OoC: or, Anya needs to stop- in the format of a Red Vs Blue Quest.
I have no idea what I'm...
I have no idea what I'm...
Color Theory (RvB Quest)
- Thread starter Anya Homura
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0.9: Nash
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
OoC: or, Anya needs to stop- in the format of a Red Vs Blue Quest.
I have no idea what I'm doing, where this quest will end up going, or, well, anything besides a few fleeting concepts in my head. I think it's going to be narrative-only? Yeah, sure. But about the narrative...
You guys have just as much, if not more, control as I do over the story. I'm not doing any first, second, or fiftieth draft, and I'm sure as fuck not getting a beta. This is just going to be one huge pile of uncertainty and running with it.
Though I am pretty sure this takes place before Carolina almost dies by the Meta tearing out Eta and Iota. So yeah, there's something? Yay?
Yay. Enjoy!
You're Private Claire Nash and you fucking hate the marsh and its stupid marshiness. Mud can go fuck itself.
Funny, not three months ago, right before you left basic training, you were probably the least likely to swear out of everyone you knew. Funny how extended time around assholes changes your worldview like that. Ha, if Mom could see you now, she'd probably faint out of horror of what was done to "her perfect little girl"!
You look inside the crate that Command had sent in a few hours back, and make a mental note to yell at those teammates of yours for opening it without you being there. And inside the crate...
OH FUCK YEAH! That's the new armor color you had sent in for! No more being confused for your CO! No more being teased about being the fucking rookie!
Things are going to start changing around here, and this
[] teal
[] amber
armor is the first step!
OoC: Oh god this is going to be a ride. Also, yes, the armor choice also determines Nash's team.
I have no idea what I'm doing, where this quest will end up going, or, well, anything besides a few fleeting concepts in my head. I think it's going to be narrative-only? Yeah, sure. But about the narrative...
You guys have just as much, if not more, control as I do over the story. I'm not doing any first, second, or fiftieth draft, and I'm sure as fuck not getting a beta. This is just going to be one huge pile of uncertainty and running with it.
Though I am pretty sure this takes place before Carolina almost dies by the Meta tearing out Eta and Iota. So yeah, there's something? Yay?
Yay. Enjoy!
You're Private Claire Nash and you fucking hate the marsh and its stupid marshiness. Mud can go fuck itself.
Funny, not three months ago, right before you left basic training, you were probably the least likely to swear out of everyone you knew. Funny how extended time around assholes changes your worldview like that. Ha, if Mom could see you now, she'd probably faint out of horror of what was done to "her perfect little girl"!
You look inside the crate that Command had sent in a few hours back, and make a mental note to yell at those teammates of yours for opening it without you being there. And inside the crate...
OH FUCK YEAH! That's the new armor color you had sent in for! No more being confused for your CO! No more being teased about being the fucking rookie!
Things are going to start changing around here, and this
[] teal
[] amber
armor is the first step!
OoC: Oh god this is going to be a ride. Also, yes, the armor choice also determines Nash's team.
Characters
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
Captain Petersen.
Agender.
38.
Regulation blue armor.
Notes: They're your captain. They have really weird ideas... a lot. You try not to interact with them more than necessary.
Agender.
38.
Regulation blue armor.
Notes: They're your captain. They have really weird ideas... a lot. You try not to interact with them more than necessary.
Adam Fleming.
Male.
24.
Green armor with blue stripes.
Notes: An ass. An ass you can actually talk to. So you have a weird relationship with the guy.
Male.
24.
Green armor with blue stripes.
Notes: An ass. An ass you can actually talk to. So you have a weird relationship with the guy.
James Rotger.
Male.
23.
Cobalt blue armor.
Notes: The team's mechanic, engineer, and getaway driver. How he does some of this shit is beyond you.
Male.
23.
Cobalt blue armor.
Notes: The team's mechanic, engineer, and getaway driver. How he does some of this shit is beyond you.
Claire Nash.
Female.
20.
Teal armor.
Notes: This place fucking sucks. You're pretty sure it has the ability to make a cynic out of everyone.
Female.
20.
Teal armor.
Notes: This place fucking sucks. You're pretty sure it has the ability to make a cynic out of everyone.
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Chapters
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
Reserved, you can post now.
