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Niggertits (ID: !U/BcX9ZnbE)
The Last Grease Monkey: Part 11 2017-05-27 02:40:50 Post No. 1501971
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The Last Grease Monkey: Part 11 2017-05-27 02:40:50 Post No. 1501971
[Report] Image search: [Google]
The Last Grease Monkey: Part 11
Niggertits (ID: !U/BcX9ZnbE)
2017-05-27 02:40:50
Post No. 1501971
[Report]
30 miles east ofYuma, AZ
Last Thread
>>1429294
Archive of parts 1-10
https://pastebin.com/Yg8ymvpE
You are 22 year old Hank Dalton. You just disrupted a Skinwalker ritual sacrifice. Your friends are massacring most of them but the girl is still in danger. You need to end this shit fast, because there's a pissed off wounded Wendigo somewhere in these hills, it's getting dark and you're a long way from Yuma.
You finally round the corner and see Billy fucking Nez not 20 paces away, trying to coax the girl through the hole in the barn wall. She's not trying to go with him for some reason. The reason probably being that he's a giant naked Indian covered in blood and waving a giant obsidian knife. She tries to grab hold of something while Billy's skinwalker buddy on the other side is trying to push her through.
"Stop fuckin struggling you little gook piece of-" Billy stops mid sentence when he sees you and your M14. He isn't quite naked anymore, he now has a gun belt with the holster strategically placed. The sacrificial blade is still in his left hand, his right goes to the handle of a hand-cannon that makes Zoe's Super Blackhawk look like a Mattel Fanner 50. He has no chance. You pull the trigger once, solid midsection hit that smashes through a rib or two, takes out some intestine, maybe a kidney, but he's a big fucker so better make it two. Or three. But a freezing cold hand closing around the ankle on your good leg makes your second shot go wild.
It's one of those ghostly smoke fuckers. Just the hand, on a long smoky tendril-arm. It tugs at your ankle, but can't seem to pull very hard. But its touch is so cold, you feel it in your bones. Billy decides not to draw after all and breaks into a full on sprint though you swear you see some guts hanging out the fist-sized exit wound in his back. He's headed for a '49 Mercury lead sled with a chopped roof, chrome side pipes and a dual quad tunnel ram sticking out of the hood that leads you to believe it ain't no flathead in there. Parked nearby are a '65 Chevelle and a late 50s Chrysler, which both look to be running and hotwirable if you have to chase him.
A) Fuck the ghost, kill Billy while you have the chance
B) Get that fucking ghost off your ankle (but how?)
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>>1501971
>A) Fuck the ghost, kill Billy while you have the chance
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>>1501971
>A) Blow his head off.
Failing that, blow the tires.
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>>1501971
>A) Fuck the ghost, kill Billy while you have the chance
>>
Rolled 87 (1d100)
>>1502803
Here's hoping I don't fuck this roll up.
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Rolled 83 (1d100)
>>1502803
Dickunsgott
>>
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Rolled 7 (1d100)
>>1502803
fuck captcha
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>>1502841
FUCK!!!
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Rolled 33 (1d100)
>>1502803
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>>1502955
Nice dubs and dubs
>>
You're not unconcerned about the smoky spectral hand on your ankle, but this bastard needs to die. The ghost's grip tightens further on your ankle while your finger tightens on the M14's trigger. Still not a fucking headshot. Shoulder shot, not the Hollywood graze but straight through all that complicated muscle and bone and cartilage. Billy's massive right arm that could have snapped your neck like a twig flops at his side, dangling from an unholy mess that used to be a shoulder. But he keeps running. Next one's gonna go in his augh holy fuck why does your leg hurt so much? It's like something's inside there, plucking on tendons and rubbing cartilage together. A psychedelic checkerboard pattern flashes before your eyes and your knees, good and bad, buckle.
You writhe in pain on the ground, the smoke now surrounding your good leg up to the knee. You grab and punch at your own leg trying to stop the cold tingling agony. The girl sobs and struggles in the hole between the boards while Billy's skinwalker buddy is still trying to push her through. Billy has made it to the Merc, he leans against it bleeding all over the quarter panel while slowly, determinedly opening the door. You can't even pick up your rifle right now.
"Billy?" The skinwalker calls out, seeming scared. "Where the fuck are you Billy?"https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHCdS7O248g
"Fab Five Freddy told me everybody's fly, DJ's spinning I said my my..."
Whatever's in your leg freezes still at the sound of Del's voice, dulling the agony slightly though it still damn near paralyzes you. Del keeps on rapping as she gets up face to face with the hapless skinwalker, who babbles and pleads and then screams. You can't see exactly what's happening to him, but he screams for an impressively long time considering how loud the cracks and squishes and...splattering sounds are. The small black-haired girl squeezes her eyes tight and shrieks, then stops when a small, bloody hand touches her shoulder. Her eyes are wide with disbelief.
