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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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So, it's been a month to the day. Fuck that noise. Standard warnings about being out of practice and Team Jerkass meeting up later, let's do this.

Maverick Hunter Quest, Thread 18: Pink Elephant Mechaniloids
Prior Thread: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/19986768/
Archive: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Maverick%20Hunter%20Quest
The IRC: suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com, #MHQ

You are Anode, maverick hunter, and if you were any more off-duty you'd be sold in airports.

Your plan for the night is an ambitious one--take yourself, your sister, your diminutive green friend, his sister, a gigantic reploid gatling-bear, HIS sister(?), and go get fucking hammered.
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Things are shaping up nicely so far. Currently, your goal sits across the table from you, tumbling a bottlecap across her knuckles. Ursa said something about their last op going bad, and her not taking it well. No need to dredge up bad memories on a night like this, but you want to try to engage her. Make her feel welcome, you know?

"So, Germany?"

"Yeah," she replies. "I know, the accent throws you."

Ursa grins. "Little sister saves German for making displeasure known."

"You mean she swears a lot," Sapphire offers, fingertips resting on the mouth of her glass.

His expression doesn't change. "Ursa did not say that."

"We gotta introduce her to Schwarz," Em remarks to you.

"Ah!" she says, eyes lighting up. "Schwarzhund! They can't get enough of him back home. I've never had the chance to meet him, even being in the 4th."

"Surprised he's not here," Em says.

"Talked to him before I got here," you reply. "He's stuck on desk duty while Frog deals with...that thing that just happened." Your turn for a sullen slience. So much for not bringing the night down.
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Finally, after a moment, Em claps his hands down on the table, hopping to his feet. "Well, we can at least have him here in spirit. Be right back."

Cathode seizes the initiative as soon as he's left. "So, Sapphire, any dirty laundry to share?"

The Marine giggles. "Not too much, unfortunately. He seems to be on best behavior whenever we're about. Too bad, because the stories sound great."

"Stories?" Tiger asks, leaning in. Cathode looks at you knowingly.

>Well, there was this one time we had a barfight...
>There was this other time... (writein?)
>Just bullshit. Bullshit something fierce.
>Change topic? To what?
MHQ! score.

IDK if I'll have a storytime for you this round, though... long story.
>Well, there was this one time we had a barfight..

>[X] Well, there was this one time we had a barfight...
Knowing us, this'll end up with us getting into a barfight when we get hammered.

Oh well!
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That doesn't sound good.
"Well," you say, looking around furtively, "We did get into a bar fight."

"What, here?" Sapphire asks, casting a look around.

"Against each other?" Tiger asks, almost hungrily.

"No, no, we were a team. And keep your voice down, Max is scarier than any maverick."

"That old Axe Max?" Cathode cranes to get a look at him, before you put a hand on top of her helmet and push her back down.

"Yes, him! He can smell fear and I'm reasonably sure he eats the dead." Sapphire snorts into her glass. Ursa says nothing, but grins into his glass, clearly amused. "We were also hammered."

"How hammered are we talking?"

"I distinctly recall yelling something about berries and giving a helmet a noogie. Em had his on backwards." Sapphire spits her drink. You continue, grinning. "It was Saint Paddy's. Someone asked Em if he was a leprechaun."

Sapphire winces. "That'd do it."
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"So Em goes rabid wolverine on the guy, and then some guy tries to provoke Schwarz, and then he DOES provoke Schwarz by shooting a little barrel of booze, and so we threw him out. By then it was Em and me while Schwarz went back to watching. And then we fused."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Cath asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Put that back down, young lady. I mean I got him up on my shoulders for a combination attack. And then we fell over."

Ursa shakes his head, trying not to laugh. No one else has quite as much luck. Cathode puts her head down on the table with a thunk. "You remember what happened? Then you did not drink enough."

"I'll drink to that," you offer, on the edge of laughter yourself.

"Good timing, then," Em says from behind you as he announces himself. "Gimme a hand with these."

You turn around and see Em balancing a platter on either shoulder, each one loaded with a heavy glass tankards--the big, liter-plus bastards--filled with a beautiful amber and topped with a thick head.

"Marzenbock," he says. "Schwarz's personal store."
>Schwarz's personal store.

Dead rep walking.
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"If it's his personal store..." Em shrugs (perilously, the tankards clatter and clink) as you start to offload the cargo.

"It's fine, I've got his okay to raid it as long as I pay my share. Max gave me the eye, though."

"You do have a history here," Cath notes with a grin. He grimaces.

"Oh jeez, what did you do?" You just smile at Em angelically and start handing out the beers. "Bastard."

Tiger takes a long pull from the massive stein, and her eyes widen. "This is fresh."

"Yeah, he has it ordered and shipped personally. I think they beam it in every month, rather than drive it."

You take a pull yourself, and holy living fuck. This is the best beer ever. This is the best idea ever. This is the best thing ever!

Ursa nods in approval, wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. "We should be drinking to something."

>Make a toast? To what?
>Let your guests decide.
To Germany, for producing great brew and best bros.
Seconding this.
To the anglosphere's inability to grasp the concept of umlauts and their transcription?
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You lift your tankard high. "To Germany!" You call. "For beer and brethren!"

Ursa puts an arm around Tiger and pulls her to his side. "To little sisters!"

"To siblings and Schwarzhund," Em adds, doing the same to Sapphire.

Cath hauls you over similarly, your glass sloshing. "To dumb little brothers!"

"To dumb big brothers," Sapphire replies with a grin.

Tiger smiles as her turn comes up. "To none of you poor bastards working your way around an umlaut," she says finally, before raising her stein to her lips. You all follow suit, and the next forty seconds become an intense battle, no one wanting to be the first to set theirs down. Finally, Cathode gives, unfamiliar with the sheer volume involved in a beer. Em finishes (the whole thing--where does he put it?) just a moment after Ursa, both setting down their glasses with a resounding clunk. Sapphire's next, three-fourths of the glass downed. You finally finish yours not long after.

Tiger outlasts all of you, her down perfectly paced, before she finally finishes with a sharp exhale, and sets her emptied stein down wearing the grin of a victor. "Sláinte," she says. "Another?"
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With the first full round down, things warm up quickly. Ursa is curious about life in the 6th, which Sapphire is happy to share. Tiger seems much more at home and comfortable now, quickly hitting it off with Cathode.

"These rays," she says, examining Cath's arm on the table. "Tell me more."

"The beauty of them is that they're so compact. The assemblage runs down the length of the arm, but most of the bulk is in the leads to the generator. The system itself is a ton of bang for very little buck, spacewise."

"And you have...two of these."

"Per arm. And I just had some busters put in."

Tiger nods with the slow, heavy severity of a theologian. "Beautiful."

They start to discuss Tiger's cannons--apparently 88 millimeter variable-shell ordnance--as your little drinking party starts humming along.

>Talk to someone? About what?
>Enjoy the quiet, drink a bit more.
>Think about what happened today. A few rounds should have taken the edge off.
>You know, I have JUST the movie for this kind of get-together...
>Think about what happened today. A few rounds should have taken the edge off.

Okay, but then...
>You know, I have JUST the movie for this kind of get-together...

I hope it's Beerfest.
I would bitchslap the entire crew for treating my best brew like cheap American piss.
Barbarians, the lot of them.
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(But seriously, sorry, beerbro. It was a one-round thing. A thousand pardons.)
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Thank you very much.

>Not superior 120mm smoothbore
Also 88mm designs were abandoned after WWII due to the number being diretly linked to nazi propaganda.
88=>HH=>Heil Hitler

This is somewehat post--WWII, I guess? Haven't followed the quest before.
Panzer Tiger is from Wandering Fa/tg/uy's stories of a MMX campaign. Her player is a History major, and the character's modeled after WWII design.

...And, yeah, this takes place in the 22nd century.
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With things moving, you take a moment to mull over your day with a bit of drink to fuzz up the edges.

Yeah. Yeah, you killed someone. Several someones. People. Persons.

And you know what? Fuck 'em. They came at you first, with intent to kill. You'll feel bad about it later. You've got the whole rest of your life for that.

...Shit, that's a bleak thought. You chase it away with another long drink.

You're taken out of your introspection by Em poking you. "Y'okay there, chief? You got quiet."

"Yeah, just thinking."

"Wrong night for that," Tiger adds. "Tonight is for bad decisions and good company."

"Fair enough," you say with a nod. "So, you guys are stationed in Japan, right?"

"Nominally, though we've been busy."

"What's it like?"

"Clean. Organized. ... Cramped," Ursa provides. "Very much goes on in very little space."

Tiger sits up as she continues. "It's all sleek and efficient. We basically manage half of Polar and Tropical business by ourselves. A lot of R&D. Most of the personnel are ready to mobilize at any given time."

"Trouble with China," Ursa adds, then pauses. "...Possibly our fault."

"Not ALL of it," she says. "There's been tension since before we were stationed there, anyway."

"You guys have that mass driver on site, right?" Cath asks. Where does she learn all this, anyway?

"Da, along with full spaceport. Many civilians on premises."

"Most of the supplies for the colonies go through, yeah. A lot of vertical building, sort of like an arcology in places. Very busy."
Ah, she's modelled directly after the tank?
I should be worried I overlooked that.
No problem here, then.
Please accept this Kraftklub as a token of apology.

I thought Ice stuff had it's own unit?
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Polar and Tropical units, yeah. It's just that most of the logistical support for them goes through Japan.
Also: Someone got hit with a campuswide ban, incidentally. He added his vote via IRC, hence the side-conversations before movie time.
"So, Sapphire," you start, turning to her. "Tell me about where you were before the hunters."

"Cambridge!" she replies. "We were built at MIT."

"No shit?"

"No shit," Em adds. "We were a grad student project."

"You were the grad project," Sapphire says, pointing to emphasize. "We were a military contract."

"Something like that, ye--heyyy!" Em stands up, expression brightening as he marches past you. "I thought you couldn't make it!"

You turn to see what can only be Em's other sibling, standing tall in sterling-white armor. His forearms are ridged, with some kind of retractable gadgets running over his elbows. He smiles and meets Em mid-way, pulling his little big brother in for a hug. "I begged off work."

"You must be Diamond."

"That's me. Nice to meet you all," he says. "And good to see you, Em, Saph."
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"C'mon, siddown, siddown. I saved my first drink for you," Em says, nonchalantly pushing his empty glasses aside. Sapphire chokes laughing as he quickly makes the introductions. "We were just telling our origin story."

"I heard," Diamond replies smoothly. "Don't stop on my account, though I'll take a bit of whatever you're working on."

Em slides his beer (a dunkel, now,) over before continuing. "Right, so, MIT. I was the proof of concept."

"How to make a reploid Wolverine?" Cath asks.

"Har. I think they have like three of those. No, it was some sort of mass-production model thing. Land--" he points at himself--"Air--" to Diamond, and--"Sea," over to Sapphire. "Obviously the hunters didn't take the production offer, but they liked the idea, apparently."

