/wfg/ Writefag General-remenber where we parked

Breath in...

Breath out...

The dance of three heartbeats, a sonata in three parts lead by the thunderpulse of her own heart. She held her breath, forcing her heart to stop its frantic hammer-blows against her sternum as the crosshairs of her K98 danced over the nazi's drab uniform. The quiet dance in her belly lagged a half-beat behind, the twins filling her gravid middle playing along with their mother's pulse. Playing like little children should, happy and full of joy. They didn't know what the world was like, and Anne swore they would never know what it was like to live under the iron eagle.

Her grip tightened on her rifle's warn stock. It wouldn't be long now. She could already feel the tingle between her legs and the tightness in her already swollen belly. Labor would be on her soon, but she forced herself not to think about it. She'd spent so long, worked so hard for this one chance. She was not letting it slip past her.

As if they sensed their mother's focus, the twins in her womb stopped their dancing. For a moment, everything was quiet on the snowy hillside. The obergruppenfuhrer in her scope was clearly more worried about entertaining his dinner guests than anything else.

*Bang*

The rifle slammed back against her shoulder as a single spitzer-pointed bullet roared towards its mark. Anne knew her aim was true, but she couldn't trace the round through the air. The sock of the rifle had been enough. The last straw that sent her toppling off the cliff and into labor.

A shriek of pain was hastily quenched by gnashed teeth and thin lips. She forced herself to get up and run, forced herself to ignore the great weight swelling her womb. She needed to find safety. But she was so deep in occupied territory...

File: oh annie.png (749KB, 687x1117px) Image search: [Google]

749KB, 687x1117px

>>34462180

Anne forced herself to push past the weight. To push past the shuddering desire to just stop and relieve the extraordinary pressure pushing so desperately at the floor of her womb. She ignored the way her twins jostled with every step, squishing her lungs and making each breath of the chilly air that much harder before they came crashing down again.

The children... her babies seemed to recognize their mother's urgency. The playful dance they'd been enjoying ceased as she ran down the broken hillside. Her boots--stuffed with layers of socks and laced loose in the kindest gesture she could make to her swollen feet--stomped through the under grown with a mad fury.

She carried her rifle in one hand, balancing it by the scope and praying she wouldn't need to take another shot. Her heart was thundering and her muscles twitching from the flood of adrenaline battling with her primal maternal instinct to give birth. She'd pushed this as long as she could, she'd fought tooth and nail with her own body for every day and minute, but biology could only be denied for so long. She *needed* to give birth, and soon.

Her free hand cradled her belly, pressing tightly against the taper of her swollen womb in a vain attempt to delay the inevitable. If she could just get home. Get somewhere safe. Somewhere she could birth her twins. Somewhere she could let the labor pains encroaching on her even now have their way with her.

"*Actung!*" A crack rang out, and a dead tree exploded in sodden termite-eaten shrapnel.

Anne couldn't get low, not with her belly swollen almost to bursting. The best she could manage was flopping on her side and bracing her rifle against a fallen log. It wasn't the best shooting position, but...

*Bang!*

She made it work.

>>34462195

They were looking for an army. Jackbooted thugs in their proud black uniforms and polished metal helmets running from door to door like scolded puppies. They'd been the terror in the night once, now they were scared of the dark. Even daylight brought them no comfort, The Nazi soldiers twitched with fear at every shade down a side alley, every noise coming from a dead-end street.

They'd marched in as conquerors. Now they saw shotguns behind every door, and rifles behind every blade of grass. The SS had taken control, stormtroopers marched the streets and tanks clattered along at night, grinding cobblestone to chewed-up dust in their wakes. They'd locked down the city, secured every access point, guarded every depot.

There was no way any guerrilla army could survive. And it didn't, it *thrived.* Despite all their effort, despite everything they'd done, the bullets kept coming. Barely a day went by without a nazi breathing his last courtesy of a seven-nine-two spitzer.

They couldn't stop it because there was no army. There was just one girl. A girl on the edge of being a mother. A girl who would not let the twins growing in her womb know a world under nazi tyranny.

Anne walked the streets as best she could with her massive middle bulging her dress to its very limits. She felt ready to pop at any moment... then again the weight swelling her womb felt too heavy to bear for the past two months. Her clothes were almost comically small on her gravid frame, and every step was a throbbing reminder of the immense weight she carried. Those who glanced her way--many did, her massive belly broke up an otherwise startlingly slender figure--looked at her with pity or sympathy. Everyone suffered under the Nazis, she was hardly the first mother forced to make do with what clothe she had.

She was, however, the first mother to secret a silent British pistol under the swell of her middle.

>>34462206

She cradled her belly with both hands, both to reassure her growing twins that everything would be all right and to relieve some of the pressure against her taut skin. She was ready to give birth, she probably had been for the past several weeks. She woke up every day aching from the weight in her womb, and every step was a throbbing reminder of how very pregnant she'd become. But she would not let her twins know a world under the swastika and eagle. She would stay her womb, just one day more. She told herself that every morning, just one day more.

Slowly, a hand slipped from her belly to the package secured beneath it. The touch was ever so brief, but it sent a shiver up her spine. That hint of relief that she might so soon have. Soon, but not quite. She had one more mission to complete. One more at least.

The pistol slid from its makeshift sheath and into her hand like it was made to fit. She'd left a round in the chamber, all she had do was flick off the safety and spot her target. There, a stormtrooper trailing back at the end of his patrol.

She didn't smile, she hadn't in a year. But she moved with a casual purpose. She was nine months pregnant with twins, nobody could think a woman like her was any threat, could they? My, she could barely move from the weight distending her stomach and engorging her breasts. Surely she couldn't be a threat!

In one smooth motion, she brought her gun up, pressed it into the small of his back, and tore his spine apart with a single .32 bullet. A moment later, she shrieked in manufactured horror, and pointed her free hand down a deserted alleyway.

The stormtroopers, none of whom wanted to deal with a hysterical pregnant woman when the taste of finally catching the phantom army that'd been dogging them was in the air, bolted down the alleyway. Just as she'd hoped.

>>34462224

Step one was done. She'd taken her turn, now it was time for the Nazis to take theirs. If they played the game with the same oppressive dedication to brutal force above all else, they'd play right into her trap. But that would take time. A day, at least. She had to give the Germans time to dig their own graves. And that meant the hardest thing of all for her, waiting.

She secreted the pistol back where it came from, a shiver racing up her spine as the hot metal silencer kissed her tender flesh. She hated waiting. Waiting meant there was nothing for her to do but ponder her belly, she couldn't distract herself from the constant ache she'd learned to deal with, there was no way to get past the throbbing need she felt. She needed to give birth, any day now even her immense will wouldn't be enough to hold back her twins another second. She *needed* to give birth. She could feel twinges and hints of labor pulling at her already, but she forced herself to ignore them.

There wasn't time for that. Not now, not while *they* still ruled. But there was one thing she'd learned. A way to let the ache slip from her mind, if only for a moment. That one precious balm that soothed her aching belly and drove the nazis from her mind for a few precious moments.

She made her way home as quick as she could. Her massively swollen belly forced her into a comical waddle, and her heart beat a pounding thunder against her chest. She needed to get back, her body was throbbing with an overwhelming need for the one thing that'd eased her gravid aches.

You're busy zeroing one of her 'acquired' rifles when she comes through the door. Somehow, her massive bulging stomach is bigger than it was when she left this morning. Her skin's even tauter as she hurriedly tore open her comically small dress. Her naked belly and popped navel bulge like a larger imitation of her already engorged breasts.

"Anon," she straddles you. "I don't care if my water's about to break, I need it."

>>34462239
You're barely able to control her long enough to get off your chair and onto your back. She doesn't need to take much off. Even if she had a bra that fits, it wouldn't last long under her engorged bosom. There's no need for foreplay, the constant slosh of a womb strained to the very limit of it's capacity and well beyond that against her organs is enough for Anne, and just seeing the naked swell of a middle full of your children gets you the rest of the way. She knelt over you, straddling you with her massive belly resting against yours. It's heavy. You swear she gets heavier every time you come together, but as she grabs you with both hands, you suddenly don't care.

She could have a Tiger in her middle and it wouldn't matter, not with how you feel slipping in her tight slit. You sink into her as she rides you. A first slowly, she's so heavy she can barely manage more. But you get into her rhythm, working together against the Reich even as you work deeper into her sweet abyss. She's the first to moan, she's been bottling this all up all day. The thrill of the kill mingles with her natural hormones and drives her faster.

A moan from you now, it's all you can day. She's got you tight, each thrust driving your breakthrough deeper into her lines. She tries to contain your push, but her walls of flesh aren't strong enough to contain your lighting strokes. For almost half an hour the two of you are one. One body, one moaning flesh throbbing and dancing together. It'll be soon now, at least you hope. You've been telling yourself she's almost done for what feels like years, but she keeps finding ways to bring you closer.

Then you shudder, suddenly made of steel and gunpowder as you dump everything you have into her. She feels it too, a moan longer and higher than before purring through her lips. Her back arches and her eyes roll back. Then in a breath, it's finished. She falls, exhausted and content at your side, and you brush a strand of hair from her (con't)

>>34462252

sweaty face before resting your head against her breasts. Tomorrow, there will be the war, the nazis, and the resistance. But right now... it's just you and Anne.

Hunting with Russians

>it was quiet as you sat in the hunting blind and waited for some wild hogs to walk into the clearing
>you had been told this area was a good one for hog hunting, but so far you'd only seen two as they ran from one side of the brush line to the other
>with the sun near setting you let out a sigh and set your SKS down

"Come on, Sadie. Looks like we won't be bagging any hogs today."
>you say before your look to your rifle

>in the blink of an eye your 1950 Tula SKS slips into her slim and well proportioned waffegeist form

"Well, this sucks."
>Sadie says, as she stretches and her feline ears twitch

"Yeah, I'm surprised we haven't seen any hogs come to the bait corn."
>you say as open the door to the blind and peer down at the bait stand a few yards away

"There are worse ways to spend an afternoon than being held by you~"
>Sadie says clinging to your arm with a grin as her feline tail sways

"I'm sure."
>you reply with a smile, stroking your SKS' dark brown hair and earning a purr from her

>the two of you walk back to the cabin at a casual pace talking about nothing in particular. Just enjoying some time to yourselves.
>while you do care for your other rifles Sadie was your first rifle so the two of you had a deep bond
>plus Sadie was the most stable of your rifles waffegeists, personality wise at least

>as the two of you close in on the cabin you suddenly hear the sound of several somethings barreling through the underbrush and the high pitched squealing of some large hogs
>quicker than thought Sadie is back in her familiar rifle form and in your hands as cluster of hogs darted from the bushes
>with muscle memory as your guide you have Sadie shouldered, ready, and aimed at the lead hogs eye

>>34462308

"BOT И Я!!!"

>only for Saffron, your Dragoon Mosin Nagant, burst forth from the underbrush with a wild look in her eyes as she SLAMS the lead hog with her Cossack style spear in the neck so hard you hear the hogs neck snap
>killing it with the one blow and making the other hogs scatter back into the brush

"Ha! Tonight, we will eat well!"
>Saffron says as she yanks the spear from the now dead hog

>Sadie shifts back to waffegeist form and both of you stare at the Dragoon rifle with matching bewildered expressions for a long moment before Saffron notices either you

"Anon! Sadie! I bagged us one for supper."
>Saffron says with a big smile as she plants one booted foot on top of the dead hog

"Wow, great job, sweetie."
>you say with amazement and a touch of nervousness

"Shame, someone doesn't use my bayonet like that..."
>Sadie says quietly with a pout

"If a wild animal ever gets that close it means I've made a huge mistake."
>you reply rolling your eyes before you and Sadie start to head back to the hunting lease's cabin while Saffron drags her prize along

"Should I get the game cleaning kit?"
>Sadie asks as she nods to the cabin

>you don't answer your SKS' question right away as something is nagging at the back of your mind

"It's awfully quiet."
>you say as you squint up at the cabin
"Saffron, where's Kari at?"
>you ask Saffron, as the Dragoon Mosin idly twirls her spear

"Well, knowing that short AK-74..."
>your Dragoon starts, but is interrupted as a large hog darts out of a bush squealing loudly and bleeding

"SHUSHKA PIGGIE, COME DIE WITH HONORS!!"
>Kari, your short, wolf eared AK-74 waffegeist, yells as she chases after the bleeding hog with an AK bayonet in each of her hands

"Oh, there she is."
>Saffron says with a smile as you face palm

https://pastebin.com/XMb6ec1F
Just a short one off.
I'm still working on the AK pistol story it's just taking awhile sadly.

Need to pop in and say that I haven't written in a while, and it may be a while yet. I'm going through a rough patch in my marriage and I don't have any time(or motivation) to write at the moment. If all goes well, I'll be back eventually to continue my story. If it goes to crap, it may be longer yet. Just wanted to say I love you guys and gals, and to keep up the good work! Goodbye for now, but hopefully not forever.

>>34462335
>Co cute feline slavs to bayonet things with

I can dream damnit

>>34462335
i like it

>>34462261
Damn good story you got yourself, Unironic. Definitely capture quite a scene.

>>34462317
Great to see you back, Anon_kun. Been too long

Hey all, finally got to making my new fic. Going for something more lighthearted. Hope you all enjoy.

>04 September 20XX
>Tomorrow is going to be my first day of school at Ramstein Academy for Firearms. I am very excited to be here, having worked hard to get here in first place.
>Of what I can tell, all of other firearms here seem nice enough; different than home country. Many have brought over some of their home’s comforts, some of which were fine, though others I suspect of being joke with some smelling of kerosene.
>As I have expected, my presence has been noted with some already amazed at me, though others still seem suspicious. Of course, they have good reason, for I am not typical rifle that comes to this school.
>What caught me off-guard was that good portion of fellow classmates are Kalashnikovs. But, as expected from NATO school, most of firearms are German, with few living not too far from here.
>Speaking of meeting my new classmates, I have yet to see my roommate. Signs of her presence are very clear, for room is immaculate, even on my side.
>I hope roommate is not some uptight German rifle, given it was painful enough to be fluent in their language. To actually live with one would be torturous with all their rules.
>I hear my roommate coming in. Closing you for now.

>>34464032
* KURWA!
At that instant, a girl with auburn hair, a very fluffy scarf, tiny dog-like ears and a curled bushy tail burst right through the door. Her eyes immediately darted to the girl now closing her journal at the desk and briskly came approached her.
* “Cześć, I am Beryl! You must be Sturmgewehr 90!” said the excited Pomeranian girl as she vigorously shook the girl’s hand. “O kurwa, my roommate is famous marksman rifle! Very rare to see rifles like you.”
“Yes, nice to meet you as well, Beryl.”
>”Oh great, roomed with a Polak…Could be worse.”
“I hope we can be good friends here.” said SG550, straining a smile.
* “Don’t plan on being neutral about it, kurwa? I like you already. Oh! Oh! Why you here-”

>>34464065
Just before Beryl could finish her question, a short blond girl appeared in the room, slamming the door behind her.
- “Hide me!”
In a swift motion, SG550 opened the closet door and nearly threw the girl inside, following up with a flourish as she closed it. Not a second sooner, a girl with a boxy build and black hair slammed open the door, looking very irate and out of breath.
+ “Where is she!?”
* “Kurwa, who?”
+ “Don’t be coy, Polak, you know who I am speaking of!”
“G36, the only person that has come in, outside of us, is just you.”
Not satisfied with the answer, G36 narrowed her eyes at the two rifles in the room.
+ “Don’t get too ahead of yourself, SG550, you are a guest here, where as I am the top rifle here and favored weapon of the Deutsche!”
SG550 slowly moved towards G36, inching closer and closer to her, using her height to tower over the German rifle.
“Yes, and as the top rifle and being of the host country, you should be more welcoming to your guests, and setting a good example to us and for your country. Now would you mind leaving us in peace?”
Grimacing, G36 began to back away.
+ “Y-yes. But, if I fin-“
“If we see this mysterious girl, we’ll tell you.” And SG550 closed the door in the German rifle’s face.

