A Day in the Life: The Historia Funhouse

GM: Jupiter
Players: Jupiter, Simone/Gretchen
Summary: Simone/Gretchen returns to her little lair where she squats in Historia park. She finds an unlikely ally in Jupiter, and the duo go back to back to fend off a group of thrillkillers who waltz right in like they own the place.


Historia Park - Fenced Area
This area shows a lot of recent work, the wire fence is new and with it being near to one of the walls of Historic Park a path has been cleared of trees allowing enough room for a large vehicle to move up to the building. The building itself looks like its undergone renovation, large sections have been replaced with new construction material. The once peeling paint has been covered with a fresh coat, this does nothing however to help the general creepy appearance of a funhouse gone mad. The entry way is through the mouth of a large clown face. Its leering features loom tall over its tooth filled maw ready to swallow anyone that passes its garish red lips. A murder of crows seem to have taken up residence in and around the building. The black birds hang around like dark heralds of death and decay.

It's a cold night, so how are gang druggies going to warm themselves up? By hooting, hollaring, roaming around, and throwing molotov cocktails! They're not pissant molotovs either, this is the real deal, mixed with styrofoam! Part of the gang has split off, easily climbing over the wire fenced area and moving in to the clown's mouth like a pack of hungry wolves. Someone lights a molotov, flips the bottle, grabs the neck of it, and smashes it against the wall like a club. Fire and glass spit everywhere, biting into the ganger's heavy synthwool clothes. Everybody laughs and cheers. It's a great night.

Jupiter had cautiously entered the building about ten minutes earlier, his only light source a half-finished cigarette and a zippo. He's hiding in one of the many nooks, currently trying to build himself a bed out of multiple Industrial Coveralls.

Simone returns from another of her mysterious excursions, exploring the ruins on the outskirts of the warzone at the heart of the Warrens. She has already had to fight for her life today, and has little patience left. Her Triumph RK30 is set to guide itself down the midway in the darkness, the bike relying on sensors while she herself uses goggles to see in the night. The only clue to her approach is the ripping sound of the engine in the distance before she cuts it to coast to the gate in neutral…

Jupiter fishes out a bottle of bathroom tap water and his pill bottle, using his zippo to see by at all times. The man is going about nis nightly routine of taking medication- prescribed or otherwise- and has just finished gulping down those pills when he hears the echo of laughter through the fun house halls. Pressing himself against the wall, he flips his lighter closed and huddles near a corner, peeking out.

The group of four gangers slap each other on the back, light more molotovs, and someone pulls out a metal pipe. They set up in the wide main chamber to play Molotov Baseball. One person wanders off to take a piss. Everybody's high as hell, and they don't seem to notice the sound of the motorcycle.

Simone pats herself on the back for her paranoia once again, glad that she developed the habit of cutting her engine and momentum-cruising in neutral. She steers the bike off the small, overgrown lane leading to the chainlink fence gate that surrounds the funhouse and drops the kickstand. Her heart is racing, fearing for the worst, but who knows — it could just be an electrical fire from faulty wiring… She has no clue about that kind of thing… Better safe than sorry though. She unholsters a pistol from the small of her back, folds out a stock that softly clicks into place and mounts a flashlight on the top with another soft mechanical sound. She taps in the keycode, slips through the gate and begins to creep through the piles of abandoned lumber, steel and industrial tools…

The leader, a heavyset man with a short green mohawk and a thick beard- reels back, about to throw a molotov, when he hears a creak. It might've been someone stepping lightly on glass, or the crunch of boots on pavement, but whatever it is, the man is aware. He grips the bottle by its neck and puts a hand to his hip, feeling for his firearm. "Boys n' girls, we've got company." Everyone tenses, but a woman- a scrawny woman with a paunch belly and ripped up sleeves- bursts out laughing. "You SHITTIN' us again! You got us! Frag, second tonight, man. Second time. Hooooo…." She slaps her knee, laughing with cracked lips and awful meth head teeth showing. As she's bent down she notices the pentegram, cocking an eyebrow, and leans down to touch it. "Lookit this, look here, some cultist shit, you see it?!"

