Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-38248322-20190307003237/@comment-38691345-20190307222148

Immigration to such a prosperous country as America can get quite nerve-wracking, especially due to the sudden uprising of mobsters. This said, being cornered in an alleyway by a Jinko and Hellhound was even worse.

"So... you refuse to speak", the Jinko said, a gun held lazily by a single claw. In reality, my foreign ass had somehow forgotten how to form words.

"Hmmm, what's your name?" The hellhound asked, leaning a bit too close for comfort.

Aaron! Say Aaron you Iriish moron!

"I am the machine!" I spat at her.

Godammit!

To my surprise, after a moment they burst into laughter.

"That your real name?" Chuckled the Jinko.

"N-no, my real-"

"Shut up, I don't want to know your real name, Mach", the hellhound giggled. "I'm Krysten, this is Ava. How 'bout we get a drink? We can discuss... business."

"Indeed", the Jinko said.

The empty mug slipped from my hand as I hazily sat in my chair, barely aware of my surroundings. I vaguely noticed some banging and crashing, but paid it no heed until a loud bang made my ears ring. This obbviously annoyed me. So I looked to the source of the bang and hit it.

According to the forty-some witnesses, a barfight had broken out around me caused by some low-tier mob boss, a manticore. I had remained oblivious to the fight until the mob boss (who was very high) pulled a gun out. Immediately after she had fired, I stood. With an eerily sober look on my face and an oddly professionaal stance, I punched hher in the jaw, somehow knocking her out.

I later woke up in the hospital after getting alcohol poisoning from the drinks everybody was buying me, and went on with my life. I never did actually join the mob, but apparently punching out a manticore puts you in the good graces of the mob.

Alright, I edited out the naughty parts, so it should be okay now, and a hopefully better story