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Prince Alpert in a Box
Topic Started: Oct 6 2016, 09:14 AM (135 Views)
Midnight Rider
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The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
“Human behavior and betrayal applies to all of us. It exists within ourselves. You love somebody. Do you? What is love? You think you have everything, but you don't have anything. You have to have hope and spirit. Be an optimist. But can you handle all your human behavior or other's behavior. You don't want to be good, but great.”
- Tommy P. Wiseau


Gordon propped his elbows up on the counter of Bobo’s as he drank a cup of weak coffee. The place didn’t have filtered so it was another instant morning. It wasn’t so bad but it was a hard switch when you’ve had the real stuff. If the only thing you had to worry about was coffee though, you’re having a pretty good day. Bobo’s bar wasn’t a four-star dining experience but it was a reasonably clean place and the barkeep tried to keep a diversified menu on hand. The coffee came from a giant can of instant on the shelf that had been there for years. An old radio played a staticy tune that Bobo was trying to zero in on from outside of the state. It was some jazz out of the swamps, a welcome change for the bartender that was used to listening to old country tunes. He probably should have something with his coffee but he was a little light on cash and had to avoid frivolous expenses. So today he was a coffee bum until things got a bit better, but certainly they soon would.

Outside a bit of wind had kicked out dust and red dirt was behind thrown around as a thick mist. Gordon let out a sigh as thoughts swirled in his head, he spent way too much time in his own head sometimes. He just listened to the old radio in the corner as it began to hiss static extra fierce with the dust storm interfering with the reception. A few other stations began to blend in making the music a high pitched blend of static music and talk radio.

“Cheap piece of Mexican junk,” Bobo said giving the old device a firm smack.

Gordon leaned back in his stool a bit and stretched as Bobo continued to get something in on the radio. You couldn’t blame him, stuck inside a bar all day, that radio was his connection to the outside world. Frustrated Bobo shrugged his shoulders and left it tuned on a local news station that was bleeding through. He grumbled to himself and swore infrequently as the broadcaster carried on his show. Judging from the seething hostility out of Bobo, this was not a station that aligned with his political views. Gordon would say something, but even he knew better than to mess with that ticking emotional bomb, Bobo would rather get upset than to be left alone with his own thoughts. Frankly Gordon could sympathize with that a lot more than he’d care to admit sometimes. The radio didn’t bother him though, he just low key listened to it as his coffee got cold and bitter.

”Violence is expected to continue for several months as no cease fire agreement is in sight. In other news a heist in the Mexican territories has authorities on edge as the gang of bandits led by the notorious Juaquin Lozeto continues his rampage north. The bandit has never crossed into the US proper but Rangers are stationing extra patrols in case the bandito attempts to press his luck. Meanwhile Rangers are also pledging extra aid to assist federales in apprehending dangerous fugitives that represent a joint risk for both areas. In a statement ….. ued …. said….” And the radio finally gave up on the spotty news show.

Trapper sighed and switched it back to Finn’s easy listening rock tunes. Gordon didn’t mind that any but he didn’t spend all day in the bar either. Even if you like the music from Finn’s bus, the man rarely got a new album so it was the same series of songs over and over again. After a few hours its only natural to want something fresh. Image spending hundreds of hours listening to same records and then when he finally gets something new you have to sit through the crap you were sick of a hundred hours ago to hear the new stuff. Gordon shuttered at the thought and finished his drink.
Posted Image
Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
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Midnight Rider
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The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
When the dust settled Gordon knew it was time for him to change and adapt to the new situation. In the boneyard the only ones openly recruiting with any kind of juice were a pair of moonshiners named Gregory and Isaac. A pair of slimy ne’er-do-wells that demanded Gordon pass an initiation to get in with the crew. They gave him an awful job to prove his loyalty, it wouldn’t be physically demanding but Gordon didn’t like it. He wasn’t the kind of person that could just heartlessly do what they wanted. The men demanded that he hurt a young teenager that had been running his mouth about the pair of them. They cared more about the bad reputation that child caused then the backlash they’d get hurting kids. There wasn’t much sense in it, but who was Gordon to object. He’d hold his nose and get the job done.

