Lurker > HotLap

Only if he promises to suck out the cancer if he finds any.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Listen to this and try to pretend that "dark side" isn't just a synonym for "butthole".
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Shit I'm waaaay overdue on this. Been working lots of overtime and traveling a bunch, but that's winding down. Thanks for bumping, I'll try to update soon.
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Sunhawk?
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Pedro Pony is a mess and everybody knows it. Pedro Pony is a big, fat waste.
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I'll be in California this weekend, but hopefully I can update on Monday if I don't get set on fire.
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Just got home from work and saw Hayward broke his fucking leg five minutes into the season. I was super invested in our season too.
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Yeah I do... but I don't want to talk about it.
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Tom Brady. Now and always.
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What good would it do to go out of your way to state "Hey I haven't been sexually abused?"

Seems like a great way to downplay a message about preventing sexual abuse for literally no reason.
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I'll be in Baltimore until Sunday, no update til at least then.
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Now this is the news I want to see.
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You should know better, TC. You can only say these kinds of things to Billy Bush.
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Bump.
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Highwind07 posted...

You killed Sebille? Oh man, elves and their ability to eat corpses do come in handy for some quests.

Stingtail is better off dead anyway and he is part of Sebille's quest.

Yeeeah this is my first time playing a game like this, I figured I'd make a few mistakes. It's alright though, mistakes are part of the fun I think. Fane is undead elf, correct? Could he be used to eat knowledge?
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Still on Fort Joy, but I love this game. I definitely screwed up in the beginning by killing Sebille outside Stingtail's camp. I heard she's one of the most interesting characters in the game (guess that just means I gotta play it through again after I'm done).

Just finished the Griff fight which happened because I wouldn't snitch on Stingtail's dumb ass.

This motherfucker Stingtail better be useful at some point.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You made the connections in your head fairly easily. You destroyed an office building, sending almost every cop in the city to Sloan Harbor. You land on Jimmy's roof and admit what happened to him. He realizes the bank will be unguarded and texts Bryant's crew to rob it. God dammit, nobody has fucking flip phones anymore. The burner that Bryant destroyed looked identical to Jimmy's. And the worst part is, Jimmy tried to keep you in his apartment, away from the robbery by talking to you about what a hero you are and piling eggs onto your plate. Yeah, that's it. Boost Fatty's confidence by telling him he's amazing and giving him food. Fuck Jimmy.

You feel yourself getting Dry Jerry red in the face as you answer, "Yeah I know him. I was there when he texted you about this job. He only knew about Sloan Harbor because I told him about it. And I only knew about it because I was the one who accidentally did it."
Jerry stands up out of his chair, letting his basket of lollipops fall out of his lap and spill out onto the floor. "Is Shit Man that superhero guy Jimmy was talking about?"
You punch the island in the middle of the lobby, splintering the wood and sending it across the room. "Call me Shit Man one more time."
Bryant, Jerry, and Marco all take out your guns and point them at you. However, Bryant is the first to realize it won't have any effect on you. He comes up with a plan as he slowly turns his aim towards the hostages. "Okay then, Hero Guy. Since you're all powerful and shit, you're going to get us out of here. And if you don't agree in the next ten seconds, we start shooting hostages."
Upon hearing the shift in strategy, Jerry and Marco also turn their aim towards the now terrified hostages.

What do you do?

A) Try to talk them out of their new plan. John Q was going well.
B) Agree the help them escape to protect the hostages.
C) Call their bluff. These men aren't murderers.
D) Attempt to kill all three of them before they can fire a shot.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You look over at Marco who seems to be in physical pain and his face is as red as a pissless Jerry, but he's at the very least trying to be respectful by not laughing out loud.
"One day at college I'm getting ready to take a whiz when somebody pulls up at the urinal next to me and I think 'Oh here we go again'. But I look over and it's just a friend of mine, Todd. What a relief! It's not a stranger, I can go in peace. I wanted to cry tears of happiness, but not out of my eyes. However, the tears don't come. I still can't go. The whole process just repeats itself like I never met this guy before. After Todd leaves the bathroom I punched a paper towel dispenser in frustration. I was so angry, but I didn't know who to be angry at. I couldn't help what was happening to me. I saw Todd later that week. He was distant. Our friendship never recovered. I miss the way things used to be... before I couldn't pee in front of Todd."
Bryant, while slightly annoyed that Jerry stole his line, seems surprisingly sympathetic to Jerry's story.
"Anyways, I soon figured out a common thread between the people I can't urinate in front of," Jerry says. "Everyone my bladder failed near, I thought was cooler than I was. I don't know why this makes me freeze up, but it does. If I ever peed in front of you before eighteen months ago, you may not realize it but it was possibly the biggest insult you've received in your lifetime. I listened to some self help tapes, got a little more confident, and can pee in front of more people than I could before. I just need to avoid my triggers. Like, an alcoholic should never go to a bar. And for me, if I ever see a guy in a leather jacket at a urinal, I should go pee in a stall. Still, there are so many things in my life that are outside of my control - like my height, my bladder issue, and the turmoil in the Middle East - that I need something to feel like I'm in control. This is it. Everyone in this room is under our control. Waving a loaded gun around seems to make everyone forget that my flesh gun ain't loaded."