Boss Mohawk scowls and shouts for Ripped Sleeves to shut up, this shit's important, he aint' fooling around. The man motions for a man with VERY recent burn marks- probably from smashing the bottle on the wall earlier- to follow him. Burnt Face and Boss Mohawk slowly walk towards the entrance.

There was a scrawny ork with them, but the man seems to have wandered off to take a piss, heading Jupiter's way…

Jupiter has been busy scanning for an alternate route out of the building, but it's hard when he can't see much, and your surroundings are a hall of mirrors! The molotov fire lights things up a little, but before the dog man can creep out to get a better look around, he hears the sound of boots approaching. His hand drops to his bag, and as he slowly, quietly rummages around for his gun, his body goes into a practiced, natural crouch. He makes himself small, hides in the shadows, all that jazz. The ork strolls around the corner and flat-out looks at Jupiter, reeling back with a loud, "The FUCK are you?" He shoves his hand into his coveralls and tries to wrench out a pistol. Jupiter clenches his teeth and looks up, body frozen.

Simone is so furious she doesn't even acknowledge the serious danger she's putting herself in by sticking around. To make matters worse, her rage somehow inspires her to slip right up to the door where a sputtering wick lies near a puddle of spilled homemade napalm, and starts to concoct an improvised firebomb of her own. A can of white Krylon is gingerly rolled in the gasoline and styrofoam mixture, carefully to prevent the mixing ball inside from giving her position away, then she plucks the wick from the steps of the funhouse's clown-mouth entrance and inserts it right into the paint release tube. A final smear of the napalm on the upper part of the can to ensure the wick will reach the flammable material, then she gauges a throw, underhanding the bomb through the door into her own hideout. If she's lucky, maybe she can ignite the intruders' explosives with this desperate act. If not… She may lose a hand. And a life if the gangers corner her injured… Here goes nothing. The can flips end over end through the darkened main chamber as though in slow motion. Simone spins to the side so that the doors might block any explosive force and burning material that comes her way.

Frustrated that the fun has been interrupted, both Boss Mohawk and Burnt Face are alert, sneering, boasting quietly about what they're gonna do to this asshole who DARES disturb their game. "Gonna bust his face cleaAAAAAAGGHHHAAA!" Words are cut short as the makeshift bomb flies through the air and bursts into flames at their feet, setting off Mohawk's own molotov. He reels back, feeling the pain, though it's mostly superficial and a sudden shock. His heavy clothing protects him, but Burnt Face is full on Crispy Critter, taking the brunt of the initial flame as well as the molotov explosion. Glass shatters, biting into his face, while the flames lick and cling to his body, charring the man heavily. Boss is going for his gun, while Crispy is pissed, as well as terrified. He's so high that he doesn't quite feel the heat as much as he should, but that in itself is enough to freak him out!

Sim hunkers outside the door, taking refuge in the clown's maw as not only her own bomb explodes, but a second blast occurs as paint can shrapnel shatters and ignites one of the intruders' molotovs. Screaming lets her know she made the right decision.

The Scrawny Ork hears his buddies screaming and immediately opens fire on Jupiter. The dog could be a hallucination, but who wants to take that chance? He aims right for Jupiter's face, but the dog man shifts his body, reeling back to grab his gun. As he does so the bullet sinks into the padding of Jupiter's coveralls, leaving a big, dark bruise on his shoulder that quickly spreads. He has memories of combat, of surviving, and the gun feels light, easy in his hands. Still, first hand experience is terrifying. He lifts the gun like it's a toy, wincing from the soreness in his arm, and shoots square into the Scrawny Ork's chest. Metal rips through cloth and flesh, causing the ork to reel back with a shout. Something about, "Fuck! It's real! IT'S REAL!" Jupiter's breath catches in his throat, and he raises his hackles, muzzle twisted in an inhuman snarl.