"So we were commissioned," Saph adds. "About a year after Em."

"Environment specialists, yeah. Well, they are. There's some of that for me, but most of it's just good for bar tricks."

"Yeah? Like what?" Tiger asks.
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Fuck, I'm running out of topical bar pictures.
"Not much," he says, rubbing the back of his helmet. "Boots are designed to spread impact out over a wider area, helps with stability and movement. Other than that, nothing much. I've always felt more like a stock grunt than a commission job."

"Not much of a trick," Cathode notes.

"Oh, right, durr. Give me a location--"

"Cambridge," you say.

"Okay, that was rhetorical. But--Cambridge, 42 degrees, 22 minutes, 30 seconds North by 71 degrees, 6 minutes, 22 seconds West." He rattles off the coordinates without a bit of hesitation, even through the alcohol.


Em taps his head. "Secondary sub-processor. It's basically a miniature calculator. Designed for helping with onsite coordination, telemetry for beam-in coordinates, that sort of thing. A bunch of map information, an overlay of teleport pad sites. ...All it's really good for is showing off in a bar," he mumbles.

Cathode starts giggling. "Yo dawg, I heard you like brains..."


Also, can Em use that in a more localized way? Does he know exactly how long it will take to get close enough to the enemy to gut him?
We totally need to show them that recording of us with the hose of military-grade lubricant that India so kindly saved for us. Complete with Ragtime music.
We should watch something... With lots of explosions.
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You finish your drink, but before you can make your next move, something in the back of the room catches your ears.


"You're shitting me," you mumble.

Your sister leans in. "What? What's--"

"Hang on. I need this, Cath," you whisper.

Someplace, somewhere in the back, someone starts singing. And then another. And then another. And then everyone.

And suddenly, you are too, on your feet and belting it out, you and the rest of the table, singing along with Freddie with your sister on your arm. For a moment you're stone sober and everything feels golden. You really do need this. Somewhere in the back of your head, you feel grateful that you can't cry and ruin this.

The song finishes and the Pond erupts in claps and cheers. Ursa climbs down from the creaking table, sheepishly, and a weight you didn't know you had is lifted.


"All right," you announce, "Are we all good and buzzed?"

"Yes sir!" Saph calls.

"No, but hum a few bars and I'll fake it," Diamond adds.

"Fuck it. We'll buy up some bombers and take 'em with us."

"He's got a growler of Tripel in the back, I'll get that," Em says.

"Where are we going?" Tiger asks.

You look back at your assembled crew, and grin manically. "It's motherfucking movie night."
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It's a bit of a squeeze, but you get the party into your room with enough space that no elbows or legs or gatling guns bother anybody's personal space. You turn your counter into an impromptu bar, putting out all your acquisitions (and shivering as you remember Max's steely-voiced demand that you guarantee him you aren't going to cause a world war with your debauchery tonight). Ursa and Tiger look over your collection of knickknacks. Ursa rather likes Lieutenant Fullmettool. Cath nods in satisfaction at seeing the entertainment system she bought you--damn it, you still haven't gotten her anything back for the birthday war yet. Meanwhile, Em fiddles with the terminal, getting it set up and oh god is that ragtime.

"What is..."

You're steadying yourself against the window laughing as the music winds up. Em is down not long after, unable to stifle the fits of mad giggles. Everyone else follows suit as Seven takes a tumble through humiliation lane. Ursa guffaws long and loud. Tiger has her face in her palm, failing to suppress the snickers.

Finally, you all catch your breath. "Okay. All right. I think you guys are ready for MAD MAX."
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--bolt awake suddenly, only to immediately wish you hadn't.

Your head is pounding, you feel dizzy and delirious, and you also just hit your head on the countertop, knocking a half-full bottle down onto your head.

You look at the clock, optics bleary as they try to focus in on it. One o'... one o' something.

Taking stock of your surroundings, you look around. The TV blinks NO CARRIER, light static from overly loud speakers hissing behind it. You see Diamond with his head down, sleeping against the corner. Cathode is sleeping on--not in, on--your recharge bay. Sapphire is sleeping standing up, sprawled over your shelf, hugging Lt. Fullmettool to herself and mumbling about hats.

Emerald, Tiger, and Ursa are nowhere to be found.

>wat do
First thing to do, take pictures of everyone.

Then find a marker and start drawing on everyone's face. Be very sneaky about it. We'll find the rest of them later.
I like the picture idea, but don't take to much time other than that. Em might be trying to pull a fast one on us. Look out into the hall, and be VERY careful opening your door.
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You need camera. Camera camera damn it you don't have a camera.

Next best thing, pen! ... GOD DAMN IT EVERYTHING IS DIGITAL

You spill out into the hallway, careful(ish) in case of a trap left for a haphazard drunk like yourself, and begin stumbling along to... somewhere, anywhere. Need a pen.

You almost walk straight into a startled Schwarzhund, who looks you up and down before grinning.

"Did it help?"

"Shir yesh shir," you... shlur, clocking yourself in the forehead with your hand. Your mouth feels scratchy and raw. "Looking for a pen for--for REASONS."

He gives you another once over studiously, before reaching into his coat and pulling out a marker. "Have fun."

You take it with reverence and wicked glee before skedaddling back to your room with one last 'thanks' over your shoulder.

You're not too clear on the rules, but you know there's a thing about this. Something about the victim having not taken off their shoes? Except they're reploids, they probably can't. Or shouldn't, anyway, it'd be like if a human pulled off his skin. Ew. Still, this is the price for having fallen asleep drunk. Wait, you fell asleep drunk. Shit. Fuck. Shitting fuck. You need to get to a mirror or a window or



Focus on the task at hand.


You decide Sapphire needs a curly mustache. Diamond needs a goatee. Cathode? Cathode gets a monacle. The monacle is on fire.

Fuck yeah, you're the best artist ever.

Excellent, we are the best artist.

Now we need to find a mirror and check our own face, Em might have been tricksy.

Then we should head to the cafeteria and get some chow and coffee.
Brainstorm what Em could be up to and get paranoid.
Break while I go get dinner. Team Jerkass invasion is likely called off, so get your drunk caps on in the meantime, we're diving straight into the shenanigans.
As fantastic as the shenanigans with us and a sharpie are (note: refuse to show them a mirror for the entire night), it still stands that there are three other hunters probably as piss-drunk as we are, wandering about unattended, which is the LAST thing you want a drunk to do, never mind three heavily-armed ones.

Stick Lt. Fullmettool (if we can pry it out of Sapphire's grip) on our shoulder and take a look outside the hall for any signs of the missing drunks. We need the extra pair of eyes.
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Argh, the dreaded food coma strikes again. I might cut tonight off sooner than I planned.
You admire your handiwork for a moment, but you can't properly enjoy it, because your mind is elsewhere. Someplace, somehow, you know Em is up to no good. No good that must be directed at you.

This, you cannot allow.

But Em's a wily one, yes he is. He's sneaky. He's crafty. He's... stabby. You need backup.

You need Lieutenant Fullmettool. His bright, alert eyes will pierce the dark and bring green heathens to swift electric JUSTICE!.

Unfortunately, to enact JUSTICE! you need to first prize him from Sapphire's death grip. You grunt and tug and pull, but she only squeezes your adorable sentinel tighter. She must be in on it! This calls for another round of marker enforcement!

You've only just popped the cap on your instrument of righteous fury when you hear a groan and a stir from behind you.

You turn to see Diamond sitting up, blearily rubbing his face.. He looks at you as his optics slide into focus.

He sees Sapphire.

He sees the marker.

His hand goes to his cheek.

His eyes narrow.

>Oh shit.
Oh shit. Grab Lieutenant Fullmettool and book it. We need to run.
rolled 19 = 19

Dragging Sapphire if need be?
If need be. If Sapphire refuses to relinquish our trusted companion she shall be used as a human shield against Diamond.
Grab the lieutenant and bail!
Oh shit.

Everyone be cool.

Wait, you're everyone.

Diamond raises his arms, a sharp clack from either elbow all the warning you get before long, segmented fins snap out behind him. "You."

Okay, freak out and run away.

You take hold of the Lieutenant and take off!

...Only to fall flat on your face, Sapphire pitching over on top of you, snoozing peacefully. You could always drag her, but Diamond's face spells murder. Well, murder and goatee. You look into Fullmettool's soulful, tragic eyes, seeing the pain in them as he tells you to leave him. Save yourself.

You swear you'll remember his sacrifice as you mournfully let him go, giving one last look back as he sacrifices himself. We must all live up to his example. We must live to our fullest for OH FUCK DIAMOND'S COMING


You careen out into the halls like a shot, too drunk to remember to bother with your EAS--oh wait.

You totally remember now, though maybe if you're still dizzy you sHRKDJFSJDVL


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Before you can scrabble to your feet, a hand clamps over your mouth and drags you into the darkness. Oh God, this is it. This is how you die.

"Shhhh," hisses a voice. Wait.

A female voice.

India looks down at you, glaring, a finger pressed to her lips. Diamond thunders past, his fin-things crackling. She peers out around the corner after him a moment, before her hand finally leaves your mouth.

"You saw nothing," she mutters dangerously as she ebbs away, back into the shadows. "NOTHING."

...What the fuck was that about?

Oh well.

>Know what cures a hangover? More booze. Tie one on!
>Eyes on the prize. Track down the Green Criminal.
>I need to find a somebody. That somebody is... [write-in]
we must find the green one
>Eyes on the prize. Track down the Green Criminal.

We shall deliver great Lighting Fueled Justice to him for whatever crime he committed. I don't know what crime it is but he is surely guilty of something.
>Eyes on the prize. Track down the Green Criminal.
Having a near-death experience must have sobered us a bit. Check where we are and if we have any dents in our face.
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Whew, okay. With one--two? Near-death catastrophes out of the way, you're 1: making good time, and 2: free to pursue the true mastermind!

You set off, full of vim and vigor and steely determination, driven to see JUSTICE! done this day. For the living, for the dead, and for Lieutenant Fullmettool!

...Of course, you say that, but you have no idea where the hell he might be. At least your meandering lets you check your face in a glass, confirming that your face is unmarred and unmarkered. There's a victory to celebrate.

Finally, though, after what must have been a solid hour of searching, you find Em, outside of Frog's (empty) office. He's gotten a few feet taller since you last saw him.

Wait, that's Ursa.

Wearing a blonde wig.

"...What are you--"

"URSA-LA," the bear booms Russian-ly.

Oh god. You look up at Em, riding on his shoulders. He stares down at you impassively, sipping from a bottle purloined from who knows where.

You're just about to ask what's going on when he finally speaks, his voice as full and commanding as Rhodes'.

"Who run barter town?"

...Oh god.

Trying to out-movie the Fourth's designated movie nerd?
Stay strictly in character and match him line for line.
Dammit, I told you, no more embargoes.
rolled 3 = 3


>India, can you do a Tina Turner impression?
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So it's a movie fight he wants, eh? Well it's a movie fight he'll get!

"Damn it. I told you, no more embargoes."