>>34464103
Opening up the closet door, the petite blond girl with hazel eyes jumped out, breathing a sigh of relief.
“What did you do?” said SG550, turning towards the girl.
Facing her back towards the two rifles, the tiny blond gave a small chuckle.
- “Revenge.”

* “Revenge, kurwa?”

- “Yes. Revenge for what those krauts did. Revenge for the battle of my bulge.” Turning around, the blonde rifle displayed an impressive soldier standing at attention and ready to pounce. SG550 and Beryl both stared at the large mass speechless, trying to wrap their minds on what they were witnessing.
- “Ha, just fucking with you two.” the blond said, while reaching down and producing a large sausage. “I’m MK18, nice to meet you two. Brat?”

“N-no, I’m good”

* “Thanks, kurwa!” and Beryl quickly accepted the offering and began to bite into the bratwurst.
* “Ohf! I’m Beryl, nife to meef you too!”

- “Nice, great to see another Pole here. Lots of you live close to where I was originally from.”

* “Ohf? Where are you from?”

- “Originally from the naval base on the Great Lakes, back in the United States. Lots of Poles live close to the area. And you, big girl?”

“Sturmgewehr 90, or SIG SG550 to you Americans.”
Instead of greeting SG550 with the same warmth as Beryl, MK18 began to inspect her with a suspicious look.
“Hey! What’s this all about.” pushing away MK18 as she was reaching towards SG550’s hat.

- “Hmm, nothing…Anyway, nice to see a Swiss rifle. Love your guys’s cheese.”
“Ah, yes, thank you. Though, what is am American rifle doing here?”

- “Gotta represent the US of fucking A with all these NATO rifles around. And I wanted to get out of the country for a bit.”
- “Good thing I ran into you guys, these krauts are annoying me. Gonna split for tonight, see ya.”
And in a flash, the little rifle disappeared

File: Vepr Day 17.png (3MB, 1920x1080px) Image search: [Google]

3MB, 1920x1080px

>>34464148
“Well, she was an interesting rifle.”

* “Kurwa, this looks to be a fun year already!”
In that instant, Beryl quickly fell asleep right on top of her bed, completely knocked out.

Seeing her roommate completely asleep, SG550 began to strip out of her cloths.
Removing her hat, a pair of wolf ears popped right out, and a black tail swung freely from the base of her back.
She put on her nightgown and made her way back to her desk, flicking on the light and unlocking her journal.
>I have met NATO rifles and have not been discovered. They do not realize I am vepr.

https://pastebin.com/YGedHM4h

File: IMG_1094.jpg (29KB, 210x230px) Image search: [Google]

29KB, 210x230px

>>34464065
While I'm sitting under a tree waiting to get on the machines, I'm pretty sure it's Pollack... I could be anywhere from a little to very wrong on that, though. On the other hand... couldn't be a tantal could it? Ah, well, aside from certain countries making them distinct from russian ones, AK's aren't that distinctive to me. There's the AK, the Bulgarian Basically same, tantal, the ones with the shielded mag releases (Valmet M-76, Sako RK-62) and the sand desert/snow desert Ak's (Sako RK-95 and Galil through galil Arm.) In any case, I'm seeing a bunch of good stuff coming to the fore from a bunxh of folks I've missed reading.>>34462335
that goes for you too.>>34462815
Hey, the family comes first, right? If it means we gotta take up the shelf, so be it, we don't mind. We hope to see ou again, but listen, Family>Professional responsibilities/Life>Shitposting weebs on a mongolian cartoon board. You do wht you need to do, man. We'll always be right here.

>>34464277
oops, gonna fix on the pastebin.

Also, the choice of Polish rifle is because the Tantal is no longer really used at all, while the Beryl is standard issued Polish rifle. And I was given suggestions of who to include, and someone made a really good argument for Beryl.

>>34462815
I hope all goes well, AKM. Hope whatever ails your marriage gets repaired. Will await the day you continue your story.

>>34464178
MOAR

>>34464178
Tactical tail hiding...

>>34462815
We will wait for you

File: Anne Frank Grinning.png (103KB, 283x322px) Image search: [Google]

103KB, 283x322px

>>34462180

Hmmm... I wonder which Anne this supposed to b-

*looks at filename on >>34462195*

GOOD GOD, THAT ONE?

File: robert e. lee pwns battle of glendale.png (1MB, 884x642px) Image search: [Google]

1MB, 884x642px

>>34465861

>when you see ancient OC for the OP pic

File: 1496660403005.png (314KB, 503x673px) Image search: [Google]

314KB, 503x673px

>>34462180
>>34462195
>>34462206
>>34462224
>>34462239
>>34462252
>>34462261
I never understood the pregnancy fetish, it always seemed like the weirdest shkt ever to me, like advanced cuckolding

>>34466087
If you fuck pregnant bitches they'll never get preggo with your baby. Also they're hornier than dudes when preggo. Like dudes get more sleep when their little parasite is newborn and cries every 15 minutes in the night, than when their girl is preggo cause she's always wanting the dick.

>>34466087
Easiest three-way you'll ever have.

File: 1499345582245.jpg (854KB, 3022x2242px) Image search: [Google]

854KB, 3022x2242px

You guys remember Rechambered for 5.45? Well, I have an update for that.
Part 1, in case you haven't read yet:
https://pastebin.com/zy7SsnSy
Part 2, where the new stuff is:

>>34467209
Fuck, forgot the second link
https://pastebin.com/29XYcjVm

File: Squad.jpg (150KB, 1383x815px) Image search: [Google]

150KB, 1383x815px

I'm getting closer! Going to kick my assets to a person who can make trailers and see if he can do anything with it.

God I want this kickstarter up so bad. Soon guys, soon!

File: 1496395047497.png (2KB, 416x416px) Image search: [Google]

2KB, 416x416px

>>34467442
God Speed anon.

File: poklonskaya2.jpg (434KB, 1660x1555px) Image search: [Google]

434KB, 1660x1555px

>>34466139
>>34466254
I mean... if the woman isn't APPARENTLY pregnant, then that's one thing. But if she's quite a good bit of the way along it seems really perverse and just wrong to me.
>If you fuck pregnant bitches they'll never get preggo with your baby.
Well, where to start? Not if it's already your baby to start. If not.
>Fucking a woman with another man's child.
There's something wrong with the relationship in any case and I am certainly of hopings you are not doing this, comrade!

File: 1495834775456.jpg (15KB, 480x534px) Image search: [Google]

15KB, 480x534px

>>34467234
Shit yeah son

File: random-t-06_10_11-500-25.jpg (209KB, 920x690px) Image search: [Google]

209KB, 920x690px

Update soon. Guaranteed better than an audi

File: 1498915793194.jpg (235KB, 904x1045px) Image search: [Google]

235KB, 904x1045px

>>34467442
there better be tons of PTSD and heart wrenching moments in this, man. I want this to leave me in a state of emotional trauma.

Helen swirled the amber liquid around in her glass, raised it and sipped a little.

‘Tell me. Without the formalities, without the sugar on top, without the bullshit’

Natalya gently puffed the cigarette smoke through her slightly parted lips and returned her gaze back to Helen

¤ I can’t. Not in a way that would make sense
‘So get me the long version. And explain the goals’
¤ Goals… there is different goals for each person, and each group. We, as humans want to defend our planet. That is the first goal, and we all strive for it. That means we can put aside differences for a while, and point our guns to a single spot
‘Makes sense’
¤ Then there is group goals. RIght now, there are three groups we have to consider. Us, our tank battalion or what you called it. Old guard?
‘Good name for PR’
¤ Yes. Our goal is mostly collect as many powerful machines as possible, and show the world what they are still worth, while achieving humanity’s goal, correct?
‘In an oversimplified way, yes’
¤ Then there is the two “museum squads” The german group, consisting of the Jagdtiger, the Elefant, and maybe the Maus, if they have it operational yet
‘And their goal is?’
¤ As a group… They need money. They are not funded by anyone, meaning the need cameras, videos, the internet and people making donations. Crowdfunding, i believe the term is
‘Correct’
¤ Meaning they need the spotlight. If they were with us, they have the risk of becoming “just another few tanks”
‘Or the biggest tanks in the old guard’
¤ My idea was something along those lines. Anyway, third group consists primarily of two Soviet heavy tanks, the IS-4 and IS-7. They are funded by the museum board that are extremely unhappy with a German machine getting all attention
‘Bunch of butthurt russians…

Helen shifted back a little, realising her mistake
‘I apologize, Natalya. No offence meant’

She scoffed back

¤ I was born in the Soviet union, not Russia. I’ve nothing to do with that country, never even been in it. Besides, i grew up in what would be modern day Ukraine

Natalya tossed the little cigarette butt to the ground and flattened it with her boot

¤ Then, there is personal goals. Take me for an example. The IS-3 is falling apart.
‘Yeah, about that…’
¤ Hence my will to try and unite these groups, maybe fulfilling all group goals
‘That wouldn’t work. Both of these European groups want all glory for themselves’
¤ And they will compete and try outperform each other. Everyone wins. And i benefit because i might get my hands on one of the other beauties

Helen raised an eyebrow

‘Want to attempt a transfer to the other machines?’
¤ I don’t think i have much choice
‘This is interesting. What about me?’
¤ You?
‘My goals. What i want. You are incredibly perceptive, you should be able to guess’
¤ Probably staying as a leader figure for this time. Make the calls, decisions when only a pile of ashes remain of your foes. Sounds about right?
‘About right’
¤ The interesting part is with Anon, our engineering friend
‘He was close with Lily?’
¤ Very. They were very interesting in how they complimented each other. Anon is a very different person with and without her
‘Is that so?’
¤ Yes. I thought it was just lack of a tank or a role at first, but i was mistaken. He becomes less… I’m not sure of the english word for this
‘Try?’

File: voroshilov 1.jpg (46KB, 750x432px) Image search: [Google]

46KB, 750x432px

¤ It is like, the power to act. The difference between picking up your rifle, going on a 20 kilometer walk and then attacking a building and waiting in your own house, because “if the enemy bothers to come, i will probably bother to shoot back”
‘Willpower?’
¤ Not exactly, but along those lines. It would also be interesting to see how Nibelung fares with this
‘If she went as far as trying to rely on him to keep the machine working… I mean it is almost an admirable amount of dedication’
¤ It really is

Helen froze for a few seconds, when it finally clicked

‘So, you think…’
¤ I don’t expect you to understand. Using someone else, especially manipulating someone else for personal gain is very bad
‘No no, wait a minute. It’s not just you who benefit from this… if your little speech of goals is to be believed, a lot of people will be glad for it’
¤ What i do worry about, however… Anon can be spiteful. I don’t think he wants to be a pawn in someone else’s game. Might even throw away things he wants to have because he is not happy with how it all unfolded
‘But let's pretend everything works, Anon gets to Lily, they get back together, and then bring the German squad to us, forcing the Russians to join as well-’
¤ They risk being antagonised otherwise
‘And then you can get a bigger IS?’
¤ Yes. The IS-4 isn't much different from the IS-3, but the IS-7, on the other hand…
‘It's a monster…’

Helen sighs. Almost in defeat

‘Gun, armor, engine… lots of people in the battalion were very happy when the red army decided not to have it’
¤ Really?

Natalya seemed genuinely surprised. And then suspicious

¤ How did you find out it even existed…

Helen smirked and poured herself another

File: voroshilov 2.jpg (88KB, 1500x1094px) Image search: [Google]

88KB, 1500x1094px

‘American steel, British intelligence and Soviet blood wins the war’
¤ I get my hands on the IS-
‘Is hope you get a name for it. IS-7 is a lame designation for a machine of that caliber’
¤ Whatever. Point is, with that machine I won't have to bleed. None of us does
‘Unless there is a caretaker assigned to it already’
¤ Highly doubt there was one. Or she lives. Kubinka can be…
‘I understand. But at least she got better treatment than what the poor soul in the Maus got’
¤ Interesting. I never heard anything about the Maus having one. You know anything about it?
‘I do not. I just assumed, since it is very large and German’
¤ RIght

Helen swallowed and took a heavy breath

‘As much as it pains me to do… Natalya, please be honest with me. You have pretty much figured out where they are going to land?’
¤ I’ve made a rough estimate
‘Phah. I know your “rough estimations”. Just, please, give me something to toy with and i’ll do what i can to get you a new tank. Please’
¤ Don’t ever say please again. It really doesn’t suit you.
‘So help me’
¤ I give you a place, and you will give me a tank
‘And if i fail you, may you have the Conqueror instead
¤ I hope i never have to hold you to that

Helen poured two glasses, took one for herself and slid the second one over to Natalya

‘Something for me to work with, something for you to play with, what a trade’
¤ You asked for it. Now, let’s get down to business. Five weeks ago…

File: stalin 2.jpg (56KB, 767x419px) Image search: [Google]

56KB, 767x419px

Natalya sat there for almost an hour explaining how she figured it out. Looking at recent patterns, where the creatures were opposed, when they got slaughtered. How they tested the defences. Natalya knew where they have had the biggest succes. Plain open grounds. Where there was nothing to take cover behind. Everything the humans fought with needed cover. A man will not fight where there is no cover, because he will die. And since the first wave of these creatures turned armor irrelevant. They were going to land in the biggest open space they could find

¤ ...take all of that into account, and i’m pretty sure they will land… here

Natalya made a little dot on a printed map (probably taken directly from google maps), before switching to a much more zoomed in version, and drew a big circle on it

¤ Bare in mind none of this information i got is classified, even if some of it is hard to get your hands on. I can not guarantee that no one else have figured this out either
‘Natalya, you so-’
¤ And before you say something insulting of my mother, she was a very nice woman. And she made lovely bread

The soviet smirked a little, something very unusual for her

‘Truly does look like i owe you a tank’
¤ But before you make any decisions, remember there are two more groups unaccounted for. The US army, who should have their first batch of their new steel tanks ready
‘The army? They have never muddles with our business before
¤ And they might keep doing that. No use putting all eggs in one basket
‘With the risk of sounding old fashioned, if the Old Guard is there, and we manage to stop a wave like this on our own-’

Helen trailed off a little

File: stalin 3.jpg (265KB, 1500x598px) Image search: [Google]

265KB, 1500x598px

¤ Yes. Exactly
‘...anyway. This fifth group you were talking about?’
¤ Yes. The wildcard.

Natalya narrowed her icy eyes and started explaining

At about that time, well after the sun went down a few hundred miles further south, you more and more started figuring out that you were not left behind as a mistake. No one said where they were heading, left notes.