"Thanks... thanks for sharing Jerry," you say. Bryant's reasoning that he's here because an underfunded education system and an overworked mother failed him seems a little more valid than Jerry's "I don't pee good" story, but you decide not to tell him that. Instead you decide to move onto Marco. "And you?"
"I am addicted to heroin," Marco says. "I am currently out of heroin and do not have money to buy more heroin. I do not have a job to buy heroin because I was fired for missing too many shifts."
"Why did you miss your shifts?" the bravest hostage in the world asks from the edge of the room.
"Funny story," Marco replies. "I was actually high on heroin. So yeah, that's my John Q story... heroin."
"...Maybe we should have started with you, Marco," you say.
"Yeah," he agrees. "But hey, at least the three of us can see what prison heroin is like thanks to Jimmy's bad intel."
"I'm never going to be able to pee in front of a mysterious cellmate," Jerry confesses. "Thanks a lot, Jimmy."
"This Jimmy have red hair by any chance? Lives uptown with his wife and smokes in secret?" you ask.
Bryant perks up a bit. "Yeah, what do you know him or something?"
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"She passed awhile back," Bryant begins the end of his tale. "Basically worked herself to death working menial jobs, because she was one of the ones the teachers gave up on too. I do odd jobs here and there to try to make it, but I don't really know how to do anything. I don't have an education. So when the odds jobs dry up, I need to do stuff like this to make ends meet. All because I liked making kids laugh when I was six...A couple years after she died and I spent a few weeks on the street, it started becoming harder to see the humor in things. I guess I don't really makes jokes much anymore. I just... I don't know. I miss the way things used to be."

A hush falls over the room as Bryant finishes his story. He's undoubtedly responsible for his own actions, but damn if every authority figure in his life didn't fail him. Jerry breaks the tension by saying, "I liked the ending where you said how all the joy in your life was gone."
"What did you just say to me?" Bryant growls.
Jerry raises his hands as he talks with a lollipop in his mouth, "No, I didn't mean it like that, it's just... I'm listening to you talk about being class clown and all that and I'm thinking to myself... well you're not very funny."
You facepalm as Bryant stares daggers at Jerry.
"I mean no offense or anything, I was just thinking toward the end of the story that I've never heard this motherfucker tell a joke in my life, but then you said the joylessness part and it got... I mean I guess I got closure on the issue."
Bryant stands up angrily and shouts, "Well let's hear your uh... John ...Q... god damn story or whatever."

