Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 1] [Fort Ayers, New Atlantis]
07-13-2011, 01:03 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Had John been in a car, he would've been changing lanes left and right as his plans changed with every mile-marker he passed. Nancy would've been in the passenger seat, no longer telling him to "cool this hayburner" but just hanging on and hoping he'd decide on an exit soon.
But, if that analogy were to hold, an eighteen-wheeler would've just ramped over the hill to one side of the highway and landed smack-dab in front of the pair (who'd've been forced to come to a screeching halt). The driver would've then stuck her head out the window and enquired about local governmental buildings in which to deposit the tank-load of toxic waste she was driving around with.
John would've most likely stuck his head out the window, looked at the tank of glowing sludge with some not-insignificant fascination, then directed the felinoid trucker to follow the highway back the way they'd come. Specifically, he'd mention an exit they'd passed a few miles back that mentioned a large data centre, probably holding information relevant to the entire state and most likely an excellent place to introduce many gallons of radioactive goo.
The trucker would've then waved her thanks, started her rig up again, and headed recklessly off the way the pair had come. John would've gotten going again in short order as well, and Nancy would've been left still wondering what a computer was.
She would've been further perplexed when he finally turned off, taking an exit labelled "helipad."
-
The door on the roof of the base slammed open, and John ran out, followed closely by Nancy. She'd made it all the way up in her shoes, no mean feat, and even though being on the roof meant more running, she was just glad it wasn't another set of stairs.
John half-turned, switching from a run to some sort of side-step trot, and shouted back, "Come on, almost there! Pick up the pace, they've probably spotted us by now!"
Nancy wasn't really sure what the thing she was supposed to be picking up the pace towards was, but she wasn't sure she liked the idea of them (whoever they were) having spotting them. She hurried, and when John flung open a door for her and gestured vaguely to the restraints, she clambered in and did her best to strap in.
John disregarded the safety harness entirely and focused only on getting the chopper in the air. He had just started up the rotors when Nancy, fiddling with a buckle, shouted, "What is this thing?!"
"It's an antique helicopter," he shouted back, "something from the late 20th century, if I had to guess!"
"A what?!"
"A whirlybird!", he clarified, as though putting it in a term thirty-some years off the mark would help.
It didn't, but Nancy got the general idea when the craft lifted off anyway.
Envoy, Ashley and Ashley, the Broderburgs, and Corporal Evans were no longer alone in the sky. Some might say it was actually getting a bit crowded up there.
Had John been in a car, he would've been changing lanes left and right as his plans changed with every mile-marker he passed. Nancy would've been in the passenger seat, no longer telling him to "cool this hayburner" but just hanging on and hoping he'd decide on an exit soon.
But, if that analogy were to hold, an eighteen-wheeler would've just ramped over the hill to one side of the highway and landed smack-dab in front of the pair (who'd've been forced to come to a screeching halt). The driver would've then stuck her head out the window and enquired about local governmental buildings in which to deposit the tank-load of toxic waste she was driving around with.
John would've most likely stuck his head out the window, looked at the tank of glowing sludge with some not-insignificant fascination, then directed the felinoid trucker to follow the highway back the way they'd come. Specifically, he'd mention an exit they'd passed a few miles back that mentioned a large data centre, probably holding information relevant to the entire state and most likely an excellent place to introduce many gallons of radioactive goo.
The trucker would've then waved her thanks, started her rig up again, and headed recklessly off the way the pair had come. John would've gotten going again in short order as well, and Nancy would've been left still wondering what a computer was.
She would've been further perplexed when he finally turned off, taking an exit labelled "helipad."
-
The door on the roof of the base slammed open, and John ran out, followed closely by Nancy. She'd made it all the way up in her shoes, no mean feat, and even though being on the roof meant more running, she was just glad it wasn't another set of stairs.
John half-turned, switching from a run to some sort of side-step trot, and shouted back, "Come on, almost there! Pick up the pace, they've probably spotted us by now!"
Nancy wasn't really sure what the thing she was supposed to be picking up the pace towards was, but she wasn't sure she liked the idea of them (whoever they were) having spotting them. She hurried, and when John flung open a door for her and gestured vaguely to the restraints, she clambered in and did her best to strap in.
John disregarded the safety harness entirely and focused only on getting the chopper in the air. He had just started up the rotors when Nancy, fiddling with a buckle, shouted, "What is this thing?!"
"It's an antique helicopter," he shouted back, "something from the late 20th century, if I had to guess!"
"A what?!"
"A whirlybird!", he clarified, as though putting it in a term thirty-some years off the mark would help.
It didn't, but Nancy got the general idea when the craft lifted off anyway.
Envoy, Ashley and Ashley, the Broderburgs, and Corporal Evans were no longer alone in the sky. Some might say it was actually getting a bit crowded up there.