sup /tg/ it's story time
This weekend my usual game was cancelled due to player shortage, so I usurped the role of GM and ran a Dread game.
Using Night Shift for the setting. This is the first session.
https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Night_Shift
https://dreadthegame.wordpress.com/about-dread-the-game/
>>47312545
This Gas'n'Go is set in the New Mexico desert out in the goonies, where the "towns" are trailers huddled around gravel road intersections and it's easier to get a loan from the patron than the bank.
When Brent, the baseball loving cashier, and Cleatus, the gentle redneck gas station attendant-cum-wrench monkey, arrived the usual dust storm kicked up once they clocked in, stripping away the smooth yellow of the desert and replacing it with burnt ochre sand and a fertile, fiery red full moon hanging fat and low in the sky.
The first few hours went fine--the Gray Man made an appearance and got his candy bar.
>>47312571
At around 11:15 PM a short bus full of Cub Scouts showed up.
The troop leader, Mr. Jim, stumbled out of the bus with baggy, bloodshot eyes and asked Cleatus to fill 'er up. Cleatus, being a gentle redneck, delegated this task to the small children.
Once Mr. Jim entered the Gas'n'Go with a gaggle of hyperactive Cub Scouts trailing behind who immediately scattered through its bigger on the inside interior. He immediately purchased a red steering wheel lock, left his card with Brent and $60 on the desk for the kids to pick up snacks.
Mr. Jim asked if Brent and Cleatus would mind keeping an eye on the kids while he used the restroom. For some reason he took the lock bar with him to the bathroom.
By 11:35 Brent had put the fear of god into a few children attempting to pocket candy bars and Cleatus was amusing himself by telling the children stories of gasoline ghosts roaming the desert goonies. The cashier had also had to turn away some children attempting to buy a few age inappropriate items, including:
>>47312582
>Hustler magazines
>Hand of Glory
>Obscene Justine, the inflatable companion doll
>Hunting bow
At around 11:40 Brent a wave of convulsive coughing fits hitting the kids, though his attention was mainly focused on a poorly maintained chest cooler filled with the strange meat the skeleton fishermen delivered every Tuesday. A handful of scouts had opened it up and were eating handfuls of raw meat.
Outside Cleatus decided to check in with Brent about Mr. Jim, who he hadn’t seen return, while the cashier was fondling his baseball bat. They both decided it was about to be one of those nights and while Brent was given the task of clearing out the children Cleatus went to check in on the troop leader.
>Cleatus knocked on the door, "Y'all right in thar?"
>"Occupied!" Mr. Jim shouted through the door.
>"It's been twenty minutes, fella, you fallin' in or what?"
>"Uh..." Then came a telltale click-click-thunk of the anti-theft bar being extended and set against the handle. "You guys might want to hole up in the break room or something, it's about quarter 'til midnight."
>"God fucking damn it, Mr. Jim! I ain't yer fuckin' baby sitter!" Cleatus futilely attempted to unlock and open the door before deciding to drop it and catch up with Brent.
>>47312603
Meanwhile in the store Brent noticed that the Cub Scouts seemed to be getting bigger and hairier, with their sashes and outfits straining against some of the bigger kids' bodies. That convulsive coughing fit came back on harder than before.
Brent sighed and grabbed his baseball bat from beneath the counter, casting a sidelong glance at Cleatus as he came in through the front entrance.
>"I think it's gonna be one of those nights again."
>"Damn fuckin' straight! I think these little bastards are werewolves!"
>"Werewolves? Fuck do you know, Cleatus?"
>"I seen Teen Wolf! I seen it! I know what we have to do. See if'n you can find some silver dollars while I rustle up a bow 'n arrow in the sportin' goods section."
>Brent sighed again, "Alright." He dug around the cash register until he found six silver dollars and Cleatus went around and came up with a hunting bow.
Brent went to the personnel room and got his baseball pads on, kept in his locker for occasions just such as this, while Cleatus began hastily gluing silver dollars to arrow tips while muttering about Michael J Fox and how he "seen it."
>>47312617
By the time 11:55 came around Cleatus and Brent began systematically kicking the children out of the store. They accomplished this by grabbing a few boxes of king size candy bars and throwing them out of the store while screaming "FREEEE CANDYYYYY."
Cleatus the gentle redneck took the opportunity to physically pick up and throw a convulsing Cub Scout out the door before chaining it closed.
The two rushed back into the break room and hauled the the employee lockers against the back door, leaving the side door and the glass doors in front. Just after they were done the clock struck midnight to a chorus of howls.
Unwilling to let insult go unanswered, Cleatus booked it out the side entrance with Brent’s baseball bat where he managed to knock the handle off and kick the door in.
>”Lissen you werewolf diddling piece a shit, you been trespassed from the premises.”
>”What the ACTUAL FUCK!?” Mr Jim yelled. After a poor attempt at a punch Cleatus the gentle redneck whacked him in the side with the baseball bat and hightailed it back to the side entrance, where he took one glance back at the troop leader sprinting off into the desert night.
>>47312635
Inside the break room Brent had the bow and arrows from earlier at the ready in case the werecubs made their way in. He could hear them throwing themselves against the big picture window next to the entrance with the familiar whumpf of flexing safety glass. When Cleatus returned they swapped weapons and got to brainstorming.
>”We need silver.”