"Alright," Jerry agrees. "I'm Jerry. I'm five feet, eight inches tall, which I've been told is short for a man. I'm also a recovering nervous pisser."
Marco starts laughing again while leaning against the counter.
"Shut up, Marco," Jerry grunts. "It's an affliction that affects thousands of people."
"You said you were a recovering nervous pisser?" you ask.
"Right, yeah. I haven't been unable to pee in front of strangers in about eighteen months now," Jerry states proudly. "I remember every time I was unable to go next to a stranger it was just the most uncomfortable, awkward silence I've ever experienced. I'd unzip, he'd unzip, we'd both hear his stream begin to hit the urinal, and we'd both never hear my stream begin. Then he would stop, and I could already sense that he was uncomfortable, but was also giving me the benefit of the doubt. Like maybe I've also been going the entire time but his stream was just super loud for some reason. But nope, my urinal's bone dry, amigo. At this point, sheer panic has set in and I'm trying to force out something - anything to break the tension. I'm beet red in the face, but nothing's coming. As he's shaking off, the guy next to me just sees me as some weirdo with his dick in his hand who doesn't know how to breathe. He walks away, and in my anxiety attack my brain decides it's a good idea to follow the guy to the sinks, like that will save me. Now I have to wash my hands next to him like I also just pissed with a dumb look on my face that says, 'Ha-ha-ha, I feel so much better, isn't it crazy that we both just pissed ha-ha-ha'. Every single time."
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"Okay," you begin. "I think what made the hostages so compassionate towards Denzel Washington is that they knew why he was doing what he was doing."
"I call dibs on having a black child that needs a heart transplant!" Marco exclaims.
"You can't use the actual plot from John Q, it doesn't apply to you," you tell him. "Besides, we're not even in a hospital."
"Fine," Marco retorts. "I call dibs having a black child who needs three bags full of money."
"I'm gonna... I'm gonna come back to you," you tell Marco before turning to Bryant. "Why are you here?"
"I got text about a job. Said that there was some building that was nearly destroyed across town, all the cops were preoccupied, and this should be an in-and-out kind of gig. Clearly he was wrong though."
You have to make a considerable effort to not bury your face in your hands. Your little diversion downtown is the reason the bank's being robbed. You soldier on and say, "No, not about that. Why are you robbing banks in the first place?"
Bryant thinks for awhile. "I uh... I made a joke once."
"What do you mean?" you ask.
"I grew up in an area where not many kids are destined for success," Bryant begins. "And the school administration knows that, the teachers know it, but I don't think the kids know it. When I was in first grade, the teacher was explaining something to the class, and I made a joke. I don't even remember what the joke was anymore, but the entire class laughed. I'd never felt that before. It was just me and my mom growing up, but she had to work a couple jobs just to keep us going, so she was always too tired to laugh. Making all these kids laugh at once made me feel like... I don't know... like I was on top of the world, I guess."
You see that all of the hostages have their attention turned to Bryant.
"Anyways, I wanted to keep that feeling going. So I made more jokes in class, got more laughs, and continued to feel great. Sure, I got in trouble for it now and again, but when a note was sent home for my mother she never really came down on me about it." Bryant takes a deep breath. "But what I didn't know was that I already had a reputation in the teacher's circle as one of the kids who wasn't going to make it. They assumed I didn't want to learn, and given the area I lived in, the teachers decided to focus on the ones that did. My mom was too tired to discipline me, too tired to tell me to shut up and listen for a change, so I became sort of a class clown. I remember when I was in middle school, I tried to stay late to understand a math problem, but the teacher just told me that if I wanted to learn maybe I shouldn't have been fooling around in class. And that he would only help me if I brought along the other two dozen kids I had distracted from learning that day."
"What a dick," you say.
"I know, right?" Bryant agrees. "Anyways, since convincing twenty five other kids to stay after school with me wasn't going to happen, I continued on the path I was on. After awhile, people had the thought that if I acted out in class, maybe I'd act out in other ways too. I was drinking and smoking pot by age twelve, had a couple scrapes with the cops... I dropped out when I was sixteen. I tried to get a job, but at this point I had a bit of a reputation around town as a smartass and a burnout, so no one would hire me. A year after I dropped out I just asked my mom why she let me do it. Why did she let me drop out? Why did she never discipline me or tell me to shape the fuck up when I came home drunk or high before I was old enough to drive? And she told me, 'It wouldn't have done any good, you've always been like this.' And that's when I realized. Not only did the teachers give up on me, but my own mother did on the very day that first note was sent home."
You nod solemnly. This is John Q as fuck.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You shuffle up off the ground. Several hostages gasp and a few quietly murmur for you to get back down. You hop over to the gunmen with the confidence of a sixteen year old boy who doesn't know what cosine is. Bryant sees you coming and picks his gun up off the floor and aims it at you without rising from his knees. "BACK on the FLOOR, Shit Man!"
As the gun is pointed at you, you instinctually make an effort to put your hands up, but since your hands are taped behind you, you instead accidentally lurch forward and face plant on the ground.
Marco immediately breaks from his root beer flavored anguish and bursts into laughter. Jerry chuckles softly as he shakes his head and mutters to himself, "Tehehe, fuckin' Shit Man, dude."
You hold back your tears and shame as best you can as you bring yourself into a kneeling position. You turn your back on Jerry and Marco to face Bryant and tell him,"Nothing irreversible has happened yet. You haven't killed anybody, and you're still alive. This all gets a lot worse if you do something you can't take back."
"I can't take back taking a bank hostage, Shit Man," Bryant says exasperated as he lets the gun fall back to his side. "My life is done."
"They don't give you a life sentence for a bank robbery," you tell him without any real knowledge if that's true. "You fucked up, but this isn't the end."
"Great speech, I feel so reformed," Marco rolls his eyes.
You ignore Marco and focus on Bryant with more blind assumptions, "I can tell you've never killed anyone before and you don't want to start now. If you do, your life goes from temporarily fucked to permanently fucked."
"Temporary, permanent- doesn't matter," Marco chides. "Fucked is fucked. Can't unfuck someone to make them a virgin again."
"Please," you beg Bryant. "Just listen to me."
"Nah, I'm with Marco on this one," Bryant says to your dismay. He motions to the hostages and continues, "Once I'm in a squad car, they're all going to do everything they can to make sure I never see the light of day again."
"They're all scared and confused," you tell him. "Maybe if we knew why this was going on, we'd understand each other better. Let's John Q this bitch."
"What?" Bryant asks, confused.
"John Q, that movie with Denzel where he takes the hospital hostage," you explain.
"I've seen that," Marco says. "Good movie. Denzel like bonds with the hostages and they all say what a good man he is in broken English when he releases them."
Jerry looks at his phone and pipes up, "Shitty movie, only has a 23% on Rotten Tomatoes."
"Oh don't be a tomatoslave, Jerry," you tell him.
"Yeah, screw you Jerry," Marco adds. "John Q was good, you root beer hogging son of a bitch."
"I'll see you in hell, Marco," Jerry responds. "Probably in about five minutes when I kill myself or am gunned down by police."
"No!" you interject. "Nobody wants that, can we just try the John Q thing, please?"
"Why should we?" Bryant demands.
"Because this is probably the last piece of human interaction you're going to have for a while that doesn't happen from inside of a prison. Or..." you turn to Jerry, "this is the last piece of human interaction you'll have before you kill yourself or are gunned down by police."
Bryant thinks for a moment before sighing deeply. "Fine."
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C) Try to talk to the gunmen and try to learn more about them.

