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+---- Thread: The Great Belligerency [Round 4: Static] (/showthread.php?tid=669)
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - GBCE - 02-04-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
Ambrose Lom sat awkwardly on a park bench. Few public areas in the city were safe anymore, but this one had been cordoned off by what was left of the city's security force.
Mainly because it was directly in front of Administration.
Despite the late hour, the area was extremely well-lit; probably more than was absolutely necessary, but given recent events, no one was complaining. Especially not Ambrose. From what she'd seen happening elsewhere...
Her thoughts were interrupted as a short, balding man approached her shyly. "E-excuse me, are... are you Minotaurus's friend?"
Ambrose looked at him sharply, and gave the man a quick once-over. Poorly-fitting clothing (almost as bad as her own), old-style mechanical watch, nervous, fidgety demeanor... probably harmless. "Maybe. Who are you?"
The man fidgeted some more. "I'm... well, you sent him some data on an electromagnetic field and... I'm the one who analyzed it."
She brightened. "Oh! Have a seat!" She patted the bench, and the little man sat next to her nervously. Ambrose looked around. "I thought I'd be meeting with Minnie..."
"He's dead," the man blurted.
Ambrose blinked. "What."
"There was an explosion... look, the whole city's gone to crap. I think he knew he was about to die, because he sent me here to meet with you. He told me I had to tell you what I'd found. He-"
"Wait wait wait, Minotaurus is dead? I... this is..."
"Yeah, I know."
"Crazy."
"Yes, it is."
The sat in silence for a bit.
"... w-what's your name?" the man asked, nervously.
"Ambrose. Ambrose Lom."
"Mine's Nick Locuse."
Silence again.
"... are you someone who can... do something about this information?"
"I don't know! I don't even know what it is!"
"Well, Minotaurus told me to give it to you. He was very urgent about it."
Ambrose looked at her lap. Her eyes felt weird. "He was just... keeping a promise..." She sniffled. Damnit, she didn't even particularly like Minotaurus. He was rude, unsociable... brilliant, honorable, respectful in his own way... ok so maybe she missed him a little but that didn't mean she should be crying.
Except she was. She wiped her nose on her sleeve. "Just tell me what you found."
Nick looked around, as if concerned someone would overhear. "That electromagnetic field you found? Well, thanks to the data you provided, I was able to get a clear picture of, well it turned out to be an electrostatic field, and it was interacting with the background field of the city oddly, so I-"
Ambrose held up a hand. "Nick, man, I'm not a scientist. Layman's terms?"
Nick took a deep breath, and said, "Whatever's generating that field did not come from this universe."
The sentence shocked her out of mourning. It took a few seconds for Ambrose to realize her mouth was hanging open. "Wuh... what? No. That's-"
"It's a fact. The only explanation for the way that field interacted with regular matter is that whatever's generating it came from a place with different universal constants. Very slightly different, but still different."
"Wow." Ambrose sat back on the bench, absorbing. "That's... not what I was expecting." She frowned, then, remembering how Minotaurus had warned her about getting into this.
The two sat in an uncomfortable silence, neither really knowing what to say.
"Uh... nice watch," tried Ambrose. Nick grinned excitedly, and brought up his hand.
"Yeah, it's entirely mechanical. You get the time from reading these slivers here, called 'hands', right now it's... uhh..." Nick fumbled with the display, and Ambrose glanced over. "6:30pm," she proclaimed. Nick stopped fumbling and blinked. "Uh... yeah." He looked around bashfully. "I uh... mostly just grab the time off the 'net," he admitted. Ambrose nodded and made sympathetic noises.
They sat awkwardly some more.
Finally, Ambrose exhaled, and got up. "Well buddy, thanks for telling me, but I'm not really sure what I can do with that information."
"Yeah... yeah." Nick looked towards Administration. "I was going to tell them after you. My favor to Minotaurus took priority."
Ambrose smiled. "I understand. Well! I need to get back home."
Nick looked startled. "You're leaving? But the streets, they're not safe!"
Ambrose waved him off. "Oh I'll be fine. I got here, didn't I?"
Nick grumbled, "Well, yes..."
"I appreciate your concern, but I need to get back to my apartment!" All my stuff is there and I haven't been outside for this long in a while and it's making me anxious and you smell kind of funny and oh god I probably do too, "Maybe I'll see you around sometime!"
Nick grinned. "Yeah, I'd like that." But Ambrose was already leaving. In her haste, she completely missed Reinhardt striding purposefully across the park and into Administration. Nick sighed. He'd almost hoped Ambrose would wait with him. His appointment with the Administrators wasn't for a few more hours, so he had some time to kill. He pulled out a small holographic reader and settled in to wait.
---
Julia clung to Phil's arm as they navigated the deserted streets and walkways. She shivered and jumped at the occasional shout, distant boom, or flash of running figures. With nightfall the damage to the city from the day's events became more apparent; streetlights, self-illuminating sidewalks, and other sources of light flickered threateningly or never turned on at all.
Phil cursed his luck, wishing the Administrative Bloc were closer to Minotaurus's spiraling tower, instead of halfway across the city. Most forms of public transportation were down at this point, which meant they were walking the whole way. At least he'd finally gotten access to some tourist's maps, available for public download on the city's still-active 'net.
The long walk through the darkened city was not good for Phil's nerves. While the streets appeared deserted, there was always a sense of some unseen predator, waiting, watching. Minute to minute, it seemed inevitable that their progress would expose them to the numerous threats lurking just beyond detection.
They walked for hours under this oppressive gloom, occasionally pausing at one of Balance's forcefields, following it until they could find a way through. The barriers only made the journey that much more tortuous.
Finally, they rounded a corner, and were rewarded with light from a security cordon flooding the streets. Julia started to run towards the light, but Phil put a hand in front of her, and continued forwards cautiously.
Their footsteps rang unchallenged against the looming buildings. Phil drew his rifle. The silence was unnerving him. They crept towards the lights, waiting for a sign of life; a challenge, the sound of a weapon being cocked, the shuffling of impatient feet... anything.
The pair stepped beyond the floodlights illuminating the street and found only bodies. A few of the city's security forces lay around the lights, mangled beyond recognition, often with gaping holes blasted out of them. Julia cowered behind Phil; the armored commando hefted his rifle, and continued onwards towards Administration.
They'd actually been in the Administrative Bloc for some time; given the multi-layered nature of New Shambhala, city Blocs were divided into cubes. Phil and Julia were currently on the top of the cube that was the Administrative Bloc, but the buildings they'd been passing and the unseen depths beneath their feet were all part of the same section of the city. Administration was but a single building in the Administrative Bloc; the most important, to be sure, but every other building in the Bloc served its purpose in running New Shambhala. Or at least, they used to. Now only Administration was left.
The building itself was low-standing, and strongly resembled a squat, wide mushroom. A short cylinder, maybe 3,000 feet in diameter, was topped by a convex disc. The entire thing was brilliantly white, though only small portions were currently illuminated by emergency floodlights. A circular parkway wrapped around the building, sandwiched by sprawling promenades, which acted as buffers between Administration, the parkway, and the surrounding buildings.
It was through this parkway which the two contestants now walked. Phil paused as they passed a bench; a glint on the wrist of the body laying next to it had caught his attention. He lifted the corpse's hand and checked the watch. It had been broken around the same time the man's chest and head had been blown apart, the hands of its anachronistic clockface reading approximately 8:45. His armor's internal clock read 13:52; it was not military time. New Shambhala's day was a little under thirty hours, and he'd synched up his own clock to the city's a while ago. He stood.
"This happened around five hours ago. The people responsible are either dead or gone. Either way, we should continue towards that building." He gestured towards Administration, and Julia nodded weakly, pale face still transfixed on the grisly sight before her. The pair trudged onwards. Occasionally, they would come across the body of some alien or another; a tangled mess of limbs here, a large, limp pile of hair-like tendrils there... the only thing which struck Phil as odd about the alien corpses were that, while all the humans had some large hole blown in their bodies somewhere, the aliens all appeared to have been beaten, stabbed, or sliced to death. Whatever had been firing at the humans had either been ignoring the aliens, or had been used by them.
They exited the parkway and walked across the promenade towards Administration, and Phil barely had time to notice that a makeshift barricade had been established around what must have been the main entrance, before several uniformed humans popped up from behind the barriers, some of them pointing weapons at the pair.
A voice rang out across the empty way. "Remove your helmet!"
Phil raised his rifle. Only two were armed, and at this distance he could probably take them all out... but there was no cover anywhere near, and Julia was right next to him. He was considering just tossing a grenade and running when Julia put a hand on his arm. He turned to look at her, and found her gazing up at him. "Please, Phil. They are human, and we are human. I don't think... I think you should do as they say."
Phil considered. If this really was a human sanctuary, it wasn't very secure. Only two weapons for seven guards? Still... they probably wouldn't shoot if he complied, and he was interested in seeing what other armaments they might be hiding inside. He holstered his rifle, and removed his helmet.
The two armed guards lowered their weapons and motioned for the pair to approach. A third stepped forward, waiting until Phil and Julia were closer, before saying "Corporal Leonard O'Shanssey," glancing at Phil's armor and weapons, "... Sir. Sorry about that, but we had to make certain you weren't an alien. Some of them look the same as us, if you don't count the head. We needed to see your face." The guard offered a hand, and Phil shook it. "Welcome to Administration, the last secure, safe area for humans in this damned city."
Phil nodded towards the armed guards. "You seem to be rather lacking in weapons, Corporal."
The man nodded. "New Shambhala's security forces are normally armed with non-lethal, non-projectile weapons. We were attacked about five hours ago by a group of aliens armed with five of these gauss rifles," gesturing towards the guns. "They're centuries below the weapons tech I'd prefer to be using, but still excellently designed. We think they were cobbled together from pieces of broken maglev trams. Ingenious, really, and designed to be universally compatible with any anatomy." The corporal looked out across the promenade, towards the parkway. "You've probably already seen how effective they are," he added grimly.
The three humans stood in a respectful silence for a bit. The corporal shook himself. "Come on in. We could use someone with combat experience, which," he looked up and down Phil's blood-spattered armor, "it looks like you have. I'll take you to see Vanhart." The corporal led them through the doors, and the other guards resumed their positions, keeping an eye out for more potential threats.
Phil frowned. "Who?"
"Some bigwig security consultant from outside the city. He arrived something like seven, eight hours ago... jeez, only eight hours? It feels like longer..."
They were walking through a rather cluttered entry hall, obviously now converted into serving whatever purposes the now-vacant peripheral buildings of the Administrative Bloc had previously handled, as the gutted mechanism of the Administration struggled to remain functional. The corporal continued. "Anyway, he came in and had a chat with all the Administrators, and when he came out he was head of all the city's remaining security forces."
The corporal led them up a flight of stairs to the second floor.
"He only had two hours to reorganize us before those damned aliens attacked. There were twelve of them, and they only had five guns, but we had nothing. They would have made it inside if Vanhart hadn't joined us in the field and started carving them up with that sword of his."
They turned down a hallway, and entered a waiting room.
The corporal gestured towards the large double-doors on the other side of the room. "Anyway. He's in there now, talking with the other Administrators. They basically made him head of goddamn-near-everything after he saved our bacon. He's apparently got some blueprints for cheap and easy weapons that we can make ourselves; we've converted the Special Dipolmatic Hanger into an assembly line, since it's the biggest one and it's not like it'll be used any time soon.
"He should be out soon, and then I'm almost certain he'll want to talk to you." The corporal pointedly looked only at Phil for that last sentence. Julia apparently didn't notice. "Feel free to have a seat while you wait." The corporal left, and Phil and Julia were alone.
Phil didn't particularly feel like sitting down, and Julia seemed content to wander around the room, admiring the various paintings and artistic works. A few minutes passed before the double-doors opened and Vandrel Reinhardt strode out. Phil snorted. "So, you're calling yourself 'Vanhart' now?"
"Watch your mouth. Fortune smiles upon you that I so need you in the future," Reinhardt cut in, placing a hand on Phil's shoulder. "Matthew Vanhart, if you please. I've been hoping you'd show up. These soldiers are woefully inexperienced and underequipped. An instructor as skilled as you could make all the difference, with the experience with such materials as you possess."
