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918692 No. 918692 ID: 8dd8f9

What do you see?

A tree? Many see a tree.
A flower? Many see a flower.
Darkness? Many see naught but darkness.

I see the truth.

There is no tree, or flower, or even darkness.

There is only you.

Good and bad.
Right and wrong.
Light and dark.

They only exist in the eye of the beholder.

You are the beholder.

This is a story of humanity, of the power for change that exists in every living thing.

But what changes will you manifest? What path will you walk?

...What will you sacrifice?

Every choice you make has bearing, ever step you take is one further on the path you choose.

There is no good.

There is no evil.

There is only you.

One path, one chance, one life.

No retries, no going back, no room for failure.

This is a story of humanity.

This, is the path of a hero.
47 posts omitted. Last 100 shown. Expand all images
No. 919237 ID: d46037

shit. Your right. Figures she'd manage to fuck someone over even in death. I doubt she'll end herself, gift that it would be to humanity. Hmmm... I'll send Myra. She wasn't here at lunch, but she's a friend of Heathers, she'll make sure she stays alive.

Goddamnit, now I have to babysit that piece of shit and make sure she doesn't drag me down with her.

Fine, lunch is cold anyway. Not like it was good in the first place.

It's not hard to find Myra, as she's alone in class room six doing detention work.

Borya enters room six, and Myra immediately sneers.

"What the hell are you doing here, psycho?" She spat.

"I found this in an unused locker, I thought maybe I could get some credit with Heather if I gave it to her." Said Borya, displaying a pearl earring she had actually found in an abandoned locker.

"Give it to me, I'll give it to Heather." Said Myra.

You throw the pearl earring to Myra, who catches it clumsily.

You leave the classroom before some other affront to English can leve her mouth.

That takes care of that. Myra will bring the earring to Heather, and of course she'll 'forget' to mention you and try to take all that cred for herself. Heather will immediately grow a little bit of spine in front of crony, and when Heather talks with Myra, all her dispare will turn to anger.

Then we're back to square one.

But at least you'll stay out of trouble, that's what's really important here.

Fucking Heather.

Good catch, Kome. That could've gone to shit fast. At least now I can mitigate.
No. 919239 ID: cbece9

The school day has just ended.

Everything after the lunch incident went off without a hitch. No staff approached Borya about it, all the classes were easy as usual, and gossip was already doing its job.

A terrified student had actually approached Borya to get her side of the story.

She had told him that Heather asked her on a date, then she couldn't handle the rejection when Borya denied her, so she threw a punch.

Eyewitness accounts coincided perfectly with this explanation, and the rest was history waiting to happen.

Heather is six feet under, any action she takes is nothing but a death-throw at this point.

That was handled elegantly, efficiently, and brutally. Three of the adverbs Borya likes most.

Borya exited the front door of the school at exactly 3:10 PM. She immediately saw her father waiting for her in the car.

She jogged over and hopped into the passenger seat.

Her father greeted her with a nod, and she gave a two-finger salute in return.

"Evening, Borya. Debrief." Said her father, as he did every day.

"A-grade average on tests. Got a solid lunch. Didn't get into any trouble with the staff. Didn't make any friends, platonic or otherwise. I did deal with a bully." Said Borya.

"Elaborate on 'deal with'." He said.

"Complete demoralization and dethroning. I took all her power away, I took away all the fake confidence she's built up, and I planted the seeds for a complete usurpation." Said Borya.

"Oy, did you remember what I told you?" Asked Mark.

"Yes Sir. No staff witnesses, deniability maintained, not a single person who could truthfully attest to my purposeful involvement in her downfall. Op is sterile." Said Borya with a hint of pride.

Long ago, when Borya was just old enough to comprehend what it meant, her father had said: "Borya, listen. I don't want to do this dad thing, and you don't want to do this daughter thing. So ow' about we make a deal? I'll be your commanding officer until you're an adult, and you take my orders. Then in return, you'll have my full support. You point, I do. How about it?"

Borya, of course, had accepted this deal. And benefited from it ever since. She plays the soldier, he plays command. If he gives an order, she follows it. And when she calls for support or a gear requisition, he supplies. It worked much better for her than the 'father daughter' relationship.

"Good work. I'll compensate your efforts in a bit. Anything to do before we get home?" Asked Mark.

"No. I do have a question." Said Borya.

"Ask it."

"With who and where did you serve? It's obvious you have a military background." Said Borya.

"Yeah, I was waiting for you to ask before I told you. I was SAS. We were the the most dangerous wankers the UK had. Maybe the most dangerous in the world. Only people I can think of who came close is the Spetsnaz." Said Mark.

Borya nodded, "Makes good sense." She said.

"Now don't go telling anyone else about this." Said Mark, punctuating his sentence with a jab of the finger.

"I'll keep it tight, Sir." Said Borya.

"Good. We're home." Said Mark.

Borya and her parents live in a small-ish house on the outskirts of Chicago. It's a fancy place, cutting edge smart-home tech and a hardwood construction.

Mark hopped out of the car and Borya followed suit.

The front door was unlocked like it always is. Her father insists that a pistol is a far better deterrent than a lock. Borya can't really argue with that.

Inside the house Borya found her mother talking with a person she'd never met.

No wait. Not a person, an android.

She could tell because of the small LED ring on the right side of its head.

The android was engaged in a conversation with Borya's mother.

Talia noticed Borya and her father, "Ah. Bell, meet the rest of the family. Rest of family, meet Bell." She said.

"Hello, it's a pleasure to meet you both." Said bell, her tone was pleasant.

Borya likes androids. They are intelligent, they don't make mistakes and when they do they never repeat them, and they can hold a conversation better than most humans.

"Borya." You say, extending a hand to shake.

Bell shakes your hand, "It's good to meet you, Borya. I hope I'll prove useful." She said. She got your name right on the first try, most people have trouble with the accent.

Bell turned to face your father, "And you must be Mark." She said, extending her hand to shake.

Mark shakes it, "Pleasure." He said.

Mark often has to work with androids in the security business, and so has developed a respect and appreciation for their efficiency and reliability.

You slip away before Talia can ask you about your day at school. She's not quite as supportive of your particular brand of justice as your father.

You head into your room.

The interior reflects your Interests.

(Please choose Borya's specific interests. you may select three primary's and two secondary's. You may also suggest your own ideas for interests.)

Video gaming. What kinda games, and on what platform?
Reading. What do you like to read.
Weapons. You love all weapons, regardless of type or age. (This is a secondary interest regardless of votes, and does not count towards the total. But you can vote to make it a primary.)
Armor. Modern, ancient, doesn't matter. You love armor.
Playing the synthesizer. Drop the bass.
Watching movies. What kind?
Writing. Writing what?
Researching. What field? Metaphysical or linear?

(You must also choose general interests. Choose two.)

Dark fantasy. The witcher, the bothers grim, dark souls, particular facets of D&D, etc.
Noire style. A world of black and white.
Dragons. You know, like Ciri- Ah, Dragons.
Neo-brutalist. minimalistic, functional, industrial.
Modern militaristic. Camo, guns, tech, and spec-ops.
Aliens. Like Neumo- eh, Tozo- uh, Silirw- umm, uh, Turiens? Yeah, those.
70's 80's and 90's music. Pink Floyd, Berlin, Heart, starship, Air Supply, Blondie, Bob Dylan, Queen, etc.
No. 919245 ID: 2202fb

Okay, so for primary, i have a few diff suggestions.

-owns a CnC machine allowing the manufacture of complex metal parts quickly and privately (ghost guns are one application).
-also knows how to sew and solder

2. Makes music.
-everyone who is anyone in that kind of music preprograms it on a computer via meticulous editing of midi instruments.

3.CAD/3D modeling.
-this paired with 1 means you can make your own custom parts and engravings.

1. Modern Mil

2. TGChan Geek
-so geek culture but specifically featuring quest related things(just imagine lago or someone made it big and now has surpassed homestuck in regards to following and merch).
No. 919261 ID: 554cbb

Vidya - Simulators, PC
Reading - Nonfiction, technical manuals,chemistry, physics, metallurgy
Movies - Science fiction/cyberpunk, dark comedies, war documentaries

Modern militaristic

Mostly grounded and practical with that little touch of individual turbulance.
No. 919265 ID: 37798d

1) Hacking, Video Games, Research - You learned early on that studying source code makes crushing your enemies more satisfying because you actually did something productive, effective, and definitive.
2) Weapons and Armor - You memorized basic smelting and forging techniques in the event of a disaster, like getting stranded in the middle of nowhere or on an island. You also know which weapon perks are favorable (hollow points, multi-barrel single shot, debilitating ammo) and which are... (Absurd bullet diameter-gun weight ratio, sawed off rifles, no safety lock)
3) Dark Fantasy and Milspec - Cyberpunk 2 was this awesome horror game about dystopian cyberaugmented gangsters fighting Eldritch monsters, robot armies, and endless fascist armies from other worlds alongside Witchers and Werewolves. You and your dad skipped all the parts with naked people so you could get to the fun parts with storm-enchanted rail guns stuffed in the faces of mutated cybergriffins and robomages.

Your dad 'pre-ordered' Cyberpunk 3 by investing in the company and requesting his dividends be replaced with game demos. Your mom draws fanart of your characters killing monsters. Sometimes you wonder if there was a secret character in 1 that was named Borya.
No. 919280 ID: 581516

Borya has skill in flash-fabrication and modern forging. She 3D prints self designed polys, solders modifications into software and hardware alike, and tweaks any gear she can get her hands on.

This skill for modification is fueled by her love of arms and armor. Firearms are by far her favorite of all things, modern firearms in particular. If it was a thing to be sexually attracted to guns, that would be Borya's sexuality.

She loves spec ops and military doctrine, but is a survivalist at heart. She far prefers boots on the ground and surgical strikes to flashy air-strikes and explosions.

Video games are a passion, particularly tactical shooters and deep-lore dark fantasy: The witcher series, dark souls, the ghost recon series, the splinter cell series is a favorite, some CoD games. As well as Assassin's creed, which she enjoys because of the clean kills. Cyberpunk 2 is still the greatest game yet produced.

She also enjoys to read. Mostly studying tactics and practical skills, but some fiction as well.

Music is one of her great pass-times. Particularly songs from before the turn of the twenty-first century. Remixing and editing those songs is also one of her skills.

Computers where never really Borya's thing. Because it's extremely useful, she has learned some source-coding. She can hack decently, but it's not a primary skill.

She can pick locks masterfully. And when she has her tac bag with her, there are few doors that can keep her out.

She's something of a sharpshooter. Her father regularly takes her to the shooting range, where she practices with assault rifles, pistols, sniper rifles, and sub-machine guns.

And now she was alone in her room. The room itself is somber in decor. She illuminates it with an oil lantern when the sun is absent, and the color scheme is various shades of grey punctuated with deep red accents. Her gaming console sits inactive under a small TV in the far left corner, her work-table scattered with soldering irons, melted plastic, and gun components up against the left wall. The right wall was dedicated entirely to gear shelves and her bed. The door to her private bathroom was just to the right of the main door. And directly across the room from her was the window.

The room is sound-proofed, and noise can only escape when the vents are open. She's left them open for now.

What will you do?

(Choose one.)

Tinker. There's always room to improve gear.
Read. What will you read?
Play a video game. Which one?
Make a 3D model. Of what?
Look at your guns. Literal firearms. Your father has allowed you to keep a couple of your favorites in your room.
Look at your guns. Let's see how your physique is doing.
Stare at own reflection. How long has it been since you stared meaningful into your own face? Maybe you can mentally describe your features to yourself in excruciating detail for no reason.
Browse the Internet. Which website?
Stare out the window. Why engage in external stimulus when your mind is already a storm of thoughts and ideas?
No. 919286 ID: 2202fb

Hmm, lets model and carve out a Magpul FMG-9 after downloading the blueprints (actual design ones, not 3D models) from the internet somewhere. That would be an extremely useful weapon to have on you at all times since it can fold up into a box.
No. 919323 ID: 554cbb

Browse the Internet

Time to check through the milsurp classifieds again to see if that T-72U is any cheaper...
No. 919335 ID: 2202fb

Nah, chieftain MBTs are much easier and cheaper to get. I mean, irl you can get one for under 100k usd. I wouldnt be surprised if she already had one she was working on.
No. 919382 ID: 6dc5c8

You've never really been a fan of the FMG-9. Because of its unique folding feature, it's got poor ergonomics. It is also a very light weapon. Those two coupled with its high RPM make it hard to control in automatic. And why would you use a PDW in semi-auto? I mean, at that point you just use a pistol.