Boss Mohawk is utterly -pissed- and yanks his short-barreled shotgun out of his jacket, walking through the door with purpose. He spins around upon seeing Simone and opens fire, buckshot spreading through the night air!

Sim scrambles away from the door as quickly as she can after tossing that spraypaint bomb, but not fast enough to get out of sight before the boss man starts blasting. For a split second she suffers the horrible sensation of buckshot shredding through her left side, but no… It's just a frightening vision. She blinks rapidly, breath heaving behind her mask as she drops, rushing on all fours as the shot spreads and makes dozens of little ricochet noises, pellets flattening and bouncing off of the industrial equipment out in the yard.

That hyena-like cackling stops when Ripped Sleeves sees that someone has set Crispy Critter ablaze. She quickly looks around, grabbing a small plastic bucket and dumping out its contents, then rushes towards the bathrooms in the northeast corner. The sinks are working, but she turns the cranks as high as they'll go and waits for the bucket to fill up, stomping her foot on the ground. "C'mon, c'monnnnn."

In a frantic, adrenaline-fueled rush, Simone breaks for the yard after her scramble on all fours that allowed her to avoid the buckshot. With legs and arms pumping like mad, she slips her left hand to her hip, tugs a smoke canister from her belt and flips the lever with her thumb. She risks a hasty glance back over her shoulder and just drops the smoke bomb as she nears a pile of old lumber, and the canned fog billows out like mad, surrounding everything in the vicinity in a deeper darkness than before.

Scrawny roars out and fires wildly at Jupiter, who scrambles up and starts running. Dodging behind a mirrored wall, the dog man barely escapes being hit, though the glass shattering and falling to splinters on the ground ramps up his adrenaline. He peeks out and fires, one bullet whizzing by, embedding itself into Scrawny's side. The Ork yells out and fires wildly, clipping Jupiter in the shoulder. He's torn between wanting to puke from adrenaline and loving the feeling of fighting for his life. Jeeze, what was wrong with him? Firing another shot, Jupiter immediately raises his hand to cover his mouth as blood spills from the ork's gut. He reels back behind cover and swallows back an incoming wave of panic vomit.

There are so many sounds out there! Bangs! Screams! Rushing water! Wait, rushing water? Wet shoes? Fuck, Ripped Sleeves realizes she has been zoning out, and the bucket of water is overflowing. She leaves the water running, because who knows if this is enough, and rushes out of the bathroom, bolting towards Crispy. The man is screaming and burning, unable to wrestle his coveralls off because certain material has melted into his skin. Ripped full on THROWS the water at him! It sloshes everywhere, but doesn't quite put it out.

Boss fires wildly through the smoke, hoping to hit that wiley woman!

Simone cowers, knowing that the leader will— (Dual shotgun blasts ring out in the night from VERY close by, just beyond the water-logged lumber pile.) —fire again…

But she senses a window of opportunity and rears back, flicking a thumbswitch on the grip of her weapon as she shoves the butt of the stock hard into her armpit and centers a red laser dot on the son of a bitch. The flashlight attached to her weapon creates a thick beam of white light that captures swirling tendrils of the smoke that still cascades from the canister she dropped, but her goggles allow her to see the man's thermal image clearly. Clearly enough to stitch a small line of three armor piercing rounds right across his stomach. She wordlessly growls as the weapon kicks, lips drawn back in an angry sneer behind her mask.

Boss is pretty cocky that his shots hit. How could they not? Bitch couldn't have gotten far, and even through the smoke, he thought of himself as a crack shot. That is, until three bullets are ripping through his chest, causing him to reach up and gasp. Blood trickles over his fingers, and the man leans down for just a moment, trying to rationalize what just happened. Two shots, the bitch should be dead! How in the world…?

Water splashes on the ground and soaks into Crispy's clothes, wetting them just enough that he can yank them off. With the removal of clothes comes the removal of burnt skin. Charred flesh rips from the man's body, joining the crumpled heap of coveralls on the ground. Puss and blood ooze from the man's many wounds, and he stumbles back, barely clinging to life.

