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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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[ERROR] No.40399240 [Reply] [Original] [4plebs] [archived.moe]

Whelp, it's side-project time again.

You are twenty-seven years old.

Serial number Foxtrot-112-381-142. A Type-F made at Station 112, from the three hundred and eighty-first batch, personally numbered as the one hundred and forty-second one produced. You're not a hundred percent sure, but you think that you might be the last one from that batch still alive. Hell, according to official reports, of the Type-F's produced less than thirty percent survive their initial tour.

Too clever for their own good, they'd get themselves and their charges in over their heads too much. Some were smart enough to get themselves out. Most weren't.

You can still remember the sound of the glass you were holding as it cracked int pieces while you read the news that the Type-F line was to be discontinued. Lucky one of your little ladies was on hand to patch you up afterward. You never told her what happened, and she never asked. But she was a clever little troop, and you had your suspicions that she was breaking into your personal comms for fun.

She took to holding you real tight for awhile after that.

>> No.40399261


It's an intriguing realization, knowing that you're about to become an endangered species. From a strategic and tactical standpoint, you agreed with your superiors reasoning. Type-F's just weren't as reliable as Type-C's or Type-D's. Hell, Type-E's were miles ahead of your kind when it came to keeping everybody alive.

But you managed to beat the odds, and keep most of your troops alive, even through hell. Both figurative and literal ones at that.

Even careful engineering for mental stability and regular counseling don't help with that sometimes. You're still alive. And a handful that haunt your dreams are not...

With practiced ease, you mentally push that thought back into it's box.

You're alive. And considering that you've done twenty-five years of service in the name of Peace and Justice, that's more accomplishment than most in your position can brag. As such, you are now entitled to the full benefits of a well deserved retirement. Quite honestly, you're still not sure what to make of that.

Since the War began, your kind have been produced as soldiers, healers, guides, and recruiters. You had a childhood of two years that was much training and education as it was playing around, before you were packed off to War with the promise that if you were a good soldier and survived long enough, you'd be looked after.

You survived long enough.

And now, in thanks for fighting the good fight, you get to have your own life.

To a point.

>> No.40399290


Being what you are, getting a job on most planets is kind of a pain in the ass. Clandestine op's means that most worlds never really know what your kind are, or even that people lived in the stars beyond their own. Sure, plenty of places at the Core are willing and able to hire, but that's the Core. The Capital. You've been there once or twice. It's not bad, sure. People are nice, respectful, and very much aware that a Type-F will generally themselves and the people under them killed.

It's a unique stench of pity, fear, mistrust, and a quiet loathing.

Not that they really know they're doing it. But they see, and make that inner judgement. If you're willing to strike up a conversation, to reach out to them, they'll realize you're not so bad. Most of the time.

But you can't say you like explaining yourself to everyone you meet.

So, since you would rather not be in the Core, that leaves a military job on one of the quieter parts of the frontier. A quiet intelligence op, in a place marked as 'Strategically Unimportant'. Essentially an observation post with a little make-work to give retired old vets like you some cash and a place to rest their old bones in.

Technically speaking though, you've got at least another sixty-years or so in you, if the factory warranty is anything to go by. You've served a third of your life, and now you get to live the rest as you wish. Theoretically.

Still, you'd best look over the file on the dirtball you'll probably be spending the rest of your life on. You've arrived to some surprises before, and aren't really in the mood to receive an IED as a welcome mat again.

>> No.40399305


> Planet local name: Earth. Barely space-capable, but at least it's not as backwater as it could be.

>Planet local name: Terris. You'll be headed specifically to the Europan continent there. Apparently, there's a very unusual mineral there HQ wants to keep an eye on.

>Planet local name: ERROR. Huh, seems the data's been corrupted. Let's see what you can do to fix that... (Write in)

>> No.40399348


>> No.40399555



Fairly unremarkable, and of no real strategic relevance. You've never been there, and neither has the Enemy. Apart from the listening post, there's no facilities for your use there either.

Which suits you just fine.

Between your comms and the laughable security of the planet's own networks, you can effectively set up a ghost identity for yourself. The entertainment value of successfully passing yourself off as a human being when you don't even have thumbs most of the time can be variable, but in an age of information it's made more amusing by the fact that so many will rely purely on digital information.