The moonshiners operated out an old alley, they sat at the end like a couple of kings while the hobos that lived in there to paid homage. It was a petty little kingdom but they had more of a court than Gordon did so he held his tongue and got it over with. They were the same as the group he used to run with, it was all low rent empire wannabees.

Finding the kid wasn’t a challenge the boy was loud and flashy like many young people. He dealt drugs openly in an alley during the day and then blew the money he made that night in a big sewer tunnel rave. Gordon pulled up a rotten chair and watched the kid work. He blended in a little too easy with the rest of the sad saps as Gordon watched his target and got a feel for how he operated. The kid was a loud mouth but he was protected. With the hides and drugs he was throwing around the boy had an entourage of well armed yes men. That would make this beat down much harder if there were multiple men with guns in the mix. Gordon watched the three of them circle the kid, they had an arrogant stride as they walked around keeping everyone at least ten feet from their meal ticket. Each of them wasn’t afraid to wave their guns around and that made them a dangerous kind of careless. This complicated the situation considerably as Gordon wasn’t about to unsling his rifle and shoot a bunch of kids. They needed a lesson taught sure but he needed to do about this a different way. A way that didn’t add any new bullet scars to his guts. He’d have to wait for their party and hope they slipped up then.

Gordon watched their operation all day. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do. That was kind of sad, a guy like him really should get out and date more. A man in his mid 20s should be doing more than spying on children all day. Next thing you know Gordon will want to adopt some dog and use it as a proxy for the personal relationships he didn’t build in life. It was a scary thought but the task at hand should keep him from thinking about things too much. The kid had a pretty good operation set up, his guys were loyal. Everyone was up and at it, handing out fliers for the big party chatting up a storm with the locals. The kids seemed to have a draw and Gordon couldn’t help but envy the personal connections that they made. He would never say it out loud but there were times where it seemed to hurt more than anything that he was alone. Beating up these rambunctious teens would likely do nothing to fix that issue but… He really didn’t have an answer for that. Maybe getting in good with the small time crime bosses would help, but that was a stretch. One thing didn’t always have to do with the other, but a man had to eat and this would pay.

After a few hours Gordon was satisfied that he wasn’t going to learn anything new about the job from here. He’d just have to trust his gut instinct and hit them when they had their late night party. Nothing like a master fighter descending down and beating the fuck out of you, when you have a hangover. If Gordon could find a master fighter he’d be set then, the self deprivating humor making him smile. He knew from getting jumped in the Pen after a heavy bought of toilet wine, drunk fighting was the way to go, boy It sucked. The nice thing was he didn’t need to track down where this party is actually going to happen the kids had been passing out little ads for the shindig. Gordon snatched one of the many discarded fliers floating around in the restless breeze and took a look at the details. It was printed on faded yellow copy paper and it had several sketches of loose women and the light show set up on it.

[align=center]”Rave Tonight in the southwest sewer tunnels.
Come see the light show and awesome music by DJ Jessie Fresh.
Fully stocked bar and lots of fun people.
Come see and support the next Mayor of Copperton Logan Wilson.
Large hide admission fee or equivalent at the gates, no riff raff. All contributions go to the Logan Wilson for Mayor fund.[/align]

Well that certainly took a turn at the end, Gordon thought to himself.

Still those moonshiners probably weren’t going to foot the bill for this party admission and that left Gordon out of pocket. He doubted that he’d ever get paid a large hide for doing this job. He wasn’t about to lose money on a job this simple he needed to strategize and raise some funds quickly and easily. That might mean turning a trick or two, but that wasn’t probably going to pan out well. The folks in the Boneyard weren’t known for their wealth and it wasn’t like Gordon was going to be going for high prices. A man like him needed to think of something reliable and classy to get this problem solved. Man whoring himself out there wasn’t the right strategy. Gordon needed to find something honest and dignified, something that he could proudly hang his hat on.
Posted Image
Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
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Midnight Rider
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The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
With a swift crunch of dry dirt Gordon applied pressure to the bit of wooden cross he was using as a shovel. The tired earth gave away easily in the desert and Gordon flung the excess over to the growing pile of subsoil. The earth made a soft sifting sound as it landed on top, creating a tiny avalanche of small pebbles. Gordon wasn’t too far from his first of many prizes today. There were treasures aplently at the old Boneyard Cemetery. It was just a short walk outside of the town, past the racetrack and old radio stations. When Gordon realized he needed money fast that meant grave robbing. Fortunately, there was plenty of time before the party started so he’d have a big hides worth of goods soon. The graves on top were likely post war deaths, they’d be the easiest to get to, but the juicy prewar corpses further down would have the best goodies on them. Man he could retire if one of those bastards was buried with a pipboy.