>”You got dem silver dollars.”
>”There’s way more than six of ‘em.”
>”We could… Why, we could go into that thar stock room and see about some o’ that silver nitrate.”
>”Teen Wolf?”
>”Naw, I don’t think basketball can fix this.”
>”Alright, well, let’s fucking go.”
They burst out of the storeroom just in time to see the first of the werecubs shattered the picture window, causing hundreds in damages that Management would no doubt find a way to pin on them. In the face of pissed off lycanthropes they sprinted into the high ceiled stock room and quickly set up a waist high barricade of soda boxes. Brent dropped to a knee with the bow and silver dollar tipped arrow at ready while Cleatus set out at a dead run through the twenty foot high shelves.
>>47312651
Minutes passed by one after another with Brent growing more and more concerned about what the werecubs were doing to the Gas’n’Go. He could hear foreboding slamming and tearing sounds. Cleatus, in a feat of stupendous good fortune (to the tune of five pulls from the tower), found an old film canister in a shelf stacked with items from the ‘40s.
As Cleatus made his way back the first werecub wound its way through the double doors separating the stockroom from the floor. The chubby mini warg was oil black with a white patch going past its forehead, earning it the nickname Dickhead. It sniffed at Brent and crouched low, tail wagging before it started running towards him and the barricade.
Brent drew the arrow back and held it until the werecub leaped over the barricade, sailing past his head. He let the arrow fly as soon as its paws touched the ground, sinking the shaft straight up the lycanthrope’s ass.
Cleatus skid on the pool of blood on the way back and nearly dropped his film canister.
>”Good shot, Brent!”
>”Thanks, Cleatus. You got that silver nitrate?”
>”A-yup. Thing is, we gotta git out thar, get them werewolves out the fucking way--”
>”Bet you my frisbee is still up there. I get on the roof, get ‘em going in the opposite direction, you get that in the bus?”
>”Sounds good. Let’s go!”
>>47312664
The two minimum wage warriors split up. They burst in on the floor and paused in horror when they saw what the werecubs had done. Shelves were knocked onto their side, a bag of lye had been ripped open and the little furry bastards had pissed everywhere in an attempt to mark their territory, and then mark their territory over another lycanthropes.
Both uttered a wide and impressive range of curses. Brent followed up by firing silver dollar tipped arrows at the werecubs, sending them running out of the store. The cashier booked it out of the side door and up a ladder rungs bolted onto the side of the building where he found, among other things, a huge thigh bone from an unknown creature, his old frisbee and a baseball signed by Micky Mantle.
When he looked out over the desert he noticed Mr. Jim flailing on the ground surrounded by a pack of scout wolves being torn into, the desert wind carrying his screams. That had occupied most of them, so Brent got the remaining werecubs attention by jumping up and down and calling them a bunch of little fags. He shoved the huge bone over the edge of the roof, flattening a wolf and inviting the others’ interest in the process.
Cleatus snuck out of the store with a bagful of meat and the film canister. He dumped most of the film out on the bus, then the meat, and had just enough time and enough film to make a fuse leading from the bus to the front of the store.
By this time the wolves were beginning to lose interest in the bone. Cleatus responded by throwing handfuls of strange, wet meat at the bus. The wolves who had been feasting on Mr Jim returned, curious, and then the gentle redneck lit the fuse.
>>47312679
The explosion rocked night as a tank of cheap Gas’n’Go diesel went up in flames with a dozen werewolves inside of it, incinerated and destroyed by the sudden combustion of silver nitrate.
Unfortunately a few wolves had lingered by Mr Jim’s body, so Brent dug the Micky Mantle signed ball out of his pocket and began throwing it in a game of fetch for them until the werecubs fell over from exhaustion.
With that done they set about cleaning up the store.
They were just about done with dawn came with it and with it the customary dust storm, vanishing the pregnant red mood and returning a gray-yellow cast to the sand. It was around then the werecubs transformed back into naked children.
They immediately approached Cleatus, who was leaning against the front of the Gas’n’Go catching a smoke break.
>”We’re cold.”
>”Ain’t yer daddy.”
>”We’re cold!”
>”Quit yer bitchin’ ‘n I’ll give yew a smoke, alright?”
>>47312691
The three cub scouts looked at each other and nodded.
Cleatus gave each of the eight year olds a cigarette and lit it, just as Day Shift Gary showed up, mouth gaping when he saw the still smoking short bus wreckage in the lot and three naked boys coughing up a long smoking.
>”What the fuck, Cleatus? You can’t sell cigarettes to kids!”
>”Didn’t, gave ‘em.”
>”You can’t do that!”
>”Just did.”
>”What about the fucking bus?”
>”Wait a minute, thar.”
>>47312699
Cleatus went inside, signalled Brent, and they punched their time cards, officially clocking off. On their way out they noticed Gary’s temple throbbing, still glued to the spot as he noticed the vinyl covering the broken picture window.
>”Why are there naked children here?”
>”Yer problem now. Clocked out.”
Brent piped up,
>”There’s another one in the stock room. Preeeeetty sure he’s dead.”
>”OH MY GOOD FUCKING GOD!”
Gary began shaking with a combination of anger, confusion, and more anger. Meanwhile Cleatus and Brent left, glad to make it through another shift.
>>47312571
Hehe cum
Nice storytiem, OP.
