Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 1] [Fort Ayers, New Atlantis]
05-01-2011, 09:54 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Loud and chaotic was quickly becoming the default state of affairs among COFCA. Even an attempt at examining Envoy's competition in the upcoming battle had almost instantly devolved into a discussion of semantics.
"...And that rebelliousness could very well tear this family apart internally, making them useless as allies and maybe even hindering our efforts!"
"I rather doubt they're going to dissolve because of one teen's dislike for her parents' music! You're taking this to extremes, and-"
"Taking this to extremes?! I'd say this situation qualifies as 'extreme,' wouldn't you?"
"Whether or not 'extreme' is the right term-"
"The good doctor has a point, you're exaggerating things far beyond observed facts!"
Before the argument could continue, the numerous screens in the COFCA conference room cut out, the live feed from Envoy replaced with nothing but static. The sound was still there, the sounds of bullets still punctuated by frequent explosions, but there was nothing to be seen.
Half a dozen people were reaching to contact ground control when the static cleared once more. As it did, though, the war-sounds vanished, replaced by a voice halfway through a sentence.
"-cess of elimination, this must be the audio."
A flurry of voices were raised all at once, demanding to know just who that was, how he was talking to them, what was going on here, and any number of other things.
"Well, that settles that, then. Thanks, you can be quiet now." The dismissive way he said it shocked the sensibilities of most of the people talking, and, for the moment, they did what he said. The remaining few didn't want to stand out from the group and keep talking, so they stopped as well.
"Right. Now, based on the temporal shift on these data streams, this can only be COFCA on the line here."
"That's correct, yes." Eva Nguyen stood, a gesture that, had there been any visual communication, would've put herself forward as the current spokesperson of the group. "And you are?"
"John Smith, temporal mechanics expert and communications enthusiast. I have a- Oh, sorry, just a second."
Several people exchanged glances as, through the stream, they heard the shattering of glass, two gunshots, and the sound of a number of bullets hitting cement.
-
The mess hall was rather nice, as far as mess halls went- it stretched through three floors of the base, the open space a nice change from the rest of the facility. The walls that bordered the first floor had a number of halls leading off in all directions- the room was a bit of a hub, and people passed through on a regular basis. The upper two stories had evenly-spaced windows all around, which looked out from offices, conference rooms, and the like. It was a very bureaucratic area in the base, and a number of higher-ups had offices that looked into that particular mess.
On their way through the big room, privates Peterson, Matthew, Andrews, and Smith (no relation to the contestant) were surprised by a chair that came hurtling out of the third-floor window. They were a bit more than surprised when Matthew took a shot to the chest and another to the shoulder. The surviving three fired a number of shots back, and then Peterson, the de facto leader of the group, had them head for the stairs, going up to the office to hopefully apprehend their assailant.
-
"Right, sorry. As I was saying, I have a communications device that's designed for a wide range of situations, and I was scanning through the frequencies to find the base-wide comm channel when I saw your streams. They were temporally shifted, and how could I resist?" There was a grunt of effort, a loud, metallic clang, and a sigh of satisfaction from John's end of the line. "Tried one, got video, tried the next, and here I am, at your service."
"Well, sir, the offer is most appreciated-"
"Appreciated? From what we know, he's insane!"
"'A bit of a nutcase' can mean a variety of things, Mr. Marcus. Has he seemed particularly unstable to you so far?"
"Well, the Charlatan wasn't wrong," John said, taking advantage of the higher volume he gained when speaking through the room's impressive sound system to effectively stifle any interruptions, "I am a bit off. Of course, you want someone a bit off in a situation like this. Someone completely sane, they'd go straight off the deep end at being thrust into a battle to the death by an extra-dimensional being and end up being completely useless unless you needed someone to gibber and drool. What you really want is someone just off enough to keep their wits about them when there's hell whirling all around them, someone who's been there before and lived to tell the tale. You want someone who can take a mad, impossible situation and be mad and impossible right back at it." There was another smash, more breaking glass, but a bit further away this time. Then, a door closed and John spoke again, more quietly than before. "What you want is me, my friends, and you just don't know it yet."
