merry ways and reach your respective destinations.

You step into the bakery proper filled with many school girls and ladies, a few guys as well, on their business. Luckily, there's room at a booth so you called to Bykowski and Paige, “Hey! Set C! I'll be there.”

Bykowski waves that he's heard your order then slowly begins to see that your current attire is very different from the norm. Those of the opposite gender begin checking the origin of the sound and their response to your being ranges from a huff and turn away, to ogles of the highest interest.

You take your booth and relax, knowing that you will soon be fed and things will probably get worse for you, oh you did not come with a plan. It's alright though, you still have today and tomorrow if your predictions come true. Yet when you're not socially adjusted, those visions sometimes are off.

Well, better off than crazy. Much better. You think about Germania and not your prototypes, really not a good time to be inventing before a job. That does remind you, you could always go rob a bank at night and not do a daylight raid.

“Mr... Browning?” You turn your eyes to Miss Chise and Beatrice in their school dress. Their eyes are mostly on your body than your face yet you can forgive them.

“Miss Chise, Miss Beatrice.” You raise your pipe to them and continue smoking as they get some sort of prize.

“... Is it not cold for you?” How nice of her to ask.

Honestly, being near the kitchen has its benefits such as the warm air coming through, “Not really.”

And silence...

>Let this weird thing happen and they'll be on their way. Or it continues. Chise and Beatrice must really like staring at your scars or something.
>”Uh, would you like to sit down and have tea time with me?” It would be rude to not say anything. Even though you suspect that they'll reject it.
>Reconsider your life choices, then think all is good, then after food head back upstairs to do your room and establish a real plan for the bank robbery.
>Small talk. Are they doing anything crazy today? No, that's good. You're on your day off too. School okay?
>Write-in.
>>
>>1963915
>”Uh, would you like to sit down and have tea time with me?” It would be rude to not say anything. Even though you suspect that they'll reject it.
>>
>>1963915
>>Reconsider your life choices, then think all is good, then after food head back upstairs to do your room and establish a real plan for the bank robbery.
>>
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>>1963915
>>”Uh, would you like to sit down and have tea time with me?” It would be rude to not say anything. Even though you suspect that they'll reject it.
I'm honestly imagining Browning as a younger, more unhinged version of pic related.
>>
>>1963915
>”Uh, would you like to sit down and have tea time with me?” It would be rude to not say anything. Even though you suspect that they'll reject it.
>>
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>>1964025
Implying that Browning isn't a blend of RDJ's Sherlock and a Victorian Steampunk Frank Martin from the Transporter movies.
>>
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>>1963915

Five seconds of listening to nothing is enough for you to say something, anything, “Uh, would you like to sit down and have tea time with me?” The stall is big enough at least for four persons, yet you have a sneaking suspicion that the answer would be no.

Chise glows with a smile and bows, “I gladly accept!” Uh, wait there's one more girl.

“Uhh, Chise!” Beatrice looks around in a panic as Chise has already taken a seat, “W-we're most grateful for the invitation but we shouldn't, we have an errand to run.” Oh, on the money, Well you shouldn't keep them.

“But didn't the baker said it'll take about thirty minutes?” Chise's words sting her short friend into silence for a few seconds.

“Uhh, thank you for the invitation, excuse us.” A curtsy and she sits beside her foreign friend in defeat.

Right on time Bykowski comes with your sandwiches, desserts and drinks and extra cups, “One C set, bourbon from the Americas, and green tea. You, uh, need anything else? Maybe a shirt?”

“I sure am not putting on your oversize clothes.” You toss him the payment and he leaves you be. “Aside from the alcohol, help yourselves, ladies.” You pick a sandwich from a bottom plate and pour out your drinks.

“Ohh! I must ask you something.” You let out a hm, and wait for her to continue, “Where did you learn to fight from yesterday? You fought both outnumbered and against single opponents through some tricks and skill without shedding much blood. How so?”

Right, just because you weren't watching the Princess friends doesn't mean they weren't there. For now, you go with a safe answer, “Albion army mostly.”

Beatrice chooses to stay silent as you converse with Chise, “Oh, a warrior! But, no longer?”

“Yeah, I got out.” Hah, more like abandoned, AWOL, too long to talk about in polite company.

“I see, would that explain some of your... scars that you have?” Chise, unlike Beatrice, look very closely at your marks made from the enemy or chance.

“A few of them, yes. A few were more after my time in the army.” You assist Chise in reach one of the higher plates for her snack.

“Ah, thank you. Then you don't mind me asking, when we fought, were you holding back?”

Oh... uh...

