Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 2] [Acidity City]
04-10-2012, 04:46 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Every city has an underbelly. No matter where or when, be it some analyst-hive in the U.S. or a space station with a population of millions, there are parts of every city that most people avoid and less-reputable folks flock to. Even in an ancient Aztincayanesque city littered with half-summoned gods, you could find a seedy, abandoned restaurant amounting to nothing more than half a dozen low, stone tables and an empty fire-pit.
Even Ethan, walking down the few steps to enter the place immediately behind John, could tell that it wasn't a nice place. It had all the hallmarks of one of those places him and his parents had stopped at on a road trip and decided that they could wait for lunch a bit longer, and as much as he wasn't about to be scared in front of anyone, he was behind John for the moment, so he could afford to maybe look around nervously a bit.
John, meanwhile, wasn't quite sure what to expect. He didn't exactly have much to go on at that point, and whenever he'd been bored in the past, he'd always just wandered until he made his way to a seedy joint such as that one. Even given his experience, though, the rock music came as a surprise.
("There's a pulse in the new-born sun / A beat in the heat of noon / There's a song as the day grows long / And a tempo in the tides of the moon")
When John and Ethan made it to the bottom of the steps, one of the figures sitting around the fire pit grinned, gave a little half-wave with one hand, and clambered to his feet. He was male, humanoid, and about the same size as John, but where John was medium-skinned and wearing a woven-metal suit, this person was dressed in glossy black and had skin to match. He wasn't just dark-skinned; his face and hands were a solid, shiny black, like he'd been dipped in an inkwell just moments before.
<font size="1">("It's all around us and it's everywhere / And it's deeper than royal blue / And it feels so real / You can feel the feeling")
"Well, well, well," the inky figure said, taking an ambling step or two towards the door, "what sort of name do you use?"
("And that's the majesty of rock / The fantasy of roll / The ticking of the clock / The wailing of the soul")
"People call me John Smith," John replied, sticking out a hand to shake. "How about yourself?"
("The prisoner in the dark / The digger in the hole / We're in this together / And ever")
"Around here, I'm Dice." He put out his left hand, but John had put out his right. "Sorry, man, left work?" He gestured to his right wrist, where a metal band had a pair of chains hooked onto it, each of which terminated in softball-sized weights after just a few feet, dragging them along the floor if his arm was straight down.
("In the shade of a jungle glade / Or the rush of the crushing street / On the plain, on the foamy main / You can never escape from the beat")
As John went to switch, Dice grabbed his hand and pulled, bringing John stumbling in closer. As he did, he whipped the weights up off the floor, bringing them around and aiming for Ethan.
("It's in the mud, and it's in your blood / And its conquest is complete / And all that you can do / Is just surrender")
Already on guard, Ethan ducked the swinging weights, making the pair of them continue arcing around, tugging Dice's arm with them and pulling his balance a bit further than he'd banked on. John, taking advantage, just continued his forward motion, bringing his shoulder into Dice's stomach and lifting.
("To the majesty of rock / The pageantry of roll / The crowing of the cock / The running of the foal")
Dice went over John and landed flat on the floor, but the weights just kept coming around, taking John out at the ankles as they went. In the end, both men were sprawled on the ground, sore in places but not much the worse for wear.
("The shepherd with his flock / The miner with his coal / We're in this together / And ever")
Neither one really started laughing first. It was a joint thing, and it was more like two old friends than two strangers who'd just met in a shady bar.
(Musical interlude)
As the laughter died down and the two stood, helping each other up, John spoke up. "So," he said, "weighted dice?"
"Yeah." Dice rattled a bit of dirt from the chains on his wrist, then took a seat by the fire pit again. "Used to be, I was free as a bird, doing the same thing as you. Give me a few trillion years or so and things would've been well on their way to heat death around here."
One of the other two sitting at the fire snorted. "Yeah, but ever since Doomsday came and went, Manifestation of Entropy and the Chaos that Implies over here's been shackled, and so the city's not been doing its proper breaking down."
"When we die, do we haunt the sky?" The third figure, sitting more to the back, spoke up, speaking just as the music (music that, Ethan realized, didn't seem to be coming from any tape deck or anything) came out of the interlude. "Do we lurk in the murk of the seas? What then, are we born again, just to sit asking questions like these?"
"Thanks, Manifestation of Cultural Impacts on Situations, real useful."
John gestured for Ethan to come over and sit by the empty fire-pit as well. "No, I get it," he said, staring into the lack of flames. "If something's bound entropy, this place could just keep going indefinitely."
("I know, for I told me so / And I'm sure each of you quite agrees / The more it stays the same / The less it changes")
Dice glowered at the empty ring of stones as well. "That's about the size of it." Suddenly, though, he was grinning at John. "Of course, that doesn't take into account the effects of a bunch of outsiders, including a goddess of locks and an agent of entropy."
("And that's the majesty of rock / The mystery of roll / The darning of the sock / The scoring of the goal / The farmer takes a wife / The barber takes a pole")
"What do you say, John? You feel like introducing some stochasticity into this plane?"
("We're in this together / And ever...")
