Farm Anon's Adventures with Contract Killing

Boys, do I have a story for you all.

>be me, 19 year old dumbass
>family is poor as dirt, only thing worth any value is our farm
>got an East German SKS as my 18th birthday gift, family all threw in cash just to buy me it, treasured it for years, always kept it in near-perfect condition
>wasn't the best shot at first, but I think I got a pretty decent aim now
>here's when shit went down
>I was sitting in my room, cleaning my rifle when an SUV pulled up
>peeked through the window slats to see some dudes in suits, two orcs and an elf
>granddad, who owned the farm, hobbles his way out of the barn to meet them
>some snobby looking dwarf is waiting for him
>a few minutes go by, dwarf seems to be smug about something
>after what seemed like an eternity, the quartet of queers pack up into their black SUV and leave
>granddad comes back into the house visibly saddened
>he calls us all into the living room for an "emergency family meeting"
>Thiscan'tbegood.png
>he says we haven't been making regular payments, and that the (((bank))) wants our property
>oh fuck
>pops is already working three jobs, my mother has two, and granddad is too busy with the farm
>I usually helped granddad with pest clearing and animal stuff
>later that night, I'm sitting on the barn roof, which is the only way we can get any phone signal, talking to my dwarf friend
>"so, Ulysses, we might have to sell the farm."
>"WHAT?! why so!?"
>I explain to him what granddad told us, and how if we lose the farm, we basically lose everything
>there's a heavy sigh on the other end of the receiver, "alright, here's what you do. you're going to help me get rid of some 'pests'. You still got that rifle, don't you Anon?"
>"Uh, yeah. What kind of pests will we be getting rid of?"
>"You'll see" then Ulysses hangs up
>Kinda rude, but whatever
>Might as well see where this takes me

Pt 2: Wake up Call

>I'm lying in bed, sleeping soundly
>It's around 2 am-ish, no sounds other than the chirping of crickets and frogs from the nearby pond
>as I'm sleeping, dreaming of the perfect gun, there's a slap against my window
>Not like a bird hitting my window, like a full-on strike
>jolt awake hard, grab SKS under bed
>shaking at this point, I've never shot anybody, and this might be the time I do
>yank the curtains to see a short, stout, sort of bearded dwarf
>"Anon, get dressed and get out here! We've got work to do."
>Work? At this hour? What kind of sick joke is this?
>After a bit of quiet bickering, I manage to dress myself in some jeans and granddads old M65 field jacket he gave me
>I go to put the rifle back under the bed but Ulysses stops me, "Hey, what do you think you're doing? Grab that and whatever ammo you have and come on!"
>Oh yeah, I forgot we were clearing pests.
>Grab the three boxes of ammunition I had, as well as the two stripper clips in the night stand
>Slowly creep through the hallway, trying not to make a sound
>Thankfully everyone else was dead asleep, or didn't give a fuck enough to investigate
>Make my way out the door, don't bother locking because who the hell is gonna come down to a farm to steal shit?
>As I exit the house, Ulysses is standing by his jeep, "Hurry up Anon. You're my friend, which is why I'm doing this. The least you could do is pick up the pace!"
>Hurry my ass over to the old ass jeep, jump in the passenger side as the dwarf cranks the machine on.
>My head finally clears enough for me to ask a few questions, "What are we getting rid of?"
>Ulysses turns and gives me a shit-eating grin, "Goblins, Anon, goblins. The bastards are raiding the local chicken coops. They're paying one hundred per head."
>A hundred per head? Shit, that could really help with the payments.
>My gut is telling me this is a bad idea.Am I really about to go kill another sentient being?

Pt 3: First Blood

>After a bit of driving and awkward duets of 80's rock songs, we arrive at a neighboring farm.
>We hop out of the jeep, guns in hand.
>Ulysses walks up the rickety wooden stairs and knocks on the door
>Old as dirt negro opens the door, stares at me and Ulysses.
>He smacks his lips, "You boys gonna go clear out them goblins? I'll pay ya a hundred for each one ya bring."
>Shake hands with the melanin enriched individual and head off towards the wooded side of the property
>feelslikenam.png
>Me and Ulysses are walking through thick as shit briar and annoying shrubs.
>He's brought along his Police Magnum 870, lucky bastard.
>I'm fiddling with the bayonet of my SKS, truth be told, I'm fucking terrified.
>Heard stories that goblins would often kidnap children to kill and eat, even take down grown men
>Just as I'm about to take another step, I feel Uly's hand on my chest
>He slowly raises a finger upwards, pointing to a light a few meters away.
>Holy shit that's a lot of goblins
>There were about twelve, all armed with old farm tools and sharpened spears
>We squat down slowly, as to not attract their gaze
>Ulysses points to one half of the group, "I'll take out those six while you take out the other. Should be easy peasy."
>As I open my mouth to protest, he stands up and runs towards the camp, "Come get some you green faggots!"
>I'm frozen in fear as my friend runs towards certain death
>Watch as the Dwarf cranks off three rounds into the goblin group, splattering two of them across the ground.
>He turned to me, "Anon, hurry up!"
>Frantically run closer to the camp
>See the a goblin take a running leap at Ulysses
>Raise my rifle and fire
>Direct fucking hit
>The goblin cartwheels off to the side and right into the fire, the rest are scattered
>Holy fucking shit, I just killed someone
>I don't have time to think as three of those little shits start rushing me
>Brain goes into self-preservation mode
>Pop off four shots into the oncoming attackers
>HEADSHOT.MP3

Pt 4: Charge

>Watch as two of the goblins crumple to the ground
>The third is still charging me with his pitchfork
>Thankfully I had my bayonet extended from the fiddlin'
>I scream as I knock his pitchfork out of the way with my rifle
>Impale him through the chest
>He's screaming now, and so am I
>I manage to pin him to the ground
>There are tears welling in my eyes as I pin this poor fucker into the ground
>"God, I am so fucking sorry!" I say as I fire once.
>Goblin down
>I yanked my rifle out of his sucking chest wound and turn to see my buddy baseball-bat swing his shotgun into a goblin, knocking him into the sickle of his friend
>He rights his shotgun and manages to pop off two more shots, splattering a few more
>There are around 5 left
>Three are standing their ground, and the other two are nowhere to be seen
>Shoulder my rifle and fire a few rounds at the greenskins
>I shoot one through the knee and the other straight through the eye
>Last goblin throws down his weapon, begging for his life
>Ulysses is not having it.
>I watch in horror as my best friend of eighteen years picks up the little green man and slam his skull into the base of a tree
>I had to look away after the third hit
>I've never heard anything like those noises that goblin made
>After Ulysses finished up, he looked at our kill count. Ten total
>"Where are the other two?" he asked while scratching his chin
>As if on cue, a goblin fucking LAUNCHES himself off of a tree and slams into my back
>Little fucker starts digging a sharpened fork into my side
>I reach back and grab the fucker by the legs
>I manage to pry him off of my back, and with all the adrenaline I had, I whirl him around into a tree
>Captaincrunch.jpg
>My legs can barely hold me anymore, and I have to lean against a tree
>How the fuck do people do this for a living?

Pt 5: Paid

>I spent most of that night stacking bodies and taking breaks to hurl my guts up
>We tossed the bodies into garbage bags and began dragging them off to the farmer's house
>At least Ulysses didn't make fun of me for crying like a bitch
>I still think he heard though
>Ulysses put a hand on my shoulder, "Anon, you did good. Thanks for putting a hole in that jumping green faggot."
>I smile, "No problem..."
>Ulysses was a caring friend, well, in his own way.
>"I remember when I first killed a goblin. I cried like a bitch too. Mine was a lot more gory, however."
>Gee thanks for pointing it out.
>We approach the house, the farmer was out on his porch, cigar in mouth and beer in hand
>We dump the bags of goblin onto his porch, "We killed eleven. Not sure where the last one went."
>He laughed, "Oh the last one? Dat boy came up here and tried to take me and Marjory while we was sleepin'! He learned not to do that no more!"
>Small laughs were had as the farmer pointed to a goblin that had received the business end of 12 gauge slugs on his porch
>God bless the South
>The old farmer brings out his wallet and hands us 1100 cash
>"Now you boys come on back now, ya hear? We'll feed ya good when you come work!"
>I might never forget the things I've seen during today, but damn, that money is hard to beat.
>Me and Ulysses pile into the jeep, and he looks over at me
>He hands me the 1100, "Keep it. You need it more than I do."
>Before I can protest, he turns on the radio, and starts blaring more 80's music.
>As we ride back to my farm, I can't help but smile, this was a wild ass ride, but somehow, it made me excited. Scared, but excited.
>I extended my hand towards Ulysses, and in cheesy action movie style, we shared a high-five.
>I think I might like this new life.
>Let's see where it takes me.

Pt 6: Granddad

>Wake up the next morning with a sharp pain in the side
>Fucking goblins and their shitty weapons
>SKS got a bit bloody during the scuffle, first order of business is cleaning
>Bring out cleaning kit and begin my work
>After a few minutes I manage to remove the goblin from my bayonet
>Oil the rifle up and stick her back under the bed
>I walk out of my room, still in the clothes I had on the night before
>Probably still smell like goblin and blood
>Granddad is sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying his breakfast of eggs and a cold beer
>I open up the fridge and grab a water, gramps clears his throat "So, you went out last night, didn't ya?"
>ohfugg.png
>"Y-yeah." I reply. Fuck, I can't let granddad know I was out killing gobbos.
>Gramps points to the seat next to him, "Sit down, Anon. We need to talk."
>I sit down, expecting to hear a spiel of how it was wrong to sneak out, yadda yadda yadda
>Grampa leans in, "You've been out killing. I can smell the death on you."
>With a heavy sigh I explain all what happened last night, the death, the goblins, bayoneting a goblin
>He raises an eyebrow, "Ah, I knew I smelt goblin on you! You were out cleaning up, huh?"
>I simply nod my head. Probably gonna get the rifle confiscated
>Feel a hand fall on my shoulder, "Son, why didn't you say that in the first place? You know, your granddad was a bit of a goblin hunter in his time."
>Holy fuck, gramps did this shit too?
>He smiles and stands up, "Come with me."
>Walk out with him towards the barn, all the while talking about the stories of his goblin hunting
>He opens up the double-doors and leads me inside, "Look over yonder." He points to a sectioned off part of the barn
>We walk over and open up the doors
>Holyfuckingguns.png
>Rows of Mosins, 98Ks, AKMs, ARs, even an PKM on the table
>Granddad chuckles to himself, "Never did wanna sell them. If your mother found out, she'd probably sell them all behind my back."
>Like fucking hell I'd let that happen

Pt 7: Grandad Pt 2, Electric Boogaloo

>Gramps stands there, looking over his collection
>"Anon, you keep at it, and I'll give you something passed down through this family for generations."
>"S-sure granddad."
>Grandpa leads me out of the barn, "Now don't you tell your mother about my secret shed. For all she knows it's my skinnin' room. Same goes for you."
>All this time I thought it was but okie dokie
>We make our way back to the farmhouse
>Pops is on the porch, cooking sausage on the grill
>Give him a small wave as I walk into the house
>Grandpa goes back to sit in the kitchen, I have something to do though
>Run back to room, grab wad of cash
>Walk back to granddad, hand him bundle
>His eyes widen at the sight of the money
>Cackles like a jew in a bank vault
>He thumbs out two hundred dollars and puts the rest into his vest pocket
>"Anon, you keep doing what you're doin'. You're holdin' up the family name."
>He slides me the two hundred and points to his truck, "Take my truck into town, go visit Orion's shop. He'll probably have something you want in there."
>Holy shit, granddad never let anyone drive his truck
>He hands me the holy keys, there's a weird box on one of the rings.
>Neat.jpg
>walk past dad, who's got a whole fuckin heap of sausage
>can't eat now, there are guns to be had
>Walk towards the rusted maroon truck
>Hop in, start it up
>Pull out of the driveway and turn off onto the main road heading towards town
>Tune the radio to a local classic rock station, they're playing Megadeth
>It's 44 minutes. Not a bad tune for a trip to go buy guns

Pt 8: Orion

>Pull into gunshop parking lot
>"Orion's Gunshop." Plastered in yellow letters above door
>disembark from granddad's truck
>walk into the empty as fuck store
>a bit of fudd on one wall, tacticool on another, slavshit on the middle
>walk up to counter, mirin' the glocks and other handguns
>walk around the glass counters, check out the other handguns
>Lugers, Bergmanns, oddities and rarities are on the right case
>Maybewhenimrich.jpg
>been in there for around ten minutes, no orion
>spot a silver bell on the counter
>ringadingding.mp3
>wait for a bit, still no orion
>decide to call out, "Hello? Mister uh... Orion? My name is Anon, my granddad sent me here to get a... gun."
>still no answer
>must be on lunch break
>might as well come back later
>about to step out of the store when I hear music
>Loud as fuck music
>walk closer to the counter again
>It's coming through a door behind the counter
>go behind the counter and put my ear up to the door
>all I can make out are the words "gay bar"
>wut.jpg
>try the handle, unlocked
>Walk inside the spooky room
>assaulted by Electric Six's hit song Gay Bar at max volume
>holy fucking shit why is it so loud
>begin walking down a big ass flight of stairs
>reach the bottom
>HOLYFUCKINGSHITWHATDIDIWALKINTO
>Witness a dwarf choking out a orc tied to a chair with a sledgehammer
>orc is battered and bruised, must have been down here for a while
>dwarf spots me in the stairwell
>"Oh, you must be Anon!"
>why have you forsaken me granddad

Part 9: A deal

>The dwarf approaches me, sledge still in his hand
>stutter out somewhat of a coherent sentence "Uh, y-you must be Orion, my--"
>Dwarf cuts me off, "Your grandpa told me all about it. You need a new firearm for goblin hunting! Come with me."
>Follow the dwarf back up the stairs, trying hard to not look at the now crying orc in the chair
>walk back into main area, dwarf closes door behind him
>"Alright, so what's your budget looking like?" he asks, stroking his beard
>hold out the two hundred granddad gave me
>Dwarf's face turns into a grimace, "hard times, huh? Not to worry! I'm sure I can knock down something down a bit!"
>walk over to the sidearm counter, near the surplus stuff
>dwarf opens up the case, "Here, this is an M92s." he places the pistol on the counter
>"And if that doesn't float your boat, we also have a Star model BM, and a TT-33 that can fit your price range."
>grab pistol, perfect fit in the hand
>those pasta fags really do know how to make 'em
>I tap the 92s, "This one. Already know it."
>Orion nods, "Good choice! Here, I'll even throw in a box of ammunition!"
>As I'm about to hand over the cash, I spot a crate in the corner, "Hey, what are those?"
>point to the crate. says something in russian
>Orion jerks a thumb backwards, "Russian F1 grenades. You looking to procure a few?"
>shit that would make things a little better, but I'm outta fuckin cash
>"Well... maybe not today. I'd like to get some in the future though."
>Orion strokes his beard, "Tell ya what. You do something for me, and I'll give you the gun, the grenades, and some magazines for free."
>uh oh
>Nod head, don't wanna piss off the dwarf who tortures orcs for fun
>"I got some shithead orc/elf combo staking my store. They come around every so often. Some elf bitch and some stoner orc lowlife. You get rid of them, and I'll give you the stuff."
>"W-well sir I'm not sure I could--"
>"Nonsense! I'm sure you could do it, no problem!"
>what did i get myself into

