Louisiana Defence Force

Synopsis of events.

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Louisiana Defence Force

Post by Keeper » Sat Nov 30, 2019 11:47 pm

Saturday December 30, 1978. 09:30am.

"Good morning, everyone, and thank you all for coming out on this miserable wet morning to the final meeting this year of the Louisiana Defence Force," said Gretta Winchette, the aging widow of founding member Hank Winchette. She spoke at a podium on the stage at the front of Leonville Town Hall to the congregated members. She seemed pleased by the turn out of twelve, and had dismissed Trent's comment that they were only here for Gretta's famous fried breakfast and the hooch that he had brought.



The old girl cleared her throat. "Well, I'll keep things short and tell you all that there have been no incidences of concern reported to our office. Does anyone have anything to report or any announcements?"



'Crop circles....' A tall bearded man muttered from one the back seats of the very empty hall. Cigarette smoke billowed around his hunkered form. He slowly raised his head and looked around at who he knew were either wastrels or freeloaders with disdain. 'Another crop circle has appeared on Sawgrass Down.' He drew on the last of his cigarette and stubbed it out on the back of his heel as he stood up. 'That's the second circle in so many weeks'.


Trey's six foot 4 frame shuffled and manoeuvred around the mostly deserted chairs that had been placed out for the meeting. 'Not to mention the three reported last month'. He batted the cigarette ash off the arms of his leather jacket and rubbed his hand through his long beard.


Lighting another cigarette he finally made his way to stand by Gretta. 'I believe that they are messages. Messages created by some aerial reconnaissance craft to elements of a sleeper cell here in the State'. He stated in a gravelly voice. 'Who the sleeper cell is allied to, I don't know. Yet.'


His grey eyes narrowed in irritation by the silence that followed. 'Trent, help me out here please' he barked.



Suddenly, from the side of the room a voice sounded. A tall woman in a tan overcoat and scarf stood up to address the room. Her blond hair fell in a perfect imitation of Farrah Fawcet, her red lipstick seemed to glow in the artificial lighting. "I'm sorry, but you say these crop circles are happening at a more regular frequency? And that they are made by reconnaissance aircraft. I assume they are in the air. So, how do they make these crop circles from the air?" The woman, who me all recognised as Susie Taylor the Lafyette Gazette held her notepad and pencil at the ready.


Trent stood sheepishly, "Uh, sorry Miss Taylor but they ain't made in the air, that's how we've seen them. With photos of them." "Ah Trent, there you are" she smiled, like a predator would smile at it's prey. "I heard about your little... 'crash landing' the other day. Tell me, how is Tyler?" Tyler was a member of the local high school AV club, and the photographer hired by Trent to take photos of the crop circles as he did a fly by. Gretta interjected quickly on Trent's behalf. "He's just fine, missy. His momma said he'll be able to get back to band practice one his casts come off. Oh, and Trent dear? His momma also says if she catches you taking up Tyler in that contraption of yours again she's going to take her sledgehammer to it. And then to you!" Gretta sat down again.
Trent waited for the old lady to sit down before addressing the reporter again. "As soon as I c'n fix the landing gear on m'plane we'll get up and take some more photos. See if there's any pattern to these different markings. Maybe the commies are using them as markers.. or summit"
"Markers for what now?" she asked.
"Um... I guess maybe like, high value targets or some such" he mumbled.
Trent was tall, muscular and handsome, but still had trouble talking to women, and Susie was quite a woman. He felt a hot flush in his cheeks as he quickly sat down again.
The repairs to the plane weren't complicated, but would require a welding torch to secure the landing props back in place with enough strength to survive another rough landing.
He recalled how he came upon the plane.
It belonged to a retired US Navy pilot named Randy, who lived about 100 miles from Leonville near Lake Charles. Randy taught the pilots, and upon retiring the Navy presented him with the plane he had used to train the pilots; a Boeing-Stearman.
Randy supplimented his pension by modifying his plan to distribute pesticides, and dusted crops for local farmers. During his time in the Navy the plane was meticulously maintained, but post-retirement the maintenance schedule had become a little relaxed.
Trent responded to an advert in the Louisiana Tribune asking for a reliable, cheap mechanic to service the plane and none came cheaper than Trent! His payment turned out to be flying lessons given by Randy in lieu of actual wages, which was fine by Trent.
He would spend hours of a weekend tinkering, cleaning, fixing and flying that plane. When Randy's health declined he sold the plane to Trent for a measly sum of $300. Randy said he would rather the plane go to a good home than be sold at the list price.
By the time he took over ownership Trent knew every inch of the plane... all except for one warning light on the instrument cluster which constantly blinked on and off. The decals had long since worn away, and tracing the cables proved fruitless as they disappeared into a knotted mass of similar coloured cables.
"What's that light for?" Trent asked Randy one day.
"That" said Randy, "Is the old girls pulse. As long as that light is blinking she's alive, and will look after you. It's when it stops blinking you need to worry!"
From that day they both named the plane Blinky.




