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[ggamer]

Ah America.

Land of the free, home of the brave.

HAH! More like home of the slave.

or stalker, however those terms work now.

Well, the combine have seem to have done a pretty good job of removing every single famous american structure. Except for the Washington monument, which they re purposed into a Citadel for City 8.

But this all does not affect a small group of soldiers in the abandoned ruins of the capitol building. It used to be a monument for freedom, and then the combine destroyed it. The fires of revolution seem not to have done much for it anyway.

A stout faced man, a seargant, by the looks of it, speaks with authority, pointing his hands and expressing actions like a pro. He looks up, sweaty faced and excited, and booms

"Now men, what is our mission?"

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

This is a narrative freeform game.
There are no rules, beyond those which the forum places.

[Ibid Straydrink]

"Now men, what is our mission?"

"Sir! To rendezvous with the EU arms supplier, then secure subway station Delta, Sir!"

[Sinpwn]

"Now men, what is our mission?"

"Sir! To rendezvous with the EU arms supplier, then secure subway station Delta, Sir!"

"Sir! What he said, Sir!"

[Hubris Incalculable]

The man in the corner grunts unappreciatively through his rollup. A smell of burnt spices and herbs emanates from his general direction.

"Look at you", he says, blowing a cloud of rosemary and cinnamon smoke at them. "Pitiful little militaristic maggots. Just the sort of thing that the combine notices easily. What are those things you're wearing, anyway? Blue and yellow pyjamas?"

[ggamer]

The sergeant looks up, largely annoyed by the drunk hobo.

"It's a uniform. Of a military. Do you even know what we were talking about?"

[Hubris Incalculable]

"Yeah, dumbass. You're talking about your all-important plans to bring down the combine. I've been tailing Mr. What-he-said-sir over there for quite some time. Y'know, cause I've got nothing else left to do. Jayzus. You really think you'll be able to make any dent in their regime? You're mad."

[ggamer]

"And what's your plan, hobo? I don't know about you but I believe in a thing called going down fighting. Especially when Eastern Europe has nearly been cleaned out."

[Ibid Straydrink]

"And what's your plan, hobo? I don't know about you but I believe in a thing called going down fighting. Especially when Eastern Europe has nearly been cleaned out."

((Is coarse language allowed?))

"Hell yeah," mutters the short, swarthy-looking man with sunglasses as he lights one out of a blue soft pack.

[Hubris Incalculable]

"Hobo? HOBO? Ha! You ain't seen nothin' yet. And the way things are going, you probably won't ever see anything. You'll be wiped off the map before you can say 'SIR YES SIR!'"

"Oi, you there, sheep!" he says, noticing the short man light up. "Hand me one of those. I ain't had a proper smoke in a week."

[Ibid Straydrink]

"Hobo? HOBO? Ha! You ain't seen nothin' yet. And the way things are going, you probably won't ever see anything. You'll be wiped off the map before you can say 'SIR YES SIR!'"

"Oi, you there, sheep!" he says, noticing the short man light up. "Hand me one of those. I ain't had a proper smoke in a week."

"What, these..?" asks the man in a cynical tone, raising one eyebrow. "You wouldn't like these, hippie. They're American Spirits." He elbows and turns to the man on his right, grinning smugly.

[Hubris Incalculable]

"I don't give a damn what they're called, sheep," says the stranger, while pulling out a replica 9mm Luger P08. "Just give me one before I shoot your damn face off."

[Ibid Straydrink]

"H-hey, Sarge, who the fuck does this guy think he is?!" questions the short man uncertainly, cig wedged in the corner of his mouth with the pack in one hand while the other hangs back tentatively, near his 9mm sheath.

[ggamer]

the Sergeant unsheathes his 9mm, staring warily at the estranged hobo.

"Now see here, you put away the gun or I'll take away your booze. No, just kidding, but for real, put away the gun if you like teeth."

[Hubris Incalculable]

"Just give me a damn cigarette, and I'll put away the gun. It's that simple. Jayzus."

[Sinpwn]

The man raised his rifle, patience reaching his limit.
"Now, I can understand that you may have be having a bad day, and you may be drunk, yadda, yadda, yadda, but I have no qualms with killing any damn Mother Hubbard that I see fit. So you'd better drop that gun, nice and slow." He said, suddenly developing a thick texan accent.