During your month of transit, you undergo most of the necessities. An identity to operate with, personal property, and the all important local currency.

Honestly, it's that last bit which is most important. You have a well paying 'job', and quite the sum of back-pay, but all that's in UC. This being a planet without a legitimate connection to the Core, you can't go and spend all that UC there. Still, you're pretty sure you can work something out.

There's plenty of discreet jobs you could do.

>Park Manager.
>Something else?

>> No.40399606


>> No.40399928

Shaderic run your goddamn BB quest again you massive cunt

>> No.40399972


Your office is something of a polite farce.

A handful of rooms rented out in a large building, with a whole two employees on the payroll. One of which is you.

The other is a secretary who handles most of the face to face meetings and handles your schedule. She's a potentiate, one that you could empower if the need arises, but...

That is not why you are here.

There is no great Enemy to fight, no war to wage.

Which is not the same as saying there are no innocents, or none who could benefit from your services. Most of what you do is security consultation.

Physical, digital, and in the case of several individuals with more money than sense, mystical. Not that you really shortchanged them. You did, in fact, arrange for the erection of several subtle barriers and defenses, but you honestly don't think any one would be likely to try and breach such places with those means.

As far as you know, you're the only magical creature on the entire planet.

Still, life is...

>Boring. Consultation after consultation, you find yourself missing the challenge.
>Stable. Not much happens, but no news is good news you suppose.
>Good. There's something to be said about a stable office job where you won't get shot.

>> No.40400026


Next week, for sure!

I'm back from vacation, with no massive work projects looming over my head, and no hellions to write evals on.

Alice will be back on Thursday for your reading pleasure.

Until then, kick back and enjoy the quest! We are very nearly through the more boring parts.

>> No.40400028

>Boring. Consultation after consultation, you find yourself missing the challenge.

Minds that tick over without a challenge get bored.

>> No.40400080

boring but stable. no news is good news

(Also really interesting quest OP. Will hope some other late nighters are around to play because bed time for me.)

>> No.40400123

>>Boring. Consultation after consultation, you find yourself missing the challenge.
So perhaps we might look for one.

>> No.40400140


It's mostly pre-written stuff a this phase from an old idea at this point, but I'm glad you like it.

It's been a little bit quiet, so I'm also glad that people are starting to filter in and comment.

>> No.40400169

> DA watermark

>> No.40400230

>Stable. Not much happens, but no news is good news you suppose.

>> No.40400282


You aren't going mad.

You were designed with multiple safeguards against insanity, and given very robust therapy over your years of service to ensure that you would always be capable of acting in your right mind, even if you were to face down horrors that would make ordinary citizens into gibbering wrecks.

This does not do anything to stop you from wanting to scream after the twenty-third blue-print makes it's way across your desk for it's third set of revisions because of course the client wants to have enormous windows in the most secure part of their home to better show off their art collection to potential thieves and-

You close the file.

Twitching your whiskers, a subtle telekinetic pull tilts the blinds on your office window, letting in bars of sunlight into the shadowed room.

You need... something.

Something that isn't forms, that isn't revisions of plans or finding new and interesting ways to avoid meeting clients face to face.

>Take a walk. You need to get out of this office. Maybe it'll help clear your head.
>Talk with your secretary. Perhaps actual contact with another living being that isn't a complete moron will benefit you.
>It's time for a very, very bad idea. You still have your empowerment abilities, and the authorization to use them as you see fit.
>Call one of your Girls. A familiar voice that knows you would be a real comfort about now.

>> No.40400308

This friend, is called not paying too close attention to the images you're grabbing, when you're grabbing 'em from other people.

>> No.40400319

>>Call one of your Girls. A familiar voice that knows you would be a real comfort about now.

No idea who's that, but WORLDBUILDING.

>> No.40400320

>>Stable. Not much happens, but no news is good news you suppose.

>> No.40400323

>>Talk with your secretary. Perhaps actual contact with another living being that isn't a complete moron will benefit you.
Hey, you ever played chess?

>> No.40400337

>>Call one of your Girls. A familiar voice that knows you would be a real comfort about now.
We're a fox familiar neat

>> No.40400364

>>Call one of your Girls. A familiar voice that knows you would be a real comfort about now.