Em looks at you blankly. Well. That didn't take long.

"Dammit, Em. You say 'more, Blaster,' and then Ursa turns a valve like this, and then you repeat 'who run barter town?' with more emphasis a couple times and--damn it, you ruined Christmas for everybody."

"Well shit, man. I'm just drunk."

"Hi, I'm Anode."

He snorts, passing his bottle (wine, apparently, somehow). "What's with the marker?"

"Scribbling on people's faces."

"Awesome. Any penises?"

"Always penises with you."

"Dickface drunk is proud Russian tradition," Ursa offers.

"I happen to be a much classier brand of sleaze than that. Monocles and facial hair. The monocle was on fire."


You sit there in silence for a moment, you holding your marker, Em on Ursa's shoulders, Ursa wearing the blonde wig, in the dead of night, in front of your Commander's office, in maverick hunter headquarters.

"...We're idiots."

"Yes. Yes we are."

>I'll drink to that!
>Okay. I'm taking my dumb ass and getting some fresh air.
Air sounds good. Air with booze sounds better.
I have an clever plan. Ursa is still drunk and may not really think about Em being on his shoulders. The door frames might not be all that tall. So we convince Ursa to run full force through a door and Em suffering the consequences.

We accomplish this by saying that we ought to take our drinking outside, giving a drunk inspiring speech and running outside having Ursa follow us.
BRILLIANT! I am hereby bandwagoning this.
>Okay. I'm taking my dumb ass and getting some fresh air.
What Ursa and Em do is their business, now that they've been accounted for.
Tiger is still missing, though. We'd have seen her by now, and since she's not with the dynamic duo here, she may be outside as well.

I propose this also. drunk range time as the lure.
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rolled 16 = 16

Right, let's see if I remember how not to fuck up a dice roll.
You clap your hands abruptly, to better mask the wicked idea you just had. "Let's go get some air, huh guys? It'll be nice and cool this time of night."

"Sounds good t'me," Em says, popping off his helmet to itch his head.

"It'll be great. We can grab a few more bottles and just chill out and watch the sunrise. Or maybe hit the range, if rednecks have taught me anything it's that guns and booze go great together. Plus, I can avoid your brother trying to kill me!"

"Yeah. ...Wait, what?"

"Ursa likes this plan," says, well, Ursa.

"C'mon, race you there!"

>Now roll me a d20, /tg/.
rolled 4 = 4

bitch I got a lightning dash
rolled 14 = 14

Rolling. We don't have to beat Ursa, we just have to convince him to go fast enough to hit Em.

Also we have Lightning Dash and absurd EAS.
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rolled 2 = 2

Are high numbers good or bad?
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You take off like a shot.

Ursa's hot...relatively...on your heels.

"Ursa is not built for speed!" he complains behind you, still moving at an appreciable clip.

"Oh come on, I'm not even using my dash systems," you call back.

"Ohh, we can use EMS? Ursa has excellent movement system!"

"Whoa wait NO--" Em yelps, hunching low as Ursa jumps into hyperspeed. You follow suit, keeping your lead, though you don't hear a satisfying thwack as you clear a doorway. Damn.

"You bastard!" he hollers at you, "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about but HEY URSA CAN YOU KEEP UP WITH THIS?" You use some of the residual charge buildup and rocket ahead as you clear the doors. You hear a strangled "WHOAH FUCK--" as Em's voice dopplers off. A second later, Ursa crashes through, Em hanging onto him by the shoulders yowling and cursing.

"Chyort," Ursa says solemnly. "We are beaten."

"You know he just tried to get you to clothesline me off your back, right?" Em glares at you with the same murderous intent Diamond had not long before. It's funny how similar they look when they want your blood.

"Clothesline...this is a wrestling move, yes?" The bear looks down at you, and his features split into a toothy grin as he rubs his chin. "Ursa knows many of these."


>gib mercy plz
rolled 20 = 20

We're built and move like Ryu, but not even Blanka can shock like we do.
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My Russian friend. Can't you see that this Emerald is just trying to set us against each other.

You are the Hammer, I am the Sickle and he is trying to pit us against each other. Will you stand for such an affront to your Russian honor? WILL YOU!? No WE will not stand for this. Emerald, for your treachery, for your strike against the bonds of camaraderie you must be punished. Ursa, let us WRESTLE Em, the traitor, TOGETHER!
oh god what have I just done.
>You are the Hammer, I am the Sickle
An American approving of communism, to a Russian's face, no less. This is awkward.
One or both of us owes WFG an apology for this, whatever it is.

hah. not really. just don't let Ursa respond with firearms.

Did we just drunken develop an new technique? A Rising Lightning Dragon Punch? A Shorairyuken?
I'll let you write on my face if you let me write on yours.
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And you! You okay? Can you get on IRC? You got me all worried at the start of the thread.
The bear advances, playful mirth on his features. This is somehow infinitely more terrifying than the wicked glee on Em's.

Thinking, you desperately reach out for anything you can think of. Schwarz's lessons, sparring with Looey, your desperate battle against Guns, the terror of Jagwire stalking you through his plant, Solid Snake's CQC.

And then.

In a second of perfect clarity, all is laid bare. Everything clicks, and you know what you must do.

The bear advances, harsh and inevitable as Father Winter.

You lean in, cocking back a fist as you dump your electricity--all of it--to your EAS.

You feel, more than see, what happens. A blur, a crackle, a ringing snap, the smell of ozone. A shock running up your arm, metal giving under unflinching metal, a spike of pain driven through your drunken haze. A second of weightlessness. And then, your feet meet Earth again as Ursa flies high into the night.


Grach took another pull from his flask, letting the cool air wash over him as he tried to tell himself he was as safe in hunter hands as he would ever be on his own. It was a new feeling, not having to watch his back, and he was careful to make sure he didn't grow too comfortable with it.

And then a colossal reploid bear sailed up three floors, coming level with him, his heavy frame eclipsing the early morning moon.

"Good morning," said the bear cheerfully. And just like that, he plummeted back out of sight.

He turned to his minder, a luckless Steel Beret. "This happen often?"

The MP shrugged. "Welcome to the Fourth."
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...With a tremendous crash that rumbles through the ground, Ursa returns from orbit, almost bowling you over.

Em sits up from where he was knocked loose, staring between the pratfallen bear and you as you shake your aching hand out. "That," he breathes, "WAS FUCKING AMAZING!"

None the worse for wear, Ursa pops up, rubbing his jaw. "Yes! Ursa has not been hit like that since he jousted little sister with road signs!"

Em claps him on the arm. "You're insane, you know that, right? I like you."

"It was not so strange. We were on ride chasers."

Em blinks. "I REALLY like you." You're not really listening. "...Node? Anode?" You turn to see him waving a hand in front of your face. "Hey, what is it?"

You don't reply straight away, looking up at the familiar figure on the roof.

>You guys go on ahead. I want to talk to someone.
>...No, forget it, it's nothing.

>You guys go on ahead. I want to talk to someone.
Someone's not in his room.
>You guys go on ahead. I want to talk to someone.
>You guys go on ahead. I want to talk to someone.
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"You guys go on ahead," you say. "I want to talk to somebody."

"All right," Em says, still looking slightly worried. "If I don't see you before we pass out, g'night, Anode. Thanks for the fun."

Ursa nods. "Will remember night like this fondly," he adds, giving you a hearty clap on the shoulder. The two of them head off toward the Pond, probably to look for Tiger.

Not you, though. Up on the rooftop, click click click. An armed beret salutes you at the top, standing beside the Russian deathsquad escapee. Grach isn't armed, but having seen him fight, you know he really doesn't need to be. He nods to you as you tell the Beret he can take five, leaving the two of you on the roof.

This is the man you risked your life for. Who you killed for, when you get right down to it.

What do you want to say to him?
"You know you're supposed to be in time-out, right? I don't think your parents would like it if you weren't in your room."
On a more serious note:
"So why pick us instead of the Russians? Besides the obvious. You're decent enough, but you're still classified as a Maverick. Any plans on doing something about that?"
"What was it like, taking out your first human? Was it worth it? Do you regret it?"
Be honestly inquisitive, not condescending. We need some perspective on this bullshit.
Hi, sorry about the bear.

So why'd you pick us? I know it isn't really your fault but I am slightly resentful about how it all turned out for me. I'm coping with it, drunken shenanigans have helped. I'm mainly just venting at this point. How are you supposed to deal with this?

Comment about the weather. If he mentions flying bears, comment about not knowing you could do that. After ice broken say you know you did the right thing saving him.
What was that you shot at the IFV? That wasn't a shotgun.
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"Time off for good behavior?" you ask.

He chuckles. "Armed guard, though that's more of a formality." He's dropped his accent. "I'm rated somewhere at a B or A, apparently. My internal weapons are disengaged, on your General's request."

"How'd that go?" you ask.

"On a personal level I think I disgust him," Grach says cheerfully. "But as hunter Commander, he knows what he has to do. I can respect that."

"What do you mean?"

"Precedent," Grach says. "With this ... virus business. And I think he resents outside interference in his operation. I most certainly can respect that."

"...So how about you?" you ask.

"What about me?"

"What was it like, killing a human?"

He shakes his head. "You have to understand, Anode. I was built for--born into--killing humans. Pardon the term, but for me, it was indiscriminate. Commonplace. I had fourteen under my belt, humans and reploids, before I even knew there was a difference."

"Was that why you told me it was no different?"

"No. I told you that because it is no different. You're no worse or better for killing a human being, no matter what they tell you." He turns to look at you more fully. "No matter what you tell yourself."
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"I guess."

"It's not easy, I know."


"The lives you've taken, human, reploid--they're the same. The same worth, the same dignity. The same lack of it, if it comes to that. If you kill them--when you kill them--do you do so because you have no other choice?"

You mull that over. "Yes."


You're quiet for a while, letting your senses clear with the air. "You still mav?"

He chuckles. "The pardon is pending. I'm to remain under house arrest for some time, though I've given Rhodes my debrief. He was thorough in his questions."

"So why pick us over the Russians?"

"They tried to kill me, you didn't. Easiest decision I ever made. Even if most of my brothers and sisters didn't make it out. And the ones who did..." He shakes his head. "Never mind. How are you coping?"

"Well, I'm up here, talking to a fellow killer about why I feel so bad about it."

"True. But you're sane. I think."

"I think." You both fall back into silence as you reappraise the arms runner.

"Nice weather tonight," you finally offer.

"Except for the bears," Grach replies.

"Yeah, my bad on that one. Long story."

"No problem. He didn't bite."

"...Did I ever thank you for saving me from that damn vehicle?"

"No. Did I ever thank you for Abram salvaging it to re-use?"

"No. What the hell did you shoot at that thing, anyway?"

"White Phosphorous/Napalm mixture. Airburst, clings to surfaces, burns underwater, melts through plating."


"I called it the War Crime Special." He clicks his tongue. "Russians don't do things half-way."
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The introspection and quiet solitude of the evening is rather unceremoniously broken as you're caught full in the side by a blur of white. You lurch as you tumble over the side of the roof and toward the ground. The last thing you hear is Grach calling a good night before you slam into the ground and roll. Your assailant is joined a moment later by a second one.

