>>6152096
>Cut through the door and put Ferrara out of his misery
Do you think if he used too many italians for the flesh halls that they would get clogged?

>>6152096
>Cut through the door and put Ferrara out of his misery
Hotspur needs therapy bad after all this shit

>>6152096
>Cut through the door and put Ferrara out of his misery.

Dam ferrara didn't even do or say anything disrespectful to the flesh smith but he still decided to turn him into furniture.

This guy is an absolute menace.

Imagine you go to a super villain offering to pay him tribute in exchange for some of his disposable minions. And he instead decides to turn you into a decoration just because.

>>6152096
>Cut through the door and put Ferrara out of his misery
This is some drukhari type shit.

>>6152124
>>6152125
>>6152455
>>6152465
seems unanimous.

locked in.

There was nothing we could do to help him. Nothing but what would already done for the Flesh-Smith's other victims. I said nothing but drew back my sword, and cut.

The flash of shock across Ferrara's face became a glint of relief before fading away entirely, the door split apart behind him. The door didn't come apart in splinters, but in sticky, bloody fibers, pulsing muscle splattering to the ground. He had been the door itself.

"You've become a ruthless young animal."

The voice came from all around us. The walls. Small mouths puckered wet lips from the walls, and spoke as one in that mild voice of the monster.

"No pity for the ant that finds itself beneath your boot? Ferrara came to deal with me as if I were some mercenary for hire. He learned a valuable lesson. The difference between us and them. But I was not so cruel as to kill him."

"Fuck this," Grit said, trying not to look at the little speaking mouths flowering out of the walls. We walked on, but more mouths bloomed around us.

"I have searched the human body high and low for signs of a soul. To its smallest level I have looked. There is nothing. I have found nothing. Not in the brain or the liver or the kidney. Death is an end from which there is nothing after. So it is cruel then, cruel beyond measure to kill."

"Fuckin' hypocrite," Grit muttered.

The walls, the walls of the room we entered were pale and pasty, dripping with the same body grool as outside. Flesh wallpapering his domain, out from which the little speaking mouths blossomed, full lipped and teeth with clucking tongues behind them.

"I am the end of death," he said, "This city will be the first to receive my gift. But I need the girl to finish my work, the Living Dead Girl you so naively call Ayane."

Dusk gripped her sister's shoulder, but Ayane wasn't afraid.

"Man is nothing but piss and blood and come," he said, "Unconscious. But I will make us something more. More than an animal."

From one room to another, in a downward spiral.

"Why don't you just show yourself, coward?" Ayane said, "Get it over with, come and get me."

"But you're already here," he said, "I have no need. You are guests in my house. A good host must entertain his guests."

"Men in love with themselves always love to talk," Dusk said, "This dragon is no more than a power mad narcissist. How disappointing."

"Disappointing?" now there was some venom in his voice, "You arrogant little bitch."

I couldn't see Dusk's face but I could sense her smile in the squint of her eyes.

"Step into my parlor then, if you're so disappointed!"

There was a rumble in the ground, and before we could do more than gasp the ground beneath us opened with an unpleasant squelch. Ayane gave a short scream. I grabbed her quickly against my chest as the wind rushed up at us, but it wasn't a long drop.

We landed on something soft and wet, and from the fire of my light we saw a ground of rolling pink masses. It made it all hard to keep my feet, and Ayane was half climbed onto my shoulders at the sight of what was beneath us.

People. A translucent film between us and beneath our feet pink, skinless people, writhing together in a thick red soup. Grabbing each other, rolling atop one another, moaning mouths silent together in their agony.

"Or my workshop, I should say."

The voice came from before us. He emerged from the mass beneath our feet, formed by limbs slapping together in a strange embrace before skin slithered up over it to reveal the urbane face of old Hollywood glory, pencil thin mustache and clad in a dinner jacket. From his jacket he drew a cigarette, the Flesh-Smith, and lit it with a silver lighter.

He smiled at us with hooded, mild eyes.

"The surplus population of Chicago," he said, gesturing to the mass beneath us, "Junkies, whores, the homeless, the poor. The unmissed and the miserable. Brought here to serve a higher purpose. With you, my dear, the key to their salvation."

"YOU ARE FUCKING GROSS!" Ayane belted out, glaring at him with such disgust I felt it.

He puffed his cigarette, amused by her outburst. "The princess recoils from her purpose, hiding behind her knights," he said, "But they can't protect you my dear, this is your destiny, I am your destiny."

"You're just a gross old boomer!" Ayane yelled, "Who gave you the right to do any of this?"

Flesh-Smith shrugged. "A falling star."

"Enough with this shit," Grit said, swinging his hammer, "Let's kill this fucker and go."

Flesh-Smith clapped his hands. "Yes! The final confrontation. Although, not just yet! I have some friends I'd like you to meet."

"In the Hebrew bible there is no mention of heaven. No mention of a soul. Man is made of clay, given life by the breath of God. Returned to dust in death. Regathered on judgement day, the righteous and the damned alike returned to nothing. No heaven, no soul, no life ever lasting. Only dust. A great unmaking. But I am a kinder God."

He clapped his hands and they fell from the roof. Three great globs of flesh that splunked down at his feet. From there he twisted his hands, and the globs took shape. Limbs pulled themselves out from the shapeless mass, heads formed to define shoulders, and three tall, unnatural flesh golems hulked before their master.

"Three on three is only fair," Flesh-Smith said, then grinned, "But what's the fun in fair?"

Beneath us the mass of people writhed. The film parted, and fleshless hands reached out. Trying to grab us, to pull us down among them. Ayane screamed as one grabbed her ankle. Dusk's claws struck out, severing the hand at the wrist.

"Oh fuck this!" Grit spat, kicking at the grasping hands, right as the flesh golems charged.

>focus on those grabbing hands, and protecting Ayane
>focus on the Flesh Golems, let the others protect the princess
>write-in

>>6152599
>In his workshop he can just keep making golems and hands infinitely. The flesh smith that is speaking right now is likely just another golem. We need to stop thinking about this fight in terms of individual enemies and focus on reducing his available biomass to zero. Burn as much of it as possible with purging flame.

>>6152620
Also keep an eye out for his true body

I really wanted to run this arc through Halloween

now I'll be running the Thanksgiving stuff through Christmas and the Christmas stuff through New Years

>>6152627
It is what it is, I'm just glad you're running it at all. There's no bad time of year for spooky stuff.

>>6152620
Seconding this

>>6152620
Burn baby burn

>>6152599
>focus on the Flesh Golems, let the others protect the princess

When when we first made a light to search for Shark it took a lot out of us. Making the sword also consumes a lot more stamina than usual, i can only imagine that trying to turn our sword into some kind of of flamethrower would knock the wind out us.

>>6153085
Maybe it could be a combo attack with Ayane? She was able to recharge and heal us previously.

>>6153101
>>6152938
>>6152682
>>6152620
going with this then.

Oh God imagine if we could've just beaten the flesh smith the old fashioned way and it's revealed that Ayane had the ability to deus ex machina heal and restore everyone to their natural minds and bodies

>>6153245
I don't think the flesh smith is conventionally killable. He literally grew himself a body out of his flesh pit's floor. Last time we fought he he fused with the halls.

As long as he has enough organs and bio mass to work with he can just grow himself a new body.

Burn. It had to burn. If we had a hope of defeating the Flesh-Smith once and for all. All of it. But was the fire in my fist enough? Just drawing my sword tired me. The ground under my feet rolled with the twisting fleshless bodies of his victims, bulging up against the translucent film that separated us. The floor itself a living thing. And while arms broke through the film to grasp out with bloody fingers, the golems strode forward with a lumbering gait.

"Then the Lord God formed a Man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being," the Flesh-Smith said, ashing his cigarette, his voice mild as if he were placing an order at Starbucks, "I alone am conscious, and being so I alone am alive. And so I am both Man and God."

"You're fucking insane!" Ayane screamed, pulling herself away from the snaring hands as Dusk slashed the reaching limbs.

"Hotspur, what the fuck are we doing here?" Grit said, backing up to me with hammer in hand, teeth bared in a growing panic, "You got a plan, or just your dick in your hands?"

Burn it out with fire. Burn it away. The darkness, the madness. Give him no ground to run to.

"I have a plan," I said.

And thrust my sword into the ground beneath my feet.

The heat ripped through me and out, down. I needed more of it. All of it. More than I'd ever drawn on before. My pulse quickened, my heart hammered with the pounding of a savage EDM beat in my ears. My mouth dried and as the power poured out of me a terrible hollowness took its place. More. I needed more.

White fire began to web out beneath that thin film, catching alit the skinless nude figures Flesh-Smith had stripped of both skin and humanity. But more, I needed more.

"What is this?" a bead of sweat on Flesh-Smith's face, the mild expression replaced with a sharp glare, "This will not do."

Arms half aflame burst from the ground, reaching for me, grabbing at my jacket leaving bloody hand prints. The ground beneath my feet began to sink. They were trying to pull me down, down among them.

"Let go of him!" Ayane kicked at an arm latched to my collar.

"Yeah, you going to tell us?" Grit spat as the golems dropped onto all fours, "Fuck me!"

I closed both hands around the hilt of my burning sword, body shaking as I did something I'd never dared attempt before. But it wasn't enough. And I grew dizzy, knees unsteady. It was too much. It wasn't enough.

"Ayane," I said through clenched teeth, "I-I need your help."

"How?" she said.

"I don't know," I said, "What you did before, with my leg. I need you to do it again."

"But I don't know how!" a pitch of panic in her voice.

"Figure it the fuck out!" Grit spat.

"Trust yourself, imoto-chan," Dusk said.

Ayane stood paralyzed as burning arms broke out from the ground, and the golems broke into a bounding gallop toward us, letting out a terrible shriek.

>have Grit fight the golems, Dusk handle the arms
>have Dusk fight the golems, Grit handle the arms

>roll 3 x 1d100 dc 95 for Hotspur
Burning all this bio-mass is going to be difficult for Hotspur to deal with alone

>roll 3 x 1d100+10 dc 50 for Ayane
But he has Ayane for the assist

going to try and post a lot more this week and get back to my old schedule, no more two or three days without an update. if there are the players I'll try and get out two or three a day

Rolled 18 (1d100)

>>6154019
>have Grit fight the golems, Dusk handle the arms
Grit's the better brawler I reckon.

>>6154021
Do each of us roll 2d100? One for Hotspur one for Ayane. I'll roll 1d100 in case it isn't.

>>6154033
>Do each of us roll 2d100? One for Hotspur one for Ayane. I'll roll 1d100 in case it isn't.
you can if you'd like, just say which roll is which

Rolled 3 + 10 (1d100 + 10)

>>6154034
Alright, that 18 wasn't a good start so
>Inb4 shit rolls
Here goes Ayane

Okay so...Eric might die here

>>6154033
>>6154043
ok no more rolling from me I see

Or not!

But a failure for both of them or worse, a crit fail on either Eric or Ayane's part sure would be interesting

Rolled 1, 12 = 13 (2d100)

>>6154021
1st for Eric, 2nd for Ayane, or vice versa idk.

>>6154055
Jesus Christ, this is how it ends baka? End me

>>6154055
AH FUCK

HAHAHAHA HOLY SHIT

well unless Eric's next roll is 100 that's a critfail and it looks like Ayane is about to fail too.

>>6154019
>have Dusk fight the golems, Grit handle the arms

SOMEONE SAVE US.

Rolled 18, 7 = 25 (2d100)

>>6154019
So I can roll for both right?
First is Eric, second Ayane

>>6154067
I guess Eric dies

>>6154046
>>6154055

Wow what a jinx, but on the other hand maybe Space Prince has the answer since he popped up in that nat1 against the Ice guy and cut off his hands pretty handily. Eric dies, but Prince Eric is born. lol

I wasn't expecting a result this bad, but that's ok. Failure can be fun!

Need a tie break on what Dusk and Grit are doing, then I'll hit you guys with the next update

>>6154019
>>have Grit fight the golems, Dusk handle the arms

Rolled 42, 32 = 74 (2d100)

>>6154021
Are we done rolling?

Spur/Ayane

Grit Golems, Dusk Arms

>>6154077
ok, locking in Grit fighting the golems, Dusk handling the arms.

>>6154078
I'm afraid Hotspur suffered a critfail and Ayane didn't manage the 40+ dice roll necessary to succeed. Really might be the worst batch of dice rolling in the game, nothing above an 18.

Well
It's been fun fellas

"Grit, deal with the bio-golems, Dusk, cover me!" I panted, voice strained as sweat poured down my neck. The heroes never had strained or cracked voices, not in any of the movies.

Grit spat. "On it!" and ran at the bounding golems.

"Very well," Dusk hissed, and her claws slashed out.

Bloody hands all over me, pulling me down. The cut of obsidian talons tore them away, more kicked back by Ayane until those hands turned to grasp her. Dusk lunged, grabbing the fleshless arm pulling on Ayane's overall straps, and tore it apart. Ayane, released, stumbled into me and grabbed my shoulders, holding on tight.

Clenched teeth bared, I poured more fire beneath me, setting the ground to glow. Burning hands, fat sizzling in the fire, muscle sloughing off down to the elbow leaving white fire wreathed skeletal fingers, snatched and clawed at me.

"Ayane!" I gasped, my heart thumping irregular, everything dizzy, "You need to do what you did or...or we're dead."

"I don't know, I don't know," Ayane shuddered against me.

From out of the ground a burning bio-ghoul tore itself out from the sea of fire beneath us. Muscle dripping from its cheeks, eyes melting in its sockets, bloody teeth bared. It grabbed her from behind, tearing at her with long bone fingers. She screamed as the back of her overalls were torn away, as it snagged her shirt and shredded it, as it readied long sharp fingers to tear into her flesh.

Dusk spun and slashed off its arm at the elbow, spun again and slashed apart its chest, all with a ballet grace and quickness.

"You need to, you need," I was struggling, my head swimming, my power fading. My grip on the fire growing loose, the brightness of the flames beneath us dimming as around us Flesh-Smith's bio-ghouls tore their way free from the purifying flames, filling the workshop with their unearthly shrieks.

With fading vision I watched Grit stand against the bio-golems. The leader of the pack lunged straight for him, thick blunt fingers outstretched. Grit pivoted on his back foot and with a baseball bat swing brought his hammer around. The meaty thump and the deep crack of broken bones rung out as he took it clean on the side of the dome, sending the monster staggering off course to crash behind him. He brought his hammer around on the next to come on him, right down on its clavicle, buckling it to its knees.

But they didn't stay down. The one behind him shook out its head like a big dog would its jowls before standing, and the other with the broken shoulder popped it back in with a flex of its chest. And the third, uninjured, came on. Grit was a small thing against those giants. Standing alone.