Jupiter starts wretching because fuck, he's really doing it, he's shooting people. Yeah, he remembers it, just barely. Like a vague little thing that comes to mind. But it's really happening! That fucker is bleeding! Kneeling on the ground, his upper body exposed, he upchucks those pills he took minutes ago. By some grace of luck he manages to crawl back behind cover right as the bullet whizzes past his head. He fumbles into a stand and sidesteps out of cover, squaring two shots directly into the screaming meth head ork's chest. Blood leaks out over his coverall, darkening it, and pooling around the body slowly as he immediately hits the ground. "Yeah…" Jupiter breathes out, "Fuck you."

Simone feels an anxious surge of panic at the arrival of yet another of the intruders and second-guesses her initial urge to storm in and take back what is rightfully hers…

She flees for all she's worth, trying her damnedest to get to another stack of building materials and that much closer to where she stashed her bike.

The smoke spewing from her dropped grenade swirls and seems to have a renewed vigor, spreading further and cloaking the whole yard now it would seem. Distant arcology and skyscraper flight safety lights grow dim and appear to wink out of existence and Simone's boots pound the hard-packed, weed-speckled gravel toward perceived safety.

Boss directs his crony towards Simone, shouting, "That bitch is out there! In the smoke! Git 'er!" He then jumps back towards the doors, hiding in the shadows while he reloads his shotgun. Ripped Sleeves screams out into the night, utterly unnerved by her burning companion and the sudden growing fog. Her bullets RIP through the fog, one panging into the concrete, while the other hits a pile of lumber.

Mechanical legs carry the dog man across the concrete floor and to the entrance, hydraulics whining and hissing with each step. He kicks a leg forward and twists his hip to the left, sliding like a baseball player stealing first base. A dagger-like blade glimmers through the heavy fur, biting into Ripped Sleeve's gut. Blood spills out as she turns and raises her pistol like a club, face twisted in pain, horror, and confusion as she sees her attacker. Jupiter raises his arms to block the pistol whip, at the same time yanking his tail and lashing out again, cutting into her torso. "Aaauuughhhh I just! Wanted! Sleep!" The dog man howls.

One foot in front of the other… Faster. Faster! Screaming— Something about sleep?! Simone huffs through her breather, each strenuous lungful sounding somehow mechanical after being processed by the air filters. She reaches a pair of heavy plastic industrial crates and hurls herself down behind them, scrambling on all fours to a point where she can pop back up, just head and shoulders and weapon, to get a look back at what the hell just happened.

Jupiter hears the combination of footfall and someone reloading a gun. The reloading noise is closer, and as he whirls around, he sees the large, bulky man who's bleeding and superficially burnt. Brief realization sparks in his mind. That's the asshole who barged into his hiding place, leading everyone else! Holding his breath, Jupiter leaps forward, kicking the man's knee to drop him. He manages to stomp on Boss Mohawk's foot, and Boss screams, totally meth'd out, smashing Jupiter across the face with the butt of his shotgun. The dog man reels back, shifting his hips and twisting, the blade of his tail coming closer, closer, until it's slicing through the man's wrist. Boss grabs his gushing stump, wide eyed, and that's when Jupiter lashes out with a strike to his gut, spilling blood everywhere. As soon as the man starts his combination of screaming and wheezing, Jupiter backs off, gets to his knees, and starts vomiting.

As the smoke clears, literally, just as Simone steadies her weapon back toward Boss Mohawk, she sees that the only person left standing — or kneeling and vomiting as the case may be — is a… dog… man… She watches him in stunned silence for the briefest moment before calling out. "Stay down and throw your weapons toward my voice." She can't be sure if the creature can see in the dark or not, and she remains in concealment behind the weathered plastic storage bins.

The laser dot from her own weapon pops into existence, flickering from side to side slightly as it is held in place just beneath the dog man's face on the concrete stairs.