John grinned back at him.</font>
Every city has an underbelly. No matter where or when, be it some analyst-hive in the U.S. or a space station with a population of millions, there are parts of every city that most people avoid and less-reputable folks flock to. Even in an ancient Aztincayanesque city littered with half-summoned gods, you could find a seedy, abandoned restaurant amounting to nothing more than half a dozen low, stone tables and an empty fire-pit.
Even Ethan, walking down the few steps to enter the place immediately behind John, could tell that it wasn't a nice place. It had all the hallmarks of one of those places him and his parents had stopped at on a road trip and decided that they could wait for lunch a bit longer, and as much as he wasn't about to be scared in front of anyone, he was behind John for the moment, so he could afford to maybe look around nervously a bit.
John, meanwhile, wasn't quite sure what to expect. He didn't exactly have much to go on at that point, and whenever he'd been bored in the past, he'd always just wandered until he made his way to a seedy joint such as that one. Even given his experience, though, the rock music came as a surprise.
("There's a pulse in the new-born sun / A beat in the heat of noon / There's a song as the day grows long / And a tempo in the tides of the moon")
When John and Ethan made it to the bottom of the steps, one of the figures sitting around the fire pit grinned, gave a little half-wave with one hand, and clambered to his feet. He was male, humanoid, and about the same size as John, but where John was medium-skinned and wearing a woven-metal suit, this person was dressed in glossy black and had skin to match. He wasn't just dark-skinned; his face and hands were a solid, shiny black, like he'd been dipped in an inkwell just moments before.
<font size="1">("It's all around us and it's everywhere / And it's deeper than royal blue / And it feels so real / You can feel the feeling")
"Well, well, well," the inky figure said, taking an ambling step or two towards the door, "what sort of name do you use?"
("And that's the majesty of rock / The fantasy of roll / The ticking of the clock / The wailing of the soul")
"People call me John Smith," John replied, sticking out a hand to shake. "How about yourself?"
("The prisoner in the dark / The digger in the hole / We're in this together / And ever")
"Around here, I'm Dice." He put out his left hand, but John had put out his right. "Sorry, man, left work?" He gestured to his right wrist, where a metal band had a pair of chains hooked onto it, each of which terminated in softball-sized weights after just a few feet, dragging them along the floor if his arm was straight down.
("In the shade of a jungle glade / Or the rush of the crushing street / On the plain, on the foamy main / You can never escape from the beat")
As John went to switch, Dice grabbed his hand and pulled, bringing John stumbling in closer. As he did, he whipped the weights up off the floor, bringing them around and aiming for Ethan.
("It's in the mud, and it's in your blood / And its conquest is complete / And all that you can do / Is just surrender")
Already on guard, Ethan ducked the swinging weights, making the pair of them continue arcing around, tugging Dice's arm with them and pulling his balance a bit further than he'd banked on. John, taking advantage, just continued his forward motion, bringing his shoulder into Dice's stomach and lifting.
("To the majesty of rock / The pageantry of roll / The crowing of the cock / The running of the foal")
Dice went over John and landed flat on the floor, but the weights just kept coming around, taking John out at the ankles as they went. In the end, both men were sprawled on the ground, sore in places but not much the worse for wear.
("The shepherd with his flock / The miner with his coal / We're in this together / And ever")
Neither one really started laughing first. It was a joint thing, and it was more like two old friends than two strangers who'd just met in a shady bar.
(Musical interlude)
As the laughter died down and the two stood, helping each other up, John spoke up. "So," he said, "weighted dice?"
"Yeah." Dice rattled a bit of dirt from the chains on his wrist, then took a seat by the fire pit again. "Used to be, I was free as a bird, doing the same thing as you. Give me a few trillion years or so and things would've been well on their way to heat death around here."
One of the other two sitting at the fire snorted. "Yeah, but ever since Doomsday came and went, Manifestation of Entropy and the Chaos that Implies over here's been shackled, and so the city's not been doing its proper breaking down."
"When we die, do we haunt the sky?" The third figure, sitting more to the back, spoke up, speaking just as the music (music that, Ethan realized, didn't seem to be coming from any tape deck or anything) came out of the interlude. "Do we lurk in the murk of the seas? What then, are we born again, just to sit asking questions like these?"
"Thanks, Manifestation of Cultural Impacts on Situations, real useful."
John gestured for Ethan to come over and sit by the empty fire-pit as well. "No, I get it," he said, staring into the lack of flames. "If something's bound entropy, this place could just keep going indefinitely."
("I know, for I told me so / And I'm sure each of you quite agrees / The more it stays the same / The less it changes")
Dice glowered at the empty ring of stones as well. "That's about the size of it." Suddenly, though, he was grinning at John. "Of course, that doesn't take into account the effects of a bunch of outsiders, including a goddess of locks and an agent of entropy."
("And that's the majesty of rock / The mystery of roll / The darning of the sock / The scoring of the goal / The farmer takes a wife / The barber takes a pole")
"What do you say, John? You feel like introducing some stochasticity into this plane?"
("We're in this together / And ever...")
John grinned back at him.</font>