Hotdogs of War

>>330134
Suddenly, a whistle snaps you from your contemplation, and you see Kiel point at his watch to the other members of your squad and you know it's time to move. You can see a kind of fierce sadness in his eyes, the kind that have seen too many Foods die under his command to ever feel at peace again. "Don't worry about their guns, just keep moving and get over to that trench alright!" He goes to each soldier and shakes their hand, and when it comes to you, you give his hand a warm squeeze and he does the same. "Alright Meatsticks", he roars out loud, "Give 'em hell!"

>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
>Get in the middle wave (Medium combat and also medium pay)
>Get in the last wave (Least combat and least pay)

(2/2)

>>330143
>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
UUUUURAAAAHHHH!

>>330143
>>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
We're no vegetarian option. We're packing some serious meat.

>>330143
>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)

>>330143
First wave, like a true sausage

>>330143
>Get in the first wave (Most combat but most pay)
WAAAAAGH!!!

>>330143
Are you all shitting me? This ain't our first rodeo

>Get in the middle wave (Medium combat and also medium pay)

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>330193
It's not like we're going to die 3 updates in.

>>330196
>You can see a kind of fierce sadness in his eyes, the kind that have seen too many Foods die under his command

>The enemy trench sits almost two-hundred meters away

>surrounded by the wreckage of various types of Food containers and the rotting corpses of their former occupants

>Coalition Food forces had been smashed yesterday, against those dreaded Candy Cannons

WE'RE GONNA DIE 3 UPDATES IN

You get in the first wave, you aren't some kind of vegetable or fruit cunt! You volunteer for the first wave and your mates pat you on the back and give you encouragement as you climb up the ladder, leading straight up into hell. The remaining first-wave soldiers accompany you by pulling up ladders and standing on the second to last step like you are, everybody waiting to charge at the same time for that group morale and stamina bonus. Can't be suppressed when charging after all. Kiel walks up in between all of you, and makes a fist with his hands, initiating the countdown with his fingers one at a time.

One
Two
Three!

You and the rest of the first wave climb up the final step of the ladder and onto the no-man's land, screaming and roaring your collective defiance all the while. As soon as your boots touch the battered, blasted dirt, you start sprinting at the enemy trench. You only manage to get three full steps forwards until the Candy Cannons start firing straight at you and your comrades in the first wave with lethal blasts of sugar shards. You wince in motion as you notice many of your friends get chewed to pieces by the explosive shards, while others are punctured by 5-UGAssault Rifles from the Candymen nearby. Your charge doesn't stall, but various blasts come close to your head and a shard nearly takes your knee off but manages to bounce off instead thanks to your bun armor. Ignoring the pain, you scream in rage and continue moving but you soon understand this charge is suicide. You and your men NEED cover from those fucking cannons, but they don't call this idiotic fucking field a no-mans-land for a reason. Wait a minute!

You look to your side and spy the broken wreckage of the Food containers from earlier, the cover you so desperately need is right there! You turn and run to your right, keeping your head down and trying to ignore the massive explosions happening on either side of you, hoping you'll make through this fight. After a horrifying few seconds, you manage to slide straight under one Food container and slump against it in exhaustion. A few comrades join you behind the container luckily, they must have seen your sprint and got the same idea. The three of you brace yourselves next to the container as cannon blasts explode around your position. Seems like a few Candymen understood what you were doing. A few blasts even hit the container and you fear it might split apart, but the coalition vehicles hold true in death and protect you and your men perfectly. You peek around the edge of your cover at the enemy trench and duck back as a burst of Sugar shards flies past and takes a chunk out of the corner next to you.

>>330306
You aren't so far away from them now, only a hundred or so yards! You NEED to close the distance somehow to silence those fucking guns! But how? Think Frank, THINK GODDAMNIT. DO IT FOR SAV, YOU WANT THIS FUCKING DATE. Then it strikes you. You turn around and see Korv with you, that muscular giant of a sausage looking at his rifle and trying to relax under fire. You lean against the container and feel it shift when you lean your full weight against it. You know Korv could push this thing straight to the trench if you help him out, but you could also try to take out those cannons and you'd be able to get more men into the trench at once.

