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SRD Quest

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You are sitting in a boardroom. Now this isn’t even close to an unusual situation for you, but seeing as your time as just a special agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation is coming to an end, you’re a bit nervous. There in the boardroom with you are four others. You know one of them well, that being the director of your office, John Fleming. He's an older man, and with his comb-over, thick-rimmed glasses, red face, and too-tight dress shirt that makes him look like he had been stuffed into his gaudy suit, makes him look more like some door-to-door salesman than the director of a field office.

The other three you don’t know in the slightest. Two of them look the leadership type, the kind who would send someone like you out to check out some godforsaken crime in the middle of nowhere, but the third, a somewhat fair-skinned elf, with his close-cropped hair and soft expression, just doesn’t have that kind of feel about him. He feels like a gentler soul to you. The kind of person who wouldn't dream of picking up a gun. The bulge of his holster in his suit jacket tells you otherwise, though. After a few more moments of looking over your file and the results from the selection process, the two coordinator-looking types look at your director, then at each other and nod, and then look at you.

“Well Mister Angier, I believe that you show that you are more than qualified. But, going over your files, I would like to reaffirm some things before we continue.” The older of your two interrogators says. He definitely sounds the leadership type. He’s got the kind of voice, the kind of tone that commands respect. The kind of tone that garners obedience.

He pauses for a moment or two, reading over your file a bit more before he looks back at you.

“So, after high school you...”

>Went to college for Criminal Justice
>Enlisted in the United States Army
>Enlisted in the United States Marine Corps
>>
>>1617183
>Enlisted in the United States Marine Corps
>>
>>1617183
>Marine Corps
>>
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cADYu1qruHI

“Marines, Sir. Enlisted in Oh-Seven.” You answer.

He nods and continues to read from your file.

“So, after enlisting, your MOS was...” He starts to trail off, reading further into the document.

“Oh-Three-One-One, Sir. I made a lateral move to Five-Eight-One-One after my first tour, Sir.” You answer.

He chuckles a bit as he skims through the records of your time in the service. There’s a good chance he knows what you’re talking about. Rifleman to MP. To your unit, it was a strange move, but as long as you were cool with it they didn't care and wished you the best.

“Says here you were part of the initial force that encountered Patient Group Zero. The ones who were involved in the Two-Thousand Eight Helmand Incident. Is that correct?”

You nod in response.

“Yes Sir. My unit responded to the report, Sir.”

"Mhmm," He mumbles as he reads some more. "You and your squad were involved in the initial skirmish, and after the area was secured and reinforcements were sent, you helped them contain and secure the area. Got a bronze star for that." He droned.

"Me and my unit, sir. We all got it."
>>
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Fuck forgot the next part. Sorry.

He nods at your addition to the story.

"Now, after two tours in Afghanistan, you got an honorable discharge and later joined the Los Angeles Police Department when you returned to civilian life. Says here you spent a few years as a beat cop before you were promoted to..."

>Detective
>SWAT
>>
>>1617323
>detective
GRIZZLED HOMICIDE DETECIVE
>>
>>1617323
>Detective
I got all the respect for swat guys. But then it would just be swat 4: the quest.
>>
>>1617323
>>Detective
>>
>>1617323
>SWAT
>>
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Well alrighty then. Detective it is.

"Detective, Sir. Worked homicide for five years." You say.

Normally, you would be stating that rather proudly. The fact you rose so quickly was something that anyone your age would be proud about. Not today though. These guys probably know everything you've ever done before Fleming even got the file himself.

"Says here you closed the Beverly Hills Butcher case." The younger of your two interrogators states. He points to somewhere in the middle of the file he has open.

You remember that. The son-of-a-bitch who'd been on a string of killings in Beverly Hills and the surrounding area. He'd started in LA proper, but eventually worked his way out there. The orcish bastard barely left anything behind that could incriminate him. That was probably the toughest case you'd ever tackled. He was smart. It was a shame he never used it for something constructive.

"Yes Sir. I caught him during his eighteenth murder. I'm grateful I got there in time to stop him."

You were also lucky he didn't kill you dead. Hell, he almost did.

"Says he resisted arrest. It took you seven rounds to bring him down. Had to shoot him in the head to finally kill him. Says you also got hurt in the process. Stabbed four times in the abdomen." The older one says.