Ave Anathema
Ave Imperator
- Location
- Jacksonville Illinois
[X] teal
Oh sweet lord yes I have seen paradise
Oh sweet lord yes I have seen paradise
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x] amber
shadow shinobi
I survived getting stabbed, TWICE!!!
- Location
- uk
[X] teal
1.01: Blue Team
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
OoC: Aaaaand narrowly winning our first vote, with the help of teal armor, we now have Nash's team decided! Time for me to write! Oh shit, time for me to write...
You can't help but grin as your old helmet lands on the floor with a thud. The set of regulation armor abandoned and entirely unneeded is a very satisfying sight, who'd have thunk.
You stretch your neck as you get used to the new set. It feels like the old one, really. Just a different color. That's okay, you guess. Really, the change in color was the important part.
But now there's a new problem. You need to get rid of that old armor somehow.
...Fleming has some sticky grenades in his room, doesn't he? And the Cap will probably forgive you if you say the explosion was to try and lure the Reds into a trap...
You gather up the armor in your arms and walk out of your room into the main room.
This is going to take some planning, after all.
Upon looking around and seeing the absence of your teammates, you drop the armor onto the floor and let it clatter. That's step one.
Step two is grabbing one of those grenades.
You walk down the hall leading to Rotger and Fleming's shared bunk. Everything smells vaguely of gasoline, like Rotger does. Makes sense.
When you enter the room, the first thing you see is the grease stains. They're fucking everywhere. And a good chunk of the wall is blackened beyond belief. Did something blow up here once?
You shake your head to get yourself back on track. You're here for a grenade. Sticky would be best, but frag will work too.
Luckily enough, there's a lone frag grenade left on Fleming's-or maybe it's Rotger's, you haven't been in this mess of a room before- desk. On an impulse, you grab it and-
A fucking net falls on you.
Goddammit.
You set the grenade back on the desk and toss the hastily woven rope off of you and on to a bunk.
Stupid Fleming and his urge to prank everyone. Seriously, what was even connecting that grenade and that net? How the fuck does he do it?
You march back to the main room with a scowl on your face. Clearly, this plan is going to take some reconsidering.
"Hey, rookie. Why the long face?" Fleming asks from across the room. The jackass can't even see your fucking face, how does he know?
You just stop and stare at him, pretty sure your anger will get across.
"Ohhhhhh," he says. "Really, you could have asked for a grenade. God knows I want to get out of the base right now, too."
HOW DOES HE FUCKING DO THAT?!
From somewhere down in the garage level, you can hear Rotger get shrieky.
"They still arguing on whether or not the old Warthog can be upgraded to have a cannon and not a machine gun?" you ask, pretty sure you know the answer.
Fleming nods his head. "You aren't there for the worst of it, rookie. Be glad." The green-armored man sighs in annoyance and spins his helmet around on the kitchen counter. Before you were sent here, you didn't think someone could make a counter that could be rotated like one of those doily things Grandma had. Rotger really does deserve kudos for that. You really ought to ask how it works, anyways.
"Well, if you want to get out of the base, and I want to deposit my old armor somewhere, how about we join forces to leave for a while and say it's a recon mission?" you offer.
Fleming grins. "Now you're talking." He puts his helmet on, showing off the blue stripe painted down its top.
He walks to the door, grabbing an assault rifle on his way out. You strap a sniper rifle to your back, and lift up the old armor in your arms. You can't fucking wait for it to be left in the swampy wastes.
You drop the armor into a particularly nasty part of the marsh that no-one on either side had gone through so far.
You're pretty sure you saw the mud bubble as the armor sunk.
Now you and Fleming are camped out in a dry spot with a convenient view of the Red base. If it wasn't so far away.
So that's how you got stuck on sniper rifle duty. Eh, you liked the sniper rifle anyways, and it beats having to explain to the Cap where you went like Fleming does right now.
"Listen, sir, we're fine on our own out here. We both brought weapons, and the Reds don't even know we're here! We won't get gunned down or anything, we'll just get a good, steady stream of info! Trust us!"
Looking through the scope, you can see the orange-yellow one and the pink one walk up on the roof, the pink one being casual as usual while the yellow-orange one seems skittish. That's right, the yellow-orange one usually acts like this for guard-duty. You wonder why.