You sit quietly with the group of hostages as you continue to watch the situation in front of you unfold. A few hostages are crying silently to themselves, but all of them are too terrified to move or speak. Seeing how scared they are puts you on edge even more than you already were. They all truly believe they could die today. What's worse is you know you can't die today and you have the skills at your disposal to save them, but you also truly believe they could all die today.

The weepy hostages are stressing you out, you decide to turn your attention back to the gunmen. Bryant slams his phone shut and cusses into the air again. The unnamed gunman gives Bryant an "I told you so" type of look. Jerry unwraps another lollipop and goes to work on it while giving you a dirty look from across the room.

"One more time," Bryant mutters as he dials his mystery number once more.
"Dude, come on," the second gunman scolds him. "He's not there."
"Well, fuck! What else am I supposed to do Marco?" Bryant shouts.
"Fine, keep calling him," Marco gives up. "It's a waste of time, though. Tell him, Jerry."
"Do what you feel, man," Jerry says. "I got a basket of lollies, a loaded gun, and a dozen hostages. I got all the time in the world."
As Bryant's call goes to voicemail for what must be the umpteenth time, he rears back and spikes the phone into the ground, splintering it into a hundred pieces.
Jerry lets out a single snort despite his efforts to control it.
Marco looks at Jerry and announces, "Awkwaaaaard."
Bryant's face goes scarlet as he veers around and demands, "How the fuck are the two of you so calm about this?" He points to the windows and shouts, "We're surrounded! That police perimeter is getting bigger by the minute. Geno drove off, there's absolutely no way out of here. And Marco, you're sitting there cracking jokes while Jerry's trying to eat with weight in hard candy."
"Hey!" Jerry interjects. "I'm not just eating hard candy."
"Oh no?" Marco inquires.
"Yeah, I ate one of the lollipop sticks too. I think it was like super tightly rolled paper or something," Jerry explains. "It was gross, and I knew it was gross about halfway through, but I'm a finisher so now I have an entire lollipop stick to digest."
"Oh, you're a finisher, Jerry? So how are you going to finish this?" Bryant demands.
Jerry's mouth makes a smacking noise as he pulls his latest lolly out of his mouth. "This is finished, dude."
Marco chimes in, "Bryant, you remember when you were younger and you would walk into an exam, flip over the test, and just laugh to yourself at how hopelessly fucked you were as you read through the questions?"
"Yeah," Bryant sighs.
"This robbery became a high school trigonometry test the second Geno drove away," Marco explains. "It's over."

"Yeah, it's over," you think to yourself. "But how does it end?"
Bryant drops to his knees and screams a long, drawn out curse word into his hands. Bryant's finally realized what Jerry and Marco did awhile ago - his life as a free man is over. You're witnessing a broken man.
"Can I get a sucker?" Marco asks Jerry.
Jerry tosses him a purple one. "Here's a grape."
Marco tosses it back. "Fuck that, I want a root beer flavored one."
"Psssh, like I didn't immediately eat all the root beer ones first. That's the best flavor, bro."
A flint of heartbreak flashes across Marco's eyes. You're witnessing a broken man. Not as broken as Bryant, but still slightly broken.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I'm about nine beers deep, but a promise is a promise. Writing the update now.
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I love how the dude that was with the kid went from flashing his money to saying things like "I just met this child" and "I didn't buy that for him" once he sees he's being filmed.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Shotgunnova posted...

\_()_/

Who is she?
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I'll finally have time to update this tomorrow! Sorry it took so long and thanks for sticking with it.
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Haven't forgotten about this. Been working lots of overtime lately but things should cool off soon. Thanks for keeping it bumped.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

You only crave the meat when it's a naughty forbidden secret.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

If I can't update Saturday, it'll probably be another Monday update. Thanks for keeping this bumped guys.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Forlorn_Ass posted...

it's the subway siracha if that means anything

Oh so the milder version of sriracha.
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Relevant username.
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Gunpo posted...

Reported

FOR WHAT TELL ME FOR WHAT
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!
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Fossil posted...

HotLap posted...

LordFarquad1312 posted...

C.

Is there a place where your previous CYOAs are archived?

https://www.gamefaqs.com/boards/586631-aerial-assault

hahaha, muffin mai boy

edit: I lost it at summer camp

C

Fossil! How've you been my muscley beef boy? Thank god you're not a mod anymore because I'm not sure Buttplay Mime would survive.
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fire_bolt posted...

Fucking lost it at Buttplay Mime omg

True story too. I mean, not for me but probably for somebody.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

I've been on a huuuuge cauliflower binge lately. My parents didn't like it so I never discovered it until I was 24. Can't get enough of it now, definitely gonna try that recipe.

Got any good recipes revolving around mushrooms?
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

So what do you eat in a typical day? Just curious. I could stand to lose some weight.
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cnekans posted...

ClockworkHare posted...

cnekans posted...

Oh man. I went from 260 pounds to 230 pounds

I'm glad to hear the laxatives helped you.

You joke but this diet makes me shit like clockwork.