>> No.40400373

I'm just wondering why someone would bother to watermark an image macro.

>> No.40400559

>Call one of your Girls. A familiar voice that knows you would be a real comfort about now.
So, wait. We have a nice big pension in Universal Credits.

Couldn't we order things from Space-Amazon and get them shipped here to Earth? Some of the luxuries of the Core, out here in the Frontier?

>> No.40400700


A swish of your tail pulls open a more discreet drawer on your desk. Inside rests a compact computer. Tough, durable, and capable of sending and receiving data across the void between worlds nigh instantaneously, it's just one of the many standard issue pieces of kit you kept when you retired.

After placing it on your desk, you pry open the clam-shell and place your paw on the bottom pad, using the interface chip in your paw to enter the various passwords.

Seconds later, you're patched into the hyper-dimensional communication hub that is the local Core Forces satellite, before you leap frog further and further from the little blue planet you're currently on.

All that remains is to choose which of your old troops to chat with.

There's a few that come to mind.

Abigail Partridge, the one who you're pretty sure used to hack your communications with HQ for fun. She's a little paranoid, but still a good girl. And honestly, what old fox doesn't prize a student who is cautious?

Zela Faberge, a skilled knight who you empowered on a real backwater. She might not have liked your tendency to keep secrets, or your tendency towards dirty tricks, but you kept her alive during an Enemy Invasion and a few years afterward during a civil war. At the very least, she learned that even if she doesn't like 'dishonorable' things, that doesn't mean others won't hesitate to use them against her.

Lyra Steingard, a girl after your own heart. You're not sure just how she ended up where she did, but she took to your more favored lessons like a duck to water. Which is to say that she's a skilled spy, saboteur, illusionist, and in general an excellent ninja, with an excellent sense of humor.

In the end, you call...

>> No.40400775


>> No.40400786

While I like the other two girls because they sound like they respected us, their teacher, Zela sounds like she's the one who would have had the most trouble in our line of work after we moved on.
I want to make sure she's still alive, considering she's on a backwater planet with primitive medical tech.

>> No.40400796


You could.

Space-Amazon can send you all kinds of crazy stuff. I'm just not, you know, sure I want to spend time making up a giant list of crazy space magitech items for you guys to look at instead of actually doing things in the first thread.

>> No.40400832


Do I read that Lay-rah or Li-rah?

>> No.40400848

Oh, you don't have to come up with a list.
We'll glean the levels of available tech from your writing, and ask if we can order it with free next-day shipping (I assume we have a Space-Amazon Prime account).
You're well within your rights to shoot down any such ideas as soon as they come up with reasons such as "Galactic Regulations forbid the export of Class III hyper-dimensional computation components to Class B Civilizations, or planets that are part of the Protected Planets Treaty" or similar.

>> No.40400893


Neither, I think.

Lee-rah, should be the correct phonetic pronunciation. Unless you meant Li as in Lee, then you were right.


Well, alright then. You've probably already started to realize just how ludicrous the tech level the Old Fox come from is, so I'm interested in seeing what you come up with to order.

>> No.40401108


A few more seconds, and you reach the cluster Lyra's currently living in, and then-

"Oh, heya Teach!"

She grins at you, using that same old greeting like you never left and were just walking down the street rather than half a galaxy away and five years later.

She's aged a little since you've last laid eyes on her, which was honestly only a week or so ago on your usual call around to check up on all your old troops. Most of them have gone on to live good lives since you left them behind to take on new missions and orders, but you make it a point to constantly check in with them anyway.

You've made time to go to funerals in the past, and won't miss the last opportunity to honor any of your Girls.

"So, what's got you callin' me out of the blue like this, Teach?" She wonders, eyes bright and sharp. "We just had the usual meet and greet a week ago." Behind her, a groaning man, boy really, in a student's gi rises and tries to rush her.

Without even breaking eye-contact with you, a wooden sword in her off hand smacks him back down.

>Admit you're bored.
>Ask what she's doing.
>Invent another excuse (write in)

>> No.40401130

>>Invent another excuse (write in)
An unscheduled inspection!

>> No.40401188


>Admit you're bored.
"Retirement sucks"

>> No.40401193

>Ask what she's doing.
"What, your old teacher can't get curious about how his former pupil is doing?"

