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Welcome to Criminal Empire Quest. A Quest following one of these three character’s descent and (if you play your cards right) eventual rise to the top in the criminal underworld. They start as inexperienced lowlives breaking the law just as a past time before falling deeper and deeper into “The Game” as the money mounts and their personal struggles come to light. Whether they turn their life around, become a kingpin, or get sniffed out is entirely up to you.

Who will you decide?

OFFICER CHUCK BRONSON
THE COP:
Officer Chuck Bronson is a beast of a man known for his violent outbursts, grotesquely high blood pressure, and a selection of police brutality cases tied to his name. A loving husband and father to his wife and three children. He’s the picture of the Red Blooded American man: Shooting guns, going hunting and fishing with the kids, enjoying a good barbecue, drinking beer and watching football and going to church on Sunday. The whole picture, accompanied by golf shirts and khakis. This is the persona Chuck likes to give off, the tough but fair lovable Dad. When he’s with his wife and kids it’s all smiles but when patrolling on the beat it’s a different story.

There’s so much that pisses off. Every day is a challenge to not explode into a ball of fury and start breaking shit, he’s a man constantly on the edge. So he uses his job as an excuse to unleash his rage onto the “scum” and “degenerates” of Vegas. They’re his outlet. Officer Bronson prides himself on being as bloody as possible, at least as much as he can get away with. Thought it wouldn’t be the first time he’s bent the rules a little for “true justice”. Nothing makes him feel better than sending fist after fist into some perp’s skull, the crunches of bone and splatters of blood are the only thing that keeps him moving through the perpetual hell of suburbia.

It’s thanks to the “fucking layabouts” he brutalizes that he can come home and be The World’s Best Dad, never showing his unsuspecting family his darker side.

However, the “accidental deaths” aren’t doing it anymore. And that dopamine is slowing down. Is it the violence or the corruption he’s getting into it that makes him want to do this? He has to do something more, he’s got to go deeper and get a bigger rush before the beatings don’t work anymore and he finally snaps.

He’s one “meatloaf again” away from smashing his wife’s head into a pulp and he needs a new way to get his adrenaline high god damn it!

Will Bronson go deeper into the rabbit hole of corruption? Will he corrupt the rest of the department? Will his family ever find out?

(1/?)
>>
PABLO GARCIA

THE LAWYER

Pablo Garcia is the washed up, drug addicted, hung over, and depraved husk of the man that he used to be. Pablo Garcia had been one of the best solo Lawyers in Las Vegas for the five short years that he had actually practiced the law. His life all went up in flames following a messy and highly publicized divorce spurned on by the discovery of his wife’s affair and her intent to get full custody of their daughter. Fucked over by the court, losing the house, losing his daughter, being down half of his money, and drowning in legal fees Pablo Garcia’s life fell apart before his eyes. His career and reputation would soon follow as he succumbed to his depression and began a downward spiral of rampant alcoholism and addiction. As his fumbles in court became more and more frequent and clients became sparse Pablo Garcia was eventually Disbarred after several cases of misconduct, particularly drunken outbursts within the courtroom.

Nearly a decade after his fall from grace the disgraced lawyer hops from motel to motel if he can afford it, never moving on from his divorce. Beginning his morning with sickness and vomiting before living out the rest of the day in a haze with some new high, then coming back to the motel and passing out with sobs of misery filled with murmurs of his wife and daughter’s names. Pablo Garcia is a man drowning in various debts, mainly money promised to various local dealers and men who are known for their eagerness to collect.

Will Pablo’a debts catch up to him? Will he ever practice the law again? Will he ever reconnect with his wife and daughter?

(2/3)
>>
THOMAS THORTON

THE STOCKBROKER
THE GAMBLER

Thomas Thornton is a meek and anxiety ridden financial advisor crushed under the weight and responsibilities of his typical soulless corporate desk job. For Thomas the concept of work-life balance has gone belly up as he works shift after shift in order to provide for his Fiancé. This simple motivation pulls him through shift after shift, his insufferable coworkers, having to suck up to his cigar huffing higher ups, and the countless other examples of the day to day bullshit that comes prepackaged with such an existence.

And at the end of his workday his subdued emotion and beaten demeanor does not end. No matter how much money he brings in to his wife to be it’s never enough. No insult from her is ever too far or the breaking point. The most vile threats against him and blows to his confidence is always met with a “I’m sorry baby, can’t we work this out.”

Whether it’s his coworkers, his boss, his fiancé, the therapist who could care less, or that fucking hack life coach he overpays for..

Thomas will always put up with other people’s shit. Never expressing himself, his daily vocabulary being limited to one word responses and the bare minimum to keep living everyday. Utterly drab and confined to the day by day drab that is his existence. Not even thoughts of the ever elusive and “always around the corner” Wedding makes him happy anymore.

The only thing that makes him happy is the excitement of breaking free from his chains. Excitement that can only be brought on by taking his money and playing it at the tables. With just a couple nights out of the month and the reliable lie of “just visiting some friends” Thomas can finally come alive and slip into the role of The Gambler. An over the top and eccentric persona frequenting casinos and betting on the tables. A warrior of the Blackjack table clad in a loud suit, a cowboy hat, and fake sideburns.

Being able to live out the nights without supervision and have the ability to drink and gamble the night away is the only outlet Thomas has to truly live his life. Will he be sucked in to his persona or renounce it entirely? What unsavory people live in this world that he is merely a tourist to?


