⇒ Peccant Scofflaw: Rescue Deadeye Detective from rampaging horde of uncouth street thugs
Your name is PECCANT SCOFFLAW and you are currently engaged in a RESCUE OPERATION to assist your ARCH NEMESIS, DEADEYE DETECTIVE from a drunken, rioting mob.
You aren’t quite sure how they became a drunken, rioting mob, because you don’t particularly care how such things came to pass, and all that matters now is being IN THE MOMENT because being IN THE MOMENT is how interesting things happen! Also, you’re in the current moment, and that makes everything better. A world without Peccant Scofflaw is a sad, sad existence.
Detective must be so happy you’ve entered his moment.
⇒ PS: Pull out your smartest one-liner
“Hey there handsome,” you say with a wink as you make your dramatic entrance. “Need a ride?”
Detective looks positively flabbergasted. Oh gosh, you’ve swept him off his feet. Damn your charisma. And by “damn your charisma,” you mean “wow, I am so great.”
You preen for a valuable moment, bathing in self-congratulatory adulation. Detective whips out his gun and shoots.
⇒ PS: Correct DD’s manners
The bullet clips your sleeve as you blur to one side. “Now, now,” you admonish him. “That’s not very polite, you know. Hasn’t Inny taught you better than this?”
You duck under his next shot and slap the gun away as he half turns away in an attempt to get some more distance between you two. Silly Detective, thinking he can get away from you. Hell, you own this city! He belooooooongs to you. That is one reason why manners are so important!
“You shouldn’t disappoint your liege lord,” you taunt as he pulls out his cue stick, “especially when all I’m tryin’ ta do here is help ya out!” You shake your head sadly as he glares at you.
⇒ DD: Become homoerotically interested in PS
NO FUCK NO WHAT EEEEEEEEEEEEEERGH NO
⇒ PS: Address unruly mob. You are their overlord, after all!
You hold up a finger. “One second, darlin’,” you drawl to the bemused Detective. You stick your head out the window.
“Hey!” you yell to the mob. “What the hell’s goin’ on out here?”
The mob stops and stares at you, before the individual twits making it up start turning and talking to each other. “We’re being an unruly mob!” one of them calls out eventually.
“Yeah? Well go bugger off, you’re being unruly.”
The crowd mutters sullenly. “Fuck off!” one of the drunker idiots snaps at you.
You point dramatically at him. “HOW DARE YOU,” you thunder. She shrieks as she disappears in a crack of lightning and purple smoke.
Two minutes later, the street is empty.
⇒ DD: Get in the van
Your name is DEADEYE DETECTIVE and you are getting into the COMPANY VAN that is parked around the corner.
You had ducked out of that house you’d been trapped in by the unruly mob in an attempt to get away from the slightly less dangerous Peccant Scofflaw via the back door. Fortunately the house was right on the corner and it was a relatively short distance to cut through the backyard and elegantly hop the fence to the van.
You unlock the door in record time and slide behind the wheel, jamming the keys into the ignition. This is going to be pretty tricky—
...there is a gun pressed to the side of your head. You freeze.
⇒ PS: Explain proper rescue etiquette.
Clearly poor sweet Detective has been the rescuer far more than the damsel in distress. That’s all right, you explain to him gently, everyone makes mistakes.
Detective replies that the only reason he’d be classified as “in distress” would be because of your glorious presence pointing the gun at him.
You sigh and shake your head at his ignorance. “What about the mob?” you want to know. “Did that mean nothing to you, Detective? Did my saving you from the unruly idiots not count?”
You’re pretty sure that if he could turn his head, he’d be glaring at you.
⇒ DD: Humo(u)r the crazy person
“Okay,” you say slowly, left hand casually creeping to your pocket with your loaded deck. You suppose you can buy time by playing along with Scofflaw’s ridiculous fantasies. “That was... pretty smooth talking with the unruly mob.”
A little flattery can’t go awry.
⇒ DD: Ask Scofflaw how you’re supposed to show your gratitude as flatteringly as possible
“I suppose you want recompense?” you ask, tone frigid.
Your pulchritude stat always was total shit.
⇒ PS: WELL FUNNY YOU SHOULD ASK DETECTIVE
Your grin couldn’t get any wider. Ohhhh Detective, you pretty young thing.
⇒ PULCHRITUDE SPECIAL GAMBIT: IF THE VAN IS A-ROCKIN’, DON’T COME A-KNOCKIN’
“You want me to dance,” he says flatly.
You beam at him. “Yessssssss,” you say, feeling grand. “On my lap, if ya wouldn’t mind.”
⇒ DD: Perform worst lap dance ever
With the gun to your head, the nastily-grinning mobster manages to coax you onto his lap. Your legs are too long and your knees stick out awkwardly and your unassailable grace and self-confidence have never been this low.
You just sit there uncomfortably, hard-put to decide if it was wiser to go along with this and punch him later or just punch him now and be done with it.
⇒ DD: Give him a shiner as a token of your gratitude
Your elbow connects solidly with his face, and the gun is knocked away. At the same time, Scofflaw’s knee-jerk response leaves you wheezing when your groin has an unsatisfactory introduction to the mobster’s leg.
⇒ PS and DD: Take a minute or two to regain senses
Detective’s slumped against the dashboard, hissing a whine between clenched teeth. You’re leaning over, hand pressed to your throbbing eye. Fuck, that hurt. You recover faster, though—it’s not like you haven’t gotten black eyes before. Detective, on the other hand, looks like he’s going to be out of commission for a bit longer.
It simply makes perfect sense to use Detective’s own belt to tie his hands behind him. You also take the opportunity to disarm him while he manages to regain some motor function and starts to wriggle, but too late—you’ve got him crammed between the seat and the dashboard, all awkward angles with those creepily long limbs that Innovator has. They really are the perfect couple, you think, before grinning and shoving the gun into Detective’s mouth.
