I mean, I am sure we can organise something like that next turn. Flanders is a bit of a softy who believes in forgivness and mercy but thats not a bad thing. I think Homer would join if he heard somebody tried to kill a kid.
Jokes aside I think we should genuine put trainign on Springfield police now, specially since the city will be embroiled in a gang war and one aide is using laser guns and the other likely will escale to match that.
Let's put Homer to train them, Spring Shield legacy will live on!
Nit to mention it nay lower the casualities of innocent caugh the in the crossfire and the numerous of offciers killed as well.
It kinda is our stuff tho. An attack on Tonys family is by default an attack on us. He is one of our heroes units and also one of our earners. Are you really going to turn your back on one of our people, who we have a good working relationship while his son is fighting for his life?
Support our boy Fat Tony! He aint done wrong by us! He would done the same for us! He is the devil we know, and oncemore he is our devil!
Yeah no, we *definitely* need to pull our own weight there - both to reduce collateral on OUR city (mob wars tend to get *bloody* even disregarding fancy tech like laser guns) and to reward FTs exemplary showings of loyalty and skill on our behalf
So Homer on "Springshield", a juicy revenge PA for FT and maybe something else if we can manage it
It is a mafia conflict, so all that can be done is to minimize the damage.
Hm, once Tony's son awakens and recovers, Tony should do the same as Michael did with his own son in The Godfather. Let his son pursue his dream, free of the legacy of this family business. The path of the mafia inevitably ends in bloodshed, misery, and death. It did Michael no favors by the end of his life. It is too late for Tony to back out of this life now, but he should allow his son to escape it while he still can.
The QMs have been made aware of them having forgotten the Bonus offered by the cops over at the Discord, but have stated that while it in fact does apply, it doesn´t do much aside from some flavor.
Francesco Accardi had no illusions about just what kind of person he was; he hadn't fallen into the criminal lifestyle so much as jumped feet first into it, and while he was still only a Mook in the grand scheme of things there were people who mattered who recognized his talent. Not the bosses of the Calabresi Family, certainly not! But there were a few made men who had his number in their heads when they wanted a lesson to be taught to a person who could use a reminder of their place in the world. It wasn't easy work, but Francesco was fairly good at it and he even enjoyed it as often as not, so he considered himself pretty lucky.
Unfortunately for Francesco, his luck was about to run out. As he left the Italian deli he'd taken a liking to since arriving in Springfield he was surprised by two very large men grabbing him by the shoulders, beginning to frog march him down the street.
"Hey what the fuck are you doing?" Francesco ground out, struggling against the hold they had on him. But his efforts were in vain, their grips like vices as they dragged him towards a nondescript van idling in an alleyway. Without so much as a word from his captors the back of the van opened up, and the thug suddenly felt as though he'd swallowed a block of ice. Seated on a bench at the far end of the van was a man who Francrsco had only seen in photos; Don Marion Anthony "Fat Tony" D'Amico.
"Have a seat Francesco," said mafioso began, glaring daggers at the Mook in front of him as his men hauled him into the van, "Please, take a load off while we have a little chat." Francesco quickly found himself being shoved down onto a folding chair, a pair of hands holding him in place as much as the clear fury of the man in front of him.
Despite thinking himself something of a hardened criminal, Francesco couldn't help but squirm a little in his seat. "Listen-" but before he could stammer out more than that D'Amico interrupted him.
"I am not, by nature, an unreasonable man," he began, in a tone that told Francesco that he should shut up and listen, "When I entered this line of work I accepted that people were going to take aim at me. I would be foolish to think no one would ever take a shot if they thought they could take me down. And to an extent, I've made peace with that."
Despite his calm words, there was a fire raging behind Tony's eyes, and Francesco realized that he was not getting out of this in one piece. "But it's one thing for someone to take a swing at me while I'm on the job, and another thing to come to my house with a fucking assault chopper and put my son in the hospital!"
Francesco flinched as Tony abruptly stood up, striding towards him and closing the distance in an instant. Tony grabbed him by the shoulders and roughly tossed him to the floor, all while the Mook attempted to beg for mercy. But alas, it seemed to fall on deaf ears.
