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TWO YEARS AGO

>Spring, 2013

The girl in the photo couldn’t have been more than nine or ten years old, but Sarah knew better than just to go by looks and gut alone. The kid was definitely younger than she looked, at least by a year, and skinny enough for it, too. And the county records listed her date of birth as only a few days before the World Cup final in 2006.

Not exactly the most memorable of matches. Italy had won 5-3 in a penalty shootout, all because the French captain couldn’t ignore an obscene remark about his sister. Or mother. The jury was still out as to what Marco Materazzi had said before he’d been hit by Zinedine Zidane.

If it were up to her, she wouldn’t have found too much fault in his action, other than suggesting another punch or two. Family was family. “Talk shit, get hit” was the M.O. for a whole lot of people, and not just the county police department. It’d be pretty fucking hard to find someone who wouldn’t get angry or upset at an insult to his mother.

Sarah doubted that the perp fell into the same category.

The dashboard radio crackled to life: “Dispatch to all thirty-five units. BOLO for a white cargo van, probably a Ford or Ram, North Carolina plate with a Wright Brothers’ plane logo, last digits ‘T3’. Suspect was last seen at a gas station just a mile off of I-495. If you see a vehicle matching that description, call it in and wait for reinforcements.”

Reinforcements that would take at least ten minutes to arrive. Anything could happen in ten minutes. The wheel creaked underneath her grip as she set her papers down, jiggling the engine to life before flooring it out of the parking lot.

Jane Graham had disappeared after the bus had dropped her off from school. After the first hour of unanswered calls to her cell phone, her parents had called the cops and put the state on red alert. Suits from the capital had been called in to help, and they were swarming North Virginia like hounds on a pork chop. Procedure said that the FBI became involved as soon as the possibility of crossing state lines was a possibility, and Fairfax was too damn close to Maryland and D.C. lines.

10-35 was the signal code for missing persons or runaways. That meant that all the cops working the beat, at least twenty of them, were on the case. But as every one of them were scattered across the search area, there was the dread of a fool’s errand that had settled, embedded in even the back of Sarah’s mind.

(cont.)

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Kidnapping cases always had timers. And in six hours, most victims were already either dead or sexually assaulted. All the worse for a weak, defenseless child, and nothing short of a miracle could get her back in one piece, unharmed, alive and well.

But miracles don’t happen often, especially not in her line of work.

As she came to a stop at an intersection, Sarah picked up the handheld. Depressing the switch, she said, “Fitzgerald to Dispatch.”

“Yeah, Fitz. Dispatch reading you loud and clear. What’s up?” Nothing short of a really, really fucking good descrambler was going to make heads or tails out of their chatter on this private channel. For all they knew, the perp could be listening in on the scanners, so it was better to be safe than sorry.

Sarah grinned in spite of herself. There was only one egghead who was either lax or brave enough on protocol to address her by her shortened name. All the more power since he was one of the smarter dispatch operators. “How good’s that info on the truck, Jimmy?”

“Pretty damn good...” There was a brief pause as papers rustled and a keyboard typed out a query. “Three witnesses and a security camera saw the girl talking to somebody in the truck. Suspect is male Caucasian, mid-thirties wearing a green shirt. Ain’t much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Match up with any sex offenders in the area?”

“Fifteen in Fairfax, twelve in Arlington...Piper and Donnie are making the rounds with the Feds, but it’s gonna be awhile before they get anything conclusive. No developments yet though.”

Typical. “Roger. Fitz out.”

More driving, more scanning. Sarah turned out of a residential area, a million thoughts on her mind. Was this how Ben experienced the old days of patrolling the beat, hunting down the perp responsible for petty thievery or outright murder? She started looking for paths off the road, tucked away quietly in the vast forests and tall trees of North Virginia.

She checked the wallet-sized photo again. Jane was just a sweet-faced little girl, just learning her handwriting and practicing her times tables. The world for her was her house, the school, the local park, a safe bubble made all the more warm by Mommy and Daddy...

The world shifted. For a moment, it wasn’t Jane’s face that was in the image, a copy given by tear-stricken and panicked parents. Abby’s face, her vulpine grin and all, had become superimposed upon the picture, vulpine grin and all. A daylight nightmare Sarah never hoped to experience in the waking world.

(cont.)

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Her grip on the wheel tightened, and she swerved to avoid clipping a minivan. By the time Sarah’s gaze went back to the photo, everything had gone back to normal. Jane’s bright face, mouth open in a laugh and dark curls bouncing in delight, were as they were. Her sister was nowhere to be seen.

“Get it together, you fuckin’ idiot...” she murmured to herself. Her head swiveled left and right as she reached the top of a cul-de-sac...

There, about a hundred yards away was a road that sloped downwards, almost like a gullet into a large copse of trees. The path took a gentle curve, but the trees were thin enough for her to see what they had behind them...cheap frame, single-story house and gravel driveway...right were a corner of a light van was just visible, more beige than white.

Was this the right one? What was the lighting the witnesses saw the vehicle, sunlight or shadows? There were too many things, too many variables and inconsistencies. The Fairfax Police Academy was good, but it couldn’t prepare anybody for everything, not even close. But what the instructors did teach you was to follow your guts and experience...

Sarah had been in the force for five years. Her mannerisms were shit, but her instincts were well-honed, well-practiced, and screaming at her to call it in.

She set the car to idle, fumbling for the monocular in her belt. Hardly regulation, but it did a fine better job than the binoculars in the glove compartment. As she put it to her eye and focused on the van, her other hand went to the radio on her chest.

“Fitzgerald to Dispatch.”

“Yeah, Fitz?” Jimmy’s voice answered.

She radioed her location, squinting to get a clear look. “I got a possible I.D., standby for confirmation.”

“Do you need backup?”

“Negative. Just a check-up...prolly nothin’ anyway...”

She inched the cruiser closer, as close as she could without alerting any occupants. The van didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary, the kind of vehicle a blue-collar worker used for day-to-day life. The iconography of Ford was caked with mud, but plainly visible with the weak light passing through the canopy. Another point in her gut’s favor...

There. But what sealed the deal, even without the last numbers of the license plate, was the image of the Wright Brothers, staring proudly at the biplane as it took off from the center of the tags. Virginia had a rich history and could be proud of many things, but there was only one state that could claim that it was ‘First in Flight’: North Carolina.

“Fitzgerald to Dispatch. I got a positive I.D.,” she exhaled, excited in spite of herself, “Right in front of me, airplane and all. Just off Idylwood Road, dirt road halfway into the forest, ends in a white, rickety house.”

(cont.)

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Jimmy broke protocol by transmitting an elaborate, but relieved, swear. “Nice job, Fitz! We’re passing the information on now and routing all officers to your location-”

Sarah had already exited the car, prowling down the driveway and ready to establish a perimeter around the neighborhood when time came to a terrifying standstill.

Even with the gentle breeze quietly rustling branches and fallen leaves, the scream was an awful, shrill sound, like someone looking at death itself. Her brain processed the information and in the next second, she found her Saur in her hands and her own body in a dead sprint towards the house. She slammed against the van, peering towards the entrance. Rickety wire-screen door on rusted hinges, curtains drawn tight beyond grimy, unwashed windows. The entryway seemed to branch, leading to a kitchen, bedroom and living room.

The thought of probable cause entered her mind for a moment, an old chastisement from her mentor at the Academy. She wondered if she had it, decided that she had more than enough, and ducked out of cover from the van.

“Someone’s screamin’ in there,” she hissed into the radio, “10-26I, I’m not waitin’ for backup, I’m goin’ in!”

“Fitz, wait-!” Sarah turned off the radio before Jimmy could complain, grimacing as the door creaked awfully at her entrance.

The first thing to greet her was a grimy rug, and a small corridor that seemed to branch out in two directions. She headed that way, gun up and senses sandpapered to ultimate alertness. Even with her vest and two plates of ballistic-resistant armor around her body, there was no telling what she would run into. At the best, a gun, but she lacked the stab-proof materials that her S.W.A.T. kit had.

As she ventured into the house, the angle of approach changed. There was noise in the living room, someone doing something, and she edged away as quietly as possible. The kitchen became invisible, and the living room disappeared entirely. She hugged the wall of the hallway, pistol at the ready as she opened the door of the bedroom.

Jane Graham was gagged and bound on a slimy mattress. Her eyes were open, but they stared at nothing, not at the nakedness of her little body, or at handiwork of her killer. An entire life’s supply of blood had gotten all over the sheets, dripping onto a floor littered with screwdrivers and hammers stained a sickly red. The gaping wound that ended her life, a horrific gash across her throat, was only one of many that had been inflicted.

Sarah didn’t react. She stared, searing the grisly sight in her memory as her mind became white noise and violent thoughts. All she could think about was that the son of a bitch responsible for this was still in the building, only a handful of feet away and too caught up in the aftermath of his kill to notice her intrusion.

(cont.)

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She saw the perp when she returned to the central corridor, peeking into the living room to confirm the target. Male, mid-thirties Caucasian, slightly balding and eyes focused raptly on the TV in front of him. It was a horror movie, some slasher from the eighties; that was where the scream had come from. It did little in the way of assuring her that Jane was long-dead before her arrival, or that Sarah could have saved her if she had been quicker to arrive.

In one hand, he clutched a Miller Lite, and with his other...Sarah blanched. The butcher’s knife on the coffee table, bloodied and slick with gore, was less than a few inches away from his knees, and only a handful of feet away from the hand that he was using to pleasure himself. There was blood all over him, his shirt, his legs, his arms...the blood of a little girl that would never come home from school.

“The thing with sickos like these is that they think they’re all hot shit untouchable. Sure, they’ll think they’re fuckin’ De Niro when they’ve got kid in their hands. But the thing is…they all fold like a house of cards at the sight of an armed cop, and they don’t resist. And that’s such a damned shame...”

“...so make ‘em.”

The thought entered Sarah’s mind, seemingly of its own accord. Her thumb pulled back the hammer of the gun, and the quiet click it made set the countdown to the killer’s demise.

Just at the entrance to the kitchen, there was an old, glass vase atop the counter. It still had the K-Mart sticker that marked it as cheap shit, a transparent thing that had a dozen wilted flowers sitting pitifully in it. Slowly, carefully, Sarah cocked her arm and punched the thing as hard as she could. It skidded on the counter, dancing wildly on its axis before falling to the floor and shattering.

The subject reacted violently and turned to see an unexpected visitor in his house. His response was instinctive, not reasoned. He stopped what he was doing, dropping his beer and reaching for the butcher knife right at the coffee table. She even gave him time to get a good grip on the knife and stand up. But before he could take a single step, Sarah had already lined up her target.

That was the final mistake of his life, and she didn’t even have time to smile. It was gospel in American police agencies that a man with a knife in his hand less than twenty-one feet away is an immediate and lethal threat.

The first shot went right through his gut, staining the wall behind him with a fresh color of red. He didn’t even have time to blink at the new stain on his shirt before she squeezed the trigger again. Five more rounds barked from out of her Saur, following the first in less than a second. One in the left thigh, one in the arm holding the knife, three more into the gut for good measure.

All non-lethal shots.

(cont.)

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He fell over, and started squealing like a stuck pig. It would’ve been a funny sight if not for the corpse a few doors down.

“Please! I fucking…I give up…” he whined pitifully, raising his good arm in the universal gesture of defeat. There was blood on his hand, some from the wounds on his body, some from Jane’s body. “…I surrender…”

But Sarah had already decided that this one wasn’t going to jail. And the time he saw the look in her eyes, knew that he was going to die, it was too late. As he either began to crawl away, make another useless intercession or try to grab her leg, she already had the Saur trained right between his eyes.

There was no cheesy one-liner, no witty retort as she killed him. All there was to it was a single squeeze of the trigger, the fine mist of blood and brains that came out the back of his head, and the reflection of his executioner as his eyes glazed over.

Piper was the first to arrive on the scene minutes later, and he found her sitting on the porch of the house. She was cleaning her pistol when he saw her, and an unspoken question and answer passed between them. They’d served together long enough to have that kind of communication.

Sarah shrugged, almost nonchalantly. “…self-defense. Fucker came at me with a knife.”

“Jesus Christ,” Piper exhaled, running a hand across his graying hair, “I’ll take your word for it, but the Feds aren’t gonna be happy...they were expecting a live one to take back.”

She shot him a glare that could’ve melted a hole in a plate of steel. “So were we, Lewis...”

"That's not what I..."

"Just drop it, okay?"

The veteran exhaled warily, joining her on the porch as the rest of the combined departments and the federal government converged on the neighborhood. Before sirens quickly began to fill the neighborhood, the two officers had a silent, quiet moment to themselves. Within minutes, they would be caught up in the red tape that came with murder investigations.

“...Lilly’s got meatloaf on tonight.”

“That’s nice.”

“And kids haven’t seen you in a while either.”

“It’s been busy.”

“...do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“...thanks, Lewis...”

==================

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Welcome back to Task Force 666! It's been awhile, I know, but thank you to everyone who patiently waited and/or threatened me with bodily harm. Regarding my health for those concerned, I should be able to comfortably quest for extended periods of time without relapsing or triggering pain in my lower back. Surgery's temporarily off the docket, but I've been responding positively to more conservative treatment.

I go back to grad school on about January 3rd, so I'm gonna be maximizing my questing hours in-between treatments and familial obligations.

>>3941334
welcome back and good to hear that your feeling better

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>The Demon Realm
>August 1st, 2015

>In the battle with Horkos, you have successfully shredded its Armor and reduced its Speed to 0.
>Crippled and spinning in the mud, your team and Ibaraki have an overwhelming tactical advantage.

Together, both the Whisler and its infantry support unleash hell into the fallen demon. You hold nothing back as artillery shells and demonic spells slam into the ruin of flesh. Dante’s weapon grows hot in your hands as you empty the magazine, round after round until the godslayer hands you a canister of munitions.

Ibaraki doesn’t seem to need any warnings, though. The little oni almost seems to dance her way between Horkos’ clumsy swats and your own munitions blasts. Sword and talon claw and slice through layers of fat and gristle, watering the ground of the Wastes with demonic ichor.

Suddenly, everything goes wrong. In her eagerness to claim herself a fillet, the demonic pig catches her unawares with a debilitating spell. She staggers, realizing her folly, and attempts to dance away. But that one charge is enough for him to pin her down against his prodigious bulk.

“Got you, brat!” Horkos cries out triumphantly, pulling back his fist. Trapped within meaty fingers, the oni of Mount Ooe is barely the size of his smallest fingernail.

“Ibaraki!” you shout in alarm, and everyone redoubles their efforts against the fallen demon. “Hang on, we’re on our way!”

Even caught, the oni rages, doing her best to free herself. She bites, claws and struggles against the grip that’s trying its best to turn her into a red stain. “Let me go, piggy!”

“I think not!” And she cries out as his grip tightens. “I’ve had it up to here with your little antics and mistreatment...no more shall I suffer your presence-”

“...aniki will surely kill you for this...”

“No he will not. Not once I’ve consumed you, the humans and their iron carriage...I shall have enough power to become the new ruler of the Brooding Mountains!”

“Really?!” The oni bears her fangs. “Then try to devour me! Try to kill me! I will never stop fighting. Even when they took my hands at Rashōmon, even when Minamoto-no-Raikou slew Shuten-douji...I never stopped fighting! That is what it means to be oni! So devour me, piggy. Maybe you won’t be so pathetic if you have my power...but beware! I will fight, even as my flesh melts from my body and my bones turn to feces!”

>>How will Carina respond to this unexpected development?
>Have the Whistler's main turret make a Called Shot towards Horkos' arm.
>Order the Whistler to ram Horkos at Full Speed as a distraction.
>You and Dante will directly charge Horkos.
>Write-in

>>3941344
>Have the Whistler's main turret make a Called Shot towards Horkos' arm.

Welcome back. I have completely forgotten the vehicle combat.

And carrying this over from the prior thread...

>>A brief overview of Kaz’s Armored Combat

>>Stats:
>Firepower – rough estimate of the most powerful gun on your vehicle.
>Armor – how much your vehicle is capable of shrugging off.
>Speed – rate of how quickly your vehicle can move or otherwise dodge.
>Engine – measure of how much is powering your vehicles systems.

>>Bringing a stat down to zero has severe consequences:
>Firepower – the vehicle is otherwise incapable of any offensive output.
>Armor – the soft insides of the vehicle have been completely exposed.
>Speed – the vehicle has been crippled and is incapable of moving.
>Engine – everything is dead. Life support, turret function, plasma shield, etc.

