Re: The Abrupt Demise
08-24-2011, 09:46 PM
As Ricky realised his predicament he quickly forced himself to make a decision. Would he risk leaving himself able to explode or ruin his ability to either escape or defend himself? Speed and power would be massive sacrifices for resilience, even in a battle to the death And yet the master (no wait I'm not a slave anymore), the organiser promised their death. Would he really meet the end of his life?
He cut his thoughts short as the firing squad readied their weapons, items that were forged ahead of Ricky's time. He recognised the word "shoot", and that was enough to give him an idea of what their purpose was. As he made his peace with his life, he reflected on the short, fear driven life he had lived as a free man. He hadn't expected to be given a brief repose by another contestant, especially not an alien that was challenging the squad to a dance-off. He was thankful, and used the chance to sort out his explosive priorities.
'My head and chest are the largest targets, and since they also house my organs, I'll harden them. Just enough to give my arms and legs freedom to move. But if I fall or get hit in my limbs, there'll be nothing left of me.'
It took just enough time to protect his prime body parts when the dance-off was interrupted by an invasion. Ricky assumed it was some kind of comet strike and ran for his life, careful never to trip or look behind himself. Running was something Ricky had come to hate doing, his new mind screamed at him all the possibilities of exploding, experiencing a horrible death. However it soon became apparent that he was being chased. A single soldier had taken to his heels, and was occasionally trying to shoot.
Ricky cursed under his breath in despair. If he was still human he probably would have started crying, but his ability to do so was one of the many things he had lost in his transmogrification.
But he found what he would only hope was his salvation. He was quickly approaching a warehouse, and the door leading inside was ajar. He could find someplace to hide, or lose the soldier and escape. The soldier in question had even stopped firing, possibly because he needed to reload or had ran out of ammo entirely. Ricky gingerly slipped in, since knocking the door too hard could prove to be fatal, and quickly decided he had made a grievous error. The entire warehouse stank of explosive residue. Even the dark explosive puddles he had left during his flight didnât smell as bad as the room he currently stood in. The warehouse was for storing bombs and other tools of war, and if anyone were to trigger just one, he knew the outcome would be fatal for any party within a hundred metre radius.
But he was trapped, with the way he had came leading to his assailant, so he instead began carefully jogging through the rooms and stockpiles, careful not to touch anything. He thought ahead, even if he were to escape, how long until the lone firing squad member caught up, or finally managed to shoot him? Ricky needed to get rid of him, and with a warehouse full of explosives, the thought he had just the ticket. He found a suitable hiding place and knelt down. Carefully placing his dominant hand over his stomach region, he forced his fingers into the touch clay, knowing just when to stop and cup his fingers around a special organ. The clay flowed around it as he pried it from his body, leaving no trace of clay on the yellow skin. It was originally a human kidney, now evolved into something entirely different.
A trigger. This organ gave Ricky the ability to detonate his body at will with weak electrical signals. He had a pair of them, but had to have one functioning in his body at all times, so that he could replicate them. It was advanced enough that he could leave them to send out a signal after a specific length of time had passed, even when it was not located in his main body. He gently placed it into his left hand, and with his right began pressing down around the bicep of that arm. The clay started turning a light brown, signalling that the clay was safe to ply and easier to remove. His arm came free, and with his remaining arm he gently sat the arm behind several large white sacks.
With the time bomb placed, Ricky was now able to return to the outside. He had not heard the soldier enter, but as he peeked at the entrance he realised the door was shut. The soldier must have closed it after he entered, so that he could hear it open if Ricky escaped. The clay man thanked his new fortune and quietly snuck towards the door. It was just on time that he finally reached out for the handle and turned.
Only to find the door resisting to his pull. A worried twitch affected Rickyâs eyes just as he realised that instead of entering a warehouse full of volatile explosives the soldier had just locked him in until reinforcements arrived.
And even with newly crashed alien soldiers arriving, all three parties of creatures turned to see the plume of smoke and fire that had just erupted on the horizon, marking the death of Ricky the free slave.
He cut his thoughts short as the firing squad readied their weapons, items that were forged ahead of Ricky's time. He recognised the word "shoot", and that was enough to give him an idea of what their purpose was. As he made his peace with his life, he reflected on the short, fear driven life he had lived as a free man. He hadn't expected to be given a brief repose by another contestant, especially not an alien that was challenging the squad to a dance-off. He was thankful, and used the chance to sort out his explosive priorities.
'My head and chest are the largest targets, and since they also house my organs, I'll harden them. Just enough to give my arms and legs freedom to move. But if I fall or get hit in my limbs, there'll be nothing left of me.'
It took just enough time to protect his prime body parts when the dance-off was interrupted by an invasion. Ricky assumed it was some kind of comet strike and ran for his life, careful never to trip or look behind himself. Running was something Ricky had come to hate doing, his new mind screamed at him all the possibilities of exploding, experiencing a horrible death. However it soon became apparent that he was being chased. A single soldier had taken to his heels, and was occasionally trying to shoot.
Ricky cursed under his breath in despair. If he was still human he probably would have started crying, but his ability to do so was one of the many things he had lost in his transmogrification.
But he found what he would only hope was his salvation. He was quickly approaching a warehouse, and the door leading inside was ajar. He could find someplace to hide, or lose the soldier and escape. The soldier in question had even stopped firing, possibly because he needed to reload or had ran out of ammo entirely. Ricky gingerly slipped in, since knocking the door too hard could prove to be fatal, and quickly decided he had made a grievous error. The entire warehouse stank of explosive residue. Even the dark explosive puddles he had left during his flight didnât smell as bad as the room he currently stood in. The warehouse was for storing bombs and other tools of war, and if anyone were to trigger just one, he knew the outcome would be fatal for any party within a hundred metre radius.
But he was trapped, with the way he had came leading to his assailant, so he instead began carefully jogging through the rooms and stockpiles, careful not to touch anything. He thought ahead, even if he were to escape, how long until the lone firing squad member caught up, or finally managed to shoot him? Ricky needed to get rid of him, and with a warehouse full of explosives, the thought he had just the ticket. He found a suitable hiding place and knelt down. Carefully placing his dominant hand over his stomach region, he forced his fingers into the touch clay, knowing just when to stop and cup his fingers around a special organ. The clay flowed around it as he pried it from his body, leaving no trace of clay on the yellow skin. It was originally a human kidney, now evolved into something entirely different.
A trigger. This organ gave Ricky the ability to detonate his body at will with weak electrical signals. He had a pair of them, but had to have one functioning in his body at all times, so that he could replicate them. It was advanced enough that he could leave them to send out a signal after a specific length of time had passed, even when it was not located in his main body. He gently placed it into his left hand, and with his right began pressing down around the bicep of that arm. The clay started turning a light brown, signalling that the clay was safe to ply and easier to remove. His arm came free, and with his remaining arm he gently sat the arm behind several large white sacks.
With the time bomb placed, Ricky was now able to return to the outside. He had not heard the soldier enter, but as he peeked at the entrance he realised the door was shut. The soldier must have closed it after he entered, so that he could hear it open if Ricky escaped. The clay man thanked his new fortune and quietly snuck towards the door. It was just on time that he finally reached out for the handle and turned.
Only to find the door resisting to his pull. A worried twitch affected Rickyâs eyes just as he realised that instead of entering a warehouse full of volatile explosives the soldier had just locked him in until reinforcements arrived.
And even with newly crashed alien soldiers arriving, all three parties of creatures turned to see the plume of smoke and fire that had just erupted on the horizon, marking the death of Ricky the free slave.