>> No.40401557


"What, your old teacher can't get curious about his former pupil is doing?" You give her a smile through the mirror that's not nearly as bright as her own, but she laughs anyway.

"Retirement's that boring, huh?" Her eyes glitter, and you simply shrug in reply, waiting for her to continue. "Well, I've been training some students of my own. I mean, sure I can't just hand out the magical party favors like you can, but the lessons are something that I can do that'll help bring in some money."

"And how are your students fairing?" You ask, subtly aiming the camera on her end downward.

"Absolutely terrible." She chuckles, the wooden blade sending another student airborne. "I don't know whether I'm just too good, or if they're just too slow." You laugh a little, remembering your own similar training exercise with her. Assuming it's the same one, all the student has to do is hit her. Something easier said than done, given that you can practically feel the unruly energy of the students through the screen, along with how painfully loud they are.

"Well, I recall you had trouble with that lesson yourself." It took Lyra a few hours to learn to control her energy, although she realized almost immediately that scream and leap tactics wouldn't really work. She had a bit of a leg up in the sense that you empowered her, but if she was training in a formal school, then most of the students should have already learned more than she knew at that stage.

"Ah, they'll learn eventually." More laughter, and another student flattened on the ground. "Say, Teach. Why don't you do somethin' like this?" She gestured with sword, almost accidentally flooring yet another assailant. "I mean, you love teachin'. Like, a lot. Could just use your whole transformin' trick to run a dojo or somethin'."

You raise an eyebrow, considering the idea. It'd be something to do but...

>> No.40401568


"Who would I teach?" It's not like this world needs agents to fight the Enemy, and it's a relatively peaceful time. "Regular martial arts would be boring, and on this world I doubt anyone truly believes in anything supernatural."

She shrugs, her off hand catching a student's blade, before executing a disarming counter.

"I dunno, Teach. I mean, I get that you're on a planet like where I came from, but if you want a student you gotta go out and look, don't ya?" As easily as Lyra blends into the world she's on, it's still easy enough for you to pick out her mannerisms as non-native to that place, even now, years after you first met her.

Apparently, she fell through a well and woke up there.

You're not quite sure what to make of that explanation, but such things aren't unheard of in the wider universe. At least she's happier in her current home then her old one.

Still, training someone, perhaps even empowering them, just because you're bored? That's perhaps a little more than you should really do.

But then, you were considering something like it earlier this afternoon, weren't you?

>It's not a bad idea...
>It's not a good idea...

>> No.40401598


>It's not a bad idea...

Can always just open up a dojo and train people to pass the time. Better than paper work.

>> No.40401623

>It's not a good idea...
We may have some leeway as being one of the most effective Type-F's to ever come out of the Service (which admittedly, isn't saying much), but even that has to have limits.

>> No.40401678

>>It's not a good idea...
Empowering people because we're bored sounds like a recipe for disaster, not to mention higher-ups likely wouldn't fancy our idea.

>> No.40401690

I imagine its not empowering, just general training.

>> No.40401701


Technically speaking, so long as you don't decide to start toppling governments or engaging in massive uplift programs, or go and reveal the existence of the Core or the Enemy to the public masses...

You're pretty much free to do whatever you want.

Once in awhile someone will come down to check on you, just to make sure you haven't gone and erected a shadow government or anything, bu so as you don't do something incredibly stupid, you're fine.

The reason you're leery about handing out magical superpowers or training, is because... you're handing out magical superpowers and training.

This is, for obvious reasons, not something to do lightly.

>> No.40401875

>I imagine its not empowering, just general training.
Well no, you're wrong and it's the exact opposite of what you think it is.

>> No.40401878


You shake your head over the channel.

Giving that sort of training without any sort of reason, would make people find a reason.

"I just don't see a need to do that sort of thing." On the other side, Lyra shrugs again.

"Well, I guess that unless you want to open another business or start doing stuff yourself, you're kinda sunk, aren't you?"

You roll the idea around again, contemplating a few more angles, but your decision remains the same. Irresponsible use of your teachings and gifts is exactly what it sounds like. Irresponsible.

You exchange few more pleasantries with Lyra, including a few fun questions about her latest romantic conquest, before saying your goodbyes.

Total time elapsed: 32 minutes.

You can't help but groan, wishing something interesting would happen.