The first coffin Gordon kicked open had an old lady in it. Her gray hair was flowing like old hay and had some bugs running around in it. This corpse was still a bit juicy which Gordon was hoping to avoid. He always liked it when you found the really dead ones that were basically dust you had to sift through to get to their watch and earrings. The smell was a lot better on those bodies too, there was nothing left to offend the senses. Her skin sloughed off as he started to pry off her cheap earrings and necklace. These weren’t going to fetch much and that meant he’d have to keep going. The flimsy body’s neck snapped clean in two when he tried to tug at the necklace. Gordon recoiled a bit at that, now here he was with a faux gold necklace covered in a decaying brownish gore. Everything would need to be thoroughly cleaned before Gordon’s skin would stop crawling in disgust.

Gordon looked around, something he should have done at the start, and saw that he was alone. That meant it was on to the next chap. He felt a bit like a prewar office worker on Friday. Here he was acting like everything was normal but at any moment the boss was going to try and get him to work on his day off. So he had to play it cool and not act like he was ducking out early, but instead just happened to leave before the boss could ask. Then it was just a matter of ignoring his phone until Monday. If Gordon played it right, he’d get away clean and no one would be the wiser, or he’d have to work Saturday. Which in this metaphor meant brawling with the undertaker. That was not something he wanted to do, that guy was crazy. His kids weren’t much better, but at least you figure you can take on a gang of 4-6 year olds in a fight.

The graves that had markers were far more helpful than the unmarked ones. With an unmarked grave you could be pulling anything out of the ground. Gordon didn’t want to waste his time digging up a child’s grave. Aside from freaking out the parents by making it chicken dance there wasn’t much in there except a tiny suit and some toys with no resale value. He wanted older graves with elderly occupants. Those would be the ones that had the best stuff. Old people by and large accumulate a fortune and then they die and their children squander it. That was the circle of life and some of these geezers had to be buried with the real stuff. Gordon could see it now, imported watches, real jewelry, gold teeth. Now if he unearthed one of those and he’d be set to attend this big party.

“Here we go,” Gordon said to himself pulling up to a grave marker.

The marker displayed “Michael Benson, born 2115 died 2203.”

So this guy was alive in the 2170s, those were crazy times and this elderly man probably had some goodies. This was in an older part of the cemetery where the markers were still made of stone. The wooden markers did get started until recently when the limestone dried up. These graves were so old the earth was hard and it was slow going. Gordon really had to put his back into it, to move the dirt effectively. The wooden cross was digging into his hands and he was getting all kinds of splinters. Those sucked big time cause you had to stop and dig them out of your hands. The top layer was the bitch but once he got into the sub soil it was easier going. The cross had loosened up the dirt and he was able to brush it aside easier. It was just a matter of going until you heard that magic hollow thump. That meant you had hit the grave and it was looting time. This old foggy probably had all kinds of rare items on him.

