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>Andre Warren, a thug, criminal, occasional drug dealer and member of the Black Saints, a low level gang operating out of the shitty side of Bad Brick, a city in Tennessee. You watched, unable to move, as a lanky pale bastard raped and sucked your girlfriend's blood out right in front of you in your shitty apartment. She was five months pregnant. You have connections to the underworld of Bad Brick, as well as a Tec-9 and some experience in its use and skill in the general savage violence that comes with being a gangster, along with a decent body as you have to keep up your rep after all. Most importantly however, is your bond with your homies, a bond forged in the flame of many street deals and battles, you know they will help you without question.

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>Dmitry Garin, the son of two middle class Czech immigrants, and a college dropout living in Bad Brick, the worst city in the state. You watched helpless as your parents were first tortured, and then cut open, their blood licked up by a tall skinny man with the whitest skin you’ve ever seen. Years of lazing about around the house has given you a frail and sickly body, and your only experience in fighting was the few times you decided to stand up against your bullies in school. One thing you do have going for you though, is your mind. You majored in computer programming in college, and you have had much practice since you dropped out, using social manipulation and handwritten viruses to break into the bank accounts and crypto wallets of whatever fool you could get to trust you long enough for you to rob them blind, and along with your parents modest inheritance, you have enough liquid funding to be able to support whatever you decide to do in your hunt for the vampire for a good long while, along with your skills at hunting online for the perfect marks. Years of only speaking to your parents and occasionally the clerks at fast food dives and convenience stores however, have left you shy, awkward and friendless in the real world.

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>Roland Wozniak, a disgraced ex-detective with a bit of a drug problem. You can quit whenever you want, honestly, you just don’t feel like it. Especially now after you watched your daughter get her blood sucked out right in front of you, by a tall pale man with piercing blue eyes. You’ve still got contacts on the force and with the criminal underworld of Bad Brick, but if you’re being honest with yourself, neither of them like you very much. What you do have going for you though is your detective's intuition, not dulled in the least by getting soaked in copious amounts of booze and bangers over the years. And while you may have put on a gut in the years since you got booted from the force, you still possess some unassuming strength and the knowhow to use it, along with a pair of knuckledusters and your trusty snubnosed .38 S&W Bodyguard. And no matter what they take away from you, they’ll never stop you from being a bitter asshole.

>>5291301
>Roland Wozniak

>>5291301
roland

>>5291293
>Elsweyr SriLanka, a college, a member of the untouchable caste, and a religious refugee who fled India after raping his sister-cow. You watched helpless as a tall man with the whitest most aryan skin you’ve ever seen sucked the blood out of (unrequited) love. You don’t have much going for you, but you are a (very) amateur writer on the /qst/ board of 4chan. Through sheer autism you will kill the vampire who killed your (unrequited) big booty Latina love.

>>5291317
*college dropout
Very important to fix that typo

>>5291317
Kek, sorry anon but for this first choice only the three I posted can be picked. Pretty much every other choice than this one will take write ins though.

>>5291323
Ok
>Roland

>>5291325
>>5291311
>>5291308
Alright, locking the vote for Roland, writing now.

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>>5291411

>YOU WERE ROLAND WOZNIAK
>YOU WILL NOT BE AGAIN…

You’ve spent the past couple of… months? Months, in a haze of drugs, whores and booze. You’ve burned every picture of Sophia that you could find, because you can’t bear to look at them. Your ex has stopped taking your calls, not that you’ve called her very often anyway. When it came time for the funeral, you… You just couldn’t… No. You didn’t go. The shame of missing your own daughter's funeral was easier to deal with than having to see her. Like that. Much easier. Sometimes, you’ll be in the middle of doing something and hear a soft giggle, and you’ll look up and around and see empty walls and blank faces and remember that you’ll never see her ever again. She was a good kid, and you’d often wonder how someone as good and pure as her could ever have come from somebody like you. And when you think that, the pain and misery gets stripped away, and then all you are is angry. Your chest swells, your muscles grip and flex spastically, your breathing grows hoarse and suddenly you become an avatar of the fucking God of Destruction! But eventually, the fires fade and all you’re left with is yourself.

And you’re less than nothing.

>HOW HAVE YOU COPED?

>Drugs. You’ve tried them all, and sometimes when you do enough of them, you forget. You feel good, you feel fucking powerful. You’ve learned to love drugs even more than before, and they love you right back.

>Whores. Or rather, a whore. Sammy “Blue” DuBois, a jazz singer and occasional prostitute for certain special people. You happen to be one of those special people. You met her back when you were still a cop, and still married, and she has been an oasis of peace and calmness for you ever since. But, for some reason, after Sophia passed… All your visits have been free.

>Enforcing for the mob. Your old contacts in the Carmilia Family call on you frequently, to settle scores they can’t be seen doing themselves. It helps, sometimes, to beat the shit out of a punk who thought he could just walk out on a debt. You haven’t killed anyone for them, yet, but would you really mind if they asked you to? Either way, all this work has been very good for your wallet and physique.

>Actual, honest to god detective work. Your little P.I. agency was more of a tax write off than anything else, but frankly, it feels good to be out on the street again, working cases. More and more you’ll find yourself sitting in your beat up old car for hours, watching some shitty motel for some broad’s husband with some dumb floozie. You ain’t catching no serial killers or anything, but it feels right, what you’re doing. And the work gets your mind off of Sophia, sometimes.

>>5291418
>Actual, honest to god detective work. Your little P.I. agency was more of a tax write off than anything else, but frankly, it feels good to be out on the street again, working cases. More and more you’ll find yourself sitting in your beat up old car for hours, watching some shitty motel for some broad’s husband with some dumb floozie. You ain’t catching no serial killers or anything, but it feels right, what you’re doing. And the work gets your mind off of Sophia, sometimes.

>>5291418
>Enforcing for the mob. Your old contacts in the Carmilia Family call on you frequently, to settle scores they can’t be seen doing themselves. It helps, sometimes, to beat the shit out of a punk who thought he could just walk out on a debt. You haven’t killed anyone for them, yet, but would you really mind if they asked you to? Either way, all this work has been very good for your wallet and physique.

>>5291418
>Drugs. You’ve tried them all, and sometimes when you do enough of them, you forget. You feel good, you feel fucking powerful. You’ve learned to love drugs even more than before, and they love you right back.

>>5291468
>>5291445
>>5291435
Gonna need a tiebreaker. If it's still tied in the next 15-30 minutes I'll roll for it.

>>5291418
>>Enforcing for the mob. Your old contacts in the Carmilia Family call on you frequently, to settle scores they can’t be seen doing themselves. It helps, sometimes, to beat the shit out of a punk who thought he could just walk out on a debt. You haven’t killed anyone for them, yet, but would you really mind if they asked you to? Either way, all this work has been very good for your wallet and physique.

>>5291521
>>5291468
>>5291445
>>5291435
>1 for doing a bit of detecting
>1 for drugs drugs drugs
>2 for breaking skulls for the wiseguys

Alright, writing now.

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>>5291521
>>5291468
>>5291445
>>5291435
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6WEy0eH8Xc&list=LL&index=79

The taste of blood. The smell of piss. Bruised, cut up knuckles and the meat packing sound of flesh crushing flesh. These things have made up most of your nights for the last couple of months. Back when you were still police, you did a couple favors for the local goombahs that think they run this city. Sometimes it was easy shit, ignoring the existence of certain underground casinos, letting drug deals take place without reporting it, making certain evidence mysteriously disappear. You would've been caught years ago if it wasn't for the fact that everyone did it in Bad Brick, at least a little.

And sometimes it was a bit more complicated, like that time you were asked to sit outside of some wannabe squealers house in a squad car for days at a time, sending a message, you suppose. Sometimes your nights were like this, even back then. Beating on some poor bastard until he's puking, and then beating him some more. Sometimes it was to send a message, not to fuck with the Carmilia, that even the cops worked for them, and sometimes it was to collect on a debt that somebody thought they could just ignore. The reasons never really mattered to you, all you cared about was that the money was a hell of a lot better than Bad Bricks shitty cop wages. You never killed anyone for them, even now, but...

But now's not the time to reminisce on your wasted career, because it looks like this saps got some fight left in him after all. He gets up, the imprint of your ringed fist glowing red on his cheek, desperation and anger flashing in his eyes, and he spits out a glob of blood before shakily raising his fists, saying "Y-you fucking prick! It was just 500 bucks you dumb motherfucker, I was gonna pay Tony back next week! But now I'm gonna have to fuck you up all because you wouldn't fucking listen!"

Aw shit... Most of the time these assholes just take the beating and consider themselves lucky they got off that easy, but sometimes you get dipshits like this fucking guy. Alright then... You slip your right hand in your pocket, first fingering your brass knuckles and then slipping them on, smooth as you like, while you raise your left hand up and put on your best attempt at a placating hesitant voice, saying "Hey hey buddy, why didn't you tell me that to start with? We can work this out..." and as your words reach out to him, you see the anger on his face get replaced with a kind of dirty, desperate hope. The stupid fuck.

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By the time he lowers his fists a bit and opens his mouth to say "Shit man, just tell Tony that I-" You're on him in a flash, your hand whipping out of your pocket and making contact right on the side of his jaw, your brass knuckles smashing into his face so hard that you feel the telltale crunch that means his jaw got shattered and most of his teeth on the right side either got knocked out or crushed to bits and pieces. He never saw it coming, and as he falls to the ground you can see a look of shock and confusion mingling with agonizing pain on his face. All it takes then is a good kick to the temple and the fucker is out cold, blood and bone drooling out of his slack mouth. You give him a couple of kicks for good measure before rifling through his pockets, finding some mysteriously unlabeled blue pills, a badly cracked iPhone 6 and about 250$ in assorted bills.

Pocketing your prizes, you make your way out of the filthy alley you dragged him into and into the streets, and before long you're back inside the ‘comfort’ and safety of your banged up cherry red Pontiac G5. You take a moment to light a cigarette, and consider popping the pills you found then and there, but finally decide against it, figuring you’ve had enough surprises for one night, and just as you turn the ignition you see something that makes your heart stop: A little girl in a dirty white dress, running screaming out of one of the hundreds of rat infested tenements that make up the southside of Bad Brick, before shortly being followed by an even younger and smaller boy, holding the largest cockroach you’ve ever seen and shouting “Sophie eats buuugs, Sophie’s a bug eater hahahaha!”

You let out a deep sigh, and as you grip the steering wheel you see that your hands are shaking. Goddammit. You almost went a whole day without being reminded of her, and now you don’t feel so good about the beat down you just gave out. What would Sophia think, if she knew this was what you’re doing now? Fuck. God fucking dammit. Fuck it, you take a deep drag of your smoldering cigarette and then speed out of there. You need to do something. Anything, to take your mind off this shit. The Cock’s gonna wanna know that you finished the job for him, but you don’t know if you can take having to deal with his sneering face and shitty jokes right now. Still, the money might be worth it. Checking your glove-box, you’re reminded that your stash is running pretty low, all you got left is half a joint and a couple sniffs worth of coke and a handful of bangers rattling around. Maybe you should blow off the Cock for tonight and give Markie a ring. And in the back of your mind you feel the deep need for a friendly face and a warm body to spend the night with, maybe you should see if Sammie’s busy.

Fuck… You got a feeling it’s gonna be a long night either way.

>Go see the Cock and let him know you did the thing for him. Even in a city as rotten as Bad Brick, talking about major crimes over the phone is a really bad idea, so you’re gonna have to meet the guy in person if you want to get paid. He’ll probably be in his bar, The Cock and Star, and you could use a drink right about now anyway. Jesus, really clever name there Tony…

>Call Markie and see if he can hook you up. Markie’s kind of a dickhead, but his product is good and the price is always right. Besides, if you run out you’re gonna have a lot more problems than bad memories to deal with…

>Go to the Blue Room and see if Sammy’s up for a night of debauchery. Tonights a Friday, so she should be on stage right about now, and you could really do with seeing somebody that’s not a complete cunt. She ain’t a half bad singer neither.

>>5291591
>Go see the Cock and let him know you did the thing for him. Even in a city as rotten as Bad Brick, talking about major crimes over the phone is a really bad idea, so you’re gonna have to meet the guy in person if you want to get paid. He’ll probably be in his bar, The Cock and Star, and you could use a drink right about now anyway. Jesus, really clever name there Tony…

>>5291590
>>Go to the Blue Room and see if Sammy’s up for a night of debauchery. Tonights a Friday, so she should be on stage right about now, and you could really do with seeing somebody that’s not a complete cunt. She ain’t a half bad singer neither.

>>5291590
>>Go see the Cock and let him know you did the thing for him. Even in a city as rotten as Bad Brick, talking about major crimes over the phone is a really bad idea, so you’re gonna have to meet the guy in person if you want to get paid. He’ll probably be in his bar, The Cock and Star, and you could use a drink right about now anyway. Jesus, really clever name there Tony…

Also, because of the work you've been doing the past couple of months, your body and fighting skills have improved, giving you a +5 to all rolls involving athletics and combat! And it hasn't been too bad for your wallet either, right now you've got about 3000$ saved up.

>>5291591
>Go see the Cock and let him know you did the thing for him. Even in a city as rotten as Bad Brick, talking about major crimes over the phone is a really bad idea, so you’re gonna have to meet the guy in person if you want to get paid. He’ll probably be in his bar, The Cock and Star, and you could use a drink right about now anyway. Jesus, really clever name there Tony…

>>5291591
>Go see the Cock and let him know you did the thing for him. Even in a city as rotten as Bad Brick, talking about major crimes over the phone is a really bad idea, so you’re gonna have to meet the guy in person if you want to get paid. He’ll probably be in his bar, The Cock and Star, and you could use a drink right about now anyway. Jesus, really clever name there Tony…

>>5291591
>Go see the Cock and let him know you did the thing for him. Even in a city as rotten as Bad Brick, talking about major crimes over the phone is a really bad idea, so you’re gonna have to meet the guy in person if you want to get paid. He’ll probably be in his bar, The Cock and Star, and you could use a drink right about now anyway. Jesus, really clever name there Tony…

>>5291594
>>5291597
>>5291601
>>5291642
>>5291687
>>5291723
Alright, looks like we're gonna go pay Tony a visit. Writing now.

File: The Cock and Star.jpg (68 KB, 612x612)

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Riding through the streets of Bad Brick, your thoughts can't help but turn back to the past. Back to the day they took your badge away from you, back when it all turned to shit. It was a long drive from Southside to the Cock and Star, and all you had was a cigarette and the sound of the other cars to keep you company.

