Re: The Grand Battle S2G1! [Round Four: New Battleopolis!]
11-11-2011, 04:42 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
”She’s not allowed to die. We can still use her.”
Hol—sorry, H-Bomb—had the shakes. She turned them into a pair of drumsticks and started rapping them on the edge of the hospital bed. ”Stop that,” said Tor. ”I’m trying to think.”
”If you insist.” H-Bomb stashed the drumsticks away in the pocket of her hoodie, her anxiousness having been usurped by a dull nausea. There was something offputting about Tor’s latest appearance. Since they’d started working together, she’d gotten used to taking orders from a different face every day, but this one seemed to represent a new paradigm. It lacked that ex-military masculine verve that suited him best, and his eyes were a bit lacking in that far-away regretful look he always got when he was making tough decisions. He was more focused and calculating. If she were in a better mood she would have found it sexy.
”Can only do so much,” sighed TinTen, reading the unconscious Jen’s vitals. ”Jen will live, but may be comatose for some time. Could have used Tengeri’s assistance.”
”Well then go get her.” The elf shouted the order reflexively, and immediately regretted it as Tor, TinTen and Red all shot her a look of pity.
”No one told you?” offered the lobster.
”The Leviath’s dead,” explained Tor. ”She stayed behind with me during the fight and tried to kill me. No one knows why.”
”Whatever her plan was, she didn’t think it through.” Red raised a gun in his suit by way of clarification. Tor had already turned back to Jen. H-Bomb felt impotent. Her power had been tied up with her link to the Purple House, and the Purple House was ashes now. With it had gone her political leverage, her self-confidence, and all the clothes that looked good on her. In her current state, she probably wouldn’t even be able to seduce Tor, which had always been her backup plan.
At least she wasn’t in as bad shape as Jen. The poor girl’s hair was in tatters and a good chunk of her forehead and the back of her neck was covered in nasty red burns. Those wouldn’t scrub out in the shower, H-Bomb guessed. Her breathing was shallow—smoke in the lungs. If she was going to continue battling, she’d need a real doctor. Or a bit of magic.
Red was tossing the silver orb back and forth between a couple of his arms. ”There are larger issues at hand here,” he said. ”The silver hand is tightening its grip. It would behoove us to lop off a couple of its fingers.”
”Hoss sent his message,” said Tor. ”We lost enough good soldiers already. Syvex, Cepra, Aph, the House itself. Pluck’s gone missing, probably dead. Tengeri suffered a lab accident, which wasn’t the humans’ doing, to the best of my knowledge. And Greyve’s dead, of course. If we allow this confrontation to escalate, it’ll be most of the rest of us. We need to shore up our defenses and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
H-Bomb couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Appearance aside, this wasn’t the Tor she knew. But she’d seen him jump into the flames, stumble out the other side an indistinct, incandescent mass… he hadn’t counted Bae, the shapeshifter, among those missing, but no one seemed to know where Bae was. But the fire would have killed Bae… This was all too much for her.
”Sir,” Red was saying to Tor. ”Remember what you told me. If one of Reinhardt’s men takes even one step inside our camp—“
”I remember more than you know, Red. If you want to go running off on some revenge mission, by all means crawl over to Reinhardt and pinch his ankle, but leave your equipment behind. It belongs to the group, and whether or not you’re piloting it, I’m going to deploy it the way I see fit, do you understand?” That shut the lobster up. ”Good. Now, we need to get that orb working. That means getting human prisoners. I’ve—“
”Been unlucky in that department. Two awaked humans have wandered into camp. First is deaf, can’t hear message. Second is deemed sacrifice to Purple House, now lies unconscious and useless.”
”We shouldn’t have killed her,” mumbled Holly. H-Bomb. Whatever.
”Which?” retorted the Meipi.
”As I was saying,” intoned Tor, ”I’ve decided to take somewhat drastic measures to get another human in here. I’ve sent out Countess.”
”Oh, God,” moaned Holly.
”Captives more useful when in one piece,” remarked TinTen.
Red said, ”I could have done it.”
Tor shrugged. ”Frankly, Red, the way you’ve been acting lately I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t just run off once you hit the borders. Countess, for all her faults, at least seems to like it here. I trust her either to bring someone back—and fast—or to die, and either way I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something.”
Red stormed out without a word, slamming the silver orb down on the table. Tor growled. ”Anyone else have a problem with the way I do things?”