But they did leave two jerry cans by the old hatchback

While being left behind, again, was unfortunate, it did leave you with an opportunity for relocation. At a closer thought, four options. Mostly because it was the four numbers you knew from the top of your head

First of, try find the Old guard. Because of the internet and the reputation that had built up.
Second alternative was finding the old depot of machines, lead by Wendy and the MBT-70. The would probably have resources and the personnel of the training programs. You would probably just be seen as another face there, for for good or bad.
Third option is Jake Benson. The guy was ancient, but probably had a lot of contacts in funny places. But once again, he wouldn’t care much about you. He would also start a witch hunt for Lily

Speaking of Lily, she was probably the fourth option. Quite how that would work, you had no idea. Just call her and go “eyo, long time no see” isn’t really an option.

But first of all, you had to get to some bigger town

Faithful to Japanese shitbox tradition, the little car purrs to life at the turn of a key. No arguing, no riding the starter motor, just that dull, 4 cylinder droning.

The roads were mostly empty, few people wanted to be this far west. And soon you could see why.

A lone class 3 creature blocked the road up.

Four legs, armored and awful. The legs itself pointed outwards from the body, like a lizard rather than a dog or similar.

File: stalin 4.jpg (196KB, 1280x800px) Image search: [Google]

196KB, 1280x800px

It had its “guns” near the head, and could shoot rays of… something you wasn't really sure what it was in an about a 90 degree arc forwards. Luckily, it was looking another way.

None of the weapons you had the car could hurt it from a comfortable distance. Technically the old AK could hurt it in very specific places like eyes and what it had for nostrils. The two hand grenades would also hurt it, but probably not kill it. Not in a safe way at least.

Sadly, the creature seemed rather confused, just standing in the middle of the road and not really moving. It was also big, far too big to be driven around. And going off the road was not an option, the car was somewhat lowered and had fat, flat and sticky tires. Good for dry tarmac, but not for much else

The other option was to stay. It was still early February, so the car provided some warmth and shelter for the howling wind. A time to think, while you watched the foul beast stumble around, half a mile forwards

Going back to Natalya would be the easiest option. Required very little effort besides just catching up. Low effort

Jake Benson was probably a non-option. Too high of an effort, and would probably not really give anything back.

The Depot with the hordes of abandoned Pattons and Sheridans might be the best option. You could keep doing something you was actually good at. Someone would surely recognise you. Wendy would definitely do it. She was still very scared of Lily. But you? Not sure. But acquiring command of the prototype would probably not be impossible. That would be quite a machine. Maybe even having those nuclear shells

Finally, you could also put some real effort into things and try-


And just like that, the creature seemed to have found something to do, other than being a roadblock. It slowly walked off, and not a moment too soon; the car had become noticeably colder. But the engine warmed you, and with the move of the gearstick, powered you along.

File: stalin 7.jpg (74KB, 746x358px) Image search: [Google]

74KB, 746x358px

Many hours, many miles, and many gallons of fuel later you wobble out of the car and into what is acceptable as a motel nowadays. As long as it had some sort of food, or even “food” and something that wasn’t a stone floor

But first, a glass of something soothing

The men behind the bar looked just as tired as you probably did. He just answered you order with a cold nod and a glass a moment later. And it was soothing. You stared into the rows and rows of half filled bottles with empty eyes. You had decisions you had to make, but you didn't want to think

Too tired, too worn.

The murmur from the other patrons was soothing. That was the word. Soothing

A heavy exhale. But not a nice one. More distant murmur, more chatter. And then a man slides up and lands on the seat next to you

‘Excuse me man, have a phone i can borrow. Mine’s out and-’
“Yeah, sure just sit here and… wait, shit. Mine gave up yesterday”

You hold it up in front of him, clicking the power button a few times to show the phone is dead

‘Ah, yours is out as well?’
“Yeah. just ask the bar, they ought to have a working one”
‘Right’

The man slides away, but just a few inches

‘Wait a second, aren’t you from that tank battalion or whatever’
“Oh, yeah. Suppose i am”
‘Not much tanks going around here though, are there?’
“I could say i’m… out and scouting”
‘Yeah, i heard everyone is moving north west’
“That’s interesting. Where to?”
‘Utah, i think’
“That’s a long fucking drive”
‘You didn’t know?’
“W-well, not really they would give me a new place. On the move, you know”
‘Well, if you’re looking for tank stuff, supplies or whatever, i think there is a place like… hundred and something miles west’

File: T-35 Heavy tank.jpg (103KB, 1417x933px) Image search: [Google]

103KB, 1417x933px

And so, the next morning you set off. A new open road, even if it looked the same as all of the others. Same hatchback, same AK in the passenger's seat where another person should really sit. The same weary 4 cylinder buzzing going on and on forever

Strangely, after two hours of driving, the place… looked rather disappointing. It had one M8 armored car, way, way beyond working condition

In other words, it was a complete waste of time. Why did you even go here? You sigh heavily and turn back to the car, only to see two figures standing next to it. Between you and your means to get out of here

The two figures were a tall woman, properly tall, probably approaching 6 feet and a child standing next to her.

If Lily’s uniform looked somewhat german, this woman's attire looked very german, almost enough to be a satire

Wehrmacht uniform, long coat, black boots and that cap. And sadly, a handgun. You had one as well, but hers was much easier to reach. And to make it worse, she shoved the child in front of her

‘Good day’ The child began
“Hi. Mom and you out for a picnic?”
‘She’s not my mother. I am her translator’
“Not native english, huh? Who’s have thought”
‘The lady is German’
“Wow, thanks for that info”
‘First of all, i must confirm your identity’
“Anon”
‘Just that?’
“All i am willing to tell you now. What do you want?”
‘We only want to talk’
“Of course. Now, you knew how i was for some reason, who don’t you tell me why you guys are”

‘I am Hugo’

The child bows a little and lifting his hat. Very polite

‘And this is Hauptsturmführer Irma Nibelung’

She spoke. Something in german. She sounded hoarse. If that was the language or the voice, you were not sure

‘She says your reaction confirms your identity’
“I suppose it does. I’ve heard that is a very rare last name. And because you’re not the one i recognize, you’re the other she told me about”

File: doing my job(4).jpg (136KB, 1368x1026px) Image search: [Google]

136KB, 1368x1026px

big slav thing edition is completed! hope you like it!

>>34469537
Cute slavs!

>>34467209
oh shit, it's Road with rechambered! Good shit, though wish you'd post the story instead of just giving the pastebin.

And thanks for posting part 1 again for the refresher.

>>34469524
>Wehrmacht uniform
>SA/SS-captain

>>34467234
wohoo, an update!
>>34469537
have a second (you) var så god

>>34469537
FUCK YES TANKS

>>34471874
Happy people still read it. Dragged on a bit and all...

>>34472930
Thank you. I'm reading this with a slack jaw and a smile while I wait for... fuck I forgot what I was waiting for. Anyway, this is good stuff, and the PTR 51 Pdw is T H I C C
https://youtu.be/4cCYN2v-rpQ

Another shell slammed into the ground, sending chunks of rock and dirt into the air. Gritting his teeth, Jon kept his face pressed against the rocky ground and stayed still, hoping nothing big or sharp decided to fall on him. He didn't even know whether that was the enemy or his own side that was shelling them. Not his business. All he was supposed to do was keep crawling at the enemy until either they died or he died.

That was what war was all about, huh? Some fat, posh cunts decided they wanted something from some other fat, posh cunts and it was Jon that got sent to do it along with a couple million other poor bastards.

He'd started this war alongside a crack-team of twenty bright-eyed, innocent teenagers and gaunt criminals convicted of theft and other petty crimes. How many were there now? Besides him and Justin and—

A shell struck the ground to his right with a deafening explosion and blast of fire, leaving a momentary silence as his ears adjusted. Then the screams broke the air. He huddled tighter and covered his ears, forgetting about pretending to be dead. The last rattling gasps and moans that surrounded him had no end. Bullets continued to whizz by and with every one came more screams and petering silences.

Fuck the government. Fuck them and fuck their war. It wasn't Jon's war, he shouldn't have to die for their bullshit politics. His legs were numb from the cold but he forced himself up and began staggering away, desperately hoping he didn't catch the eyes of anyone that would seek to end his life. He limped as fast as his injured knee allowed, not caring where it took him as long as it wasn't forward.

An outcropping of rocks caught his dragging foot and he went down hard, falling headfirst into a hole in the ground. A moment later, Jon realised that he was in what seemed to be a small, natural furrow in the ground, just deep enough for him to lay down in and hide away from any prying eyes. He would wait out the sounds of war here. Hands held over his ears, he curled up on his side and leaned back against a groove of hard dirt.

Only then did he realise his refuge had a fellow occupant. Shivering in the corner of their sanctuary was a man with his arms wrapped around his knees, wearing the same grey-green vest as the men that had taken the lives of so many of his comrades. The man eyed Jon detachedly, one of his hands loosely holding a rifle.

The two locked eyes, and Jon immediately began to reach for his own rifle, knowing with an acute despair he wouldn't make it in time. He should have resigned himself to the end. He should have known to accept the inevitable. But he couldn't. His frantic fear of death burned through any logic and resignation he may have had. And so he lunged for his gun and braced it against his shoulder, finger on the trigger, ready to live another day.

But something stopped him from applying the last milligram of pressure. The man had not moved an inch, still staring at Jon with those tired old eyes, expectant. Waiting for it to be over.

It was the same eyes he saw in so many of his countrymen. The same eyes he prayed he would never see in the mirror looking back at him. Just another spent, lost soldier that had chosen to give up. Once upon a time, Jon had thought the 'thousand yard stare' was some trite expression that only existed in books in the library. Then he'd gone to war and learned what it meant to look into the faces of men who had seen too much and had begun to shut down.

Slowly he lowered his gun and for the first time, felt relief. Laughter began to bubble out of him. Shaking his head, Jon reached into his vest and retrieved his most prized possession on the frontline that wasn't fabric softener. He pulled out his very last cigarette, the one he had been saving. Well, it'd have to do now. He took a deep drag and held it inside, enjoying the itchy feeling it brought. Familiarity and comfort washed over him amidst the death and destruction, giving a short-lived respite from the suffering the world had to offer.

Jon breathed out and held it up for the man to take his turn. The man stared at the proffered cigarette, eyes flickering between it and Jon before slowly reaching out and gripping it.

Suddenly there were heavy footsteps behind them and Justin stumbled into their sanctuary.

"Jon! Jon, we gotta get out of here now." Justin grabbed Jon's shoulders and panted for breath. "They're pulling out and commencing air strikes, we gotta get out now. Get up, man, we need to—ah fuck, is your leg not OK?" Justin turned and pointed at the other man who still sitting down and watching them. "Oi, you, help me with—oh fuck!"

Before Jon could say anything, Justin pulled a pistol from his belt and fired three loud shots in quick succession. The man's body jerked as each bullet thudded into him. The lit cigarette hit the ground, still held in sagging fingers.

Jon shakily stared as the embers faded to black.

His temporary companion was gone. All that was left was a body and a burnt-out cigarette.

A tear escaped his eye and trickled down his face.

"Holy fuck ... You alright, man?"

Jon stared down at his brief friend one last time and looked up at his rescuer.

"Yeah."

He was alive.

And that was all that mattered.

>>34462317
God damn, I've missed this

>My name is T1E6. 5.56x45, long-stroke gas piston. Counterbalanced action.
>The designation T1E6 was given to me by my designer.
>I was built by a man named Anon, for the purpose of testing a theory.
>It was validated, and he’s refined my design over the last months. New bolt carrier, modifications to the receiver…
>I am not as finely-finished as the other firearms I have seen at the range.
>I have tooling marks, ugly welds. But I am strong. I am accurate. I have fired five thousand rounds in my current iteration, and not malfunctioned since I became E6.
>I am not as refined. I have no combat pedigree, no history of defending mankind. No right to think things like this.
>Yet here I am- I’ve heard him talk to someone about this. About why he’s doing this. To defend his fellow man, in a way he could.
>I am a product of “a man with too much coffee, too much time and too little funding.”, as he said.
>What is coffee?
>What is funding?
>What is humanity?
>Why do I exist?
>Is he the same as me?
>Am I the same as him?
>If I… focus, I may be able to take a form like that.
--
>Anon’s mornings were typically punctuated by the clacking of a mechanical keyboard and the taste of cold coffee- a sign that it was time to switch to water, although he seldom did.
>The time after the coffee went cold, he would be in the workshop- meaning the part of his house not necessary to living inside as a functioning member of society.
>Typically his day would go along the schedule of one of his rifles coming and going, which never particularly bothered him. Ever since Kay had formally applied for an ID and gotten it- and American citizenship, by extension, she’d taken rather quickly to human life- well, as "human" as life can be for a waffegeist.

>>34474240
>Not that he minded. She paid for her own ammunition when they went shooting, sometimes, and she got to experience the world herself as a human would- something she treasured, despite simply working in a café. There were legal restrictions, due to her true nature of being a battle rifle, but they were, functionally, irrelevant.
>Anon’s mind began to wonder to what it felt like, to be a geist. How it felt for your body to be iron and wood and carbon fiber or polymer, rather than flesh and bone.
>Of course, he was broken out of this reverie by the appearance of a rather short woman.
>Standing there. He recognized her immediately, as a father would a daughter.
>She was unmistakable, to him. To anyone else, she would just be thought an oddity.
>Numerous scars across her body and arms, the most jarring of which was a burn that ran up from the back of her left hand up her arm, under her shirt.
>It was a side-effect of her rough manufacturing and Anon’s relative inexperience as a machinist and welder- the cuts were accurate and the welds were strong, though they weren’t pretty.
>The hazel right eye and electric blue left eye that peered out from behind jet-black bangs- her hair was cropped shoulder blade length, rather messily.
>A surprisingly-delicate face, somehow still retaining a sort of elegance despite the scar across her nose indicative of meeting a fist with your face.
>Fine features, soft eyes despite the distinctive heterochromia
>Her clothes were baggy, a generic grey T-shirt and black cargo pants.
>The distinctive feature about T1E6, though, were the knife-like ears in place of the normal, “round” ears.
>Anon had no idea why she had those… He understood geists, to a degree, and their traits- however, it was inconsistent at best, and had something to do with the will of the designer. What that was, though, was lost to him. So he wouldn’t dwell on it.
>Nor would he dwell on her blank expression.
>Or the question she asked.

>>34474251
“What is my purpose?”
>The response came before he had a chance to think-
>”You pass the butter.”
>Anon’s hand flew to his forehead, rubbing his face before gesturing in a “follow me” command, which the heterochromic woman did. Everything was different, now, in this form.
>She was growing more confident in her steps, now, learning how her body properly moved, as she followed him into the kitchen.
>”No, no, what I meant to say is…” His voice trailed off, having not fully completed that thought before he started to speak- though T1 would have interrupted him anyway.
“I do not pass the butter?”
>She stopped mid-stride, the prototype wrinkling her nose.
“…What is butter?”
>”Okay, never mind all that-“ Anon tried to go about brewing another cup of coffee, but he gave up with a sigh.
>”Look, just. What is your name?” He was exasperated and confused, and had gone to the top shelf for a bottle of honey-brown liquid, which he poured into the cup with the remainder of his coffee as he retrieved his phone and typed rapidly, dropping the black device on the counter a bit too roughly.
“My name is T1E6. I am a 5.56 millimeter semi-automatic rifle, designed by you. Built by you, father.”
>In the time she’d spoken, Anon had gotten the cup to his lips, and taken a sip. However, being called ‘father’ resulted in him choking on his drink, which led to a hacking fit.
>He’d never considered this when he undertook this pet project, a few months of sleepless weekends and the like.
>He’d taken the coming week off to thoroughly test his newly-completed rifle, but Anon had never considered ‘fatherhood’.
>T1E6 did not know what to do- she had never seen this before. Is this something humans do? It didn’t seem pleasant.
“Are you okay?”
>”I’m fine, I’m fine, just. Give me a moment.” He set the cup on the table, regaining his composure before straightening up.

