Mercenaries

((Sorry.))

Run like a madman, shooting through corners.

Heontris wrote:

((Sorry.))

Run like a madman, shooting through corners.

Corners? What corners? It's not that hot out, is it?

Jalines wrote:

>Follow the set of tracks closest to you.

This seems like your only viable option. Keeping hope close, (but secretly wishing hope was more substantial and/or edible, as you haven't any provisions) you set out into the desert, following the arbitrary line of the railroad tracks.


~~~

You are now someone entirely different.

Your entire operation is at risk of compromise and the prophetic end of the world may or may not have to be scheduled on your fancy calendar. Any suggestions?

>Punch wall in frustration with metal spiked glove you do not have but wish you did so that the action didn't give you as much pain as it just did.

Heontris wrote:

>Punch wall in frustration with metal spiked glove you do not have but wish you did so that the action didn't give you as much pain as it just did.

Oh god that metal spiked glove would have been such a good idea.

You open your laptop and quickly place an order on your favorite black market website for thirteen pairs of metal spiked gloves because hey, pretty soon you're going to be rich.

A beeping catches your attention. Perhaps you should check in on the raid while your hand heals?

>Investigate the cause of the beeping.

Jalines wrote:

>Investigate the cause of the beeping.

It's a black box that looks suspiciously like a pager that sits on your desk. Looking closer, the text on the screen reads "Mr. Tagore".

That is funny, you don't remember having a Mr. Tagore in your employment.

>See what this Mr. Tagore wants.

Jalines wrote:

>See what this Mr. Tagore wants.

Sadly, the beeper is not an actual communication device, it only warns one of an impending message. Usually the screen text is much more useful, reading something such as "Lobby" or "Mess Hall" or "Secondary feline bathroom."

Looks like you'll have to find this Mr. Tagore yourself. Which shouldn't be too hard because the facility in which your office resides is entirely under your control. The only servants you have that are more obedient than the walls are the floors and ceilings, not to mention the splendid ficus in the lobby.

>find Mr. Tagore

Storming down into the lobby, past a barrage of bullets as two separate factions scream painfully at eachother...

Hmm. That will have to wait until later.

Anyways, you soon arrive at the security station in the front and demand to see a Mr. Tagore at once. Unfortunately, the personnel are deceased, bearing multiple gunshot wounds and looks of considerable shock and awe.

>Find this motherfucker and kill him.

V wrote:

>Find this motherfucker and kill him.

Oh hell yes. This jerk ain't gonna live to see the next five minutes.

Storming back into the lobby firefight, you pick the nearest man who looks at you in the least hostile way and drag him out of the room.

"WHERE IS MR. TAGORE?" you hiss into his frightened face.

"Sir, I... Aren't you Mr. Tagore?"

Oh, that's right. Silly you.

>Well then who did this?

V wrote:

>Well then who did this?

The man points with a feeble finger back towards the lobby, where confused gunfire has resumed.

Perhaps it's time to stomp some underlings into the dust. But for this, you'll be needing your hat.

>Grab your hat, look badass, and then show these bastards who's boss.

Your hat resides in a very safe place. It is, at all times, to be kept out of the reach of any [/b]mortal being[/b], and safe from all destructive forces of nature that may seek to destroy it.

It is nestled rather composedly atop your head. With a quick check to make sure the hat is still in place, you stride into the lobby and direct your amnesiac gaze around the room.

Sadly, most everyone has already died. A few survivors appear to crawl away from you, perhaps in hopes of reaching medical attention. If only you hadn't fired all of the doctors for incompetence last week.

>Wonder how to get doctors back distractedly while thinking of how awesome you are.