Muv Luv Alternative Quest: Tea Drinking Station Two, Hangover Boogaloo

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For the first time in weeks, you dreamed. At first, you dream of home. It was a place with wide open bright blue skies without a cloud for miles. You’d spend hours while you were a little kid just looking into it, waiting for something to happen, or watching the F-4’s of the National Guard rocketing over towards the air-base nearby. Someone new is beside you though, even though you were always alone doing this back home. A face you recognize, but one you don’t remember.

“They’re beautiful aren’t they?” he asks you, and when you look down you’re wearing your fortified suit.

“Yeah. They’re beautiful.” There was something about these old TSF’s you were looking at, the bulk, the angling, and how they flew all creating a sort of charm you couldn’t deny. They were the alpha and omega in your young mind, how one of these machines should work.

When you got to fly one in training, you nearly cried. That little kid inside of you came back for a few minutes. Hell, you probably chose to go for A-12 training despite qualifying hand over fist to pilot Super Hornets simply because the A-12 reminded you more of those flying giants from when you were younger. The pay boost was nice too though, which was probably more important for you.

“Do you blame yourself for what happened?” your companion asks you as the world flickers away from the idealistic memories of your childhood. Instead, quiet darkness surrounds you, as if waiting for your answer.

“I killed them.”

“That isn’t a good answer.” Your companion sighs, clapping you on the back. His face is still on the verge of recognition, but he’s wearing a suit identical to your own, as you find yourself once again strapped into the cockpit of the A-12.

His voice filters over the intercoms, drowning out whatever Foss was saying to you. “They were dead anyway. You saved them minutes of hellish pain, and you did for them what you couldn’t bring yourself to do in Bremerhaven.”

His words cut close to home. Angrily, you smash a fist into the side of your cockpit, only to have it all break away. You are alone, in the deep blue sea, the light stretching down through the water and the waves.

“I killed them. I killed people who I would have trusted my life with.” You don’t know how you’re speaking underwater, or why you don’t need to breathe, but the cold wraps around you and suffocates you against it.

“You do blame yourself, don’t you?” His face appears, and you start to recognize it. You. You’re talking to yourself.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

You smile, talking to yourself. “I’m not a bad person you know? You want to consider yourself such, but that’s fucking retarded. You’re not a butterbar boot anymore. Man the fuck up, and live with it. Deal with it. I’m still alive, and that’s what matters right now.”

Before you can tell yourself he’s a fucking crazy person, you wake up.

It takes a few minutes for you to remember where you are exactly. Schultz’s room is pretty much how you left it. There’s a wet spot on your pants leg, and when you look down, you can see Commissar Anje’s still asleep in your lap, drooling happily. Somehow she managed to squirm more of her body onto your lap while you were sleeping yourself, curling up against you like some kind of small animal. Occasionally she mumbles something in German while she sleeps about sharks and boats, along with a line or two you’re pretty much one hundred percent sure is from the East German national anthem. You’ll have to remember to tease her about this later.

Schultz is still snoring on the bed, a quiet and steady sound you have to strain yourself to hear. The Captain is going to be nursing one hell of a fucking hangover when she wakes up. Thank god you didn’t drink as much as her, else you’d probably be unable to think about just how in fucking god’s name you’ll keep the three of you from being chewed out by the Base Commander. Or even worse, have the Old Man chew out you and Shultz down to privates for drinking on duty. You absentmindedly stroke Anje’s head again as you check your watch.

4 AM. You’ve got a bit of time.

[ ] Wake up the Commissar, enlist her help in avoiding the inevitable asschewing
[ ] Seek reinforcements elsewhere
[ ] Wake the sleeping dragon on the bed. She IS your superior officer after all.

>[ ] Wake up the Commissar, enlist her help in avoiding the inevitable asschewing

>[ ] Wake up the Commissar, enlist her help in avoiding the inevitable asschewing

>Wake up the commissar , enlist her help in avoiding the inevitable asschewing (preferably in a cute or funny way, ie hold her nose closed, then kiss her on the cheek)

Also howdy raptor! How's your week been?

Votes called, writan

[ ] Wake up the Commissar, enlist her help in avoiding the inevitable asschewing

Getting Anje off of your lap is no matter how you look at it, going to wake her up. Short of somehow replacing yourself with a pillow, moving without disturbing her is going to be impossible. So you know, you might as well just bite the bullet right now and get it over with. At least she hasn’t had as much to drink as Schultz has. You give her cheek a soft little poke. Anje mumbles and shifts a little in your lap, but doesn’t do much else. This time, you grab her shoulder and gently shake it, speaking to her in hushed german.