'One our other theories, or should I say ma theory is that some kind of flying object is markin' the ground with some sort of air jets or sumsutch'. He paused to take a pull in his cigarette ''an maybe that a satellite passing in orbit logs the points that are made for tactical purposes'.


Trey paused again for dramatic effect. 'We have mapped where all of these circles have occurred with a mind to try and 'triangilate' a pattern within a pattern. Once we have assessed this information we will deliver at findings to the public at large'.


'It could be preparations for a pre-emptive strike by enemies of the USA'.



"I see," Susie Taylor said with an overly exaggerated nod of her head. "So in your opinion, there is a very real threat here? Would you suggest that I ask my readers to be especially vigilant over this holiday period and report any such occurrences direct to you?"


DeanTrey mimics the reporters nod with his own. 'Yes Ma"am, yes. Yes I do'. He grins. 'Constant vigilance' he flips out a thumbs up to the audience.

"that's, er, well that's why we're going t'investigate!" Blurts Trent before his cheeks flush once more. "by car though, cos y'know.. the plane an' all". He sits again.


'S'right' Trey nods emphatically. 'Any other questions?' he asks.



Susie Taylor flicked her hair back over her shoulder and gave a slight shrug. "No, no more questions," she said then took her seat, scribling away in her notebook.


"Dang straight, let's eat!" croaked Hobson Hobbs, from the opposite corner to Taylor. Hobbs had straggly hair, thinning badly on top, and an equally unkempt beard. He was sitting alone, the other eleven people in the audiance having unconsiously chosen to avoid the local vagrant.



"Err, yes, well I s'pose we don't want it going cold n' all. So I guess dig in and a Happy New year everybody," Gretta waved her walking stick in the direction of the table where the large pot of broth and bottle of grog were placed.


Hobson was out of his seat before Gretta had finished talking.


A general hubub of folks talking amongst themselves ensued as they milled around or queued for either Gretta's broth or waited for her young granddaughter to bring them a plate of breakfast from the kitchenette where Gretta was frantically frying up!


As Trent and Trey stood to one side quietly observibg the throng Miss Taylor sidled up between th two. "So, you two loons really thing we've got commies sending messages back to the Motherland, huh?" she aksed quietly. "I know a lot of people will think you're mad conspiracy theorists. Folks like to feel safe in their beds and that means believeing that the Government would know about Commies and take them down. After all, how could some dumb hick southern boys know about this when the US Government doesn't? Rediculous, right? But..." she paused. "What is you boys are right? So I'll be keeping tabs on your investigation. If you find anyhting solid, come to me first. I'll make sure you get the credit and I'll get the scoop of the decade!"


She smiled pleasantly. "With that in mind, you may find page four of this interesting." She handed them a crumpled copy of an obviously poorly produced newspaper named 'Amongst Us!'. Anyway guys I gotta go. See ya round! She leaned in a kissed Trent on the cheek leaving a lipstick mark before sauntering out of the hall.



Trent blushed again, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks and 'other' regions! "uh, guess I'd better fuel up if we're heading out on a reccy" he said to Trey before remembering the paper and opening to page four.


IS HISTORY REPEATING?
By Brian C Glazewetter.

Crop circles! You just hold that in your mind while you read this!
Have you ever heard of Loup Ridge, Nebraska? Nope? Didn't think so. The whole place is deserted, like a ghost town. This little one-road town has lain empty since Christmas of 1963. There are signs on the two ways into the town warning of natural underground gasses leaking from the ground that are harmful to the humans.