"Yes sir. The toxicology report said he was under the influence of Rust. A lethal dose in anyone else." You add.

You like to believe that it was because you were hot on his trail, that he knew the end was coming, and he would be damned if he didn't bring the fuck that would end him to the grave as well.

"Good work there." The younger one replies.

You nod in gratitude. The two continue to pore over your files for some time longer before the younger of your two interrogators looks at his counterpart, who looks back at him. The two look like they have made their decision. They both look at you as the older gentleman closes the file he had open.

“Well, Mister Angier; you've passed all of our qualifications. Welcome to the Supernatural Response Department. Tomorrow you’ll meet your partner. Get some sleep, son. You look like you’ve had one a hell of a day.” He says.

>I will, sir.
>I've got some more work to get done before I leave, sir.
>Write-in here!
>>
>>1617452
>I will, sir.
>>
>>1617452
>>I've got some more work to get done before I leave, sir.
Justice never sleeps.
>>
>>1617452
>I will, sir
>>
>>1617452
>I will, sir.
>>
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"I will, Sir." You reply.

He goes to shake your hand and you meet him. He's got a firm handshake, that and the roughness of his hands tell you that there was a good chance he was like you: a man of action. The two of you nod at each other, then the two of them pack up their files and leave with Director Fleming. The elf is the one who stays behind, though. He walks around the board-room table to meet you, a thin smile gracing his features.

"It's good to have someone like you with us, Mister Angier. We always need people who are capable of dealing with what this world finds strange and abnormal. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Remus Flaggenar. I'm the coordinator for the mages within the SRD. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He shakes your hand and then quickly leaves the boardroom. From the glass door you can see that he headed straight for the elevator. He is probably heading back to the SRD's floor. You follow behind him shortly after, and after you head to your desk and collect your belongings, you leave the office behind and make for the parking garage, where your car is parked.

Good god. This car was one of the first big things you bought with your salary. You had always wanted one when you were younger, and for the longest time you thought that you would never get one. Boy, did you prove yourself wrong. You climb inside and get yourself comfortable behind the wheel. The interior is probably the newest thing about this thing. You had paid to have it modernized somewhat. In your opinion, it was money well-spent. Either way, though you were glad you made sure it was comfortable. After you pull out of the garage and onto the street, you notice how there's another construction project happening.

Well that sucks. You're probably going to be here a while. As you begin to accept your fate, your personal phone lets out it's little chime, telling you that you have a new text message. When you check, you smile. It's Jess. She's been your best friend since, well, you don't really remember when you met her. You're pretty sure you met her around Ninety-Nine, but you're probably wrong. Since you got back from Afghan, you and her have lived together. You read the message and get a chuckle.

"Hey G-Man! Think you could stop In-N-Out Burger on the way home? I'm fucking starving."

>Gotcha, Birdbrain. Your usual?
>Gotcha, Snakebutt. Your usual?
>Gotcha, Scaleface, Your usual?
>Write-in
>>
>>1617545
>>Gotcha, Snakebutt. Your usual?
>>
>>1617545
>Gotcha, Scaleface, Your usual?
>>
You pull up a quick reply macro and send it.

"Gotcha Snakebutt. Your usual?"

She knows what she wants. You're hungry too, but you probably have waited until you got home. You don't get between Jess and her burgers though. You know that it's a terrible idea. It takes some time but the traffic eventually lessens when you get past the construction zone. Eventually you make it to the one close to where you live. The clock in you car says that it's 21:33. Good lord you're fucking tired. Justice never sleeps, though. You're glad that you're not justice, but it's tool. At least the tools get to sleep at some point.

By the time you get home, the food's lukewarm. You pull into your parking spot and lock the car behind you as you walk up to the front door. You fish in your pockets for your keys, unlock the door, and take your shoes off. Your home isn't fancy, to say the least. It's just a townhouse in Santa Monica. You had to make some alterations to make sure Jess could get in and out. Since she lives on the first floor, you didn't have to do much. All you had to really do was just replace the steps that led up the front door with a ramp and you both were set.

From the living room, you can hear the clacking of her mechanical keyboard. You walk in and throw the bag down on the coffee table, startling her. She must have been caught up in her coding again. Well, either way you've both got dinner.

"Thank god! I thought you'd never get back!" She exclaims.

