Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Two: Witch's Haunt]
01-15-2011, 09:55 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
Blackmask, by all rights, should have been glad to be aboard the train. Nearly every passenger looked extremely rich and extremely undefended, the security mekman not having revealed itself yet; while it wasn’t technically the pirate’s area of expertise, navigating and looting a train seemed as if it should be far easier than doing so for the often labyrinthine layout of an airship. Rather than joy, however, the raider was experiencing a profound state of regret.
Two worlds. I’m responsible for the destruction of two worlds. And now it seems we’re in mine...
Ripper pounded fist into palm. It’s not going to happen again. Whatever it takes, I’m going to make sure this core doesn’t fall into the wrong hands... or, uh, out of the right... ones... The pirate winced and stood up, examining the location; evidently, it was the dining car, and several well-to-do couples, as well as a few entire families, were currently enjoying a hearty course of Beef Wellington. The raider interrupted a single traveler—fat and clad in the nicest suit visible, no doubt a captain of industry by putting a gun to the head of the father. “Yer money or yer life, lubber.” The man paled almost instantly.
“Oh god. H-here. Take it all.” He handed over a wallet practically full to bursting, which the pirate began rifling through. Every last note was an obvious counterfeit; the gentleman, who had planned to use the false wallet to distract Ripper long enough to launch Brisbane’s Hong Kong-Derived Nervous Debilitator toward the pirate’s neck was instead greeted by an elbow to the face and three bullets to the heart, the raider’s empathy never having extended to well-off businessmen. By this time, Blackmask — now scavenging the man’s corpse for his actual wallet — had gained the attention of the entire dining cabin. “Now then. That’s a lesson to anyone here what expects to hornswaggle Ripper Blackmask. The rest of you can hand over your money this instant, ‘cause I be givin’ no quarter exceptin’ the children.”
Needless to say, the passengers made a more or less unanimous decision to hand over the money; a couple of waiters who attempted to get heroic were quickly waylaid to the floor, though none of them received a fatal shot. The pirate adjusted the namesake mask and grabbed a more reasonable one by the collar. “You. What year is it?”
“Uh... it’s 1882...”
Beneath the mask, Ripper wasn’t sure whether to smile or scowl. “Right, then. Tell anyone and everyone that thought he was dead that Blackmask still has one last dance with Jack Ketch coming... he’ll be back for good soon enough.” The raider shoved the waiter against the wall, where he promptly placed the call repeating the pirate’s declaration, just in time for the filling of the core and the scene’s interruption by a sword-thrusting Tamerlane and a wildly-firing security mekman. Ripper stared at the device for a few seconds, thinking something along the lines of oh hell, they’ve gotten them into mass-production before a misfired bullet caught the pirate in the shoulder. Quickly ducking around a corner to avoid being seen by either of the combatants, Blackmask began cramming the loot into the Core’s slot.
----
There are several possible reasons why the Core didn’t respond as normally expected. The pirate’s enjoyment of the moment could still have been subconsciously tempered by the unintended destruction of multiple worlds; The Malevolence might merely have been incapable of properly replicating the scale of the boost on the first try, or just wanted to make sure the pirate remained as weak as possible until absorbed; the pirate might very well have been cramming thin air into the slot of the real Core, due to the nonexistence of the valuables, and thus not gaining anything. Whatever the reason, the pirate could notice no increase in strength, be it temporary or permanent, and was more or less immobilized in thought until a second, identical mekman came in, and shouted directly at Blackmask, raising an iron fist. “HIGHWAYMEN AND BANDITS ARE NOT WELCOME ON THE IRON ROSE. DO NOT RESIST.”
Needless to say, the pirate’s attention was diverted from the lapse in reality from the need to dodge the several retorts fired off by the security device. Ripper grabbed for the cutlass, only to remember that it was no longer present; the gun was right out, as even the mekmen of the late 1830s could continue functioning for long enough after being shot that it wouldn’t help anyone survive on their own. As the hand shot out and grabbed the pirate by the throat, it became increasingly clear that Ripper Blackmask would not, in fact, be back for good soon enough, despite the flailing fists buffeting the mekman’s chest; rather, the legend’s death was going to be permanent, barring some incredibly lucky coincidence just around the corner.