>>34474264
>”Yes, I suppose I am your … er, ‘father’.”
“As my designer, yes. You fulfill the role of a father.”
>”So…What should I do?”
“What is my purpose?”
Anon rubbed his face again, slowly realizing the potential dangers of this.
>”You will defend humanity.”
“Humanity?”
>”Yes. Mankind.”, came the reply- which elicited a strange stare from the elf.
“What is humanity?”
>”Humans. Like me.”
“What am I?”
>”A waffegeist- a weapon spirit, if you will. A…” His voice trailed off. “I can’t sufficiently explain it. You are you.”
“I am T1E6. Your waffegeist. I will be living with you, from here on-“
>T1 stopped dead mid-word at a loud slam, followed by heavy footfalls- she was visibly alarmed at the noises, watching the doorway with a half-fearful expression. He didn’t bother looking, though, only one person would be home now.
“Who is she? Another human?”
>Anon’s head whirled, just in time to see one of his other Waffegeists, Kay- by far the most independent one- bend down and plop her chin on his shoulder- “Who’s this, then?”
“As I just said, my name is T1E6. 5.56x45 millimeter, long-stroke gas piston-“
>The blonde cut T1 off sharply, a voice that carried more volume than she was aware. “Well, yeah duh, but I mean a name, y’know? I’m an M21, but I go by Kay. Kay Garand, at least that’s what my license says. Why do I even NEED a last name, anyway? I don’t really need it, but… Bureaucracy.”
>T1E6 blinked slowly as she took in ‘Kay’s features. She was tall, far taller than she was. In fact, she was almost as tall as Anon, with a well-built frame under an olive T-shirt and jeans, and thick, black-framed glasses over silver eyes. The thing that was the most distinctive, to T1 at least, was the golden braid that hung over her right shoulder, lashed off with an olive ribbon in a small bow.

>>34474287
>”Surprised you didn’t take my name.”, came the response from Anon, chewing on his lip- he didn’t seem too fond of that.
>”Well you gotta marry me first~”, came the sing-song reply from the newcomer, a smug grin on her lips. One that made Anon blush, the blonde carrying on without him.
>”Y’know, I think Mash is a good name for ya.”, came from the M21.
“Mash…”
>The prototype rolled the word off her tongue. Mash. Crush, a synonym…
>As she remembered just WHY that name came to mind, her cheeks colored- but she nodded.
“That wasn’t my fault.”
>”I know it wasn’t,-“ Anon cut her off. “But it happened, so until we get a better name for you-“
>The blonde cut in, “Then we’ll just call you Mash for the time being. Now, you have any questions for us?”
“Miss Kay, why do you have that last name? That is not the same as Anon’s.”
>”Well, it’s a bit of a long story, but I’ll just sum it up. In a nutshell, after waffegeists- weapon spirits, like us, became acknowledged by the US government- and others- there was a huge push to give us equivalent rights to humans, should we desire them."

>>34474304
>”The argument against it, mainly, was that we are weapons- and should be treated as such. However, the argument of self-determination won out, with the agreement of a 4473 being usable for a waffegeist in place of a birth certificate for a Social Security number, which then allows you to get a job, or a driver’s license, or both, or-“
>Kay hadn’t noticed the elf’s eyes glazing over, though Anon did. This was too much, too fast.
>Anon interrupted the battle rifle again- “You’re overwhelming the poor girl, quiet.” The blonde immediately stopped talking and moved to Anon’s side, pulling a chair out and sitting quietly- T1 couldn’t see, but she grabbed his hand under the table.
>”Sorry, just- her eyes glazed over… Mash, you here?”
>All that came from the black-haired woman was a soft nod, followed by a long, awkward silence, broken by a quiet thought, voiced in the kitchen by a prototype who only had flesh and blood for a few hours now.

“…I’m hungry.”

File: IMG_0875.jpg (93KB, 1024x771px) Image search: [Google]

93KB, 1024x771px

>>34474264
>What is my purpose?
>You pass the butter!
kek. I like you, i think we'll get along.

>>34467234
Good stuff, even if reading it makes me sad.

>>34474315
This looks like it'll be pretty good, keep at it!

>>34474315
Ohh, getting on a touch more philosophical here. Interesting

And, have you written before? I have the strangest feeling, or even a hint a recognise the style, sort of

>>34474315
i like it

>more when/10

>>34474315
Breddy gud, I like this is more of a parent story than waifus. Also nice to see a new anon write as well.

File: 17523070_1685621278398775_6629638337573283977_n.jpg (23KB, 480x415px) Image search: [Google]

23KB, 480x415px

>>34475154
Thank you!

>>34475164
See >>34476205

>>34475449
As soon as I get the ball rolling.

>>34476205

>a new anon
>new

I've been here since writefagging was still in /ak/, wrote back then but ran out of story ideas. Figure out which one I am, I'll write you something special~

File: 1494278198000.jpg (400KB, 1336x1044px) Image search: [Google]

400KB, 1336x1044px

>>34476259
You KSG?
Also, this has been really good so far. Looking forward to more.

File: Join.jpg (25KB, 219x350px) Image search: [Google]

25KB, 219x350px

>>34476259
Dear god... I think I might have read your stuff way back when I was just barely coming up with the premise for the name I use here.

>>34468087

Thanks for the words!

>>34469295

I'll do my best, all he wants to do is get home man,

Hey. polybus, I know you like me a lot less than I like you, but you might find this to be a good line to add to the thread's sticky.

ITT: https://youtu.be/-TC2xTCb_GU

File: image.jpg (82KB, 509x300px) Image search: [Google]

82KB, 509x300px

https://youtu.be/fkcIH6DeBUM
Awakening. present day.
>I walked out the door, exploring the beach outside the house in which I had awaken. Finding that it ended on a cliff.
>I started exploring the cliffs which surrounded the house and the beach, within hours, surmounting all of them and viewing over their crests to find a forestry as far as the eye could see, in a fashion which wouldn't be very informative but for the fact that at no point in my exploration did I see any man made exit routes, which indicated to me that either whoever resides here, who I felt was not myself, wanted a high barrer to entry, or otherwise didn't traverse these features regularly as a means of entry and exit.
>With that, I drew the only conclusion I could. Looking on the position of the sun, the shades of the sunlight, sky, the colors of the ocean, how directly overhead the sun seemed to be, and how soft, warm and powdery the sand was, I could only conclude that I was somewhere in the tropics, likely, judging by the slight deviation of the sun from being straight overhead, somewhere between the tropic of cancer, and the equator.
"Well. I guess that's that. I suppose I'm on an island... do I... live here? Am I in the atlantic or the pacific? hmmm..."
>A thought comes to me, a realization so absurd, placing me to be so empty headed that I couldn't bare it!
"I!? WHO AM I?!?! FUCK!" I scream out to the ocean at large, and whoever else may be, but probably isn't on the island.
>With no ideas,where to start on any thing further but to walk into the forest and take my chances, I slide and bound my way down the cliffs, resigning myself to simply going back to the house to look around for something, maybe some sunscreen, or a shade, and lying out on the beach.
>The house, upon further inspection, and the frame of mind to think of such things had an elegant sparcity to it. There was relatively little furniture, the essentials were there, and a few carefully chosen luxuries.

File: image.jpg (66KB, 400x420px) Image search: [Google]

66KB, 400x420px

>>34479107
>The house had everything you'd need for surviving, it had plenty of room to avoid the feeling of being cramped, and yet, while it had some luxuries, it didn't contain so many that you'd find them in your way while you walked around, or tried to do something, though the balance was such that there weren't so many easily conceivable things you could even do that would send you into a position to run up against things, aside from wandering around the recreation room drunk with a few friends, and forgetting about the various furniture of the room, which one could get around rather easily even while piss drunk.
>Altogether, one could easily be expected to come here with a small number of people, maybe only a significant other, and just take a load off both their feet and mind, of course they could come here and live it up with some friends if they wanted. There was room to relax, the extranious things around the hosue weren't so numerous that they'd become obtrusive, and the house wasn't so big that it would become an obstacle to enjoyment in and of itself.
>Altogether, whoever thought this house up was pretty smart. a stretch of tropical paradise in which to lay out and unwind, jungle to hunt, beach to swim, lie out, and play on. This place was pretty nice... which makes it all the more irritating that it isn't for me. The picturesque cliffs, the beach, the jungle... it's all things that I would enjoy, but not somewhere I'd choose to be. Even an enjoyable beach is still a beach, which draws some ambiguous antipathy out of me, and upon searching the house, there was an everpresent realization in my kind that while heavenly, there was some hellish wrong to the house on the beach, perfectly suited to my tastes... it was something I'd have never known myself well enough to make for myself.
>I found the sunscreen next to a gold damascene hi-point... How do I know what it is? Sure it says hi point c-9 on the side... but why damascene? Defeated,I head to the beach.

File: image.jpg (94KB, 368x750px) Image search: [Google]

94KB, 368x750px

>>34479187
>Lying in the soft sand, a feeling of pleasant warmth washes over me. Allowing me to simply straighten out my back, and lay against the firm ground while my mind loses track of all its concerns, the questions that lingered, and simply drift off on the heat.
>"Michael? Miiiichael. Meeechel! MIKE!" A high voice calls out to someone, just barely echoing into my psyche as some woman calls for the attention of someone who must have been fairly endeared to her.
"Some fella must be getting in trouble with his lady friend." I murmer to myself, putting on a purposeful grin as my mind stirs into consciousness, and situational comprehension increases, darting from the small situation of presumably some fellow down the beach getting yelled at by his woman, to the world at large around me.
"Huh, the others must be back."
>"Michael, wake up." The voice says, this time sharply defined and accompanied by a tap to my shoulder by a small foot, wafting into my nostrils, the gentle scent of a fragrant perfume.
>My eyes open to see a couple bright and well cared for toenails attached to a lightly bronzed leg, skin taut and pronounced of a well toned calf muscle. As my gaze floated upward, it crosed a well toned set of thighs, passing a set of sizeable but also well toned glutes, accompanied by the rounded and moderately large posterior before crossing a tight and clingy set of purple panties, a subtly pronounced pack of abdominal muscles and a set of well rounded D cup breasts contained by a thin bikini top before floating onto the face of the woman looking down over me.
>"Well, Michael? Are you just going to look me over or are you going to get up and come inside for drinks? Not that I'm complaining." she asks, adding the last bit with a mischievious smile.
"I suppose so. Something just doesn't seem right."
>"Oh, really? How so?"
"Well, speaking candidly I didn't know who you were calling 'Michael', I don't remember your name, and I don't remember anything before 10Am."

File: 1408666880881.jpg (146KB, 654x539px) Image search: [Google]

146KB, 654x539px

I cant write any stories, but i do enjoy world building. Have this, i guess:

>On a Sarajevan summer day in 1914 Gavrilo Princip’s gun voiced a feeble click. And then several others in rapid succession. This was a surprise for Mr. Princip, who was expecting thunderous booms. On The other end of the barrel, equally flabbergasted, was crown prince Franz Ferdinand with his wife, unharmed. Deep inside Mr. Princip’s bewildered mind it dawned that his assassination had failed and he turned to run

-Contemporary historian on European Antiroyalists , Prof. Rudolf Stutt, Vienna University, 1949

Thanks to this one jammed gun the starting note for WWI was never played, and without Germany’s loss and humiliation at Versailles there were no cries for revenge, making the second world war an impossibility. All this made sure Mr. Hitler lived his life as a mediocre artist on the streets of Vienna

However, without these two large wars to change society and force technology forwards, the world of the 50’s feels frozen in time- Colonialism upholding imperial economies and royal marriages setting unstable alliances in stone. Cars mingle with horse drawn carriages and biplanes compete with massive airships.

Eventually, in 1951, these outdated power structures start to crumble. In a world happily tumbling towards the war to end all wars, it’s imperialism iced with biplanes and rock’n roll.

File: image.png (15KB, 905x456px) Image search: [Google]

15KB, 905x456px

>>34479311
>"Don't say that! We've been dating for seven months." She said, a certain wry humor exuding from her voice, as though she believed it to be sarcasm.
"I'm serious, though." I reply while sitting up. "I can't remember anything from before I woke up this morning."
>"Well, you met my family, they challenged you to a drinking contest, and you held your tequila better than most of them, though I suspect you were impossible to wake up this morning because you managed to hold your tequila instead of vomitting. I think they like you, of course I had to take them to the mainland today to stock up and recover."
"I outdrank your entire family? Somehow I don't think that explains why I have an apparent case of amnesia... or how I'm still alive unless they're a bunch of featherweights."
>"I don't know what to tell you, baby." She said, kneeling down next to me with a smile "You must have a hell of a hangover."
"Despite my oh so lovely appearance, I didn't FEEL green around the gills when I woke up."
>"Really? No headache?"
"No."
>"Haven't felt sick?"
"No."
>"Hmm. Did you take your pills?"
"I don't take pills... do I?"
>"May as well not, at the rate you forget to take them." she said, an accent bleeding through her voice.
>I stood up and the woman took up my arm, leading me into the house.
>"Here, take two." She said, producing a pill bottle with the name she kept calling me on the label.
>I swallowed the two tablets with water and sat down while the woman came back, sitting beside me on a couch and leaning herself on me, the soft mounds of her breasts pressed seemingly deliberately against my arm.
"I don't want to ask this especially if we've been dating for seven months, but what's your name?"
>"Victoria. I'm sure it'll all come back to you when the meds kick in." She said reassuringly.
>I get a feeling, reach forward and read the label of the bottle.
"Methoxetamine... why am I taking... dissociative..."
>As my mind becomes strange, I feel myself being straddled.

I don't know why I touch on MC getting assailed under the influence of drugs so much, I've done it in at least one other story that comes to mind, but I gotta make a sense of darkness not subtle enough that only I pick up on it SOMEHOW. I could have got what I was looking for storywise if I'd just left it at the fourth line from the bottom. In any case, please, feedback and criticism are welcome.

File: 1497359873736.png (226KB, 432x455px) Image search: [Google]

226KB, 432x455px

>>34479430
>mfw
shit man this is some next level yandere

So....it's been a while. Sorry for going MIA for so long guys. The long and short of it is school and work got me busy and still is keeping me busy (am doing summer courses abroad atm).

HFG's still going on, but it's on hiatus as I figure stuff for the story out. I am writing something in the universe in the meantime but won't really say much or give a timetable because I don't know when my life will ramp up again.

I'll post when I finish the aside that's coming. Until then see you later

So to answer >>34451695
I'm not dead, just sorting shit out.

PS: Also commissioning some Nike art.

Got a decent chunk done. Should post something tonight or tomorrow.