Part 10: Rooftop Anons

>Five hours or so pass after meeting Orion
>am now stationed at the top of the gun shop, behind an AC unit, waiting for tweedledee and tweedledumblefuck
>spend time fucking with my newly acquired M92s
>beginning to get dark, also bored as fuck
>SKS is besides me, loaded and ready to go
>Orion brings up a case of water and two MREs
>fuckyeah.jpg
>now sitting comfortably with an MRE "burger" and some jalapeno cheese spread.
>phone died, so all I have are my thoughts to keep me company
>casually shitposting in my mind when Orion pops his bearded head out of the roof hatch
>"Anon, I'm locking up now. If you see those two, torch them." he says
>wait, torch?
>Orion suddenly rolls a AN-M14 grenade towards me
>Clatters against roof before hitting my shoe
>asshole clenches when I see the pin nearly came out.
>quickly reset the pin to avoid accidental napalming of self
>he also sets a radio near the hatch
>"Also, when they do arrive, press play on this."
>before I can ask questions he hops back down the hatch.
>Stand up and watch him get in his old as fuck truck
>slowly sink back down behind the AC unit
>watch as the sun slowly sinks behind the ridge of the mountains
>isverydark.dark
>ffw a few more hours
>now around 11ish
>hear a car pull up into the parking lot of the shop
>fuck, here we go
>crouch low, duck and dodge between vents to grab radio
>run back to hiding spot, get on stomach
>crawl my ass towards the roof's edge
>peek over and see a beat up buick with big as fuck rims
>see the orc and the elf, in the process of lighting up a joint
>both exit the vehicle, orc has a "Problem Solva'" in his hand
>elf was extremely high, could see it in the way she walked
>crawl back towards hiding spot
>Grab SKS, M14 grenade, and shimmy my way back to the edge of the store
>place SKS on roof, grip grenade and pin
>go to yank pin, it sticks and I manage to fling the grenade from my grasp
>look down at hands, only pin left
>fuck

Part 11: Orc Nigger

>quickly look around for the renegade grenade
>a renegrenade if you will
>spot a red tube next to a different AC unit
>Scramble to my feet, run up and kick the grenade up and off the roof.
>Watch as it arcs beautifully over my targets
>It bursts in the air, raining hellfire upon their buick.
>Hear the orc scream something along the lines of "MAH WHEELZ"
>elf bitch screams, "UP ON THE ROOF, WAKIR!"
>fuck.fuck
>Orc raises his Hi-Point as I'm running my ass to my SKS
>go into a slide as a bullet whizzes past my head
>grab my rifle, shoulder it and begin laying down suppressing fire
>elf bitch caught three rounds in the chest, got knocked down into the flames near their car
>Orc sufficiently enraged at the sight of his woman get shot
>greenskin begins to scream as he unloads his Hi-point into the AC unit I'm behind
>wait a few seconds, hear a magazine clatter to the ground
>Pop out from behind the unit
>SUPLISEMADAFUCKA.vietnam
>click.
>Orc has slapped and tapped a new magazine in at this point.
>drop behind unit, fumble around for my new pistol
>grip the pastagat firmly
>suddenly, the orc manages to hit a sweet spot in the AC, send a round flying through the battered metal
>rounds rips through the unit, right into the buttstock of my SKS
>hear the orc shouting from below, "Come on out humie! I'll make your death quick mane!"
>mfw a stupid orc nigger ruined my expensive East German SKS
>mfw my family ate nothing but potatos and squirrel for two weeks after they bought me it
>mfw this motherfucker thinks he has a right to live now
>mfw the gunsmith is probably gonna charge me out the ass for a new stock
>slow my breathing as I wait for the orc to run out of ammunition
>BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, BANG, CLICK, CLATTER
>jump from my spot, blood begins to boil again
>fire in blind rage at the greenskin
>shot placement all over the parking lot
>manage to hit the orc once in the groin
>orc doubles over in pain from muh dik
>the fun begins

Part 12: Spice Girls

>I turn my attention away from the orc, who seems more than content to lie there in pain
>pick up rifle, inspect the damage
>the buttstock is splintered, but not unusable
>poke up inside the hole of the rifle, feel something hot
>pull finger out, bring rifle up to eye
>holy shit it's the actual round
>it was stuck up inside the wood, didn't leave an exit hole
>slight bulge where it was, but other than that, not much to fix
>will probably sand it down and use some resin to fix it
>set rifle down, walk back to the edge of the roof
>orc is now dragging himself towards the edge of the parking lot
>wait, shit, forgot to play the song Orion wanted
>walk back over to jukebox, pick it up and press play
>mfw it's the fucking Spice Girls
>to the tune of Wannabe, I jump down from the roof onto a nearby dumpster
>this feels like psychological warfare
>walk into the parking lot, orc is visibly confused now
>car is burning, smells like charred elf
>approach orc, he's now crawling away as fast as a dickless orc could
>i feel my grip tighten around my pistol
>raise it up, set sights on the orc's head
>"Hey hey, wait man, wait! Don't do thi--"
>three in the back of the head
>anger slowly fades away into dread
>I just killed two sentient beings for some grenades and ammo
>jesus, this isn't like killing goblins in the forest
>these were two lives I just took, shitty ones, but still
>these are some pretty deep feelings to be having with the spice girls blaring in the background
>sit down in front of the store's entrance
>SKS is safe up on the roof
>buick is burning
>spice girls is playing
>smells like burnt elf, gasoline, and dead orc
>this new life of mine is pretty damn crazy

Part 13: Is this 1999?

>after i shot the orc, I leaned up against the gun store
>thankfully the radio's batteries died
>lean head back and listen to the sound of sizzling oil and crackling of fire
>pass out at around three AM
>wake up a bright ass sunbeam shining right in my face
>it's the morning sun
>look at watch, it's 6:57
>fire has charred the buick and the elf
>elf is burned to shit, looks like one of the corpses from half-life
>orc shit himself post-mortem
>smells like Hell out here
>go to stand up, manage to bring myself to my feet with the help of the door
>might as well check their pockets, see what they had on them
>move to the orc, check his front unshitted pockets. no reason to check the elf jerky
>wallet, keys, a joint, another magazine for his Hi-point
>check other pocket, find a lighter and a photo of a kid
>oh fuck, oh fuck me dude, I just orphaned a child
>flip the photo over, there's writing on it, "Sweet Penelope, passed away March 10th"
>not sure whether to feel better knowing I didn't create a new orphan, or sad to know the kid probably died due to lack of care from her parents
>kneel down, place photo in the hand of the orc, "Sorry, man... Hope you find her up there."
>man I feel like a piece of shit
>stand back up, walk over to the buick, the entire interior cabin is roasted
>trunk isn't however
>walk behind the car, tap the trunk a few times to make sure it isnt still hot
>lil warm, not unpleasant
>using a piece of scrap metal from the engine bay, I pry open the trunk
>begin my search for goodies
>a few coke cans, tire iron, a dimebag of weed, wait...
>carpet is loose, yank that fucker up
>reach into the spare tire area and pull out a fucking TEC-9
>lock bolt to rear and check the chamber
>it was loaded and ready
>surprised it didn't go off in the fire
>as I'm about to pull out the magazine, I forget that this was an open-bolt weapon
>watch as I accidentally spray a four round burst into the burned-out buick
>probably woke up the neighbors

Part 14: I schleep

>walk back to the front door and sit back down
>watch as cars slow down to see what happened, but speed up after spotting the corpses
>after around thirty minutes, Orion's antique truck pulls up into the parking lot
>he hops out, a big grin on his face, "Holy shit Anon! You made a mess of these two! You earned your pay!"
>I stand up and he walks over to unlock his store
>step back inside and head over to the counter
>Orion shuffles his way towards the grenades
>He pulls out three and sets them out on the counter
>watch as he wanders around the store, grabbing various items
>he puts down three more M92 magazines and three boxes of ammo
>he clears his throat, "So, how'd you get rid of them? If you don't mind me asking."
>"I just shot them. Threw the incendiary grenade, caught the buick on fire, shot the orc right after."
>Orion nodded, "Good lad. Tell your granddad to get back over here. Haven't seen him in a while! Anyway, you take care now."
>after gathering my SKS and other stuff from the roof, I exit the store.
>Open up granddad's truck and toss the stuff in, get a good eyeful of the 9MM sized hole in the stock of my gun.
>Start up the truck and begin the hour drive back to the farm.
>Plug phone into the car charger, turn it on once it hit 5%
>A few messages from Ulysses, a call from dad, not much else.
>put down phone, better concentrate on driving
>slowly drive my ass towards the farm
>pull into the gravel driveway
>turn off the car
>gather my new guns and step out of the vehicle
>slowly walk back to my room, give a simple nod to Granddad on the way
>place SKS under the bed, the M92s on my nightstand, and the TEC-9 in my underwear drawer
>flop onto the bed, fully clothed, tired as fuck
>Slowly drift off into sleep

Part 15: REAL SHIT??

>wake up in an inky black void
>this isn't the usual dream of guns and titties
>dissapoint.png
>feel something grab my shoulders and yank me backwards
>break through the darkness into a dimly lit hallway
>i press forwards, using my hands to feel my way to the end of the hallway
>walk into a room lit by torches
>can sort of vaguely make out a cube-like shape in the center
>the place is suddenly flashed with light
>cover my eyes to avoid being blinded
>squint to see the cube is fucking covered with guns
>what in God's name is that thing?
>it's oddly beautiful
>take a step forward
>can't go forward anymore
>feel a force fling me upwards, fly higher and higher
>collide with the darkness
>wake up in a cold sweat
>did I just have a godly vision? What was that cube?
>what time is it, even?
>reach for clock, it's around five AM.
>slowly get up out of bed, grab my pistol and place it in my jacket pocket
>remind myself to get a holster next time I visit Orion
>begin my slow walk to the front door, easing each step on the creaky wooden floor
>quietly open up the front door and step out onto the front porch
>ponder the idea of taking a walk around the property, maybe clear my mind from the killing
>walk to edge of porch and step off
>make my way through the wet grass to the fence that leads to the rest of the farm
>open it just enough to get through, squeeze my way past and close it behind me
>I could either go the creek, the river, or the fields...
>Creek would be cool, could probably see a deer there or something.
>I could go down to the river and see some of the sirens chilling out
>Could also go to the field and pet the cows.
>hmmmm.png

Part 16: Fish Niggers

>Make my way down the path towards the river
>lightning bugs and few glowing plants light my path
>pretty chill night for some siren songs
>thankfully my family is chill with the sirens, so they don't try their usual business
>well, most of the time anyway
>make my way towards the riverbank, the sirens are out tonight singing duets
>think back to the times I used to come here as a small child, just to listen to their songs
>walk up to the very edge of the bank and sit down, the waves splashing silently against the rocky shore.
>two sirens are finishing up their duet as I sat, they hug each other as they finish.
>two other sirens are about to begin when one points me out
>the first two sirens decide to catcall me, "Heya Anon! Why don't you bring that fine self into the water? Nona and I will treat you right!"
>Shake head, "Sorry Skila. You know I'm a married man." A few laughs
>one points to my hand, "Where's that ring then, Anon?"
>"It's on my SKS, ladies. I'm married to my rifle."
>a few boo and stick their tongues out
>one of the particularly crass sirens calls me a nigger
>right back at you, fish-nigger
>laughs are had as its mostly just friendly banter
>the insults die down and its mostly back to singing
>a few Sirens are sitting on the waters edge, trying to get me to come in, also trying to get me to spill some gossip
>its like fucking highschool with these girls
>doesn't mean they don't sing like angels
>Classics like David Bowie, Arthur Brown, Rhodesians Never Die, all with their own wailing twist on it.
>not gonna lie, that shit can put you at ease like no other
>lie back, can't help but smile softly
>sit up slightly, "You know, if you ladies didn't tear apart men for fun, I'd be inclined to take one of you out on a date."
>a few "oooo"s and other general woman noises.
>they keep pestering me about which one I'd take
>I sit up fully, I peer out into the river, which contains about 5-6 sirens
>"Hm... I'd pick..."

Part 17: Skinwalkers & Slavshit

>before I can say my answer, the sirens nearest to me gasp and retreat back under the water
>that's odd
>take a quick glance behind me
>last thing I saw was a rifle stock
>can't see a thing, I'm face down in the rocks
>feel my leg being lifted up
>feel face being dragged along some jagged ass rocks
>black out for a good thirty minutes
>slowly open eyes to pitch darkness
>Where the actual fuck am I?
>Look up to see my feet in rope bindings, I'm upside down
>Look around, looks like a cave, well-furnished, but otherwise still a cave
>take a deep breath and shoot a massive bloody mass out of my nose
>there's an audible "Ew. Gross."
>look to where the voice came from, can't see a damn thing
>I twist and turn in my bindings, "Fuck, okay, fuck..."
>A hand whips away curtains leading to what looked like a bedroom
>I spotted the antlers first, then the deer skull
>I'm dealing with a skinwalker
>fuck.doublefuck
>what would granddad do in this situation?
>Skinwalker walks into view, he's wearing old milsurp camo and beaten to shit boots
>notice that he's holding some sort of Kalashnikov
>I point to it, "Hey, you got some nice slavshit."
>the skinwalker looks down, "Oh, really? Thanks! It's a uh, Romanian one, I think... Really cheap. All I had money for, really."
>The AK has been decorated with traditional Navajo artwork: dots and other indian shit
>The skinwalker turns and taps my M92, "I, uh, like your... um."
>I point to it, "M92s. It's an older model."
>It nods, "Oh yeah! I've seen the Army use these."
>there's an awkward silence as the Skinwalker shuffles on its feet
>"Could you... help me figure out what kind of AK I have?"
>Granddad, your gun knowledge has been put to good use
>I motion for it to bring the AK closer
>I scan the markings, this isn't Romanian at all!
>I look up to the skinwalker, "This isn't Romanian. This is Polish lettering. You have a circle-10."
>A blank look from the skinwalker, "Is that.. good?"
>historylesson.png

Part 18: Slavic Pixie

>"And that's the quick and dirty lesson of the AK platform."
>Skinwalker had pulled up a rough-looking chair
>Pretty much the entire cave looked rough
>Like, fished out of a dumpster rough
>Its nodding its head, "Huh, you seem to know a lot about guns."
>Shrug, "Yeah, I've just been passed the info from my grandfather."
>skinwalker rubs the back of its horns, "Man, now I feel kinda bad for hitting you in the face and... Tying you up. You seemed like easy prey, but, man..."
>not sure how to feel about nearly being eaten
>the skinwalker stands up, and brandishes a huge fucking bowie knife
>assholeclench2electricboogaloo.png
>it cuts my binds off, "Sorry about that. Uh. If you don't mind, could you teach me more about guns? I've always wanted to learn, but, my tribe was wholly against them. They kicked me out over the fact that I wanted one."
>liberal fucks
>manage to stand up, nose is still broken to fuck, but I'm alive
>extend a hand, "Sure can. I'm Anon, by the way."
>Skinwalker extends its hand, "Altsoba. Nice to meet you."
>go to shake its hand, its very small
>in fact its quite short, like, really short
>skinlet.jpg
>about to ask where I am when the skinwalker stumbles backwards
>the skinwalker grips the deer skull and pulls upwards
>watch in horror as it tears off its own fucking head
>drop its hand in shock
>it stumbles backwards against a table but lurches forwards
>there's now a big lump where its head was
>it bumps into me with its weird stumpy head
>blood all fucking over me
>hold it out at arms length
>watch as another head slowly emerges
>the skin around the head begins to form before my very eyes
>watch in horror and fascination
>the skinwalker backs off, completed the growth
>it's a girl
>she swipes the hair out of her eyes, "Oh, that's way better!"
>the skinwalker now has a pixie cut
>what the fuck did I just witness and how much mental bleach do I need to unsee it

Part 19: Milling about

>the skinwalker notices the blood on my grandpa's jacket
>"Oh, that'll come out! Don't be such a wuss about it."
>wipe the blood off the best I can
>decide to ask the skinwalker where we are
>She gestures around, "In a cave, behind the old Mill."
>Oh shit, the mill. That's nearly 30 miles away from my farm.
>Jesus these things are scary
>I point to my pistol, "Can I have that back?"
>She lifts her Kalashnikov to my face, "Not yet. I need to make sure you're not going to shoot me in the back of the skull."
>Hold up my hands, "Hey, you didn't eat me, why would I shoot you after you released me?"
>this seemed to work, she lets me walk near to my pistol
>grab it, slowly put it in my jacket
>her gun was trained on me the entire process
>after she watched me put the gun away she lowered her rifle
>Really want to just leave, but she might shoot me and eat me anyway
>she coughs, "So, uh, Anon, this might... sound weird. But, I was watching you."
>notweirdatall.jpg
>"When you were out on Jawson's farm, killing those goblins with your rifle, I needed to learn more about them!"
>wait, shit, does this mean she saw me cry
>god I hope not
>she gestures for me to sit down at the shitty table
>pull up a chair, this is getting a little weird
>She sits down herself, setting the AK off to the side
>"And when I saw you sitting by the water, watching the sirens, I just had to well... Yeah. Sorry about that, again."
>youbrokemynoselady.png
>wave it off, not that big of a deal
>actuallyverybigdeal.jpg
>she continues, "To be quite honest, I just wanted to know what you know."
>shrug, I mean, if a skinwalker wants to learn about funs, who am I to judge?
>I nod, "what would like to know?" is what I tried to say, but with my broken nose, it came out a lot worse
>She asks all sorts of questions, differences between rifle calibers, manufacturers of certain firearms, quite literally every gun question that most new gun owners have
>this is gonna take a while...

