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King Of Trade Apology

King Of Trade Cosmonaut

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What does he see in the figurine?

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Apologise to King of Trade the right way.

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His tail swishes with cautious excitement.

His long, thin fingers scramble lightning-fast over the cosmonaut, feeling out each of its familiar angles.

Has he been sharpening those fangs?

This is one pissed off monkey. You may not have the edge like last time...

His eyes look like lava. He is erupting.

HARD CUT to his tiny face. CRASH ZOOM -- his golden eyes flash.

Thunder. The floorboards rattle underfoot.

Mocking us like a playground bully. We thought we move past those days...

The sheer quantity of animal testosterone in his tiny body... you must harvest this monkey's testicles.

This is unlikely to be a member of the Weeping Eye.

But imagining that it is could certainly make them less intimidating, at least in your head.

He pulls at his ears, deranged with joy.

Saliva drips from his fangs.

Alpha males of his species are visually distinguishable by their large cheeks. He thinks you fuck.

The monkey stares you down. His adorably well-fitting shirt does nothing to tamper the threat.

Remember the box of dubbed martial arts tapes that one of your mother's 'work friends' smuggled in for you when he came to visit in 79?

Fuck Johnny Khasm. It's your animal hybridity.

Or the animality rising up from your soul.

WHY DOES THE REACTIONARY SPEAK IN AUTHORITATIVE TONES? IS HE INSECURE IN HIS MESSAGE? LAUGHABLE.

Look at those nubbly thief hands. It's him.

Where else would it get this stuff?

The monkey descends into a series of gnashing shrieks and limb spasming in excitement and outrage at your quest.

THE LITTLE MAN BOASTS AN ECONOMIC ORDER BASED ON PURE WANT -- GREED AND CORRUPTION AWAIT.

What does he see in the figurine?

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The monkey calls out faintly in this strange place. His fingers are cold against the metal bars, he is blind in the dark.

At the centre of the bazaar stands a mound of flesh, rendered in cotton. Reflective eyes, brown fur, a long tail.

Warm expulsions of air on your knuckles, tickly.

Okay, worst-case scenario you just trade comatose guy for monkey loot and fuck off. Must be some sick gadgets in that pile.

We're not trading gäng for loot!

Even the cutest and most dreadful of eyes can see how you drench yourself in remorse.

DEPRAVED LUZIAN FILTH.

Human longing for these is proof that machines are the better lovers.

It looks like a dinosaur rampaged through a shopping mall, and this is its dung.

How are we supposed to know what a monkey thinks 'premium' means, though?

The finger feel of the apology cards suddenly comes back to you.

Legwear? A mask?

No toys, but you know from the cosmonaut figurine that he likes scale models -- the real shit.

Is it a companion that he's looking for?

You're talking to a monkey. You're going to have to ask specific questions if you want helpful answers.

He glances at the ceiling, eyebrows twitching.

Torn between horror and desire.

Hard to tell what monkey emotions are, but those ear twitches seem relieved.

He is going to fück it, right? Sick. We should wätch.

Terrible. Not good.

What could possibly happen?

Steal the cosmonaut.

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Out of sight, but you can still faintly hear the choking rhythm of his heartbroken hoos.

It's like if fish could produce a cheese.

That was a terrible apology, Hershel. Listen to the poor thing! Do it properly, restore his heinous pomposity.

Apologise to King of Trade the right way.

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You can hear his breath, soft and ragged.

Alpha males of his species are visually distinguishable by their large cheeks. He thinks you fuck.

Dock thief. Monkey bandit.

Yes! Monkey! Yes!!

A puppet, there's someone hiding in the pile beneath it.

Broken cages everywhere, this could be an escapee.

The GM was right, there really is a monkey in here -- and it's stood on a pile of stolen junk. It must be the dock thief.

It is standing on what looks like a pile of stolen goods.

Is this the dock thief?

He's real. Nothing has monkey physics like that but monkey.

COMPELLING. - ZERO PARADES Checks