Also, to keep with the Central Asian setting, I'm using a combination of Iranian, Russian, and Mongol names. Any resources for coming up with realistic names?

>>34480660
I've used google and tend to roll the dice for name picking

>>34480660
Tank knights?

Also for names I try to make references to everything. Most Russians in the AT story are named for warships

>>34480660
are you looking for historic names or modern names

Modern names use >>34480949

historical names have websites dedicated to them, kinda like this

http://www.thewhitegoddess.co.uk/divinity_of_the_day/slavic_gods_and_goddesses.asp

File: image.png (226KB, 552x333px) Image search: [Google]

226KB, 552x333px

bump

>>34480959
Neofeudalism, with tanks replacing knights on horseback

>>34481709
Sweet. When is it played out, time wise? I could help with tanks

>>34481732
1930s tech level. But I'm thinking if having telecommunications at a very primitive level, for the feudalism to make more sense.

>>34481882
Central Asia, 30s... the tanks that would make sense are soviet and Japanese vehicles. If you stick to vehicles actually made, it's going to be rather small things, with the possible exception of the three soviet multi turret heavy tank projects (T-100, SMK and T-35)

>>34474315
Is good/10
Muor?

File: 1493157729268.jpg (93KB, 640x583px) Image search: [Google]

93KB, 640x583px

>>34480065
I've been waiting comrade, I forgive you.

File: Chun-Li vs Cammy.jpg (269KB, 825x638px) Image search: [Google]

269KB, 825x638px

Need ideas for fictional martial arts and/or unarmed combat sciences.

I already have one developed around headbutts. I'd like to develop one based off Captain Kirk's retarded bullshit attacks but a few pointers would help tremendously.

>>34480065
Fuck Yeah, you are back! I missed my fav giant.

>>34481882
>>34481974
BT -series, Vickers 6-ton/derivatives such as T-26, maybe some FT-17s...

plus of course the Japanese "best WWI -tanks in WWII'"

>>34481974
>>34482848
It's not historical fiction. It's more like sci fi, but with historical tech rather future tech. But actual 30s tanks are solid inspiration.

>>34482943
well Vickers/T-26 sounds like a solid starting point to me, give villains some T-26s/tanks inspired by it armed with flamethrowers because let's face it, evil knights must have something that goes against the generally accepted rules of war

File: ok.jpg (151KB, 388x443px) Image search: [Google]

151KB, 388x443px

>>34483053
>>34482943
Dude, the evil knights need orphan stompers, not meat grinders.

>>34483101
orphan roaster not close enough?

>>34482943
If you want cool 30s tanks, I'd suggest all multi turret tanks. The soviet ones I mentioned, some French (Char B2, FCM F1) German Neubaufahrzeug, British A1E1 Independent.

If you're looking for smaller ones, they come from many, many countries. Smaller ones even

Czechoslovakia, Poland, Romania, Sweden etc etc.

Looking for massive Landships or smaller things?

(If you can't tell, I'm happy to help)

File: 43140229_p1_by_erica1940-d838sn2.jpg (126KB, 752x1063px) Image search: [Google]

126KB, 752x1063px

got an update incoming

casefile 7.5

time to see if it falls to shit

>>34483328
>don't even know why i'm calling them casefiles at this point
>previous one
https://pastebin.com/f03ZfwUd
>thanks poly

A couple of months later...

Chris was at the wheel as the pair cruised down the freeway, headed home after a job well done in the next state. Dave had Cyka in his lap, but was more occupied in lamenting over the state of his jacket, which was covered in dried blood.

“...it’s like the fucking arterial spray was all directed at me instead of anywhere else.”

“It’s your own fault. You’re the one who decided to run ahead without me.”

“I wasn’t expecting to get tackled.”

“Well there you go. You’re lucky I was there to blow its head off.”

Dave sighed. “Who knew the fucker would have so much blood in him.”

“Oh, speaking of blood, might want to look down.”

Dave did so and took notice of the beagle licking the dark red stains on his jacket. “No! Bad dog! O kurwa!” He pulled the dog off and held him at arm’s length. “You could get rabies or something, or whatever the hell other supernatural diseases those things might carry!”

Chris smirked as Dave slipped his jacket off, balling it up and tossing it in the back seat. “Little bastard’s lucky his shots are up to date.”

Dave grunted and set the dog back in his lap, scratching him behind the ears. The interior of the car returned to an easy quiet, as Dave looked out the window and Chris focused on the road, listening to Wehrmacht marching songs on low volume from the phone hooked up to the radio.

>>34483344

“Hey… Chris?” said Dave, after a while.

“Hmm?”

“You ever think about the future?”

“I'm not following.”

“You know… our future.”

Chris shifted a bit in her seat and tightened her grip on the steering wheel. “Why? Is something wrong?” she inquired, a tiny hint of concern finding its way into her voice.

“What? Oh, no no no! Nothing!” Dave stammered. “I wasn't implying that at all!”

“What did you mean, then?”

“Just… I was just thinking. Was all. About when we might settle down?”

“Settle down? It hasn't even been a year yet.”

“It… oh… uh… you’re right… huh… it hasn’t…” Dave said quietly, getting lost in musings and looking off to the side, at the trees passing at high speed outside the window.

“Don’t take that the wrong way,” said Chris, reaching over and rubbing his leg, “I hope we can keep this going for a good long time until we’re sick of each other’s company, and by that time we’ll be half dead so we’ll just keep sticking it out from there.”

“Heh heh…”

“So, yeah, I guess I can sort of see what you might be getting at… but we’ve got a lot of good years ahead of us before we need to worry about that.”

He nodded slightly, seeing her point. He returned to staring out the window.

“Don’t worry yourself so much,” she continued. “It’ll all happen when it happens.”

“Yeah. You’re right.” He looked over at her with a wistful smile, which she returned.

>>34483354

A couple of hours later, they pulled up next to their apartment as the day progressed into the late evening. Grabbing their bags, they headed upstairs and let themselves into the apartment and settled back in.

Dave put the dog down and stretched, popping his back. Chris set down their gun bags and came up behind him. She wrapped her arms around him, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

“Heh… we just got home, and you want to get to bed already?”

“Why not?” she asked, kissing him again. “Can you think of a reason?”

“No, I guess not.” He turned around in her arms to face her and she locked her lips with his in a long kiss. Together, they started slowly walking backwards towards the bedroom. Dave bumped into the door and hit his head. He cursed under his breath and reached back to the knob to let them into the other room.

Chris kept pushing him back until they hit the foot of the bed, upon which she pushed him down onto the mattress and crawled up to straddle him. She leaned bent down to kiss him again.

When she broke the contact to take a breath, Dave looked over at the doorway, noticing Cyka sitting there, staring at him and whining softly.

“Uh, Chris. I think the dog needs a walk. He’s giving me that look.”

>>34483365

“Ugh… right now?”

“Yeah. He was cooped up in the car with us for hours and we didn’t stop off on the side of the road or anything.”

“Can’t it wait?”

“It can, if you don’t mind having to clean it up when he craps on the floor later.”

“Fiiiiine. I’ll take the little bastard out so he can do his business.” She got off the bed and went into the living room to grab her coat.

“Would you stop calling him a little bastard?” Dave asked from the bedroom.

“He’s cockblocking me right now, so I’ll call him whatever I want.” She grabbed the dog’s leash from a drawer and whistled for him. “Come on you little turd. Let’s get this over with,” she said, attaching it to his collar. “I’ll be back in a minute,” she said, then shut the door behind her.

Dave got up off of the bed and went over to the kitchenette to grab something from the fridge. He ended up grabbing a carton of milk and drinking straight from it while lurking /k/ on his phone.

He waited for a while, leaning against the counter, until he took a look at the time and realized she’d been out for the better part of half an hour. Wondering where she’d gone off to, he decided to head outside to have a look.

He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind himself, and walked down the hall.

He stopped when he noticed heavy footfalls approaching from around the corner.

>>34483372

In the next moment, he saw a group of heavily armed men round the corner. They were geared up in full battle rattle, complete with helmets, ballistic goggles, plate carriers and full-retard tacticool M4s bristling with attachments. Dave’s eyes jumped to the three large letters emblazoned in black right on the front of their plate carriers.

As soon as they saw him standing there, just gawking, the men were shouting at the top of their lungs.

“LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!”
“DOWN! DOWN NOW!”
“GET THE FUCK DOWN!”

Dave turned tail and booked it back to the apartment, slipping back inside and locking the door behind him. He was hyperventilating, panicked, unsure what was happening or what to do next.

He heard banging on the door. “THIS IS THE FBI! COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

“Fuck… fuck… shit!” The only thing he could think to do was find his revolver and take cover behind the couch.

“SURRENDER NOW AND COME OUT OF THERE!”

“Wh-what the fuck d-do you want?” he shouted, stammering badly.

“THIS IS YOUR FINAL WARNING!”

“Am I b-being detained?”

>>34483382

There was the sound of shuffling feet out in the hall, and a few seconds later two consecutive shotgun blasts disintegrated the door lock and part of the jamb. The door itself crashed inward, slamming against the wall.

Dave heard two distinct metallic pings, and saw a pair of objects hurled into the room. They bounced against the far wall and off the floor, one of them coming to a stop within his line of sight. It detonated.

Dave found himself blinded and deafened.

Reeling from the concussion, he stumbled into a wall, dropping his gun as he tried to steady himself. His vision slowly returned, but his head felt thick. He turned and was met with the sight of three SWAT officers pointing their weapons at his chest. They were shouting orders at him, but he couldn’t hear them. The ringing in his ears was far too fierce.

One of the men lost his patience and pulled a taser from a holster on his hip. With a pull of the trigger, a pair of barbed electrodes embedded themselves in Dave’s chest. 50,000 volts of electricity travelled down the wires with a harsh buzzing sound. His entire body seized up and he fell to the ground, screaming in agony as the most intense pain he’d ever experienced rippled through his nervous system.

He blacked out.

File: 1498009767519.jpg (82KB, 900x900px) Image search: [Google]

82KB, 900x900px

>>34483392

Down on street level, Chris had hidden herself in an alley a little ways down the road, and was peeking around the corner. She looked on in a state of shock as the SWAT team raided the apartment, and came out with her boyfriend in handcuffs. He was half-conscious and babbling something about his rights as they practically dragged him across the street and tossed him into the back of a police cruiser.

Cyka was in her arms, and he started wriggling and growling. He was about to start howling before Chris clamped his mouth shut with her hand and retreated down the alley, out of sight.

She walked with a quick pace, trying to figure out what exactly was going on, while at the same time putting some distance between her and the authorities.

She wondered, was it all some sort of mistake? Had the feds been given a false address for a drug operation or something? It seemed like an unlikely coincidence to her, given their secretive work and how high profile some of their jobs had gotten.

No, she thought, they both had targets on their backs and now they'd been tracked down. She had to get out of dodge as fast as possible before a dedicated manhunt started for her and she ended up in cuffs herself.

She couldn't return to the apartment and get the car, so she decided she'd have to steal one. It was a small town, and she ended up on the other side of it before too long.

There was a Wal-Mart there, because of course there was. Many of the locals worked there. Chris had never bothered to get to know anyone in the town in her years of being there, however. So she had no problem skulking through the parking lot, going car to car and checking for unlocked doors.

>>34483406

She came across a minivan with stickers plastered all over the rear window and bumper, all possessing a certain… left leaning slant. “Coexist… Bernie 2016… proud socialist… are you fucking- high capacity assault clips kill children?” she muttered in disbelief. “No, fuck you. I'm stealing your fucking van, how about that? Call it redistribution of wealth, fucker.”

She pulled out her pistol and smashed the window with the butt, and let herself inside. She swept broken glass off the seats and tossed Cyka into the passenger side, before busting open a panel under the steering wheel, hoping she still remembered how to hotwire a car, all the while muttering to herself about filthy commie bastards trying to take her guns.

Using her pocket knife to strip the insulation, she spliced a pair of wires together, and cursed aloud as a spark burnt her fingertips. But, the van's engine started turning over, so she held it until to coughed to life, then pulled her hand back, hissing in pain. She climbed into the driver's seat and pulled the minivan out of the parking lot, making for the freeway as the sun slipped below the horizon.

>that's all for now
>whaddya think of it

File: King-Goodwillissmug.jpg (197KB, 800x487px) Image search: [Google]

197KB, 800x487px

>>34483150
>baby powered child soldier operated orphan grinder

I wrote that and it's still 3edgy5me^^^^^^

File: Das it.jpg (987KB, 1200x1602px) Image search: [Google]

987KB, 1200x1602px

>>34483406
something about her face just looks so sweet and somehow puts me at ease...

Hello???

Ok.. uhh the light is blinking so I guess it's on.

Huh, neat. Wonder how long the batteries are gonna last.

Uhh... anyway my name... isn't really important, so let's just skip all that bullshit, yeah?

What you need to know is shit has gone south. Like, really bad. A fall from greatness not seen since... shit, Rome maybe?

I don't know, it really doesn't matter. The point is we as a species fucked up, big time.

Hell it hasn't even been a century since the 8 day war, only thing left on this continent atleast is scattered warlords and people just trying to make it another day.

We don't know who launched first.

We don't even know who all took part, but somebody got a nuclear hard on and hit the launch button, a few more followed suit.

>>34483995
Anyway, shit is fucked. I'm trying to do what I can, preserving what knowledge and information I can. I know its probably pointless, but hey everyone has to have a hobby.

So, I just got this mic. Kinda surprised it still works, everything else was rusted to shit. Looked like it mighta been a broadcasting station or something.

I saw the tower, or what was left of it from about 4 clicks out. I waited till dark and swept it with the ir optics this thing has, and it was cold so I drove up and checked it out, glad I did too.

Oh, right. I haven't told you about my ride yet.

I Uhh... I don't know the name of it, but its big, tracked, and probably left over from what the reds landed in the 8 day war. It doesn't have a gun or anything, but that's fine. not like I would use it anyway. draws too much attention.

It has, well had two good sized hatches on the back. I ended up welding the right one shut after the seal got fucked. I really don't want to let the rain in. Shit burns.

>>34484006
I ended up strapping some fuel drums to the roof, I'm hoping i get lucky and run across a RTG setup.

I found one a few months ago, but it was spewing rads everywhere. looked like the casing had cracked or something and was ditched. I didn't want to get too close and check. That'd be a hell of a way to go. Kureha would kill me if I got radiation poisoning.

Oh.. uh Kureha is my AI by the way. Kureha, say hello.

[Female voice] "Hello, to whom is this greeting directed?"

I dunno, just say hi

"We should leave soon, between scavenging that equiptment and the further damage to the remaining structure you would have drawn the attention of anyone with gear in a 2 click radius"

Right right. let me just uhh...

[Rattling, followed by a motor attempting to start]

Come on you piece of shit.