Choose your character:

>Chuck Bronson, The Cop

>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer

>Thomas Thorton, The Stockbroker and The Gambler

(3/3)
>>
>>5277507
>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer

Better call Pablo
>>
>>5277503
>>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer

I like Pablo.
>>
>>5277507
>Thomas Thorton, The Stockbroker and The Gambler
>>
>>5277507
>Thomas Thorton, The Stockbroker and The Gambler
He seems like the perfect underdog.
>>
>>5277507
>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer
>>
>>5277507
>Thomas Thorton, The Stockbroker and The Gambler
https://youtu.be/mhXXGHbkMk4
>>
>>5277503
>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer
>>
>>5277507
>Thomas Thorton, The Stockbroker and The Gambler
I like the alter ego idea. Washed up drug addicted losers are so generic...
>>
>>5277507
>>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer
>>
>>5277507
>>Thomas Thorton, The Stockbroker and The Gambler
>>
>>5277507
>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer
>>
>>5277507
>Pablo Garcia, The Lawyer
>>
Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5277503
I can't pick the cop, I somehow feel it would become nauseating. But if the others pick him, I'll still play.

The other two sound equally fun so I'll let the coin toss decide for me
1 - Pablo
2 - Thomas
>>
Looks like Pablo shoots into the lead

Lawyer 8
Gambler 5
Smelly Cop 0
>>
>>5277606
Pablo Garcia wins the vote

Writing..
>>
Hmm. Will the others make an appearance? It's an interesting cast
>>
>>5277620
You think we can pay off the cop guy to send him after our whore of a wife?
>>
>>5277620
+1
>>
Your name is Pablo Garcia and you haven’t left the motel room in three days, you’ve sat locked in this room drowning yourself in Hennessy and indulging in an unholy cocktail of drugs that should never have been mixed together. The 350ug of acid, little bit of Molly, and that line you snorted off of the Egg Chair’s edge have sent you into a paranoia fueled frenzy of either pacing in circles about the room drenched in sweat or laying on the floor in a catatonic state absorbed in your own panic. When you’re not completely out of your fucking mind you’ve been obsessively staring out the window of the motel and fidgeting with your pinky ring waiting for them to come across the Nevada desert and take you out. That’s the only thing you’ve been doing when lucid, a rigid cycle of looking out the window, eyeing your duffel bag and searching through it, and praying to god under your breath that their trucks don’t go out this far.

This is the worst your condition has ever been, you’re normally in a daze going day by day. Never going this hard, never fearing for your life and having to check every few hours that they didn’t blow Mrs.Rojas’ brains all over the wall at the reception desk outside your room.

This has been the daily routine since your arrival at the Heart Hotel, located several miles away from Vegas in the endless stretch of the desert, the perfect place for you to lie low. You keep looking at that fucking duffel bag sitting on the table while pacing about. You’ve burned through $700,000 dollars in about four months, the remainder of that money is sitting in that bag roughly $20,000 sitting along with the ungodly amount of narcotics the $700,000 paid for. Whatever drugs could even fit in the bag that is, the rest are sitting in the trunk of your car outside.

Hope it’s worth it, because the thing about that money is..

Four months ago you took out a loan of 700,000 from the Varela brothers, twin loan sharks from Vegas, and also known associates of the Mexican Cartel. You were supposed to pay them back the 700,000 plus interest about three days ago. You don’t have the whopping 1.8 million their asking for, they set you up to fail and you thought you could win skipping town, well here you are with 20k of 1.8 million,a car load of drugs, and your few personal possessions sitting next to you in a dingy motel in a bag.

Today’s dose of drugs have worn off and you feel numb. Sad and empty. You’re the lawyer, no introduction needed.

You stand off to the side of the window and light up a cigarette. Not laced, no pot, just standard tobacco. A familiar comfort from these three days, Last time you smoked tobacco was during the divorce trial. You close your eyes and savor it may as well enjoy it in what could be your last days. You close your eyes and start to nod off with your cigarette burning again. You slowly fade out of consciousness again.

(1/2)
>>
>>5277690
That is..

until you hear three distinct knocks at the door.

THUMP THUMP THUMP

Not a fucking word

THUMP THUMP THUMP

“Mister Garcia?” Calls out the voice of a young woman, you’ve never heard her voice before. This isn’t Mrs.Rojas, the owner of the Heart Hotel. Rojas didn’t know what you had gotten into but she still checked in every day. Only courtesy you’ve been give in a while. Anyway..who is this girl?

“How do you know my name? Where’s Rojas?” You croak out, almost in a mumble. Your voice sounds scarred and dry a pale echo of the charismatic vigor you used to have.

“Oh, um..she’s out today. My name’s Sarah, I work here sometimes. Your name’s in the registry by the way..”She chirps, sounding bothered by the prospect of having to interact with a tenant.

Before you can prolong any awkward small talk she starts again, you hear the light tapping of keys on a cell phone through the door paired with chewing of gum.

“Look, I’m just letting you know someone’s asking for you. Some guy’s called the phone like three or four times asking for you. Told ‘em I’d pull you out of your room if they stopped clogging up the service line”

You drop your cigarette on the carpeted floor, a small burn starts next to your slipper clad feet.

What do you do?

>Climb out the back window with the bag and head around the building to your car while she waits for your response

>Climb out the back window and break into one of the neighboring motel rooms

>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here

>There’s no running now. Go out into the lobby and answer the phone, face the music.

>Use the burgeoning cigarette burn on the carpet to your advantage. There’s no distraction like a fire.

>Don’t answer her. Just sit in the room as you’ve done, it’s not time to abandon ship yet.