>Look out your window again.
>Talk to your secretary.
>Check your appointments.

>> No.40401888

Call up Zela, see how our most paladin-like student is doing.

>> No.40402127


The next call went to Zela.

The holographic window stood blank for a few minutes, while you patiently waited for the knight to pick up the other end of the connection.

But, eventually she picks up.

"Sir Fox." A terse nod, and her usual scowl lightened for fraction of a second, before returning to it's usual position, indicating that she was actually quite glad to see you.

For her.

A normal person would probably have just passed it off as an annoyed twitch of her lips, but you know your troops.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this communique?" You deliver your usual smile, and give her the same reply as you did Lyra. You were just checking in on an old student, nothing wrong with that?

"Ah, I see." She nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile on her lips. "Sir Fox is feeling meddlesome, this eve."

Meddlesome? You are not 'meddlesome'! You are... exactly what she said you were.

"You have me." You admit. "My retirement is... lacking in challenges. I keep finding myself growing more and more annoyed with the routine, and I have resorted to nagging my students for entertainment."

Honesty is the best policy with this one.

"Have thee considered a courtship to wile away the hours? I hear tell that such things can bring the mightiest of soldiers to their knees and drive them to drink." You take a moment to stare at the screen.

"Was that... a joke?"

"Nay, Good sir. I am far too steely to resort to such japes." She replies with a completely straight face. You blink. Two jokes in as many minutes.

"I take it you are no longer feuding with your husband then." There had been a fight the week before, and you were a little worried, but it looks like things have smoothed out.

"Aye. A few rounds of matching blades, and we were able to settle our disagreements with honor." For a split-second, you see the faintest hint of a blush, but it's gone just as fast. It really is good to see her like this.


>> No.40402137


"Well then, now that we have had our usual fun, what say you of seeking out a wife of your own?"

>You were built asexual.
>Humans generally don't go for foxes.
>There are just enough F-Types in the entire sector where you might need both paws to count them.

>> No.40402159

>There are just enough F-Types in the entire sector where you might need both paws to count them.

>> No.40402188

>You were built asexual.

>> No.40402212

> humans generally don't go for foxes.

>> No.40402285

>You were built asexual.

>> No.40402311

>There are just enough F-Types in the entire sector where you might need both paws to count them.

>> No.40402349


You fix her with a rather flat stare.

"There are, at most, enough of my kind that if I counted each one in this entire region of space, I might be stretched enough to use both paws. And as for normal women..." You grimace, looking down at your paws.

You could temporarily take on a human shape, yes.

But would any woman really fall in love with a fox? It would come out sooner or later, if you were truly serious about one another, and you can't imagine many would.

"I doubt any would pursue a relationship with me, once they realized just what I was."

Zela's eyebrow raises a fraction of an inch, while the corners of her lips tug upwards at the edges.

"Perhaps, perhaps. But really, how can one know without asking? I did not know my own husband's feelings without asking him, and even know I cannot know things he does not tell me." You chuckle a little. There's a bit of a difference between dealing with another human, albeit an extremely intimidated one if you recall, and dealing with an outright animal.

"That aside, I hardly seek female companionship in that way. I was raised like a monk, you know." You spare the details, having already explained them before. A good commander forms connections, but can't afford to get too attached to anyone. Your line was built with this thought in mind.

You could perhaps achieve such a relationship with someone, especially now that such programming had been undone for the sake of giving you a 'good' retirement, but it was buried deep. You're not just gonna fall for the first woman you see. It could be years before you could think of someone like that.

You exchange a few more subtle jokes and jabs, before letting Zela go meet her husband for a 'sparring session'.

You think you know where that's going to go.

What to do next, though...

>Look out your window again.
>Talk to your secretary.
>Check your appointments.

>> No.40402374

>Look out the window

>> No.40402411

>>Look out your window again.

>> No.40402559


A quick hop takes you to the windowsill, a careful flick moving the blinds away from your landing position .

Night has begun to fall, and you scan see the city's lights already reflecting in the distant bay.

From your office on high, you can look down into the concrete canyons and valleys that make up downtown, before they seem to abruptly cut off at the water's edge, the streetlights over the wharf and warehouses no nearly so bright.

Across the water, more towers soar over the water, just as bright as the one you keep your business in.