Tanks are all well and good, but you don't really have use for them in the suburbs of Chicago. Besides, why would you make yourself an enormous mechanized target when you can be in-and-out of a combat zone like a ghost?

You've decided to start work on a new gun. You'll print, mill, and stamp what parts you can, and buy the rest.

What gun will you produce? (choose one.)

You have $346 saved up.

FN Tac-45. A high-quality pistol that can be used offensively or defensively. Because of its high-end design, it will take around two months to produce, and cost you $125.
Ingram Mac-10. A brutally simple micro-SMG with a rate of fire around 1000 RPM. The original spray-and-pray weapon. Can easily be suppressed. Because of its simplicity, it will only take about a week to produce, and cost you $40.
AKS-74U A stockless carbine version of the AK-74. Acceptably accurate, good rate of fire, unbelievably reliable, pretty concealable, highly modifiable. A workhorse of a carbine, it's widely and cheaply available parts mean it can be constructed in under a month, and will only cost you $25.
VSS Vintorez. If, for any reason, you get the inclination to silently kill a target from any distance under three-hundred meters, this is the gun for it. An integrally suppressed light-sniper from the 80s, the VSS is an ideal assassination tool. Because of the exotic parts required for its manufacture, and the accurized components, it will take around a month and a half to produce, and cost $170. It's ammo is also rare and expensive in the U.S.
No. 919386 ID: 32b259

Make a small set of AKs all at once. You can experiment with abnormal ammo types because they're disposable, or have a small armory ready for unload-and-throw Tediore action. Maybe build a revolver for boss fights.
No. 919400 ID: a8905d

Going to have to recommend the Krinkov. Much as I like the Vinty, without an easy means of upkeep for parts and ammunition it's too specialized to keep on hand at the moment. Simple enough to get subsonic rounds and a PBS-4 suppressor for the AKS-74U if one needs something quiet, even if it won't have quite as much punch. And it'll be more accurate with rapid fire than the MAC-10, although that's not exactly a difficult achievement. And while the pistol might be easier to conceal, it lacks range and fully-automatic fire.
No. 919438 ID: 2202fb

I'd recommend assembling an AR-10. It is completely modular and compatible with AR-15 parts (cept cal specific).

It should be looked at as several pieces rather than one gun. So, for parts, I would suggest a heavier marksman stock on a folding mount along with an extremely short barrel, a rifle handguard (extending past the barrel end), bipod, and the best silencer you can buy/build. Scope should have a dot secondary sight. Upper and lower should have a burst setting, and the grip doesnt really need to be anything specific.

AR parts should be the most common if we need to scavenge pieces from somewhere. They can be everything from pistols to sniper rifles, battle rifles, to pdws, and lmgs to shotguns. They are like the gun version of lego. There is even a bullpup print that is floating around the internet irl rn.
No. 919482 ID: 2202fb

Additionally, since it was implied that Borya made guns in the past, can we get an inventory of existing guns, parts, and when applicable, parts currently being used in guns?
No. 919537 ID: 386f86

Right, you'll take stock of your guns before deciding.

Currently, these are all the guns you own.

Savage arms 17HMR target custom. A customized rifle your father bought you on your ninth birthday. It is a heaver variant of the standard SA 17HMR, and is equipped with a 4x magnification scout scope. The rifle no longer fits your physique, and you have no qualms with disassembling it for parts.
Glock seventeen M5. Eleventh birthday present. It's a Glock, that effectively sums it up. No modifications or customization. Being your personal handgun, you refuse to disassemble it.
The pipe V2. The first functional gun you ever created. Functional is used loosely. It's a smoothbore SMG constructed of pipes, random gun components, and a poorly carved stock. Is liable to jam at least three times per clip. Fires 9mm Luger in full auto. You would have destroyed this thing long ago if you had the time.
KTS. Of all the guns you've ever constructed, this is your favorite. It's name is an abbreviation of 'Killing Them Softly', so called because it's a Welrod derivative. It fires 9mm Luger silently so long as you use sub-sonic. But you have to manually cycle the action every shot. You'd really rather not disassemble this beauty.

Incomplete projects and available parts.

The destroyer. A while back, you got your hands on the barrel of a Barret .50cal semi-auto. You've been trying to get the other parts, but have made little progress.
AK components. Two AKM barrels (no gas assembly), one AKM bolt, one AK rear-grip (wooden), one collapsable AK skeletal stock, one AKS-74U barrel and gas assembly, one AK fore-grip (plastic).
Glock components. One 17 slide, two hammers, three spare guide-rods, adjustable sights (no glow).
Misc. One M4 fore grip (military surplus), one broken red-dot sight, revolver grips (unknown model), Remington M700 bolt (270cal), a box of springs, an M1911 M2 lower frame (lacking slide, barrel, and recoil spring.)

You're in the middle of making a gun manifest, when your father calls out to you.

"Oy, Borya, supper's on the table. You coming?" He asked. He meant it as well, occasionally you don't come down for dinner.

What will you do? Keep in mind that you'll have to respond to your father regardless.
No. 919543 ID: 2202fb

Sustenance is good. Maybe ask which is better, the various AKs or the various ARs.
No. 919567 ID: a8905d

Food makes the organic machinery run properly, go get some. Might consider fabbing an AK bullpup conversion kit ala the AKU-94 package ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrZHa15OMHk ), but with better quality and ergonomics, of course.
No. 919716 ID: dd4e0c

"A moment." Called Borya halfheartedly. She strongly disliked making loud noises, and it annoyed her to have to shout.

"Got it." Replied her father.

Borya put away the various firearms and components, and headed down for dinner.

You find both of your parents sitting at the dinner table, and Bell in the kitchen making final alterations to several plates of food.

Borya sits perpendicular to her parents as she always does, just as they always sit across from each other.

Borya was first to speak, "Ah, I see you've yet again embellished the truth, Mark. Unless I'm wrong and dinner is invisible, it appears supper is not on the table." She said sarcastically. Her tone deadpan and her expression to match.

Talia let out a snort of a laugh.

Mark scowled, Borya new it was only superficial. "Smartass. Oy, Bell, what's for supper?" Called Mark.

"Spaghetti in meat-sauce. Would you like me to pair it with a wine?" Responded Bell from the kitchen.

"Yeah, pick a good one. You want a slosh, Borya?" Asked Mark, who had no qualms with Borya drinking alcohol.

"Yes. Bell, please get me a salad as well. And grab three of the multivitamin pills from the cabinet." Said Borya, who was careful to keep balanced micronutrients.

"Right away." Said bell cheerfully.

Talia looked at Borya with an expression that generally meant a very unpleasant sentence of the variety only mothers can form was about to follow. "How was school today, Borya?" She asked.

Borya looked at her with an expression that deviated from her standard deadpan only in a single raised eyebrow. "How do you think? A grueling, incessant, purposeless grind through a broken and obsolete educational system. Surrounded the whole time by posers and 'cool kids', their droning talk of fads and meaningless emotional troubles buzzing in my ears like a swarm of botflys." Borya gave a grin only those with mental illnesses can pull off, "School was great." She said.

Talia smiled a smile far more terrifying the Borya's, it was the smile of a mother that knew something you where trying to hide. "Da? And what about your talk with that blayt, Heather?" She asked.

Borya glared daggers at Mark. "We may have to discuss an NDA, Mark." She said.

"'Fraid Talia's scarier then you, Borya. And I take orders from whoever's most dangerous." Said Mark earnestly.

Borya turned back to Talia. "Yes, I spoke with Heather. We had a disagreement, and I eventually won the debate." She said.

Talia gave Borya a knowing look, asking a question without speaking.

"I didn't harm her physically." Said Borya.

"Can I expect a call from your teacher, hmm?" Asked Talia.

"No. I was carful." Said Borya.

"Good, then it's nothing I need to know about." Said Talia, her attention drawn to the food which was just set down in front of her.

These are your parents. You get the feeling that they would be fine with murder so long as you kept it quiet and the person deserved it. You honestly can't imagine being raised by anyone else. Most would be... less than supportive of your particular sense of morals.

Bell places your food in front of you, along with a glass of water, a glass of wine, and three multivitamin pills.

You grab the wine and swirl it a couple times before taking a tiny sip, contemplating it's nuanced flavors.

You swallow the wine and continue conversation. "I've decided to construct a new firearm, and want your opinion on which to make, Mark. At the moment it's a coin-flip between an AKS-74U or an AR-10." Said Borya.

Mark, who was eating with gusto, froze in the middle of a bite, lowered his fork, and regarded Talia.

Talia gave a nod.

You don't like being left out on something, and you also don't like it when people around you know something you don't. But, truly surprising as it is, you find yourself impassive toward whatever conspiracy your parents are sharing.

Mark nods back to Talia, the turns to Borya. "We were gonna wait for your birthday. But you never really cared about holidays, so I'll show you now. Well, in a moment, once we're finished with supper." Said Mark, diverting his attention back towards the food.

You first clue; it was originally going to be on your birthday, so whatever it is, is probably something you'll like. But that's not certain. It's also not particularly time sensitive, as it is currently November first, and your birthday is November eleventh. But maybe you're over analyzing, it shouldn't be that bad, maybe you should just let the dice fall as they will.

You refocus on your food.

The rest of dinner passes silently. It's a comfortable silence. Well, it doesn't make you uncomfortable. But then again, you're not really capable of feeling socially awkward.

Once the food is finished, Bell takes away the dishes and you, your mother, and your father are left sitting quietly. Apparently all of you at an impasse over how to proceed.

You speak first: "What did you want to show me?" You ask, your mild curiosity and tiny excitement not showing in the slightest.

Mark exhales in what sounds like relief, "Right. Well, Tal, we'll be off." He said, though it sounded more like asking permission. Tal is a nickname your father uses for your mother.

"Da. Be back before school tomorrow." Said Talia.

Ah, your second clue. Your mother expects you'll be gone the majority of the night, if not all of it. As it is currently 5:13, that's a long time. You'll need more information to make a guess about what the surprise is, however.

"Yea', we should be back before then. Let's shove off, Borya." Said Mark, starting towards the front door.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where we're going." Said Borya, not yet getting up.

"Yeah, no. Then it wouldn't be a surprise." Said Mark, pulling his peacoat on.

You stand up, and start getting your shoes on.

It's raining heavily outside, so you pull on a jacket as well.

Your father opens the front door, and you step outside.

Time to see where the night takes you.
No. 919718 ID: dd4e0c

Updates have been much slower lately than I would like, and they may continue to be slow for another Couple days. This is because I'm traveling, I've not slept in three days, and I've been drinking coffee that could be mistaken for muddy water. If not sooner, I should be up to full speed by the fifth.
No. 919739 ID: c86516

Sorry for wasting space with questions rather than actual suggestions, but how is a sociopath 12yo (with murderous tendencies) going to end up a hero? Is it gonna be a punisher style hero where all she does is kill who she deems unworthy? (btw this is the first tgchan character to keep me awake at nights, the idea of a sociopath manipulating everyone and everything is bone chilling for me)
No. 919753 ID: 5ca2f4

You don't have to apologize, at some point I'll get around to making a dis-thread, until then this is exactly where I'd expect you to ask such things.

So, she's not going to be twelve for the whole quest. This is the 'character development' segment, suggestions now are shaping her into what she'll be for the rest of the quest. Not to say that she won't continue to evolve as a person indefinitely. And her becoming a hero? Well, that's all up to you and your fellow suggesters.

As for the name of the game, it's a morbid joke about human morality, and how a hero is only different from a villain in that people support their actions. It's gallows humor, which is kinda the only humor I produce.

As for Borya keeping you up at night, thanks? Sorry? I mean, this quest was always meant to be macabre. But I sincerely hope I'm not causing you undo mental stress.
No. 919755 ID: 2202fb

That is like saying chainsaws keep you up at night cuz they rip people to shreds.
No. 919760 ID: 5ca2f4

I shouldn't be laughing half as hard as I am.
No. 919873 ID: 3868b2

Dis-thread now exists: https://tgchan.org/kusaba/questdis/res/127521.html

Go drop some phat dis-posts.
No. 919879 ID: 3593a6

Borya and her father stood on the porch of the house, staring into the inky blackness of the night.

The rain was torrential, drops as big as marbles coming down as if the sky itself had ruptured.

Mark dashed out into the rain towards the car, and Borya quickly lost sight of him the the darkness.

She sauntered out behind him. She doesn't mind the cold. Or the rain, for that matter.

She hopped into the car, and Mark started it up without a word.

They began driving. Borya noticed that they were getting further from the city's epicenter, heading outwards into the hills surrounding Chicago.

Eventually, free about forty minutes of driving, Mark turned down a small, poorly maintained side road that lead up a steep hill.