>you’ve got other idea ideas. (Write-In)
>>
>>5277694
>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here
Get that charisma working
>>
>>5277694
>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here
>>
>>5277620
they’ll show up at some point. Figuring out what I’ll do with them specifically but they exist in the story right now. They didn’t poof away when Pablo got picked.
>>5277694
“Ideas ideas” schizo posting hours. The typos are real.
>>
>>5277694
>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here
>>
>>5277694
>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here
Gotta level our speech.
>>
>>5277694
>Ask her who it was and if they said what they wanted.
If it's someone we don't know we can trust then
>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here
If we cant convince her then see if we can just slip her 50. We should also tell her that she shouldn't use her real name if she hasn't already.
>>
>>5277694
>Climb out the back window with the bag and head around the building to your car while she waits for your response
>>
>>5277848
Sure let's send her into a panic.
>>
>>5277694
>There’s no running now. Go out into the lobby and answer the phone, face the music.
>>
>>5277694
>Speak really fast so she doesn’t understand what we’re saying

This is how I get out of trouble with my mom
>>
>>5277694
>Use the burgeoning cigarette burn on the carpet to your advantage. There’s no distraction like a fire.
>>
I love drug addicted. Their so cool and based!
>>
>>5277694
>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here
"Baby, I've had a bad couple of weeks, and if whoevers calling finds out I'm here, it'll get a hell of a lot worse for both of us. Just tell em you misread the registry, that I'm a Pablo Garnita or something.
>>
>>5278556
Oh look, Pablo's retarded child got internet access.
>>
>>5277694
>>This girl’s young, find way to convince her to tell the caller she made a mistake, there’s no Pablo Garcia here

"no bueno, no bueno. Nombre es Gablo Parcia."
>>
It takes you a moment to regain control over yourself, you stand there staring at the battered door to the room with your hands lightly trembling, fumbling around to grab the cigarette that’s no longer in your hand. You can feel the presence of Sarah behind the door as you get closer to the jagged wood of the frame, she’s lightly tapping her foot and fidgeting about waiting your response, her breathing is shallow and slightly uneven.

As much as you want to reach your arm through the door and scream, to pound your fist into the wall at the danger she unknowingly placed you in, you take a moment to relax and think this over. You need to calm down, this whole thing can still be salvaged, you just need to talk this out. You straighten your posture and focus both of your eyes on the door, taking two meditative deep breaths in the process, the girl on the other side being completely unaware of your pre-speech rituals only the asinine amount of time it’s taking you to respond to her question. You search through your head one last time thinking of some grand strategy. You readjust your ring’s place on your finger and clear your thro-

“Mister Garcia?” She interrupts your ritual, her call for you rings through the motel, tiredness in her voice.

Fuck you have to do this now

“Justtellthemto-“ All of your words come out at once in a hoarse squeak, you have a thousand things to say to her and you’re panicking at the thought of getting out of this.

You hear her sigh and tap her foot on the floor faster. Clearly frustrated. “Look, Mister Garcia. Just tell me what you want me to say to them on the line,please. I don’t wanna pull you out into the lobby and have this go on any longer.”

Showtime Pablo, second time’s the charm. You shuffle closer to the door and rise slightly so that you can look through the door’s peephole. The small circular glass is shattered and there are scorch marks around the metal, someone must have shot through here once upon a time, a comforting thought. A small stream of air comes from the outside and onto your eye, you can now get a full look at Sarah standing in the hallway.

She looks utterly ridiculous, a pale and slightly sickly looking girl. She looks like she might have some sort of fixation on drugs as well, though you’re not too sure. Her over use of eyeliner and black is slightly nauseating, she’s clearly a part of some sort of fad style. Though you’re far too old now to keep up with these things.

You start speaking again, your hands trailing through the air with a mockery of confidence and you attempt to emulate some of your former bravado. “My apologies. Listen, I need you to tell them that there’s been some kind of mixup. Just tell them that you read the name wrong on the registry, that you got the wrong guy is all. It’s a simple mistake, tell them you’ve been speaking to a Pablo Garnita or a Gandarilla this whole time..can you do that for me?”
(1/4)
>>
>>5280685
Her face subtly tenses, she looks like you’ve insulted her intelligence somehow. To be fair you’re still getting the hang of this again, you sounded desperate and suspicious. An awkward silence lingers through the space between you two.

“So..you want me to tell the man on the phone that you’re not here, that you’ve never been here..” She recites as if trying to show the absurdity of what you’re asking.

“I know how it sounds, sweetheart I do really. But they’ll give you a pass, you’re a young gringa, they won’t ask any mor-“

“Mister Garcia, I don’t care.” The words leave Sarah’s mouth quickly, you must have crossed some sort of line. She roots around in her pocket and grabs the key to your room. You hover in front of the door and continue to speak as she begins to open it, making sure to place yourself between her view of your duffel bag full of narcotics and stacks of money.

“I’m not asking you to care, Chica. Just a little lie is all, I’ll be out of your hair before you know it. Just do this for me and you won’t have to worry about anymore ph-“

“Mr.Garcia listen, I’m only saying this once. I’m not stupid , you’re tangled up in some bullshit I’m not getting involved with. You’re obviously hiding from the man on the phone. I don’t know if it’s about drugs, money, or whatever the fuck else goes on in Nevada but Whatever it is it’s way out of my minimum wage pay grade.” She’s cut you off again, and she’s not stopping. The door is pushed open and the orange light coming in from behind her practically slices through you, your eyes close instinctively. She closes the distance like a hungry animal and points at you with a single finger.

“This is YOUR problem. I’m not getting in the middle of your shit show for you, now go out into that lobby and answer the god damn phone.” Her words drip with venom as she points to the checkout desk, the phone’s light is glowing red. Whoever’s on the opposite line has been on hold this whole time.

Right now you’re shocked by the sudden ferocity coming from this girl. “Sarah, this is a bit of an over reaction isn’t it. Let’s just work this out, I’m sure we can go about this another way. I just need you to work with me.”