Pushing this container would be an easy breach into the trench, but if you didn't silence those guns from here more men would die? But wouldn't they die anyways? FUCK YOU HATE DECISIONS!

>Get Korv to play linebacker all the way to the goal line
>Try to take out one or two of the cannons from here with your rifle (1d20)

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>330310
>Try to take out one or two of the cannons from here with your rifle (1d20)

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>330310
pew pew

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>330310
>Try to take out one or two of the cannons from here with your rifle (1d20)

No point getting to the battle line early, start clearing the way for the second wave so you don't reach a trench full of Candymen alone.

You won't let those fucking cannons shoot at your mates any longer, they're gonna have go fuckin' go! Setting your sight to 2x, you get Korv to boost you up to the top of the burned-out container, and you set-up your rifle on the top of the vehicle as fast as you can. Luckily, none of the Candymen seem to have spotted you so far, and you take your time to slow your breathing down and focus down your scope into the enemy trench. You sweep your rifle from left to right, noticing that the cannons are manned by Lollipops, making you almost laugh out loud from the idiocy of the enemy. Your cross-hairs line up directly on the enlarged red top of the Lollipop gunner, and you hold your breath for a second, then fire off a perfect shot. The blast slams into the gunner's cranium, splattering acidic Ketchup onto that little shit, and you chuckle as he expires on top of his mates. Then you pick off a second one, and a few moments later, silence a third gun along their line.

This earns you a cavalcade of return fire, and Korv pulls you down quick into cover again. You hear a great cheer arise, and then you peek out and see your fellow first-wave soldiers pop out to give you encouragement or a thumbs-up from the craters and containers they've managed to survive in. Seconds later, an entire artillery barrage strikes your position, and you're forced to duck and scramble as deep as you can under the container to avoid being shredded by shards. The sudden impacts of the shards actually tip the container over, and Korv is forced to literally hold up the entire thing as the three of you try to avoid being crushed under your own cover. You're not quite sure how long you can hold this container up as the weight soon gets to Korv, but just when you think all hope is lost, you hear another whistle blow from your side of the lines. Mentally, you cheer, knowing that you're reinforcements are coming. However, you have to make another decision right now. Get out of the container on the enemy side and try to rally the first wave to break their line, or wait with the second wave to explode on the Candy lines like a tidal wave?

>Get the first wave and charge
>Wait in cover and then rally the first and second waves to take out the trench

>>330693
tidal wave
Frank's not ready to die

>>330693
Wait for the second wave, throw down any suppression you and your buddies can but save a bit of ketchup for the bloodbath to come.

You and your mates just opt to join the second wave when they get here, and so you crawl out of the container on the friendly side and wait with the rest of first wave as the second wave are gunned down with much less slaughter due to the fact that you took out their guns early. The second wave manages to escape the no-mans-land with over seventy percent numbers intact, almost as good as possible in this situation really. As soon as the new boots make it past the first wave perimeter, you and the rest of the first wave join together in a Food tidal wave and smash straight into the enemy trenchline. Candymen try to flee but are slaughtered wholesale as half of them run rather than fight in the face of your revenge-hungry comrades, who tear into them with Ketchup blasts and Mustard crystal knives. You force yourself to the front of the combat, where you see a line of 'Barmen forming a line by the command bunker, presumably to cover the retreat of whichever Candyman is in charge here.

You aren't going to let ANY of them escape this for what they did to your friends! The Candy Bar squad take out their chocolate-throwers but you snap, aim, and spray the would-be defenders and they melt and convulse in ear-piercing screams. You, Korv, and a few second wave comrades begin storming the Candy bunker where serious close-quarters action takes place as the desperate defenders begin to fight to the death.

No quarter given, none taken.

You finish slashing open the throat of another Candy Barman with your mustard-crystal knife, when you notice a Candy Barman with an officer cap running through a secret passage-way in front of you! You aren't going to let this fucker get away scot-free and you run after him, into the barely lit corners of the lower trenches. Corner after corner you pursue him, and soon enough he manages to trap himself in his panic to shake you against a dead-end. Snarling, he draws a candy-cane sword and assumes a duelist stance, flicking his blade back and forth like an expert.

He seems to want you to duel him, here in this dark, dank passageway.

>Oblige him
>Blast his Candy ass

>>330946
He thinks he's got the literal and figurative edge here. But we can't let him kill himself.