>Yes, sort of, not in the normal sense that you were being disrespectful but more like you were keeping with how a traditional cane fighter would fight. It's different when you're... a psycho. Don't say that though.
>No, you are not that disgraceful and also last night's fight was against unprofessionals. Real fighters worth their fist are different. Like you Chise.
>Yes. Just yes. It's the truth. But even if you didn't, you would have lost. Simple fact.
>This one here, no. Other you, yes. Okay, this is gonna be weird to explain and you don't want to so hopefully empty words will do the trick.

---

Last post, also work tomorrow so no session
>>
>>1964312
>Yes, sort of, not in the normal sense that you were being disrespectful but more like you were keeping with how a traditional cane fighter would fight. It's different when you're... a psycho. Don't say that though.
>"Trust me, you wouldn't want to fight me when I'm not holding back."
>>
>>1964312
>>Yes, sort of, not in the normal sense that you were being disrespectful but more like you were keeping with how a traditional cane fighter would fight. It's different when you're... a psycho. Don't say that though
>>
>>1964312
>Yes, sort of, not in the normal sense that you were being disrespectful but more like you were keeping with how a traditional cane fighter would fight. It's different when you're... a psycho. Don't say that though.
>>
>>1964312
>Yes, sort of, not in the normal sense that you were being disrespectful but more like you were keeping with how a traditional cane fighter would fight. It's different when you're... a psycho. Don't say that though.

Or rather that it was more in the manner of exploring how to fight a sword fighter from the Far East using codified rules and not a street brawl.
>>
>>1964312
>>Yes, sort of, not in the normal sense that you were being disrespectful but more like you were keeping with how a traditional cane fighter would fight. It's different when you're... a psycho. Don't say that though.
>>
>>1964312

“Yes? Well, sort of.” Oh, you do not want to upset Miss Chise or be a hundred percent truthful. Is close good enough? Maybe? “I mean, not in a disrespectful way to you. I was... more incline in following a code of conduct in our spar as a cane user.”

Chise blankly stares at you confused. Your words are failing, a new approach, “Our fight was different than the fight back in the casino or earlier in the day yesterday. You understand, right?”

You give Chise some time to think on it and it looks like she sorta understands you, “Mhmm, I think so. You do act differently, true.”

“And you saw my match with my friend? How even though we could kill each other, we didn't. Same with our spar, we didn't fight to the death. And in a way, the brawl was same with those noble brats but less respect.”

“So... you don't look down on me?” She looks up at you questioningly, her eyes ever watching for a falsehood.

“No no no no, not in the least. Even if I didn't hold back you would have beaten me. And you held back a little in an effort to not kill me so it's all good, Miss Chise. I truthfully admit my fighting with swords and such are on the low end. I can do it but it's not my preference.”

“Yes, I can understand.” Phew, you didn't piss, demean, or affect her negatively in your weird explanation. “Is that why you wished to study the way of the sword from Japan? You said it before after I was rudely taken away.” Wait what. “Your fighting style is most unique and I believe I could also learn from you. The way you handle yourself in a fight is most intriguing.”

“C-chise?” Things might be going too fast for you and Beatrice.

“If it's not too disrespectful, could we plan a meeting to talk about martial arts?” … Did Chise ask you on a pseudo-date?

Beatrice is more or less on the same page, “Chise!? H-how could y-you go on a da, I mean, how can you keep talking to him while he's immodest!?”

“Oh, looking at a male figure is nothing new to me. Back in the dojo at home, during hot summers the boy students take off their upper clothes during training sessions.” Chise reveals, so male nudity isn't an issue with her. Never would have thought. “But furthermore, what is your answer Mr. Brrrrowning?”

>No promises since you're going to be away from Albion soon. There's also the possibility of dying so there's that. Is just fact from the life you live. And so, back to planning.
>Oh, your schedule is haphazard and yours must be too. How about, you make a contract? That way, it's my 'job' to be with you and we can parlay then.” Who says you can't make a little penny from hangi- err, teaching a foreigner of European fighting styles.
>”... I'm free for the rest of today. Want to do it now?” You're fine with doing it now. Not like you can think of a good plan while tired and not in the zone mentally.
>>
>>1969162
>No promises since you're going to be away from Albion soon.
Though mention we'd be delighted to once we get back.
>>
>>1969162
>>No promises since you're going to be away from Albion soon. There's also the possibility of dying so there's that. Is just fact from the life you live. And so, back to planning.

Browning can make an appointment for when he returns.

>Reminder that there was no nudity taboo in Meiji-era Japan
>Chise's probably seen boys in fundoshi and her home probably has some shunga prints around
>>
>>1969162
>No promises since you're going to be away from Albion soon. There's also the possibility of dying so there's that. Is just fact from the life you live. And so, back to planning.
>>
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>>1969162

“No promises, Miss Chise. Although I would like to, I have a job taking me away from London and Albion soon.” Your answer disheartens her and her face slightly shows it. “If I return, we should make a schedule. Until then, I should be going. Go ahead and finish what you want. Sayonara.” You're sure that's goodbye or something in her language.

