[a / b / c / d / e / f / g / gif / h / hr / k / m / o / p / r / s / t / u / v / vg / w / wg] [i / ic] [r9k] [cm / hm / y] [3 / adv / an / cgl / ck / co / diy / fa / fit / hc / int / jp / lit / mlp / mu / n / po / pol / sci / soc / sp / tg / toy / trv / tv / vp / x] [rs] [status / ? / @] [Settings] [Home]
Board:  
Settings   Home
4chan
/qst/ - Quests


File: tq 28 cover.jpg (337 KB, 2560x1600)
337 KB
337 KB JPG
In the year 1986, crime in America is at an all-time high. Criminals, drugs, and guns flow into the country from everywhere in the world, and the gateway to it all is the coastal paradise, Heat City. On the neon-soaked streets of this beating heart of scum and villany, you can get whatever you want -- if you can pay the price.

You are Johnny the thug, and ever since you agreed to take one small job for the Bratva, your life has gone sideways. One thing led to another as you made enemies of one half of the city's underworld, then the other half. With the help of some new friends -- Alex the enforcer, Nick the thief, and the Yamada family -- you went all-in and led a daring heist on the Triad's skyscraper fortress, Dragon's Nest. It went great until you got shot and fell off the roof, twenty-five stories down.

With luck or fate on your side, and the help of your friends, you survived to tell the tale. But you haven't forgotten that someone out there has been playing games with you, pitting the city's criminal syndicates against each other with you caught in the middle. You're going to find out who it is, and make them pay.
>>
File: heat city 2F.jpg (255 KB, 1700x1400)
255 KB
255 KB JPG
>>2044263

Updates: http://twitter.com/ravenkingquests

Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Thug%20Quest

Discord: https://discord.gg/3HegtNU
>>
File: mail-bag.png (141 KB, 450x380)
141 KB
141 KB PNG
>>2044263
>>2044267

Notice:

Tomorrow is Thug Quest's one-year anniversary! I'd like to take a moment here to thank everyone for reading. Whether you're new to the quest or have been here with me since day 1, I appreciate all of you for following along with me on Johnny's journey into mayhem and madness in Heat City. I look forward to many a caper in Year 2.

To mark this occasion, I'll be holding a short Mailbag session tomorrow evening where the Thug Quest characters will answer questions from you, the readers. You can ask them anything from their favorite color, to what they think of another character, or even the girls' measurements!

Don't wait for Russians to kick down your door -- send your Reader Mail ASAP to ravenkingquests at gmail!

Now on with the quest!
>>
>>2044291


The ramshackle paddlewheel steamer Lauren Belle is a shabby, tumbledown thieves' den of ill repute. A hub for gambling and bare-knuckle boxing, its status as a ship allows city officials and law enforcement the convenient fiction that these activites take place in international waters, and are therefore not within their bounds. As far back as anyone can remember, though, the Belle hasn't left the Snake River since the turn of the century.

A few years ago it was taken over by new management, boys come down from New Lancaster up north. Once they paid their dues to the Russians, they set to work converting the decrepit engines into something functional, and prettying up the interior into a proper casino. Underneath its new layer of glitz and gilding, the ship is still shabby and ill-reputed, but now men of moderate status can allow themselves to be seen here alongside the city's underclass. They too can chase that thrill, living on the edge of losing everything.

"Because that's what draws most people to gambling," Nick says as he approaches the main doors of the Lauren Belle. "They don't play to win. They play to lose. They want that feeling of free-fall, that suicidal freedom. Like throwing themselves off a cliff. That's why we're different, Johnny boy. We're here to win. Welcome to the Belle," he adds, and throws open the doors.

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KsReWI83IC8

The chaos of light and sound spills out from the inside of the ship, the smell of cigar smoke and sweat and despair. People from all walks of life mingle among the slot machines and card tables, flashing colors and raucous cries luring them into gambling their hard-earned money away, chasing that thrill. Roulette wheels spin, dice roll on the craps tables, slots spin and ring their bells. Scantily-clad waitresses move through the room with drink platters, flirting with the wealthier-looking patrons. Even the carpet is an incoherent whorl of color. Everywhere are distractions, diversions, entertainments, enticements.

"This is how people spend their time, huh?" Roxie asks. She lights a cigarette, scowling, then turns to Ryuji. "Can you believe this shit?"

"We have pachinko parlors," Ryuji says, shrugging. "It's not so different. Just a question of intensity and volume, like everything in America."

"All right, guys," you say. "You all know what to do. Let's make it happen."

"Aw, c'mon, Johnny," Nick says. "Let me get in a few hands at the tables first."

>I guess a few can't hurt.
>No way. Get to work.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2044311
>Actually go play a few hand Nick make a distraction
>>
>>2044311
>>I guess a few can't hurt.

Fuck it, if you want

I'm going to watch boxing
>>
>>2044323
This...might work actually. Nick does kinda make chaos.
>>
>>2044323
>>2044325
>>2044337

>>I guess a few can't hurt.

Writing.
>>
>>2044311
>>I guess a few can't hurt
>>
>>2044311

"I guess a few can't hurt," you say. "Just don't forget why we're here."

"I got it, I got it," Nick says, waving you off. "C'mon, Ryuji, let's hit the cards. I'm gonna be hot tonight, I can feel it."

"馬鹿外人," Ryuji says with a sigh, following the gambler out into the crowd.

Turning around to say something to Roxie, you find she's already disappeared, leaving you alone. You shrug and head into the Belle, losing yourself in the crowd as best you can given your size.

Your part of the job won't come into play until Nick and Ryuji set to work, so you've got plenty of time to kill now. Might as well enjoy yourself. When was the last time you were in a place like this and actually had money to spend? You're used to being locked out of everything, a poor bastard on the edge of society. Now you can do whatever you want. Your eyes roam over the gambling tables, the barely-dressed waitresses, the well-stocked bar. So many temptations, so little time.

The dead center of the main room is cleared for a boxing ring, workers fussing with the ropes. You can't tell if they're putting it up or taking it down. Hopefully the first one. You wouldn't mind seeing a good fight. For now, though, there are plenty of other diversions available.

>Hit the tables, have some fun.
>Observe, roam the outside of the room and the deck.
>Get a drink at the bar.
>Chat up a waitress.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2044502
>Get a drink at the bar.
>Chat up a waitress.
Let's get to know someone who doesn't know how a firearm works for a bit.
>>
>>2044502
>>Observe, roam the outside of the room and the deck.
>>
>>2044502
>>Hit the tables, have some fun.
Don't wanna look out of place here.
>>
>>2044502
>>Get a drink at the bar.
>>
>>2044502
>Get a drink at the bar.
>>
>>2044518
>>2044525
>>2044543

>Get a drink at the bar.

Writing.
>>
It doesn't feel like its been a year.
How the time flies
Unfortunately, it's time to sleep, wish I could stay up for it, but the lack of sleep is starting to take it's toll
>>
>>2044502

You figure you'll head to the bar and get a drink. Good place to start. No hurry.

On your way there, you're maneuvering yourself through the crowd when a slim blonde in a classy dress stumbles and bumps into you. "Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry." She's clearly had one too many to drink, her balance off. She presses her hand to your chest to steady herself, and it lingers for a moment longer than is necessary as she feels your muscles. "My, you're a big one, aren't you?" she says in a charming overseas accent that's hard to place.

"Comes in handy when I need to move a couch," you say, a little bashful.

The blonde's laughter is like sparkling wine. Light, refreshing, intoxicating. "I'm sure it does." She winks and gives you a little wave as she turns away. "Good luck out there, my big friend."

You watch her go. What a lady. Used to be you'd never have a chance with a woman like that, even in your wildest dreams. Now? Considering that Cat certainly seems to have found something she likes about you, who knows? You briefly consider pursuing the blonde, but decide against it.

Instead you proceed to the bar, where you sit down and order a bourbon from the bartender, a muscular man with a crew cut.

"First time to the Belle?" he asks you, sliding you the glass.

"Yeah. There a boxing match tonight?"

"Sure is. Local champ has a new contender. Should be a real humdinger."

You spend a few minutes with your drink, observing the place. There's a lot going on. Must be a popular local hangout. All kinds of people from the north end of the city are here. Russians, Cubans, Haitians. Even someone like you doesn't stand out too much.

There is one thing in particular you notice. A shady-looking guy in a windbreaker and baseball cap has been lurking on the outskirts of the casino. He's kept his face hidden from you with his hat brim, so you're not sure who he is. But he's definitely keeping his eye on someone while trying to stay hidden, and you get the feeling that his target is you.

You go to take out your wallet to hand the bartender a fiver. Funny, you could have sworn you put it in that pocket. You check the others, a sinking feeling growing inside you. Thinking back, you remember that girl in a classy dress who conveniently stumbles into you, her hands pressing against your chest--

That fucking bitch stole your wallet!

You scan the crowd for that dress, that hair, but don't see anything.

"Is there a problem, sir?" asks the bartender.

"Put the drink on my tab," you growl. "I'll take care of it."