She embraces you and you hug her in kind. Her bottom half is still mostly coiled near her desk. Sometimes you think being a lamia is probably not that great, but you think that there's at least a silver lining to it all' you don't ever have to worry about having a chair. It doesn't take her long to tear into her burger, not to mention how quickly she finishes.

"Thanks," She takes a napkin and wipes some mustard off the corner of mouth. "So you got the promotion?" She asks.

You nod in response. The fatigue is starting to set in. A long day isn't anything new for you, but today you feel especially tired. You and her chat for a bit before you head up to your room, undress and put your suit in the hamper, and you promptly fall into your bed. Sleep comes to you easily tonight.

That's where I'm out for today. Got work in the morning and I need to get some rest. I hope everyone enjoyed this so far.
>>
>>1617656
Lamia! Yes!
>>
>>1617656
So far so good.
>>
>>1617656
I really like what you have here. Will join in when you run next.
>>
File: A Beautiful Place to Die.jpg (558KB, 1355x900px) Image search: [Google]
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Alright I'm back! Let's get this show on the road!

The sound of the truck you're in coming to a stop is one of the few things that you can hear through the black bag that's over your head. Someone forcefully pulls you from your seat and forces you to walk for some time before you're stopped. The bag comes off of your head and you're finally able to take in your surroundings.

Well, you could take in your surroundings if there was something worth taking in. It's night and you're somewhere in the badlands. There's nothing but barren earth, and the few flora that can grow in it, for miles. You must be pretty far out, since you don't even see the lights of Los Angeles in the distance. There with you are four other men. There's one more like you, with his hands bound and a black bag over his head. The other three are your kidnappers: enforcers for the Los Zetas Cartel. You don't know any of them, but you're sure that they know you. Why else would they have abducted you? As one of them pulls off the bag of the man next to you, you see that he looks like he's taken one hell of a beating.

One of them goes to the back of the truck and opens the lock box in it's bed. He pulls out two shovels and throws them at your feet. His two compatriots undo the binds on your wrists, then they return to their places beside their leader. The three of them draw handguns from their waists and point them at you two.

"Dig. We'll tell you when to stop."

You know exactly what he means with what and how he says it. You expected this. You should have never gotten involved with them! Yes, they promised you money, more money than you ever would have gotten living in Mexico, but you knew that it would all catch up with you. Why didn't you just take the money and run? Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Fuck you, you dog-fuckers. Do it yourself." Your comrade-in-binds says.

The leader of the trio doesn't say anything as he shoots the man. The round gets him in the head, taking off a part of the top of his skull and makes him drop like a stone to the dirt and sand. The shooter looks back at you, his expression cold.

"Dig two."

You nod, pick up a shovel and start digging.

You don't know how long you are at it, but after some time, you finish the first grave. It's not very deep, but this far away from civilization there's little chance that your corpse will even be found. You start on the second one, but you see the light of something illuminating the sky. You can hear your captors speaking about it, and when you take a glance back, you can see that they all have their backs turned to you. They're watching something, a white-hot streak in the sky as it makes its way across the black sea of infinity that is it's backdrop.

>Make a fucking run for it!
>Keep digging
>Write in
>>
>>1618946
>Write in
>Attack them from behind with the shovel while they're distracted.
Hopefully get at least two of them in the head before they can properly react. Then we can try to wrestle the gun from the last man.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.
>>
Alright! I'll need a dice roll for that. Writing now though for the outcome.
>>
Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>1619123
Any particular die size, boss?
>>
>>1619132
I knew I forgot something! That'll work for now, but it'll be d10's from here on out.
>>
You stop digging and slowly creep up behind the trio of murderers. They look like they're really interested in the light show, since, as you noticed, the thing in the sky was moving. Like, it stopped and went in another direction kind of moving. One of the thugs even took out his phone and is recording the spectacle!

Well, it's either them or you.

You swing with all your might, and bring the head of the shovel down on the back of the head of one of them. The shovel impacts the man's skull with a loud clang, and he drops to the dirt, either unconscious or dead. His compatriots are snapped out of their stupor, but before one of them could react, you bludgeon him in the side of the head with the shovel too, and he drops like a sack of potatoes. As the one that's still a threat, the leader, points his pistol at you, you charge him and knock him to the ground. The two of you roll around, fighting for his gun, but you land a punch in his face, and as you feel his nose break under your fist, you wrench the gun from his hands and unload into his chest. As you stand, you look at the carnage around you.