“Anje. Anje. Wake up. Earth to Anje.”

It takes a little bit, but her eyes eventually flutter open. A line of drool connects your leg to her mouth as she looks at you, still lost in dream land.

“Can you catch sharks?” Anje mumbles out, eyes unfocused and still full of sleep.

You shake her a little harder after that comment. You need her up, and up now.

“Hey, Commissar, wake the hell up. I need your help.”

Eventually she snaps out her stupor, wincing slightly as she pulls herself off of your lap. She’s holding her head a little gingerly. Looks like Schultz isn’t the only one that’ll be nursing a hangover today.

“Fischer, did I um… do anything last night?”

"You emptied half a bottle of vodka and decided to use me like a living pillow.” You say, motioning towards the door. “Let’s let the Captain sleep a little longer.”

The hallway is empty, if brighter than Anje would probably like, the tiny commissar whining a little as the light hits her eyes.

“D-do you even have a plan?” she asks. You think about it for a second.

“Not really,” you finally say, which earns a harsh glare from your partner in crime. “But we need to make sure we don’t get busted for this.”

Easier said than done really, as plans went. But hey, you could work with it.

[ ] Schultz’s RIO Malinowski might help out

[ ] Maybe Foss isn’t balls deep in one of the base staff right now

[ ] Anje’s squad could provide some cover

[ ] Anje’s squad could provide some cover

> [ ] Anje's squad could probably provide cover
I'm sure they'd be willing to help out their little commissar. If only to make fun of her later

>[ ] Anje’s squad could provide some cover
are they all like she is?

>[ ] Anje’s squad could provide some cover


>Foss got laid and we didn't.
Dammit

DAMN YOU FOSS!!!

Votes called

You needed to keep this relatively quiet, and at least out of the Old Man’s attention. You didn’t know any of your other squadron mates well enough to trust them not to just rat you and the Captain out. Foss was probably still fucking the shit out of whatever piece of ass he’d managed to snag, and cockblocking him really wouldn’t fly over well. Plus whoever he was screwing might blab. Malinowski was potentially an option, but waking him up for this was probably pushing the envelope of his patience. So, staring at your new comrade, you picked another option. Chesty would be rolling in his grave.

“Can you get your squad to help us out? You’re in deep shit too if this leaks.”

Anje just stares at you for a few seconds, probably wondering if she was still drunk. “C-can you repeat that,” she winces out, grabbing at her likely throbbing head. “You want what?”

“I need you to use your magical commissar of the people powers to get the other commies to perform actions for the benefit of the people.”

“What?”

You sigh. “Get your squad mates. To help me clean up last night.”

Anje shrugs a little, following you as you start to make your way across the barracks. “I, um, I guess? Maybe? They don’t like listening to me…”
She really was the worst commissar you’d ever heard of. Or the best, honestly you weren’t too sure.

“We just need at least one other person, someone to keep an eye out for us while we sober up Laura.” You say, fiddling with your tags absentmindedly. “And maybe to help pin her down if she’s uh, not to keen to let us help.”

There’s a short silence from Anje as she has to jog a bit to catch up to you. “I, um, m-maybe can? Helga is uh, usually up…” She twiddles her thumbs a little, obviously nervous.
“Then we grab Helga and get this shit done. Clock’s ticking.” About three minutes later, you wish you hadn’t.

A flushed faced Danish pilot pretty much bowled you two over after Anje opened the door with her keys. The blonde was out of sight before you could even blink, the Commissar about as lost as you as the woman you assumed was Helga glared daggers at the pair of you. Well, either Helga or part of the East German woman’s Olympic weightlifting team, if that even still existed. And judging by the haste of that Danish girl to get out of here, she and Foss could probably share notes.

Her broken English was probably for your sake. “If ze party disapproves of mien actions, zey can-“

Anje was shivering and shaking even as she cut her off.

“I, um, Fischer, and I um… need help?”

[ ] Confirm Anje’s statement and expand on it
[ ] Let the commissar handle her men… women… erm… troops?

>[ ] Confirm Anje's statement and expand on it

>[ ] Confirm Anje’s statement and expand on it

[ ] Confirm Anje’s statement and expand on it

>[ ] Confirm Anje’s statement and expand on it

Also... What the fuck...

Writan

You'll see.