"No, Rotger doesn't need to come get us in the Warthog, and he really doesn't need to pick us up chill pills on the way. Just... we'll be fucking fine, the rookie's keeping an eye on the Reds anyways!"
Now the orange-yellow one's turned to the pink one and they're talking. Of course they are. Like they always are. Fucking joy. Boredom, ho.
"Yes, sir. I'll radio in if anything remotely suspicious happens, you've fucking drilled that into us since we began recon." Fleming sighs in frustration, then turns to you.
"...What are they doing, rookie?" he asks. Of all the fucking things. He should know this, he's done this more than you!
"The same thing as usual. Stand there. Talk." you say unhelpfully.
Five minutes pass. What do the Reds even talk about to keep themselves entertained like that?
Fleming asks again. You respond with the same answer.
You're pretty sure Pinky's trying to get Orange-Yellow to loosen up. It's not working.
Fleming asks again. You're starting to get tired of this.
Ten great minutes of actual silence comes and then...
"What are they doing?"
[] "Five bucks says your guess is too hopeful."
[] "What do you think, asshole?"
[] "What?"
You can't help but grin as your old helmet lands on the floor with a thud. The set of regulation armor abandoned and entirely unneeded is a very satisfying sight, who'd have thunk.
You stretch your neck as you get used to the new set. It feels like the old one, really. Just a different color. That's okay, you guess. Really, the change in color was the important part.
But now there's a new problem. You need to get rid of that old armor somehow.
...Fleming has some sticky grenades in his room, doesn't he? And the Cap will probably forgive you if you say the explosion was to try and lure the Reds into a trap...
You gather up the armor in your arms and walk out of your room into the main room.
This is going to take some planning, after all.
Upon looking around and seeing the absence of your teammates, you drop the armor onto the floor and let it clatter. That's step one.
Step two is grabbing one of those grenades.
You walk down the hall leading to Rotger and Fleming's shared bunk. Everything smells vaguely of gasoline, like Rotger does. Makes sense.
When you enter the room, the first thing you see is the grease stains. They're fucking everywhere. And a good chunk of the wall is blackened beyond belief. Did something blow up here once?
You shake your head to get yourself back on track. You're here for a grenade. Sticky would be best, but frag will work too.
Luckily enough, there's a lone frag grenade left on Fleming's-or maybe it's Rotger's, you haven't been in this mess of a room before- desk. On an impulse, you grab it and-
A fucking net falls on you.
Goddammit.
You set the grenade back on the desk and toss the hastily woven rope off of you and on to a bunk.
Stupid Fleming and his urge to prank everyone. Seriously, what was even connecting that grenade and that net? How the fuck does he do it?
You march back to the main room with a scowl on your face. Clearly, this plan is going to take some reconsidering.
"Hey, rookie. Why the long face?" Fleming asks from across the room. The jackass can't even see your fucking face, how does he know?
You just stop and stare at him, pretty sure your anger will get across.
"Ohhhhhh," he says. "Really, you could have asked for a grenade. God knows I want to get out of the base right now, too."
HOW DOES HE FUCKING DO THAT?!
From somewhere down in the garage level, you can hear Rotger get shrieky.
"They still arguing on whether or not the old Warthog can be upgraded to have a cannon and not a machine gun?" you ask, pretty sure you know the answer.
Fleming nods his head. "You aren't there for the worst of it, rookie. Be glad." The green-armored man sighs in annoyance and spins his helmet around on the kitchen counter. Before you were sent here, you didn't think someone could make a counter that could be rotated like one of those doily things Grandma had. Rotger really does deserve kudos for that. You really ought to ask how it works, anyways.
"Well, if you want to get out of the base, and I want to deposit my old armor somewhere, how about we join forces to leave for a while and say it's a recon mission?" you offer.
Fleming grins. "Now you're talking." He puts his helmet on, showing off the blue stripe painted down its top.
He walks to the door, grabbing an assault rifle on his way out. You strap a sniper rifle to your back, and lift up the old armor in your arms. You can't fucking wait for it to be left in the swampy wastes.
You drop the armor into a particularly nasty part of the marsh that no-one on either side had gone through so far.
You're pretty sure you saw the mud bubble as the armor sunk.
Now you and Fleming are camped out in a dry spot with a convenient view of the Red base. If it wasn't so far away.