“I’m not budging on this. I’m not getting involved in whatever this is.” She waves her hand around the room, clear disgust on her face. “No amount of Chica’s, Sweethearts, or whatever phoney bullshit is going to change that.”

Ah that was what pissed her off. You can still turn this around. You’ve swung an entire jury with your award winning smile, you just gotta show this girl your charm. You widen your stance a bit and straighten your back, you stretch out your fingers and put on the charm.
>>
“Alright, alright, look you’ve got me. I’m the type of guy to admit when he’s beat so I’m gonna be completely honest with you. No more lies, favors, or flattery okay? Let me pour my heart out here..Baby, it’s been a rough few weeks over here on my end.” Sarah winces as the word “Baby” leaves your lips, not the direction to go in but that’s alright. You’re getting some glow going, you slowly walk about the room and get a motion going while you’re speaking. Your hands flowing smoothly as you strut about, you’re going to win her over here in a second. Get your words going like free form jazz. Her gaze is fixed on something else however.

“I’ve had a really tough time as of late, okay. I’ll admit it. You were completely right, you called me out, I can appreciate that. There’s some real bad guys looking for me, not that I’ve done anything to warrant it. I’m a lawyer Sarah, a warrior of peace, right? It’s my job to fight for justice and these guys, these real sons of bitches, as low down in the dirt as they are, didn’t like that one bit. I’ve devoted my whole career to fighting the cartel and by god I’m not stopping now, Sarah. Because I’m not just fighting for Nevada, or for my wife and daughter at home, I’m fighting for you, Sarah. I’m fighting for justice against the wicked. But you’re my out right now, and I can assure you with 100% certainty that if you make that call that you’ll be safe. Every court, every officer, every legal authority in this county will do their most to ensure your safety. So do the right thing, Sarah. Make the call. Don’t do it for me, do it for justice.”

Not a single god damn word of that was true. But you think it moved Sarah, she’s got a slight smile on her face. Her gaze is still fixed on something though, not your grand display of bullshit.

“So what do ya say?” You grin, hand outstretched in her direction.

“Ten thousand dollars.”
“What.”

Your bag. She was eyeing up the bag the whole fucking time. You quickly get in between her and the duffel bag.

“Sarah we don’t have to go about it like that.”
“Give me ten grand then”

You sigh. Fuck it’s going to go like that then isn’t it?

“Two grand”
“Ten”
“Okay,okay, how about five.”
“Go a little higher, mister Garcia.” She says in a slight sing song tone.
“Fuck it eight is as high as I’m going, can you do eight.”
“Sure.” She shrugs with a dry laugh.

You mutter to yourself as you grab eight stacks out of the bag and hand them over to her. She’s never seen this much money in one place, her eyes widen. A small amount of color rushes to her pale face as she heads out of the room and to the checkout desk with the money bundled in her arms. “Alright, now tell them!” You shout throughout the empty hotel. She shoos you away with a single dismissive hand and sets the money down on the front desk before picking up the phone.

(3/4)
>>
“Hi, this is Sarah from Heart Hotel again. Thank you so much for being patient with us. I spoke with Mister Paeblo Garneeta in his room and he’ll be out shortly.”

Sarah deliberately butchers the pronunciation of the fake name for the caller on the other end of the line. You can hear a faint response from this far away, a deep sound.

“That’s right,sir. Garneeta. That’s G-A-R-N-. Oh no no we don’t have a Pablo GarCIA. Sorry for the confusion sir. I just get so confused with these names, I could have sworn you asked for a Garneeta.”

She’s not above pretending to be the fool for a lump sum of money. Sarah sits at the desk reading through the registry while going back and forth with the caller.

“Garcia, Garcia, Garcia.. nope. Sorry sir he’s just not here. No, I’m sure he’s not doing that. The Pablo I talked to was a real fat man, very clean and put together guy, nothing but smiles. Yes,I’m sure. Oh you’re welcome, sorry for the inconvenience sir. Thank you for calling, bye bye now.” Sarah’s customer service voice and chipper demeanor is wiped away as she calls back to you in the exasperated voice that you’ve had to listen to. “Alright, it’s done. Happy?”

You walk out into the hallway and rub the sides of your head, this is all too much. Not to mention you’re now down another couple thousand. You let out a strained laugh, you sound like you’re choking. “Very. You really sold it, thanks doll.”

She just glares back at you, she puts the stacks of money under her desk and goes back to scrolling through her phone, not before putting another piece of gum in her mouth.

Looks like they’re off your back for now. Though you don’t know how well they bought her story. What’s the plan?

>Continue to stay at the Heart Motel for a while, just keep doing what you’re doing and hope they don’t come around searching motels in person.

>Prepare a trap for the cartel and lure them in, an insanely risky, dangerous, and bloody plan has been cooking in your head.

>Head out on the run into the desert tonight, you’re not sure exactly where you’ll go but there’s always something out in the desert.

>Head back into the hornet’s nest, Las Vegas. A dangerous place for you to be right now but writhe with places to hide and plan your next love

>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.

>Pablo Garcia knows how to spend his time in a different way. (Write in)
>>
>>5280700
(*plan your next move)
It’s not proofreading season again Boyos
>>
>>5280700
>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.
>>
>>5280700
>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.
Surely they won't sell us out.
>>
>>5280700
>Head back into the hornet’s nest, Las Vegas. A dangerous place for you to be right now but writhe with places to hide and plan your next love
>>
>>5280700
>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.
Surely, Pablo knows a person who owes him a favor.
>>
>>5280700
>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.