Part 20: It happens to everyone

>explain as best I could with a broken nose
>Altsoba seems to be hanging on to every word
>check watch for a second
>holy fuck it's nearly 9 AM, I gotta do chores
>I stand up, so does Altsoba
>I jerk my thumb backwards, "Well, this has been fun, but I gotta run. Gotta do chores with my grandfather."
>the skinwalker seems displeased, "Wait, can't you just stay a little while longer? I'd like to learn more!"
>shake my head, "No, I really gotta run. Hey, maybe if you come down to the river again sometime, we can talk more about guns."
>she shrugs, "Alright, that sounds good! Nice meeting you Anon."
>She sticks out her hand for a handshake
>go for the handshake, she slips her hand up and grabs my forearm
>she pulls me into a semi-brohug/roman handshake
>reciprocate, albeit a bit hesitantly
>for some reason she smells of freshly fried bacon
>and a hint of iron
>she pulls away, "Alright, door's over there." she points towards a sheet metal door, complete with big stick acting as a lock.
>pull away and begin walking towards the door
>look back to see the skinwalker fiddling with her AK
>as I'm about to open the door, there's a BANG behind me
>empty jars on a dresser next to the door explode, showering me with glass
>whip around, about to draw pistol
>skinwalker is holding her AK with a shocked expression on her face
>she ND'd and nearly my brains out
>"S-sorry Anon!"
>quickly wave bye and get the fuck out of the cave
>abandoned mill is about a mile away, its towering silos stick out like a sore thumb
>at least I'm alive?

Part 21: Rodents of Unusual Size

>Start my way down the hill towards the old mill
>it's a huge rusted steel sore on an otherwise beautiful plot of southern land
>grab pistol out of pocket, pull back the slide and check the chamber
>no fucking bullets, Skinwalker must have taken them
>Not going back into the cave, that's for damn sure
>maybe someone left a box of 9MM in the mill
>Its a very common camping place and for STALKER challenges
>Make my way past briars, small shrubs, and the occasional rogue spider web.
>fucking spiders, I hate them so fucking much
>I really should be heading back home and help granddad, but exploring must be done
>After around two minutes of walking, I'm now on the pavement of the parking lot of the mill
>walk around towards the back, towards the unofficial main entrance
>My eyes go to the old maroon sign that has been welded above the entrance
>"Misfits and Freaks welcome."
>Duck underneath the broken glass door, step over broken glass and other hazardous materials
>I'm greeted to the stench of motor oil, rancid cans of tuna, and rusting steel.
>look around the darkened main floor
>old tents, rotting garbage, broken glass litter the main floor
>step inside, knock my boot against the steel wall three times, just to let any STALKERS know that there's someone here
>no response
>Walk further in, no flashlight, so I'm going off of night vision only
>God I hope I don't get jumped by a bunch of goblins right now
>as if on cue, there's a rattling underneath one of the tents
>grab pistol by the barrel, raise it above my head, ready to bring it down with righteous fury
>walk slowly over to the collapsed tent
>reach out with other hand, lift up the tent flap
>a fuckhuge rat pops out and scurries off into the dark, hopefully never to be seen again
>at least it wasn't a goblin?

Part 22: Projectile Maintenance

>Drop the tent flap, something in there smelled rancid
>meander around the broken trash and tents
>casings, shells, two unfired .45s, not what I'm looking for though
>Walk over to a particularly old looking tent, it's another collapsed one
>lift up the flap, there's a hat inside and a few aluminum cased 9mm.
>Grab the three bullets and the hat.
>The hat looked like an old WWI pilots hat, complete with glass goggles
>pretty neat find!
>I do a quick once over, make sure there are no bugs or lice
>Put the hat on, adjust the goggles
>Stylin'.jpg
>Drop the magazine from my pistol, load the three rounds into it
>Load the magazine, rack the slide back
>Now I have somewhat of a chance of defending myself
>Begin walking again, maybe I can find something else worthwhile here. /k/ommandos leave shit here all the time
>Walk towards the office, which has a desk facing towards the open area
>bottle of empty vodka, cigarette butts, a Playboy featuring a scantily clad centaur woman.
>The pages are stuck together
>Nope.jpg
>gently nudge the "literature" off the desk
>Start going through the drawers, but one is locked
>hmmmmm.jpg
>Found a normal round of 9mm, an unopened pack of gum, and a few notes describing the supervisor as a "Limp-dicked Union cuck." in the unlocked drawers
>Turn my attention to the locked mystery drawer
>idea.png
>Take pistol, put against the lock facing at an upwards angle
>Here goes nothing.

Part 23: Clear a Path

>Pull trigger
>Lock shatters into a thousand pieces
>Take a quick peek above the desk, make sure nothing decided to investigate the noise.
>I hold my breath and just listen, trying to pick out any sort of movement
>After five minutes of hearing nothing, I go back to the drawer.
>It pulls open smoothly
>Sweet Jesus above, someone left a shotgun!
>It's a sawn-off Remington 870
>There's something scratched on the side
>It's faded to shit, but barely legible
>"Clear a path, I'm going home!"
>Only three shells left inside the drawer
>I grab them and stuff them in my pocket, a quick once-over reveals they're 00 buck.
>as I'm going over my haul of interesting loot, there's a crash from the other side of the room
>duck down behind the desk, load the three rounds into my new weapon
>There are a few rotting holes in the back of the desk, big enough to get a good look at what might be coming
>Ease my way towards the hole and put my eye up to it
>there's two goblins and a fucking bugbear.
>These goblins weren't the kind I shot out in the woods
>They wore gang clothes, red shirts, doo rags, nigger-tier style.
>The two goblins have some shitty Taurus pistols while the bugbear is more well-equipped with a MAC-10
>the bugbear is barking orders to the smaller goblins,
>"Spread the fuck out! Find out who shot on our turf!"
>Pull the fore-end of my shotgun back slowly, there's a shell in the chamber
>Thank fuck
>Pop out from behind the desk, fire at the goblin that's closest to me
>A slug tears through the bottom half of the goblin, completely severing his spinal cord, just above the hip
>The other goblin and bugbear whip around to face me
>Cowabungaitis.png

Part 24: God Of Hell Fire

>I rack the shotgun and fire again
>FWOOOSH
>Sparks and flame spit out of the barrel
>The bugbear's fur is now smoldering
>In a split second, it flashes up, torching it's face
>Rack the shotgun again, a bright red shell ejects, on the side, "Dragon's Breath"
>Last goblin is watching the bugbear flail around
>As he's distracted, I book it to a pillar and check the chamber of the shotgun
>Flechette round is the next one up
>Peek from behind the pillar, the goblin is now trying to put the bugbear out by stomping on his chest
>Step out from behind the pillar and quietly move my way towards the goblin
>sneakybreeki.png
>I'm right behind him now, the bugbear has clearly burnt away, the stomping didn't help either.
>Tap the goblin on the shoulder with my shotgun
>The goblin turns and lets out a loud gasp
>Kick the little green bastard's knee in
>snapcracklepop.jpg
>He falls onto the bugbear and rolls off onto the side
>Step over the charred corpse of the bugbear, place my boot on the goblin's back.
>I slowly level my shotgun with the back of the goblin's head.
>Should I say a one-liner?
>What would I even say?
>It's gotta be really fucking cool and catchy...
>BLAM
>Look down, I accidentally had my finger around the trigger
>Wellsonofabitchclyde.jpg
>Rack the shotgun in dissapointment
>Suddenly, my leg feels really fucking hot.
>Look down, see that my leg has caught fire
>OH FUCK
>Try to shake the flame off, end up tripping on the dead goblin, land flat on my back
>Accidentally ND into the ceiling
>Well at least I was cool for a few minutes.

Part 25: The Long Walk Home

>Leg no longer feels hot, the fall must have extinguished the flames
>Go to stand up, accidentally put my hand into the pool of goblin blood
>Silently curse as I wipe it off on my pants, as to not get any more blood on granddad's M65.
>Rack shotgun once more, make sure to put the damn safety on
>Check my watch, it's now around ten-ish.
>Family must be wondering where I am, better get going
>Make my way towards the back entrance of the mill, step out into the Tennessee sunshine
>Take a look around at the rolling hills, the soft shades of the trees, makes me feel good to be a southerner.
>Start walking towards the way I think home is, as I have no fucking idea where I am.
>Wait, do I have my phone on me?
>Check pockets, it was in my hidden jacket pocket
>Flip it up, I've got a message from Ulysses and Granddad
>Ulysses' text message is about a new job
>Granddad's is about butchering a cow and if I wanted any steak
>Hellfuckinyeah.jpg
>Trudge my way through more weeds, thorny vines, and fucking spider webs
>Finally make my way onto the road, start walking towards Home
>It's about a seven mile walk back to my farm
>Fucking skinwalkers and their superhuman strength
>And pretty faces
>Wait shit, she kidnapped me, I shouldn't be thinking about that!
>Got to admit though, that pixie cut looked good on her.
>I begin my walk home, trying not to think about Altsoba
>This is gonna be a long walk

Part 26: Country Roads Take me to Lousiana

>God it's hot.
>I fan myself with my shirt as I press forwards, now three miles closer towards my farm
>Up ahead are two scaly creatures, poking at a dark lump
>As I get closer, I see that it's Vinnie and Lucky, the kids from Heavenly Parks
>The only thing on this road is me and two kobold kids.
>The closer I got, the worse the smell got as well
>They were poking a dead buzzard
>Boys will be boys.
>Give them a wave as I pass them, "Mornin' boys."
>They wave back, as per Southern customs, "Mornin' mister Anon! Whatcha doin' with that shotgun?"
>I look down, I'm still covered in blood and holding the 870.
>Without thinking I blurt out, "Killing aliens."
>Their eyes widen with excitement, "Oh cool!" Vinnie says.
>Lucky has tossed his stick aside, and is now bouncing up and down, "Didja get any Mister Anon? Can ya show us?!"
>Wave my hand, "Not now boys, I gotta go report back to HQ, I'll show y'all sometime later."
>They both chatter excitedly about aliens as they poke the bird.
>Slowly press on, now about four miles in
>There's a ding on my telephone, I pull it up
>It's dad, "Hey, shithead, where are you at? Me and your mother are worried."
>Shoot him a quick text and my location. Nothing more needs to be discussed.
>Immediate response, "Aight, cool buddy. Hey, Ulysses is coming to getcha. He was over here askin' about you."
>Thank Christ above, I was broiling out in this heat
>About ten minutes later, Ulysses' jeep can be seen on the horizon
>He's blaring Country Roads.
>Slowly he pulls up to me, "Taaaake me hoooome, country roads!"
>Laugh as I get into the passenger seat, "Alright, what's our new job?"
>Without saying a word, he pops out the CD and replaces it with a new one.
>CCR's Born on The Bayou starts playing
>"Anon, we're going to Lousiana."
>I sit for a minute, "Do you always have to be this dramatic?"
>He turns up the radio, "You fucking know it, queer."

Part 27: Rockin', Rollin', Huntin'

>Ulysses and I drive home to the sweet sound of CCR
>The sun is high in the sky, feels like a good day is coming.
>Ulysses points to something in the floorboard, "Hey, grab my laptop. The info on our client is on there."
>Reach down, pull out a Toshiba laptop, flip it open, the info is already pulled up.
>What kinda joke is this?
>"The Dealer? What sort of dumb fucking name is that?"
>Ulysses shrugs, "He's just some small time meth dealer. I was gonna get us a contract on a guy called The Tax Collector, but it seems it was already claimed."
>"So, it's an orc, as expected. What's the payout on this guy?"
>Ulysses points to the screen, "Check the tag."
>Holy shit, ten thousand dollars
>Ulysses turns down the gravel road to my farm, the minor potholes jostling the jeep ever so slightly
>He scratches his beard, "Yeah, I was thinking we could split it fifty-fifty."
>Shit, any amount seems good. We're still running behind on payments for the farm.
>Ulysses pulls into the yard, we both disembark
>Granddad is out in the yard, weeding his potatos, he waves at me, "Hey stranger! Where you been all mornin'?"
>Shrug, "I got carried off in the night to the old mill."
>Granddad just laughs, "Ah, you gotta love the creatures of the night. Glad you're alright, son!"
>Walk inside the house, dad is passed out on the couch, as per usual.
>Ma is gone, probably off with her friends.
>Head to my room, Ulysses following close behind
>I start packing, he grabs my SKS from under the bed, "Holy shit dude, what happened?"
>"An orc blasted my rifle with his Hi-point. I got this out of it though!" I proudly held up my M92s.
>More beard stroking, "Personally, I would have gotten something a little more slavic, but that's still a nice pistol."
>He rubs the splintered end of the rifle stock, "Damn shame about your rifle though, we can sand it down if need be."
>Open up my drawer, toss my Tec-9, M9, and sawed-off into my luggage.
>Time to rock and roll.