>Attack rolls determine if an attack hits, and the accuracy is modified by the turret gunner’s Combat stat.

>>Each stat can be damaged/modified.
>For example, Horkos’ Armor Stat is 8, which means that in addition to the default 40 DC to penetrate his body, he receives a +80 for a total of 120 Armor DC to beat with a normal shot, not counting the +10 from the Speed should Horkos wish to dodge and not attack.
>To bypass this, you might try to make a Penetrating Shot. For this example, you would roll Combat and add the bonus of +30 for Firepower. To Shred armor, you only need to beat the default DC (40) plus half of the enemy’s armor stat, which would be 80 in this case.
>Beating 80 DC will reduce Horkos’ armor by one, and every roll higher than fifteen strips another point of armor, as well as lowering the DC to shred.
>For the sake of this argument, the DC of 80 would also need to be overcome in order to strip Speed.

>>The “HP” of a vehicle is calculated by the following formula ([Armor + Engine] x 3)
>Horkos has 24 vehicle HP while the Whistler has 9.

>>Armored Combat’s core mechanic revolves around “The Shot”.
>Before rolling for Accuracy Checks, you will vote on a type of Shot that you will take.
>Each kind of Shot has its own benefits and drawbacks, so proceed with caution.

>>Choose the type of shot you wish to perform:
>Crippling Shot – Below the belt where the treads lie. [Targets enemy’s Speed Stat with the intent to reduce mobility]
>Disabling Shot – Red without tooth or claw. [Target’s enemy’s Firepower Stat to render them weaponless on the battlefield.]
>Evasive Shot – Shootin’ and scootin’ on the run. [+50 to the DC made for both yours and the enemy’s Attack Rolls for one turn]
>Lethal Shot – A heart is a heart, whether it pumps oil or blood. [Targets the enemy’s Engine stat]
>Penetrating Shot – Goes right through armor like in the doujins you read. [Target’s enemy’s Armor stat with the intent to Shred. Multiple degrees of success strip more armor.]
>Scatter Shot – Just pull the trigger and hope it hits something. [Randomly targets enemy stats]
>Stationary Shot – As vanilla as mounted artillery gets. [+50 to Attack Roll targeting no specific stat]

>>3941344
>>Have the Whistler's main turret make a Called Shot towards Horkos' arm.

>>3941344
>>Have the Whistler's main turret make a Called Shot towards Horkos' arm.

come on gunner

>>3941348
are we buffed?
and can we buff the turret/the gunner?
man i forgot almost everything relevant

>>3941344
>>Have the Whistler's main turret make a Called Shot towards Horkos' arm.

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>>3941354
Whole team's been buffed +1 with Luster Candy, so +10 on top of her +40 Combat and the Whistler's +30 Firepower.

>>3941346
>>3941349
>>3941351
>>3941357

Vote's for a Called Shot.

>Please roll 1d100+80 (+40 Sarah's Combat, +30 Whistler APC, +10 Buff)
>Best out of three.

Rolled 22 + 80 (1d100 + 80)

>>3941360
Fucking dice

Rolled 16 + 80 (1d100 + 80)

>>3941360

Rolled 68 + 80 (1d100 + 80)

>>3941360

>>3941367
Nice anon

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>>3941363
>>3941366
>>3941367
“Firing a high-impact shot!” Sarah calls over the radio. The main turret of the whistler groans as its servos bring it to bear against the monstrous demon. “Grab onto your butts and hit the deck!”

You don’t need to be told twice. Mere seconds after you hit the deck, an earth-shattering BOOM resounds throughout the corridors of the mountain. The air suddenly fills with the acrid stench of munitions fire as the turret unleashes the payload.

Horkos doesn’t even have time to blink as the shells burry themselves right into his elbow, detonating a second later. The pig-demon squeals and screams as his arm, still clutching a surprised Ibaraki, are blown clean off of his body. In its place, a shredded stump of bone and burning sinew hangs limply at its side, gushing blood all over the demonic wasteland.

“’s the matter, big guy?” Dante taunts, firing off more munitions from his fuck-huge bazooka, “Bite off more than you could chew?”

“SPAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRDAAAAAAAAAAAA...”

“Sorry, pal, but I’m not on the menu tonight...and neither are those guys.” Returning the bazooka to whatever pocket dimension he stores his weapons, the Godslayer grabs the hilt of his sword, and brings it to bear against the gluttonous demon. “Check, please!”

With those final words, Carina wastes no more time in dispatching the wayward demon. Crippled and devoid of its armor, it takes no more than a few moments for the combined forces of the ground team and the Whistler’s munitions to completely destroy Horkos. And it is with a pathetic, almost pitiable squeal that the beast finally topples over, dead and eliminated for good.

From atop the belly of the demon, Dante whistles, low and admiring. “Not bad, kids! Still got a ways to go, but you’re not half-bad or dead weight. Alger really did a good job training you.” He looks over the corpse, thinking over something before nodding to himself. “I’ll pass on this one since I got a prize from the first oni. Help yourself, kids. That scepter and crown might be worth a fortune back at Central-”

“Wait, wait!” Ibaraki calls, sprinting over before you can take a single step. “The enemy was killed by all of us! Thus, the share of the loot should be distributed evenly! If Sparda doesn’t want anything, then it falls between me and you humans to split it.”

>>Of the items Horkos dropped, which do you want to keep? [Select Two]
>Horkos’ Banner. An enchanted scarf that grants its wearer Auto-Rakukaja x2 at the start of battle.
>Horkos’ Crown. A powerful d-source that can be either sold at Central or used at the Fusion Chambers.
>Horkos’ Scepter. A weapon inflicts the Hunger status ailment, can stack with Tarunda.
>Horkos’ Treasure. A magnetite cache of 4000 units of MAG, and a coinpurse with 50,000 macca.

Gonna get something to eat, BRB

>>3941408
>Horkos’ Banner. An enchanted scarf that grants its wearer Auto-Rakukaja x2 at the start of battle.

Mmm, buffs

>>3941408
>>3941410
>Horkos’ Crown. A powerful d-source that can be either sold at Central or used at the Fusion Chambers.

Oh we can have two

>>3941410
>>3941415
>>3941408
This here pls

>>3941408
>>Horkos’ Banner. An enchanted scarf that grants its wearer Auto-Rakukaja x2 at the start of battle.
>Horkos’ Scepter. A weapon inflicts the Hunger status ailment, can stack with Tarunda.

>>3941408
>>Horkos’ Banner. An enchanted scarf that grants its wearer Auto-Rakukaja x2 at the start of battle.
>>Horkos’ Crown. A powerful d-source that can be either sold at Central or used at the Fusion Chambers.
More buffs for the buff god.

>>3941408
>>3941436
Thid

>>3941408
Didn't this lil' chick kick your ass on the phone game Kaz?

>>3941408
I've got something going on right now, but I'll be on tomorrow to catch up and stuff, glad to see you back!
Also, we still need to reconstitute the two that we turned into an angel. We said we would at some point.

Holy shit it's back! And right after I return from a trip to DC too

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>>3941410
>>3941415
>>3941417
>>3941436
>>3941438
>>You have received the following:
>Horkos’ Banner.
>Horkos’ Crown.

If Ibaraki had any complaints with how you divided the loot, you’ll never know. The little demon stuffs both her pockets and her mouth, filling one with treasure and the other with well-done meat. Heavy ordinance munitions, apparently, make for one hell of a seasoning for an oni’s palate. And damn if the little demon, barely even reaching five feet in height, can put away both a meal and plundered booty.

“It is only in the nature of demons for the strong to survive, and to feed and prey upon the weak,” she waxes philosophic, picking between her teeth with a bone, “But to be an oni is to wallow in poverty, and fill that void with plundered fortune and good liquor. Pity that we do not have any of the latter with all this meat around.”

“Oh, yes,” High Pixie grumbles from behind the sleeve of her kimono, tying vainly to mask the stench of the burning demon meat, “Because it’s so noble of you to live and die like bandits.”

The oni flashes her teeth in a smile that held little in the way of amicability. “We are not so cowardly to hide or otherwise dissemble. But the fairies of the West carry on a masquerade of elegance and grace, even as they indulge in their most degenerate pleasures.”

“I’m a Seelie, you snaggly-toothed brat,” your demon hisses, “Don’t you dare lump me in with those perverted Unseelie.”

“Kukuku...with how loosely that kimono hangs on your shoulders, you would not be out of place in a shogun’s harem...”

You allow the two of them to argue and exchange words. Maybe on some gut level, you know that Ibaraki wouldn’t try something funny with you around. Especially given the extenuating circumstances for her to enjoy her meal and teasing. You know little in the way of demonic digestive systems, after all, but you have doubts that Ibaraki could pull off a ‘Jonah and the Whale’ scenario.

“She’s now honor-bound now that we’ve saved her life,” Vicky says over the private channel, “Oni generally don’t like to be indebted to humans, but some will acknowledge and respect the pact to maintain their own honor.”

“Some?”

“Oni are complicated...may I suggest reading about Aki-san and Ao-san? You’ll only be scratching the surface of oni behaviorisms, but it’s a start in the right direction.”

You glance back towards Ibaraki, who seems content to munch on a drumstick ten times her size, ignoring the scathing, passive-aggressive remarks that High Pixie throws her way.

“...send it to the queue.”

(cont.)

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Well, while we're waiting for Kaz, let us go into our favorite past time:
Talking about Pixie.

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>>3942184
She sure is cute.

>>3942185
the cutest

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>>3942185
I WANT TO BULLY PIXIE BY CALLING HER CUTE TILL SHE BLUSHES.

>>3942192
with our High Pixie that shouldn't take long

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>>3942192

When are we gonna run into Demifiend and have a 1v1, pixie only, fetus of god cat fight?

>>3942247
when we are going to die

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>>3941975
It takes the better part of the afternoon to repair the Whistler from the damage sustained in battle. Time has no meaning beyond the clock set to Eastern Standard, but by the time you’re all finished, the sun would’ve been down back on Earth. Though you and Sparda were the only ones who had taken on roles as infantry support, Carina and their demons were exhausted after the encounter with the Lord of Gluttony.

In the end, you decide to call it quits for the day, electing for everyone to hit the sack. Nobody complained. Watches are drawn and assigned, with Ibaraki and Sparda sharing the dog’s watch in the middle of the evening. Privately, you doubted that it was necessary in the first place. The stench of Horkos’ cooling body was its own warning for all comers to stay the fuck away.

The next two days find Carina resuming their journey up the mountain, a trek that was, for the most part, unmolested and otherwise boring. Ibaraki maintained that this deep within the mountain, any and all of the demons that lived within her brother’s territory paid fealty to him. Only a brave, foolish, and/or suicidal buffoon would attempt to attack someone who was clearly a guest of the honorable Kin-Ki.

Mercifully, the worst onsets of cabin fever are easily mitigated. You and Sarah snag what time you can during your breaks. Vicky and Brady had taught their demons several card games to pass the time, but you were quick to veto future games of ERS after the first slap put a dent in the floor. MacKay contents himself with quiet contemplation and study, and the Godslayer just...sleeps.

On the fourth day of the expedition, you finally reach your destination: the peak of the Brooding Mountains.

“You will bring your iron carriage to a stop,” Ibaraki says as you round the final corner. “When we approach the entrance, I will announce you to the gatekeeper. We may wait awhile for the reception to be prepared-”

The words on her lips die in a muted instant, a hushed gasp filled with terror. For a dread second, you feared that she’d come under attack, that some sniper had shot her. But at the sight the monitor reveals once you’ve completed the last maneuver, you now have a full view of what she sees.

It might have been a mighty gate once. The pieces of rubble strewn across the ground attest to some impressive feat of engineering and architecture that would have stretched at least thirty stories. What sill stands gapes limply, opening to the sight of a courtyard...no. A charnel house.

To call this place the site of a battle would be a gross misstatement. Heaps of butchered bodies are stacked in piles across the outer court, each sorted into their own bloody pile. Their murderers had been meticulous in cataloging; oni, tengu, inugami and dozens of other demons lay in their own mass graves. Some still smolder from old fires, others have been so thoroughly burnt that only their husks makes their misshapen forms identifiable.

(cont.)

“No, no...” the oni whispers, and you don’t need the monitor to guess the expression on her face, “This can’t be...it’s...when would they have...no one would dare...”

Carina stares aghast at the monitors, and even Sparda looks disquieted. But as leader, you have to be quick to respond. “General quarters, now! I don’t care how old the site is, there could be scavengers, or whatever hit them could be lurking around-”

“ANIKI!”

With a desperate howl, Ibaraki launches herself from the APC and makes for the fortress like a bat out of hell before you can stop her. The little demon is a blur of motion, a streak of flaming orange-yellow in the dimness of the demon world. She only lingers for a second on the courtyard before breaking into a desperate run towards the depths of the structure.

“Fucking...” You turn to Vicky. “Think you can get the Whsitler through the debris?”

“Y-yes, of course...” The mechanic pauses, her mouth a thin line of grim apprehension. “Hold on...”

The vehicle lurches, and the magnetite reactor hums something awful as the APC generates enough force to punch through the ruble. And in the dust cloud that it creates, the six of you unload from the Whistler guns out and demons at the ready. Sparda remains weaponless, but his posture betrays any nonchalance.

The fortress of Kin-Ki might have been something out of a Japanese calendar. The tiered structures and curved eaves are iconic to the demon’s culture. The largest foundation, easily as wide as an Olympic swimming pool, must have borne the load of an impressive tower before its destruction. Not a single building remains undamaged or otherwise left untouched.

>>Where does Carina wish to begin?
>Search the Burning Library. Investigate records of the Devil Dust trade.
>Search the Crumbling Throne. Follow Ibaraki in her search for Kin-Ki.
>Search the Plundered Armory. Salvage what you can from the demon’s treasury.
>Search the Sunken Shrine. Search and rescue any possible survivors.

>>3942298
>>Search the Sunken Shrine. Search and rescue any possible survivors.

more information about what happened would be nice

>>3942298
>>Search the Sunken Shrine. Search and rescue any possible survivors.

>>3942298
Whatever we decide, do not split the group
Who- or whatever did this had some damn firepower on their side

Let's go for
>>Shrine

>>3942298
>Search the Burning Library. Investigate records of the Devil Dust trade.

The way the bodies are cataloged makes me think it could have been the dust traders, but that's just a hunch.

>>3942281
>Search the Sunken Shrine. Search and rescue any possible survivors.

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>>3942305
>>3942308
>>3942309
>>3942327
>>3942359
“I’m getting life signs over...half a click southeast. Doesn’t look like much, boss, but it looks like we’ve got some survivors.”

That’s all Carina needs to make a mad dash towards the source of the signal. Idly, you think that five plus a Godslayer would be overkill, but you’d be an idiot to have the group split up. Who or whatever attacked Kin-Ki’s fortress was packing some serious heat, enough to destroy a hundred-ton stone gate and massacre all the inhabitants. Better to be safe than sorry, even with one of the most powerful Devil Busters on temporary lease to your mission.

The source of Brady’s readings comes from what you could best describe as a shrine of sorts. Of course, that is if you could ignore the catastrophic damage that had suffered it. In the center of the ruins lies a crater that might have been the source of the calamity, an impact hard enough to buckle the ground and cause the earth to collapse. Water from some source higher up in the mountains has been quick to fill the hole, but it would take another few weeks for the ruin to be completely submerged.

Dante looks at the chasm, shrugs and jumps down the hole before any of you can stop him. His words waft up from the hole, “Stick to where I land, kids. Might not be completely stable...”

All of you know better than to argue with the Godslayer. Then again, you do have a demon that can Fly...

“Nice ride, Brown,” Dante comments dryly as Griffon brings down the last of your passengers, “Certainly a whole lot friendlier than the last one I tried to get a lift from...”

The collapsed ruin itself is not too big, no larger than a football field. But the walls of the hole impart a claustrophobic feeling, one not entirely dismissed by helmet lights and thermal imaging. Even the quietest footstep sends a loud SPLASH that echoes along the stone walls. All of your hairs are standing on their end, and you’d wager a whole lot of money to say your squad felt the same.

Suddenly, Brady’s gun whips toward a section of the collapsed ruin. “I’ve got something.”

“A survivor?” asks MacKay.