"No," I gasped. He swung at the one behind him, again at the one ahead of him, then the third knocked him down with an overhand right that sent him rolling across the surface of the sea of white fire, stone hammer lost. Seeing weakness, the bio-golems closed as Grit forced himself up knuckles first, blood trickling from his mouth. "No!"

Dusk danced among the burning bio-ghouls, black claws tearing out as melting limbs snatched at her, Flesh-Smith's half-formed creations barely more than shuffling zombies, but just as unrelenting. A hooked hand caught black shadow and pulled, tearing it away and baring the flesh of Dusk's left arm. The same again to her right thigh. The bio-ghouls stripping the shadows away one handful at a time, crowding her, overwhelming her. Beating her down.

"No!"

I grabbed at that failing power, the last ember of fire within me. Drew on it, let it fill me. Let it take control.

I burned. Burned in the fire. The fire of creation. The fire of the first light.

I looked upon the twisted misshapen things before me, beneath me. The living walls. And at its source the watching craftsman, smoking a cigarette, the darkness emanating from the deep pit of his soul, few flecks of light left within it, near lost completely to the Lie.

Druj-work, all around us.

"God," I said in that cold alien voice, the voice that lurked in the back of my head, the voice of the prince, "You call yourself God. Nought are you but a toymaker. A tinker."

The Flesh-Smith raised an eyebrow.

"Vile," I said, all around me in those twisted husks the flecks of silver of what had once been living people, "Perverse. Base. And dull, a vapid tinkerer at the margin of things. Lower than an ant, dreaming its an eagle."

The Flesh-Smith smiled. "Less than an ant? And yet you're the one beneath my boot," he said, and raised a hand.

From above me the roof itself came slamming down, a wall of hard tissue that pummelled me through the thin film and down into the hot waters of the Flesh-Smith's uncreation. Whatever the liquid was, it stank and it itched, but it couldn't douse the fire in my fist as I was pulled down. Beside me Ayane drifted away, the fabric of her overalls beginning to peel. She kicked over to me, swimming hard, breath held tight, bangs of black hair a cloud in front of her eyes. Sodden clothes pulling her down, she wrestled her way free of the overalls, down to black Calvin Kleins when she reached me.

The prince took her by the small of the back, pulled her close and pulled us both up. Bursting free into the dank air of the workshop, gasping and wet. Pulled myself out, then her. She coughed and sputtered.

I looked down on her, the maiden. Saw in her the pearl of white that spoke to something inside me.

I knelt. "Princess," I said, "Wouldst though give us thine gift?" Old Englishee, I didn't know what the fuck I was saying. Ayane gasped, face shining from the strange womb liquid of the unmaking waters. I took her chin and tipped it up, to look her in the eyes. She stared back, and gasped. I reached up to pull down my mask. I reached forward, to cup her behind the ear, to feel the tremble of her neck. "I know thine power, I know it, I have tasted it before."

Lips parted, mouths so close, the heat of her breath as they closed. The feel of her tongue, nervous then strong. And with it, the rush. The hot rush through me that answered her soft moan, and a word muttered from her lips once they parted. Fire rose around us, the blinding white fire.

"Arash."

Gone was Ayane. In that moment white hair replaced black, and I looked into the silver eyes of my sister. Serenäe. My sister, my bride, bound in the sacred ways of old...of old...

Red skies and the laughing damned. The dragon! The dragon!

"God!" I grabbed my head, and the fire died around us. So badly had the fire swept through in the moment of our kiss it had burned the workshop walls bare to the stone, black scorch marks across its sides. It had boiled through the waters beneath us that they now stood stagnant, what remained match stick things burned of meat. And all that remained were the bio-golems, the bio-ghouls swarming Dusk, and the now sneering face of the Flesh-Smith.

But behind him. Behind him the eyes of the true dragon. Looking out through the abyss. Looking down upon me. Found me, he had found me.

"God!" I fell into my sister-bride's arms. No, not anymore. Ayane, her name was Ayane.

"Hotspur!" she cried, trying to haul me up, but I had no legs to stand on. No, he had cut my legs out from under me. He had cut away my sword arm. He had left me only the one arm left to drag myself by, at his feet, to spit one last word of defiance before he finished it. Finished it. But he had been long in finishing it.

Red skies and the laughing damned, watching in their legions at the end of our world.

"No, no, no!" I whimpered. Not my memories. Not mine. Not me.

"Somebody! Priss! Help him!" Ayane screamed, "Grit! There's something wrong with Hotspur!"

But they had their own battles to fight. And I was losing mine. I was losing...
-
roll for Grit
>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 70

roll for Dusk
>roll 3 x 1d100+30 dc 50

pulled the trigger on some stuff early because of that critfail

Rolled 23 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6154123
Grit
The amount of critfails since your return is insane

>>6154140
its definitely kept me entertained

Rolled 92 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

Please space jesus let this not be a crit fail

>>6154146
based on the bonus I'm saying that's for Dusk

>>6154147
correct
My bad

Rolled 12 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6154123
Rollan again for my boy Grit

Rolled 11 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>6154123
Dusk of deep hips

>>6154123
Also called Serenae being a bride

Rolled 50 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6154123
Maybe I can redeem myself with a Grit Crit

>>6154215
Clutch roll

Rolled 3 + 30 (1d100 + 30)

>>6154123
Last Dusk roll

>>6154123
>makeout session with our former cat
this is gonna be a tough sell for ivy and ayesha

Both Grit and Dusk pass their checks.

Writing it up now

Okay sorry guys, I don't know who the fuck thought that little crop tool in the text box was a good idea but I accidentally deleted half that fucking update I was working on because I'm too fucking stupid to use a non-text box program to write this shit, and accidentally flushed about an hour's work down the fucking drain.

Really angry with myself right now, but also really fucking annoyed with this stupid fucking website too.

>>6154532
we appreciate your dedication
speaking of dedication I waited 15 minutes to post this so I hope you appreciate it

>>6154546
I appreciate it. I really, really do.

Fuck this site seems designed to screw over quests these days. Ever since those jerks on /tg/ got us kicked over here its been a downward slide with more and more bullshit.

Anyway, had to go clear my head. Going to put this thing back together again and post it.

Grit could taste blood in his mouth. Whether that was because he’d bit his tongue or something in his lungs had been busted he couldn’t tell, but breathing was a whole lot of not fucking fun right now. And gasping on that pain, he got caught by one of the bio-golems, wrapped up and hoisted off the ground.

A mouth full of big blunt teeth opened above his head. It was going to eat. Fuck it was going to eat him. He threw out his left arm, trying to push that mouth back but all that happened was a hard crunch as that jaw snapped over his forearm.

The shock hit him in a wave as something crunched beneath those large square teeth. Puke rose in his mouth. He felt those teeth saw into his flesh, its powerful neck jerking back, tugging his arm at the shoulder socket, trying to rip it free.

He was being eaten alive. He kicked, pissed himself, swung his hammer but the handle was too long. It was going to take his arm off. He needed to do something. Anything!

The hammer in his right hand. He weaved into it with his earth sense. Broke it down, dragged it down across his right arm down to the elbow, remade it into a stone gauntlet. The fucker kept chewing, snapping bones, blood starting to well between its lips.

He swung his stone fist. Hit it in the eye. Felt something break beneath the blow. Saw the skin split. It shook its head, jaw slack enough for him to rip his mutilated arm free. Swung again. An indent now, cheek bones shattering. It staggered, squeezing him in its grip. One last punch and it went down and he was on top of it.

The scream he made as he slammed his stone fist into its head, cracking through the bone to splatter it open, was like nothing he’d ever made before. He wrapped stone fingers around the squishy bits inside its skull and squeezed, ichor coating his palm.

If that had been it, that would have been a job well done. But there were two more of the bio-golems and those cunts didn’t fight fair. He barely had time to stand before he got hit with a shoulder charge and went bouncing across the strange wet floor, roiling beneath him as he rolled end over end, the pain in his savaged arm almost crippling.

When he rolled to his feet he made the stone gauntlet a hammer again, and as it charged on him he swung. Caught it on the chin, snapped its head back, sent it veering off to the side.

The next one though leapt at him over its brother, and Grit rolled forward to avoid being smashed under it. He swung and slammed his hammer into its spine. Its legs went goofy, but that just meant the fucking thing crawled after him.

“Fuck me,” he said, spitting up a slime of blood, vomit and drool, heart pumping on pain and terror.

Give him a room full of triads over this madness. This body horror manga bullshit.

It grabbed for his ankle, looking to snap down on his knee. He brought the hammer down on the dome of its head. Once. Twice. Coated his jeans with it.

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you,” he spat, over and over again, left arm limp at his side.

So dizzy he barely had time to react to the last one.
It hit him in the side and he went rolling, his bad arm cracking again beneath him. Grit kicked in pain but forced himself to get up. Not fast enough though.

It charged after him, bringing its fists down trying to pulverize him, to beat him into an easy to eat mash. He rolled back, pushing himself up with his broken arm and regretting it. Bone was sticking out from the muscle and skin. He tried not to look at it. It reared up above him, screaming with a high pitched whine, eyes frightened in the depths of its skull. Grit raised his hammer and twisted it into a shield, catching the falling fists, driven deep into the weird flexible ground beneath him, the water beneath his feet on fire, the bodies in the water burning and cracking in writhing agony, fingers clawing at the thin film that separated them.

Giant fists came down with unrelenting fury. The film beneath his feet threatened to break. Grit drove his stone shield into the golem's knee, shattering the cap, buckling it, then with a back hand caught it on the jaw. It wobbled. Burning hands broke from under the surface of the floor, grabbing at them both.

"Fuck this," Grit hissed, pulling himself from their grip. The last bio-golem wasn't so lucky, its on weight working against it. With a splash it was pulled down by burning hands into the white hot waters. Struggling to pull itself out, the white fire caught across its flesh, and the skin began to run like melting wax. Grit had to look away. Pain, revulsion, horror. It was a struggle not to vomit.

It was a struggle he lost.

He looked for Dusk, for Hotspur. For help.

Dusk fought a horde of flaming bio-ghouls like a wild cat.

Hotspur had his tongue in the Japanese tomboy's mouth.

"Fuck you dude," Grit spat, his shield a stone hammer again. No more fucking favors for Hotspur.

-

Where the grabbed her they clawed the shadows from her body, but where they grabbed her she returned serve, claws slashing out to severe and maim. For the first time in her life Dusk was truly grateful for her childhood ballet lessons, pirouetting to catch the bio-ghouls behind her before spinning to strike the ones in front. Blood dashed out from each slash of her talons, ending a life and freeing them from the Flesh-Smith's control.
The Flesh-Smith watched, smoking.

Burning fingers grabbed her chin, her shoulders, her back, and pulled. Shadows ripped away from her mouth, tearing off her shadow mask, baring her shoulders and clavicle. Down to the black sports bra she wore beneath her shadows. She cut her way free from their grip, her target before her. Lunged toward him, the distance too great to clear, howling as she swiped out obsidian talons.

A burning skull, screaming in her face, came apart. Another soul liberated.

There was a time she hadn’t believed in the soul. It felt like a different time, a different person. She still wasn’t sure she believed in God, but she knew the Devil. He watched her now, a cigarette in his hand, wearing a handsome Gene Kelly sort of face. Not his original face.

She knew what he had been. The creature he was. The skulking little mortician quiet in the hospital morgue. A two-bit Herbert West.

He blinked in surprise, smile slipping in shock.

"Oh shit, you're the reporter," he said, that affected tone now something more mortal.

Not today she wasn’t.

“Night has come for you, Leland,” she said, pointing a talon toward him, regathering her shadows around her. Clad in midnight once more.

He swallowed, struggled to put back his own mask, but he managed, and did it with a smirk.

“All you’ve done is delay my work,” he said, “There’s always more material. Eight billion human beings is plenty to work with.” He looked around, a sting in his eyes, “Though this will take time to replace. Kudos to you, hunters. You’ve made a mess of my day.”

“I mean to make an end of it!”

“Onee-san!” Ayane’s voice, it gave her pause before she lunged. Ayane didn’t speak Japanese often. Unlike her she’d never lived in Japan.

She looked back to see her sister on her knees, with the young knight Hotspur in her arms. The boy was slumped over her, shaking. Was he hurt? She couldn’t say. His companion Grit though was, who had his feet but had a maimed arm limp at his side and walked with struggled breathing.

“You alone?” the Flesh-Smith said, too smug, “I think not.”

Dusk’s throat tightened, a hot pulse running through her. A desire to carve the smug grin out of the Flesh-Smith’s face.

>have Dusk attack alone, seek an end to this
>withdraw for now, don’t take the gamble

sorry for that massive, aggravating delay

>>6154604
>have Dusk attack alone, seek an end to this

>>6154604
>have Dusk attack alone, seek an end to this

>>6154604
>>withdraw for now, don’t take the gamble
I shall take the contrarian stance to keep our special effects master from The Thing around for another romp.

>>6154650
>>6154614
Alright, Dusk is going to go it alone!

She raised her right hand, pointing with a claw.

Before the change had come upon her, when she had been a woman working at the local tv station, she had watched every tragedy imaginable unfold on the streets. News stories of murder, rape, arson, robbery, would cross their desks and be dismissed by the end of the day. Men and women forced into the streets in the dead of winter by callous landlords. Health insurance companies denying claims for sick children. Politicians taking bribes from real estate developers, gentrifying poor communities and leaving the residents to rot.

Every injustice, recited for a camera, amounting to little more than the grim kind of water cooler talk.

Not anymore. Not since the Explosion. No more talk.

When cloaked in shadows killing had proven easier than she'd expected, but it was never arbitrary. She put every inch of her journalistic training into picking her targets. Pimps who peddled in children, a frat boy who had escaped justice for killing his girlfriend, a cop who had shot an unarmed boy. Monsters every one of them.

But none worse than the creature that stood before her.

What he had done, what he would do, had to be brought to an end.

For the sake of the world. For the sake of her sister.

It had to end.

"Leland Murphy," she said, "Disgraced doctor, second rate mortician. I know who you are. Cloak yourself in grandeur but I see the miserable failure behind it. You were given a gift, a chance to repair your life. Instead you became something even more pathetic. Call yourself a God, twisted a thousand people into your playthings, it won't change what you are. The pimple faced boy no girl would kiss or any boy would play with."

The grin the Flesh-Smith gave was the bared teeth of a cornered chimp. "You've done your research Ms Takanawa," he said, "I respect that. I always thought you were nothing more than a dressed up bikini model given a microphone. But Dr Leland Murphy is dead. The Explosion killed him. I am something more."

Dusk scoffed. "Then allow me to finish the job."

No more talk.

Her allies were wounded, but he was without his material, his ghouls dead, his workshop in ruins. It was just the two of them now.

He spun, his right arm warping, bone and muscle contorting into the barrel of a cannon. Green fire lit up inside it.

