Mission One: Who You Gonna Call?
The evening rang with the chime of skulls cracking on steel bumpers, and Cheviot Drive ran black with the spilled ichor of the undead residents. Desmond Balthar nearly overheated his clutch plates when three unusually tough and sinewy zombies tangled their gristle around his driveshaft, but in the end, surprise was on the side of the four Mission One Drivers, and they pulled safely into the gated drive of Billy and Brian’s sprawling manse without loss of more than five fingers between them. Not a bad outcome, relatively speaking; in a gentler age, someone would have some serious explaining to do concerning all the severed limbs and effluvia dripped all over the flagstones. Bill the BUM was still acting strangely (well, more strangely than was usual for the fanatical old Mechanic), but since nobody could put their remaining finger on the problem (and nobody seemed to want to get close enough to try), the other three Drivers simply gave him his space for the moment.
Rideword blasted a quick shave-and-a-haircut on his Vanagon’s horn and the sturdy garage door opened just long enough to admit the Drivers before closing against the approaching tide of Beverly Hills Carrion On The Hoof. It’s hard to shamble quickly in Louboutins, so Beverly Hills zombies tend to move as an elegant, dignified horde, quite unlike the ravenous sprinting masses that stink up the streets east of La Cienega. The Westside Zoms would wrinkle their surgically-perfected noses at such unwashed filth, if they hadn’t finally rotted off their faces some months ago.
Brian took one look at Sir Gonville De’Ath’s Rockin’ Top Hat and grinned broadly. “Well. It’s about time you guys got here. And it’s great to see that I’m not the only one to retain a trace of style and panache, now the whole world’s gone tits-up.”
-“I figure there’s no point in outliving the rotten bastards outside if we can’t preserve some of the finer things that make life worth living. I keep telling this to Billy, but I can’t get through to him. He really looks like he’s given up and just wants to join them.”
After a mutually appreciative word or two shared with Brian about the value of tasteful haberdashery in the postapocalypse, De’Ath whispered to Billy, “Our mutual friend Cougar says you might have something useful stashed away.”
-“Golf clubs?” replied Billy dully. “Bent the nine iron over the mayor’s skull last week on a beer run.”
-“Don’t think so. Blunt instruments we already have. Got anything more specialized?”
-"…maybe my old scuba gear?"
Rideword leaned forward. “We was told that you might answer to this: Who you gonna call?”
Billy stiffened, then a broad grin began to creep over his face. “Really? It’s come to that? Not zombies or raiders or radioactive giant insects, but… you guys really need me?!”
-“Looks that way,” said Rideword, wondering if anyone could actually need someone who seemed so completely round the bend.
-“Hold on. Wait right here.” And Billy tore upstairs and began rummaging around in a closet. Brian waited downstairs with the Drivers making polite small talk until he noticed the zombie guts Bill the BUM had tracked in from the the driveway. “Pick up that blood,” he ordered gruffly.
And then Billy emerged at the top of the stairs, grinning like a proud maniac and ready to go.
-“I’ll need to pick up some D batteries for the proton pack. Is there a 7-Eleven on the way?”
To which the Drivers couldn’t help but respond:
Let’s hear from them how the journey back to the Ark went.
Desmond Baltar, Scout (Steampunk Banana)
16 HP (started with 29/31)
13 HP lost from 2090 zombies encountered; 6 regular damage from 240 hits, 7 critical damage from 120 hits, avoided lost fingers! 0 fingers lost at -2 MV each! Proton pack retrieved!
Bill the BUM, Mechanic (webiii1976)
23 HP (started with 31/31)
8 HP lost from 2584 zombies encountered; 7 regular damage from 200 hits, 1 critical damage from 20 hits, Chomp! 3 fingers lost at -2 MV each! Proton pack retrieved!
Rideword, Mule (Solomon)
51 HP (started with 54/72)
Only 3 HP lost from 3192 zombies encountered; 2 regular damage from 240 hits, 1 critical damage from 40 hits, Chomp! 1 fingers lost at -2 MV each! Proton pack retrieved!
Sir Gonville De’Ath, Escort (daneel)
42 HP (started with 57/68)
15 HP lost from 2432 zombies encountered; 7 regular damage from 200 hits, 8 critical damage from 100 hits, Chomp! 1 fingers lost at -2 MV each! Proton pack retrieved!
Mission Two: Overnight Sensation
At the Roxy, Channing, Junior, and Clank approached the grizzled old veteran of the Rock Wars seated at the bar. They each made their impassioned cases and he listened with the one ear he could spare, the other permanently ringing with the tinnitus of atomic warfare and the wages of a life lived in service of Lemmy’s credo: “Everything Louder Than Everyone Else.”
2B - Killed By Death
After a moment’s thought and a couple swigs of Jack, Lemmy turned to Channing. “Amoeba, huh? Yeah, that one’s a ball-scratcher, innit? Been tryin’ to get a coupla old Hawkwind seven-inchers outta there that I pawned years ago. Never could get past ol’ Blobby. Everything I threw at him, he just puked back at me or absorbed. You’ll need subtlety with that cat, not my strong suit. Take Jane with you; she knows her shit. Maybe if you could pull a fast one on the front, she can come in from the side. And if you do get in and can grab me anything by Hawkwind, I’ll be in your debt.”
As a reminder, Channing screened the following horrorshow:
In response to which, the Blob recoiled in abject horror. Was it the relentless viscosity increase of the cold? Was it the sheer Schumacherness of the film clips? We may never know, but the Blob let out a piercing, oleaginous shriek that shattered nearby windows, and retreated far enough for Jane to slip inside the Amoeba and hunt for the desired records.
