Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 1] [Fort Ayers, New Atlantis]
09-15-2011, 03:54 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.
The RV juddered over the wreckage of its entry and skidded – pinwheeling and scattering soldiers, it came to a temporary rest against a helicopter before lurching forward, down the paved central strip that dominated the airfield. Above, Clarice found herself scrabbling for a handhold on the RV’s metal roof, almost slipping before reaching in desperation for the protruding knife handle, only to have her hand slapped away-
“Nope!”
Ashley – Clarice still had her doubts about ‘contestant number three’, but didn’t press the point – grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her back onto the roof. She looked up into the girl’s face in confusion at the seemingly contradictory action, and thought she saw a flicker of hazel in the girl’s red pupils-
“Can’t have you dying now, can we darll? But stay off the knives.”
<font color="navy">Because hell knows if you’ll go for us if you get your hands on it.
Shh, you. She’s a mom for plate’s sake, take your soldiery paranoia elsewhere.
The RV’s mad dash down the airstrip had not gone unnoticed. Soldiers scrambled after the battered, bullet-dented and slightly singed vehicle as it sped across the tarmac, leaving behind skid marks with each fishtail.</font>
“But why can’t-?” Clarice slipped, and for a fraction of a second she cataloged her existence as depending on one slim arm – “They’re just knives!” – the incongruity of that sentence struck her at the same time the roof swerved underneath her and she struck it, full force. “Ouch!”
Tom was acutely aware of the banging on the roof. He was also aware of the dagger in Parsley’s hand held uncomfortably close, and of Baby Emma gurgling and bouncing happily in his lap. He tried to shift his legs a little, nudging her away from the restless blade. They were getting awfully close to the end of the airstrip, where a squat but very solid-looking bunker stood. If he turned the RV at the last moment and braced, Emma might survive…but what about Clarice? He couldn’t willingly endanger his wife as well-
-balancing back to back on the veering roof, Clarice in fact had a better view than Tom did – though her gaze was more preoccupied with the helicopter gaining on them from behind. It didn’t seem it was about to open fire for some reason, the only solace she could gain in the present moment-
- Ashley’s eyes widened as she read the words emblazoned on the roof of the bunker – ANTI-AIR PLATFORM: MUNITIONS STORAGE – and drew her other knife, cutting a clean swathe through the RV’s aluminium roof like…like a knife through a slightly rusty, worn old aluminium roof. Weakened, the metal gave way, depositing the two women unceremoniously into the interior of the RV.
Fluidly, Parsley drew and aimed the crossbow as the two entered the machine, a breadstick loaded in the stock. The other hand drew dangerously close to Tom as the RV lurched, then resumed its discomfiting distance. “Ye might want to stand down. Yes, ye – the lass with the knives. Now I think ye, dropping in fully armed as we be ‘drivin’ in our nae-flyin’ machine, ye must be one of the demonkind to ha’ caught up wi’ us movin’ that quick.” He gave the knife-wielding woman a cursory glance, then continued – “And I know fer sure ye be not any compatriot of mine.”
<font color="red">Ashley thought hard as she picked herself up off the RV’s kitchen floor – <font color="green">"He’s under the impression that none of this is real, albeit for different reasons that the rest of you." …so this is Parsley Krose… mmm, if he weren’t deluded I’d -
Do you do this on purpose? Just to annoy me?
Shut up you, important things now darll.
I can’t have been this dismissive when I was about, could I?
She ignored him, sheathing her knives and raising her arms in a beatific pose. “Parsley? That you?”</font>
Parsley was momentarily confused by the turn of events, but rallied magnificently given the wildly bucking circumstances – “Ye would know my name – ye were told it and ye would be wise to fear it, whether ye be demon or nae demon.”
“I’m no demon, Parsley – I’m your guardian angel, and I’ve come to warn ya of just terrible danger!”
<font color="navy">I think you’re overdoing it a bit.</font>
“Lies. Demon hunters don’t get guardian angels – and no angel would consort wi’ demonkind like ye are.”
“Plate. Worth a shot. But you are in danger – see that bunker, darll? Yep, the one you’re driving riiiight towards? Drop’s full of munitions, explosive ordinance – that sort of stuff. Just a heads-up.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Ashley’s patience ran out.
“That means plating turn, ya jitmit!”
<font color="navy">“No, don’t-!” He tried to stop her leaping forward – failed – saw the crossbow bolt leave its stock.
She tried to duck, felt the bolt knock her back flat on the floor. Plate, he’s got good aim-
“We could have been killed!”
It was plating bread and sterc, here he comes-</font>
Parsley stepped forward, deftly bringing his dagger hand forward for the finish-</font>
Sensing the opportunity given by the sudden lack of dagger, Tom swerved the RV off the airstrip just before the bunker came to meet them. At the same instant the helicopter decided that the risk of igniting the munitions bunker was worth stopping the RV from certainly igniting the munitions bunker and opened fire.
Clarice extricated herself from the sink and found herself pressed against the window, looking at the dull bunker at the end of the airstrip they were leaving behind. It wasn’t dull, or even in one piece, for very long.