Part 28: The Fellowship of the Bro

>Three hours later I'm sitting in Ulysses' jeep yet again, feeling the wind on my face from the opened window
>Colter Wall is pickin' his guitar on the radio, singing about the Devil.
>We stopped off by Orion's gunstore to stock up on ammunition, magazines, and other tactical goodies.
>He's still playing the strangest music, to be more specific, the Spice Girls.
>Minor PTSD flashback to my SKS getting a hole punched into it from some orc nigger.
>internalscreaming.mp3
>After we stocked up on what we need, we say our goodbyes, he gives me a knowing nod.
>He slides over another M14 Incendiary grenade.
>The pin is thankfully set in completely.
>I take the grenade, give a thankful nod to the dwarf and make my way out the door
>Ulysses leans out of his jeep window, "Hurry the fuck up Anon! We got shit to kill!"
>Wave the grenade at him, "And burn, Ulysses!"
>Ulysses cackled, "Fuck yes dude! Let's napalm him like we did to them on the other side!"
>Hop into the jeep, place the grenade in the glovebox.
>I look over at Ulysses, "Hey, Uly, you were born on the other side, weren't you?"
>He nods, "Yeah, I was. Didn't fucking like it. There were a bunch of pansies in charge of everything. Those pansies being elves. Ever since we tried throwing off their leadership, they put all sorts of restrictions on my kind. Can't make anything to arm ourselves against invaders, mandatory immigration, bullshit like that."
>He looks over to me, a slight smile creeping onto his face, "But here? In America? I feel more alive than I ever did back there. This place? I feel like you humans know your shit here. Besides, I got a great new set of friends that don't just talk about the old glory days."
>He gestured to me with a small backhand on my arm, "And I got my best fuckin' friend when I crossed over."
>BroMoment.jpg
>I adjust the seat back and chuckle, "I fucking remember when we first met. You were in my highschool gym class. We both shared our hatred of burpees."
>Goodtimes.png

Part 29: I Spy A Flying Bitch

>It's now around six o'clock, the cool summer air has set in
>We're driving down I-59, we've already passed Birmingham
>We're the only ones on the road, surprisingly
>I'm trying to keep myself from dozing off, turn my head to look out the window at the soft twilight woods
>I swear I'm seeing shapes moving amongst the trees, whatever the fuck it is, it's fast.
>Turn my attention to the radio, it's mostly static. Reach over and turn it off.
>Ulysses yawns, "Man, this is boring. Wanna play a game?"
>Eh, why not, nothing better to do, "Sure. What game?"
>He thinks for a moment and chuckles, "I Spy?"
>Fuck it, "Sure. I'm down to kick your ass in I Spy."
>He goes first, "Right, I spy with my little eye, something... flying."
>Flying? What could he be-- oh. There's a Gargoyle in the sky, looking for unwary deer, most likely.
>I point to the dark splotch in the sky, "Big flying bitch in the sky."
>He nods, "One point for you."
>Asskickingcommenced.png
>I look around and pick my object.
>This goes on for an hour or so.
>Ulysses ended up winning, the rat bastard.
>All the while, this shape keeps following us.
>Hopefully it's just my eyes playing tricks on me.
>Reach over and plug Ulysses' smartphone into his radio, "I'm playing my songs."
>He attempts to argue, but a quick middle finger silences him.
>Play Warren Zevon's hit song, "Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner."
>I rest my elbow on the Jeep's door, my head in my hand.
>My eyes slowly close to the story of Norway's greatest son.
>Last thing I remember was watching the shape stop for a moment, I could briefly see the features it had.
>A large deer skull, ratty clothes, and a Kalashnikov

Part 30: Skulls and Pixies

>I wake up with the bright morning sun shining in my face.
>Fuck it's bright. Why does the sun have to be bright? Bullshit, I say.
>Look over to Ulysses, he's sleeping with his seat all the way back
>We made a pit-stop along the way apparently. We're on the side of I-59, one hour from New Orleans.
>Open up the door and step out into the brisk morning air.
>Gotta piss like a fucking race horse
>Stumble my way through more shrubs and brush towards the woods. Mother nature be damned.
>Manage to keep myself awake enough to unzip my pants and mark my territory on a nearby tree.
>Finish up my business and zip up my fly.
>Turn around to see a skull right in my face.
>Let out an incredibly unmanly scream at the sight
>Trip and fall on a tree root. This might be the end.
>Wait a second, there's hair behind that skull!
>Altsoba drops the skull off to the side, "Did I getcha?"
>Clutch my heart, that damn skinwalker nearly gave me a heart attack.
>She extends a hand towards me and hauls me up with surprising strength.
>She smacks my arm, "Good to see you Anon! You didn't tell me you were going to Louisiana!"
>Scratch my head, "We met yesterday. You broke my nose."
>Speaking of, it's still a little tender.
>She grimaces, "Sorry! I really just wanted to knock you out-- Okay, that doesn't sound too great."
>Raise my eyebrow, "Ya think?"
>She sighed, "Look, I followed you here to apologize. I don't usually greet people with a rifle stock. Maybe we can start this over?" She held out her hand, "I'm Altsoba."
>I extend my hand, "Hi Altsoba, I'm Anon."
>Forgive and forget, right?

Part 31: Spooky Scary Skinwalker

>She goes in for a handshake, but slips her hand up to my forearm again.
>Is this customary for her?
>Do the same bro-hug, roman handshake
>She still smells of fresh-cooked bacon, this time, the smell of iron is stronger
>Guess she killed something along the way
>notmyproblem.jpg
>She pulls away, still holding onto my arm, "Hey, so, maybe after your job, we can go get a coffee!"
>How the fuck does she know about the job?
>She notices my confusion and gave a nervous chuckle, "I may or may not have hidden under the Jeep."
>The fact that we we're driving when we talked about the job made it all the more crazy
>She may be mildly stalker-ish, but those looks are hard to beat
>I stammer out something somewhat coherent, "Y-y'know what? Sure. We can go find some coffee. Yeah."
>She gives me another clap on the arm, "Fuck yeah dude! I'll go get set up in the French Quarter! If you want, we can go walk in the woods!"
>waitaminute.png
>Give her a thumbs up, not sure what else to do
>She gives two back, turns, and runs back into the forest, a smile on her face
>Imgonnafuckingdietonight.jpg
>Turn and start heading back up the slope to the road
>Ulysses is still comatose in the drivers seat
>Devilish idea comes to my head
>Run back down the slope and grab the skull that Altsoba left
>Run up and around to Ulysses' side
>Hold the skull up to my face and slap the window
>Ulysses blinks a few times before shifting his gaze to the skull
>Dwarvishscreaming.mp3
>He flails around in the car seat, going for his keys
>I drop the skull and tap again, "Gotcha motherfucker!"
>He stops and rests his head on the steering wheel with a low groan
>This is gonna be a good day

Part 32: Cajun Cookin'

>I hop into the passenger seat with a dumb grin
>Ulysses is still groaning on the steering wheel.
>Tap his shoulder, "Come on fag, we got stuff to do."
>Ulysses adjusted his seat and pointed at me, "You started this. I'm gonna getcha back."
>He looks down at the skull, "Where did you even find that?"
>Shrug, "Found it when I went to take a leak. Deer died at the edge of the woods."
>He steps out of the vehicle and picks it up.
>He looks it over before placing it on the hood.
>He walks back to the cabin and grabs some string from the backseat
>Watch as he attaches the skull to the front of his grill
>He tosses the rest of the string into the backseat and gets back in
>"Whaddya think? Looks cool, right?"
>Shrug, "Not my kinda look, but go for it man."
>With that, we pull away from the edge of the road and continue our way to New Orleans.
>Another hour of being bored as shit
>Ulysses and I pass said hour by arguing about women preferences.
>Usual dude stuff.
>He sniffs at the air, "Dude, do you smell bacon?"
>He looked around, we're still a few minutes away from any building.
>He looks at me with a raised eyebrow, "Where the fuck did you get bacon, dude?"
>Shrug, "I dunno man. I just woke up and went to the bathroom. Maybe some fucking wood witch cursed me with the mild scent of bacon?"
>Ulysses shrugged, "Whatever, I'm hungry now. Let's get breakfast."
>fuckyeahbreakfast.png
>We finally arrive at the Louisiana city, the Spanish moss giving us a scenic entrance
>We drive for a little while before arriving at the Cafe Du Monde.
>I can already tell I do NOT have enough money for this
>I point to the expensive cafe, "Do you think I'm rich? We can't eat here!"
>He shakes his head, "What makes you think we're eating here? We're eating across from here."
>He jerks a thumb to a quaint building, brown in color, with the words "New Orleans Home Cafe"
>We hop out of the jeep and walk towards the little restaurant.
>I push open the glass door and walk inside

Part 33: Cajun Cookin'

>Walk inside the cafe
>There's a short, round negro woman at the counter
>There are a few melaninated individuals, almost all of them old as dirt.
>A few drow are there as well, hanging out with the younger negros.
>Not a single white person to be seen aside from me and Ulysses
>Nervouschuckle.jpg
>Woman at the counter waves us over, "Mornin' boys! Come on ova' heeya and getcha orders made!"
>Remember that I'm fucking starving
>I practically haul Ulysses over to the counter.
>She holds up a yellow notepad, "What can I getcha suga'?"
>Hmmm.png
>Point to the "Nawlin's Special"
>Scrambled eggs, hash, hot green beans, alligator bacon and two biscuits.
>fuckyeah.jpg
>Ulysses orders the "Bayou Barbeque" which consisted of spicy gumbo, a biscuit, alligator jerky, and came with an authentic cream soda.
>She smiles at us, "Alright boys, that'll be twenty dollars even!"
>Holy shit, that's cheap as fuck for two people.
>Ulysses is pulling out his wallet, I stop him
>I hold up the 200 I had, thanks to my removal of an orc and an elf.
>"I got this."
>Never have I been the one who paid for food. I was usually too poor. Friends used to take me out to eat because they pitied me.
>Not today
>Put down a twenty, she takes it with a smile.
>She hands us a card with a number, "Your booth is right over there, sugar. We'll get that out in a minute!"
>walk to the booth with Ulysses
>Nervousness fades as hunger sets in
>old as fuck negro behind us is complaining about "Fucking Goblins shitting up his yard"
>After a few minutes, the waitress comes out with our food
>Eat like I haven't seen food in three weeks
>Ulysses has ordered a morning beer
>that was twenty minutes ago, he now has had three
>He's obviously buzzed, "Anon, you gonna finish that biscuit?"
>Go to hand him my biscuit, he misses the grab completely and sinks back into his chair laughing, "Ah fuck, I'm outta it."
>We sit for a minute, just enjoying the food and the atmosphere
>This is nice. A welcome respite from it all.

Part 34: Niggery Noggin'

>As Ulysses and I are chowing down on authentic cajun food the drow and two niggers stand up
>It looks like they're about to leave but suddenly one pulls a gun on the waitress
>niggersgonnanig.webm
>The drow have now hopped up onto the older negro's table
>Ulysses has now snapped out of his buzz and grabbed his beer bottle
>The nigger with the gun is shouting at the cashier to give him the money
>Keeblerniggers are attempting to scare the old men into giving them their watches
>Old farts aren't having it
>One of the men grabs the drow's leg and pulls hard, tripping him up and making him land on a bowl of potato salad
>Other drow has seen this and decided to retaliate by kicking the other older gentleman in the face
>Falls backwards with a hard bang, his nose is bleeding
>Ulysses and I get up from our booth, I've got my pistol and he's got three beer bottles.
>With a yell Ulysses chucks the bottles at the drow, one by one
>Arm, hip, HEADSHOT
>The drow who kicked the old man is now sprawled out on the floor
>Ulysses runs over and drags the old man away to relative safety
>I run around the table and pick up a beer bottle
>Spud Salad drow is now up and trying to lunge at me
>holdstillwhileiglassyou.jpg
>smash the bottle into his face, can feel glass puncture my skin as well as his
>He recoils with a shriek, Old fart gives him a kick to his knee
>Gun nigger is out cold from the money tray, dollars and change everywhere
>looks like he cashed out.
>Ulysses has now come around the other side of the table with me, and gives the drow on the floor a kick.
>The restaurant is now silent, aside from heavy breathing and the groaning of the would-be robbers.
>Thankfully we were half-way done with the food, and our boxes were already there
>Ulysses and I shovel our food into the to-go containers and head for the door
>We walk back to the jeep and get into it, not daring to go back into that cafe
>Well, at least it was a few minutes of respite.

Part 35: FrankenPixie

>Ulysses groans as he fumbles his keys, "Anon, drive."
>He crawls into the backseat and flops down like an inept fish.
>I switch over to the driver seat when I hear a commotion
>Look over to see the waitress beating the everloving SHIT out of the three men who tried robbing the cafe.
>Old farts are outside laughing
>Pull away from the Du Monde, start driving towards the suburbs, well, ghetto.
>Pull up the target's address, it's a decent looking place, big fucking fence
>Record on him shows that he's had numerous noise complaints as well as a complaint about "Rotting meat left outside"
>After waiting for Ulysses to wake up, we pull up outside his house.
>Fence has numerous "Keep Out" and "No Trespassing" signs.
>It smells of burning gas and motor oil. Sounds like there are mini-engines running behind the fence.
>I've got my sawn-off, Ulysses has my TEC-9. I'm the one breaching.
>Place the barrel against the lock and BOOM
>Kick the door in, immediately greeted with the stench of meth, iron, and rotting meat.
>The house is a fucking disaster. Beakers, needles, scalpels and surgery equipment is littered all over everything.
>Have to fight to stop myself from puking.
>There's the sound of stomping upstairs, I point to the door, "Cover the outside! Don't let him get out of here!"
>As Ulysses moves outside, I move inwards to the house. The stench of decay and blood is getting stronger as I get deeper. It smells like it's coming from the kitchen.
>NotevenGodcansaveusnow.png
>There are mechanical contraptions hanging from the ceiling, drill bits, needles, scalples, all focused onto a tiny operating chair.
>There's something in it.
>Get a bit closer, it's a pixie. He's augmented to Hell and back, he's sporting a bionic eye, arm and leg. His beady normal eye is completely bloodshot.
>He's spazzing out in the chair, obviously on meth, or something.

Part 36: Mad Max, Meth Pixies edition

>His eyes snap to meet mine, he calls out in a voice that sounds like garbled static, "Hey, we get some fuckers here for the boss! Get those fucking cars in here now!"
>Grab a nearby scalpel, trying to ignore the fact it's still slippery with... something.
>Stage five autism kicks in, stab him right in the head, "Fuck!"
>As I sit there and watch the poor pixie go limp in his chair, I hear the loud humming of engines behind me.
>A small, yet demanding voice warbles out from a car, "Nail his ass!"
>Whip around to see four RC cars, piloted by Frankenstein's reject fairies.
>Bionic wings, machine arms, metal jaws, these pixies looked like a road map with all the scars they had.
>Three of whom are behind a nail gun.
>Which is pointed at me.
>I'm gonna need serious therapy after this.
>A hail of nailgun fire is thrown my way by the tweaked-out freaks.
>Scramble behind the kitchen island, where the operating setup was on.
>The pixies are taunt and cheer as I catch a nail into my calf
>Another wail from the speaker, "Come on kid, don't you like nine inch nails?!"
>I rack my shotgun, forgot to after the breach.
>This seemed to alarm the pixies, "Fuck, he's packing! Serve it!"
>There's a loud THOOP as a flaming tennis ball flies over the island and lands against the cabinet in front of me.
>It bounces hard into my chest, singing my shirt and nearly catching granddad's coat on fire
>Hell the fuck no
>Take the tennis ball and chuck it back towards the pint-sized psychos.
>There's a loud revving of engines as they back up from the flaming ball.
>I grab the nail in my calf and yank hard, pulling it out completely.
>Now's the time to act.