What's the diet?
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

The hostages look a little uneasy at the first gunman's mention of blowing someone's head off. You come up with a plan to get yourself into the room. It's probably the only plan someone with your skill set can fully commit to without it looking rehearsed or out of place. Total and complete ignorance.

You stroll out of the back office and over to the island in the middle of the lobby. You grab a withdrawal slip and begin to fill it out using a made up account number. A gunman wearing jeans, a green jacket and a ski mask spots you and screams, "Hey!" You recognize his as the second voice you heard.
You look up at him and fake a small jump. "Whoa! Is- is.. are you guys robbing the bank?" you stammer as you glance over at the hostages and exclaim, "Oh shit!"
A taller gunman similarly dressed but with a black jacket begins to stride over while pointing his gun at you. "Who are you? Where did you come from?" the first gunman demands.
"I... uh... I was shitting," you respond.
"Jerry! I thought you checked the bathrooms!" the first gunman exclaims as he turns to a third gunman who is leaning in a chair against the wall with his ski mask off. The third gunman is much shorter than the other two. He's fairly thin with messy brown hair, blue eyes, and soft features.
Jerry has unwrapped a bank lollipop and has about a dozen more in his lap. He shrugs and replies, "I knocked," before shoving the lollipop into his mouth.
"We're fucking robbing the place, Jerry. We're way past knocking. And put your fucking mask back on," the first gunman commands.
"They've already seen my face, Bryant," Jerry responds with attitude."Plus I don't want to get ski mask fuzz on my lolly."
"Can I go?" you chime in. "I got like a... I got like a thing I gotta get to."
Bryant grabs a roll of duct tape and instructs you, "Hands together, Shit Boy."
"Aww, I'm not so hot on Shit Boy, Bryant. At the very least I'm gonna push for Shit Man," you comment as Bryant tapes your wrists together.
"Go sit down over there with the others," Bryant commands you as he takes out a burner phone. "Jerry go tape his ankles together while I try to call this asshole again."
"He ain't answeriiiiiing," the remaining unnamed gunman sings.

You do as you're told and sit on the floor with the other terrified hostages. Some are shaking they're so nervous. Jerry walks over and kneels down. He unfurls some tape with one hand while holding his lollipop in the other. He looks around for a place to set down his snack as he restrains you.
"I got you," you tell him as you open your mouth.
Jerry hesitates for a moment before saying, "Eh, alright fine," and placing the lollipop in your mouth. It's lime flavored.
As Jerry is just about finished taping your ankles together, you crunch the lollipop, destroying the hard candy in your mouth for good.
Jerry looks up in shock as he hears the crunch. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
"I don't know long this is gonna take," you justify your actions. "Man's gotta eat."
"Your dumb ass is lucky I got a bunch of these," Jerry mutters as he walks back to his chair. "Fucking Shit Man."

What do you do?

A) Nothing. Let this play out between the cops and gunmen, only intervening if harm is going to come to the hostages.
B) Talk to the hostages around you.
C) Try to talk to the gunmen and try to learn more about them.
D) Use your powers to create a diversion.
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Your mind flashes once more. You see the backdoor has been caved inwards as it falls to ground with a loud thud. As you take a step into the bank, all the hostages turn to look at you. There's a sudden shout of, "The cops have breached!" and the hostages are promptly filled with bullets as they stare at you, their savior. You gasp and yank your arm back to your side.

You slump against the door and slide your ass down to the pavement. You're in way over your head. You have successfully done zero heroic things and through your incompetency, you've hurt several innocent people. You feel bad enough about the injuries at Sloan Harbor, but if you fuck this up people will die. You've never seen someone die before. You've seen a dead body, but you've never watched a person die in front of you because you were too stupid and reckless to save them. Christ, you're an awkward mess, you're not a hero. If you can't save them, could you live with that guilt? Rhetorical question, doesn't matter. You haven't found a way to die, you have to live with it. You can't help but think this unbridled power is wasted on a worthless sack of shit like you. Hell, it's more than wasted on you, it's dangerous inside you. You take a deep breath and hug your knees.

Sirens indicate more cruisers have arrived out front. You can hear them starting to shuffle around to the back to finally establish a perimeter. Your panic kicks into overdrive as you realize it's now or never. Once the police round the corner, you're going to have to leap away and once you do, there's no chance you'll get into the bank without being noticed. Of course if you don't leap away, that means you're going into the bank to try to save the hostages. Maybe you should let the police just do their job. Hell, maybe the gunmen are reasonable and they'll just let everyone go. But if they kill somebody and you could have done something to help them, that guilt will eat you alive too.

You suppose it comes down to who you trust more- yourself or other people? Well you're totally inexperienced in heroism and your confidence has plummeted through the floor... but you never gave yourself the nicknames Buttplay Mime and Pudding Man. Aw fuck it.

You look down at your shadow and snap your fingers. You face your palms to the ground and slowly move them forward as you watch your shadow creep under the door. You shadow continues to glide forward until its out of sight. You snap your fingers again and find yourself on the other side of the door.