"D-Del? How-"
"Shhh," Del whispers, caressing the younger girl's shoulder, "Don't strain your brain. The man from Mars is back up in space, where he won't have a hassle with the human race."
The longer you listen to her, the more the pain in your leg fades. You look down, the smoke is dissipating. Billy has already fired up the Merc and is taking off toward the road, bottoming out on the ruts and bending one of those nice pretty side pipes.
A) Take the Chrysler
B) Take the Chevelle
C) Check on your friends
D) Shoot at him some more, that seems to be working
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>>1514174
D) The Merc doesn't have enough lead still.
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>>1514211
* and so does Billy.
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>>1514174
>D) Shoot at him some more, that seems to be working
Fuck it, blow out a tire or four.
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>>1514211
>>1514235
No more running. No more chasing. This shit is gonna end here and now. You shoulder your rifle and focus on the departing Mercury's taillights, the dust kicking up from the tires obscuring your aim some. Good thing you have almost a full mag left.
Roll 1d100
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Rolled 29 (1d100)
>>1516167
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Rolled 27 (1d100)
>>1516167
>>
Rolled 98 (1d100)
>>1516167
We need better rolls!
>>
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>>1516232
ayy
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>>1516232
nice
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>>1516167
Not much vital shit to hit on the Merc from this angle, really. Gas tank, maybe pop the tires but what with the dust and how low the car is you'll have to shoot through the quarters and guesstimate where they are. Fuck knows how many layers of lead and shit are in that body though. Best thing might be just to put every bullet you have through that damn-near horizontal rear window or just under it.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D3-hNMqmKK0
Round after round tears through the Merc's painstakingly customized bodywork while Billy keeps flooring it over obstacles, kicking up dust and scraping his side pipes into scrap metal. Mostly you're hitting the roof and quarters, fuck that window is hard to hit, you've only managed it once or twice and it doesn't seem like you've hit this fucker. It's okay, just keep shooting.
Suddenly the Blazer emerges from the smoke, the AMC Eagle hot on its heels. The fuck kind of engine is even in that thing? Both vehicles tear past the Merc coming the other way, Zoe having to lift of the gas some to not slam head-on into it which is enough for the Eagle to get up on her right side. She twists the wheel to the right and sideswipes the Eagle hard. You have to dive to the side as the two cars careen toward the barn. Zoe turns away at the last minute and Delilah pulls her young friend back inside before the Eagle impacts the side of the barn at high speed, sending rotten splinters flying as it tears a much larger hole into the barn side. Jagged boards tear through the Eagle's cabin and impale the driver.
Billy has nearly made it to the road, looks like he's heading back toward Yuma. Guess he knows he'd be dead way before he got home to Phoenix. It's probably a last-ditch effort to get to the Wendigo. You only have maybe six rounds left, and he's gonna be out of range soon. Looks like his car's hurting though, you'd probably catch up to him pretty quick if you had some wheels.
A) Get in the Chevelle
B) Get in the Chrysler
C) Keep shooting
D) Flag down Zoe
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>>1518717
>D) Flag down Zoe
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D) Flag down Zoe
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>>1518717
>D) Flag down Zoe
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>>1518717
Well turns out you don't really have to flag her down, she's pulled the Blazer up next to the big white finned Chrysler in order to hop out and...molest it. She runs a hand across the fender while murmuring sweet nothings before opening unlocked door and hopping in. As you hobble over she whips out a ring of various old Mopar keys, sticks one in the ignition and begins jiggling it around.
"Fuck's wrong with the Blazer?" you ask.
Zoe continues messing with the key, you kinda doubt this'll work. "After I hit that...Gremlin or whatever the fuck, this bitch started death-wobblin' so bad the steering wheel near bust my fuckin wrists."
Hawkins, still in the Blazer, adds his own two cents in his usual indignant fashion. "Maybe if you assholes wouldn't treat my truck like a damn batterin' ram-"
"Yeah," interrupts Zoe, "and I wouldn'ta had to ram his ass if you ain't run outta bullets like a fuckin-" The key finally twists in the lock and the 392 Hemi fires up, ending their bickering. Zoe gooses the gas a couple times, the engine snarling in response. You're a Chevy guy at heart but there's just something about the sound those Hemis make.
Through the now much larger hole in the barn you see that Jim and Chief are mopping up the few surviving skinwalkers. The pillar of smoke from the field is going wild now, with dark unknowable shapes emerging and shooting off to the West, where Billy's taillights taunt you on the horizon.
A) Hop in now, he's getting away!
B) Pick up Jim and Chief first
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>>1521952
>A) Hop in now, he's getting away!
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>>1521952
B) You'll need Chief's knowledge and skills.
>>
>>
>>1521952
B) You'll need Chief's knowledge and skills.
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