>[ ] Confirm Anje’s statement and expand on it

“Help?” Helga practically sneers. She stands up off the bed. She’s got at least three inches on you, and you’re no short ass motherfucker like Foss. And more muscles. A lot more muscles. Jesus titfucking CHRIST her biceps were huge.

“Yeah, I’ve got a captain who will have one hell of a hangover and a bunch of booze to hide,” you interject suddenly, feeling as if you’ve got to talk fast or end up in the medical ward. “And I need someone that can drag her ass into the showers for me.”

You shift on your feet as Helga looks down on you. “He knows German?” she suddenly asks, turning her gaze on Anje who tries her best to meet it, and actually succeeds somehow despite her quaking like a leaf.

“Y-ye-yes.” The Commissar barely manages to get the one word out. Satisfied, Helga turns her gaze back onto you.

“What’s the big fucking deal that I can speak German, are you willing to help or not?” Your mouth blurts out before your brain can tell it that being snippy with the mountain of a woman in front of you is probably not the healthiest option.

“Maybe.” Helga says. She’s got you by the balls here. “I need to know – your captain is the redhead yes?”

Sorry Schultz. Her potentially getting molested by what you were pretty sure was a woman beat the hell out of whatever the fuck the Old Man might do to the pair of you.

“The one with the huge rack yeah.”

“Then I’ll help.” Helga says, smiling. Anje almost seems like she’s about to pass out from relief. “Just show the way, ja?”

Shultz is going to murder you for this. Absolutely fucking positively murder you.

Leading the mountain of a woman and Anje down to the captains room, you unlock it with the key you snatched from her dresser. Schultz is moaning like someone stabbed her on the bed, woken up by the sounds of the giant accompanying you.

“Kill me pleaaasse….” She groans out, hiding her head under the pillows.

“Can’t. Sorry about this Captain.” You motion to Helga, who tugs your superior officer off the bed, and tosses her over her shoulder like a rag doll. Letting her carry your feebly protesting captain off towards the showers, you start to eye the room.

[ ] Get the booze. Get the booze out NOW.
[ ] Time to snoop a little. Never know what you might find, and you’ve got time.
[ ] Write In

>“Then I’ll help.” Helga says, smiling.

Is this the right time for this?

[ ] Get the booze. Get the booze out NOW.

Yep! Never better!

[ ] Get the booze. Get the booze out NOW.

[ ] Get the booze, then snoop a little. Never know what you might find, and you’ve got time.

We do this, in conjunction with concealing the booze. If someone comes to bust us this quickly, there's not much we can do to hide the evidence, and I think it's possible we might find something, and if that chance exists, It's Always Better To Know.

>[ ] Time to snoop a little. Never know
This works

>[ ] Get the booze. Get the booze out NOW.
More specifically,
> dump what's left on her mattress and then flip it over before getting rid of the evidance
If we're caught we can simply say it washed ashore and we like to collect things like that

My thinking here is that this might let us find something that actually matters.

Also this whilst we wait

What the hell would our drunk step mom of a squad CO have to hide in her room? Maybe more alcohol but that's about all I can see (or someone elses underwear)

Is that a picture of a Stealthsuit?

The Avenger is a more significant piece of hardware than our perspective might display - remember, nuclear reactor. You don't give those to the untrustworthy, for obvious reasons.

In any case, Schultz presumably has actual responsibility, and if the possibility of finding something here is small, its much better than the nonexistent chance of finding something significant while stashing bottles.

Writan.

Sadly this isn't Yokohama base, and our CO isn't a drunk scientist on Christmas day, so I doubt she has much to hide that wouldn't be massively classified to the point where we get a court-martial or worse. Still, I am up for sniffing through her stuff, if only to rid ourselves of any further evidence

I'm still disappointed that you don't even what to give it a trivial shot. What do you expect to happen if you don't do anything.

I mean, what if pic related?

I'm... completely at a loss for words... is that supposed to be Hitler holding an early 80s cellphone? I mean... why would Hitler be hiding in her underwear drawer?

>why would Hitler be hiding in her underwear drawer?

Obviously, he wouldn't be.

The point is that if something is happening (which could be as significant as time-traveling Hitler) and if we don't know about it, we lose the chance we might have to do anything over than be overrun by it.

I'm aware that it's a lot of maybes, but it's more of a chance of doing something relevant than we have now.

INB4 we find this.

Well to be honest that whole "why would Hitler be in her underwear drawer" was a joke. Also that's supposed to be a time traveling Hitler o_O?