Illuminated by the car's headlights, there are two definitely dead people here, and two that you're not too sure about at first glance. Either way, you're still in the badlands and you've got a working truck! What do you do now?
>>
>>1619193
First, check their bodies to see if they're still alive, and to take anything that might be useful (important: if they're alive, don't leave them with their guns).

Since these guys were part of a bigger gang, they're all going to be on our ass, so we'll need to plan how to skip town. We'll need to head back home to get our possessions before they realize something's off and beat us there.
>>
>>1619310
This anon knows what's up. Seconding.
>>
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You come up with the smart idea of checking to make sure the other two fuckers are still alive. As you trudge over to the two that are neutralized, you check their pulses. One of the two, the one you hit in the side of the head, is quite dead. You remember that you caught him with the edge of the shovel. That'd be a bad wound. The other one is unconscious, and you'd bet he's got a bad concussion too. You got him pretty good. One of them must have your wallet, and you'll need that. You search them all, even the poor bastard that they brought along with you, and save for that unlucky sumbitch, the three of them have roughly seven-hundred and thirty-one dollars on them. Along with that, they all have handguns and each of them, save for the one with the .38 revolver, who had a pocketful of rounds, have a spare magazine. Along with that, they each have a cell phone and an random assortment of crap in their pockets.

Lighters, loose change and in the case of the leader, a little baggie of some kind of white powder. Definitely cocaine. You throw all of their crap that's important into the truck's passenger seat and pull out the phone of the thug who was recording the light. You stop the recording and open Google Maps. Maps says you're out in the backroads near Wister, which is close to the road. You pull back onto the road and start heading back to Route 111. As you drive, you make it near the outskirts of Wister and come to a realization. You just killed three people. Well, you killed two, but the third will definitely die out here. You push that thought out of your mind and drive until you reach the highway.

It takes you about two and a half hours, give or take, until you make it back to Corona. Now comes the task of getting back to your apartment.You park in the lot next to the complex and hurry up to your home. There, you see that your place was left untouched. They were probably waiting for the thugs to call back and say the job was done. Fuck! Either way, you grab a backpack and a duffel bag and stuff them full of anything that you'd need if you had to book it in a hurry. When you've got it all together, you hurry back to the truck and head out back onto the highway. Your mind is racing. You've got to find a place to hide, at least until you can come up with a plan, but where? A few places pop into your head, but you can't decide where to go. Do you go to...

>Temecula?
>San Marcos?
>Slab City?
>>
Sorry that took so long. I've got things that keep popping up while I'm in the middle of this.
>>
>>1619412
>Slab City?

>>1619419
No worries boss. Just nice to have something to read after work.
>>
>>1619412
>Slab City
I have no idea where any of these places are, so I'll go with the one that doesn't cause a tie.
>>
>>1619454
Cali. Northeast of San Diego.
>>
File: Too Sleepy.jpg (48KB, 355x408px) Image search: [Google]
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> Slab City

Slab City it is. The place is off the grid. Like, no power grid level of off the grid. To you, it's the best choice, at least until you figure out what to do next. You pull out onto the streets and head for the highway...

Meanwhile...

You, Special Agent Michael Angier, wake up in your comfy bed. You look at the digital clock on your nightstand and see that it's 3:33. Eerie. As you try to get back to sleep, you notice that you're a bit parched. You pull yourself out of bed and walk downstairs to the kitchen to get a drink and you notice a soft light coming from the living room. As you peek out of the kitchen door, you see Jess, asleep at her PC. On the screen, a window with an innumerable amount of letters is on the screen. Her current project. After you open a bottle of water and take a swig from it, you look at her again. She's sound asleep. You note that it's kind of cold in here right now.

That's not good for Jess. She's like a reptile and needs to be heated to stay warm. What do you do?

