The Last Grease Monkey: Part 8

>>1370518
"Figure someone's gotta go get the Blazer while the rest of us keep the road pirates busy," says Hank. "I'd volunteer, but..." He looks down to his injured left leg. There's some fresh blood seeping through the bandage.

"What," says Jim, "Them couple o' Daisy air rifle pellets still hurtin' your leg?

Hank chuckles despite himself. "Shit yeah man, one of em almost broke the skin." He tosses the Blazer's keys to Jim, who catches them with a grin.

"I'm faster'n you on your best day anyway. C'mon Zoe!"

Jim runs ahead for a bit, hurtling rocks and divots in the earth, then slows his pace as the path gets a bit more treacherous, allowing you to catch up. You begin to hear gunshots behind you, but you figure the others are fine as long as you hear the chatter of Garcia's M60.

Soon you're off that cursed hill and halfway up the next one, the Blazer at the top is a welcoming sight.

"Man," says Jim, "I sure hope Hawkins is all right. I can't imagine how that'd feel, horkin' up tarantulas."

You grimace. "Probably be scorpions with your luck."

"Blech!" Jim exclaims in disgust. "Don't even-"

A burst of automatic fire rings out from down where you left Deputy Hawkins with the other vehicles. Sounds like Hawkins's little cut down .223 popgun.

A) Go help Hank and the others
B) Check on Hawkins

>Go check on Hawkins

File: 1490576424042.jpg (57KB, 500x735px) Image search: [Google]

57KB, 500x735px

>>1370520
>A) Go help Hank and the others
Glad you're back, NT.

>>1370520
>A) Go help Hank and the others

File: image.jpg (2MB, 3648x1862px) Image search: [Google]

2MB, 3648x1862px

I'll give this a little longer. I'll try really hard not to die before updating though. Damn y'all A voters are heartless. Would it change anyone's mind if I reminded you Jim's Riviera is down there with Hawkins?

File: drawmelikeoneofyoursherifs.png (163KB, 647x463px) Image search: [Google]

163KB, 647x463px

>>1370520
>Go check on Hawkins

>>1370702
Now you're really tugging at my heartstrings... Fine, I'll switch my vote to go help Hawkins.

>>1370518
Been waiting a long for you to come back.

>>1370520
>B

>>1370520
"Shit," says Jim. You already know he's gonna say you gotta go back down there and help Hawkins.

"Aw man," you groan. "Do we have to?"

Jim nods. "Gotta at least see what's goin' on. I mean shit, my car's down there!"

He has a point, that Riviera is pretty sweet. The two of you hop in the Blazer, with you in the back hanging from the roll bar. Jim starts it up, puts it in 2wd to spin it 180 degrees in a huge dust cloud, then takes off down the hill. You still hear gunshots so there must be enough of Hawkins left to pull a trigger.

Jim slams on the brakes, and the Blazer skids to a hault. "Aw not these fuckin mutts again!".

The gravel wash where the cars are parked is swarming with coyotes. Hawkins is standing in the bed of Chief's truck, picking them off with his CAR-15. A pile of dead ones already surrounds the truck. But then you notice it's not just coyotes. There's also several large black bears lumbering toward Hawkins. Fucking huge ones, actually. Some of em get to be the size of brown bears nowadays. Hawkins dumps the remainder of his mag into one, at least 10 rounds in the shoulder and neck. All that seems to do is piss it off, and it rushes toward him, snarling and bleeding. The bear is 20 feet away from Hawkins and closing in fast as you raise the BAR to your shoulder.

Roll 1d100

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>1370931
>1d100

Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>1370931
TACTICAL NUKE

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>1370931
Bullet hell time

Rolled 8 (1d100)

>>1370931
Yo NT you lil shit ya back

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>1370931

>>1370931
The bear is bounding hellaciously fast now, scattering the yelping coyotes in its bloodlust for Hawkins, who draws his pistol. A fucking 9mm. You squeeze the trigger and fire off a three-round burst, two rounds slam into the bear's thigh and lower abdomen but it still makes its lunge. Hawkins gets off one more shot that bounces off the bear's skull before a claw swipe takes a chunk out of his shoulder and knocks him ass over teakettle out of the truck bed. The wounded bear roars in frustration and pain and another bear clambers over the Riviera's hood in pursuit of Hawkins.

"Aw hell no!" shouts Jim. He guns the engine so hard that all four tires spin long enough for you to grab the roll bar tight before the truck takes off down the trail.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QM5_T0eNPrQ

Jim drives like a man possessed, twisting the wheel this way and that as he makes his way through the mass of coyotes. The fleabag mongrels thud off the bumper guard, get crushed to pulp under the tires and skid plate. A few have limbs dragged under the tires and are flung high into the air. The suspension shudders and bounces going over this strange, squishy yet crunchy terrain and you can barely keep yourself level, let alone draw a bead on anything.

"Slow the fuck down!" you shout, but Jim's way past listening, firing his .45 wildly out the window at the ursine asshole who dented up his hood. One of the shots hits the beast. It bellows and starts into a headlong sprint right for the Blazer.