Part 37: Something's Fishy

>Book it like a nigger to the back yard
>There's a rhythmic thumping of nails hitting drywall as I duck, dodge, and weave through the fire
>Burst out onto the backyard deck, thankfully with no more nails in me.
>Take a quick look around, the backyard seems completely renovated.
>holyfuck.madmax
>Around thirty cars are stationed outside, pixies all around them. Some are doing maintenance, some are reloading their jury-rigged weapons, all look like a cross between a cyborg and roadkill.
>Most, if not all, spot me almost immediately.
>Fuck, gotta think fast, gotta think real fucking fast.
>Escape is always an option! And this deck has a roof leading up to the second floor!
>Haul ass to the deck's railing, it's rotten and crumbly, but it's gonna have to work
>Hop up onto the deck and grab onto the roof
>Rail crumbles under me as the sound of approaching engines becomes louder
>FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK.FUCK
>I can hear the soft whirring of mounted guns being raised
>I manage to pull myself up onto the roof as the first volley of nails, glass slugs, tennis balls, and sharpened washers impale the upper part of the deck
>Press myself as low as I can against the roof
>I can hear the shouting of hundreds of cracked out pixies from below. Thank God they don't have handheld firearms
>Crawl near the window, gonna have to breach this as well.
>Take shotgun and give the window a jab, it shatters easily.
>Wiggle my way inside, shotgun at the ready
>Flop into a carpeted bedroom which looked straight out of the 70s.
>There's a dwarf on the bed, fiddling with a Bubba'd SKS. He's trying to get the magazine in
>He looks exactly like the pixies outside, augmented to shit and scarred all over.
>He leaps from his bed at me, trying to hit me with a baseball bat swing with the SKS
>He clips the shit out of my already broken nose
>cronch.jpg
>Can't see shit, my eyes are watering too bad
>Blind fire twice in his general direction, hear him grunt and fall over
>Dwarf has expired.

Part 38: Dwarvos

>Fucking nose is broken again
>Fucking robo-dwarves
>Hands are shaky, eyes are blurry, I'm also mildly hungry
>Fuck this job, honestly
>Get up off the floor, give the dwarf a hard kick in the side for good measure.
>Rack shotgun, not sure if I have a shell loaded or not.
>Can hear the sounds of angry pixies outside the window
>Try to blink the tears out of my eyes, still can't see shit.
>Push open the door into the main hallway.
>Can hear the sound of pixies to the left, weird thumping to my right.
>Don't feel like getting lit up by a bunch of meth-powered pixies, so I stumble my way to the right
>Kick open the door, shotgun at the ready
>OHFUCKINGWHY.jpg
>Assaulted by intense industrial techno from inside the room
>There's an elf in a surgical mask leaning over a tiny surgery bed, his instruments buried inside a fairy.
>He looks up, his uncovered face is scarred with modifications, as is his body.
>fleshisweak.png
>As I raise my shotgun, a nail sails into the doorframe, sticking right next to my head.
>Duck behind the door as a volley of high-velocity nails slam into the wall where I just was.
>"Come on out you cunt-faced two-cent dollar general whore!" a small voice cries.
>Fucking pixies.
>I reach for my AN-M14, about to throw it when I remember the fairy on the table.
>Fuck, moral choices, I was never good with those.
>As I ponder the morality of torching an innocent fairy, I can hear angry Dwarf noises and engines revving from downstairs.
>Ulysses' dwarven accent comes out in full as he curses at the offending pixies, "Come on out ye fokkin mongrels! I'll fucking grind your little bodies into this fekkin carpet!"
>Gotta think quick, the elf is going for the window.
>"Hey you fucking Keebler twink, why don't you fight me man-to-man!"
>Silence seeps out from the room.
>"Think you can handle it?"

Part 39: Forest Casualty

>Fuck this faggot keebler. He doesn't deserve honorable combat.
>What he deserves is a slug to the skull.
>Whip around into the doorframe again, aim shotgun and fire.
>Slug rips through his throat, decapitating him upon impact.
>Curtains are splattered with oil and blood.
>Feel a triplet of nails impale themselves up my arm.
>Fucking forgot about the fairy with the nail gun.
>Arm is numb and burning, she must have broken the bones.
>This makes me incredibly furious, chuck my shotgun at the fairy.
>THWAP.jpg
>Smear the pixie like a bug on a windshield.
>Getfucked.jpg
>Walk over and grab my shotgun, wipe the pixie off of the side and set it against the main operating table.
>Wait, fuck, the pixie in the middle is still alive.
>Slowly walk over to the pixie on the operating table. I can see the rise and fall of its lungs through its open chest.
>It was a male, right in the process of getting an "upgrade" to his arm as well as his chest.
>I could see his lungs quicken their pace when I leaned over, "Hey, hey, it's alright. You're safe, man."
>He ignores the comfort, "It hurts. It hurts to breathe. Am I going to die? I don't want to die."
>Fucking elf did this shit with the fairies conscious.
>Oughta burn his body after this whole ordeal.
>Don't know what to say to the fairy
>Take his intact arm in my hand, "Hey, buddy, it's going to be alright. Just listen to my voice, okay? You're gonna be fine. You just... gotta relax, man."
>His tiny fairy hand squeezes my finger, "Please don't let me die."
>There's a soft beeping from the life-support machines that were hooked up to the small fairy.
>I hold my hand up, "I'll be right back, I swear."
>Start going through the room, trying my hardest to find what I need.
>Bingo.
>Grab a syringe bottle and a syringe.
>Walk back over to the fairy, "Hey buddy. I'm just going to give you a little something to ease the pain, alright?"
>The fairy gives me a slight nod and I begin the procedure.
>I'm sorry little buddy.

Part 40: A Slave Obeys

>Using my broken arm to steady the bottle, I begin to draw the desired amount
>"So what's your name, friend? My name is Anon."
>The little fairy looks up, "Wevvin."
>Thankfully there was an IV hooked up to the fairy, which meant I didn't have to stick him with a human-sized needle.
>Take the needle off the syringe and plug it into the IV, "Alright Wevvin, you're gonna feel real tired and really good at the same time."
>Take his small arm in my hand once more, using my unbroken one to push down the plunger.
>"I'm gonna be with you the entire step of the way, alright Wevvin?"
>The fairy nods, "Alright. Thank you..."
>Slowly push the plunger.
>The fairy's breathing is slowing down as I keep pushing.
>His face went from contorted in pain to a peaceful slumber.
>He's gone to a better place than this fuckfest.
>Take out the syringe, and knock the morphine bottle off the counter.
>Take pilot cap off, hold it to my chest for a minute.
>The shrieks of other fairies down below rudely interrupt the moment of silence.
>Grab the shelf with my left arm and tug it off to the side.
>Grab my shotgun and look back at the fairy, "Rest easy, Wevvin."
>Press my right arm firmly against my stomach for support as I descend down the stairs.
>Smells like charred pixie and hairspray down here.
>There's an empty can of hairspray and puddles of fairy spread around the downstairs.
>There's also a lot of fire.
>There's also Ulysses, who is chasing down an RC car with a golf club
>"C'MERE YA FEKKIN FAIRY FUCK, I'M GONNA REENACT BIOSHOCK WITH YE."
>FUCK I FORGOT TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THE ELF
>Start making my way back upstairs
>Run into the room, snap a quick pic on my phone, run back downstairs
>Ulysses is now shaking the RC car, spilling its passengers over the rug
>"FORE!" THWAP.
>He may be getting a little too into this

Part 41: Ice Ice Skinny

>The soft crackling of fire can be heard from downstairs
>That, and the heavy breathing of a very exhausted dwarf.
>I'm stood on the stairs, looking at the mass carnage a very angry dwarf created.
>I move past him and head out into the front lawn.
>There are a few young drow kids standing out front, gawking at the sight of a burning house and a wounded man.
>Wave them off, "Shoo, get back home. This ain't for younging's like yourselves."
>They eventually skateboard off, doing what young kids do
>Ulysses comes out of the house with a finger and an ocular implant.
>Fucks sake.
>I open the door to the jeep and hop inside.
>Fuck my arm hurts.
>Ulysses opens up the door and gets in, starting the car.
>He winces at my arm, "Hey, keep those nails in. I know someone who can help."
>Of course he does, he has connections everywhere apparently.
>As we drive off, the house slowly becomes engulfed in flame. Sirens blare as we weave our way through the streets.
>As we drive, I turn on the radio to take my mind off my arm.
>"A local Floridian man is now on the run after beating a man to death with an iron brick, eyewitness reports that he is also nude and covered in cocaine."
>Averagedayinflorida.jpg
>As we hit the main road, we're greeted with an explosion from behind us.
>Meth house exploded.
>Neat.
>Slowly drive towards the French Quarter, just wanna get into our hotel room.
>Ulysses parks next to the Hotel St. Marie
>As I step out of the vehicle, a familiar voice calls out from above, "Hey, Anon!"
>Wut.jpg
>Look up just to feel a piece of ice slap my forhead, "Hey, dipshit, come on up!"
>Ulysses is off making a call somewhere, and I'm all alone with Altsoba, who just threw another ice cube at me
>"Faggot."
>Whyareyoulikethis.png

Part 42: Date-raped by a skinwalker

>I'm still bleeding from my injury
>Hold arm to my stomach as I enter the hotel
>"Good afternoon sir are you her-- Whoa, are you alright?"
>Give the lady at the counter a thumbs up
>I ascend the flight of stairs, trying to not bleed on anything too much
>As I make my way up flights of stairs I'm met halfway by Altsoba
>She's dressed in her usual flannel and jeans
>She spreads her arms out wide, "Anon!"
>Give her a small wave
>She points to my arm, "Fuck happened, dude? You piss off the wrong carpenter?"
>Shrug, "Something like that. You wouldn't have any sort of medical knowledge, would you? I'd like these nails out."
>She proudly nods, "Yep! I once had to set my own leg back in place!"
>Yeesh, sounds gruesome, but at least she's experienced?
>She leads me back to her hotel room, there are already two more skulls on the desk.
>Looks like she's been out roaming the woods.
>She points to the bed, "Sit down, I'll get my tools."
>Tools?
>I sit down on the bed and kick off my shoes.
>As I'm starting to get comfortable, Altsoba comes out of the bathroom wielding pliers, a bottle of vodka, two wooden slats and duct tape.
>deargodno.png
>"Now lie down."
>No please
>Without warning a vodka bottle is stuffed into my mouth
>Altsoba holds my nose as she forces the vodka down.
>Am I being date-raped?
>Am I going to wake up in a tub full of ice with no kidney?
>Welp, blacking out.
>Gonna find out in the morning.

Part 43: "Welcome to /K/"

>Wake up in a dark hallway.
>It seems familiar for some odd reason.
>Stand up, still can't see shit.
>Wait, wasn't I here in my last dream?
>Feel my way along the walls, slowly going towards... something.
>Nearly trip on a pile of swords, all very worn and well-loved.
>Every one of them has a splash of faded brown.
>Lovely.
>Press on, trying not to stub my toe on the scattered weaponry
>Fuck its creepy here.
>Slowly approach the main area, trying to be as quiet as I can
>Looks like there are some people in there now
>Fuck are these people hostile?
>Slowly crouch behind a brazier made of rusted spear heads
>Thankfully it isn't lit
>It looks as if they're praying near the big cube.
>Feel something tug at my chest, trying to bring me closer.
>Slowly, I feel myself rise, much to my own resistance.
>My bare feet feel cold stone as I approach the ominous structure.
>The people in there don't seem to care about me being there
>As I step forward there's a warmth surrounding me
>The cube is opening up
>The weapons making up the outside begin to peel away
>As they do, older and older weapons begin to come forth
>Right in the middle is a rock, splattered with ancient blood.
>My hand reaches for it and I'm filled with a burning passion
>A passion, for the /K/ube
>I let go and step away from the holy /k/ube.
>As my legs carry me back down the hallway, there's a rush of wind
>I feel the cold stone of the floor upon my face
>There's a heavy thud as the rock lands next to me.
>The last thing I hear before waking up is, "Now git out"

Part 44: Is this rape?

>Wake up groggy as fuck
>Where am I?
>Oh yeah, I'm in the hotel.
>Look down at arm, it's covered in bandages and a splint.
>Huh, looks like Altsoba fixed it pretty well.
>Take a quick look around the room, Ulysses is passed out on the chair, in a very odd position
>He's got his leg draped over the top of the chair and is hanging off the arm
>What a strange man
>Go to check phone, which was sitting on the table next to me
>Dead, as per usual.
>I sit up, trying to see where Altsoba ran off to.
>Feel a strong hand pull me back down into the bed.
>Altsoba is next to me, sound asleep
>Oh fuck was I date-raped?
>My pants are still on, so that's a good thing.
>Lie back silently as Altsoba wraps her arm around my chest.
>Damn, I'm really hungry though
>Gently lift her arm off my chest and set it down on the bed.
>Slip out of the bed, attempt to get dressed with my broken arm
>With some struggling and pain, I eventually made it
>Shirt: on, Pants: on, Shoes: on, Arm: broken
>Walk into the bathroom and grab a rag
>Thankfully, this hotel provides toothpaste
>Get a glob of teethpaste onto rag and begin brushing my teeth
>Forgot to pack my damn toothbrush
>Oh well, I don't think I'm gonna be coming back to Louisiana anytime soon
>As I shut the water off, I hear Ulysses' voice
>"Anon? Hmph, fuckin'... Good morning to ya. Why didn't you tell me about your lady friend?"
>Oh Jesus this is gonna be a long story.
>/K/ube help me.

Part 45: Teethpaste and Dates

>I spit out the glob of teethpaste into the sink as Ulysses rises from his position
>By flopping onto the floor and getting up
>Lazy bastard
>Walk out of the bathroom, Altsoba has woken up too
>She yawns and twists her back in a stretch
>She goes so far that she almost is able to face forward again
>There's a ungodly CRUNCH as her spine pops
>She sighs contently and twists back to normal
>Fear.png
>She smiles up at me, "Mornin' Anon!"
>Give her a small wave and sit down on the bed.
>Ulysses chuckles, "You were fucking out when I got here."
>Was I? Shit.
>Ulysses points to Altsoba, "Yeah, apparently your friend here brews her own booze. I had a sip of that stuff and nearly keeled over."
>Thank the Lord, I'm not just a lightweight.
>Altsoba puts her hand on my shoulder, "Yeah, sorry for drugging you! I didn't want you to scream when I had to yank those nails out of you."
>Ulysses pulled out his phone and scrolled through a few pictures, "Yup. You still did though."
>He turns his phone around and shows a picture of me screaming as Altsoba was holding my arm down.
>Fucks sake, he's gonna hold that over me for as long as I live.
>He puts his phone away, "Thankfully, after explaining to the cops that we weren't killing you, we did get that splint."
>Ulysses stands up, "Anyway, I'm going out to run some errands. I'll be back later."
>Altsoba gives me a small slap to my side, "Hey, didn't you promise me a coffee date?"
>Oh shit, I did, didn't I?
>This whole Louisiana trip might not end so badly after all!
>Hopefully.