>WHY WERE YOU KICKED OFF THE FORCE?
>Drugs. Every police in Bad Brick uses to some extent, even the chief. Especially the chief. But you couldn't hack it after a while, eventually it got to the point where you no longer felt like you were taking drugs, but that they were taking you. Your work got sloppy, your drug use got more and more open and brazen, and it was after a 3 day stupor when you rolled into work and told the Chief that you fucked his mother and have plans with his daughter for the evening. Looking back, it's a wonder you're not floating in the Ceramic River at this point, but that was the final straw for the Chief and a lot of others at the station, and a week later you had to turn in your badge.
>Police brutality. Sounds like a joke in this city, but that's what they got you on. 'Prolonged and excessive use of force.' You might have been a dirty cop, but you were still a fucking cop, and you only fucked up those who deserved it, right? I guess it was one complaint too many from a sobbing mother, or it could have been that one creep hanging around the middle school who asked if you knew who his father was, in between spitting out teeth. Either way, eventually the scandal and risk got to be too much for the station, and after almost half your life spent being police, you were forced to hand in your badge.
>You dug too deep. One of the few times you decide to actually do your job, and it turns out that you were looking into the mayor’s kid. The kid liked to go to the homeless camps late in the night and stab one or two to death, every other night. He was very sloppy, so it didn't take you long to figure it out, but when you turned in the evidence confirming it was the mayors kid, you had to take the worst reaming out from the chief you ever had in your entire career, then a few weeks later the evidence was gone and a trial never happened, and a few weeks after that you were told to retire. What a clusterfuck...

In your reverie, you barely realize as you pull into the parking lot for the Cock and Star, until you see a giant neon red sign of a rooster standing beneath a bright yellow star. Tony never was one for subtlety. You get out of the car, take a final drag off the last of your cigarette and then toss it and walk through the door, and immediately the smell of cheap cologne and stale piss assaults your senses, along with the strumming of some young lady on the small stage. But maybe that piss smell is just the watered down beer...

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFh71_ftxLE

It doesn’t take long for you to see The Cock, the deep crimson jacket is a dead giveaway. And that fucking toupee! He’s chatting up some broad by the bar, and you see between them several empty glasses and bottles. Oh boy, this is gonna be fun… You squeeze through the crowded bar, eventually making your way to the bar counter. You consider ordering something, but decide on getting the business out of the way first. Sweeter then. Standing right behind The Cock, he doesn’t even hear you when you say “Hey, Tony.” This close to him, you can smell the cologne very strongly and it reminds you of the cologne that that guy you just collected on wore, and you almost gag. You can make out bits of his conversation with the lady, in between the bar noise, “So I tell the fucking guy, I says ‘They don’t call me the fucking Cock for nothing, dipshit. If you need something done, I’m the guy you go to. You want 500 grand in 4 hours? I’m your man, baby! Hahahahaha!” Between his cologne and his boasting, you suddenly feel queasy. Ready to put a stop to at least one of them, you raise your voice and say “HEY, TONY! CAN I TALK TO YOU MAN?!”

That gets his attention, and he turns on his stool you hear a muttered “Who the fuck…” Before he makes eye contact with you, then the surprise and anger melts off his face, replaced by a big white grin. “Well if it isn’t ol’ Roland! Hey baby, you ever meet him? Ah, hes a great fucking guy, you’d like him! Well shit Roland, let’s go in the back where we can fucking hear, hahahaha!” And he gets off the stool, starting for the backroom. You follow, and as you enter the dingy managers ‘office’, Tony stretches out on the office chair before asking “So Roland, what’d you want to see me about?”

Clearing your throat, you tell him “I did that thing for you, Tony.” As you start to hand him the crumpled 250$ you got off the guy, he holds his hand up and shakes his head, before reaching into his pocket and pulling out another 300$ in crisp, brand new hundred dollar bills. “That shit is chump change my boy, keep it. I just needed you to send a message, and here, for your troubles.” You take the handout without much ceremony, before asking if you can get a drink. “Shit” he says “For you, nothing but the best my friend!”

And as you go to sit at the bar, Tony pours a tall glass of some dark alcohol, you catch the eye of a not bad looking red headed broad, sitting in the back. You keep eye contact for a while, before the crowd passes between the two of you. Turning back to the bar, you consider the drink in front of you and just how you’re gonna unwind for the night….

>If The Cock’s feeling generous tonight, you’re not so dumb as to pass on it. Drink and bullshit all night with Tony.

>There was something about that chick, in the back… Go see if you can find her. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.

>With your wallets a little fuller and your spirits a little emptier, your mind turns back to your stash. You got another day left, maybe two tops, before you're totally out. And you do not want to be totally out of that shit. It’s the only thing that keeps you going, at this point. Give Markie a call.

>Write in.

>>5291887
>If The Cock’s feeling generous tonight, you’re not so dumb as to pass on it. Drink and bullshit all night with Tony.

>>5291885
>You dug too deep. One of the few times you decide to actually do your job, and it turns out that you were looking into the mayor’s kid. The kid liked to go to the homeless camps late in the night and stab one or two to death, every other night. He was very sloppy, so it didn't take you long to figure it out, but when you turned in the evidence confirming it was the mayors kid, you had to take the worst reaming out from the chief you ever had in your entire career, then a few weeks later the evidence was gone and a trial never happened, and a few weeks after that you were told to retire. What a clusterfuck...
>>5291887
>If The Cock’s feeling generous tonight, you’re not so dumb as to pass on it. Drink and bullshit all night with Tony.

>>5291885
>You dug too deep. One of the few times you decide to actually do your job, and it turns out that you were looking into the mayor’s kid. The kid liked to go to the homeless camps late in the night and stab one or two to death, every other night. He was very sloppy, so it didn't take you long to figure it out, but when you turned in the evidence confirming it was the mayors kid, you had to take the worst reaming out from the chief you ever had in your entire career, then a few weeks later the evidence was gone and a trial never happened, and a few weeks after that you were told to retire. What a clusterfuck...

>There was something about that chick, in the back… Go see if you can find her. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.

>>5291885
>>You dug too deep.
>>5291887
>If The Cock’s feeling generous tonight, you’re not so dumb as to pass on it. Drink and bullshit all night with Tony.

>>5291886
>You dug too deep. One of the few times you decide to actually do your job, and it turns out that you were looking into the mayor’s kid. The kid liked to go to the homeless camps late in the night and stab one or two to death, every other night. He was very sloppy, so it didn't take you long to figure it out, but when you turned in the evidence confirming it was the mayors kid, you had to take the worst reaming out from the chief you ever had in your entire career, then a few weeks later the evidence was gone and a trial never happened, and a few weeks after that you were told to retire. What a clusterfuck...
>If The Cock’s feeling generous tonight, you’re not so dumb as to pass on it. Drink and bullshit all night with Tony.
I really like this so far QM, can't wait to see how it turns out. Also, is there a chance of meeting the other characters we could've chosen?

>>5291887
the chick

>>5292056
Yeah, depending on the choices you make you can run into the other two guys. Although whether you'll end up being friend, foe or something else entirely is dependent on you and your choices up to that point.

>>5291885
>You dug too deep.
>There was something about that chick, in the back… Go see if you can find her. Who knows, maybe you’ll get lucky tonight.
Man, the streets of this city are filled with blood. Love it.

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We all know what vampires are a metaphor for right? Synagogue of Satan? Anyway is there room for a dog companion?

>>5292180
Very nice

>>5292229
I don't know about the SoS but yeah you can get a dog companion, sure. One things for certain, there's no way you can take on the vamps of Bad Brick as you are now, and certainly not alone.

>>5291890
>>5291900
>>5291962
>>5291976
>>5292056
>>5292213
Looks like everyone wants to have uncovered one of the cities dark secrets in the past, and most want to spend the night with their good buddy the Cock. Apologies for the long wait, writing now.

Oh yeah, you also get a +5 for every roll where you need to use your Intelligence, as well as any roll where you need to do some Investigation.

>>5292262
Will we meet Elsweyr SriLanka eventually?

>>5292267
Nope, sorry. Also doesn't he live in India anyway?

>>5292269
I think he's a refugee that escaped from there after getting caught raping his cow-sister.

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yL2JgT04ULw&list=RDEMdFyku3IGHySwaGkor5I-Aw&index=4

The girlie on stage finishes up her song and begins to move onto the next, and after a moment of consideration you knock back your drink, draining it in one go. Damn! That’s some good shit. Like drinking fire. Figuring that you don’t got anything better to do tonight, you settle in at the side of the bar and start shooting the shit with the Cock. Ya know, he’s really not so bad a guy all things considered. Sure, he’s kind of an ass with an overly inflated ego, but in all the years you’ve known him, he’s mostly been good to you. Occasionally you’ll glance back at where you last saw that red headed broad, but she’s nowhere to be seen.

Eh. Whatever. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling good and drunk, and with every shot Tony gets more and more tolerable. At some point in the night Tony breaks out a tiny glass vial of white powder, and after that things get kind of fuzzy. Before you know it, you’re slumped over the bar, drooling and snoring, while Tony’s sprawled out on the floor behind it, snoring and drooling. In your sleep you think you feel something brush against you, but then you’re pulled deeper into that hazy world of dreams. You dream of Sophia, at first of her when she was just a baby, a couple months old at most. Then you see her first steps, and then her first words. But then as you turn around, camera in your hands and ready to immortalize your baby girls first unsteady steps, you’re not in your nice, pristine old house, but the roach infested rat hole that you moved into after the divorce.

And there’s Sophia, but… She’s on the ground, pale and as still as a painting. On her neck are two neat little red holes, a single trail of crimson blood snaking down her throat. And behind her is… Him. The bastard. Tall with snow white skin, and two ice cold blue eyes boring into you. And on his face is a smile like a slash, all shark teeth, stained dark red. And as you try to move towards her, towards him, you realize you can’t. Looking down, you see two white snakes curling up your legs, their bodies sprouting out of the floor, their heads latched onto your thighs, filling you with their venom. Then… Sophia sits up, her green eyes locked with yours, and her mouth opens revealing black, rotten teeth, and she says “Wake up. It’s time to wake up Roland. Wake up and go back to the city that ruined you, the city that the man who murdered me calls home. Go back to the world that will kill you, like it killed me.”

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“Hey buddy, wake up man. Wakey wakey!” When you open your eyes, even the small bit of light filtering through the windows stings. You don’t feel rested, you feel crusty. Like Hell warmed over. Lifting your head off the bar, you squint your eyes and force the fuzzy, speaking mass in front of you to clear up and take shape. It’s Tony. That’s right, you never left the bar last night. “Tony… Wha- What time is it?” He laughs, evidently feeling better than you, and says “Shit man, it’s 1:24 in the afternoon. We really tied one on last night, heh, I only woke up 30 minutes ago. Jesus, at our age we should really go easier. But anyways pal, I’m gonna have to close up the bar for now, got some business that needs doing. But come on by tonight, I might have some work for you, if you’re interested.”

You mutter something non-committal and make your way outside. Good God, since when did the sun get so fucking bright?! As you sit in your car, you fish your cigarette pack out of your pocket, and feel something dry and crinkly brush up against your fingers. Popping the last lucky cigarette out of the pack and lighting it, you pull out the piece of paper and squint at it. You can just make out a sentence in fancy handwriting: “Come to the apartments at 427 Jefferson Avenue, apartment 224 I need the help of a detective. And I think I can help you too - A Friend In Need”

Huh. Well, that’s different. You’re tempted to turn to paranoia, that the address might be a trap. You know as well as anyone that you’ve made plenty of enemies over the years, both when you were a cop and when you were booted out. But then again, it could just as likely be what it says it is. A friend in need, huh? And what did they mean by they could help you too? Looking up at the sky, you can just barely make out the sun behind a wall of dark, roiling clouds. Another day in paradise…

>Due to excessive consumption of drugs and alcohol the night before, Roland has a -10 to all rolls until either the next day, or he chases the hair of the dog that bit him. You have 1 use of marijuana, 2 uses of cocaine, 2 uses of amphetamines and 5 uses of those mysterious blue pills remaining, as well as 3550$ total, with 550$ on you currently. Write in what drugs to use with your post, if any at all, and different drugs have different effects on both how you act, and your rolls.

>Bury your paranoia and go to the apartments at Jefferson. Work is work, and you can’t deny that your more than a little curious on just how this stranger can ‘help you’.

>Give Sammy a call, see what she’s up to. You feel like hell but it would be nice to see the closest thing you have to a lover right now, and hanging with her would be better than staring at the wall in your shitty apartment.

>Kill time until sundown, and then head back to see Tony. Most of the shit he has you do is pretty easy, and you can never have enough money after all.

>Write in.

>>5292350
>Bury your paranoia and go to the apartments at Jefferson. Work is work, and you can’t deny that your more than a little curious on just how this stranger can ‘help you’.
>Smoke a blunt
It will help us relax and will get rid of the nasty modifier so that we can our job done

>>5292350
>Bury your paranoia and go to the apartments at Jefferson. Work is work, and you can’t deny that your more than a little curious on just how this stranger can ‘help you’.

>>5292350
>Bury your paranoia and go to the apartments at Jefferson. Work is work, and you can’t deny that your more than a little curious on just how this stranger can ‘help you’.

>>5292350
>Bury your paranoia and go to the apartments at Jefferson. Work is work, and you can’t deny that your more than a little curious on just how this stranger can ‘help you’.
>Smoke a blunt

>>5292350
>>Bury your paranoia and go to the apartments at Jefferson. Work is work, and you can’t deny that your more than a little curious on just how this stranger can ‘help you’.
>>Smoke a blunt

>>5292559
>>5292511
>>5292394
>>5292393
>>5292367
5 for paying a visit to your new pen-pal, and 3 for smoking major doobies. Writing now.

File: Small Pleasures.jpg (25 KB, 612x377)

25 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bx4aK-YsPeU

You take a long look at the note, then sigh. You can’t deny that you’re a bit paranoid about this, but you also can’t deny that your curiosity is piqued. And besides, an extra bit of cash wouldn’t hurt. But first, you gotta deal with this hangover. Popping open the glovebox, you extract the solitary half smoked blunt from the mess of various mood boosters and light it up. You leave the windows rolled up so you can get the most of what’s left of it, and before long you get that familiar warm fuzzy feeling. The aches and pains of the previous night don’t quite wash away, but they are certainly dulled, and by the time the blunts down to a roach you feel a lot more chill and relaxed.