"Well, I'm not exactly the teaching type..."
Julia bounced over. "La, I think it is a wonderful idea!" She grabbed Phil's hands. "Phil, you should accept! You would finally no longer be working alone! I have only been a hinderence... la, but with these men, you may find some worthy of following you!"
"I-"
Reinhardt spoke into a communicator on his wrist. "sergeant Cobb, I require your presence."
"What's-"
The door behind them opened, and another uniformed security guard walked out, and saluted. "Sir!"
"Would you please escort this man to the barracks? I've finally found you someone that can teach your men to be the brutally effective warriors they need to be."
The sergeant grinned, and saluted again. "Sir, yes sir!" Turning towards Phil, "This way, sir!"
Phil threw a helpless glance over his shoulder as he was escorted from the room. "Pay him no mind, I assure you that he shall serve your men well," Reinhardt added with a smirk, in his own way of consoling the sergeant. The sergeant and Girnham left, leaving Reinhardt and the girl alone.
The girl crossed her arms. "You've been busy."
"Indeed. I want to thank you for your gift, earlier. Such technologies as these people have developed are invaluable to my plans of establishing my presence in this land."
The girl smiled. "You enjoyed that, did you? I see you used it well."
The tyrant nodded. "The Administrators were more than willing to give me anything I asked for after I demonstrated my competence. They are also all convinced that the alien resistence movement is very real and very organized. However..."
Reinhardt pursed his lips. "There is still a strong alien presence amongst the Administration, as much as it pains me to see such an otherwise magnificent society blightened by the subhuman taint. I have stoked the fires of prejudice where I am able, but I will need more gifts from you to sway them to my cause."
The girl nodded. "I understand. Unfortunately, I'm going to have to remain here for a while longer. Girnham," she jerked her head towards the door Phil had left through earlier, "may get suspicious if I disappear now. I must maintain my cover. But," she held up a hand, warding off Reinhardt's protest, "I am still capable of operating as necessary, even here. In fact, I may be able to do more here than out there..." the girl trailed off, already formulating plans for a schism between the human and non-human Administrators. "Give me the rest of the night. You'll have the backing of a human-only Administration, and the permission to begin a purge of all non-humans by morning."
Reinhardt almost smiled. "Satisfactory."
The girl approached him. "There is one more thing," she began.
"Yes?"
"I think we're ready to check for replies from the Network."
"Excellent." Reinhardt prepared himself, clearing his throat and brushing his jacket free of any wrinkles, and the girl reached out with one finger touched his forehead.
Again, they found themselves in the familiar circular room, although this time they were alone. Reinhardt looked around, stroking his beard in contemplation. "Where is your brother? I had been under the impression he would be joining us."
The girl actually had no idea. Her brother's absence was more unexpected for her than it was for Reinhardt; from what she understood of the multiverse (which was very little), time did not so much "flow" as "jump" from one nexus of causal worldtracks to the next. Causal worldtracks which shared points of similarity, like for instance, her and her brother, were more likely to temporally intersect. Considering all the points of similarity she shared with her brother, not including their recent efforts with the Network, he should have appeared here, at this point in time, whenever he happened to try. Time would simply redirect him, so that his worldtrack would intersect with hers and Reinhardt's.
That it hadn't was worrying.
"He must be busy," she lied. "I imagine he'll come when he's available, or when he feels his presence is required."
Reinhardt shrugged. "No matter. Let us peruse the replies to my message." The girl nodded, and the room darkened, leaving the center illuminated.
"I cannot predict the exact nature of each reply, so I'll be rendering them in whatever form they appear here, in the center of the room," the girl explained. The two collaborators stepped away from the center, and the girl nodded.
Instantly, the room was filled with a cacaphony of alien noises, words, crashes, explosions, all with an accompanying whirlwind of images swirling through the center of the room. Reinhardt and the girl struggled to make out anything coherent.
"Greetings, Master Vandrel Rrrrrreinhardtttt, Iiii am indifferent to do battllllle, depending, of couurrrrrrse, on many new words. Therrrksshtrre's one in particular I WANT a chance at freedom. Fffcchkkkwwwwwe have only just managed TO DESTROY an island with a vvvviolatevvvolcano and an ocean. This is SyvMagXadrBriaRikYOUR HOPEKareTitaThomBlaKSSHH-
Images spasmed through the center of the room: a ghostly spectre floating atop of disc; an incomprehensible mathematical fractal; a giant, unblinking eye; things which no mortal mind was ever meant to see, with oases of mundanity sprinkled amongst the mind-searing images.
The girl turned to Reinhardt and shouted, "Something is wrong!" over the voices and the noise.
Reinhardt glared back at her. "Obviously! What sort of fell machinations are these? What foolishness is this?", he said, pointing angrily at the disc.
The girl shot him a glance. "Hang on! I'm going to try something!" She wasn't exactly certain how her multiversal communicator worked; she knew she was exploiting the already-established link between herself and her brother to broadcast and recieve, but that was about it. She thought for a moment. If she considered her transmitter to be a lightning rod for these messages, then perhaps to attract them with more coherency, she would have to enhance the rod. Since her transmitter was based upon quantumly entangled particles, she reasoned that creating more entangled particles would strengthen the transmitter's attractive properties. As a bonus, creating those particles was well within the means of her internal cybernetics.
After a few minutes, the sounds and images became less frenzied.
"-am Xadrez, and I am also in a universe-spanning battle to the death. Vandrel Reinhardt, if you can help us fight back against the Gr-who? No, I don't know. This isn't what I wanted. No! Also no. Maybe. Listen, I'm going to go over there, knock on her door, and then we're gonna fu-Riko, and I'm also stuck in a battle to death. I did not catch the entire message you were going to send me, but judging by your wording you too are stuck in one against your will. I have contacts with the outside world, and if you would like to cooperate, and escape from these arenas-"
The girl and Reinhardt listened intensely to each fractured message, knowing that, whoever these people were, they would soon all be joined together by a common cause.
"-until this moment, unaware of the existance of multiple battles. I'm sorry to say that my methods of contact through the multiverse are limited. I spent several hours alone on working out a way of returning your call for aid. Nevertheless, if you are in need of another individual joining your-who you are, but I'm in another of these battle-to-the-death things you mentioned. I'm guessing it's the same deal with you, randomly pulled from your home to kill some people with no real explanation. Honestly, I'm content with just escapin-variational approximations in discrete nonlinear next-nearest-neighbor couplings phase mismatch on second harmonic integrable quantum spi-many new words. Self, Magog, chaos, lost. These words are all mine. I am in a battle somewhere, on an island with a volcano and an ocean. In exchange for your help finding myself, I will make 'ally' one of-"
Despite the girl's meddlings, the replies were still frustratingly incomplete. She could tell they were missing what must be valuable pieces of information. She perked up when two more replies resolved themselves, each mentioning the same entity.
"-carnage. To this end, I shall do my best to aid in your endeavor to overthrow these 'grandmasters'. I shall, perhaps, even bring this message up with those whom I am pitted against. I purpose that a list of these 'grandmasters' be composed, along with any known or useful information. The master of this particular battle is one that calls itself The Monit-little girl here, and no chance in hell I’m letting her die, powerful entities or not. The Monitor is the name of the one holding-"
The girl added "The Monitor" to her mental list of Grandmasters; it was a short list. She and Reinhardt continued to listen.
"-been abducted and forced to do battle. This same communications channel should serve well for a good while. As for overthrowing, we're certainly interested, but we're hardly in a position to do-this day! Curse the foul Zelmeraga what espouse tradition and worship the Olmerang! Rise, rise to-Identify. Titan. Irrelevant. Yes. Searching. Family. Irreleva-the Blank, replying to Mr. Reinhardt's trans-universal message. Sorry I am a bit late on the reply, I've only just managed to get a hold of proper technology. Things are a bit chaotic on my end, and I would really appreci-onderful. Great. Excellent. The sooner we can kill these bastards, the better. There's one in particular who I would love to disem-"
The messages flowed in, some accompanied by sound, others by images, others by both, or none. Some were merely text. Some emitted strange odors. Some radiated nothing but emotion. They were as numerous as they were varied, and Reinhardt and the girl stood and listened for hours, attempting to distinguish the ones which seemed to be replying to them from the melting pot of communications.
After a while the girl gestured. The messages faded, and the room brightened once more. "I believe we have all that we need, for now. I'm not certain how to communicate with any of these beings directly, though..."
"That will be uneccessary. A second blanket message, broadcast into the multiverse once more, should be enough. I will tell them that I have recieved their replies, and that I shall soon find a way to contact them all personally."
The girl looked at Reinhardt, and he shrugged. "It doesn't matter if it's true. Likely, many of these beings will die before I can make good on my promise, and it will give them... hope."
The girl nodded. "All right. I'll also embed some additional data into this message, essentially detailing what I did to better resolve these replies. It should allow our future allies better reception for other multiverse messages, though we're along way from direct, real-time communication. At the very least it will allow them to receive any of our future messages with greater ease, and perhaps communicate amongst themselves, to a limited degree. Ready when you are."
Reinhardt gathered himself and faced the girl. He cleared his throat and proceeded to give his oration, having much experience in the field as a ruler.
"Beings of the multiverse, denizens of all that heed to the whim of the gods, the day has came for us to unite, to forge a new era. Together we shall form a mighty union, we shall come together and crush all opposition beneath our combined feet. I, Lord Vandrel Reinhardt, am an experienced master in tactical planning. My armies have conquered lands far and wide and brought all that oppose us to their knees, hacking their heads from their pitiful necks to punish them for their misdeeds. Future allies! I have heard your replies, and you are not alone! With access to all of you, we could form an army more great, more powerful than ever I had layed mortal eyes upon. As a gift, I include within this message information which shall allow you to better communicate across the multiverse! We shall come together and strike back at all that oppose us! Together, the empire we form shall extend across never-before-matched boundaries, encompassing dominions never before dreamed of! My friends, my allies from all imaginable walks of life, this is it! THIS SHALL BE OUR HOUR!"
The girl nodded. "Message sent. I think it's time we got back to New Shambhala. Time may flow quickly here, but we've been standing still there for about thirty seconds too long. Breaking connection..."
There was a rushing sensation, and the two contestants found themselves back in the waiting room. "I must return to the Administrators," Reinhardt began, "there is still much to be done. You go and find Girnham, and get to work on delivering your promise. I will send you relevant information on the Administrators, which I am certain you will put to good use."
The girl bowed acknowledgement, and turned to leave the room. She paused as she opened the door, and through a glance over her shoulder. "Be seeing you, Vandrel," she said. Then she was gone. Reinhardt looked after her, briefly, before turning on his heel and returning through the double-doors.
---
Ambrose was back in her apartment, hunched in front of her cubes once more. She rocked back and forth, thinking hard. There was a puzzle here, she just knew it, and she had a few of the pieces... but she couldn't see how they fit together. Vanhart, "Julia", Minotaurus's death, the electromagnetic field from another universe, the rioting and explosions and racial tension - all of it fit together. It had to. But how?
"Graaaah!" Ambrose grabbed at her temples and whacked them with her fists. "This is so frustrating!" Vanhart had completely disappeared, and her 'net coverage was starting to get patchy as sections of the city went down, and message boards went inactive as their users died. Her sources of information were dwindling.
Letting out a frustrated "Hmph," Ambrose stuck her hands back into her cubes and began to work in earnest. If Vanhart was no longer an option, then "Julia" was obviously her prime focus. She would find this person, and then she'd get some answers.
---
The girl navigated through bustling hallways towards the barracks, pausing occasionally to ask for directions from helpful passers-by. As she was nearing her goal, a notification flashed in her vision, indicating an incoming message through her multiversal trasmitter. Curious, she answered, and was greeted by the image of Arnold Scarlet.
"Finally! I've been trying to get through to you forever. I don't know exactly what's going on but for some reason this... device... took a really long time to connect to you. Kept throwing up errors, something about 'multiversal interference' or something."
The girl nodded. "That would make sense. Message transmission through the multiverse has been less than ideal, of late," first my brother, then the messages, now Arnold... "I managed to tweak my own transmitter and increase its signal strength, but it wasn't enough."