“Prolly...can’t tell...it’s big, I’ll give it that much...the COMP’s giving it a decent power rating-”

"Demon then..." Sarah grunts, "Hope its one of theirs and not-"

Without any warning, the roof of the ruins explodes in a cloud of violent debris. And even past the plume of dust and water vapor, the shape of something long and prehensile looms perilously above you.

Definitely a demon.

>>WARNING: ENEMY IS USING SPELL REGISTERED AS MABUFUDYNE.

“MOVE!”

(cont.)

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The temperature of the chasm, reading at a comfortable sixty to seventy degrees Fahrenheit, plunges like a stone in a river. Tendrils of magic race across the water, lancing around fallen pillars and collapsed buildings in their haste to reach you. Crystalline structures of ice erupt in their wake, some hard for blunt impact, others sharp to impale and thrust. Somehow, the six of you manage to dodge the worst of it, with minor scrapes and scuffs to the DEMONICA plating-

"!"

The shape within the cloud makes a noise no human could possibly make. And with a great flap of unseen tendrils or wings, the obstruction is blown away, to reveal something inhumanly beautiful.

At a first glance, you might have assumed her to be a pale woman, perhaps wearing the white makeup of a geisha. The dress certainly matched, but that was where all similarities ended. Her legs are too long, seemingly ending in the white cloth of her dress, and her eyes are a uniform red, lacking sclera and pupil typical of humans. Her face is porcelain, shrouded by hair as white as snow. And crowned atop her head, and girdling around her waist, are two pairs of intertwining snakes.

...what a busy demon.

Sarah curses. “The hell is that thing?!”

“I don’t know!” Brady snipes back, ducking from another ice attack. The programmer summons Jack Frost...who promptly absorbs the next attack. “Some kind of ice demon, I got that much...uh...shite, the fuck...”

“I’d hazard a guess,” MacKay grunts, taking cover behind a pillar, “And say for consistency’s sake that this demon is Asian?”

Vicky nods her ascent. “Agreed, but not from my country. Dress isn't a kimono...a Chinese demon, perhaps-?”

"What's more important is what she's doing here," you answer curtly, "And whether or not she's one of Kin-Ki's or the force that attacked-

The demon roars again, leaving the cover of the cloud to lunge towards the party, twisting and curling at vectors and angles impossible for any mundane reptile...

>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]
>Beat the demon into submission. [Begin Combat]
>Flee the Shrine and return later. [Flee]
>Write-in.

>>3942384
>>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]
"We are here with Ibaraki and wanted to negotiate with the Kin-Ki. What happend here?"
be ready to dodge as soon as possible

>>3942384
>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]

>>3942384
>>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]

>>3942384
>>Beat the demon into submission. [Begin Combat]

>>3942384
Just fucking die

>>3942384

>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]

>>3942384
>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]

>>3942384
>Attempt to communicate with her. [Initiate Negotiation]

>>3942399
>>3942400
>>3942411
>>3942434
>>3942438
>>3942978
“Hold your fire...but don’t drop your weapons...” you murmur into the comm. “I’ll...see if we can’t calm her down.”

Dante makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Smart move. Never went to rock school, but I can tell you right now that any fight with something that big is only gonna destabilize the area further. So in the interest of not making a sinkhole...”

“Make peace with the snek,” Brady quips, “Good luck, bossman. Hope your luck with demon women holds at...what is it now, three for three?”

“Five if you count the Alice encounter,” Vicky supplies, who quickly quails underneath a heated glare from both Sarah and MacKay. “...meep...”

The peanut gallery quickly shuts up as you advance towards the demon. Even as the creature races towards you, you drop your weapon, holding your hands up in what you hope is a universal sign of peace. Abruptly, and only mere feet away from your body, the demon stops its attack. It makes no move to lower its hands or drop the hostile demeanor, but at least it’s...unwilling to attack an unarmed opponent.

For now, at the very least.

Time to turn on the charm...

Clearing your throat, you carefully enunciate: “Do you understand me?”

Her eyes narrow, and her mouth opens unnaturally wide. Not quite wide enough to swallow you, but wide enough to take a hand if need be. Mercifully, it just appears to be an intimidation tactic. And the bad news is that it’s working.

“...oath breakerssssssssssssss...” the demon hisses, “...nesssssssst defilersssssssssssss...filthy humanssssssss in sssssssskinssssssssss and helmssssssss of black...” A peripheral glance at the team yields nothing but confusion. But the demon is not quite yet done talking. “...you wear the ssssssssssame sssssssssssssskinsssssss and helmetsssssssssss...”

...the human element. That must be who she’s talking about, the rogue Devil Summoners with their own “iron carriage”. As far as Ibaraki told you, the Kin-Ki coalition was on good terms with them. What could have possibly changed?

Questions for later.

“...are you hurt?” you ask. “Is there anyone else in the shrine? My subordinate said that there could be more, and we’re here to help-”

“THEY SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSAID THE SSSSSSSSSSSSSAME!” the demon roars. Spittle flies from her mouth, splattering all over your visor and a panicking High Pixie. Her words ring in your ears, even as your audio processor struggles to compensate for the sudden peak in audio. “THEY CAME WITH GIFTSSSSSSSSS AND TREATSSSSS, SSSSSSSSSSMILING ASSSSSSSSS THEY SSSSSSSSSSSLAUGHTERED USSSSSSSSSSSS...”

(cont.)

>>3943090
>>“...was Xu Xian like one of those humans you so despise?” [Invoke the name of her lover.] [SPECIAL]

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>Brady’s Perk, Encyclopedia Demonica, activates!

The programmer’s voice crackles over the comes, hushed and desperate: “Boss, I think I got a match! There’s only a few snake-related demons that comes to mind when you look at China, and only one dressed in white! Bloody...can’t pronounce the name...Bai Shu-zhen, the legendary White Snake!”

“I know that story!” adds Vicky, “In the tale, she fell in love with a human named Xu Xian, and he continued to love her even as they suffered trials and tribulations in their legend-”

Her voice flat out dies as the now-identified Bai Suzhen rears up for an attack. Now her mouth fully distends wide enough as if to swallow you, and her fingernails grow to become cruel and wicket talons. High Pixie pounds her fists against your helmet, desperate for an attack order or the leave to retreat.

“YOU HUMANSSSSSSSS ARE THE SSSSSSAAAAAAMMMEEEE...” the White Snake declares coldly, and the temperature drops even further with every syllable spoken. Hoarfrost begins to collect on the rim of every nearby surface, from crumbling stone and tepid water to even your own helmet and armor. “YOUUUUUUUUUU WILL BEAR THEIR SSSSSINNNNNSSSS...SSSSSSSSSON OF ADAMMMMMMM...DAUGHTERSSSSSSSSSS OF EEEEEEEVE...”

>>How will you respond?
>“Attack us and you won’t live to see the next hour.” [Counter with your own show of strength.]
>“Ibaraki-douji herself has invited us, and will be angry if harm befalls us.” [Appeal to authority.]
>“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black.” [Make a logical, deductive reasoning.]
>“The cavern is collapsing; we’re trying to save you, not kill you!” [Evoke sympathy for the survivors.]
>“...was Xu Xian like one of those humans you so despise?” [Invoke the name of her lover.] [SPECIAL]
>Write-in.

Fixed for formatting.

>>3943095
>“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black.” [Make a logical, deductive reasoning.]
Remaining calm and neutral might help keep the situation from escalating. I think mentioning the lover is either a great idea, or a sure-fire way to die.

>>3943095
>“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black.” [Make a logical, deductive reasoning.]

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>>3943095
>Write-in.
"We aren't the same as the ones who did this. In fact the reason my team is here is to track down and bring these Black Helmets to justice for crimes in the human world. We have been invited here by Ibaraki-douji after helping her defeat the Lord of Gluttony, Horkos (Show Banner) in an attempt have an audience with Kin-Ki about their whereabouts. If we were part of their group we would have no reason to come back to the scene of this attack. We have a common enemy in these Black Helmets and fighting each other would only serve their interests. If we work together however, Bai Shu-zhen, then we can make sure they answer for their crimes."

>As a side note if this negotiation ends peacefully, Adrian is going to need to fess up to Ibaraki that his team aren't actually part of the Dust Trader's team and instead were hunting them down cause they are now on top of everyone's shitlist.

>>3943095
>“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black.” [Make a logical, deductive reasoning.]

>>3943095
>>“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black.” [Make a logical, deductive reasoning.]

>>3943095
>“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black.” [Make a logical, deductive reasoning.]
>We are hunting down the ones in black. Do you need help? Ibaraki-douji just arrived, shall we send her to you?

>>3943112
>>3943157
>>3943189
>>3943222
>>3943353
>>3943553
“Our DEMONICAs are green and gold, not a uniform black,” you curtly intone, just before Bai Suzhen can finish her tirade or launch a primitive strike. “We aren’t the one who did this; we’ve only just arrived, invited to the fortress by Ibaraki-Douji herself. A few days ago, we defeated Horkos, the Lord of Gluttony...”

Suzhen’s eyes flash briefly at the mention of the demon, and narrow slightly at the enchanted banner you pull from your bag. Even without the magic woven into the cloth, there is no denying the unique...odor that clings to the fabric.

You continue: “My team has been dispatched by the Task Force to track down and bring human fugitives to justice for crimes committed in the human world. This massacre is going to be another thing they will answer for, I can assure you that. If we were part of their group, we wouldn’t be coming back to the fortress.

“We have a common enemy in these Black Helmets...” You pause as an angry hiss from Suzhen momentarily fogs up your helmet. “...and fighting each other is only gonna serve their interests. I’m not asking to be your friend. But if we work together, Bai Suzhen, then we can make damned well sure that these bastards are gonna answer for their crimes.”

The White Snake remains silent. She levels a cold glare at you, judging and considering, and after what feels like an eternity, her hands lower to her side, and her jaw cracks back into place. The sleeves and excess cloth of her dress cease to move and writhe as she lowers herself to your level.

Carina tenses as she slowly approaches, with every step creating an isolated growth of ice. But you make no move to retreat or otherwise give them an order to attack. Her eyes seem to root you in a singular position. There is no magic involved; it is the sheer force of will that this demon is exerting.

Suzhen stops, only a foot away from you, and your DEMONICA struggles to compensate for the sudden plunge in temperature. The White Snake evaluates you, not quite unlike a woman at a market inspecting a choice cut of meat. But whatever she had searched for, she seems to have found it.

“...very well, sssssson of Adam...” she hisses, “...you wisssssssh to purssssssue thesssssse humansssss? Sssssso be it...but when the time comesssssssss, their livessssssss and sssssskinnnnsssss are mine to take...”

>>Bai Suzhen’s disposition has switched from [Hostile] to [Suspicious]

With the threat defused, Carina and Dante waste no time in rushing towards the ruins, with Suzhen slithering quietly after you. Over the course of thirty minutes, the seven of you manage to pull out a myriad number of survivors from the wreckage and begin administering first aid. You have demons, of course, the likes of Onmoraki, Okiku-Mushi, a handful of Oni and even a Nue. Those you had expected, and their treatments are easily remedied with simple healing spells.

(cont.)

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What surprised all of you are a number of humans that you rescue, numbering a dozen. All of them are human women in varying states of stress, undress and injury. No two of them alike, let alone share a single ethnicity, and all are noted to be exceptional beauties. The least they had suffered was mild frostbite, perhaps a side-effect of being exposed to Suzhen for too long. The worst were severe burns, broken bones and lacerations that required more delicate approaches.

Both humans and demons alike initially recoiled at the sight of you, either shrinking back into their hiding spot or preparing spell or claw to meet a final end. To your surprise, it is Suzhen that preemptively prevents any sort of altercation or bloodshed.

“...thesssse are humansssss that Ibaraki brought...” is all she says, and apparently, it works. The tension bleeds from the room like air out of a balloon, and both human and demon survivors begrudgingly allow you to treat them. You whisper a muted order across the team channel, and within seconds, your faceplates lift and depolarize, revealing your friendly and helpful faces to the wary survivors.

“I don’t think Mnemosyne is gonna be completely able to neutralize them,” Brady murmurs, setting a demon’s arm in place to be healed, “The ladies, I mean. How long you reckon they’ve been here? They don’t look like they’ve seen sunlight for a long time.”

MacKay pauses in tending to one of the woman, a brunette Caucasian suffering from severe frostbite. “A problem to be addressed once we return, and one out of our hands. But I can at least hazard a guess to several weeks of captivity.”

You’re inclined to agree. None of them seem to be showing any signs of malnutrition, so Kin-Ki at least was feeding them well enough. But with the perpetual overcast sky of the Demonic Wasteland, there is little mystery in their extreme lethargy. Sunlight is its own special medicine and tonic.

Some of the women are in rags that might have once been jeans or designer shirts. Some cling onto the shredded bits of some uniformed kimono like a life jacket or security blanket. You had several doubts that there are any rape kits within a hundred clicks of the area, but you still made private, discretionary inquiries.

“Lord Kin-Ki was...not like that,” answers one of the survivors, a statuesque redhead with burns across her back. She whimpers as you and Sarah work delicately to work around the scraps of cloth grafted to her skin. “...he just wanted to collect us... women from around the world...roaming his castle like exotic pets...”

Sarah raises an inquiring eyebrow. “He still held you in captivity.”

“...better him than the soldiers in black...” comes the bitter answer. “...at least we get good clothes...a roof over our heads...three meals a day...and Kin-Ki never killed anyone for trying to escape...not that there was anywhere to escape to in this hellhole...”

(cont.)

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You and Sarah exchange a look. That definitely confirms Ibaraki’s earlier statement: tributes to the demons in charge of the wasteland, paid in supplies and amenities that included living human beings. Whoever these guys are, they’re definitely on a whole different caliber of enemy than any you’ve faced before.

By now, you’ve gotten as much fabric as you’re willing to remove. All that’s left is to apply antiseptic medigel and hit her with a Diarama. “Is there anything that you can tell us about the soldiers that brought you here into the wasteland?”

“They’re worse than demons,” your patient hisses, teeth clenched both in pain from your treatment and hatred for the subject matter. Her words and sentences become more articulate as her strength and temper begin to return in equal measure. “The slavery, the drugs...the tributes...I’d rather drown myself in the well before I’d return to one of their cages!”

Her words are taken up by the rest of the women, with a handful of shouted affirmation among the quiet chorus of agreement. Brady and Vicky look equally conflicted, and a glowering rage begins to form on MacKay’s face. Dante busies himself entertaining some of the younger victims, but even he can’t keep the trouble out of his eyes.

The patient coughs as you gently position her on the ground. “...they got me and Josie four months ago, just outside of Seattle. One minute, we’re walking out of a restaurant, and the next thing...the door we came through didn’t take us onto the street. We didn’t have time to get a good look where we’d entered before they were on us. Blindfolded, gagged and bound within seconds, even with us screaming and raising hell...”

Her breath hitches, and she has to swallow a lump in her throat before she can continue. “...they threw us in cages, told us to shut up if we liked living...all we had to do was stay quiet and docile, and we’d be free. Simple as that...discounting when some of the soldier’s wanted to have fun with the unluckier ones...” she finishes bitterly.

Sarah’s voice takes on a hard edge: “Can you describe any of the perpetrators?”

“Black helmet, black uniform...same as what you guys are wearing. But there was one guy in command of everything...uh, shit...ah...fuck, his name was...Jack. Or ‘Captain Jack’ as he’d liked to be called. His voice had a slight accent to it, probably somewhere from New England?”

Even as you log that information and begin the process of regenerating the skin on her back, your patient laughs bleakly. “...I was so fucking scared of everything...but Josie wasn’t...never was one to sit still and let some fuckhead jerk her around. And one day, when they tried to drag her cage-mate out, she fought back. Grabbed someone’s boot knife and stabbed him right in the unzippered taint. Squealed and screamed like a little piggy, that one did...”

(cont.)

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The amusement leaves her voice, and her eyes mist over. “...they didn’t like that at all. They summoned a demon, a floating monster with too many voices and too many faces...it cast a spell on her...left her helpless and paralyzed for Jack to make an example out of her...”

Tears leak from the corner of her eyes, and her voice begins to tremble. There is no more of that heated bravado in her voice anymore. “I don’t know how much Devil’s Dust they gave her, but...the way it burned through her...how quickly she got addicted and suffered withdrawal...how far she’d be willing to go to get the visions and see the world...they only got rid of her once they grew bored of her. ‘Spoiled goods’, they said, ‘unfit for sacrifice’...can you believe that...like it wasn’t their fault that she turned out that way?”

