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[Digital Hellhound]

Just run the feck over O'Donnell. If innocents or Father Nkuto get in the way, carry on regardless.

[Greenstarfanatic]

Fusco Jr. pushes himself off the ground. Clutching his knife, he moves silently over to O'Donnell, and just feckin' slits his throat.

[micelus]

Eh...Jog. Really Fast?

[Toaster]

"Feck it."

I must have some Holy Water on me that can heal, right?  If not, I'm a fecking priest- I can just make some myself!  It's easy to make holy water!*

[lawastooshort]

Mission Two: Mister O’Donnell: 2.5

Point at Mr. O'Donnell when the police approach, take cover behind anything readily available if they haven't arrived.

If that doesn't work, escape! Rapidly! If the police do take an interest in O'Donnell, run away! Also rapidly!

"Look at this eejit over here, officers!" cries Father Nkuto, clutching his groin and wailing fervently at the cops who’ve just rammed him off the road, "Feck! Shite!!" he continues, speaking the only language he’s certain they know, "This fecker's trying to shoot me! And he was speeding down the feckin' road, too! And I think that's an illegal explosive in his feckin' duffel bag! I was only goin' so fast to stop the fecker, you see! He's a dangerous wanton criminal, he is!"

…”Shite!” comes the reply, ”He’s feckin’ right! A priest would never lie! I thought the fecker in the milk float was just pleased to see us, but that’s actually an illegal feckin’ explosive! Shite! Let’s ‘ave him!”

As the police officers leap dramatically from their still speeding milk float, Father Nkuto turns to flee rapidly.

…But he immediately trips on a passing cat, and smashes his face harmlessly into the road surface!

"Shite! Feck! Ouch!"

Fusco Jr. pushes himself off the ground. Clutching his knife, he moves silently over to O'Donnell, and just feckin' slits his throat.

With the cops moving in to apprehend or cold bloodedly murder their new suspect, depending on their mood, Father Fusco Jr. sees there is only one chance to redeem himself in the eyes of his poor dead father – and Bishop Lennan, who, on a rather more practical level, is willing to pay him 500 gold Euros – and gets up.

Wordlessly, he stalks over to Mister O’Donnell before …slicing off a great chunk of his throatmeat!

Eh...Jog. Really Fast?

The gushing blood spews out onto the road, but Mister O’Donnell just puts a hankie to the great gash, staggering about but otherwise quite well – until he spies, with horror, another approaching feckin’ priest!

…Father Reilly jogs really fast into position, preparing to Mass the bastard into submission or worse!

Shite! An attempted murder! And a speeding!

”Shite!” cries one of the cops over his radio, ”It’s all feckin’ going down here! Moving in to arrest a speeding suspect over! We fecking need back up, there’s all sorts of blood and stuff! Shite! Harry, you take the one on the left!”

The brave policemen realise that shite is going down and that the suspect or suspects are quite feckin’ dangerous: they abandon all plans to subdue the feckers and raise their pistols.

...Father Fusco takes a round to the kidney!

…Mister O’Donnell, clutching his bleeding neckflesh, loses an ear!

I must have some Holy Water on me that can heal, right?  If not, I'm a fecking priest- I can just make some myself!  It's easy to make holy water!*

"Feck it," shites the ever-eloquent Father Lars, "Fecking feck it."

He needs Holy Water: he has no Holy Water!

…Dashing over to the nearest fire hydrant, he kicks it to smithereens, committing grievous vandalism within sight of the already overworked police officers and sending cold unholy water blasting into the night sky.

Step Two in the Traditional Rolly Island Holy Water Manufacturing Procedure is easy for a priest as… competent as Father Lars.

Sending a hand deep into the folds of his cassock, he pulls out a Molotov cocktail, lights it, takes a step back, and arsons the shop nearest the fire hydrant!

It immediately bursts into what look like particularly holy flames!

As the fire hydrant continues to gush into the sky through the jets of fire, Father Lars rolls about stark naked on the ground like a cat rubbing its back, revelling in the falling drops of Holy Steam condensing rapidly into Holy Water on his writhing nude torso.

He feels neither burning nor shame.

Just run the feck over O'Donnell. If innocents or Father Nkuto get in the way, carry on regardless.

Ignoring the frolicking eejit behind her, Mother Superior Superior concentrates on the eejits ahead of her. Multi-eejits.

She revs the engine.

…The Milk Float of Holy Vengeance shoots forwards, completely out of her control!

She wrestles with the wheel!

She stamps on the brake!

Nothing works!

Storming towards Mister O’Donnell, …Mother Superior Superior crushes his legs under the churning wheels of the Holy Milk Float of Righteous Doom before …swerving like a mad eejit over the fallen Father Nkuto, smashing his foot and bouncing awkwardly and …rather fatally over the kidney-stricken Father Fusco, smearing him over the middle of Termonfeckin High Street before careering into the forces of Justice and Order.