“Oh, bye.”Is her lackluster farewell as you leave and head back to the basement to further your planning, maybe this time you'll get something done.

...

“Welcome back, Mentat.” Before you enter fully, Butler greets you as he puts a box on the table.

Jackal only greets you with, “Browning,” and goes about shifting through papers on his desk.

“So... anything new while I was out?” You don't rightly recall what you did here, but you know other you did something... odd while doing 'prep work'.

“Nothing aside from the normal business. Oh, I must mention that our current inventory of German and Austria-Hungarian is rather lacking. Yet I manage to prepare this little jewel for you. I'm sure you've handled one before.” Butler takes out a small case and opens it, revealing a pistol stock.

One that's familiar to you. “Mauser pistol, huh?”

With a smile, Butler opens up the hatchway and takes out the little boxy gun made in Germany. “Indeed.”

“Any modifications?” You suspect the answer is no but it's good to be sure.

“Not on this one. Chambered in 7.63 Mauser, slightly over two pounds, internal magazine holding ten rounds, fed either with great difficulty by hand or-” He grabs an empty metal clip, “-a stripper clip.”

“Eh, I prefer magazines. But it'll do in a bind and I'm not supposed to fire it anyway. I'm robbing a bank, not going on a killing spree against civilians.”

“A very good idea, Mentat. Will you be buying or renting it?”

“I'll think about it.” You have other things to think about. Such as...

>The best way to leave Germany that's not the stock plan. You plan to...
-Take to the skies by a leased airship after escaping the town by car. The fastest way to return to London too.
-Flee to the French Republic. They dislike Germans and would certainly like a good bribe when you cross with money in hand.
-A return train to Berlin then take an airship back to London. Shouldn't be too hard to adjust the mission parameters.
>Plan the actual heist itself. Oh hell, that means going crazy. How else will you get the info? Possibly tomorrow, so you could wait but... you want it done now.
>If shit does hit the fan, a C96 Mauser isn't enough. You'll need something else or modify the pistol/carbine to be more practical. A sawn-off will do alongside the C96. You'll ask Butler and Jackal what material is in stock. You'll improve the gun yourself.
>You need good, reliable fellows rather than who the heck are your teammates. Draw up a list.
>>
>>1969511
>Plan the actual heist itself. Oh hell, that means going crazy. How else will you get the info? Possibly tomorrow, so you could wait but... you want it done now.
Ha ha! Time for more insanity!
>>
>>1969511
>>If shit does hit the fan, a C96 Mauser isn't enough. You'll need something else or modify the pistol/carbine to be more practical. A sawn-off will do alongside the C96. You'll ask Butler and Jackal what material is in stock. You'll improve the gun yourself.
>>You need good, reliable fellows rather than who the heck are your teammates. Draw up a list.
>>
>>1969511
>You need good, reliable fellows rather than who the heck are your teammates. Draw up a list.
>>
>>1969511
>>You need good, reliable fellows rather than who the heck are your teammates. Draw up a list.
>>
>>1969511
>-Take to the skies by a leased airship after escaping the town by car. The fastest way to return to London too.
>>You need good, reliable fellows rather than who the heck are your teammates. Draw up a list.
We need a few good gunmen, a sapper and a backup wheelman.
>>
>>1969511
“What I need though, are reliable fellows up for a bank robbery. Is anyone available on short notice?” You ask both Jackal and Butler.

Jackal shakes his head and answers, “I can't spare anyone, maybe Pixy if it's only a day or two since you both were buddies. That aside, you might have better luck putting a post, seeing if anyone bites. Of course, no one does anything for free.”

“Course not.” You quip and weigh your coin purse by hand. You do have plenty to go around, “Any not kids suitable for a job like this? Driver, watcher, not so dangerous things.”

Butler shakes his head, “Not in the least, although Conroy has experience as a driver, though a previous time has marked him. Most of the other growing adolescents do not have your special experience.” Most of the kids were born into thievery work, but that necessarily didn't translate well into going into the breach. “Hmm, now that I think about it, there may be one lass that left that may qualify.”

“Who?” You begin handling the Mauser pistol, getting an old feeling when it's in your hands. It has been a long time when you used one.

“She went by the name of Catherine but I've recalled that she's changed her name since she's left. Still, she had some unique skills similar to yours in the gun and explosive department. Though you'll likely contact her with the usual job board.”