>Search for the blonde pickpocket.
>Go find your friends and get some money.
>Approach the shady-looking guy watching you.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2044799
>>Search for the blonde pickpocket.
>>
>Search for the blonde pickpocket
>>
>>2044799
>Search for the blonde pickpocket.
>>
>>2044799
>Search for the blonde pickpocket.
>>
>>2044799
>>Search for the blonde pickpocket.
Make sure to keep out of sight of hat guy, though.
>>
>>2044811
>>2044825
>>2044844
>>2044849
>>2044870

>Search for the blonde pickpocket.

Roll!
>>
Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>2044897
>>
Rolled 5 (1d10)

>>2044897
>>
Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2044897
>>
>>2044799


You walk around the outside of the busy main room, trying to search for the pickpocket while also staying as inconspicuous as possible, and out of sight of hat guy. Your eyes roam over the crowd, seeing a man in a cowboy hat laugh as he rolls the dice, a whole row of slobs in sweatpants pulling the slot machine levers over and over, a pair of bulky bouncers in ill-fitting uniforms. Catching a glimpse of blonde hair and what might be the same dress disappearing into a hallway exit, you follow them to find yourself heading to the outer deck.

The sun's last rays still strike the sky, the pink hues reflecting in the deep blue of the Snake River below. The water churns as the Lauren Belle makes progress, its paddlewheel turning rhythmically. The exterior of the ship is much like the interior. A new paint job barely hides the rotten woodwork.

Just around the corner, you find the pickpocket. She's flirting with a small man who looks something like a lost penguin in his black and white suit. Enraptured by her charms, he completely fails to notice as she undoes the strap on his watch, takes it off, and slips it into her purse.

You step up behind them, seize the small guy by the shoulder, and gently steer him aside. "Move aside, pal. I got business with this one." He takes one look at how big and pissed-off you are, and scampers off without another word.

You turn your attention to the pickpocket. She's looking for a way out, but there's nowhere to run. You've got her trapped. You lean an arm against the wall beside her and say ...

>You're pretty good at this.
>Just give me back my wallet, and we'll forget this happened.
>Actually, I want your whole take from tonight.
>Give back everything you stole to its rightful owners.
>You wouldn't want security to hear about this, would you?
>Write-in.
>>
>>2045067
>You're pretty good at this.
>Just give me back my wallet, and we'll forget this happened.
>>
>>2045067
>>You're pretty good at this.
>>Just give me back my wallet, and we'll forget this happened.
>>
>>2045067
>You're pretty good at this.
>Let me see all of the wallets you stole.
(check wallets for Nick's)
>We'll forget this happened, alright?
>>
>>2045089
I'll back this. Knowing Nick his wallet is definitely there
>>
>>2045089
Backing
>>
>>2045089
this

anon, you fucking smoothie
>>
>>2045067

You say, still in a conversational tone, "Just give me back my wallet, and we'll forget this ever happened."

"My goodness," she says, still with that accent. "I'm sure you were intrigued by our moment of contact, sir, but I'm afraid--"

"Don't bullshit me, all right?" You crack your knuckles. "I don't like it when people bullshit me."

"You wouldn't. Y-you know it's not polite to hit a lady, right?"

"I'm a believer in equality. It's a modern age."

Her eyes flicker around, searching for an escape. "I -- I'll scream."

"You could try," you say, politely.

She stares at you with a mix of fear and anger, trying to gauge you.

"I really just want my wallet back," you say. "And my friends', if you've got any of theirs. Ratty-looking white guy in a white suit, asian dude in dark grey?"

Several moments pass before she answers, "No. Just yours, big guy." The accent has disappeared entirely, dropping back to standard Heat City. "I haven't got it, though."

A brief anger arises in you at this, and at knowing you got your wallet stolen and Nick didn't. "I just said I don't like bullshit, right?"

"You think I'm an idiot?" the girl hisses. "I don't keep the stuff on me. I've got a partner and a dead drop. That way if I get accused and searched, I've got nothing to hide."

"Damn. You're a real professional," you say. "I gotta admit, you're pretty good at this." She's pretty cute, too, you notice, the way she's looking up at you all defiant like that.

"If I go there now, I might be able to pick it up before he gets to it," she tells you. "Otherwise -- I don't know. I'll find him and get it back from him."

Hmmm ...

>I don't believe you. Let me see your bag.
>All right, but I'm coming with you. Don't try anything.
>Go get it. If you don't, I'll find you. And you won't like what will happen.
>Fuck this. (Dump her over the side)
>>
>>2045163
>>All right, but I'm coming with you. Don't try anything.
>>
>>2045163
>>Go get it. If you don't, I'll find you. And you won't like what will happen.
We're on the job plus whatever's in that wallet can't be too much
>>
>>2045163
>>Fuck this. (Dump her over the side)
>>
>>2045163
>>All right, but I'm coming with you. Don't try anything.
>>
>Go get it. If you don't, I'll find you. And you won't like what will happen.
>>
>>2045163
And to complete the three-way tie again
>Fuck this. (Dump her over the side)
>>
>>2045163
>Go get it
>>
>>2045163
>Go get it. If you don't, I'll find you. And you won't like what will happen.
>>
>>2045208
Why am I here? Just to suffer?

>>2045183
>>2045201
>>2045238
>>2045244

>Go get it. If you don't, I'll find you. And you won't like what will happen.

Writing.
>>
>>2045163


"Go get it," you say. "If you don't, I'll find you. And you won't like what will happen. Meet me in fifteen minutes in front of the restrooms. Bring my wallet. And come alone." You take a step back and straighten your jacket. "Now go on. Get outta here."

The blonde walks away, trying to maintain some dignity. You watch her go, wondering if she'll actually go get your wallet and meet you, or just alert her partner so both of them can jump ship at the first opportunity. Doesn't matter, really. A short time ago, losing a wallet with several hundreds dollars in it would've felt life-threatening. Now it's really not a big deal. You're here on a job, and as long as that goes smooth, you'll have a nice big number for Cat to add to your offshore account after this is over. More than enough to fill up a new wallet.

Speaking of the job -- you take out your small walkie-talkie and press the button. "Nick, Ryuji, what's the situation? You guys started yet?"

"Uh, working on it, chief," Nick replies. "We're held up a little by the guard patrols here, but we'll get there soon. Probably. What about you?"

"Just had to take care of something real quick," you say. "I'm heading back inside now. Me and Roxie will be keeping a sharp eye out for any sign that they're onto you, and we'll be ready to back you up if that happens. Until then, keep your fingers crossed and stick to the plan."

"You got it."

You re-enter the main room to see an excited crowd gathering around the boxing ring. A speaker system squeals to life. "Ladies and gentlemen!" calls an excited announcer in a transatlantic accent. "We are about to witness a contest for the ages! Take your seats, place your bets, because this high-class match between top brawlers will begin shortly!"

All right, for now the plan is to sit tight while Nick and Ryuji do their thing, and be ready at a moment's notice to help them out. You were thinking about doing something to draw attention to yourself, keep the guards distracted, but the boxing match about to happen has everyone caught up in the excitement, and maybe it's not necessary.

>Find Roxie.
>Watch the match.
>Try your luck at the dice.
>Cause a scene to distract the guards.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2045343
>Watch the match.
>>
>>2045343
>>Find Roxie.
>>
>>2045343
>Watch the match.
>>
>Watch the match.
>>
>>2045347
>>2045360
>>2045363
>Watch the match.

Writing.
>>
>>2045343
>Find Roxie
>>
>>2045343

You decide to watch the match. It's been a while since you got to see some bare-knuckle fighting in person. And it was usually up close and personal, from inside the fight circle. Not as a spectator. You hang back near the edge of the crowd, mindful of your responsibility to Nick and Ryuji, ready to leave to aid them if they need it.

The announcer continues. "We, the Lancaster boys, are proud to present to you the very finest in pugilistic entertainment tonight! Please partake of our hospitality, enjoy the show, and don't forget to try the new electronic slots! Introducing first the challenger! Weighing in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds, he is! JAKE! NEWPORT!"

A burly Haitian steps through the ropes. He raises a hand to acknowledge the cheers from his section of the crowd, then jogs in place, staying warmed up.

"And now your champion! Winner of sixteen consecutive title defenses! Weighing in at two hundred and sixty-two pounds, he is! MISHA! THE BEAR! BARKOOOV!"

The Bear steps into the ring, a gigantic tattooed Russian, bald with a thick beard. He flexes his arms, displaying his gigantic trapezius muscles to the crowd. Spittle flies from his mouth as he roars.

"You two boys remember the rules. There are none!" The announcer picks up a small hammer and strikes the ring bell. "Now begin!"

The announcer has you all hyped up for a contest, and you're expecting the two fighters to square up, respecting each other's power. Instead the champion immediately charges forward, barreling into the challenger. Newport meets the charge, but can't keep his footing and has to backpedal. The Bear follows up, hammering with alternating rights and lefts. The challenger's hasty defense is crushed, and he takes a solid straight to the face that breaks his nose and staggers him. The Bear takes him to the ground and begins to pound the hell out of him. Blood splatters across the stained ring surface.

It's not long before the Bear has to be pulled off, still shouting in Russian and eager to fight, while the Haitian's limp form gets dragged away. You don't even know if he's still alive. What a beating. Over in minutes.