The road leveled off at the top of a large slope, and Mark stopped the car underneath a large oak which provided some shelter from the rain.

Mark stepped out of the car, and Borya did the same.

It was pitch black, and Borya could barely see ten feet in front of herself.

Mark began walking in a certain direction, and Borya could do nothing but follow suit.

They walked in a straight line for around a hundred feet before Borya thought she saw faintly light coming from windows up ahead. After another fifty feet, the outline of a large three-story mansion become visible.

Mark strode up to the mansion's porch, and stood there, presumably waiting for Borya.

Borya started up the porch's steps, but the third one up collapsed under her weight.

She quickly righted herself and got to the top of the steps.

"Remind me why we're hanging around the mansion from 'clue'?" Said Borya sarcastically.

"You'll see in a minute." Said Mark.

Mark rapped hard on the door three times, and after a moment Borya heard movement from behind the door.

The door swung open suddenly, and a figure leaned into its frame.

She looked young, mid twenties maybe, and had her hair in a ponytail with shaved sides. She was wearing military fatigue pants, and a dirty black tank-top with text that read 'sue me'. Her face was all hard lines and scowl, only accentuated by the large scar down her right cheek. She was muscular, but still lithe. Perhaps most noticeably, she was smoking a substance from a pipe that Borya recognized as as a homeopathic neural relaxant by the smell.

She spoke, and with it came a puff of smoke. "You're early Mark, several days early. You know I don't like surprises." She said.

"Yeah, well. You know I'm an impatient bastard, so there's two things we know about each other. Borya, this is Chloe Lynch, Chloe, Borya." Said Mark.

Chloe extended the hand that wasn't occupied by a pipe to Borya. "You can call me Karma." She said.

Borya shook her hand and gave a curt nod.

"You talk? Or is 'mute' on your list of disorders as well?" Asked Karma sardonically.

"Oh yes, I assure you I speak quite eloquently. Though occasionally eloquence can be set aside for more efficient communication. For example." Said Borya, flipping Karma the bird.

She huffed a laugh. "I'll keep it in mind. Maybe you can teach your father some words longer than three letters." Said Karma with caustic grin.

"I've just met you, and you're already asking me to do the impossible?" Asked Borya rhetorically, raising an eyebrow.

Karma smiled even wider. "I can tell I'm gonna like you." She said. Somehow, this sounded like a threat.

Mark pushed past Karma into the house. "Yeah yeah. Should I leave you two alone for awhile?" He asked sarcastically.

"Worried I'm gonna steal your girlfriend, Mark?" Called Borya.

"Fuck off, Borya." He called back.

Karma was grinning like a madwoman. "So, has your father told you why you're here?" She asked.

"Nope. Mushroom treatment at this point." Replied Borya.

"Sounds like him. You coming inside, or does the rain fit your dark and brooding personality better?" Asked Karma.

Borya slipped past her into the mansion. "Blood accentuates my personality better, really brings out the sociopath in my eyes." She said.

Karma huffed another laugh, and strode off into another room without speaking.

Borya made a quick assessment of her surroundings: the mansion was old, at least a century. It was in the craftsman style, and showed it.

Borya was standing in what appeared to be an entrance hall, with a large foyer and sprawling double-staircase in front of her. There were larger doors to the left and right that presumably led to respective wings of the house. The whole thing was falling apart in various places; water-damage, broken windows, the stairs were collapsing, etc. Lighting was provided by a multitude of construction lights supplemented by oil lanterns that looked as old as the house.

Borya opted to keep her coat on, and headed towards the door Karma had passed through.

She found Karma making a pot of coffee in the large kitchen.

"You drink coffee? Want a cup?" Asked Karma. Extending a full cup to you.

Do you drink coffee? And do take the cup?
No. 919883 ID: 094652

No and no. You want answers and you want them while you're not intoxicated.

First up, ask what you're supposed to do. Then think up three separate escape plans.
No. 919893 ID: d564f6

Well, yeah. You always, always have a backup plan. Right now that would be the kitchen window, which looks rather fragile. You could escape via that route if you needed to, but you trust your father. You doubt highly you'll have to make a daring escape. This is not the first time you've met strange friends of Mark, it only makes more sense now that you know he's ex-SAS.

"No thanks." Said Borya, leaning against the kitchen island.

Karma shrugged, and retracted the cup. "Suit yourself." She said.

"Now, if you'll permit me, I'd like to cut the shit and get some answers. Who the fuck are you?" Asked Borya, her tone dangerous.

Karma sighed and set down her cup of coffee. "Your old man really has a terrible sense for when to keep secrets. He never tell you about me? That was rhetorical, I know he didn't. As he already said, the name's Chloe Lynch, former member of Delta-force. That Delta-force, yes. My job was to kill people, and I was extremely good at it. Not only do I kill people, I also deal with computers. A job most of the fuckwits in D-force were too stupid to do. I retired two months ago, for reasons I sincerely hope you'll never have to learn about." She said.

"And why am I here?" Asked Borya.

Karma gave a breathy laugh. "Did you even blink? Guess your dad wasn't bullshiting when he said you're an emotionless robot." She said.

"Beep boop. Don't avoid the question." Said Borya.

Karma sighed deeply...

Then she moved.

Borya's quick brain took in all the movements, but her body was too slow to react. In a fraction of a second she was stuck in a stranglehold, powerless to brake free.

"Welcome to spec ops, Borya." Hissed Karma during her struggle to subdue a thrashing Borya.

Somewhere in the mansion, you hear a record being put on. A scratch of static followed by soft guitar.

As you begin to loose consciousness, you hear the song pick up.

"I don't want to set the worrrrrold ooon fiirrrrre,

I, just want to starrrrt a flame in yourrrr hearrrrrt.

In my heart I have but one deeesirrrrre,

And that one is youuuu,

No other will doooo."

Figures you'd die to this song.

You slip out of consciousness, and a bottomless void overtakes you.
No. 919897 ID: 2202fb

Hol up, is this going to be post nuclear apocalypse?
No. 919902 ID: 094652



No. 919913 ID: 977456

Headbutt unconsciousness in its smarmy face.
No. 919948 ID: ca9744

You regain consciousness.

You are sitting in an uncomfortable wooden chair, your hands are bound, your head is covered by a rough hemp bag.

You don't open your eyes, or stir. Hoping you'll garner some information if your captors think you're still unconscious.

Then you realize, your ears are covered by noise-canceling muffs.

Your mind races. Fuck fuck fuck! What's going on? Your father must have known Karma would attack you, but why? Why would he comply with anything like this? What's the end-game?

You find yourself unable feel any fear. Not fear of death, or injury. No. All you feel is anger, rage, wrath.

White hot, it courses through you, and demands blood.

You can't hear, but you feel something shift. Reverberations through the floor. It feels like someone is walking towards you.

Suddenly, the bag and muffs are yanked off and you're momentarily stunned by the force of the movement.

When you open your eyes, Karma is standing there in front of you.

Your in a small, dimly lit room with extensive water damage. A single doorway lay behind Karma, but no other windows or means of escape were visible.

Karma speaks. "Listen, I... christ I am so fucken bad at people. I'm sorry I had to choke you out, but it was clear you weren't just gonna go along with what we told you. There was sedative in the coffee, I hoped you'd just drink it and conk out on your own. But no, fucken surprise surprise, daughter of 'The Kill Mark' is just as paranoid." She said, mumbling the last part to herself.

You say nothing. You glare with dead eyes, your visage that of a shark. Waiting, waiting. Soon though soon you'll make a move.

"Fuck. Listen to me, rambling like you give a shit. Look, I know right now all you want is answers, and I wish I could give them to you, but I can't. When your father gets back he'll explain." Said Karma. It sounded like she was trying to use a sympathetic tone, but she wasn't very good at it.

What do you do?
No. 919949 ID: ca9744

Much as I hate to dismiss speculation, that's a hard no, boss. This ain't that kinda quest.
No. 919952 ID: 977456

Kick the base of your chair backwards and bite her ankles.
No. 919969 ID: c24cee

"If this is a recruitment orientation for government-sponsored magical girls, I will set your house on fire."
No. 919970 ID: b0512e

It would be wise to listen some more, and you dad probably did set you up to become a part of their league of sociopathic supersoldiers, wait and see if she gets close, then try to attack her in some way, perhaps try to step on her toes with the leg of the chair or something.
No. 919975 ID: b463f3

We need to at least be on the same level here.

Can we get a map of relative positions? I know you dont seem to do the whole art thing, but a room floorplan with dots is sufficient.

Our arms and legs are tied to the chair. There is a non-zero possibility that the chair is bolted to the floor. Right now any retaliation would be futile and make us look foolish. Unless we have anything concealed on or in us (be it in orifices or beneath the skin), we should just bide our time and scan the area, our bindings, the ambient noise, smells, the chair, the person behind us, and what we are wearing.
No. 919976 ID: b463f3

Thats fine, I was just curious because that song is kind of like (one of) the Fallout franchise's calling card. (I am aware the song came first)
No. 919977 ID: b463f3

Srry, this is 2202fb just from a diff ip.
No. 920000 ID: a65bc8
File 154931261244.jpg - (459.54KB , 1901x1163 , image.jpg )

Star - Borya.
Chevron - Karma.
Dark strip behind Karma - door.

Sorry for the less then perfect image, but I have all the artistic ability of a two year old with crayons. You get what you get, and from me, you don't get good art. If anyone wants a floor-plan or minimap style picture, just ask and I'll draw it up, but don't expect it will be pretty.

You make a quick mental manifest of your status and surroundings.

You have a slight headache, and you're thirsty. But other than that, and some bruising on your neck, you feel physically unharmed.

Your coat has been removed, leaving you in a T-shirt and cargo pants. From the feel of it, all your pockets have been emptied. Your combat boots are still on.

You tug lightly at your bindings: your arms are tied to the back of the chair, and your legs are similarly bound. From the feel of it, with paracord. Whoever bound you knew what they were doing, there's no hope of slipping out of or breaking your restraints.

You wiggle a little bit, and feel the chair legs lift from the ground momentarily. The chair is not secured to the floor.

You scan the room:

It appears this room used to be a bathroom, biased on the tile floor and the exposed pipes where you assume a bathtub and toilet used to be. The room extends a couple feet to your left.

In the far right corner of the room, a large roiling tool cabinet sits. In the far left corner, a work-table scattered with tools and mechanical components too small to define at this distance. Directly left from you, a large polymer storage box with an electronic lock sits.

Karma speaks, bringing you out of your deep thought. "No comment, huh? I don't blame ya. I wonder what you're thinking right now? What you must think of me, what you might think of your father?" Mused Karma.

"I'm thinking you really need to work on your initiation process. As it stands, I can't tell if you're about to welcome me into Hogwarts school for magical psychopaths, or torture me. Either way, I expect a sorting hat." Said Borya, her deadpan unbreakable.

Karma laughed genuinely. "You really are fucking crazy, aren't you?" She asked, her tone almost admiring.

"Certifiably. Which means I get to plead insanity when I kill you and all your associates." Said Borya, not skipping a beat or letting a single drop of emotion enter her tone.

Karma stopped laughing and took up a melancholic, almost apologetic expression. "Borya I... I know all this cloak and dagger is bullshit, and you have no reason to trust me. But please, just hear your father out. He'll explain when he gets here." She said, repeating what she'd said before.

"How do I know you aren't just stalling for time, and you plan to kill in the end?" Asked Borya, not really expecting an answer.

Karma's sympathetic expression dropped, and an emotionless mask took its place. She drew a pistol from behind her back, and leveled it with Borya's chest.

"If I wanted to kill you, I would have while you were unconscious. Let's not play games. You don't have a choice at this point, all you can do is trust me." Said Karma, lowering the pistol.

You sighe deeply, and nod once.

Apparently, that's all the confirmation Karma needs. She holsters the pistol, and her emotionless expression is replaced by her resting glower.

"I'm glad you understand. Now, do you need anything? It's gonna be at least an hour before your father is back. And no, you can't 'use the bathroom'." Said Karma.

You are thirsty, and a glass of water would be nice. There might be other things you could as for as well, though you doubt you'll be able to get too much out of Karma.

Do you ask for anything?
No. 920004 ID: a65bc8

Keep in mind, you can suggest any action at any time, regardless of prompts.

So even if I don't offer it as a preset, you can suggest to do literally anything at literally any time. This doesn't, however, mean it will necessarily happen, but it could. So go ahead and suggest what you want.

For example, even though it has an occurrence probability of sub 1%, you could suggest Borya and Karma spontaneously have sex. I mean, that won't happen, but it might, so you could still suggest it.

With great power comes great responsibility. I am trusting you as suggesters not to turn this quest into a porno.

