Call of C'Handler

An eerie silence settles over the scene as Tyce leads the others towards the crashed van. Nobody answers his call.

Something red and sticky flows from the passenger side door...
 
During that time, November had looked over the photographs one by one, feeling the pit of her stomach twist at the sight of Mr. Comic’s fate. He had been a sweet man in the short time she had known him and so it was unfortunate that now she wasn’t going to get reward. After all this hard work so far, there was going to be no pay.

A lengthy sigh escaped her before the van jerked to a halt, snapping the dogkin out of her thoughts with a gasp. With a shake of her head, she set the photos aside before clamoring out of the van, slipping out her revolver and a knife. The overturned van made her wary to approach as the sight of the blood dribbling out of the passenger side door.

“Oh gosh,” November murmured, cautiously trending nearer to the bloodied door before peering into the window to see what was inside.
 
Urgh...this isn't good.

Inside the wreck of the van are two people wearing construction gear. The one in the drivers side has had the steering column go straight through his midriff - the wheel seems to have come off in his hands during the crash.

The passenger side one is a little strange. His throat has been slashed, but he still has a big smile on his face. He's holding a sharp-looking piece of some sort of pink clay in his left hand, coated with blood. In his right, he seems to be holding some scrunched up paper.

What would you like to investigate first?
 
Tyce looks in awe at the wreckage. He then turns to the others.
"Alright, so, if the Po-Po catches us we say that these guys slipped threatening material under out door, we tried to follow them, and they started weaving all over the road and crashed. It, like, wasn't even out fault."
Tyce proceeds to search the driver for a wallet.
 
Upon seeing the rather familiar clay material, November slipped gloves on her hands from her messenger bag before moving in to cautiously take the shard. It seemed just like the green one, except pink this time. A thoughtful expression showed on her face as she admired the two together, tilting her head this way and that. Perhaps someone in the group would understand what they were, since she wasn't too keen on geology.
 
Ok, I'm :stupid: and I didn't check the thread yesterday.

Also, I just noticed now that three of us have a revolver and a knife of some description as our main weapons. :lol:

"Handgun drawn, Toadvine approached the wreckage. He looked upon the tarnished corpses in the front seats with callous indifference. He scrutinized the man with his throat cut. Toadvine speculated that the wound had been self-inflicted but he was not sure. He noticed a crumpled piece of parchment in the man's hand. He bent down to pick it up.

Before Toadvine could flatten the paper out, the dog woman caught his eye. She was eyeing a pink clay shard with suspicion, trying to determine what the shard was precisely. Toadvine approached and looked upon the shard with intent. The paper was still in his hand. He too was now trying to deduce what the shard was.

He tore away from the shard in frustration. I can't make heads or tails of what that damn rock is, he exclaimed. Toadvine began to unfurl the piece of paper. The phrase SUSPECTS was crudely etched on the top. Upon it were what appeared to be addresses. Dark maroon dots decorated the paper.
Moreno, Stephen - 5400 Mimms St.

Pierce, Tyce - 300, Scum Ave.

Toadvine, Louis - N/A. Last seen sleeping in the fields in the Branchland district.

"November" (Real name unavailable) - N/A. Last place of rest unknown.

The goons had been searching for them. Toadvine raised the note up for his comrades to see. Someone's after us."
 
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The others jump in shock as Tyce lets out a loud "Awww shit duude!"
Tyce, while searching the drivers body for some #easymony, has peeled back his shirt and uncovered a scarlet red, oozing blister around the man's neck. Oddly, it seems to be in the shape of an amulet of some form, and two thin red areas can be seen where a necklace would be placed. Tyce pokes the blister with a shard of metal, sending a flow of yellow green pus to the surface of the skin.
"Dude, that's fucked up yo, look he's all like rotted and shit!
 
The raised welt around the driver's neck was...odd. Most of it seemed to be almost scorched skin, as if the mark was left by a hot branding iron, but blood and pus oozed from very specific places on the wound.
 

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"Toadvine gazed upon the peculiar wound with interest. It had clearly been left by a medallion like one of his own. As his cohorts shuffled over to observe the grisly laceration, Toadvine stood and pondered to himself. I say we ought to go investigate that there site now."
 
Tyce snaps a photo of the mark with his phone.
"Sickness dude, I'm, like, totally gonna tweet that shit later!"
Tyce walks over to the Tycemobile and calls out to the others.
"Uhhh, yeah, Toaddude had the right idea. Let's drive back, get the gear, and then scope out the place."
Tyce climbs in and starts up the Tycemobile.
 
"Toaddude" :lol:

"Toadvine looked over at the youth, his blond hair giving off a faint luminescence in the dim dusk light. The youth stared ahead silently, not saying a word. His face was devoid of any emotion. Toadvine stared directly into the youth's eyes but did he not react in the slightest.

I suppose we ought to get some gear, Toadvine said to no one in particular. When we get back to the site, Toadvine announced as he gestured towards the construction site, we ought to examine the proprietors office. I reckon its locked up pretty good."
 
The group drives back to the hideout. Tyce an his goons run in and gear up. Tyce grabs a pair of bolt cutters, a few crayons, some hot wheels, scotch tape, a lighter, lighter fluid, a peanut butter jar with some holes in the lid and a few mice inside, his baseball bat, some more drugs, and some ammo for his #Tyceinator.
He shoves the loose items in his Shrek fanny pack, sticks the sawn off shotgun in his pants, and throws his baseball bat in the drivers seat.
His goon grab their weapons and pile in the van.
"We gonna make them squeeeeel like a pig!" yells Big Jim as he cocks his BAR.
 