Both of you and Sarah offer nothing in response beyond a solemn silence.

“Hey, mister...miss...” your patient whispers, struggling to remain conscious as the skin of her back regenerates under the light of High Pixie’s magic, “You and your friends better make those sons of bitches pay, you hear? For every one of us...demon and human alike...whose lives those bastards ruined...and tell them that Miranda Parish sends her regards...”

>>Later

With the Whistler parked in the central courtyard, it’s easy enough to set up an impromptu turret and holding position. Even with their wounds healed, none of the patients are in good enough condition to be moved. There is little choice but to set up camp in the ruins of Kin-Ki’s fortress, and wait for them to be healed before you can arrange for transportation back to the real world.

Just as you begin to finalize a watch order and healing rotation, the doors of the great hall open with a labored groan. All eyes immediately turn towards the diminutive form of Ibaraki-Douji as she solemnly marches outside into the courtyard. You don’t need advanced retinal sensors to spot the red and puffiness of her eyes. But the object she carries in her hands, a wicker box sealed airtight with magical talismans, is harder to comprehend.

She does not keep you in ignorance for long. She raises the box to the assembled demons and humans, declaring: “Behold! Kin-Ki, Regent of the Brooding Mountains!”

It is as you feared. One of the more amicable demons in the wasteland, and perhaps the most benign and receptive to humans, is dead.

Ibaraki continues: “Aniki’s dying wish was for me to inherit his mantle. Thus as of this moment, I, Ibaraki-Douji , am now the Regent of the Brooding Mountains, and your sworn protector against the demons of the wastelands.”

Hushed whispers break out amongst the assembled survivors. Some dare to be cautiously optimistic, some can’t believe it, and others shake their heads in mournful resignation. And the kicker? You can’t tell if that last one is for the death of their lord, or Ibaraki’s recent promotion.

(cont.)

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Still, there’s a dead elephant in the room that you can’t afford to leave unaddressed. It didn’t matter if Ibaraki was too caught up in her grief to connect the dots or otherwise lash out in blind anger. Everyone unanimously agreed that the truth of your circumstances had to come out. You owed her that much.

“Ibaraki...” The new regent of the mountain turns to find Carina Squad plus Dante approaching her and her little wicker box. As leader, the responsibility fell upon you to deliver the news and the truth. Well, best to lead into it first. “I’m so sorry for your loss...”

She grunts. “Don’t waste your tears or breath, human. No matter how noble the oni, this is always how it ends for us. This is our reality; oni lives are measured in strength, and are simply ended by a stronger opponent...even if accomplished by dishonorable means.”

The least words come out as a feral growl. And you don’t entirely blame the team for taking a step back.

“...look, there’s something we need to tell you.”

“Survivors and Bai Suzhen?” She glances at the pale demon, who sulks beside the Whistler. “Well done in calming her down. To see her temper run hot when she’s always been a cool beauty is a terrifying sight.”
Indeed. “Yeah, but that’s not it...” At the quizzical look on her face, you decide to finally commit. “The truth of the matter is-”

“That you lied and were never part of the first men that I met? And their iron carriage?” she finishes for you. The look on your face must have been something to behold. A ghost of her smile returns., and her lips part to reveal blindingly white teeth. “And I can guess that you’re hunting them...kukuku...never underestimate an oni’s knowledge and wisdom...”

She doesn’t seem at all offended, or ready to attack. Best not to push your luck with a wiseass answer. “How did you know? And when did you find out?”

“...thirty minutes ago,” she admits, red-faced and looking at her feet. “Aniki was the one who told me that I’d been deceived. Part of his dying message was spent scolding me...and praising me for Horkos' defeat.”

Dante chortles. “So what happens now, squirt?”

Ibaraki’s head snaps back up, and her eyes flash a pugnacious golden. “Nothing has changed between us. You deceived me, but you have honor; more honor than the men I met, and those honorless shit-stains that attacked the fortress. You are worthy to join my gang...and I will be there as you hunt them down like they animals they are. Blood is demanded for aniki and the survivors...and we will steal it all from them: their happiness and security, their pride and their lives...”

>>How will you proceed with the mission?
>The mission can still be accomplished with just Carina, Sparda and your new allies. [Proceed immediately.]
>This mission has gotten more complicated, and you need reinforcements. [Wait a few days for a team.]

>>3944409
>The mission can still be accomplished with just Carina, Sparda and your new allies. [Proceed immediately.]
>Send a report, check if we can get a cleanup crew to look up documents and bring back the human survivors.
We should be checking the library too if we need a lead on where they went, but I don't think we have time to thoroughly look things over.

>>3944416
Good points

And tell her that we will be taking the girls back to our world as a condition, and that we don't want to cone back here to pick up others if she catches our drift

>>3944409
>The mission can still be accomplished with just Carina, Sparda and your new allies. [Proceed immediately.]
>Send a report, check if we can get a cleanup crew to look up documents and bring back the human survivors.

>>3944409
>>3944416
This.

>>3944416
>>3944421
>>3944409
agreed, i hope she accepts that, since the women were "presents/sacrifices" to her brother

>>3944409
>>3944416
Explain the health problems inherent to not being exposed to the sun as a human. And make sure that they all want to go back in the first place.

Holy shit, you're alive! Glad to see you doing better and running!
>>3944409

Supporting
>>3944416
>>3944421
>>3944615

I think at this point we can split up the team somewhat as we give the fortress a once-over, split into 3 teams: one team keeps watch with the injured in the Whistler, and two teams scout for more info. Each team gets one of Dante, Ibaraki, or Bai Shuzhen for extra muscle/buying time for support/an Oh Shit button.

>>3945218
An addendum: I think that, as a show of trust, Ibaraki can stay with Lookout team (to make sure we don't just skip town). Dante tends to cause collateral damage, and I think that if action happened with Bai in the picture there'd be a lot of frostbite going down. Thoughts?

>>3945220
We'll need to see how she Ibaraki reacts to us bringing an Recovery team in first place before going forward. Also I don't doubt she'll want her pound of flesh from Jack's crew as will Bai Shuzen

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>>3944416
>>3944421
>>3944434
>>3944467
>>3944485
>>3944615
>>3945218
“Brady, Vicky...” The devil summoners stand to attention at your voice. “Take Bai Suzhen with you and see if you can’t find any information in the fortress we could use. Manifestos, scrolls that haven’t burned...check the pantry if you have to, but anything that could point us in the direction of the suspects, designated as ‘Dust Dealers’ and ‘D2’, would be extremely useful.”

The White Snake doesn’t look too happy to be ordered, but she slithers behind your friends. And even before they disappear into the doors, you continue to issue commands: “MacKay, get on the comms and get Central on the line. Give them a sitrep and appraisal, but let them know that we can _still_ handle this.”

Your eyes turn towards the huddled women. Then, to the expectant eyes of Ibaraki-douji. At the look, she frowns: “Do you wish something of me?”

How can you put this delicately as possible? Clearing your throat, you say: “...we need to get these women out of here. They need to come back to the human realm for proper rest and healing.”

The oni seems surprised rather than offended. Hopefully a good sign. “Did you not heal and alleviate their wounds? What could you possibly offer them in the human world that you cannot here?”

Proper medical treatment, for one. A sterile environment to recover from. No shortage of missing persons cold cases to solve. But you decide to go with an answer as close to layman’s terms as possible.

“...these women need sunlight. Their fatigue isn’t only from the injuries and trauma they suffered in the attack...”

>>You gave a brief lecture on the merits of going outdoors and how Vitamin D is essential for proper human function.

(cont.)

“...but to make a long story short,” you conclude as Ibaraki’s eyes begin to glaze over, “A lack of a proper sun makes human existence incredibly difficult. Even if you’re feeding them well and three times a day-”

“What Sawbones means to say,” Sarah cuts in with an elbow to your ribs, “Is that there’s nothing you can do for them here that we can’t do back home.”

The oni snaps out of her daze, and her eyes narrow. “I see. The health of my brother’s subjects...my subjects are important, both demon and human. If sunlight is what they need, then they shall get however much they need before returning.”

Well, shit.

You cough awkwardly. “Yeah, about that-”

“Your brother might’ve treated them a hell of a lot better than the dust bastards,” interrupts Sarah with a hard look in her words and eyes, “But that don’t discount the fact that they’re victims of human traffickin’...they’re comin’ back home with us, yer highness, and that ain’t negotiable.”

...whelp, at least you can count on her to say the quiet part aloud.

The oni’s nostrils flare. “Unacceptable. The circumstances of their arrival are irrelevant. They ceased to be slaves and sacrifices upon aniki’s acceptance of the tribute. None expressed a desire to leave, and settled in quietly! Just as they and the demons were aniki’s subjects, so too are they mine. I will not be denied this.”

Your girlfriend snorts. “Desire to leave...have ya seen the place lately? There’s nowhere for ‘em to go! And I have it on good word that you didn’t keep ‘em out of charity. Your big brother wasn’t chewing the scenery, but he was damn well soakin’ it up.”

“We treated them well,” Ibaraki growls, flashing her teeth at the mention of Kin-ki, “Fed them and clothed them, gave them drink and freedom to roam the fortress...harm on one of them was to invite the wrath of Kin-ki.”

“So would I if anyone messed with my pet,” she counters, “Sure, you’ve got yourselves a nice setup and fortress...but a golden cage is still a cage, no matter how you slice it, kid.”

You can almost see the sparks flying as the two of them stare daggers into each other’s eyes. As quick as a whip, you insert yourself betwee them, hands raised to push them back a few feet.

“Okay, okay, cool your jets people,” you warn them, “Let’s save the fighting for D2, okay? We’ve already got enough enemies to defeat without turning on each other-”

“We don’t want to go back.”

The words were spoken with such intensity that you’d thought Miranda had awoken from the semi-induced coma. But it’s not the redhead you treated for burns that stands up from the withdrawn human to speak on their behalf. Another woman, this one a shapely brunette, glares at the three of you with a surprising ferocity.

(cont.)

>>3945920
They better have a good reason besides Stockholm Syndrome. Like I get some of them not wanting to go home for personal reasons, maybe life as a oni prize was better than what they had, but all of them abandoning giving up on seeing their family and friends again is far fetched.

>>3945920
The oni blinks in surprise. “Felicia-san,” she begins, but this Felicia has no intent of being ignored.

“We don’t want to go back...” the girl repeats fiercely, and her eyes reflect a deep bitterness, “Back to a world that created Captain Jack and his crew...one where they have free reign to do whatever sick shit they wanted without anything to stop them!”

It falls just barely short of an accusation. Coughing uncomfortably, you answer, “Had we known, we would’ve dropped everything-“

“But you didn’t...not that it even matters...” Her eyes meet yours, and her expression turns haunted. “Miranda didn’t tell you everything, but I had a front row cage to the worst of what they did. They had dozens of girls they gave as tributes to the demons...some didn’t wait for us to leave before they...”

The girl begins to falter. And it isn’t one of her fellows that comes to her aid, but Ibaraki. Felicia sinks to the ground, and the oni lays a delicate hand on her shoulders. Nails that you’ve seen tear through demon flesh like a knife through tofu gently caress the distressed young lady.

Felicia manages to recover enough to continue, but her words are hollow and distant. “Most of them were eaten...and we could hear their screams even inside the vehicle. Others were taken away with the promise of ‘experiments’ for a shadow demon with red eyes...but the worst one of all...a blue giant with an uncontrollable libido, he...he p-pinned them down and-”

She doesn’t need to say anymore as her voice trails off to a pathetic whimper. And you have a feeling that the sudden dark, burning rage that churns in your stomach is shared among the rest of your squad. Dante, in particular, looks uncharacteristically upset.

It takes a few moments for Felicia to once regain her composure, in no small part thanks to Ibaraki. And when she speaks, her voice drips with venomous hatred:

“Jack has dozens of men and women, goons and thugs that sold us out like we were fucking...trading cards...and I don’t even know who the hell you guys are, but I see you helping and just it doesn’t match up with those suits of yours...I blink and I think I’ll be seeing Jack-“

“...you’ve become misanthropic towards your fellow humans,” observes MacKay, cutting off her rambling. “An understandable, but unwarranted response. We’ve been sent to find and stop the ones responsible. Please understand that we are trying to help you by bringing you back-“

“You’re too late...” the girl whispers, “...a few months ago, I’d have believed you...even if I didn’t know you guys were planning to mind wipe us.” At your surprised looks, the ghost of a smug smirk dances at the corner of her mouth. “What? I read the ‘Percy Jackson’ books back in high school. She’s a little obscure and only appeared in that spinoff short story, but I know who Mnemosyne is. That guy with the rifle runs his mouth a lot.”

(cont.)

>>3946007
Can we at least get some sunlamps and Demon Negotiation for Dummies here?

>>3946007
...this girl isn’t as helpless as she looks. And this marks...the second time that Brady inadvertently leaked something to a civvie. But still...damn you, Rick Riordan!

But Felicia shakes her head, and the smile vanishes from her lips. “We’ve been treated better by demons in the last few months than by any humans before you guys came. We appreciate everything you did, and what you’re going to do to those sick fucks, but...we want to stay with the demons...and be a part of the realm Kin-ki passed onto Ibaraki.”

The oni seems to be flustered at the compliment, even as your own thoughts run a mile a minutes. Does her hatred and fear for her own species run that deep? You idly note that she refers to “humans” as if she isn’t one. A worrying development.

Sarah, for one, isn’t nearly as...well, not accepting, but perhaps the vocal in objecting. “Are you guys for real? Don’t y’all have family...friends, loved ones you have to get back to? That’s real fuckin’ selfish of you to make that choice when there’s people worried sick about you!”

“At least we can _make_ a choice,” Felicia hisses back, “The first real choice we’ve had in a very long time. We never asked for an escape because there wasn’t one, and life outside the fortress was going to be short and painful. But now with the option presented to us...” Her eyes harden as she nods to herself in resolve. “Thank you for your concern about our Vitamin D, Mister Medic...but we’ve made our choice. A world where Jack and people like him can exist isn’t a world for us...even if it has the ones we were taken from.”

Silence settles over the courtyard. And it comes as a surprise when Dante breaks it: “Even when we kill ‘em all? Jack, and every single one of his goons...what’ll you do then?”

Felicia actually hesitates. “...then we’ll make another choice.”

>>Later

“She’s actually fuckin’ nuts,” Sarah voices over the private channel. “They wanna put their trust in the squirt? Her big brother couldn’t protect them from Jack’s forces...and his ‘realm’ is just a tiny splinter of it once was.”

“Not to mention the other forces in league with Jack...” What a mess. A mysterious shadow demon, a serial rapist giant and human traitors seem to be buddy-buddy with each other. This is definitely one to write home about for the next few years. “This is gonna suck.”

(cont.)

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>>3946056
The priest looks at you expectantly as he kneels besides a communications pack. In a soft voice, your number one says: “We’ll be connected to Central in a few minutes. What do you wish for me to say?”

You turn back towards the women, where Ibaraki exchanges quiet whispers with Felicia. The oni’s back is turned towards you, but not her subject’s. The girl’s eyes are locked directly at you, and the equipment MacKay has in his hands.

An unspoken request, a silent plea passes from her gaze to yours...

>>Tell MacKay to report to Central that...
>...there are human survivors that need immediate evacuation. [Follow protocol.]
>...there are human survivors that do not want to return. [Compromise protocol.]
>...there were no human survivors in the fortress attack. [Ignore protocol.]
>Write-in.

>>3946066
That there are human survivors, but Mnemosyne protocols are unlikely to work, and the humans are so scared of the targets that they refuse to return home until said targets, and possibly allies the survivors have seen are neutralized permanently. As said survivors are clinging to our demonic allies in the region, and said allies are need to hunt down our targets, we need a minder for the survivors to see to their well being until such time as target have been dealt with. Following standard protocol now is not only unfeasible but actively dangerous to the survivors and the mission. {Follow protocol, but give the Task force a good reason to hold on the protocol's execution}

>>3946066
Support for >>3946072

An opportunity to make friends with honorable demons is pretty handy.

>>3946072
>>3946066
I'll throw in my support.

I wonder if the shadow demon with red eyes is Ongyo-Ki

>>3946120
if so than the other might be Fuu-ki

>>3946128
iirc Fuu-Ki is as tall as other Oni. Wouldn't attribute the 'giant' descriptor to him, but who knows.