She lunged. Grand allegro
-
>roll 3 x 1d100+15 dc 70

>>6155010
Here comes that nat100

Rolled 77 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6155010

all you have to do now is avoid a critfail

Rolled 35 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6155010

Last roll to see if Flesh-Smith goes down. Try not to roll a 1!

Rolled 85 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>6155054
>>6155010

>>6155056
that's a combined roll of 100

writing up the Fall of the Flesh-Smith!

Speed and ferocity carried her over the distance with a scream. The arm cannon of the Flesh-Smith ejected hot plasma, a blast that could have torn her in half, if she hadn't grabbed herself mid-flight with vines of shadow, pulling her to the ground before him in a cat crouch.

"Missed," she hissed, smiling beneath her shadow mask, and swept a claw upward.

It opened his chest, but where a man would have had bones and lungs, organs and blood, his was just a squishy soft tissue like human clay. She swiped across with her other hand taking off his arm. But the flesh closed over the wounds, oozing, gluing together until they sealed shut.

"Bitch!" he spat, "I told you I can't be killed! I told you, I'm a-!"

She shut him up with a swipe to his throat, then another across his face. The Flesh-Smith tap danced back and she followed, filleting him as he put his arms up to shield his face. Fury in each strike, hate on her lips as she panted ragged breaths. But more than that was fear. Fear for her sister and what he had planned for her.

"I'll kill you a thousand times if I have to," she said, "A thousand more until you stay dead! I'll tear you down to your last molecule!"

Flesh flew in a spatter, oddly bloodless as she threshed into him, and when he tried to flee shadows rose to bind him.

"You...you stupid whore," he said through the bloody ribbons of his face, bound up tight by the living shadow vines, "I was going to save the world!"

"Spare me," she sneered, driving her arm through his chest and out the other side. The Flesh-Smith shook in his bonds.

"Bitch, you evil bitch!" his voice now rose a tone more high pitched, his handsome Hollywood face melting away to show the gray chinless face of Leland Murphy, beady little eyes and too small nose on a far too large head. "I won't let you. I won't! I have a destiny! The stars have called me, they called! You can't do this!"

"Pathetic," Dusk said, "Hotspur is right, you're nothing but a delusional little pervert."

He spat at her, she slashed it aside. Raised him up in his bonds. Ran her cutting claw along his much reduced jaw line. Watched him shiver.

"This is the real you," she said, "You've lost all your ghouls, Hotspur burned away all your resources. All your lies. Now there's only the truth to face. Only me."

"The dark," he croaked.

"The light casts a shadow," she said, grabbing him now by the chin, her mask drawing back to show her lips, "And I am the shadow of the light." She squeezed her grip as she planted on his cheek a soft kiss. The flesh and bone gave way, blood spurted out from beneath her claws. "Now, go to the light."

And she drew back on her mask, a last hard squeeze of her claw, and his head came apart on his nervous whimper, scared in the last. Terrified. The terror of death. If ever a man deserved to go with terror...

She tightened her shadows until the rest of him came apart in a spray.

Hot blood dripped down her. She let out a gasp, tracing a claw down her neck, savoring it. The dragon slain. She should not enjoy this thrill so much. When the shadows were gone she knew it was wrong, and would be disgusted with herself later. But for now she bathed in it.

Until she remembered her sister.

"Ayane!"
-
They tried to get me to my feet, Ayane and Grit, but my feet wouldn't obey.

"You're a heavy piece of shit," Grit said, "Where you even hurt, man? I barely still got this arm hanging on, you look like you ain't got a scratch."

I didn't know where, I couldn't say. I couldn't speak. I was mute with the shock rolling through me, my fire gone out in a moment of horror, the vision of myself slaughtered at the foot of that thing. That thing, that dragon. Towering over me on a dead world, surrounded by his cheering legions. Keeping me alive to watch the destruction of my home. The pillars pulled down, the forests despoiled, the sky itself burned. Watching. The agony stretched out before the light was at last extinguished. But the vision was pulling away from me now, the memory more real than the world around me fading, leaving behind only the horror.

Between the stars it saw. The darkness it filled. And it knew me. Had seen me. The dragon. He was coming. Faster now he was coming. And his legions with him. To extinguish the light once and for all.

The war, the war. The war been waging since the first dawn light. A war we were losing.

"Ayane!" Dusk came running. A midnight figure born of light. She stood before me, looking to my sister. Her sister.

No. I tried to shake my head. Not mine. Not me. Him. We weren't the same. Go back to sleep. Leave me alone. Let me be Eric. Let me stay Eric!

"Hotspur," Dusk looked down on me.

"There's something wrong with him," Ayane said, tears in her eyes, "What he did, it took too much out of him. Priss, I think he's dying!"

Dusk shook her head. "No, not dying," she said, "Not yet. But, he needs rest. You, Grit? Do you know his people?"

"I know people who do," he said, snorting, "but I got my own problems." He tried to hold up his mutilated arm.

"How are you still standing?" Dusk said.

"They don't call me Grit because I'm a fuckin' pussy," he said.

"Fair enough."

Dusk crouched before me. "The Flesh-Smith is dead, Hotspur, you have my word on it. And I owe you. Call on me when you need me and I'll come. But for now you need help. I can take you back to my apartment, or leave you with Grit. Which would you prefer?"

Answering wasn't easy. Keeping my head up even. "Nod once for my apartment, twice to be left with your friend."

I was starting to slip away.

>go with Dusk
>go with Grit

sorry for so many dice rolls lately. will ease up on them for a little while

for anyone who'd rather Eric go somewhere else, he's not really in a state to communicate anything.

>>6155091
>go with Dusk

>>6155091
>go with Dusk

>>6155091
>go with Dusk

We can't keep having shit like this happen. We need to figure out a better working relationship with Arash

>>6155303
20 bucks says it requires plowing his staer wife on the regular

>>6155305
Sister wife*

>>6155155
>>6155109
>>6155097
Going with Dusk wins

Sorry for the delay, a friend of mine had to put down his dog earlier and we've been hanging out.

I nodded once, it was about all I could manage.

"Can we get out of here? This place gives me the creeps," Ayane said.

"Let's fucking go," Grit said, letting his stone hammer drop before hoisting me over his shoulder. Even with a broken arm he had enough strength to carry me. Dusk lead the way out, but as we went I was failing fast, failing...falling...

Swallowed up by the black.

-

A bird twittered outside. The sound of children playing

I opened my eyes. I was seated at a table. There was a comic book in front of me, the smell of frying eggs, soft humming. Sunlight streamed in through a port house window.

"Kids, lunch time!" a familiar voice called as she came in with a tray. Ayesha, in a white blouse, hair tied back under a headscarf. She looked older. How much older? She set the tray down. "Eggs for you," she said, popping a kiss on my cheek, "Veggies for me and the kids." She set out the other plates.

I tried to talk. Nothing came out.

"Ivy said she'd be home late, something about an incident at the embassy," she said, "Kids! Lunch! Get it before Dad eats yours too!"

"Nothing for you to worry about," she said as the kids came charging through the door.

Three of them, all around the same age. A dark skinned girl with curly brown hair elbow passed a blond boy to get at the chair while behind them another, dark haired girl sulked. She was younger than the other two, though not by much.

"Quit it!" the boy snapped at the girl, she stuck her tongue out at him, "Mom, tell her to quit it!"

"Be nice to your brother," she said.

"I am nice to him," the girl said, "It's hard because he's a chicken ass but I am."

"Don't call your brother a chicken ass."

"Yeah, you're the chicken ass!"

"And don't you keep it going. I swear, you kids..."

They sat to eat. I stared. What was this?

"Do you think we can go fishing tomorrow?" the dark haired girl asked, almost shy in how she asked it.

"If your father isn't busy," Ayesha said that with a look to me, "Are you busy tomorrow, Dad?" She said it like it was a joke, but I didn't get it. She smiled, the start of crow's feet around her eyes.

I tried to answer but no voice came out.

"Why's Dad got to do everything?" the black girl scoffed, "He's trained enough ashavan by now. Can't Auntie Natalie or Uncle Jack do it instead?"

"Because Dad's the best," the blond boy said.

"Suck up, I'll be an ashavan before you are," the girl pulled her cheek at her brother.

"Don't pull your cheek, and neither of you will be ashavan, Light willing," Ayesha said, "You've seen what it's taken from your father."

They all now looked at me. The blond boy and the black girl beamed with pride, their dark haired little sister dark with worry. But I didn't know them. I didn't know what they were talking about. What did they mean, what had it taken from me?

"What it keeps taking," the voice wasn't Ayesha's this time. It was a hiss in the back of my mind. "It will take and take and take. Look, look at those smiling children."

I looked, and saw as they chatted, cracks formed along their faces. They continued to talk and eat, oblivious to the deepening cracks. The boy passed his plate to Ayesha. A crack ran up his elbow, and his arm came off, shattering like fine glass on the table, but he chatted on regardless, everyone blind to what had happened. The black girl snorted with laughter, and as she did a neat shard of her face fell outward. They crumbled around the dinner table, the children, their mother beaming with pride.

The sun shone and the birds sang. The girl lost her fingers.

"Your life, your soul, your future. All of it."

I whimpered behind a mute tongue.

"We will take it all."

I whimpered and the dark haired girl looked up from her plate. A crack ran through her eye. She stared as if she could almost hear me.

"All of it!"

And in my mind I saw white teeth widened to show a gray tongue, lapping out for me,

As her siblings broke apart, the girl looked at me. Through me. Past all this and to the real me. To the demon in my head. And she glared, no longer timid.

And said.

"No."

-

I bolted upright in the dark, panting hard, sheets damp with sweat and tangled around me. In a bed, not my own. In a room. Not my own. A thin bar of light came from under a closed door, the red numbers of an alarm clock, the distant buzzing of electricity. A smart pant suit hung from a hook in front of a walk in wardrobe. There was another door, must be a private bathroom. My suit was hung up in front of it, stained with filth and blood.

Something in my head. Trying to eat its way through. They'd tried before, but I am a wizard's boon and have powers of my own besides. Druj or demon, whatever had tried had failed. A dream. I tried to grab it.

What was the last thing I could remember? The Flesh-Smith, the fire in my hand, burning the unmaking sea beneath us. Then nothing. Where was I?

I got up and nearly fell over. Legs wobbly. Though I might puke but held it in. Hungry. Hungry beyond words.

Needed to eat. Not able to think. I pushed my way out the door towards the light. The sound of something, people talking. No, a tv show. The room was dark but the tv was on.

"I picked up takeout," a woman's voice, "If you're anything like me you'll be hungry after."

My head swivelled around. Food. A bag on a countertop in a smart kitchenette. Burger King. I ripped the bag open. Whoppers. I barely had the wrapping off before my mouth was stuffed with hot grease and tomato, barely chewing as I wolfed them down.

"It's a great trade off, I can eat like a pig now and not have to worry about my figure. Maybe I can go back to Miami and do Swim Week and not want to kill myself the whole time."

The voice. I looked for it. She was on the couch, watching the tv. Dressed in a black silk dressing gown, slouched into the depths of the chair. Not Dusk, just Priscilla Takanawa. She didn't even sound the same. Face framed by a professional bob cut, the tv show reflected in her eyes, her skin shone as if she'd just dried off from a shower.

"Sorry I had to strip you, but those sheets are Egyptian cotton, and you were covered in a lot of sewage. Speaking of, you do not smell good. Maybe jump in the shower when you get a chance."

"Hngh," I said through a mouthful of burger.

"Ayane is back with our parents, she's missed enough school," she said, "It wasn't easy to get her to go. She's really taken to you."

I swallowed.

"I dropped your pal Grit off with some guy called Doctor Ramsey. He'll be ok."

She leaned back over the couch to look at me. "Sorry if I was a bit intense back there. When I'm wearing my shadows its like I...I almost become a different person. You know? But not, just, it heightens some things and dulls others. It's hard to explain..."

I took a big slurp of coke.

"Is there anyone I can call to come pick you up? Maybe bring a change of clothes? I mean you can stay if you want, but you can't stay forever."

She stared at me a while.

"You know I wasn't expecting you to be, like, this young," she turned her head to the side, "What are you, sixteen, seventeen?"

I dabbed the sauce from my mouth on a scrunched up wrapper, feeling a little better. "Sixteen," I said, "Just a kid, right?"

She shook. "No," she said, "You're young, but not a kid."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty eight come new years," she said, "Born January 1st."

"I thought you were older," I said.

"Do I look old?" she asked with half a smile.

"No! Just, because of the reporting and...never mind..."

"So, who should I call?"

>call Dad
>call Ayesha (Ivy doesn't have a car)
>call Misfit
>call Jimmy Green
>write-in

>>6155644
>call Jimmy Green
We need magic help badly

>>6155644
>write-in
"Call for more takeout."

More Priscilla time, more Ayane time. Possibly more space princess time.

>>6155652
Second. Magic shenanigans are afoot.

>>6155644
>call Jimmy Green

>>6155644
>>call Jimmy Green
We really need to buckle down on figuring out this mystic reincarnation thing

>>6155644
>call Jimmy Green

That family member I told you guys about passed away a few hours ago. I might still run today but might not. Still sorting out my feelings. Just thought I'd give you all a head's up.

>>6156083
Damn, my condolences. Take all the time you need Bull.

>>6156083
Condolences Bull

>>6156083
My condolences Bull, I really hope you and your family are okay

>>6155914
>>6155899
>>6155892
>>6155765
>>6155652
locking in calling Jimmy

>>6157398
Does Jimmy have a car? Does he drive? For some reason I like to imagine he has to ride his bicycle over.

I called up Jimmy Green for a lift. It couldn't be a text, had to call to make sure he was awake.

The red wizard wasn't happy to hear from me.

"Do you know what time it is?" he groaned.

Actually, no. I checked the clock on Ms Takanawa's wall. 2 AM. She leaned back in her couch, knee raised, sipping a beer while watching football.

"Yeah," I lied, "Look, you know I wouldn't call if it wasn't important. We need to talk."

His sigh was deep and resigned. "Fine. Send me the address. But I'm going to take my fucking time getting there."

"Fair," I said, to the beep of him hanging up. Sometimes I got the feeling Jimmy didn't like me much.

"You ask for a change of clothes?" Ms Takanawa asked. I shook my head. She sighed and got up, turning off the TV, "Sungoliaths are looking bad for next year." I had no idea what she meant by that. She turned to me with a pointing finger, nostrils rankled. "Hop in the shower and wash some of that sewer out of your hair or I'll make you wait for your friend outside. I might have some clothes that will fit you."

"Yes ma'am," I said.

A hot shower would do me some good anyway. She showed me the way to her bathroom then went off to fetch some clothes.

Being in her bathroom I was aware of the number of wax strips and skin care products lain out by the basin. Face creams, moisturizers, it put Ayesha to shame. I guess she was part of that class of 'professionally pretty' women so it made sense, but the smell of cream was heavy in the air.

