Re: Mini-Grand 5104 (Round 2: CHEKOF Headquarters)
07-31-2011, 03:47 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Hector’s memory flow seemed to be returning to normal. “Oh, reason above, what happened last night?” he asked aloud.
“Well, you look like shit,” said the alien.
Hector was comfortable using alien here, as she didn’t really seem like she wasn’t human. She could talk properly, and didn’t have a misshapen skeletal structure or wings or handcuffs or a glorious, terrifying aura of pure light. She was just… different. It was the bright red skin, for one thing. And the toplessness. Oh, the toplessness.
“Tea?” The toplessness, who shall henceforth be known as the Toplessness, offered him a cup of something that smelled like mornings. It was steaming hot.
Hector, not knowing what “tea” was, stalled for time by examining his surroundings. They were in a small, cozy room dominated by a screen and what was recognizably a motion capture apparatus. The apparatus, which seemed molded to the form of an athletic (yet… soft) female, was evidently linked to a first-person shooter on the screen, which was running on autopilot. The player character was locked in an intense battle with a wrathful infant girl wreathed in flame. Hector found himself rooting for the baby, and then his view of the screen was blocked by a geometrically pristine breast and he remembered more important things.
“You should drink,” said the Toplessness. “You’re still a bit out of it.”
“Clearly.” Hector took the cup and drank. It tasted… green, somehow. Not in a good way. “What’s in this?” he asked, as politely as possible.
The Toplessness shrugged. Hector liked the shrugging because it made various parts of her body move around all at once. “Some crushed up leaves and junk,” she said. “They were growing around you while you slept, and I haven’t had a good tea in ages.”
Hector kept drinking, because the tea was the least shameful or confusing thing about his life right now. Then again, it was starting to make his head feel funny.
The Toplessness’ head, when he could spare a moment to look up at it, didn’t seem to be in good shape either. “You know,” she slurred, “If those assholes down the hall had even bothered to check in on the Emissary instead of leaving me to do all the, you know all the hard work, we wouldn’t have made it past round one. And now that we’re, like, we’re here and it’s the final showdown against Amme Beelzeburg and Carne-Z the Meat Goddess, who’s gonna take all the, the credit? Those dicks are. They still don't know there is a battle.”
Hector wasn’t sure what any of that meant, but something in the tea was making him positive that it would make a great song lyric. More green was growing all around him, and it all smelled like the tea. “I’m Hector,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Jastra,” she said. “Jastra Juggs.” It was the prettiest name Hector had ever heard. The walls were all colors then, like a game that everyone wins. Then: the police.
One was tapping on the screen, messing with the poor robot’s HUD. Behind him Hector could see the omnipotent baby being handcuffed and escorted into a radio car. “Excuse me,” said the policeman. “Whoever’s controlling this robot? We’ve received reports of an illegal battle to the death here, and we’re, uh, we’re shutting it down.”
“They’re killing my battle?” whimpered Juggs, nuzzling the wall with one cheek. “Hector, I worked so hard. I had the high score. I think the tea brought the police here, and the ghosts, too. Can you see the ghosts?”
Hector counted his fingers, twice to make sure. “I know what I must do,” he concluded, when he was satisfied. He rose and waded through the garden of green—leaves she had called them—to the motion capture apparatus. It fit about him a bit snugly, but responded well enough to him that he was able to satisfactorily punch the cops with six right arms at once. “Fuck you, pig,” he told the cop, unsure whether he had the “talk” button held down, or the “flamethrower” button (because the cop was on fire now).
Jastra Juggs clapped her hands, giggled and jumped up and down, and Hector watched that, and, it was just great. “If I were to punch all the cops in the world,” he asked her, “Would you love me?”
Jastra sipped her tea and gave Hector a very serious nod. “Until the end of time,” she told him.
Hector’s memory flow seemed to be returning to normal. “Oh, reason above, what happened last night?” he asked aloud.
“Well, you look like shit,” said the alien.
Hector was comfortable using alien here, as she didn’t really seem like she wasn’t human. She could talk properly, and didn’t have a misshapen skeletal structure or wings or handcuffs or a glorious, terrifying aura of pure light. She was just… different. It was the bright red skin, for one thing. And the toplessness. Oh, the toplessness.
“Tea?” The toplessness, who shall henceforth be known as the Toplessness, offered him a cup of something that smelled like mornings. It was steaming hot.
Hector, not knowing what “tea” was, stalled for time by examining his surroundings. They were in a small, cozy room dominated by a screen and what was recognizably a motion capture apparatus. The apparatus, which seemed molded to the form of an athletic (yet… soft) female, was evidently linked to a first-person shooter on the screen, which was running on autopilot. The player character was locked in an intense battle with a wrathful infant girl wreathed in flame. Hector found himself rooting for the baby, and then his view of the screen was blocked by a geometrically pristine breast and he remembered more important things.
“You should drink,” said the Toplessness. “You’re still a bit out of it.”
“Clearly.” Hector took the cup and drank. It tasted… green, somehow. Not in a good way. “What’s in this?” he asked, as politely as possible.
The Toplessness shrugged. Hector liked the shrugging because it made various parts of her body move around all at once. “Some crushed up leaves and junk,” she said. “They were growing around you while you slept, and I haven’t had a good tea in ages.”
Hector kept drinking, because the tea was the least shameful or confusing thing about his life right now. Then again, it was starting to make his head feel funny.
The Toplessness’ head, when he could spare a moment to look up at it, didn’t seem to be in good shape either. “You know,” she slurred, “If those assholes down the hall had even bothered to check in on the Emissary instead of leaving me to do all the, you know all the hard work, we wouldn’t have made it past round one. And now that we’re, like, we’re here and it’s the final showdown against Amme Beelzeburg and Carne-Z the Meat Goddess, who’s gonna take all the, the credit? Those dicks are. They still don't know there is a battle.”
Hector wasn’t sure what any of that meant, but something in the tea was making him positive that it would make a great song lyric. More green was growing all around him, and it all smelled like the tea. “I’m Hector,” he said. “What’s your name?”
“Jastra,” she said. “Jastra Juggs.” It was the prettiest name Hector had ever heard. The walls were all colors then, like a game that everyone wins. Then: the police.
One was tapping on the screen, messing with the poor robot’s HUD. Behind him Hector could see the omnipotent baby being handcuffed and escorted into a radio car. “Excuse me,” said the policeman. “Whoever’s controlling this robot? We’ve received reports of an illegal battle to the death here, and we’re, uh, we’re shutting it down.”
“They’re killing my battle?” whimpered Juggs, nuzzling the wall with one cheek. “Hector, I worked so hard. I had the high score. I think the tea brought the police here, and the ghosts, too. Can you see the ghosts?”
Hector counted his fingers, twice to make sure. “I know what I must do,” he concluded, when he was satisfied. He rose and waded through the garden of green—leaves she had called them—to the motion capture apparatus. It fit about him a bit snugly, but responded well enough to him that he was able to satisfactorily punch the cops with six right arms at once. “Fuck you, pig,” he told the cop, unsure whether he had the “talk” button held down, or the “flamethrower” button (because the cop was on fire now).
Jastra Juggs clapped her hands, giggled and jumped up and down, and Hector watched that, and, it was just great. “If I were to punch all the cops in the world,” he asked her, “Would you love me?”
Jastra sipped her tea and gave Hector a very serious nod. “Until the end of time,” she told him.