Shoot his arm. Blast it right off at the elbow, then take him down.

>>331072
He thinks you'll actually duel him. What a foolish notion.

You level your Ketchup rifle at him and blast his arm, sending him screaming to the floor. You plant a boot in his face and his head hits the floor, hard. You check his pulse to make sure, and are somewhat relieved when you find one. They don't pay as much for dead prisoners after all. You grab his sword, then haul him to the upper floor of the trench, where you find your mates celebrating their crushing victory. From the numerous bodies of Candymen strewn all about the place, you assume everybody will be getting paid tonight. All you really want to do is take a nap though, and so after turning in the officer to Kiel you join your other mates in the march straight back to the barracks in friendly territory.

The third-wave troops greet you at your campsite, following the old traditions of the Meatstick Company. The Company never kept servants or slaves or anything like other companies, it was always the third-wave or reserve troops who took care of the gear and everything else. Hi-fives and hugs are exchanged between the returning veterans and the fresh-faced replacements, but by and large the general reaction of your comrades is to head straight to the paymaster and then bed. You follow that routine to the letter, being rewarded handsomely for your first-wave participation and in fact, your silencing of the guns which saved countless Foods during the charge of the second-wave. As you head to your bunk, you find Sav waiting for you leaning against the wall, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. The fresh bandages on her face don't do anything to diminish her looks, in fact, you actually dig the war-scarred look. You are a fucking mercenary though.

Oh riiiight.

"So, about that date." She walks towards you, and you freeze up. Well, technically heat up. Shit.

>Maybe tomorrow
>I'm sure we can do something tonight

>>331748
>Maybe tomorrow

Seduction is the art of running away. Now that she wants us, we run. Just slowly enough to be caught, of course. Get to bed.

>>331808
"Tell you what Sav," you say very, very carefully, "I'll take you out somewhere tomorrow al-right."
"Whatever you say, killer." She just smiles and walks away, leaving you alone finally.

Say whatever you want about her, she is definitely one hot sausage.

You hit the bed and fall asleep fast. You hope you finally get a dream about something peaceful. You aren't that lucky, again.
--------------------------------------------------
Meat-City One...capital city of the Meats and home to some of the fiercest fighters in the entire Food Pyramid. Skyscrapers made of fats and bone tower above their neighbours in the chaotic, insatiable cityscape. M-C1, as it is designated, also has one of the highest population density per square foot by virtue of being a major trading and agricultural hub in the region. As you would expect, this has given rise to an abnormal amount of crime and poverty, at least from an outsider point of view. To you, and your merry band of mercenaries, it is home and home it will always be.

You stand up and take a deep breath of the salty, meaty air as you approach a cafe in the Merc quarters with Sav by your side. The Merc quarters, the specialized area of town for mercenaries like you, has all the services and goods for the average wardog. Well, except class but fat chance in hell you'd ever get any of that being a merc.

The little cafe is at least a step above the normal feed trough that populate and serve most sections of the Merc quarters, to be completely honest it's probably the highest class place you could eat at all things considered. The two of you enter, and are shown to an empty table that has at least visibly had an effort put into cleaning it. Thankfully the place is quite empty, and so the two of you have it completely to yourselves. You've never actually ordered fancier meals than the rations or fast-meals you've become so accustomed to, so you just order what Sav orders. As the waiter takes your order and leaves the two of you alone, a realization strikes you instantly. You have no idea how to work out a date. The panic strikes fast and hard as you lock gazes with Sav, her glorious bun, the contours of her curved meat, and all the other things making you mentally squeal.

>Writein (Literally how do you want Frank to act/do right now.)

>>332403

"I gotta be honest, I just really like being with you, and it's breaking my brain trying to think of 'small talk' to fit a 'perfect date' right now."

>>332403
I want to eat you out.
Yes.
I am a cannibal.
I'm not a robot.

>>332403
Say this:
"So you've been with the mercs for x (an incorrect number of years) now."
(Then she corrects you) And you say (sincerely, casually):
"Wow, it takes a lot of skill to survive that long"
Look for a smile here, if it comes, return it, let her speak if she wants to, otherwise say:
"So you must not have some time to pursue anything else." Let her correct you again and let her talk.