Jeesus, that was a chonky update. I like your writing, QM.
>>
>>5280700
Also, do we get stat boosts from doing drugs? Like if we snort a rail of coke, do we get a +5 to charisma rolls, or if we smoke some PCP will we get a +5 to endurance rolls?
>>
>>5280700
>Prepare a trap for the cartel and lure them in, an insanely risky, dangerous, and bloody plan has been cooking in your head.
>>
>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.

Well we can't stay here, no way. Either they'll come calling around here or the kid is going to rat us out or squeeze us for more cash. Hiding in the hotel isn't going to do us any favors anyway, either paying off the debt or going into hiding. We've been on a bender, the brain must be feeling quite freaky, we're down to 12 grand and things are looking bleak. I vote we double down.

So let's phone a friend: A bank robber who only got caught once, and Pablo Garcia got him off the hook for a song. After that he retired and went on the straight and narrow to work in a kitchen, with a small "nest egg" to be comfortable.

Honest work, but hey man, where's the excitement or glory in a lunch rush?
>>
>>5280700
>>Prepare a trap for the cartel and lure them in, an insanely risky, dangerous, and bloody plan has been cooking in your head.

Let's break some bad
>>
>>5280700
>>You have a couple of phone numbers rattling around in your head that you’ve memorized, ask Sarah if you can use the phone. This might be a problem you need to phone a friend for.
>>
>>5280700
There’s only one solid way that you’re getting out of this mess now, if you go it alone any longer you’ll be face down in a ditch before the weekend. The Valeras are extremely thorough when it comes to debt collection, the only reason their cartel associates aren’t here breaking down the door is because they’re busy busting through every run down shithole in Vegas hoping you turn up. They’ve been searching the city since you ran out on collection, once they realize that Vegas is a dead end The Valeras will have the cartel roll out and patrol the surrounding desert that you’ve been calling home.

They’re going to be closing in soon, provided they haven’t been scouting motels on the fringe. You need to call one of your guys that you’ve got in mind and get the hell out of dodge and it needs to be done before sunrise. You head back into your room to gather your things, the light from the lobby pours in as you’ve let the door hang open. You eye over the room one last time, the dingy view of the outside from the rear window, the yellowed and stained egg chair, and the faded out paintings of cowgirls and horses dotting the walls of what once was a “themed” room.

You won’t miss this place, not a bit. You’re eager for the feel of the outside air, to smell something that isn’t the faint remains of smoke, vomit, and leftover narcotic fumes. As you gather the last of your possessions into the duffel bag sitting on the back table you steal a final glance at the cigarette you had dropped on the carpet. Crumpled and burn out the once magnificent first cigarette you’ve had in years sits in the middle of a perfect circle of charred blue carpet, exposing the wood paneling beneath. Like you, it’s fucked up beyond recognition but still holding on down there, although the greater world would be better off if someone threw it in the trash. With that thought you take off your brown shag bathrobe and discard it to the floor, you stumble about in the nude briefly in front of the doorframe but you manage to fit into your sweat and vomit stained suit. Like a knight in armor! Your confidence has been bolstered slightly. You eye Sarah through the doorframe, you haven’t the slightest idea why but she looks close to vomiting.

You check over the bag to make sure everything’s where it should be. Drugs? Check. 12,000 in cash? Absolutely, check. The last picture you ever took with your wife and daughter? Would rather not discuss that one but check. All ready to go you sling the bag over your shoulder and walk out over to the checkout desk with your head held high. You lower your eyes through your crimson lenses glasses and fix your eyes on Sarah. The look of confusion on her face gradually sets in as she sees your suit and bag, you didn’t stop at this desk for a conversation, you’re leaving before things get any more hectic.

(1/several this is like a 14k word update)
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>>5283390
“You’re leaving?” She says, slightly incredulous. “Wasn’t the whole point of that call to help you “lie low” or whatever it is you’ve been doing all week? Why’d I even buy you time if you’re immediately going isn’t it a little pointless?”

You snap your fingers and look down at her with a slight smile. “Shit’s getting too hot too fast, Sarah. Besides, I don’t see why you’re complaining. If it’s all so pointless I could always reach over and take back my eight thousand.”

That shut her up. “Fine, let me check you out. We still have to do the logbook by the rules so if you could just listen and sig-“

You cut her off mid sentence, putting your hand in front of her like some demented traffic cop. You ‘pss’ ‘pss’ like you’re trying to call over cat. “No no no, I’m not done yet, baby. One last thing before I go I just need one last little thing. How about you go ahead and let me use th-“

Now she cuts you off. Standing out of her chair, with the fed up off demeanor she had earlier. It feels worse now, far worse. She points at your chest again. “Okay that’s the fucking line, lying to your gangland psychos on the phone is one thing. But I am NOT doing that, never in a million fucking years would I let a sleazy shit covered two bit fuckup go that far. There’s no price for that, now get your shit and leave.”

You blink a couple times, the fuck is she talking about? “Is the desk phone really that hot of a commodity?”

She sits there in silence, there’s no coming back from a blunder like that one. She stumbles to find her words but mostly air comes out. “The phone?”

“Yeah..the phone. What else? Look, I gotta make this call and get one of my guys on the line so are we gonna wrap this up?”

“You wanted to make a call on the phone.” She says it like a statement. Her outburst finally clicks in your head and you can’t help but start cackling, it’s a horrible sound but you couldn’t care less about the hell your lungs have endured. Sarah’s silent defeat grows deeper.

“You really thought that’s what I was gonna do, huh? No offense toots, but as if. What was that you said, eh? Never in a million fucking years. Now how about that desk phone?”

“Make your call. Keep everything on the line legal. If anyone ever checks the phone records here I don’t want all of this to tie back to me.”