It's quiet and peaceful, and you can't help but feel that you don't belong.

You've constantly gone from one crisis to another, your entire existence. To have so much free time, to have so little responsibilities, so few worries and obligations... It's annoying.

You are used to having purpose, to having meaning, to knowing that there will always be more work, more challenges, more things to take care of.

And now, there's nothing.

You imagine that this is why a few of the fellow retirees you've met have chosen to reenlist, or go on to training positions.

Your tail thrashes, brushing against the blinds.

"Mister Fox?" You secretary asks over the intercom. "There's a man here to see you." From the corner of your eye, you see something glinting on a distant rooftop.

>"Send him in." It's probably nothing.
>"I'll go meet him." A touch paranoid, but still.
>"I'm not seeing anyone right now." Indulge your paranoia directly.

>> No.40402813

I realize it's been kind of a slow night, but could I get at least get a single vote?

>> No.40402844

>>"I'm not seeing anyone right now." Indulge your paranoia directly.

Sorry mate, was doing some maths. I'm sporadically checking in on this story.

>> No.40403073


"I apologize, but I'm not seeing anyone right now." It's close to the end of the day anyway.

"But Mr. Fox-"

"That will be all, Miss Cross." The device switches off, and your gaze is locked onto that opposing building.

You Blink.

There are dozens of variations of the technique, and you know most of them, even if you aren't as adept with some as a few of your troops were. But you can still make use of the trick without any real issue.

Going from rooftop to rooftop, you flank the building where you saw the hint of light.

You are not disappointed.

Crouched low on the rooftop, a single man waits with a rifle pointed in the direction of your office, the barrel carefully balanced on a tripod.

Activating senses you haven't used in months, you determine the ballistic path that the bullet would most likely take. Unsurprisingly enough, it goes straight through your office.

Your eyes narrow as the man's head moves subtly, trying to track movement in the room. More than likely, he saw you disappear and is currently trying to either rationalize it or figure out what really happened.

You doubt he's here for you.

You've only done some security consultations since you've arrived, and never even 'met' anyone face to face, conducting your business carefully through intermediaries. You aren't aware you've made any enemies that would be so bold as to put a sniper on a roof.

Which means he's likely here for your 'surprise' appointment.

What to do about that.

>Transform and subdue. The 'boring' option, that let's you use an anonymous face to deal with things.
>Just subdue him. It's been awhile since you took down a full grown man in your natural form. It ought to be fun.
>Wait the man out, and try to figure out just who his target is. If doesn't take the shot, he has to go somewhere at the end of the day, and you'll find out where. If he tries to take the shot, you'll be in a good position to ensure no one is hurt.

>> No.40403116

>>Just subdue him. It's been awhile since you took down a full grown man in your natural form. It ought to be fun.

Tonight, WE HUNT.

>> No.40403210

>Just subdue him. It's been awhile since you took down a full grown man in your natural form. It ought to be fun.
Gotta keep those old skills sharp.

>> No.40403271

>>Just subdue him. It's been awhile since you took down a full grown man in your natural form. It ought to be fun.

>> No.40403284


There are times for subtlety.

For spending hours carefully stalking a foe, gathering intelligence, and keeping a low profile.

This is not one of those times.

You pad over to the man, who is entirely too focused on the office to even bother turning his head to face you. Yours paws silently glide over the gravel rooftop, careful balance and your own supernatural skill keeping you from disturbing so much as a pebble.

Finally, when you are close enough to touch the man with your nose, you give short yip. Surprised, he takes his finger off the trigger as his head and arm pull back to look at you.

A normal fox can't punch at all.

You are not a normal fox. You are a genetically engineered creature with a vastly different muscular and skeletal system, on top of the various artificial organs and other cybernetic enhancements.

You deliver an incredibly vicious uppercut to his chin that knocks him flat on his back.

To the man's credit, he does stay conscious enough to attempt to stand back up. He even manages to pull out a pistol to try and shoot you with.

You don't even bother with a spell to jam the thing, and simply opt to bury a foot up to your ankle in his belly, knocking him back down and his lunch onto the ground.

>Knock him out.
>Interrogate him. (what questions?)
>Call the office, see if Miss Cross can get anything useful out of this evening's client.
>Something else?

