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[–]Grifter42[S]0 points
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You roll a seventeen. Father relaxes, and trusts you, as his most favored disciple.
"I've been worried about the so called "Congressman". If we allow him to live, it will ensure a slow and painful death to us all. It will eliminate all we've worked so hard for..." You prepare a "vitamin" injection for him. You plunge it into his arm, and his disposition changes.
"We can take them! WE'LL FIGHT! WE'LL FIGHT! WE'LL FIGHT TOOTH AND NAIL, TO PRESERVE WHAT'S OURS! I want a headcount on able-bodied fighters, and a count of available fire arms! I know you're the right man for the job."
I leave to the infirmary. Rounding up every stimulant and disassociative I can find. A mix of these checmicals should help our soldiers fight harder. Gathering the needles causes a twinge of pain in my left arm. The memory, like the scars, remain. " One little shot couldn't hurt, I may die any day now." I drop all my supplies and search for the fentanyl. 100mcg should do the trick. I plunge the hypo into the rubber lid, draw the fentanyl into the syringe. Then there is a knock at the door.
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[–] Anoxim ago
I try to reassure the Father that we are safe but concur that an option must be available if such a thing were to ever occur.
"I will begin working on something right away Father, but for right now I must ask. How have you been feeling lately?"
[–] Grifter42 [S] ago
You roll a seventeen. Father relaxes, and trusts you, as his most favored disciple.
"I've been worried about the so called "Congressman". If we allow him to live, it will ensure a slow and painful death to us all. It will eliminate all we've worked so hard for..." You prepare a "vitamin" injection for him. You plunge it into his arm, and his disposition changes.
"We can take them! WE'LL FIGHT! WE'LL FIGHT! WE'LL FIGHT TOOTH AND NAIL, TO PRESERVE WHAT'S OURS! I want a headcount on able-bodied fighters, and a count of available fire arms! I know you're the right man for the job."
[–] Anoxim ago
" yes, father I will go at once"
I leave to the infirmary. Rounding up every stimulant and disassociative I can find. A mix of these checmicals should help our soldiers fight harder. Gathering the needles causes a twinge of pain in my left arm. The memory, like the scars, remain. " One little shot couldn't hurt, I may die any day now." I drop all my supplies and search for the fentanyl. 100mcg should do the trick. I plunge the hypo into the rubber lid, draw the fentanyl into the syringe. Then there is a knock at the door.