When that magic moment came Gordon licked his lips in anticipation. There might be all sorts of stuff in there. Maybe even something that no one has seen in centuries. Now that would get him out of this shitty one horse town and in a big city somewhere with civilized folks. Now that was a dream worth fighting for, a nice apartment, crazy misadventures with his friends. He could have one friend that’s always trying to weasel out of stuff, a crazy ideas man, and maybe an inappropriate woman friend with an unspoken chemistry. He could get into all kinds of misadventures involving tipping, or whacky shirts. That was the dream right there, to have that level of secure comfort, and for a brief moment Gordon pondered this reality before lifting the lid on the coffin to see what reality had in store for him.
Posted Image
Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
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Midnight Rider
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The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
The coffin opened up on a ghastly sight, the man’s body was still juicy. That shouldn’t be the case, he shouldn’t still have flesh and form. It should be spooky skeleton dust at this point, but there he lay like a ghoul napping in a box. This guy must have been super irradiated to keep bacteria and fungus from setting up shop in his corpse. Well it was time for Mr. Benson to be unburdened of his valuables. A body this aged would require a thorough inspection and Gordon started ripping off the ancient clothing. He didn’t want to chance leaving anything cool in the pockets or missing a medallion underneath. The dead man had his Sunday best on, with watch and cufflinks. Those went immediately, along with the contents of his wallet. That was still decent leather that might barter for a fair price. The next bit was looking around to see if anything had fallen out along the sides. There didn’t appear to be anything along the edge but a twinkle caught Gordon’s eye. He ripped up the last of the clothes to find that disgustingly this dead man had a dick piercing. There it was a real gold and jewel incrusted piercing, all Gordon had to do was reach down and grab it.

The thought immediately made him vomit, spewing chunks of his half-digested breakfast over everything. This was a serious character moment, was Gordon able to tear a dick piercing of a 80 year old man’s dead body. Why did he even have this thing? Were the 70s that crazy, could the stories be true? It had to be this, the most valuable thing probably in this graveyard and it’s on a dude’s dingus. Gordon looked around to see if anything was around him, he didn’t even want animals to see he was contemplating doing this. Aside from a few fidgeting bushes, the coast was clear and he could take a closer look at this thing. The first thing was to see if it was real, I mean there was no point in having an internal argument over fake gold. He applied gentle pressure with his knife and the piercing had an indent, this was soft stuff, high purity rating. Crap this was probably real, and that meant it was valuable. There is was, sticking out like a literal diamond in the rough, which was a dead gray limp dick. Gordon reached out to grab it, he almost puked again when he came into contact with it. Now he just had to unscrew it gently and the gem would be his. This seemed to take hours and it was all Gordon focused on, he didn’t want any nasty surprises. This one was enough for him, and that was that. Eventually the end popped off and he threaded it through the penis.

Unfortunately, it got stuck, much to Gordon’s horror. He didn’t want to actually have to touch an 80 year old man’s penis, but there he was trying to pry out the gold. Why wouldn’t this thing come out, it should slide out as it always did. Shit the penis was starting to tear off, Gordon tried to clamp down on it while he yanked on the jewelry. The stress lines were forming and this old limp piece of man meat did not want to yield its diamond treasure. This was really pissing Gordon off, it was one thing to compromise and go for an easy score, but now this was becoming work. The jewel had a little bit of give and he kept worrying at it. This damn thing had to give soon, there was only so much resistance a penis this old could offer. With a final strain the dick snapped clean off the man, freeing the piercing but also sending the penis flying into Gordon’s face.

“AH AH AH AH AH AH!” he screamed flinging the penis off.

After this he was diving head first into a reservoir, there was no soap on earth that could make him feel clean right now. The jewel was his though Gordon thought, scrapping it on the ground to get the last lingering pieces of dick meat out of it. That was enough fun for one day, between this and the other trinkets he pried out of the ground there would be enough to barter his way into this secret party. Then that little bastard would be his.
Posted Image
Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
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Midnight Rider
Member Avatar
The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
“Well, well, well, what do we have here boys,” a voice called out.

“Oh shit,” Gordon thought, “Raiders have come for me right at my moment of triumph.”

Out from the bushes stepped out Timmy the undertaker’s son. The meanest brat that ever got kicked out of bucket town preschool. The years on the streets did him no favors. He had grown into a mean five year old with his gang of cronies all dressed up in leather harassing grieving widows. These guys were a pure terror on the graveyard. Gordon wished in that moment that it was raiders, cause once Timmy got a hold of you there was no hope.

“Heyyy Timmy,” Gordon replied, edging towards the exit.