Jupiter had been holding on to the gun this whole time, but his hand was numb, nearly asleep, and he no longer registered that it was there until a feminine voice called out something about a weapon. He pressed the pistol to the ground and slid it back as far as he could, in the direction of Simone's voice. Ew, fuck, vomit was pooling around his hands. He scooted to the side, just a bit, so he could get out of the pile of yuck.

Simone cautiously rises, keeping the laser dot right where Jupiter can see it, but it wavers. A lot actually. Partly due to her slow sidestepping to close the distance, but mostly because she transfers the weapon to her left hand while pulling a second weapon from a holster under her left armpit, inside her coat. She creeps up to the Colt and kicks it, or rather sweeps it to the side with the outer edge of her right boot. Once, twice. She ensures that she separates the weapon from the creature's reach and focuses in with the newly drawn weapon — one of the newer model Yamaha tasers. The nasty fuckers that don't rely on cables to transfer the jolt.

"Why are you here?!" Simone demands an answer, and from her tone, she seems to think Jupiter is part of the group of gangers.

Jupiter stares at the dot and bites his lower lip, worried. Fuck, did he not frag all the baddies? He didn't dare turn his head to look back at her. That might get him cacked. Her tone confuses him, and as the pieces click together in his mind, he lowers his head, "Don't shoot! Please!" His breaths come shallow, and he tries to talk, but it comes out as mumbling. Gulping, he tries again, "I've been exploring the park all day and I got tired. Wanted to sleep. Then some assholes showed up! I got scared, okay! I'm sorry!"

The flashlight on the Ceska flicks on, beaming straight at Jupiter. "You fucking led them here. Take. off. the. mask." She practically growls this, her low tone augmented by the strange, somewhat mechanical tone imparted by her breather mask, and it becomes very clear that English is not her native language, if it hasn't already been noticed. German, most likely. Perhaps Austrian. One of those places…

Jupiter wants to shout about it not being a mask, it's his fragging head! He wants to be a sarcastic cunt about the whole thing! But instead, he props himself up on his elbows, puts his hands on his neck, and does a quick, jerking motion to just show that hey, this shit doesn't come off. He does this three times, keeping his hands on his body only, and moving in a way that's slow enough to ensure- well, hopefully- that he won't get shot. "N-now that that's settled," The man tries to keep his tone neutral, rather than sarcastic, "If they followed me here, yeah, my bad. But I didn't mean to! Okay! I'm not part of their gang!"

Simone is unsettled, but she doesn't dwell on the oddity of the man's appearance. "Get up. Get up and step inside…" She gives a few directions, indicating that there is a breaker panel against the wall in an alcove right past the main doors, and that Jupiter is to flip the top two without making any hasty motions and to keep his hands in her sight at all times.

«Plot» Simone says, "Keeping my distance. Those breakers by the way will turn on the fluorescent overhead lights, some of which still work (maybe half of them). Sim wants Jupiter to be visible to anyone hiding inside while she stays behind cover at the door where she can watch him."

Jupiter wipes his hands on the step one up from where he's propped on, to get that nasty puke off, then stumbles into a stand. He keeps his hands up, the back palms facing Simone is she was behind him. "Yes ma'am." His whole body was trembling, and as the dog man walked inside and slowly flipped the switches, he kept playing the murder of those three gangers in his head over and over. As his hand pulls away from the switch and raises back into the air, the lights fzzzt and flicker on. All the molotovs have gone out, leaving the ground scorched. Crispy's passed out from the pain, appearing quite dead. Nobody jumps out and shoots Jupiter. "So I'm guessin' this is your house, lady?"

«Plot» Simone says, "Would your tail blade be visible to me?"

«Plot» Jupiter says, "Yeah. It looks like a dirk/dagger sticking out of the end of his tail."

The German doesn't respond directly to Jupiter's question, but she confirms it without explicitly stating that she lives here. "You shouldn't go wandering into places you aren't invited…" She sounds very grim, her tone perhaps influenced by seeing the tail blade. "Move. To the center of the room."