Part 46: Karaoke and alligator

>Manage to get fully ready for the day with the help of the homies
>Jacket? On. Pants? Clean. Blood? Gone. Spaghetti? Safely in pocket.
>Make my way out of the door, followed by Altsoba and Ulysses.
>We make our way down to street level.
>Smells of bums, debauchery, and stale beer.
>We all pile into Ulysses' jeep, with me in the backseat.
>Gotta let the lady have the front seat
>Ulysses pulls out a pocket map of lousiana, "Alright fuckers, where do we wanna get some grub? I'm fucking starving."
>Altsoba pulls the map closer to her, "Hmm, all these places look really good. Do we wanna go for a place with a band?"
>She suddenly gasps, "Oh, this one has a live band AND Karaoke!"
>oh no
>She turns to me, her blue eyes locking with mine, "Anon, we should totally do a duet!"
>Ulysses laughed, "Hell fucking yeah! Karaoke it is!"
>Wait a minute, do I not get a say in this?
>As I'm about to speak, Altsoba gives me a slap on the arm, "Oh shit, it also has alligator sandwiches!"
>fuck yes, I am about to go fucking ham on some alligator
>We pull away from the hotel and turn onto the main road,
>Ulysses holds up a finger, "We all armed?"
>Ulysses produces his father's Model 10
>I tap my M92 in my jacket
>Altsoba shrugs, "I'll just claw them? I don't exactly have a pistol. I don't think they'd want me bringing my AK in."
>Fair enough
>We slowly make our way through the traffic,
>Fucking people don't know how to drive down here
>nearly had a head on collision from a gaggle of gobbos in a minivan
>Shoot them the finger as they pass us
>The entire gaggle of angry snotlings shoot us one back, end up slamming into a telephone pole
>Kek heartily as we drive on
>Eventually after awkward driving conversation, we make it to the place
>Pull into the parking lot, find a spot near the side
>Nice.jpg
>We step out
>Adjust my pants to let the lads breathe a bit better
>Take a quick look around the establishment, seems packed to the brim
>Patrons lined up outside even.
>mfw

Part 47: Knife Ears

>The line is filled with tieflings, elves, drow
>A buncha fuckin' knife ears.
>Ulysses is displeased.
>Anon is displeased.
>Altsoba is distracted by a lightning bug.
>Get in line near the back, more people filing along behind us.
>Altsoba is in the front, I'm in the back, and Ulysses is sandwiched between us
>As we slowly shuffle our way into the venue, I feel a hand tap me on the shoulder
>Turn my head, there's an elf behind me
>He holds up my wallet, "This yours?"
>I go to reach for it, "Yeah, it is, did I drop it?"
>He pulls it from my reach, "It's mine now, faggot!"
>He takes off running into the line
>OHFUCKNO
>Take off after the knife-eared faggot
>Can hear Altsoba and Ulysses calling after me
>Barrel past a bored-looking tiefling, nearly make him drop his phone
>Apologize as I run
>That elf fucker is fast
>As I feel my body groaning in pain, a streak of red shoots past me.
>Watdafug
>Watch as a tiefling Usain Bolt sprints at the elf
>Red motherfucker launches himself in a flying dropkick at the elf
>Catches him right in the back, knocks his ass to the ground
>Getfucked.png
>Catch up with them, tiefling has his knee on the elf's back
>Thank god for this tiefling homie
>He rips the wallet out of the elf's hand, "Here you go, mate."
>Take it back, slip that fucker into the inside of my jacket
>He looks up to me, blazing yellow eyes glaring into my soul
>Freaky
>"Y'wanna kick the shit out of him with me?"
>How could I say no?
>Proceed to kick the shit out of the elf before walking back towards the line.
>Shake his hand, "Nice to meet you, I'm Anon."
>"Kyxus."
>Neatus

Part 48: Booze it and lose it

>Me and Kyxus make our way to the line again
>Altsoba and Ulysses are now near the front of the line
>Wave goodbye to the tiefling and rejoin my friends
>Neat dude, hope to run into him again some day.
>Ulysses gives me slap on the shoulder, "Fuck did you go?"
>"Had to run and kick the shit out of a knife-ear. Don't worry about it."
>Ulysses chuckled heartily, "When will they learn? Ah, good lad."
>He claps me on the back as we pass into the building.
>It's decorated with low-lit lamps
>Old timey cajun music is playing from a live band
>After around another thirty minutes of waiting, a waitress finally brings us to a table.
>About damn time.
>As we sit down, I do a quick scan of the room.
>Eh, nothing looks too out of the ordinary
>Elves looking snobbish
>Drow looking snobbishly at the elves
>Tieflings laughing in infernal.
>Sounds like deep arabic mixed with hissing.
>Weird fuckin' language for a weird fuckin race.
>There's some guy in WWII British officer's kit at the bar
>Can't help but overhear something about, "That was hardcore, Henry."
>Waitress brings out our menus.
>anonhungersforborgar.png
>Open menu, locate burger section
>Pretty good selection of burger, decide to go with The Outlaw.
>Double patty, swiss cheese, garden grown onion, lettuce, tomato, the good shit
>Order Outlaw, Altsoba ordered a steak and Ulysses ordered a round for the table
>Nice.jpg
>The waitress nods, "Sure! Can I see your ID?"
>Damn it.

Part 49: Glowing Eyes of the Dark

>With the promise of a large tip, we get our round of drinks.
>As the night goes on, the drinks keep coming.
>Ulysses is about seven in
>Altsoba is fucking quaffing them in a few gulps
>She's about fifteen in and is barely fazed
>I've had six, and I'm ready to fucking party
>Altsoba escorts me to the dance floor
>It's gone a bit darker, and the light has shifted to a much darker and more red tone.
>Altsoba is a wonderful dancer. Her movements are as graceful as she is beautiful
>There's some weird trance song playing
>Through the thick smoke of weed, the heat of the crowd and my own stupor, I feel my hand slip from hers.
>Fuck, I gotta find her again.
>As I stumble my way through the crowd, I find a hand
>It's a lot paler than hers.
>Look up, it's a gorgeous woman, red lipstick and pointed ears.
>Was she an elf? Her ears didn't look like an Elf's.
>She gives me a killer smile, "Well hello, what do we have here?"
>Attempt to say sorry and move away, but her grip is iron around my hand
>She puts a finger on my chest, "Why the rush? You're pretty cute. Say, why don't we dance?"
>Dancing? Sounds... fun. Yeah, I'll dance.
>Her eyes are oddly hypnotic. Like they're drawing me in.
>When we pass through darker areas, her eyes are there, leading me in the dance
>I could swear they almost glow a fiery orange.
>I really need to get to Altsoba. I can't just leave her.
>Thank the woman for the dance and take my hand out of hers.
>She steps in front of me, "What's the rush darling? Why not one last dance?"
>Again, with those eyes. I could gaze into them for ages.
>And thus, we start the dance again.
>We twirl and whirl through the crowd, until we find ourselves next to the edge
>I'm pressed against a maintenance door, her breathing is cold on my neck
>Wait a minute, cold?
>Before I could say anything, the door opens and I'm thrusted inside.
>There's only a barren room, dimly lit
>Feel the floor fall from below me
>Last thing I see before descending into darkness are glowing eyes.

Part 50: Tactical puking

>Land with a splash into some sort of big fucking tub
>whatevers in it taste irony.
>Fuck, is this blood?
>This has to be blood.
>Probably have Aids to the third power
>Haul myself out of the BFT with considerable effort.
>Land with a thud on something squishy and meaty
>Eyes finally adjust to the light, I'm lying on the corpse of an Orc
>His ribcage is open, which I'm currently lying in
>Haul myself up, still drunk
>Peer into the dark, trying to catch any sort of movement in this bloodbath
>Instead of the void staring back, six pairs of glowing orange eyes do
>Fuck, I'm either dealing with vampires, or zombies.
>Either way, I'm fucking defenseless.
>Can't find my pistol, doubt it would function either.
>two of the ghouls begin walking towards me.
>Fuck, now or never, I gotta do fucking something.
>Drunk brain has run out of ideas.
>All except for the dumbest, most mind-numbingly retarded option
>Let out a blood-curdling scream as I grab the orc by the ribs
>Break off one of the sharper looking ribs and rush the nearest pair of eyes
>Throwing left hooks in the dark, eventually feel contact
>Impale the vampire right in the fucking eye
>Give him a few more left hooks for good measure
>Feel the second vampire pounce on my back
>Slam myself backwards, can hear his spine crunch
>Snapcracklepop.jpg
>Quickly get up as the others are approaching
>Decide to chuck it in the fuck it bucket and run
>Slip and slide my way through the muck and gore along the wall
>Hand touches a large protrusion, flip that bitch on
>A blinding white light illuminates the room
>That's a lotta fuckin' blood
>tactically puke into a nearby pile of corpses

Part 51: Nosfer-gofuckyourself

>The vampires are grotesque, corpse-like, and bald.
>And now blind thanks to the artificial sun.
>Fuck it, this requires a lot more brainpower than I currently have
>Run towards some steps that lead out of the room
>Nearly trip on a harpy's wing, but I make it to the base of the stairs
>I can feel myself coagulating with each step I take
>Take a glance behind me, the nosferatu motherfuckers havent caught up
>The sound of a door closing ahead of me catches my attention
>Look up to see three vampires, similar to the ones down in the blood room
>The female has a mcdonalds bag in her claws, the other two have buckets of... hearts?
>Do I talk it out or do I plow through them?
>They look dumbfounded, I could easily knock them down
>My drunken brain takes over, "Hey y'all, I fixed your drop-chute. Unfortunately, I tripped into the vat."
>Quickly march my way past them as they stare
>Slam the door behind me and take a look around
>I'm in some sort of food storage
>It's cold as fuck and I'm becoming gooey
>Waddle my way towards a nearby door
>Can hear the door behind me open
>Gottablast.jpg
>Burst through the door, I'm now behind the bar area
>Bartender goes for a red button underneath the counter
>Not on my watch faggot
>Grab him by the collar and bop him twice in the face
>The bar attendees are all bewildered, including the British one
>Rush back to my table, Ulysses is wide-eyed and Altsoba is WTF-ing hard
>Explain what the fuck just happened
>Altsoba seems relieved, "Oh thank God, I thought you just ditched me."
>Ulysses draws his pistol, "Alright. Alty, get these people outta here."
>Uly, with his stubby dwarf legs, hops up onto the table and fires off a round into the ceiling
>"GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE YOU KNIFE-EARED KEKS!"
>Just as he said that, the trio of vampires busted out of the food storage
>Time for a bit of the ol' ultra violence.

Part 52: Meaty Splat

>How did it come to this?
>Just a few days ago I was at home, doing chores and being poor.
>Now I'm pinned behind a table by vampires with gats.
>I'm tired, my feet hurt, I'm gooey with semi-dried blood
>I think a vampire just threw a molotov at us
>...
>This is pretty fuckin' rad, not gonna lie
>pry my pistol out of my blood-soaked clothing
>It's gummed up, slimy, and barely chambered a round
>Could swear I heard Mussolini laughing at me as I fumble my pistol
>Damn you Italians
>Goddamn Pastaboys did it again
>Apparently, the vampire did throw a molotov at us
>the molotov sails over our heads and lands with a crash
>That's a lot of fire
>Altsoba is nowhere to be seen
>Ulysses is blind firing over the table
>In a fit of stupidity and drunk, I stand up, pistol in hand
>chuck that fucker at one of the vampires
>Meatywhack.chuckle
>One of the vampires turns and grimaces, then laughs
>"Holy fucking shit dude, you got beaned."
>Take the chance to dive to another table
>There's another guy here
>He slaps my chest, "Here, take this, fucktard!"
>He puts a 1911 in my hand
>He stands up and levels a Thompson at the vampires
>They scatter as he unloads a full drum into their general direction
>Stand up and blast a full magazine into a vampire on the ceiling
>He drops down in front of the table Ulysses was behind
>Uly pops out and blasts him with a Shockwave
>Meatysplat.doublechuckle

Part 53: Van Owen?

>The sheer volume of fire is drowning out the screams of the vampires.
>The flames from the molotov slowly began to spread across the ground
>Ulysses nearly singed his beard
>Fuck, I can't leave my pistol!
>Get down onto my stomach and crawl across the floor to my pistol
>It's near the bar, so I'll have to be quick
>Just as I reach the bar, the same woman who pushed me in the closet comes crawling out from behind
>She reaches for my pistol
>youhavefuckedupnow.png
>Grab her hand and the pistol
>Pistol whip the vampiric seducer
>Crawl away victorious
>Manage to shimmy over back to the new guy and Ulysses
>They're both near the door, spraying the entire room with gunfire
>The fire fire has now made its way to the upper floors.
>Haul myself to my feet and burst through the door
>Can hear the vampires screaming from inside
>WAIT WHERE'S THE SKINWALKER
>As if on cue, there's a loud laugh from the curb
>Altsoba is sharing a vodka bottle with a female vampire
>They're laughing like they're old reunited friends
>No time to question it, there are bigger problems at hand.
>Turn to the strange and extend my hand, "Hey, thanks for helping out. What's your name?"
>With a smile, he shakes my hand, "The name's Van Owen! And you're welcome!"

Part 54: White Russian

>Van Owen seems like a cool dude.
>Ulysses is watching the burning fire smugly
>Ask him what his deal is
>"That's what they get for charging six dollars for a beer."
>There's a tap on my shoulder
>turn around to see Altsoba behind me, with the vampire.
>She gestures to the bloodsucker, "Anon, this is my old friend Valentine."
>"I was the one you pushed past on the stairs. Good to meet you."
>She extends her hand
>Go for a handshake, she goes for a hug and squeezes me
>pain.exe
>Fucking vampire strength
>The hug ends, thankfully
>Altsoba jerks a thumb back, "Valentine and I are heading back to the room. Meet ya there!"
>They sprint off into the night, whooping and hollering like hooligans
>Ulysses finishes gazing into the flames and begins walking to the car
>Its just me and Van Owen staring at the flames.
>This would make a cool movie poster.
>He turns to me, "Hey, quick question. Ever heard of a guy named Roland?"
>"Roland? Can't say I have."
>He frowns, "I'm looking for that rat bastard. He killed my father, you know."
>VO coughs, "I'm uh, Van Owen Jr."
>He looked over to me, "How old are you, man? You can't be like, older than twenty."
>I tell him that I'm actually nineteen
>Van Owen reaches into his pocket and hands me a card
>"If you need more jobs in the future, this is the dude to talk to."
>glance down at the card
>"'The White Russian', Your premium contact for all things that need killing!"
>Huh, neat.
>Share a parting handshake with Van Owen
>Walk over to the Jeep and hop in
>Ulysses is blaring some Outrun
>I just want to go to fucking bed

Part 55: Lackie Lan

>After a grueling drive we arrive back at the hotel.
>accidentally leave bloody footprints, much to the dismay of the staff
>Ulysses and I head up to our room
>We open up the door to find a freshly cleaned room
>Good shit
>I get the first shower, obviously.
>As I stand in the shower, I try not to let the blood drip into my eyes or my mouth
>I don't need hepatitis C on top of my broken bones
>Weirdly enough, the bathroom has a window
>Weirder still, I thought I heard giggling from outside it
>Couldn't be assed to do anything about it. I'm too tired.
>Dry off with an extremely comfy towel
>Step into the room, Ulysses is downstairs getting snacks
>Dress into something less bloody
>Worn jeans and a faded t-shirt, the nicest clothes I own
>Redress my arm in new bandages
>Looking and feeling fresh
>As I'm about to lie down on the bed, Ulysses bursts through the door
>"Faggot, I got slim jims and a copy of some cheesy action movie."
>FUCK YEAH SLIM JIMS
>We both pull up chairs to the desk in the room
>Ulysses sets up the movie on his laptop, making it play in full HD
>Well, 80's quality HD
>We inhale the slimjims and finish off a bottle of Crown Royale Uly stole from the restaurant
>Just as the movie was starting to get rolling, there was a knock at the door
>Walk over, open door, it's Altsoba and Valentine
>Val holds up Dew and popcorn, "Can we come watch?"
>Fuck yeah, movie night!
>Altsoba pulls a chair up next to me, Valentine next to Ulysses
>We turn off the lights and start the movie over
>I felt a hand brush up against mine
>Altsoba had her hand resting just below mine on my chair
>Now or never Anon...
>Reach down, and like a true alpha, hold her hand
>We both sit in comfortable silence as we watch the movie
>Accidentally stay up the whole night watching Lackie Lan karate his way through Chynatown

