=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
- Original
Part 100: Rileyquest
- Location
- 'Murica
=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
Part 100: Rileyquest
Part 100: Rileyquest
You were very aware that you were about as far out of your element as it was possible twenty-four year old girl trolling a mall with someone else's credit card to be. The ROE you were given by The Major were quite strict in some ways. You weren't allowed to pull your gun unless you were, quote 'absolutely double positive sure' unquote, that death was on the line.
That said, The Major had been frustratingly vague in areas you hadn't even thought to ask about. He'd asked you to phone in any SCIMITAR targets of opportunity before engaging, and made it very clear that even then you weren't supposed to engage without his permission unless you were—again—-absolutely double sure you had to.
You didn't think the shifty looking fellow with the oddly non-color-coordinated purse was SCIMITAR. For one, the way he constantly scanned the room around him looked more like a frightened rodent than a trained agent maintaining their situational awareness. He also looked somehow both too scrawny and chubby to pass any kind of physical fitness test.
"Stop, thief!" A woman across the mall hollered as she hobbled out of the store. She was either very fat in a very strange way or pregnant. Your money was on the latter, but you forced yourself to think about the former for now. Your twenty-fifth birthday was coming up with the same methodical progress as your ticking biological clock, and you really didn't need fantasies about The Major cradling the unborn baby he'd put in your belly distracting you.
…
Bad, Riley.
You bit the inside of your cheek, snapping your focus back.
"Oh my god! He just stole that woman's purse!" Rachel yelped, helpfully filling you in on a situation you'd already evaluated.
There was no way this guy was SCIMITAR, they had more than enough funds to get by without petty thievery. He was, however, a target of opportunity. The Major hadn't been clear about your ROE in that eventuality, but you decided to err on the side of caution for now. Local authorities could take care of the problem, they knew the lay of the land better than you.
Although… judging by the blue shirted guard's gut, he knew the lay of the food court muchbetter than you. To his credit, he was hustling as fast as his spheroidal body could manage, but you were seriously doubting that he'd catch the thief before his heart exploded into bloody mist.
Looks like it was up to you.
You took off at a sprint, your split-toed boots digging into the tile floor. Your thighs pumped as you launched yourself from a standing start, hitting a dead run before your third stride. He was fast, but you were faster. You smiled as you raced into the merge.
He tried to juke at the last second, but it didn't work. As he ducked to the side you reached out and grabbed him. With his shoulders as an anchor, you let your own momentum swing you around until you had his neck between your thighs and your locked ankles over his sternum.
He hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. You landed much more gracefully.
"Give it back," you said with a squeeze, not even breathing hard.
"A-alright!" he shrieked, dropping the purse beside him as you clamped down on his carotid artery just hard enough to let him know who was in charge.
You glanced over at the rotund guard who was just now trotting up. "You got him?"
He nodded, and you disentangled your legs from his neck and dusted yourself off. You picked up the purse and walked over to the fat—not pregnant, not going down that road again, FAT—woman. "Ma'am."
"Oh, thank you," she said, her chest heaving as she clutched the purse to her breast. "Thank you."
You blushed and darted back to Hannah and Rachel as soon as you had the chance. Luckily, she was too winded to do much of anything, and you broke contact without any issues.
"Clean takedown?" you asked Hannah.
She nodded. "Looks like he's alone."
"Good," you said, giving the mall a quick scan yourself.
"That," muttered Rachel, "was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
You blinked. "What?" You'd made a clean break of contact, but it was hardly the most impressive maneuver you'd pulled off.
"Just… that!" Rachel gestured to the downed thief with two outstretched palms. "The way you just… kshwoooooo!" she made a noise like a rocket-propelled grenade, "And then just uuuhh! Slammed into him with your thighs!"
"Riley," Rachel shook her head. "I don't… I'm not normally this forward, I swear. But there's just something about you that makes me wanna…" she shook her head again, this time more vigorously. "You are so hot. Seriously hot. And the way you just… oh, that was awesome!"
You smiled and felt your whole body perk up. It was always nice to hear things like that, even from people who weren't The Major.
"Thank you, Rachel."
"How'd you get that fast?" she added, clutching the straps of her rainbow backpack. "And strong! You took that guy down like was nothing."