So that's how you got stuck on sniper rifle duty. Eh, you liked the sniper rifle anyways, and it beats having to explain to the Cap where you went like Fleming does right now.
"Listen, sir, we're fine on our own out here. We both brought weapons, and the Reds don't even know we're here! We won't get gunned down or anything, we'll just get a good, steady stream of info! Trust us!"
Looking through the scope, you can see the orange-yellow one and the pink one walk up on the roof, the pink one being casual as usual while the yellow-orange one seems skittish. That's right, the yellow-orange one usually acts like this for guard-duty. You wonder why.
"No, Rotger doesn't need to come get us in the Warthog, and he really doesn't need to pick us up chill pills on the way. Just... we'll be fucking fine, the rookie's keeping an eye on the Reds anyways!"
Now the orange-yellow one's turned to the pink one and they're talking. Of course they are. Like they always are. Fucking joy. Boredom, ho.
"Yes, sir. I'll radio in if anything remotely suspicious happens, you've fucking drilled that into us since we began recon." Fleming sighs in frustration, then turns to you.
"...What are they doing, rookie?" he asks. Of all the fucking things. He should know this, he's done this more than you!
"The same thing as usual. Stand there. Talk." you say unhelpfully.
Five minutes pass. What do the Reds even talk about to keep themselves entertained like that?
Fleming asks again. You respond with the same answer.
You're pretty sure Pinky's trying to get Orange-Yellow to loosen up. It's not working.
Fleming asks again. You're starting to get tired of this.
Ten great minutes of actual silence comes and then...
"What are they doing?"
[] "Five bucks says your guess is too hopeful."
[] "What do you think, asshole?"
[] "What?"
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x] "Five bucks says your guess is too hopeful."
shadow shinobi
I survived getting stabbed, TWICE!!!
- Location
- uk
[x] "Five bucks says your guess is too hopeful."
Ave Anathema
Ave Imperator
- Location
- Jacksonville Illinois
[x] "Five bucks says your guess is too hopeful."
shadow shinobi
I survived getting stabbed, TWICE!!!
- Location
- uk
Forgot the x
1.02: "Blinding me rob"? Really?
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
You sigh. "Five bucks says your guess is too hopeful."
"They're doing anything other than standing and talking?" Fleming says, a hint of optimism in his voice.
"Ha. When we get back to base, you owe me five bucks! Shouldn't have taken that bet, ya idiot."
"Dammit, rookie, you'll be blinding me rob here soon."
Wait, what? Did he just--holy fuck, Fleming stumbled over his words!
"...you did not just say that."
"Say what? I said you'd be robbing me blind. Which you are, I'd like to a-"
"Noooo, you said I'll be 'blinding you rob.' The hell does that mean?"
"Nothing! I didn't even say that!"
"You so fucking did, though."
Over with the Reds, it's more standing around and talking. Big surprise.
"Listen, rookie, in all the months you've known me-"
"Two and a half months."
"- have you ever heard me flub my words? By now you should now it's a fucking impossibility!"
Damn, looks like you may have hit a weak spot. Who knew. You can't let this go, you really can't.
"Listen, Fleming, I know what I heard, but if you really want me to never bring this up again, then I guess I can forget about it."
"Forget about what?" He chuckles.
With that, you open up a private radio channel with Rotger-
"-R THE LOVE OF FUCK, CAPTAIN, I'M TELLING YOU THAT WON'T WORK!" And you're met with his screechy ass yelling at the Cap. Can't say you're too surprised.
"Hey, Rotger!" you cut in. "Private-channeling this because I need to tell you something!"
Rotger very loudly groans. "What now, rookie?"
"Fleming messed up!" You say.
"What trouble did the asshole get you guys into now?"
"Not like that, he messed up while he was saying something!"
Silence.
"Wait, really? Holy fuck, it's been almost half a year! What did he mess up?"
"He said--'blinding me rob.' Not much, I know, bu--"
"You kidding, rookie? That's enough ammo for the rest of the fucking month! Thanks for telling me, and now I have to keep our Warthog safe from our dismantle-happy captain." The comm server you were using cuts out, and the conversation's over.
With any luck, Fleming will never live this down.
Anyways, now that you've finished with the fun distraction, time to watch the Reds stand around mo--wait a minute.
You take another look.
Pink and Orange-Yellow have both gone. And there's no sign of a new watch about to be set up.