"So hey," Sapphire says cheerfully. "Thanks for the art lesson."

"No--hrk--problem," you wheeze. She shares a glance with her brother, before both break into matching smiles.

"Tell you what," Diamond says, "We'll let you live, on one condition."

"You'll never take Fullmettool from me," you say defiantly. Sapphire laughs.

"Not that. All we want," Diamond moves his knee from your chest, unpinning you as Sapphire hauls you upright, "Is for you to look out for Em for us."

"Because God knows he won't do it himself," she says.

Diamond offers you a hand. "Okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"So, do what I'm already doing...?"

"You have a deal. Too late to change it."
I already was going to. I think of him as a brother, a short green brother. I may fuck with him whenever I can, but I'll keep an eye out for him.
Grach strikes me as that cool kind of 'nam veteran. The one who's seen shit but doesn't let it break him.
Seconding these >>20433367 >>20433369

He is the closest thing... No. He [i]is[/i] my best friend. So you got a deal.
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Then suddenly, a suave motherfucker appears!

>Pic Related.
>cesslac expenses

Did I unintentionally quote him? Damn its been close to a decade since I played Command Mission.
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He comes later.

You grin, taking his hand. "That was the plan."

"Good," Diamond says, grasping it firmly.

"I reserve the right to harass the unholy hell out of him, though," you add.

"Well, naturally," Sapphire says. "That's what friends are for."

"He's in good hands, ma'am." You nod. "Actually, I think he's with Ursa."

"You mean the same guy who was talking about his nuclear doom cannons earlier?"

"Yeah, I--fuck."


"Gamma. Ray. Beam saber." Em repeats.

"Yeah," Tiger says enthusiastically. "Normally you couldn't even see it, but she added a light so you--Ah! Anode!"

"Oh no, look what you've done. You've given him IDEAS. I'm gonna be mopping blood out of the lab for days."

"The lab," he murmurs dreamily. "TO THE LAB!"

"Oh hell."


And cutting it off here for the night. Hope you folks enjoyed the ride. I sure did.

I did, but please don't let the anti-quest trolls get to you to much. I follow MHQ every time it appears, and often wish it would appear more often.
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Actually, I don't think so... Though it has been a LOOOONG time since I played through Comand Mission. But the line sounds like something that he could've said early on in that game.


Ah, I see... I didn't mean to screw up and/or derail your storyline; I had thought that Spider was obscure enough of a MMX-Era character that no one would care if I posted anything regarding him.

Also, I'm digging this storyline of yours Hunter Command. As a bump, here's some On-Topic /e/.
Yeah this. If you can, please run this more often. I absolutely love this as both an MMX fan, and a Quest fan.
Thanks. To be honest it's partially a desire not to make waves, partially trying to be polite and conscientious for the non-quest board members, partially natural tendency to slack, and partially a bunch of crazy shit going on in my personal life. I have a policy of 4chan-is-not-my-blog so I won't go into details, but hey, that's what a dedicated IRC room is for, eh?
Nah, you didn't screw anything up, just a teaser for what's to come. Plus, come on, Spider was way too bad-ass to leave unused when I have years of canon time to make my plaything before Command Mission ever comes up.

Your tribute of Marinobutt is graciously accepted, thank you.
I'll try, though even today when I thought there was a good lull suddenly 2 quests I didn't know were active hit the front page. And thanks for the compliments.

Any questions while I wind down? Either way, I'll likely try to continue using this thread come the morning, we're only about 100 posts in.
Oh god dammit, I was gonna type up the story-time thing in advance so I could copy paste it.

You guys still want that? It'll be slow,l but doable.

Go for it.


So We go back to base from the Bandicoot mission, and get repairs. Interestingly, this didn't mean hanging around in the medbay.

You see, in the 'brew we're running, there's a trait that basically means that you have a lesser form underneath the armor. So basically we all had a normal, human looking form that the combat armor got put on, to make us full-scale combat reploids.

It was funny, because none of us knew that the others had this trait until this point. Simo had it because a human profile worked fine for sniping and stuff, and let him be more low-key in a lot of situations.

Will had it because he was built that way: his designers, to hide the fact that the illegally copied Zero's data to build him, made it so that he could get an alternate armor set and put it on. Basically, he could become an all-new reploid with new powers and skills at almost the drop of a hat, but neatly sidestepped the 'no building invincible robots' rule because he actually had to change armor physically.

Mitnick, we found out later, had the trait because he had 'Pinocchio syndrome', which is when a non-human, like a reploid, desperately wants to be a human and takes steps towards getting closer.

Bizarrely, this apparently has the same level/type of social stigma associated with Transvestites.

I mean, when you consider the parallels it makes sense: uncomfortable with their own body, wanting to change it, and at some level will never TRULY reach their goal.

Anyway, since 'getting repaired' to them meant dropping off their armor, the did that, hit a quick debriefing and then went out on the town since they had a few hours before they had to pick up their gear.

We ended up doing some stupid RP character building shit that while fun, doesn't make for a good story.

So I'll just skip to the juicy bits.

Will's armor was in the worst shape, so Miit and Sim went back without him at his insistence, since he wanted to go see the town more.

At this point, the GM had him hear a weird noise over a couple of blocks, and when he went to investigate he discovered a giant robot bear trying to eat an orphanage. Will immediately called in the threat, since it was only a couple hours walk from base, and requested an operator.

The Bear's name was simply Crush, and was a rated A threat. Normally, Will could take that head on.

Normally, Will had top of the line combat armor and two beam sabers.

There's a kid in it's hands, and he's about to take a bite, since apparently he's a sick one like that, when Will yells at him. After he identifies himself as a maverick Hunter, Crush puts down the kid and turns to hunt more interesting prey.

Something worth noting: we all have some sort of 'Action Hero' kind of ability we can use. They all also have serious drawbacks

Sim's is 'The Art of Gunplay'. It lets him instant hit ANY shot. Even impossible ones like shooting through an air-duct around a corner from a fair distance away. It's downside is that when he uses it, he basically gets a karma roll to see if something terrible happens. Like say if the perfect way to nail the shot involves jumping off the side of a building, he will leap, make the shot, and then deal with gravity later. If the roll is botched, it basically just gets worse all the way to instant death territory.

Mitnick's is 'The King of Code' Since he's information warfare, it means that he can basically temporarily overclock his brain to do insane shit with computers in a short span of time. As an example, at one point during the game, he had a homing missile shot at him. Due to a lucky roll he managed to catch it without detonating it, and then over the course of a simple spin he managed to hack its guidance system and send it back at the guy who shot it.

The problem with his is basically a stress mechanic. Let me explain what that means: basically every time he uses this power he gets a point against him, and a d20 is rolled. As long as the roll is higher than the current number of strikes, nothing happens. when it's at or below it, something happens. If it was at or only like one point below the number, then maybe he just gets a migraine. If he rolls something like a 2 when he has 15 strikes, then he might actually crash until he gets properly repaired.

Will's in similar, except his is 'Impossible Reflexes', and the damage caused by failure is physical instead of mental.

This was the fight where we realized how awesome these abilities were.

Will gets told that his armor is fixed, and that they were sending a pilot on a quick hop to throw it to him, along with his two team-mates since they were already at base.

The bear charges him, and Will manages to jump over him, and start to run away while pelting him with his side-arm. Which is about as effective as you'd think a human sized external plasmas gun would be against a insane robot bear the size of a mini-van. It does however, piss him right off, and keeps him away from the kids. Which is a good thing, since it keeps him focused on Will instead of civilians.

Also it's a bad thing, because now Will has his UNDIVIDED attention.

He spends like five combat rounds by himself, while we urge our pilot (who I later found out was India, but this is before she got all famous) to GO FASTER DAMMIT and she threatens to throw us out of the helicopter... thing. To be honest, I don't remember exactly what the GM called it, since only one vehicle from this game has my heart, and that's a story for another day.

Anyway, we get there just as Will's run out of street to escape down, and Mit gets the bright idea to throw the crate at the bear while Sim and him deploy, hoping that it would stun him.

The Crush, seeing the incoming box, ripped it in half, scattering Will's gear.

And then comes the first of several scenes I dearly wish I could somehow translate into something other than text, since it was EXTRAORDINARILY awesome. Will look over, and sees one of his boots had landed next to him, and that the other had landed directly behind the bear. His chest-piece was behind him, but too far to go for with Crush right there.

Hims arms were both together off to the side, and Mit had picked up his helmet since it ended up right next to him.

The scene is important to note for what happens next.

Will makes his left boot, the one next to him, open with a mental command. He then kicks it on, just as Crush is about to flatten him. He then activates the EAS in it, to launch over him. Since the thrust only coming from one side and the boot weighing him down threw him off-balance, he executed a side flip, made the agility, and landed neatly in his Right boot. Then Crush turns around to swipe at him, and he ducks under it. The boosts BETWEEN his legs to his chest piece, which flops open and he literally falls into it in one of those diving slides since he had to get really low and off balance to not smash his face into Crush's codpiece. He then does a back-flip over the charging bear, and gets to his arms with little difficulty.

Crush pulls out some kind of plasma Gatling gun while Will catches his Helmet and puts it on, as the visor snaps over his Eyes, he activates Impossible Reflexes for the first time.

Since I know it might come up later: All of Will's gear is 'keyed' to him, meaning that he's the only one who can use them.

His chest-piece has a power-core of it's own, put it isn't active unless he's hooked to it. Each of the other bits can function on their own with him, but the chest makes them work about ten times better.

The bits around his lower torso/upper legs and his upper arms are inside the other chunks of armor, and deploy when the other piece is there to connect to.

This is mostly flavor, but I thought it was pretty cool that the details about how our gear came on and off was there somewhere.

Anyway, Will triggers impossible reflexes, and then uses his sword which have some special effect that lets him deflect/absorb plasma to parry Crush's shots.

Let me rephrase that: Will pulled out a pair of high-beam swords, that have to be turned on and off flicker-blade style with every hit, and fucking parried a Plasma Chaingun.

Even WITH Impossible Reflexes, he needed like a 15 to make that one. Literally everyone in game's jaw DROPPED.

Will smiled. "That all you've got? I thought you were A ranked."

Which is when Crush charges him. Sim then uses his aspect to shoot out ALL of his legs, which over-heated his rifle and made it need repairs, and Mit used his to quickly edit the video in his head and post it on YouTube.

He would later be reprimanded by Hunter Command for doing this.
Some more cool stuff happened, but this seems like a good stopping place for now.

For those of you curious as to where this takes place on Command's timeline, I think Vienna's like a week away at this point.

Currently in our game, we're about where Anode would be getting the mission he just got back from.

Sadly, we're in SPACE right now, meaning that we can't meet him in a Cameo like Ursa did for while yet.

Mind giving me an idea as to what they look like in and out of their armor?