If instead she purses her lips (or whatever is the hotdog equivalent) or bites her lower lip or touches her mouth, say:
"It seems like you aren't comfortable talking about that, sorry." And then change the subject.

Basically just let her talk about herself as much possible and occasionally indirectly compliment her.

File: 5719365829_1e36017039.jpg (101KB, 500x333px) Image search: [Google]

101KB, 500x333px

>>332740
>>332696
>>332595
You take a stab in the dark, or shot, or whatever. "S-so...y-you've been with the Meatsticks for about...four years?"

"Five." She responds almost automatically.

"You must be p-pretty good if you've made it for that long." The bait has been set, now to see if the prey takes the bait.

Watch her face, watch her face. Smile or frown?

Smile. Okay, okay. Uh, next step of the plan. Smile back.

"Suppose so, you've made me rethink that though."

OH shit. Uh...take the compliment? Take the compliment! Don't panic! Don't fucking PANIC!

"Thanks." You hope she can't read your mind or anything, because that would be seriously awkward.

"You haven't been with the Company for very long, but you've proven yourself to be extremely good at what you do. It's certainly given me perspective on how good I thought I could get."

"U-uhm...sorry?"

Confused frown? Oh shit you fucked up somehow! Bail, bail, fucking BAIL!

"I, uh, think I dropped something outside!" You jump up and run out of the cafe, straight into the nearest and darkest alleyway. Though smelly and dangerous, anything is better than sitting there and making a goddamn fool of yourself. You sigh, and sit back against the filthy wall, content to stew in this misery of your own making. Goddamn, it Frank. Why the fuck is talking to people so hard? How is something like a date so hard for a sausage like you?

Useless, so fucking useless. You put your hands in your bun and take a short walk down the alleyway to think. Might not be the red-meat district, but these alleyways are still dangerous. But right now, you could really use physical danger to calm your nerves.

(1/2)

File: Twoleg-Place-Dark-Alley.jpg (74KB, 600x387px) Image search: [Google]

74KB, 600x387px

>>333084
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=reOO1cMTkSg

Shadows melt into larger shadows, unknown things scurry about in the blackness, and the smell of rot and decay never leaves your nose in peace. Reminds you of your childhood in the slums. But you don't ever talk about that, you yourself have buried that part of your life as far as you could. That mind-wipe worked wonders, even if it did cost you the bonus for that night raid on the Office Complex.

You must look so out of place, a sausage with a crisp suit-bun and fresh condiment-do on. You don't doubt the inhabitants of this alley must be looking for people like you, a prime robbery target, just to survive. Life was cheap in the meat-slums. You learned that the hard way...

You might not remember everything, but you kept the skills from that past life, allowing you to jump between shadows like a blur and blending in with this urban wasteland. A scream penetrates your thoughts, and you follow it to the expanse of alleyway ahead of you. When you were younger, you remember running from screams, they signified danger and death. But now, now you followed them gladly, clearly. Now you can fight, you can kill, you aren't the little scared urchin you used to be.

A half-broken streetlight illuminates the scene in front of you, a Steak being surrounded by pork-chops and other low-life meats with knives and forks. Familiar...too familiar. Steak must be a tourist or something, took a wrong turn, one last turn eventually.

You grip your mustard-crystal knife and stalk nearer and nearer, close enough to hear dialogue.


"What's in the briefcase, chummer?" A darkened, burnt 'chop asks the steak with his wicked-sharp knife tilted to his own neck.

Intimidation. They always started with intimidation.

"N-nothing, there isn't anything in it!" The steak panics and blurts out. What a mistake, breaking his composure like that.

>Step in now, fight them all
>Step in later, kill half and let the others run
>Don't do anything, watch this play out and track whoever has the briefcase down

>>333110
>Step in now, fight them all

>>333288
This

>>333452
>>333288
You spring into action, drawing your blade as you do so, landing in-between the scared Steak and the 'chops in the middle of the alley.

"Who the fuck are yo-" He snaps before you reach in and rake your knife against his throat with precision. He grabs his bleeding throat and tumbles backwards onto the filthy pavement. His mates yell out and reel in horror, just the opportunity you need to sprint into the face of a large brute of a Chop and bury your knife in his neck. The thugs back up but aren't completely scared off, they still have numbers on you and enough rusty knives and forks in their hands for confidence. You'll need to take out one or two more before they'll turn tail and run.