"Yeah. Listen," Arnold removed his aviators briefly, and massaged the bridge of his nose. He looked... tired. Defeated. He put the aviators back on. "I don't have much time as it is. I don't think I can help you with this interference thing, but..." he glanced over his shoulder and moved closer to the pickup, "the... thing that's keeping me here, The Controller, he's been seeming a little flustered recently. I don't really know what's going on but I get the impression that something is worrying him, and others like him."
The girl smiled. "I think I may know the cause. This is useful intel. I suggest you start listening in on wideband multiversal frequencies. What you find may be of interest to you."
Arnold nodded. "Right. Yeah. I'll-" he looked somewhere to his side, cursed, grabbed for the camera, and the connection was cut.
The girl brought herself back to reality, to find an anonymous message waiting for her, sent across the city's dying 'net. It flashed across her vision and nearly froze her on the spot: Someone will die. You are the only one without a guardian angel. Be seeing you. -M Recovering quickly, she continued walking. But Minotaurus wasn't dead, and he knew more about her, and more about this battle, than she was comfortable with.
She would have to deal with him personally.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Aryogaton - 02-05-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.
![[Image: tear.png]](https://img844.imageshack.us/img844/4696/tear.png)
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Pick Yer Poison - 02-06-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
Reinhardt was filling out a few electronic forms when he heard a brief argument outside his chamber doors. Recognizing Phil's voice arguing with those of his guards, he put the form he was working on neatly and waited for the doors to open. A few moments later, an irate Phil barged in, followed by the guards. "Hey, you can't go in there without--"
Reinhardt held up one of his hands, silencing the two armored lackeys. "He's cleared for entrance. You two may leave now." The guards hesitated, then nodded and left, the doors closing behind them. Reinhardt turned his attention to Phil. "What do you need?"
"Do you have any alien captives?"
Reinhardt stared. "What kind of question is that? Why would I keep any of those scum alive?"
Phil shook his head. "So you don't?"
"No! What do you need living aliens for?"
Phil glared back. Reinhardt could feel his stare through the helmet. "The recruits you told me to teach are worthless right now, Reinhardt. They're cowards. They may not look it to the untrained eye, but I can tell at a glance; these humans will take too long to adjust to killing to teach them on the battlefield. I have many ways to teach them to fight, Reinhardt, but I have only one way to teach them to kill." Phil paused. "If you don't have any living aliens, do you at least have a large bag?"
Reinhardt shrugged, slightly nonplussed. "That's something to ask the quartermaster."
Phil nodded. "A'ight. I'll be back in an hour, hour and a half." He walked back out, and after a minute Reinhardt picked the form back up and continued filling it out.
-----------------
Twenty-six minutes later, Phil walked into the training hall carrying a cube about the size of the average adult head. He pulled off his helmet, revealing his massively scarred face. A group of fifteen recruits snapped to attention, raising their hands to their foreheads and trying to avoid eye contact without appearing to. "Sir!"
Phil nodded. "At ease." The recruits lowered their hands and relaxed slightly. "Sorry for taking so long. I ran into an ambush about two minutes' walk from the training hall." The recruits blinked confusedly. "It took me an extra twenty minutes to find the survivors, hence the wait."
One of the recruits raised a hand. "Permission to speak, sir!" Phil nodded. "Sir, what exactly is in that storage space?" Phil simply grinned and tossed the cube on the ground. It expanded rapidly, and a handle appeared on one side. The commando yanked the side open and pulled out a tied-up humanoid alien.
The creature was similar a housefly, with large compound eyes and brutally mangled wings. Even without pupils, the eyes still looked pleading. "P-Please, don't kill me! I have a family! My daughter, she--" Phil silenced him with a single shot in the side of the head. A couple of screams were heard from inside the cube, and the recruits flinched. Several of them turned a few shades greener. Phil's grin got visibly wider, and his eyes displayed a malicious glint.
"Recruits, today, you will be learning what I have just shown you. This is something you will all need to learn before I am willing to send you out to fight nonhuman scum. This, recruits, is how you KILL!" Phil yanked out another tied-up alien; this time, a lizard-man. He shoved him in front of the recruits. "Shoot him!" Two obeyed, but missed horribly; the rest froze up. One vomited and ran out of the room. The lizard-man made a dash for the door; Phil shot him in the back of the head, and he fell.
He then fired a shot just to the left of the head of one of the twelve recruits who hadn't fired a shot. "Why didn't you fire when your commander ordered you to? Why?" All the color drained out of the soldier-to-be's face, and he shook his head, mouthing nonsense. "WRONG ANSWER!" Phil barked back at him. He pulled a four-armed alien with beige scales all over his body out of the box and shoved it at the recruit. "NOW SHOOT!" This time the gun fired, about fifteen more shots than were actually needed, but the alien dropped to the floor and writhed for a moment before Phil took the killing shot. "Never leave your opponent in a position where he feels pain when he dies! Killing him proves that he has been triumphed for the last time in his life. He does not need to regret that." He pulled another lizard-like humanoid, this time a female, from the box, and shoved her in front of the recruits. "Now SHOOT!"
This time about half obeyed. Seven aliens later, they were all shooting without hesitation. Phil's mad grin never left his face for a minute. Before, they were soldiers. Now, they are killers.
-----------------
After twenty minutes of a very, very successful combat practice, Phil decided that nature was calling rather badly. He excused himself from the training hall and went to find the bathroom. When he happened upon it, he heard a faint noise from inside. That sounds like...someone crying? He slipped his gun off his shoulder and kicked open the door. The recruit who had run off looked up at him blearily from his seated position on the top of the unused toilet. His face was covered in tears and he quickly turned his head, trying to wipe them off. Phil put his gun away and put his hand on the boy's shoulder in a fatherly way. "It's alright, son. War is not for everyone."
The former recruit gazed up at him tearfully. "I'm sorry, sir. I...I just couldn't do it."
Phil shook his head calmly, the scarred and pitted face showing a hint of actual human kindness for the first time in a long while. "We all make mistakes. Maybe yours was trying to be something you didn't really want to be."
The boy nodded sadly. "I think you're right. To be honest, I was a bit afraid you'd take this...a bit differently." He paused, biting his lip. "You're scary out there, sir. I thought you would...to be completely honest, I thought you might kill me."
He jumped when Phil laughed in response. "You remind me of my son. He thought I was going to kill him when he told me he didn't want to be a soldier. For a minute I felt like it, too!" Phil's laughs died down, but he continued to smile kindly. "But it occurred to me that not everyone needs to be good at the same things. As long as you stay true to yourself and loyal to your cause, you'll never go wrong." You might get a lot of grief and a bit of pain, but still... The boy nodded, a slight smile glimmering on his face. Phil returned it. "Now clean yourself up and scoot out. You may still want to take your rifle with you; I did get ambushed within the human bloc. Seems Vanhart's separation hasn't progressed as far as he thinks it has." Phil backed out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. "I'd best be off now."
When he reached the training hall doors he stopped for a moment, struck his forehead with the palm of his hand, and walked away in search of an unoccupied bathroom.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - MalkyTop - 02-06-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
There was a long silence. Did the snooper think that she didn’t know he was there?
Tapping her fingers on the ground and sighing loudly to let everybody around (her and the mysterious stranger) just how inconvenient this was for her, Soft shouted out again. “Didja hear me? Get this rock off me right now or I’ll—“ Oh look, the rock was off her.
“Don’t you dare leave,” Soft immediately commanded as she stood up and brushed herself off. The suited shooter in front of her paused and decided to wait, glancing uncomfortably around at the surroundings, worried, apparently, that someone might see them. Soft grumbled about a lot of things as she braided up her hair again, mostly about how everything never goes the way she wants it to and how everybody were idiots when it came to what they were supposed to do and how convoluted things were getting and really, how could all the little children understand this? What were they supposed to get out of this story? Hmmm?
Ratfink stared as Soft slowly regained her composure and smiled up at him in a rather disconcerting way. He was a rat. At least, sort of a rat, but he was rat-like enough not to be a human, which was too bad because rats can’t be protagonists, although sometimes they were in fables, but fables weren’t stories of heroes but dammit, she needed to salvage this story somehow. Ratfink coughed politely and slung his rather slender gun over his shoulder. “Now if you excuse me, I must be—“
“Oh thaaaaaa~nk you, kind sir~” Soft interrupted, malevolent sweetness just exuding out of her voice. The tildes that were somehow audible seemed somewhat aggressive. “Many people have passed me by, but yoooo~uu~ have paaaaaa~ssed! You aloooo~ne have released me because of the gooooooo~dness of your heart! Now your kindness shall be rewaaaaa~rded, for such a good heart deseeeee~rves a graaaaaaa~nd rewaaaa~rd~~~~~~”
This was getting creepy. “Not from the goodness of my heart,” he pointed out, his hair starting to bristle. He wished he could have just stayed out of sight. “You told me to.”
“From the GOOOOOO~DNESS of your HEART~” Oh dear. What did he get himself into. “Of course, you didn’t know this, but I am a ~maaaaaa~gical~ fairy being thing and because of how utterly goooooo~d you are, I shall protect and guide you throughout your miiiii~ghty quest~”
Ratfink crossed his arms. He was getting a little twitchy, just standing in plain view like this. Dammit, if she had just gone on to not attack one of the other targets, this sort of thing would have never happened…
“Not on a ‘mighty quest,’” he tried to explain tersely. “I have to protect you. Was supposed to protect you secretly, but you went and decided to get trapped under a rock. I’ll have to get back to my post now. Pretend to have not seen me.”
But as he turned to scrabble back up the wall, Soft grabbed his arm. It was a surprisingly firm grip. He resisted the instinct to flip her over and onto the ground. She probably wouldn’t like that.
“No. I’M supposed to protect YOU. That’s what magical fairies do, and you certainly aren’t one and magical fairies don’t need protection and I don’t care about your job you’re the big hero underdog-rat-thing now and you have to call on ME to get out of trouble because that’s how it’s gonna go soooooo~ let’s get on with the queeeee~st alreeeeeeeaa~dy~~~~” Her voice was starting to sound strained. Ratfink was pretty sure it wouldn’t be wise to push her over the tipping point. He sighed. It had seemed so simple when he first took it…
“What’s my quest supposed to be? Wait,” he said, carefully taking back his hand. “Let’s get up top first. Don’t want to be seen.”
Depending on the hero, they could be a little sneaky and cunning, and he was sort of a rat. This would fit his character, she supposed. “Fine.” And, after suddenly tying her cloak back on again, Soft leaped upwards and scaled the wall of the building easily. Ratfink sighed. This charge was suddenly getting really annoying. Still, he was glad he wasn’t the poor sap who got the violent, screaming goddess thing. And with that happy thought, the gunman climbed up the wall a tad slower than his ‘magical fairy friend.’
“Okay,” Ratfink continued, feeling much better now. “What’s my quest supposed to be?”
“Why~ haven~t you~ seeee~n~? There is a daaaa~rk~ force plaguing~ your~ land~ and it ab~so~lutely~ must~ be~ stooooo~pped~~~~”
Ratfink still maintained that the goddess would have been worse. “I imagine you mean the sudden turmoil that hadn’t been there until you and your friends showed up.”
“An eeeeee~vil big bad tyyy~rant is coming to take oooo~ver, you see, and under his rule, baaaaa~d things’ll haaaaa~pen~ you know~ and sooooo~ someone must stand~ up~ against~ him~”
Hm. This really wasn’t looking good. He was pretty sure that—
“You must kiiiii~ll~, dear hero, kill that mean Vaaaa~ndrel Reee~inhardt~”
Oh dear. He was fairly certain that whoever got that guy wouldn’t be happy about that.
If he refused, would she try to tear his head off? Better not check. But he couldn’t go along with what she wanted him to do. Couldn’t go against the plan, could he? Whatever the plan was. He couldn’t say his employer was the type to divulge everything if he didn’t need to. “Not really sure about that.”
“Are you queeeee~stioning meeeee~~~~~ I reeeee~ally hope not because I miiii~ght have to do~ something~ draa~stic~ because I don’t liiii~ke it~~~~”
Goddamn tilde wave. If he heard another tilde, he might have to wring someone’s throat. “No, not like that. You know what’s going on, right? I know you do. You already know about my job.”