“What are you doing?, This is my dad’s cemetery,” Timmy interjected

“Hey look he’s dug up a dingus,” one of Timmy’s friends interjected.

“Is that what you’re after,” Timmy mocked. “Why don’t you eat it.”

“EAT IT, EAT IT, EAT IT,” the children began chanting.

Gordon could feel the tears welling up in his eyes. Why did Timmy have to be so mean? He looked at the dead penis on the ground, surely a bite wouldn’t be too bad. No, No, Timmy had to be stopped.

“Nnnooo,” Gordon uttered.

“I didn’t hear you,” Timmy insisted, curling his fist into a ball. “What did you say bitch?”

“I said No Timmy,” Gordon replied with new found courage.

“Get em,” Timmy commanded his friends.

The fight had begun in earnest now. Gordon was flustered as the gang of brats descended down onto him. It was the first time in a while that anyone had actually attacked him, it was kind of exciting. He let the children advance, their courage building as Gordon jumped behind some tombstones to dodge their attacks.

With a simple twitch Gordon jumped behind an old mausoleum, taking the children by surprise. They had not expected such quickness from an adult. Gordon leaped out from behind in the confusion and began the attack on them. In shock the children stumbled backwards. They had the reflexes of a raider though, instead of falling, or dropping to one hand, they quickly pivoted back onto their feet.

The fight moved parallel to the fencing, with the tombstones mostly behind them. The children were being backed into a corner of statues, Gordon wondered how they’d fight all bunched up. With renewed vigor he pressed until the statues surrounded them. Gordon threw his body against one of the statues and using the extra momentum flung himself into one of Timmy’s five year old chums. The force sent them both clean through one of the old cement works of art. Gordon stood brushing himself off, having used the child to break his fall.

First blood was his.

The child lay crying on the ground, nose all bloody, wanting to see his mommy.

Immediately Timmy’s gang ran in retreat out of the corner. Gordon saw a flash of steel as the brat drew a knife. Gordon followed quickly before the tide of the battle turned.

Then with tremendous force Timmy pressed the attack. It came with little warning and the speed and anger of it was terrifying. The blade flashed in the light as it tried to slash and bite Gordon. It didn’t take much to convince Gordon to back up. He studied Timmy’s movements looking for a way to counter his attack.

The gang of kids kept advancing. Drawing Gordon back to the open casket with the naked dead man. At the moment the prospect of falling into that hole with a naked dude could not have concerned him less as he studied Timmy’s knife work. He had to outthink his enemy and turn the advantage back to him.

As the open grave came closer Gordon realized his enemy’s weakness. A punch to the balls would destroy his attack entirely. The kid was like five though and he’d see a kick coming, kids do that to each other all the time. This required a split, thankfully Gordon was the champion of splits.

Waiting until the distance was just right Gordon threw out his legs and dropped to the ground. The impact on his own balls was excruciating, one of the many reasons why Gordon rarely did this move. It shocked Timmy to see a person perform a perfect split and in that confusion Gordon nailed a fist of fury right into Timmy’s groin.

The little raider stood their hunched over for a few seconds before collapsing on the ground. Now it was Gordon’s time to turn the battle. The goons were pissing themselves as Gordon launched into them. Picking them up and hurling them into the various grave markers. Each time they stood back up he hurled himself at their tiny bodies sending them crashing through the old marble.

When it was done Gordon stood up and dusted himself off. His work was done and Timmy’s raider crew lay crying on the ground wanting to seek comfort in various parental figures. That’ll teach those would be raiders a lesson in respecting other people’s property. Whisking his stolen goods up in a bag Gordon left to go clean up and attend the evening party.
Posted Image
Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
Offline Mini Profile Goto Top
 
Midnight Rider
Member Avatar
The Super Cereal
[ *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * ]
Donning his orange suit instead of his normal prison garb Gordon walked on over to the sewer tunnel box social. It was a lively event where a mix of characters from all over the Boneyard had come to gather. The jewelry Gordon had stolen handily paid for admission into the event. There was a broad spectrum of people from all over the Boneyard in attendance. Everyone wanted to see this new mayoral candidate and many were questioning if the town even had elections. Gordon didn’t have a head for politics, he was here to catch that little brat alone and hurt him violently for making his remarks. The rest of the crowd could get lost in Logan Wilson’s speech.