…Both cops jump out of the way, shooting …ineffectually at the wheels of the unscrupulous milk float as it cruises in a circular and inevitable motion towards Father Reilly, smashing him to the ground and slaying him entirely before getting the unfortunate deceased priest’s liver trapped in the rear left wheel, skidding round in a graceful arc, and sliding smash bang right into Father Lars’ Holy Water Production Project!

The nun’s milk float explodes, showering bits of milk float and, miraculously, no bits of nun over the entire street!

Protected by her patented fireproof habit, Mother Superior Superior is only half smashed to death by the impact of crashing back down to earth from a great height.

Shite!

Mister O’Donnell, squashed and bleeding heavily, staggers as fast as he can into his milk float, praying fervently as he turns the key, and flees.

He soon reaches over three miles per hour!

…Keeping the wheel steady with one hand, he pulls out a rocket propelled grenade with another, turns to fire, and drives straight, or rather not straight, into a nearby wall about twenty feet from his pursuers.

The front end is crumpled, but the milk float’s engine still ticks over.

…   …   …   …   …   …

Spoiler: Players & Notes (click to show/hide)

Estimated Order on the road:
Mister O’Donnell, Some cops, Father Nkuto, Mother Superior Superior, Father Lars.

Name: Mister O’Donnell
Health: [2/12]
Milk Float Health: [1/10]
Skills:
Inventory: Shotgun, 2x Rocket Propelled Grenade, Tacks, a Key.

Name: Father Nkutu, formerly known as Father Curran, Harry Baldman
Health: [7/14]
Bishop Lennan’s Push Bike Health: [2/5] | Immune to explosions (NB: not exploding) | +1 to defence (NB: push bike defence, not priest defence)
Skills: Tis But a Flesh Wound! | Tough Gobshite
Inventory: Sniper rifle, Knife

Name: Father Lars, Toaster
Health: [7/10] | Naked
Skills: Competent Arsonist
Inventory: 2x Molotov

Name: Father Fusco Jr., Greenstarfanatic
Health: [-3/10] | DECEASED
Skills: Competent Melee Artist
Inventory: Knife

Name: Father John 'Don't'cha Know' Reilly, micelus
Health: [-1/10] | DECEASED
Skills: Competent Masser
Inventory: Sniper rifle

Name: Mother Superior Superior, Digital Hellhound
Health: [4/10]
Skills: Competent Melee Artist
Inventory: Fireproof Habit

Notes.
Apologies to micelus for a rather… disappointing go. I think the only thing you succeeded at was in jogging to your death. Also to gsf…

[Harry Baldman]

While they're busy, retreat to a notable distance from O'Donnell's float and shoot it with the sniper rifle. Hopefully that'll finish the fecker off.

[Yoink]

((Holy feckin' shite, that was glorious. Let's hear it for Mother Superior Superior!))

[Greenstarfanatic]

0_0

Wow.

[Toaster]

((Another arsehole teamkilling priest nun!

This only confirms my theory that the safest course of action is totally avoiding everything.

Too bad that's not Fun.))

"Praise the LORD for delivering unto me this glorious holy shower!  Amen."

Charge forward and molotov the arsebiscuit!

[Greenstarfanatic]

Name: FATHER VANTAS
Health: [10/10]
Skills: COMPETENT SNIPER RIFLE USER
Inventory: SNIPER RIFLE
Starting Country: INDIA
Bio: FATHER VANTAS WAS SENT TO INDIA AFTER HIS FORMER CHURCH IN IRELAND EXPUNGED HIM DUE TO GRATUITOUS YELLING DRIVING OFF THE PATRONS. HE SPENT SEVERAL YEARS THERE MEDITATING, AND FELT THAT IT REALLY HELPED OPEN UP HIS VOCAL CHORDS, ALLOWING HIM TO YELL MUCH LOUDER. NOW HE'S RETURNED TO IRELAND TO SERVE HIS GOD IN REMOVING PEOPLE FROM THE GENE POOL.

[Digital Hellhound]

((Oh, terribly sorry there, fellows. I was just going for Father Nkutu. Oh well, there are worse ways to die, y'know?))

Content with her holy work so far, Mother Superior Superior simply follows along on foot, encouraging the others with a boisterous prayer.

[Toaster]

((Oh, terribly sorry there, fellows. I was just going for Father Nkutu. Oh well, there are worse ways to die, y'know?))

Primary target:  Missed
Secondary target:  Barely grazed
Two innocent bystanders:  Squashed
Outcome:  As expected

[Digital Hellhound]

((Missed? I crushed his legs quite satisfactorily, young man!))

[micelus]

((No apologies needed! Just in it for your writing, don'tcha know.)

[Toaster]

((Missed? I crushed his legs quite satisfactorily, young man!))

((I must apologize.  Congratulations on not entirely hitting teammates.))