I dropped out of my underwear and into her stand in shower. The water got hot quick and almost hurt. grabbed some puffy thing off a hook and scrubbed. There was no getting clean from what we'd seen or what we'd done, but I was going to try. I practically flayed myself under the hot jets of the shower, scrubbing away flakes of dried 'something' across my forearms. Done scouring myself I got out, pink all over in the clouds of steam.

A polite knock on the door and Ms Takanawa's elegant hand reached in, holding out a folded up shirt and a pair of jeans.

"My dad's old jersey," she said.

I took it. It was a white shirt with red horizontal stripes and a pink flower over the breast. I pulled it on.

"The jeans are from an ex," she said, "It's funny what gets left behind. I have a drawer full of guitar picks."

The shirt fit fine but the jeans were too long in the leg. I had to roll up the cuffs, feeling a bit too 'Hobbit' when I did it. I'm not even short. I'm perfectly average height. Maybe even a little above average. Seriously.

I pulled on the collar of the shirt.

"Dad played for Japan's University team," Ms Takanawa said, "He could have played for the National team, but decided to focus on his medical career. He's still a massive fanboy about it though."

"What like soccer?" I said, pinching the fabric.

"Rugby," she said, "That's actually how I got my big break, covering a puff piece on the Midwest Rugby Premiership for the station. I was the closest thing to an expert they had, and I have a nicer smile than the next best option, a guy named Whitman who played on his university team. Go Lions, right?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. "I'm more a basketball guy," I said, "Rugby's like football but without the pads or something?" I didn't even know we played Rugby, but then I don't even follow our own brand of football.

Ms Takanawa sighed. Talking to her up close, without the shadow mask or lethal tone to her voice, I could better see the resemblance with Ayane. She had a wider face, and Ayane had a light trail of freckles across her cheeks. She was also taller, as tall as I was. But other than that it was very clear they were sisters. I wondered for a second if they got their looks from their dad or their mom.

"Thank you again, for looking out for Ayane," she said, "And for helping me with the Flesh-Smith. I don't think I could have handled him alone."

I shrugged, its what I do.

"As I said, if you ever need a favor, just ask," she bowed slightly, all of a sudden very Japanese.

Something did occur to me...

>invite her to join Fire Watch
>no, she was a bad fit for the team

>>6160192
>invite her to join Fire Watch
With what's coming we need all the help we can get

>>6160192
>invite her to join Fire Watch
We made Grit work

>>6160192
>invite her to join Fire Watch

"I want you on my fire staff."

Captcha - V4RKA
Varka - latin name that means 'Foreign Woman'

Yes captcha we must get more hot asian women, right away

>>6160192
>no, she was a bad fit for the team
Classic superhero team of do-gooders + Morally grey vigilante who is a good person but kills is a trope we all know well. We either compromise the whole group and Hotspur integrity, or people leave, or we literally turn people from the group against each other, there's a reason the Shark isn't a official member.

I say is better to keep her as an associate. Remember how God Brother was acting, even if we know she's good, he doesn't like how she's a killer, and if we keep her from killing she could end up don't liking us. Is better if Eric aligns better with her and viceversa instead of trying to shift Fire Watch as a whole

On another note, I feel that maybe Dusk is as important in this whole war against the Drug as Ayane, as in, a metaphysical/magical sense. She said it herself, she could've the Shadows of our Light, and no, this isn't my pitch to try and add her to our Harem, is already wear with Ayane tiptoeing in it

>>6160384
>>6160373
>>6160344
locking that in

"If you're interested, someone like you would be a big help in Fire Watch," I said, "But there's one condition, we don't kill. Still, we managed to-"

"Take down the Council of Crime, I know, I covered the story for the station," she said. But it wasn't an answer. Instead she pursed her lips in thought. "I respect your reluctance to take a life. Believe me, I don't do it casually despite what your scruffy dog friend thinks. And I understand the PR better than you think. A parafolk hit squad murdering criminals? It's a bad look. But I've never seen myself as part of that community."

"What do you see yourself as?" I asked.

"A guardian shadow, the last light of sunset, standing against the dark," she said. Dramatic words, but I'd seen the proof behind them. She sighed and stretched, rolling out tired shoulders. "But I'll consider it," she said, "Friends are hard to come by, and I won't turn you down just off a difference of opinion. Now if you're not crashing here, I've got an early start in the morning. I have to be in a make up chair by 5:30 and ready to be on the air quarter past six. Heck, between that and this, I barely have time for dinner least of all joining the Burger King Kids Club."

That last was said with a teasing grin that sucked some of the sting out of her words.

The intercom on her door buzzed and Jimmy's voice echoed from the speaker. "Yo, I'm here, hurry the fuck up."

"I'll see you around, Hotspur," she said as she showed me to the front door, "On the TV if no where else."

"You too, Dusk," I said. She flashed a tired smile again as she closed the door behind me.

I took the elevator down. Turns out Ms Takanawa's apartment was right on the Gold Coast, upmarket to put it mildly. The woman had money, that was for sure. Coming out there was a doorman dressed up like he was guarding the castle of the Wicked Witch of the West. He gave me a raised eyebrow that said 'you don't belong here' before I dashed over to where Jimmy stood by the concierge desk, looking like the living embodiment of 'no sleep'. He didn't look happy to see me.

"Pull me all the way out here just as its starting to get cold," he muttered, waddling out to his car. Right where a cop was writing him up a ticket for illegal parking. "Oh Christ in Hell!" he snapped. The cop waved the ticket at him with a smug grin before tucking it under his windshield wiper. Jimmy snatched it up, stuffed it in his pocket. "Get in," he growled.

I got in, hands raised in surrender.

When we got going he put on some music, one of those rock bands with a fife and a mandolin attached.

"The hell is it this time?" he said, the heft of him leaning over his steering wheel. Jimmy could be difficult on a good day, add lack of sleep and he was down right churlish.

"It happened again," I said, "My powers. I lost control of them and...I can't remember much after but I think that lodger in my head took over when I did."

Jimmy took a long slurp of Monster.

"I...he...we kissed a girl I think used to be my cat, and maybe my sister."

He nodded like that wasn't a weird as fuck thing to hear.

It started raining outside. The night of the early morning, the street lights glowing through the growing rain cover. The pit-pat of it on the roof. We didn't talk.

"Something found me again," I said, "Something big, something...something like a dragon."

He nearly swerved off the road. "A dragon?" he said, "A dragon specifically?"

I shrugged. It was a word kept being whispered in the back of my mind, the last fading fragment of my vision.

"Not a serpent or snake?" he said.

"When I think about it it's not like the words are in English, not exactly" I said, "And thinking about it, it twists and turns around in my mind. Everything, remembering anything about it gets slippery. But that's the word keeps coming through. Dragon."

Jimmy mouthed the word 'fuck' into his chest.

"What's it mean?" I said, "Hey, if I gotta fight Smaug that's cool. Benedict Cumberbatch is a bitch."

Jimmy gave me another 'shut the fuck up' look. "It isn't like that," he said, "The word you're hearing and what you think it means. We aren't talking an overgrown Charizard, that's just what stories have turned the word into. If you ever read the old stories, the most ancient stories of the old long ago, maybe you'd have half an idea what it means."

I frowned back at Jimmy. "Then teach me oh teacher," I said.

He sighed. "The dragon is the danger of the outer dark," he said, "The place we do not go and do not come back from. 'Here be dragons' means a place forlorn and forsaken. It's the terror of what lives beyond sight, the unknown that makes a figure in the heart of men."

"A demon?" I said.

Jimmy shook his head. "No, demons are creatures of the gulfs, untouchable spirit matter, where as a dragon is a thing of the material plane. Though I guess its like a demon in that its not wholly here, but its not wholly there either. You could say its a remnant of the age before the parting of the waters, when the material and immaterial worlds split."

"Let's pretend I understood any of that," I said.

"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and after strange aeons even death may die," Jimmy said.

"More riddles," I said.

Jimmy started up his car again. "What I mean is, I don't know what it is," he said, "I can guess, and my guess would be better than most, but we're talking things from before the stars were stars. All I got to go off is my pop's books and what I can scrape together off the Internet Archive. Everything we know has been warped through retellings and missing knowledge that we don't even know what we know."

"Okay," I said, trying to follow along and not liking what I did understand.

"Suffice to say what I do know is, whatever has seen you, whatever is coming for you, is some of the worst of the worst you can imagine. Let's hope it takes its time."

"We already knew that," I said, "The Druj and their legions, the world killers."

"We know a little more what that means," he said, "The dragon...if it is what I think it is...I'm going to need to do some research."

We drove in silence, the flute on the speakers squealing away under the drumming of the rain.

>before the research, maybe Jimmy could whip up a charm or something to protect me?
>let Jimmy focus on what he needs to focus on, distractions were the last thing he needed
>if its information he's after, ask if he's willing to do another mind probe and hope it goes better than last time

>>6162762
>if its information he's after, ask if he's willing to do another mind probe and hope it goes better than last time
We've got to do something, our identities are getting all twisted up

>>6162762
>>let Jimmy focus on what he needs to focus on, distractions were the last thing he needed

>>6162762
>if its information he's after, ask if he's willing to do another mind probe and hope it goes better than last time
>before the research, maybe Jimmy could whip up a charm or something to protect me?

We love rolling for dangerous dives into unstable minds that are connected with the old god dragon satan in space. It'll save time, and he can use that saved time to make that charm. Then we can see how his love life is going.

Guys... I think Jimmy doesn't like us :'(

Now seriously, I have an idea, why don't we bring Jimmy to our swordsmanship classes? Maybe that could be a good way not only to strength our bonds with him, but will show him to defend himself more than just casting spells.

>>6163115
+1
And I also wanna add

>"You know Jimmy? I know I can count with you on this magic stuff, but I also want you to count on me on mundane stuff, or anything. If you need some favour like helping you on getting your car fixed, if you wanna take your girl to some nice place. Hell! If there's some asshole that picks on you I can show him what's good, and before you say something like 'Eric, I can't let a highschooler to defend me' well, that's already happening on the magic side of things! And imagine how humiliating it would be to the other guy, remember when we met? That guy struggled to even get near me, come on! Trust me on anything, men."

Also, the reason why the write-in is so long is because I'm sure Jimmy will get mad because we're being obnoxious lmao. Idk you guys but for me is funny seeing the dynamic of both of them.

>>6162762
>if its information he's after, ask if he's willing to do another mind probe and hope it goes better than last time
We'll roll high one day

>>6163203
>>6163155
>>6162766
locking that in with the write-in

merry christmas everyone. sorry for the lack of updates

>>6164293
A very merry christmas to you too Bullpen

>>6164293
Merry Christmas Bull

>>6164293
Merry Christmas, Bull, hope you had fun

"So if you want to know more, why not put on your wizard hat and go slinking around my brain again?" I said, "Try and have another chat with the dead prince bouncing around my skull."

Jimmy sneered at his steering wheel. "Yeah sure, because that was such a great idea last time. And I'd need your space princess to do that again."

I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

"About that," I said, "I think I found her, though I don't think she knows who she is. That girl I said he kissed, or I kissed. It's complicated."

"It's never simple," he said, taking the corner on the rain slick street, "You get her ok, and yeah, I can try that again. We'll be better ready for the consequences though. Maybe bring along one of your para-freak friends as back up just in case another space demon comes crawling out of the walls."

"Tomorrow night?"

Jimmy shook his head. "I'm busy, make it in a month. Gives me time to get ready and finish handling this other thing. Believe it or not Eric, your problems aren't the only ones going on in my life. And it's not all magic stuff either. My parents are on me to get into a good college, hell there was a time I thought MIT was the place to go, but now I've got to sit on this powder keg of a city and just fucking hope it all works out."

"You know, you can count on me to help you out with this stuff," I said, "Not just the magic stuff, but any old stuff. The mundane stuff. If you need a favor like getting your car fixed or taking your girlfriend some place nice, just ask."

"If I had a damn girlfriend," he muttered.

"Hell," I said, "If there's some asshole that picks on you I can handle him, and before you say something like 'Eric, I can't let a high schooler to defend me', I've already got your back on the magic side of things! Just imagine how humiliating it would be to the other guy, remember when we met? That guy couldn't even get near me. So you can trust me on anything, man. Anything, just say it."

"There you go, talking like we're friends again," Jimmy said as we pulled up on my block. No one was out, not at this hour with a cold rain coming down. "Remember Eric, you and me are allies, we're comrades, but as friends we have both fuck and all in common. You want to do me a favor? Stop putting so much work on my plate. Get your powers under control because the more I think about it the more you, specifically, are pulling us closer to an apocalypse I'm not even ready to imagine. And that's why I'm willing to help you with that. Not for the pleasure of your companion, just to screw your head on right so we can deal with the evil bullshit fucking up our city, together. Got that?"

I was half out the door when I flashed him a grin. "Keep pretending we aren't friends, Jimmy. You still drove out at four in the morning to give me a ride in the rain. Can't be a better friend than that."

I closed the door on him shouting, 'My name is James!' before jogging for the front door, pretending I wasn't scared out of my head about everything that was going on, a constant back beat to my life.
School in a few hours was more than I wanted to think about. The enchiladas in the fridge helped me not think about it.

The Flesh-Smith was dead. I had a new ally in Dusk. Ayane was safe, at least for now. We'd done good. Had to take the win for what it was. I drank a half pint of milk. Had a game coming up, had to hit the gym, had to rope Misfit into sword lessons with Baby-Girl. Had a lot to handle even without the 'save the world' crap. Had to take to Ayesha, had to talk to Ivy, had to figure out what was going on with Ayane.

But mostly, had to clock at least a little more sleep before I hit the streets and started this all over again.

The clock ticked off another minute. And I couldn't help but think, if I didn't do more that was just one more minute before the end of the world.

But hell, when wasn't it?
-

Would you know a serpent if you saw one? Now I do not mean a snake that crawls on its belly or a reptile scuttling under the rocks, but a true serpent. The devil in the eye of the mind. Would you know it if you saw one, out upon the road? Unlike God's own snake, a serpent knows how to walk on two legs. It knows how to laugh like an old friend. A serpent knows its ways, of how to twist all around you until you don't know it from yourself. A serpent knows you at your worst and works its way into those places. Makes those places all of you. A serpent does not slith but whispers with poisoned kindness until it has you by the heart.

And their, my brothers and sisters, there is where it strikes with its darkest venom.

Now I ask you, brothers and sister. Would you know a serpent, if you saw one?

>>6165463
How could you leave us with a post like that

Ivy - Dad wants me at some fancy pants dinner tomorrow night with some Arab bigshot. He said if I brought Ayesha it 'probably wouldn't go down well' but I can bring you. Hooray for heteronormity, right? Anyway, please come so I don't stab my own eye out with a fork. God knows I'll use the wrong one and never hear the end of it from Mom.