Jupiter nods, keeping his hands up, even though his arms are getting pretty tired. He wobbles his head back and forth, moving his hair just a bit, so he can see better. Oh, but he didn't want to see that burnt man. The dog man grimaces, although it's a faint imitation of a human expression. And what the hell is that symbol on the floor? He steps into the middle of it, feeling uneasy.

«OOC» Simone says, "Is your wound making visible blood come through your clothes?"

«OOC» Jupiter says, "Yeah his whole left shoulder region is bloody."

Meanwhile, Simone skirts around the edge of the room taking note of the burned man while keeping her weapons trained on Jupiter. She reaches a door, taps a keycode rapidly with one hand after holstering the taser, then quickly pulls the door out just far enough to reach inside, grabs a small packet of some kind then lets the door slam shut. The lock beeps, seals itself, and the packet is thrown, spinning like a little square shuriken to land at Jupiter's feet. It's a small sterile pack, just a few inches square. "Use that. You look like… shit." The packaging would be recognizable as a stim patch pretty easily to anyone who may have ever used one before.

«Auto-Judge[]» Jupiter (#9356) rolls Intelligence for "Inspecting stim patch to make sure it hasn't been tampered with":
1 2 4 5

«Plot» Simone says, "It's a medical patch for sure, and the packaging is sealed. It's not labeled and looks very generic."

Kneeling down slowly, Jupiter picks up the stim patch and looks it over, turning to face Simone so that she can see what he's doing. It feels safer to be honest with this person. They're obviously upset, and it seems like the best way not to get shot. After a minute of inspection, he puts the package in his mouth, pulls his hoody off, and starts to take off his shirt. There are oldish mastectomy scars on his chest, and a wound where a bullet passed clean through his shoulder. Holding the patch in one hand, he keeps spitting onto the T-shirt and using it to wipe the blood away, until he can find the hole, unwrap the patch, and slap it on.

Simone takes this time to collapse her Ceska's stock and holster it at the small of her back, but she draws yet -another- pistol from yet another hidden holster, this one being a powerful-looking Morrissey. She stares the dog man down as he cleans and dresses his wound, then slowly pulls out a silencer and begins screwing it into the barrel.

Simone slowly walks up to the burned man and aims at his skull.

Jupiter doesn't look at her, he's focusing on his wound at the moment. "Do you mind if I sheath my tail blade, lady?"

Simone fires.

«THFFFT»

«Auto-Judge[]» Jupiter (#9356) rolls Willpower for "Do I panic":
2 5 9

Jupiter quickly hunches down and covers his head as he hears the noise, then turns around quickly, realizing that it wasn't -his- head that had just been pasted. Blood starts to pool around the burned man, and Jupiter's face scrunches up, disgusted. His tail blade makes a shkkt sound as it slides back into its sheath.

"I don't care…" That's all she has to say about the tail blade. And then Simone, all in black, steps backward from the burned man and removes her breather to reveal black lips and a clenched jaw. She clambers up on top of some industrial equipment that makes a convenient yet not too obvious stairway up to the top of the room she pulled the patch from. The room is not as tall as the main ceiling, so serves as a little loft or storage space apparently, and some boxes and things are visible from below. She perches at the edge overlooking the room, seated with knees pulled to her chest and lights up a joint pulled from a pocket of her jacket. She slowly smokes in silence, gazing down at the carnage.

Given Simone's reaction, the dog man shudders, realizing that no one else is going to clean up the gore. He sighs, moving over to the burned man, bending down to grab his knees. He starts slow, glancing up to watch Simone's reaction at first, before starting to drag the man towards the clown's mouth. "If it's all the same to you, lady, I'd rather not stare at this thing anymore. Gonna… hfff… get him out of here." The smell of the joint fills the room, and Jupiter suddenly craves cigarettes.