You shrugged. "I work out."
"Yeah," Rachel made a show of ogling you from head to do. "That's obvious, but what? I'd kill to have thighs like those—" she pointed to the sliver of skin between your skirt and thigh-highs—"I'd do anything, what's your routine?"
"Well…" you said, trying to think of a representative workout. "I'll run two hours with a fifty pound pack. Then free weights for… oh…" you glanced at Hannah.
"Two hours?"
You nodded. That felt about right. "Two hours give or take. Then back to cardio. Sometimes I'll try to get some swimming in."
"Uh…" Rachel picked her jaw up off the floor. "You… that's… how long do you work out for?"
"Eight hours give or take," you said simply.
"And… every day?" she looked you over again.
You nodded.
Rachel shook her head. "Can't say it's not worth it, but damn, girl!"
"Thanks!" you said with a smile.
Hannah coughed by your side. "Hey, Riles?"
"Yeah?"
"Think we should call…" she waved towards where the purse snatcher was being cuffed and taken care of. "… all that in?"
>Wat do?
- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
shinkiro
absolute madmage
- Location
- Gensokyo
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
Over in the QQ quest that takes place in Rachel's head, the QM has provided a system warning to players that they need to acquire water or soda very soon lest their character begin to suffer from the [Dehydration] debuff.
Last edited:
- Location
- 'Murica
What now?
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
They're making a joke about a hypothetical alt-Quest from Reachel's POV, one where Riley is making her very thirsty.
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
No need to make the boss worry about this. And we can happily emphasize that LLEOs took care of everything once we just knocked the dude over. Easy peasey! Then we distract him by modeling our new swimsuit and asking his thoughts on it.
Indeed.
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements
Icipall
Don't worry, we can fanfix that!
- Location
- Cold snow fields of Finland
I think her uterus just exploded.
And now her mind went kablooey as well.
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
Tiny_Dic
Carbon Cringe Lifeform | Hyperborean Coomer
- Location
- My Room
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
grommile
nasty-minded old cynic
- Location
- NERV-Mercia
- Pronouns
- Traditional/Animate
I feel kinda sorry for Rachel here.
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Oh, forgot some comments:
You know, some places people pay money for that kind of treatment...
Like so.
Spectre
eternal servant to the Fire/EMS gods
- Location
- NY
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
bdun140
I have ideas. Sometimes they're even good.
[X] OPSEC first. No compromising the mission until all objectives are completed.
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
HOHO! Caught up with this too now!
-[X] Once your native guide Rachel assists you in making necessary logistics requisitions of clothing, then report in incidental contact with poorly trained criminal elements.
HOHO! Caught up with this too now!
Halloween & Dia De Los Muertos Special!
- Location
- National Capital Region, USA
Hey kids! How about a Halloween Special?
(production assistant whispers in Strype's ear)
....FUCK.
...
...
...
Ok, how about a Dia De Los Muertos Special? That's close enough, right?
Art? Oh, for damn sure there's Art.
+++
As the thunder rolled outside, you leaned back in your chair and puffed your fat cigar softly. The girls had recently been deployed to Somalia, you'd gotten a nice tan on the beach at the Red Cross compound that looked less like a hospital than an ancient Templar fortress, and the booze truck had dropped off all the alcohol supplies you could need for the month.
Sipping a glass of Barcello carefully, you had to smile. Everything had been going well- maybe the Tacfu Curse had started to wear off?
CRACK-A-THOOM!
As the power switched off, you groaned to yourself and sighed. Major Ryan, that was you, who could do anything in the world except keep the grid connected in rural Kentucky. Oh well, the backup generator would kick in.
Any minute now…
Ten minutes later you were bundled up in your jumper, all weather coat, and still chomping your cigar as you went out to the generator house to find the damn thing had a leak in the fuel tank and two dead spark plugs. Kicking the overfed piece of pseudo-government shit, you went back inside with a slightly-soggy cigar and a determination to get a drink. The girls were probably fine in the barracks, having both an excess of candles and the old woodstove for light and heat. You could just open up an old Clancy (best comedy in the world to you these days) and relax with the rest of the bottle of Barcelo or maybe some of the schnapps you couldn't pronounce for a damn. Divulging your heavy protective garments, you went for the cooler of dry ice that served as your office freezer.