”None that seem advantageous to vocalize.”
”Damn straight. H-Bomb?” Tor cast her—sorry, his—eyes up and down the elf’s body, advancing on her threateningly. ”You’re looking a little… frumpy of late. Anyway you care to trace that back to my decisions? This is your chance, H-Bomb, set me straight, show me the error of my ways.”
Holly backed up against a wall and tried to avoid eye contact. “I don’t blame you for anything,” she said, meekly.
”Good. Now clean yourself up, I’m getting depressed just looking at you.” The Telpori-Hal turned away sharply and marched to Jen’s bedside. ”And what about you, Jennifer Tull? Was it so bad between us? Have I wronged you so?”
Holly watched Tor fall to his knees, take Jen’s hand and whisper something in her ear. She took the opportunity to grab the silver orb and get out.
* * * * *
”Hey there, mister, I’m looking for a silver orb, like, this big. Do you know where it is?”
Pluck looked down at the little girl and shook his head. “Sorry, I try to stay away from silver things.”
The girl giggled. “You’re scared of silver, aren’t you, Mister Scaredy-Fragment?”
”He is that,” said Bae. ”Can we get a move on?”
”It’s okay to be scared sometimes,” explained the girl, very seriously. ”Everyone gets scared, except the Amalgam. But you don’t have to worry, because the flaw in your genetic sequence will eventually be purged, either before or after you die!”
Pluck shivered. ”Little girl.” Bae advanced on the fragment, drawing his knife. ”The only thing stopping me from cutting your throat right now is that Pluck here wouldn't like it, and I still need him. Leave.”
”Bae—“
”It’s okay, Pluck. You don’t need to worry about me either. Can you tell what I’m thinking right now? I’ll give you one guess, and if you get it right, I’ll go away. Like this: poof!”
Pluck smiled. “That sounds fair to me.” He held his hands out and plucked out the girl’s thoughts. Immediately there was a dull weight and a horrible burning sensation in his palms. Pluck screamed in painand dropped the silver orb to the ground.
”Wow, you got it right!” The little girl put the orb into her backpack and gave Pluck a chest-high hug. ”Thanks, mister Pluck! Now, check out my magic trick!”
And she was gone. Like this: poof! Bae groaned. ”Well I hope that was as fun for you as it was for me. Now can we get a move on?”
* * * * *
The combination headscarf, hoodie and baggy jeans made Holly worry that it made her look like she had something to hide. Then again, it might have just been because she did have a few things to hide—the orb being one, her whip being another, and her ears most of all. She couldn’t exactly go walking into the human camp looking so obviously, er, elfin.
Examining herself in the mirror, Holly saw that Tor had been right—she was depressing to look at. Something about the halfhearted way she’d washed off the ash and makeup from her face made her reek of regrets and daddy issues. She looked like the sapient equivalent of a wounded gazelle. Well, she wasn’t. She put a hand (that gritty uncomfortable feeling of soot under the fingernails) to where she’d stashed away her whip, and was comforted. Since the fire, had she gone sane, or had the world gone crazy? She couldn’t tell.
Later, walking out onto the street, Holly found herself trying to hide her face, not knowing why. It wasn’t as though anyone would recognize her. There was only one contestant from her battle left unaccounted for, and she didn’t think he would remember her. Still, all of a sudden she wasn’t comfortable with the eyes on her--unawakened citizens walking through the street, living their lives in spite of all the conflict. For some reason it was important for her that they not know where she was going.
No one stopped her, harried her, or took notice of her all the way to the Bearded Swordsman. This didn’t make her feel better. Standing outside the bar, she put a hand in her pocket and clutched the silver orb tightly.
* * * * *
Nancy was thrown bodily into the room to be confronted with a woman lying unconscious on a hospital bed, and a figure standing nearby, completely engulfed in flame. This was exactly the situation she’d been trying to avoid since showing up in this city.
The clockwork woman who’d brought her here addressed the flaming person. ”She insisted on bringing the typewriter along. She’s feisty. Let me know when you’ve given up on her and I get to kill her.”
”She’ll do,” cried the fiery figure in a smoky voice. ”Leave us.”
The clockwork woman obliged, much to Nancy’s relief. Not that she was completely enthused about the prospect of being alone with the fire-person (were those burns on that girl’s neck?) Further to her relief, the flames faded almost as soon as the two of them were left alone.