"Uh, Fleming?" You hand him the sniper rifle. "You're gonna want to see this."
He looks through the scope and sees the absence.
He inhales sharply and hands you your rifle back. "Goddammit. I really didn't want today to be a day where actual things happened."
You look through it again. If either you or Fleming went now, you may be able to sneak in and out without being spotted. Hell, Fleming's like, the recon expert when he isn't blowing shit up, you think! And the intel gained just may help you win this war you're fighting...
You propose the idea.
Fleming just stands there for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, that could work! Who do you think should do it, rookie?"
[] Him.
[] You.
---[] Write in Plan of sneaking
OoC: I wasn't lying with the tag that said "Update time: Soontm".
"They're doing anything other than standing and talking?" Fleming says, a hint of optimism in his voice.
"Ha. When we get back to base, you owe me five bucks! Shouldn't have taken that bet, ya idiot."
"Dammit, rookie, you'll be blinding me rob here soon."
Wait, what? Did he just--holy fuck, Fleming stumbled over his words!
"...you did not just say that."
"Say what? I said you'd be robbing me blind. Which you are, I'd like to a-"
"Noooo, you said I'll be 'blinding you rob.' The hell does that mean?"
"Nothing! I didn't even say that!"
"You so fucking did, though."
Over with the Reds, it's more standing around and talking. Big surprise.
"Listen, rookie, in all the months you've known me-"
"Two and a half months."
"- have you ever heard me flub my words? By now you should now it's a fucking impossibility!"
Damn, looks like you may have hit a weak spot. Who knew. You can't let this go, you really can't.
"Listen, Fleming, I know what I heard, but if you really want me to never bring this up again, then I guess I can forget about it."
"Forget about what?" He chuckles.
With that, you open up a private radio channel with Rotger-
"-R THE LOVE OF FUCK, CAPTAIN, I'M TELLING YOU THAT WON'T WORK!" And you're met with his screechy ass yelling at the Cap. Can't say you're too surprised.
"Hey, Rotger!" you cut in. "Private-channeling this because I need to tell you something!"
Rotger very loudly groans. "What now, rookie?"
"Fleming messed up!" You say.
"What trouble did the asshole get you guys into now?"
"Not like that, he messed up while he was saying something!"
Silence.
"Wait, really? Holy fuck, it's been almost half a year! What did he mess up?"
"He said--'blinding me rob.' Not much, I know, bu--"
"You kidding, rookie? That's enough ammo for the rest of the fucking month! Thanks for telling me, and now I have to keep our Warthog safe from our dismantle-happy captain." The comm server you were using cuts out, and the conversation's over.
With any luck, Fleming will never live this down.
Anyways, now that you've finished with the fun distraction, time to watch the Reds stand around mo--wait a minute.
You take another look.
Pink and Orange-Yellow have both gone. And there's no sign of a new watch about to be set up.
"Uh, Fleming?" You hand him the sniper rifle. "You're gonna want to see this."
He looks through the scope and sees the absence.
He inhales sharply and hands you your rifle back. "Goddammit. I really didn't want today to be a day where actual things happened."
You look through it again. If either you or Fleming went now, you may be able to sneak in and out without being spotted. Hell, Fleming's like, the recon expert when he isn't blowing shit up, you think! And the intel gained just may help you win this war you're fighting...
You propose the idea.
Fleming just stands there for a moment before nodding his head. "Yeah, that could work! Who do you think should do it, rookie?"
[] Him.
[] You.
---[] Write in Plan of sneaking
OoC: I wasn't lying with the tag that said "Update time: Soontm".
Last edited:
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x] You.
time to try out the combat mechanics
time to try out the combat mechanics
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
Ah, yes, we totally have those and it isn't just subject to narrative whim.
Totally have combat mechanics.
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
For sure.
Ave Anathema
Ave Imperator
- Location
- Jacksonville Illinois
So were gonna just say what we want to try and you'll see just how bad we Sim-trooper that thing up Also can we be transferred to blood-gulch with Church and Tucker if we do things right?
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
Actually, this gives me an idea...
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
There, now you have to write in the plan if you decide to sneak in!
also...
After all, well,
also...
'Fraid that immediate transfer to such a plot significant area at the time you're requesting may not be happening just yet.
After all, well,
We don't have a doppleganger from Desert Gulch.
