IC Contact

[tactical_alert]

Reed. Leave a message.

Comments

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

Okay. You're still on a lot of medication for the new leg, so Imma use real small words. Keep this simple.

Last time you took a shot at one of the Ghost Wolves? You lost your leg. And that was Wrath play'n nice. Hob? Hob don't play nice. Nice ain't a word she knows and it ain't somth'n she uses on anyone. She calls you in she's got a reason and trust me if she pops by? It ain't gonna be with a smile and a note. It's gonna be with the full fuck'n SWAT team bust'n down your front door in full on riot gear, gass'n your liv'n room to drag you out by your hair. So unless you wanna experience the full wrath of the meanest sunsabitches on the militia payroll and be a practice run for 'em, you want me pick'n you up. You might even get to sit down instead of stand at attention cuz she kinda likes me. Sometimes.

So what's it gonna be?

[tactical_alert]

I think that all sounds like a gross violation of whatever rights Bifrons pretends to give us. If she's arresting me, she can come and get me; if not, she can stay out of my house and stop wasting everyone's time and resources for no reason.

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

...Malcolm. You are not the only person in that house. You got a kid liv'n there. Do you want to put him through a SWAT raid?

[tactical_alert]

So now you're going to threaten us too?

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

No. I'm gonna come in nice and quiet with a hoverchair and take you to her office. No need to bother anyone.

[tactical_alert]

...I'll get the door when you get here. [He doesn't sound happy about any of this, but he sounds less like he's going to put a hole in anyone that crosses the threshold.]

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

I'll try to keep the meet'n short. you won't be alone with her. Probably. Mostly. I gave her a pie, she's in a good mood.

[tactical_alert]

Pretty sure I ruined said mood, but we'll see.

[oldfashionedfutureboy]

You'd be surprised. I'll bring you around.