The crowd isn't happy. They expected more. Displeased murmurs fill the room. The announcer tugs at his collar anxiously. "Ahh -- this of course was just another showcase of the incredible prowess of Barkov the Bear! Who can stand before him, ladies and gentlemen? We, ahh --" He turns away from the microphone to anxiously confer with a colleague, then turns back. "We are glad to open the ring to any challenger who feels they have the moxie to stand with our champion! Anyone who lasts a single round on their feet in this very ring will be granted the prize of FIVE HUNDRED DOLLARS!"

You consider it briefly, then decide to pass. You're not a young man with things to prove anymore. Better to stay ready to help Nick and Ryuji. You'll just sit here and relax.

(Continued)
>>
>>2045459


At least, that's the plan until you see a familiar-looking girl with tattoos and dyed hair enter the ring. "How much if I win?" Roxie calls out.

The crowd laughs, treating it as a joke. The announcer has a hasty conversation with his friend, then says, "Er, in the condition that you should win the match and defeat our champion, you would receive a prize of no less than five THOUSAND dollars! How about that, folks?!"

Roxie grins as she finishes tying her hair back and sets her stance. "Sounds good to me!"

The crowd cheers, entertaining what they see as a fantasy. They are completely sure that Roxie is about to get crushed. And maybe they're not wrong. That guy, the Bear -- he's not just some random asshole. He's a serious fighter. Maybe you better do something.

>Let Roxie fight the Bear.
>Get in the ring yourself.
>Stop the match somehow.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2045459
Ah shit, Roxie's gonna get that moxie ain't it?
>>
>>2045462
Methinks if we try to interfere Roxie's just gonna get pissed at us.
>Let Roxie fight the Bear
but
>Get in the ring if she's taking too much beatings for her own good
Tag team match!
>>
>>2045466
Supporting.

They did say no rules.
>>
>>2045462
>>Let Roxie fight the Bear.
>>
>>2045466
>>
>>2045466
>>2045469
>>2045470
>>2045473

>Let Roxie fight the Bear
>Get in the ring if she's taking too much beatings for her own good

Writing.
>>
>>2045462
>Let Roxie fight the Bear

She's a big girl and can take care of herself. Plus I doubt she'd take too kindly to us prying her away from a fight.
>>
>>2045529
>She's a big girl
For you.

How'd you manage to be a whole hour late on that? Where do you live, Venus?
>>
>>2045462

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BoNDM-0PMjM

It's true that you told Roxie that part of your job here might be to create a distraction so that Nick and Ryuji could work unhindered. This wasn't really what you had in mind. A protective part of you wants to run down there, haul her out of the ring, and give her a good scolding about fighting toe-to-toe against people with a hundred-point weight advantage. Instead you try to have faith in her.

You watch anxiously as Roxie gets herself set to fight. She hops from one foot the other, swings her arms, and searches the crowd until she finds you and waves at you. You wave back awkwardly, not wanting to shut her down but not wanting to draw attention to yourself either, feeling awkward at the stares from people around you.

The bell rings. Just like last time, the Bear doesn't bother with defense or restraint. He just charges forward, bellowing, his arms outstretched. He's ready to snap this arrogant little girl like a twig. He isn't ready for Roxie. She breaks his charge with a snap front kick and dances away, like a matador spearing a bull. Barkov grunts in frustration and swings around, grabbing again, but Roxie once again evades and attacks in the same motion, nailing a one-two punch to his chin and bouncing away.

The Bear stops and collects himself. He touches his lip, and his fingers come away bloody. He stares down at his fingers for a moments, nods, then looks up at Roxie with a new respect in his eyes. He raises his fists and adopts a proper fighting stance. Roxie grins and takes up a opposing stance. The two of them slither closer to each other, warily prodding at each other's defenses, jabbing and counter-jabbing.

Roxie finds an opening and lands a combo of blows to the body, but the Bear shrugs it off and fires a combination of his own, surprisingly fast for a man his size. Roxie takes a clip on the chin and staggers away, trying to use her own jelly-legs to evade the follow-up blows. She tumbles to the ground, and the Bear lunges to pin or grab her, but she just barely squirms away.

The fight continues, both sides exchanging blows, neither able to gain an advantage, until the sudden intercession of the ring bell's clamor. "And that's the round!" calls the announcer.

"Wait, what?" Roxie is confused. You can barely hear what she's saying her over the clamor, but she seems to be arguing with the announcer, getting in his face. "I wasn't finished!" You hear her shouting. Then she turns around and decks the Bear.

"Oh man," you groan, holding your hand to your forehead. "Roxie ..."

(Cont.)
>>
>>2045534

Struck unexpectedly, a red rage erupts from the Russian fighter. He lets out an enraged roar and drives straight into Roxie with a shoulder tackle, picking her up and carrying her until they both crash into the ring ropes and bounce off. The Bear gets to his feet with his arms clasped around Roxie in his namesake hold, a bear hug. He laughs uproariously as he tightens his arms, threatening to break her spine. She kicks and punches, but her attacks have no leverage. People are tugging at the Bear's arms, telling him to break the hold, but he fights them off.

He's going to kill her.

You've already gotten to your feet without meaning to. Now you move forward, shoving your way through the crowd, heedless of who stands in your path. Making it to the ring, you pull yourself inside and, without even standing up properly, charge forward and tackle the Bear low. Just like in football back in school. It's enough to stagger him and loosen his grip on Roxie, who pulls herself free. She falls badly, but immediately pushes herself back up, wobbling on her feet as she clutches her ribs and gasps for breath. You help steady her, and glare at Barkov, who backs off for the moment.

"Th-thanks," she manages to say.

"Don't thank me just yet," you say, expecting the worst. And sure enough, you get it.

"What's this?" calls out the announcer. "It looks like a new challenger has revealed himself! We've got ourselves a tag team bout here, ladies and gents, and you know what that means!" The crowd parts excitedly, revealing a second fighter of equal size and build to the Bear. In fact, except for the second man's paler skin and white hair, they look almost identical. You realize the implications a moment before the announcer says, "That's right! The brothers Barkov, reunited to fight right here in this very ring, ladies and gentleman! Will our challengers be up to the task?!"

The white-haired brother clasps the dark-haired one's hand in a manly handshake, and the two of them turn to face you.

Why can't anything ever be simple?

>All right. Let's do this.
>Fuck this. We're getting out of here.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2045536
>All right. Let's do this.
N O T H I N G C A N G O W R O N G
>>
>>2045536
>>All right. Let's do this.
>>
>>2045536
> All right. Let's do this.

This isn't a Joke option this time is it?
>>
>All right. Let's do this.

LEEEEEEERRROOOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYYY JENKINS
>>
>>2045536
>>2045538
>>2045539
>>2045541
>>2045550


"You know what?" you say, annoyed. "Fine. Let's do this." You're still pissed off about the Butcher breaking your knife, and having some other huge Russian dudes to take your anger out on is perfect. Plus these guys probably work for Ivan, if indirectly, so you'd probably end up fighting them sooner or later.

Roxie is having trouble catching her breath, her ribs clearly paining her after that crushing bear hug. But she's determined to keep fighting. Whether it's for that five thousand dollars she was promised for the win, or just for pride, you don't know. But you won't let her stand alone.

The Bears, white and black, are ready to fight. The black-haired one, Misha, is bloodied from Roxie's blows, while his brother is untouched.

Choose 1:
>Let's get this done. I don't want either of us getting hurt.
>Let's drag this out. Give our friends as much time as we can.

Choose 1:
>I'll take the new guy. You finish the job with your pal there.
>I'll finish what you started. Just hold the fresh guy off until I'm done.
>Stay behind me. When they come at me, strike whoever's vulnerable.
>>
>>2045551
>Let's drag this out. Give our friends as much time as we can.
Not to mention give the crowd a good show.
>I'll take the new guy. You finish the job with your pal there.
>>
>Let's drag this out. Give our friends as much time as we can.
If we finish it quick, we may be recognised later in the mission.

>I'll take the new guy. You finish the job with your pal there.
>>
>>2045551
>>Let's drag this out. Give our friends as much time as we can.
>I'll take the new guy. You finish the job with your pal there.
>>
>>2045555
>>2045557
>>2045566

>Let's drag this out. Give our friends as much time as we can.
>I'll take the new guy. You finish the job with your pal there.

Roll!
>>
Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>2045570
Ten, god damn it!
>>
Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2045570
>>
Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2045570
ROLL DEM BONES
>>
Rolled 5 (1d10)

I wonder if my latest luck would have got me anything.
>>
>>2045575
Yes. Mediocrity.
>>
>>2045571
>>2045572
>>2045574

Pretty good, anons. I've got to wrap up for tonight, but I'll be back tomorrow to write up this dice roll, and we'll continue our heist on the Lauren Belle paddlewheel steamer.
>>
Thanks for running.
>>2045581
>>
>>2045581
Thanks for running Raven. I look forward to Johnny kicking some albino ass next session.
>>
>>2045581
Was good trip! You are credit to team!
>>
>it's another Roxie does stupid shit for drug money episode
>>
>>2045745
best wife XDDDDDD ebin
>>
>>2045551

Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8e19xlb7mM

It's been a long time since you did this in a ring, but all the memories come flooding right back as soon as you put your fists up. This smell of blood and sweat, the cheering of the crowd, that energizing surge that shivers along your nerves. Oh yeah. You're feeling it. You shift your weight from one foot to the other and back, remembering the old rhythms.