>> No.40403316

>>Interrogate him. (what questions?)

Ask him what he's doing in here, while doing some weird act like "I am the guardian of the ancients. You disturbed their slumber. They sent me to either get an explanation or... a sacrifice."

>> No.40403378

>Call the office, see if Miss Cross can get anything useful out of this evening's client.
>Interrogate him.
>"You can either make me ask for specifics, or you can tell me everything I want to know before I actually get annoyed."
Starting to get confused as to what my mental image of the fox should look like here.

>> No.40403403


>> No.40403404

>Interrogate him.
Who do you work for?
Why are you targeting the man that was to enter the office?

>> No.40404488


Internally, you dial the office and wait for miss Cross to pick up the phone while you quickly pad your way over to the sniper's head. Taking a seat next to where you know that you'll take up most of his vision, you bare your teeth in an expression half smile and half growl.

"You can either make me ask for specifics, or you can tell me everything I want to know before I actually get annoyed." He gapes for a fish for a moment, as your internal line continues to ring.

"Y-y-you're... a fox?!" He sounds so very confused.

"Indeed." You nod, resisting the urge to let your smirk grow wider.

"H-how... no-what the-!?" He gibbers, and you put a paw on his. "Foxes... they don't talk?" He wheezes, despite your grip being more than gentle enough for him to breathe easier than that. Must be the shock.

"Really? Then I must be a hallucination brought on by stress." You shrug. "But I'm still the one pinning you to the ground with a paw that has some very nasty claws. Now, let's try this again..."

He folds like a deck of cards.

His name is Ed Callahan, and he's here to kill your evening client before they get a security upgrade from you and become almost unreachable.


"Don-don't know! Jus-just doing what I'm paid to!" A few more aggressive techniques confirm that he's telling the truth, or as much of it as he can. The hit request came from his boss, just another mercenary hit like any other, and he doesn't question such things.

Meanwhile, miss Cross has not picked up your phone call.

>PANIC. Drop the mystery act and teleport straight back to the office, now.
>Remain cool. Work line not going through? Try her cell.
>Perhaps it's time you used a little delicacy, and stepped out of the shadows in your human form.

>> No.40404511

Ugh, sorry gentlemen.

Seems I accidentally passed out there for a bit, but I'm back and I at least want to get one or two more updates in before shutting down for good.

>> No.40404711

>>Perhaps it's time you used a little delicacy, and stepped out of the shadows in your human form.
Make sure the sniper won't be moving for a while beforehand.

>> No.40404769

>"The man you were paid to kill never arrived. Go about your life as usual. I'll be in touch."
>Put the man to sleep, preferably through magic, though more mundane means work if all else fails.
>Take one of his possessions before teleporting back to the office.

>> No.40405089


"Don't go anywhere." You order the sniper absently, dropping a sleep spell on the man before taking his pistol and teleporting back to the office.

Assuming a human guise is, as always, a combination of simple and annoying. There's a few incredibly uncomfortable seconds bones grow and your skin boils into new shapes and organs melt into new positions while joints warp and twist-

In a moment, where once a fox was, now stood a man, if an oddly effeminate one.

You have your vices, and while you could certainly take on a more masculine appearance, this is a face you'd been using for quite some time. You've grown attached to it, even if some of your troops say it's a bit girly.

Another bit of magic and a charcoal suit fades into place, completing your preparations for a brief debut.

Stepping out of the office, you can practically hear miss Cross's head snap around to stare at her boss stepping out of his office in front of her for the first time she could remember.

You give her a warm smile, as your eyes go around the room, spotting the nervous looking man in a cheap suit and much calmer looking woman behind him with rather strange clothes and pointed ears filing her nails.

Your warm smile becomes something more like a grin as your extra senses pick up that, yes, that woman has magic and is probably just as human as you are.

And here you were complaining about being bored.

>> No.40405115

Aaaand that's it for today folks.

Sorry I passed out for a bit, and I hope you guys like this little side-project. Assuming all goes well, I might trade this with Phantom Genesis every other week.

So, how'd you guys like it?

Any questions, comments, concerns?

>> No.40405247

So another type f? Cool

Thanks for reminding running!

>> No.40406231

Could be a Type-C.

>> No.40408247

This is a cool damn quest. I eagerly await more.

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