>>3946130
Could be a Jotun or a simple Blue Oni.

>>3946072
+1


We should ask Ibaraki if she knows who are those 2 other demons, they are a good lead towards the traders if they still do business

>>3946072
>>3946066
I support that, if we force them to return now we jeopardize their psyche and ibarakis support

>>3946072
Damn good write-in. +1.

>>3946066
>...there were no human survivors in the fortress attack. [Ignore protocol.]

>>3946066
>>3946072

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>>3946072
>>3946078
>>3946120
>>3946417
>>3946461
>>3946473
>>3946588
>>3946882
>>You and MacKay deliver a sitrep about the condition of the fortress, advising Central about the delicacy of the situation.

“...you’ve got yourselves in quite a mess, Carina...” says the operator back at Central once MacKay finishes his sitrep. It’s a woman’s voice that utters the dry observations, self-identifying as Nest-Two. “Human trafficking, demon politics...and it all started from just trying to find a drug house. You rookies aren’t even supposed to take on human combatants until later in your careers.”

“Do you have any information on this...Jack and his crew?” MacKay asks. “And how someone of his...low character was able to obtain one of the Task Force’s armored vehicles?”

“Unknown, and believe me when I say that we’re hauling ass to take an inventory, so be careful. If your intel’s correct, then even with Godslayer Sparda and the locals giving you a hand, the fact that he’s got a top-end APC and dozens of crew means that you’re punching way above your pay grade.”

You shrug. “It wouldn’t be the first time the deck’s been stacked against us.”

Nest-Two clears her throat, failing to mask an amused chortle. “...alright, hotshot, we’ll be dispatching someone to watch over the civilians, stuffed to the gills with Vitamin D supplements and UV lamps. They’ll be ninety minutes out from dropping on the fort, so make sure that this isn’t a surprise to the locals, okay?”

Something tells you that her warning comes from a particularly bad experience.

“When verifying their identity,” she continues, “The password they’ll give to identify themselves will be ‘cogito ergo sum.’”

“‘I think, therefore I am,’” the priest observes, “René Descartes.”

With everything finalized, you exchange a quick farewell with Central and disconnect the radio. And just as you begin to pack for the journey, Brady and Vicky come back out into the courtyard, followed by Bai Suzhen. Your friends wave you over, and you sprint to meet them halfway to the Whislter.

“Half the library’s been burnt down, boss,” Brady reports, “It’s like a bloody ashtray in there. But we did manage to find some records, and a bit of inventory.”

Vicky adds, “Kin-Ki did have contact with D2, but he chose to trade his share of the drugs with the other lords of the Demon Wasteland for treasures and more women to collect...” She glances left and right, making sure that Ibaraki is out of earshot before whispering: “You know, for an oni, Kin-Ki was sure a whole lot like Scrooge McDuck. He even has a golden bathtub, for crying out loud!”

(cont.)

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>>From the ruins of the Burning Library, Carina learned that Kin-Ki was trading with the following lords of the Demon Wastes, punctuated with Ibaraki’s commentary:
>Fuu-Ki, a blue oni and the hedonistic Warlord of the Hill of Swords.

Ibaraki makes a nasty face. “Tales of his lechery are only surpassed by his mastery over wind. Aniki seldom dealt with him, but the palace attendants claim to hear the noises of his orgies from kilometers away. I have doubts about him being the culprit behind the worst of Felicia’s nightmares, but I cannot think of any other giant with blue skin in the immediate area.”

>Shiki-Ouji, an oni made of living paper, renowned for his ferocity.

“A rogue shikigami,” the oni says drolly, “Some would call him a scrap of paper tricked into thinking, but they would be dead for uttering it. Normally, he would be answering to an onmyodo, but there is not one to be found. We had little contact beyond his exports of magical talismans, and even less of an idea what he’d be doing with human victims...”

>Ongyou-ki, a black oni with red eyes, hiding behind a mask of bone.

“He is perhaps the most powerful of aniki’s siblings...” the oni shivers, “And he claims to be the creator of ninjitsu. He is dangerous, human. He possesses the power to disappear and create images of himself. He seldom fights fairly, and will use underhanded tactics to turn the tide of battle in his favor. Aniki always dealt with him through intermediaries...Ongyou-ki never exits from his domain.”

>Sui-Ki, a purple oni with mastery over ice, a stain on the Whistler’s bumper.

“You mean to say that you’re the ones who...” A mischievous smile breaks across her mouth. It’s a small gesture, but one that gives you a bit of temporary relief. The news seems to lighten Ibaraki’s mood. “...hah! I would have given a vase of Mount Oui sake to see the look on that vermin’s face when you rammed him with your iron carriage...”

>>Which of these demons will Carina Squad and Ibaraki’s Gang investigate next?
>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]
>Shiki-Ouji, the Warlord of the Valley of Bones. [Low danger.]
>Ongyou-ki, the Guardian of the Forest of Death. [Severe danger.]

>>3949220
>>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]

>>3949220
>>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]

>>3949220
>>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]

Who’s willing to bet the big bad of this area will be Shuten Douji?

>>3949220
>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]

>>3949220

>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]

Gotta grab those hostages' girls will be probably far gonr on the dust or whatever other drug they use.

Who was the one who devoured the girls on sight? The one we killed?

>>3949220
>>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]

>>3949220
>Fuu-ki, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. [Medium Danger.]
I don't like rapists.

>>3949953
>inb4 the hostages there also want to stay

I will start suspecting some weird magic at play is that happens

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>>3949275
>>3949292
>>3949293
>>3949413
>>3949457
>>3949548
>>3949953

>>Day 4 of Expedition
Dawn, or at least what passes for dawn in the sunless wasteland, breaks atop the peaks of the Brooding Mountains. And with the dim lighting of the overcast sky comes a renewal, a fresh start for the occupants of the Whistler. Guard shifts are exchanged, a fresh set of coffee is set to brew, and the vehicle once more begins its descent down the mountain and into the lowlands of the Demonic Wasteland.

Ibaraki elects to remain atop the Whistler, content to lounge about the turret like a pirate lookout. Occasionally, the little oni will pester Brady or Vicky for snacks (much to the consternation of their respective demons), and status updates on her subjects from MacKay. The priest is exponentially more patient than your fellows, and is more than happy to furnish said updates. He confirms the arrival of Central’s minders, adding that the survivors have begun UV-light therapy.

Unlike her liege, Bai Suzhen reluctantly takes a berth in the APC proper, the furthest away from any occupied bunk. The White Snake concerns herself with contemplative meditation, and failing that, hovering around the radar and camera panels. She seems to be struggling from acute cabin fever, irritably brushing away any questions or concerns from you and the team. Revenge and combat against the perpetrators, it seems, are the only way to alleviate her restlessness.

“Fuu-ki’s our next target,” you announce to the squad as the Whistler hit the end of the incline. With a trembling lurch, the APC lurches forward and races across the plains at a steady 75 km/h. “The self-proclaimed Daimyo of the Hill of Swords. Intel suggests that this guy is one nasty customer, and that both demonkind and humanity are better off without him. The sooner the better. Any objections?”

As the leader of Carina Squad, your orders are absolute, superseded only by Commander Alger or one of the higher-ups in Central. That said, even with both absent from the picture, you’re not about to ignore the suggestions or criticisms...not that there are any at this moment. Carina is in a uniform, unanimous agreement that the blue oni is numero uno on everybody's collective shitlist, second to Jack.

Your fingers dash across your COMP, bringing up a holographic display of the wastelands. Two more taps bring you towards a 3D visualization of the Hill of Swords, and the surrounding area. What radar pings and scans though to be unnatural growths turned out to be, quite literally, swords. Of course, the majority of them are eastern-style weapons, predominantly katana, but a few weapons of western have been similarly placed.

“Looks like something from out of a bloody cartoon, boss,” Brady quips, “Not that I can make out what the hell it’s supposed to symbolize.”

Sarah squints at the display. “Graves for the fallen?”

(cont.)

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“I don’t think so,” says Vicky with a frown, “I think they’re more like trophies. Like...you know how you mount the heads of your enemies on sticks and have them outside of your city or castle?”

The priest chortles humorlessly. “How barbaric...and completely in-character for our target.”

“How many swords are there?” Dante suddenly asks, perking up with mild interest.
Brady answers, “Drones counted at least several hundred, but nothing to write home about. At one point, they might have been magical or otherwise imbued with power, but they’re long dead. Sorry, Sparda.”

As the godslayer pantomimes a pouty child, you bring out the display further, stopping once the graphic of Fuu-ki’s settlement comes into view. Similar to Kin-Ki’s fortress in the Mountain’s, the blue oni has imported the architecture of his ethic background into the Demonic Wastelands. Standing out from the barren soil and the weathered swords, a feudal palace sits neatly atop the hill. With another flick of your finger, you bring up a series of castle plans archetypal of the Warring-States, complied and cross-referenced by Brady and Vicky.

“He picked a good spot, I’ll give ‘im that much,” Sarah notes, “The tallest tower on the main compound’s gonna give him a view for a few miles. Barring a few boulders and cracks in the ground, whatever lookout they have is gonna spot anyone quickly, ‘specially in somethin’ as big as the Whistler.”

“There’s a structure here though, just at the bottom of the hill...” Brady points to a gatehouse at the foot of the hill, connected by a long, serpentine tunnel that seems to snake up the mountain. “Kinda like a bailey to the motte of the main fortress. Looks like a small castle town, or at least a checkpoint for entry and exit...two of them, one east-north-east and another sou-south-west.”

“The rear traditionally would lead into a mountain tunnel,” Vicky notes, pondering with a hand to her chin, “For the family of the samurai and lords to flee...there's just enough room in the hill for underground structures..."

"And somehow, he has running water for a moat," the priest adds.

The briefing goes on, and you spend the next leg of your journey debating and discussing the finer points of Warring States era architecture. It’s quite pity that there aren’t any trees or burnable bush nearby to reenact Oda Nobunaga’s massacre of Mount Hiei...but then again, you’re not about to apply a scorched-earth tactic unless you have to. Jack traded and paid tribute to all of the demons, and as long as there’s the chance of civilians in danger, you’re obligated to rescue them.

>>What will be your approach?
>All guns blazing for a frontal assault. [Charge the bailey and fight your way up.]
>Pretend to be a detachment of Jack’s Squad. [Deceive and dissemble your way in.]
>With great discretion and subtlety. [Infiltrate the castle with a three-man group.]
>Write-in.

>>3950302
>>All guns blazing for a frontal assault. [Charge the bailey and fight your way up.]

>>3950302
I don't really like the idea of using persuasion to get in because at the end of the day this guy needs to die and we'll be surrounded and at his mercy a bit. Stealth approach isn't bad but risky if our cover is blown. Charging straight up is simple, but could but has the consequence of being a straight up fight that can cause casualties.

So let me propose this.
>Write-in.
>Draw out the garrison and ambush them.

Have the Whistler annihilate the castle's towers from a somewhat concealed position using the terrain. Fuu-ki doesn't seem like the kind of guy that'll take that lying down so he'll probably send some of his men after us where we can ambush them away from the castle's defenses.

>>3950302
>>With great discretion and subtlety. [Infiltrate the castle with a three-man group.]

get to the hostages first

>>3950302

>With great discretion and subtlety. [Infiltrate the castle with a three-man group.]

>>3950302
Would it be possible to combine >>3950315 and >>3950345? I don't know if there are necessarily hostages, but a distraction/ambush with some hit and run tactics could make a sneaking mission easier, and we have way more than 3 people to take on a sneaking team. Get their thoughts on the idea as well, as they may have some insight. Also probably want to begin sneaking before ambushing the so their leader can't run.

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>>3950441
I don't see why not. That's something you could totally do. I only put a hard limit on the 3-man team since that's the most you could have without having to roll Stealth checks every now and again. In theory, you could take 4, even 5 people, but the Stealth DC becomes higher with that many people.

But ideally, for the Whistler, you'd need at least one person to Pilot the vehicle, another to be a Turret Gunner, and another to be Engineer. And that's not including as to whether or not you want infantry support.

So yes, you can do a hybrid choice of splitting the party; one team assaults the gate, another team infiltrates the castle while using the distraction. Or, you could sneak in first, do whatever you have to do, then signal for the Whistler to attack. The choice is ultimately yours.

>>3950302
>All guns blazing for a frontal assault. [Charge the bailey and fight your way up.]
I'm not so sure about splitting the party. It doesn't seem like we'll need to worry about hostages, and we aren't geared for stealth kills. Not to mention that when we reach the prisoners they might scream at the demonicas.

I'd rather go up front and melt through their population, stamp them out continuously to draw them into places where collateral damage is fine.

>>3950315
>>3950302
supporting the ambush

>>3950315
>>3950302
I'll support the ambush.

>>3950302
>>3950315
I agree with this.

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>>3950310
>>3950315
>>3950345
>>3950417
>>3950599
>>3950695
>>3950699
>>3950903
A plan begins to form in your mind. But first, you ask: “What’s the maximum range of the main gun?”

“Four clicks if you’ve got good elevation...give or take a few meters,” answers Sarah, “Just under two-point-five miles.”

Excellent. “Alright, gang, here’s the plan...”

>>Later
It’s a beautiful day as far as anyone can tell in the Demon Wastelands. Swarms of avian demons fly overhead, chirping some infernal melody that could pass as post-modern art. What sparse vegetation blooms in the dim light of the overcast sky, reaching out into the air for whatever sparse moisture it can draw from the air. Demon attacks have been sparse, there’s plenty of food and fun to be had, and as far as the denizens of Fuu-ki’s settlement can tell, life is all-around at a premium.

That was, of course, until the first shell hit.

The zoom isn’t all that great at picking out the finer details, especially at maximum magnification artifact-ing the image to hell and back. But there’s enough resolution for you to see the shadows and forms of demons stopping right in their tracks. You can imagine them, stupidly gaping at the hole in the tower where the first shell hit.

And then the munitions timer runs out, blossoming into a fiery conflagration that swallows all in its path. Foundation, wayward object and demon vanish in the explosion.

“Kuhahahahaha!” Ibaraki cackles atop the turret. “Such destruction...such havoc! You may only be humans, but your actions are truly that of oni---?!” The turret spits out another volley, and the recoil catches her off guard. She spills over the side of the Whistler falling onto the ground in an undignified heap.

...none of you have the heart to look or giggle as she gets up, dusts herself off, and scrambles back up the gun as if nothing had happened.

Atop an elevated plateau overlooking the Hill of Swords, you’ve parked the Whistler and converted her into a makeshift howitzer. Stabilization legs sprout out from the vehicle, digging into the ground to anchor the APC as it lobs shell after shell into Fuu-ki’s castle. The high explosive rounds punch holes into the stonework, send demons flying into the air, and set ablaze some of the more wooden structures.

From your impromptu hidey-hole, a crevice in the ground quietly tucked away behind formation of rocks, you call, “Watch those shots! Be careful not to hit any of the civilian structures; focus only on the gates and guard towers!”

Adjacent to you, Suzhen hisses and flexes her claws. "They are coming, ssssson of Adam..."

>>Beyond you and Bai Suzhen who is part of the ambush team? [Pick two.]
>Brady. Technical support and adept marksman.
>Dante. Master combatant and demon weapon specialist.
>MacKay. LMG support and explosives specialist.
>Sarah. Close-range combatant and firearms expert.
>Victoria. Munitions support and debuff specialist.

>>3950983
Dante and Fitz with us i would say

Brady can help pick of attackers, MacKay is second in command and Vicky can best operate the Whistler if they become overwhelmed

>>3951039
wholeheartedly agree

>>3951039
Sounds about right.

>>3951039
+1

>>3950983
>>3951039
Yeah, pretty much what I'd pick.

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>>3951039
>>3951051
>>3951065
>>3951278
>>3951304
Sarah checks her shotgun, thumbing armor-piercing munitions into the loading tube. Once she finishes, the policewoman whistles low at the sight of the settlement’s gates opening. A veritable mass of demons come sprawling out, stumbling and pushing each other as they race down the trail of the fortress and out the castle town proper. It isn’t an army or a garrison as much as it is an unruly mob.

“...still not as bad as Black Friday,” she jokes.

Dante laughs, upholstering his weapons: two fuck-huge pistols the size of Desert Eagles, one painted empty white, another midnight black. “At least demons can form a line if prompted! Never try to cut the line at the Celestial Bureaucracy...or at Koko’s Armory.”