You expect shouts and screams at the sudden appearance of a portly superhero in the middle of a nervous breakdown, but there's only silence. You're alone in the back office; it seems everyone was dragged out into the lobby. You crouch down and peer around a corner. The door between the back office and the lobby has been jarred open. You can see several hostages on the floor with their wrists and ankles taped together. You can't see the gunmen but you can hear one yelling.
"There wasn't supposed to be any fucking cops here, man!" the first voice shouts.
"There were only like two cruisers, we could have slipped them if Geno hadn't bitched out and driven away the second they showed up," a second voice responds.
"We shouldn't have had to slip anybody. No cops means no cops at all, not a few cops," the first argues.
"Geno's still a bitch though," the second remarks.
There's a slight pause before the first voice starts again. "Straight to voicemail again, this motherfucker better pick up his phone!"
"His phone's not off, man. It's destroyed," the second voice says. "He hung up the second you told him the cops showed up and it's been on voicemail ever since. That thing's in a million pieces."
"I swear to God, I'm going to blow his head off if I ever get out of here," the first voice promises. "First him, then Geno after that."
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

C) Attempt to sneak into the bank and try to get yourself taken hostage.

You come to a stop on a roof a few buildings away from the bank to plan your next move. You definitely don't want to jump in there with your lasers blazing and powerful wind arms flailing. You'll likely cause more collateral damage than you did at Sloan Harbor.

You probably shouldn't make yourself known to the police either, as your exact description was relayed to them after you destroyed an office earlier. You're the reason there's only two cruisers on site during an armed bank robbery where the suspects have taken hostages. Your sudden appearance at another crime scene would be suspicious at best.

You suppose you could act as a means of communication between the two parties. Both sides have guns that will tear apart their mortal flesh, but as a fleshy immortal their guns have no effect on you. However, you've never been great at relaying messages. Back in summer camp during a game of Telephone, Lisa Carlyle whispered in your ear, "Please get Chris, I'm injured", but you misheard her and relayed, "Please get this mime fingered," to Lindsey Hutchinson who looked justifiably horrified and signaled for you to repeat yourself. You again politely requested that Lindsey violate this mime, wherever he may be. Lindsey continued the Telephone train and every person who came after her looked terribly confused as they were told to please pleasure this mime until he was brought to a silent scream. As the whisper train got back around to the camp counselor, she rightfully wanted to know who turned this fun camp game into a quiet nightmare. The counselor went around the circle trying to find the culprit, and of course it was eventually revealed to be you. You were shocked, you really thought that's what Lisa said. When asked to explain yourself, you were so awkward and shy that you were literally unable to say a single word. When the campgoers saw you were unable to speak, they made the connection that maybe you were the mime and you just asked Lindsey Hutchinson to pop one up in ya. When your mom came to pick you up, you tried to tell her what happened, but you unfortunately used the phrase, "This case isn't so black and white", which both your mom and the camp counselors assumed was a mime pun.

That's how you spent a summer known as "The Buttplay Mime". The camp counselors did nothing to stop the nickname. So yeah... maybe don't act as a liaison between the two sides.

You're not really sure what your plan is as you leap across a couple rooftops and land at the backdoor of the bank. There's nobody around. Jesus, so much of the police force is occupied with you trying to kill a fly, they can't even create a perimeter around a bank that's currently being robbed.

You gently try the backdoor. It's locked. You pull your arm back to send the door flying inwards, but your mind flashes to all the people trapped in the cubicle pile at Sloan Harbor. Your mind flashes again and you see the backdoor of the bank exploding into thousands of pieces. One of the door shards flies straight into the abdomen of a hostage and she begins to bleed out on the floor. The man next to her tries to call for help but a door fragment has lodged itself in his windpipe. His duct taped hands meekly press against his throat. He doesn't know if he should pull the fragment out, he doesn't know if he can stop the bleeding, he doesn't know anything but fear as he slumps to the ground and reveals several more hostages behind him struggling to cope with fatal injuries from the door blast.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Work's been pretty busy lately, I'll try to get you guys an update before the weekend.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Bump.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Bump. C seems to be a clear favorite.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"In my defense, it seems you've been more villain than hero so far," Jimmy chides before realizing he may have upset you. "But I will digress to a different topic."
"Good," you whisper.
"How'd you get all super like?" he asks.
"That's not really a different topic, Jimmy. How'd you stay all normal like? Now that's a different topic," you declare.
"Well I have a 401k, I got married at 28, and I like to buy my cars used with a modest amount of miles on them. Normal's not great conversation," Jimmy states.
"It is for me," you shrug.
"Come on, you don't want to tell me?" Jimmy presses you.
You try not to roll your eyes in front of your host. "I was in a go-cart accident. My cart flipped over and I smashed my head off the pavement. When I healed, I had powers that I didn't have before, but I also had a nasty case of tourettes. The weirdest thing is, my ticks are only kept at bay with healthy dose of eggs every 36 hours. My last egg treatment was yesterday morning, so I was really lucky to meet you when I did."
Jimmy frowns. "Okay, fine. I get it. You don't have to tell me."
Worried you've offended your host, you tell him, "Look, it's nothing personal. It's not just you, I haven't told anybody about it. People probably think they want to know, but it's not really a happy story."
"Wouldn't it help to talk to someone about it?" Jimmy replies.
"Maybe. I'm not great at that though. Uuh, bathroom?" you ask.
"Yeah, down the hall," Jimmy points as his phone buzzes again.