“Oh so now that you got stake in the game and some illegal tender in your pocket you actually care about phone calls and safety, huh? Imagine if I gave you everything in here, you wouldn’t know what the hell to do.”

she’s mainly fixated on the bag, paying no attention to your words. You follow her gaze to the baggie of cocaine you have poking slightly out of the bag. She’s not objecting to the presence of narcotics, she fidgets slightly. You recognize it all too well, that’s envy in her eyes. Everyone wants to be the guy with the duffel bag.

(2/?)
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>>5283401

“All right enough pleasantries Sarah let me go through the numbers.”

You have about six or seven numbers memorized and another thirteen scribbled on the inner lip of the duffel bag’s zipper in sharpie. You go down the list alphabetically, unfortunately for you ten years in the game is a long time. Most of these guys you’re calling aren’t even around anymore.

It takes you hours of calling and sifting through all of the deactivated numbers, the “I’m retired now, Pablo. I can’t do that kind of favor anymore”, and the parents, wives, children and families letting you know that the guy you’re calling for is dead and has been for a while. The amount of your old clients that are either dead or winded up going back to prison is staggering. It’s a little more than half, the other guys turned it all around. Good for them. These were the clients who offered you favors of the more criminal variety in exchange for getting them off the hook, you never acted on them. You never would have back then. The circumstances have changed now.

Out of the roughly twenty numbers only two guys offered to commit. You’ll need only one of them for now, maybe save the other one for later. You need to stay low profile. Your two guys are Mateo and Colin, you explained your situation to them in the vaguest legal terms you could and that you needed a favor all the while Sarah stared daggers into you.

“So, mateo. I’ll call you back if you’re the guy I’m taking for this one, I gotta mull it over. If you don’t get a second call from me then don’t show up over here alright? Not tryna be an asshole but things are sixty right now and I don’t got a lot of time alright. Love you too brother man, alright gotta go.” You hang up the phone. This whole process of calling took about an hour and a half. You don’t have long until the sun starts rising and the cartel is given the light of day. You think your choices over

Your first call ,Colin O’brien, a particular favorite client of yours from your time as a lawyer. You haven’t talked to him in years but he’s a genuine and honest guy who’s true to his word, even though he’s out of the game nowadays he’s willing to do you that favor. Colin’s like an artist, except his art is armed robbery and his muse is any building holding any amount of valuables.

Colin was one of the best at what he did, a trained military marksman and demolitions expert who ran with a crew of similarly trained guys, ex PMC and old biker gang types. For about two years they hit jewelry stores, Casinos, hell even an auction house, but it was their first bank that did them in. Half of Colin’s crew had been gunned down in a strategically planned raid by the police and their accompanying SWAT teams, Colin was the only one to give up his arms and surrender.
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>>5283415
It was well documented, well after you brought it to to the state’s attention, it had been documented that Colin was something of an “ethical armed gunman” operating by a code of morals, he didn’t believe in the wanton mayhem and slaughtering that comes with the profession like his fellow felons did. During their two year blitzkrieg of armed robberies not once had Colin killed a civilian or a member of the police force. His only known casualties were towards a Mexican American street gang that had intercepted the crew on their way to a casino on the strip.

When Colin needed a lawyer you were the one he chose, having his then girlfriend pay you two hundred thousand in laundered cash on top of your negotiated legal fees. Colin’s morality was the crux of your defense, and with the best god damn lawyering in your career you managed to get Colin down to a nine months in prison, though having him give any and all information regarding his four living crew members was part of that deal. With all the money the state seized from their homes they had to cut him some slack on the sentencing, that and you greased the wheels of justice with the judge so to speak.

Nowadays Colin is out of the game and works in the kitchen of a 50’s themed diner on the strip. He’s living the dream for an ex con, he’s married to the girl who gave you that 200k, he’s got two kids, a nice house, a car, and enough stashed heist money that’s still being laundered that he’ll be able to provide for his family long after he’s dead.

Your second call, Mateo Sanchez, another old client from your lawyer days who you never left contact with. This whole “on the run” situation that you’ve found yourself in has never been in your wheelhouse, you usually play it smart and quiet with lots of words and distance between you and anything too dangerous, when you’re not in a narcotics fueled bender that is. Mateo’s the guy you can thank for keeping you out of most of the shit that comes with Vegas’ underworld.

When you still practiced law he’d go after the guys who put hits on your head when you got too close to convicting “The Wrong Guy”, he’d watch over your clients, and generally get his hands dirty so that you could keep being Vegas’ darling lawyer as long as it meant he kept getting your legal counsel at a discount of course. After your fall from grace Mateo’s been the guy setting up every drug deal and shady money loan you’ve been getting into, you don’t give anything in exchange anymore but he’s an old friend with a lot of contacts and a lot of capability.

Mateo was one of your highest paying and most frequent clients, even at a reduced rate. He’s an ex member of the Colombian cartel, the guy who kept business running and set up all the deals. After your disbarment he retired and became one of the top info dealers in Nevada.
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>>5283426
Eventually you make your decision and make the second call. “Alright, get going now. I’m staying at the Heart Hotel, it’s this shitty motel off yucca. Just go straight for a while and you’ll see it sitting out in the middle of nowhere. Alright see ya soon.” You hang up the phone and look back to Sarah. She’s completely silent, going through her phone.

“Alright, day’s breaking. Adios Sarah.”

She doesn’t respond. She just gives a small wave of her hand and goes back to whatever she was doing. Unless you come back this is the last time you’ll see her. Do you have anything you’d like to tell her before you set off outside?

>Yes, I’ve got some parting words. (Write-in only)
>No, enough has been said.