I am also trusting you not to get Borya killed. Because you could totally do that. I mean, she has self preservation instincts that will help keep her alive, but if you guys tell her to rush out into a snipers kill zone, she'll die.

I mean actually die. Like, if you fuck up bad enough that's it. That's the end. There are no 'retries' in the path of a hero.
No. 920008 ID: 2202fb

porno no, but rl has sex.
btw, if we do die, could we continue as a new char in the same universe?


Think very hard about schlicking furiously.
Realize how aroused you have gotten from this and then...

...discard the thought. Time to get to work. I'm going to guess the chair is made of wood since that would match the rest of this place. Wood can break. So here's what we do: we ask for a drink to get rid of Karma. Once we do. we scoot closer to a wall, once a foot or so away, fall backwards and center your weight on your pelvis. This should hopefully smash the back of the chair, allowing you to stand. Once up, use your legs and weight to break the chair legs you are tied to. After that, step your legs through your arms so your arms are in front of you. At this point, depending on how long you take, you can either prepare to ambush and bludgeon with your bound hands or race to the tools and cut your bindings and arm yourself.
No. 920009 ID: bb5d41

Yes, you are highly aroused and thinking about nothing but sex in this situation where there is a certain probability of your death. Oh wait, except for the fact that you're not. You're asexual, that kinda comes as part of the whole sociopath thing. Or at least, you've never felt any attraction to any person you've ever met.

The pertinence of this train of thought is dubious at best.

More saliently, you're debating whether you want to actually try and escape. Karma raised a good point, she could have killed you multiple times. But she didn't.

As well, your father must have known all this would happen. He was less than a hundred feet away, for gods sake.

If he trusts Karma enough to leave you alone and bound with her, maybe you should as well.

Then again, maybe not.

Not trusting anyone is one of the only reasons you're still alive.

Fuck. Right now, all you want to do is kill something and be done with this mess.

No, that's not an option, focus.

Do you attempt escape?
No. 920010 ID: 094652

Attempt escape. If Karma uses lethal tactics to restrain a 12-year old who she is supposed to be recruiting, Mark will hunt her down. Think of this as your first exam in Spec Ops, except you don't give a ^&*( because you're busy writing your Black Ops Ph.D. thesis draft.
No. 920012 ID: b0512e

Don't get too confident in the idea that you'll be fine because your father knows where you are and what you're currently going trough, for all we know this might be the real deal designed to convince you that it's not, your father is a relentless and probably endlessly creative(ly evil) sociopath like you, and might be testing if you're the real deal with Ivan Drago's mindset of if it dies it dies, don't get too complacent, because he might be trying to get rid of you if you don't end up being as competent at being a monstrosity as hopes you would.
No. 920019 ID: 2202fb

Now hang on. While my post was somewhat tongue and cheek, and i strongly agree that now is not the time, sociopaths should definitely be able to enjoy some "alone time" even if they cant really feel love or attraction.


Anyway, lets bide our time for now. They most likely wont kill us, but they may try to get their torture on or even permanently maim us. Until then however, lets play along.
No. 920059 ID: 977456

Tilting forwards and jumping to land on a single chair-leg at an angle ought to break it, to free up leg mobility. Then blocking the door by tilting furniture against it at an angle. Using something heavy as a battering ram ought be enough to break through the walls(but mind anything electrically conductive with respect to lines in the wall). Most tools can be used to stab with...

Using such a fragile chair seems like a rookie mistake, escaping is probably some sort of test. Either a test to see if you can be trusted not to escape, which would be futile, or the want you to demonstrate your ability.
No. 920067 ID: 958ffe

You doubt your father is sociopathic. In fact, he's far more kind and caring than you've ever been. You really don't think he'd put your life in danger unnecessarily. But you won't write it off completely just yet.

You never said you don't enjoy 'alone time'. You said you feel no attraction to anyone. So Karma isn't really doing it for you.

You can't decide whether to blame yourself, or your psychosis-voices for this train of thought.

You're escaping. If they wanted you to cooperate, they shouldn't have attacked and bound you.

"Can I get a glass of water?" Asked Borya.

"Yeah." Said Karma unenthusiastically.

She turned around and exited the room.

You wait ten seconds, and in that time you scan the room for cameras. Nothing, looks like you have some privacy.

You lean forward in your chair as far as you can, then throw your weight backwards.

The chair's back breaks. You feel intense pain as sharp wood lacerates the muscles of your back.

You grit your teeth and bite down a cry of pain.

The chair's back slips between your bound arms, and clatters to the floor.

20 seconds since Karma left.

Your hands are still bound, but now you can stand.


You throw your weight forward against what remains of the chair, and the front legs snap off, allowing you some restricted movement.


You get your hands in front of you by bringing them forward under your legs.


You start tearing at your paracord bindings with your teeth.


The knot begins to give way, and your hands slip free.


You rush to undue the bindings on your legs.


You hear footsteps coming up stairs.


Your legs are free.


The door's handle is turning.

You must act. Whatever you choose to do, you have to be quick and decisive. If you stall or doubt yourself for a fraction of a second, you'll fail.

What do you do?
No. 920114 ID: 2202fb

Grab two legs and crouch down. Go for a trip since Karma will probably expect you to try and ko her. You will need to, in the same movement as tripping her straddle her and wrap your legs around her neck (i swear this isnt sexual) with your thighs on her shoulder blades, sitting on her chest. This should allow you to immobilize her despite being weaker and lighter. Get the gun away from her as fast as you can. After that, look for blades.

//////If you have even the slightest doubts about your ability to execute this flawlessly, instead tell her you freed yourself before she gets that door open so she doesnt shoot!\\\\\\
No. 920183 ID: 88703d

That sound like the kind of plan that only people with extensive training can pull off. If a single part of the move fails, everything falls apart. You're more of a 'improvise, then strike viciously at any exposed weak point as hard and fast as you can, with whatever weapon you have, then keep improvising.' Kinda girl. In fact, this is the plan now.

You rush quietly as you can into cover to the right of the door.

The handle finishes its rotation, and the door swings open.

You hear Karma exclaim violently when she sees the scene you've left.

You brace yourself against the wall, and throw all your weight into kicking the door closed.

You feel the heavy wood connect with soft tissue. And Karma curses again in a voice now laced with pain.

You rush to throw the door back open, and assault your now stunned adversary.

You find Karma bent over in the hall, clutching her face with her left hand and and supporting herself against a wall with the other.

When she sees you, she immediately goes for her pistol.

You kick viciously at her shin, knocking her off her already shaky balance, and sending her face-down into the floor.

You hesitate not a fraction of a second. In less time than it takes a heart to beat, you're on top of the prone Karma, straddling her arms with your legs and preventing her from retaliating. She writhes and fights, attempting to throw you off, to no avail.

You reach backwards and grab the pistol she has holstered in her waistband, which you now see is a Glock 19 Gen-5.

You press the gun against the base of Karma's skull, and she immediately stops struggling.

She coughs several times, expelling half-clotted blood from her nose, before speaking in pained and ragged voice. "Jesus I get it, you like to be on top." She said, huffing a pained laugh.

You lean in close, and whisper low and dangerously. "If you try anything, I will kill you without a moment's hesitation. That is not and idle threat." You say, punctuating the 'not' by pressing the muzzle of the pistol against the side of her head.

Karma laughs again. "Guess you really are as fucken crazy as they say." She says.

"You don't know the half of it." You say, as you slam the butt of the pistol into the soft area between Karma'a shoulder and neck.

The strike shocks her Suprascapular nerve, and immediately Karma is rendered unconscious.

You practically collapse under your own weight, falling sideways off of Karma's unconscious body. You slump against a wall and just sit there, gun in hand, and take a moment to collect yourself.

Now that the adrenaline rush is subsiding, you feel the the injuries on your lower back in full. The pain is terrible, but not too much to bear. You aren't bleeding enough for it to be life threatening, but you should get the injuries looked at. You can't do it yourself because of the awkward location of the wound.

You take the opportunity to inspect the pistol.

It appears to be a very normal Glock 19. It's under-rail is bare, the sights are stock, and no obvious modification has been made to the external of the gun. You check the clip, it appears a standard seventeen-round magazine has been loaded in place of the reduced capacity compact magazine that comes as standard with the 19. You replace the mag.

You feel tired. Mentally, physically, if you had a normal emotional capacity you'd probably feel emotionally tired too.

You know you should move, but part of you just wants to sit here until the end of the world.

You don't have anyone you can trust. You have no friends, if you have any distant relatives you don't know about them, you don't know of any safe places to stay, and you have no money.

You're also fucken thirsty.

Right now, your only assets in the whole fuck world are this pistol and Karma, who is unconscious and a hostile entity as much as an asset.

You'll have to deal with Karma somehow. You don't want to kill her, she's your only source of information at the moment. But she will wake up eventually, and you want her secure when she does.

There's also the matter of your father, who will supposedly arrive in approximately an hour. How are you going to deal with him?

What do you do?
No. 920184 ID: 88703d

I just realized my spelling error. It is now cannon that this is a 'fuck world'.
No. 920194 ID: 094652

Drag Karma across the house, looking for things to bind her with until she's too heavy to carry. For comedic effect, make sure she bumps across the stairs.

After that, steal everything that isn't bolted to the floor. Get an explanation from Karma on your way out.
No. 920211 ID: 2202fb

lol, you complain about how difficult my suggestion was and then basically do the same thing

No. Lets keep her knocked out for now.

Strip Karma so she doesn't have anything that could be used as restraints or a garrote. Do a full body search to make sure she hasn't planned for a situation like this. After that, search the house. Try to find a bag or something that can be used as such.

Look for medical supplies, food, water, survival gear, and military supplies. Prioritize finding a knife, a taser (or something that could be jury-rigged into one), an entrenching tool, and a bucket. As soon as you find something usable as bindings, bind Karma as thoroughly as you can. Leave enough freedom of movement in the legs to walk but no more than that. Give her no movement in her arms. After that, leave on foot heading in whichever direction would provide the most cover. A few minutes after leaving, cover yourself and Karma in mud using the bucket and water and then change direction.
No. 920226 ID: 628003

Sorry my dude, I don't mean to be hypocritical. Borya hears you as a voice in her head, so when she responds to you, she's responding with her opinion, which doesn't always coincide with mine. When she's snappy or snide, that's just because she's a prickly person. I'm a method writer, so I try to fully embody the emotions and mentality of any character I write with. Though this often ends up with me coming off as an asshole. This is something for all suggesters to keep in mind. I would also add that I appreciate your suggestions, they are generally grounded and logical, with a level of adroit creativity that truly breathes life into this story.

Hey, look at that, for a moment there you could have almost mistaken me for a person with an acceptable capacity for empathetic thought. I believe I'm getting better at this 'human emotions' thing.

No. 920230 ID: 2202fb

All good. Tbh i was more amused than actually irritated.
No. 920240 ID: 628003

You take a couple deep breaths, and focus your thoughts on the task at hand.

Okay, fine. The whole 'restrain her by straddling her' thing was a good idea. You just didn't want to go around swinging chair-legs like you know what the hell you're doing, because you don't.

You drag yourself off the floor, and over to Karma, whose person you search.

You find:

—An [iPhone]; 74% battery. And it's charger.
—Two [spare mags] for the Glock.
—A [Tac knife], skeletal punch-blade style. And its sheath.
—A [money-clip], containing 70$.
—A [bag of neural-relaxant], homeopathic, must be smoked to gain affects.
—A [bag of weed], about ten grams.
—A [pipe], ceramic composite. Smells mostly of marijuana, with faint notes of the homeopathic relaxant.
—The [holster] for the Glock 19, waistband suspended.
—A [refillable flip-lighter], chrome-plated, artistic skull decal.
—A [keyring], one car key (Mercedes Benz), one bike key, multiple unidentifiable door keys.
—A [50-foot bundle of mil-spec paracord], originally 100-feet. This is the same type you were tied up with.

That's all you can find, you decide to just take everything for now. As you have the pocket-space to carry it easily.

Karma is still unconscious, and snoring loudly.

You strip Karma down to her underclothes. She is dangerous, and you will treat her as such.

You drag Karma into the bathroom you were bound in, and begin tying her up.

It takes about ten minutes, but you get Karma tied up very securely. Her hands are tied, and her arms are bound to her sides. As well, you tied her legs together rather snugly. This used up all the paracord you were bound with, but you still have the [50-foot bundle of paracord] remaining.

You search the room.

You find:

Various tools; saws, hammers, nails, a power-drill, rulers, a couple tape measures etc. None of it is really useful to you. Except the nails, which you take five of.