Aaaahh… Back to normal.

>You’ve just smoked some reefer, clearing your -10 hangover debuff and granting you a temporary +10 to all charisma rolls, along with +5 for all rolls requiring abstract thinking, at least until the high wears off. Far out, man…

A bit of spit on your finger tips puts the roach out, and you start making your way to Bad Brick’s Eastside, although it takes a while longer than normal as you observe every traffic law and then some, suddenly conscious of the multiple felonies hidden in your Pontiac. Eventually though, the run down tenements and condemned crack houses give way to nicer apartments, parks and mom and pop restaurants. You gotta say, you prefer the scenery back at the Cock and Star. It was more honest, at least. After a couple of turns you come upon it, Jefferson Avenue. And there it is, the Rolling Hills apartment complex.

You park in the small parking lot for the apartment and make your way to the second floor. 213, 215, 220… There it is, apartment 224. Steeling yourself for what may possibly be a trap, you rattle off the barbers knock on the door and wait. And wait. And wait… You’re start thinking that nobody's home when you hear the lock on the other side turn, and when the door cracks open a bit you see a pretty young redheaded gal peeking out at you. Wait a minute… “You’re the girl from last night, right? From the Cock and Star?” She flashes you a nervous smile and says “Yeah, that’s me. Hold on, let me get the chain off.”

File: Jane.png (111 KB, 256x256)

111 KB PNG

The door shuts in your face and you hear on the other side the rattling of the chain being pulled out of place, and when it opens again you get a better look at the girl. Hair the color of leaves in autumn, eyes as blue as the ocean, and a low cut top that leaves just enough for the imagination. She must have noticed your stare, as she looks at the floor and mutters “Well, come on in. I’m Jane by the way.” Not one to be rude to a pretty lady, you make your way into her apartment.

The furnishing is… Eclectic, to say the least. She’s got a few of the typical young white girl decorations, a Live Laugh Love sign hanging above a cat tower, although the feline is nowhere to be seen, among stranger fair. Incense smoldering on the coffee table, a skull on the counter that you could almost think of as real, if it wasn’t for the wick sticking out the top, and some mindfuck of a painting that looks like a skull until you see the lady reflected in the mirror, along with a crinkley scroll hanging above the TV, some kind of asian writing on it.

As you stand in her living room, she just sorta stares at you out the corner of her eye while you admire her apartment. The silence is broken however when you ask “So, what kind of help do you need that only a detective could do?” This time she looks you in the eye and says “It’s a… long story. Take a seat. You want a drink? Coffee or something?” At the mention of drinks your gaze turns to the half empty bottle of Jim Beam on the counter in the kitchen, but you tell her that some coffee would be great. She shuffles into the kitchen and quickly returns with a can of some of that cold brew stuff, vanilla bean flavor. Taking a sip, you sit in the sofa chair while she takes a seat on the couch. She starts by saying “I’ve got a… friend, that’s been missing for a couple days. A working girl. Blonde, about my age, goes by Candy. I-I don’t think that’s her real name but…” And then she trails off, studying the can of sugar filled coffee in her hands. So, a missing persons case, huh? Been a long time since you worked one of those…

First things first, you need to set her at ease if you want her to give you the info you need. “It’s alright, Jane, was it? How long has she been missing exactly? Who saw her last, you?” She sighs and takes a deep sip of her coffee before saying “No, I wasn’t the one who saw her last, that was Rebecca. But from what I’ve heard she hasn’t been seen in any of her usual spots in about 3 days.” That would mean the last time anyone saw her was Tuesday. You lean forward and say “You sure something bad might have happened to her? What if she just decided to take a vacation or something without telling anyone?”

To your surprise, Jane gives a small giggle at that, saying “ Oh no, Candy’s not the type of girl to just up and leave without saying anything. She doesn’t do anything without telling someone. Trust me, if she was going on vacation half of Bad Brick would have heard about it. Her Instas been dead since last Tuesday, and she’s always posting something at least once a day.”

Huh. Well that’s not good. If what Jane’s telling you is true, then this Candy broad might be in some trouble. Or, if your experience with ‘working girls’ is anything to go by, she could just be in a drug induced stupor in some motel somewhere. Still though, you definitely need more to go on if you take the case.

>Write in what to ask Jane

>>5292906
Ask what Candy looks like, what is her routine, what are her usual places, any dangerous contacts she has. Were there any changes in her behavior lately or maybe she said something peculiar, any unusual events she shared about maybe.
Ask who is that Rebecca girl and how can we contact or find her. I imagine we would want to question her too.

>>5292906
Not sure how you are going to structure next update QM but in case there won't be an opportunity to ask more questons I want to make sure we ask how much she is going to pay us, how did she find out about Roland in particular and what did she mean exactly by "I think I can help you too" before we leave.
Those are important questions but I didn't want to mash it all together.

>>5292906
Why doesn't she know Candy's real name?

>>5292906
does she wear anal plug?

>>5292976
>>5292971
Both of these are pretty much a good combination of questions.
>>5292976
Start with these to get the details of the deal and what she offers and the follow up >>5292971 with this after me work out the specifications of the job.

>>5292971
>>5292976
>>5293063
>>5293200

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_H-gpgL17F4&list=PL0B80EA34DA09E5C4&index=5

>"What does Candy look like?"
When ask her if she has any photos of Candy, she breaks out her phone and fiddles around on it, swiping the screen. Eventually she lifts it up and shows you a photo of her and a blonde pretty woman around her age dressed in a neon yellow tube top, black miniskirt and thigh high boots. Yep, that's a working girl alright. You also can't help but notice that Jane is dressed very similarly to her, and they both have some kind of reddish orange drinks in their hands. Just to get a better picture of Candy's age, you ask Jane how old she is, to which she answers: 23, meaning Candy should be within that age range as well.

>"What's her routine, her usual places, any dangerous contacts she has"
Jane tells you that when she's 'working' she's usually in one of 3 places, either outside the donut shop in Southside, on the corner of 5th and Andrew by that Starbucks in the far end of Eastside, or at her apartment in Eastside, taking on special clients. You ask her for Candy's address and she writes it down on a slip of paper before handing it to you. When you ask if Candy has any dangerous clients, Jane sighs and says "Mr. Wozniak, they're all dangerous. But did she have ones that were more dangerous than usual? No, I don't think so."

>"Were there any changes in her behavior lately, did she say anything recently that stood out as odd?"
Jane takes a moment to consider your question, probably looking back on her last couple of interactions with the girl. Finally, she says "No... I don't think so, at least. Even up to right before she disappeared, she was acting like the same old Candy. She even seemed kind of... Happy, the last time I spoke to her."

>"Who is this Rebecca and how can I contact her?"
At that question Jane asks for the slip of paper back, and quickly scribbles a phone number below the address she had written earlier. "Rebecca can be kind of... Testy, so when you call just tell her that Jane sent you."

>"So, if I take this case, how much can you afford to pay me?"
"I can give you 500$ right now if you promise to take the job, and another 500$ when it's finished. Sorry it's not more, but this is all I can afford."

>"Why did you go after me, specifically? There's a hundred private dicks in Bad Brick, so why me? And what did you mean that you could 'help me'"?
At this, Jane drains the last dregs of her coffee, before looking up and answering you "I tried to go the normal route, ya know, making a report with the police, going to the station to tell the detectives there what I told you, but I could just tell... They didn't give a shit about Candy, or me. As far as I know, nobody from the stations been out to any of the people or places I told them about. And... I've heard about you. People on the street say you were one of the good ones. That you actually fucking tried to help people back when you were a cop. And when I saw you back at the bar, you... You had kind eyes. Compassionate eyes. I think you really care about people, deep down. That's what made me decide to go with you for this."

You can't deny, that did feel good to have such a pretty young gal sing your praises, but you can't help but notice that she didn't tell you what she meant by saying she could help you on the note. You ask her once again what she meant by that, and she says "I'll tell you, I promise, but only if you swear to take the case."

>"Why don't you know Candy's real name?"
"A lot of girls in this line of work use fake names. Safer, that way. But to be honest, I didn't know her that well. We would mostly just see each other on the street, chat for a bit, maybe stop in a bar or something for a drink. But was always nice to me. Always kind..."

>Write in your final questions and whether or not you'll take the case.

>>5293206

>Write in your final questions and whether or not you'll take the case.
sorry I can't do that alone, I need men. My answer is no

>>5293206

"I don't want your money. When this is over, I want your help finding someone with me."

Realistically, we're going to need bait to catch that fucker who killed our daughter.

>>5293206
Take it.
It's a vampire quest and she is an obvious vampire lead for us.

>>5293206
>Take the job
It's better than beating on scum for change

>>5293217
>>5293214
>>5293213
>>5293210
3 for taking the case, one for turning her down and one for taking the case without payment. Real quick, can you guys vote yes or no on whether or not to take the payment or to do it pro bono? If nobody answers in 15 minutes I'll go ahead and start writing with you guys taking the payment.

>>5293206
>Take the job

>>5293369
Sure, we'll take the money. Maybe we'll grow a bit softer on her about the payment depending on how she helps us and how the case goes.

>>5293369
Take the money of course
Why would Roland as a character refuse payment for his work? Cute redheads are nice but not enough to refuse well earned 500$.

>>5293386
>>5293374
Alright, taking the money it is. Writing now.

File: Rolling Hills Apartments.jpg (542 KB, 1200x800)

542 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yn2c06B0ows&list=PLrGjIYRwgltybEam7tVLzRl7NISiLnksV&index=6

A real case, huh? You haven’t done one of those in a while. Sure, you’ve tracked down plenty of scumbags since you got kicked off the force, but this is different. A young girl, missing. A whore, no less. This could be tricky, could be dangerous too depending on where it leads. But the look on Jane’s face is what makes you decide to take it. That desperate hope burning in her eyes. “Alright. I’ll take the case. But you have to understand that if this girl is in trouble like you think she is, real trouble, I might not be able to do anything to help her. But I’ll try the best I can.”

Despite your warning, you can tell that you’ve told her what she was hoping to hear, and she says “I understand, Mr. Wozniak. All too well. Here, the 500 I promised you, and here’s my number too. Find her, and you’ll get the rest.” You’re about to get up and get started on your investigation, but there’s still one stone left unturned. “So, will you tell me now what you meant when you said you could help me? Help with what, exactly?” She takes a deep breath before saying “Yes well… I’ve heard about what happened to you, a couple months back. About your… Daughter. And well, I’ve heard your description of the man who did it. Mr. Wozniak, I think I’ve seen that man.”

Your blood runs cold at the words “I’ve seen that man.” Your chest suddenly feels tight, your breathing hitches and suddenly you feel as if you’re under thousands of pounds of pressure. “You- You’ve seen him? What the fuck… How?! Where?!” You don’t realize your shouting until you see the naked fear on Jane’s face. Shit. She stutters “Y-your description of the murderer was being p-passed around on the streets, one of my friends did her thing with a cop and he told her about it during pillow talk! S-she told me and after a while I realized I had seen a guy who looked just like what you described at the Underworld a-a couple weeks back!” The Underworld? You know a lot about Bad Bricks nightlife, but you’ve never heard word one about any spot called that. This is getting to be too much…

You collapse on the chair, deflated, and wrap your hands around your face and start taking deep breaths. You both sit there for a while in silence, punctuated occasionally by Jane’s startled breathing. Eventually, you take your hands off your face and take a look at Jane. She seems to have calmed down too, and you feel like a real dickhead for scaring her like that. Jesus, what a fucking mess this turned into. “I’m… I’m sorry for yelling at you Jane, I just didn’t expect to hear that. Are you sure it was him you saw? And what’s this Underworld?” She looks a bit more composed when she says “It’s alright Mr. Wozniak, I probably-” You cut her off, saying that if you’re gonna be working for her, then just Roland is fine.

“OK then, Roland. I probably could have told you that in a better way, so I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to upset you. But I mean, I can’t be 100% sure that the guy I saw is the same one who… Who hurt your daughter, but the man I saw had the palest skin I’d ever seen, dark, black hair and light blue, almost white eyes. That matches your description, right? But the thing that really made me think he was the same guy was his… I don’t know, his aura? He just gave off extremely bad vibes. Like he had hurt people before. Like he likes to do that.”

That’s… Actually pretty accurate. Goddammit. Fucking shit. It’s the best lead you’ve gotten in months, and you got it from some random hooker with a disappeared friend. You need to know more about where she saw him, so you ask again what the Underworld is. “Oh,” she says “ It’s a club, kind of underground. It’s got like a BDSM vibe going on, dark lighting, weird art on the walls, creepy music. But it’s popular, and the guys who go there are usually pretty loaded, so it’s a good spot for a lot of working girls to go find clients at. But it’s invite only, and in a bad part of town, so it’s not that well known. I was there a couple weeks ago when I saw that man standing at the back, just watching people. But he had a look on his face, like he was picking out a cut of meat or something. A hungry look.”

Huh. Well, you’re gonna have to go there at some point, see if what this girls telling you holds up. But it being invite only could be a problem… You ask her if she could get you in, and she says “Well, yeah I guess so. They got this policy thing where if somebody who’s already on the list wants, they can bring in a guest or two, so yeah I could probably get you in. I’m gonna be busy all day though, but you can call me later tonight, around 12 or so, I should be free by then.” Well then. You get up and say your goodbyes, promising you’ll keep her in the loop about your search for Candy, and she walks you to the door. You’re about to walk out when she grabs your arm and says “Mr. Woz-... Roland. Thank you for this, seriously. Most people don’t give two fucks about prostitutes, and if I hadn’t brought you here about it, I doubt anyone would have even noticed Candy was gone. Not the cops, that’s for sure. So… Thank you. You’re not as bad as they say you are…”

With that, she lets you go and you walk down the stairs back to your car. Checking the time, you see it’s 4:15 PM. The soft pitter patter of rain hitting your roof helps clear your mind a bit, and after a moment spent getting your thoughts together, you make a decision.

>The weed is starting to wear off, changing your bonus to charisma checks from +10 to +5. You have 4050$ saved up total, with 1050$ on you currently, as well as 2 uses of cocaine, 2 uses of amphetamines and 5 uses of those little blue pills.