“Siiiii~llyyyy~ heeeee~rooooo~ you’re just a huuuuu~mble faaaaaaaa~rmboooyyy~~~ noooo~ shadowy connnneeee~ctioooooons~~~~~~~~”
Dear god.
“Exactly. You know things. Just ignoring them for sake of whatever it is. So you know the woman that stands behind him. You know why he’s getting so much power here. People are already rallying behind him. He’s making use of the confusion. I know this too. You can’t kill him with a sorceress beside him. So kill the sorceress first.” God, that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever said before. Never thought he’d be putting all those childish stories he read as a kid to use.
Soft stood still for a moment. “Yeeeeeee~sssss~~~~” she sighed through gritted teeth, apparently not liking uppity characters who knew more than was good for them. “You were suppooooo~sed to realiii~ze this laaaaaaaa~~~~tteeerrrrrrrrr~~~~~ but I guess if you aaalll~ready~ knooooo~www~ there’s no pooooiiii~nt~~~~”
Well, he plugged up that problem nicely. Ratfink looked across the troubled ex-utopia. He wasn’t actually allowed to kill her. But this was a slightly better situation. At least she didn’t have a guardian angel that would probably kill him even if he didn’t actually want to kill her and was just acting by the whims of a weird girl. Probably harder to kill, as well, from what he had heard…perhaps.
“Alright. You know where she is?”
“Of coooouuu~rse heeeee~roooo~ I know maaaaaa~ny things~~~ the biiii~g baa~d wiiiiii~tch is in this Administraaaa~tion thing and…ooooh~ I think she’s waaa~lking somewhere nooooow~~~”
“I know where that is. Let’s go.” The next rooftop was slightly lower and he was able to simply jump down to it. Soft pursed her lips and shouted, “Hold it heeeee~roooo~~” before landing beside him.
“Aaare~nt you going to go back doooooo~wn~~~~?”
“We’ll be seen. Safer this way.”
Seriously what kind of heee~rooooo~ leaps around on roooooo~ftops like a cooooo~moooo~n~ theiiiii~f~~~~ that’s just ridiiiiiii~cuuuuu~looouuuus~~~
“You seeeee~ heeeee~roooo~ I’m supposed to be waaaaa~tching over yooouuuu~ and it would be eaaaa~sier to be the unseeee~n guaaaa~rdian if I were up here and you aaaaa~ll the way doooo~wn there~~~~”
“Sorceress probably have spies everywhere. Better to stay unseen. If I’m a hero, I must be pragmatic.”
Damn pragmatic heroes. “Oh fiiii~ne~ we can walk togeeee~ther~ me and yooouuuu~~~~ heeeeee~heeeeeeeeeeee~~~~~~~~~”
Oh dear.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - GBCE - 02-06-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Captain Lhurgoyf.
Reinhardt put away the last of his paperwork, then got up from his desk and walked out the door in a dignified manner, coming to the Administrator that he had managed to attach himself to. The tyrant bowed his head and extended his hand to his patron.
"Greetings." The Administrator took Reinhardt's hand and shook. Reinhardt nodded.
"I've cleared out the forms that should permit me to present my plans to our friends in the military, good sir."
"All right then, right this way."
The Administrator took Reinhardt over to a control room, a small, dark alcove filled with blinking computers and electronic equipment. "The switch right here should start the recording, Mr. Vanhart. Say what you will, the matters with the other Administrators have been cleared up." Reinhardt smiled at this news.
Walking over to a computer desk, the tyrant pulled a chair out from under the table and sat down, gazing at the controls. He was still fairly unfamiliar with the technology, but he had enough experience working the various developments seen throughout the city to activate the holographic transmitter sitting on the desk. Reinhardt flipped a switch, and a beam of pale blue light was emitted from a small diode sat into the machine's case, illuminating Reinhardt. He sat up tall and began his address.
At that moment, in various barracks, training rooms, and military offices throughout the complex, a hatch on the wall opened up, and out beamed a three-dimensional holographic image of Reinhardt's head and shoulders, floating above the floor. In a booming voice, the hologram read out Reinhardt's message.
"Greetings, all of you. Military commissioner Matthew Vanhart, presiding. I have obtained permission from the Administrators to make an important order. Listen closely and do what I say; this action may prove to be the turning point in determining if our city shall live or die to this recent threat of alien uprising.
As you know, terrorist attacks have spread through the city, as hostile alien forces have attempted to bring down the integral structure of New Shambhala's government. We cannot allow this to happen. In my attempts to take prevenative measures and hold off a loss, I have given the orders to keep alien citizens quarantined in designated areas of the city to keep any alien terrorists from attacking human residents. However, I have recieved disturbing reports in recent times that may provide insight as to what kind of a threat these aliens may present.
Even in the areas they have been restricted to, the aliens are planning attack. In fact, grouping the nonhumans of the city may even have advanced the onset of war; the terrorists now have access to more aliens that they could easily recruit. Total war is just beneath the surface of the city; it may break out at any moment if we do not take action. The disorder among aliens is growing to unpreceded records now that communities have been formed.
Therefore, I put out the order for as many of our armed forces as possible to make their way into these alien-occupied territories and eliminate ALL aliens you can find. Do not be alarmed, I have good reason for this. NO ALIEN is safe. ANY alien could possibly be, or may become, a terrorist. The greater the threat of terrorist attacks on New Shambhala grows, the more aliens are swayed to its cause. To ensure total safety, we must eliminate all that could compromise it. Remember, NO alien is safe. Do not trust ANYONE. I have been informed that these terrorists are even going so far as to including child soldiers and spies in their ranks. Do NOT, under any circumstances, feel the need to spare an alien. NO ONE can be trusted. You must take over the alien territories of the city and KILL THEM ALL. I assure you that this action is perfectly legal, and I have permission to enforce it. There are NO noncombatants in this conflict, ANY alien is potentially dangerous. I assure you that even mistakenly killing unaffiliated nonhumans is preferrable to the city being brought down. Any aliens you are unable to kill shall be brought back to your base for interrogation. Any alien structures you cannot occupy, burn. They are hotbeds for activity by alien terrorists and may serve as terrorist headquarters if they are left unchecked.
I understand that some of you may feel opposed to the measures being taken. Rest assured that is for the safety of the free people of our city. If you do not act with haste in eliminating the aliens of the city, they may attack at any moment. Do not be alarmed. I repeat, your mission is to wipe out any aliens you can find, no matter what, and occupy or destroy their buildings. This is for the safety of the city. Military commissioner Matthew Vanhart, signing off."
Reinhardt leaned back in his chair as he turned the hologram recorder off. The steps were all set for the removal of all alien citizens of New Shambhala. Now everything was falling into place.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 02-11-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
This is a reserve. Do not be alarmed. This is only a reserve.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 02-11-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
The mob advanced on Balance. Their numbers did not concern him; what bothered him was that they were staggered.
They had figured out that Balance was trying to even the numbers throughout the city. As a defense, every human stood near a non-human, reasoning that the numbers were more than likely uneven by now.
And so, Balance would be restricted in who he could target. He could not strike an alien and a human - especially not now, as Reinhardt's forces were leading the slaughter. If he killed one of each, he would only perpetuate the imbalance.
"I must give you credit. In grouping yourselves together, you have established balance. But, it is not enough to redress the lopsided population of the rest of the city," he said, stepping back as he looked for the human he could most safely strike. "Non-humans are dying in large numbers as we speak, and so..."
Whatever Balance was about to say was interrupted, as he was grabbed by a large, meaty, bug-covered arm and then pulled into the air.
"Let me make one thing clear, Balance," Cole said, flying up higher. "I despise gods. You think that humanity, for all its intelligence, is nothing more than a plaything."
"What is with you mortals and your insolence today?" Balance shouted back. He carefully tried to hide how much the bioelectric shock was irritating him; it would be undignified to lecture a mortal while wincing from his touch, after all.
"I was about to say that killing you is a lower priority than killing Reinhardt, but if you keep talking like that, I may change my mind," Cole said, as he flew towards one of the looming walls. "Now, take your stupid walls down unless you want to crash right into one."
****
The terminal in Reinhardt's new office indicated an incoming call. He answered it, to see that it was one of his soldiers.
"Sir, this is Squad Delta. We have a situation. Thought we should talk to you about it."
"What is it? Were my orders unclear?"
"Well, sir, we just came across something unusual. A group of humans and non-humans standing together... some of them came over and told us that some lunatic calling himself the 'God of Balance' has been slaughtering indiscriminately, saying that he has to make the numbers of the humans and nonhumans match up. He also said something about being the one who put the crazy walls up all over the place."
"Troubling. And why, exactly, are humans and nonhumans standing together?"
"According to the witnesses, they'd stopped fighting each other to do something about him, but then some winged nonhuman flew in and took him away... What do you want us to do?"
"I gave you orders regarding aliens, did I not?"
"Well, yes, sir, but the humans..."
"The humans are most likely sympathizers to the terrorist cause. This 'God of Balance' sounds like a ploy to distract us. Eliminate all of them before the rumor can spread any further, and do not speak to anyone else about this. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir. Squad Delta, out."
The terminal shut off. Reinhardt had by now learned how to operate it, with the girl's help; he could take no chances here.
"Squad Gamma, I have an assignment for you."
"Sir?"
"Squad Delta has gone rogue. Eliminate them. Leave no survivors. I will contact the other squads to support you."
"Gone rogue? Sir, what happened..."
"There will be time for an explanation later. You have to stop them now. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir!"
Reinhardt closed the connection, and walked out of his office.
If they know Balance is out there, the humans might oppose my purge for fear of retaliation, he thought. That is too much of a risk. But, I cannot simply allow him to act unimpeded either.
I must discuss this matter with the girl.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 03-07-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
"Fine. Have it your way."
Balance raised his hands, and the wall vanished.
"Are you satisfied now, mortal?"
"For the moment," Cole said. He changed his course, heading for the roof of a nearby building. "But I'd also like your help with something."
"And why should I assist you?"
"Because you're concerned with balance. And from what I've been told, one of our fellow contestants has been disrupting it. I intend to stop him, and it would serve your interests to help me do it."
Cole set the god down on a rooftop. Balance stared at him for a few moments before answering.
"Apartment 392, 4517 Raenforth Street," he said. "If I told you any more than that, I would be favoring you too heavily."
"Of course you would," Cole said sarcastically. "Fine, I'll investigate. But if this turns out to be a wild goose chase..."
"It is not, I assure you. The path it puts you on is one where you may succeed. Whether you actually do... well, that responsibility is now in your hands."
Cole glared at Balance wordlessly, then flew away, leaving the god alone on the rooftop.
"Worthless gods, always think they know better than us..." he muttered under his breath.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - GBCE - 03-08-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Captain Lhurgoyf.
Reinhardt shooed off his attendants and returned to his office, closing all doors and locking them behind him. He then turned to a communicator he had attached to his wrist and contacted his benefactor on it.
"Pardon my prescence, my friend," he spoke to the girl. "I have been alerted that the God of Balance has been interfering with my cleansing of the city's population. Surely, if people believe in him, they will fear him. Should they fear him, no doubt that they will challenge my authority - if this god does wish to maintain equal numbers of humans and subhumans, he will see all who agree with my intents of rendering the populace totally human as my agents, and worthy of his wrath.
We must adress this matter. Perhaps you could incapacitate this god? Once he is out of commission, we can spread slander around the communications of the city, branding him as a powerless lunatic with delusions of grandeur. That should keep the people from taking his side in such matters, would you agree?"
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - MalkyTop - 03-20-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Raenforth Street. Raenforth Street. He had absolutely no idea where a “Raenforth Street” was. It would have actually been better if Balance had left him with just a general direction instead of an address. Then at least he would know which direction to go. Actually ,that’d still be pretty damn bad. Still, as things were now, it really wasn’t likely that anybody would stop to give him directions while being slaughtered. And with his appearance, it would have to be directions from aliens, if not from the other contestants.
Speaking of other contestants…
…Ugh. Soft. Of course, it had to be a god. Sort of a god. Then again, they were supposed to be all-knowing. And, at least last time he saw her, she seemed willing to help. In her own way. Sort of.