Out of the corner of your eye you see money exchanging hands in the crowd as last-minute wagers are exchanged. People shout at you, demanding you win or lose depending on their bets. "Final seconds, ladies and gents!" The announcer calls. "Aaand begin!" The ring bell sounds, and a great cheer goes up.

The White Bear approaches you, confidence mixed with caution, keeping his guard up. He's got the stance and wary look of a veteran fighter. Close-cropped white hair, military tattoos. One of his eyes is a blank white, a vertical scar running through it. Him and his brother are of equal sizes, both huge, even bigger than you.

Not big enough. No-one is. You were made to break men like them.

The Russian pugilist keeps his good eye protected with his back fist as he lashes out with his front, testing your defenses with some quick jabs. You dig in and protect yourself, his fists landing against your forearms. He's got power, sure enough, and your feet slide backwards on the mat. But not enough to punch through and deal any real damage. Not to you.

You figure that if this guy fights like his brother, you've already seen enough of his defenses. So you set him up with a quick right to get his attention, then a left hook that slips past his guard and drills him with a body shot. Your blow is armored by the guy's thick frame, but it still staggers him, forcing him to back off and catch his breath. You don't let him, faking the same body shot only to twist and punch at his blind spot. He blocks, but just barely, and it knocks him off balance, leaving him totally open. You blast him with a three-punch combination to the face, and he goes down, dazed.

If this were a real fight, you'd get down there and snap his arm off. But your real goal here is just to draw some attention to yourself. So you showboat a little, raising your bloodied fists to the air, calling out to the crowd. Some cheer and applaud, some boo and howl insults. You take the opportunity to scan the crowd, trying to assess the situation.

(Continued)
>>
>>2046962


Roxie and the Black Bear are both battered and bloodied. Their fight is turning into a real slugfest, neither side able to gain the upper hand. They stand apart from each other for a moment, catching their breath, blood dripping to the canvas.

Nick and Ryuji haven't called, so you have to assume they're making slow but steady progress.

The mysterious hat guy is nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was just some guy, and had nothing to do with you.

You spot the pickpocket girl, arguing with a non-descript looking guy. That must be her partner, the one who collects the dead drop. He's got just the right look for it, the type you can easily lose sight of in a crowd. The blonde girl, in some distress, is arguing with him, while he tries to calm her down.

You see a small knot of security guards standing together, looking at the ring as they discuss something. One of them points towards you for a moment. Another detaches himself from the group and walks towards the hallway to the staff area, trying to appear unhurried but moving quickly. What was that about?

>Finish this off. Take down the Barkov Brothers and get to the rest of your business.
>Keep the fight going. The longer of a distraction you provide, the better.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2046966
>Finish this off. Take down the Barkov Brothers and get to the rest of your business.
Looks like the jig is soon to be up better wrap this up quick and be ready to provide backup
>>
>>2046966
>Finish this off. Take down the Barkov Brothers and get to the rest of your business.
>>
>Finish this off. Take down the Barkov Brothers and get to the rest of your business.
>>
>>2046966
>>Finish this off. Take down the Barkov Brothers and get to the rest of your business.
>>
>>2046966
>Keep the fight going. The longer of a distraction you provide, the better.
We got this.
>>
>>2046976
>>2046977
>>2047002
>>2047013

>Finish this off. Take down the Barkov Brothers and get to the rest of your business.

Writing.
>>
>>2046966

That's long enough, you figure. Time to end this before it gets too crazy. You've got other business needs doing.

The White Bear stands up, shakes off the assault, and reasserts his stance. But you've already got the advantage, and you put it to good use, pressing him hard. He retreats, but you hound him with shots to the body that don't let him recover his stamina. Whenever his guard drops to try and defend himself low, you hit him high. He counterattacks, and manages to get in some hits, but you can take it. Keeping up the pressure, you box him in until his back is against the corner. Realizing he's trapped, he goes for the grapple attempt, lunging forward with his mighty arms. But you were ready for that, and drop low to nail him with an elbow to the stomach. He staggers back into the ropes, trying not to lose his lunch. You grab the White Bear by one arm and, shouting, "Roxie!" slingshot him forward.

With a predator's quickness, Roxie looks over, grasps the situation, and turns away from her opponent. As the White Bear stumbles towards her, she leaps into the air and nails him with a flying kick to the jaw. Knocked completely senseless, he collapses bonelessly to the ground.

The Black Bear tries to take advantage of her opening, but you're already there, slamming into him to knock him off-balance. He goes down to one knee, and you finish him off with a right cross that knocks him over, landing on his back. Just in case he's thinking about getting back up, you deliver a solid boot to his ribs, then turn your back on him, leaving him behind to clutch his broken ribs while you walk over to Roxie.

She looks pretty fucked up, but doesn't seem to be in bad spirits. "Hey, Johnny," she says, wincing as she tests a growing bruise by her kidneys. "Thanks for the assist. Did you see the look on his face when I--"

You hold up a finger, stopping her. "We are gonna have a talk later. Right now we've got shit to do."

"Aw, man ..."

Neither of the Barkov Brothers has gotten up by a count of ten. The bell rings out. "Your winners!" calls the announcer. The crowd goes crazy, some with joy, others with rage.

A frightened official enters the ring to count out your money. When he stops at five thousand, you growl, "Five thousand EACH." He nervously complies, pressing a stack of fifty hundred-dollar bills into your hand, then Roxie's. She gleefully stuffs her money into her pants pockets, while you fold yours up and tuck it inside your jacket. Both of you limp out of the ring and, making your way through the crowd, head to the restrooms to clean yourselves off.

(Continued)
>>
>>2047201

"That was fun, right?!" Roxie says, grinning at you as she washes the blood off her hands off in the sink next to yours.

"You realize this is the men's bathroom, right?" you say.

"Yeah, so?"

"Just asking." , Cool water flowing over your bloodied knuckles, you examine yourself in the mirror. The White Bear got in a few good shots, and your forearms are bruised from defending yourself, but you came out of that mostly unscathed. Can't say the same for Roxie, though. She's pretty banged up. "You really shouldn'ta punched that guy in between rounds."

She groans. "Ugh, I know. They were saying I had gone the one round, so they were gonna give me the five hundred, but I wanted to keep going, but they said no, and I -- I got pissed off. I'm sorry, Johnny."

"You wanted the five grand, huh? You need drug money that badly?"

"Hey, fuck you, man!" Roxie turns to you, and you can see one eye starting to swell up. "That wasn't about money. I wanted to win!"

"So what? It was about pride, and not greed? You think that makes it better?"

"I said I was sorry!"

You groan and hold your forehead. "Shit. Okay. We both got our tempers up in that fight. Let's just -- let's cool it and get on with things." You key your walkie-talkie. "Nick? How's it going?"

"Slow and steady, chief," Nick says over the high-pitched whine of an automatic tool.

"Good stuff." You put the radio back and think about what needs to be done next.

>I need to get my wallet back.
>I need to go find that mysterious hat guy.
>I need to go find out what those security guards are up to.
>Fuck it. Let's go get some drinks and blow some money.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2047211
>I need to go find out what those security guards are up to.
>I think we just got noticed
>>
>>2047211
>>I need to get my wallet back.
We might have all the money we need, but if you lose your wallet to a pickpocket just after a robbery, they might turn it over to the Russians for the inevitable reward money they'll give them.
>>
>>2047211
>I need to get my wallet back.

They probably spotted the pickpockets. Hopefully we can get them to chase them as a distraction.
>>
>>2047211
>I need to get my wallet back.

And hey, Roxie joining and then continuing the fight DID extend the distraction that the original fight was meant to cause. I'm not a Roxiefag, but I'll give her that at least.
>>
>>2047218
Seconding this
>>
>I need to get my wallet back

Before we go do work, pay off the tab.
>>
>>2047222
>>2047250
>>2047258
>>2047263

>I need to get my wallet back

Writing.
>>
>>2047211


"First of all, that was about fifteen minutes. I need to go get my wallet back."

"Huh?" Roxie looks puzzled.

"Never mind," you say, not wanting to get into it. "I just gotta take care of something real quick. Chill out here and get yourself cleaned up, all right?" You pat her on the shoulder. "Hey, you did good out there. You kept the distaction going, after all."

"Thanks, Johnny." A bedraggled Roxie looks at you with something like affection and loyalty. Then she turns back to the sink, plugs one nostril, and snorts, shooting out a a big glob of snot and blood into the porcelain.

You leave her behind in the men's restroom and head out. The pickpocket girl should arrive any minute now -- and here she is, right on schedule, walking in your direction. She still projects the image of a woman of class and style, long slender legs moving smoothly under her dress, curled blonde hair tumbling over her shoulder. She's really something. Too bad she's using her skills for such a basic con.

"So?" you say to her, by way of greeting.

She gives you a nice big fake smile. "Soon. My partner will arrive shortly. I saw your little display out there. Very impressive."

"Thanks. Your partner has my wallet, huh? Why didn't he just give it to you?"