>Go to that donut shop in Southside. If Candy’s a regular there, maybe somebody working will know her. If nothing else, the CCTV footage they got could help you get an idea of where she might have went, that is if you can convince the manager to let you take a look at it.

>Go check out the corner on 5th and Andrew. You already know that that is a very popular area for whores to find customers at, one of them could probably tell you something.

>Go to Candy’s apartment in Eastside. This is probably your best bet on getting some good leads, but if she’s really been kidnapped, it could be getting watched by whoever took her. Or the cops. To be honest, you don’t know which would be worse.

>Write in.

>>5293465
>Go to Candy’s apartment in Eastside. This is probably your best bet on getting some good leads, but if she’s really been kidnapped, it could be getting watched by whoever took her. Or the cops. To be honest, you don’t know which would be worse.
We will have to check her appartment sooner or later. Better do it sooner and during the day.

>>5293463
>Go to that donut shop in Southside. If Candy’s a regular there, maybe somebody working will know her. If nothing else, the CCTV footage they got could help you get an idea of where she might have went, that is if you can convince the manager to let you take a look at it.

>>5293498

Backing this

>>5293465
>Go check out the corner on 5th and Andrew. You already know that that is a very popular area for whores to find customers at, one of them could probably tell you something.

>>5293465
>Go to that donut shop in Southside. If Candy’s a regular there, maybe somebody working will know her. If nothing else, the CCTV footage they got could help you get an idea of where she might have went, that is if you can convince the manager to let you take a look at it.

>>5293498
I'll change to this desu

>>5293465
>>Go to that donut shop in Southside. If Candy’s a regular there, maybe somebody working will know her. If nothing else, the CCTV footage they got could help you get an idea of where she might have went, that is if you can convince the manager to let you take a look at it.

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>5293498
>>5293685
>>5294012
>>5293820
>>5294047
>>5293814
3 for going to her apartment, 2 for the donut spot, 1 for the hooker zoo.

Looks like you're going to Candy's apartment, writing now.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Hmmm...

Rolled 1 (1d3)

>>5294702
Alright...

File: Candy's Apartment Building.png (3.19 MB, 1970x1010)

3.19 MB PNG

Let’s see… The address Jane gave you is close by, you think. A couple turns and you should be there. While you drive, you try not to think about that whole mess back at Jane’s apartment. Three months later, and the mere mention of Sophia still turns you into a wreck. It’s fucking pathetic at this point. You try to take your mind off of it, reaching into your pockets for a cigarette when you realize you smoked the last one two hours ago. Shit…

With no chemical comforts, you force your mind to turn back to the days, weeks and months after Sophia’s passing. For a long time after you got booted off the force, you didn’t do much of anything, living off the hush money that the mayor and the chief gave you to keep quiet on what his son was doing late at night. And you had been a drug user after your first year as police, back when you were a uniformed patrol cop, but you had been able to keep it mostly under control. A sniff of coke here to make sitting in a speed trap less interminably mind numbing, a blunt there to relax after a long fucked up day keeping the city ‘safe’. But after you got kicked out, you had nothing to do other than get fucked up, every day.

And when Sophia got hurt, you had no reason to hold back anymore. It didn’t take long for you to quickly burn through what was left of your hush money, and you soon came back into contact with one of your old Confidential Informants, although calling him that was a bit of a joke between you, considering that you were the one feeding him information. You came to his bar one day, looking for work, and since then you’ve been under the thumb of the Carmilia.

But you cut your reminiscence short when you pull up to what must be the place. All in all, Candy’s apartment complex looks a good deal more ramshackle than Janes. Checking the note she gave you, it looks like she was in 305. Checking your shoulder holster, your snub nosed .38 S&W Bodyguard is ready to go. You get out of the car and make your way into the building, then into the elevator up to the third floor. It’s even more rundown on the inside, graffiti all over the walls, you guess street artists of all stripes must consider this place to be their communal canvas.

305 ends up being on the far end of the hall, and after you slip on your slender leather gloves that your ex gifted to you back when your marriage was still fresh and full of love, you test the door knob to see if you’ve gotten lucky. You didn’t. Shit. Still, you’ve got a couple of ways to get in here…

>See if you can remember your old skills and try to pick the lock. This way will be more quiet and leave less evidence in case a detective ever actually does give this place a once over, but it’ll also take longer.

>Kick the door in. The loud and dumb way, but it gets results.

>Go see if you can sweet talk the landlord into unlocking it for you. If you can persuade him, or maybe scare the shit out of him, then this should be the easiest and cleanest way to get inside. (If you pick this write in what tact you’ll take when talking to the landlord, for example: convincing him you’re a real cop, sweet talking him, intimidating him or bribing him)

>>5294714
>Go see if you can sweet talk the landlord into unlocking it for you. If you can persuade him, or maybe scare the shit out of him, then this should be the easiest and cleanest way to get inside. (If you pick this write in what tact you’ll take when talking to the landlord, for example: convincing him you’re a real cop, sweet talking him, intimidating him or bribing him)
>"Good day, Roland Wozniak, Police Detective. I've been sent to investigate the dissapearance of one called 'Candy'. May I have your cooperation so that the investigation may go as smooth as possible?"
>If it doesn't work that way, imply that he doesn't any other choice but to cooperate and mayve flash that fancy snub nose at him.

>>5294715
>Kick the door in. The loud and dumb way, but it gets results.

>>5294715

>pick the lock

Let's not forget that we know some real badasses are lurking around.

>>5294715
>>See if you can remember your old skills and try to pick the lock. This way will be more quiet and leave less evidence in case a detective ever actually does give this place a once over, but it’ll also take longer.

>>5294715
>>Kick the door in. The loud and dumb way, but it gets results.

>>5294715
>See if you can remember your old skills and try to pick the lock. This way will be more quiet and leave less evidence in case a detective ever actually does give this place a once over, but it’ll also take longer.

>>5294715
go

>>5294754
>>5294763
>>5294788
>>5294796
>>5294808
>>5294982
1 for pretending to still be a cop, 2 for kicking the door in and 3 for picking the lock.

Roll me 3 1d100 to see if you still got what it takes.

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5295075

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>5295075

Rolled 83 (1d100)

>>5295075

>>5295110
>>5295100
>>5295099
OK, writing now.

Also apologies for not putting the DC in my post where I asked for rolls, slipped my mind this time. It was 75 if anyone was wondering.

File: Spoiler Image (40 KB, 1200x675)

40 KB JPG

>ATTEMPT TO PICK THE LOCK… SUCCESS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X3uVBmVXaEQ&list=PL4053A106FBB9E6FD&index=7

You reach into your coat and after a moment of fondling old receipts and cigarette butts, you find it: a small black case holding the various tools that allow you to get into almost anywhere. That is, if you have the skill. You suppose you’re about to find out if you still got it, and as inconspicuously as you can you stand close to the door and slip the pick into the keyhole, trying to look as casual as possible while you do it. Surprisingly, the art of lockpicking comes back to you rather quickly, and fortunately nobody comes into the hallway while you’re doing your thing.

After a minute or two, you feel the slight give of the tumblers sliding into place, and all it takes is a flick of the wrist for the door to unlock. Taking one final glance at the hall for any rubberneckers, you turn the knob and open the door. What you see is both disappointing and relieving: Disappointing because while the apartment is very messy, you can see no real signs of a struggle taking place which means there probably won't be many leads here, and relieving because you could have really done without seeing a young woman's corpse today. You enter the apartment and shut the door behind you, when you hear a banging noise coming from the door to your right.

Before you can even put your hand on your gun, the door opens slowly, revealing a large bald white man dressed in what could only be described as mobster-chic. He’s looking down intently at his phone as he walks into the room, and you hear the tap tap tap as his gnarled fingers type something out to someone, and you can see the bulge of a gun hidden under his leather jacket. You think you got about a second or two before he looks up and sees you, and as you make your decision time seems to slow down to a crawl.

>Slip on your knuckle dusters and rush the fucker down. He’s big, sure, but you’re no slouch neither, and you’ll have the element of surprise on your side. And aside from the fact that you’re not sure how you’d handle having a murder on your hands, this guy could probably answer a lot of questions about Candy for you.

>Whip out your .38 and shoot the bastard. If you don’t do it first he’ll certainly do it to you, if you want to live you gotta put him down and figure the rest out later.

>Try and talk to him. (write in what to say)

>Write in

>>5295153
>>Whip out your .38 and shoot the bastard. If you don’t do it first he’ll certainly do it to you, if you want to live you gotta put him down and figure the rest out later.

>>5295153
>>Slip on your knuckle dusters and rush the fucker down. He’s big, sure, but you’re no slouch neither, and you’ll have the element of surprise on your side. And aside from the fact that you’re not sure how you’d handle having a murder on your hands, this guy could probably answer a lot of questions about Candy for you.
Shooting would be unwise. No matter how corrupt local cops are a shootout in an apartment complex in the middle of the day is bound to get a response from them.

Rolled 85 (1d100)

>>5295153
>Slip on your knuckle dusters and rush the fucker down. He’s big, sure, but you’re no slouch neither, and you’ll have the element of surprise on your side. And aside from the fact that you’re not sure how you’d handle having a murder on your hands, this guy could probably answer a lot of questions about Cand y for you.
I dont think we can get away with casual murder

>>5295183
Just for future reference I'm only gonna take rolls after the votes been locked, if only to prevent people from piling on a vote that happened to roll well, rather than what they personally would have voted for.

>>5295215
Ok, I just forgot to erase the dice from the field options before posting .

>>5295153

I say we go for the sucker punch here, we have a decent chance to incapacitate abs then interrogate.

>>5295153
>Slip on your knuckle dusters and rush the fucker down. He’s big, sure, but you’re no slouch neither, and you’ll have the element of surprise on your side. And aside from the fact that you’re not sure how you’d handle having a murder on your hands, this guy could probably answer a lot of questions about Candy for you.

>>5295160
>>5295161
>>5295183
>>5295371
>>5295236
1 for just shooting him and 4 for giving this sucker a punch.

Alright, roll me 3 1d100+15, +5 for your natural strength and hand to hand acumen, +5 for using knuckle dusters, and +5 for the element of surprise. DC: 70

Rolled 31 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>5295600

Rolled 52 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>5295600

Rolled 73 + 15 (1d100 + 15)

>>5295600
One more Time.

>>5295651
You are a savior anon

Hey guys, posting from phone. My internet has an outage and I’m getting really bad reception on my phone as well, so it may be a while longer than usual before I get a post in. Sorry bros, but if it’s at all possible I’ll try to get at least two updates in today.

>>5295651
>>5295625
>>5295622
Alright, the internet seems to be working right now, so I'm gonna start writing, sorry for the wait.

File: The Detritus of Battle.jpg (146 KB, 1200x777)

146 KB JPG

>>5295622
>>5295625
>>5295651
>>5295371
>>5295183
>>5295236
>>5295161
>PUNCH THIS SUCKER INTO SUBMISSION… SUCCESS

[YouTube] Hajime no Ippo OST 02 - black and blue HQ (embed)

You don’t have a lot of time before he sees you and draws that gun under his jacket. You don’t even have time to think, so you don’t. You just act. You leap at him, slipping your brass knuckles on as you go, and in three or four bounds you’re on him. Your hand whips out right onto the side of his temple, then your left smashes into his nose, crushing it with a satisfying spurt of blood. You don’t even register when he drops his phone and stutters “Ч-чтo зa хpeнь?!”, with so much adrenaline pumping through you all you can hear is your own pounding heart. He flails out at you, a wild, blind swing that still connects to your shoulder, and you count your blessings that you were able to ambush him, that fucking hurt!

But you don’t let up, nailing him once, twice, three times in the chest and stomach, your brass knuckles grinding his ribs into dust, and as he doubles over retching, you grab the back of his bald head and wind back before bringing your knee into his face with all the might you can muster. There’s a sickening crunch as your knee rearranges his face, and some part of you absently wonders how much it’ll cost to fix all the teeth you crushed and knocked out. You bend down, grabbing your knees and gasping for air, trying to catch your breath, while he curls up, retching and dry heaving in between sobs and murmurs of “Ктo, чepт вoзьми... Бoжe мoй…” in some other language.

That all happened in about 15 seconds. 15 seconds is all it takes to turn one big hardass into a sobbing, puking mess.

You reach under his jacket and pull the piece out of it’s holster, looks like a Glock. You point it at him and say “Hah… Stay fuckin’, hah… Still you piece of shit.” All you get is a whimper in response.

>Write in what questions to ask him, if any.

>Look for something in the apartment to tie him up so he doesn’t try anything stupid while you’re here.

>Knock him out.

>Search his pockets and check his phone he dropped.

>Write in

META: Also keep in mind that unless the options are contradictory or it’s stated otherwise by me, you can combine options if you feel it suits the situation to do more than one thing.

And here's the song that was supposed to go with the post because I'm a dummy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZH8GLifohHA&list=LL&index=303

>>5296383
>Search his pockets and check his phone he dropped.

>>5296383
>>Search his pockets and check his phone he dropped.

>>5296383
>Look for something in the apartment to tie him up so he doesn’t try anything stupid while you’re here.

>do you speak English, mother fucker?
>what are you doing here?
>Who are you?
>do you know Candy?
>do you know where she is?
>When did you last see her?

>>5296383
>>5296557
Supporting this

>>5296557
+1

>>5296557
Supporting, reasonable enough.

>>5296886
>>5296726
>>5296611
>>5296557
>>5296481
>>5296457
I'm gonna go ahead and combine these, go ahead and roll me 3 1d100+5 for questioning him. DC: 45, the DC is low because he is in a lot of pain and pretty scared and confused, so he is unlikely to resist your interrogation.

>>5296891
Here

Rolled 50 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>5296897
Fucking auto correct.

Rolled 90 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>5296891

Rolled 36 + 5 (1d100 + 5)

>>5296891

>>5296899
>>5296902
>>5296903
Writing now.

File: A Good Time for Someone.jpg (307 KB, 1280x956)

307 KB JPG

>INTERROGATE THE FOREIGNER… SUCCESS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FSln9stwDgY&list=PL4053A106FBB9E6FD&index=10

It doesn’t take long for you to catch your breath, and you keep his gun trained on him the whole time. He just lies there, squirming and occasionally muttering in some language you don’t know. You think you’re safe to look around for something to tie him up with, he doesn’t seem to be in the condition to do much of anything. It takes a couple minutes, but eventually you find it: under a pile of shirts, skirts and expensive looking panties you find a pair of one of those pink fuzzy leopard print handcuffs. Walking back to the man, you kick him over on his stomach and handcuff him, first the left and then the right.

