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Rolled 47, 55, 89, 20, 50, 17 + 50 = 328 (6d100 + 50)
>Comply. You are a D-Boy after all. They probably want to test the effects of the pie on you, but they probably don’t want you dead either. You hope.
Hell. Fucking shit. There’s no way out of this, not with Simon pointing that gun at your head. He’d probably do it too, with the reputation he has.
>I hope this is worth it.
You take a bite of the pie. You take a second bite. You feel the lukewarm pastry along with the meat sauce in your mouth, and swallow it. You look at Simon. He nods his head towards you.
>Am I done?
“Eat the rest.”
You sigh, and eat the rest of the pie. As pies go, it’s quite delicious, better than anything they serve you in the D-Wing. Eventually you finish the pie, and only a few crumbs remain. You sit back.
Nothing’s happened.
>Is that it?
“Now we wait.”
>Have you guys even eaten anything during this whole trip?
“No.”
You lean back in the chair. Neither Simon or Jack look like they’ll be very talkative right now. Simon’s as calm as always, while Jack avoids looking in your direction. The minutes go by.
Nothing’s happening.
Maybe it was nothing? It might have been nothing. Maybe that pie seller really is a pie seller, and he’s selling regular pies to people. Maybe he was just in shock and that’s why he didn’t move. You’ve wasted all this time for nothing, and nearly got shot for your trouble. All over a stupid pie. That’ll teach you to blab your mouth. Stupid pie. The pie which you ate. It was a nice pie. You feel kinda bad about eating it now. It was a very nice pie. You could have given it to someone else, but you ate it. It wasn’t just a nice pie, it was one of the best things you’ve ever tasted. Perfectly crisp crust, the chunks of meat, such delicious sauce. You ate that pie. Oh God. All the effort and love that went into that pie, and you ate it. The pie doesn’t exist anymore. You feel sick. You feel so sick you could throw up. But the only thing you’ve eaten is the pie! You would throw up and waste that pie even more! It would be lying on the floor, filthy in your own puke! How could you even think such a thing! You feel awful, hideous. You’re a monster. You ate that pie and all you can do is think about wasting it. Oh God. That pie. You don’t deserve to live. You don’t deserve to live.
Your eyes dart around the room. Some of this stuff must be toxic. Drink enough and you’re sure you’ll be able to atone. Or maybe bash your head against the shelves. Some of them are made out of metal. Or Simon. His gun. You can grab the gun and shoot yourself. No. Stop thinking about it. Do it! You need to do it.
You stand up.
Roll 3d100. You must <span class="mu-s">roll under</span> Simon and Jack’s attempts to stop you to fail. First roll is Simon, second is Jack.
