It was raining. It was always raining - maybe not here, no, but always when you were on a job. It was always raining, it was always night. Often times it wasn't raining hard, merely a little drizzle, just something that made your footsteps insufferably wet as you prowled around. It was a little worse then usual, but nothing your deflector-umbrella couldn't stave off. In a pinch, it cast a misty fog in the air, making visibility a little suspect. Maybe that could be of use? Every tip and trick when you were racing through the hyper-urbanized streets, neon and glimmer and alleys and grime and all.
But that would be for later. It might not even be raining later, though you knew it would be. It always way.
It was raining. You were in an alley way; a remarkably clean one as far as alleys go, with only a pair of practically alley-mandated dumpsters on either end and a few soggy, flat piles of cardboard making a muck of an otherwise oddly clear passage way, even if it was still a fairly gloomy one. The lights from the street were bright at night, brighter in the rain. You were used to finding your way through the darkness, too. It was no issue.
Water cascaded down the brick walls on either side, save at one point; a stairway. An emergency one that was faaaar to tall to actually save anyone, though that was the nature of the building. Of course, it wasn't accessible; the ladder to access it or, rather, to go down it was kept locked up tight in its stowed position high up in the air. You could make that jump.
Though you might get wet. No, you would get wet. That might be a little problematic.
The front door was an option, too. You only dashed into the alley for a moment to get stock of the situation. You're not supposed to actually be at your destination, though - as far as they're concerned, anyway. You'd be under heavy scrutiny just by your ears alone, everyone would know what you are. People don't like to let your types into parties like that, even if half the people there were your sort of people.
You were a spy. No, that's not quite descriptive. Spies were ordinary people who slipped information to people they socially weren't supposed to, acting on someone else's payroll. Spies were just some backstabbers who observed, wrote, and hit send. No, you are... a special agent. You're that glamorous ideal of a spy, the sort with a "licence to kill" and the intrinsic nature to get in a high speed chase-shootout during assignments. Sort of. None the less, that's the kind of person you were.
And you were on assignment, too. Glancing up - beyond the stairwell - you see wide windows casting brilliant light along the other building and streets below. There's a party up there. And you need something from it, something very dear to the holder and something very dear to the confederacy.
Which, of course, means it's very dear to your sort of people. The sort of people everyone knew you were at a glance. It was hard being a subtle-spy when you had that hanging over your shoulder. Oh well.
You were still better then them.
How do you proceed?
Welcome! This is a CYOA in democratic, forum-mob stylings that you may have seen here and there before. How it works is that you input commands - in bold, if you would please - in masse. Some of the most empty quotes of agreement with someone else's answer or similar inputs will be taken in, as well as other inputs that I take more or less at random. People with colored names will have far more presence in the "vote," as they're the people I care about. After some modest time has passed slash I get around to it again, the next post will ring out and so the story goes, until you reach an end state, good or bad.
The writing quality of this may vary, it won't be the spectacularly edited stuff you're used to from Fen-Industries, no. Present-past tense will probably vary around because I'm usually writing it up on the spot so fuck you, but none the less you ought to enjoy it just fine. You ARE in the TiTS universe, though you're not getting a lot of information here, huh? Maybe you'll put things together.
I will say this, though; the outcome of this will probably be reflected in the game proper at some point, assuming I actually complete my lofty endeavors.
So.
How do you proceed?
But that would be for later. It might not even be raining later, though you knew it would be. It always way.
It was raining. You were in an alley way; a remarkably clean one as far as alleys go, with only a pair of practically alley-mandated dumpsters on either end and a few soggy, flat piles of cardboard making a muck of an otherwise oddly clear passage way, even if it was still a fairly gloomy one. The lights from the street were bright at night, brighter in the rain. You were used to finding your way through the darkness, too. It was no issue.
Water cascaded down the brick walls on either side, save at one point; a stairway. An emergency one that was faaaar to tall to actually save anyone, though that was the nature of the building. Of course, it wasn't accessible; the ladder to access it or, rather, to go down it was kept locked up tight in its stowed position high up in the air. You could make that jump.
Though you might get wet. No, you would get wet. That might be a little problematic.
The front door was an option, too. You only dashed into the alley for a moment to get stock of the situation. You're not supposed to actually be at your destination, though - as far as they're concerned, anyway. You'd be under heavy scrutiny just by your ears alone, everyone would know what you are. People don't like to let your types into parties like that, even if half the people there were your sort of people.
You were a spy. No, that's not quite descriptive. Spies were ordinary people who slipped information to people they socially weren't supposed to, acting on someone else's payroll. Spies were just some backstabbers who observed, wrote, and hit send. No, you are... a special agent. You're that glamorous ideal of a spy, the sort with a "licence to kill" and the intrinsic nature to get in a high speed chase-shootout during assignments. Sort of. None the less, that's the kind of person you were.
And you were on assignment, too. Glancing up - beyond the stairwell - you see wide windows casting brilliant light along the other building and streets below. There's a party up there. And you need something from it, something very dear to the holder and something very dear to the confederacy.
Which, of course, means it's very dear to your sort of people. The sort of people everyone knew you were at a glance. It was hard being a subtle-spy when you had that hanging over your shoulder. Oh well.
You were still better then them.
How do you proceed?
Welcome! This is a CYOA in democratic, forum-mob stylings that you may have seen here and there before. How it works is that you input commands - in bold, if you would please - in masse. Some of the most empty quotes of agreement with someone else's answer or similar inputs will be taken in, as well as other inputs that I take more or less at random. People with colored names will have far more presence in the "vote," as they're the people I care about. After some modest time has passed slash I get around to it again, the next post will ring out and so the story goes, until you reach an end state, good or bad.
The writing quality of this may vary, it won't be the spectacularly edited stuff you're used to from Fen-Industries, no. Present-past tense will probably vary around because I'm usually writing it up on the spot so fuck you, but none the less you ought to enjoy it just fine. You ARE in the TiTS universe, though you're not getting a lot of information here, huh? Maybe you'll put things together.
I will say this, though; the outcome of this will probably be reflected in the game proper at some point, assuming I actually complete my lofty endeavors.
So.
How do you proceed?