Naturally, I ignored these signs and went in to take a look. Well, okay, I didn't completely ignore them, I wore my trusty old Hazmat suit.
What I saw in town, could well have been the result of a sudden eruption of flammable gas from nearby to a building not far from the centre of town – the town church of all things!
There is a crater and the church and neighbouring buildings show signs of flash burns and heavy scorching.
The skeletal remains of folks that were in the church are still sitting in the pews mostly, with some near the door like they was trying to escape, or perhaps seeking cover within the church. That proved to be a folly as the inside of the church has heavy scorching too.

My first impression was, man, these poor unfortunate souls.
Unfortunate, my ass!
As I first approached the town, which was made up of some thirty odd homes and stores and a workshop with an ancient gas pump outside, the blackened area of the crater had immediately caught my attention and I'd headed straight there.
But on walking away I passed homes where the remains of adults and children still lay in whatever spot they had fallen. These homes were untouched by the flames that had licked at the church. So whatever had killed these people here it wasn't fire.
At this point I thanked God I had my suit on! I wanted to know what gas could be leaking from the earth that could kill so quickly that the folks here in Loup Ridge didn't have a chance to react? I took soil samples and morbid as it was, some samples of the dead in the hope my friend over at the University of Kentucky might be able to shed some light on it.

Want to know what he found? All normal except for traces of one thing – Phosgene!
Phosgene was used extensively during World War One as a choking agent. Among the chemicals used in the war, phosgene was responsible for the large majority of deaths. It is not found naturally in the environment.

So what the hell was phosgene doing in the soil around Loup Ridge? Well, I know the answer to that too; The Russians.
Loup Ridge was a testing ground for a Communist chemical attack, probably a single gas bomb dropped by airplane.
How do I know? Go back to my first words! Crop circles, as we call them these days, were reported by numerous farmers over a period of about six months prior to the events at Loup Ridge. All of them at a radius of about a hunnerd miles of the small town.

It is my theory that these were markers for the damned commies to use to identify their target, each circle photographed by their spy satellites until they had their mark.
And now I hear tell of more of these down near the Louisiana and Texas border.
Is another attack imminent? I've sent this report with my evidence to the CIA. Will they listen? They Goddam ought to.
My advice if you live there or know anyone that does – wear your gas masks or get the hell out!

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Re: Louisiana Defence Force

Post by Keeper » Mon Jan 06, 2020 9:06 pm

GAME SESSION 1

Sunday 31st December 1978, Leonville, Louisiana, USA.

After discussing the story that Susie Taylor had handed them Trey and Trent discuss looking more closely at the most recent crop circle reported at Saw Grass Downs just north of Baton Rouge.
Leaving the Leonville town hall, the two discover a very frustrated Susie whose car won't start. It doesn't take long for Trent to isolate the problem and send Miss Taylor and her shiny Corvette on their way.

The two get maps from their cars and work out more plans for the journey. Having nothing better to do on New Years Eve they decide to gather some equipment and head out to the tiny town of Pride.

Within moments of setting off Trey's pick up is involved in a collision at the four-way light controlled junction. He is angry that the woman driver ran a red light. His car sustains minor damage but enough to make Trey want to limit its use.

Very apologetic the young woman offers to pay for the damage, as the car is not hers and she doesn't have any insurance. She had sustained a head wound which Trent administer first aid to.
Her two passengers, a tubby man with a moustache and a smaller older man with spectacles were unhurt.

However, when local Deputy Sheriff Steve Barns (an old school antagonist of Trey's) arrived on the scene the woman changed her story and accused Trent of pulling out in front of her.
Trent and Barns' history means that the officer is just looking to pin the blame on the two locals, and not the very pretty little redhead in the short skirt.
Luckily the situation takes an odd turn when Barns receives a radio call from dispatch summoning him away.
Trent uses his police band radio scanner to listen in and finds that Barns' wife is having trouble with the stove at home, much to Trent's amusement.

In the end the woman agrees to pay $150 towards the damage but can only pay $50 in cash. The little man writes a cheque for the rest.
This raises the two men's suspicions – the name on the cheque is Petrov Kashkirov.