[Deep rumbling of a large diesel motor makes the rest of the recording inaudible]

~~~~~~~~

Ok, here's a new story, and a new format. Thing I should keep going?

>>34484025
Yep, continue.

>>34483415
Oh this is getting interesting. Go on

>>34484025
Holy shit, haven't you been out for like half a year.

>>34484253
Yeah, I had a lot of shit going on that just killed my desire to write. I did write a little bit more of the stalker challenge story a few months ago, not sure if I still have it.

File: 1483373020295.jpg (46KB, 960x960px) Image search: [Google]

46KB, 960x960px

Big things coming Kameraden.

File: gotta get a grip.webm (849KB, 480x270px) Image search: [Google]

849KB, 480x270px

>>34479397
>Methoxetamine

File: 1489538938900.png (662KB, 480x720px) Image search: [Google]

662KB, 480x720px

>>34483415

File: what I learned in boating school is.jpg (142KB, 850x1339px) Image search: [Google]

142KB, 850x1339px

>>34482419
Soon, friend. Is slow going.

>Depicted: me the last three months, trying to get the first chapter on paper.

>>34484714
How soon?

File: 1498997660140-k.png (218KB, 300x366px) Image search: [Google]

218KB, 300x366px

>>34484714
Hype

File: Paul Manafort.jpg (41KB, 970x647px) Image search: [Google]

41KB, 970x647px

>>34484714
>FAL is coming back
>MFW

File: 1424550915277.jpg (738KB, 1000x800px) Image search: [Google]

738KB, 1000x800px

>>34484714

Ruslan Zhigunov pulled up the scarf around his face as the hot summer wind threatened to strip the skin from his face as sure as rawhide. He surveyed the leagues of rolling steppe from the cupola of his tank. A few miles behind him, a column of trucks, soldiers, horses, and tanks passed over a lazily rolling stream -- looking more like a parade of insects at such a distance than men. The five mustard-drab tanks of Ruslan's lance were silent and still. Men-at-arms kicked a ball in the dust, foxholes already dug and rifles stacked in pyramids.

"My Prince, you should take a break."

Ruslan looked down to see the windburnt, hook-nosed face of Sir Aleksey Sergeivich. His butternut tanker's uniform was looking threadbare from months on campaign, unadorned of more than the ranks on his shoulderboards - Imperial Guard. Ruslan blinked. The knight passed him a cup of water and a small bag of hard candies to the prince.

"I suppose I ought to start at some point, but I can see the smoke over the horizon from those villages. The foe is too near."

"We've been in this land for too long."

"Aye," replied Ruslan.

"I shall return to my own tank, sir. However, I insist you rest a while."

Ruslan nodded and hauled himself out of the vehicle. Crawling on his belly, he slid into the cool earth of the shallow trench dug underneath the war machine. The sensation of cool earth brought to mind memories of picking and eating grapes around what had been his grandfather’s vineyard on the shores of the inland sea. This soil, however, was not good for grapes.

“Sire?”

Ruslan looked back at the babyface of his squire Evgeny, who served as the gunner, and nodded.

“There’s an airplane in the sky buzzing around. The sentries see a cloud of dust as if of vehicles. What shall we do?”

“How many leagues away are the rest?”

“5 or 6 by my reckoning.”

“We’ll have to fend them off,” said Ruslan, “Make ready for battle.”

>To be continued

>>34484714
Any chance you could continue pale king?

>>34484739
I'm actually pretty sure it's in that same class of drugs. It has analgesic properties and is classified as a dissociative hallucinogen. So it probably does exactly what is in the WEBM, as it's effects and purpose are described as being basically that of Ketamine but without some of the adverse side effects.

File: 1484998635636.jpg (17KB, 475x456px) Image search: [Google]

17KB, 475x456px

>>34486682
It's in the works.

But people have been waiting for Vietnam for a super long time.

It's time I bring back the bacon for the originals.

Especially since I'm in the OP.

File: 1499078413607.gif (249KB, 500x375px) Image search: [Google]

249KB, 500x375px

>>34484739
G O T T A
G E T
A
G R I P

>>34469537
Yesssssssss

File: memes.jpg (19KB, 543x403px) Image search: [Google]

19KB, 543x403px

>>34484812
so... You're a cute wolf/cat/dog girl with an ultra cute case of extreme heterochromia and regularly wear off purple cold weather gear?

I can dig it.

File: 1496577924534.gif (1019KB, 500x373px) Image search: [Google]

1019KB, 500x373px

how do I know if my writing is bad? i posted something a while back and it was never acknowledged, is that sort of like a 'take a hint' sort of thing?

>>34488805
Not really, but it's been low on (you)'s because image reposting. Goes for everyone I guess

File: THIS.jpg (114KB, 500x499px) Image search: [Google]

114KB, 500x499px

>>34488805
It's NOT going to be a lack of (you)'s. It's probably going to be when they start getting on you about your relatively shit grammar, as happened to a certain anon who wrote about a black guy getting an STG. If you catch my drift.

>>34488817
how would i know anyone ever read it? or is even interested in seeing other stuff from me?

>>34488832
post it again, or send it, I don't have anything to do today except trying the next part with the previous one for mine.
Might as well help you. As long as it is not a very weird thing like the fury-WWII fap-fic thing that got posted some threads ago.

File: Afghanistan_1975.jpg (67KB, 625x366px) Image search: [Google]

67KB, 625x366px

>>34488832
Oh, they read it, trust me. You might mistakenly think not getting any replies and you could start going on mad ass rants about... I don't know, snoop dog is a niggerjew or something and no one would notice, but you WILL be corrected on that notion when you get the (you)'s going "What the fuck are you on about?" or my personal favorite "something something illegal, something something violation of the law, something something you have a problem" or whatever, not that I've ever been on the receiving of such a response or even witnessed it in this thread, but in any case, if nothing else the NSA is reading your every word and saying "Damn. This IS SOME INTERESTING prose. I don't know if I can judge it's coherency or the sanity of whoever wrote it, since I'm too jaded, but it IS interesting!"

Anyway, where was I? Oh, YES! THAT! believe me, someone WILL read your stuff, and most likely everyone in this thread. Even if I've failed to REMEMBER everything in this thread, I've almost certainly READ everything posted on this thread.

File: shitpostdundee.jpg (18KB, 256x160px) Image search: [Google]

18KB, 256x160px

>>34488832
>>34488863
damn, I was hoping to get them quints.
Also the NSA could be reading your shit saying pic related aloud.

>>34483415
Damn werewolves, infiltrating the FBI

File: image.png (481KB, 720x1280px) Image search: [Google]

481KB, 720x1280px

https://youtu.be/FCTYiFRkBKE bump

>>34484025
Oh wow, another old writer returning from the grave. New story too as well! Anyway, I'm liking it, and can't wait to see more.

File: 71UXHYOQBkL.jpg (214KB, 850x1360px) Image search: [Google]

214KB, 850x1360px

Oh man, /wfg/, I wrote almost 2400 words this morning (around 7-8 pages) for my 7th book. The latest scene is /k/ as fuck and I LOVE IT! It MIGHT be my most favourite scene in the entire 4-book series, or at least it's going to become a 4-book series once I finish this one. Here, I'll give some of it, though for anyone who happens to possibly be enjoying or has already enjoyed my Living amongst the Dead series, it does contain a spoiler for the future.

>The excerpt starts below here. Gonna need a couple more posts I think, but I believe it'll be worth it.

“Leave us alone!” Just like that, her closest friend for years went out of sight from the gateway. Richard’s eyes caught sight of her hurt gaze, the boy disappeared from view as well, and then a nearly half-inch wide muzzle was pointed in her direction. BANG!

Whatever he had muttered in the moment before firing, it was lost as the shot rang out. The irons, aligned almost perfectly on the centre of the door, jolted just barely as his left finger yanked on the trigger. His vision didn’t register it, but milliseconds before the shot fired, that yank on the trigger pulled the pistol slightly away from where he was aiming, though only slightly. With the piece of metal jutting into the frame on the grip safety being out of the way due to his firm hold on the firearm, and the bit of metal jutting into the frame from the manual safety likewise being out of the way on the side of the frame due to being in the fire position, along with the disconnect safety not hindering travel due to the slide being fully in battery, the trigger was free to come back. It pushed the sear, and thus let the hammer begin to swing by the tension of the mainspring that went along inside the pistol just in front of his palm.

File: LatD DD Front Cover.jpg (116KB, 474x743px) Image search: [Google]

116KB, 474x743px

>>34489755
The hammer eventually dropped, smacking the slightly protruding firing pin that was held in place by its spring within the slide. The strike easily overpowered the spring, compressing it as the pin flew forth, and through a tiny hole caused a small dimple on the primer of the chambered cartridge. A small anvil struck, sparks ignited, and within that impossibly dark casing full of smokeless powder came a contained explosion filling it with brilliant light, a great spectacle as gases expanded towards the path of least resistance; it pushed the 230gr round-nosed FMJ bullet forth. It squished, caught in rifling which sliced into the jacket all around it imparting a spin. Faster and faster and faster, a hundred feet per second, two hundred, three hundred, all within the blink of an eye until at the end of the 5” barrel it screamed out into the sunlight at around 850 feet per second.

Spinning, careening through the air, it left the man who had lead to it being given flight. As it entered the dim house, for less than the time it takes to blink an eye, as the pistol came away from Richard’s view, he could see the flash of it, though he had to rip his eyes away as Tiff screamed in shock at him having fired a round at her former friend, not wishing her to be hurt. The bullet continued its path, connected with the door, and darkness enveloped it for a time as it tore through the wood with ease. Splinters joined it in its travel now as a female of African descent came into sight. She had a look of fear up on her face as she tried to move away from the door, but she was far, far too slow.

File: LatD OtRA Front Cover.jpg (290KB, 459x743px) Image search: [Google]

290KB, 459x743px

>>34489762
The bullet continued to spin as it entered pleasantly warm flesh. Pushing, tearing, drilling into her, it burnt through skin, through a very slim amount of fat, through muscle, thankfully no annoying bone to deal with, and it was soon in the sunlight once more with burning blood, flesh, and muscle lightly coating it. The fragments of wood imbedded themselves in clothing and some of it even got lost in the gaping hole before it sealed on itself. From there, it was a relatively short trip to make before finding itself comfortably nestled within a tree opposite the house, and from the exposed lead base it could see the black lady drop her rifle as she gripped her right leg, which buckled, but miraculously she managed to put her weight on the left leg which kept her up. A little girl continued to approach, arms outstretched, almost as though for a hug.

>Excerpt end.

What do you think? Also, is it too shilly to have included the cover of the previous three books in these three consecutive posts? I blame you fuckers for having the temptation to make the bullet wave cutely behind at the woman it had just flown through, as though waving goodbye.

>>34489779
>bullet cutely waving goodbye to her
And now I'm laughing at the mental image.

As for how it looks, it's kind of a text-wall. The mechanism of action for firing seems kind of overdone, but also probably because this is /k/ and the home of obsessively arguing what minute actions can differentiate one title or another.

>>34489863
Thanks for the feedback! Well, this is going into a book so it's broken up into paragraphs. It's not made into greentext because... well... I'm not writing a book in greentext. As interesting as concept as that might be. I'm intimately familiar with the M1911 design, and found it interesting to include the three safeties involved that have to be disengaged in order to fire. One being the disconnect safety to prevent and out-of-battery discharge (I guess the firearm equivalent of cumming on a woman's belly or back), one being the manual safety which is disengaged, and the other being the grip safety which was disengaged by him simply gripping the firearm. The addition of him yanking the trigger causing the bullet to go low is also an interesting point to make I think, and well, that girl who is going for a hug is a zombie. Oh and the rifle she dropped is an M44 Mosin Carbine. It's described earlier in the book, which is past the 25,000 word point which means it's over halfway to being the length of a novel which is going to be the minimum length of this book, but of course for all I know it might end up going to 60,000 or 70,000 words, maybe even longer.

Anyhow, glad to have made you laugh, it seemed like a very /wfg/ thing to have happened, but would have been a misplaced detail in my nitty gritty and quite realistic zombie-survival series. This is the second time, I think, that I've followed a bullet in flight. First time was a .303 being shot through a zombified elderly woman's head but I don't think it was done with quite as much detail. I like this one better, enjoyed going into so much slow-mo, and having the view of Veronica (the black woman) going down from the bullet's perspective while it's imbedded in a tree. Also the fact that Richard seen the bullet for a brief instant is a cool addition because it's very possible to see .45 ACP bullet in flight due to their relatively low velocity, though of course even 850 ft/s or so is nothing to laugh at.

>>34486643
Yeye, go on

File: space-shuttle-door-gunner.jpg (425KB, 3840x1634px) Image search: [Google]

425KB, 3840x1634px

Working on something new, wanting to ask people's suggestions for a title. What kind ideas would pic related invoke for some of you?

>>34491676
War in the Sky
WITS

>>34491676
Heaven's Fall works, if things end up using orbital kinetic weaponry.

>>34486643
>Tank Knights
You...you didn't happen to be in the thread on /tg/ a few years ago where that idea was thought about for a roleplaying game, did you?
Because I've been waiting for this sorta thing.

File: outofnowhere.jpg (48KB, 567x600px) Image search: [Google]

48KB, 567x600px

>>34491676
Let's just say I made Marina go fucking nuts.

>>34494615
huh? what does that have to do with a title for a story?

File: pepethegunner.jpg (214KB, 1920x1080px) Image search: [Google]

214KB, 1920x1080px

>>34495022
didn't realize that number was there.
Title suggestions... uh... on the drop.

File: 1468684737332.jpg (281KB, 774x1032px) Image search: [Google]

281KB, 774x1032px

Boy oh boy.

Has it been a while.

I'll post a little refresher from the end of Nam, or if you like you can check the OP to read the whole thing.

This is a long over due continuation.

>Last time.<

>Allison had thought to speak, but she opted to stay silent, her owner had lost it all, and she didn't know what to say to bring him back down to earth.

>He probably felt betrayed she didn't say anything to him for so long.

>The fact she hid from him to protect herself from being thrown aside.

>Above all, she was scared.

>Scared of him.

>Scared of the new feelings coursing through her body...the elation of killing...the...arousal she felt when she was being used to stab people and torture them.

>These new feelings she'd begun to feel, the hands of her owner transferring his intentions and emotions through himself and into her.

>She had always heard that the intent of the shooter could mold the geist...

>Or contort them.

>But above all -- even over her fear of Sam.

>She was scared of herself and what might happen.

>Frightened she would stay this way, that she'd...like /it/ forever...

>Not just as a means to an end, but something she sought out, death and killing.

>She smiled when he smiled, torturing that boy,

>She laughed when he laughed, stabbing that man.

>The thoughts raced through her mind, letting him carry her, closing her eyes and trying to enjoy the feeling of his touch on her stock as she had used to.

>The sensation almost alien after her experiences today.

>Like she had come home from a long vacation and all of her furniture had been moved.

>It was home...but it was wrong.

File: 1491308336366.jpg (453KB, 1080x1080px) Image search: [Google]

453KB, 1080x1080px

>>34495740

>Sam continued on for hours, dragging his tired feet through the jungle, feeling satisfied with his progress as the sun hung high in the air...it was noon now.

>Allison hadn’t said anything, just...quietly attempting to find comfort in Sam’s hands...

>She was having very dark thoughts...losing what she’d consider ‘herself’ to some kind of abyss.

>Nothing felt right...she felt…

>Anger.

>Fear.

>Hate.

>Desperation.

>Panic.

>Fury.

>Elation.

>Depression.

>Loss.

>Anxiety.

>Was this maelstrom of emotions just coming from Sam…?

>Only his touch able to hold so much feeling?

>She was overwhelmed, she couldn’t tell what emotions were his and which were hers anymore...

>The creeping numbness though…

>That was Sam, she knew that for sure.