Snorting, you beckon them into position for the ambush. You order, “Engage at my command. Hold fire until you can see the whites of their eyes...if applicable. Have the Whistler keep firing, let’s see if we can’t thin them out before they climb up the plateau.”

Acknowledgements and affirmatives come into comms. Ibaraki agrees, giggling like a conspirator about to unveil their scheme. Suzhen growls, muttering something about patience before settling in for an attack.

Booting up the DSP, you summon your demons. Archangel springs forth in a font of light; her abilities and wide-hitting attacks would be extremely useful against the demons weak to Expel. And of course, your first and most reliable demon. “High Pixie, if you please...”

>High Pixie cast [Luster Candy] four times!
>Carina Squad and allies are now at +4 Combat/Defense/Hit-Evade!

“I really don’t want to be here...” whimpers Moh Shuvuu.

“Then stay behind me,” Sarah drawls, patting an attentive Inugami. “The big guy and I should be plenty of space between you and the enemy.”

The demons are surprisingly fast, scrambling up the mountain and hell-bent to put a stop to the artillery barrage. In their ranks, you can pick out dozens of oni, animalistic demons the likes of Makami, and even humanoids like Vicky’s Monumofu. There doesn’t seem to be any clear leader among the pack. A pity...no obvious targets, then, to take out and demoralize the enemy.

“The second we spring our attack,” you radio into theWhistler, “Have the computer keep up the shelling, but switch to the secondary guns. Shoot over our heads and into the rear of the mob.”

“Will do, boss!” answers Brady as he sends another shell towards the castle.

As the first wave approaches the end of the plateau, their exhaustion from the sprint is replaced by a second wave. They spot the APC, and roar and holler, dashing as fast and quick as they can. Some brandish clubs, others conjure flames or blades of wind. All make a mad dash towards the Whistler without any sort of tactics or strategy.

>>What will be the plan of attack?
>Kill them all, no survivors.
>Spare a few for questioning.
>Write-in.

>>3951411
>>Spare a few for questioning.

>>3951411
>Spare a few for questioning.

>>3951411

>Spare a few for questioning

>>3951411
>>Kill them all, no survivors.

>>3951411
>Kill them all, no survivors.

>>3951413
>>3951414
>>3951423
>>3951453
>>3951457

"See anyone that looks important," you issue one final order, lining up the sights of your gun, "Then you tag 'em and let me know. Let's see if we can't make any of them sing."

The ground shakes as the horde rushes towards the APC. Indistinct shapes they all are, nearly masses of shadow at this time of the day. But even in the dim lighting afforded to you by the overcast sky, the seconds stretch, and your heartbeat grows louder as the first wave, comprising a dozen demons, rushes towards your position.

The muzzle flare of the Whistler's cannon is the signal. No less than fifty feet away from your own little entrenchment, the bloodshot whites of their eyes becomes visible, ravening and mad with bloodlust and glee.

"Light 'em up!" you shout. The ambush team leaps out from behind the boulder, and Bai Suzhen coils to a terrifying height. The demons hesitate at your sudden appearance, but that is all you need to change the momentum of the charge. Guns open fire, magic spells are woven and cast, and the battle atop the plateau begins in full earnest.

>>Roll 1d100+80 (+40 Highest Combat [Sarah], +40 for Luster Candy)
>>Best out of three.

Rolled 73 + 80 (1d100 + 80)

>>3951499
Goddamn, I'm blind.

Rolled 37 + 80 (1d100 + 80)

>>3951499

Rolled 18 + 80 (1d100 + 80)

>>3951499

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>>3951504
>>3951512
>>3951513
The first wave falls like wheat before a scythe. A hail of bullets races from both the ambush team and the Whistler, decimating the front lines within seconds. Those with resistances to physical and ranged attacks manage to make an effort to countercharge, stepping over the bodies of their comrades. But they fare no better; blasts of magical energy slam into them, from the elements themselves to pillars of light. High Pixie makes repeated use of Titania’s gift and detonates several Megido spells among clusters of demons.

Bai Suzhen fights like a woman possessed. Talons of ice extend from her fingers, rending through demon flesh and bone. Blood splatters her immaculate dress as she wades through the thick of the battle. Her tail itself is a weapon, lashing out like a living whip to catch unsuspecting enemies and those attempting to flank. More than once does the CRACK of bone echo though the field, as enemies go flying to land in broken heaps upon the ashen soil.

“BANZAI!” Ibaraki roars, leaping off the turret to join the battle in earnest. Flames run down the length of her sword, painting the air with every swing of the weapon. “KUHAHAHAHAHAHA! This is but the first in many steps towards revenge!”

You and Sarah hold a defensive position, picking your targets in conjunction with your own demons. Spent munitions slowly begin to fill the foxhole, Sarah’s plastic slugs intermingling with your own hot brass. At one point, you have to pull back into the foxhole to cool down the barrel of your gun.

“This party’s getting crazy!”

But Dante’s weapons, much like the man himself, are not bound by petty things like physics. Ebony and Ivory are instruments of death, and the Godslayer is a virtuoso at the craft. He weaves and spins through the crowd of demons, filling the air with a symphony of percussive death. The crazy part is that he’s having fun. Sparda laughs, taunts...even juggles his enemies into the air with his goddamn bullets!

And of all the things you choose to be angry or otherwise envious off, the issue you have is is that you’ve never seen him reload. Not even once.

“...Sawbones, I know what I want for my birthday.”

“...you and me both, sweetie.”

As the first wave falters, Carina takes a breath. Weapons are reloaded, tonics are popped, and High Pixie sets a world record by swallowing as many Advils as possible within a ten second period. By the time the second wave crests the plateau, they fare little better. Even if you aren’t necessarily perched at the slope of the hill, the fact that Fuu-Ki’s horde has to scramble and climb already puts them at a severe disadvantage.

And they fare little better. The sight of their dead comrades proves to be a potent catalyst with their already exhausted sprint from the gates to the hill. And that disbelief in their own capabilities is its own fatal poison.

(cont.)

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While we wait, let's talk about something else.
Pixie's ears. They're very cute and pointy.

>>3953679
I want to cuddle Pixie

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>>3953679
>3953679
She's a Seelie fae, Seelie are supposed to be cute and attractive, and they have odd ears. I do wonder what she'll look like when she evolves to Queen Mab/Medb out of her armor.

>>3953679
She sure is a cute

Hope Sarah doesn't hear us.

>>3953707
She has already gone Yukata High Pixie (which she noted as weird) so she might not evolve into Queen Mab. Possible alternative final form candidates include Danu and Butterfly Wing Titania (Pink or Blue). The Christmas Special already hints at a possible connection to Danu.

The Pixie->High Pixie->Queen Mab->(Super) Pixie loop is exclusive to Nocturne. Most other games High Pixie is either a special fusion or as a normal demon. Yukata High Pixie was a quest locked normal fusion.

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Gimme a sec to process this cough medicine. Resuming within the hour...

>>3953801
RIP Kaz, Cough Syrup is a dangerous supstance

>>3953801
Good luck buddy.

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>>3951594
But you know what they say: third time’s the charm. And it’s an aphorism that seems to also extend towards demonkind as well.

Even as the third wave falters and routs, one demon stands tall amidst its broken allies. It shares a similar blood-red skin with the oni underneath its command, but lacks the iconic blue-white clothing. And unlike the singular horn that juts out from the rank-and-file, two large structures jut out from the front of its head, covered by a mask that only betrays thin, white slits of eyes. It wields two swords, each the length of twice a human arm, swatting bullets out of the air with contemptible ease.

“...you are not Jack...or any of his men.” Somehow, the demon’s voice resonates across the field, even as you perceive it no louder than a quiet snarl. “A pity for you, manlings. The daimyo ordered me to bring Jack and his men to the palace alive to face judgment for treachery. As you are unaffiliated, his orders will not hold me back from unleashing my full strength...”

Ibaraki seems to recognize the enemy. Her jovial grin twists into a feral, low growl. “Vukrun the Rakshasa...Fuu-ki’s lapdog and lieutenant...”

At the mention of his name, the rakshasa directs the full bore of his attention towards the oni. “Ibaraki...is that you? How fortuitous. We missed you at your brother’s fortress...”

In the blink of an eye, Ibaraki vanishes, and reappears in front of her enemy. The flames of her sword dance wildly as she makes a furious attack. Vukrun blocks with an inhuman speed, and the noise of two swords crashing and grinding rings awfully in your helmet.

“Long have I prayed to Shiva for this moment...” the demon whispers, leaning close towards her, “To cross blades with Kin-Ki’s strongest general. I will lay your beating heart at the foot of his altar as a tribute for his favor.”

“Then come and take it if you can!” The oni disengages. She lands on her feet, dropping into a fighting stance. “I’ve always wanted to kill you myself. The fact that you haunt my subject’s nightmares will only make the act all the sweeter!”

Vukrun scoffs, raising his own blades. “You will try.”

Ibaraki's glance briefly turns towards you, a wild and feral expression on her face. What a presence she is, for one so small...you can almost see the demonic power she gathers into herself, a leering skull with three eyes and a mouth of flame. This is a true oni, and one who will not be denied her prey or prize.

“This one is mine...do you understand?” she demands, “The true enemy lies towards the east, but a long-awaited foe stands before me! I will join you once I have finished my business here.” She snaps her fingers, and a ring of fire explodes around her and the rakshasa. The flames race around the pair, slowly trapping them in a field of rusted swords, bloody charnel and broken corpses.

(cont.)

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To her opponent, she declares: “Only my will or my death will cause the flames to abate...Vukrun the Rakshasa! I am Ibaraki-Douji, inheritor and regent of the Brooding Mountains! I will have your head this evening...”

You attempt to race towards them, only to recoil back at the intensity of the flames. Alarms and warnings begin to flash across your HUD as the temperature begins to rapidly tick upwards, surpassing the boiling point within a handful of moments. The ambush team has no choice but to fall back towards the Whistler.

“Shit!” curses Sarah, as the demons begin to fight. You can barely track their forms, two indistinguishable shadows against the backdrop of the flames. The sounds of their blades cannot match the speed of their blows. They come together, clashing and breaking away, and the noise comes heartbeats after. “Sawbones, we just can’t leave her there by herself!”

“NO,” Bai Suzhen hisses, blocking the path back before any of you could even move towards or think about going back, “Sssssshe gave you a command, daughter of Eve...you would be wissssssse to not disssssobey...”

“Horseshit. I ain’t one of her subjects-”

“It’s something she’s gotta do herself,” Dante says, uncharacteristically serious. The godslayer doesn’t even look behind him as he grabs a pair of fallen demons, a cowering Preta and a wounded oni, knocking them unconscious with a single punch. “She’d only hate us if we got in the way, even if it meant victory was closer in her grasp. ‘sides, at the speed those two are going at it, you’d just be dead weight. Trust me on this one, kid...I've seen too many Devil Summoners punching beyond their weight class.”

...loathe as you are to admit it, he does have a point. Especially if she went out of her way to exclude Suzhen...of course, that could be on account of the White Snake’s dislike of fire, but you choose to believe the more holistic, honorable approach. And the woeful fact that human capabilities are no match for a demon’s...

“That can be easily remedied...” the Crone hisses into your ear, and you wisely decide to pretend that was a stress hallucination.

Exhaling, you pull a protesting Sarah towards the APC. “This isn’t our fight...it’s hers. Besides, Dante went to the trouble of getting us some prisoners...”

“...he called us ‘dead weight,’” she grouses.

“Yeah, I know.”

“...real fuckin' easy for him to say when he’s got a goddamn’ bottomless pocket and juggles demons with his friggin’ bullets...”

“...yeah, I know...”

“...‘enhanced’ human my ass...the hell kind of gene therapy or magic can make someone move like that?”

“...I got no’ idea, sweetie...I've got no goddamn, friggin’ idea...”

(cont.)

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>>Later
The Whistler changes position, hightailing it down the hill as the battle between Ibaraki and Vukrun intensifies. Vicky manages to pull into a crevice two clicks away from the mostly ruined gate of the castle town. With the guard towers smoldering wreckage and the plasma shields at 100%, you aren’t too worried about snipers or an aerial attack coming your way any time soon.

Which lets you focus the brunt of your attention on the lovely scene before you...

“I’m not telling you pink-skins anything!” the oni declares as Dante finishes tying it behind a rock. With rebar. Because of course he can.

“PReta-preta-preta-preta!” his purple comrade agrees.

“Yeah, you tell ‘em, buddy! We aren’t snitches!”

“...look,” you bluntly intone, “We’ve all had a bad day, maybe even a week or more. However, you can either make it better or worse for yourselves, because what you’re gonna tell us or not influences...”

>>What’s your approach for this interrogation?
>“...how painful we make it before we kill you.” [Intimidation, play the ‘Bad Cop’]
>“...how nice we are when we let you go.” [Persuasion, play the ‘Good Cop’]
>Write-in. [Custom option.]

>>3954467
>>“...how nice we are when we let you go.” [Persuasion, play the ‘Good Cop’]
We got Dante and Fitz to be the bad cops.

>>3954467
>“...how nice we are when we let you go.” [Persuasion, play the ‘Good Cop’]

>>3954467
>>good cop
Sarah knows the game, I just hope Dante plays along

>>3954467
>Good Cop
Unless you guys want to pull a Leslie Neilson and do both.

>>3954517
while i would like to try that at one point, Adrian isn't the guy for that
the goddesses in his head however ...

>>3954467
>Good Cop

>>3954467
>“...how nice we are when we let you go.” [Persuasion, play the ‘Good Cop’]
Leave the Bad Cop routine to the guy in red.

>>3954467

>“...how nice we are when we let you go.” [Persuasion, play the ‘Good Cop’]

Sarah jas plenty of experience as bad copI imagine

Kek
I wonder if Sarah will take offence that we all instantly assume she is bad cop
"Hey! I can be nice!"

>>3954599
I'm more worried that we might be the Kyrie to her Nero with that dead weight comment.

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>>3954469
>>3954474
>>3954494
>>3954517
>>3954557
>>3954572
>>3954588
The demons blink, perplexed at your words, only to flinch back as Sarah makes a finger gun at their kneecaps. “Y’all better listen to him. We ain’t after you small fry; it’s your boss who’s at the top of our collective shit list. And the thing is, we’re in a hurry, so you guys better start talkin’...”

Clearing your throat, you say, “Essentially what she said. Believe me when I say that everyone’s day can get a whole lot better the quicker we get out of each other’s hair. All you gotta do is answer a few questions about the daimyo.”

The Preta blows a particularly wet raspberry into your face. "Preta-hahahaha!"

“Yeah, you tell ‘em buddy...hold on,” the oni pauses, squinting at you as if you’d grown a second head. Consternation wars on his face until you can see the light bulb go off in his eyes. “Wait a moment...you guys aren’t with Jack’s Squad! Who the hell are you?”

“Took ya that long to figure it out?” Sarah drawls, “Guess you must’ve hit your head on the way down...”

The demon growls, flashing its teeth in an irritated snarl, “You better watch out, you crazy broad, once I get out of this rebar-”

He slams his mouth shut as Sarah brings her Mossberg directly at the oni’s jaw. “What’re ya gonna do, huh? You feelin’ lucky or somethin’? I’ve brought down humans that’re a hell of a lot scarier than demons...if you’re gonna make a half-assed threat, you’d better be more than ready to back it up...”

Okay, things might be getting a little bit out of hand. Even though you know the gun’s safety is on, you still gingerly approach it to aim the barrel away from the oni. “Guys, please, I really am on your side! Between you and me, my partner’s a little crazy, and she might start firing at any moment. We waste our time, you guys are stains on the rocks, and everyone’s day just turns worse...

“I really do want to let you go, though,” you exhale, “We’ll even give you a head start before we go to the fortress.”

The tension slowly bleeds out of the scene. Sarah gives you a side eye, a promise for a “discussion” about calling her crazy. The Preta seems to be less aggressive, and even the oni’s face is contemplative.

“Who are you guys?” he eventually asks, “You wear the same armor and drive the same iron carriage as Jack...you aren’t any ordinary humans.”

“Let’s just say that Jack’s higher on our shitlist than Fuu-ki.”

“...so you’re just gonna waltz down there and kill Fuu-ki and hunt Jack, even if we don’t talk.”

"Correct."

The two demons look at each other, and the smaller one offers a tentative: “Preta...?”

“Kuso...okay, pink-skin...” the oni exhales, resigned and weary, “Ask your questions...but you’ll heal us before you go, right?”