Part 56: Panic

>After the all-night movie session, the girls leave
>Ulysses passed out in his chair, doing a fantastic impression of a chainsaw
>Manage to flop onto the bed and pass the fuck out
>Wake up nearly instantly
>I'm back in the restaurant, covered in blood, unarmed
>I'm sitting at a table, Ulysses is to my right, his throat slit
>Altsoba is to my left, well, whats left of her.
>She's slumped over, burned to a crisp
>I reach up to touch my neck
>My throat has been torn so bad its essentially ground beef
>All the blood on me is my own
>Sitting across from me is Valentine, casually drinking wine
>She sets the wine glass down, "You're not out of the clear, Anon."
>Val leans in, "There's someone out to get you. Get up. Go to the window."
>I attempt to stand, but it's like I'm moving through syrup
>As soon as I rise to my feet, I'm thrown back against the chair
>My head cracks against the tiled floor, breaking through to an inky black void
>I'm thrown back into consciousness
>I'm safe in the bed, nice and cozy...
>OH WAIT FUCK THE WINDOW
>Leap up out of the bed, grabbing the nearest weapon, which happens to be a liquor bottle
>Throw open the curtains
>There's nothing
>What the fuck kind of dream was that?
>Set the bottle back down on the desk
>Fucking vampiric bitch interfering with my sleep...
>...
>Wait a minute
>What's that noise?
>Turn to see several vampires outside the window
>"ULYS--"
>CRASH
>panickedscreaming.help

Part 57: Teeth, meet concrete

>Vampires flood the room and before I know it, I'm knocked flat on my ass
>A vampire with a baton hops onto my chest, pinning me to the ground
>"WE CALL THIS A DIFFICULTY TWEAK!"
>THWAP
>My vision goes dark, but I can still feel immense pressure on my chest
>It feels like my skull is trying to cave in
>The pressure suddenly lifts, and I can feel myself become weightless
>Up until my teeth become intimately acquainted with the pavement
>That was the last thing I could remember
>I've been swimming around in my own head for a while.
>Thoughts of guns, my friends, that one really good KFC place in Georgia
>Those thoughts come and go, but mostly I wanna wake up
>It's been a while.
>I often wonder when I actually will
>weird enough, I can still hear everything around me
>I could hear my parents screaming at Ulysses, blaming him for me becoming a "Fucking vegetable"
>This is getting pretty fucking boring
>With immense effort and strain, I peel my eyes open
>FUCK EVERYTHING IS BRIGHT
>Raise my hand and block the offending brightness
>"HOLY SHIT HE'S AWAKE!"

Part 58: A fucking lizard

>It's been about three weeks since the incident
>I've had about four operations on my teeth
>Most of the right side of my jaw is replaced with metal and porcelain
>confined to a fucking wheelchair for about two weeks, thanks to the way I fell
>fuck vampires
>And fuck Louisiana
>Ulysses hasn't been visiting, neither has Altsoba
>It's getting pretty fucking boring just sitting around the house
>Even granddad is too busy to talk with me
>Mostly hang out on the couch or steal little keebie oatmeal cream pies
>fuck those things are good
>now spending most of the time out on the porch of the trailer, watching the cows do cow stuff
>and eating an unhealthy amount of oatmeal
>i've also learned that cow stuff is fucking boring
>That is, up until I spot movement among the herd
>something red dashes from cow to cow, whom seem to give not a single fuck
>The red spot makes a break for the chicken coup
>It's a goddamn kobold
>Wheel myself as fast as I can off the porch
>fall off wheelchair as soon as I hit the stairs
>god fucking damn it
>why must i be crippled at a time like this
>grab a couple nearby rocks to throw at the little fucker
>go to stand up, put as much weight on my good leg as I can
>Agony.pain
>Manage to steady myself and hobble over to the barbed-wire fence
>Raise a rock over my head
>"Hey you scaly bitch!"
>The kobold looks up, surprised to be caught red handed
>the rock sails through the air in a beautiful arc
>right into the kobold's face
>Bullseye

Part 59: Hi-Point

>Slowly walk up to the K.O.bold
>Pick up another rock, smaller, but still enough weight to get my point across
>throw it at the bold
>Rock hits his snout, he remains still
>Damn, I must be a really good throw
>Hobble over to the kobold to get a better look at him
>red scales, covered with trinkets, and has a weird japanese straw hat
>what a weird dude
>Nudge him with boot
>The kobold springs into the air
>latches onto my pants legs and scrambles up my front
>"NYEEHAYOOOOOOOOO"
>Grips onto my hoodie, swinging wildly and speaking instant noodles
>"YOU FUCKA WITH HI-POINT, HI-POINT FUCKA WITH YOU LOUND EYE"
>WHAT IN THE GODDAMN
>The kobold rips a Hi-Point from his side
>Oh fuck, this is how it ends
>He raises it above his head and begins hitting me with it
>what
>"FUCKA YOU, FUCKA YOU, FUCKA YOU"
>Grip his sides and push him with the force of mexican zangief
>but with a broken arm.
>Hey, at least he's off me now

Part 60: Hi-Point 2, Electric Boogaloo

>Hi-Point does a flying backflip off of me
>He stands in some sort of flying ninja dragon ching chong pose
>"You dale put you hands on the son of da Empelor!?"
>"You're trying to steal my chickens!"
>speaking of
>glance over to the chickens
>chicken status: a-okay
>Look back to the ko-- oh fuck where'd he go
>"HA HA, FUCKA YOU AMELICAN PIG!"
>Hi-Point is standing about 40 feet away with another blue kobold
>The blue one is wearing some sort of Mongolian garb
>did I stumble upon some sort of weeb cult
>"We demand you sullendo ONE chicken, ol we bling foce of many samurai!"
>The blue one elbows him in the side
>"And Mongol!"
>"If I give you the chicken will you fuck off for good?"
>Both kobolds look at each other and whisper amongst themselves
>The blue one speaks up, "Yes."
>Reach down, grab Cockles the retarded rooster
>I fucking hated cockles
>Chuck him towards the kobolds, who scrambled to grab the flying rooster
>Hi-point grabs the rooster and spins him by the neck 'round his head
>goodbye you fucking nigger rooster
>the kobolds tear into cockles like rabid beasts
>Hi-point raises his face out of the chicken, "Thank you!"
>"You have made two arries here, I aporogize for trying to stear flom you."
>When did my life get this way

>part 61: coming up with names is hard

>As I'm pondering just what the to do
>Hi-point runs up and kicks the fuck out of my shin
>"GETTU FAKKED WHITE DEVIR"
>Anon_pain.mp3
>Fall to the grass
>Koboldcackling.exe
>They run off into the woods
>why am I such a retard
>Gramps slowly pulls up on the lawnmower
>"Heh, they getcha didn't they? Eyup, Kobolds'll do that to ya."
>Pull myself up with the help of Granddad and the John Deer lawnmower.
>granddad sips on a Monster Zero Energy Ultra
>"Eyup."
>ride back to the house filled with shame
>at least i got rid of that fucking rooster
>Granddad helps me back into my wheelchair and gives me a pat on the shoulder
>fuck this is boring
>why can't Ulysses get here
>Why doesn't Altsoba visit anymore?
>WHY DID WE RUN OUT OF LITTLE KEEBIES
>turn my chair towards the path that leads to the sirens
>maybe they aren't busy
>One way to find out
>Roll my way off the porch and onto the grass
>Coast along the slanted yard towards the gate
>deja_vu.exe
>time to go visit the sirens again

>part 62: deja vu

>Continue to deja vu my way towards the river
>gotten real good at doing wheelchair bullshit
>eventually the path gets too rocky, so I have to hobble the rest of the way
>fuck you doc, I go where I please
>Finally make it to the river
>The glowing flora have dimmed in the midday, but still have some light
>can hear boohooing from the banks
>oh jesus, did I interrupt girl things
>walk down to the banks
>The sirens are sitting on the bank, legs in the water, comforting a horned figure
>wait a minute
>I recognize those horns
>"Altsoba?"
>the figure jumps so hard it loses its footing and rolls into the water
>"God damn it!"
>yeah that's altsoba's voice alright
>she sits up in the water, clothes, hair, soaked
>"Anon! You're fucking alive!"
>She struggles to get out of the water, almost like she's drunk
>She runs up and slams into me
>JESUS FUCK SHE SMELLS LIKE DIESEL
>"Fucks sake, Altsoba what have you gotten into!?"
>She looks up with her empty sockets
>"Diesel."
>fucks sake

Part 63: Back into it

>wait did she think I was dead?
>"I thought you were dead!"
>huh, guess so
>manage to peel away the skinwalker
>I can breathe a little easier now
>uh oh she looks mad
>"You didn't text, or even let me know!"
>"How? You don't have a phone."
>"Smoke signals, dumbass! I'm Native!"
>the sirens giggle in the background
>fucking fish bitches
>Altsoba puts her hands on her hips
>She drops a hand and slugs me right in the chest
>jesus that fucking hurt
>"That's for being a bitch! And sorta-kinda dying!"
>She shifts awkwardly from side to side for a minute
>"And, y'know, glad you're not dead."
>we both stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do now
>fuck
>do something Anon, don't stand there like a sperg
>"Uh, where's your AK? You didn't leave it did you?"
>Altsoba jerked a thumb over her shoulder
>"Sirens wanted to play with it."
>As if on cue, a burst of automatic fire rang out
>fishycackling.exe

part: 64

>I hope the AK doesn't get waterlogged
>It would be a bitch to get the rust out of all the nooks and crannies
>Altsoba wades out into the water and extends her hand for the AK
>Siren gives it up with a pouty face
>Altsoba racks the bolt a few times before slinging it over her back
>She's about to open her mouth to say something else, but is interrupted by a vampire on an inner tube
>"Ally! Stop giving googly eyes to your boyfriend and catch!"
>the vampire throws a bakelite magazine through the air
>altsoba fumbles it, but manages to catch it after nearly dropping it
>Valentine drops her aviator shades, "Oh, howdy Mister Cripple!"
>She tips back a beer and puts her shades back up
>"You made a great sound when you slapped pavement."
>thanks, dickhole
>Altsoba gave me a thwap on the shoulder, "Hey, Anon, me and Valentine were gonna go play some mailbox baseball. You up?"
>hmmm
>wait and heal like a good boy
>or go do hooligan shit with girls

Part 65: Hooligans

>I don't think mamma would be proud of the choice I made
>I don't think the doctor would either
>but here I am, barreling down the main road at 120 mph
>me and Altsoba are in the back of Valentine's pickup with bats
>I think she can smell the mailbox's fear
>oh wait shit here comes one
>Rear back with the baseball bat
>bring it down with righteous fury upon the box of mail
>arms scream in pain as I bonk the mailbox off its post
>have to grab the side of the truck to not fly out
>fuck, valentine drives like a bat out of hell
>a long day of knocking mailboxes over and nearly flying out of a truck bed makes you hungry
>we pull into a nearby gas station for monster and slim jims
>Valentine waves me over to her door and hands me five bucks
>"Will you get me a gatorade? I want the green one."
>Altsoba and I stroll into the store and head directly for the snacks
>we both grab an armful of slimjims, monsters, gatorade, and other foodstuffs
>head over to the counter and dump the pile onto the counter
>Wait a minute, there's no one behind the counter
>"Hey, uh, Anon. Do you think we should pay or just... skeedaddle?"
>"Hold on."
>"Hello? Anybody here?"
>take a glance around the store
>Wait a minute, the back room door is open

Part 66: Hooligan 2

>Slowly walk towards the open door
>Push it open to reveal...
>jack shit
>Huh, I figured something would--
>The door slams behind me, and I can hear cackling from the other side of the door
>It wasn't Altsoba, this was more goblin-like.
>OH FUCK, GOBLINS
>Pound on the door, kicking it, but the heavy steel wouldn't budge
>I can hear the goblins on the other side taunting me
>"We're gonna leave your lady friend looser than you had her!"
>"I hope you like taking care of goblin cubs!"
>I pound once more on the door, mind racing on how to protect my woman
>I can hear their shrill laughter as they close the distance to Altsoba
>The laughter soon turns into a scream
>Which is getting awfully close to the door again
>A massive fucking dent appears in the door, accompanied by the sound of a wet splat
>a large pool of blood seeps under the door frame
>god I love that skinwalker
>There's another resounding SPLAT as the second goblin meets Altsoba's inhuman strength
>For a few moments there's silence, then footsteps.
>The heavy gauge steel door is slowly peeled away to reveal a bloodied and smiling Altsoba
>"Hey Anon, finally coming out of the closet, huh?"
>shut up you cute bitch and let me out
>Altsoba peels the door away just enough for me to squeeze through
>The two goblins that ambushed us were shredded and accordion'd respectively
>step over the corpses and make my way to the snacks
>getting locked in a closet really works up an appetite

Part 67: Contracts

>Head towards the drink fridge and grab the 'rades.
>meander to the snack isle, while Altsoba hangs around the candy.
>grab the slimothy jimothys Valentine wanted
>also grab some sour straws for myself
>and beef jerky for the skinwalker
>yes, perfect
>we walk back out to the truck, snacks in hand, wallets untouched
>Get to the truck, hand the 'rade and the slimos to Valentine
>"Hey, thanks Anon. I saw the show from here. Good job being useless."
>thanks, bitch.
>pile into the back with altsoba
>she has the entire shelf of sour gummies in her lap.
>We pull out of the gas station, and head back towards the farm
>Its gotten a little cooler, so altsoba and I are huddled together, eating gummy worms
>I could get used to nights like these, just hanging out, chill--
>THUMP THUMP
>a goblin is thrown out from behind the truck and is flung into the brush
>can't help but chuckle as I take a drink
>Altsoba gently leans her head on my shoulder, "Hey Anon?"
>"Yeah?"
>"Let's go get another job."
>Pull out my phone and tap out a message to Ulysses
>after a few minutes, he responds
>"How do you feel about heading to Chickamauga?"

