>>5767971 | >>5768118"You've driven a boat, a bike, and a car before. A SWAT Van's just another big car," the sucker-punch of white lightning screamed into his ears. "How bad could it possibly be?"
The tight tail of cops behind them and the swordswoman's rapid Japanese gave him a full essay on how bad it would go. When they finally pull away from the heat, and he stumbles out of the van, the feeling of being thrown back and forth had shaken him out of his stupor - and the slow, furious admonishing from the woman who saved his hide kicks his tail between his legs. A sober, healthier Napps would have recognized his injuries, let someone else take the wheel, taken any scolding with open ears and an awareness that he did what he thought was right. But a thrashed, battle-exhausted napps fighting an encroaching hangover?
"Y-yes ma'am, sorry ma'am - won't happen again ma'am."
With a better idea of anywhere else to go, he pulled the crimson sunglasses from his face, cramming them into the pocket not holding a gun, and followed after the other three.
>Retiring to: Safehouse HQ, Freedom Square. Too tired to unstrap the chainsaw - pull off the jacket, shove everything in the locker, then flop onto a couch, waking up just in time to talk to anyone>Upgrade 1: Recruitment Office: New criminals start with +1 to an additional stat>Upgrade 2: Improved Defenses: Tighten up the safehouse's fortifications, just in case>>5767613 | >>5748231Later, Alan would receive a text from Napps, hoping he wasn't sending a message through a disposed burner.
'2 sunglasses, 2 backup visors. Visors aren't sunglasses, so everyone else. With the rest, it's 27 units, with change.'