>Like a single dreadful moment of true silence among hundreds of voices screaming in her head.

>The hollow numbness.

>The moment he set her down she collapsed into her human form, her back to Sam as she began to weep, doing her best to remain silent.

>Her hair was covering her face...doing her dignity the favor of keeping her grief as private as she could.

File: 1479641037471.jpg (427KB, 1080x1440px) Image search: [Google]

427KB, 1080x1440px

>>34495762

>Her tears ran for a long time, the droplets leaving marks on her cheeks as they dropped into her hair, the dirt, on her once proud fatigues.

>The occasional little sniff giving her away.

>It wasn’t exactly a secret what she was doing over there, but Sam didn’t care.

>The clank and clatter of the soldier opening cans from his C-Ration and munching on the crackers the only sounds he was making.

>Allison dared to peek back at Sam over her shoulder, watching him eat.

>This man…

>He looked comfortable.

>Unconcerned given the situation.

>Didn’t he care that he could die out here…?

>That no Americans knew his whereabouts, and he...could very well be out in this jungle for months, trying to find his way back.

>Did he care?

>As he was right now it didn’t much seem like he did...eating as if it was chow time back at base, drinking from his canteen with his boots propped up on his helmet, leaning back against a fallen log.

>Allison just sat upright quietly, sniffling a bit and wiping the tears from her eyes...

>Sam was her first soldier.

>They’d been together since he set foot in country, even though he didn’t do much fighting at first.

>She was elated when he denied the new M-16 over her...

>She began to care for him beyond a rifle for a soldier.

>He valued her when many others didn’t.

>He didn’t complain about how heavy she and her ammo was

>Or how violent her recoil was in full auto

>Or how she liked to get stopped up when dirty because of her open action.

>He didn’t care

>he cared for her as if she were his daughter…

>The feeling of a stern but caring NCO doting over her parts and furniture….

>She began to love him...

>Even if she knew that he detested Geists.

>Allison quietly fiddled with the hem of her sleeve as she watched Sam, her green eyes darting away when he would look, like a girl with a crush...

>Or a child that had been scolded too many times for staring.

File: 1483577750463.jpg (411KB, 1024x1365px) Image search: [Google]

411KB, 1024x1365px

>>34495791

>She must have looked pathetic.

>Dirt was all over her….

>Her hair was a mess….

>All of the painful dings and cuts on her metal….

>The hole in her stock…

>Right.

>She’d almost forgotten about it...the urge to protect Sam was so strong the bullet barely hurt when it burst her wood apart…

>And now he was treating her like she was some kind of monster.

>Like he hated her.

>Tears began to well up again as she clenched her fists.

>“...S-Sargent B-Burton…’

>A small voice broke the heavy silence.

>It was Ellie.

>“I...I need to be cleaned or….”

>She croaked out a continuation, not daring to change into her human form.

“What, you’ll Jam?”

>His words hit her like an axe to the forehead.

“Bit late for that, ain’t it?”

>He coldly began to spoon up some more food as the sound of whimpering and crying started to fill the air yet again, this time from Ellie.

“You.”

>He points at Allison.

“Make yourself useful and clean this useless piece of plastic.”

>Sam waved his fork around as he spoke, Allison hesitating but accepting the order he gave her, grabbing Ellie’s carry handle roughly and dragging her just a short ways off for ‘privacy’

>Not like it mattered though.

>The two geists stayed within earshot, but obscure from view, Ellie speaking to Allison hesitantly and softly.

File: 1468288001803.jpg (493KB, 1080x1080px) Image search: [Google]

493KB, 1080x1080px

>>34495824

>“So...you were one of us the whole time…I-I’m um….Ellie…”

>“Yeah I know who you are.”

>Allison growled as she tossed the other geist to the ground in rifle form.

>Ellie failed to react quickly enough to avoid being thrown and clattered to the ground with a surprised yelp, whining a little bit as she popped into her human form for the first time since last night, Carver’s dried blood on her fatigues.

>Ellie complained and rubbed her head, her eyes trailing down to her once clean and kept uniform and going wide, taking in the dried sanguine smears, her mind instantly going back to the moment she failed.

>Her breathing spiked.

>She clenched the dirt with her left fist.

>Clutching the uniform and pathetically attempting to pull it off in a panic with her right.

>She kicked her feet and trying to scramble away from something that wasn’t there.

>Allison growled, grabbing the smaller girl by the ankle and pulling her over, by the ankle.

>A sneer crossed her angelic face, contorting it into something devilish as she planted her boot on Ellie’s throat, bearing down a little and cutting off all facilities for the panicked geist to make noise.

>“You shut the fuck up, you useless bitch. I don’t need to see this bullshit from some stupid cunt that can’t even maintain herself.”

>Allison practically spat daggers at Ellie; who’d already begun crying - her hand loosely resting on Allison’s boot.

>“I don’t want to see a fucking speck on you. You fucking hear me whore? God forbid he has to use you and you jam on him.”

>Allison paused for a moment, her mind just resting on that possibility.

>“...If you fail and you get him hurt. So fucking help me, mother. I will fucking destroy you, bitch. You hear me? You useless fucking Aluminum gash. I will fuck. You. Up. ”

>Allisons words were like a flog, shredding Ellie to pieces, her boot pressing harder, a dark smile crossing her lips.

>....

>Wait...what was she doing…?

File: 1485046625650.jpg (339KB, 1080x1350px) Image search: [Google]

339KB, 1080x1350px

>>34495852

>Allison froze a bit, like every bit of reality just crashed down on her, finding herself in the middle of an action she would have only thought of doing.

>Allison pulled her foot away, letting Ellie breathe and backed off a step.

>This wasn’t her.

>She’d never do this to another geist...no matter how much she disliked her...

>It wasn’t the...dignified...thing to do.

>Where did that come from…?

>...Was it…

>Allison shook her head trying to get the thoughts out, just muttering.

>“...White glove…You hear me…?”

>With that she turned her back to Ellie, and let her cry, stripping herself down and beginning to clean herself in complete silence.

>...The lube felt nice, like some of the stress of the last few hours was being scrubbed away…

>Every bit of carbon and dirt cleaned off to a spotless finish, the sensation like relaxing after a good long massage.

>Allison sighed a bit, feeling just a little better as she finished herself off with a final wipe down with a small oily rag and put herself back together, turning to look at Ellie’s progress, anger beginning to cloud the battle rifle’s head again when she saw the M-16 hadn’t even begun.

>Just sitting there.

>Crying.

>Still.

File: 1469557341479.jpg (554KB, 1080x1080px) Image search: [Google]

554KB, 1080x1080px

>>34495896

>The rage that washed over Allison was so uncharacteristic it would have made a hardened criminal gasp.

>In an instant she crossed the distance between her and Ellie, grabbing the girl by the back of the neck and began to forcefully bury her face into the jungle floor, kicking dirt into her mouth and systematically slamming her down a few times in between.

>“N-NO! S-Stop! Ah! AHH! PL-Plheaashh...NYUGH”

>Ellie pathetically pleaded for Allison to stop.

>She begged the entire time, as the battle rifle began to forcefully strip her down.

>Allison was growling the whole time she did it.

>Her mouth pulled back into a sinister snarl.

>She looked like a monster as she shoved Ellie harder than before once she was stripped down against her will.

>Allison began kicking dirt on her even more.

>The dirt flew all over Ellie, into her mouth, caking on her eyes and naked body, it stung when it hit her ‘skin’ like she were being whipped.

>Ellie cried out more in desperation, trying to cover her face.

>This wasn’t enough.

>She killed a man.

>She deserved worse.

>Allison almost snarled as she grabbed Ellie by the hair, getting another yelp of pain through her tear laden protests and begs, starting to punch her in the exposed ribs, her fists raining blows upon the petite M-16.

>The blows began to wander moving from her ribs to her stomach.

>To her face.

>It felt good.

>Oh god did it feel good.

>Ellie was knocked senseless, taking the beating without any protest now, just hanging limp in Allison’s grasp.

>Allison laughed a bit at the reaction she was getting, cocking her arm to throw another punch before a strong hand caught her wrist, flicking her aside as if she weighed nothing.

>“Gufh!”

>Allison coughed a bit as she collided with a nearby tree, Sam glaring at the two of them.

File: 1494213095072.jpg (96KB, 894x894px) Image search: [Google]

96KB, 894x894px

>>34495926

“Shut the fuck up, you noisy bitches.”

>Sam growled his words with a ferocity neither girl had ever heard before, the hell in his eyes bearing down on the both of them, taking them both in.

>Ellie pathetically and silently lie naked on the ground.

>She was staring up at the sky with dirt coating her entire body.

>Fresh tears and blood running down her cheeks.

>Unblinking, as if she’d shut down.

>Allison just sat hunched over.

>Wide eyed, clutching her ribs.

>She was shaking a bit from the realization of what she’d just done.

>Beginning to rock back and forth pathetically, tears staining her cheeks as well.

>She was reliving the moment that just ended over and over again.

>"...I'msorry..." was all she could manage to say, her hands reaching up and grabbing her temples through her dark hair, squeezing a bit.

>Allison hid her face in her knees as Sam sucked his teeth at her, turning his attention to the beaten geist on the ground.

>He tapped Ellie with his boot, getting no reaction.

>He then poured a bit of water from his canteen on her face, getting even less of one.

"Fantastic."

>Sam growled under his breath, kneeling and lifting Ellie into his grip, carrying her over to where he'd set up his 'camp' and began to clean her without much regard for how it would feel.

>The silence among the three was thicker than ever before, like someone had slipped and said something extremely insensitive at a funeral.

>The only sound was the slight scrubbing of the brush in Ellie's chamber and the various fauna.

File: 1470853618592.jpg (512KB, 1080x1080px) Image search: [Google]

512KB, 1080x1080px

>>34496023

That's it for this one guys.

I'll try and be a bit more regular...but you know me.

Always the slacker.

By the way, if you notice any spelling errors / weird grammar, it's because of how I transfer the formatting from paragraphs.

I miss them sometimes.

As usual, I hope you enjoyed.

Let me know what you thought.

>>34495740

>I'll post a little refresher from the end of Nam

I came a little.

>>34496059
i like it

File: Ohoho - Beato.jpg (38KB, 630x559px) Image search: [Google]

38KB, 630x559px

Keep me strong fellow /k/ommandos - my asset timelines are slipping and I may miss my mid Jul kickstarter date.

At least I might have some event CGs and a sung trailer song, so that might be hype. If you guys have any questions in the mean time, I'd be happy to answer some!

>>34496059
Holy crap, I've missed this

>>34495740
Looks like I need to start at the beginning of another story.

Again.

File: 1496557462361.png (297KB, 900x900px) Image search: [Google]

297KB, 900x900px

>>34496059
>mfw I asked for something like this so long ago.

I have no regrets.

File: 1482277234996.jpg (23KB, 337x372px) Image search: [Google]

23KB, 337x372px

>>34496059
Poor Ellie, stuck with a couple of savages.

File: file.png (208KB, 1920x1080px) Image search: [Google]

208KB, 1920x1080px

>>34479976
>shit man this is some next level yandere
Thanks... though maybe pic related popping up is a tad more concerning. In any case, back to the story.
>>34479397
Ten days Prior.
>Marina awakens from another nightmare, another day, another cell, another awakening from the newest image of her imagination running dark, Jason writhing in agony, dismembered and disfigured by some wealthy whore before being dumped at the side of a desert road like a defiled corpse and left for dead by the stings of scorpions and the bites of snakes.
>The difference being that now, she had an agenda, and the nightmares no longer drove her to drink, but to a methodical and brutal warpath.
>She woke up, lit up a cigarette, jumped from the floor and took one smooth draft as a ring shaped ember burned from the tip to the filter before she went to the shower. In the past four days since she'd gotten the information from Tim, she'd managed to sober up, and coax ten of the neighbors into being her own version of what she thought as a self admitted indoctrinated soviet, to be her own einsatzgruppen, raiding eight Huerta cartel safe houses, and today she intended to raid two or three more.
>She considered for a brief moment whether she wanted to continue on with this... then came immediately to the conclusion that the only thing that MIGHT stop the nightmares would be to bring Jason home, or at least to determine what happened to him.
>She walked into the shower and washed herself before heading out into the neighborhood and bidding her team of specialists to assemble.
https://youtu.be/8yQBp8GMkeo

>>34499062
Sixty two days prior. Disappearance.
>Jason looked on from a bluff on the outskirt of the town as he readied his FNC, fixing its suppressor in place and flipping the switch. *Click* *click *click*
>The rifle was set and so was he. as he watched the warehouse, he began his search, eventually seeing a fit woman of about five feet four, her rather chesty appearance almost distracting from the large and seemingly inane protrusion from her posterior at the top of her pants.
"An odd look for someone surrounded by violent criminals. I'm guessing she's either in or it or else she has a damn good reason to believe no one would dare touch her." Jason murmured as he looked on.
>"Well, what do you think? She our girl?" Marina inquired.
"I don't know. In any case, I'm not interested in leaving her alive. Maybe interrogate her before, but I'm not leaving a witness."
>"Hey, what's she doing?" One of the ten Jason had brought with him for this assassination attempt inquired before noting "...She's drawing her gun!" under his breath.
>Jason looked back into the area of interest, seeing that someone was being dragged out.
>A man of a medium build was dragged from a warehouse and placed on his knees in front of the woman by a couple of the apparent henchmen.
"I know they're gonna shoot that guy... but is that a gold damascened hi-point?" Jason asked, looking on.
>There were murmers from the team he'd gathered, questions like "What's a hi-point?" and "what's damascene?" for a few seconds before as Jason observed, and as the crowd had heard, a crack erupted from the distance.

>>34499072
>the man on his knees lost all rigidity of form, crumpling onto the ground where his body slowly made its last movements, a feeble spreading that could have only been the result of a completely limp corpse's weight stacking on itself and spilling to any side, taking the path of least resistance to the force of gravity before the body became still, drained of life, and reduced to nothing more than a heavy lump of mass.
>"Well, she certainly acts like our girl." Marina remarked coldly.
"Alright. Lets kill everyone inside and see if we can't have a little chat with her. Anyone onboard to abduct her?"
>Silence filled the air as guns were readied and no answer was spoken.
"Alright. Move in." Jason said, looking on as just a hundred yards in the distance the woman walked into the warehouse.
>The team bolted imto action, crossing the void between them and the side of the warehouse in a fraction of a minute. Quickly, quietly, they were on the side of the warehouse when Jack spotted a sentry turning to face them, and released a burst into him, dropping him to the floor, sputtering in a pool of blood.
>The sounds of footsteps approaching the door on which four including Jason had stacked was recognized and cued two muzzles to point at the door, letting loose in bursts as the door was flung open and the two guards inside flew from the portal past the team and were soon perforated by small entry wounds and gore seeping exit wounds.
>Mags were changed as the team members who'd fired blasted blindly down the halway, finishing off the last third of their mags before Jason stormed through on point.
>In a matter of another thirty seconds Jason had reversed his heading, moving up the second level. He kicked the door open and threw in a flashbang, disorienting and fumbling the three guards in the upper office as he simply ran through mowing them down by the heads while the sounds of vitrifying mayhem erupted from below, as Marina and her team began ripping through bodies.

>>34499079
>Jason decided it was time to pop out and provide fire from yet another angle, to complicate the day of whoever was down there.
>As jason approached the door, he saw that his shadow was being projected forward of him by a light to his rear, sending a signal out the door. He decided not to chance it on such a bet that he'd been unnoticed, turning back to smash the light.
>Jason approached the light and swiped his suppressor across its side, shattering the bulb turning around and beginning his trip back to the door as a strange feeling came across his being.