Well, that's a bust. “Just gonna have to make do.” You pull the cocking piece and inspect the internal magazine. “Like always. Oh, Jackal, could you put the word that someone is interested in leasing a small airship soon. I might have that as the extraction plan just so I can get the hell out faster.” You toss an initial payment at his desk with he nods back. So...

>Hire Pixy, he can do everything you can, basically. Reliable. And on the same pay range as you so, you gotta pay up personally. Also to Jackal too. Unless you plan on rewarding him with some valuables from the bank. But that can come in negotiations.
>Conroy, baby Conroy. You could always use another bag man and assistant driver. Just so long as you're in sight and hearing, he shouldn't have too much of a problem with being into crime. You can take him for free with the excuse of life experience.
>Send a job order and see who picks up tomorrow. But you'll need to give some sort of payment to hook in the seekers.
-Low $. Not many people will bite except for the desperate.
-Medium $$. Yeah, this job is around this pay range. You'll get a couple of takers, you can afford about three people.
-High $$$ You want the best, you get a rough area of the best in Albion. You could probably take only 1 if you do have Pixy along, otherwise 2.
-Put the word that Mentat will owe a favor. Only those in the in will know what that's worth.
>Strange idea, uh, maybe ask that girl, Ange and her friends if they want to come? It'll be a weird meeting for sure. Make it a favor job.
>>
>>1970449
>>Hire Pixy, he can do everything you can, basically. Reliable. And on the same pay range as you so, you gotta pay up personally. Also to Jackal too. Unless you plan on rewarding him with some valuables from the bank. But that can come in negotiations.
>>
>>1970449
>>Hire Pixy, he can do everything you can, basically. Reliable. And on the same pay range as you so, you gotta pay up personally. Also to Jackal too. Unless you plan on rewarding him with some valuables from the bank. But that can come in negotiations.
>>Conroy, baby Conroy. You could always use another bag man and assistant driver. Just so long as you're in sight and hearing, he shouldn't have too much of a problem with being into crime. You can take him for free with the excuse of life experience.

Why not both?
>>
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>>1970449

If you think about it, you just need another competent man beside you. If all goes to shit, well, you were doomed anyhow. “If you can get me Pixy, I'd be really happy.”

“Then go talk to him. If he says yes, then I can deal with the schedule adjustments.” Jackal says with a little agitation in his tone and you excuse yourself to find your buddy.

Going upstairs to the third floor, you hear some BARK BARK BARK and stumble on your tired friend sitting on the steps. “Top of the 'morrow Pixy. What's new?”

His looks up with a wry grin and he shakes his head, moaning, “Questionable life decisions.”

“Ha! That dog barking one?” You remember him asking about the dog earlier.

“Ah, some of the guys and I were doing some late work and, uh, we rescued that dog.” You go sit beside him and offer a smoke that he refuses. “Now that dog is being friendly with the kids and I don't know what to do. Let it go on the streets? I'm sure it'll survive but that's not really worth the hassle of rescuing him. Keep, Mrs. Paige then won't shut the fuck up and I'm lucky that she's out for today.”

Seems like your buddy is having a bad time. “Oh Pixy, I do not advice for you about dogs or life choices, but I got a job offer.” Maybe this will lighten up his mood and indeed it does.

“What kind of job?”

“Robbing a bank in Germania. Sounds exciting, yes? I got a job from a noble though so... I need a good friend beside me. You in?”

“Bank robbery? Wait, what's the deal? How are you getting over there? Details, man.”

“Uh, illegal airship ride followed by an illegal train ride, then an illegal bank robbery where the main objective is to rob it, never mentioning succeeding and all taken items will be ours. I'm going with some nobodies but I want someone I can trust that can get shit done. You. I talked to Jackal earlier, says he'll do something about the schedule if you say yes.”

“Sooo... we negotiating?”

“I guess. The jobs in two days, thanks to fucking Cavorite, the real info comes tomorrow, I think. And you...”

>Prepayment of whatever his rate is. Half paid now, half after completion. He'll need to get his things in order and you trust him to do so. Standard fare.
>You're offering part of your loot after the heist. Should it be good, it might be better than any other payment options. Unless it's bad or you bust or die or any other bad outcome that could happen.
>You'll pay him for his skills, equipment you'll deal with personally. A little cheaper, but you need to have your head in the mindset of a bank robber. Or cheat but.... how about no.
>”If I pay you, does the dog come with you?” More in jest but if that dog is capable, you would like to know.
>>
>>1971227
>>Prepayment of whatever his rate is. Half paid now, half after completion. He'll need to get his things in order and you trust him to do so. Standard fare.
>>
>>1971227
>>Prepayment of whatever his rate is. Half paid now, half after completion. He'll need to get his things in order and you trust him to do so. Standard fare.




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