Now that you’re certain he won’t be causing any trouble, you relax a bit. You pull him up to his knees and ask him

>”You speak English, motherfucker?”
At first you get no response, but once you tap the barrel of his Glock against his chin he cringes back and stutters “Y-yes, my English very good!”

>”What are you doing here?”
He coughs and spits up a dark glob of blood on the floor before answering “Boss send me here to find… How you say… Evidence! I look for evidence and take it back for being destroyed.” Huh, well, that’s a good sign you suppose. At least it means they thought there’d be evidence of her kidnapping here, which means your own chances of finding some are not bad. You ask him if he did find anything, and he says “Дa, I find book with much english in it, in sleeping room. I show you!” And as he moves to get up you give him a decent kick square in the chest, knocking him down on his ass, saying “You can stay right there, dipshit.”

>”Just who the hell are you?”
At this question he seems reluctant to answer, until you point his gun at his head and ask again. He cringes and stutters “I-I Peter! Peter Vladislav! I work for Popov! Vladimir Popov, very big man in city!” Oh fuck. The Popovs are the ones who took Candy? This might be beyond your paygrade. One things for certain, Candy is definitely in some deep shit, if she isn’t already dead.

>”Do you know Candy? Where is she?”
He looks around, desperately hoping for something, anything that can get him out of this situation. You smack him with the back of your hand, hard. That gets him to focus, and he answers “I no know name, but that is girl, yes? I tell you where she is and I dead man.” You remind him that he’ll be a dead man if he doesn’t tell you where she is, and that seems to give him some perspective on the situation. “OK OK! She is being at 46 Perkin Street, th-the building with red sign at top!”

>”When did you last see her?”
This time, he doesn’t hesitate to answer, “Today! I see her this morning, she a little blooded but still breathing! She no good if dead already.”

Well shit. You’re not sure what you expected when you took this job, but having to deal with the Popov’s was not on the agenda. At least the italians, irish and blacks have some rules, some kind of code, a few lines they won’t cross. These fucking ruskies don’t have any lines of any kind. If it’s profitable, no matter how fucked up, how pure fucking evil it is, how innocent those they hurt are, they’ll do it with relish. You don’t know why they’d go after some random hooker, but whatever they took her for, it is definitely very bad. Still, before you decide what you’re gonna do about this, you gotta deal with this piece of shit.

>Write in your final questions, if any.

>Knock him out and leave him here, tied up. Maybe somebody will find him before he dehydrates to death, maybe not. Not your fucking problem.

>Kill him. You know he deserves it, and you think your contacts with the Carmilia can help dispose of the body. Besides, he’s seen your face, and you can bet your ass he’ll tell his little Russian buttbuddies.

>Find a payphone and anonymously call the cops on him. It’ll keep him off the streets for a while, and you know what evidence to hide so that it won’t be linked back to you.

>Write in.

>>5296939
>Final question
>What do you mean "if dead already" ? What's going to happen to her ?
>>Knock him out and leave him here, tied up. Maybe somebody will find him before he dehydrates to death, maybe not. Not your fucking problem.
I honestly don't trust the police here.

>>5296939
>Knock him out and leave him here, tied up. Maybe somebody will find him before he dehydrates to death, maybe not. Not your fucking problem.

>>5296939
>Kill him. You know he deserves it, and you think your contacts with the Carmilia can help dispose of the body. Besides, he’s seen your face, and you can bet your ass he’ll tell his little Russian buttbuddies.

Also, if any anons want to provide, can I get some thoughts on the quest so far? Is there anything you like in particular, anything you don't like, or just general criticisms on the quest? And thanks to everyone for reading and participating so far, it's been really good to get back into QMing.

>>5297169
Forgot name.

>>5297169
I like the writing, and the pace is fine. Seems a little early to give a good review though.

>>5296972
>What do you mean "if dead already" ? What's going to happen to her ?

>Find a payphone and anonymously call the cops on him. It’ll keep him off the streets for a while, and you know what evidence to hide so that it won’t be linked back to you.

>>5297188
>>5297167
>>5296978
>>5296972
2 for knocking a bitch out, 1 for eliminating the variable and 1 for ratting him out.

Writing now.

File: Candy's Diary.png (345 KB, 480x478)

345 KB PNG

The fucking Popovs. This is not good, not for you and definitely not good for Candy. But something he said stuck out to you.

>”What do you mean it’s not good if she’s dead already? What’s gonna happen to her?”

At the Peter looks at you like you just asked why the sky is blue, before saying “We take girls who no one miss and film them getting sexed, getting hurt, getting killed. We make very big money for it, no good if girl dies too soon, must get money's worth you know?” Aw Christ. You knew as soon as you heard that it was the Popovs who took her that Candy was in some deep shit, but that’s fucking grim. And the way this bastard said it, like he was talking about something as obvious and mundane as making sure your restaurant's meals are served hot.

You don’t think you’re gonna get much more from the fucker, so without warning you wind back and whip him on the side of the head with the butt of the Glock, once, twice, three times, knocking him flat. He was out cold on the first strike, but those extra two were just for you. You go into the room he originally came out of, and find the book he spoke of laying on the bed. You take it and put it in your jacket, and you notice on the end table a roll of duct tape. You take that too, and when you come back into the living room, you apply generous amounts of tape, tying up his feet, hands and mouth. Don’t want him running around and banging into walls or screaming for help. Nah… Let the bastard sweat it out.

You search his pockets and find a wallet with about 100$ in various bills, as well as a small baggie containing a powder that is almost certainly cocaine and a keychain with four keys on it. You pocket both of these, and it must be your lucky day because when you find his dropped phone under the coffee table, you notice that it’s still on and unlocked. Unfortunately, almost all of his texts seem to be in Russian. Still though, it’s a lucky find. You give the apartment a final once over, not finding much of interest that you haven’t already found before deciding that it’s high time to get the fuck out. As you walk out the door, an idea pops into your mind, and you try the keys on the lock, with the third one fitting perfectly. As one final ‘fuck you’, you lock the door and make your way out of the apartment building and back to your car.

When you finally reach your car, you take a quick look around in case any Popovs are watching the outside of the building, and when you decide that the coast seems clear, you hop in and speed out of there. Well, now you know where Candy is, at least. Too bad she’s being held by the most ruthless mob in Bad Brick, and who knows how long it’ll be before they torture her to death. If you’re gonna try and save this broad, you’re gonna have to do it fast.

>That little misadventure in Candy’s apartment was very sobering, and your high has completely dissipated by now, removing your +5 charisma bonus. You now have 4150$ total, with 1150$ on your currently, as well as 3 uses of cocaine, 2 uses of amphetamines and 5 uses of those strange blue pills remaining.

>Call the Cock and see if he can provide you with some heavy hitters to try and save this Candy girl. It’ll probably end up costing more money and favors than what you’ll make finishing the job, but there’s no way you can live with yourself if you don’t at least try, knowing what they’re gonna do to her. What they’re already doing to her.

>Go back to your apartment to rest and recuperate for a bit and come up with a plan of attack. You should do some research on Peter’s phone too, before it’s battery dies.

>Call up some of your old contacts with the police. You already know that most of BBPD are little more than lapdogs for the various mobs that run this city, but you used to know a couple that tried to be what police should be. Actually fucking tried. Maybe they can help you with this, the legal way.

>Write in

>>5297499
>>Call up some of your old contacts with the police. You already know that most of BBPD are little more than lapdogs for the various mobs that run this city, but you used to know a couple that tried to be what police should be. Actually fucking tried. Maybe they can help you with this, the legal way.
I'd search the phone first, but who's to say we have the expertise to fully analyse it. Hope the good cops are actually good.

>>5297505
>Call up some of your old contacts with the police. You already know that most of BBPD are little more than lapdogs for the various mobs that run this city, but you used to know a couple that tried to be what police should be. Actually fucking tried. Maybe they can help you with this, the legal way.

>>5297505
>Call up some of your old contacts with the police. You already know that most of BBPD are little more than lapdogs for the various mobs that run this city, but you used to know a couple that tried to be what police should be. Actually fucking tried. Maybe they can help you with this, the legal way.

>>5297505
>Call up some of your old contacts with the police. You already know that most of BBPD are little more than lapdogs for the various mobs that run this city, but you used to know a couple that tried to be what police should be. Actually fucking tried. Maybe they can help you with this, the legal way.

>also put those text through google translate. it might not be the best but it's all you got.

>>5297882
>>5297885
>>5297895
>>5297909
It's unanimous for calling your cop friends for help, let's hope they're as good as you remember...

Writing now.

File: 9 out of 10 Doctors Prefe(...).jpg (88 KB, 640x467)

88 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uJYzMYgoTiI&list=PL4053A106FBB9E6FD&index=13

As much as you are loathe to ever have to deal with those dickheads back at the precinct, this is way beyond what you can handle by yourself. Tony could probably set you up with some of the Carmilia’s best pinch hitters, but God knows how much it would cost and what you would really owe beyond money. And if you’ve learned anything in the years that you’ve been doing things for him, you don’t want to owe Tony a fucking thing. While you’re driving, you stop at a convenience store and pick up a pack of cigs. When you’re back in your car you pop one in your mouth, light it and take off. It might be kind of cliche, but nothing other than Lucky Strikes unfiltereds does it for you.

And you really needed a smoke after that shit.

By the time you get back to your apartment, the rain has progressed from a sprinkle to a full on thunderstorm. Checking Peter’s phone, you see it’s at about 32% and still unlocked, and you notice that it's 7:33 PM. When you enter your filthy apartment, you hook it up to your charger and then you pull out your own phone, having decided on who to call on your way here. You can think of two, maybe three guys who could help you with this, who wouldn’t just sweep it under the rug with all the other atrocities. After a moment of consideration, you make your decision.

>Your old partner, Patrick “Packie” Macmahan. He was even more corrupt and degenerate than you were, but somehow he’s still on the force and last you heard, he’s risen up the ranks. Honestly, you’re not sure you can trust him with this, but maybe he’ll come through for you for old times sake. Or maybe just so he can have a nice, fancy raid on the Popovs to pin to his resume.

>Your old lieutenant, Amir Carter. Cold, calculating and stern, he was one of the few that you remember who genuinely, honestly fucking hated the gangs and mobs that turned Bad Brick into a hellhole and actively worked every day for their complete and utter destruction. As far as you know, he never took any bribes from anyone, and if he was a drug user, he never showed it at work. A good man, although you do remember there was a big scandal about police brutality involving him a couple years back, but maybe these bastards holding Candy need to be fucking brutalized.

>Jack “Jackie Boy” Monroe, another detective who works in the precinct. An uptight bastard with several sticks up his ass, but still his arrest rate was still superb, and due to his thoroughness most of his busts got clean convictions. He could have climbed up the ranks very quickly if he wanted with a great record like that, but for some reason he turned down promotions several times, choosing to remain a street detective his entire career. Unfortunately you never liked each other back when you were still a cop, but if you can convince him, you’re sure this golden boy could bring the full weight of the precinct down on that hellhole they’re holding Candy.

>>5298178
>>Jack “Jackie Boy” Monroe, another detective who works in the precinct. An uptight bastard with several sticks up his ass, but still his arrest rate was still superb, and due to his thoroughness most of his busts got clean convictions. He could have climbed up the ranks very quickly if he wanted with a great record like that, but for some reason he turned down promotions several times, choosing to remain a street detective his entire career. Unfortunately you never liked each other back when you were still a cop, but if you can convince him, you’re sure this golden boy could bring the full weight of the precinct down on that hellhole they’re holding Candy.
He seems to have good values, which means he could put aside personal issues to save the girl.
I'm thinking of reaching out to Amir too if we can, he seems clean too.

>>5298178

>Your old lieutenant, Amir Carter. Cold, calculating and stern, he was one of the few that you remember who genuinely, honestly fucking hated the gangs and mobs that turned Bad Brick into a hellhole and actively worked every day for their complete and utter destruction. As far as you know, he never took any bribes from anyone, and if he was a drug user, he never showed it at work. A good man, although you do remember there was a big scandal about police brutality involving him a couple years back, but maybe these bastards holding Candy need to be fucking brutalized.

>>5298178
>Your old lieutenant, Amir Carter. Cold, calculating and stern, he was one of the few that you remember who genuinely, honestly fucking hated the gangs and mobs that turned Bad Brick into a hellhole and actively worked every day for their complete and utter destruction. As far as you know, he never took any bribes from anyone, and if he was a drug user, he never showed it at work. A good man, although you do remember there was a big scandal about police brutality involving him a couple years back, but maybe these bastards holding Candy need to be fucking brutalized.

>>5298178
>Your old lieutenant, Amir Carter. Cold, calculating and stern, he was one of the few that you remember who genuinely, honestly fucking hated the gangs and mobs that turned Bad Brick into a hellhole and actively worked every day for their complete and utter destruction. As far as you know, he never took any bribes from anyone, and if he was a drug user, he never showed it at work. A good man, although you do remember there was a big scandal about police brutality involving him a couple years back, but maybe these bastards holding Candy need to be fucking brutalized.
I would choose Jack, but if he don't really like us the DC to convince he to help probably is going to be high.

>>5298178
>Jack “Jackie Boy” Monroe, another detective who works in the precinct. An uptight bastard with several sticks up his ass, but still his arrest rate was still superb, and due to his thoroughness most of his busts got clean convictions. He could have climbed up the ranks very quickly if he wanted with a great record like that, but for some reason he turned down promotions several times, choosing to remain a street detective his entire career. Unfortunately you never liked each other back when you were still a cop, but if you can convince him, you’re sure this golden boy could bring the full weight of the precinct down on that hellhole they’re holding Candy.

>>5298194
>>5298218
>>5298244
>>5298310
>>5298331
Alright, looks like you're giving old Amir a ring. Writing now.

File: Amir Carter.png (66 KB, 256x256)

66 KB PNG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pf9nK9o9ItY

The more you think about it, the more you realize that Amir is the right choice. Guy was a hard ass, sure, but he got the job done and he was clean. More than you can say for yourself. And you’re sure he’ll jump at the chance to deal a blow to the Popov’s, and chances are he has enough pull to get a warrant ready fast. You grab your phone and go into your contacts, eventually finding Amir’s number. You hit call and wait, and after just two rings you hear a rough, gravelly voice speak up: “Hello, this is Captain Carter speaking. Who is this?” Jesus, old Amir finally got the Captains chair. You smile and say “Amir, it’s Roland, remember? Congrats on getting the Captaincy.”

