You are now SPADES SLICK, and you've fucking had it up to here with this time warping bullshit. One moment you're painting those green bastard's hide-out red, and then that bitch Snowman is stabbing you in the eye and you're here. The warping about shit got old the first time; by this point you're about to vomit blood and hate and pixie dust on the chucklefuck who even made that shit possible.
You've got no goddamn idea where you are; this room sure wasn't on the maps you had of the Felt's hold. Could be a secret cellar or some shit, but you doubt it. The intel you get is fucking flawless. Least it better be.
Your mood isn't helped by the fact that all your shit is gone. Well, not all; you've still got your good old CAST IRON HORSE HITCHER, but that's it. No way to contact the Crew, if they're even here. A situation where Deuce, Boxcars, and Droogs are gone isn't great, but you'll make do. You need to take care of your eye soon too, after the tender loving care that bitch Snowman showed it.
Speaking of your eye, feels a bit heavy right now.
>SLICK: CHECK EYE
Motherfucker. However the hell you got from here to there, in the interim some joker jammed a bit of jewelry in your eye. You'll have to find the fella who did that. Show him how generous a guy you are. Give him a matching pair of eye stones of his own.
Speaking of stones, this place is flowing with goddamn jewelry as far as the eye can see. Might not be Lord English's vault, but it's impressive enough for now.
>SLICK: LOOT
Don't mind if you do.
This place is just right to be picked clean like a grandma's dresser. Shove a few in your pockets? Sure. Hide some inside your hat? Absolutely. Decorate the edges of your hat with them? Why the fuck not, there's plenty there.
It doesn't take you long for you to notice the mother of all stones smack dab in the middle of this place, either. Pretty plain looking thing, but you got a sense in the right markets that shit could be worth some major cash.
>SLICK: TOUCH THE STONE
You put your hand on the thing to feel it's surface, and it just starts screaming shit at you you just stone cold do not give a fuck about. About what this shitty little town is and it's shitty little people and you hear about enough of that in a few seconds. It's not like you're going to budge the thing just by touching it. This puppy needs some care.
You start whacking at the base of it with your CAST IRON HORSE HITCHER. This baby is yours, and sooner or later it's going to know it, and it's going to give. You just need to soften it up some.
>Make this Gem a Member of the Midnight Crew
You are now SPADES SLICK, and you've fucking had it up to here with this time warping bullshit. One moment you're painting those green bastard's hide-out red, and then that bitch Snowman is stabbing you in the eye and you're here. The warping about shit got old the first time; by this point you're about to vomit blood and hate and pixie dust on the chucklefuck who even made that shit possible.
You've got no goddamn idea where you are; this room sure wasn't on the maps you had of the Felt's hold. Could be a secret cellar or some shit, but you doubt it. The intel you get is fucking flawless. Least it better be.
Your mood isn't helped by the fact that all your shit is gone. Well, not all; you've still got your good old CAST IRON HORSE HITCHER, but that's it. No way to contact the Crew, if they're even here. A situation where Deuce, Boxcars, and Droogs are gone isn't great, but you'll make do. You need to take care of your eye soon too, after the tender loving care that bitch Snowman showed it.
Speaking of your eye, feels a bit heavy right now.
>SLICK: CHECK EYE
Motherfucker. However the hell you got from here to there, in the interim some joker jammed a bit of jewelry in your eye. You'll have to find the fella who did that. Show him how generous a guy you are. Give him a matching pair of eye stones of his own.
Speaking of stones, this place is flowing with goddamn jewelry as far as the eye can see. Might not be Lord English's vault, but it's impressive enough for now.
>SLICK: LOOT
Don't mind if you do.
This place is just right to be picked clean like a grandma's dresser. Shove a few in your pockets? Sure. Hide some inside your hat? Absolutely. Decorate the edges of your hat with them? Why the fuck not, there's plenty there.
It doesn't take you long for you to notice the mother of all stones smack dab in the middle of this place, either. Pretty plain looking thing, but you got a sense in the right markets that shit could be worth some major cash.
>SLICK: TOUCH THE STONE
You put your hand on the thing to feel it's surface, and it just starts screaming shit at you you just stone cold do not give a fuck about. About what this shitty little town is and it's shitty little people and you hear about enough of that in a few seconds. It's not like you're going to budge the thing just by touching it. This puppy needs some care.
You start whacking at the base of it with your CAST IRON HORSE HITCHER. This baby is yours, and sooner or later it's going to know it, and it's going to give. You just need to soften it up some.