Call of C'Handler

Tyce listens to the quick recount of what happened, and then begins to speak very, very loudly.
"Okay Mr. Grisby, we'll get the hell out of here. I wouldn't want to stick around here with the shit you're keeping hidden. I really do feel sorry for the faggots who you're conning here. Especially the people who need to work near that and don't even know about it."

[Skill check failed!]

Oddly, the words of the clearly-stoned man in the terrible beanie do not make any impact whatsoever on the assembled workers. You hear one of them laugh at you.
 
"Hey, keep laughing faggot, I'm second in command of Deagle Nation so, like, I outrank you bitch."
He turns to the others, dopey expression on his orangutan face and begins to whisper.
"Okay, so, like, what now? The dude called the cops, so I think we should find out where he lives and burn down his house. Or rob it? Or kidnap him and torture him? Or just, like, sneak back in the middle of the night?"
 
"Toadvine sighed angrily at the junkie. The proprietor had remained eerily calm throughout the situation. Why he was so ambivalent to the loss of life that was occurring regularly was beyond Toadvine. He took it that the proprietor could not be convinced. I guess that means the case is closed then, Toadvine said exasperatedly.

As he turned to leave he froze. He stopped and looked around the yard. Wait, Toadvine said to his cohorts. Where's the foreman at? Comic or whatever his name was. Did any of ya see where he went off to?"
 
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Crouched within the safety of the shadows, November watched the situation unfold with utmost prying, her eye narrowed upon the two men, Overseer Wesly and Mr. Grisby. She studied them from her position, lips pursing deep in thought. They were standing in the way of her reward and she did not like that. Not one bit.

With her sneaky maneuvers, she had gone undetected so far and was hoping to remain so in order to investigate further to figure out more in this place. There had to be more secrets lurking within the dark corners and November was determined to find them. With a flare of her teeth, the dogkin rubbed her hands together in a contemplative manner.

Scanning the area, her eye lands on a door of the portakabin that had been left open by a construction worker and she got an idea. Bingo, she thought before sneaking inside, closing the door slowly behind her as she gone unnoticed.

November snoops around with dexterous fingers, searching this way and that, until she spies a spare construction uniform. A Cheshire grin shown on her face as she slips it on as a disguise. Dressing herself up to make sure she would blend in with the others, she didn’t do too bad of a job. Of course, having to conceal her true canine identity was heartbreaking to the dogkin. November didn’t mind the grime and dirt, but it seemed that the left wrist had been charred. The sight of it was curious, so she brought it up to her nose and took a sniff. Unfortunately, she couldn’t place what it was.

“Hmm,” she murmured, before looking around the room again and took a gander towards the sink. Strange green things were lying within, looking like smaller version of fins of a shark, only plastic. “What’s this?” she mused, picking one up and looking it over.

---

Unfortunately, November was never any good at geology. The pieces appear to be constructed out of a clay-like substance--only harder--and that was all she could make out. Soap suds cling to the sides, forming in the rivets of the imperfect pieces. With a shrug, the dogkin snags one of the smaller pieces and stuffs it in the pocket of the construction attire in hopes that one of the others would be able to figure out what it is.

Edit: Did a check so I added this little bit in. :oops:
 
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"The dog woman returned to her fellow investigators adjourned in a construction uniform. Toadvine told her of their termination as employees on account of the proprietor. So, Toadvine said. What do you reckon we do?"
 
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Tyce mutters something about "getting those hard hat faggots" and turns back to Toadvine.
"Alright dude, so, like, that fascist got a stick up his ass about us hanging around here, so obviously he's, like, hiding something. That bigass pit seems, like, creepy, so there's probably like a drug cartel or ghosts down there. Like, yah know what I mean, we either gotta break into King Faggots crib to see if we can find, like, his stuff about what he knows, or we come back here at night when everyone's left and case da joint."
Tyce's face scrunches up as he attempts to come up with other ideas...
 
"Toadvine considered the junkie's proposition. I reckon we could burglarize his quarters so long as no one spies us. He spat and looked over at the portakabin that was the proprietors office. It was a distant and immense object. An unvarying white rectangle placed haphazardly upon the earth. The foreman's office paled in comparison to the proprietors. What do you all make of that, Toadvine inquired. Of breaking into that there office. Sound like a solid plan?

Toadvine turned back to the mammoth portakabin again. He notes the presence of the single door on the front. The door was bound with an electronic lock, of which a card is required to unlatch. The windows were fortified with sturdy iron frames. The proprietor had no doubt seen the crude ensemble of inspectors from one of the windows.

It did not occur to the desperado why he was still pursuing the case. The only incentive to do so was the cash reward and that had effectively been negated. In truth he wished desperately for closure on his memories of the old days. He subconsciously desired to see any traces of the legacy of the mayor who had disfigured Toadvine erased for good. The mayors existence had been a heinous crime and a cruel joke to mankind as a whole."
 
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As you all try to make a decision on where to go from here now that Mr. Grisby has made it clear your presence is unwelcome, you hear a siren outside.

Hmm.
 
Tyce's and his Goons look up at the sound of approaching sirens.
"Awww shit dudes, it's the kops. FUK DA PO-PO! Uhhhh, we should, like, get the fuck out of here. To the Tycemobile!"
Tyce's Goons and (one or more or fewer of the) others pile in the van. Tyce "accidentally" knocks over a can of gas and tosses a lit cigarette near the puddle of fluid before taking off.
 