>Put the PC on sleep and give her the blanket off the couch. She'd probably be mad if you woke her up.
>Wake her up and tell her to go back to her room to sleep. It's heated in there.
>Write in!
>>
>>1619524
>Put the PC on sleep and give her the blanket off the couch. She'd probably be mad if you woke her up.
I'm guessing carrying her up to her room without waking her up is probably out of the question.
>>
>>1619524
>Put the PC on sleep and give her the blanket off the couch. She'd probably be mad if you woke her up.
Join her under the blanket! Endothermic FTW~!
>>
It's too early to deal with an angry Jess. Not worth it. Even though her room has a space heater and she probably shouldn't have tried to pull another all-nighter and she's the only one to blame for her actions, she's still your friend and you want to make sure she's comfortable if she's going to fuck herself over. You creep over to the couch and take the thick, plush blanket off it and drape it over her shoulders. The thing's big enough so it coves her torso, but it doesn't go all the way down her coiled-up lower half. You can tell she's fine with it, with the way she unconsciously pulls it tighter around herself.

After that, you put the PC on sleep mode and turn around to head back to sleep, but as you make your way to the stairs, you feel something wrap around your ankle. You know from the texture, you can tell it's a tail. Behind your back, you hear Jess say something.

"Mmm.. C'mon... Stay down here..." You hear her mumble.

>Comply with her demands.
>Keep heading back to your room.
>Write in!
>>
>>1619592
>Headpats until she calms down.
>Then head back to your room.
Toughest decision of my life.
>>
>>1619592
>Comply with her demands.
>>
>>1619592
>>Comply with her demands.
>>
Ohhoho! A tie! Well, I'll have to work with that.

"Mhmm." You reply.

You get your ankle out of Jess's grasp and head back up the stairs. From the staircase, you can hear her protesting your decision, but when you return, first with her space heater, then a few pillows and a spare blanket from your closet, her protesting stops. You plug the heater in and direct it toward her, set it correctly, and then fashion yourself a bed on the couch. As you get yourself situated, Jess speaks again.

"Thank you..." She says.

>Not a problem. Why'd you want me down here? Bad dream again?
>Gotta learn to manage your time better.
>How's the project coming along?
>>
>>1619661
But there were two votes for comply...
>>
>>1619682
You did comply. You didn't sleep in your room and you stayed in the living room. There'll be more opportunities for romance. I just want to get to the meat and potatoes of the thread so I can wrap it up at a good place.
>>
>>1619701
Ah, no worries. That does make more sense. You also wrote her adorably, so I really can't complain.
>>
>>1619661
>Not a problem. Why'd you want me down here? Bad dream again?
>>
>>1619661
>Not a problem. Why'd you want me down here? Bad dream again?
>>
>>1619661
>>Not a problem. Why'd you want me down here? Bad dream again?
Cuuuuute.
>>
"Not a problem," You say, trying to assure her. "Why'd you want me down here? Bad dream again?" You ask, your voice low.

You stare at the ceiling, counting the little spaces between the ceiling tiles for a moment as you wait for her to respond.

"You never came back from Afghanistan. They told your mom that you stepped on an IED." She answered.

Her voice was quiet, and you can hear the sadness in her voice.

"That'll never happen. I'm never going back, either. I'm not leaving the States ever again. I also don't plan on dying anytime soon."

"Can you promise? Can you promise not to do anything stupid?"

That question catches you off guard, and you have to think about what you'll say. It takes you a bit to answer, but eventually you do.

>I promise I won't do anything stupid.
>I can't promise that.
>Can we talk about this tomorrow?
>Deflect the question.
>>
>>1619792
>I can't promise that.
>>
>>1619792
>>I can't promise that.
This is what I do. I will promise to do my level best though.
>>
"I can't promise that. I do this for a living, and if I've got to be a total dumbass to get the job done, I'll do it. I'll promise to do my best not to do it if there's a better option, though. Goodnight. If you need me just wake me up." You say.

She doesn't respond. You hope that she fell asleep. You pull the blanket closer to yourself and try to let sleep take you once more. You've got a big day today and you want as much sleep as you can get for it. As the room gets warmer, you finally begin to drift off to sleep.

That's all I got tonight, fellas. I hope you enjoyed. I'm new to being a QM, so I'll try to start the next thread this week.
>>
>>1619859
Thanks for running! I enjoy it so far. Eager to see where it goes.
>>
just caught up, this looks interesting.
you have a twitter or something QM?
>>
>>1622122
Not yet, but I'll go about setting one up. Hell, I didn't realize /qst/ was as slow as it is. The next one will probably happen here if it's still here tomorrow.
>>
Scratch that. I see it's not bumping anymore.
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