There was so much going on in the tunnel, it was a big intersection that allowed ample room for multiple activities. It might even be bigger than the area Ali uses for his drug lab, which is a curious thought. He moved through the various diversions hunting his prey, a small 6 year old that had been running down the reputations of one the Boneyard’s finest criminal outfits. Once Gordon was done, he wouldn’t be talking smack any longer. He tried staking out places that he thought they’d hang out at. So far they weren’t at the kids table or near one of the cotton candy machines. Which probably wasn’t cotton candy, knowing this place.

Suddenly Gordon heard self-righteous giggling, the kind that only comes from kids too full of themselves. He looked up and saw that the little monkeys had climbed up onto the stage scaffolding. They were trapped and Gordon could kick that little brat’s ass now. Cracking his knuckles in anticipation Gordon started to more towards the scaffolding ladder. His path was suddenly blocked though as everyone began standing and rushing to the stage to see Logan Wilson. A sea of people suddenly shoved Gordon aside to get a better look and place to hear the speech. Frustrated Gordon slowly began to move through the crowd as they allowed him room.

“I want to thank you all for attending,” Candidate Wilson began. “You know it was less than 4 years ago when I used to come here with my buddies. We would knock over a delivery boy and get high with our illicit goods. I make no secret of my past, I was a prisoner of addiction. This town threw out moral authoritarianism and got in bed with drug dealers. We all have suffered, we all have been the victims of this one way or another. But, but, just as I cleaned myself up, so can we clean up our town. I’m happy to say I’m four years sober, four years without a drug or drink, and if I can do it so can this town.”

The crowd ate that bullshit right up as Gordon continued to move through the sea of people. He didn’t want that brat slipping away, he was already cornered. Tapping on shoulders Gordon politely asked people to move aside. He kept inching his way to the ladder. Most people were too focused on the Logan Wilson to give him much mind, which slowed his pace considerably.

“Now you look at the price of Buffout,” Wilson continued. “You go in Hooked they got a sign, ‘Buffout two large hides.’ Anyone here believe that’s the price for a jar of Buffout? Anyone here think that two hides is all that drug addiction will cost you, or your loved ones. No, the price of drugs is the shattered dreams and broken communities that we find ourselves in. We must clean up this town and care for the tragic victims of the predatory practice. These drug dealers are taking advantage of the poor and vulnerable and they need help. They don’t need Christian moralizing either, they need a government that cares, a government that sets up drug rehabilitation facilities, a government that makes these rich drug peddlers pay their fair share for the damage they cause our town.”

“Just a few steps more to the ladder,” Gordon thought.

The crowd was eating up this speech, which suited Gordon, it allowed him to climb up and get onto the scaffolding without too much trouble. Though the ladder shook as Gordon climbed, he was too determined to stop. Uneasy engineering be damned he was going to see this through. Too much had been done to stop now. The shaking scaffolding held, but clearly there was too much weight on it. The kids noticed this too. The shaking drew their attention to Gordon, and they were freaking out like deer caught in a car’s headlights. Down below the candidate continued to speak about ineffective policing and something about a bunch of kids attacked in a cemetery and crime these days. It was a load of hooey. Gordon finally had that damn asshole kid right where he wanted him.

“Gregory and Isaac don’t like you running your mouth,” Gordon stated. “They sent me to fix that problem.”

“I’m sorry,” the kid replied.

“Sorry don’t cut it,” insisted Gordon.

The kids ran at the sight of Gordon charging. They were fast but Gordon was faster. As his target attempted to leap to safety Gordon grabbed his ankle and swung him back down. Unfortunately, he underestimated the kid’s weight and he slipped his grip on the downswing. Instead of reaching the other set of supports the kid was now being flung down to the stage with his full force of momentum. He went crashing through the stage floor, completely ruining the speech Logan Wilson was giving. The subsequent cries for parents told Gordon though that the kid was alive and the right amount of pain had been caused.