-
Peterson, Andrews, and Smith burst into the office. It was rather nice, clearly belonging to someone with points to spare. It was done up with old-style wood panelling, a full-on wooden desk and even a wooden door to the closet to one side.
It was a bit of a mess, though. The sleek, metal standing lamp that had probably been next to the desk had had its base pried off and all its wires pulled out. Those wires had then been tied around it, and the lamp braced across the window while the wires dangled down the outside. An escape rope- their assailant must've climbed down.
The three soldiers moved to the window as one to look down- indeed, at the other end of the cords, the second-floor window was broken as well. The three weren't sure why there was a desk lamp tied to the end of the cord, though. Counterbalance, maybe? Or had the wires from the floor lamp not been enough on their own?
The office looked nice, but whoever it was that had paid for all of the fancy wood hadn't bothered to get appropriate, old-school hinges for the closet door. Instead, it was outfitted with modern 'nosqueek' ones, so as John swung it open, the soldiers didn't even turn to look. Made things rather easy.
John gave a polite cough, and the three whirled to face him, bringing their guns to bear on him.
He shot them. Two managed to get off one shot each before they died, and both went wide, pinging off of the walls without doing any damage. That same two fell backwards, out the window. They landed with suitable crunches on the floor below. The remaining one, Andrews, had gotten his rifle's strap tangled up with the broken frame of the window when he spun around to face John. Both strap and frame surprised John with their sturdiness- Andrews now hung from them, saving John the time of figuring out some other way to lead whoever might be following his trail towards the office he was in now.
-
John cleared his throat at the end of the line. "Sorry about that. You know how battles to the death are, people shooting other people, things being loud, et cetera, et cetera. Or- hang on, you probably don't. I rather doubt any of you have ended up in a situation quite like this before. That's why you need me. I've been around the block with these things, I know the ropes. At the moment, however, I need to go. I'll call you back in a bit, see if you've thought about it. Goodbye!"
His voice cut out, and the sounds of gunfire and explosions returned in its place, accompanied by yet another burst of loud, competing voices in the conference room.
Loud and chaotic was quickly becoming the default state of affairs among COFCA. Even an attempt at examining Envoy's competition in the upcoming battle had almost instantly devolved into a discussion of semantics.
"...And that rebelliousness could very well tear this family apart internally, making them useless as allies and maybe even hindering our efforts!"
"I rather doubt they're going to dissolve because of one teen's dislike for her parents' music! You're taking this to extremes, and-"
"Taking this to extremes?! I'd say this situation qualifies as 'extreme,' wouldn't you?"
"Whether or not 'extreme' is the right term-"
"The good doctor has a point, you're exaggerating things far beyond observed facts!"
Before the argument could continue, the numerous screens in the COFCA conference room cut out, the live feed from Envoy replaced with nothing but static. The sound was still there, the sounds of bullets still punctuated by frequent explosions, but there was nothing to be seen.
Half a dozen people were reaching to contact ground control when the static cleared once more. As it did, though, the war-sounds vanished, replaced by a voice halfway through a sentence.
"-cess of elimination, this must be the audio."
A flurry of voices were raised all at once, demanding to know just who that was, how he was talking to them, what was going on here, and any number of other things.
"Well, that settles that, then. Thanks, you can be quiet now." The dismissive way he said it shocked the sensibilities of most of the people talking, and, for the moment, they did what he said. The remaining few didn't want to stand out from the group and keep talking, so they stopped as well.
"Right. Now, based on the temporal shift on these data streams, this can only be COFCA on the line here."
"That's correct, yes." Eva Nguyen stood, a gesture that, had there been any visual communication, would've put herself forward as the current spokesperson of the group. "And you are?"
"John Smith, temporal mechanics expert and communications enthusiast. I have a- Oh, sorry, just a second."
Several people exchanged glances as, through the stream, they heard the shattering of glass, two gunshots, and the sound of a number of bullets hitting cement.