It was empty? On closer examination, it was in fact empty. Fine, you'd just need to check your Igloo with the go beer in it. Sometimes you were on a plane, and you needed a plan B for when it didn't have a wet bar.
The Igloo was also empty. This was getting concerning. You certainly didn't remember drinking a pack of Modelo Especial when nobody was looking. It was the flask in your desk being missing, though, that finally cued you in on what really happened- someone had, rather methodically, stolen your booze.
Now the question was simple- who? You were right out, obviously, and Burke had been working on making sure that Squad Two was not going to accidentally claw the 'nads off the "Marine Assistance Squadron Team Echo Ranger" that MARSOC had assembled in case your girls needed to, gasp, walk someplace. Ergo, that left ten suspects. Your sniper and spotter were pretty easy to rule out, since you'd written them passes for libo to go watch a movie in town and their Humvee wasn't back in the 'motor pool' yet. Hannah had gone with them, without libo pass, but at least she'd told you where she was when you'd found out and yelled at her over the phone before the storm rolled in. She would be safer staying put at The Boy's house over coming home in this mess. Next off the list was Zoe, who had professed a total desire to stay away from alcohol after one notable instance where she had spat Everclear into a mess of wires on one of her homemade satchel charges. With one crossed wire, one wayward pinch of potassium chloride, one wayward twitch- and KABLOOEY!
The fact she'd also been in the basement brewing up some hellacious gunpowder for her hand-loads meant that the only booze she and Sophia had been near was coal alcohol which was liable to kill them dead if they drank it. Probably. You wouldn't put it past the genius idiots who made the girls to have given them the ability to digest that too, for whatever damn reason. Still, ruling it unlikely.
So, five suspects- Riley, Marie, Shelby, Anabelle, and Sarah. The last two, previous to your knowledge, had probably taken the thunderstorm as a chance to go roll in the hay in the attic. All the other girls claimed those two were more than sisters, but you'd never seen it. Either way, you had three potential suspects when it came to who stole your sauce.
The issue came down to when you opened the common room door, though. The impromptu keg stand aside, empty ceramic mugs littered the room, and three drunken occupants were piled on the couch arguing with each other in a friendly discussion, while… Mario Party? When the fuck did they get Mario Party? played on the main screen. Crazy idiots must have run an extension cable from Zoe's basement lab or something. The table in front of them was littered with small change and bottlecaps, and as you watched the middle figure swore as one of the little cartoon characters failed a minigame, before throwing her shirt backwards and cursing. As the whiff of boob sweat and glide stick went past your head, you considered your odds carefully. They hadn't noticed you yet, so you had the element of surprise. Now, you could search for clues, or you could get the jump on them and see if they'd spill the beans under pressure.
Choices, choices. Better act fast, though, before you had to dodge more flying clothes. And that was a bad thing, at least until you discovered who'd taken the booze, and if there was any left.
[ ] Look for clues, Scoob!
[ ] Three... Two... One... JUMP 'ER, RAY!
[ ] Panic
[ ] Construct Additional Pylons
[ ] Consult the palantir (May get you possessed by Sauron)
[ ] Something Else. Better Be Awesome or Hilarious
(production assistant whispers in Strype's ear)
....FUCK.
...
...
...
Ok, how about a Dia De Los Muertos Special? That's close enough, right?
Art? Oh, for damn sure there's Art.
=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
Halloween Dia De Los Muertos Special
+++
As the thunder rolled outside, you leaned back in your chair and puffed your fat cigar softly. The girls had recently been deployed to Somalia, you'd gotten a nice tan on the beach at the Red Cross compound that looked less like a hospital than an ancient Templar fortress, and the booze truck had dropped off all the alcohol supplies you could need for the month.
Sipping a glass of Barcello carefully, you had to smile. Everything had been going well- maybe the Tacfu Curse had started to wear off?
CRACK-A-THOOM!
As the power switched off, you groaned to yourself and sighed. Major Ryan, that was you, who could do anything in the world except keep the grid connected in rural Kentucky. Oh well, the backup generator would kick in.