"He was busy," she says, trying to hide her annoyance. "He had to take care of something, but he'll meet us here with what you're after."

Hmmm. Is that really what happened? "I thought you might run out on me," you say, scanning the crowd and the corners, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary.

"I thought so too," she admits. "Then I realized who you were."

"Oh yeah? Who am I?"

"I hear things, you know. Just the other day I heard about a big guy with scars who was drawing attention to himself. That he somehow managed to piss off both sides of the war, both the Bratva and the Triads. That he was still alive after being betrayed, shot, stabbed, set on fire, and thrown off a skyscraper. That he was the goddamn Terminator come to life." The blonde shrugs casually, takes a pack of cigarettes out of her purse, and lights one. "That man doesn't sound like someone I'd want to piss off."

"No, he doesn't," you agree.

Over the girl's shoulder, you see the non-descript guy from earlier, the one who's probably her partner. He's in between two burly security guards, with two more lurking nearby. The guy points at the girl, and the guards nods move forward, readying themselves.

Shit. Here you were thinking that the security guys were onto Nick and Ryuji, or that they'd realized who you were and that Ivan wanted your head. But it was actually just the damn pickpocket that was in trouble. Looks like her so-called partner sold her out. She's about to get metaphorically stabbed in the back right in front of you.

>This is some bullshit. Help her out.
>Get your damn wallet back from that guy. That's all you care about.
>Just walk away. None of your business.
>Good. She deserves it. Make sure she gets caught.
>>
>>2047495
>This is some bullshit. Help her out.
A favour from someone of her skill will certainly be useful.
>>
>>2047495
>Get your damn wallet back from that guy. That's all you care about.
>>
>>2047495
>This is some bullshit. Help her out.
>By the way, how much do you trust your friend back there? (nods over to him)
>Hope you don't mind me feeding him to my pet gator.
>>
>>2047534
Supporting
>>
>>2047534
>This
But when were done, make it clear that she owes us.
>>
>>2047534
>>2047495
Backing this. But more "you're helping me with a distraction now. I'm helping you get back at him later."
>>
>>2047522
>>2047534
>>2047541
>>2047564
>>2047565

>This is some bullshit. Help her out.
>By the way, how much do you trust your friend back there? (nods over to him)
>Hope you don't mind me feeding him to my pet gator.
>When we're done, make it clear that she owes us.

Writing.
>>
>>2047495
>>2047607


This is some bullshit. The girl might be a thief and a two-bit con artist, but nobody deserves to get stabbed in the back by their partner like this. You can't just stand by and let this happen right in front of you.

"By the way," you say to the blonde, nodding over her shoulder. "How much do you trust your friend over there?"

Without turning around, she glances in a nearby reflective surface. Her eyes widen in fear, and her glamor act disappears. "Oh, shit. Are you fucking serious? Petey, you son of a bitch--"

"Come on," you say, taking her arm against her protests. You hustle her away as fast as she can go, her half-running alongside you, holding up her dress with her free hand so she doesn't trip. You maneuver through the outskirts of the crowd, acknowleding the handful of people who congratulate you on your victory. They give you knowing winks as you and the girl disappear into a shadowed hallway to the service rooms, thinking that you must be taking her away for other, more carnal purposes.

"Why are you doing this?" she says. "If you're trying to get laid with some kind of white knight act--"

"Trust me," you growl. "I don't need any more women problems in my life. I just can't stand seeing someone get backstabbed right in front me. It's not right. You gotta stand by your crew. Let's get one thing clear, though," you say, hauling her into a darkened alcove. "After this, you owe me. I expect a favor in return. You get me?"

"Hmmm, depends on what kind of favor," she says, a certain enthusiasm slipping into her voice.

You look away, embarassed. "Not that kind."

"Oh? Don't tell me you're shy?" The blonde runs her hand up your chest, then places the tip of her index finger on your chin, looking closely at you. You move her hand away. A flirtatious smile crosses her alluring lips. "Should we kiss? That's what we're supposed to be doing in a situation like this, right? The guards come along and we say, oh, sorry about that sirs, we were only trying to find a quiet spot--"

"That only works in movies," you hiss. "Now stay quiet and--"

"Excuse me, sir," you hear in a heavily Russian-accented voice. "Could you please--"

Without waiting, you turn around and headbutt the guy in the face. He falls to the ground, clutching at his blood-streaming nose. There's three more of them, and they pull out billy clubs, but you're one step ahead of them. One of them you shove into another, knocking them both off-balance, then jab the fourth one in the throat. He drops his weapon and stumbles back, unable to breath. You grab the club off the floor and whack the other two guys on the back of the head, then turn back to its owner and hit him across the kidneys.

You toss the club on the ground. The girl stares in awe and fear at the disabled guards.

(Continued)
>>
>>2047858


"Got a pen?" you ask her. She shakes herself out of it, takes one out from her bag and hands it over. You take hold of her by the wrist, turn her hand palm up, and write on it the address for the Enigma nightclub. "Go there and ask for a woman named Catherine. Tell her Johnny sent you. She'll set you up with a better job than this two-bit con artist pickpocket shit. You're too good for this bullshit."

"Really?" she asks.

"Really. And remember, you still owe me a favor. I'll come looking. And I better be able to find you." You crack your knuckles. "Meanwhile, I'm gonna go have a word with your ex-partner. I'll give him a little payback on your behalf. And get my fucking wallet back."

A short time later finds you standing over the cowering thief. "It's real simple. Petey, was it? I don't like backstabbers. Really grinds my gears. But I'm gonna let you off easy today, because I'm a nice guy. I want my wallet back, and I want you to get the fuck out of town. If I ever see you again, I'm gonna kick the shit out of you. And if --" Fuck. You never asked her name. "-- your ex-partner ever sees you again, she's gonna come find me, and I'm gonna kick the shit out of you. Got it?"

Petey nods frantically. With shaky fingers he reaches into his jacket and withdraws a familiar wallet. You snatch it out of his hand. "You've got enough of these left in there to buy yourself a ticket on the next train west, right?" He nods again. "I suggest you do so. Now beat it." He scrambles to his feet and high-tails it out of there.

All right. That's taken care of. No idea if you'll ever see the blonde girl again, whether she'll take up your offer of employment with Catherine or just disappear into the city. She seemed nice, if a little too flirty for your taste. Oh well. At least you got your wallet back, so you came out even.

You radio Nick. "Status?"

"Almost there, chief. Just another few minutes. Expect a big bang shortly."

>Go back to the restroom, make sure Roxie isn't getting herself into trouble.
>Go find Nick and Ryuji, make sure nobody bothers them during the last section of the job.
>Fuck it. Too much bullshit for one day. You need a drink.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2047873
>Go find Nick and Ryuji, make sure nobody bothers them during the last section of the job.
>>
>>2047873
>Go back to the restroom, make sure Roxie isn't getting herself into trouble.
Make sure we know where everyone is
>>
>>2047873
>Go find Nick and Ryuji, make sure nobody bothers them during the last section of the job.
Why stop running around now?
>>
>>2047873
>Go back to the restroom, make sure Roxie isn't getting herself into trouble.
We'd probably just be drawing more attention to Nick and Ryuji.
>>
>>2047873
>>Go find Nick and Ryuji, make sure nobody bothers them during the last section of the job.
>Grab a spare club, just in case of more goons to knock out.

And attempt to assuage your sadness over Cleaver-Chan...

Come to think of it, we're going to need to get a new melee weapon of some sort... Think Cat could get us something sharp and heavy?
>>
>Go back to the restroom, make sure Roxie isn't getting herself into trouble.
>>
>>2047913
Let's just switch around our melee weapons a lot.
>>
>>2047913
We already got an axe back home. We just didn’t take it with us
>>
>>2047873
>>Go back to the restroom, make sure Roxie isn't getting herself into trouble.
>>
>>2047889
>>2047908
>>2047923
>>2048011
>>Go back to the restroom, make sure Roxie isn't getting herself into trouble.


>>2047913
>Grab a spare club, just in case of more goons to knock out.

Writing.
>>
>>2048020
Please archive Thug Quest 27
>>2027196
>>
>>2047873
>>2048020


You head back to the restrooms. A scared-looking guy makes a hasty exit from the men's room and marches off in search of a different one. You push open the door and head inside to find Roxie sitting on the sink counter, tapping ash from a cigarette into the sink. She's cleaned off most of the blood, the small trash can stuffed with red-soaked paper towels. Her eye is swelling up pretty good. Going to be a real shiner.

"Hey," she says, takes a drag, and blows a thin stream of smoke into the air. "I think I scared that guy," she adds.

You half-expected Roxie to be fighting someone else, or passed out from taking too much Z, or have run off and found some other way to get into trouble. It's something of a relief to find her where you left her, calmly having a smoke. Scaring guys out of the men's room is a small price to pay.

You lean against the counter next to her. "We should be hearing a boom shortly. That's Nick and Ryuji. Afterwards, if they can waltz their way out of there without being bothered, so much the better. If not, that's where we come in."

Roxie nods. "Ready when you are, boss." She offers up her pack of cigarettes, and you fish one out of there and light it for yourself. The two of you take a quiet moment together, just enjoying your smokes in peace.