"Now as I said, I am not an unreasonable man," Tony hissed, a look of bloody vengeance in his eyes as he forced Francesco to meet his gaze, "And normally i wouldn't be dirtying my hands with a fucking coglioni like you, but I'm feeling particularly bloodthirsty today and I wouldn't mind working some of that out on whoever is unfortunate to be in arms reach. So I am going to give you exactly one chance. Tell me everything you know about the Calabresi operation here in Springfield. And if by the time the well is dry I am somewhat satisfied, you will get to live to deliver a message to your bosses."
Francesco gulped at that, recognizing what was not being said. And while he knew he wouldn't like the answer he felt compelled to ask. "And…If you aren't satisfied?"
Tony gave him a look that would not have looked out of place on a shark. "I don't dislike a curious mind, let me show you what will happen then." He snapped his fingers and in an instant Francesco felt cold metal pressing against his forehead, and he crossed his eyes to see a gun that would not have looked out of place in a science fiction story pointing right at his brain.
"You see I recently got my hands on these interesting weapons," Tony continued as though he wasn't literally holding Francesco's life in his hands, "And while my men have tested them out on targets, we haven't seen what they'll do to a living person just yet. So I would be interested in that information as well."
One last gulp escaped Francesco's lips. And then…
Hours later, Tony was sitting at his son's bedside, his hands clasped around one of Michael's as the sound of his heart monitor filled his ears. The mafioso sat in silence, his mind filled with regrets that the last words he might have said to his son were said in anger. "We'll get through this Michael," Tony whispered, his eyes locked on his son's unconscious face, "Once you wake up we'll have a good, long chat, and everything will be okay…"
The father would sit there for the rest of the night, not moving even when visiting hours were technically over. Doctor Hibbert took one look inside the room and told his nurses to leave the man be. Got this done during a slow period at work. Whatever else might happen we know that the Calabresis are dead men after this. Just a matter of finding them.
I am going to cmapaign to train the police next turn if onyl to conduct damage control around the city becuase of this Mob War becuase htese are nasty, also they have a tank.
I don't know trust them to hit the right target with that or not blowing themselves up.
I am going to cmapaign to train the police next turn if onyl to conduct damage control around the city becuase of this Mob War becuase htese are nasty, also they have a tank.
I don't know trust them to hit the right target with that or not blowing themselves up.
In a strange warehouse located in the southernmost docks, you prepared for the inevitable.
One by one HE has captured your… acquaintances, and slowly brought your company, your life's work, down, first he stole it from you in a poker game… That you started!
Then HE wasted YOUR funds on such useless things as the city at large, then HE negotiated, NEGOTIATED with those employees of yours and their "union" instead of releasing the hounds and firing the fools, HE reduced the factories output by agreeing to their demands and taught the hounds to fetch rather than to maul!
And after those travesti-
"Uhhh, Mr. Burns, sir, it sounds like someone is coming… like, right now."
You already knew that, Francine was far too obvious and led them right to you, and even if you hadn't, those… hillbillies? Could be heard ranting from a mile away.
"Yes… Yes, they are. Have you got the tonic ready?"
Smithers slowly raised the purple cup up, dangerously close to his mouth.
"Not yet, Smithers!"
The cup slowly dropped back down.
"Soon they shall break down this feeble building's door, and when they do…"
A loud BANG is all that's heard as… someone? Came into the building, you couldn't remember them, but they seemed rather… familiar? One of your former employees who worked for HIM, perhaps.
Smithers raised the cup to his mouth while you aimed a Gewehr 98 you had from the old days at the intruders.
"Excellent."
You fire once, and a hillbilly goes down. For a single moment, you are back in Poland during the war, part of an SS battalion marching from Danzig.
Smithers charged forwards, his body visibly bulging as he battered through the hillbillies, a veritable one-man army! Then again, these fools lost to that child you recruited; the outcome of this battle is inevitable as Poland's collapse.
You fire again, and an officer goes down. The next moment, you're on the Western Front after you left the SS, working for the man who would later cause all of this.
Smithers continued to destroy the horde of hillbillies, uncaring of their superior numbers when compared to his monstrous strength. With one hand, he threw the biggest hillbilly into Wiggum, sending them both crashing into the ocean. Seeing this, that strange employee? rushed forwards!
You fire once more, the employee? Is hit through the torso… and keeps coming!?!
Smithers prepared to crush the employee with his bare hands, but the employee desperately tackled Smithers… right into the unstable wall of the building!