It wasn't a text I was expecting as I finished up on the court. Linc had cracked me hard in the jaw while I was trying to defend. It didn't hurt but I pretended it did. Howie handed me a gatorade.

"Do you know why its c-called g-gatorade?" he said with that cross-eyed smile of his.

"Because its made from gators?" I said.

"No!" he said, "Florida, the football team! They made it for the football team, the Gators!" He giggled, tickled by his bit of trivia. "They say it tasted so b-bad when they first made it the whole team puked!"

"Tastes fine to me," I said.

"I don't really l-like football, too violent," Howie said, "But gatorade is the best."

"It's pretty good, yeah," I said, handing the bottle back.

"I like the blue flavor," he said, but I was out of his mind when other tired players came jogging to the benches.

It had been too long since I'd seen Ivy in anything but an instagram story. And we had stuff to talk about, and not just with her. Ayesha was waving from the door to the court, dressed in a home knit sweater against the growing chill outside.

"Any cool Halloween parties coming up?" Rufus asked Tim behind me.

"Ever since Kemal graduated? I have no idea. That guy took all the fun with him."

Seeing Ayesha put a nervous spike up my back. Thoughts of my half-remembered kiss with Ayane flashed through my mind. It wasn't my fault. I hadn't wanted to do it. I'd been helpless, the puppet of an alien warrior prince with a thing for his own sister. You can't hold that against a guy. Or easily explain it to his otherwise overly understanding and considerate girlfriends. I'm lucky to be in the situation I'm in. One wrong move could blow it all up.

Rufus grabbed me by the back of the neck. "Certified loverboy here, standing here daydreaming when he's got the baddest girl at school waving him over," he said, shaking me playfully.

"Don't let your girl hear you say that," Tim muttered. Rufus cringed a bit at that. "You ok Eric?"

The question from Tim got me thinking. It wasn't just the stuff with Ayane. Tonight I was going to have to help out Ms Grant, keep Zeke alive in her Humanity First sting. Lot of fun to look forward to. And I hadn't been sleeping well, for obvious reasons.

"I'm fine," I lied.

Ayesha waved, but now with a concerned frown.

Should I tell her? Fuck, what should I tell her. There was a lot to tell.

>come clean about Ayane, and everything around it
>now was a bad time, don't put the baggage on her yet

>>6165569
while, I hope SHE understands that being a hero means girls can fall for him when he rescues them. But it's not the time to bring it up, if ever. Gotta make Ayane know that you actually have girlfriends.

>now was a bad time, don't put the baggage on her yet
Maybe tell the story of the flesh smith another time.

>>6165569
>come clean about Ayane, and everything around it
eric is a borderline sex addict

>>6165569

>come clean about Ayane, and everything around it

You see the space prince in my head, the source of all my powers, gets more powerfulness the more he can tongue his sister wife princess who lives inside this hot Asian tomboy friend of Ivy. Kind of like Goku but instead of anger it's horny.

My friend the grand red wizard of Chicago can explain it better.

The truth is always right

>>6165588
>>6165624
honesty is the best policy, locking in

Not only should I tell her, I had to tell her. Guilt would just keep chewing away at me until it did. And its not like I meant to do anything. She'd understand, right?

"Can we talk?" I said as I came up to her.

"Now that's ominous," she said, keeping her grin but fighting back a frown.

"In private, its about the, you know, the other stuff."

She nodded, and with her we found some where private and secluded to talk.

The school library. The non-fiction section up the back.

"So," Ayesha sat up on a desk, crossing her legs. She wore a plaid skirt with long stockings, the collar of a button up shirt poking out from the collar of her sweater. A distractingly cute preppy look that I had to really not get hung up on. She fussed with her fro a little. "I've got some news for you too, also about that other stuff. Should I start?"

I swallowed, then shook my head. "No, no I got something pretty, well, its not easy to say because its all a little confusing and it has to do with my little friend. You know, the one living in my head."

She put her hands on her knee. "Continue," she said.

"A couple of days ago we, me and some friends, we found the Flesh-Smith. It wasn't easy but we dealt with him, but while doing so I kinda lost control of my powers again."

"That's been happening a lot lately," she said.

I nodded. "Yeah, and when I do its like my friend the prince takes control of my body. Frankly I can barely remember what happens when he does, its like a dream, you know? Trying to remember a dream, or explain one."

"And what happened this time."

"Like I said, we dealt with the Flesh-Smith, but this time I pushed my powers too far and...well, you know that girl Ayane?"

It's not that she frowned so much as she stopped smiling. "I do," she said in a calm voice.

"It turns out she's...like me she's also got a passenger. And her passenger and my passenger were, kind of an item I guess?"

"Oh," she said, staring at me with her face set to neutral.

"So when the prince took control of me," I said, "He and her, they kind of...kissed."

"Is that so."

"If you think I'm bullshitting, Jimmy can back me up!" I said, "You know Jimmy, the Red Wizard? I swear Ayesha, it wasn't something I meant to do, or something I even really did, but I'm sorry it happened. I wanted you to know because I don't want to keep secrets from you. Or Ivy. I...I still need to tell Ivy."

Ayesha pulled in a deep breath. "It's funny Eric, I think I'm a pretty understanding person," she said, "And your life is pretty dramatic. I get that you're going to attract a lot of attention from other girls. And I even know you're...you're not a liar. So I believe you."

There was a but coming.

"But," she said, with a hot snap, "I'm not a saint, understand? I've got limits. Okay so this prince forced you to stick your tongue down this girl's throat. Okay, sure. This girl who just happens to be crazy cute and totally into you. Don't say anything Eric, I know she is. God, I was the same way after you rescued me a couple of times. And she just happens to have a space bug in her head horny for the space bug in yours."

The fire in her voice was pretty unlike Ayesha in everyway. But the mist in her eyes wasn't.

My chest hurt. Everything hurt.

"Okay, I do believe you. I'm serious, I do! But that doesn't mean I'm okay with it."

I was more scared to say the next thing than I had been to step into the Flesh-Smith's lair. "Are you...are we breaking up?" I said.

"No!" the shock on her face was worse than her anger, like I'd just slapped her, "No! Jesus, you think just because I'm hurt I'm going to throw it away, over a dumb mistake? No, but Eric I am hurt. Really hurt." She grabbed her chest for emphasis, biting hard on her lip. "But the hurt, it means its real. A hurt like this can't come from a school girl crush. You've hurt me Eric. You didn't mean to, but you did."

"I'm sorry," I said, reaching out a hand.

She slapped my hand away. "Don't ever do it again!" she said, driving a finger into my chest, "What we've got, you, me and Ivy, its not a license to go kissing any girl smiles at you. I don't care how cute they are."

"I know," I said, putting a hand to my head, "This fucking space prince really knows how to screw up my life. You know what's worse is, its his own damn sister? freaky space alien bullshit."

"That's gross," Ayesha said, then more thoughtfully, "Though it makes sense. Remember when we went to that Zoroastrian fire temple? I did some reading on their old cultural practices, and the royal families did practice a form of 'sacred incest'. Xwedodah, they called it. Brothers married sisters, fathers married daughters, sons married mothers, every which way up and down the family tree. They had a kink. And if this space prince of yours is connected to a similar religion, it definitely fits."

Oh god. I liked none of everything she just said.

"So the fact you have a space Lannister in your head? Makes sense," she said, "Though they're probably more space Targaryens, really."

"They're horny assholes who need to leave me alone," I said. It's not like I'd consented to any of this. Ayane neither.

"By the way, I narrowed down where the Waingro Foundation is based out of," she said.

Oh?

"Bern, Switzerland," she said, "It's a quaint little place. Not where you'd think an evil industrial conspiracy would keep its headquarters. Of course, this is just the closest thing I could find to a public face for it. Took a lot of digging."

"It's a lot more than we had before," I said. Swiss, huh? Or at least European. Not what I was expecting. "You're the best Ayesha, you know that right?"

"Yep," she said, with a full self-confidence I found too cute. "Now, you need to tell Ivy about what you did, then you have to figure out a way to apologize. It better be good, mister. We put up with a lot you know, its not easy being in love with the hottest superhero in town." There was still a little heat in her voice but it was starting to cool off. "And I want to meet this girl. I promise not to punch her in the face, but I want to know what's got my space prince all hot and bothered, yeah?"

"Yeah," I said, "Okay, I'll think of something. And I'll tell Ivy."

"She might not take it as well as I have," she said, "But you have to tell her."

"I will!" I said.

"You're busy tonight, aren't you?"

I nodded. "Dealing with that Humanity First bust for Ms Grant," I said.

"Be careful," she said. Then popped off the desk and put a kiss on my cheek. "I'm angry, Eric, oh buddy I'm still angry, but I also still love you. Don't get hurt, okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"Now, back to class!"

It was sort of absurd we could go from talking about that back to normal life stuff like an English assignment, but there we were, walking into Ms Flores' classroom while Peony gave a dramatic reading.

"Would you like me to tell you the little story of right-hand, left-hand?" she spoke in an exaggerated Southern accent, "The story of good and evil. H-A-T-E. It was with this left hand that old Brother Cain struck the blow that laid his brother low. L-O-V-E. See these fingers, dear hearts? They has veins that run straight to the soul of man. The right hand, friends. The hand of love."

We took our seats.

"Now watch and I'll show you the story of life." She clasped her hands together.

Speaking of tonight, I wasn't so sure Grit was still down for the bust, him with a broken arm and all. He was also still pretty sore with me over the whole Flesh-Smith thing. Maybe I could call in a replacement, otherwise it was just me and Thunderchild.

>Thunderchild was all the back up I needed
>call in someone else (write-in)

>>6165885
>call in someone else (write-in)
Misfit

>>6165885
>call in someone else (write-in)
Backing Misfit, our #1 homie

>"Would you like me to tell you the little story of right-hand, left-hand?" she spoke in an exaggerated Southern accent, "The story of good and evil. H-A-T-E. It was with this left hand that old Brother Cain struck the blow that laid his brother low. L-O-V-E. See these fingers, dear hearts? They has veins that run straight to the soul of man. The right hand, friends. The hand of love."
As a leftie I feel discriminated against

>>6165885
>call in someone else (write-in)
Precious Misfit

I wonder how Ayesha would have taken holding on to this for a while longer. How will this effect the Ayane route? Is it cheating for space princess to kiss Eric?

>>6165905
>>6165894
>>6165998
asking Misfit to the big dance, locked in

"Old brother left hand, left hand he's a fighting, and it looks like love's a goner. But wait a minute! Hot dog, love's a winning! Yes sir ree! It's love that's won, and old left hand hate is down for the count!"

I barely listened as I fired off a text to Misfit. I was some what sure she was busy, but if she wasn't there was no one I'd rather have at my back for something like this.

"And that's a very nice reading from 'Night of the Hunter', thank you Peony," Miss Flores said with a smattering of applause. She was always 'Miss Flores' at school.

"You get your assignment done?" Ben hissed at Chad as Peony took a seat next to him, "Or are you too busy pumping iron these days?"

"I got it done," Chad said, "Did you finish yours between the midnight Apex sessions?"

"I haven't played Apex in weeks, you'd know that if you were online more often," Ben snapped back, "Did you even see the Dougie Hicks story I posted on the Discord? They say he's found proof of the alien infiltration, and he's going to reveal all on his next podcast."

"Really?" Chad said with genuine curiosity, "Hicks is a nutbag, but do you think his scoop is legit?"

"Signs point to very likely," Ben said, "It lines up with what me and Annie have been putting together. Again, you'd know this if you were just online more!"

"Okay, sorry, I-"

"Boys!" Miss Flores said, "Something you'd care to share with the class?"

The two of them fell into an embarrassed silence. Their talk of alien invasions put an itch up my neck though. I hadn't paid Dougie Hicks any mind. The guy was tied up with the looniest of the Humanity First crew, and had been a pretty bad conspiracy peddler even before the Chicago Explosion, but there really was an alien invasion coming. I knew it, so did a few others. Maybe I should check out his podcast at some point, see if he was actually clued on to something.

"No way is that good casting," Lincoln said, showing Rufus something on his phone. He leaned over to show it to me. "Yo, you heard about the Hotspur movie they got cookin'? Word has it they've cast Jeremy Allen White for the role. That's some white washing bullshit."

"You still think Hotspur is a brother?" Rufus said.

"The way he throws down?" Lincoln said, "Gots to be. Or like, at least Mexican or some shit. Don't they say he works outta the west side? Lot of Mexicans out there."

"It ain't all Mexicans," Rufus said, "Eric lives on the west side. And he can throw down too. Remember last year at the dance with Jeremy and the football team?"

"Remember? Seeing that bitch Jeremy get washed was the highlight of the night. What, you think Eric is Hotspur or something?" My blood ran cold, until they both laughed. "Can you imagine that? Nah, Hotspur is a brother for sure."

"Boys! Focus!" Miss Flores tapped at her white board.

When we got out I got a text back from Misfit. A thumbs up, a smiley face and an explosion emoji. Then a screenshot of Jeremy Allen White's stupid fucking face with a kiss emoji attached.

Jeremy Allen White, really? I checked my reflection in a window and frowned.

I had to read up on this stupid movie and see what they were saying. But later. For now I had to go get ready for this gig with Ms Grant.

We met at the corner of Halsted and Monroe in Greek Town. Ms Grant in a long dark trench coat, sunglasses on, a high wind flicking locks of hair stylishly across her face. Ironclad behind her in his gauntlets and boots. A boom of thunder in an empty sky and Thunderchild appeared, perched on a fence railing, dressed in a long duster, his short fro a light mess. Thunderchild never bothered to hide his identity. Not like me and Ironclad.

Last to arrive, with the rev of her motorbike cutting through the traffic, was Misfit in her skull helmet and biker leathers.

"Spur," Thunderchild said, dapping me up, "Been a minute."

"Child," I said.

"Where's the rat?" Misfit asked, looking around as she pulled up on the curb.

"Glad you could all make it," Ms Grant said, pushing the stray curls back behind her ear, "Our 'rat' is getting wired up by a friend in a safe house two blocks over. Would be a bad look if he was surrounded by Chicago's best super hero team when he did. You kids attract a certain kind of attention."

"So what are we doing?" Thunderchild asked, "We just here for muscle? Only I know Ironclad there is muscle enough."

"Extraction," Ms Grant said, "You specifically, Thunderchild. If things go wrong I'd like our boy Ezekial pulled out of there before he gets a bullet in the skull."

Thunderchild sniffed. "Got that, but remember I can only port where I can see. So unless you got a camera set up to and from, with a live stream attached, shit can be limited."