-
The mess hall was rather nice, as far as mess halls went- it stretched through three floors of the base, the open space a nice change from the rest of the facility. The walls that bordered the first floor had a number of halls leading off in all directions- the room was a bit of a hub, and people passed through on a regular basis. The upper two stories had evenly-spaced windows all around, which looked out from offices, conference rooms, and the like. It was a very bureaucratic area in the base, and a number of higher-ups had offices that looked into that particular mess.
On their way through the big room, privates Peterson, Matthew, Andrews, and Smith (no relation to the contestant) were surprised by a chair that came hurtling out of the third-floor window. They were a bit more than surprised when Matthew took a shot to the chest and another to the shoulder. The surviving three fired a number of shots back, and then Peterson, the de facto leader of the group, had them head for the stairs, going up to the office to hopefully apprehend their assailant.
-
"Right, sorry. As I was saying, I have a communications device that's designed for a wide range of situations, and I was scanning through the frequencies to find the base-wide comm channel when I saw your streams. They were temporally shifted, and how could I resist?" There was a grunt of effort, a loud, metallic clang, and a sigh of satisfaction from John's end of the line. "Tried one, got video, tried the next, and here I am, at your service."
"Well, sir, the offer is most appreciated-"
"Appreciated? From what we know, he's insane!"
"'A bit of a nutcase' can mean a variety of things, Mr. Marcus. Has he seemed particularly unstable to you so far?"
"Well, the Charlatan wasn't wrong," John said, taking advantage of the higher volume he gained when speaking through the room's impressive sound system to effectively stifle any interruptions, "I am a bit off. Of course, you want someone a bit off in a situation like this. Someone completely sane, they'd go straight off the deep end at being thrust into a battle to the death by an extra-dimensional being and end up being completely useless unless you needed someone to gibber and drool. What you really want is someone just off enough to keep their wits about them when there's hell whirling all around them, someone who's been there before and lived to tell the tale. You want someone who can take a mad, impossible situation and be mad and impossible right back at it." There was another smash, more breaking glass, but a bit further away this time. Then, a door closed and John spoke again, more quietly than before. "What you want is me, my friends, and you just don't know it yet."
-
Peterson, Andrews, and Smith burst into the office. It was rather nice, clearly belonging to someone with points to spare. It was done up with old-style wood panelling, a full-on wooden desk and even a wooden door to the closet to one side.
It was a bit of a mess, though. The sleek, metal standing lamp that had probably been next to the desk had had its base pried off and all its wires pulled out. Those wires had then been tied around it, and the lamp braced across the window while the wires dangled down the outside. An escape rope- their assailant must've climbed down.
The three soldiers moved to the window as one to look down- indeed, at the other end of the cords, the second-floor window was broken as well. The three weren't sure why there was a desk lamp tied to the end of the cord, though. Counterbalance, maybe? Or had the wires from the floor lamp not been enough on their own?
The office looked nice, but whoever it was that had paid for all of the fancy wood hadn't bothered to get appropriate, old-school hinges for the closet door. Instead, it was outfitted with modern 'nosqueek' ones, so as John swung it open, the soldiers didn't even turn to look. Made things rather easy.
John gave a polite cough, and the three whirled to face him, bringing their guns to bear on him.
He shot them. Two managed to get off one shot each before they died, and both went wide, pinging off of the walls without doing any damage. That same two fell backwards, out the window. They landed with suitable crunches on the floor below. The remaining one, Andrews, had gotten his rifle's strap tangled up with the broken frame of the window when he spun around to face John. Both strap and frame surprised John with their sturdiness- Andrews now hung from them, saving John the time of figuring out some other way to lead whoever might be following his trail towards the office he was in now.
-
John cleared his throat at the end of the line. "Sorry about that. You know how battles to the death are, people shooting other people, things being loud, et cetera, et cetera. Or- hang on, you probably don't. I rather doubt any of you have ended up in a situation quite like this before. That's why you need me. I've been around the block with these things, I know the ropes. At the moment, however, I need to go. I'll call you back in a bit, see if you've thought about it. Goodbye!"
His voice cut out, and the sounds of gunfire and explosions returned in its place, accompanied by yet another burst of loud, competing voices in the conference room.