As you close the door, you flick the scanner in your head back on, praying for a reason to leave. Jimmy's been kind to you, you don't want to blow him off with some half-assed excuse. Luckily, your prayers are answered as the scanner is ablaze with yells about a bank robbery in progress. Hostages have been taken. It's Memorial Bank just a few blocks from here.

You rush out of the bathroom and tell Jimmy as you head for the exit, "Hey thanks for the eggs man! Bank robbery is going down though, got to go!"
"Shit, hey sorry man! Don't go!" Jimmy calls after you as you close the door behind you. You sprint up to the roof and leap off towards Memorial Bank.

As you approach the bank you can see a couple cruisers outside, but no SWAT unit or anything yet. Most of the police are probably still down at Sloan Harbor.

What do you do?

A) Make your powers known to the officers at the scene and ask them what they want you to do.
B) Bust in there at full strength and try to take the robbers out.
C) Attempt to sneak into the bank and try to get yourself taken hostage.
D) Offer to act as communication between the two sides, but offer no immediate assistance.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Jimmy puts his cigarette out and apologizes, "Oh, I'm sorry dude, I didn't mean it like that. Listen, if you promise not to accidentally destroy my apartment, I'll make you something to eat."
"That's nice man, but I don't know," you start.
"Hey, like I said, my wife's out of town," Jimmy cuts you off. "I don't have anyone to cook for. I've never met a hero before, let me cook you some breakfast."
"Breakfast? It's almost two in the afternoon," you inform him.
"Are you saying you don't want any eggs?" Jimmy asks.
"... Well yeah I could fuck with some eggs, sure," you confess.

You walk down to Jimmy's apartment and enter after him. You can tell his apartment definitely resembles one of a married person, even though there's the litter of a man who's been living on his own for a couple days scattered over it. He picks a flip phone up off his kitchen table and begins thumbing through it.
"A flip phone?" you ask, surprised. "Are you sure you're not having an affair?"
Jimmy laughs and answers, "Nah, I'm not. A few years ago I spent over fifty dollars on Candy Crush in a month. After that, my wife and I decided that maybe it was best for me to go back in time a little bit. Let me get to work on those eggs."

As Jimmy prepares a 2 PM breakfast, you move an empty pizza box from the couch to the coffee table and sit down. It looks like he was watching a Criminal Minds marathon before he went on the roof to smoke. The show was never really you or Mom's cup of tea, but you decide to changing the channel would be rude. Luckily, the eggs don't take too long and Jimmy calls you over to the kitchen.

He makes you each a plate of eggs with onions, peppers, and hot sauce in them. "So what's it like being a superhero?" he asks.
You can take a bite of eggs and say with a half-full mouth, "I don't really know yet, I've only been doing it a couple hours. So far, not great."
"You just started today? How long have you, uh... I dunno - been super?" he inquires.
"A little over a year now, I think."
"And you just started now?" he blurts out. "What have you been doing all this time?"
"Nothing really-" you begin as Jimmy's phone vibrates on the kitchen table.
Jimmy quickly flips it open and reads the message.
"You need to take that?" you ask him.
"Aaaah nah," Jimmy says as he finishes reading and flips his phone shut. "Just standard 'How is your day?' bullshit with the wife."
Happy to drive the attention away from your hero career, you say "Where's she off to today?"
"She is visiting her parents this week," Jimmy answers.
"Visiting her parents, eh? You know that's a textbook affair excuse," you suggest.
"That's true," he concedes. "But maybe she's only made it seem that way because she's actually smoking in secret too."
"Aww, that'd be romantic as fuck," you gush.
"I know, right?" Jimmy beams. "But for real, her parents are from the Houston area and she just went down to make sure everything was alright with them after the hurricane. Hey, that could be a good hero name for you."
"What, Harvey?" you guess.
"No, Hurricane," he corrects you.
"Eh, I don't know. That seems a little insensitive. And also more villain than hero," you say.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

"And how'd you hide the smell when you got back?"
"I'd pop a mint or a stick of gum. Maybe put a little cologne on," he says. "But I haven't been doing that as much lately. I think she's just gradually gotten used to the stink over time. She's out of town right now, but I'm not dumb enough to smoke in the apartment."
You're not so sure about his level of intelligence. "So you spontaneously just go for a walk more than three times a day and would come back wearing cologne with a minty mouth? She probably thought you were having an affair," you tell him.
"Oh shit," he mutters.
"But when she figured out the truth, she was probably so relieved it wasn't an affair she just let you keep on smoking," you finish.
The man nods slowly. "Are you saying I could have an affair as long as my wife thinks I'm doing something much worse initially?"
You laugh. "Yeah I guess so, I don't know. Maybe."