Ms Grant smiled. "Don't worry, we've made preparations," she said, handing him an ipad, "This is a live feed of the safe house, for your exit. Getting in is a different matter. We can't exactly put a camera on our contact, but he has his phone and we've told him to take a picture inside and send it first thing."

"That might work, maybe," Thunderchild frowned.

She sighed. "If you've got a better idea, I'm all ears."

He sighed. "It'll have to do. So we crack skulls, get the rat out, then what?"

"Who cares," Misfit said, cracking a knuckle for emphasis, "Cracking skulls is all I'm here for. Hotspur asked for back up, the rest is whatever."

"Leave it to me," Ms Grant said, "If all goes to plan, we'll have a terrorism case ready against Humanity First by tomorrow morning. Then, it goes federal."

"But I'm trusting you to get the kid out of there, without him we've got nothing."

High stakes, and not because of the federal charge. Zeke was a friend, kinda, and his life was in our hands. I couldn't afford to fuck this up.

"How we doing this?" Misfit said, "We're just letting the rat walk in alone? Sounds risky to me. I could drop the helmet, go in with him."

"It's worth a thought," Ironclad said, for the first time, "For insurance."

"What do you think?" Ms Grant asked me, "It's your call. They're your team."

>insurance is always welcome, send someone in with Zeke (write-in)
>too risky, send him in alone

>>6166073
Hmm wouldn't they recognize Thunderchild if he doesnt even cover his face and identity? Unless these guys don't bother to mess with actual heroes. I guess we could give him a makeover or shave his curls off lol.

If they take their phones at a checkpoint the best they might get is there or outside, if the photo teleport works, then fighting to get further in.

I dont suppose one of them has a watch that can also take pictures, that might be easier to sneak in lol.

>>6166073
Can thunderchild teleport himself and two others or just one?

>>6166104
>shave his curls off
lol do not suggest this so casually

>>6166152
A wig, warpaint, and some sunglasses.

>>6166146
he can teleport as many people as can grab him

>>6166073
>too risky, send him in alone
Sending someone in just increases the chance to blow his cover

>>6166070
>What, you think Eric is Hotspur or something?"
Always funny/scary

>>6166073
>insurance is always welcome, send someone in with Zeke (write-in)
Misfit volunteered, and she has the social skills to pull it off

>>6166073
>insurance is always welcome, send someone in with Zeke (Misfit)

>>6166515
>>6166465
locking in sending in Misfit with Zeke

Sending someone with Zeke to make sure he didn't get a bullet in his brain first thing wasn't a bad idea, and there was no one I trusted more than Misfit.

"It's your idea, Misfit, so its your dance," I said.

"For sure," she said, pulling off her helmet. She'd grown her hair out a little, so that black curls flicked at the nape of her neck, fell a little over her eyes. She pushed the locks back from her face and grinned that infectious boyish grin of hers. "You can count on me but if I shout, come running."

"The biker get up might make you stand out," Ms Grant said.

"You trying to get me to strip, Ms Grant? Shit, no need for games, you just gotta ask," Misfit said with a wink. She passed the helmet to Thunderchild, tugged off her gloves and handed them to me, before unzipping the jacket down to a black Pantera t-shirt. She handed the jacket to Thunderchild. "So let's meet the rat," she said.

We followed Ms Grant down the street.

The surveillance team Ms Grant had sourced looked like they'd come from the Cook County Sheriff's department. They'd set up shop in a non-discription cube of a room, the back of an empty office on the second floor of a nearby building. Waiting with Zeke, who was getting strapped up with a mic by a plump middle aged woman, was a deputy I vaguely recognized from a previous bust. I think his name was Sam Something-Polish. One of those 'buy a vowel' names I could never figure out how to spell.

He didn't look happy to see us. Zeke looked pretty green in the neck too.

"Slight change of plans, this is Natalie, she'll be going with you," Ms Grant said.

"Cool," Zeke said, too busy staring at his own feet to say a proper hello.

"Remember, you need to get them to admit to the bombing, we need a confession and the more explicit the better," Ms Grant continued, "This is your chance, Ezekial, your chance to make good. But don't worry, we'll be watching. The second we think you're in real danger, Natalie and the team will get you out of there."

"Cool, yeah," he looked ready to throw up.

"I don't like this," the deputy said, "Changing things at the last minute. What's her cover? We could just end up with two dead teenagers."

"Don't worry about me, homes," Misfit said, "I'm just Zeke's new girl down for the cause of human liberation." For emphasis she put an arm around Zeke's shoulder, put a kiss on his cheek, then flared her cocky grin again.

"And your boy's all set," the middle aged woman said. I don't know why I was expecting some kind of long microphone strapped to his chest like out of an 80s crime film. It was actually quite small, discrete.

"We're a lot more sophisticated than we were twenty years ago," the tech lady said, catching some of my surprise in my posture, "But then, so are the bad guys." She did a sound check and raised a thumb for 'all clear'.

"Good work, June," Ms Grant said.

"Tell me how good it is 'after' we finish," she said, slurping a Red Bull.

"I don't like this," Deputy Sam said again.

"Say it again and maybe she'll listen," Ironclad said. I got the strong impression he didn't like Sam. Piszeck, that was it. He'd been at the Cindy Crawford job, put the cuffs on Bellevanche. He hadn't much cared for 'freak's at the time. I doubt much had changed. Ironclad took up a corner of the room, arms crossed looking tired.

"Did you manage to get that camera inside?" Ms Grant asked Piszeck.

"We got one into the lobby," he said, "But there was no getting one into the backroom without blowing the game. They really aren't stupid."

To demonstrate, June switched on her laptop to show a live feed of a front lobby. It looked like the lobby of a hotel, with a woman on the front desk in a hoodie. Grant checked the feed, nodded. She looked to Thunderchild.

"You can work with this?" she asked. He nodded. "Good. Let's not drag this out. Show time."

"Come on, rat, let's go," Natalie said, her arm still draped around Zeke's neck.

"Jesus," Zeke muttered as she walked him out.

Thunderchild kept his attention fixed on the computer screen, fists balled up in his pockets. He had real beef with the Humanity First crew, after all they'd done to drive Queen Rat's little commune out of the city. The stakes were high here.

Ms Grant surprised me though. She didn't look at the screen at all, but had her phone out, texting away. If I knew anything about her by now this wasn't the only case she was working. The woman was relentless when it came to her job. Maybe the only person I knew who worked for the government and genuinely believed in things like 'justice' and 'law'. Not that it was a long list of people.

Ironclad, for his part, looked ready to fall asleep on his feet, standing in the corner.

Like most stake outs, there wasn't a lot to do until something happened.

>wait patiently in silence
>talk to Thunderchild
>talk to Ms Grant
>talk to Ironclad
>(write-in)

>>6167012
>talk to Thunderchild
Keep him cool

>>6167012
>>talk to Ironclad
"Just a heads up, your archnemesis The Flesh Smith is dead so you can move on. Or don't."

>>6167062
I'm not sure we should advertise our involvement in mixed company

>>6167067
Hes in the corner, but I suppose it can wait. Why were they enemies to begin with?

Not sure if it was ever said explicitly but Flesh-Smith abducted and transformed Ironclad's love interest into a bio-ghoul.

>>6167078
Damn. Was his love interest in the big goop basement or got destroyed earlier?

>>6167067
Ya sure you don't wanna give him the news and just whisper it to him lol

>>6167080
>or got destroyed earlier?
Ironclad personally put her down in one of his offscreen battles

its part of why he is the way he is

>>6167082
Maybe we should hook him up with another lady. Do we know anyone into his type?

>>6167080
I'm a little worried about Ms. Grant too. If I remember right when we started working with her she warned us about ending the working relationship if we start killing. I'm not sure if mercy killing all those abominations is chill with her no-kill rule. Plus we fully intended to kill the flesh smith and now he's dead, even if we didn't directly do it we're at least an accessory.

>>6167097
Its alright he wasn't a person he was a god, doesn't count. That said, I guess it can wait.

>>6167012
I'll change to
>talk to Thunderchild

>>6167012
>talk to Ironclad
"Yo so I heard through the parafriend grapevine that this Dusk chick killed Flesh Smith"
There, news broken with zero suspicion on us
Maybe even less than zero suspicion
Negative suspicion

>>6167101
>>6167020
talking to Thunderchild is locked in

Man, I haven't been in this quest since like, a year! :D

Thunderchild watched the live feed close, clenching and unclenching his fist. I came and watched over his shoulder. It would be a minute before Misfit and Zeke made it over.

"We got this," I said.

"Damn straight," he said, his attention still fixed.

"Nothing to stress about."

"Unless I fuck up," he said, "Shit's on me, Spur. If I'm a second late or an inch off, could be Misfit pays the price. Grit nearly lost his arm on that job you pulled him into. We've been lucky so far none of us have been killed."

I winced. "How's he doing?"

"Taking it easy for once, or as easy as it can be with a baby in the house, Doc Ramsey said he was lucky to keep the arm," he said, "I still think its crazy, having a kid at all. Doing what we do, in the world we live in. Makes me glad my girl is half a ghost. We don't got to worry about that."

"And how are you doing?" I asked.

He ran his palm over his short locks, a troubled grimace on his face. "Getting by," he said, "The farm is a lot more work than we were all expecting, and we got more people coming every week. Not just our people, homeless types too. Queen Rat will let in anyone with a sob story. I get it but, I worry its leaving us open. I try not to let it get in my head, but I just don't trust them. Norms, I mean. Anyone of the norms she lets in could be up to something." He glanced back at me, "Been a minute since we saw you around the farm."

Now it was my turn to grimace. "Been busy myself, Child."

"Yeah, you're burning up a lot of gas," he said, "Makes the rest of us look lazy."

"We do what we can," I said.

"Just remember, they aren't going to give you a prize. Best they'll do is let you live, but the second you become a problem? The second you stop being their costumed hero with the good PR? They'll have a cell waiting for you too."

I couldn't argue with him on that, considering what he'd been through. I only knew a little of what they'd done to him and the other parafolk at Project Cauldron but none of it was good.

"But seriously dude, Jeremy Allen White?" he said in a more joking tone.

I groaned. "Don't remind me," I said. A movie about me? Fuck that. Did I have grounds to sue? Who the hell knows.

"I heard they're going to have you and Ms Grant over there hook up too," he said, grin growing, "Heard they were casting Yaya DaDocsta. Fucking weird if you ask me, like we aren't real people."

"Whose playing you?" I asked, "Kevin Hart?"

"Fuck you, man," he said, pushing me back with a snort, "Nah, I want Lakeith Stanfield or something. Just so long as it ain't one of them British niggas though, its all fine by me. But I ain't going to be in it, don't think."

"Maybe you'll get your own movie," I said.

"Yeah, that'll be the day," then he shut up, slapping my shoulder to get my attention, pointing at the screen.

Zeke and Misfit wandered into view.

"Have we met before?" Zeke asked her, "I swear, you look familiar."

"Yeah baby, I'm your girlfriend, remember?" Misfit whispered back.

"No, I mean like, for real though," he said, "I've seen you somewhere."

"Maybe stop worrying about it and focus on the job," Misfit said through a clenched smile, jerking her head to the woman behind the lobby desk. He coughed as they walked over there.

"Can I help you?" the woman asked.

"Yeah," Zeke said, "I'm looking to cross the Delaware, do you know the fee?"

"I'm sorry sir, but what are you asking?" the woman said.

"The price of freedom," he continued.

The woman's eyes narrowed on Misfit. "And her?"

"Someone willing to pay the price," Zeke said.

The woman nodded. Put a keycard on the desk.

"Back corridor, room 13," she said, "Someone will come and meet you. Welcome in from the cold, soldier."

They went back. The video remained stuck on the lobby. All we could hear were their soft voices.

"I swear I know you," Zeke muttered.

Ms Grant came to stand behind us. "Looks like we found the right place," she said, leaning over my shoulder, "Good. Be ready. Room 13?"

"Back corridor," Thunderchild replied.

"We could just send in a proper SWAT team, clear the place out," Piszeck said, "I don't like this, using kids."

"You think I do? But we can trust these kids a hell of a lot more than Chicago police," she said.

We heard a door open and close. The scuff of boots.

"What, I'm not your type?" Misfit said.

"Honestly? You're cute and all, but I prefer black girls," Zeke said.

Misfit laughed.

The door opened again.

"Hudson," Zeke said, "I was expecting Jeremy. He around?"

My skin prickled. Hudson had been the guy who brought the bomb. A clean cut black man with dead eyes. Either a cop or military, maybe both.

"Who is this?" he asked.

"I'm Natalie," Misfit said.

"My girlfriend, she's down -WHOA!"

"Easy," Misfit said, "No need to flash a piece."

"Give me a reason not to ruin these carpets," Hudson said, "You disappear on us and then show up again with some skank? I don't like it."

Ms Grant tensed up behind me, her grip on my shoulder tightening.

"I got cold feet is all," Zeke said, "When I put the bomb in the mail box, after I went home, I-I regretted it! I should have done the job!"

"And you turn up here like its nothing," he said, "Start talking, and if I don't like what I hear we're going to have a hell of a cleaning bill."

"Fuck," Zeke gasped.

>fuck the plan this was getting too hot, go now
>give Zeke a chance to talk his way out of it

>>6168147
welcome back!

Happy new year everyone. I'm hoping to make this the year I finish this quest. Let's all just try to get through it in one piece

>>6168604
>give Zeke a chance to talk his way out of it

>>6168604
>give Zeke a chance to talk his way out of it
This is exactly what we knew they'd ask, let him try the excuses we gave before we call it

>>6168626
Happy new year!

>>6168147
lmao same

>>6168665
>>6168630
going to lock this in

"Like I said, I got cold feet!" Zeke whimpered, "I ran, okay? I ran and hid out in Cicero with an uncle. I got scared. But then I saw what that ice freak did and I realized I had to do something, had to man up."

"My man's no pussy," Misfit chimed in, "You going to do us, you do it, but we're ready to die for our city. If that's got to be now..."

"She talks tough for a piece of fuckable street trash," Hudson said.

"Hey!" Zeke had the decency for genuine outrage. My own skin went hot at the insult. "You don't talk about my girl like that!"

"I'll talk how I want, boy, and you best be happy I'm talking," Hudson replied.

Ms Grant's fingers dug deeper into my shoulder, tense as a race horse ready to bolt.

"Yeah well, I noticed that bomb went off real quick after I ditched it," Zeke said, "Y-you even mean for me to walk away from that job? See, I thought about that too."

"And you came back anyway?" Hudson said, "You're either stupid, or wearing a wire."

A pause. "You think I'm a snitch?" Zeke said, "Check me for one then, go on. Pat me down for a wire."

The room sucked in a collective breath at Zeke's challenge, each of us exchanging a look if this was the time to move. We go now we could get Hudson for threatening to murder them, but Hudson didn't seem the type to flip over something like that.