“That depends on your answers.”

“...great...”

>>What will you ask of the demons?

>>3955332
>What will you ask of the demons?
Jack's dealings with Fuu-ki, the reason for betraying Kin-ki and most importantly where is Jack now?

>>3955332
What did Jack give Fuu-ki other than women? When was the last time Jack was here? How many men did Jack have? Why is Fuu-ki pissed with Jack? What are Fuuki's defenses like?

>>3955332
From what direction did Jack come from, when he visited?

maybe there is a portal they usually come through

>>3955360
>>3955336
All of this and

Did you bring any prisioners along from Kin-ki castle?


Sarah is great at bad cop but next time we should let her be the good cop just to see how she handles it, chances are we are gonna end up with bad and worse cop lol

>>3955428
not sure Adrian is made for Bad Cop, but i am very surprised that Dante didn't butt in to give a good one liner threat

>>3955439
"As someone who studied the human body, I must wonder how the oni body compares. And you get to guide me through a vivisection!"
Practicing medicine means knowing how to save a life, and how to do anything BUT.
>>3955332
>>3955336
>>3955428
Questions from above

>>3955530
I don't think Adrian, considering past decisions and acting as a practicing medical professional in a modern day first world country, would consider performing a vivisection on anyone, human or otherwise.

>3955606
Definitely not, but the Oni doesn't know that.

>>3955610
True.

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>>3955336
>>3955360
>>3955422
>>3955428
>>3955530
>What were the specifics of Jack’s dealings with Fuu-ki?

“Preta...preta-preta!” chimes the purple demon.

“More or less what he said. Jack brought gold and treasure, women of course...” the oni grimaces. “Fuu-ki fancies himself to become the shogun of the Demonic Wastelands, you know? And to that end, he’s kickstarted the development of his own Ōoku.”

A glance is shared between you, Sarah and Dante. The word is completely unfamiliar. Pressing a finger to the side of your helmet, you chime into the Whistler, “Vicky?”

When the mechanic answers, her words are terse: “The literal translation means ‘great interior’. But historically, it refers to the harem or women’s quarters of a castle.”

Perhaps the oni senses the sudden shift in the air, and he quickly adds, “Oi, if it makes you feel any better, he’s got some demon women in there, too. And none of us were even allowed to touch them, let alone mess around! Besides, he’s got them half-drugged to the gills on that drug of his, Devil’s Dust. It keeps the more violent ones more docile.”

The demon suddenly looks unsure, pondering something before he gives you a conspiratorial look. “...there was something else in the drugs that Jack was bringing to Fuu-ki. Something...something dangerous, something that’d make the Buddha himself go apeshit under the right conditions, you know?”

“What do you mean, ‘dangerous?’” you ask.

“All I know is that spilling any of it without a proper mask or filter meant losing your mind. Sure, it’ll give you a power trip if you handle it correctly, but I’ve seen my fair share of coworkers snap harder than a bamboo rod in a typhoon.”

That immediately gets High Pixie’s attention. “Hold on...is Jack attempting to create Reds?!” she demands.

“...maybe? I don’t know. I never handled the drugs or the exchange between Jack and his men.”

Again, that term comes up. High Pixie first brought it to attention when Arachne tried to devour one. And here it is again. You’re not about to wait a third time to confirm a hunch you’ve suddenly got developing in your gut. And even though you have a good idea of what it is, you still need to confirm it.

“Hold up...” you turn to High Pixie, her face pale and anxious. “That’s the second time you’ve brought that up. What are ‘Reds?’”

She gives you a haunted, drawn-out look. “The closest thing you could compare it to, master, are steroids. They’re kind of the same thing, and they’re, like, reeeeeaaaaaaallly super infamous in the demon world. And they’re kinda illegal in most of the nicer places since they can boost your power by an exponential factor. For example, look at Queen Titania’s realm! She despises Reds, and holds a special hatred for those who attempt to make them. You'll never find a single Red in her realm, no you won't!”

(cont.)

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You make a mental note to add to the sitrep. There still isn’t nearly as much information as you like, but you can deduce that in addition to producing Devil’s Dust, the ‘Demon’s Forge’ (most likely owned by Jack) seems to be in the business of demon steroids. Specifically, a drug with a reputation that’s enough to make High Pixie break character from her usual chipper self.

“And what exactly was Jack gettin’ in return for these ‘tributes’ and the drugs?” asks Sarah, her tone drier than a desert.

“There’s some raw materials we extract and refine. And the vegetation tastes like shit, but it’ll do more than keep you alive if you mix it with the right stuff...”

“Preta-preta,” his companion interjects.

“Ah, almost forgot...” the oni shakes his head, “Believe it or not, Jack would buy back some of the women he gave to Fuu-ki. But only the ones that’d either taken too much drugs, or the one’s Fuu-ki got bored of.”

Extremely worrying. “What did he do with them?”

“Like I said, I was never on the shift when we did the trades. Rumor has it that they took them back to their hidden base...” At the anticipatory look in your eyes, he quickly finishes, “But none of us knew where it was. It’s in here somewhere, and I sincerely wish you good luck in trying to find it...”

“Preta,” the jaki suddenly adds, pointing to the distant tower within the central keep.

“...you know, I’d bet my next sack of coins that Fuu-ki might know. Why don’t you go ask him where Jack and his men kick up their feet and relax?”

>>When was the last time Jack was here?

“Two weeks ago, but he’ll be here soon. Every fourteen to twenty days, Jack comes back to the Demonic Wastes to deliver his tributes to the five lords...”

>>And where is he now?

“I honestly have no idea. You’d have better luck asking Fuu-ki.

>>How many men does Jack have?

“A buddy of mine counted at least three dozen, all dressed in the same uniform and helmet that you all are wearing. Although the colors weren’t green and gold...still, they all managed to fit comfortably in their own iron carriage, even with the cargo and tribute.”

>>Why did Jack betray Kin-Ki?

The oni reveals his teeth in a sardonic grin. “Rumor had it that Kin-Ki was gonna try to make a power grab. Unify the demons of the wasteland under his banner and crown himself emperor. Jack couldn’t have that disrupting his business, even if he couldn’t verify it completely. So he approached Fuu-ki with the information and a promise to trade Kin-Ki’s share to him if they dealt with the problem together...”

...that makes enough sense...

>>From which direction does Jack usually come when he visits Fuu-ki?

The oni nudges his head towards the castle, motioning to the far and opposite side from where you stand. “Usually from the rear entrance, the one a ways to the south. Comes around midday or so...”

(cont.)

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Given how the Whistler has its own method of jumping from the human world to the demon realm, you can extrapolate that Jack’s vehicle has a similar capability. You radio Brady: “Send your scanners and drones out as far as you can. See if you can’t detect or track any significant MAG readings...”

“Bread crumbs that’ll lead us right to the sodding gits,” Brady finishes for you, [I]“On it, boss.”

MacKay interjects, “Be careful. If we can track Jack, then he might be able to do the same.”

“The MAG reactor is shielded and insulated from all corners!” counters Vicky, “And we have enough sensors to detect fractures on the microscopic level. The only thing they’d find is our initial entry point, and that’s it.”

“Better to be safe than sorry,” the priest coolly answers.

>>Did you bring any prisoners from Kin-Ki’s castle?

“Only a few...” the oni grimaces. “Look, we oni see the value of things. Sure, we’ll rampage and wreak havoc, but we’ll try to take something if it’s there and has value. Not so much with Jack...those guys shot people trying to surrender. Fuu-ki had a tense standoff towards the end, said that there was nothing in their partnership that mandated killing the prisoners inside the entire fortress.”

...perhaps Fuu-ki is more pragmatic or otherwise the lesser of two evils. An odd thing to conclude about a serial rapist. The attack is something he will have to answer for, but the massacre will have to be firmly laid down at the feet of Jack and his men.

>>Why is Fuu-ki pissed with Jack?

“Oh, he thought that Jack was the one shelling him...” the demon grins, “I wish I could be there to see the look on his face when he sees you, and not the merchant...”

>>And what are Fuu-ki’s defenses like?

“Four towers corresponding to North-South, East-West...or at least they were before you bombed them into fiery rubble. You shouldn’t have too much trouble getting past the gate, and driving your iron carriage up the road and towards the inner sanctum. You’ll have to fight through two gates and an inner courtyard before you can breach the interior proper.”

“Preta-preta! Preta...”

“Given how you turned most of my friends and coworkers into crow food,” the oni chortles humorlessly, “You shouldn’t have too much trouble getting through. Especially with that Rakshasa duking it out with Ibaraki.”

>After finishing your interrogation, Dante undid the rebar, you healed the demons, and sent the pair on their own way opposite of the castle.
>When asked about what they would do now that their old job won’t exist in the next few hours, they gave an inconclusive answer of “REAL ESTATE!/PRETA-PRETA!”

>Now, the Whistler stands before the gates of Fuu-ki’s settlement.
>You must now undertake the journey up the serpentine slopes of the raised earth to reach the inner sanctum...

>Roll 1d100 for Encounter.
>Best out of five.

Rolled 100 (1d100)

>>3956108

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>>3956113
Oh

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>>3956113
Full auto, I guess then.

Rolled 38 (1d100)

>>3956108

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>>3956113

Rolled 32 (1d100)

>>3956108
are we going to find the WRONG black colored demonica user?

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>3956108
Sure I'll roll just to have 5 rolls but I don't see why after >>3956113.

>>3956108
Fuu-ki might not respond for the massacre but he sure as hell will respond for holding humans against their will and getting them hooked on demon crack

>>3956113
Holy shit, that's our first 100 iirc
Well done anon

Rolled 65 (1d100)

>>3956108
Last roll

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>>3956113
Not bad.

>>3956113
>>3956118
>>3956130
>>3956170
>>3956379
“Don’t stop for anything unless we have to,” you order from the command chair. “Keep your eyes peeled for any hostiles or x-rays, and check your fire in case we run into wayward hostages.”

“Roger!”

“Alright, Vicky...floor it.”

The Whistler smashes through the ruined scraps of the gate with contemptuous ease. The mechanic hits the gas, and the vehicle shoots forwards like a rocket through the castle town. There is nothing that could possibly stand in its way, even if the plasma shields were disengaged. Buildings explode as the APC ploughs through them, all without leaving a single dent or drop in power output.

It happens in an instant. At one moment, the radar is devoid of any contact. In the next, signs of life begin to flare up on the display as demons emerge from the buildings and alleyways. Bolts of magic and projectiles begin to rain down on the Whistler, pinging off the plasma shields or disintegrating on impact. The vehicle jumps, bucks and sways as some of the heavier debris or spells hit, but all systems remain otherwise nominal and at full capacity.

“Light ‘em up!”

The secondary weapons answer your order with a hail of bullets. Twin-mounted turrets on either side of the Whistler pelt the enemy with a merciless barrage, cutting those to slow to scramble back into cover. It seems that even the fiercest of demons balk at a .50 caliber bullet. Even if it isn’t from Miss Koko’s special elemental rounds.

But, you digress. The demons you see on the visual feed are not overtly threatening. You can spot the routine oni, several other humanoid combatants, and a few bestial demons that attempt to stop your charge. There is not a singular demon that merits stopping for; and for those who can resist or shrug off bullet fire, all it takes for them to flee is for Sarah to swing the turret in their general direction.

Within a few minutes, you clear the castle down, smashing through the last gate that protects the path up to the castle. At the sudden incline, Vicky drops the vehicle into a lower gear to compensate for the slope. Dirt and gravel go flying as the Whistler races up the hill like a bat out of hell.

Unlike before, your journey is bereft of any sort of attack or ambush. There are three possibilities you ponder as you keep a tense lookout for any hidden enemies. Either they all threw their remaining forces at the gate, they pulled back to the castle and hunkered down...or they are all simply dead or have long-since fled the area.

Regardless, it’s with little fanfare that you smash through the third, and fourth gates of the day, skidding into the inner courtyard with a hair-raising SCREECH. And a singular sweep from the Brownings establishes an LZ for Carina to deploy.

>>What will Carina Squad do first?
>Confront Fuu-Ki in his throne room.
>Plunder the library for clues about Jack.
>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku.

>>3956826
>>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku.
Bodies are a priority. If we can split up, then,
>>Plunder the library for clues about Jack.
as well.

>>3956826
>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku.

>>3956826
>>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku.
i assume Fuu-Ki is gonna come to us once we try to extract them

>>3956826
>>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku.

>>3956826
>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku

>>3956830
Seconding this.

>>3956826
>Rescue the hostages from the Ōoku

>>3956826
>Confront Fuu-Ki in his throne room.
The hostages might not want to come.

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I think I’m having an issue with the captcha. Can’t post from my computer. Gimme a few moments to see if I can’t fix something or go around.

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>>3956830
>>3956843
>>3956853
>>3956891
>>3956912
>>3956941
>>3956960
>>3957539
The hatch of the Whistler opens with a burst of pressurized air, slamming into the ground with a percussive noise. In a handful of seconds, the entirety of Carina Squad pours out of the APC with DEMONICA’s donned and firearms sweeping the perimeter. There are no enemies within the immediate area.

“Clear!” you call, and motion for everyone to charge the entrance. “Lock down the Whistler and set the automated defense systems. Make sure that Ibaraki and Bai Suzhen are tagged on the I/FF.”

“Already taken care of,” answers Brady, depressing a control on his COMP. The Browning turrets and the main gun slowly track from side to side, establishing killzones and holding patterns according to the parameters uploaded to its central computer. “We’ll keep an eye on anything if the vehicle picks anything up.”

The priest nods approvingly. “Excellent work. Now, what’s first on our itinerary, Adrian?”

What an obvious question for him to ask! “We gotta get the hostages out of here first. I don’t them getting caught in the crossfire when we throw down with Fuu-ki.”

>Carina Squad approves +8.
>Dante approves +15.
>Bai Suzhen approves +40.

“...of course, if anyone has any directions to the Ōoku, then I’m all ears since we don’t have a layout-”

Bai Suzhen’s nostrils flare, and her tongue whips about dangerously. “I CAN SSSSSSSSSSMELL THEM, SSSSSSSSSSON OF ADAM...THE SSSSSSSSSCENT OF HUMAN AMIDSSSSSSSSST DEMONSSSSSSSSSSSSS.” Her body uncoils itself like a tremendous flail, and the reptilian demon slithers purposefully into the interior of the tower. She does not particularly seem to be in any hurry, but you still have to break out into a light sprint to keep her within sight.

You’ve never been to Japan beyond the odd documentary, but the interior of Fuu-ki’s palace looks like about what you’d expect to find in such a place. The lacquered floors capture the squad’s reflections as you race through the corridors and hallways, and your shadows mimic your every move on the thin bamboo paper surfaces of the room dividers. There are no nails, no stonework that can be seen, a testament to traditional Japanese architecture in the style of the Warring-States era.

The White Snake stops for nothing, but Carina manages to do a sweep of as many rooms as you can. Most are empty, with the upturned furniture signs of a recent occupancy and desperate flight. Others contain a myriad of foodstuffs, supplies and living amenities for the soldiers and servants in the shogun’s employ. Still there are rooms that have occupants, some cowering demonic entities too weak to register on the sensors that either flee or promptly surrender.

(cont.)

>>3961087
>>3961112
>>3961120
triple post, does that mean 3 adrians as well?
Fitz is gonna love it

>>3961160
Not if they all come at her at once. Something tells me she's not well-versed in gangbangs.

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>>3961160
Hiromoot was being annoying. Pls forgive.

>>3961163
4chan had some hickups the last few days, not your fault

>>3961162
or she dominates them all at once

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>>3961120
But it is on the third floor of the palace where your objective lies. Bai Suzhen stands before a set of double doors, coiled and awaiting your arrival. A silent communication passes between you, the White Snake, Dante and the rest of the squad. And it is with this solidarity in your resolve that you steel your nerves and enter the Ōoku of Shogun Fuu-ki-douji.

The first thing you notice is the dim lighting of the chamber, somehow even darker than the demon wastelands outside. The shoji lanterns, no more than one in each corner and central dais, burn with a low flame that lazily wisps and whips around at the sudden draft of your entrance. From your own dim vision, you could make out the distinct forms of furniture, and the lustrous splendor of the inner paneling: gorgeous frescoes and paintings of Japanese fauna and flora decorate the room.