Blackmask, by all rights, should have been glad to be aboard the train. Nearly every passenger looked extremely rich and extremely undefended, the security mekman not having revealed itself yet; while it wasn’t technically the pirate’s area of expertise, navigating and looting a train seemed as if it should be far easier than doing so for the often labyrinthine layout of an airship. Rather than joy, however, the raider was experiencing a profound state of regret.
Two worlds. I’m responsible for the destruction of two worlds. And now it seems we’re in mine...
Ripper pounded fist into palm. It’s not going to happen again. Whatever it takes, I’m going to make sure this core doesn’t fall into the wrong hands... or, uh, out of the right... ones... The pirate winced and stood up, examining the location; evidently, it was the dining car, and several well-to-do couples, as well as a few entire families, were currently enjoying a hearty course of Beef Wellington. The raider interrupted a single traveler—fat and clad in the nicest suit visible, no doubt a captain of industry by putting a gun to the head of the father. “Yer money or yer life, lubber.” The man paled almost instantly.
“Oh god. H-here. Take it all.” He handed over a wallet practically full to bursting, which the pirate began rifling through. Every last note was an obvious counterfeit; the gentleman, who had planned to use the false wallet to distract Ripper long enough to launch Brisbane’s Hong Kong-Derived Nervous Debilitator toward the pirate’s neck was instead greeted by an elbow to the face and three bullets to the heart, the raider’s empathy never having extended to well-off businessmen. By this time, Blackmask — now scavenging the man’s corpse for his actual wallet — had gained the attention of the entire dining cabin. “Now then. That’s a lesson to anyone here what expects to hornswaggle Ripper Blackmask. The rest of you can hand over your money this instant, ‘cause I be givin’ no quarter exceptin’ the children.”
Needless to say, the passengers made a more or less unanimous decision to hand over the money; a couple of waiters who attempted to get heroic were quickly waylaid to the floor, though none of them received a fatal shot. The pirate adjusted the namesake mask and grabbed a more reasonable one by the collar. “You. What year is it?”
“Uh... it’s 1882...”
Beneath the mask, Ripper wasn’t sure whether to smile or scowl. “Right, then. Tell anyone and everyone that thought he was dead that Blackmask still has one last dance with Jack Ketch coming... he’ll be back for good soon enough.” The raider shoved the waiter against the wall, where he promptly placed the call repeating the pirate’s declaration, just in time for the filling of the core and the scene’s interruption by a sword-thrusting Tamerlane and a wildly-firing security mekman. Ripper stared at the device for a few seconds, thinking something along the lines of oh hell, they’ve gotten them into mass-production before a misfired bullet caught the pirate in the shoulder. Quickly ducking around a corner to avoid being seen by either of the combatants, Blackmask began cramming the loot into the Core’s slot.
----
There are several possible reasons why the Core didn’t respond as normally expected. The pirate’s enjoyment of the moment could still have been subconsciously tempered by the unintended destruction of multiple worlds; The Malevolence might merely have been incapable of properly replicating the scale of the boost on the first try, or just wanted to make sure the pirate remained as weak as possible until absorbed; the pirate might very well have been cramming thin air into the slot of the real Core, due to the nonexistence of the valuables, and thus not gaining anything. Whatever the reason, the pirate could notice no increase in strength, be it temporary or permanent, and was more or less immobilized in thought until a second, identical mekman came in, and shouted directly at Blackmask, raising an iron fist. “HIGHWAYMEN AND BANDITS ARE NOT WELCOME ON THE IRON ROSE. DO NOT RESIST.”
Needless to say, the pirate’s attention was diverted from the lapse in reality from the need to dodge the several retorts fired off by the security device. Ripper grabbed for the cutlass, only to remember that it was no longer present; the gun was right out, as even the mekmen of the late 1830s could continue functioning for long enough after being shot that it wouldn’t help anyone survive on their own. As the hand shot out and grabbed the pirate by the throat, it became increasingly clear that Ripper Blackmask would not, in fact, be back for good soon enough, despite the flailing fists buffeting the mekman’s chest; rather, the legend’s death was going to be permanent, barring some incredibly lucky coincidence just around the corner.