Mad About The Boy

Davesprite 03/15/2019

Your name is So- No. Your name is Dave Strider, commonly known as Sock. Yes, that's you, that's your name.

Your da- Your boss..No, your dad. Your... boss dad doesn't want you out on the streets in light of recent events, but you can only stay content with doing nothing of use for so long, so you find yourself right back in a shady back alley to get up to well, your shady business. Just little dealer things™. Perhaps one day you will be lucky enough to not freeze your ass off in the cold to sell to today's finest selection of junkies, but for now you are stuck out here.

You sigh softly while you fight to light your cigarette in the cold winter wind. God, this job blows and not even in the nice way.

Trace 03/17/2019

Your name is Trace and you may have fucked up your most recent assignment big time. Your bosses have not been too upset, but you're still concerned for the plans following up your discoveries, so you decided to stick around for a bit longer, keep an eye on the atmosphere and movements in the crew territory. Risky, especially since they might have heard of you being around, but you'd rather put your own neck on the line than risk the lifes of the others because of your mistake.

With coat and scarf drawn tightly around your face to protect you from cold and recognition, you're strolling through some backalleys. You've just turned around yet another corner when you spot him. At first you want to just walk right past him, but you do a double-take when you recognize him - one if Droog's other kids. Well uh, that's awkward.

Play Me A Hurtin Tune

Trace 03/04/2019

Your name is Trace and sometime after the worst of the blizzard, on yet another cold day, you have the pleasure of being stuck working outdoors. Fortunately, your three layers of coat and scarves make it easy to hide the worst of your green skin. With just a little bit of makeup, you look normal enough to be able to traverse Crew territory without catching much attention. A risky job regardless, but you don't deserve anything else after your royal fuckup.

But you don't want to complain too loudly, because at least you're allowed to work in the field and don't have to rot in a cell. And this way, no one else has to risk their neck for this, because you're still the best for this kinda job.

It's still a tedious task. Trying to track down local joints and shady dealerships without contacts and without standing out too much, and from there try to pin down their supply lines, since you want to hit them where it hurts.

It's not the first day you're snooping around and you're finally starting to pick up some leads. One is especially promising - a nearby shop owner. Not the front for a speakeasy or arms dealer or anything himself, but he's supposed to get you into wherever you need. With any luck, he's the only contact you need to get this job done and over with and finally head home, so with hasty steps you head to the adress you were given.

But Inspector, biting can be fun~ ;)))