Nah, we find this. Get that obvious Photoshop out of here.

L-lewd man!
Besides, we all know that's what's under Foss's bed since he can't actually get laid

C'mon guys...

It's like you don't even want to try and find the Plot.

My idea of "plot" is a little bit more realistic than finding evidence of a time traveling Hitler or looking at our COs underwear...

>[ ] Get the booze. Get the booze out NOW.

It’s time to make it so this never happened. Ever. It will be but a distant memory, held in the minds of those who were never there and never had half a bottle of vodka or enough hard liquor to kill livers. To do such, there was what one path: Everything must go. Everything. Even the liquor you worked so hard to smuggle into the base has to be hidden, and hiding it under your bed probably won’t work for the vast majority of it.

You toss one of the empty bottles to Anje, the commissar catching it. “We’re ditching this shit into the sea, if it’s empty. I’ll work on getting rid of the rest.”
Nodding, the tiny german woman started collecting what remained of your night of drinking alongside you. You occasionally take a quick swig of whatever you were stacking into the ‘full’ pile, which was unsurprisingly quite smaller than the pile of empty bottles. You give a grudging look at the still unopened bottle you’d brought with you to this little party. Ditching it would be a real waste, but so would be getting shipped off to Parris Island. Taking the still partly full bottles with you, you head off towards the showers, Anje instead carrying an armful of empty liquor bottles towards the exits.

It was physically painful having to watch the spirits go down the drain bottle by bottle. Covering up the scent of alcohol was going to be tricky, but if nobody could link you to it, well, that was fine. The now empty bottles made a clinking noise as you gathered them up again, going towards the hangers, specifically the A-12 hangers. As usual, there’s nobody around them at this time of day, and the double doors slide open without a noise as you press through the empty space. Your footsteps echo in this realm of giants, the massive machines around you watching silently as you walk towards the small access door next to the towering hanger door.

And mine is a bit more substantive than bullying commissars (fun as that is).

I let an amusing (and apparently insufficiently topical) picture get distract attention from the real point. We probably shouldn't just sit around hoping something happens. Cape diem and whatnot.

Twisting the doorknob with your elbow, you barge your way outside into the crisp morning weather in the North Sea. Anje’s already outside, smashing the bottles against the wave breakers. For as small as she is, the Commissar has one hell of a throwing arm. But then again, you played pick up baseball a lot in high school. Giving one of the bottles an exploratory heft, you pitch it forwards, sending it flying into the high breakers a good twenty or thirty yards away. The pair of you throw until you can’t throw anymore, as the sun starts to peak over the horizon. Finally, the last bottle disappears into the North Sea.
Anje tries to leave, but you grab her by the arm.

“Thanks,” you say, the sound of the crashing waves echoing all around as she looks you in the eyes.

Anje gives you a big, long, honest smile, shaking herself free of your grip. “Thank you, Comrade Fischer. Last night was… what I think I needed.”

You nod. Getting drunk usually solved problems like that. At least for a while. You watch Anje as she makes her way back into the TSF hanger next to yours, the rising sun shining through her long ponytail.

Anje is out of sight when you hear the low whistle behind you. You turn around to see the smuggest fucking face on base you have the pleasure of dealing with daily. Foss.

“Look who got his dick over the Oder-Nisse line...”

[ ] The fuck are you doing here?
[ ] Fuck no, that’s not what happened
[ ] Fuck you

>[ ] Fuck you
standard greeting.

>[ ] Fuck you that’s not what happened. That isn't even the right line; was I a BETA starting in Poland?

[ ] Fuck you

I believe the order should go something like
>Fuck you
>Fuck no, that's not what happened.
>The fuck are you doing here?
Followed by
>Fuck you

I'll admit, I keked, especially at the picture

we didn't even score

we got to headpat the cutest commisar, so I suppose it's a somewhat fair trade.

Agreed, but the all quests can have the MC get laid right off the bat. We have to work for that privalege. Just like takaru Shirogane did

>Fuck you

Guilty as charged.

Also, fug, I'm two hours late. Sadness.

Also, can we get some armpit licking at some point?

Good point. What we need to do right now is build our power base, accumulate resources, something like that.

Writan.

>implying headpats of the Cutiessar isn't worth more than hot dickings

>Also, can we get some armpit licking at some point?

What is it with this fandom and armpit licking?

Actually most quests DON'T have that to start. Unless they are smut quests. Quests with plot usually make you work for it.