Then again: Nancy hadn’t realized that the fire was the only source of light in the room, and all went dark. She wasn’t too fond of the darkness. Feeling the other’s eyes upon her in the blackness, and hearing her typewriter clacking out a message for her, Nancy felt around with her free arm for the lightswitch.
She found it. Click.
Expecting (I don’t know what) some sort of mutant or else just a burnt-out shell, Nancy was both pleased and perturbed to find a perfectly unharmed woman sitting before her, adjusting the shoulders on her outfit. Lying at the woman’s feet, she noticed for the first time, was a pile of freshly-severed tentacles covered in what looked to be teeth marks. ”So you’re my new human,” said the woman. Her skin was a perfect, pop-art shade of red, her hair slightly darker. ”Humans bore me. Been there, done that.” The red woman cast her red eyes at the girl (so young) sitting on the table. ”I’m more interested in all the rest here. The anomalies. A veritable buffet of new species. It was practically designed for my gratification.”
Nancy whimpered. Her typewriter was trying to tell her something, but she was afraid to look. ”So as… ‘your human’… what would my responsibilities be?”
”Do you have a name?”
”Would you expect me not to have a name?” Nancy chided herself as the other woman’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t want to get on this one’s bad side.
”One can never tell with you battling types.”
”I’m Nancy, if it pleases you. Would you please answer my question?”
”Patience, Nancy. There are introductions to be made. This is Jen.” The red woman gestured towards the girl on the table, then pointed to herself. ”And I’m Fanthalion. The others here know me as Tor, because they’re idiots.” She’s lonely, Nancy realized. It wasn't a comforting thought, but it was something to take note of. ”I’m going to eat all the non-humans in this city, one by one,” said Fanthalion. ”It’ll only be a matter of time before they realize I’m not who I was. I do a pretty good impression of the original owner of this body—it helps having his entire brain at my disposal—but this body changes to reflect what’s inside.” Nancy expected this not to be the case, as the woman looked rather pretty, and not cannibalistic at all. ”I could use your help, as a neutral party, to throw them off the scent. And that includes helping me figure out what that orb does... hmm. Red still has it, I think. Anyway, you know you’re the third human that these people have tried to get to work the damn thing. Jen here was the second. Third time lucky, right?”
Nancy sighed. “Lucky, eh?”
”She’s not allowed to die. We can still use her.”
Hol—sorry, H-Bomb—had the shakes. She turned them into a pair of drumsticks and started rapping them on the edge of the hospital bed. ”Stop that,” said Tor. ”I’m trying to think.”
”If you insist.” H-Bomb stashed the drumsticks away in the pocket of her hoodie, her anxiousness having been usurped by a dull nausea. There was something offputting about Tor’s latest appearance. Since they’d started working together, she’d gotten used to taking orders from a different face every day, but this one seemed to represent a new paradigm. It lacked that ex-military masculine verve that suited him best, and his eyes were a bit lacking in that far-away regretful look he always got when he was making tough decisions. He was more focused and calculating. If she were in a better mood she would have found it sexy.
”Can only do so much,” sighed TinTen, reading the unconscious Jen’s vitals. ”Jen will live, but may be comatose for some time. Could have used Tengeri’s assistance.”
”Well then go get her.” The elf shouted the order reflexively, and immediately regretted it as Tor, TinTen and Red all shot her a look of pity.
”No one told you?” offered the lobster.
”The Leviath’s dead,” explained Tor. ”She stayed behind with me during the fight and tried to kill me. No one knows why.”
”Whatever her plan was, she didn’t think it through.” Red raised a gun in his suit by way of clarification. Tor had already turned back to Jen. H-Bomb felt impotent. Her power had been tied up with her link to the Purple House, and the Purple House was ashes now. With it had gone her political leverage, her self-confidence, and all the clothes that looked good on her. In her current state, she probably wouldn’t even be able to seduce Tor, which had always been her backup plan.
At least she wasn’t in as bad shape as Jen. The poor girl’s hair was in tatters and a good chunk of her forehead and the back of her neck was covered in nasty red burns. Those wouldn’t scrub out in the shower, H-Bomb guessed. Her breathing was shallow—smoke in the lungs. If she was going to continue battling, she’d need a real doctor. Or a bit of magic.
Red was tossing the silver orb back and forth between a couple of his arms. ”There are larger issues at hand here,” he said. ”The silver hand is tightening its grip. It would behoove us to lop off a couple of its fingers.”