“Shall we negotiate?” you ask cheerily.
⇒ DD: Say nothing. Like you can talk around a gun, anyway
You glare at Scofflaw. This is stupid.
He shoves the gun further in at your obstinacy.
⇒ DD: Unintentionally fellate gun barrel
In any other situation, this would be really hot. This is the worst moment to discover you have a gun kink.
Uh oh. It looks like, uh. Scofflaw might have the same kink.
This is getting really uncomfortable.
⇒ DD: Is that a Jericho 941 in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?
There is no way you can mumble all that out with the gun pressing the back of your throat.
⇒ PS: Holy shit, this is actually working
...er, not that you didn’t expect it not to work. You are PECCANT MOTHERFUCKIN’ SCOFFLAW after all, of course your convoluted plan to rescue Detective from an unruly mob and establish kismesitude through fisticuffs and okay, that wasn’t your plan. You plan was to give him a boner.
Still, the kismesitude thing could work. You managed to give yourself a boner, too.
⇒ PS: Notice Detective is staring at your junk
Fuck yes. All according to plan. Now you just have to keep his interest. That shouldn’t be too hard; it looks like you’ve established he likes it rough. Heh. Baby, you can show him rough. You can show him rough in spades.
“You like that gun in your mouth, hmm?” You keep your tone nasty. “Pretty sure we could put somethin’ else in there and you’d like it just as much, wouldn’t ya?”
⇒ DD: NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE
NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE NOPE
⇒ DD: Play along (again) and when PS is distracted, return his earlier favor
NOPE NOPE NO—oh wait, that’s a plan you can get behind. Yeah. That is a good plan.
You narrow your eyes at the smirking mobster, and hope it looks more coy than murderous. If it was Innovator, he’d know the difference; on the other hand, if it was Innovator, Detective’d probably be tied naked to a kitchen chair getting a blowjob in between electrical shocks.
And that was your red seduction. You really need to reevaluate your life.
It looks like the “coy” look isn’t cutting it though, so you steel yourself and slowly bob your head down the gun barrel in a clumsy pantomime.
This is really kinky.
⇒ PS: Awww, who’s the master of seduction? Is it you? Is it you?
Oh yes it is!
⇒ PS: Polish your gun
“Knew you’d see things my way,” you drawl, and undo your fly with one hand. This is going to be fun. You pull your regular gun out of Detective’s mouth and fish out your second gun (protip: it’s your dick. Get it?) which is more than ready for some lovely attention.
Detective takes the opportunity to slam his forehead into your second gun.
⇒ DD: Attempt to escape
This is. Um. Okay, headbutting Scofflaw right where it hurts might not have been the best idea. He’s doubled over and pretty much sealing you off in your beneath-the-dashboard position. The fact that your hands are still tied behind your back with your own belt is also not helpful and, oh yeah, you’re still inordinately interested in guns.
Then, in a stroke of fortune, something cuts your hand. You’re pretty sure it is not one of the empty coffee-stained styrofoam cups making a carpet under your lovely suit.
It proved to be one of Scout’s knives. You vow to thank him for this stroke of fortune as you begin to saw (with much regret) at your nice belt. If you can’t get out, you can at least have your hands free.
⇒ DD: Notice PS looks like he wants to dispute amendments to the treaty.
Wow, he looks angry about that nutshot. He doesn’t even look remotely cunning right now. Plan D it is, then.
“You wanna play rough with me?” you say smoothly, forestalling some sort of retaliation. It’s Scofflaw, he’s always distracted by gab. “You’re going to have to do worse than that to get me in the mood.” You are bullshitting this for all it’s worth because you really don’t have an option right now, and Plan C (headbutt PS’s dick) didn’t work.
“I mean really, you’re going to have to do more than shove a gun down my throat,” you go on, patronizing, throwing in a look of high disdain for effect. “Do you even know what Innovator does? And he likes me. If this is your idea of spades...”
You sigh theatrically and try to ignore how much you are secretly enjoying this. “Oh, well,” you say dismissively, rolling your eyes heavenward as though to ask for patience. “I suppose you can’t be good at everything. I mean GPI knows you have a hard enough time at whatever the fuck you and Scout do.”
You throw him a look that clearly says how much of an idiot he is. From the way he’s gaping at you, he’s totally confused.
“So,” you continue, lowering your voice confidentially and leaning forward (thankfully he’s straightened up a little, or this would be even worse than it already was), “I’m giving you bonus points for trying. Next time be better about it though, hmm?”
And with that, you initiate your plan:
⇒ DD: Blow PS
Just because you hate doing it doesn’t mean you’re not good at it. In five minutes he’s snarling nonsense syllables and you are vowing that you will gargle lye to get this shit out of your system.
On the up side, you’d managed to cut through your belt and Scofflaw is now so blissed out that he only makes feeble attempts to ward you off when you forcibly straighten out, open the passenger car door, pick his pocket (you need recompense for that belt and dry cleaning for your pants, damnit), and dump him in the street. For good measure, you spit what’s left in your mouth on him.
“Don’t try it again,” you say, all business, as you reverse through a puddle and splash him with water. Next on the agenda: take a cold shower.
⇒ PS: Vow revenge
You do that. Revenge means more excuses to beat the shit out of Detective without Innovator whining.
You stand up, shake the dust off your suit, and look a little ruefully at the puddle stains. Oh well, you’ll just get another suit. Dear old Detective, thinking you’d actually be pissed by something like ditch water.
...on the other hand it looks like you’ll have to pay the rent-a-crowd unruly mob at a later time. Looks like Detective took your cash.
Eh, you suppose all good prostitutes deserve their pay.