Will in armor looks a lot like Zero, except his design is slightly less bulky, and slightly less durable. He also has a Protoman style visor over the eyes that can be retracted/deployed at will (heh).

This was originally done to save on costs by putting less armor on, but it also had the unexpected benefit of making him slightly faster/more agile than they intended.

Outside his armor, I realized after Mit's player made a quick sketch that he looks pretty much exactly like Gil from Fate/Stay night by coincidence.

I mean, all it was originally was Will cut the long hair off since he didn't want it getting caught in a door or something. Then the armor strip-mod came, and in a later part of the story he ends up getting his eyes messed up and replaced by Red ones, since they were all they had in stock.

Mitnick looks pretty much exactly like the Mega-Man from legends, except it's Dark-Green/Dray instead of Blue/Teal on the armor, and he wears a kinda baggy bomber jacket over it.

Sim out of armor is the world's most inconspicuous Eastern-European man. Dark brown-ish hair, medium build, etc.

His armor's basically designed to be a heavier version of a tac-suit. aside from a few personal modifications, he probably wouldn't look out of place in the average band of Steel Beret.

And he likes it that way.

That's the last from me right now, but if this thread's alive this time tomorrow, I'll post some more if you guys want.
>acrobatic armor equip scene
>THEN activates impossible reflexes

Damn, I'll have what he's having.

Bumping this to get set up writing, though Cain's nowhere to be found.
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The next few hours are--were--a blur. You remember drinking more, thinking less, and then very loud, very angry yelling, getting hauled out and stuck with a needle, and then your fuzzy head snapping back to painful consciousness. Your body feels full of jagged freezing ice, coursing through your systems. Your head pounds and swims, but at least you feel awake and alert.

You're in the Pond, sitting (well, slumping) at the bar. Max isn't there. You've just about got your bearings when you're seized by the arm and unceremoniously dragged out.

"Whaaargbl," you manage, voice feeling thick and clumsy. "Wharrur we--"

"Come on," your kidnapper--oh, it's Dodo--snaps. "We've got a meeting."

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Sobriety sets in hard and fast, though that nasty feeling of ice in your nonexistent veins doesn't go away. Cathode and Em's siblings are nowhere to be found--Dodo's a bit more patient now that you're coherent, though only a little, as he explains that they're probably back at home, probably getting the same treatment you are. Joy.

You're quickly filed into the rarely-used cafeteria, with a few rows of chairs set up. Dodo leans against the back wall with Schwarzhund, India sits in the front, splayed over her seat with her hands behind her head. You see Em with his helmet in his lap, massaging his temples. Tanker sits at the edge of a row by himself, brimming with visible impatience, sharp clacks ringing as he drums on his arm. Seven and Cobra sit at the far end, Seven with his arms folded, Cobra resting his hand on his chin (and giving you a nod as you make eye contact). Crankshaft files in behind you, sitting a few seats from India. Ursa and Tiger aren't on duty, so they're probably sleeping it off, the lucky bastards.

And last, up at the front is Frog, standing beside a widescreen portable terminal.

"If we're all ready," he rumbles.
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The terminal winks on.

A single figure sits in a chair, very much like you are.

They're in a cell.

"Can you state your name for the record?" an anonymous voice asks, the tone slightly muted, much like the colors from the prison camera footage.

"Hurricane Wren," replies the figure in a surprisingly soft feminine voice.

"Thank you. And what was your position?"

"SA-class, 7th Unit," she replies. She would look fierce and imposing, if only she would try. Right now, she sits with her arms folded and her head down, looking more angrily sullen than intimidating.

Frog clears his throat. "Hurricane Wren went maverick during the Sigma rebellion. The first one."

The questioner continues. "And why are you here?"

"I surrendered to Neutron Zebra, of the 17th."

"And why--"

"Because I felt wrong."


She looks up at her interrogator, annoyed. "I don't know how. Everything was... infuriating."

"And it still is?"

"Yes. Not like it was. For so long, I couldn't... handle it. Humans disgusted me. So did other reploids, but not in the same way."

"What do you mean?"

"I never felt a reploid particularly needed to die."

"But humans did?"


"Did you kill humans?"

A long pause. "Yes."
I think we're in auto-sage
We are, in fact, not. We're at 119 replies and are on the frontpage as of 36 seconds ago.

Also shit be going down, goddamn.

catalouge lying to me then! ah well.

sorry about the trip. forgot to turn it off
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"How many?"

"I don't know how many. I wasn't counting."

"You said you felt wrong. Why didn't you stop?"

"I couldn't. I'm not--this is hard to explain."

"We'll wait."

Wren takes a breath. "After Zebra downed me, I felt...different. Like I knew, something was wrong with me. I didn't want it."

"Do you still feel wrong now?"

"Not as much. I feel more ... in control."

"Do you regret anything you did?"

"Distantly, yes."


"I mean I know I should feel regret. I don't. Not much, anyhow."

"If you didn't regret it..."

Wren's patience is visibly thinning. "I regret that I didn't regret it. I don't want to be this way. I don't know how to explain it any better than that."

Frog cuts the feed. "It goes on like that for a while. You get the picture."

Tanker shrugs massively. "So...what?"

Frog folds his arms. "That footage is a bit out of date. As of right now, Hurricane Wren is back in active service."
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"Well that's reassuring," India provides helpfully.

He shoots her a glare. "According to the eggheads with Doppler's lab, she's made a full recovery. They're keeping an eye on her, and she's disabled some of her more powerful systems voluntarily, but there it is. I'm showing you this because one, it's now required, and two, so you understand what you're up against. This is what a viral maverick looks like."

You raise your hand. "I'm assuming this is the exception, not the rule?"

"In all likelihood, yes. Otherwise we'd have come across something like this sooner. We're checking our records, it's possible that similar records might have been passed off as defect-related maverick activity."

Seven speaks up. "Does anything change?"
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"Yes and no," Frog says. "You're to keep an eye out for the signs that a maverick might not be hostile by choice. You're supposed to offer surrender." Well, at least you have that one covered. "Aim to disable, before killing, if you can. I don't want to lose anybody playing hero, so if it comes down to it, your life comes first. Any further questions?" He looks side to side. "Good. Okay, next order of business, what we know.

"Current projections are that the maverick virus works as an internal network, taking a foothold in one of the host's systems before spreading to others. It's unclear how long the process takes, or if there are any noticeable signs during this time. They theorize that Wren was able to surrender because most of her non-essential systems had been shut down due to damage, diminishing the impact of the virus. As for symptoms...well, you saw the signs. Anger, distaste or disgust, particularly for humans, temper and irritability. A definite tendency toward violence."

"Any more questions?"

I don't have any.
Any common methods of viral insemination? That is, how is the virus injected into the system in the first place?
Where are points of infection most common in a system? Has it even been traced before now?
Any other cases like Wren's that have been verified?
Can you sing me the BGM of RockmanX first stage?
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"Do we know how the virus spreads in the first place?"

Frog shakes his head. "Right now, they're guessing it could be anything from a nanite swarm, to a contact poison, to a wireless signal. Or all of the above. They're not discounting the idea of multiple means of transmission."

Cobra sits up. "Lovely. What about the systems compromised?"

"I can understand why you'd be concerned. Nothing there, either. Wren was gone too long to work out where the virus initially hit. There's a few more test cases underway, but nothing has come of them just yet."

Crankshaft coughs. "Meaning there are a few who surrendered."

"Surrendered or were captured, yeah. Most of the details are under wraps. Suffice to say she might be the first of many, if things pan out. Is that all?" Frog looks back over the officers. "Good. Dismissed. EXCEPT you, India. My office. Now."

You turn and look at India, whose expression is some kind of unreadable slight smile as she shrugs and stands up.

Em heads over to you. "So, that shit was dark."

"Yeah, no kidding. What time is it, anyway?"

"Like 10. So, that was your first intoxicant purge? You look like hell."

You grimace. "Yeah, that wasn't great. I feel like I scrubbed the floors with my skull."

"For all we know, you might've. I can't remember everything."

"I remember Ursa in a wig."

"I'm gonna drink to forget it," Em replies with a grin. "Though that was a damn good time."

The group files out to go about their days.

>Well, back to the grinder.
>Need to get my bearings. I still dunno what the fuck.
>May as well try to figure out what went on.
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Bow-bitty-bow, bow-nuh-nuh DA NANA NUHHHHH


We're up, we're sober, and we've got some time to kill. Mull things over as we head for the training area and range. We haven't played drill sergeant in a while.
I fucking love you
Also, worth reminding you guys that you haven't made a decision on what to do with Lockon Bloodhound's weapon data. You might want to think about that.

Brief (as in like 5-10 minutes) break, while I'm at it.
We also need to brainstorm what to get Cath for her birthday present.
Well, I'm thinking if we have the dosh for it, try combining the data with our Blackout Rockets.
I thought we already decided on a bat-utility belt?
>-Lockon Hunter: Stock weapon option. Variable-intensity overpenetrating laser. Can be tuned for higher piercing or adjusted back for precision output in delicate environments. 16 shots, though high-power ones will consume 2 rather than 1 energy. VWES, Uses Lockon's weapons data.
That's my choice. It supplements what we have and allows for plenty of options.
Would if we could, but:
a) we already broke our budget on our chassis overhaul, and
b) we only have one copy of Lockon's data right now. Best to use it to add a new weapon than just supplement an old one that's decent as it is.
We did decide on some Bat-memorabilia. Possibly the Bat Utility Belt, but that might involve a favor or two to get it made on short notice.
I'm curious about India, personally. She was up to some sneaky shit last night.
We'll worry about that bridge when someone sets fire to it while we're on it.

but what if we preemptively set fire to the bridge, so we don't have to worry about it?
I liked the Lockon Hunter as well. consider this as a +1 vote for it.
All that would do is get our ass burnt. both literally and figuratively.
>May as well try to figure out what went on.

We should try and have Anode figure out what he did last night. That should be funny.
Back. I guess with the talk of weapons I should add another option to the list. Other write-ins still valid/acceptable, of course.

>Go to the lab with Em and puzzle out what to do with your Lockon Hunter.
VWES data installation should be a straightforward procedure, shouldn't it, especially if it's just the stock model? If possible, have Em bring the data to us so we can install it and test it on-site.
I feel obliged to link this for others, since I had not heard the song before I looked it up. I have to say, that IS a pretty good rendition.

>Go to the lab with Em and puzzle out what to do with your Lockon Hunter.
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"Okay, screw this. If there's no missions beating down our door, I'm going to go hit the range."

"All right. You know where to find me." Em rolls his shoulders as he starts to head out.

"Hey, hold up. You know the data from Lockon I'm sitting on? Do you think you could do a stock VWES install?"

"Eh? Yeah, but I'd want adult supervision," he says.

"There's techs at the range, I'm pretty sure they deal with weapon data all the time."

"All right then, meet you there."

"Thanks, Em."

You head out yourself, taking stock of yourself. You're alert and sober, your coordination is fine, but you just feel out of it, like you got emptied out with the nanites flushed from your system. All that's left are a few thoughts rattling around loudly in your skull. Hope it doesn't last long.