As he started down towards the roof she was walking on, he thought he saw a second person with her. But once he landed, there was nobody there besides Soft. On top of everything that was happening, he hoped that he wasn’t also going insane.
“Oh looo~k, if it isn’t our herooo~~~”
“Shut up. Do you know where Raenforth Street is?”
“Why, whatever do you need that knowledge for, heee~rooo~~~?”
…God. She was starting to get creepy and annoying at the same time, the former because of the way she kept smiling strangely at him and the latter because he was fairly certain she already knew the reason. “I have an urgent job to do. Just tell me where it is.”
“Why, it ceee~rtainly sounds veee~ry urgent~~~ but alas, hero, I’m muuu~ch too busy for someone like yooouuu~~~ A new prooo~ject, you see, maaa~ybe I’ll get back to you laaa~ter~~~”
Cole might have felt vaguely offended at this had he not a tyrant to kill. Since Soft was ever so frustratingly holding information, he’d have to go find someone who would actually give direct answers.
“Hey!” Soft yelled as he turned to take off again. “You aren’t gonna ask anything about that? Like, ‘What are you talking about’ or anything?!”
“No.”
“I’ve found a different hero, bug boy! He’s so much cooler than you and he doesn’t make unheroic decisions like you do because he’s soooo diligent and incorruptible and AAGGHH HE ALSO DOESN’T FLY AWAY WHEN I’M TALKING TO HIM BECAUSE THAT MEANS I CUT OFF HIS TONGUE YOU STUPID BUG-BRAAAIIIIN.”
It sounded like someone was struggling not to laugh. Soft decided to ignore this for the moment. As Ratfink reappeared, she turned towards him and snarled, “We are gonna go and kill that stupid tyrant first.”
Ratfink, who had started choking heavily as soon as he had heard the words ‘doesn’t make unheroic decisions,’ had to recover before he was able to answer, and even then, he was having trouble keeping a straight face. “Thought we already—“
“No, shut up. I know where he is and you know where he is and I know you know where he is, so we are going to go to Raenforth Street and you’re leading the way and I’ll know if you’re trying to lead me around like a stupid chicken and if you do then I’ll cut off your head. If you try to slow us down, I’ll give you a warning. And then cut off your ratty face. Sooo~ let’s gooo~ alreaaa~dyyy~~~”
Oh dear.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Pick Yer Poison - 03-22-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
Phil approached the waiting room door, then opened it. As he strolled leisurely into the waiting room, accompanied by two of the soldiers he had trained, the on-duty doctor's heart started beating faster and faster. By the time Phil reached his desk, he had made his peace with the world and was ready to meet his fate. Phil laid an arm on the doctor's desk and slowly raised his gun barrel up to his head. He paused for a moment, then pulled the trigger, and the doctor's brains were splattered across the wall behind his desk. The doctor's body fell to the floor, slowing down until it was no longer moving until the world paused, just as Phil did. No, that's not quite how it happened. The doctor's body moved back up into a sitting position as the organic stain on the back wall neatly poured itself back into his head. Phil lifted his gun barrel from the man's forehead and stood up from the desk, then strolled back across the waiting room to the door, his two companions entering it just before he did. He backed out of the room and pulled the door shut. Everything slowed to a stop once again, and then sped up to normal speed. Phil stood in front of the waiting room door for a moment, then pulled it open.
Phil strolled leisurely into the waiting room, flanked by his two squad mates. He walked over to the desk and carefully removed his helmet. "Are you able to fix this?"
To his credit, the doctor hardly batted an eye at the scarred mass of facial tissue he was presented with. "I believe so, Mr. Girnham. It should only take twenty minutes." He stood up from his chair and made for the back room. "If you'll follow me, we can begin." Phil nodded to one of the two soldiers, who set himself up to guard the door. The other followed Phil into the back room, where the doctor was prepping a machine suspended by a pole at about head level relative to the chair in front of it. The doctor stepped back from the machine and gestured towards the chair. "Please have a seat and we can begin the facial reconstruction."
Phil took a seat and placed his face into the machine, closing his eyes. The doctor stepped up to a computer next to it and hit a few keys. Then a few more, and a few more. After two minutes had passed, Phil pulled his head out of the machine. "Is something supposed to be happening?"
The doctor responded without looking away from the screen. "There doesn't seem to be an image anywhere in the citizen database of your face before it was scarred, Mr. Girnham. The machine needs to know what's scarred tissue and what's not, or it could only make it worse."
Phil's face darkened. He had ensured that every record of him had been removed when he broke out of the military facility, and the government had already wiped all his recorded history prior to that. To his knowledge, no pictures of his face before the operation still existed. "I see. Thank you for your time, doctor." He stood up and put his helmet back on, walking out of the office. He walked out into the waiting room and left through the door, followed by both soldiers. They kept well behind; neither wanted to get near Phil when he was in a bad mood.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 04-14-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
Reserved again.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 04-14-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
Wonderful. Why had that blasted spirit decided to be even more infuriating? Cole still had no idea if he was even on the right side of the city.
Left.
Cole flew to the left, still annoyed. Every deity or spiritual being he had encountered here had been every bit as frustrating as Anansi. Balance and his insistence on getting in the way just to make it harder to change the status quo... Soft and her attempts to make a "hero" out of him... Dove, who thought the immobile bugs on his body were more important than his life... Ur, the mad goddess who sought only destruction... And the Executor, who had brought them all here for his own amusement.
Right.
Cole swerved to the right. It occurred to him that Ur might actually be the least unpleasant out of that group. She might be trying to destroy everything, but at least she wasn't judgmental about it.
Descend! Quickly!
Cole suddenly felt compelled to change his flight into a dive. He adjusted his speed just in time to notice the bullet flying over his head.
He looked to the ground and spotted a group of armored soldiers. Wonderful. One more diversion he didn't need.
He sighed, and flew lower. As he landed, his wings vanished, and his body was soon covered by a sturdy armored shell. The beetle from the museum had a horn as hard as diamond; and Cole had realized since collecting it, that its exoskeleton was nearly as strong.
He advanced towards the squad, shrugging off their bullets. It was slow, but effective.
Most of them fled as he approached, seeing the futility. One stayed behind, perhaps desperately hoping that one of his bullets would pierce the strange alien's armor.
He was not so lucky. Cole grabbed him, and tossed aside his firearm. The former biologist was about to ask the soldier for directions, when his captive's wrist communicator suddenly buzzed. Cole pressed the "Audio Only" button.
"Epsilon Squad! Do you read?" The voice from the communicator was unmistakeably Reinhardt's.
Cole's eyeless face fixated on the terrified man in his grip; the prisoner seemed to understand.
"This is Epsilon Squad Leader, sir!" he said, trying desperately not to show his fear in his voice. "I read you!"
"Is there a problem with your communicator? I am only hearing your voice."
"It's malfunctioning. I think there might be interference on the video frequency."
"Hmmph. Never mind. I have new orders for your squad. Nu Squad was nearly wiped out by an alien terrorist; she appears to be able to make plants grow anywhere, and is causing great damage with them. Reports indicate that she is currently headed down 45th Avenue, moving towards Raenforth Street. As you are near the intersection of 45th and Raenforth, I want you to prepare for her arrival. Lethal force is authorized, but if you are able to capture her alive, that is preferable. Am I clear?"
"Yes, sir! Understood!"
"Excellent. I await news of your success."
Cole took his finger off the button, then changed his hands to a scorpion's claw and crushed the communicator.
"There," he said, letting the soldier down. "Now that he won't be getting any warnings from you, perhaps you can tell me how I can get to Raenforth Street from here."
The soldier pointed nervously off in one direction, eyeing his discarded rifle. Cole stepped on the weapon, then dismissed his armor in favor of wings.
"Thank you. You've been most helpful. I'm sure you're planning to run off to warn Reinhardt about me. Tell him Cole says 'hello'."
Cole flew off before the soldier could respond.
I hope he's not trying to lead me in the wrong direction, Cole thought.
No, this is the right way.
Cole was too preoccupied with his flight to realize the second thought wasn't actually his.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Pick Yer Poison - 05-05-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
It was nearly midnight. A cloaked figure stood atop a roof. The night is your friend. He paused and looked at a lit window on the third floor of the tavern in front of him, only a few feet below. The darkness deludes those who fear it. A single silhouette moved lazily about behind it for a few minutes. The shadows are your shield. The man waited patiently until the light clicked off, and then waited several more minutes, just to make sure. The silence is your--oh, fuck this. The man stepped back, gathered himself, then took a running leap at the window, putting his arms in front him to shield his head as he crashed through the glass. He rolled to absorb the impact and sprung back up to his feet, a blade in each hand. The man in the bed sat bolt upright and cried out, but before he could say anything coherent the assassin was already poised next to him, with a knife to his throat.
"Who sent you?" the man choked out, eyes wide in the darkness.
The bounty hunter chuckled. "Why, you did, eight years ago. Do you remember what happened then?"
The man swallowed, feeling the knife against his throat. "I didn't do nothin'! You got no proof!"
"Oh, but you did. You did plenty," replied the agent, and his tone left no doubt about the twisted grin residing on his face. "Would you like me to refresh your memory? About that village you destroyed? The lives you ended? The family you hunted down and slaughtered?"
"Oh my god. You...you're the..." The man stiffened. "I'm sorry! Don't kill me! I'm sorry!"
The avenger could hear steps on the stairs, the doors opening in confusion all down the hall. He had so little time, and yet he was unable to resist toying with the man he now held in his grip, savoring the moment he'd been working eight years for. "Yes, it's me. I've been looking for you for a very long time now. I took out your friends, one by one, saving you for last." He drew the knife up to the man's face, drawing a thin line of red across his cheek. "I didn't know your names when I first became...acquainted with your band, so I named you after things I remembered from the life you stole from me." The footsteps had reached the top of the stairs, yet the lunatic felt a strange sense of calm descend over him. He began pulling the man towards the window he had entered through. "Do you remember your right-hand man? He was the firewood. I did so enjoy cutting him." They were banging on the door. Not much time left. "But you, you were the apple pies my mother used to bake. Oh, they tasted so good. But now that I only have my memories, I've been able to spend plenty of time perusing them, deciding what I liked best."
The banging stopped. "Open up in there or we'll bust the door down!" someone from beyond the door shouted. The poet merely laughed. More of a cackle, to be honest, but he hardly cared whether or not there was a difference. A dull thud sounded as someone began slamming themselves into the bolted door. The tactician noted this bit of good luck and returned to his victim.
"Now, where was I...ah yes, the apple pies. Before you deprived me of them, I had thought that my favorite memories were of the taste. It was only afterwards that I realized that what I had enjoyed the most was what came just before the serving." The butcher paused, relishing the slow realization radiating from his target. "The part where I got to cut them."
The dead man spluttered out one final question. "Who the hell are you!?"
"I am simply a man with nothing to lose forced into a situation he did not consent to," replied the man. "And that makes me the most dangerous thing in the world."
The killer screamed.
The bolt had taken too much abuse and cracked apart, allowing the door to burst open as the mob outside surged into the room, only to find, to their utter dismay, the body of the former raider who had been lodging in it, his stomach split open down the middle, still bleeding and twitching before their very eyes.
In the alleyway below, the man was already moving away from the scene. Several minutes of frenzied dashing later, he hunched down below a lamp hanging on the wall of some unknown building for some unknown reason. Why it was there wasn't important; only the fact that it was there made it special. He pulled a worn, folded photograph from his pocket and gently unfolded it, holding it up to his face. The lamplight illuminated the photograph well; there was his mother (who had taught him to read), his father (whose looks he'd supposedly inherited), his two sisters (who he had hated and loved in equal amounts), and a young man, eighteen years old. All the faces but his were crisp and clear, easy to make out despite the toll time had taken on the photograph. But there was a burn mark of some sort over the boy's face which blotted out the features. The man could no longer remember what he had been doing when the photograph had been taken. Had he been smiling? Frowning? Laughing? Crying, sneezing, blinking? It no longer mattered. That boy was dead, had been killed when the raiders had murdered the rest of his family. And in his place, a cold-blooded killer had been born, with a single purpose, a purpose that was now fulfilled. He heard the sound of laughter from somewhere. Not the demonized laughing sound the raiders in his dreams made; it was the innocent laugh of a child, soon joined by the laughter of her parents. And from somewhere he couldn't trace came the faint smell of freshly-baked apple pie.