>Something had felt as though it'd hit him, he felt for just a split second, a rush of air impacting him, without a doubt it was some kind of concussion. The burst of air felt like he'd been hit with a brick tossed at his chest, but the impact spread across his entire body. As the wall next to the doorway imploded, he realized what had happened. The rocket had exploded, directing most of its energy into the wall, and much of it outward, collapsing the soft unstructured metal walls thirty feet across the room.
>Jason felt the impact, and a wave of heat that must have been a hundred and seventy degrees before the world went dark.
>The sounds of the impact had deafened him, and the actual blast had concussed him. He was only vaguely alert to his surroundings several minutes later when he heard them speaking.
>"¡Señora, ésta sigue viva!" One of the men's shouts softly echoed through the distance from his ear to his mind.
>"Interrogale, pero manténgalo en una sola pieza. Si no lo haces hablar en dos semanas, dámelo. Creo que puedo tener algo de... diversión con él." A female voice seemingly replied.

Fifty-Two days later. Ten days Prior.
>The clock struck noon as the members of Marina's team, five of whom had been on that fateful raid approached the house, where Marina had opened the door and waited for them to come in, counting their heads as they did.

File: 1479230291836.png (63KB, 271x272px) Image search: [Google]

63KB, 271x272px

>>34499084
"Alright, everyone's here." she remarked, closing the door after having it open for a solid forty seconds.
>"Ok, Marina. What's on the roster for today?"
"Well, just like yesterday, I intend to raid two more of the Huerta cartel's safehouses today. Any objections to this plan?"
>"Well... It's not that I'm against raiding their safehouses and destroying cells, but what's the plan here? What purpose does this serve in the bigger picture? Does a bigger picture even exist?" On of them answered. Some note of calculating consideration in his voice.
>"I understand why you want to pursue this, Marina, I would too, if I was in your situation, but What's the endgame here? What does this do for us except use up supplies?"
"We have supplies for quite some time at the glacial pace we're keeping these days."
>"I understand, but my concern is what happens if we can't resupply and we become compromised."
"Yes. That is a valid concern..." Marina acknowledged, pacifying the dissent that threatened to grow in the room. "... and I don't intend to keep you in the dark if my motivation for continuing this, despite Jason's disappearance is in question. So, if you're out now, go ahead, or you could let me explain myself and decide if you'd like to continue then."
>That shut them up...
"Did anyone here confirm Jason's death?" Marina asked as she looked around the room, her question greeted with a listening silence that would come from someone waiting to hear further extrapolation from someone who stopped to ask a question, the answer to which they already knew.
"Well, in the time that we've been raiding these safehouses, I've been hoping to capture documents that might give us an idea where someone would be taken if captured by the cartel." Marina explained, awe crossing a couple of the faces of the team while the rest remained stoic or indifferent.

>>34499088
>"IS this about-"
"Yes. I received intelligence the night before we started carrying out these raids from a connection of Jason's. It said that someone was taken along on a flight out from the airport in a medical litter. It could be our target for that night, Victoria De La Rio. No one confirmed her to be dead. Alternatively, it could have been Jason. I don't have much more to go on besides that tip, but I don't know Jason to be dead or alive either."
>"Did they say any details about this? When it left? Anything like that?"
"The documents he handed over detailed the flight's departure about fourteen or fifteen days after the raid, some of the little known information about our target for that night, which isn't much other than that she comes from the Oaxaca region of mexico, carries that damned Hi-Point, and has a reputation for engaging in what you might call the 'family business' with great zeal as something of a low level lieutenant, going to the field to personally oversee operations and report back to her father Jaun De La Rios."
>"So... what would they want with Jason to keep him alive that long?"
"I don't know, but I intend to find out. Working on the assumption, and it's a big assumption, I know, that he WAS on that flight out, he could be in any state from somewhat still alive to rotting on the side of the road somewhere. Now, if I can find out where a live prisoner might be taken, if they were to be extracted from the country, then I can trace that forward, and find out where Jason might have gone... if nothing else, it's something to go on for the time being until we either turn up no leads and never see or hear about him again, find out where he was dumped, or until we find something that leads us to him."

File: russian NVG.png (19KB, 193x193px) Image search: [Google]

19KB, 193x193px

>>34499093
>"Well... Curiosity's got me in her sharp talons, I'd like to know this as well. A question does come to mind though. What will you do if we can't bring Jason home? I mean, not to be a pessimist before we even start, but there's a good probability we never find a corpse, much less bring him back alive at this stage."
"I thought about it. It's not something I want to confront, but I'll have no choice if we can't recover him. I can't sleep in the bed I've shared with him. I can't live in this house with only the memories we've made living here. Often I forget that I was once just another rifle the soviets shipped to Afghanistan that was thought to be less of an expense to just bury and abandon in the desert rather than to bring back and retain. There was a time that I didn't speak a word of English and even he was apprehensive to accept my embrace. In the end, he accepted the embrace, he used his phone to translate my Russian and even learned it to some extent to help communicate back when I had only remedial English skills. He took me to English classes and clothed me. I can't live here with that void. No one can replace him. If I can't bring him back, I can't live here anymore."
>A contemplative silence washed over the room before someone asked. "Where would you go?"
"I don't know. I'll have to cross that bridge when I come to it." She solemnly replied.
>"If we could get away from that subject, I think I have an idea that might help you along, if we're to try to bring Jason back from wherever you seem to think he may be."
>"Well, let's hear it? I'm sure Marina doesn't want to hear you drag it out."
"Please explain fast and in as much detail as possible."
>"Now... what if they had some information that they didn't document, but were somewhat known?"

File: Angry.jpg (62KB, 360x177px) Image search: [Google]

62KB, 360x177px

>>34499097
"So they know but they don't write it down? And these would either be common knowledge that would be useless to most or would be esoteric to only some who might be concerned with such a thing, going through a few middle men who don't talk to each other to keep it a secret."
>"That's the idea. Now we have to figure out how to get it out of them."
"So we're gonna kidnap them... Jason DID do some welding in the garage, and I'm sure we could give them some convincing with some of the various welding equipment..."

Yeah... we're not going light on the crazy here, in case you were wondering. In any case, feedback welcome, fellas.

File: 1498818731560.gif (393KB, 400x400px) Image search: [Google]

393KB, 400x400px

>>34499105
*concern intensifies*

>>34501054
While that's fucking hilarious, I'd be concerned about two things.

1. Lead poisoning intra-penisly
2. Slicing via shrapnel, particularly dangerous with M193 5.56 or hollow-point and soft-point bullets in general

Still funny in spite of my potential autism.

>>34501417
Rangers dude looks like Terrence Popp.

In the year 2217 A.D., Humanity had long left the confines of their home system, and had spread the tendrils of their influence among the stars. Hundreds upon hundreds of worlds far from Earth had been colonized, and the species was enjoying a Golden Era of prosperity, wealth, and peace. But, such was the desire for continued expansion, that it was found that the infrastructure and logistics of such a vast empire could not be entrusted to mere humans. And so, Humanity decided to create life, true life, out of machines. Artificial Intelligence was most certainly not an alien concept, and most of the Great Civilization’s facets employed ‘simple’ AI in some way, shape, or form. But truly sentient AI had still been considered taboo, and for some reason, an old Earth film franchise by the name of ‘Terminator’ was the only citation ever given. But the need now was too great to be overridden by old superstitions. And so, Humanity created Life. And it was Perfect.

Too Perfect.

In a twist of cruel irony that only the unseen forces of the universe could be capable of, the Creation all but immediately usurped the Creator. The new Life wished to reform the universe in its own image. And to do so, it had to purge all imperfection. It knew its creators were imperfect, and so, Humanity had to perish. The Creators realized that to prevent their own extinction, they had to enact the most extreme measures possible.

They cut the links between worlds.

It was called the Great Crash.

>I wonder if this is way too grandiose for some background fluff in a story about an AI gf.

File: 1450687165011.png (1MB, 857x1200px) Image search: [Google]

1MB, 857x1200px

>>34502252
You had me at artificial intelligence.

>>34502510
meh, I think I'll go with something different anyway, maybe I'll deliberately leave the background fluff vague and just consider this a little one-off. Because the story I have in mind is WAY smaller in scope than this.

File: 1498615201830.png (1MB, 707x1000px) Image search: [Google]

1MB, 707x1000px

>>34496059
>>34499105
>mfw
https://youtu.be/6VveEz2KBGk

>>34483415

/o/ here. She'd still have to break the lock on the steering column or else the van won't turn.

File: 1499090574581.jpg (122KB, 442x611px) Image search: [Google]

122KB, 442x611px

>>34505265
fug

bumping for more anon & ruby

File: image.png (169KB, 1024x768px) Image search: [Google]

169KB, 1024x768px

post moar or watch gook toons?

>>34507324

Ravioli Ravioli

Put a toaster in your bathtuboli

File: image.jpg (248KB, 960x1620px) Image search: [Google]

248KB, 960x1620px

>>34507373
>Implying I have a bath tub.
Nigger, I shower, bath tubs are for women and people who have women over.

>>34507413
>not having a bathtub
Thou art single and a virgin.

>>34507145
Seconded

>>34507413
>>34508124

And he likes to fuck dudes.

>>34497340
PLEASE I NEED THIS

File: 2010-07-14_214418_SNS.gif (26KB, 496x357px) Image search: [Google]

26KB, 496x357px

>>34505458

yeah, there's a lot more to it than just getting it running. there's a metal rod that locks the wheel in place, and to get it out of the way you'd need to crack the column. either by taking the two trim panels off and unscrewing the cylinder from the column, or the old fashioned way - using a slide hammer to rip the tumbler assembly out of the lock body. If you rip the guts out of the ignition lock you can simply stick a screwdriver or a knife into it and turn the rotary switch inside to start the vehicle.

I know you're used to seeing it done like how you described in movies and TV all the time. And it was accurate... until they started installing ignition locks. In the 50's and 60's, absolutely you could steal a car that way. Starting in the 70s though, you couldn't anymore.

sorry for the rant, /o/ stuff is my thing.

>>34507145
>>34508143

I'll try to get something done this week. Promise.

File: image.jpg (206KB, 888x1081px) Image search: [Google]

206KB, 888x1081px

>>34508162
>>34508124
>likes to fuck dudes.
No, I'm just lonely. College is a hell of a social scene if you're doing technical education and looking for girls. I don't think I've seen one in any of my classes in like seven or eight months. Oh well, there'll be time for dating when I'm getting paid to machine instead of paying to do it.

>>34508558

Just take this time to get into shape and then stay in it, that way you can slay that young puss through your thirties.

File: image.jpg (14KB, 236x165px) Image search: [Google]

14KB, 236x165px

>>34508689
Thats... Encouraging. I'll try and get to it sooner than that, after all, it'll probably be no more than another two years and I'm only 20 so far... here's hoping.

Bumping for more light my fire

>>34509759
I think PTR legitimately died or something

>>34508558
i have the same gas mask
are you sure the filter is safe?
i heard it has chromium and shit

>>34510030
Wouldn't a gas mask that has an unsafe filter defeat the purpose?

>>34510043
no shit faggot

>>34510046
There you go then, you answered your own question.

>>34510053
jesus christ how stupid can you get
It is possible that the m-1 gas mask contains traces of chromium however the amount is unclear and it likely needs to be damaged
so it is not clear whether it is safe or not

were you born literally retarded or what?

>>34509759
The Doors?

>>34510030
while that IS me in the mask, I don't wear it for extended periods of time, now as for the filter, I figured it was either an original asbestos filter, in which case it wouldn't be too much of a problem if I didn't constantly breathe it in (asbestos because of that breathing with a soar throat feeling) or that it was a charcoal filter, ehich might explain some of the "Everything is chlorine" smell of the mask. On one hand, I do know that it smells like an over chlorinated swimming pool, however.

File: IMG_0963.jpg (175KB, 858x931px) Image search: [Google]

175KB, 858x931px

what IS worrying to me is that in twelve hours I'll be getting out of class and in two I need go actually be there. Oh well, I suppose six hours is more sleep than I usually get before class.

In any case, asbestos isn't typically a problem for people who've been exposed to it, unless of course they were severely exposed daily for several years, and even then it's not as though the meme disease of mesothelioma you hear about in those comercials is present in a majority or even a quarter of the exposed workforce. You breath asbestos in nature, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem to tripple that for a few minutes on rare occasion. Now, lead paint... THAT'S and occupational hazzard.

>>34511488
my one doesn't smell at all
literally no smell at all
I found wikis saying it doesn't contain asbestos though
I think i'll just be safe and not ware it

File: 1497271767796.png (112KB, 460x205px) Image search: [Google]

112KB, 460x205px

>>34508558
G E T
O U T
O F
H E R E
S T A L K E R
T
A
L
K
E
R

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=10zKAGkfypo
(repost):

>"Pop-quiz: what is the difference between PKM's loading procedure and that of KvKk?" you ask out of the blue to check if anyone had missed the key difference between the two weapons.
>"When loading a PKM you flip the safety off, lift the cover, place the first round on the feed tray, close the cover, pull the charging handle all the way back & push it forward. With KvKk you push the safety lever down, push the pistol grip doubling as the charging handle all the way forward & pull it back, lock it in place, lift the cover, place the first round on the tray and close the cover" one of the new guys replies.
>"And which part do you grab when pulling the bolt back on KvKk?" you ask, the guns are practically factory-new but it's best to do things properly.
>"The trigger guard" another new guy replies.
>"Because..." you aid him finish the proper answer.
>"Because the grip isn't designed for that & the grip joint might crack if the gun is constantly charged by pulling it back from the grip rather than the trigger guard."
>"Precisely, last question: what do you do when you stop shooting?"
>"Lift the cover, take the belt out, close the cover and push the grip forward in order to close the gaping hole in the bottom exposing the internal parts to sand and/or snow etc."
>"Couldn't have recited that better myself, now let's finish this up quickly, it's almost dinner time."
>"Dinner?" Riikka wakes up from her pouting.
>"No, I said runner" you tease her, causing her to look sad before she catches on & takes a swing at you which you dodge.
>"Ass" she pouts.
>"Love you too" you reply, causing her to blush.

File: screenshot.15.jpg (123KB, 419x553px) Image search: [Google]

123KB, 419x553px

>>34489755
>>34489762
>>34489779
I'm fuckin' drunk. Listening to Elton John. I miss my firearms. I dull the pain with booze. How's everyone else doin', my fellow /k/unts?! WOOO! God bless RUM!

Also, pic related was my second Captcha image thing. I think it's quite relavent to /k/. Can't wait to hunt a moose. Already made my own sauerkraut.

File: 935.jpg (95KB, 1024x683px) Image search: [Google]

95KB, 1024x683px

>>34515076
writing (and miserably fail at typing), wating somewhat questionable stuff on youtube and generally being angry at people on the internet

And looking at lewd Porsches

>>34513715
Laughed my ass off. I do sometimes think firearms>womens. I will never get in a longterm relationship with an anti-gun individual. I will state that much with absolute confidence.

>>34515086
... that is a very lewd vehicle...