"So you ditch the bomb and head for Cicero," he said, "You disappear, no one hears a word from you. Now weeks later you come crawling back with a new recruit in tow."

"That's right," he said, "Even knowing you might kill me for it, I came back. Because you're right. We have to do something about the freaks in this city. And you guys are the only ones stepping up."

"Not the only ones," Hudson said, "There are others getting ready. But you'll have to talk to the Commander about that."

"Commander...Commander Washington?" Zeke said.

I knew that name. "Wait," I said, "These guys, I don't think they're Humanity First. Not anymore."

Ms Grant shot me a look. "Commander Washington, the Patriots?" she said. I nodded.

"Who that?" Misfit asked, "He the man in charge?"

"Something like that," Hudson said, "More than you'll ever know. Now Zeke, let's talk for real. Who sent you here? Whose trying to get me to confess to your failed bombing on the other end of your wire? My money is on that bitch Madeleine Grant. In fact, let me say hello, DSA Grant. We'll deal with you soon too."

"In the mean time."

"Wait!" Zeke yelled. And then a deafening bang.

"Go!" Ms Grant yelled, but I was already grabbing on to Thunderchild, felt the vacuum pull of his powers and the explosive detonation as we were pulled through.

-
>Time to rescue Zeke and Misfit
>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 65

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>6168695
time to pull a nat hundred.

>>6168706
oof some else should roll the rest.

>>6168706
the dice really are cursed

Rolled 23 (1d100)

>>6168695
please

Rolled 12 (1d100)

>>6168695
Fuck it I'll roll the last one too

2025 is off to a great start

>>6168716
The post-hiatus dice have been brutal in general

>>6168709
It must be the influence of the dragon and DRUJ mucking up our rolls and cursing eric with misfortune.

feel like we need some kind of circuit breaker here, something to bring the luck back

Rolled 88 (1d100)

>>6168695

>>6168727
Happy new year

Rolled + 20 (1d00 + 20)

>>6168695
Circuit breaker roll

The sonic boom of our arrival rocked the lobby. The woman behind the desk stood in shock for a second, but only a second, before whipping out a shotgun from behind the desk. With a white hot pulse I dove the distance between us, wrenched the shotgun from her hand as a shot fired up into the ceiling, and dropped her with a right hook.

But there were other gun shots ringing out.

"Go!" Thunderchild said. We ran for the back door, my boot taking it off its hinges with a single hard kick, the both of us spilling into the hallway as we ran for our friend.

Men up ahead in kevlar with guns. They turned at the sound of us coming, guns raised in expoert firing positions. Thunderchild grabbed the back of my jacket and I felt that disconcerting pull in my stomach as he dragged me into a vacuum, exploding back into the world above their heads.

I dropped with fists flying, Thunderchild behind me, breaking jaws and cracking skulls as we cleared the scum out from the doorway.

Another blast of a gun. We kicked in the door.

Hudson was wheezing, waving his gun around with eyes squeezed shut, firing off shots in every direction.

"Bitch blinded me!" he yelled, swinging the gun into my face. I grabbed his wrist and squeezed. To his credit the man did nothing more than give a tough grunt as I splintered the bones in my grip, the gun falling from useless fingers. Then a head butt put him on his ass.

We checked the room. "Fuck, fuck!" Zeke said, cradling her.

My body went numb. She lay in his lap, the front of her shirt all red, face too pale with eyes unfocused. She was dead, she was dead she-

"Calm down," Misfit said, a weak hand patting Zeke's cheek.

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry," he said, gripping her tight.

She wheezed, eyes rolling over to me and Child.

"Yo," she said, her grin had blood on it, "You two look like shit."

"Quit being cute," Thunderchild said, getting down on a knee next to her, "We got you, Misfit."

"He did too," she said, then rumbled with laughter that cut out on a snort of pain, "Fuck, it hurts too much. Getting shot sucks."

"Tell me about it," I said.

"I'm sorry," Zeke said again.

"Think I'm dyin'?" Misfit asked, just a little scared. I looked for the bullet hole. She sucked in a breath like breathing didn't come natural.

"Not if we can help it," Thunderchild said.

"Help her," Zeke said to me. I tried to ignore him.

Behind us, Hudson laughed. Half blind and holding his broken wrist, blood running from a split in his scalp, the piece of shit laughed.

"You came running," he said, "Good. Longbow will deal with the rest."

Longbow?

Thunderchild frowned, then in alarm whipped out the tablet. The one with the live feed of the safe house. Just in time. We saw it happen casual like, a gray scale feed from the corner of the room, looking down. Deputy Piszeck drew his pistol. The first shot went through June, the back of her head painting her brains against her computer screen. The second would have gone through Ms Grant, if Ironclad had been a step slower.

He yanked the pistol from Piszeck's grip with his powers.

And that might have been it. Until the door came in.

He wore a tricorn hat and a long blue coat, a bow in hand with a fist full of arrows. The arrows flew fast. Ironclad reached out a hand but there was no steel to grab, just straight wooden shafts with sharpened tips.

Two in the chest, one in the hip, long toothpicks jutting out. He went down, bring up his gauntlet to let metal fly. But Longbow was quick, he ducked away from the iron needles came flying for him, sending back an arrow shaft. Ironclad caught it mid-air, but the arrow in his hip made it impossible for him to stand.

Made it impossible for him to stop Piszeck grabbing Ms Grant, as Ms Grant went for her own gun. They went down wrestling, the bigger, strong Cook County Deputy overpowering her.

"We got the bitch," Hudson said, grinning through the pain.

Fuck.

I looked down to Misfit, frail and bleeding on Zeke's lap. I looked to the live feed, where Ms Grant struggled beneath Deputy Piszeck before a dying Ironclad.

Fuck.

"What do we do?" Thunderchild asked.

He couldn't teleport to places at once. Go rescue Grant and we risked Misfit bleeding out. Get Misfit to a doctor and Ms Grant...

Fuck!

>rescue Ms Grant
>get Misfit to emergency
>write-in

>>6169245
Theres a screen in the safe house where Grant was watching the lobby right? I'm thinking Child drops us in, gets to the screen and get back to Misfit while we handle Longbow.

>>6169245
>Have him teleport all three of us to Grant, then teleport Misfit to a hospital while we stay behind and save Grant.

>>6169245
>>6169294
Small revision
>Thunderchild teleports all 4 of us to Grant, then takes Misfit and Zeke to a hospital while Hotspur stays behind with Grant
Can't forget poor Zeke

>>6169297
>>6169294
>>6169260
there's a fair consensus here (and not any other votes) so I'm going to run with this.

fair warning, because you're pushing hard and trying to save both, there will be a roll involved coming with the next update.

"Child, can you get us all back in there and out again?" I asked.

"I can try," he said, pulling out the tablet screen, squinting in concentration.

"We'll string her up on Rush Street," Hudson said, "She's a traitor to humanity!"

"Shuddup," Thunderchild sneered as he pulled us all close together, "Hold on tight." Zeke and me both grabbed a handful of Thunderchild's coat, while Thunderchild grabbed Misfit around the shoulders, pulled her into his lap.

My gut sucked in, and with a thunder crack we were back in the safe house. June lay slumped forward in her chair, an eye hanging from her socket, staring dumb at us, dead before she knew it. Ms Grant squirmed in Deputy Piszeck's grip, and Longbow stood over Ironclad, drawing an arrow, levelling it slow to finish him off. I didn't even know if it was necessary, with two arrows in his chest, Ironclad wasn't moving.

"If you'd just stuck to taking down gangsters," Piszeck grunted, "If you'd just stuck to going after the politicians instead of throwing in with the freaks!"

"You son of a bitch Sam!"

He threw her hard into the wall and she went limp. He wiped spit from his lips, seething. Then saw us. "Longbow!" he spat.

The archer turned from his prey. Instead of firing into Ironclad, he loosed it at me with a 'thwip'. I snatched it out of the air, but he drew two more.

"Grab Ms Grant and get everyone out of here!" I shouted back at Thunderchild. Ms Grant lay unmoving, Deputy Piszeck between us and her, with Longbow's attention now turned to us too. Piszeck scooped up his revolver from the ground.

Fuck. Fuck!

Fire pumped through me.

-
>rolling to rescue Ms Grant and get everyone out of there
>roll 3 x 1d100+20 dc 75

Rolled 25 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6169418
I'm reluctant to even roll lol

Rolled 17 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6169418
Please God I don't ask for much

>>6169418
Incredible, absolutely incredible. Time for Zeke to step up and be a man by charging and taking the bullet for the team

things aren't looking great!

I believe you can make this next roll, anons. I have faith.

Rolled 77 + 20 (1d100 + 20)

>>6169457
rollan

Thank FUCK I would be kicking myself if we let Misfit and Grant die, not to mention Child, Ironclad, and Zeke. We better tell Ironclad we got his justice

>>6169460
What a clutch roll anon

>>6169460
nice save

working on the update

>>6169460
Below average for bo3 but considering our recent luck a godlike roll

The jagoff gave the revolver a quick spin as he brought it up. Maybe he'd have hit me if he just shot the fucking thing. Instead he got my fist crunching into his nose, my knee up in his gut, then I hip throw that sent him bouncing out of my way while he choked on his own teeth.

Ms Grant pushed herself up onto her elbows with a low moan, dark curls falling over her face, blood dripping from her lip. Zeke ran to grab her, to pull her over to Thunderchild who sat grasping onto Misfit.

Longbow swung his bow, cracking Zeke across the teeth.

"Eyes on the fight, shitbird!" I said, a shoulder charge hitting Longbow hard in the side, driving him back from Zeke.

He spun. Three arrows in his fist, and they were in the air fast. I snatched one, two, ducked the third. Snapped the arrows in my hands and flung the splinters at him.

Up close Longbow wore a blue bandanna across his face, matching his fancy Revolutionary war coat.

"If you're going for a Revolution thing, shouldn't you be using some kind of musket?" I said, "A bow and arrow isn't exactly on theme."

He said nothing but leapt backward, drawing and firing his bow as he did. I ducked under it again, easier than dodging bullets, lunged after him. He was a slippery prick, quick on his feet with a reaction time near enough to my own. Was he a parafolk too? He backed up to the doorway, flicking a look between me and my friends.

"Get Ms Grant and go!" I barked at Zeke.

Despite a crunched in nose, Zeke scooped her up under the arms and dragged her back toward Thunderchild.

"Liam..." Ms Grant groaned, reaching for where Ironclad lay.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him," I said.

Seeing an opening, Longbow launched an arrow at Thunderchild. I snatched it mid-air as Zeke pulled back, grabbing tight to Thunderchild's lapel. As he did, Longbow ducked back out the doorway.

Behind me the others escaped in a thunderous boom, leaving me alone with the downed but now rising Piszeck and the possibly dying Ironclad, his potential killer crouched in the doorway, arrow set to bow string. I watched him, tense, ready for him to take his shot.

When he fired it wasn't at me. Or at Ironclad. Half way to his feet, Piszeck caught Longbow's arrow through the throat. He grabbed his neck in shock, spitting blood as he stumbled back on his ass.

"Loose end," Longbow muttered, then tipping his hat to me, ran.

Fuck me.

"Hotspur," Ironclad said. Alive. Somehow. But not getting up. I went to him, on my knees next to him grabbed his hand. "I'm fucked up."

"You'll be okay," I said, not looking at the arrows riddling his body.

Ironclad rumbled with laughter. "Son of a bitch Boromir'd me," he said, "You get Maddie out?" I nodded. "Good, thas good. Fuck, she...she's something else. Coulda been something there, maybe." His chest rumbled like he wanted to cough, but all he brought up was bloody froth on his lips. "Wood arrows. Clever. Piss Check. Knew he was a bitch first time I saw him."

I started pulling him up. "You're not dying here, Ironclad," I said, "Not on my life. And you aren't cool enough to be Boromir."

"And you...sure as fuck...aren't my captain or my...king," Ironclad wheezed.

"We killed him," I said, "Flesh-Smith. He's dead."

"Believe me...he's...not," he muttered, "Maybe just...sleeping a minute."

"He's dead, he's dead, okay? But you aren't dying here, not yet."

I dragged him toward the door, knowing there could be an ambush waiting out there. But there was no other way out, all else I could do was sit and wait for Thunderchild to come back. Hope he came back. And if he didn't, there was no way Ironclad was making it out of here. Either run outside and risk getting jumped, stay here and watch Ironclad bleed to death or...or what?

I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to do.

>go for the door, go fast and hope for the best
>trust Thunderchild, wait for him
>write-in

>>6169576
>trust Thunderchild, wait for him
Moving him will make him lose more blood. This quest is too stressful

>>6169576
>trust Thunderchild, wait for him
cauterize bleeding using fire palm?

>>6169576
>"Son of a bitch Boromir'd me,"
Jesus, I almost spit out my drink when I read that.

>>6169609
Seconding this and also looking at the feed if we can afford to, we need to know if Hudson's doing anything

>>6169609
>>6169631
leaving the arrows in the wound holds pressure on the bleeding. removing them will make him bleed out faster. the bleeding is internal and we can't reach it with our flames. it's a bad idea on multiple levels

>>6169633
Where’s the Zoroastrian Prince when you need him? Did an alright job with an ice lance in the gut. He likely knows arrow wounds as well. If any arteries are hit, the guy is good as dead, like Piszeck with the throat arrow. Is that dude dead, or by some miracle, was the arteries missed?

>>6169576
>trust Thunderchild, wait for him
Use our oath power to have Ironside promise not to die here lol

Or go through the Flesh Smith mission a bit so he knows his enemy really is dead, apparently we got time. That said, there ought to be a first aid kit around here given that we expected things to get hot. Dunno if Spur knows how to use it though especially with a god damn set of arrows still in the man.

I guess it takes a hot minute to fumble around with a phone to get a picture of 'chicago hospital near me' and make sure Misfit gets taken care of. Child's got the ipad so he can come back and Longbow didn't shoot out the camera.

>>6169576
>trust Thunderchild, wait for him
Put pressure on the wounds but DO NOT move him, he needs teleportation or nothing

Unfortunately I think we were KOed for the good part

>>6169642
>>6169727
>>6169609
>>6169592
locking in. sorry for the disappearance

I got my phone and fired a text to Thunderchild. One word: hurry. I didn't know where he'd taken the others or when he'd be back, but there was no way I was going to risk moving Ironclad with a bunch of arrows stuck in him, especially since there was probably an ambush waiting outside.

Ironclad lay wheezing with his eyes half shut.

"Hey stay awake," I said, trying to figure out what to do in the mean time.

"Mm, jus' trying to concentrate," he said, "On staying alive."

Pulling out those arrows was probably a bad idea, so was using my powers to try and heal his wounds. We'd gone through a first aid course at school once, part of a live shooter drill. What was it I was supposed to do? Find something to apply pressure to the wound. I looked around for a first aid kit but all I saw was dead bodies. Piszeck, the wire girl June.