Part 68: Need for speed

>hell no
>the city became a huge no-go after the /k/onvergence
>the parts of the city that are still standing are used as headquarters for paramilitaries
>Ulysses harumphs, "Fine, uh, how about this contract?"
>"We can go after a guy named 'Miles .PH'
>the fuck kind of name is that?
>his parents must have thought he was a shit kid
>sure, fuck it, its better than sitting around
>"Cool, meet me at the raceway by the abandoned factory tomorrow."
>sweet
>Altsoba perks up, "The factory? Oh shit, yeah! Hey, can we stop by my place? I need to pick some stuff up, and, uh, shower."
>10-4 kemosabe
>Valentine drives us along back to the farm
>it feels like we havent been here in AGES
>we slowly pull into the front yard
>say my goodbyes to Altsoba and valentine
>hop out of the truck bed, catch shin on trailer hitch
>anon_profanity.exe
>hobble to the front porch and unlock the door
>wave back as the two girls pull out of the driveway and drive away
>step inside and flop onto the couch
>sweet relief
>maybe I can get a few hours of sleep this time

Part 69: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

>fall asleep near instantly
>no dreams this night, just peaceful sleep
>the morning sun drifts in from the window warmly
>right in my goddamn eyes
>fuck the sun
>sit up groggily from my makeshift bed
>look down at my watch
>9:43
>nice, everyone is gonna be at work or in the field
>time to take a well deserved shower
>stumble out of bed
>make my way to the bathroom and step inside
>as i'm taking off my jacket, I hear something from the shower
>turn around and whip open the shower curtain
>There's altsoba, eating my fucking soap
>"Hey hotstuff. Your soap tastes like shit."
>what in the fuck
>"I decided to introduce myself to your family. And y'know, take a shower."
>She tosses the soap to me, which has a big fucking bite out of it
>why are you like this
>she hops out of the tub and pushes past me
>"Meet me in your room when you're done in here."
>uh
>okay
>"What are we gonna do in my room?"
>she turns around and gives me a wink
>"I wouldn't worry about it."

Part 70: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) pt 2

>that was the fastest shower i ever took in my life
>should I put on my clothes?
>eeehhh...
>I'll put my pants on at least
>quickly dry off and throw on my pants
>Make my way to my room, half expecting to see a naked skinwalker on my bed
>throw my door open to reveal...
>nothing
>as I step into my room, I feel a pair of eyes on me
>Altsoba isn't even in my fucking room
>look all around the room
>turn back towards the door
>There's Altsoba, stifling a giggle behind the door
>She runs up and tackles me onto the bed
>"Gotcha faggot!"
>holy shit she's a lot stronger than she looks
>She sits down hard upon my chest
>"Guess what time it is?"
>uh
>fuck
>10:30?
>"It's 10:22, which means we have..."
>altsoba glances to the clock
>"About two hours of alone time."
>oh
>better start praying to whatever god might be listening

Part 71: Back to the story.

>I slowly blink awake
>fuck how long was I out
>go to sit up, only to be brought back down with superhuman strength
>Damn it woman let me go
>I smell granddad's burgers on the grill
>eventually pry myself away from Altsoba, much to her dismay
>get called a few names
>the call of the burger is too strong for me to be affected by her words
>I take a minute to put my clothes back on
>put Granddad's jacket back on, stuff my pilot hat into the pocket
>as I walk into the living room, dad calls me over
>"Hey Anon, take a look at this."
>he holds up his phone to show a fiery wreck
>"Some Orc named Miles Per Howah caused a twenty car pileup on the freeway today."
>god fucking damn it
>that was gonna be a good fucking payday
>I guess it's going to have to be chickamauga
>walk out on the porch and bring up my phone
>five missed calls from Ulysses and three texts
>"GUESS WHO'S GOT PLENTY OF GAS AND SOME NEW TOYS"
>"THIS DWARF"
>I might as well forfeit life at this point

Part 72: Chickamauga

>An hour later Ulysses is coming down the gravel driveway
>blasting Metallica, as always
>"HEY ANON GET YOUR GUNS AND LETS GO!"
>As I head back onto the porch, Granddad puts a hand on my shoulder
>"Hold up sport, you're gonna need some protection for that noggin' of yours."
>"Come with me. We're heading back into the barn."
>I follow granddad to the barn while Ulysses jams out to Seek and Destroy
>He brings me back to the "Skinnin' room" which is actually just a small armory
>He pulls out a plastic bin and pops it open
>holy fucking shit
>in the bin there are K-pots, M1 helmets, soviet surplus, a few West German helmets and a single Maska 1CH
>he reaches in and pulls out a dinged up helmet, its outer cover burned to a near crisp
>he tosses it to me and goes to pull out another bin
>Its filled with chest rigs, both old and new
>"That M1 was my great granddaddy's. He passed it down to me, and now I'm passing it down to you."
>He reaches in and pulls out what looks to be some tactical vest, complete with plates
>"And this is an early christmas present. Don't get killed out there, son."
>I love you grandpa
>He places a hand on my shoulder again
>"Whatever you're doing in Chickamauga, watch the goddamn buildings. Ya hear?"
>"And don't go into the graveyards at night. Somethin' evil lurks there."
>o-okay granddad
>"Wait, one more thing."
>granddad reaches into a box with Russian lettering
>"I got this from my buddy Sergei way back when."
>He hands me three F1 grenades
>"Now get out there and bring me some heads."
>okie dokie granddad
>mfw

Part 73: Mr. Fontaine

>Head back towards the house with my gear on
>Altsoba is on the porch holding one of granddad's burgers
>"I got our stuff packed, Anon. You ready to go?"
>She hops up out of her chair and steps off the porch, burger in hand
>ready as I'll ever be
>Ulysses leans out of the Jeep
>"Anon, hurry your slow ass up! We gotta meet Valentine at the landing strip!"
>Oh fucks sake, I'm hurrying
>altsoba and I pile into the jeep, me in the front, her in the back
>Ulysses turns around in the yard and starts heading towards the road.
>We pull out onto the main road and ulysses hands me a PDA
>"Here, text our contact. His name is Jimmy Fontaine. Ask him what we're gonna be flying in."
>Tap Jimmy's message, get greeted with five images of jimmy standing above a pool of red and bits of orc
>he's smiling in all of them with white powder under his nose and on his hawaiian shirt
>ask him what we're gonna be flying in, like Ulysses asked
>Immediately after I send the message, Jimmy calls the PDA
>the sound of a helicopter and gunfire can be heard through the speakers
>"HEYA KID, LISTEN, I GOT INTO A BAD DEAL WITH SOME ELF FELLAS. CAN YOU TEXT BACK IN LIKE THIRTY MINUTES?"
>uh okay
>"THANKS KID, I'LL SAVE YOU SOME BLOW."
>the call ends and Ulysses shrugs
>"Just wait till you meet him in person. He has a weird 'quirk'."

Part 74: Bento and Bullets

>We continue driving and bickering about the radio stations
>After about 45 minutes we get another text on the PDA
>"Elves are dead. Coke and guns secured. Bring five bucks and a "Taco Bell Bento Box"
>what the fuck does that mean
>why is it in quotes
>Another text pops up, showing an address to a nearby taco bell
>are we doing drug deals now?
>Ulysses slowly pulls into the Taco Bell parking lot and drives up to the big menu
>"Hello and welcome to Taco Bell. What will you have?"
>Ulysses leans out the window, "Uh yeah, Mr. Fontaine needs his Bento."
>Silence pours out from the drive-through speaker
>We sit there for about three minutes until the voice comes back
>"Yes sir, it's on the house. Please pull forward."
>Just who the fuck is this dude
>We pull forward to the window, where a young pimple-faced elf is holding a white box.
>"Here's your order sir. Please tell Mr. Fontaine we're very sorry for the wait."
>uh, okay
>Shoot Fontaine a quick text
>"Hey we got your bento box."
>Immediate response, "Hey great kid, don't fucking open it, seriously. see you in thirty. If you've been followed I'm skinning you alive. Cheers."
>Uh. Okay
>Look over to Ulysses
>He just shrugs and sighs, "That's Fontaine for you. Just try not to talk about Elves or Chinese firearms."

Part 75: Dead fuckin' elves.

>The drive is getting boring now, we've been going for about thirty minutes
>Ulysses turns and begins to pull onto a dirt road
>Hey, wait a minute, this is the old civil war park
>The front gate has been armored with HESCO barriers and inch-thick armor plating
>There's no one around so far, so it's just us three
>Ulysses honks his horn and the gate slowly opens.
>We pull into the park, the gate slowly closing behind us.
>Holy fuck that's a lot of dead elves
>before us lie the biggest pile of elven corpses possibly known to man
>there about five dudes surrounding the pile, dumping gasoline on it
>One is standing there, hands on his hips, admiring the pile
>he's dressed in a red hawaiian shirt and smoking a cigar
>He turns to us, his arms spread wide, "ULYSSES! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"
>Ulysses hops out of the car, a big ass smile on his face.
>He runs his stubby legs to Fontaine, who picks him up and hugs him
>"I fuckin' missed you, you little shit! Alright, who're your friends?"
>Altsoba and I hop out of the jeep, I've got the bento box in hand
>"Hey cool, you got the bento box! You didn't look in it did you?"
>Nope, not even a little
>Fontaine takes the bento box and opens it.
>He frowns and places the box on the hood of the jeep
>He pulls out a Ruby pistol and places it against my forehead
>"I don't like fucking liars. So tell me the goddamn truth! DID YOU LOOK INSIDE THE BENTO BOX?!"
>god that's a beautiful pistol
>fuck wait, got to focus on not dying
>"uh, no."
>good one, Anon, you sure convinced him

Part 76: Underequipped

>Fontaine withdraws his Ruby from my forehead
>oh thank the /k/ube
>He shrugs, "Eh, you convinced me."
>he hands the bento box off to one of his men
>"Come with me you three. You needed to get into Chickamauga, right?"
>yeah, its what we came here for
>He steps over a dead elf and gestures towards a makeshift helipad with a shining Huey in the center
>There are smaller ultralights in varying states of modification surrounding the huey
>Fontaine turns back to us, "Ulysses, you'll owe me a favor after this. And a little bit of that bounty."
>dwarvengrumbling.grudge
>He adjusts his John Lennon glasses and puts away his Ruby
>"Alright ladies and gentlemen, we're gonna get you outfitted with parachutes! Hope you brought enough ammunition, cause it's gonna be a hot landing!"
>He brings us over to the huey, which has three chutes propped against it.
>"Bring your shit over and hop in. I've got places to be, coke to snort, women to woo."
>Ulysses and I hoof it back to the jeep to bring our equipment with us
>He's got his 870 Magnum and 45-70 revolver
>I've got my TEC-9, Karabiner-S, and a couple of grenades.
>Altsoba has her AK and her freaky skinwalker strength
>Looks like we're set
>Fontaine has moved into the pilot's seat and put on his headphones
>He cranks the engine on, and the rotors begin to spin slowly.
>"GET THE FUCK IN BEFORE I GET BORED AND KOBE THIS THING."
>we all pile into the Huey and strap ourselves in
>Altsoba has strapped herself to the door gunner position and begins to load up the M60
>Fontaine looks from the cockpit and tosses something back to Ulysses
>"Here, you'll need this!"
>it's a fucking M79 Grenade launcher
>I feel woefully under-equipped.
>fuck

Part 77: The Chic/k/amauga /K/ompound

When Fontaine said hot landing, I expected small arms fire, maybe a rocket or two
>I didn't expect to be clinging for dear life to the side door of the Huey as we shot past AA emplacements on nearly EVERY FUCKING ROOFTOP.
>Ulysses was having a grand time with his M79
>Anything that vaguely resembled a person was obliterated with 40mm HE. I don't even think he cared who he was hitting.
>Altsoba was in the gunner's seat beside me, making machine gun noises as she aggressively shook her M60 at all AA emplacements
>she also shot them
>I was busy trying not to hurl my guts up as we banked a hard right, which nearly threw me out of the helicopter
>thankfully Altsoba was there to throw me back in.
>I held my Karabiner with white knuckles as the helicopter steered towards a heavily armored compound near the outskirts of the city.
>Fontaine brought helicopter down onto a dirty landing pad and pumped his arm victoriously
>"That's how you fucking fly a bird! God fucking damn I'm good!"
>He opens up the bento box I gave him and stabs it with a pocket knife.
>He dumps out a line of a fiery red speckled dust onto a small tin plate
>slams his fucking face into it like an Anon into elven pussy.
>Fontaine looks to me with glazed eyes
>"Anon?"
>Oh fuck, that's me.
>"Give me a grenade."
>I pull one of the F1s granddad gave me and hand it over to him
>He yanks it from my grip and hops out of the helicopter.
>"Any and all ELVEN FUCKS CAN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY COMPOUND!"
>/k/ube protect me in these trying times.


Part 78: Planning

>Most of the guards look around confused
>One of them, a particularly rough looking mercenary walks up behind Fontaine
>"Boss, we don't allow elves in here. Did you forget that?"
>Fontaine whips around with enough speed to make Sonic blush
>"WHO DO Y-- Oh. Oh fuckin' shit! If it isn't my favorite cripple!"
>Fontaine and the man embrace in a bro hug, with plenty of back slapping and manly laughter.
>Fontaine tosses the grenade over his shoulder, which lands with a thud next to me
>Pick it up, almost shit pants
>the spoon was catching on the very tip of the pin
>flashback to Orion's gunshop
>quickly reset the pin and promise myself to never lend grenades
>I really need to start hanging around better people
>"Hey Anon, come say hello to your guide around Chick."
>I walk over and shake hands with the man
>"Yo. My name is Redwick, nice to meet you Anon."
>His grip is strong, way too strong for a normal man.
>Glance down at his arm
>It's made of a blackened metal, coated with some sort of matte finish to reduce shine
>neat
>"You mirin'? This arm was made by the finest scientists humanity has to offer. All steel construction, perfect for combat."
>He leans in close, "Perfect for cracking fantasy fag skulls."
>There's a cough from Fontaine, who gestures to Ulysses.
>He coughs and adjusts his chest rig, "All except dwarves, that is."
>Redwick shifted his weight awkwardly, "Uh, right, so, I've gotta get you guys to... somewhere?"
>Ulysses steps forward with a map, "Aye, we need'ta get to this address. Our guy is in there."
>"Apparently he's some kind of smuggler. Not sure what, but somebody wants him dead."
>As we're laying out the plan, I feel Altsoba come up behind me.
>she hands me a packet of MRE crackers and some jalapeno cheese spread, "Here, I stole these."
>bless my skinwalker

Part 79: Plan is shit

>this plan is fucking garbage
>I could have come up with better while tweaked off acid
>Redwick's plan is essentially a run and gun blitzkrieg
>as much as I love those, it would be better to not die in a hail of gunfire 10 steps in
>hmm
>how could we make this better
>we're assaulting a warehouse, so there's bound to be plenty of entry points
>Ulysses is stroking his beard dwarvenly
>i point to the 2nd story windows
>"can't we get in through there?"
>Redwick rolls his eyes
>"Yeah, but it isn't nearly as fun as blowing the front doors."
>I look to Ulysses who seems to be in agreement
>look to Altsoba
>all i get is a shrug
>"I mean that is pretty fun."
>what the fuck, am I the only sane one out of all of us
>I look over to Fontaine, who is currently doing a line of coke off the table
>apparently so
>"Fine, we go in through the front doors. What's next?"
>Redwick gestures to a nearby technical
>"We hose the inside with the DSHK"
>god damn it, whatever
>"Alright, who gets on the gun?"
>Redwick points to Altsoba
>"She can. And its not like we're losing anything important if she dies."
>motherfucker you signed your death warrant
>just you fucking wait until tonight
>From off to my left, Fontaine slams his head against the table
>"Manners, Redwick, these are fucking friends!"
>This is going to fucking suck
>Fontaine slams his fist down on the table, blood and coke dribbling onto his lip
>"Alright, now that everyone knows what to do, we leave in the morning!"
>Oh thank christ, we get to sleep
>At least tonight will be somewhat peaceful
>hopefully