With that you head through the door and let the crisp morning air hit your face, the slight chill breezes through your suit and you take a good look at that light blue sky. Your guy should be here in about twenty minutes and you’ve got some time to kill, you probably shouldn’t be out in the open like this but the view’s just too damn irresistible. Plus, there’s plenty of cover nearby. Burned out cars, telephone polls, tires, the works.

You scan the horizon and admire the rising sun stretching over the sands. You squint slightly as you notice some bizarre additions to the landscape. Far off over the horizon you eye several garbage bags near a pile of scraps, sitting dead middle in the desert, a pair of tire track lead to the sight. Even farther you see a cloud of smoke looming over the horizon, even from here the charred scent wafts through the air. Must be a big burn they’re doing way out there, probably a controlled burn or some sort of brush fire.

You’ve got a while before your guy shows up. Hey, who even is your guy anyway. Who’d you call?

>Colin O’brien

>Mateo Sanchez

This is the first sunrise you’ve stuck around for in a while, it’s also the most sober you’ve been. Maybe that’ll change. How will you spend your twenty minutes in the desert?

>Go check out the trash-pile in the middle what treasures do those trash bags hold?

>That smoke in the distance could be something interesting. Wonder what’s burning?

> Just wait here for your guy, no points of interest to be had
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>>5283430
>Colin O’brien
>That smoke in the distance could be something interesting. Wonder what’s burning?
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>>5283430
>No, enough has been said.
>Mateo Sanchez
>Go check out the trash-pile in the middle what treasures do those trash bags hold?
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>>5283430
>No, enough has been said.
>Colin O’brien
Go check out the trash-pile in the middle what treasures do those trash bags hold?
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>>5283430
>>5283430
>"I'd say our short time together was sweet, but then I'd be lying. Hasta la vista, baby."
>Colin O’brien
>Go check out the trash-pile in the middle what treasures do those trash bags hold?

Who knows what goodies could be in a pile of trash? Used condoms, day old pizza, HIV infested heroin needles? I'm salivating at the thought.
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>>5283426
>No, enough has been said.
>Mateo Sanchez
>That smoke in the distance could be something interesting. Wonder what’s burning?
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>>5283430
>Yes, I’ve got some parting words.
The money's fake, chika. *slam the door*
>Mateo Sanchez
>Just wait here for your guy, no points of interest to be had
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>>5283430
>No, enough has been said.
>Colin O’brien
>That smoke in the distance could be something interesting. Wonder what’s burning?
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Rolled 7 (1d10)

Apologies for the delay. I try to release an update every day or every other day. Writing the next one now.
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Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>5286111
And more importantly rolling some dice while I do so.
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>>5283430
Nothing more needed to be said to Sarah. She’s not your friend or some sort of “illegal side kick”, she’s just some kid working a dead end job at a no name rat hole in the desert. You don’t hold anything against her, nor do you blame her for taking about half of the twenty grand. You both did the bare minimum of what you had to do to keep going. She’s just one of a hundred small interactions that comes with life on the run. Realistically, you’ll never see her again or know what ever comes of her. You don’t know why you’re thinking about any of this, she was just a face, a name, and a couple of words, you would never have figured out her name if it wasn’t clipped to her damn chest. Perhaps, it’s the thought of what she’ll do with your money.

The quiet voice in the pit of your stomach that hopes that she won’t go and fuck up like you have. Maybe she’ll pay off her debts if she has any, or maybe she’ll go and blow it all on a cheap high. It’s not your place to judge what she does with your money. It’s not your place to judge anyone, you just hope she doesn’t end up like you. A walking dead man chained to this fucking city. you wonder when you’ll ever get your piece of the pie. To just have one break where life doesn’t kick the shit out of you while you’re on the ground wheezing. This sunset is one of your only solaces.

You stare off into the distance through your crimson lenses glasses, your eyes thoroughly running across the landscape. The cool morning air of the desert whips across your face and flows through your stained and battered suit, you try to savor the breeze all you can, knowing that soon the sweltering hell that is the desert’s heat will follow. You’ve stopped admiring the sunset for a short while now, you simply can’t get those places in the distance out of your mind. You pull up your suit pants and straighten up your suit jacket, an effort rendered useless as the breeze blows it into a disorganized shape draped over your shoulders again, you begin your small exodus out into the desert prepared to feed your curiosity and cure your twenty minute waiting time induced boredom.

You’ve decided on that trash pile out in the middle of the desert, it’s not that bizarre of a sight out this way, it’s right next to the dirt road out in the middle of nowhere. Probably the spot to dump all of your shit at, that’s as much as you can discern from the scrap plywood and tarps you can see this far away. You’re not too sure about the big pit dug into the sand though, you’re seeing some old tires and one way tire tracks, possibly an old junker got pushed into the pit you’re guessing. Despite the mundanity you’d rather walk here than the fire way out in the distance. Too dangerous and too far away for your liking, the smell of the smoke and the faint ash floating this way is enough for now, maybe you can get a better look when Colin rolls in.
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>>5286158
You think anything to keep your mind busy as you slowly walk through the middle of the desert wasting time. The promise of the trash pile makes this small odyssey worth it you suppose. You hum a small melody as you cross the sands, sometimes walking backwards watching the tacky pinked roof “Heart Hotel” Motel grow into a magenta dot on the horizon. You turn around and continue your trek as the distant pile gets closer and closer you make out more detail. The several trash bags you thought you saw are actually something else. Several pieces of…something wrapped in trash bags and plastic. You immediately spot the growing crimson color of the “garbage” sitting in the pile along with the faint smell of rotting meet trailing towards you. Your immediate thought is of some dead animal, maybe leftovers of a hunt or some rabid dog dumped out in the middle of the desert. You never could handle that rotting smell, the way it pooled in the back of your throat, you’d rather not think about it. Bad memories. Best to leave matters like that to the dead.