Jim stays on the gas. "Hold the fuck on!"

A) Hold the fuck on
B) Try to shoot the bear with your BAR
C) Try out that new .44 Mag Super Blackhawk on the bear, you only need one hand for that
D) Jump out

>>1371378
>A) Hold the fuck on

>>1371378
>A) Hold the fuck on
Oh boy here we go

>>1371378
>A) Hold the fuck on

>>1371399
>>1371523
>>1371618
Roll 1d100

File: Windyman.jpg (62KB, 864x752px) Image search: [Google]

62KB, 864x752px

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>>1371736

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>1371736
on it

Rolled 25 (1d100)

>>1371736
Here we go

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>1371736

File: dew trail finale.png (16KB, 913x263px) Image search: [Google]

16KB, 913x263px

I won't roll yet, so I don't fuck up the score, but can I say that I am glad it's back. It's kinda like a project you fire up after several months of waiting for parts. How's life everyone?

File: 17438623_911284195640813_7020963118712881152_n.jpg (136KB, 1080x1080px) Image search: [Google]

136KB, 1080x1080px

>>1373335
Also, RE:Passenger cars with KC Daylighters, the look is as awesome as I imagined!

>>1371742
>>1371750
>>1372003
>>1372102
>>1373335
Jim's advice makes more sense than any of the other ideas that flash through your head. You hug the roll bar with both arms, letting your BAR hang from its sling. The bear rears up and leaps just before you collide. For a split second you think the fucker will clear the hood, crash through the windshield and tear you and Jim multiple new assholes. But it doesn't. The bumper guard smacks it right under the sternum, and its back legs get dragged under with hideous crunching and popping noises while the top half keeps flailing around trying to pull itself up. Once Jim finally feels like stopping, you have a 50 foot trail behind you of plowed gravel infused with chunks-o-bear.

"You crazy motherfucker," you murmur, not in anger so much as awe.

Jim grabs his Marlin rifle from the passenger footwell and levers a round into the chamber as he steps out of the Blazer. The 2/3rds of a bear clinging to the front end grumbles, groans and weakly swipes a paw at Jim, but can't stop him from sticking the barrel straight under its chin.
"Suck on this ya ol' fuzzy sumbitch!"
Blam. The .45-70 round exits right out the top of the skull. That oughta learn old Smokey not to fuck with no one's car again.

Hawkins stumbles by, trying to run with his bear-smacked left arm hanging limp at his side. One of the remaining coyotes nips at his arm and gets a 9mm to the face for its trouble. The wounded bear, now blinded by its own blood, is slowly but steadily shambling after him. You raise your BAR and hold down the trigger, the .30-06 rounds tearing huge chunks from its chest, neck and head until it collapses. Just as your BAR runs dry you see the third, perfectly healthy bear coming straight at you.

A) Draw your Blackhawk and try to put it down
B) Try to reload the BAR super fast
C) Grease Gun, mag dump to the face while running like hell, hope it's distracted long enough for Jim to take a shot with his .45-70

>>1373424
>A) Draw your Blackhawk and try to put it down

>>1373424
A) Draw your Blackhawk and try to put it down
Don't let Hawkins hear this, but you are not a fan of smokeys of any kind.

>>1373439
>>1373450
ROLL FOR YOUR FUCKING LIVES (1d100 again)

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>1373608

File: blcnoirsssz.png (73KB, 640x480px) Image search: [Google]

73KB, 640x480px

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>1373608

File: ToddLowscarandPHASE-4.jpg~original.jpg (26KB, 640x337px) Image search: [Google]

26KB, 640x337px

NT, be honest, are you using this Maiden song before the Wendigo Showdown?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WxnN05vOuSM

Rolled 3 (1d100)

>>1373608

I can't believe this is still fucking going, holy shit

>>1373627
>>1373647

Everything slows as you stare down the 1100 pounds of fuzzy wuzzy death machine hurtling toward you. You let go of the BAR. 50 feet. You reach the holster on your left hip. 40 feet. You clear the holster and slip the hammer back. 25 feet. Front sight up. 15 feet. Squeeze the trigger. Big boom, fireball out the muzzle, propelling a hard cast .44 slug straight into Yogi's left eye socket. Gnarly recoil, that funky squared-off trigger guard slams your middle finger a little. You try to jump to the side, but unfortunately large animals lobotomized mid-run don't always move predictably. It collapses on top of you, trapping your legs under its chest. Its head is less than a foot from yours and it exhales its last fetid breath right in your face.

"Ugh! Son of a bitch!" You're pretty sure this bear is dead, but you pull back the Blackhawk's hammer and fire a second .44 through its other eye just to make sure. This thing smells awful and the gravel digs painfully into your legs.

"Someone get this fuckin thing off me!"

Up in the sky, you see a lone buzzard circling. Oh shit, is that what you think it is?

Jim and Hawkins both seem to have their hands full with the coyotes right now. And you're not exactly in the safest position yourself.