Having successfully absconded with both the Voyager record and a pristine copy of Hawkwind’s Silver Machine single, the triumphant pair returned to the Ark to collect Channing’s 10LP bonus.
And back at Sunset and Cahuenga, a forlorn Blob shivered in a psychosomatic winter, almost entirely of its own making.
Channing Hunter, Escort (gwwar)
73 HP (started with 83/83)
You sustained some heavy window damage from the Sonic Blobular Scream… in fact, you have no window or headlight glass remaining! 10 HP damage. Voyager Record obtained!
2A - Overkill
-“As for Tower, gentlemen, I think we could maybe take that one on. You… you’re, uh, Clank-N-Furter is it? I don’t know how well you fit into this neighborhood, but I guess we can find out. The Strip is a hell of a party, and you’re gonna have to cut loose if you want to kick ass and enjoy yourself.”
-“And you, uh, Halloween Ronjack Snakeskins, was it? I do appreciate the fine new hat you got me.”
-“And you’re looking like maybe you know how to take care of yourself in a neighborhood like West Hollywood.”
-“Let’s go pull a fast one on the spandex-and-Aqua-Net poseurs down the block. You and me put on the show while Clank ducks into the Tower vault. And let’s begin with something mellow, 'cause I don’t wanna live forever… but apparently I am.”
Jack Burton Jr. aka “Junior”, Mule (funruly)
21 HP (started with 42/55)
You encountered 6 rock-n-roll zombie vehicles. Unsurprisingly, they were quite drawn to you. The first four you dealt with quickly - their fancy vehicles turned out to be all facade and each managed only 2 HP damage each. The final two seemed a little tougher, but nothing you couldn’t handle. Still, they caused 7 and 6 HP damage, for a grand total of 21 HP.
Clankenstein, Mechanic (davide405)
8 HP (started with 31/31)
You encountered 4 rock-n-roll zombies - the ones that were all facade. Your upgrades helped immensely, but the first three still managed to deal 6 HP of damage each. The last one got 5 HP off of you before Junior gave you the covering fire you needed to duck into the Tower Records vaults. Voyager Record obtained!
Mission Three: Put Me In, Coach!
Despite his tendency to wear his spankin’ new Dodgers cap a bit too high on his head, the Major knew how to blend in with the home crowd:
Knife, however, immediately sensed trouble as they stepped out of the tunnel near the Lexus Dugout Club suites, and his Raiders hat came into the view of the undead crowds milling on the field all the way up to the upper deck. Even worse: the undead Dodgers themselves saw the hated Raiders hat. Boy, do dead ballplayers hate disloyal fans in their house. Fortunately, the Stark Industries box was nearby. Let’s hear them tell how matters unfolded:
Jack “Knife” Boyer, Escort (drman321)
6 HP (started with 43/53)
37 HP lost from 205 zombies encountered; 21 regular damage from 20 hits, 16 critical damage from 8 ballplayer hits, avoided lost fingers! 0 fingers lost at -2 MV each!
Maj. Joseph Talleyrand-LaRoche, Scout (peregrinus_bis)
29 HP (started with 38/38)
9 HP lost from 129 zombies encountered (most of which gave you a pass due to your team allegiance); 9 regular damage from 8 hits, 0 critical damage from 0 ballplayer hits, Chomp! 2 fingers lost at -2 MV each! Your smooth, aristocratic fingers apparently looked like Dodger Dogs to some brain-dead fans. You successfully obtained the key without disturbing Ms. Potts!
Mission Four: Fuel on the Hill
Meanwhile, out in the parking lot, a merry gymkhana was taking place with Scouts Honey and Bubba driving circles around Bertie, who tended to just drive over any of the Parking Lot Security Team who got in his way. They took turns siphoning precious fuel out of the parked cars while the other two distracted (and slaughtered) the hapless Lot Zombies, Many gallons were obtained, not all of it fresh enough to be usable, but overall the trip was looking to be an easy romp… until the stadium denizens chanced to look out at the parking lot and spy three out-of-towners wreaking havoc and having a generally fun time… while two of them wore hated Raiders caps! Honey’s stovepipe hat wouldn’t hurt her (in fact the extra SP helped), but Bubba and Bertie faced a murderous horde of bat-wielding undead ballplayers, their fury at the Drivers’ failure to bleed Dodger Blue in Chavez Ravine only inflamed by the decades-old betrayal of Al Davis for moving the Raiders back to Oakland. After all this time, even though it was a different league and a different sport and the Raiders weren’t all that great in L.A. anyway, it’s weird what strange obsessions haunt the almost-mindless skulls of the undead.
Let’s see if Honey managed to help keep them alive, and how much fuel they were able to salvage.
Bertie Gomez, Mule (Palomeque)
23 HP (started with 52/65)
29 HP lost from 2964 zombies encountered; 14 regular damage from 260 hits, 15 critical damage from 160 ballplayer hits, avoided lost fingers! 0 fingers lost at -2 MV each! 32 gallons fuel successfully scavenged, having spilt 9 gallons!
Bubba Zanetti, Scout (bizmail_public)
18 HP (started with 29/38)
11 HP lost from 2280 zombies encountered; 8 regular damage from 300 hits, 4 critical damage from 60 ballplayer hits, Chomp! 2 fingers lost at -2 MV each! 23 gallons fuel successfully scavenged, having spilt 8 gallons!
’Honey’ Mallone, Scout (kyntha)
9 HP (started with 32/34)
23 HP lost from 1634 zombies encountered; 23 regular damage from 190 hits, 0 critical damage from 0 ballplayer hits, avoided lost fingers! 0 fingers lost at -2 MV each! 25 gallons fuel successfully scavenged, having spilt 10 gallons!
Hey, who’s that hauling ass back up to Burbank? What’s he up to?