Five 'Chops surround you and your charge, all of them armed with various assortments of improvised weaponry. You can see the desperation in their eyes, infusing their normally cowardly personalities into fierce and savage beasts. They won't eat tonight if they don't take you and the Steak down by the end of this. You pity them, they weren't so different from you before you joined up with the Company but life is life in the slums. It's you or them, and it sure as hell isn't gonna be you.

>Rush in and kill one as brutally as possible to scare the others off
>Play it safer, aiming to counter their blows
>Aim to disarm them, they're thugs but they're still fellow Food

(Roll 1d20 for your action)

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>333940
Disarm

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>333940
disarm

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>333940
>Rush in and kill one as brutally as possible to scare the others off

Only blood and the spilling of it can satiate the inner demon living within the pit that used to be our soul. Parry the first chop's blow, reach into his chest, pulling his heart out, and let out a roar in random gibberish.

>>334249
You stow your knife in it's sheath, you might not like these guys very much but you aren't about to murder the whole group of them for what was probably just bad luck on their part. You would have done the exact same thing as them had the roles been reversed. The first 'chop rushes you down with a knife, and you sidestep his blow and then elbow him in the face with all your might and split his nose open. As he's reeling back, you wind your head back and then drive it straight into his face again, sending him flying to the ground and giving you time to react to the next 'chop rushing at you. A sharp fork speeds towards your face, but you use both hands to catch the one driving the fork and stop it from slashing across your face just in time. You take the next second to twist this arm, forcing him to drop the fork, then flip him over your shoulder and dropping him straight onto the floor then finish him off with a kick to the head.

A large 'chop charges you and you grab one of the forks left on the ground and wait until he almost catches you in his massive hands, no doubt aiming to squeeze the life out of you. As he reaches into your range, you flip the fork and bury the blunt end into his face, stunning him and almost sending him tripping to the floor because of the momentum from his charge. You promptly use the blunt end like a hammer, striking his neck and head several times until he find him stopping all movement. You eye the last 'chop and find him struggling to pull out a K-Pistol from his pants, and you throw the fork at him, knocking him down to the ground and forcing him to drop the pistol. A few stomps to the head and the last 'chop finally ceases to resist and you walk your way back to the Steak, panting in exhaustion but happy at the diversion from your social failures. What do you say to this tourist fool?

>Not the safest place for a Tourist
>Didn't do it for free, bud
>Writein

>>335900
>Not the safest place for a Tourist

>>335948
"Not the safest place for a Tourist to get lost, friend." You scold the shaken Steak with a teasing tone, like one would use for a child or a student from a position of power.
The Steak recovers after a fashion and extends his hand, which you take instantly. "Charles B. Meat-worth, I am a representative for Kosher Industries."

You grin wider, Kosher Industries were one of the newest Corps to rise from the ashes of the old after the Pyramid re-structuring. They were considered one of the weaker players in the game, by virtue mostly of just not being that established. However that bid well for your Company, a Merc crew could earn a decent rep working for a Corp if they did a good enough job and usually were given benefits. You decide to ask him the million-dollar question.

"You hiring? I'm with the Meatsticks."

To your surprise, Charles actually gets an exasperated expression his face. "I'd been looking for your Company for hours! I suppose I should have just gotten a guide or something, since you folks don't seem to have an official contact source."

You give him the unofficial address of the Company, and you send the naive little Steak on his way. Strange how things work out. Then you notice Sav leaning against a wall, cloaked in the shadows of the night. She starts to whistle a tune as you walk up to her as nervous and panicked as can be. "How..long have you been there?" You ask of her.

She just smiles and grabs you by the hand and the two of you walk back to the Cafe. Seems the food's arrived, and both of you eat in silence. You're very confused about what just happened, why Sav is smiling more than usual, and why you've never ate here before OH LORD the tastes.

>What should Frank do when they finish eating. He is literally as confused as can be.

Stick your weiner in her buns...oh
Yeah

Getcha some

>>336839
Do a Stakeout of the wares that the small corp is selling. Get the remaining food as take out. Nothing more romantic then sitting silently in a car eyeballing buildings. The steaks are high.