Useful finds; A length of galvanized steel piping (great bludgeon), a [flashlight] (plastic, large, waterproof/shockproof), a [soldering iron] (compact, self contained, internal battery).

You also recover all the items you had in your pockets, they were in the polymer chest with the lock, which was unlocked when you checked it:

—Your [pocket knife], a reliable folding Gerber (4.5 inch blade).
—A [compact survival kit], containing; blood coagulant, bandages, a fire-starter, waterproof/windproof matches, signal whistle, compass, compact signal-mirror, two road-flares.
—Your [wallet], contains 75$.

Your phone is broken, in the struggle or purposefully by your captors, you cannot tell. It doesn't matter. You destroy it even further, until there is no hope of recovering any data from it. Not that there was anything important on it in the first place.

You've got a plan. You're going to find Karma's car -presumably a Mercedes Benz-, and jack it. Then you're going to drive to a secluded location far away from this mansion, and pump Karma for info. You'll decide what to do from there.

For the time being, you rush to search the entire mansion.

Yep, it's just a broken-down mansion. You find almost nothing suspect, except a large bag of weed in what you presume is Karma's room, you'll probably take it, good street value.

These are all the useful things you find around the mansion:

—A duffel bag. Whatever you want to take, it'll have to fit in this bag.
—A bottle of lye. Which can be used to remove fingerprints, or dissolve bodies.
—Spare clothes. They all belonged to Karma, so they don't fit perfectly, but they'll work as spares. You manage to gather; 4 pairs of underwear, 2 pairs of pants, 4 shirts. All of them decent enough. Your breasts are small enough that you don't need bras, so you don't take any.
—A tank of propane. Full. Highly explosive, but also very heavy.
—A small bag of guano-enriched fertilizer. You can practically smell the reactive nitrogen. Great for making explosives, but heavy.
—A toaster. With this, the remote, and the timer, you could make a timed electronic detonator.
—A TV remote. ^
—An egg timer. ^
—Food. Five cans of beans, two cans of tomato soup, two cans of chicken noodle, seven instant ramen cups, a single red apple.
—Bottled water. 23 sixteen-ounce bottles.
—The hemp bag that was over your head. You can use it to blind Karma.

You pile all the shit you might want to take in front of the front door to the mansion.

What do you take?

(FYI: Unless given a reason otherwise, Borya is taking the items she found on Karma's person, as well as her personal effects. It the rest of the stuff you have to decide on.)
No. 920267 ID: 2202fb

Take everything but the remotes, toaster, and fertilizer. We dont have that much time and those things are unnecessary weight.

Drive to an army surplus store on your way out and get some armor, a gas mask, and a helmet. If you dont have the money, rob a gas station for visa gift cards.

If we jack the car, we need to ditch it somehwere where we are not. When we ditch the car, take the battery.
No. 920309 ID: 2e1331


Lately, I've been wondering if perhaps my peculiar update schedule is interfering with this quest.

So, by answering these questions you help decide the pace at which the quest is run.

Are there particular days I should update on?

Anyday! You're just happy to see the quest update, and want updates to happen whenever they will.
Weekends! You're a busy person, and you have more time to suggest on the weekends.
Weekdays! You need quality content to read while you're busy avoiding doing your job/schoolwork, and have more time to suggest during the week.
Particular days! Please specify which.

How fast should I update?

As fast as you can! You want to see this quest in high gear.
Wait at least one hour between updates! You want a small period afforded to suggest.
Wait at least three hours between updates! You want some time to be able to suggest.
Wait at least twenty-four hours between updates! You want to be sure you get a chance to suggest.

How much control should I give you as suggesters? Keep in mind, the more I have to stop to let you guys make decisions, the slower by far this quest will be.

Only important decisions! Moral dilemmas, advanced planning and how to approach situations will be left to you, but Borya can do menial things herself, as well as not needing direction while fighting. You can still intervene at any point to suggest a particular course of action. (by far the fastest, this will allow me to make several updates without waiting for suggesters. And gives me greater control over the narrative. This also reduces the chance that Borya is killed, but certainly does not eliminate it. You still have control if you want it, but this will allow me to move the plot along should suggesters stall.)
I'll make the decisions! You wear the pants in this relationship. Planning, courses of action, what to take or not, you manually decide it all. Borya doesn't sneeze without suggester consent. (Far slower, I will have to make much smaller updates and pause often so that you can control the protagonist. This drastically increases the chances of Borya dying. You have full freedom, but no quarter will be given should you fail. The story grinds to a complete halt if suggestions slow.)
No. 920311 ID: 094652

Take everything but the components for the timed bomb, which you should construct now. Leave it disarmed for Mark to find and use at his discretion.

>Update Questions
I think a scheduled approach will be appropriate; pacing yourself at a schedule of one big update/day (with some minor updates to clarify) means that we suggesters can view and post according to our own schedules. If that's too fast, then every other day or every three days. Just be sure to notify us with a PAUSE title/image post if you need to take a break.

We'll take control at important decisions; this is your quest.
No. 920343 ID: 2202fb

Why would he need a bomb?

One or two updates per day seems to be fine.

I am also fine with only important decisions (with suggester overrides).
No. 920355 ID: 58bbd3

If you were gonna leave a bomb for your father, you'd leave it armed. He was SAS, disarming a crude IED would be ridiculously simple for him. You don't plan on doing this, though. Because it would take you the better part of an hour to construct that bomb, and you just don't have that much time.

You decide to take almost everything, but you can only fit five bottles of water and two cups of ramen in the duffle if you take everything else.

You'll leave the bomb components, including the propane tank. They're just too heavy to carry with you.

You jam the duffle bag full of various supplies, and leave it sitting in front of the mansion's main door.

You head upstairs to find Karma still unconscious, and still securely bound. You might add they she is still dressed in nothing but her undergarments.

You're not doing that. It's cruel and unnecessary. Besides, it'll already be difficult to get Karma down the stairs. No, you're taking a much more refined approach.

You shove Karma down the stairs.

Her body produces several clunks and thumps as it strikes against the hardwood stairs. She reaches the bottom and slides to a stop.

She looks fine. Didn't brake anything important.


You follow after her, and find her still alive, and still unconscious at the base of the staircase. Christ, either you hit her harder than you thought, or she is far harder stoned on weed than you thought.

Thinking to the pipe in your cargo pocket, you'd probably bet on the latter.

You drag Karma to the front door, and leave her and the duffle bag there while you head out to find the car.

You exit to the building's exterior.

It is still raining heavily, but the sun is beginning to rise.

The cloud-filtered rays of sunlight illuminate your surroundings enough to get an idea of the area.

It looks like all the land outside of Chicago: pine trees, hills, and rain.

Lots of rain.

The rain is a boon to you however, as it has turned the ground in front of the mansion into deep mud, the kind of mud that retains tire tracks well.

You head towards the driveway leading up to the mansion, and inspect the ground.

There are two sets of tracks leading toward the building, one set you immediately recognize as the tracks of your fathers car, the others are deep tracks produced by all-terrain wheels.

You follow the second set first towards, then around the mansion.

You find a Mercedes-Benz G wagon parked behind the building. On closer inspection, you find that this is a military modified version of the G wagon, complete with a radiator and engine guard, brush guards for the headlights, a weapons rack, and a twenty liter fuel canister stored in the back. This baby has an after-market Diesel engine with superior efficiency and torque. It looks like this is the long version, with better storage capacity. This one has both the front and back seats mounted.

You like this car.

You'll have to commend Karma in her taste once you've finished your third degree interrogation.

You hop in the driver's seat and start the car up, the engine roars like a beast and the revs jump satisfyingly.

Your father taught you to drive a while back, claiming it was a skill you should have for emergency situations. You think this qualifies.

You bring the car around to the front of the building, parking it so it will be easy to load up.

You hop out of the vehicle and head in to grab your equipment, and Karma.

...Who you find awake and struggling on the floor inside.

It seems she was worming her way toward the kitchen, probably in the hopes of getting a knife to cut her bindings with.

She hasn't noticed you yet, you take advantage of this.

"Alas. Your valiant attempts at escape have been foiled. You remain still in my evil clutches-" you begin.

Karma cuts you off quickly once she notices your presence. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? What do you think tying me up will get you? You think you're safe because I'm restrained? You have no fucken idea how much shit you've put yourself in! Once-" she starts.

Your turn to cut her off. You lean in close to her bound form. "If you don't stop talking, now, I will cut your fingers off one by one with garden clippers. Clear?" You ask.

Karma stares silently, her expression livid. But you can see the fear behind her facade.

Good. She realizes that wasn't a bluff.

You grab her by a foot and drag her back to the front door, where you pick up the duffle and continue outside with Karma in tow.

You reach the edge of the porch before Karma speaks again. "Wait! At least let me hop into the car." She said. Indeed, there was a good stretch of gravel-filled mud between you and the car, and getting drug through that would be less than fun. And Karma is still in nothing but her undergarments.

"We don't have time for that." You say.

You totally do.

"Then drag me on top of something." She said.

"I don't have anything to drag you on." You say.

You actually do.

Karma gives you a glare. "Fuck. Fine." She said, resigning to the unpleasant experience. She closes her eyes and grits her teeth.

God damnit. You hate it when you feel bad for people. Yet here you are, not wanting to have to drag Karma through the mud. Christ, you're never gonna let yourself live this down.

You throw the duffle into the back of the car, and hoist Karma by her armpits.

"What are you-" she begins.

"One more word, Karma, one more fucking word. I dare you." You enunciate through gritted teeth.

You throw Karma into the back of the car, and she hits the sheet-steel floor with a slam.

You hear her grunt in pain, but she has enough self-preservation instincts not to complain.

You're about to hop into the car, when an important question occurs to you, what's your destination?

Old scenic lookout. About a 40 minute drive. A lookout over Lake Michigan. You won't have to go through any populated areas to get there, and it's pretty much abandoned in the winter. You could interrogate Karma here.
The town of Gary. About 100 minute drive. A small town on Lake Michigan. You could park outside it and pick up whatever supplies you feel you need.
Chicago's industrial district. Basically the slums. Plenty of derelict buildings around there you could hold up in, or interrogate Karma in.

Keep in mind that these destinations are not final. You can head to any other location after stopping by one of these places.

And one more though occurs to you. More of an idea really. An idea you really like.

Since you aren't taking it, you could set up the propane tank so it explodes once you've left. You could do this in less than three minutes, and you should have far more time than that before your father gets here. This would completely level the mansion with fire, destroying much evidence.

Do you destroy the mansion? Y/N
No. 920381 ID: 2202fb

N: too much time and unnecessary. Plus your father may waste time searching the house.


Before you actually get going, sweep the vehicle for bombs (presumably timed or gps triggered), bugs, trackers, and weapons.


Gary is not a small town, it is also way too close to where you are. I would suggest driving to Centralia PA (~630 miles from Gary). It is a long-abandoned mining town that turned into a still-burning hellhole when all of its mines lit on fire. It is riddled with hazardous, incinerating gas, however there are many places amongst the hazards that are not only safe, but also are rife with abandoned buildings. On your way, pick up gas masks and long-sleeve gear from a surplus store somewhere. It should take about 10 hours by interstate to get there from Gary.
No. 920461 ID: 5a3411

You're right, Gary isn't a small town by sheer size, but its population is tiny compared to almost any other city in the area. Gary was a large town, it was also a large steel producer. Then the sixties happened. When importing steel became cheaper that making it on US soil, the economy of towns like Gary completely collapsed. Gary struggled for many years, until 2023, when a series of terrorist bombs collapsed some of its biggest buildings. After that, the town was completely abandoned. Reconstruction has barely begun, and it's going to be a long time until Gary has anywhere near the population it had in its prime. Until then, Gary is a tiny group of orderly buildings set up in the heart of old-town's ruins. You could set up a temporary safe-house in one of the abandoned buildings, and pick up things like groceries from the town proper.

You are nowhere near ready for a trip to Centralia PA. That place is a burning wasteland, you'd die of either heat-stroke or dehydration if you went there now.

You don't really have any good options. No friends, relatives, or even shaky allies that you even close to trust, So you're not exactly flush with options for safe-houses.

For now, you'll head to the look-out. It's secluded, and it will give you a chance to make a better long-term plan.

In your hurry, you almost forgot to sweep the car for bugs and bombs. Maybe you're getting too confidant.

Finding the car clean, you hop in and start it up.

You drive away without rigging the mansion in any way. Sometimes the best course of action is inaction.

As you drive, you begin to contemplate your situation.

You have no allies. None. No friends either. The closest thing to a friend you've ever had was a cool dude you met on a gun discussion page, then subsequently spoke to again. You don't have anyone you trust, no one.

