Diane looks at the Mic, and shouts, "HEY EVERYONE!"
I facepalm, and Efink chuckles. "Yes, thank you Diane, now I ask again, can you hear me, 'Midnight Crew'?" He says.
"This is Spades Slick of the Midnight Crew, and yes, we hear you."
"Haha, 'Spades Slick' 'ey? Or should I call you 'Saltarius' Hmmm?" Efink pauses for a second before continuing, "Let me tell you something 'Slick', I want you and your 'Midnight Crew' to dissappear, either you disbarred your little 'gang' or you get your scrawny asses off this station, capiche?"
"Oh? Need I remind you, the Midnight Crew is the mob on Gashog 2. We personally killed the competition. If you think burning down a mansion is going to scare a guy who killed an eldritch abomination, you've got another thing coming. Oh, and tell that turncoat Knife we're coming for him next. Spades out."
I whip my switchblade into the mic, dust off my suit and get in the van.
The feed cuts to static, and Efink places the mic back in his jacket, shaking his head. "God, kill one eldritch adbomination you've killed 'em all." He says, "Who did you guys fight?"
"Fthulu." I respond.
"Bah, I knew I'd regret letting him go." He says, falling into his seat and gazing from me then to Diane.
"Well, I've asked nicely, looks like we'll have to do this the hard way."
"I just so happened to really, FUCKING, LIKE THAT MANSION!" I speed towards Knife and break his knees and arms, stomp on his neck, and tie him to a chair which I then proceed to continually dunk him in a lake, and bring him up before he drowns. "Like Salt said, don't fuck with the Midnight crew, yet you really don't want to fuck with me."
@Miniman We're hidden, like as in, you have no idea were we are.
I come to on top of some burning rubble. "Well. I'm moderately disappointed." I light a joint. "So what's the plan Slick?"
"If I may offer a solution... we start selling our apparently endless supply of Class B narcotics." I say.
"Well, I'm off." Rebas says, making his way to the saferoom door.
"We just pissed of the meanest gang in the entire station, and your going for a stroll?" I say in disbelief.
"No, I'm going to go get a drink or two down the pub."
"Oh, well then, that's compleatly different." I say sarcasticly, as Rebas walks out the door.
"Don't worry, he knows how to handle himself in a fight." Efink says, watching as scattered reports on the destruction of the mansion circulate. Likly, whatever reminants from previous gangs would take this as a sign to band together and try to finish off the 'Midnight Crew', as well as various....colourful graffite poking fun at or outright insalting the crew soon appearing, most prominant symbol that of the cut spade.
OOC: Well, I'm off for the night. Feel free to interigate Rebas at some point between dealing with the the gang reminants, just don't bust the hideout until I get back.
"Wow. I mean, wow. That asshole literally left the feed for the mic open for us to track. I say we follow it to the source and beat the shit outta who's on the other end."
I rev up the van and end up at one of the seediest bars of Gashog 2, yet we are the mob here, so nobody's gonna fuck with us. We kick down the door and brandish our weapons.
"WHO THE HELL BURNED DOWN THE FELT'S MANSION?"
Rebas nervously raises his arms in defeat.
OOC: Thing is, we literally killed everybody in those gangs, there are no remnants.
I walk up to Rebas and punch him in the face. I then throw him into a wall, and let my hand grab his neck. I grab a switchblade of a nearby table. "You fuck with us, you lose a lot! What'll it be? You don't need all five of those fingers do you? Lets cut it down to three." I then proceed to slice off his ring finger, and index finger.
I fall through the ceiling in a Golf cart.
"Clubs, how nice of you to join us. As for you, you little shit, ever heard the tale of Icarus? Kid with wax wings who flew to close to the sun. He fell to his death when they melted. Now, imagine you and your associates as Icarus, your attacks as your wings, and the Crew as the sun. The more attacks you inflict, the more pissed we get. And you don't want to see us pissed. Capiche? So if you just wanna run back to your compadres and tell them Spades sent ya. Now get outta my sight you little shit."
As Rebas runs off, I slip a spade card into his back pocket with a GPS locator on it.
"And now, my friends, we wait."
I make blend some nearby peaches and make delicious smoothies.
[S] Slick: Spontaneously burst into song w/ other members of MC.
"Right. Smoothies then."
I put on a fedora.
"I have so much ammo right now It's not even funny"
"So, what I'm saying basically, is, what if we like, reach God Tier once we're in Homestuck? Think it'd carry over into the Mall?"
I slam back another of Sig's smoothies before secretly opening my flask full of Redpop Faygo. I pour a small amount in and then close it and slip it back in my pocket.
"I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like fun"
A bar randomly appears infront of me. I start washing glasses.
I light up another joint. "Well I'm Sylph of Space."
"How do ya know?" I ask Paddy.
I snap my fingers at paddy
"Hey, no smoking here. go to the smoking area"
I point to a small cardboard box.
"Well according to my handy dandy notebook of information that is only relevant at least twenty forum pages later, I am...Heir of Salt. The fuck does that even mean?"
I walk over to the box and sit next to it.
"So, what're ya in for, Dirk's brother Seamus?"
"He's in for third-degree arson and theft of a shopping manuscript"
"I thought this was a bar?"
"Gee, must've inflicted some first degree burns eh? Yeah, Seamus has been in the slammer most his life since about 8. Dirk's always tried to make him clean up his act but he always just cages up."
While no one is looking, I scribble out the 'Salt' and put in 'Doom'. Yeah, that's about right.
"I guess means you use salt to protect yourself from harm." I say. "You could possible interpret that as you being impervious to bad luck..."
I look over his shoulder.
"You'd be correct Paddy. This is the Third Mall Bar, owned by me, Sig. I run a side business re-habilitating criminals"
I quickly put the notebook behind my back.
"WHAT, ME, RIG MY GOD TIER. NO, NOPE THAT'S CRAZY. NOT ME, NUH UH."
"So, you're still the Heir of Salt?" I ask, smirking.
"Wow. So what are we doing?"
"Discussing God Tiers." I say. "We could... sell drugs to these people." I indicate the patrons.
"That was the initial plan before we killed every other gang. I suppose we could do it again. But then there'd be less drugs for me."