The two agreed to tow the woman's unusable car to Rock's garage just down the road.
Trey went in advance to speak with Rick and get him to snoop around their car, which Rick, a Vietnam Vet himself agreed to do.

Trey and Trent then made their way to Pride after going home and getting what they needed. They also swapped to Trey's pick-up, thinking that the Russians would be looking for his Consul.
Halfway there they thought that the Russians may have bugged them and so Trey stripped off at the roadside and donned a pair of coveralls. He left his clothing hidden in the undergrowth.

After a little confusion with directions the two made their way to fields located at Saw Grass Downs. They sought permission of the owner to look around but he didn't seem to care so they made their way off road, getting stuck in the bog beside the creek. A little ingenuity got them passed this and they eventually arrived to the crop circle site.

Once both Trey and Trent had proved that climbing trees is best left to the young, they discovered that the crop circle was very different to the ones they had seen before.
At the site they discovered that a theodolite had been used to measure or ensure the accuracy and geometry of the crop circle (which both agreed was actually a symbol).
They also found a sheet of paper which had been used by someone who had been caught short in the field! Closer inspection of the soiled item showed some drawings of the symbol and some odd writing which the two rightly or wrongly concluded was Russian.

Their investigation continues....

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Re: Louisiana Defence Force

Post by Keeper » Tue Apr 21, 2020 9:24 pm

KeeperOfArcaneLore: Welcome and good evening. The year was 1978. Trey and Trent, survivalists living in Louisiana have found the turn of the year to be eventful. They had got wind of odd crop circles appearing around the State and had decided to investigate, having developed their own theory that they were being made by Russian spy planes as a method to signal their supporters and spies in America. In a bizarre twist of fate thay encountered a very odd trio who gave off some very strong Russian Vibes. Their investigation led them to a farm north-east of Baton-Rouge where they discovered a very intricate and precise pattern formed in the wheat. That evening they retired to the local bar and welcomed in the New Year with some breaking and entering and a good old fashion tupenny uprighter in the back alley! The breaking and entering had left them with some unsettling discoveries. The following morning the three were gone – helicoptered out at first light. Back at Trent's place they took delivery of a new undercarriage strut for Trent's plane while Trey tracked down the telephone number for the supplier of the rather intriguing items he had discovered.
·

KeeperOfArcaneLore: It is early afternoon on the 2nd January 1979. What are ya to do?

(Scrinsons: well, we were getting the photos developed)

KeeperOfArcaneLore: So, you are over at your young photography enthusiast's place getting the photos developed

KeeperOfArcaneLore: no - that's wrong

TreythePrepper: Didn't I start making my own dark room?
·
(TrentCuster: we got some chemicals and Trey was developing them)

KeeperOfArcaneLore: You'd visited him and he'd given you some development fluid so you could do them yourelf

TreythePrepper: Yes, we didn't want him to get involved

TrentCuster: And the photos were of the contents of the cases in the room

TreythePrepper: Yep

TreythePrepper: I haven't got my character sheet

TrentCuster: So we're in Trey's basement getting ready to develop the film

TreythePrepper: Yes, blacking out a room.
·
(TreythePrepper: is there any way of making the fonts bigger?)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: Trey, make an INT roll (3d6))

TreythePrepper rolls 3d6 = 10
·
KeeperOfArcaneLore: After almost an hour of rigging up temporary bulkheads and sealing the light from the door, you have created yourself a working darkroom
·
(TrentCuster: did we have a book with instructions in?)
·
(TreythePrepper: good oh!)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: instructions for??)
·
(TreythePrepper: if not we could have went to the library)
·
(TrentCuster: developing film)
·
(TreythePrepper: how to develop photos)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: make luck rolls)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: d100s)

TrentCuster: er... [ d100 = 27 ] out of 40

TrentCuster: Yes!