You have Karma to deal with. You'll probably kill her. But then you have to deal with the body. Regardless, you'll get some information out of her first.

Then there's your father. What is his game? Why would he forcefully capture you? Whatever he was planning, he must have been sure you wouldn't agree with it, otherwise he wouldn't have had you held like that.


This whole situation is bullshit. You have extremely few resources, no assets, no safe place to stay.

You don't even now what you're running from.

Just... Fuck.

You clench your teeth and slam a hand against the dashboard. This whole thing pisses you off.

"Problem?" Asks Karma from the back.

Your about to lash Karma verbally when you take note of her tone, she sounds almost... Apologetic. Huh, maybe she actually has a conscience. Unlike you.

"This whole thing is FUBAR. Just bullshit. My own father betrayed me." You say.

"Do you actually care that he betrayed you?" Asked Karma.

"Well... No. Not really. Is that fucked up?" You ask. More to yourself than Karma.

"Yeah, that's kinda fucked up." She said.

"...I guess it just matches the rest of me, then." You say.

Karma is silent for a while, before she speaks up again. "Can you put some music on? It'll help make this situation bearable." She said.

You start looking through the jammed tape deck. "What's so bad about this situation?" You ask.

"I was incapacitated by an unarmed twelve year old girl with no combat training, while I was armed. Then stripped almost naked, tied up, and thrown in the trunk of my own car. And I might be killed by the same twelve year old. What the hell do you think, Borya?" Says Karma.

You just hum in vague recognition as you jack-in a cassette tape.

The Beastie Boys, License to Ill comes on. Namely the song 'Paul Revere'.

Karma starts to sing along.

You listen, quietly bobbing your head to the rhythm, until the MC-A segment comes in, when you start to sing too.

Once the song is over, Karma laughs. "You listen to the Beasty Boys? Maybe you're not as bad as I thought." She says.

"You know I'm probably gonna kill you, right?" You say, grinning wide.

"Way to ruin the moment, Jesus." Says Karma, but the humor behind her tone leaves you less than convinced of her anger.

You arrive at the lookout, and have no issues until you see another car parked in the lot. The owners are inside, talking to each-other.

How do you proceed?

Park the car, wait for them to leave. They probably won't be too long, and the likelihood is that they won't notice you.
Park the car, convince them to leave. Shouldn't be too difficult. But you have to be careful not to elicit suspicion.
Something else? This situation seems fairly easy to handle, but shit could go south fast if they become suspicious.

And there's also the question of what to do with Karma. You'll have to ensure that she doesn't call out.
No. 920464 ID: 2202fb

Karma honestly doesn't seem that bad, nor does she seem to be out for blood. Lets slowly make her an ally/friend. Either way, it is kind of bloodthirsty of you to want to just kill her. You cant just blame that on your sociopathy.


Just drive to the next cabin over. These sorts of places have tons.
No. 920473 ID: 094652

Yeah, no. Don't make friends with overgrown teenagers who wave guns in little girls' faces.

Gag Karma, sabotage the other car so the alarm goes off every thirty seconds.
No. 920519 ID: 2202fb

She knew what Borya was. You can't say Borya is just a little girl. I feel like the main culprit here is Borya's father for leaving Borya in the dark.
We should befriend Karma but keep our guard up. We should take precautions beforehand so as to not give her an opening to exploit us.
No. 920529 ID: 4e5d66

You don't do friends. But you will give Karma a chance.

And no, you can't blame your bloodlust on sociopathy. You can label it 'violent tendencies', which is exactly what your psychologist did.

To be fair, you attacked her first. You're also a 'little girl' that was basically born a monster. A figurative monster, but monstrous none the less.

Pronounced violent inclination, almost no capacity for empathy or guilt, and a full capacity to feel emotions like anger and hate. Perhaps worst of all, you like killing.

You've only killed once, back when you were eight. It was just three days after you got diagnosed with all your fucked up disorders.

Your parents had taken you to the pool, you like swimming.

Everything seemed to be going fine, you even joined a couple other kids to play water polo.

Then you got the ball, and a thirteen year old kid jumped on top of you to grab it.

He probably didn't know, probably didn't realize that he was holding you underwater, that you couldn't breath. That he was drowning you.

The lifeguard didn't notice, none of the adults did either.

You started to panic, your instincts kicked in, and you kneed the boy in the groin.

He was shocked enough by the strike that he let go of you. You surged upwards, and again you could breath.

But you hardly noticed through the red haze that was permeating your mind.

The boy was reeling, the strike had left him gasping for air and crying tears of pain.

But you hardly noticed.

You lunged at the boy, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his head against the edge of the pool.

Bone cracked in a sickening symphony that filled you with euphoria, the boy's body went limp and his eyes rolled upward in their sockets.

You slammed his head against the hard cement again, and again, and again. Until his brains were pulverized, until his skull was in a hundred pieces, until your parents drug you away thrashing and yelling.

His body float motionless in the water, his blood staining the pool red.

And his mother... She just crouched there at the edge of the pool, holding his broken corpse in her arms...

And she cried.

It wasn't a booming sob, or a shouted lament. It was just pure... Sadness.

And you will never be able to understand that.

It keeps you up at night. Not that you killed the boy, or that you caused the mother so much grief.

No, what haunts you still is how much she loved him.

And how you will never be able to love someone like that.

Where were you? Right. For now, you'll just leave these people alone and try to find an area to stop at that's a little further away.

But first, you stop the car and crawl back into the storage area, where Karma looks at you with a measure of trepidation.

You a sleeve off one of the spare shirts you took, and fashion it into a serviceable gag.

"Either you let me gag you, or I knock you out again and then gag you." You say to Karma.

She sighs, and her expression is more than a little peeved. But she opens her mouth and allows you to silence her.

You know how to make a good gag, the kind you can't bite through, spit out, or shout around.

So you're fairly confident that Karma has been effectively silenced once your finished.

You crawl back into the drivers seat, and motor off towards a more secluded area.

You find a yurt far away from the road, and deep enough in the park that you shouldn't have to worry about being disturbed. Rangers only do rounds once every couple of days in the off season, and it's a Tuesday so you're pretty confident in your privacy.

You park the car and get out, with the intent to inspect the yurt before setting up.

It's no challenge to pick the lock on the door, almost shamefully easy, in fact. Finding it acceptably clean, in good structural condition, and lacking any other occupants, you decide that this yurt will do.

You get all your supplies into the yurt, and carry Karma in without issue.

You set Karma on one of the bunks, and check again that she is secure.

What do you do now? (You can choose as many as you like. Please specify the order they are completed in.)

Take care of food and water needs. You're extremely thirsty, and starting to get quite hungry.
Interrogate Karma. You need answers, and she will most likely have some.
Improvise weaponry. Being prepared is always well advised. But what would you make using the supplies you have now?
Look through Karma's phone. There might be some information to garner from it. You already checked the phone for tracking software, and it appeared clean, though you are not skilled enough at hacking to be entirely certain.
No. 920530 ID: 2202fb

Food & water first. Secure everything. Lets go into town. You need money so lets go steal some visa gift cards. Then go buy a few of the largest solar generators you can buy without drawing too much attention. After that, buy a new laptop and a new CnC machine. Why build makeshift weapons when we can print actual weapons? Go to a sporting goods store and buy powder, casings, bullets, primer, and a loading set. If you can, try to buy them separately at different stores. Go to a surplus shop and buy gas masks, armor, and most importantly, camo netting.

Your cell coverage is probably abysmal, so you should also buy a crossbow, bolts, some rope, and a lot of cable. You can shoot the cable up a tree to make a makeshift antenna.

Before you get into Karma's phone, make sure its GPS is off. If it isn't, you need to leave with the phone and ditch it somewhere.
No. 920532 ID: 094652

... That's even darker than THIS situation. I'd ask what your parents were thinking when they refused to hire an expensive professional endocrinologist after this incident but... well, they're not normal.

I don't think we could have helped; I don't remember this incident, we may have been knocked out by your rage. Something to think about.

Wait a minute. How the hell did you manage to perform a lengthy execution when there were dozens of other, stronger adults and a lifeguard nearby? And even if they were all paralyzed by fear, your father is special forces; he's trained for these sorts of situations. An air horn or a thrown ball might have snapped you out of it, at least it was worth a try. It's like they were all forced to watch or something. Or in the case of your parents...

Man, I did not want to wake up to this horror story.

>What do
Look through Karma's phone further. There might be self-erase protocols written inside so be careful. Then interrogate her for more details.
No. 920537 ID: 2202fb

Well, it was probably one swift movement that did it, like a curb stomp, but with a pool edge. She probably exaggerated it somewhat due to emotions that she likes to pretend dont exist. I mean, they do exist, they just aren't the same strength, but they are there. Guess she wants to be good, but feels like she can't and that one event was the turning point. She seems depressed since she views herself as a monster, but naturally this is rather suppressed.
No. 920566 ID: 83dbbb
File 154977615735.jpg - (73.34KB , 851x356 , image.jpg )

>Man, I did not want to wake up to this horror story.

The moral dilemmas may cost you your soul, but the horrifying mental images are entirely complimentary.

What can I say? Except you're welcome.

No. 920581 ID: 9f5855

You should check the phone and get some food and drink.
As for the sudden memory and the "pain" of knowing what you are, you're essentially born with great potential to do pure evil, selfish acts, and basically no potential to do any good to anyone but yourself, you may be the most capable human being on an individual level, but when it comes to working in group or functioning in a society, you might as well say that everything you make contact with will suffer, be it intentional or not. You're a perfect destroyer, it's in your genes, if you want to spare other of your (inevitable) evil, there are options. You can commit suicide for one, since as far as we know sociopathy is in one's genes, that makes it a core part of you. or you can make an effort to distance yourself from society and live alone in hopes of not ruining anyone's life, which coming at the expense of your well-being and quality of life is guaranteed to be rejected. Your's father's game of general and soldier didn't help in this, he basically made you think of life as a game with plain objectives, and if there's anything that Person of interest taught me, is that anyone who sees the world as a game (of chess), deserves to lose. And you could probably wait for your father, since you might have already completed the challenge.
No. 920582 ID: 9f5855

No offense.
No. 920596 ID: 2202fb

She can learn emotion. The capacity is there, it is just greatly reduced. All she needs to do is focus on the meager emotion she does have and with time it will gradually amplify. She will most likely retain the ability to ignore or shut out emotions at her discretion, however.
No. 920613 ID: 977456

Or designed ethics. Enlightened self-interest is a thing. It can easily be an improvement even, the amount of destruction people are willing to impose just to maintain friends and family, even with no actual improvement to their situation, just maintaining an unstable and degrading circumstance...

Building a stable and secure base-of-operations with reliable personnel and a valuable reputation would probably do a great deal of "good" while satisfying self-interest. Large sections of society are enthusiastic supporters of killing people provided that the proper forms are filled and the proper targets are chosen. Or you can just go to a warzone or similar chaotic mess. All sorts of murders happen in such places and only the tiniest fraction of it ever gets attention.
No. 920705 ID: 10645a

It wasn't a 'lengthy execution', after the first strike it was about four seconds before you were stopped. But four seconds was more that enough to bash his head multiple times.

Endocrinologist? You think it stopped at one lab coat? Oh no, you were inspected, prodded, and questioned by at least one representative of every field of medicine in existence. You've finally managed to convince your primary psychologist that you are stable by lying out the ass: "Oh yes, I'm a good girl with lots of friends who would never harm a fly." It makes you sick just to think about. Now, at least, you've cut down the psyche evaluations to two a week. Or, you had, but you suppose that's not really relevant anymore.

You, do realize I can hear you right?
On this day not but a single fuck was given, for one is necessary to say 'fuck you'. Fine, if that's how you're gonna be, then I'll just focus on the solid advice.

>No offense.
I take offense at you thinking that sentence is anywhere near applicable to your previous statements.

You start looking through Karma's phone. Turning the GPS off was the first thing you did, but you check again to make sure it doesn't have any location devices active.

You look through the search history. Basically, it looks like Karma spent the last six days either looking for dispensaries or looking at porn. You suppose those two kinda go hand in hand.

However, you find something interesting in the text messages. It looks like she was speaking with your father, but all the actual texts in the conversation have been deleted. You won't get anything out of this other than the fact that Karma and your father were in communication, which you'd already assumed.

You search through the photos, and find more porn. But nothing of actual relevance.

The phone seems a bust for the most part, so you put it away and get yourself some food.

You drink an entire bottle of water, and you're half way through a can of beans when Karma starts making a fuss. Squirming in her bonds in what appears to be an attempt to grab your attention, as her gag is still in, preventing speech.