>>WARNING: DETECTING RESIDUAL QUANTITIES OF: DEVIL’S DUST.
>>SWITCHING TO OXYGEN RESERVES...100% EFFICIENCY...
>>MISSION TIME WITHIN CONTAMINATED AREA...
>>...04:24:19...04:24:18... 04:24:17...

You hear them before you can see them. The room suddenly comes to life, filling with the moans and pained noises of the chamber’s inhabitants. Lumps of shadows one might easily mistake for heaps of clothing stir at your sudden arrival, and the harsh light of your helmet and the outside world. It takes a moment for your H.U.D. to switch to infrared, and the sight that greets you...it’s not a pleasant one.

Dozens of women, no more than forty, lay about the room in varying states of consciousness and undress. Some are draped in luxurious kimono made out of the finest silk, yet still there are those draped in coarse rags or nothing at all beyond tattered blouses or a sheer blanket. There seems to be no rhyme or reason for how they lay about, simply scattered haphazardly around the room from where they lay about. Their eyes are distant, and their thoughts and minds even further away.

This isn’t a budding shōgun’s harem. This is a drug den.

“Oh, God...” Vicky whispers, “I think I’m gonna be sick...”

“Jesus Christ.” Brady is similarly aghast at the sight. “This is...this is fucked up.”

Dante remains silent. Sarah offers no words beyond an audible grinding of her teeth, even as MacKay punches commands into his COMP. “These women need immediate medical attention. The labs at Central should have synthesized an antidote and antitoxin to flush the drug from their systems.”

Vicky has to audibly swallow before she can add, “We...we have a miniature laboratory aboard the Whistler. If get the formula from Central and upload it to the Whistler, we could have a cure in an hour-”

"Can ya trigger it automatically from here?" Sarah tersely cuts in.

"Y-yeah, I shouldn't have a problem-"

"Then get started," you order, "If we can multi-task, then all the better. Synthesize as you can, and we'll take the worst of the affected down-"

(cont.)

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A wayward object batters your foot, and you look down to find an arm at your leg. Even through the artifacts and static that plague your HUD, you can still make out the puckered remnants of injections along the skin. A young girl your sister’s age stares up at you with a vacant expression, ignorant of how her kimono slips off of her shoulders. And even though her hair color is wrong, and the shape of her face does not match up with Sophia’s...it’s nearly enough to make you sick.

Her brows crease, and she shies away instinctively from the lights of your helmet. “...entry by other men...is forbidden,” she slurs, and it’s a struggle to not kneel down and begin immediate treatment, “...you can’t be here...unless you’re with the daimyo...there can be no men allowed...”

But perhaps it is some cruel joke of the cosmos predicates the next series of events. As she turns to look at you, a measure of rationale enters her eyes. She blinks, squinting at you as if seeing you for the first time. A heartbeat passes, and with that spark of rationale in her mind comes a deep, bubbling and primal fear.

“Oh my God...” she whimpers, and the golden gleam of your DEMONICA’s helmet is caught in the pupils of her eyes. “You’re with Jack...oh, God...Jack...JACK!” Her voice becomes a high-pitched, desperate scream, enough to jolt some of the more distant dreamers into lucidity. “No, no, get away...get away from me!”

The sheer amount of fear and panic that bursts from the girl gives her strength beyond her malnourished frame. She manages to knock you off kilter, trying to stand, only for her knees to give way underneath her. Uncaring of the women and girls that she has to crawl over or shove out of the way, she desperately tries to make an escape from you.

“Fuu-ki-sama!” she wails, clawing at the tatami mats to pull herself forward, “Save me! Save me, please! I promise I’ll obey! I’ll take your seed and bear your heirs, as many as you want and need, just please, please, please don’t let Jack take me away--!”

Her cries and pleas are rousing the denizens of the Ōoku. Many are still bleary and distant, but you can begin to see some slowly regaining their senses. All it would take is more to trigger a singular panic attack into mass hysteria, and then you'd have a complete and utter breakdown and riot on your hands.

>>How will you respond to this?
>Knock her unconscious and cow the others into line.
>Remove your helmet and assure her you’re not with Jack.

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>>3961252
>Other
>Turn up the Demonica's visor and assure her you're not with Jack. In fact our squad is here to kill him.

>>3961262
>>3961252
supporting this, if that opens us to air, hold your breath

>>3961252
>My name's Adrian, we're not with Jack, we're hear to kick his ass once we find him. Now can you please stop raising a massive racket so we can get you and the rest out of the line of fire?

>>3961267
I mean, in theory it shouldn't, but the rationale I was going for was that taking the helmet off completely is a significant show of trust, since all the girls know are the black-red, faceless helmets of Jack's crew and soldiers.

>>3961271
It's a nice sentiment, but potentially getting high on Devil Dust during a combat operation is incredibly irresponsible. The visor is an okay compromise and we can also have Bai Suzhen or hell any female member of our team back us up.

>>3961252
>Knock her unconscious and cow the others into line.

>>3961252
>>Remove your helmet and assure her you’re not with Jack.

fuck it, we will have the antidote soon enough, if it prevents injury and panic on our sister proxy here I say we take the blunt and show her trust.

try to breath the minimum possible, it's just traces of the drug but we should minimize the intake the maximum we can

>>3961252

>>Remove your helmet and assure her you’re not with Jack.

>>3961262
>Other
>Turn up the Demonica's visor and assure her you're not with Jack. In fact our squad is here to kill him.
Tripping balls during a mission is just a deeply stupid thing to do.

>>3961252
>>3961404
I've played fps' while buzzed, made my reflexes even worse, but it was pretty fun! can't imagine this stuff would be very fun though.

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>>3961262
>>3961267
>>3961270
>>3961277
>>3961307
>>3961367
>>3961404
With a single push of a button, your helmet visor comes up with a mechanical whine. Another button depolarizes the entirety of your H.U.D., and you sprint as fast as you can to the screaming girl.

Her scream somehow manages to intensify as you grab hold of her wrists. Perhaps it’s a potent combination of both the drugs coursing through her body and the visceral fear that Jack’s instilled within her, but she puts up an incredible fight. This the behavior of someone backed up into a corner with nothing left to lose, stripped of all dignity and left reduced to a pitiful soul.

“No, please...!” One of her hands is wrenched out of your grip, and she brings her fingers to bear against the glass surface of your helmet. You wince at the sound of her nails breaking, and balk the sight of blood drawn as she claws wildly at your face. “I don’t want to go back...don’t take me back to the Lightning, please don’t take me back...Fuu-ki-sama, save me...please!”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see your friends fast approaching. MacKay, ever-vigilant, says, “I’ve got a sedative prepared-”

“Hold your positions!” you order, and they stop in their tracks. Before they can raise any complaints or questions, you add, “There isn’t gonna be any need for that...”

With them on standby, you turn the full brunt of your attention towards the girl in your arms.

“Calm down, miss...” Your words are deliberate and careful, even as she continues to thrash and struggle against you. “You’re malnourished and hyperventilating; you’re only gonna hurt yourself if you keep struggling, and that’s the last thing that I want for you.”

Your words only seem to galvanize her into fighting harder. “No! No, you won’t take me back...I don’t want to go back, don’t take me back into the dark-”

“Please look at me...look at me!” you insist firmly. “In through your nose, out your mouth, just breathe slowly, and look at me...Look. At. Me.”

The girl continues to struggle, but you make sure that she gets a good, hard, long glimpse at your face. And that seems to at least give her pause, and a second opinion on her alleged captor. She doesn’t quite go limp in your arms, but she’s at least stopped thrashing about like a wild animal.

Encouraged by this, you continue, “My friends and I...we’re here to help. We’re not with...” you pause, mulling over the words to refer to that piece of human debris, “...we’re not with that man. Quite the opposite actually. We just happen to share a similar sense of fashion.”

Her eyes dart across the room, and she quails at the rest of Carina. An understandable reaction, given how your ugly mug is the only one on display. But she still manages to whisper a soft, trembling: “...who...?”

(cont.)

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“Long story short, a U.N. rescue team,” you answer, “And we’re gonna get you out of here, come hell or high water. There’s nothing to worry about. We’re gonna get you somewhere safe, no strings attached. No more of this...whatever the hell they’re making you do, and no more of that man’s thugs or goons. We’re here to help you, and all of the rest of you.”

For a moment, you thought you might have spoken too much. There’s still drugs that are coursing through her system, and the sudden spike of adrenaline from your little tussle isn’t helping either. The girl stares at you blankly, uncomprehending even as you can see the gears slowly turning inside of her head.

And then she begins to weep.

It’s an awful mess. Tears run down her cheeks, and her nose begins to drip, staining the silk of her beautiful kimono with organic matter. She shakes uncontrollably with every sobbing hiccup, enough to get your own arm to have tremors. But before you could pose a concerned question, the girl suddenly moves.

“OMPH!” you wheeze as she throws herself into your arms, clinging onto you like a lifeline. As she quietly weeps and stains your equipment with her own snot and tears, you return her embrace, gently patting her back. “...uh...you’re welcome...”

“...am I dreaming?” she manages to hiccup past the shaking, and her voice warbles with the uncertainty of paranoid anxiety. “...mister...if this is a dream...then I don’t want to wake up...even with the drugs, this is the best dream I’ve had...in a very long, long time...”

Your answer comes as firm and resolute as your grip on her shoulder. “You aren’t dreaming. This is very much real. And we’re not going to leave until we kill the ones responsible for your suffering.”

>>Later.

With the girl calmed down, and the rest of the denizens slowly brought to lucidity, Carina Squad gets to work. Medical supplies flow freely from your backpacks, and the team sets to the grizzly work of processing all of the women in the Ōoku. At first, they shrunk back, fearful even as the rest of the team depolarized their helmets and lifted their visors.

“It’s alright...” the girl in your arms says, “They’re...they’re here to help...”

And with that, the tension in the air is defused, and the women begin to allow themselves to be treated. Several of them gravitate towards Sarah and Vicky, being the only two women on the team. Brady looks put-upon, but MacKay prods him into accepting the small amount that come to them for treatment and processing. Bai Suzhen and Dante keep a lookout on either side of the chambers, wary and vigilant for the daimyo or any of his forces.

The girl you reassured stays close by your side, even as you process your own small handful of patients and victims. And unlike the women of Kin-Ki’s menagerie, not a single one of them displays any sort of loyalty for Fuu-ki. They all want out, as quickly and fast as possible.

(cont.)

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Everybody on the team is given their own special thanks. The girls are almost drowned by dozens of relieved and grateful women. Brady nearly freezes with all the hugs, and MacKay takes them in stride, whispering words of encouragement. Even Dante manages to catch a hug, and some of the hostages familiar with Bai Suzhen express their thanks similarly.

As one of the more lucid and cognizant victims, the girl let others first in your own queue. She waits patiently for you to finish, unable to hide the small tremors in her hands, and the look of shame as you address and bandage the needle marks along her arm.

But that won’t do. Even as you run a quick scan of her vitals, you keep talking, just to keep her talking so she won’t suddenly pass out or curl into herself. “What’s your name? You got a name? Everybody’s got a name...”

Her voice is small and distant. “I’m...not allowed to say it...”

“Why not? Everyone’s gotta have a name.”

“...the daimyo, he...he gave new names...when we got here...”

“...okay, but what about before you got here? Someone like you must have a nice name.”

“...it’s been so long...”

“You just need some practice it once we get out of here.”

“...Fuu-ki...called me ‘Hanako’ because I was like...a little flower girl...?”

“...you won’t using that name anymore.”

“...my parents named me Danielle...and my friends call me Elly...”

“Okay, then. Elly, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Adrian, and my unofficial call-sign is ‘Sawbones.’”

“...are you my friend...mister Adrian...?"

“I’d like to think I am since I’m rescuing you.”

She looks at you with something akin to worship in her eyes. It’s uncanny enough for you to avert your gaze, focusing strictly on her wounds as she continues to speak, “...we’d given up all hope...the ones who brought us here, they said...no one was coming to save us...”

“Proved him wrong, didn’t we?” you answer lightly.

“...the best we could hope for was to...to be good c-concubines,” Elly stutters, and her trembling begins to pick up, “...c-concubines for F-Fuu-ki...so, b-best to just...lay down, s-spread our legs and-”

You cut her off before she can finish that sentence. You match her gaze, your determined brown meeting her weary green-yellow, half-hidden behind dark bangs. “That’s quitter talk, and I won’t have that coming from you. That’s gonna be behind you in a few hours.”

Her little giggle is tinged with a little bit of hysteria. “...o-okay, coach...?”

Your mouth is just halfway to forming a smile and a witty retort as all hell breaks loose.

It starts with a whisper, just a breeze that passes and causes the lanterns to flicker. Dante actually reacts first, almost teleporting to the other end to raise his hands defensively. And even as your COMP reacts with a warning about a Wind-type spell being cast, the far wall of the Ōoku explodes in to shards of bamboo and rice paper.

(cont.)

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Without any hesitation, you pull a shocked Elly into an embrace, shielding her from the debris that fly your direction. Most of it bounces off your armor, but there are still sizable chunks of wood that hit you, promising bruises once you complete the operation. Better your body than hers, since you’ve got the plating that can stand up to a beating.

Even before the dust has time to settle, a great gust of wind blows it out the back. And emerging from the cloud is the master of the palace: Fuu-ki the blue oni, the Daimyo of the Hill of Swords.

At least with Kin-Ki, or the head that Ibaraki presented, the Regent of the Brooding Mountains had vaguely human characteristics. Not so much with his sibling. Where there ought to be a face, there is nothing but a gaping hole that you can see right clear through. The only thing reminiscent of a human visible on the oni’s face is its lower jaw, filled with sharp and wicked fangs. He stands at twice the size of an average man, and barely manages to squeeze into the room without hitting his head on the ceiling.

Elly manages to squirm out of her arms, only for the first sight to greet her is that of her captor. She doesn’t even manage a scream. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she collapses in your arms like a ragdoll. You curse, slapping the visor of your helm down as you scramble for your rifle. No sooner do you have your weapon and High Pixie aimed at the demon does the H.U.D. paint a firing solution on the ugly bastard.

“TRESPASSERS!” Fuu-ki roars. A singular swing of his sword conjures up blades of wind that race towards Carina. “YOU DARE INTRUDE UPON THE WOMEN OF THE DAIMYO?! YOUR ENDS WILL NOT COME SWIFTLY!”

There is a noise of scales against silk, and Bai Suzhen springs before you. Rips and seams open up along her dress as she weathers the worst of the magic, shielding you and the hostages from any harm.

“YOU WILL NOT HARM THEM,” she roars, and her jaw distends wide as she casts a spell. She rears back, spitting twin jets of liquid towards the daimyo. Fuu-ki dodges at the last moment, cursing as the liquid begins to eat through the floorboards. “THE FLOOR WILL BE THE LEASSSST OF YOUR WORIESSSSS ONCE WE ARE DONE WITH YOU!”

“Get them out of here, now!” you shout, opening fire on the blue oni. The burst does little to harm the self-proclaimed Daimyo, but it distracts him long enough for Bai Suzhen to press the advantage. With a hellish shriek, the White Snake closes the distance between them with lightning speed, coiling herself around the brute with a quick and lethal efficiency. “We’ll cover your escape...!”

>>Who will you send to escort the hostages to the Whistler? [Pick Three]
>Brady. Technical support and adept marksman.
>Dante. Master combatant and demon weapon specialist.
>MacKay. LMG support and explosives specialist.
>Sarah. Close-range combatant and firearms expert.
>Victoria. Munitions support and debuff specialist.

>>3961872
>>Brady. Technical support and adept marksman.
>>Sarah. Close-range combatant and firearms expert.
>>Victoria. Munitions support and debuff specialist.

The group are feel comfortable with the rest of the girls and Brady isn't that great in a fight. Keeping Dante is obviously a yes and MacKay is a good Fitz substitute.

>>3961872
I soooooo want to send Dante, but I don't think he's any good with escorting

>Victoria
the driver

>Brady
the sniper

>MacKay
maybe he can set bombs as the rear guard? Or just cause general havoc so Fuu Ki doesn't know where which fire to put out first.

>>3961872
>Sarah. Close-range combatant and firearms expert.
>Victoria. Munitions support and debuff specialist.
The hostages are more quick to trust the women here, which will help expedite the escape.

>>3961872
>>3961896
Forgot one.
>Brady. Technical support and adept marksman.
This place ain't good for a sniper, but he can make sure people are safe near the Whistler.