Good evening, everyone. Hope you're having a nice night so far. Why not settle in for some pugilism and have something nice to drink? As always, you're Roarke S. Starwind, Admiral of the Iron Kestrels.
Previous Threads: suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com
Master Pastebin: pastebin.com
Upgrade Menu: pastebin.com
List of Moves: pastebin.com
Rogues' Gallery: pastebin.com
Now that you've thoroughly crashed this wedding into the ground, you sling Fatima over your shoulder and ascend the liftwire. She lets out a muted grunt, and for a moment you're sure she's about to wake up and demand to know why you're carrying her off again, but it's just air being pushed from her lungs by the new position.
You savor the sight, as you climb back into your cockpit, of the pulverized Rashad Abujamal being hauled towards a groundcar by two of General Fairchild's goons. The wedding guests are in complete disarray, staying out from under your feet but otherwise a mob of angry voices.
>[Pay attention to Rashad]
>[Pay attention to Fatima]
>[Pay attention to the crowd]
>[Pay attention to Red Siren]