You set down the can of beans and stalk over to Karma, drawing and opening your pocketknife as you do so.

You press the tip of the knife against Karma's cheek as you speak. "I'm going to take the gag out now. If you yell, scream, or attempt to call for help in any way, I'll slit your throat." You say. Your tone matter of fact rather than threatening.

You pull the gag off and Karma takes several deep breaths through her mouth before speaking. "Can I get some water? Maybe some food?" She asks.

"Well, to answer the specific question that you asked, no. You are incapable of getting food or water as you are bound. I believe the question you meant to ask was 'will I give you some food and water', and the answer to that question would be: just water for now, it would be too much trouble to feed you while your hands are bound." You say.

You garb a bottle of water and prop Karma up so she can drink it.

She downs half the bottle, and you set her back down on the bunk, while you take a seat facing her.

"You know what happens now? I get information out of you. It's not a question, it's a fact. You're going to tell me everything that's even close to relevant. The only thing you get to decide is how painful this process is." You say.

Karma looks at you for a moment. It's a strange look, as if she's searching for something in your eyes. Then the look vanishes. "What do you want to know?" She asks.

"Why did my father have me captured against my will?" You ask.

Karma sighs. "Get comfortable Borya, it's exposition time." She says.

You remain seated and motionless.

"This is confidential information, the public is clueless so far; America is on the brink of war. Possibly with multiple countries at once. India finally got its shit together, formed an organized military, and they want blood. Then there's Russia, who has always sought to take us out. And now, their missile tech has advanced enough to actually do that. So you got India, with the biggest armed force in the world, and Russia, with technology equal or superior to ours, put 'em together and you've got a power couple that could wipe out America easily." Says Karma.

You nod.

"And hell, does that really sound like America is the place you'd want to be when shit goes down? Well apparently Mark though it wasn't. He pulled in every favor he had with the government to get you to a safe place. I don't know where exactly he was planning on sending you, somewhere in South Africa. But the point is, he was trying to get you as far away from the fighting as he could. The way he said it was cheesy, 'I don't want her to have a life like mine' or something. Anyway, he called in his favors, and the government sent me in to help transport you. Thing is, the government is going to shit. Command is falling apart, leadership is chickening out. I don't want to be on the front lines of that shitstorm, so I was going to stay in South Africa with you, just disappear. Mark liked the idea, said he'd feel better if someone he knew was watching your back." Says Karma.

"He wasn't coming to South Africa?" You ask.

"No. He couldn't pull enough weight with leadership to get himself or your mom out." Says Karma.

That makes sense. The U.S is going to need every able body it can get if India and Russia perform a joint attack. And 'able' is somewhat of an understatement where your father is concerned.

So that was the plan all along. To send you away from the fighting. If you cared a little more about your own well being, you might regret not going along with Mark's plan. As it stands, you're more than a bit angry with him for pulling all this shit behind your back.

Honestly, now that you know he doesn't have support from any organization, you could probably just approach your father directly.

Now that you know he's not in cahoots with the government, you're sure you would be safe back at your house. The government doesn't know where your family lives, Mark made sure of that.

You let your gaze shift from Karma to the floor.

You have a lot to think about. This has gotten much bigger than you, now whole countries are at stake. The fact that you give a shit about that at all is also fairly incredible news.

You need to think. You need a plan. And god damn you need a drink. Something stronger than water.

"What are you thinking?" Asks Karma.

Honestly, you're thinking about unbinding Karma. From the start she was... Kind isn't the right word. Sympathetic to your situation. She could have killed you, she didn't. And she's been cooperative so far. It's tempting to show a little trust.

God, you're desperate for someone you can even close to trust. And Karma is as close as you're gonna get right now.

What do you do now?
No. 920706 ID: 094652

I'd say "you've got us" but it's a Morton's fork between schizophrenic voices in your head and interdimensional psionic transmissions that imply there is no greater force in the multiverse without some degree of near-unlimited insanity. So yes go get a friend.

As for the war? I say: do what you can.
You think Japan will continue making English-Subbed anime once their main customer base is nuked through the ass? Will Video Games continue to be a form of violent art, or will all the artistic parts get censored to hell and back so all that's left is a collection of half-assed soldier indoctrination programs? How many well-placed nukes before the long-term fallout and environment goes to ^&*( and we're all stuck in a post-apocalyptic winter?
Even if you live the rest of your life among small fry in a backwater country, it will be miserable and will amount to nothing. Your hobbies will be censored and banned, and your only peers will be other refugees and fat-ass nobles who would gladly tap your ass no matter what state it's in. And after a long period of time with the UN defunct, the end of the world is an inevitability. All that your world has ever done or ever will do will be a blip in the universe, preceded and followed by billions of other blips who at least had the excuse of being wiped out by a cosmic force of nature that was beyond their capability to understand.

This is one of those moments where the world has gone mad, and even the worst of humanity can be of the greatest use.

I don't like it.

And I don't have to like it.

Get started. Demand that Karma help you get ^&*( done. Besides, it wouldn't be boring.
No. 920708 ID: 977456

There might be secret messages in the porn. Maybe the first-letters of the implied locations? Or some feature of the scene is used to convey a morse code...
No. 920712 ID: 2202fb

This is cheesy as fuck. Make sure she isn't fucking with you. If she isn't, you two need to plan. She is coming with us, be it as a prisoner, pet, or a compatriot. I like her. We should go to Greenland. If we plan right, we should be able to get enough shit to set up a decent place there. We would need a cargo plane to hold everything along with solar panels, solar batteries, wiring, hydroponics supplies, and anything else one may feasibly need to be self-sufficient in a WW3 or post-apocalyptic environment.

The location we should go to is Camp Century, a long-abandoned secret US military base built as part of Project Iceworm.
No. 920840 ID: b49636

>We need to save the world. I don't like it.
Well I don't like it either. How the hell am I going to save the world, huh? We'll talk about this later.

>look at porn harder.
You'd like that, wouldn't you?

>Be a preper in Greenland.
I don't really want to hang out in Greenland for fifty years while the world is busy getting not lethally radioactive. For one: mind-numbingly boring. For two: is it even worth living at that point? For three: I wouldn't actually be completely safe up there. The bombs that the world is armed with now would pretty much fuck the entire world. It doesn't matter where you go, how far you get, if just a couple extra-orbit ODEN bombs are dropped, everyone would be dead. Everyone.

No, there's no running from this one.

The fact that your father though he could get you safe at all was a huge misconception.

"I'm thinking that you'd better not be lying, for your own sake." You say.

"I swear on... My life that I'm telling the truth." Says Karma.

You look her in the eyes as she says this. You see not a single sign that she is lying. Either she's got the best poker face you've ever see (besides your own), or she is telling the honest to god truth.

You nod. "I'm also thinking that is the cheesiest shit I've ever heard." You say.

"I already said that." She says.

"Well I've just affirmed." You say.

Karma gives you a look that very clearly says 'uh huh' without the use of speech.

You tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling while you release a big sigh. "How much would I regret it if I untied you?" You muse.

"That depends." She says.

You look at her and raise an eyebrow.

"It depends on how you feel about weed, instant noodles, and music that went out of style fifty years age." She says, a small grin forming.

"Cut down on the weed, eat whatever the fuck you want, and if it's not from this century I'm okay with it. Oh yeah, and don't try to pull any shit." You say.

"Can I cut the shit?" She asks, that grin widening.

"Some day, I'm going to look back at this moment, and realize how much of a mistake this is." You say, beginning to undo the paracord.

Five minutes later, Karma is unbound, dressed in some of the spare clothes, and eating all the fucking noodles.

You kept the pistol of course, and both knives.

Between mouthfuls of noodles, Karma speaks; "What's the next move?" She asks.

"Hell if I know. I don't have any safe places to go, I don't have enough money to afford a safe-house, and I don't have any allies." You say.

"You've got me, and I've got an apartment." She says.

"Where?" You ask.

"Financial district, Chicago. Before you ask, the government pays well." She says.

You have to figure out your next move.

You could head to Karma's apartment. Trust has to start somewhere, right? Though you still want to be cautious.
You could also go to your parents house and try to figure some of this shit out. Answers from the horses mouth would be nice, and you could pick up whatever of your stuff you wanted to take.
Or something else. like what?
No. 920844 ID: dd1c4a

I think it says something that at least one of the superpowers managed to build a bomb system, each with a death radius so large that nobody on Earth could win even if everyone who didn't fire it bent their ass over and begged to die.

There's only one logical explanation why it hasn't been sabotaged (physically, financially, desperately) yet: Project Far Zenith is ready for deployment.

So hijack THAT and you've got a good shot at true survival. Ask Karma where a multitrillionaire conglomerate would hide their space shuttles.
No. 920849 ID: 2202fb

Did you make this up?

Idk what to do at this point. If there is no hope for survival then i guess we might as well just throw in the towel now.

I am not really digging the idea of playing Alex Rider and saving the world from some bs shit. I guess i am just rather blasé.
No. 920938 ID: 5bbd2d

We don't have enough broken motion capture to do it like Scot Ryder.

And don't worry, this ain't that kinda story.

Just bare with me for a bit, things are about to pick up.

No. 920941 ID: 2202fb

Alex Rider was actually a book series written by Anthony Horowitz i read in middle school about a teen spy. As cheesy as that is, one of their defining traits was the realism and not shying away from extreme violence and gore.
No. 920965 ID: 9147c2

Oops, got Ryder and Rider confused. On the plus side I now have more books to read.
No. 921014 ID: 2625d3

You sigh.

"We're heading for my parents house." You say.

"Why?" Asks Karma.

"I need to end this bullshit. I don't know what's going to happen when I get there, but I know that I need to talk to my father, and tell him how much of a dumbass he's been." You say.

Karma huffs a small laugh past her mouthful of noodles. "Alright. I'll come with you." She said.

"Why?" You ask.

"Someone needs to keep you in check." Said Karma.

You give a scowl.

Ten minutes to pack up, and you're off. This time with Karma driving; you figure it's safe since you have the gun.

On the way, you stop to get some fast food. Karma insisted, saying that you both needed something better than canned beans.

You don't like fast food. In fact, you don't really like food in general.

You don't like very many things.

You don't really know anyone you like. There are people you find tolerable, like your parents, but you just don't like people.

You don't get joy out of too many things either. You like gaming, to an extent. There are some books you like to read. You've seen a movie or two that wasn't bad. You suppose you get a certain pleasure out of tinkering.

Overall, though, you just... Don't really enjoy life.

What are you living for? What are you even doing here?

Your father, a man who must have committed terrible acts as SAS, who has closed himself off to his emotions; even he loved you enough to sacrifice for you, to get you away from the shadow of the atom bomb.

But when you think of him you feel... Nothing.

It's just this emptiness, this void in your stomach where you know something should be. Something,Anything!

Hate would be better. Hate to fill this horrible emptiness where a human part of you just doesn't exist.

You just... You just...

You're empty.

Why are you even here? Here in this drive-through with a girl you bound and threatened with torture. This girl who's helping you!

It would be better if she hated you, if she would just attack you so you could kill her and be done with all this bullshit.

Why? Why would she help you? After you attacked her and stole from her.

It doesn't make sense.

You're so tired, you're just... Just so fucking tired.

You're sitting in the passenger seat of the SUV, eating a bland cheeseburger. You're just barely aware of this as your mind floods with painful thoughts.

You reach up to wipe a bit of ketchup off your face, and find that your cheek is moist.

You... you're crying.

You've never cried in your life. Not since you were old enough to speak.

You're crying.

It starts as a soft sniffling, then breaks out into soft sobs.

You try to stop, but you can't. You've never felt like this before. It hurts.

Karma notices your distressed state and takes her eyes of the road to look at you. "Borya? What's the problem?" She asks, she sounds genuinely concerned.

She cares.

That makes the hurt even worse.

You try to respond, try to form a cohesive sentence, try to pull yourself together. But you can't.

You can't manage even a single fucking word.

Karma pulls the car over and faces you head on. "Borya, are you okay?" She asks. She sounds worried.

You nod, trying to hold back the tears that just keep pouring out.

Karma doesn't speak, she just pulls you over to her, and cradles you against her side.

You flinch at the touch, your reflexes telling you to break her hand as soon as it's in contact with you.

Eventually, you relax into her embrace and just cry. Just... Just cry.

You're so fucked up.
No. 921027 ID: 2202fb

No, this is a good thing. We now know that you are really really depressed. The first step to solving a problem is knowing you have a problem in the first place.
No. 921081 ID: 094652

These are the End Times. I'd be worried if you weren't panicking.

Concentrate, we're here to keep you functioning. Not sane, but functioning.