”Hoss sent his message,” said Tor. ”We lost enough good soldiers already. Syvex, Cepra, Aph, the House itself. Pluck’s gone missing, probably dead. Tengeri suffered a lab accident, which wasn’t the humans’ doing, to the best of my knowledge. And Greyve’s dead, of course. If we allow this confrontation to escalate, it’ll be most of the rest of us. We need to shore up our defenses and make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
H-Bomb couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Appearance aside, this wasn’t the Tor she knew. But she’d seen him jump into the flames, stumble out the other side an indistinct, incandescent mass… he hadn’t counted Bae, the shapeshifter, among those missing, but no one seemed to know where Bae was. But the fire would have killed Bae… This was all too much for her.
”Sir,” Red was saying to Tor. ”Remember what you told me. If one of Reinhardt’s men takes even one step inside our camp—“
”I remember more than you know, Red. If you want to go running off on some revenge mission, by all means crawl over to Reinhardt and pinch his ankle, but leave your equipment behind. It belongs to the group, and whether or not you’re piloting it, I’m going to deploy it the way I see fit, do you understand?” That shut the lobster up. ”Good. Now, we need to get that orb working. That means getting human prisoners. I’ve—“
”Been unlucky in that department. Two awaked humans have wandered into camp. First is deaf, can’t hear message. Second is deemed sacrifice to Purple House, now lies unconscious and useless.”
”We shouldn’t have killed her,” mumbled Holly. H-Bomb. Whatever.
”Which?” retorted the Meipi.
”As I was saying,” intoned Tor, ”I’ve decided to take somewhat drastic measures to get another human in here. I’ve sent out Countess.”
”Oh, God,” moaned Holly.
”Captives more useful when in one piece,” remarked TinTen.
Red said, ”I could have done it.”
Tor shrugged. ”Frankly, Red, the way you’ve been acting lately I couldn’t be sure you wouldn’t just run off once you hit the borders. Countess, for all her faults, at least seems to like it here. I trust her either to bring someone back—and fast—or to die, and either way I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something.”
Red stormed out without a word, slamming the silver orb down on the table. Tor growled. ”Anyone else have a problem with the way I do things?”
”None that seem advantageous to vocalize.”
”Damn straight. H-Bomb?” Tor cast her—sorry, his—eyes up and down the elf’s body, advancing on her threateningly. ”You’re looking a little… frumpy of late. Anyway you care to trace that back to my decisions? This is your chance, H-Bomb, set me straight, show me the error of my ways.”
Holly backed up against a wall and tried to avoid eye contact. “I don’t blame you for anything,” she said, meekly.
”Good. Now clean yourself up, I’m getting depressed just looking at you.” The Telpori-Hal turned away sharply and marched to Jen’s bedside. ”And what about you, Jennifer Tull? Was it so bad between us? Have I wronged you so?”
Holly watched Tor fall to his knees, take Jen’s hand and whisper something in her ear. She took the opportunity to grab the silver orb and get out.
* * * * *
”Hey there, mister, I’m looking for a silver orb, like, this big. Do you know where it is?”
Pluck looked down at the little girl and shook his head. “Sorry, I try to stay away from silver things.”
The girl giggled. “You’re scared of silver, aren’t you, Mister Scaredy-Fragment?”
”He is that,” said Bae. ”Can we get a move on?”
”It’s okay to be scared sometimes,” explained the girl, very seriously. ”Everyone gets scared, except the Amalgam. But you don’t have to worry, because the flaw in your genetic sequence will eventually be purged, either before or after you die!”
Pluck shivered. ”Little girl.” Bae advanced on the fragment, drawing his knife. ”The only thing stopping me from cutting your throat right now is that Pluck here wouldn't like it, and I still need him. Leave.”
”Bae—“
”It’s okay, Pluck. You don’t need to worry about me either. Can you tell what I’m thinking right now? I’ll give you one guess, and if you get it right, I’ll go away. Like this: poof!”
Pluck smiled. “That sounds fair to me.” He held his hands out and plucked out the girl’s thoughts. Immediately there was a dull weight and a horrible burning sensation in his palms. Pluck screamed in painand dropped the silver orb to the ground.
”Wow, you got it right!” The little girl put the orb into her backpack and gave Pluck a chest-high hug. ”Thanks, mister Pluck! Now, check out my magic trick!”
And she was gone. Like this: poof! Bae groaned. ”Well I hope that was as fun for you as it was for me. Now can we get a move on?”