Any minute now…
Ten minutes later you were bundled up in your jumper, all weather coat, and still chomping your cigar as you went out to the generator house to find the damn thing had a leak in the fuel tank and two dead spark plugs. Kicking the overfed piece of pseudo-government shit, you went back inside with a slightly-soggy cigar and a determination to get a drink. The girls were probably fine in the barracks, having both an excess of candles and the old woodstove for light and heat. You could just open up an old Clancy (best comedy in the world to you these days) and relax with the rest of the bottle of Barcelo or maybe some of the schnapps you couldn't pronounce for a damn. Divulging your heavy protective garments, you went for the cooler of dry ice that served as your office freezer.
It was empty? On closer examination, it was in fact empty. Fine, you'd just need to check your Igloo with the go beer in it. Sometimes you were on a plane, and you needed a plan B for when it didn't have a wet bar.
The Igloo was also empty. This was getting concerning. You certainly didn't remember drinking a pack of Modelo Especial when nobody was looking. It was the flask in your desk being missing, though, that finally cued you in on what really happened- someone had, rather methodically, stolen your booze.
Now the question was simple- who? You were right out, obviously, and Burke had been working on making sure that Squad Two was not going to accidentally claw the 'nads off the "Marine Assistance Squadron Team Echo Ranger" that MARSOC had assembled in case your girls needed to, gasp, walk someplace. Ergo, that left ten suspects. Your sniper and spotter were pretty easy to rule out, since you'd written them passes for libo to go watch a movie in town and their Humvee wasn't back in the 'motor pool' yet. Hannah had gone with them, without libo pass, but at least she'd told you where she was when you'd found out and yelled at her over the phone before the storm rolled in. She would be safer staying put at The Boy's house over coming home in this mess. Next off the list was Zoe, who had professed a total desire to stay away from alcohol after one notable instance where she had spat Everclear into a mess of wires on one of her homemade satchel charges. With one crossed wire, one wayward pinch of potassium chloride, one wayward twitch- and KABLOOEY!
The fact she'd also been in the basement brewing up some hellacious gunpowder for her hand-loads meant that the only booze she and Sophia had been near was coal alcohol which was liable to kill them dead if they drank it. Probably. You wouldn't put it past the genius idiots who made the girls to have given them the ability to digest that too, for whatever damn reason. Still, ruling it unlikely.
So, five suspects- Riley, Marie, Shelby, Anabelle, and Sarah. The last two, previous to your knowledge, had probably taken the thunderstorm as a chance to go roll in the hay in the attic. All the other girls claimed those two were more than sisters, but you'd never seen it. Either way, you had three potential suspects when it came to who stole your sauce.
The issue came down to when you opened the common room door, though. The impromptu keg stand aside, empty ceramic mugs littered the room, and three drunken occupants were piled on the couch arguing with each other in a friendly discussion, while… Mario Party? When the fuck did they get Mario Party? played on the main screen. Crazy idiots must have run an extension cable from Zoe's basement lab or something. The table in front of them was littered with small change and bottlecaps, and as you watched the middle figure swore as one of the little cartoon characters failed a minigame, before throwing her shirt backwards and cursing. As the whiff of boob sweat and glide stick went past your head, you considered your odds carefully. They hadn't noticed you yet, so you had the element of surprise. Now, you could search for clues, or you could get the jump on them and see if they'd spill the beans under pressure.
Choices, choices. Better act fast, though, before you had to dodge more flying clothes. And that was a bad thing, at least until you discovered who'd taken the booze, and if there was any left.
[ ] Look for clues, Scoob!
[ ] Three... Two... One... JUMP 'ER, RAY!
[ ] Panic
[ ] Construct Additional Pylons
[ ] Consult the palantir (May get you possessed by Sauron)
[ ] Something Else. Better Be Awesome or Hilarious
Always Late
Lacking in coffee, sleep, and brains
- Location
- Ohio
Challenge accepted.
[X]Call up your old JSSDF drinking buddy and ask for a favor. One of them newfangled mechs, was it aeon techy or EVA-tech, you don't recall, dropping outside should be a sufficient distraction. You don't mind sharing a bit, and the girls get another boy. Call it a joint training exercise.
YOU CAN'T ESCAPE THE EVA, STRYP! YOU CANNOT ESCAPE!