"The sound of police sirens penetrated the silence. The characteristic red and blue lights could be faintly seen in the distance. The construction workers began to disperse.

The situation was grim. Toadvine had been in fights with the police before and they seldom ended prettily. He reluctantly climbed into the junkies van. It reeked violently of shit and body odor. Toadvine fought to hold back the urge to vomit.

Listen, Toadvine gurgled. We're gonna have to come back here later tonight if we want that reward. Toadvine knew deep down that any chance at being rewarded for this precarious investigation had long since evaporated."
 
The Tycemobile sprays fountains of dirt behind it as it peels out of the construction site.
"Dude, chill, we'll come back tomorrow night. We'll prank the Po-Po, throw 'em off, head to my the hideout, and lay low and gear up for the assault."

A few hours later, the group enters the building where Tyce's gang makes their lair. Tyce opens the thick metal door and flicks on the lights, casting the room in a dim orange glow. The hideout is a three story concrete building. The first level contains a few appliances made into a crude kitchenette, a table covered in Gamerfuel cans and fast food containers, a few assorted chairs, and a small, dark room that seems to be a bathroom.
Upstairs is a small storage room containing broken furniture, cardboard boxes full of matchbox cars, and assorted shit. Through a hatch disguised as an airduct is Tyce's weed farm and Jenkim operation.
Downstairs contains a computer, and xbox, beanbag chairs, a few cots, and a foot thick layer of dirty laundry and trash.
Tyce wanders over to a chair, throw a pizza box off of it, and sits down.
"So, like, we chill here and plan out how we're, like, gonna Tyce King Faggot and see what's in that pit."
Tyce rummages through a pile of food containers, pulls up a half empty bottle of Dew, and takes a drink.
 
As Tyce rummages through the "food" in his "home", you hear a short, sharp knock at the door, followed immediately by the sound of an envelope being slid under the frame.

One manilla envelope his been slid under Tyce's doorframe. It's thick, but not bulging.
 
Be warned, shitty pictures ahead. I feel kind of weird posting these terrible MS Paint/GIMP drawings in a thread where Hunger Mythos is present. She's the resident artist here after all.

"Toadvine stooped down to pick up the letter. Using his knife to open the envelope, its contents spill into his hands.

In the envelope were a series of photographs. The first depicted the foreman smiling nonchalantly. His right hand was extended a vaguely erotic manner. Blue ink was scrawled across it.

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The rest of the photos depicted the foreman only he was now dead and his remains were eviscerated. His wounds were faintly reminiscent of the corpse Toadvine and his cohorts had inspected earlier that day. Phrases such as
UNCLEAN and BROKEN DEAD were written on the photos.

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Toadvine gazed silently at the photos. They unnerved Toadvine greatly. The bloodshed was nothing he hadn't seen before but that it was his employer was another thing. Without second thought Toadvine drew his revolver and belted through the doorway.

His compatriots noticed the commotion and walked over to examine the scene."
 
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ooc: No, not Mr. Comic! :(

The place where Tyce called his “home” wasn’t much of anything to the dogkin. After shifting out of the construction worker's outfit, something she planned on using for later to sneak back into the place, she affixed her dog tail to her belt and slipped back on her collar. With a happy giggle, she flicked the nametag with her index finger and wagged her faux tail happily before entering the home. Fumes of month’s old food and wastes wafted to her nose, making it wrinkle with abhorrence as she brought up a hand and shot the junkie a glower. Sticking her tongue out in disgust, she turned her attention upon the manila envelope in Toadvine’s grasp and cocked her head in an inquisitive manner.

That was, until he bolted out the door.

November stood there, releasing a heavy sigh. She never got the chance to show him her findings, which will be for another time she supposed. At least Tyce and Stephane were here. Her attention turned over to them, perking an eyebrow in uncertainty.
 
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Stephane comes back in after daydreaming about how awesome he is and how everyone else is useless.

"Hey guys! What's da update?"
 
Toadvine dashes out of the front door quickly, and sees an unmarked white can pulling away, fast. It's wheels spin and squeal as it tries to get away quickly.

What do you all do?
 
"Dude, like, #streetrace!!" Tyce yells as he leaps up and brandishes a shotgun. He runs to the Tycemobile, and starts it up, his goons close behind.
 
"Toadvine turned to the junkie. A bead of sweat had formed on his scarred forehead. Start your van, he said. Right now. The engine wheezed weakly as the junkie turned the key. The car was indeed decrepit and it sounded as though it would fall apart where it was parked.

Toadvine turned to the dog woman and the youth. You two, he proclaimed. Take a gander at these photos and get in the van. Someone's on to us."
 
Hey, this hotel has wifi! Awesome!

[Skill check succeeded: Drive]

The Tycemobile screeches out of the drive in pursuit of the unmarked van!

The van driver attempts to throw Tyce off his tail, but is unable to do so - the Tycemobile sticks to the van like grape-coloured glue.

*Dice clatter on table as the GM rolls an NPC skill check*

As the chase nears the construction site, the van driver under steers on a corner, clipping the curb with its outside wheels. The stricken van cartwheels through the air, landing heavily on its back with a crunch.

The Tycemobile pulls up beside it.

What do you do?
 
Tyce grabs his "Tyceinator", jumps out of the, and starts walking towards the flipped over van's passenger side door, pointing the gun barrel at the ground.
"Alright dude, you okay? Come on out with your hands up!"
Tyce nods at the others to move to the drivers side.
 
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