* * * * *
The combination headscarf, hoodie and baggy jeans made Holly worry that it made her look like she had something to hide. Then again, it might have just been because she did have a few things to hide—the orb being one, her whip being another, and her ears most of all. She couldn’t exactly go walking into the human camp looking so obviously, er, elfin.
Examining herself in the mirror, Holly saw that Tor had been right—she was depressing to look at. Something about the halfhearted way she’d washed off the ash and makeup from her face made her reek of regrets and daddy issues. She looked like the sapient equivalent of a wounded gazelle. Well, she wasn’t. She put a hand (that gritty uncomfortable feeling of soot under the fingernails) to where she’d stashed away her whip, and was comforted. Since the fire, had she gone sane, or had the world gone crazy? She couldn’t tell.
Later, walking out onto the street, Holly found herself trying to hide her face, not knowing why. It wasn’t as though anyone would recognize her. There was only one contestant from her battle left unaccounted for, and she didn’t think he would remember her. Still, all of a sudden she wasn’t comfortable with the eyes on her--unawakened citizens walking through the street, living their lives in spite of all the conflict. For some reason it was important for her that they not know where she was going.
No one stopped her, harried her, or took notice of her all the way to the Bearded Swordsman. This didn’t make her feel better. Standing outside the bar, she put a hand in her pocket and clutched the silver orb tightly.
* * * * *
Nancy was thrown bodily into the room to be confronted with a woman lying unconscious on a hospital bed, and a figure standing nearby, completely engulfed in flame. This was exactly the situation she’d been trying to avoid since showing up in this city.
The clockwork woman who’d brought her here addressed the flaming person. ”She insisted on bringing the typewriter along. She’s feisty. Let me know when you’ve given up on her and I get to kill her.”
”She’ll do,” cried the fiery figure in a smoky voice. ”Leave us.”
The clockwork woman obliged, much to Nancy’s relief. Not that she was completely enthused about the prospect of being alone with the fire-person (were those burns on that girl’s neck?) Further to her relief, the flames faded almost as soon as the two of them were left alone.
Then again: Nancy hadn’t realized that the fire was the only source of light in the room, and all went dark. She wasn’t too fond of the darkness. Feeling the other’s eyes upon her in the blackness, and hearing her typewriter clacking out a message for her, Nancy felt around with her free arm for the lightswitch.
She found it. Click.
Expecting (I don’t know what) some sort of mutant or else just a burnt-out shell, Nancy was both pleased and perturbed to find a perfectly unharmed woman sitting before her, adjusting the shoulders on her outfit. Lying at the woman’s feet, she noticed for the first time, was a pile of freshly-severed tentacles covered in what looked to be teeth marks. ”So you’re my new human,” said the woman. Her skin was a perfect, pop-art shade of red, her hair slightly darker. ”Humans bore me. Been there, done that.” The red woman cast her red eyes at the girl (so young) sitting on the table. ”I’m more interested in all the rest here. The anomalies. A veritable buffet of new species. It was practically designed for my gratification.”
Nancy whimpered. Her typewriter was trying to tell her something, but she was afraid to look. ”So as… ‘your human’… what would my responsibilities be?”
”Do you have a name?”
”Would you expect me not to have a name?” Nancy chided herself as the other woman’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t want to get on this one’s bad side.
”One can never tell with you battling types.”
”I’m Nancy, if it pleases you. Would you please answer my question?”
”Patience, Nancy. There are introductions to be made. This is Jen.” The red woman gestured towards the girl on the table, then pointed to herself. ”And I’m Fanthalion. The others here know me as Tor, because they’re idiots.” She’s lonely, Nancy realized. It wasn't a comforting thought, but it was something to take note of. ”I’m going to eat all the non-humans in this city, one by one,” said Fanthalion. ”It’ll only be a matter of time before they realize I’m not who I was. I do a pretty good impression of the original owner of this body—it helps having his entire brain at my disposal—but this body changes to reflect what’s inside.” Nancy expected this not to be the case, as the woman looked rather pretty, and not cannibalistic at all. ”I could use your help, as a neutral party, to throw them off the scent. And that includes helping me figure out what that orb does... hmm. Red still has it, I think. Anyway, you know you’re the third human that these people have tried to get to work the damn thing. Jen here was the second. Third time lucky, right?”
Nancy sighed. “Lucky, eh?”