The range is a bit busier than you remember leaving it. You don't see Looey, but you do see someone else.


>How do you want to handle this?
Professionally, we've had enough shenanigans fpr a bot with last night.

Politely greet him, ask if we missed anything important last night as we don't remember all that much of it.
>you just feel out of it, like you got emptied out with the nanites flushed from your system
Shit, did we get Maverick-infected sobriety nanites?
Naw. There's a reason drunk reploids everywhere dread the system purge. It's just not pleasant. Picture all your blood replaced with ice water and you're starting to get the idea.
Elbow nudge Em. Nod in his direction, be prepared to enact further shenanigans if he acts hostile. If Seven doesn't notice or take any interest, business as usual.
We should use this opportunity to extent an olive branch.
Seven's the superior officer, so show due respect. Make sure he knows that dressing the newbie as Lady Justice enacted such slippery justice upon him and that we're both square now mostly.
Find out what he actually does around base, now that I think about it. We don't know much about Seven other than he's the Fourth's logistics officer and that India wants to shiv him.
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You resign yourself. You didn't exactly get off on the right foot, and if Sev does logistics for the mess that's the Fourth, he's probably under a lot of stress, all the time.

He turns and sees you, and his face does a number of vaguely amusing twists as he probably goes through roughly the same thought process you have.

The hell with it. Let's be mature for a change. Heading over, you give him a salute (and manage not to clock yourself in the face like you did last night), and a nod. "Sir."

He blinks, then manages a wavery smile. "Bit more professional than I was expecting."

"I'm all dumbed out for a day. Figured I'd do my job for a while. Plus, we're even."


"Mostly," you agree.

He turns and raises his buster. Your vision dims a moment as he sends a powerful shot downrange. Around it, small, miniature stars trail, before spiraling out and flaring up, making a vertical wall of black fire. It sails downrange, scraping the floor and rather soundly obliterating a target.


Seven nods in satisfaction, lowering his weapon.

>Stay and try to chat with Seven.
>He's doing fine. Go tell the techs you've got Em coming with new gun.
>See about schooling the recruits a little more.
See about schooling the recruits a little more.

We said we'd be a drill sergeant so lets do that. Our hungover cantankerousness will just make us more effective.

Lets see if we can remember how we pulled off that Super last night/this morning.
>Stay and try to chat with Seven.
>He's doing fine. Go tell the techs you've got Em coming with your new gun.
No reason Seven can't walk and talk for a few minutes.
I'd say wait for our gun first before we go about wailing on some rookies. We don't need to fight every time we're here, at least immediately.
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You raise a good point and I would like to bandwagon your vote.
But we're not hungover. At least, I don't think we are. If anything, we're a little loopy due to the toxin-flushing nanites. We're no good as an instructor if we can't even keep our head on straight. Take it slow for now. Besides, we got new weaponry on the way.
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As long as you're waiting for new gun, you might as well go back to trying to instruct the infantry.

Looey is nowhere to be found, but you find a couple of Berets in the ring grappling. You opt to sit back and watch. Both are solid but conventional fighters, working by the numbers. You even catch a few mirrors where one uses the exact same break to escape a hold that the other did a minute before.

Before long, you realize you're not alone up here.

"Hello, Anode," says Grach.

"Not creepy," you reply as he sits beside you, his keeper following suit a moment later.

"I've been here all morning."

"Studying the enemy?"

"Something like that. They're missing something."

"Yeah," you agree. "I feel like they're perfectly trained to deal with themselves. Not so much anything else." Of course, no sooner do you say that, it occurs to you that might be exactly what they end up doing. This virus business sucks.

You both watch the spar continue to go one way, then the other, with almost clockwork precision. You'll definitely have to look at their maneuver book. Finally, Grach speaks up again.

"You want a hand?"

You turn and look him over. Thus far he's been nothing but helpful, and you've SEEN what he can do in hand to hand fighting. His expertise could be invaluable.

>Get in here.
>No, I got it.
>Get in here.

I can only imagine the kind of tricks Grach has picked up. Our duty is to make sure these guys get the best possible training.
>Get in here.
Remind him that he's still technically in Hunter custody. No funny business.
Get in here.

Let's do this.
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It's not a terribly hard decision. "All right, let's do this."

"Great." You hold up a finger as you both stand.

"Keep in mind you're still technically under arrest, so don't go doing anything crazy."

"No breaking arms, I promise. Gun runner's honor."

You look at his Beret keeper--no need to cause him grief if he's got orders to the contrary. "This okay by you?"

He nods. "I just need to keep his nose clean. So far all he's wanted to do is go buy snacks."

The two of you head down, catching the two sparring reploids' attention. They salute you.

"Boys," you greet, "This is Grach. Something of an artist at CQC."

They turn and regard him, as if for the first time.

"I figured he could teach all of us something about hand to hand."

"When I learned, I and four of my siblings stepped into the ring with Kingfisher, our specialist, and attacked him all at once," he says brightly. "He shattered both my arms and threw me through my twin." You look at him critically until he puts his hands up. "But we will not do that today. Instead," he says, "We'll try some theory."

He walks around one side of the ring, looking it over as he continues. "Your form is solid, but textbook. Unless you're in an exhibition, you get no bonus points for fighting fair. Structure is good. But in real combat, structure goes first. Anything that hits, hooks, gouges, tears, or blinds, anything that buys you another few seconds, that's fair game. Take every advantage you can get to stay alive. Be dirty. Be ruthless." He turns to you. "Would you agree?"

I think we've shown that unconventional tends to work best. Especially for the ursine aerospace program. Maybe not so much on ruthless, but yeah.
But only for the sake of survival. You're a Hunter, not a Maverick, so act like one.
Yes, with some limitations, such as giving the enemy a chance to surrender and stuff.

Be ready for the sucker punch when you agree.
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"Pretty much," you agree. "Dunno about ruthless, but when it comes to a scrap, you do what you have to or you don't make it back. Just as long as you remember your job--you're a hunter, and with all this shit we're learning about infection, that means you might need to take someone alive. Just be ready in case it goes wrong when you try."

Grach nods. "The core element here is disabling--you don't need to kill someone to render them a non-issue. Nor should you. Every bit of energy you conserve is there to call on when you deal with the next threat. Your goal is to remove a hostile as quickly and as quietly as you can. And, if at all possible, without permanent or lasting harm."

"You sound like you've done this before," you observe.

"I learned fast."

The lesson proceeds like that, the two Berets occasionally nodding or asking a question. Every now and then Grach demonstrates a quick and dirty escape from a lock or a hold. Most of them involve limbs bending ways that they don't generally tend to.

>Try for a more practical application.
>What about shooting?
>See if that weapon data is ready yet.
>What about shooting?
Practical application can probably wait, remember when we tried practical applications with Em? That and it'd probably make that poor bastard watching him a bit nervous.
>What about shooting?
>What about shooting?
If the rookies can absorb the lessons they're getting well enough, maybe a practical application comes later.
Actually, try practicing with a hand held rifle. You never know, we might need to use one
If we can't use our busters, it'd be a safe bet to assume we can't use our hands, either.
And have him talk about melee with a rifle.
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"Okay, well, that's a start. We can worry about implementing it later." Plus, you don't want to freak out that one Beret in the bleachers who has to guard the murder reploid. "How about marksmanship? You had plenty of gun on you in Michigan."

"Had," he observes. "I disarmed to make nice."

"Point," you admit. "But this is a range. We've got training guns."

The Berets look at each other and shrug as you head over to the range. Seven's still plugging away, giving your new partner a side-eye before going back to it.

"Right," you say. "I'm apparently the odd man out here, with my busters. So I'll let you lot show me the ropes." You pick up a buster rifle from a nearby table. It's heavy, built and sized for reploid hands. This'll be a good opportunity, you think--let the production models show what they know, and reinforce it. Teach you by teaching themselves. Grach seems to get the idea quickly, nodding.

One of the Berets starts. "First off, you're not aiming down your arm any more. Stand in profile. Stock goes to your shoulder. Finger off the trigger." Okay, you already knew that one, but I guess hunters are sticklers for protocol. "Don't put your eye right to the scope. You don't have to deal with as much recoil on plasma, but keep your feet planted further out--shoulder width, shoulder joint for someone with your frame, there you go--and when you're ready to fire, either don't breathe at all, or do it on the exhale."

The Beret nods. "Good. Sight a target and squeeze."

You sight, aim, and...

>And roll d20 for Anode's success with this strange and unfamiliar explosion stick.
rolled 12 = 12

What is this strange device? Why doesn't everyone else shoot plasma from their hands?
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rolled 14 = 14

Pkew! Pkew!

We got some good numbers here. I'm not going to risk a roll.
rolled 20 = 20

I'll do it in your stead
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...how do you DO that?
I think that says it all.
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I wish I knew. I was the guy that got the 20 for the Shoryuken as well.
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I know! I recognized your writing style!

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...And, you find, you're not a bad shot.

You already know the basics, those don't change--center mass, weapon control, all of that. Adjusting to holding a weapon isn't as bad as you were expecting, either--apparently a lot of reploids prefer a pistol for their sidearm due to how you aim it, but with a scope at least, aiming down the sights is intuitive.

Your gun climbs a hair with a faint whine, and a pair of fizzly stun shots score on the target, almost center. A minor correction, and your second burst hits clean on the middle.

"Not bad," Grach says with a nod. "May I?"

"As long as you don't just show off, sure," you reply, handing him the weapon. He shoulders it with comfortable experience, fiddling with the scope for a second. Despite being the size of a human, he handles the reploid weapon with ease. Meanwhile, the other Beret explains further.

"The rest is basically knowing your weapon system," he says. "P903s like we use have good strong punch, even over some inline models, but they can't build a very high charge. They've all got ups and downs."

"Does this one charge?" Grach asks. "Never used anything that does. I prefer projectile weapons."

"Sure does. Just hold the trigger."

You hear the familiar whine of building plasma before he releases a few seconds later and sends a sizzling streak of fire downrange. It leaves a glowing mark on your target's chest before fading away.

"Interesting, but it'd ruin a human's night vision."

"They make visors for that," Beret 1 replies. "And there are low-visibility weapons available for night action."

>Continue shootan lessons
>Neat little toy, but I'll stick to arm cannons

Let's get our laser, I want a laser beam that shoots through everything.
>Continue shootan lessons
Kind of interested in what strides they've made in handheld weaponry in 22nd century.

Continue those lessons.
>Continue shootan lessons
Someone would tell us if Em showed up with our new weapon.
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Okay, shootan gaems wins, but I really need to cut it off for now, unfortunately. I need to be awake early tomorrow, unfortunately. If the thread can be salvaged we'll proceed, otherwise no big deal. And I'll try not to wait a goddamn month this time.

Keep doing like you do, folks.
We're under 200 posts total. The thread'll live.
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he's magic
Back. Kinda.