If Amir is happy to hear from you, you can’t tell as he says “Oh. It’s you. What do you want Roland?” You sigh before saying “Well, it’s a long story… To keep it short, I took up a case for this girl, ya know, a private investigator gig, and…” You tell him the bulletpoints, about Jane and how she wanted you to find a missing hooker, how you went to her apartment and ran into a Popov goon, how you got him to spill about where they were keeping her and what they were planning on doing to her. The whole time you tell your little story the Lieutenant is dead silent on the other end. When you finally finish, you ask him if he can help you with this and after a bit too long of a pause, he replies “Alright Roland, I’m overdue for a lunch break. Give me your address and I’ll be down in a bit to take a look at this phone you picked up. It is still unlocked, right?”

You reply in the affirmative and give him your apartments address, and you hear some papers being shuffled around on the other end as Amir says “I’ll be there soon, about 15 minutes. If what you’re telling me is legit then getting a warrant quickly shouldn’t be a problem, the mayor’s been getting assfucked by the media for the rising crime rates for months now and he owes me a favor, he’ll fast track it for sure. But Roland, you better not be pulling my fucking leg on this.” And before you can respond you hear the three beeps telling you that he hung up. Well then, that went about as well as you could have hoped for.

You kill time for a bit, and when you hear a knock on the door you check your watch: 7:48 PM. Seems like the Lieutenant, or rather the Captain, hasn’t lost his punctuality. Good. You open the door and see Amir. You both size each other up for a second, and you note that Amir must be in his late forties or early fifties by now, but he still has an air of gravitas about him. You invite him in, and you swipe some clutter off the couch and offer him a seat. “I’ll stand. Nice place by the way, I’ve seen bunny ranches that were less messy. Where’s this phone you got?”

You put your leather gloves back on before offering it to him, and he pulls out a pair of latex ones out of his pocket before taking it and scrolling through Peter’s phone. You see him go through the texts, almost all in Russian, before taking a look at his photos. Dear God… Looks like Peter was a sick puppy, he’s got what must be hundreds of photos and videos of cut up, burned and bloody naked women, some with that vacant look that you can only get in your eyes after your spirits left your body. You look away when the photos change from young women to young girls, and the Captain's face is stock still and expressionless as he swipes through it.

Swipe swipe swipe. Eventually it seems as though even the Captain has seen enough, and he pulls out a plastic bag marked EVIDENCE and drops the phone into it, still turned on. Turning to you, he says “Goddamn it. I’ve already sent a squad car to that prostitutes apartment, told em it was an anonymous tip. I’m going to assume you haven’t gotten so rusty as to have left any hard evidence back there. With this phone and your tip we definitely have enough cause to get a warrant for a raid on that slaughterhouse. Once the texts have been translated, it could end up having enough info for us to deal a serious blow to the Popov’s sex trafficking and illegal pornography rings. You’ve done a good thing giving this to me Roland. Thank you.” He then holds his hand out to you.

You grip it and say “Just get Candy out of there safe.” He nods, saying “I will, Detective. Goodbye.” And with that, you both let go and Amir makes his way out of your apartment. You lock the door behind him and then finally walk back into your living room and collapse on the couch. Suddenly you feel deeply tired. But you also feel good, in a weird way. You just did a good thing, and you suppose that you can take comfort in that. You check your watch and see that it's now 8:19 PM, and that the job of actually saving the girl is in the cops hands now. You think back on this morning and your meeting with Jane. You suppose you should call her, let her know about Candy’s situation, but another part of you is screaming for sleep. And once again your thoughts turn to Sammy. It would be really nice to see her again, and not even for sex. Just to be able to see a person that doesn’t have some ulterior motive for speaking to you.

You light a Lucky Strike and take a long drag. What a day…

>Give Jane a call. You’re sure she’s gonna be surprised you found Candy already, but to be honest with yourself, you just got really lucky. Still, she’s your boss on this job and she deserves to know what’s going on.

>Get some shut eye. You’re starting to realize that you’re too old for this shit, and if there’s one thing tired old men need more than anything, it’s sleep. Get a little sleep in before you go back to the shit factory.

>Head over to the Blue Room and see if Sammy’s on stage. You could do with a drink and some beautiful music right about now. And some pussy too. Can't forget about the pussy...

>Write in

>>5298685
>Give Jane a call. You’re sure she’s gonna be surprised you found Candy already, but to be honest with yourself, you just got really lucky. Still, she’s your boss on this job and she deserves to know what’s going on.

>>5298684
>Give Jane a call. You’re sure she’s gonna be surprised you found Candy already, but to be honest with yourself, you just got really lucky. Still, she’s your boss on this job and she deserves to know what’s going on.

>>5298685
>>Give Jane a call. You’re sure she’s gonna be surprised you found Candy already, but to be honest with yourself, you just got really lucky. Still, she’s your boss on this job and she deserves to know what’s going on.
Then maybe Sammy, time we see her.

>>5298685
>Get some shut eye. You’re starting to realize that you’re too old for this shit, and if there’s one thing tired old men need more than anything, it’s sleep. Get a little sleep in before you go back to the shit factory.

>>5298685
>Give Jane a call. You’re sure she’s gonna be surprised you found Candy already, but to be honest with yourself, you just got really lucky. Still, she’s your boss on this job and she deserves to know what’s going on.

>>5298972
>>5298945
>>5298784
>>5298720
>>5298689
4 for giving your boss a report, 1 for catching some z's.

Writing now.

You decide to give Jane a call after all, everything else can wait. You check your pockets, and after a moment of searching, there it is. You pull out a crumpled note from your pockets and unfold it, typing the number into your phone. After a couple rings you hear a voice, shouting over the sound of some loud venue or another. “Hello? Who is this?” You wonder where she’s at for a moment before replying “It’s Roland, I wanted to talk to you about the case, is this a good time?” You hear her say something to somebody before her voice becomes clearer again as she says “Uh, yeah sure. Just let me find a quieter spot.”

You hear the crowd noise and music quiet down after a minute, and her voice is much more audible when she speaks up again “So Mr. Wo- Er, Roland, what did you want to talk to me about?” Honestly, you’re unsure where to begin, but you decide that the only way to tell this tale is to start from the top, saying “Well, first thing after I took your case, I went to Candy’s apartment…”

Twenty minutes later you finish up your report by saying “I handed the actual rescue off to an old friend of mine at the precinct. But don’t worry, there’s nobody better for it than him, Candy’s in good hands. He should be able to get a raid set up on where they’re holding Candy by tomorrow morning.” While you were telling her about your day, she was silent for the most part other than a few clarifying questions here and there. Finally she responds by saying “I… Wow, Roland. I didn’t expect you to find her this fast. I honestly don’t know whether to be happy or upset. I’ve heard stories about what the Popov’s do to girls in this line of work. God, I hope Candy is okay. You know, I really was kind of hoping she had just gone on vacation or something without telling anybody…”

Oh boy, you know a water works show coming when you hear one, so you cut in by saying “Don’t worry Jane, you did everything you could, now you just gotta let Bad Brick’s finest do their jobs for once. I’m sure Candy’s gonna come out of this just fine, a little banged up, sure, but alive. That’s better than a lot of girls in your- I mean, her line of work.” You hear her sniffle a bit as she says “Yeah, I guess so. It’s just… Nevermind. I-I’m on a date right now, but I should be free at around 1 or 2 AM, if you still wanna check out the Underworld with me tonight.”

You tell her to just call you when she’s ready, you’ll let her know then. You both say your goodbyes, and when you hear the beep of her hanging up, you check your watch: 8:34 PM. You got a couple hours to kill before she’s ready to go.

>You’re beginning to feel the effects of a full day spent running around and fighting without any kind of stimulants in your system, and the combination of withdrawals and exhaustion has given you a -5 to all rolls until you take a hit of something. You have 4143$ saved up total, with 1143$ on you currently. You have 3 uses of cocaine, 2 uses of amphetamines and 5 uses of those strange blue pills remaining. If you wish to use a drug, just write it in along with your choice when you vote.

>Give Markie a call. You know you need something to get you through the rest of the night, but maybe some weed would be better than the rough and tumble high of coke or ‘phet.

>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.

>Go to the Blue Room and see Sammy. Honestly you’re surprised she hasn’t called you yet, it’s been a while since your last ‘date’.

>Write in.

>>5299076

>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.

>>5299076
>>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.
We can't work on so little sleep.
Also let's keep the money on us in case we need to buy anything at the Underworld.

>>5299076
>Go to the Blue Room and see Sammy. Honestly you’re surprised she hasn’t called you yet, it’s been a while since your last ‘date’.

>>5299076
>>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.

>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.
Sleep is the ultimate drug

>>5299076

>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.

>>5299076
>Take a nap while you wait for Jane to call you. Some rest would do you good, and it’d be good to just turn your brain off for a while before you go to this weird nightclub. Decompress a little.

>>5299076
>Go to the Blue Room and see Sammy. Honestly you’re surprised she hasn’t called you yet, it’s been a while since your last ‘date’.

>>5299676
>>5299682
>>5299362
>>5299242
>>5299240
>>5299192
>>5299089
>>5299085
Looks like we got 6 for going beddie bye and 2 for seeing your main squeeze.

Writing now.

File: Place of Respite.jpg (146 KB, 1200x800)

146 KB JPG

A part of you deeply wants to go and see Sammy, but another, louder part of you desperately wants to shut down. Recharge for a bit. After some indecision, that loud part of you wins out. You force yourself off your couch and stumble towards your bedroom. When you enter, you don’t so much lay down as crash down, and for a while you just lie there, your mind a jumble of thoughts, images and vague impressions. Eventually though the sounds and images wink out, one by one, and then you too wink out with it, falling deeper into that comforting and sometimes terrifying mistress known as sleep.

Outside of your bedroom, the wheels of Bad Brick keep on turning. The people keep on fighting, hating and fucking. The good get beat down and the bad rise up. Still, no matter the injustices these hairless apes commit unto each other, the sun still rises in the morning. And you too will rise with it.

Again and again. No matter how many times the world beats you down, no matter how much it takes from you, you shall stand back up to face the sunrise, every morning. But if 42 years of living in this city has taught you anything, it isn’t the day you should fear.

It’s the night.

>CHOOSE THE INTERLUDE

BLOOD IS THICKER

THE GATHERING STORM

CHEAP PERFUME AND EXPENSIVE TASTES

>>5299713
>CHEAP PERFUME AND EXPENSIVE TASTES

>>5299713
>BLOOD IS THICKER

>>5299713
>CHEAP PERFUME AND EXPENSIVE TASTES

Love a mystery box

>>5299713
>THE GATHERING STORM

>>5299713
>CHEAP PERFUME AND EXPENSIVE TASTES

>>5299713
>THE GATHERING STORM

>>5299713
>THE GATHERING STORM

>>5300310
>>5299948
>>5299780
>>5299852
>>5299764
>>5299718
Need a tiebreaker. If nobody votes in the next 15 minutes I'll go ahead and roll for it. And apologies for the long wait, been a bit under the weather today.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5300703
Alright rolling for it now
>1 = CHEAP PERFUME AND EXPENSIVE TASTES

>2 = THE GATHERING STORM

File: Bad Brick Police Department.jpg (107 KB, 1000x600)

107 KB JPG

THE GATHERING STORM

AMIR CARTER

Roland Wozniak. Roland motherfucking Wozniak. You gotta say, you never thought it would be him who would give you the evidence that would break a case you’d been working on for months. ‘Private investigator gig’ huh? That poor bastard always did have the most rotten luck. First it was when he was too dumb to know better than trying to bring a case against the mayor’s own son, then his wife left him, and then… His daughter. Now, he took on the one PI case in the city that would lead to him butting heads with the most vile mob in the city. Most of those guys end up chasing lost puppies or taking pictures of wives fooling around behind their husband’s backs, but no, not the Woz, that’s too simple and easy for him to bother with.

The fucking Woz. God bless the moron, you gotta respect his tenacity if nothing else. You always did feel bad for him when Sophia died, no man should have to outlive their own children. You felt worse, much worse, when her case got passed onto your unit and the chief himself told you to bury it. Why he’d do that, you don’t know. Maybe he was still pissed at him for the Big Fuckup he caused that made the mayor breathe down the chief's neck for years afterward, but to stop us from catching his daughter’s killer? That’s too fucking far. Still, you followed orders and before long, the case got shuffled under the hundreds of other murders and crimes that get passed to your unit every week, because you have a career you want to hold onto, and a wife and two kids you want to keep with you.

You suppose that in a way, that makes Roland a better man than you. He never buckled under pressure, not even when he was going after the heights of power within Bad Brick. Maybe so.

Maybe so…

But you intend to do right by him this time. Saving that prost, Candy. Perhaps because of your obedience to the chief and the mayor, you sometimes get allowed to bend the rules a bit. Like now, what would normally take at least a couple weeks but more likely a month or two, has been fast tracked to just under 10 hours. At exactly 6:00 AM sharp this morning, the warehouse on 46 Perkin Street with the neon red sign emblazoned with the words “THE STACKED DECK” will be raided with just over 60 of Bad Bricks finest. Street cops, S.W.A.T. teams, APCs, and even a helicopter or two will surround and then infiltrate the building, with a special order to make extra sure that a young woman matching the picture Roland sent you will be kept safe and secure at all costs.

You owe him that much, at least.

Checking your watch, you see it’s 1:47 AM. Another late night at the precinct, Julia and the kids will not be pleased. But still, at least you got a wife and kids to go home to. That guy's apartment… No man his age should live like that. He was… Something else, once. Something good. Somebody who could have done some real good for this city.

Maybe he will be again, one day.

ROLAND WOZNIAK

In your sleep, you dreamed you were with your wife again. Making love. Even in the dream you knew it wasn’t real, but it was still good. You get ripped out of it far too soon when the sound of your phone ringing wakes you up. You fumble with your hand on the nightstand, but in your sleep grogginess you knock it on the floor. Fuck. You force yourself up out of bed, still feeling a little like shit, and bend down to pick it up. You blink a couple times before you make it out: Jane’s number. You check the time too, just a couple minutes after two o’ clock. Sighing, you tap the little green phone icon and grunt out “Hey Jane.”