Simone watches Jupiter start to drag the body, then lets her eyes wander, just trying to cope with this fucked up night. She spots the bathrooms and narrows her eyes as she thinks she can hear the water running… Probably just her imagination. She takes another hit and lets her eyes drift shut for a moment, zoning out to the sounds of the buzzing lights.

Before Jupiter can make it to the door with Crispy's limp, burned corpse, she snaps out of her headspace and tugs her goggles down around her throat while raising her mercy kill pistol, the big cylinder of the silencer aimed right at him. "Whoa, whoa, just a fucking second." She starts to make her way back down, realizing that there are all kinds of weapons out there that this guy could just grab and use to mow her down with. She tries to get to the floor as quick as possible.

Jupiter is mid huff-and-pull when he sees Simone jump down, pistol still in hand, and pulls a half-grin. "Hah. Deciding it's better to join me? Shit is HEAVY." He drops the man's feet, and walks towards her, arms up in surrender mode again. "I don't know what your deal is, but your face reads 'danger mode', so ah… Is there some other solution? Where I don't have to look at some utterly fucked dead guy?"

With her face now visible, Simone looks visibly exhausted yet on edge, with low-lidded zen-reddened eyes surrounded by a heavy application of smeared black eyeshadow that lends her the raccoon eyes look. "Just…" She grimaces, seeming torn as to what to say now. "Just…" She waves the barrel of her weapon at Crispy's feet. "…Nevermind, he needs to go…" Being stoned, and having let some of the adrenaline fade, Simone is more receptive to how truly terrible this is, and with a look back down at Crispy's burnt flesh, the patches of missing hair, and that SMELL, she begins to dry heave while trying to get Jupiter to keep pulling the body by waving the gun toward the door. She hunches and turns away, only to be confronted by the streak of brain blood.

«Auto-Judge[]» Simone (#7451) rolls Body vs TN 6 for "Very strong visceral reaction to all of this now that a combination of being stoned and reality setting in is hitting her.":
2 3 10 = 1 Success

«Plot» Simone says, "She tastes bile. :/"

Simone heaves, her spine flexing and bending like a whipcrack in slow motion and she swallows back rising bile. Her face goes white and she puts her hands to her thighs to support her weight in case she vomits.

Jupiter keeps dragging the body, and he's almost out the door when he sees the woman twisting oddly. "Me too, buddy, me too! Shit is NASTY!" He calls back to her. As soon as he's out the door he fights back his own vomit, but nothing wants to come up. Maybe some tears. But hey, we can't all be tough guys, right? As soon as he gets outside, he dumps the guy next to his boss, grabs Boss's shotgun, and starts to unload the ammo. He throws the ammo away, and throws the gun in a different direction, hoping that the woman won't find both and blast him later. He reappears in the main hall with a grimace. "H-hey, you get it all out? Cause ah, I want you to come with me. Got some shit to get rid of the blood."

"Oouhhghhh fuck I have to get my bike…" Simone is staggering slighty as she starts to move toward the door. "…have to get my biiike…" Her words are slurring and she really looks like some harsh reality just sank in and destroyed her. Haggard and frantic, she pushes her way past Jupiter in a sudden hurry and sort of drunkenly jogs out to the gate where the sound of her engine can be heard starting up and revving, but she just seems to sit there, idling.

«Auto-Judge[]» Simone (#7451) rolls Scrounging for "I want basically all the stuff they had on them by the way. I was gonna have Simmy get her shit together in a few poses and start helping clean up and figure out how to get rid of the bodies and stuff.":
1 1 4 5

«Plot» Jupiter says, "You find their obvious shit like guns and stuff. Somebody has a hit of Bliss in their pocket."

The odd pair end up solemnly transporting and burying the dead in a shallow shared grave beneath the hulking serpentine remains of the partially collapsed rollercoaster down the midway for this section of the park, now nearly forested for all the unnatural plant growth that occurs here. By the time they're through, the sun has risen, and the survivors part ways, having shared a very challenging past few hours. Time to sleep.

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