stuper powers...by post

[Rubbermancer]

I'm back, and ready to rock and roll on this!

[kumakami]

one character is yet unnamed and without battle cry (not you rubbermancer)


as for RM

It was a hot steamy night in knee-jerk city, or that could just have been where Wimberleigh Swicket was standing. In "Al's house of questonable male bathing". Hoping for a little heroic action, his hopes were dash by the extreme lack of law breaking towel whipings. Saddened, anoyed, and slightly aroused he leaves for better pickings

your on patrol dude where you feel like hunting?

[Rubbermancer]

The cool air is bracing on my loins as I pull on the push door and then push on the pull door and then pull on the pull door and then suavely step into the Kneejerk night life. I inhale deeply, and pick some red crust from my nose; an ugly reminder of the last night's violent debaucheries. I flick it before it corrodes my fingertip, once more lamenting the fact that only my nostrils are acid-resistant.

"Why'd the 'mighty' Jehova do such a botch job on me, huh?" I ask what might be a bum, or might just be a pile of rags in the gutter. "Binged up my wheelbase pretty good, too. Ain't never seen a U-shaped Land Rover, huh? Well, she's mine, for better or for worse. More than I can say for my wife, god rest her soul. Haven't worked up the gumption to get a new bed yet, after the First Nasal Incident."

I pause, and light a Virginia Slim with the flint and steel on my manly knees. It's a bit of a stretch, but that's why I smoke the long ones. "Why am I talking to a pile of rags like you, anyway? Pouring my heart out like it was wine... And I suppose you're all law-abiding too, eh? No towel-whipping, or double parking?"

[kumakami]

Just then a cry rings out through the night, a cry that means a women in need of saving. You drive off to her aid only to face the true test of a hero.... late night pre-drinking rush hour!

[Rubbermancer]

My horseshoe-shaped SUV describes a series of dangerous fishtails, constantly swerving left by greater and lesser degrees in order to go forward. The squeal of rubber is a constant, quavering, 3-lane (and sidewalk) song. I've lowered my windows, and I shriek my motto at passersby that get too close to my orbital trajectory. "Woe betide ye, sexless mortals! I shall conquer the surge of sweaty, booze-besotted flesh that seethes before me! Whimberleigh Swicket shall pass!"

[kumakami]

ok to see if all your driving works call a coin {aka choose heads or tail} and I'll flip to see if you succeed

[Rubbermancer]

Tails! (Because I'm fishtailing :P )

[kumakami]

you show the grace of a drunken walrus, and the reaction time of a blind deaf bat. Your vehical first does a ringer on a phone pole then shoots off into a building. You go flighing out into the argry, bitter, oddly mint scented world. (take 3 hurt, you are at realy realy hurt) by luck or crulty you land at the site of the screams...a odd looking mugging. The poor guy screaming like a 14 girl seems to be having is man bag stollen by a mime!

[Rubbermancer]

(care to describe to be my injuries, how I land, etc? Or am I free to narrate that myself?)

[kumakami]

the game is vague about injuries, "really really hurt" is in fact the offical wound level's name. so have fun with it!