The killer put his head in his hands, but he did not cry. There were no more tears left. When the boy had died, he had taken the tears with him. But he slowly began to realize that it was alright, because that night, when he'd finally completed his self-appointed task, when he'd fulfilled his vendetta, he'd come to understand something. The man lifted his head up from his hands, and there was a smile on his face. He calmly took the photograph and held it in front of his face, studying the people he knew so well, committing them to memory one last time.
Then he slowly and deliberately tore it to pieces, as many as he could, and threw them up in the air, watching them drift away lazily in the mild nighttime breeze. So what if the boy was dead?
Phil no longer needed tears.
A female voice broke him out of his reverie. "Sir?"
Phil was momentarily stymied. "Huh?"
"I said, our special today is fresh-baked apple pie," the waitress repeated. "Would you like to order some?"
Phil licked his lips behind his helmet and looked around, quickly refreshing himself on the layout of the fancy diner. "Ah...I'll pass, thank you. I don't like apple pie." He picked the menu back up and pretended to scan it for something that looked interesting. "You know what, I'm not feeling all that fancy tonight. I'll take some medium-rare steak."
The waitress nodded and jotted the order down on an electronic notepad. She then turned to Julia. "And what would you like?" Julia rattled off the name of some food in French, and the waitress wrote that down as well, then tapped a button on the notepad. "Your meals will be with you shortly," she said before continuing on to the next table.
Phil reached for his helmet. "Julia, I wanted to show you something."
Julia leaned closer. "La, is it really a good idea to be taking that off in here? You might scare someone!"
"But that's the thing, Julia, it--" Phil's sentence was interrupted by a violent tremor. Food on nearby tables was knocked to the floor, and most of the waiters and waitresses tripped and fell, joining a few of the customers who had been standing on the floor.
"Was that an earthquake?" Julia gasped, clutching the table.
Phil looked around at the chaos and carefully stood up. "We're in a floating city in the air. There's no such thing as earthquakes up here." He glanced around again. "At least, there shouldn't be." He grabbed Julia's arm and pulled her towards the exit. "C'mon. I'm going to get to the bottom of this, and you need to get somewhere safe."
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - SleepingOrange - 05-06-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Hours had passed since the group had left the Rainy Place behind. Hours and distances that couldn't be measured separated Ur from the stabilizing effect of nothingness. Hours and countless lives had come and gone under her still-gloved hand, under her sickle, and through her rapidly-deteriorating mind. The relentless avatar of death and destruction that had scourged the streets had since lost all its motivation to slaughter as her mind forgot why it had begun in the first place. Ur had once again retreated into the unpredictable cycle of taciturn mourning for nothing in particular, uncontrolled creation of nothing specific, and unmitigated rage at things both alive and unliving.
Despite the numerous beings who had fallen to her wrath since the beginning of the round, and even despite her habit of leaving some of her victims alive or unscathed, she was not prominent in the minds of the citizenry. There had been little method to her madness, no unifying thread to make her stick in the minds of those who survived. Prism hated and feared the Administration, the Administration hated and feared Prism, and the average citizen was left terrified of the security forces, but no-one remembered some flying woman who hacked people down and left.
It was because of this that Ur had been left relatively unmolested once the souls that filled her suppressed her violent fugue. She was human enough that she got few second glances in human sectors, exotic enough that no-one bothered her in alien blocs, and dangerous enough that the rare guard who accosted her as she moved from one to the other was quickly silenced; forces were stretched thin as it was, most able-bodied and armed men stationed around the central Administrative building, that there were typically only one or two guards at any checkpoint. When Reinhardt's purge began, this became even more true; most remaining security officers were recalled and organized to serve as alien-extermination squads, leaving borders unguarded, stations unmanned, and Ur free to move as she saw fit. Or, rather, where the spiritual brownian motion of what passed for her mind took her.
It had taken her through various districts, silently drifting through wreckage-strewn streets while constantly mouthing words none could hear or understand; it had taken her through flimsy blockades and protesting guards; it had taken her through most of three levels, her bizarre serenity never flagging and her unblinking eyes never focusing. And then it took her to Srato Business Plaza and in front of a small printing company. By all rights, she should have just drifted past as she'd done for nearly three hours now, but she stopped. She stopped in front of the building, staring up at the frontage reading Sckaxkkastikkxt Printing Solutions, blank eyes fixed on the three-triangles-in-a-circle logo. And her hands flexed. And her face twitched. And, with a shriek, she raised her arms.
Roots burst through the material of the floor, writhing and piercing through the printers' walls; shoots spread from the woody intrusion, wrapping around the building and growing foot-long thorns. Acid-dripping flowers burst open with enough force to knock chunks from the wall. In moments, the vegetation had made significant progress on reducing the edifice that had so offended her to rubble, and she moved on, her floral creation continuing its demolition. However, as the goddess drifted away, it became clear that her previous idyllic (or at least inscrutable) mood had passed; more plants sprung up in her wake and began rampaging, many eschewing vandalism in favor of seeking out living targets. Ur continued on her random way, carving a swath of green destruction through the already-ravaged city.
It didn't take long for the Purge to take notice of her; she was deemed an alien terrorist, a high-level threat, and a prime target, and a squad was sent after her. The poorly-armed Nu squad was repelled with little effort on the goddess's part; those she didn't simply cut to pieces with her sickle or ravage with her bare hands were assaulted by her creations. Most met their demise at the hand-analogues of a leafy creature that looked like its ancestry contained traces of Venus flytrap and fiddler crab; those that weren't painfully digested were comparatively-mercifully bisected. Reports made it back to Administration and straight to Reinhardt himself; he recognized the threat (and the implications for the contest therein) and contacted Epsilon squad with their orders.
The tyrant was nothing if not pragmatic, and had dealt with the threat the best way he knew how; however, he had no way of knowing that the course of action he selected would ultimately prove to be the single act that most contributed to the Purge's failure and his glorious city in the clouds' downfall.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 05-06-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
Reserved.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 05-07-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
4517 Raenforth Street was not a particularly impressive building by New Shambhala's standards, and Cole was by now accustomed to the city enough to realize this.
It was still a much nicer building than the one he had lived in during his college days, he reflected.
He flew to the third story, and clung to the wall of the building. He started walking around, wondering how he was going to identify Apartment 392 without actually entering.
It's this one.
The thought of questioning this mental direction never occurred to Cole. He dropped to the balcony and forced the door open.
He entered and found himself in the kitchen. Before he had time to examine it properly, however, he was interrupted by a young lady screaming and hurling a small metal statuette at his head. It was in the shape of a bull's head.
Just before he passed out, he uttered words that he quickly realized were not his own.
"We are always being watched, Ambrose Lom."
***
Zanthuala sighed. Flyers were so difficult to deal with. Of course, that was why he always got them.
Very few of Minotaurus' agents could keep up with a swift flyer while remaining unnoticed. Zanthuala had a valuable asset to make up for this, however - his telepathy. He could send small, subliminal messages to whoever he was protecting, guiding them away from danger.
Unfortunately, Ambrose had left little choice but to give himself away - Cole would soon start to wonder about how he had arrived so easily, at least once he regained consciousness.
And that was another problem - Cole was unconscious. That meant that the mental link had been broken, and Zanthuala would be unable to reestablish it without seeing his target. Cole was only a few blocks away, but those few blocks were very dangerous - the human soldiers were in the area and would shoot him on sight, and the goddess was a danger as well.
Nevertheless, Zanthuala could not fail in his mission. Besides, he was naturally low to the ground, at least.
Zanthuala watched carefully as Reinhardt's men ran past, then when the way was clear, slithered out across the street as quickly as he could.
***
"Minotaurus sent you, didn't he," Ambrose said to her guest as he picked himself up from the floor.
"Not technically," Cole groaned. "But I suppose he is the reason I'm here, in the end."
"I considered moving you to a bed, but the shock when I touched you made that less than feasible," she replied, without a hint of apology. "Now tell me what the hell is going on."
Cole answered quickly and thoroughly.
"An extradimensional entity called the Executor has brought me and seven others - six now - to fight until only one of us survives. Minotaurus asked me to kill one of them, one Vandrel Reinhardt, as soon as possible. As for what I'm doing here, another of my opponents told me that I should come to this apartment in order to complete that task - I'd really rather not get into details as to how that worked, he's very unpleasant. Also, I think someone else has been in my head, and I suspect Minotaurus is responsible for that as well."
Ambrose took it surprisingly well.
"Well. That answers quite a few questions. This 'Matthew Vanhart' and this 'Julia' I've been investigating... they seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere. And combined with the electromagnetic field that apparently came from a different universe... This little contest of yours wraps up the loose ends quite neatly."
"Vanhart is more than likely Reinhardt," Cole replied. "I don't know anything about Julia. There was a young woman entered in the contest, but she was introduced to us as Amy, and I know very little about her. Other than that, our only female competitors are a crazed goddess and the Spirit of Fairy Tales." He noticed her reaction. "No, I am not lying about that."
"Well. As it happens, I've been tracking Julia through the net. I think she'll lead us to Vanhart or Reinhardt or Newhart or whatever the hell his name is - he's disappeared entirely. Problem is, I've just hit a dead end... sort of. This way."
Cole followed her to her computer terminal. A map of the city was displayed, with various trails running throughout that he couldn't interpret. Ambrose pointed to a flashing dot.
"This is where the trail stops. I think I can pick it up again if I head over there. Thing is... you've probably noticed, but the city is kind of a warzone right now. Plus, Minotaurus warned me against using my aircycle. So... I could use a ride."
Cole stared at her with compound eyes.
"I can carry you, if you don't mind being shocked for the whole ride," he said.
She looked at him thoughtfully.
"I think I've got an idea. You look pretty strong; am I right?"
"I can be," he replied. "Why do you ask?"
"You'll see," she said, walking off and gesturing him to follow. "Come on, we'll head to the garage."
***
About three minutes later, Cole was flying through the air, carrying an inactive aircycle with one passenger in his arms.
He felt rather silly about it.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - MalkyTop - 05-25-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
It was certainly too much to ask a group of, albeit well-armed and well-armored, normal humans to fight against a rather enraged goddess. However, once Epsilon squad regrouped and shuffled about a bit in embarrassment while their leader didn’t talk about how they abandoned him in battle (which is worse than him talking about it), they did a fine job in following orders and confronting the high-threat terrorist enemy plant woman thing.
The squad leader was fairly certain that there was no possible way to take the terrorist alive and it seemed as though she was refusing the ‘dead’ option as well. They weren’t even allowed to touch her. If any soldier dared to scoot close, a thrashing plant thing would bar the way much like a bouncer. A bouncer for a very well-liked prostitute.
They managed to get into some sort of organized attack formation with half of the troop dealing with the insane plant monsters and the other half standing behind them and firing wildly at the crazy plant woman. It was working in the way that they weren’t dying a lot, but it seemed to completely fail in getting to their overall goal, i.e., defeating the bouncers and bagging the prostitute.
The squad leader felt as though the terrorist was eyeing him judgmentally, despite being completely insane. He felt pressured to meet her expectations. Whatever they were. If she even had any. “Fire at the ceiling above her!” he barked. This was a horrible idea. The Epsilon squad complied.
The terrorist seemed to shy away from their rifle blasts but avoided full-out fleeing until the rubble actually started hitting her. She lurched to the side as the floor above collapsed, lingered threateningly, then whisked herself away down the hall.
It took a moment to beat down the plant monsters and another to squeeze through the newly-made pile of rubble, but the Epsilon squad bravely gave chase, following the trail of writhing ivy down the stairs, down another thrumming hall, down down down down down. In the meantime, the squad leader’s sense of unease spiked up and continued to do so until his suspicions were proven when the trail of ivy led straight to the engine room. Then it tumbled up some Escher staircases for an eternity.
He took it upon himself to peek through the open door. The terrorist was there, among the thrumming engines, staring into space. “We’re going in,” he said through a dry throat. “But be careful. We need to sneak in and try to drive her out. Don’t damage the engines.” The last part didn’t really need saying, though it did need emphasizing because in a dramatic twist of events, the engines get damaged.