TreythePrepper rolls d100 = 16

TreythePrepper rolls 5 = 5

KeeperOfArcaneLore: After admiring your handiwork both of you turn an reach for the hastily scribbled notes your young friend gave you

(KeeperOfArcaneLore: do either of you have photography skill?)
·
(TrentCuster: only the default 10)
·
(TreythePrepper: I think I have the base)

TrentCuster: [ d100 = 76 ] out of 10
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: Trey has 20%)
·
TreythePrepper: thanks
·
(TreythePrepper: well I rolled a 15)

TreythePrepper rolls 1d100 = 95
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: make 1d00 rolls against photography with a +30% chance)


TrentCuster: [ d100 = 61 ] out of 40

TreythePrepper: [ roll 1d100 = 68 ] out of 50


TreythePrepper: yay

TreythePrepper: and booo

KeeperOfArcaneLore: Both of you work meticulously to the instructions, giving your own slant on them
·
TrentCuster is slightly clumsy when it comes to handling chemicals

KeeperOfArcaneLore: What you end up with is several blurrry or under developed photos. The only one to come out clearly is of the head in a jar.

TreythePrepper: 'No Trent, you put brackets around the numbers before you add the chemicals'
·
(TreythePrepper: Byoooiiinnnggggggg!!!!!!)
·
KeeperOfArcaneLore chuckles

TrentCuster: "Euw, is that really a head in a jar?"

TreythePrepper: 'Yep'...

TrentCuster: "You think we need to report that to th'authorities?"

TreythePrepper: 'Well, I'm not sure how we can. And if we do we could land ourselves in a lot of trouble.'
·

·
(TrentCuster: slash opt equals and a colour)
·
(TrentCuster: Supported values for COLOR are: red, green, blue, gray, maroon, olive, orange, purple, teal, and new: pink (courtesy of FaeryG).)

TrentCuster: "That's true, and I don't fancy our chances of the local law believing us. Yeah, let's not tell anyone... but... they've gone?"


TreythePrepper: 'I think we are at a bit of a crossroads buddy. There isn't much we can do really.'


TrentCuster: "So where do we go from here? We translated the russian in the field, something about a dawn brigade.

KeeperOfArcaneLore: As the two of you each give a shudder at the spooky photo you hear a thunderous hammering at the door.

TreythePrepper: 'I have the phone number for the 'dealer', but again that is a dodgy move.'

TrentCuster: "weren't we going to see if any other fields had reported circles?"

TreythePrepper: 'Shit, hide the photos man.'
·
(TrentCuster: did we trace the direction of the arrow on the map?)
·
TrentCuster hastily gathers up the photos
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: you did)

TreythePrepper: 'WHO's THERE?'
·
(TrentCuster: did we see any relevant 'targets' on the map?)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: You didn't seem to think there were)

TreythePrepper: 'Ah said, who's there?'
·
(TreythePrepper: Trey grabs his pistol, and holds it in the direction of the door, but under the table.)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: one sec chaps)
·
(TreythePrepper: np.)
·
(TreythePrepper: AFK too)

KeeperOfArcaneLore: The hammering at the dor repeats. "David Longoak you get yourself out here right now!" comes a frocious female voice.

KeeperOfArcaneLore: *ferocious
·
(TreythePrepper: Mouths silently to Trent 'Who?')
·
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: nice one mate)
·
(TreythePrepper: do I recognise the voice?)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: Trey, David Longoak is a friend of yours (sorry if his name has changed - couldn't remember what i called him before) he was oddly absent from your New Years Eve gathering.)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: yes the voice is Jenny Longoak's! His wife.)
·
(TreythePrepper: puts the pistol in the back of his jeans and approaches the door.)

TreythePrepper: 'Just a minute Jenny, I's a coming'.
·
(TreythePrepper: I'll open the door of the large shed.)

KeeperOfArcaneLore: Through the fly screen you can see Jenny, in her mid thirties, dark native indian colouring and a round face.

KeeperOfArcaneLore: She glares at you through the door

KeeperOfArcaneLore: "Where is he?"

TreythePrepper: 'Dave isn't here, thats the God's honest' Trey says a he opens the door to let her in.

TreythePrepper: 'Come on in.'
·
TrentCuster walks out of the darkened room.

TrentCuster: "H-hey mrs Longoak."

KeeperOfArcaneLore: For a moment she remains statue still and keeps her dark eyes on you. Then with a sigh steps inside. "Good afternoon Trent. Trey."

TrentCuster: "You misplaced Dave again, Mrs Longoak?"
42 min ago | 2020-04-21 20:27 UTC

TreythePrepper: 'I haven't seen him either for quite a while.' He gestures to a seat. 'Do you want a coffee or something'.