Wherever she’s at, it’s somewhere quieter than the last place, and you can just barely make out the sounds of a TV in the background. “Hey there Mr. Woz- Oh no, did I wake you up? W-we can do this another time if you want, I’ll be free tomorrow night too if that’s better for you.”

You’re not gonna lie, getting back in bed and returning to that sweet dream sounds a lot better than shuffling around in some loud ass gothic nightclub all night. Maybe you can put it off ‘til tomorrow? You clear your throat and answer

>You still have the -5 debuff to all rolls due to withdrawals, which will progressively get worse until you either ingest some form of stimulants, opiates, marijuana or wait it out long enough to kick the addiction, although that is a long process and easier said than done. You currently 4143$ total, with 1143$ on you currently, although you are close to your strongbox so you can store more or withdraw cash if you wish, as well as 3 uses of cocaine, 2 uses of amphetamines and 5 uses of those blue pills remaining. If you wish to take a drug or withdraw/deposit some cash, write it in with your vote.

>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.

>Tell her you’ll go some other time and get back to dreamland. You’ve had a long day and deserve a bit of rest, the Underworlds not going anywhere and you’ll be more prepared for it after you’ve gotten some sleep.

>>5300775
>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.

>>5300775
>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.

>>5300775
>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.

>>5300774
>Tell her you’ll go some other time and get back to dreamland. You’ve had a long day and deserve a bit of rest, the Underworlds not going anywhere and you’ll be more prepared for it after you’ve gotten some sleep.

>>5300775
>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.
the only type of drug I'll accept is revenge (and Weed).

>>5300775
>>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.
Do we have any stimulant drug on us ?

>>5301012
You have cocaine and amphetamines, both of which are stimulants and provide differing bonuses to various stat checks. For example, amphetamines give you +10 to all intelligence and strength checks.

So try and go cold turkey or stay on track?

>>5300775

>Nut up, force some coffee down your throat and go to the Underworld with Jane. No point in putting this off.

>>5301179
Alright then, I'll vote for taking Amphetamine.
>>5301195
I'd rather take the drugs for now and try to quit after the Popov/Underground situation is solved.

>>5301231
>>5301012
>>5300954
>>5300846
>>5300838
>>5300787
>>5300906
Looks like almost everyone wants to go to da klub.

Writing.

Alright Roland, suck in your gut and ignore your mind’s pleading to return to bed. It’s time to work. “Yeah, no. I’m ready now. You want me to pick you up?” All you hear for a moment is the sound of some sitcom in the background as she hesitates for a moment, before she says “Y-yeah, sounds good. Just text me when you’re on your way.” You rub your eyes and say “Alright. See you soon, Jane.” And you hear her say “See ya.” before you hang up. A nightclub, eh? Never really been your speed, too much noise and coked up washouts shouting over rattling bass for your liking. Still, it’s the only lead you got for finding Sophia’s murderer, even though you doubt that Jane’s got the right guy. How can she be sure, she’s never even seen him after all. Not like you did.

Still, you’ll go. You have to. Forcing yourself off the bed, you stumble over to the kitchen, still dazed and groggy from your interrupted rest. You pop a pod into the Keurig, half remembering what Sammy said to you when she gifted it to you last christmas. Something about… Stepping into the future? It doesn’t matter, before long your cup is full of that black stuff that half the world runs on, and you sip on it as you get dressed. What does a middle aged guy wear to a nightclub these days anyway? A suit? Nah, too formal. Ah, there we go: your old leather jacket and a yellow button up shirt, with some jeans to finish it off. Can’t ever go wrong with a pair of jeans.

As soon as you're dressed, you’re out the door and into your car, and after a quick text you start heading over to Jane’s place. The city’s always strange at this hour, you’ve noticed. Too late for most normal, respectable taxpayers to be out and about, and too early for all the whores, junkies and pushers to be in bed. It doesn’t take you long to get there, and after you find a parking spot you start on your way to her apartment. When you reach the door, you once again rap out the barber’s knock and wait. This time she opens it rather quickly, and you can’t help but notice that she looks very different than how she did this morning.

Tight, form fitting pink dress cut just a bit too short at the hips and chest, cherry red heels and makeup expertly applied. She’s gorgeous. Still though, she’s your boss, not to mention a bit too young for you. She must have noticed your staring however, as her pale face suddenly turns red and she looks down, studying your shoes. Coughing, you say “Hey Jane, you ready to head out?” And when she looks up, she seems a bit less nervous as she replies “Y-yeah, I’m ready. Let’s go.” Needing no further encouragement, you lead her down to your Pontiac and then you both hit the road, Jane occasionally providing instructions on where to turn.

Other than her occasionally piping up to tell you which street to turn to, the ride is silent. Even you’re beginning to feel awkward after a while, so you decide to try and make some small talk, saying “Ya know, I don’t think I ever caught your last name.” She looks out the window at the streets passing by when she says “O-oh, yeah, I guess I never did tell you. It’s Dupont. Jane Marie Dupont. My parents actually came from France, or well, my mom did.” Huh, can’t say you expected that. To be honest, you kinda thought Jane was a fake name, like Candy. “Really,” you say, “that’s pretty interesting, actually. Can you speak any French?” She giggles a bit at that question, saying “Not really. My mom tried to teach me when I was young, but it didn’t really stick. Dans une oreille et par l'autre. Oh, and I learned how to say fuck in French, but that was later.”

You laugh “Heh, and how do you say fuck in French?”, and she grins a bit as she says “Merde. Or at least, that’s one of the ways. You know, for such a beautiful language, it can be pretty vulgar. Oh hey, there it is!” She says, pointing. You follow her finger and see it, a small line of what can only be described as ‘the alternative crowd’ gathering in front of a run down, graffito covered building. In fact, almost every building on this street looks abandoned. This must be one of the places in the city that never recovered from the 2008 recession. Odd place for a nightclub, but then again, this whole fucking city is odd. It doesn’t take you long to find a parking spot, and soon you both start heading towards the crowd. At the front of the line you see a tall black guy with a clipboard, what you assume to be the bouncer.

You start to head for the back of the line, when Jane grabs your hand and says “Don’t worry, I can get us in quick.” And then she pulls you to the front of the line, past the myriad of goths, punks and the occasional shifty eyed middle aged guy in a suit, much to their anger and derision. When the bouncer turns his eyes onto you, he scowls before he looks at Jane and his face softens, saying “Oh, he’s with you? Another date, eh? Go on in.” as he opens the the sticker covered black door, revealing a set of stairs bathed in neon red lights. Already you can hear the booming electronic music, that awful noise that always sounded like two robots fucking to you.

Jane ambles down the steps with practiced ease, before she turns to you and says “Come on, it’s this way.” In for a penny…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcbS_s_LVG8

When you step through the black double doors at the bottom of the stairs, your senses are immediately bombarded with loud music, bright neon lights and the smell of drugs, sweat and sex, a bright neon sign with the words “THE UNDERWORLD” hanging suspended from the ceiling in chains. Yeah, this is a nightclub all right.

>Try to strike up a conversation with one of the patrons. See if you can steer the conversation towards learning something about the pale, creepy guy that apparently frequents this place. If they can hear you over this music, that is.

>See if you can speak to the manager. Who better to turn to for information than the guy who runs this joint?

>Head to the bar and get a drink first. Sure, you’re here on work, but it’ll go easier if you loosen up first. Soak up the vibes, scan the crowd and try and see if your mark is here tonight. Maybe try to turn up some 'party favors' too while you're at it.

>Write in

>>5301353

>See if you can speak to the manager. Who better to turn to for information than the guy who runs this joint?

>>5301353
>Head to the bar and get a drink first. Sure, you’re here on work, but it’ll go easier if you loosen up first. Soak up the vibes, scan the crowd and try and see if your mark is here tonight. Maybe try to turn up some 'party favors' too while you're at it.

>>5301353
>>Head to the bar and get a drink first. Sure, you’re here on work, but it’ll go easier if you loosen up first. Soak up the vibes, scan the crowd and try and see if your mark is here tonight. Maybe try to turn up some 'party favors' too while you're at it.
Ok, we do that first, then the manager. Maybe we can give away some drugs in order to gain favours.
>>5301350
Vous aimez bien ? C'est français.

>>5301353
>Head to the bar and get a drink first. Sure, you’re here on work, but it’ll go easier if you loosen up first. Soak up the vibes, scan the crowd and try and see if your mark is here tonight. Maybe try to turn up some 'party favors' too while you're at it.

>>5301351
Hey qm is this a established setting or are you doing your own thing.

>>5301563
It's OC yeah. I'm generally not into the idea of running a fanfic quest myself, but I've enjoyed plenty of really good ones.

>>5301353
>Head to the bar and get a drink first. Sure, you’re here on work, but it’ll go easier if you loosen up first. Soak up the vibes, scan the crowd and try and see if your mark is here tonight. Maybe try to turn up some 'party favors' too while you're at it.
Probably just want to blend in and not draw attention by talking to anyone yet

>>5301353
>Head to the bar and get a drink first. Sure, you’re here on work, but it’ll go easier if you loosen up first. Soak up the vibes, scan the crowd and try and see if your mark is here tonight. Maybe try to turn up some 'party favors' too while you're at it.

>Coordinate a strategy with Jane. She’s been here before and seems perceptive - put her to use

>>5301484
I'll add this to my vote
>Coordinate a strategy with Jane. She’s been here before and seems perceptive - put her to use

>>5301356
>>5301358
>>5301371
>>5301484
>>5301612
>>5301867
>>5301899
Looks like almost everyone wants to get their drink on, along with asking Jane for some advice. Writing now.

File: Inside the Underworld.jpg (112 KB, 900x443)

112 KB JPG

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3dXqfMgGvI

Like a moth to a flame, you’re drawn to the bar. You squeeze past teenagers with more metal in their face than on their teeth blatantly dryhumping to the music, past a man in a suit who can’t be a year younger than 50 who only looks slightly less bewildered than you are, past a couple in dayglo clothes sucking on a pacifier with their pupils wider than plates. Eventually you make it to the bar, and a quick look behind you confirms that Jane made it through the human gauntlet as well, with the both of you mostly unscathed. You ask Jane what she wants to drink to which she simply says “A COKE!” You say your order to the bartender and all you get in response is a muffled “WHAT?” You take a deep breath and shout “I SAID GIVE ME A COKE AND SOME JIM BEAM!”

You think he heard you that time, as he nods and turns around, fiddling with fridges and glasses of liquor. Before too long you’re served, and you hand Jane her can of Coke and take a tentative sip of your whiskey. Aaaahhh. Even in a shitty nightclub, you can’t fuck up a glass of Beam. Leaning over to Jane so she can hear you better, you half shout half whisper to her “So, who should we talk to to get some information?” She takes a sip of her coke and says “Uh, well, I guess Carlos would be the guy to go to for that. He kind of manages the security in this place, other than the owner he’s one of the few people who’d have access to the security footage. He’s usually on the dance floor.” and then she points to a roiling mass of humanity spastically moving and jumping around on top of a rainbow light up floor. The security chief, huh? You take another sip and say “Why not just go talk to the owner himself?”

She looks at you funny for a second before saying “Well, nobody really knows who that is. As far as I know, he’s never made an appearance on the main floor. I don’t even know if he’d be in the manager's office right now, but I’ve never heard of him just talking to anyone who’d want to see him. We could try to find him anyway, but I don’t know…” Well that’s interesting. A mysterious owner that nobody's ever even seen.

You lean back against the bar and scan the crowd for a while. After a bit, patterns begin to emerge. While it doesn’t look like they have a set uniform or anything, you begin to notice which ones are security guards and which are normal club goers. The gun bulging in their jacket is kind of a giveaway. Off in the corner up some stairs in what must be a private booth, sits a younger man with several scantily clad women on either side of him. Occasionally, one of the club goers will walk up to his booth, and what may look like a normal handshake to others, you can tell is actually a not so subtle way to trade money for drugs. Hmm…

>Ask Jane to help you find this Carlos. A tough security manager shouldn’t be too hard to handle, you just gotta talk to him right to find out what you wanna know.

>Go over to that dealer's booth and strike up a conversation. He’s got his own private booth, maybe he knows who the owner is.

>Ask the bartender to get you in to see the owner. (Write in what to say or do to persuade him.)

>Write in.

>>5302453
>>Ask Jane to help you find this Carlos. A tough security manager shouldn’t be too hard to handle, you just gotta talk to him right to find out what you wanna know.
I feel like the drug dealer is going to laugh at us and tell us to fuck off.

>>5302453
>Ask Jane to help you find this Carlos. A tough security manager shouldn’t be too hard to handle, you just gotta talk to him right to find out what you wanna know

>>5302453
>Ask Jane to help you find this Carlos. A tough security manager shouldn’t be too hard to handle, you just gotta talk to him right to find out what you wanna know.

>>5302453
>Go over to that dealer's booth and strike up a conversation. He’s got his own private booth, maybe he knows who the owner is.

>>5302453
>Ask Jane to help you find this Carlos. A tough security manager shouldn’t be too hard to handle, you just gotta talk to him right to find out what you wanna know.

Good plan

Hey everyone, feeling kind of shitty today so the updates gonna be later tonight, around 8-9 PM.

>>5303107
>>5303042
>>5302733
>>5302731
>>5302497
4 for looking for Carlos, 1 for talking to the dealer

Roll me 3 1d100 to find him.

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>5303799
Rollin

>>5303799
Oh yeah, DC is 65. You got a +5 due to your investigation skills and -5 due to your withdrawals, so they cancel each other out into just a base dice roll.

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5303799

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>5303799

>>5304221
>>5304211
>>5303823
Alright, writing now.

File: On The Dancefloor.gif (4.41 MB, 500x288)

4.41 MB GIF

>LOOK FOR CARLOS… SUCCESS

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RjbdJzDYJP8

You consider going over and talking to that dealer, but then realize that he’ll almost certainly just tell you to fuck off. An old white guy in a leather jacket and button up, yeah, you definitely look like a narc. No, you think that talking to Carlos is your best bet. Only problem is figuring out just where he is in this roiling sea of humanity. “Hey Jane, wanna help me look for this Carlos guy?” She drains the last of the Coke before nodding, saying “Sure. He’s pretty… Distinctive, so he shouldn’t be too hard to find. Kind of looks like if somebody stuffed a bodybuilding cholo gangster into a suit and tie. Most of the time he’s hanging around the dancefloor, so we should probably start there, I guess?”