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“Shoot him. Shoothimshoothimshoothim—“
“Shut up, please.”
There had been squabbles, squabbles about how to kill him (heroes don’t use guuu~ns siii~llyyy~), squabbles about what sort of entrance (prefer none at all thank you), squabbles about the manner in which he was performing the kill (nobody can seeeeee~ yooo~u you need to be seeeeee~n, not on this roooooo~f)…squabbles of all sorts. But as time went on, these squabbles had become worryingly short as Soft continued to concede, apparently desperate enough for a story to gain some closure in order to feel better that she was willing to allow certain details to simply not go as she wanted them to.
And now she had just shut up when he asked.
As the sounds of the chaos in the streets drowned away, Ratfink stared down the scope at the figure behind the window. Vanhardt was just standing there. All alone. Nobody to protect him. An easy shot.
Well, actually he was being protected by someone and although Ratfink would never admit it, he felt a chill imagining a scope trained on him. His finger tensed against the trigger.
Soft gave him a glare that said ’shoothimshoothimshoothimnow’. Vanhardt paced around invitingly. He was probably going to die right here, whether by axe or by firearm.
And then there was a violent shudder, which turned into a violenter shudder. While Ratfink and Soft found themselves largely unaffected, they could see Vanhardt stumbling and falling on the floor. The building they were on rattled before everything settled down. There was a loud explosion and then more shuddering. Then there was the strange tickly feeling that usually came with vertigo.
It didn’t take long for Ratfink to realize something. “Oh, we’re falling.”
“Oh darn!” Soft said, momentarily forgetting about shutting up. “I was going to destroy the thingies!” Ratfink could tell, however, that she sorely appreciated the closure.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - GBCE - 05-26-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Captain Lhurgoyf.
Reinhardt pushed himself up off the floor, shaking himself of dust and sweat.
"What in the nine hells is-"
The tyrant caught a glimpse out the window and saw that the building had detached from its normal anchoring and was careening through the air.
"Blast those fools! What is happening?"
Reinhardt pounded his fist on the wall, angered by the state the city was falling into. However, the important thing was to get out of the place alive. He would fade from the city whenever one of the contestants perished, that would be certain. Whether or not he lived or died here, the city would no longer be in his grasp. If it was destroyed before Reinhardt could milk all he could out of it, so be it. At the very least, the nonhumans would be eradicated, and there would be the net gain of that. If a million humans died here, so would a million aliens. The tyrant's life was the priority, not his city.
Reinhardt flipped out a communications device and dialed up his bodyguards.
"There has been an explosion in the building next door to mine. It is of utmost concern that I be removed from the situation at once. The interests of the security of the empire is at stake here! We cannot let my life be taken here, for it shall be a sign that the terrorists have won! To further these goals, I order that I be escorted to a safe area immediately. This is an order, not a request!"
Reinhardt put the communicator away as a few of his hired men came to his aid and ushered him away from his office.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Aryogaton - 05-30-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 06-02-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
Reserved.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Dragon Fogel - 06-03-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Dragon Fogel.
Cole put down the aircycle, and Ambrose walked over to a nearby wall.
"This camera," she said absentmindedly, as she plugged a cord into it. "It's where the trail stops. I think it's been hacked. If I poke around a bit, maybe I can see where the hacker's signal came from."
Cole stood around impatiently.
"Fine. Just as long as it leads me to Reinhardt."
***
The alert caught the girl off guard. Someone was tracking her, even with the city in a state of chaos? That was potentially dangerous. She did not wish to be exposed.
Checking the camera feed, she saw a young girl attempting to break through her encryption systems. A quick check revealed that this hacker was one of Minotaurus' associates; in fact, her vehicle had been sabotaged earlier as a precautionary measure.
And furthermore, the insect man was with her. He had been designated as one of the girl's opponents; that meant it was critical to keep him in the dark if at all possible, in case he acted against her in a later round. It was unlikely that Ambrose Lom would find anything particularly incriminating, but the girl did not wish to take the risk.
Fortunately, there was a squad near their location. They took orders from Reinhardt, of course, but there was little need to go through him; that was what voice manipulation programs were for, after all.
She sent the orders promptly, and noted that the insect-man needed to be taken alive if possible; it was essential that he be interrogated. Of course, the real reason for the order was that Reinhardt's control of New Shambhala would be jeopardized if the round suddenly ended.
She then set up some scrambling routines to trigger on the offchance the hacker accessed the camera before the troops arrived.
Business was taken care of. She found herself wondering how Phil was doing. He'd likely be going for lunch about now.
She headed off towards the lunchroom to find him.
***
"Damn! I'm in, but this system looks like a mess. There should be a signal to follow somewhere, but it may take me some time... Whoa!"
Suddenly, the ground shook beneath their feet. Cole almost reflexively copied an ant in order to hold himself firmly to the ground; Ambrose grabbed a nearby post.
"What was that?" Cole asked.
"Well, we don't get earthquakes up here. That's got to be an engine failure. That's... bad. Especially with this Vanhart guy running things - I doubt he's going to organize a proper evacuation." Ambrose sighed. "I'm not even sure what to do now."
"I do," Cole replied. He looked at the aircycle; it had been overturned by the tremor.
"How do you start this vehicle?"
"What? I don't understand. It's too dangerous to actually use..."
"Never mind. Just press whatever buttons you need to press, except the last one. Then show me which one it is. And be quick!"
She obeyed.
"And after that, I'd just pull this switch," she said.
"Good. Now brace yourself. This is going to hurt a bit."
He suddenly picked her up with one arm; she screamed as the bioelectricity shocked her, but she was too weak to escape his grip. Cole quickly removed his hearing organs to avoid the distraction, then flew up to the nearest stable rooftop.
He put Ambrose down for a moment, and looked to the ground. A group of soldiers soon arrived, examining the abandoned cycle.
"They're not exactly quiet," he said, mostly to himself. "All those footsteps..."
He flew down a bit, and just as the soldiers noticed him, he fired a strand of web downward.
It struck the switch Ambrose had pointed to before. A small tug on the web flipped it.
The aircycle started up, then exploded. Cole flew back up.
"I imagine they have a separate evacuation shuttle for VIPs," he said to Ambrose, picking her up again; she didn't scream as much this time, though the shock still made her wince. "You'll be on it. Reinhardt won't."
A voice spoke to him in his mind.
Finally found you.
"Ah, I was wondering where you'd gone. I'm going to kill Reinhardt now. I believe you may know where he's headed?"
***
"You want us to maintain the lockdown at the ports, sir?" the soldier exclaimed incredulously.
"Yes! We cannot allow these alien terrorists to escape, at any cost!" Reinhardt shouted. "We have to show right now that we will stop them at any cost. Only one shuttle will be leaving, and only those who have my full trust will be on it. Understood?"
"...I understand, sir."
"Good. Spread the order. And fetch the young lady, will you? She has been a valuable ally, I wouldn't want her to be left behind."
He paused.
"But don't bother informing Girnham of the evacuation shuttle. Tell him to hunt down threats still in the city. That is all."
"...Yes, sir."
There was a pause, as Reinhardt turned away.
The soldier reached for his gun. This madman was the one they had allowed to lead the city? He'd only made things worse! And now he was going to let the city die!
He raised his pistol.
Reinhardt turned as he heard the gunshot. He saw the soldier collapse to the ground, a hole fired through his helmet.
"How inconvenient," he said to himself. "Now I'll need to issue the orders all over again."
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Pick Yer Poison - 06-05-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Pick Yer Poison.
Phil made a beeline to the VIP escape shuttle, holding Julia in an iron grip the entire time. They reached it within minutes; fortunately, the diner (which had been well inside the human sector, and was quite close to the VIP shuttle. Phil shoved a protesting guard aside and pulled Julia on board, looking for a good place to sit down. The shuttle was crowded with important-looking people, most of whom looked seriously worried.
A helmeted grunt edged up to Phil and nervously called out to him. Phil looked at him bemusedly, and the soldier whispered something in his ear, to which Phil nodded in return. He turned to Julia. "Stay here, stay safe, I'll be back shortly." He then made his way to the shuttle exit, stepping back out onto the city ground with a slightly bouncier step than usual. That's not good, he thought uneasily. We're getting closer to freefall. He was about to hasten towards the headquarters for the human sector when he felt a hand on his left shoulder.
Phil instantly crouched slightly to center his mass and spun his body around to grab at the unfamiliar hand with his right hand, but to his surprise it had vanished by the time he got there. A sharp jab from his left caught his eye, and he threw up his arm to block it, then swung around on his left foot to make a kick with his right. His opponent just barely danced out of the way, and threw out a kick of his own in return. Phil reached down with his right arm to block it, planting his right foot back on the questionably stable ground, and swung his left forward in a rapid punch, catching his opponent squarely in the shoulder and throwing him off balance. Pressing his advantage, he swung himself around on his right foot, bringing his left leg into his foe's left side, knocking him to the ground. By the time Phil had swung his gun out and brought it to bear on the man, he was removing his helmet with one hand while holding the other out vertically with the palm towards Phil. Phil brought his gun down in disbelief. "Russell? Russell Evans?" He laughed and shouldered his gun, reaching down with one arm. "You crazy bastard. What the hell are you doing here?"
Russell accepted Phil's hand and pulled himself up. "If I..." He paused, breaking into a slight coughing fit. "Yowch, I'm gonna be feeling that one in the morning. Still as strong as ever, eh?" Phil raised an eyebrow, and Russell sighed. "Right, why am I here. Well, to make a long story short, I had a little...disagreement with the military regarding your disappearance, and I found myself shipped off to an Alaskan cryogenic prison. Top of the line, new stuff. You know, one of those secret projects the military was working on. Well, they had enough baskets for all of us when I got there; just a little food for thought." He began pacing in front of Phil. "Well, they put me in the deep freeze, and when I woke up, it was to the Minotaur, who said he had a job for me."
Phil held up his hand. "Hold on, who's the Minotaur?"
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Julia waited until Phil left the shuttle, then, after a few moments, quietly got up and stepped out after him, zipping behind cover before he could notice her. Just as she was about to leave, her ears picked up the blunt collisions from the fistfight. She hesitated, biting her lip, then slowly peered around the edge of the wall at the fight. She sighed with relief when Phil came out victorious, then looked on confusedly as he welcomed his opponent as an old friend, laughing and helping him off the ground. She focused closely on their conversation, just in time to pick out a key phrase that made her glad she had dallied to eavesdrop. There's that Minotaur figure again. Who - or what - is he?
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Russell rubbed the back of his head with his hand. "To be honest, I don't know. He mentioned something about being placed the 'Grand Escape,' whatever that is, or was. Anyway, he said he had managed to escape with another contestant, although he didn't mention a name; I doubt I would've recognized it even if he had. The way he talked about it, it sure didn't sound like an easy job." Russell shook his head. "But the Minotaur strikes a rather intimidating figure. I wouldn't put escaping an inescapable battle to the death past him."
Phil nodded thoughtfully. "If he could spook you, he must've been something fierce. Anyone who could save my life must be one tough nut to crack." He gave Russell a light punch on the arm. "I still haven't forgotten about that debt I owe you, by the way."
Russell shrugged, embarrassed. "Look, it was just a routine mission, Phil. Any of our other squad members would've done the same for you, or for me if I were in your position."
"They would've tried," Phil replied, a slight smile on his face. "But only you could've succeeded. I owe you my life, Russell, and I intend to repay that debt, one way or another."
Russell coughed. "Alright, alright, enough with the touchy-feely junk. You know I hate that stuff." Phil chuckled, earning himself a mild glare. "Now, where was I? Oh, right. I woke up from cryo to see the Minotaur in front of me. As soon as my hearing had begun to work again, he told me he had a job offering for me. I was skeptical at first, but when he mentioned it involved you...well, I have to admit, my curiosity was piqued." He sighed. "Little did I know that all this was several thousand years into the future."
"The Minotaur said he wanted me because I knew you. Knew how you worked, how you fought...how you thought. And while I generally try to wave that sort of thing away...well, you're not a hard person to predict, Phil. Once someone's got your motivations down, they can pretty much plan out exactly what you'll do." Phil opened his mouth, and Russell put up his hand to quiet him. "But that's neither here nor there. I broke the rules the Minotaur laid down and made direct contact with you because I needed to tell you about something important...and warn you about something much worse."