The man sticks his cigarette in his mouth and extends his hand. "Jimmy."
You shake his hand. Jimmy has blue eyes and dark auburn hair that's parted on the left side. His beard appears to be freshly trimmed and looks to be a lighter shade of red than his head. "Hero," you tell him.
"Hiro?" he inquires, a little confused. "You look pretty white to be a Hiro."
You don't bother correcting him. "I get that a lot."
"You live in the building, Hiro?" Jimmy asks.
"Nope."
"You visiting someone here?"
"Nope."
"Then how'd you get on the roof?" Jimmy wonders aloud as he looks around and takes another puff of his cigarette.
"I jumped," you tell him.
"Y-you jumped up a five story building?" Jimmy stammers. "And now you're just sitting here, weirdly making creepily accurate assumptions about my wife and I?"
You calmly roll off the side of the building.
"OH MY GOD!" Jimmy shouts as he rushes to the edge and leans over to see you treading air, bringing yourself to a gentle landing on the pavement. You squat and launch yourself back up to the roof next to Jimmy in a single bound.

Jimmy's brain takes a moment to process his new reality. He seems to connect the dots. "Ah, Hero. Not Hiro-san."
"That was mildly racist, Jimmy."
"Is Hero really your superhero name? That's a little lazy and frankly uninspired. Is your supersuit a beige polo and a sensible pair of khakis you bought on clearance at TJ Maxx?" Jimmy ribs you.
"I haven't thought of a name to be honest," you admit. "And I just came from a place where people were calling me Pudding Man, so anything's better than that really."
Jimmy makes a strained effort to not look down at your stomach. "I can't- I don't... I uh- can't imagine where people would get that name from."
At least he tried. "Thanks, Jimmy."
"So what are you doing on the roof?" he tries to change the subject.
"Listening to a police scanner, trying to find some crime to stop," you tell him. "But all the chatter is unfortunately about me."
"Why's that?" Jimmy asks with a quizzical look.
"I kinda accidentally destroyed most of an office building on the edge of town, so now all the cops are mainly concerned with that," you reply.
"Interesting..." Jimmy takes a step back.
"What's interesting about it?" you demand.
Jimmy shrugs. "It's just I've uh, never met a superhero before. I just figured that heroes were like... good at their jobs, I guess?"
"Thanks, Jimmy," you say, thinking about rolling off the roof again. "By the way, I don't feel guilty about the office incident at all," you say sarcastically.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

B) Listen to the police scanner in hopes of finding a juicy crime to stop.

The badly damaged Sloan Harbor office building grows smaller as you fly over the city. You can see several cruisers heading towards the direction you just took off from. Even though his marinara stained crotch was a distraction, Meatballs had a point. You weren't taking this hero thing very seriously. You walked into Sloan Harbor basically thinking Katie's problem was a joke. You didn't control your emotions and because of that, people got hurt and will probably lose their jobs. Although you didn't mean for it to happen, you're to blame for their pain and suffering, and that feeling sucks.

You land on top of an apartment building downtown. Your mother used to have an old police scanner that she'd listen to in her armchair for hours on end while she knit, read a book, or did other mom things. There were rarely ever any major crimes that were reported and even if there were, it wasn't like an episode of Cops where you could watch what happens. You could just listen to the patrol officer request another squad car for backup or say that they've apprehended a suspect and will be at the station soon. On most days, all that came through the scanner was the dispatch officer and the squad cars messing around like they had their own radio show. You asked your mother at one point, "Why do you listen to that thing all day when there are never any crimes reported?"
She smiled at you and said, "I listen to it all day because there are no crimes committed. It makes me feel great to live in a place so safe. If the scanner was chirping on and on about murder and gangbang all the time, I don't think I'd use it anymore. That'd be such a bummer to listen to, wouldn't it?"
"Mom, don't say gangbang."

Thanks to your mom, you memorized what channel the police broadcast on. You sit on the ledge of the building, put the tips of your thumb, pointer, and middle finger to your temple, and tune in to the static.
Not long after you tap into the channel, you hear, "We're gonna need more ambulances over here. Several injured, no fatalities so far, but we haven't finished going through the building yet."
The dispatch officer replies, "Any description of the suspect?"
"People here are saying it's some heavyset guy who did all this with a swing of his arms. A couple guys outside said he could fuckin' fly and shit?"
Oh right. You just accidentally committed corporate terrorism like five minutes ago, of course they're talking about you.

You listen to the officers describe you and the destruction you've wrought in greater detail while feeling increasingly guilty. After awhile your hear a door open behind and see a man in a grey t-shirt and flannel pajama pants walk out onto the roof. He gives you a friendly nod as he lights a cigarette. "My wife doesn't know I still smoke," he says. "So I have to come up here a few times a day."
"Believe me," you respond. "She knows."
"Why do you say that?" he asks.
You turn off the scanner in your head. It's all going to be about you for awhile anyways. "The smell's kind of hard to hide. I knew before you even lit that cigarette."
"If she knows, why hasn't she said anything?"
"Well, tell me this. How were you explaining just leaving your apartment for twenty minutes at a time?" you wonder.
"I'd tell her I was going for a walk or to the store or the post office. Something like that," he replies.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Writing an update now.
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.

Bump to keep alive
---

You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.