"Smithers look ou-"
The wall collapsed nearly instantly, followed by a good chunk of the building crashing down! A colossal cloud of dust covered the entire area and prevented you from seeing what happened to your assistant… and that stranger when your instincts, or what was left of them from the war after all this time, screamed to turn to your left…
Through the haze of dust and… red… you saw… HIM
Before you could even finish the thought, you had pulled the trigger once, then a second time, emptying the magazine into HIS torso… And both bullets failed to pierce the bulletproof vest he was wearing…
The next thing Charles Montgomery Burns saw was Abraham Simpson's fist.
You awoke in a haze; your rifle was missing, and even if you had it still, you had run out of ammunition. As you looked at your surroundings, you could vaguely see Smithers unconscious and being dragged out of the ruins by the police. Wiggum was currently putting him into handcuffs.
He could see it, he had… lost to… HIM, he, the great Montgomery Burns! Had built his empire on years of schemes, plots, treachery, and murder… had lost it all in a single card game to HIM… and been left with nothing.HE had taken everything from you, and then squandered it on useless projects across the town, HE had ensured, even if you did succeed, that you would forevermore be weaker than you once were…
You were defeated, completely and utterly… but perhaps you can take HIM down with you!
Even if it's the last thing you do, you, will KILL, ABRAHAM
"SIMPSON!"
The sheer malice in your former private voice sends even you backward, and taking advantage of that momentary recoil, Burns dived for something.
87 + 27 (Burns Intrigue) + 5 (Simpson!) - 20 (Reaching for something that is Obviously Dangerous…) - 50 (...In Front of Twitchy Cops and a Small Army) - 5 (Mona's Sabotage) = 44 = Critical Failure
64 + 18 (Abe Intrigue) + 7 (Homer Intrigue, Halved) = 89 = Critical Success
And as he does, you tackle him, throwing him aside with something in his hands!... a sandwich?
Burns stares at it for a moment with overwhelming glee, then realises it's not what he was attempting to grab, his face a terrible mix of rage, hatred, and pure malice, the trash he knocked aside goes flying, two cans of duff, and a megaphone fly through the air as you are left staring into the eyes of your former comrade, and greatest foe, barely able to see through the rubble. You remove the safety on your revolver
[] And a fusillade is heard: Burns is shot… repeatedly, Wiggum then eats the sandwich, Smithers is arrested and sent to Springfield Prison!
[] And you call Wiggum over: Take 'em away, boys, Burns and Smithers are arrested, then imprisoned, if the action "Reinforce Springfield Prison (Again)" fails, they may escape!
Reward!: Vote for what to do with Burns, Abe has undug his Smith and Wesson for the sake of facing Burns, giving him +2 martial. Unlocked Action: Study Brain & Nerve Tonic
Update, get your unoriginal-written and rolled update here!, as the best QM no disagreement is allowed!
...my laywers have advised me to state this is a joke.
[] And you call Wiggum over: Take 'em away, boys, Burns and Smithers are arrested, then imprisoned, if the action "Reinforce Springfield Prison (Again)" fails they may escape!
Tending towards this option since A) as much as I want to see that bastard die screaming, that´s not the right way and B) the Feds probably will have a nice Chair prepared for him anyways
And yes, I am aware that if our Prison repairs fail, he´ll escape and we´ll have to hunt him down again - still standing what I said
Also leaning towards locking him up and throwing away the keys. He can spend however much more time he's got left in a cell, and once he's gone the only person who will mourn him is Smithers.
Also big ups to Mona for lowering his roll just enough to give him a crit fail. We really should do something nice for her one of these days.
Out of curiosity, what exactly was Burns reaching for in that second roll?
Also leaning towards locking him up and throwing away the keys. He can spend however much more time he's got left in a cell, and once he's gone the only person who will mourn him is Smithers.
Also big ups to Mona for lowering his roll just enough to give him a crit fail. We really should do something nice for her one of these days.
Out of curiosity, what exactly was Burns reaching for in that second roll?
Which we now have to research…. It might allow us to make a safer version of it. Because that thing is too insanely addictive/deadly. So maybe we can figure out how to make it less bad for people.
Which we now have to research…. It might allow us to make a safer version of it. Because that thing is too insanely addictive/deadly. So maybe we can figure out how to make it less bad for people.
