Author Topic: Hotline Detroit IC (Do you enjoy hurting people?)  (Read 1036 times)

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Pick up the bat and stand menacingly over the man for a few seconds. Then get down on top of him and beat his head in with the bat.

Let the blood flow.

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Mark:
You bash the thug's brains in with the bat, you see chunks of brain matter and an eye splatter out the skull. An eye is popped out of it's socket, The blood is flowing.

Doc:
You kick in the eastern door, the thug behind it gets knocked down. You don't have a knife to stab anyone with.
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 (check my mask.)

SHANK SHANK SHANK SHANK
Thanks Peri for making me question muh sexualities once again.
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((You still don't have a knife, it's a cane.)
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[[Sorry bout' my absence.]]

"YEEE-HAAAWW" Hollering like a true patriot he'd ready the next shot, aiming dead center on the chest. Moving away from the doorway in case any other fools got any bright ideas. His palms were sweaty, the breath that escaped his lips was becoming increasingly hotter like a volcano about to spew, and his vision started to become blurred with all the rapid actions he did. Backpedaling into the brain matter of one of the goons, scraping the 'sentient' bits on the cigarette covered concrete.


Revolver: [1]

Revolver: [2]

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Mark gets to his feet, looking at his handiwork through the tinted goggles. He cocks his head to the right a little. Probably could've done better, all things considering. He squashes the eyeball underneath his foot, as if it were some kind of bug, and moves further into the building, bloody bat at the ready.

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(ooooopps. Derpa derp. It was a scapel at first.)
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Doc:
You bash the thug's skull in, you hear a sickening squelch as you smash the skull. When you finish him off, you see a thug with his mouth agape, he is frozen with fear.

Mark:
*Squish*
You head down the hall you see a set of windowed doors, it leads to a set of stairs to the main room.

Gerald:
The thugs clutches his chest before collapsing. You hear some footsteps, but they stop outside the door.

Spoiler: Weapons (hover to show)
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CLUMSILY BLUDGEON CLUMSILY BLUDGEON


IN THE FUCKING MOUTH!
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Mark casually strolls through the glass doors, and descends to the main floor like he owns the place.

 

NOCTIFER IS A FAGGOT