Yet you still grow closer to the dead animal and it’s surrounding kingdom of garbage. The single trash bag that sits to its left, the sole rusted tire, the remains of some old car, a battered tarp rustling against some wooden supports, and… the hole. You’re assuming it was dug as a shallow grave for the animal. The nearer you get it appears to be some sort of dog with mange, it’s skin dark and covered with what looks to be blood. Baring a single pale eye lodged in its socket. The only thing remaining from its coat is ragged patches of brown hair. You don’t want to see this poor, dead, plastic wrapped bastard but a morbid curiosity pulls you closer. You need to go back. You feel your chest tense and sense of dread fall over you, nothing can stop the sinking pit in your stomach as the body grows closer and you begin to see every last detail.

This is no dog.

You have no idea how to process what you’re seeing. There’s not enough time to form a coherent thought as you look at the dismembered corpse lying in front of you, you try to look away as the stench of death hits you with full force. The rotting carcass’ odor paired with the sight forces you to vomit onto the ground, into the dug out grave in front of you, where you stand on the edge. Not even realizing your this close to a drop that steep, almost feet first into falling in an empty grave.

The body appears to be the dismembered corpse of what you believe was once a woman. Though most of the features seem to be gone. You look at her torso and limbs, each one scattered about and wrapped in garbage bags seeping with blood. A meat cleaver sits atop the pile. Two dismembered hands sit deliberately placed in front of the head clutching a Heart Hotel name tag. Slightly obscured by her skinless fingers the tag reads:

ROJAS
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>>5286160
The revelation that this is the woman you saw only a couple nights ago sends you almost doubling over into the grave, you step back and fall backwards nearby on the flat sand. This wasn’t a random killing, this was a message to you. They’re closer than you think.

With almost divine timing the ever rattling tarp held up by the wooden beams is blown forward by a gust of wind revealing a roughly painted message in bright yellow.

HOLA PABLO

The tarp the message belongs to continues to warble and shake. Despite the strength of the wind it holds steady as if something stronger than the set of nails hammered into it is holding it place. The painted tarp continues to shake but not resist in a peculiar fashion. What’s holding it back?

You can’t think about the reality of the situation right now. Or what any of this means. You don’t know how long they’ve known you’ve been here or even if they’re still around. Everything looks clear now, but this was only a couple of days ago. How long have they had guys staking this place out? You’ve never heard any trucks. You’re going into a panic right now on the ground, breathing uneven and your stomach empty. You’re fucked. You have to be fucked. The cartel’s gotta be right around the corner over a ridge somewhere about to look your head off. how are you going to deal with this?

>This doesn’t mean that they’re still here. Sarah’s call probably got them to go away last night. Recollect yourself and continue to look around for anything that can help you. Then leave and head out with Colin. Keep it cool. Nothing’s changed.

>Run back to the motel, Colin should be here soon. You need to get the hell out of here. You’re certain their close by staking this whole sight out

>Look at what’s behind the tarp

>You’re not running. Grab the cleaver and stand your ground, though you’re not entirely sure if they’re still here. Colin will see you out here, especially if there’s a lot of noise

>Better think of something good for this one (Write-in)
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>>5286163
>Look at what’s behind the tarp
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>>5286163
>Look at what’s behind the tarp
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>>5286163
So either they know we're here for sure and they're watching right now, or they just suspected and left this out as bait before desk girl threw them off, either way it's a bad situation and nothing good will come of looking behind the tarp. Not much we can do about it either way so we may as well stay calm, see if they left anything behind and go back and wait for Colin.
>This doesn’t mean that they’re still here. Sarah’s call probably got them to go away last night. Recollect yourself and continue to look around for anything that can help you. Then leave and head out with Colin. Keep it cool. Nothing’s changed. Take the cleaver just in case.
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>>5286163
I'm guessing this was a trap set up if we were going to sneak off during the day. They could have shot us at any time when we were walking up to the trash pile so I don't think we are being watched right now or it's too dark for them to get a clear shot or see us. The tarp could definitely be a booby trap though with whatever is keeping it in place.

>This doesn’t mean that they’re still here. Sarah’s call probably got them to go away last night. Recollect yourself and continue to look around for anything that can help you without disturbing anything.
Then leave and head out with Colin. Keep your head on a swivel and dont stand out as much as you can. Sit on the ground while waiting for Collin to make yourself a smaller target, but stay calm. When Collin comes get in the car as soon as possible and get out of there without causing too much of a racket.
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>>5286163
>Look at what’s behind the tarp
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>>5286332
Let's not incriminate ourselves by touching a murder weapon
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>>5286163
>>Run back to the motel, Colin should be here soon. You need to get the hell out of here. You’re certain their close by staking this whole sight out
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>>5287546
I fear Colin may be the smoking wreck.
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>>5287742
If so Sarah is also in danger; actually she already is. How many people will we let suffer over our problems though?
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>>5287842
Check the title of the quest. I imagine a lot more people are going to suffer because of us other than a couple hotel maids, that is assuming we don't get columbian necktied before the end of the thread. You can't make an omelet without breaking a couple million eggs.
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Voting ends/final answer is locked in two hours from this post then I’ll start drafting the next update.

Also, go ahead and roll 1d10.
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Rolled 1 (1d10)

>>5288438
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Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>5288438
Is it going to be best of 3?
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Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>5288438
ROLLAAAAN
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File: 2a0.jpg (42 KB, 493x490)
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42 KB JPG
QM pls
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ded. rip bozo.
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File: shame.png (158 KB, 1378x1378)
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158 KB PNG
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>>5288438
Fuck you worthless flake



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