First off, finish your burger. Second, put the safety on your gun. Third, think about what Mark would do if he weren't retired and was ordered by psycho bosses to stop World War 3 by any means necessary.
No. 921089 ID: 2202fb

Idk, i dont want to go that route. We dont have resources and tbh what has the word done for us?

Here is my idea: lets go home and go back to school. Try to make some friends (force yourself). After you have a handful, time to start prepping. Build a faraday cage and put all the important tech in it. Rob a best buy if you need to.
After that, time to hop on a plane and go somewhere. Take the friends with you. Once this whole thing blows over, you will be in a decent position to start the new world order (so start doing your kegels and make sure one of the friends is attractive).
No. 921090 ID: 2202fb

But seriously, even if you dont get into that sort of stuff, you could still start a hostile takeover of what is left of the country of your choice.

Additionally, there is a seed bunker up north that should have resources. and seeds.
No. 921392 ID: a06fd2

Borya opens her eyes, and finds herself laying across the front seats of the SUV.

Karma is nowhere in sight, and the sun is setting. You must have slept for several hours.

You sit up, and survey your surroundings.

The SUV has been parked in a small rest-area off the highway. The lot appears empty save for the Mercedes.

In front of you, pine trees rise from a large swath of manicured grass. To your left, a cement building clearly labeled as the bathrooms stands.

About three-hundred feet to your left, you hear the sounds of the busy freeway.

You lean back in your seat and take a moment to collect yourself.

>This is a good thing. We now know you have depression.
You sound like my fucking psychologist.

You aren't. You're nearly incapable of feeling anxiety or panic.

Mental duress? That's another story.

You suppose it was only a matter of time before something like this happened. What little emotion you have festering in the back of your mind, waiting for a moment of mental weakness to break out in an illogical flood of despair.

It shouldn't happen again.

>We're here to keep you functioning. Not sane, but functioning.

You take a moment to ensure your mental clarity, then hop out of the car.

Karma shouldn't have gone too far. You'll find her.

You start towards the bathrooms, but see a figure wave at you from the picnic benches in the far corner of the rest area.

You start towards who you now recognize as Karma.

Once you get closer you see that she is supping on the leftovers from the fast food restaurant.

"Sorry to leave you alone, but I needed to take a piss, and decided to let you sleep." Says Karma.

"It's fine." You reply, sitting across from her at the table.

She seems to take note of your clothes, only a T-shirt on your upper body. "Borya, it's forty fucken degrees. Don't you need a coat?" She asks. Indeed, she herself clothed in a leather jacket.

You inspect your arms, which have begun to turn purple in the cold. "That's twenty degrees above the point where I need a coat." You say.

Karma gives a sort of 'suit yourself' shrug and returns to the cold meal she's scavenged of your collective scraps.

You sigh. Either you address it now, or let it lay indefinitely. Best to just rip this bandage off fast.

"Karma, I'm sorry for that outburst. It was illogical, and it won't happen again." You say.

Karma waves dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Now, you should eat some of this stuff before I get it all." She says.

Thank any God listening that she didn't pry.

You grab a box of cold fries and start eating. It tastes rather bad, but it's better than nothing.

You manage to gat an acceptable meal's worth of food.

"We should go." You say.

"What's the hurry? Let's take a minute to decompress." Says Karma, swinging her feet up onto the table and reclining in move that looks more dramatic than comfortable.

"I don't decompress. I don't need to." You say.

"Well that's your fucken problem right there." She says, taking a small vape out of her pocket.

"Wait. Where'd you get that? I searched your person, and your car." You ask, indicating the vaporizer.

"Spare tire." She says simply.

"But I checked the compartment... Tire lining." You say, figuring out where she hid the small device.

"Yep, and the police have never confiscated this thing because of it." She says, her grin exuding both complacency, and psychoactive vapor.

"Fine. Ten minutes." You say.

She snaps upright in a salute. Her right hand held rigid to her forehead, and her left holding the vape to her mouth. "Ma'am, yes, Ma'am! Drill Sargent Burkouskie!" She says.

"At ease, Private pothead." You say, your tone devoid of emotion. But you allow a slight smirk to curl your lips.

She drops the salute, and you start off towards the car before she can reciprocate.

It is exactly nine minutes fifty-two seconds before Karma hops into the car. You counted the seconds.

"Alright, we still headed for your house?" She asks.

"Yes." You say. Your conviction is a facade, but you're still sure.

"Okay then." Says Karma, her tone far less certain than yours.

The ride is short, thirty minutes at most before you hit the edge of the city and the suburbs begin.

The neighborhood may be familiar, but you realize that the denizens are not. You never bothered to get to know any of these people personally. You can't say you really regret that. Just a pile of privileged, upper middle class white yuppies. That, or withering retired folk reminiscing about the 'good old days', and how the world now sucks compared to when they grew up.

You come within view of your house, and find that your parents have company.

"Fuck!" Exclaims Karma.

If you were as inclined toward vulgar speech as her, your reaction would be similar.

Two amphibious APC's sit out front of the house, and one police car -the sheriffs- is parked just beyond those. The insignia of the National Guard can be made out painted on the sides of the APC's.

"Borya, we should leave. We're up shit creek already, let's cut losses and go." Says Karma.

You aren't leaving. But caution hasn't deserted you yet. You'll need a plan of action.

A frontal assault is obviously out of the question. So whatever you do, it needs to be quiet.

You've got a plan already. So unless you hear something better, you're executing it.

Please give only vague plans of action. An I'll work what I can into the approach.
No. 921473 ID: 2202fb

What the fuck, why are they here?!

I guess you should try to sneak in and grab as much of your shit as you can, prioritizing hard drives and expensive tech.

If you want a challenge, you could try to take them all out (nonlethally) and then you can steal their gear (srsly, strip them down to their skivvies if you go this route) and vehicles. Two APCs mean you will need to drive one while Karma drives the other.
No. 921485 ID: 094652

You have a gun. Shoot a birb out of the sky and let the sheriff deal with it. Actually have you seen any feral cats around here?
No. 921549 ID: 2202fb

Additionally, are these APCs Strykers? What kind? Do they have slats? If they have missiles, autocannons, or an MGS system, you guys need to break now and floor it.
No. 921572 ID: 1b6c0c

>You have a gun, shoot a bird, let the sheriff deal with it. Are there any feral cats around?

>Why are they here?!
Any second now, your inquiry is going to cause me to spontaneously develop clairvoyance, specifically for the purpose of answering that question.

I'm trying to say that I have no fucking idea.

Educated guess? It probably has to do with your father. He's dangerous enough to warrant this kinda force.

>What kind of APC?
Transport only. No mounted armaments.

"Karma, back the car up a block or so, and park at the curb. Keep the engine running, we may need to make a quick getaway." You say. Grabbing the empty duffle bag to carry stuff back in.

"No, fuck that. That's the National Guard, we can't go up against that, Borya." Says karma.

"Which is why I'm about to commit some acts of irregular warfare." You say, hopping out of the car before Karma can respond.

You start down the street a ways, and hear Karma reverse a little bit before stopping.

Once you get close enough, you see that there are still several guardsmen hanging around the APC's, they have full combat gear.

You duck into the hedge wall between your house and a neighbor's, and inch your way closer to the house.

It's late-twilight right now, so visibility is good for an infiltration op.

You're to the left side of the building. It's a two story house, and your bedroom is on the second floor.

Seeing no hostiles in your vicinity, you quiet-sprint to the side of the house.

On compass points, the front of the house is east-facing, so the backyard is westwards. Meaning you are currently hugging the southern wall. Your bedroom is in the south-west corner of the house, with a window that faces the backyard.

Keeping close to the wall, you stalk toward the backyard. When you hear voices, you take cover at the corner of the house.

You strain to make out the conversation;
"He hasn't been found yet, sir."

"The mother?"

"She's in custody, sir."

"And what about the 'shark', any trace?"

"None, sir."

"Damnit. Keep looking, be thorough. And get some men to lock down the premises."

"Yes sir!"

You can only make guesses as to what all that meant, but it seems they have your mother in custody, haven't yet found your father, and are looking for something called the 'shark'.

Possibly useful.

You peak around the corner of the house, and see the two people who were just talking standing in the middle of the backyard.

One is a captain of the National Guard, he's wearing plain fatigues with no combat gear, and seems to be armed with only a pistol.

The other soldier is a Private first class. He is fully equipped; anti-ballistic helmet, body-armor, and a SOPMOD M4.

He's also walking towards you.

You'd have to sprint straight through his field of vision to get back to the hedges, and there's no cover near enough for you to reach in time.

You drop into prone go completely motionless, hoping you'll blend in with the grass.

The wait is agonizing as the solder walks casually past. Yet he doesn't notice you, and you count your blessings for that.

Once he's far enough, you raise into a crouch and check the backyard again.

The captan is gone.

As slowly and quietly as you dare, you stalk into the backyard and towards the porch.

You arrive without issue or engagement, and climb up on top of the porches roof.

Your window is just a short distance away, but it doesn't have anything you can grab onto, so jumping isn't an option.

Instead, you jump up and grab onto the gutter, shimmy by your hands towards the window.

The cheap aluminum gutter holds your weight, but the metal edge cuts into your hands multiple times.

Blood pours from your newly garnered cuts, and slickens your hands. You struggle to maintain your grip as the pain and blood threaten to surrender you to gravity.

You reach your window, and look into your room.

Finding it empty, you start swinging back and forth, building momentum.

The gutter groans under the strain, but before it can give way you swing forward and transfer all that momentum into the window-frame.

It immediately gives way and brakes free from its housing, falling inward.

You swing in through the now-empty window-frame.

Your room is somewhat sound-proofed, so you're fairly certain no one heard you.

You start gathering things from around the room:

—Your Glock, with three spare mags.
—KTS, your silent pistol.
—Two changes of clothes.
—Your laptop and it's charger.
—Some of your Tools (Soldering iron, set of screwdrivers, universal wrench, wire-cutter, light bolt-cutters, light crow-bar.)
—A Leatherman multitool.
—All your cash.

You're just about finished when you hear the doorknob turning.

You've just turned around, and are reaching for your gun when a solder enters the room and sees you. He goes for his pistol.

He's faster.

You see the flash, hear the bang, and feel a tremendous force strike you in the abdomen.

Time seems to slow. You touch a hand to your side, and find it covered in blood when you pull it away.

You... You've been shot.

Reality seems to unravel at the seams, and darkness begins to lace your vision.

Standing becomes too difficult, and you vaguely feel yourself hit the floor.

Blood, your blood, is pooling around you and seeping into the floorboards.

Death smiles at you.

You grin back.
No. 921573 ID: 22f2a7


The Path of a Hero, chapter one END
No. 921574 ID: 22f2a7


The thread isn't over yet.
No. 921621 ID: 2202fb

Yeah, it better not end like this. Btw, you forgot the hard drives. We cant print guns without the CADs.
No. 922027 ID: ea5a64


You let the gun clatter to the floor, and watch as the girl does the same.

You... You didn't mean to. You just... Reflexes got the better of you and...

Your name is Sargent Sloane Wick, and you just shot a child.

You rush to her side, crouching next to her on the floor.

Blood seeps from the abdominal wound and pools around her on the floor. The blood stains your boots.

You cradle her head in your hand. Her eyes are closed but she's... Smiling.

You shake yourself from shock and start fumbling with a pouch on your belt, eventually you fish out what you're looking for. A bag of Styptic.

You tear open the bag and dump its contents onto the wound, then put a piece of gauze over it and compress the wound.

"MEDIC!" You call.

You hear gunshots. Rapid, from multiple guns.

You barely notice past the wounded child bleeding out in front of you.

The shots get closer.

You hear footstep behind you and turn to look.

A medic is standing in the doorway, seemingly taken aback by the situation.

He takes out his radio and starts to say something, but is cut short by a bang and a spray of blood.

The medic's brains are splattered across a wall, and his body falls limply forward. Blood and gore smeared across his person.

A moment later, the medic's killer sweeps through the doorframe.

She's wearing a tank top, holding an M4, and is completely covered in blood.

Her face is contorted in an inhuman rage, her eyes ablaze with the wrath of hell.

You scramble to your feet and start to draw your knife, but before you can get the blade out of its sheath she slams the butt of the rifle into your right hand, the pain causing you to drop the knife.

She grabs the knife mid-air, and slams it upwards.

You see the blood. The pain never comes.

Your lifeblood spills from your throat and through your grasping hands. You fall to your knees.

The girl levels the rifle's muzzle with your face.

You don't hear the bang.
No. 922065 ID: 094652

Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow
No. 922068 ID: f1a100

This is rather disorienting. Fuck idek who is still saveable and who tf is in play right now.
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