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Balance frowned. Somehow he had managed to get off track. He had been attempting to make his way to the evacuation shuttles, but the city layout was less than optimal. He still had a lot of alien deaths to balance out with human ones, and the evacuation shuttles would most likely be crowded with humans due to Reinhardt's methods of operation thus far. He drifted across the city, striking down the occasional human who had the misfortune to happen upon, until he reached what was quite clearly an evacuation shuttle. However, a ways beyond it, he could see other shuttles clustered together, with a large number of civilians clustering around them. He could have checked with his powerful vision to ensure they were human, but he had little doubt they were, and did not feel like giving away his presence to them just yet.
He returned his gaze to the shuttle below him and noticed a single individual in distinctive blue and white armor disembarking from it. A shape moved off of the shuttle's roof, armor abandoning its camouflage and the colors of the shuttle roof fading, leaving a black suit with lines of red across it. The figure in black put his hand on Phil's shoulder, and a scuffle ensued; Balance watched with some amusement as Phil quickly trounced the interloper, then dropped the pretense of fighting and helped him up. But amusement aside...Phil Girnham, you would make an excellent target to balance out the deaths of these aliens, having caused so many of them yourself. He pointed his hammer at the white-and-blue-clad commando below, light gathering at its tip.
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"Now, the first thing you must know is that you have great potential, Phil. Greater than you can even imagine. That much the Minotaur made very clear; it's why he needed someone who wouldn't provoke it from you. And I should warn you that--" Russell looked up, then without warning dived at Phil, knocking him out of the way, just as a beam of light lanced from the sky. It collided with Russell, and he immediately burst into flame for less than a moment before his clothing, skeleton, skin, and other assorted bits were reverted to ash, creating a small cloud of the stuff.
Phil bent forward in disbelief. No. That can't have just happened. He brushed trembling fingers through the ash and held them up to his face in shock. ...that just happened. The edges of his helmet HUD glowed blue, and a series of new icons appeared at the bottom. He was suddenly aware of Balance, flying high in the sky, of the council members on the shuttle, watching the show in various states of shock and astonishment, of Julia, hiding behind cover - what was she doing there? He put her out of his mind for the moment and turned up in the sky to Balance, pulling out his gun. Everything else seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Phil knew in the back of his mind that there was something strange going on, but it was buried underneath an avalanche of ice cold logic and combat awareness. He lifted his gun towards Balance, casually flicking it to the sniper rifle setting and watching the barrel slowly extend outwards. He saw energy being drawn towards Balance's hammer, but he was unconcerned; he carefully lined up his shot, taking aim at the hand the hammer was being held in.
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Curses. Missed. A minor inconvenience, of course, but still an irritating one. Balance hefted his hammer again, taking a moment to survey the scene below. Girnham was simply kneeling there, rubbing his hands in the ashes of the other man. A strange gesture, but Balance was not all to concerned, and aimed his hammer back down at the commando in preparation for another disintegration. Even as he did, he noted that the blue lines in soldier's armor lit up, going from cyan to neon electric blue. The commando drew his gun and aimed it up at the god impossibly quickly, lining up and taking his shot in less than a second. Even more startling was the fact that the shot was perfectly aimed - Balance felt the impact upon the back of his hand, right in a spot that would cause a spasm of pain in a regular human. Although he was not actually harmed by it, in the interest of fairness, he dropped his hammer, as Girnham undoubtedly expected him to.
As the hammer fell, it released the energy the god had focused into it as a slightly weaker disintegration beam. To Balance's amazement, the commando moved away from the point of impact in a blur, leaping behind cover almost faster than a human eye would have been able to follow. Fortunately for Balance, his eyes weren't human.
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Phil zipped behind the cover Julia was hiding in. "I told you to stay on the shuttle."
"I--"
"No time to talk now. This time, just run for the evacuation shuttles as fast as you can." Phil dashed back off towards the shuttle, centering himself in front of the control panel once he was inside. Although he didn't understand the layout, his suit was somehow able to correctly identify the ignition switch, which was all he needed to know. The shuttle had already been prepped for launch, and the one button press was all that was needed to launch it.
Phil hit the button and the shuttle rocketed off into the air. He darted over to a window and opened it, waiting a moment before leaping out, firing his magnetic grappling hook at a nearby building and swinging down and around it, releasing its grip at just the right moment to allow him to land in a thick hedge bush. His armor absorbed any minor scrapes he could've gotten from the bush itself, and the bush absorbed most of the moment from his fall. He knew in the back of his mind that he should've been badly bruised from that fall, if not maimed outright, but with the ungodly amount of adrenaline pumping through his veins he was completely unable to tell if he was injured. He shakily got up and, deeming himself able to move, began to make his way to the shuttle bay to meet up with Julia, at least until a few moments later when he saw the state of the shuttle bay.
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Balance watched the shuttle fly off without the commando on board respectfully. While he was able to sense Girnham's deceit without even a whit of effort, such a valiant attempt deserved a reasonable result. The fact that there were important humans aboard the shuttle may have also factored in, of course.
Balance's hammer leaped back into his hand, and he lifted it to point it at the shuttle. He followed it on its path up for about a minute. Then, without warning, one of the thrusters burst into flame, sending the shuttle spiraling down. Coincidentally, its path ended at the main evacuation shuttle bay, where it collided with another shuttle. The volatile fuel in the thrusters apparently did not agree with being violently crushed by another shuttle, and a chain of explosions ensued as each shuttle set off the ones next to it, until the entire shuttle bay - and the only route of escape available to the citizens of New Shambhala - was utterly destroyed, along with most of the civilians in it. Balance felt a sense of peace within himself as he more or less repayed the debt owed to the aliens. Now, he only had to finish off Girnham, before he enlarged the debt.
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Phil looked on as the carnage ensued, unsure what to make of it. He felt a slight worrying for Julia, but the cold logic convinced him that she couldn't possibly have made it to the shuttle bay already. Then, as suddenly as it had come, the rush of adrenaline died. His HUD died completely as his suit did a full reboot, and Phil stumbled around drunkenly, feeling as if he had just come off a massive high. Feeling flooded back into his bruised legs; they hurt to move, but by some miracle his suit had repaired the major damage within minutes. He collapsed on the ground and stretched out on his back while he waited for his head to stop spinning. He knew that if Balance took chase any time in the next few minutes he'd be a sitting duck, but he also knew he wouldn't even be able to get to his feet until he could see straight again. I'll just have to hope he thought I was in that decoy shuttle.
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The god paused. He felt a non-human presence nearby, one that would have to be extinguished if he were to balance out Girnham's eventual demise. For a moment, he was caught between the need to even the future scales and the desire to finish his fight with Girnham. The non-human presence quickly began receding, and he decided it would be more efficient to finish off the commando. He began to float leisurely in the direction Phil had swung from the shuttle.
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Cole breathed a mental sigh of relief as he passed unnoticed by Balance. He hadn't expected the god to be so close to Reinhardt. He flew onwards towards the tyrant's main administrative building as fast as he could, an odd sense of urgency coming over him.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - SleepingOrange - 06-10-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
She shouldn't have been able to hear him. Then again, she shouldn't have been able to grow ivy from nothing on bare, sterilized metal or create monsters that could eat half a squad in one bite if given the chance. Epsilon leader shouldn't have been surprised when he saw her head turn slowly towards him, empty eyes narrowing and scowl forming. He really shouldn't have been, but he was. He was similarly surprised when the woman screamed and thrashing plantlike tendrils burst out of her skin, lunging towards him and his squad.
The vinelike appendages tore out or punched through panels of wall, stairs, and intervening engine machinery, hell-bent on tearing the bothersome soldiers limb from limb. Even those tendrils that weren't aimed towards Epsilon squad flailed around, tearing through the delicate machinery nearby. Most of the surviving squad broke ranks at the sight of the oncoming green onslaught, reasoning that whoever this "terrorist" was, there was nothing they could do. Those that stayed, through choice or just being too terrified to flee, fired and hacked at the bloodthirsty tendrils, and for a time they largely held their own, being only very slowly pushed back.
And then the vines stopped. They didn't retreat or part to allow passage; they simply froze in midair as though time had stopped. The confused soldiers fired a few more shots, took a few more swings, but even as bullets and energy blades cut through the still plant matter, they failed to react.
Had they been able to see past the screen of tangled vines, they would have seen that Ur herself was as stock-still as the leafy tentacles that surrounded her; electricity arced around her from damaged machines, warning lights flashed, and sirens began to sound, but the goddess stared, eyes wide and mouth agape at a point a few feet in front of her.
One of her vine had punched into the housing of one particular machine; a plaque that she couldn't read in her current state declared it to be "Main Engine 4D sublevel A". An engineer would have known that meant this particular engine was simply the one that produced the most thrust in this particular system, but that there were dozens more like it spread across the entirety of New Shambhala, and a dozen or so backups that would take up the slack if other engines failed.
Of course, Ur knew none of this, and wasn't even capable of understanding it in any real sense. However, as that one vine had touched Main Engine 4D sublevel A, knowledge of a sort flowed into her fractured pseudomind. Green lines traced their way through an imagined image of the flying city, tangling in a complex web that held the kilotons of metal and men aloft. All that could be called awareness within the shard of divinity screamed that if the lines were broken, the city would fall.
Tendrils slowly retracted from whence they had come, all vanishing but the one that connected Ur to the engine. Epsilon squad took a few hesitant steps forward, weapons raised, and the woman in front of them slowly raised her own hands, standing serenely and peacefully in the center of the carnage. One of the remaining squad-members hesitantly choked out "Are... Are you surrendering?"
Ur turned her palms upwards and raised her hands higher. A pair of fleshy masses grew from the floor in front of the men, quickly forming into twisted gorilla-like monstrisities covered in open lesions and weeping sores; the goddess pointed at them, and the air between her hands and her new minions rippled. There was a sound like an exhalation or sigh, and the gorrillathings' eyes opened. They advanced on Epsilon squad, who opened fire; their spongy, bloated flesh let the bullets pass through with little more than a spurt of blood and pus, and the gorillas continued forward.
One of the monsters grabbed Epsilon leader by his throat, lifting him until his visor was level with its blotchy eyes, and began screaming. "WHY HAVE YOU ABANDONED US, MOTHER?!" It swung the man's body wide, bowling over half the reamaining soldiers. "WE GAVE YOU NOTHING BUT LOVE AND DEVOTION, AND FOR OUR LOVE WE DIED!" It raised the by-now-shrieking leader above its head, then snapped his spine over a bended knee. "AND STILL DEATH WAS TOO GOOD FOR US IN YOUR EYES SO WE LIVE ON!"
The other creature pounced on one of the downed men and began raining blows, all the while hoarsely whispering. "Oh, Goddess," wham "we beseech you," wham "to bless our harvest on this day," thud "and to keep our loved ones in health," crack "We beseech your endless mercy," snap "to help us do thy work," squelch "and to help us remember always," splat "the sanctity of life."
The air filled with the screams of monster and man, mingling with the sounds of combat and death, and Ur turned back to the engine. She hovered slowly closer to the humming machine, hand outstretched to caress its surface; when she drew level with it, single vine looping behind her, she inhaled slowly and began pressing into the engine itself. She faded at the edges as she disappeared seamlessly into the machine, and in moments she had vanished completely.
It was hard to say anywhere on New Shambhala was peaceful, but those places that had come closest to it were engine rooms. No combat had been dragged there, little racial tension filtered into the noisy rooms, and Reinhart's apartheid hadn't been able to extend this far yet; the engines were simply too important to allow social upheaval or street warfare harm.
That near-tranquility was shattered in an instant. Engineers across the city all shared similar last sights; maintenance workers all met the same grisly demise; even automated systems found their routines cut short in the same way. With piercing shrieks and writhing plant life, ghostly apparitions of furious women appeared simultaneously in every engine room and backup engine across New Shambhala, clawlike hands tearing through the machinery and those unfortunate enough to be near it.
The city lurched.
Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala] - Aryogaton - 06-13-2011
Originally posted on MSPA by Aryogaton.