Now now, I did say it was a fair trade.

Jesus Christ man! I get its muv luv doujin but STILL!!!

gg me replied to the wrong one
I did say it was a fair trade, especially if we get to continue doing it.

I'll give you that

I have NO fucking clue... it sometimes scares me

It's not so much that it's armpit licking, as Americans are weird and lewd.

Plus you know our Daryl expy would so totally offer it.

Sorry that was meant to say something else... fuck phone auto correct T_T

>as Americans are weird and lewd

You just said something. For the sake of civility, you have this opportunity to retract it, or what will follow will be... excessively civilized.

I never said it's a bad thing...

For God's sake, just fuck already! Hell! Send us PICTURES!!!

What's wrong with being weird and lewd?

> [ ] Fuck You

“Fuck you,” you say, looking away from Foss and leaning against the hanger wall. “I just had to pour that bottle of whiskey I was saving down the shower drain. I’m in no mood for this bullshit.”

Foss chuckles, sliding up next to you. “Buddy, I’m just getting started.” His smile at this point in the morning is inexplicably infuriating. “You drive a parade through her Red Square? Give her some of your opiate of the masses? Show her your hammer and sickle?”

“Fuck you.”

Foss just laughs harder. “I thought you and the Captain were going to bang, but it looks like you had a revolution in bed instead.”

“Fuck. You.” Repeating it seems to just egg Foss on but, hell, it was better than just sticking around and doing nothing. “Shouldn’t you be jerking off alone or something because that nurse shot you down again?”

“Harsh. Actually, she didn’t shoot me down this time, but-“

“I don’t give a fuck Foss,” you cut him off. “The Captain got really fucked up last night, and I’m stuck cleaning shit up. All Anje was doing –“

Foss whistles. “You’re on a first name basis now?”

“I guess. Well, at least I’m using her first name.” You shrug. Honestly, you don’t mind her using your last name. You’re used to it. There were a lot of other Sam’s in grade school.

“Eh, it’s a start. Where’s Schultz anyway?”

YOU KNOW NOT THE POWERS WITH WHICH YOU MEDDLE!

You shrug. “Getting a shower, and then I’m going to make her drink a shitton of water. If the Old Man knows about what happened last night, well…”

Foss just nods. “Uh, yeah, about the Old Man? He might have uh, asked me why the Captain was strangling an East German… er, woman I think, with her own bra. And I…”

There it is. The cry of the fucking Blue Falcon. The most dreaded of all damn birds on base.

“Foss if you finish that sentence I will kill you right here and throw your corpse into the sea. You motherfucker.”

Foss pats you on the back, and it’s hard to resist grabbing his arm and breaking it. “Sorry Buddy. Kinda was trying to keep him out of my room.”

You look at him. “The nurse? Seriously!?”

He coughs, and gives you a wink. “Yep.”

That fucking son of a bitch. You’ll need to see if you can get Pam to readjust his calibrations for your Avenger during your next North Sea patrol. It’s time to give your RIO a ride in the Vomit Comet again.

[ ] Though really, you managed to bag the nurse? How the fuck did you do that?

[ ] Leave before you murder Foss.

[ ] Write in

>[ ] Leave before you murder Foss.

>[ ] Though really, you managed to bag the nurse? How the fuck did you do that?
>Record the whole damn thing for evidence.

[ ] Leave before you murder Foss.

This! Easily this!
If we're going down we're taking him with us

>Tie

I'll give it another 5 minutes

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Coin flip

So, who won?

>Leave before you murder Foss

Looks like we'll leave off on that note. I've been running for nearly 5 hours now and I'm running low on steam.

NEXT TIME:

>FOSS AVOIDS A WELL DESERVED DEATH AT YOUR HANDS
>OLD MAN YELLS AT PILOTS
>HEADPATS

SAME TIME, HOPEFULLY SAME PLACE. MIGHT END UP RUNNING LONGER THE NEXT TIME AS WELL. NOW TO CONFIGURE ALL MY BMS SHIT BEFORE I COLLAPSE INTO A COMA

Will Foss die?
How old is the old man
Will we finally headpats and chill?
All these questions may or may not be answered next week on

MUV LUV ALTERNATIVE: FREEDOM FOR ALL!

>Not including an AMERICA image

You had one FUCKING job

I forgot ! SENPAI ISNT PERFECT LIKE YOUD BEEN TOLD!!!

First name basis, aw yiss!

Nurse, I really need to know how.