Want me to keep going? I think I could get as far as 'the best car ever'.
Go for it. I'm having no luck falling asleep anyway.

We both know that Mr. Killjoy's full title is 'Lt. Best Fucking Car Ever'.

Awesome, I'll get to typing.


My bad. To be fair though, Sim doesn't love it as much as Will.

But only SLIGHTLY less.
Alright, so we took out Crush, non-fatal.

Will had to kinda beat the shit out of him a bit to finish incapacitating him, but Mit managed to edit out most of the 'police brutality' in the video.

But still: two Mavericks taken out without killing them, 'minimal' collateral damage, in slightly less than 24 hours. The team, now officially dubbed 'STG 1' was already making something of a name for itself among certain circles in Command.

In addition to that, Will got a shiny little commendation for throwing himself into danger, while off duty and in no way equipped to try and handle the threat, saving the lives of dozens of children.

Mitnick also got a little talking to from Frog after the official debrief about not spreading information that's TECHNICALLY classified.

They were given a bit more time to themselves. Sadly Crush was immediately killed because he was way to dangerous to try and contain, and there was no evidence of any sort of Data corruption that would suggest a virus. He was just crazy and liked eating kids apparently.

At this point we also got some of our first upgrades: Mit got an enhanced jamming suite from BB, and Sim upgraded the rapid-fire capabilities on his guns. Will interestingly at this point had neither a VWES system or even a ranged weapon. He just chose NOT to get them.

While I played Sim like Sam Fisher, and mit ended up looking a lot like a technomancer fused with Batman (what with all his toys and all. Mit currently has three separate VWES systems with four slots each. He CAN and soon WILL where we are in the game, have them all full. PLUS he got his hands on the weird synch thing Will got too.), Will actually chose to basically try to max out his melee weapon's power and skill shit before moving on. And it showed. By the time Vienna rolled around (about three missions from where we are) Will could take pretty much anyone except Zero in a swordfight. Of course, there were some serious revisions of the rules along the way, but that's neither here nor there.

We eventually got the data from Crush, and one of his things was basically an energy absorption system. Kinda like Anode with his electricity, except a lot less efficient, and capable of getting it from anywhere. So he could get his recharge by taking a nap in the sun or something. Apparently it was so he could do long term exploration things without having to worry about having a proper recharge station in the ass end of nowhere.

Will put it into his swords, which he could now, with a dial either make them deflect shots, meaning knocking them back at them, or dissipate shots, letting him absorb some of the energy.

What's noteworthy about this is the fact that if his regular energy is full (the bit that lets him do things like EAS and shit), it goes to special energy at a reduced amount.

SE being the pool from which VWES and the self-repair functions come from.

So at this point, he's effectively gained a healing factor fueled by kicking ass.

Anyway, after we get a bit more R&R to make up for what we lost to emergency heroism, we got our first 'real' mission.

Some Mavericks had captured one of the former Armored Division's bases, and it was discovered that there was still some tanks and shit there. Taking it back would give us more resources for the hunters, and deal with a couple of High-ish ranking Mavericks.

Exactly the type of mission our team was made for.

We get airdropped about a mile from the base proper, and Mit hacks into their coms when we're just over the hill from them. Apparently there's a bunch of safety locks on the various hardware, and without Hunter Command's authorization codes, they couldn't do anything to them.

Breathing a sigh of relief since we didn't have to try and fight something like 20 ride armors and god knows how many lesser units at the same time, we started getting closer. Sim and Will take out the various sentries by the front door with their usual efficiency while Mit hacks the lock.

To be totally honest, I don't remember all the mooks we kill. I mean, shit like the SB's don't even slow us down. what I don't kill long before we get there, Will rips in fucking half. I only say this because I feel kinda bad that I can't really remember all the details on this one, which is kinda sad, since we got all MGS on the place and worked our way in, killing guards and avoiding alarms. When we got to the main room with the Mav leaders, there was all of four people left in the base that weren't us.

And those were the Maverick heads.

The first one was Gutshot Gorilla, a giant ape 'born' Mav with some hardcore Melee power. He could win a boxing match with a Ride armor. The second was Vorpal Viper, former Shinobi, primarily a swordsman but with some magnetic 'venom' that could do some serious damage in a pinch. The third was a former Ranger named Ghost with a reputation for making impossible shots (basically Sim's Doppelganger), and the forth we wouldn't identify until later on.

As we watch, the fourth onbe hands over a few codes saying that it should unlock the more important ones, and that they should get the hell out before the Hunter Command got past the data-locks he put down to hide this place and sent a team in.

With his hilariously outdated warning, he beams out and we decide to check out our opponents.

Viper was clearly meant to be an opposite of Mit, since he had a fair mix of abilities he used to gain advantage, but preferred melee while Mit liked his range advantage. Ghost was meant to play cat and mouse through the crates and tanks with Sim, and Magilla Gorilla was a melee monster to give Will a proper fight.

No, I have no fucking clue why the GM thought we would play to THEIR strengths when we had the drop on them.

I used my ability to shoot Viper in the face, killing him almost instantly while Mit hacked one of the nearby mounted guns and ripped the Monkey to pieces. Will took his part in the surprise round to literally BISECT Ghost with a lucky crit.

This is neither the first or the last time we curb-stomped what was supposed to be a long and grueling battle by logic or luck.

At this point, we decided to search the base while we waited for Command.

We found a car.


It was the greatest car ever. Period.

I'm trying to think of the best way to describe this thing: The idea was to make a small mobile buggy for multiple troop transport. One prototype amounted to getting a bus, strapping plates to the side and giving it off-roading capabilities. One was some sort of a hover-sled with a drivers seat and a pair of couches strapped back to back facing of either side behind it.

Then there was the car we found.

They made as close to the 'ideal' vehicle as they could, thinking they could whittle it down the various features and awesome until they had something they could mass-produce. Sadly the wars destroyed both the division and the budget for it before it could be considered, and it was tucked away and forgotten about in a base soon abandoned and forgotten about.

For an idea of what this car looked like, imagine the Warthog from Halo, fused with the Outrider from Borderlands. Two bucket seats in the front, sized for reploids, with a turret for a standing person in the back. It's wheel were actually on independent suspension systems connected to the car on struts, making it able to drive off a cliff without hurting the occupants, drive up a tree with the grip, and steer with all four wheels. With it's engine it could reach a top speed of almost a 140 mph, which is DAMNED impressive for a off-road buggy on wheels. And that's BEFORE the nitro/overcharge was kicked in.

It could take almost twice as much damage as a Ride Armor before it was rendered 'destroyed', which is still repairable, since the damn frame was built so tough that is was almost indestructible.

Sadly, only one of these amazing cars was ever built, since it cost as much as ten suits of ride armor to build.

Sadder for the destroyed armored division, Will decided that it was his, and would return it 'over his cold, slagged corpse'. Besides, what use have they for a prototype they never intended to use?

When it was returned to the base, Will said he was willing to pass on weapons data for the car.

Mit and Sim both took advantage of a limited cloaking system from Ghost, giving them Predator style invisibility.

With the car safely in our possession, after intense negotiations with both Frog ("Why the fuck do you guys need a car?") and later Rhodes ("We're trying to rebuild armored and you want to call 'dibs' on one of two working prototypes we have?" "Call it extended testing. We can offer ideas for mods and upgrades." "But do you really NEED a car?") it was decided that since it technically cost them nothing to give it to us, and they'd need to send a couple of Shinobi into the Fourth's motor-pool to take it from us, we could 'keep the damned car'.

The first thing we did was paint it Green and black, to make it look like a real military attack vehicle.

The second thing we did was designate a box for a kill-counter, and paint a yellow-black frowny-face on the front.

The third was to dub it 'Mr. Killjoy', and then park it somewhere where India wouldn't be tempted to steal it and take it joy riding. So that WE could take it joy-riding.

Turns out there was an old shed off beside the Pond a bit away from the main base that was abandoned, and we fixed it up and claimed it for the STG-1 headquarters.

Once again, Command let us do it because 'fuck it, we don't care about it anyway, and stopping them would cost too much'.

We got away with a lot like that.
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You should be more worried about Crankshaft.

Also, I bequeath to you some driving music. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZhggVynRhXQ

And god damn it I should really be asleep.

At this point, we were pretty proud of our little setup. In less than a week we had taken out FIVE targets all A and B class, claimed almost two dozen ride armors and a handful of other vehicles, got some cool weapons data and lots of cred for our team, and completely validated the idea of designated Special Ops teams for certain situations.

We decided to spend a chuck of our money fixing up our new pad: we got a private terminal for each of us, a large workstation where we could do our own gear and supplies since we'd be doing a lot of mods and didn't want to piss off the quartermaster for hogging all the work-space.

We painted our logo (the Sigma symbol in white, with a red cross-hair over it, with the words 'Do, Dare, Win' across the bottom) on the wall, and on a small plaque on the door. There was also a large door on the side normally used for loading/unloading trucks where we made our 'garage' mostly separate from the main base. We also moved our personal belongings out of the main base and into our own private bunks in our new hideaway.

We basically turned what was a small warehouse into a two story full ops-center in about a day and a half of constant work.

On day two, when we were ordering custom patches for our dress uniforms and just hanging out, Frog showed up with Schwarzhund, to see 'just what the hell they're up to'. When they saw how quickly and cleanly we'd renovated our new base, Frog let out a low whistle and Schwarz merely commented 'Nice'.

Funny you should mention Crankshaft.

Will ended up getting 'Combat driving' lessons from him in the simulators after the car got pretty wrecked in Vienna.
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It actually worked out much better than you'd think based on that statement.

Crankshaft knows how to control a vehicle like nobody else. Since Will didn't WANT to wreck his car, learning that kind of control and finesse actually made him a lot better of a driver.

Plus now that he has a 'Graduate of the Crankshaft School of Driving' bumper sticker, he never has a problem with parking or traffic on base. People just quietly and calmly get the fuck out of his way.

I fucking love this story.

I just like the little details, like how they just kinda get their way because nobody thinks it would be worth the effort to stop them.

"Why do you need this car?"
"Fuck it. Keep it."

>Hey, anybody using this shed?
"Not at the mo-"
>Hey guys, Frog says it's cool.
"Wait, I never actually- Fuck it."

"Schwarz, they've been in there for almost two days. They haven't even left the shed."
'Weird. Wanna go check it out?'
"Yeah. Hey, what're.... whoa."
>You like?
"You work.... fast...."

You know, I almost thought it would be odd that nobody on base would think to mention these guys to Anode, since they seem to be kinda a big deal, even if they are a semi-secretive black-ops group.

But now I realize.

The average rank and file is confused and terrified by them.

I can see Anode going to ask someone on the way by what their deal is, and then he's regaled by the tales of their bullshit, and why nobody does anything to them.