A dull thud echoes through the bones of the ship. The floor sways briefly underneath you, the ceiling lights flickering on and off. "Dammit, Nick," you growl, taking out your radio. You key the button. "You were supposed to tell me before you set it off!"

"Aheheh, whoops, sorry about that. Knew I forgot something."

This fucking guy. "Did it work?"

"Oh yeah, it worked just great. There's a big blast hole in the floor and bits of burned money are flying around all over the place. Looks like we blew the safe to kingdom come, along with everything inside of it."

"Good," you say. "Everything's going according to plan. Can you get out of there on your own?"

"Uh, yeah, about that -- we got outta the room, but now there's like six guys all coming this way. Won't be long before they spot us. I dunno if we can get past."

"Just sit tight," you say, looking at Roxie, who bounces up to her feet. "We're on our way."

Making your way along the outskirts of the crowded main room once more, you and Roxie find the stairs and ascend to the second floor. Just above you on the third floor, still clustered around the staircase, are six security guards. Their leader is giving them orders, pointing in different directions. They haven't spotted you yet.

>Blitz them. You can probably take them down with just fists and knives.
>Shoot them. Guaranteed to work, but it'll draw attention.
>Look around for something you can use on them.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2048235
>>Blitz them. You can probably take them down with just fists and knives.
>>
>>2048235
>Blitz them. You can probably take them down with just fists and knives.
>>
>>2048235
>Blitz them. You can probably take them down with just fists and knives.
To get to work
>>
>>2048235

>Blitz them. You can probably take them down with just fists and knives.
>>
>>2048243
>>2048247
>>2048249
>>2048255

>Blitz them. You can probably take them down with just fists and knives.


Roll!
>>
Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>2048322
>>
Rolled 8 (1d10)

>>2048322
>>
Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>2048322
>>
Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>2048322
>>
Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>2048328
Hopefully you are late.
>>
>>2048235
>>
>>2048235
>>2048322
>>2048323
>>2048325
>>2048327


You start to move up the stairs, but unfortunately at that exact moment one of the guards happens to casually glance in your direction. He freezes for a moment at the sight before shouting in Russian, alerting his comrades.

You say, "Hey, uh -- just looking for the bathroom, guys. Is it this way?"

They don't buy it. Oh well. Worth a shot. The Russian guards barrel down the stairs towards you, throwing feet and fists, using the staircase for momentum. The assault drives you back.

Roxie charges in, screaming a war cry. She drives a wedge between the guards, holding three of them back, but the others keep after you.

The three guards rain blow after blow at you, coordinating their attacks from different angles. Several of the attacks strike home with painful impact, angering you and calling you to hit back, but It's all you can do to defend yourself. They keep you on the back foot, retreating, until you're pushed out of the halls and into the main casino room. Your ears fill once again with the rings of slot machine bells and shouts of hedonistic thrill.

You interrupt everyone's fun by grabbing the foremost security guard and forcefully throwing him onto the nearby roulette table. Gambling chips scatter, drink glasses spill or shatter. You climb up on top of the table and, grasping the heavy roulette wheel, rip it off its fixtures on the table, raise it over your head, and bring it slamming down on the guard. It doesn't kill him, but he's going to be eating through a straw for a few weeks.

The roulette ball bounces away across the floor.

You look up, panting, to see some of the crowd panicking and fleeing in waves. Some stay to grasp greedily at the spilled chips. Others wouldn't be torn away from their games for the world. Through the fleeing crowd, however, you can spot several burly men in ill-fitting suits pushing their way through the civilians towards you. Their eyes are fixed on you with violent intent. One of them gives a hand signal and shouts something in Russian, and they spread out to surround you. You stand on stop of the roulette table, trying to catch your breath and keep track of all of them. There's six, no, eight of them, maybe ten -- fuck --

>Draw your gun.
>Wait for them to come at you.
>Leap at the closest one.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2048425
>Draw your gun
>>
>Draw your gun.
>>
>>2048425
>>Draw your gun.
>>
>>2048425
>Wait for them to come at you.
We'll be fiiiine.
>>
>>2048425
> Break through using the gambling table as a shield.
>>
>>2048428
>>2048433
>>2048434

>Draw your gun

Roll!
>>
Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2048464
>>
Rolled 9 (1d10)

Let's hope
>>
Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>2048468
>>
Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>2048464
>>
>>2048425
>>2048464
>>2048468
>>2048469
>>2048471


Soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsWkLVi2Xf8


No sense in waiting for them to escalate first. You draw your M1911 and put a round in the forehead of the closest security guard. You turn to the second one and double-tap him in the chest, then again for the third.

That's three down, but at least seven more surround you. Some of them move for cover, pulling out their own pistols, while others continue their charge, swarming the roulette table and striking at your legs with fists and billy clubs. One of them grabs your ankle and pulls you off your feet, and you land on your back on the table, thudding painfully into at least one drinking glass that shatters underneath you.

You shoot the fucker who dragged you down, and roll off the table onto the ground. The roulette wheel has landed nearby, and you grab it with your free hand as you rise to your feet. You hold the heavy wooden wheel up as a shield, blocking close-range attacks from the guards in melee as you aim past them to blast anyone with a gun who aims in your direction. Clubs and fists rain in past your makeshift shield, but you manage to avoid getting shot for the moment.

A woman's voice lets out a savage roar, and you look over to see Roxie sprinting from the hallway. Her fingers are wet with blood. She leaps into the air at the nearest guard and drives both knees into his chest, knocking him to the ground. She lands on top of him, elbows him in the stomach, wrestles his gun away from him, and unloads the entire clip into another guard nearby, screaming a war cry as she fires.

A third guard near Roxie is about to blast her, but his stomach suddenly erupts in exit wounds, and he stumbles to his knees and falls over. You recognize the a third gunshot sound, a new pistol joining the fray, and hastily look around to see Ryuji firing to protect Roxie. Nick is in front of him, anxiously gesturing at you. "C'mon!" he shouts. "Let's get the hell out of here!"

He doesn't have to tell you twice. This is probably most of the guards who were on board, but you're not about to hang around to find out. You shoot the last guy you can spot standing, then stuff your gun back into your coat and hustle after Nick and Ryuji towards the exit, Roxie following behind you.


The ship is slowly approaching the closest dock large enough on the Snake River. You shove your way through the panicked crowd down the deck towards the exit ramp. Not quite close enough. You look down at the gap. The thought of taking a swim in the Snake River is unappealing. Probably more dangerous than getting shot. On the other hand, the dock is almost there. Almost there --

>Jump for it!
>Wait.
>Write-in.
>>
>>2048527
>>Jump for it!
>>
>>2048527

Everyone is here right?
>>
>>2048527
>Jump for it
>>
>>2048527
>Jump for it!
>>
>>2048527
>Jump for it
>>
>>2048533
>>2048537
>>2048539
>>2048541

>Jump for it!

Roll!
>>
Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>2048549
>>
Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>2048549
>>
Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>2048549
>>
>>2048527
>>2048549
>>2048551
>>2048554
>>2048555

"No time to lose," you say to the crew. "Jump for it!"

They all make the jump from the deck railing to the dock, lighter and more agile than yourself. You, however ... not so much. You land with only one foot on the edge, loose your balance, tip over backwards. Your friends reach out to try to grab you, but not in time.

Splash!

You surface, spitting out water, a foul taste on your tongue. Could be worse, you suppose, watching a small fish swim past you. Some of the cash you won from the boxing match floats away, and you grab at it, but most it's out of reach. Oh well. You made way more money tonight than that anyway.

You strike out through the water, swimming towards a nearby ladder. Hauling yourself up on the rusty metal rungs, you reach the top, dripping water on the concrete. The crew approaches, trying to restrain their laughter.

"Don't say anything," you warn them. "Not a word."

Roxie coughs into her hand. "I don't hear cops, but we should probably get outta here before they show up."

A ship horn sounds. A garbage scow slowly passes by, skirting around the docking Lauren Belle. A familiar-looking elderly Asian man stands at the edge of the ship, dressed as an ordinary laborer in coveralls and flat cap. He tips his hat to you as he passes by.

"Nice of the old fella to help us out with the drag winch," Roxie says to you.

"He said he didn't mind helping out his nephew on a job as long as he wasn't shooting or being shot at."

(Continued)
>>
>>2048583

Later that night, at the other end of the Snake River, you meet Ken and the garbage scow captain at an isolated dock. Ken confirms he was able to latch onto to the casino safe at the bottom of the river and drag it up to the surface with a special winch rigged to the scow. He's cleaned off the worst of the river muck and has it ready to go.

Nick claps Ryuji on the shoulder. "This guy here did a great job cutting the holes in the first and second floors. The safe fell right through, straight down into the river." He chuckles. "With that room blasted to pieces and cheap counterfeit scattered all over the place, they won't even think to check whether their safe really exploded!"

"Nice work, everyone." You count out a generous number of hundred-dollar bills and hand them to the scow captain. "We were never here, right? This never happened."

"Gee, I can't seem to remember who I was just talkin' to," he says, slipping the money into a pocket in his coveralls. "Have a good evenin', fellas." He tips his hat and heads back to his ship.

