If It Bleeds, It Can Be Fixed: Daniela Reyes Inc

Greetings, you miserable meat sacks destined for madness. While the intellectual investigators over at Miskatonic University lose their minds reading dusty tomes filled with alien calligraphy, our beloved Daniela has decided to found her own interdimensional demolition company based on a very clear philosophy: if it has tentacles, it can be punched; if it bleeds, it can be fixed; and if it can be fixed, we charge by the hour.

This deck is a total declaration of intent focused 100% on cosmic butchery. It doesn’t seek to understand the non-Euclidean nature of space-time; it seeks to break an Ancient One's legs and send the repair bill to their insurance company. The only clue being investigated here is the trail of acid blood left behind by the creature crawling across the workshop floor. If you came looking for a parlor of intellectuals debating the Necronomicon, you’re in the wrong neighborhood. We came here to dent metal and flesh alike.

The Starting Deck:

The Tools of the Trade (Assets)

• Mechanic's Wrench and Machete (x2): The ultimate DIY combo. A frog-faced Deep One tries to rip out your nerdy teammates' guts? You crack its skull open with the wrench. The creature from the depths insists? You pull out the machete. Because nothing says "existential dread" quite like a pissed-off roadside mechanic brandishing a 14-inch blade covered in motor grease.

• Sledgehammer (x2): For those moments when a machete just won't cut it and you need to explain the principles of kinetic energy to a Dark Young. Sure, it takes up two hands, but hand slots are just a social construct invented by the Serpent People when you're busy smashing cultist skulls.

• Guard Dog (x2) and Peter Sylvestre (x2): The real heroes of this existential farce. The dog bites things (incredibly useful when Daniela wants to trigger her passive retaliate ability and watch black ichor flow) and Peter... well, Peter is here to absorb all the psychological trauma of witnessing things that would make Lovecraft himself cry. Peter is the group's mental punching bag. Let’s hear it for his sanity, which is currently trading at an all-time low.

• First Aid (x2): Because sometimes, by pure statistical variance or because Nyarlathotep's chaos decrees it, monsters actually hit back. Or because the dog needs band-aids after biting a creature made of sludge, brimstone, and weird dimensions.

The Art of Provocation (Events)

• "Get Behind Me!" (x2) and Heroic Rescue (x2): Daniela's premium escort service. While the team's Seeker pisses themselves because they read a highly descriptive paragraph about the skin texture of a Servant of the Outer Gods, you step right into harm's way. "Relax, clue-boy, wipe your glasses and watch me fold this thing in half."

• Lucky! (x2) and Dodge (x2): Because even when Azathoth wakes from his slumber and decides you're going to fail a test, your sheer stubbornness says no. A horror from another dimension tries to rip your face off? "Dodge!". You fail by one? "Lucky!". Outer Gods hate this one simple trick from the block. Quantum probability can chew on our wrench.

• A Test! (x2), On the Hunt (x2) and Toe to Toe (x2): Daniela doesn’t look for monsters to run away; she looks for them to invite them to a knuckle sandwich. On the Hunt ensures the nastiest beast in the encounter deck comes straight to you to order its ration of lead. Toe to Toe is, essentially, Daniela saying: "You hit me with your non-Euclidean geometry, I hit you with Detroit steel, but my wrench does more damage."

• Tinkering (x2): Because if your weapon isn't dealing enough cosmic damage, you can always slap on more duct tape, motor grease, rusty nails, and a couple of blasphemies whispered in reverse.

Pure Testosterone (Skills)

• Vicious Blow (x2): No explanation needed. More damage. More monster chunks stuck to the truck's windshield.

• Daring (x2): The epitome of Daniela. Facing an incomprehensible cosmic horror that drains the sanity of mortal men? You cross your arms, spit on the ground, laugh in its tentacled face, and net skill icons out of pure working-class arrogance.

This deck is a steamroller of heavy metal and burnt oil. It completely lacks the mystical subtlety of those who channel the void, or the cowardly agility of a petty rogue, but it has plenty of charisma, bad attitude, and steel bolts. It is the ideal deck for cooperative games where your only job is to keep the investigators who actually know how to read and write alive, while you turn the scenario into a clandestine chop shop for alien meat.

And with that, my dear and insignificant mortals, concludes the definitive guide to turning the Apocalypse into just another routine day at the auto repair shop. You can keep debating in the ArkhamDB comments whether it's better to bring a magnifying glass or a spellbook that costs half your sanity points, but while your posh investigators are going crazy staring at the stars, Daniela Reyes Inc. will be scraping Byakhee brains off the bumper of her tow truck to pass inspection.

Leave a 'Like', favorite this deck if you value your miserable existence, and remember: the stars might be aligned, but so is Daniela's wrench. See you in the mud, if your mind doesn't collapse first! Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn and best regards to the mechanic!