The RV juddered over the wreckage of its entry and skidded – pinwheeling and scattering soldiers, it came to a temporary rest against a helicopter before lurching forward, down the paved central strip that dominated the airfield. Above, Clarice found herself scrabbling for a handhold on the RV’s metal roof, almost slipping before reaching in desperation for the protruding knife handle, only to have her hand slapped away-
“Nope!”
Ashley – Clarice still had her doubts about ‘contestant number three’, but didn’t press the point – grabbed hold of her hand, pulling her back onto the roof. She looked up into the girl’s face in confusion at the seemingly contradictory action, and thought she saw a flicker of hazel in the girl’s red pupils-
“Can’t have you dying now, can we darll? But stay off the knives.”
<font color="navy">Because hell knows if you’ll go for us if you get your hands on it.
Shh, you. She’s a mom for plate’s sake, take your soldiery paranoia elsewhere.
The RV’s mad dash down the airstrip had not gone unnoticed. Soldiers scrambled after the battered, bullet-dented and slightly singed vehicle as it sped across the tarmac, leaving behind skid marks with each fishtail.</font>
“But why can’t-?” Clarice slipped, and for a fraction of a second she cataloged her existence as depending on one slim arm – “They’re just knives!” – the incongruity of that sentence struck her at the same time the roof swerved underneath her and she struck it, full force. “Ouch!”
Tom was acutely aware of the banging on the roof. He was also aware of the dagger in Parsley’s hand held uncomfortably close, and of Baby Emma gurgling and bouncing happily in his lap. He tried to shift his legs a little, nudging her away from the restless blade. They were getting awfully close to the end of the airstrip, where a squat but very solid-looking bunker stood. If he turned the RV at the last moment and braced, Emma might survive…but what about Clarice? He couldn’t willingly endanger his wife as well-
-balancing back to back on the veering roof, Clarice in fact had a better view than Tom did – though her gaze was more preoccupied with the helicopter gaining on them from behind. It didn’t seem it was about to open fire for some reason, the only solace she could gain in the present moment-
- Ashley’s eyes widened as she read the words emblazoned on the roof of the bunker – ANTI-AIR PLATFORM: MUNITIONS STORAGE – and drew her other knife, cutting a clean swathe through the RV’s aluminium roof like…like a knife through a slightly rusty, worn old aluminium roof. Weakened, the metal gave way, depositing the two women unceremoniously into the interior of the RV.
Fluidly, Parsley drew and aimed the crossbow as the two entered the machine, a breadstick loaded in the stock. The other hand drew dangerously close to Tom as the RV lurched, then resumed its discomfiting distance. “Ye might want to stand down. Yes, ye – the lass with the knives. Now I think ye, dropping in fully armed as we be ‘drivin’ in our nae-flyin’ machine, ye must be one of the demonkind to ha’ caught up wi’ us movin’ that quick.” He gave the knife-wielding woman a cursory glance, then continued – “And I know fer sure ye be not any compatriot of mine.”
<font color="red">Ashley thought hard as she picked herself up off the RV’s kitchen floor – <font color="green">"He’s under the impression that none of this is real, albeit for different reasons that the rest of you." …so this is Parsley Krose… mmm, if he weren’t deluded I’d -
Do you do this on purpose? Just to annoy me?
Shut up you, important things now darll.
I can’t have been this dismissive when I was about, could I?
She ignored him, sheathing her knives and raising her arms in a beatific pose. “Parsley? That you?”</font>
Parsley was momentarily confused by the turn of events, but rallied magnificently given the wildly bucking circumstances – “Ye would know my name – ye were told it and ye would be wise to fear it, whether ye be demon or nae demon.”
“I’m no demon, Parsley – I’m your guardian angel, and I’ve come to warn ya of just terrible danger!”
<font color="navy">I think you’re overdoing it a bit.</font>
“Lies. Demon hunters don’t get guardian angels – and no angel would consort wi’ demonkind like ye are.”
“Plate. Worth a shot. But you are in danger – see that bunker, darll? Yep, the one you’re driving riiiight towards? Drop’s full of munitions, explosive ordinance – that sort of stuff. Just a heads-up.”
There was silence for a few moments, then Ashley’s patience ran out.
“That means plating turn, ya jitmit!”
<font color="navy">“No, don’t-!” He tried to stop her leaping forward – failed – saw the crossbow bolt leave its stock.
She tried to duck, felt the bolt knock her back flat on the floor. Plate, he’s got good aim-
“We could have been killed!”
It was plating bread and sterc, here he comes-</font>
Parsley stepped forward, deftly bringing his dagger hand forward for the finish-</font>
Sensing the opportunity given by the sudden lack of dagger, Tom swerved the RV off the airstrip just before the bunker came to meet them. At the same instant the helicopter decided that the risk of igniting the munitions bunker was worth stopping the RV from certainly igniting the munitions bunker and opened fire.
Clarice extricated herself from the sink and found herself pressed against the window, looking at the dull bunker at the end of the airstrip they were leaving behind. It wasn’t dull, or even in one piece, for very long.
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