Ryuji and Ken give you a short bow, then head to Ken's car and take off into the darkness.

Nick and Roxie are all struggling to load the safe into the back of your Toyota pickup, which you parked here earlier. You head over and give them a hand, and the safe easily lifts into the truck bed. "All right!" Nick says, climbing into the backseat. "Once we get this baby into a garage, give me four -- ehh, better make it five hours. I guarantee I'll have this open and the money will be ours."

"And you're sure we got more than just today?" you ask, getting behind the wheel. "They only empty it every two weeks? And we had the timing right?"

"Positive," says Nick. "I checked the books real quick just to be sure."

"Fantastic."

Roxie gets into the passenger seat beside you. "So we got it?" She asks eagerly.

"We got it," you confirm. "By tomorrow you'll have your cut. Twenty five percent of two week's haul at a popular casino? I'd say you're looking at 125 grand. Maybe more."

"Fuck yeah!" Roxie shouts. "We go celebrate! Let's get some fucking drinks!"

"Maybe after we ditch this safe full of stolen cash," you say. You back out of your spot, take the truck out of the parking lot, and out into the darkness and neon lights of the Heat City night.
>>
File: driving at night 2.gif (728 KB, 400x300)
728 KB
728 KB GIF
>>2048589

That's all for tonight's adventure, anons. Thanks for playing. Stay tuned, because the thread will continue with our 1-Year Anniversary Reader Mailbag.
>>
>>2048592
Thanks for running, Raven. Good thread.
>>
>>2048592


You and the rest of the crew are in the green room in between scenes. You wave to everyone reading. "Hello, readers. Thanks for following our adventures for the past year! To recognize you, the fans, we thought we'd take the time to answer some of your letters."

Several mailbags stuffed full of reader mail sit at your feet. You select some mail at random, rip open the first envelope, take out the letter inside, and begin to read.
>>
>>2048637


"From Thugaroonie:

Dear Johnny,
Which is your favourite Zaltron Character and why?"

You think about it for a moment, then say, "I guess it would have to be the red ranger. He expects a lot from his team, but he protects them and doesn't ask anything from them that he doesn't from himself. So they respect him. And when the chips are down, he doesn't give up. I respect that. I kinda hope I can be like that, you know?"

Roxie says, "Are you really wishing you could be like a cartoon character?"

"Man, shut up. I like it, all right? It's about more than people in color-coded armor flying around in space in giant robots. It's about life."
>>
>>2048639

"From Gin-San:

Dear Ryuji,
Reading this quest your relationship with Johnny has sure come a long way. What was your first impression when you first met him and what do you think of him now?”

You say, "You weren't too thrilled to work with me, were you, buddy?"

"No," Ryuji admits. "I believed Americans were big and stupid, and he was the biggest, stupidest American I had ever seen. When I was forced to work alongside him, I soon realized that belief was entirely true."

"Hey!"

"But I was also impressed at how he handled himself. I continued to work alongside him, and realized that he was a strong warrior, and loyal. He has caution when needed, but strikes boldly when the time is right. He is worthy to lead our small group as we struggle to make our way in this city. And he is a good friend. For that, I am grateful."

"Geez, you're making me blush. I still feel bad about your eye, pal."

"As I have said, I would rather keep my sister than have my eye back." Ryuji bows to you, and you wave him off, embarassed.
>>
>>2048644


"From BigIronInMyPants:

Dear Ryuji,
Do you have any friends that you left behind in Japan?"

Ryuji shrugs. "There were colleagues from work, old friends from school. But I gladly gave that up to help my sister in America, and to see my uncle again."

Cat says, "Are you going to tell them about your girlfriend, Ryuji? Or shall I?"

"貴様!" Ryuji says to her, reverting to Japanese. "ふざけんな!"

"You see," continues Cat. "It all started in Japan, back when Ryuji was a very lonely boy, when he met a strange girl from across the sea--"

"Next question!" insists Ryuji.

"But --"

"Next!"
>>
>>2048645

"From Thotslayer:

To Cat & Ryuji,
Did you watch any anime growing up and if so what was your favorite?”

Cat says, "As children, we didn't often have the chance to watch television. We had a strict upbringing in a traditional style. However, one of the servants had a black-and-white television, and he would look the other way when my brother and I snuck into his quarters to watch it. We liked to watch Fast Racer, Ninja Killer, Simba the White Lion, and especially Wolf the Third, a show about a master thief and his companions." She looks at Ryuji. "As I recall, one of those companions was a mysterious Japanese warrior, who preferred to fight with a sword even in this modern age ..."

"Truly a noble warrior, who honored the old ways," Ryuji observes.

Cat says, "Or an idiot who needed magic bullet-deflecting powers to keep himself alive."

"She doesn't feel the same way about our national heritage," Ryuji says dryly.
>>
>>2048646

"From Bootysmackarack:

To Ken,
You and the fox girl, eh? What's the story there?"

"No comment," Ken says, stone-faced.

"Oh come now, Uncle," Catherine says. "I've heard the rumors. Surely there's no harm in admitting it now?"

You say, "I bet you were a player back in your day. Is Kojiro really getting your sloppy seconds? Did he steal your girl? Did you steal his girl?!"

"No. Comment."
>>
>>2048650

"From LongDongSilver:

To Cat,
You sure you don’t want Johnny to call you kitty?"

Cat says, "What is this? Of course not. Th-that's just embarassing. I would never--"

Johnny says, "So you're sure you don't want me to call you "kitty"? Or maybe even "my kitty-cat"?"

A wave of scarlet blush rises from Cat's collar to cover her cheeks. She covers her face in her hands. "Aaugh!"
>>
>>2048652

"From Thugcules:

Dear Johnny,
What was it like growing up with your father? Do you have any other family?"

"My dad was a good guy," you say. "Most of the time. He ran a tight ship when I was a kid. We did some of the usual father-son stuff. Didn't get along sometimes. I guess that's normal. It's not his fault I turned out like this, y'know? He chose to fight for his country, unlike me, and got an honest job afterwards. So whatever you use to measure people, he's probably a better man than I am. He's still around, here in Heat City. We go out for drinks sometimes, and he tells me about how good my generation has it.

"My mom hasn't been with us for about fifteen years now, god bless her soul. I do have a couple of younger sisters who used to drive me crazy, but now I kinda miss 'em. They both moved away, one up north to Lancaster, one out west to Ivywood. Probably good they're not involved in this."

"Any pets?" asks Alex.

"Yeah, I had a goofball dog named Buddy. He was a real pal. I'd like to have someone like him around again. Maybe I should get a dog?" You think about it. "Nah, it would just get eaten by the alligator."
>>
>>2048653

"From Big Dong Studios:

Dear Roxie,
How did you like dancing, that one time with Johnny? Would you like to ever dance again?"

Roxie says, "It was great! I never really got the whole music thing until then. I liked it, though. New way of moving my body. I'd totally like to dance with Johnny again." She raises her arms in the air and grinds her hips in rhythm. "Get real close, show him some moves, see what happens--"

Alex bonks her on the head.

"Hey!" cries Roxie.

"Blue board," says Alex.
>>
>>2048654


"From HughJass:

To all of you,
On a scale of 1-10, how would you rate Water?
Shut up, Alex."

Alex was about to say something, but stops herself, instead just glowering.

You, Ryuji and Nick look at each other. "We're the only ones who've seen her properly, right?" You say. "So ... hmmm ..."

You and the others ponder this question, all thinking back to that striking dark-haired woman. Specifically to the first time they saw her, when she was clad only in a tight swimsuit. Sure, yeah, she shot you and made you fall off a skyscraper. But you can't let that impair your objectivity here. This is a woman's body you're talking about.

"Eight?" you say.

"With those legs?" says Nick. "Nine. Definitely nine."

The three of you nod in agreement.

"Go fuck yourselves," says Alex.
>>
Alex didn't get a single question, feels bad man
>>
>>2048761
I've got a question for Alex, if it's not too late for one more

What got you into the life of crime Alex. You seem to have your shit together more than most.
Also for the new blonde girl we saved.
3 sizes?
>>
>>2048815
PS
Alex a cute.
>>
>>2048659

"From Thunderfist:

Dear Alex,
Why do you wear sunglasses so much? Is it a style thing, or do you get something out of it?"

Alex says, "My dad gave me a pair when I was a kid. I just kinda kept doing it." She isn't wearing them now, but she takes a pair of aviators out of her shirt pocket and looks at them. "They protect your eyes from muzzle flash and grit. They look cool, make you seem tough, which is something you need as a woman in this line of work And, uh--" She mumbles something.

"What was that?" you ask.

She mutters something just loud enough for you to hear.

"Louder?" you say, even though you understood her.

"I like Top Gun, okay?! There. Satisfied?"
>>
>>2050444

"From RyujiNoBasuke,

Dear Alex,
Was the thing you did in Eastern Europe actually something really boring, and you don't talk about it just to try to be mysterious?"

Alex says, "No?"

You ask, "So what was it?"

"It's a long story. Some of it's private. I'll tell you some other time, all right?"

Roxie says, "I bet you're making up half this mercenary stuff just to try to be cool. Why not tell us what happened?"