"Me and Grit," I said, "We went with this chick Dusk on a hunt for the Flesh-Smith. I thought about asking you but, we aren't tight like that, right? Anyway, you'd like Dusk. She's scary. A real killer. We went down in the sewers to find his workshop. Had to cut our way through a lot of bio-ghouls. Grit got hurt pretty bad, I didn't come out so good either, but we got the job done. I burned down his workshop, burned up all his material, while Dusk tore him apart."

"He's dead, is what I'm saying."

Ironclad was silent long enough I started to worry. "Her name was Jessica," he said.

Yeah?

"She was good like...like most other people aren't good. Helped people. Junkies, homeless, street walkers. Kinda people no one helps. She wasn't always nice, but she was good. Red hair like...like a struck match. Blue eyes."

"Did real good, she did...not like me."

He closed his eyes.

"Only one day she was gone. Jus' gone. No one knew. She'd been checking on someone, a woman with kids living out the back of a car. Down in...out near O'Block. Bad neighborhood. Figured, gotta be bangers."

"But...then when I found her. I only knew it was her from her eyes. They way they...they rested over her cheekbones. Blue eyes. Frightened. Jessica. He'd taken her, Flesh-Smith, made her something...oh god, Jessica."

The pain on his face was from something worse than his wounds. Where the fuck was Thunderchild?

"I killed her," he said, his voice blank, "He turned into something...something else and I killed her."

Fuck.

"He did it just because he could, because he thought it was funny. Take the good and twist it up. That's what they do. But she was still in there. I know. In her eyes she was still in there."

"I don't believe in heaven," he sucked in something in the back of his throat, "Wish I believed in hell."

"He's dead," I said.

"So's she," he replied, and said nothing after but stared away from me, for so long I thought he was gone until he winced, a finger twitching to the arrow in his leg.

"Come on out, para-freak bastards!" someone shouted from outside. A machine gun rattled off and I ducked low, but the bullets were too far to reach us. "Come on out!"

But after the bullets came the woop of a siren. I heard them cursing, their car peel off. An ambulance? Cops? Whoever it was, I was glad they'd come.

A boom behind us and Child reappeared. "Dropped Fit off with Doc Ramsey," he said, sliding over to us, ipad in hand, "He's got his hands full now though but don't worry, we're going to get you some help too, Ironclad, no stress."

Ironclad only gave a deep, painfilled inhale.

Thunderchild grabbed Ironclad, I grabbed Thunderchild. And with the sound of a cop bursting through the doorway shouting 'Freeze!' we were gone.

And in a blink and hollow boom, out the front of Cook County Hospital, shocked patients staring.

I staggered up to my feet. "Get me a fucking doctor," I said.

And I hoped like hell it was enough.

It turns out unless someone dies right away, surgery for those injuries both takes all of forever and days of recovery. It had been an hour since they took Ironclad into emergency, and for now I was taking no news as good news.

As for Misfit...

Thunderchild got the text.

"Doc Ramsey has her stabilized," he said, "She's not guaranteed to make it, but she's not going to bleed out."

A small kind of relief.

Last time I'd asked a nurse for an update on Ironclad I'd got a very tired 'we'll let you know', but now my appearance was starting to get unwanted attention. A lot of phone snaps, some open, others trying to be sneaky about it.

"You want to wait around here, see if Ironclad makes it?" Thunderchild asked, none too happy with the attention we were pulling in the bustling ER.

"Someone should tell Ms Grant at least," I said.

He nodded. We stood, unsure what to say. Nothing had gone right. We'd underestimated Humanity First, and now two of ours were laid up and might not make it.

"What do you want to do?" Child asked.

I sighed.

>go home
>wait here
>check on Misfit
>(write-in)

>>6171163
>check on Misfit

>>6171163
>>check on Misfit
Gotta check on our number one tomboy friend. I guess she might not be able to make that swordsmanship lesson.

>>6171163
>check on Misfit

>>6171223
Salamander is back in the running baby!

>>6171163
>check on Misfit

After we got impaled by winter king misfit stuck by our bedside until we woke up, we should try to do the same.

>>6171163
>check on Misfit

>>6171706
>>6171672
>>6171354
>>6171223
>>6171209
not surprising and locking in

sorry this is taking a minute, writing hospital scenes is getting me a bit messed up at the moment

"Let's get back to Dr Ramsey," I said, "Check on our girl."

He nodded, grabbed me by the shoulder, and before an orderly could take a breath we were gone.

Doctor Ramsey's clinic wasn't the nicest place in the world. A private surgery, he saw a lot of what might be called 'troubled' souls in his line of work. A mix of families too poor for proper health care and rich jagoffs who needed some discrete service. The rich jagoffs kept the lights on so the poor folks could get seen to for a plate of tamales and some left over beer. Now he had another client base, us. Super heroes who got ourselves on the wrong end of an ass kicking.

Thank Ms Grant for putting it together.

I'd haunted the doctor's surgery enough he was sick of the sight of me. One of his nurses, the tarantula faced para-folk Vanessa, showed us back to Misfit's room.

"She's out of surgery, but we're worried, she lost a lot of blood." The way Nessa talked, her spider mouth clicking, was unsettling to look at. She kept her head down for that reason. "I'm not going to lie, her pulse is weak. And there's always a risk of secondary infection. The bullet missed her heart by half an inch. A little lower and there'd be no pulse at all. But there were bone fragments. Her left lung..."

Thunderchild mouthed the word 'fuck' as I held back a snarl, a quickening rage pumping through me offset only by a cold fear.

Down the corridor to her room, Ms Grant and Zeke sat out the front of. The bridge of Zeke's nose was bandaged, a large welt had grown on Ms Grant's forehead. Zeke stood as we got closer.

"Hey," he said. I held back the irrational urge to punch his teeth out. If it wasn't for him none of this would have happened. If it wasn't for me sending her in with him...

The rage maybe showed in my posture because Zeke shut up and sat down.

Ms Grant was staring at the floor, looking tired, looking beaten. She turned her eyes up on me.

"Ironclad?" she asked.

"Cook County, getting seen to," Thunderchild said, "I can take you if you want. Got to go get Misfit's girl anyway."

Ms Grant slowly nodded, but didn't get up, hung her head over her knees. Even after being stripped and tortured by the Outfit I'd never seen her look so beaten.

My focus was on the door they were sitting next to. My rage died at the threshold. Only cold fear remained. I put a hand to the door but couldn't open it. Couldn't get my feet moving to go in.

I'd known this fear before. My Mom. Not wanting to see. But having to go. Owing her. Needing her. Needing to know.

Nessa pushed the door open for me, her eight little eyes gleaming as she held it open.

The sound of machines, a pump gasping and hissing, the click and whirr of another machine. The sound of machines keeping her alive. She lay in a bed, her chest rising and falling. She didn't look good. Her rich brown skin had turned a greasy gray, sweat sticking her hair down to her forehead. She didn't so much as twitch when I came in, her eyes shut, lips half parted under the mask.

Misfit. Natalie. With tubes running out of her arm and out from under her bedsheet. Natalie. I expected those eyes to blink open and for her to crack a smartass line. Sit up and tell a crude joke. They stayed shut. She lay still.

The machines kept her breathing.

Bedsheets crinkled under the palm of my hand as I leaned against her bed, over her. Swallowed.

Stupid. I pulled back my hood. Stupid. I lowered my goggles. Too fucking stupid. I swallowed again, a heat coming up over the cold fear. Touched her hand with a finger. No you fucking idiot. I pulled the finger back. Pulled the glove off. Touched her hand again. Her rough palm. The kind of hand spent time fixing machines when it wasn't breaking heads. Honest hands.

I squeezed her hand. She didn't squeeze back.

What do I say? Words couldn't fit it. Nothing could.

"I'm sorry," I said. No, I didn't say it. "I'm fuckin' sorry," I sobbed, grabbing at the bed sheets, body starting to shake. Laying over her shaking, holding back. Holding it all back best I could even with the bubble in my throat and my vision all glassy. "Fucking idiot, you fucking idiot Natalie," I sobbed, like cussing at her would pull her back from the brink. Like it would make my own hurt stop. "Don't fuckin' die," I said, "Don't fuckin' die. I love you, Natalie. I fuckin' love you. I shoulda fuckin' said so. I shoulda said."

Would she make fun of me for it? Would she laugh that big laugh of hers? It hurt. It hurt too fucking much.

"You're the best friend I ever had," I said, "Don't die on me before I can fucking tell you. Don't do that."

She lay there nestled among the machines. Saying nothing, moving not at all.

"Come on," Nessa said from behind me, a gentle hand on my shoulder, "There's nothing you can do. You need rest."

>She was right, follow the nurse out of the room
>I could stay, is what I could do

>>6172135
>I could stay, is what I could do
We need a healer para already
....That was probably Flesh Smith, damnit

>>6172135
>I could stay, is what I could do

>>6172147
>....That was probably Flesh Smith, damnit
don't worry, it wasn't

there's no version of this quest where Flesh-Smith becomes a hero, anti-hero or any flavor of not completely fucking evil.

>>6172135
Call for Miss Phoenix Tears. Otherwise I think a pierced lung might be a bit rough.

>>6172135
>She was right, follow the nurse out of the room

>>6172135
>She was right, follow the nurse out of the room
I'm like, 80% sure she'd want us to go kick the ass of whoever's done that to her.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

going to roll off

1 is stay with Misfit
2 is leave

No, there was something I could do. But nothing I could do here. I gave Misfit's hand a last squeeze. I could find the jagoff who'd shot her and feed him his own gun. A broken wrist wasn't good enough for Hudson. I'd tear off his arm. I'd...I'd...

Get some rest, and get to it later. I pulled my mask back on, reset my goggles, and stepped out into the dark mood in the corridor.

Where Ms Grant still hung her head, where Zeke stood with his arms crossed looking at nothing, where Thunderchild snarled into the middle distance burning with a fury of his own. She was his friend too. Misfit, and Grit too, I'd got friends and team mates hurt. I had to be better, stronger, good enough to keep it from happening again.

Or worse. When one of ours got killed.

"You ready to go, Ms Grant?" Thunderchild said, "Check in on your boy?"

This time though she shook her head. "We need to check the safe house first, get back what we can, whatever they haven't cleaned out," a bit of iron in her voice, "Secure any remaining evidence that can help us put these guys behind bars. Attempted murder is as good a charge as terrorism, and maybe we can sweat him with it."

"Hudson won't sweat, ma'am," Zeke said, "Trust me, he's hardcore."

"Maybe not, but we have to try something," she said, "You boys rest, you've been through a lot today. It didn't go our way, but we aren't beaten. Not yet. Not ever."

"Nothin' we aren't used to," Thunderchild said, "Right, Hotspur?"

I nodded, even if I didn't feel it. "It's good to see you haven't given up, Ms Grant," I said.

"After what happened to Natalie and Liam, how can I?" she said.

"Natalie..." Zeke muttered, then a light went on his eyes and he gasped, "Now I remember! The winter ball last year!" He looked to the door, then over to me, "She was Eric's date. Eric from...school..." Now he frowned at me. Suspicious. But he didn't say anything, just frowned.

Great. Ms Grant stretched her arms overhead. "Okay, Thunderchild," she said, "Do your thing."

He grinned at me as he took her by the shoulder. "See you soon," and was gone in a thunderclap.

For my part I really did need to rest. Putting Zeke's suspicions behind, I followed Nessa to a spare bed. A neat little room for the nurses who had to work nights, I slumped down on a bunk in full outfit, not giving a fuck enough to even kick off my boots. Misfit. I thought about the night we'd first met. Riding in on her motorbike swinging a monkey wrench, at first I'd thought she was a dude. The Latin Reapers. It all felt a thousand years ago now. The Reapers were gone, swallowed up by the organization the Haitian was building, spreading out like a tumor out of the south side devouring neighborhoods and gangs.

And Misfit. Natalie Rodriguez. Laid up with a bullet lodged just above her heart, might not make it through the night. She might be gone soon too.

We'd handled the Flesh-Smith, but there was always some other evil lurking. Another danger around the corner.

Gangsters, terrorists, super villains. And something far worse lurking in the depths of space.

I had to be ready. My eyes were heavy. I had to be ready. I cracked a yawn. I had to be...

Awake. Like I hadn't slept at all but sunlight streaming down on me. School. Had school. Stumbled out of the bunk, nearly knocked over the breakfast left for me. Stack of pancakes. Mug of coffee. A quartered orange. Ate.

What time was it? How long had I slept? Too long.

Out of the door. Not the nurse, Dr Ramsey talking to someone. Red hair in twin braids. Kaylee. My ex. Misfit's girl. She listened, intent. Saw me, but just nodded before listening to the doctor. She was wearing Misfit's jacket.

"-if we're lucky, and honestly, I'm feeling lucky. She's tough. Her pulse has grown stronger since yesterday. And whatever lets her do what she does is helping."

"Right," Kaylee said.

"When she wakes up she'll need help getting around, you can do that?"

"I can. Whatever needs doing."

"It'll be for a few weeks, and I mean real care, if you have school-"

"I don't go to school. I can do it, doctor."

I'd never heard Kaylee sound the way she did. Confident. Strong. Self-assured. And there was nothing of the vain girl I'd dated in the hard line of her jaw when she talked to the doctor.

"She's lucky to have you."

Then her expression softened. She looked at the door to Misfit's room.

"Sorry doctor, you've got that the wrong way around."

He smiled with a tip of his tablet to her before going on his way. Where ever anyone else was, for the moment it was just me and her in the corridor.

She looked at me then. "Hotspur," she said. She could have called me Eric. But she wasn't angry, only a little cold. Her fingers dug into the sleeve of her jacket.

"Kaylee," I said.

It got as awkward as you'd think.

Then she looked to me. "Thank you," she said, "Thunderchild told me what happened. If you hadn't been there, Natalie could have been killed."

"If I hadn't been there, Natalie wouldn't have been in danger," I replied.

She smiled. "You know that's not true. Natalie's worse than you are for finding danger." She drew in a deep breath. "And...I'm sorry. For how I was. When we were together. I didn't understand then because, I don't know, I didn't love you? No, I liked you, like a lot liked you, but I didn't love you. Because now I know, because if I'd felt like this then I'd have understood." She forced back tears, looking anywhere but at the door to Misfit's room. "And now I do. So I'm sorry. That I didn't love you, and I didn't understand."

"She's going to be okay," I said.

"Yeah," Kaylee replied, then in a cracked voice, "Until next time." And then with tears down her face she forced herself through the door to where Misfit lay.

Dammit.

But the world didn't stop. I had a lot to do.

>get to school, slide back into normal life for now
>head out to find Ms Grant, focus on helping salvage the mission
>head out but to cool off, school and crime could both wait
>(write-in)