>The time Mitnick replaced all of Sev's various movie/music files with hardcore bestiality porn because Sev made him drop his ice cream.
>The only time Will got drunk, leading to Mr. Killjoy being parked INSIDE the pond, with no damage to anything.
>The time Simo and Mit had a paintball fight.
>The time Simo and Mit organized a 'beach volleyball' game with the Top-Gun 'ho homo' shorts.... on top of their combat gear.
>The time Will accidentally ran over Frog with his car.
>The fact that Mit immediately added 'Frog's dignity' to Mr. Killjoy's kill-counter.
>The fact the Simo has a habit of showing up at the range drunk at one in the morning and doing insane trick-shots out of boredom.
>Will's habit of slicing falling leafs to keep his skill sharp.
>The fact that Mit's a thinly closeted 'Pinocchio'.

Honestly, I think the rest of the Fourth is just glad they mostly just mind their own business.

I mean, Will's very courteous and professional... but Mit's crazy (awesome, mostly) and Sim gives zero fucks about anything but work.

What is going to happen if Mit meets Grach...
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Sounds like you guys have the MHQ feel down pretty solidly.

Maybe I'll do the opposite of cameos while still nodding to you lot, keep having Anode just miss your shenanigans by a second constantly and keep hearing about you.

>The only time Will got drunk, leading to Mr. Killjoy being parked INSIDE the pond, with no damage to anything.

Lost it.

It would be... interesting, probably. Gratch is probably the closest to what Mit wants to be, but he's also a pretty remorseless vicious killer.

I mean, he's not exactly pure evil or anything, but... Something tells me him and Mit wouldn't really get along.


We're all fans, so feel free to include them however you want. One of us can hop on the IRC at some point and help you get a feel for the characters if you want to include them.
Will there ever be a crossover thread with them actually meeting?
Perhaps. My general view is "if the fans want it and it doesn't break anything, comply." Just need to find a how and a when.

Currently, they're in space. I'm not 100% sure, but I think we're like 3-4 days behind you.

Though right before we left on the space mission Mitnick revealed that he somehow managed to get the rights to all entertainment radio on Hunter Bases, since nobody else thought to try and apply for them.

Frog, seeing an opportunity to keep Mitnick contained and entertained for several hours at a time, approved his plan (provided he doesn't broadcast anything vulgar or restricted) though gave him no money for it. Currently he's getting the money for Broadcast equipment, and seeing who else wants a time-slot on his new 'Hunter Command approved' radio station.

I haven't yet asked him how he intends to broadcast it to SPACE, or the bases on literally the opposite side of the planet.
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You guys are good for giving me horrible ideas, you know that?

The fun part is how he assumes Mitnick plans that far ahead.

The HILARIOUS part is assuming Mit doesn't have a way to do it: Hunters can already call each other, all he has to do is set up a couple of broadcast centers and get a couple co-conspirators.

Way I see it, six time slots of four hours each, shouldn't be THAT hard to find 5 agreeable people with time to kill along with a handful of alternates in case duty prevents them from being there for their slot.

Man, this game isn't even in the top ten craziest things.

I pulled an 'Indy Fridge' at one point, and I'd clock that at maybe 25 of my list.

The terrible thing is we all feed off each others madness. You see how Em and Anode are? How they feed off each others crazy and make it worse?

Now imagine if the two of them were forced to constantly live/work together.

Will's socially awkward and hides that behind a very professional facade. That means generally the people in the lead are the Alcoholic sniper or the insane troll with poor impulse control.

I mean, neither of them are BAD people, but Sim dosen't give a fuck about anything that isn't directly connected to the team or our jobs, and Mit.... Well at this point it's been decided that Mit's better off with adult supervision.
Bump. Hopefully more stories.
So is the quest/storytime going to continue or what?

I, uh... I COULD but the thread's pretty dead and I kinda feel like an attention whore in a Quest thread, since I think my posts might actually take up more space than the actual QUEST.

I mean, if you guys wanted me to, I could. I've got time.
Command just said it was cool if we posted whatever man. Just saying.

Well, orders are orders.

After fixing up the base, we were assigned to go and do an extraction mission. Apparently a group of Mavs known as the 'Philosophers' were plotting something, and one of our agents discovered something important, but was then captured by Mavs before she could reveal the details.

Well, by assigned I mean as soon as we heard about it, we volunteered for it, despite having a couple extra days off and they were gonna send in a couple members from the 17th.

X, hearing that we were willing to do the Op instead of him (as we learned later) decided to give it to us, since he was also needed elsewhere and trusted us to get the job done.

Holy shit it got bad for us.

We were forced to leave our car behind and were dropped into the middle of a toxic shit-hole in the darkest parts Africa. First thing that happened: lost all contact with command.

Second thing that happened: learned it was a trap set for X, girl we were sent to rescue was a double agent for the Mavs the whole time. Apparently there was a cult of sorts that believed that Sigma wasn't dead or even mortal, and that when he returned, as he was destined to, X would stop him as was his destiny. They decided that logically X couldn't stop him if he was too dead to do anything when he came back.

Confronted by this horrifying mix of insanity and vicious competency we were forced to run away from the 14+ A to SA threats they were planning to dogpile on X as soon as he landed.

It totally would have worked to, this plan of theirs. X was gonna beam in alone and assess the threat, and there was no way he could have survived the attack.

Mit and I immediately vanished, and Will began a fighting retreat while we shadowed his route as closely as possible.

We took out two of the threats while Will managed to not die in the face of overwhelming odds, due to the fact that he was putting his everything into dodging and running the fuck away. When they realized there was other bogies in the area, they gave us enough breathing room to slip away from the fight.

After we got our break, we decided that there was a signal jammer in the area keeping us from using Mit's Sat-link to call in and request a beam out. So our mission was redefined from a rescue to an escape.

And failing that, to take as many of the Mav bastards with us as we could. Since Mit was the only one with dedicated info-war gear, all we could do is play 'hot or cold' as far as finding the jammers went. there was more than one time during this that we had to burn a Fate point to escape.

It was like Reploid 'Nam out there. After close to a week on the ground, during which time we took out no less than four A and 6 SA threats, we found the last jammer with the girl we originally supposed to rescue guarding it. We got lucky, and during the surprise round we managed to beat her within an inch of her life when she surrendered to us, which is when the remaining ten or so Mavs showed up.

Mit smashes the tower the fuck open, and immediately calls for a teleport of everyone on the platform. Will, seeing that they aren't going to make it jumps off into what I though was a heroic sacrifice to buy time. He stalls them for just a bit, and then we get beamed out.

Then he calls the operators "How long's that gonna take to recharge?"

"To pull you? A couple minutes to narrow down the signal."

"How long if you just pulled everything through?"

"What? We can't just bring active Mavs into Hunter Command."

"Why not?"

"It's our main base. It's where all our Hunters are."

"That's precisely my point."

".... Clever. Can you give me a minute? I'm gonna ask for volunteers for a hot landing."

Will then proceeded to have his shit slapped for about five combat rounds, surviving because he was popping Impossible Reflexes like a Cinema pops Popcorn. Then he gets a natural 1 with ten counts against him. All the servos in his left arm SEIZE, which for those non-robots ion the audience, imagine all the bones in your left arm IMPLODING and then CATCHING FIRE.

Laying on the ground, in hilarious amounts of pain, watching ten Maverics that might well be more than a match for him alone when he was at the top of his game closing in.... Will closed his eyes. And started laughing.

"What the bloody hell's so funny?" Asked one of the Mavericks, planting his foot on Will's chest.

"That." Will responded as a sicking SNAP happened, followed by 'what the fu-' from the Mavs.

X was there, since he felt personally responsible for what happened, since it was his mission they took. Zero was with him, since they were apparently catching up over a beer when he got the call.

Frog was there, and several of the higher-ranked hunters in the fourth, including Sev and Schwarz.

And a couple people from the first, since they were there to transfer some equipment around.

All in all, there was something like 15 people waiting for the Mavs, weapons charged. To call what happened a curb-stomp would be underselling it. After shooting them off Will's back, a pair of lifesavers showed up and took him to the Medbay. Mit and Sim stayed with him, but out of the lifesaver units way while they basically had to take him apart. Damage was so extensive they had to do a partial rebuild of something like 40% of his systems, and flat out replace another ten. They pulled in a couple of the Techs from the Marshal labs where he was built to assist.

Mit and Sim were given checkup, one at a time by request (so that someone would be watching over Will the whole time). and had to get some repairs done as well, but most of it was to their armor and gear, although Mit had to have his one leg partially disassembled. After about a day and a half, Will was up and about again, although his armor had to be replaced altogether.

We were then made to go attend a debrief with Rhodes and X, due to the nature of the mission.

When the nature of the ambush was revealed, we were commended for our quick thinking. Rhodes signed off on a rather large paycheck (as in low six figures for the team) and dismissed us saying that were not to see active duty for AT LEAST a week for this.

We made it about four days into that, but that's neither here nor there at the moment. Will decides that not having any ranged abilities at all was kinda a glaring weakness. Instead of getting some form of integrated buster though, he got a pair of heavy repeating blaster pistols (kindal like Axl's from later games in terms of design) modified for more damage at the expense of a charge feature.

Basically a charge-shot does 4-5 times more damage than a normal one, and since the output could support it he had Mit and Sim mod them so that it was basically putting out double damage all the time.

Sim upgraded his guns to be better overall and then added a melee option. Namely a VWES system for close range shit, immediately putting in the Magnetic Venom we got during the armory raid, and then a high power electrical thing from the jungle. Think Anode's full blast thing, but shot-gun range/power.

Mitnick decided to invest in the ability to try and defend himself, since he had the offensive capabilities of a Aibo at this point. He ended up with a beam halberd and two rapid-fire high output busters. He copied Will in the whole 'fuck charge, higher baseline' modifications. He also grabbed a nice Ice-stun VWES attack.

We decide to take this opportunity to head outside of town a little ways and really test out our new ride. After we confirmed what we already suspected, namely that it was the best car ever, we decided to head back to base and then into town or something.

On the way back, Will took Mit's dare to try and jump one of the hangars off a nearby rock. Due to a pair of lucky rolls, they make it fine.... and then one of the rear tires clips Frog as he wanders out of the building after needing to talk to India about something.

Realizing they just ran over their commanding officer, Mit and Sim encourage Will to keep driving before he realized it was them.

Will however decided to act like an adult and make sure Frog was alright. Since he was the one driving, he got the final say in this.

Frog was momentarily upset with them over the affair, and asked why we felt compelled to try and reenact 'The Dukes of Hazard.'

"The what?" Mit asked.

"Don't look at me like that, new guy's a movie buff."

With a shrug (for at this point we, the players, hadn't heard of MHQ yet) we change into casual clothes and head into town.

Sim opted for a windbreaker over a T-shrit and jeans, Will had no 'casual' cloths so he wore a plain black and white suit while we vowed to fix that for him.

Mit showed up in Cargo shorts, combat boots, and a T-Shirt featuring a giant robot T-Rex serving ice-cream.

"What?" He responded to the questioning looks. "I'm sig-int. I get RSS feeds in my head."
I think I'm gonna end it there for now. Next one probably won't be until Hunter command makes a new thread.
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>"Don't look at me like that, new guy's a movie buff."

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