"Because I'm not going to spill all the details of my mystery backstory in a mailbag thread, all right?"
>>
>>2050479

"From PoopFeast420:

Question for Zero,
Play any of those fancy computer games? If so, best one?"

Light reflects off Zero's glasses as he adjusts their position. "Thanks for your question, Poopfeast. I see you are a man of culture and taste. I do indeed own and play a number of games for my personal computer, as will all men of intellect in the future. Girls, of course, don't play video games."

Burn says, "Oh really? Whose high score in Star Zappers were you struggling and failing to beat all weekend? That's right, chulo. Me."

Zero clears his throat and ignores her. "I have beaten all the games I possess, of course. My favorites include You Are Likely To Be Eaten, Quest Kings, Quest Cops, and Zoot Suit Zachary, as well as of course the greatest role-playing game of all time, Penultima III. As an aficionado of Japanese culture, I of course also possess the latest in home console entertainment technology, the Family Computer Entertainment System, on which I have been partaking in--"

The twins shove their way onto the set. "Hey, you!" "We heard that!" "We challenge you--" "--to Super Romeo Bros!"

"Who let these miscreants in here?" asks Zero. "Are they part of the Q&A? Do they count as heist crew?"

"Who cares!" "Fight us!" "Fight us!" They chant simultaneously, even as you get up and drag them away by their collars. "Fight us fight us fight us fight us fight us--"
>>
>poopfeast420
Found my new name.
Thanks
>>
>>2050489

"From Mike Hawk,

To Zero and Burn,
You haven’t had any screentime lately. Whatcha been up to?”

Burn looks sidelong at Zero with a lascivious grin. "Oh, we're keeping busy. I make sure of that. Aren't you glad we met face-to-face, chulo?"

Zero blushes furiously. "W-w-we've been designing a plan to free Burn from the clutches of the Department of Defense. Those government pigs won't be able to keep her down for much longer. Not if I have anything to say about it." he adds, raising a clenched fist as he musters his resolve. "Once that's done, we can get back to working with Johnny. Nothing will be able to stop us! This city will be ours for the taking!"

The shortstack giggles as she plonks herself down in Zero's lap. "Isn't he a cutie, folks? Once we get in on another one of Johnny's jobs, I can think of all kinds of ways to spend the money. Can't you, amigo?" she asks Zero, ruffling his hair.

Zero starts to turn crimson. "O-o-on to the next question, please!"
>>
>>2050554

"From Thuganomics,

To Alex,
How do you normally spend your days off? Any places you like to go? People you go shooting with?"

Alex says, "I don't really get along with the people you meet at a shooting range. They're either cops or hicks. Mostly guys. A lot of them don't really see me as a shooter. They're only interested in me because of. You know." She clears her throat. "So instead I've got a deal with this guy, owns an old ranch out in the Marsh. He lets me be alone out there. I have space to do whatever I want without being hassled.

"Otherwise, I've got a Yamaha bike I like to take out on the highway sometimes. Just drive around, clear my head. Sometimes I'll stop by the local watering hole. Other than that? I don't know." She shrugs. "Work takes up a lot of time. And I gotta keep my guns clean."

You nod sagely. "Gun maintenance is important."

"Let me guess," Roxie says. "You're the type who, once every week on the same day, likes to take apart your guns. Then you methodically set up all the pieces nice and neatly on a clean sheet on the workbench, and reassemble them, piece by piece."

You say, "I'm sure she isn't that obsessive--" You glance over at Alex to see her embarassed expression. "Roxie was right?!"
>>
>>2050628
>implying there's anything wrong with proper, regular gun maintenance.
It will literally save your life
>>
>>2050628

"From Captain Thug Sparrow:

Dear Kaz,
What did you do before you got wrapped up in the gang?"

Kaz says, "Wait, what? They're asking me something? Huh? What I did before this? Ummm--" He scratches his head. "Not much, I guess. That was sort of the problem. I never applied myself in school, didn't have any big ambitions. Just went along with whatever was in front of me. So when some of my pals started working for the syndicate, I wanted in. They were making good money. Better than I could get flipping burgers, that's for sure.

"I ended up assigned to the drifters, part of the Yakuza's detail to keep the racers in line and make sure they get their cut. It was pretty cool. I hoped maybe someday I could race myself. I'm a pretty good driver. But I could never stake the money for my own car. I liked being a part of it anyway, you know? I liked hanging out with the drivers and gearheads and groupies, watching the races, partying every weekend."

You say, "I guess we kinda fucked that up for you."

Kaz shrugs. "It was going downhill fast at the time. These new guys, the Ito Brothers, got put in charge. Crazy fucks. Probably good I got out when I did."
>>
>>2051057

"From BigThugForYou,

Dear Johnny,
You seem pretty fond of that bonsai tree. How’d you react if you came home and find that the twins accidentally knocked it over?”

You crack you knuckles and say, "That would mean instant death."

"Aw, c'mon--" "--just a stupid plant--" "--doesn't even grow--" " "--haven't broken anything in like a week--"

"DEATH," you thunder at the twins, who cower in fear.
>>
>>2051063

"From Miraculous Ladythug,

To everyone,
Where do you see yourselves in the next ten years?"

You look at Alex and Roxie, who both shrug.

"I dunno," you admit. "I don't think any of us look that far ahead. The next ten years? I can't imagine where I'll be in the next month. We're all just doing this one day at a time, trying to live to see tomorrow."

"Speak for yourself," Nick says. "In ten years I expect to have it all! A mansion in the hills, a fleet of fancy cars, women on my arms, servants, jewels, the whole works!"

"For myself, I'd like a penthouse in Castle Green or Tangerine Grove," Cat says. "I'd have the entire top floor to myself. And it would have a large deck and a swimming pool. Perhaps one with glass sides, built right on the edge, so while in the water you could look out at the city with seemingly no barrier between you."

"That sounds great!" Nick says. "Imagine the parties you could have up there! Fancy champagne, high roller guests, girls in bathing suits, great view of the city and the beach, everyone looking down at the streets and all the plebs crawlin' around." He kisses his fingertips and tosses it away in one of his rare Italian gestures. "Exquisite!"

"I'm glad to see that at least one of our little group has an appreciation for the finer things in life," Cat says with a smile.

"Hey, right back atcha. You're a classy lady, y'know?"

"Okay, so I guess some of us have more specific ideas about where we'll be in ten years than others," you say. "Myself, I just hope to be alive."
>>
>>2051137

"From Baba Ghanoush:

Dear Johnny,
You always seems to have Sarge on your mind in the field. What’s the best advice he has ever given you?"

"An excellent question," you say. "Sarge was a font of useful advice. Hmmmm. I'd have to say the best one was "Get down, you stupid pieceashit private!" Right before an artillery barrage fired short landed right on our position. Shell would've blasted my head off if I hadn't trusted the Sarge and dived into my foxhole right then and there. Those were US guns, but let me tell you, there ain't no such thing as friendly fire in a war. So yeah, thanks Sarge."

Alex says, "I think what they were asking was, what was the best advice Sarge gave you about life in general?"

"Oh, right. Yeah, of course." You take a moment to think about it. "The thing about Sarge was he wasn't just talk. He actually did this stuff. He'd shout at you about some hardcore shit, and then go and do it himself. That was how he lived. No bullshit. No compromise. I think that was the best advice he gave me, in a way. It wasn't something what he told me. It was what he did, and how he did it. Lead by example. Watch each others' backs. Take care of your own. Do what has to be done."

"He sounds like a good man," Alex says.

"A good man? No. He was a mean, hard-assed motherfucker who didn't give two shits about your feelings or your dignity. But he was a good Sarge. And that's what we needed. That's what mattered. A weak Sergeant you might like, but he'd get you killed. A tough one you might hate, but you'd have a better chance to someday reach that last wake-up, and get the hell out of there."

Alex says, "So your role models are your "mean, hard-assed motherfucker" Sergeant from Vietnam, and the Red Ranger from Zaltron?"

"I mean, when you put it that way, it sounds bad ..."
>>
File: stay rad.jpg (130 KB, 500x500)
130 KB
130 KB JPG
>>2051168

That's all for our Thug Quest mailbag, anons, and Part 28 as well.

I'd like to thank everyone again for reading, both lurkers and voters. I'm glad you've decided to join me on Johnny's Wild Ride. I started this quest on the spur of the moment a year go, not really expecting it to go anywhere. Since then, our MC has suffered many trials and tribulations, but he keeps on going. And here we are, a year later, with Johnny and friends still battling it out on the streets of Heat City, hoping to one day take revenge on Ivan, Kojiro, the Dragon, and any other scumbags who think they can run this town.

Here's to a fine Year 1 of Thug Quest, readers, and I hope you'll stick around and join me for Year 2.
>>
>>2051375
Congrats on the milestone, bossman. Here's to another 12 months.

Also, have you got any plans on doing another mailbag episode eventually? Or a side story involving another character?

I'm hoping for an Edna one, back when she was in her prime.
>>
>>2051375
Thanks for sticking with us for a year
>>
>>2051137
Nick and Cat , otp




Delete Post: [File Only] Style:
[Disable Mobile View / Use Desktop Site]

[Enable Mobile View / Use Mobile Site]

All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.