A) Yell for help, try to shoot the buzzard
B) Try to free yourself, yell for Jim and Hawkins to shoot the buzzard

File: image.jpg (1023KB, 3264x2448px) Image search: [Google]

1023KB, 3264x2448px

>>1373335
I definitely get project car feels from this. Don't have a classic of my own right now sadly, but one of my neighbor's.
>>1374241
Never been too into Maiden, sry m8. I like their album covers better than their music. Final Wendigo showdown will definitely involve Zeppelin and/or Sabbath. Also I love that picture.
>>1374431
Habeeb it.

Rolled 79 (1d100)

>>1374521
A) Yell for help, try to shoot the buzzard
We're fine... for now.

Rolled 47 (1d100)

>>1374521
A) KILL IT

File: 9JAMfwT.jpg (305KB, 2048x1366px) Image search: [Google]

305KB, 2048x1366px

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>1374521
A) Shoot that sumbitch

>>1374563
Nice Fairlane, no matter what engine
>Modelo
Author bias, ha!
Yeah, that Elco is kickass

File: image.jpg (63KB, 640x480px) Image search: [Google]

63KB, 640x480px

A group of coyotes have noticed your predicament and approach you, fangs bared, drooling. You only have four rounds left in the cylinder and your other guns, like your legs, are pinned under a half ton of bear meat.

"Jim! Over here!"

You waste one of your precious .44's on the nearest mutt, turning its snout inside out. While you're clicking the hammer back for a follow-up shot, a hail of bullets from Jim's burp gun cuts the others down.

"Hold on," he shouts, "I'ma pull you outta there soon as I can!"

"Oh no," you yell back, "Take your time!"

God this bear stinks. No idea what he'd been eating but it damn sure don't smell like pic-a-nic baskets. The giant buzzard's still circling. Gotta try to make this shot. Even by your standards, .44 Mag is a bit much for a bird. But if half of what you heard about this thing is right even a Browning M2 .50 cal wouldn't be too much gun. This overgrown six-shooter is beginning to feel just right in your hand, and you quickly draw a bead on the buzzard. One of its eyes, a brilliant but nauseating green, meets yours. It knows you have it dead to rights and there's not a goddamn thing it can do about it. The hammer comes down and half the buzzard's left wing comes apart in an explosion of feathers and nasty black shit. It lists in the air and begins to spiral down like a shot-down Messerschmitt in some WWII movie. Unfortunately it still has enough forward momentum to land somewhere in the hills in between here and the ambush point. An awful screech pierces the air, loud enough to make your teeth vibrate and your eyes water. Seconds later Jim and Hawkins are running over to you. Jim drops his burp gun to the ground, hooks his wiry arms under your shoulders and drags you out from your stinky, furry prison, then helps you to your feet.

"About fuckin' time, ya dingus!"

A) Go help Hank
B) Look for the buzzard
C) Other (write in)

File: image.jpg (1MB, 3264x2448px) Image search: [Google]

1MB, 3264x2448px

>>1374900
Actually my neighbor's choice of cerveza, though I approve. Here's his other project. 57 Chevy, 78 frame, 2bbl 305 and what he says is a 700r4 but I really hope it's not cause there's no throttle valve cable set up. He bought it like that. And drives it.

>>1375729
>A) Go help Hank

>>1375729
>>1375952
Seconding.

>>1375729

>>1375952
>>1375985
^

>>1375729
A) as well

File: 06_turbonique-Rocket.jpg (752KB, 1440x1067px) Image search: [Google]

752KB, 1440x1067px

My IP changed, I'm >>1374900

>>1375952
Supported

>>1375729
Jim's mouth hangs open when you tell him about the buzzard. "You seen it?"

You grin. "Saw it? Shit, I blasted the fucker out of the sky!"

Jim scratches his chin. "You see where it landed?"

You and Jim soon come to the consensus that you'd both love to find that buzzard and wring its fucking neck but Hank, Chief and Garcia are running out of time on that hill. Jim then looks forlornly at the battered Riviera.

"Aw baby," Jim groans, "What did they do to you?" There's claw marks on the fender and the hood is in a sorry state. While Jim removes the battered hood with a ratchet, you help Hawkins bandage his similarly mauled arm. The deep furrows in his bicep aren't bleeding as much as you'd think, but god, you never thought you'd feel sorry for a cop like this. You look him straight in the eye and ask, "Sure you don't wanna just drive yourself back to Yuma?"

"No way," says Hawkins, "I'm not leaving Garcia on that godforsaken hill."

You nod in understanding. "Long as you can still shoot."

"Hell yeah," he replies. "Reloading's a bitch but I'll manage."

Jim drops the Riviera's crumpled hood to the ground, reaches in through the window and fires up the engine.

"No time to fuck around on that trail," he says, tossing you the Blazer keys. "I'll go ahead and drag that spike strip outta the road, y'all follow and cover me."

Who drives the Blazer?
A) You
B) Hawkins

>>1378189
>A) You

>>1378189
A) "Ramchargers are cooler though"

New thread
>>1380442