Ave Anathema
Ave Imperator
- Location
- Jacksonville Illinois
We can be an outlier since the Desert Gulcher didnt exactly have a Grif Doc or any freelancer pals either
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
Fair enough, but I think we should probably focus on the present right now.
1.03: Some Planning Required
- Location
- Wouldn't you like to know?
- Pronouns
- He/They/She
OoC: Okay, so since we got one vote, I'm just going to run with it.
"I'm going to go in," you say. "I'll keep you updated on what's happening, and if I really need help, you can call in for it."
You're pretty sure Fleming's going to argue the point, so you get up and walk towards Red Base now.
Sure enough, Fleming chimes into your radio, annoyed, telling you that he's the better person for this.
You know that, but you really don't want to listen to any bragging that may come from him getting info from there.
You assure him: "I'll live, Fleming, really. Don't get yourself worked up, I'm going to be fine. And if not, you can come in and save me."
You're halfway to the entrance when you realize that you really need a plan.
...you really don't have a plan.
You're dead.
But, you're almost there, you can't back out now.
...At least you can tell Fleming how you want to be sent off.
Which is cremation, for sure.
Graves and burials just seem... kinda tacky, really. And arrogant. But with cremation, it's simple.
No graves, just being ash. Maybe someone can plant something with the help of your remains as time goes on.
You're there now. And you probably should've spent the last few minutes making a plan instead of pondering your remains.
You stare down the entrance and notice that it looks... kinda like the entrance to your own base. Huh.
Looking around, you don't see anything. You run inside, sniper rifle close to your chest.
Time to be stealthy.
Hiding around corners and jumping from hiding spot to hiding spot is stealthy, right? You're pretty sure it was in that one video game.
Well, accuracy or not, it seems to be working.
You've gotten to a door into some sort of room when you hear voices.
"Yes, because your conspiracy theories have always been proven right. I'm telling you, this one's stupider than the one you had about aliens building the Great Wall."
"First of all, they still could've done it. Second, I know you think this idea's bad, but it makes everything make so much more sense!" What the hell are they talking about? "We both know something's wrong abou-"
"Hold on, man, I think I hear someone breathing."
Wait, what? Shit, they're on to you! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...
You need to think of something.
Anything!
[] Write in an idea.
"I'm going to go in," you say. "I'll keep you updated on what's happening, and if I really need help, you can call in for it."
You're pretty sure Fleming's going to argue the point, so you get up and walk towards Red Base now.
Sure enough, Fleming chimes into your radio, annoyed, telling you that he's the better person for this.
You know that, but you really don't want to listen to any bragging that may come from him getting info from there.
You assure him: "I'll live, Fleming, really. Don't get yourself worked up, I'm going to be fine. And if not, you can come in and save me."
You're halfway to the entrance when you realize that you really need a plan.
...you really don't have a plan.
You're dead.
But, you're almost there, you can't back out now.
...At least you can tell Fleming how you want to be sent off.
Which is cremation, for sure.
Graves and burials just seem... kinda tacky, really. And arrogant. But with cremation, it's simple.
No graves, just being ash. Maybe someone can plant something with the help of your remains as time goes on.
You're there now. And you probably should've spent the last few minutes making a plan instead of pondering your remains.
You stare down the entrance and notice that it looks... kinda like the entrance to your own base. Huh.
Looking around, you don't see anything. You run inside, sniper rifle close to your chest.
Time to be stealthy.
Hiding around corners and jumping from hiding spot to hiding spot is stealthy, right? You're pretty sure it was in that one video game.
Well, accuracy or not, it seems to be working.
You've gotten to a door into some sort of room when you hear voices.
"Yes, because your conspiracy theories have always been proven right. I'm telling you, this one's stupider than the one you had about aliens building the Great Wall."
"First of all, they still could've done it. Second, I know you think this idea's bad, but it makes everything make so much more sense!" What the hell are they talking about? "We both know something's wrong abou-"
"Hold on, man, I think I hear someone breathing."
Wait, what? Shit, they're on to you! Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...
You need to think of something.
Anything!
[] Write in an idea.
Ultramandalore
Errant Quester
- Location
- just south of Parts Unknown
[x] Walk out and say "help! one of the blues snuck up on me, knocked me out, and stole my armor! I think they're trying to sneak into the base!"