KeeperOfArcaneLore: Hands on her hips she frowns. "no... err, yes thank you, actually I will"
·
(TreythePrepper: as you know this building is strewn with all different kinds of machinery, but there is a ramshackle dining area.)
·
(TrentCuster: when was the last time we recall seeing David?)
·
(TreythePrepper: that includes a meal table and a few chairs.)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: you haven't seen Dave for about three weeks - which isn't unusual, they live on the reservation way north of the state.)
·
(TreythePrepper: turns the stove on and gets 'Old Whistler' on it.)

KeeperOfArcaneLore: Jenny picks a half-fixed wheel hub from a chair and sits down. "Please tell me if he's here. Or if he got drunk and didn't want to come home?"

TreythePrepper: 'Ahm sorry Jenny, but like ah said he isn't here. I don't take the Lords name in vain.' He looks at her with slight reproach.

TreythePrepper: 'When did you last see him?' He sits down to wait for the kettle to boil and lights a cigarette.

TrentCuster: "no ma'am, I ain't see Dave in 'bout..... 3 weeks now I come to think of it. You're welcome to look around!" Trent said before remembering he's not at home.

KeeperOfArcaneLore: "But he said he was coming to see you. Where else could he have gone? ANd it's not like it would be the first time he's come here and ended up passed out on your couch!"

TreythePrepper: 'We can have a look around ma property if it will put you at ease?'

TrentCuster: "Hold on, he said he was coming to see us? When did he say this?"
·
(TreythePrepper: Trey thinks uncomfortably that he could be somewhere on the property that he isn't aware of...)

KeeperOfArcaneLore: You see the tension ease from Jenny's shoulders but a look of genuine worry crosses her plain face.



KeeperOfArcaneLore: "He said that he was coming to see you at that new years eve breakfast thing you guys do"
·

·
(TrentCuster: He didn't did he?)
·
(TreythePrepper: {shakes his head] Ah haven't seen him.)
·
(KeeperOfArcaneLore: no he didn't come to the breakfast.)

TreythePrepper: 'But we'll help find him for you'

TrentCuster: "Sorry ma'am, we didn't see Dave. But we'll sure help you look for him. We didn't see him all night"


KeeperOfArcaneLore: Jenny gives a weak smile. "Thank you."


TreythePrepper: 'Wull, to start, lets have that coffee!' He says warmly as he arises with a grunt and pours the water into the instant coffee.

TrentCuster: "I wouldn't worry ma'am, he's probably asleep on someone elses couch-" Trent mutters before he realises what he's saying. He quickly stops that train of thought

KeeperOfArcaneLore: "David said he had heard about something you guys would find interesting. Said he was going to take a look and then drive down to Leonville and stay with one of you so he'd be here for the breakfast."

TrentCuster: "Oh... he happen to say where that might be?"

KeeperOfArcaneLore: She gives a wry chuckle. "I do hope so, Trent."

KeeperOfArcaneLore: Jenny shakes her head. "Not to me. He knows what I think of this silly conspiracy talk."

KeeperOfArcaneLore: She looks bashfully atthe two of you. "No offence."

TrentCuster: "None taken"

KeeperOfArcaneLore: After a moment silence while she sips at the steaming hot coffee she rolls her eyes.

KeeperOfArcaneLore: "I should have thought to bring his stupid notebook and stuff. You know what his memory is like. Has write it all down."

TrentCuster: Trent perks up "Well that sounds like a start, we could go where he was going... follow his tracks, y'know"

KeeperOfArcaneLore: "You'll need me to go and get it then." She didn't sound too enthusiastic about the six hour drive there and then back again.

TreythePrepper: 'Sure thing Jenny. Anything for Dave'.

TrentCuster: "We'll come up with you, won't we, Trey?"

KeeperOfArcaneLore: "Thank you both. Mama George is doing pulled pork at the lodge tomorrow. come up. eat. and I'll get you that book. Hopefully the silly old goat will be home."

TreythePrepper: 'Yeah sounds like a nice little trip'.

TrentCuster: "Sure thing!"
·
(TreythePrepper: stealthily hides the pistol out of his jeans back under some oily rags.)
·
(TrentCuster: I think it works, don't you?)

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