You nod, and then you both move out of the comfort and relative safety of the bar and back into the dancing, rolling, howling and sweating mass of people. You push through people of all walks of life, from teenage kids making the most of their youth, to obviously out of place rich looking old dudes slumming it, chasing a lifestyle they missed out on when they were young. Before long, you look down and find yourself on top of a light up floor, the music booming all around you louder than before, surrounded on all sides by hopping, spasming ecstasy freaks. You take a look around and while you do see several cholo gangster types, you don’t see one that matches Janes description.

That is, until Jane points to the stage. Behind the kid in a glowing skull mask working the soundboard is a tall, very muscular hispanic guy in an ill-fitting black suit, black shirt and black tie, his hands folded behind his back, his face expressionlessly surveying the hedonistic rager before him. Despite the distance, you think you make eye contact with him for just a second, before his eyes move on. Or maybe it was just the lighting, it’s hard to see much of anything in this neon drenched hellscape of crushing sound and burning color. Looking at Jane, you just barely hear her when she shouts “THAT’S HIM!”

Well, it looks like you found your man. Only problem is finding a way to talk to him.

>Try to get his attention and have him come to you. Easier said than done when you’re just one man in a sea of flesh.

>Wait for him to get off the stage and then try and talk to him on the main floor. You could be waiting for a while though, and there’s no guarantee he won’t just walk into the back rooms instead of onto the floor.

>Climb up onto the stage and try and talk to him then and there. You don’t have time to fuck around and wait for him to maybe get into a more approachable spot. You need information, and you need it now.

>Start a fight on the dancefloor. If you start wailing on the nearest molly junkie next to you, security will have to come in and break it up. Hell, they’ll probably take you into a backroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to talk to Carlos in a more intimate setting. It’s a dumb plan, sure, but those are sometimes the most effective ones.

>Write in

And apologies for not updating yesterday, for some reason I just felt like total ass all day. Feeling better now though, so I'll try to put in at least 2-3 updates today to make up for it.

Cringe!!

>>5304286
>>Climb up onto the stage and try and talk to him then and there. You don’t have time to fuck around and wait for him to maybe get into a more approachable spot. You need information, and you need it now.
What could possibly go wrong.

>>5304286
>Try to get his attention and have him come to you. Easier said than done when you’re just one man in a sea of flesh.

>>5304286
>Start a fight on the dancefloor. If you start wailing on the nearest molly junkie next to you, security will have to come in and break it up. Hell, they’ll probably take you into a backroom, giving you the perfect opportunity to talk to Carlos in a more intimate setting. It’s a dumb plan, sure, but those are sometimes the most effective ones.

>>5304286
>Try to get his attention and have him come to you. Easier said than done when you’re just one man in a sea of flesh.

Let’s try something subtle first

>>5304286
>Try to get his attention and have him come to you. Easier said than done when you’re just one man in a sea of flesh

>>5304657
>>5304645
>>5304509
>>5304588
>>5304354
3 for trying to get his attention somehow, 1 for climbing on stage and rocking out with your jock out, 1 for immediately going for violence

Roll me 3 1d100-5 for getting his attention. Writing in a specific action to try and get his attention with your roll may or may not lower the DC, depending on what you do.
>DC: 75

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5305424
Stand closer to the stage with Jane, but at the side of the crowd (but still within his eye line)

Throw a hand up and beckon him over.

If he gives a response but doesn’t move, point to her - as if she has a problem we need him for. He’s more likely to help then

Rolled 57 (1d100)

>>5305424

Rolled 46 (1d100)

>>5305424
Get close to him and try to yell/raise our hands to catch his attention.

>>5305529
>>5305587
>>5305610
Writing now.

>GET CARLOS’ ATTENTION… FAILURE

Yeah, no need to make a scene. Just gotta figure out some way to get his attention. An idea pops into your mind, so you grab Jane’s hand as you jostle through the crowd, moving towards the right side. God, this fucking music is giving you a headache. Just one sniff of nose candy could make it more bearable. A lot more bearable. But ah, fuck it, there’s no time, who knows when this guy will move into the backrooms or something. Before you know it, you’ve squeeze past the center of the crowd and up against the wall. You hope that from Carlos’ perspective you stand out a bit more.

You start by cupping your hands around your mouth and shouting “YOOO! CARLOS! I GOTTA SPEAK TO YOU MAN!” but you can barely hear yourself over the sheer din of electro noise. Looking at him, he hasn’t even glanced in your direction. To him, you’re just another screaming face in the crowd. Shit. Deciding to kick it up a notch, you jump up and down wave your arms like a lunatic, before you realize that almost everyone else on the dancefloor is doing the same thing. Around you, the bass gets deeper and the crowd screams and dances harder. Goddammit, why the fuck does anyone go to shitholes like this? You can’t even speak to the person next to you, let alone a security guard up on the stage.

Before you can think of some bold new way to try and get his attention, your heart falls as he turns and walks through a door at the back wall, disappearing into the dimly lit room behind it. You see the door slam shut and realize you blew your chance. Fucking shit. Still, it’s not the end of the world, you got a couple more options left to try and get a look at the security footage or at least some information on that child murdering bastard, but fuck, who would have been better for it than the security manager? Ah, fuck it.

Dejected, you let Jane lead you back out of the dancefloor and through the crowd, and along the way you think of a new gameplan.

>Go back to the bar and just start talking shit on Carlos and the staff here. Say the right thing and piss him off enough, and Carlos will come to you. You’re not sure how you’d handle a 6 foot something roided up Mexican being pissed at you, but you’ll figure it out from there.

>Fuck this social manipulation bullshit, just wait around at one of the doors leading to the backrooms and then slip in when somebody opens it. Easy peasy.

>Well shit, you guess you’ll have to try and deal with this punk dealer kid after all. Chances are he knows the owner or at least somebody connected to the Undergrounds management, he’s got his own private table and is more or less openly selling drugs with impunity. Still, you just know this kid is gonna be a real prick.

>Write in

>>5305799

>Fuck this social manipulation bullshit, just wait around at one of the doors leading to the backrooms and then slip in when somebody opens it. Easy peasy.

>>5305799
>Well shit, you guess you’ll have to try and deal with this punk dealer kid after all. Chances are he knows the owner or at least somebody connected to the Undergrounds management, he’s got his own private table and is more or less openly selling drugs with impunity. Still, you just know this kid is gonna be a real prick.

>>5305799
>Fuck this social manipulation bullshit, just wait around at one of the doors leading to the backrooms and then slip in when somebody opens it. Easy peasy.

>>5305799
>Fuck this social manipulation bullshit, just wait around at one of the doors leading to the backrooms and then slip in when somebody opens it. Easy peasy.

>>5305799
>Go back to the bar and just start talking shit on Carlos and the staff here. Say the right thing and piss him off enough, and Carlos will come to you. You’re not sure how you’d handle a 6 foot something roided up Mexican being pissed at you, but you’ll figure it out from there.

>>5306015
>>5306039
>>5305945
3 for the old in and out, 1 for talking to the dealer dude and 1 for pissing off the big scary mexican. Apologies for the wait, roll me 3 1d100-5 for slipping in unnoticed. Since I'm posting out of my usual time, if nobody rolls in the next 10-15 minutes I'll just roll all three so we can get started.

>>5307213
Oh yeah, the DC is 60

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>5307213

Rolled 88 - 5 (1d100 - 5)

>>5307213

Rolled 70 - 5 (1d100 - 5)

>>5307213

>>5307254
>>5307253
>>5307228
Alright, writing now.

File: The Backrooms.png (438 KB, 640x853)

438 KB PNG

>SLIP INTO THE BACKROOMS UNDETECTED… SUCCESS

As you and Jane weave through the crowd, you grow more and more pissed off. You’re tired, you need a fix and your body knows it, you got a headache from these fucking strobe lights and awful music, and that Carlos prick blatantly just ignored you. You want to go back to the bar, knock back another shot of Beam and just start shitting all over everyone here, Carlos especially, but then a wiser, calmer part of yourself wins out. Breathing deep, an idea starts to take root in your mind. You’ve seen several unmarked doors against walls in this place, and several more that had that EMPLOYEES ONLY sign on them. Why bother bullshitting some rent-a-cop or some punk kid when you can just go straight to the source?

Still though, this is a bit of a risky move, and since all Jane had to do was get you through the door, you tell her “Hey Jane, it’s getting kind of late, why don’t you head on home?” She looks at you and sputters “Wha- What? Why? Wait… You’re about to do something stupid, aren’t you?” Damn, this girl knows you better than you thought. Still though, your mind is made up. You don’t want to drag another young girl into your bullshit. Not again. You smile, “No, of course not. This has been a bust, I’m just gonna grab a drink and head home myself. No need for you to stay up all night. I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

For a moment it looks like she’s about to say something, before she sighs and looks away, saying “Fine. Just… Be careful, alright? I’ve heard some things about the people who run this place.” Laughing, you say “Unless they’re spiking the drinks or something, I think I’ll be fine. See ya later, Jane.” And with that, you walk off into the crowd, not looking back. It’s for the best, this next part only you should do. And besides, if you get caught they’ll probably just throw you out on your ass at worst.

You wander through the club for a bit before you see one of those EMPLOYEE ONLY doors next to the stairs leading to the private booths, and then as casually as possible, you saunter up to it and lean against the wall, making a show of lighting a cigarette and scrolling through your phone. Now you just gotta play the waiting game…

Sometime later, maybe 20 or 30 minutes, the door finally swings open and out steps some pimply faced kid with a plate full of cocktails in his hand, and he doesn’t even spare you a glance. Subtly, you slip your foot in between the door and the frame and let it close, the door resting on your shoe. You wait for him to walk out of sight before taking a look around to see if anyones watching, and when the coast seems clear, you pry the door open a crack and slip inside. When you’re through, the booming bass of the main floor dims and you have to blink your eyes a couple times at the sudden brightness of the hall. Gray, unadorned walls on either side, on your left are some stairs leading up and to your right are three unmarked black doors on the wall, before the hall stops in a dead end.

While it’s hard to tell against the noise of the club outside, you think you can hear the sound of a heated conversation in the door farthest to the left, while inside the middle door are the unmistakable sounds of passionate sex, with the far right door completely silent, although you see bright, colorful lights flashing underneath the door.

>Go up the stairs. You doubt you’ll find the security room through any of these doors, and who knows, maybe you’ll run into the bossman up there. Big boss types always like to be on the upper floors, after all.

>Try the left door. While you can’t quite tell what they’re saying, the voices sound pretty young. It’s certainly some club staffers yelling in there, if nothing else you could grill them for information. And you think you can handle some punk club kids if it comes down to it.

>Go through the middle door. While you’d hate to interrupt somebody elses fun, you’ll definitely catch em off guard when you burst through, giving you the opportunity to get the information you need without too much trouble. Probably.

>Chance the right door. The strobing lights shining from beneath the door intrigue you. Maybe that’s just the lights of the camera feed showing the goings on of the club? Or maybe some staff are just having an impromptu party in one of the backrooms, either way you want to find out.

>>5307408
>>Try the left door. While you can’t quite tell what they’re saying, the voices sound pretty young. It’s certainly some club staffers yelling in there, if nothing else you could grill them for information. And you think you can handle some punk club kids if it comes down to it.

>>5307408
>Chance the right door. The strobing lights shining from beneath the door intrigue you. Maybe that’s just the lights of the camera feed showing the goings on of the club? Or maybe some staff are just having an impromptu party in one of the backrooms, either way you want to find out.

>>5307408

>Chance the right door. The strobing lights shining from beneath the door intrigue you. Maybe that’s just the lights of the camera feed showing the goings on of the club? Or maybe some staff are just having an impromptu party in one of the backrooms, either way you want to find out.

No update tonight bros, had a rough one today. Next update will be sometime in the morning, around 9-11 AM.

>>5307408
>Go up the stairs. You doubt you’ll find the security room through any of these doors, and who knows, maybe you’ll run into the bossman up there. Big boss types always like to be on the upper floors, after all.
Sounds like the best place to find the boss.

>>5307408
>>Chance the right door. The strobing lights shining from beneath the door intrigue you. Maybe that’s just the lights of the camera feed showing the goings on of the club? Or maybe some staff are just having an impromptu party in one of the backrooms, either way you want to find out.

>>5308466
>>5307791
>>5307744
>>5307561
>>5308245
3 for the door on the right, 1 for the door on the left, and 1 for trying the stairs.

Apologies for the wait, writing now.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PEqjXrE6YgM&t=437s

Yeah… Out of the choices, the one on the right seems like the smart move. It makes sense, those lights shining through the door are probably from the camera feed showing off the lightshow on the main floor. In a couple of strides you’re in front of it, and then your hand grips the knob and after a moment to steel yourself, you twist it and pull it open.

What you see on the other side surprises you: four young men and a woman, gathered around a TV shouting and cheering at the screen, in each of their hands some weird device covered in buttons being mashed by the thumbs and fingers holding them. On the TV is some kind of… Game? You see a whole lot of cartoon characters beating the shit out of each other, one of em a mustachioed guy in blue and red overalls, another looks like a racoon and a squirrel fucked and made a yellow, electrified baby, while there’s some kind of dragon thing shooting fireballs on the left side of the screen.

Oh fuck. You just walked into a nerd hang out. Fucking videogames? These kids must work for the club, and they’re on break right now. Well, it’s obvious what you’re looking for isn’t in here, and it doesn’t look like they’ve noticed you walk in, so as quietly as you can, you back up slowly out th-

“Hey Marcus, can you get me a beer?” says one of the girls with her eyes glued to the screen. “Get your own beer Sarah, what do I look like, your slave?” ‘Sarah’ giggles and says “Yeah well, you’re already out of stocks, so quit your bitching and get to work, slave!” ‘Marcus’ sighs, gets up and says “Fiiiiiine, but don’t make this a regular… thing.” His sentence trails off when he turns around and makes eye contact with you, halfway out the door.

Shit.

The game gets paused when Marcus nudges one of the others, and then he says “W-who the fuck… I mean, sir, club guests aren’t allowed off the main floor. What are you doing here?”

The words have already left your mouth before you could have screwed them up by thinking.

>Write in what to say/do

I'd like to see the manager please.

>>5308770
>do you guys know where the bath room is.

>>5308564
>I have business with Carlos and the club staff at the front directed me back here. They had to run back to deal with an issue on the floor though. Could you please let me know where he is?

Just be confident and bullshit

Dropping his name should help and they’d assume that someone must have let us in if we got here