"Toadvine grimaces at the goons and their cries for violence and bloodshed. We're trying to burglarize an office, not pull a bank heist. You don't need all of that heavy shit. It'll just slow you down. The goons remain oblivious, lost in their own deluded power fantasies.

The dog woman and the youth remained oddly silent. Toadvine soon joined them, his lips sealed tight. He listened to the junkie's gang ramble about their supposed thirst for blood with disdain."
 
ooc: I'm sorry for not posting for a bit. Life decided to be a bully. :oops:

November's ears seemed to perk at the moment of burglarize the office as she shifted so her tail did a wagging motion behind her. The thought to being able to nab more precious valuables brought a shiver of excitement up her spine as she chuckled to herself.

"The uniform I got should come in handy for infiltrating the site," she spoke in a delightful tone. "Besides, this sounds right up my alley. I'll be sure to put my particular skills to good use and get the job done. Perhaps we might even find out what these odd things are," she said, pulling out the green shard and the pink shard, showing them to the group.
 
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"Get at it, Toadvine said to the dog woman through a grimace. This is your line of work, ain't it? As Toadvine said this he felt his prized medallions. The two stood silently for a time, scowling at one another.

You, Toadvine barked as he pointed towards the group of delinquents. He gazed into the eyes of the thug with the bandage on his neck. The thug grew quiet and lowered his previously raised arms. I suggest you all keep your heads down."
 
Aach sorry guys, life was boycotting fun until Sonic's arm is changed back NOW NOW NOW!

Fortunately, you're already outside the construction site in question, as it's where the van crashed. Oddly, there are still lights on in some Portakabins, including the one you saw belonged to Mr. Grisby, Jnr.

There are also a number of people in worker outfits walking around outside - Not many though, and not very frequently. Wonder what they're doing here this late? It's night time. Don't they have homes to go to? Maybe they're the night shift.

There's a crane that seems to have been brought onto the site recently, and it seems to be lowering something down the pit you saw earlier.

You think you can hear something very faintly from somewhere in the site, but you can't say what it is or even where it might be coming from. It's just an almost indistinguishable sound on the wind.

How would you like to proceed?
 
"Dude, what the fuck? Why the fuck are there so many people here?"
Tyce looks at the others and then begins to yank Jace's camcorder out of his fanny pack.
"Okay, so, yo, I'm gonna try and zoom in on the camera to see what these faggots are up 2. After that, we'll, lik, stealth over 2 a less guarded area and cut through da fence 2 git en."
Tyce turns on the camera, presses his grease laden finger on the "record" button, and zooms in the view finder on the object being lowered into the pit.
 
I just discovered that there's a page on Don't Zap to the Extreme on 1d4chan. Not sure if anyone else knew, and I might be totally late in posting this, but I thought I'd just put it out there.
http://1d4chan.org/wiki/Don't_Zap_to_the_Extreme

"Toadvine peered into the lot's entrance. The occupied buildings were spread unevenly around the site but would no doubt be difficult to evade. He looked to his cohorts. The junkie and his ragged gang of degenerates were fiddling with a shoddy-looking camera. The youth stood, engulfed in silence. The dog woman was no where to be seen. Toadvine lurched through the site's entrance without second thought. The desperado went forth hunched over and without word, prowling among the darkness like a fiendish ghoul of eldritch origin.

The inexpensive fluorescent lights hummed dutifully as Toadvine moved amid their rays unseen. The gravel crunched lightly under foot as he stood against the exterior of an uninhabited portakabin, waiting for a nearby laborer to pass by. Being spotted by a single one would prove extremely detrimental to his efforts. Why there were as many workers there that late at night was anyone's guess."
 
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Here's what you see through the viewfinder, Tyce...

There's a group of workers kneeling on the platform being lowered - It was difficult to make them out before, as their dark uniforms without high-vis jackets blended in with the tarpaulin they were kneeling around. Some of them have their hands on the tarpaulin...and you think you saw it move slightly. You can't be sure though.

The other workers have brightly colored objects in their hands. They look similar to the objects you saw earlier, made out of that unidentifiable clay.

Toadvine: As you slip into the construction site, you overhear the end of a conversation between a two workers. It seems strange. The clearly younger worker bows to the older one, who is holding a loose collection of sheets, and states "I will. Thank you, Father".

The workers mill around, walking into and out of portakabins, but none of them spot you. None of the workers go near Mr. Grisby's makeshift abode - They seem to be giving it a wide berth. The lights in Grisby's cabin flick on and off, tracing his presumed path through the multi-roomed construction.

So, what's next?
 
"This is some fucked up shit yo." Tyce whispers. "I gotta, like, make a back up plan yah know what I mean?"
Tyce goes through his fannypack, gulls out a pipebomb, some duct tape, and a strike anywhere match. He covers the match with the duct tape and attaches it to the pipebomb. He then rifles through his pocket and draws a condom marked "fer sped gurhlz".
"Yo, this ain't gay, people in prison do this all the time" Tyce whispers as he sticks the pipebomb in the condom, ties it up, and sticks it in his Tactical Storage Hole.
 
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