This caused the party to erupt into chaos. Never wanting to waste a good opportunity Logan Wilson jumped in to save the kid, while Gordon leaped through an exhaust vent to escape the forming lynch mob. It turns out even if the kid is awful people don’t like it when you cause violence to small children. Popping up onto the surface Gordon brushed himself off and ran as quickly as he could into the ruins. Ducking and weaving he zip zagged until he was far enough away to no longer hear the mob’s cries for his blood. He had stumbled onto an old race track. He found a closet where he could charge privately and with the orange suit removed he left to go home, the long way around. It was dark and they’d be looking for a man in an orange suit. With his prison jumpsuit back on Gordon would blend right in with the rest of the innocents. It was just a matter now of getting paid.
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Gordon "Stone" Hennigan, SPECIAL: 5.6.9.3.5.10.3. Level: 6 HC
Peter McCullough SPECIAL: 4, 4, 4, 10, 10, 4 , 4, Level 3 HC

THE CURSE OF THE MUMMY

The spirits have taken an interest in you for all the wrong reasons! Unexpected challenges will come to you during your RPs but the rewards doled out will be much juicier. It is possible to live with such a curse, but if you would rather live curse free, you could simply sell the corpse and wash your hands of the whole situation.

Lmgthev: MBP is handsome
LonesomeDrifter23: Sometimes I think MBP is a being made entirely of satire.
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Cewebwalz
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Henshin a go-go baby
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MBP you son bitch this is a marvelous topic with wastes-moderator levels of proof-reading. Like what if Michael-Angelo made a statue with a really weird dick and was just like, fuck it, the church already paid me for this, I'm level five time for them to give me a sawed off? Hell no he went the extra mile anyway, and basically the only thing I am saying in this paragraph is that you should have like JGL fix all these tiny spelling errors and maybe stealthily insert a tiny dick joke that you won't notice but is a juicy easter egg for the mod grading this.

Gordon's mental dialogue is the literary excellence here, I think you do this better than a lot of "professional" writers out in the world. Comedy wise this is a wastes mile-stone, maybe offhand jokes have been superior but as far as pacing, punchline, and buildup this is like a cringe-fest episode of Peepshow that ends with the most brutally head-shaking experience of your life. Not to detract from the complexities of the piece and say that it's just some joke, but most great comedies have a touch of reality that you can't shake off and separate from the core subject material. This is cool because it doesn't let you just watch Gordon brutalize someone and walk away, there's genuine subject matter at work here.

I think you need to work more on setting detail. You do a great job through Gordon's thoughts but I think you need to get into more nitty gritty environmental description to help set the mood. Like you're in a graveyard but I don't really have any idea of the time or setting, like is it a creepy atmospheric vibe or rather just your everyday casket robbery? The story suggests the latter but is that feeling enhanced or contrasted by the setting around him?

Anyway I laughed pretty hard and enjoyed myself reading this, what else is there to say?

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Pre-teen Schwinn Bicycle - One of these tire's is leaking, but it's as noble a steed as any. Spoiler alert: it's the exact same one from Blitz somehow.

Child Sized Brass Knuckles - This tier two weaponry is laughably small for your man-sized hands, but do match your heart for child abuse in a way I can't explain.

[RARE] Lid Carrying Case - All the coolest lid carriers at school use these, you can wear it on your belt, as a backpack, as a hat, and maybe even a bicycle basket! This thing is pretty neat-o, sadly it has seemingly no lids in it, but seemingly infinite lid storage. Peculiar, right?
Jesse Winters - Penitentiary Pugilist
8(+2).5.7.5.5.8.4, Level: 4 -HC-

Grace Van Vliet - Indie Incinerator
5.7.7.5.5.4.7, Level: 3 -HC-
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Lmgthev:� Like tbh I agree CP is not the golden boy at all
Lmgthev:� You're like John Candy from Cool Runnings
Lmgthev:� Washed up has been who teaches the newcomers the trade� :D

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"What is Adderal, anyhow?" - Funky Fan
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