Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Three: HMS Thunderhead]
03-01-2011, 11:47 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
”Hey, you. Fox.” Ripper Blackmask, having almost instantly opened the box to find nothing more than a key within, was becoming ever more agitated. The wry grin of First, sitting on a cabinet in the room and staring, was not exactly helping matters. “The hell’s this for? Where’s my Core?”
The man in the mask of a fox began speaking in his calm, gradual fashion, making a conscious effort to draw out his vowels even longer than usual to irritate his contestant. “Well, Adrian, as it so happens”—he paused here to take a very deep breath, causing the pirate to slam a gloved fist against the wall in annoyance—“It was not my choice, although I must admit, it makes things rather more sporting if you have to fight to get it back, does it not?” The buccaneer sighed and took in the sights of the suite. The fact that the bottom was not coated in, for example, some sort of space cocaine, would make it clear to someone familiar with the H.M.S. Thunderhead that this was merely a second-class room; Ripper was dazzled nonetheless. The walls literally sparkled, and a television the size of a large department store’s combined front doors was affixed to the wall opposite a tremendous bed.
Ripper fondled the key awkwardly, searching for some hidden use. He wants me to win, he claims, which means he gave me something at least sort of useful... but regardless, these are strange waters. I’d better figure out where I am and what to do about it. Almost as if sensing the raider’s inner monologue, First coughed meaningfully. “I left something you might be interested in lining the box, for the record.”
Ripper checked, and inside found a brochure. The word “zeppelin” brought an almost immediate sense of glee; the fact that it contained a full map of the ship only increased this. However, one thing did strike the pirate as incredibly odd, inciting a gasp. “You’re tellin’ me that ladies are wearin’ pants now?”
First failed to respond, merely giving a shrug and a smile before disappearing. His contestant sighed. Well, at least he was some help. Hm... let’s see here. Blackmask scanned the map, eyeballs alighting on the area labelled “DECK A: FIRST-CLASS”. Hm. I’ll need the Core if I want to make good on what I steal, might as well get a disguise while I’m at it so as to catch everyone off guard... After a bit more planning, the pirate smiled, and began rooting through a suitcase laid in a corner of the room. A few items of scar-concealing clothing pilfered, and the pirate was satisfied enough to head to the bathroom. After undressing and spending about ten minutes getting used to the high-tech interface, the pirate settled in for a nice long shower. Ooh, this is nice. I oughta wash myself more often. Eventually, Blackmask finished removing the accumulated grime of several years, and hopped out of the shower just in time to meet a man who was understandably shocked by the naked pirate in his bathroom.
“Y-you... what? Why are you here?”
Ripper looked down at him scornfully. “What, I ain’t allowed to have a shower, landlubber?” Raising a fist, the raider grinned maliciously. “You got a problem with me using the facilities for a brief bit, eh?”
The man briefly stammered, shook his head rapidly, and fled the scene. Blackmask sighed and dried off with the towel before putting on the pilfered clothes.
Ah, nice fit. And quite a comfortable substance. These’ll do me well. Now, just to find a weapon... Once again consulting the diagram of the ship, Ripper ascertained the location of a supply station, and headed to it. Inside was a single guard, easily dispatched by a severe pistol whipping. Ripper snatched up a nice blunt instrument, and set off...
---------------------------------------------------------
A large man leaned against a wall, staring out the window at the vastness of space, brown hair glistening. A small scar laid on his cheek, practically an adornment rather than an injury. Truly amazing, once you think about it... almost makes me regret what I’m going to have to do to this place. He flexed his fingers. Still, I couldn’t call myself much of a pirate if I didn’t kill people and hijack zeppelins. I suppose I’ll just need to... His train of thought was interrupted by a woman he saw out of the corner of his eye. Oho. She’ll be a nice complement to my disguise. He headed up to her, smiling disarmingly. “Excuse me, ma’am. My name is... Richard Bratton. Would you walk with me?”
The woman, tall, with a decent face and athletic build, wearing a slightly oil-stained jacket, laughed. “I’m not one to question a stranger walking up to me and offering the opportunity, but I really ought to make sure all the systems are in order.” She gestured to a wrench held at her side by a belt. “This is my first voyage, and I want to make sure nothing goes wrong.” She thought for a moment. “That said, I believe I could come with you if I made my rounds in the process... and perhaps afterwards, we could eat some dinner before I make sure everything’s alright on the lower deck.”
The man adopted a pleasant smile, perfect to hide the much more sinister thoughts broiling in the back of his head. “Suits me great, miss. Suits me great.”
”Hey, you. Fox.” Ripper Blackmask, having almost instantly opened the box to find nothing more than a key within, was becoming ever more agitated. The wry grin of First, sitting on a cabinet in the room and staring, was not exactly helping matters. “The hell’s this for? Where’s my Core?”
The man in the mask of a fox began speaking in his calm, gradual fashion, making a conscious effort to draw out his vowels even longer than usual to irritate his contestant. “Well, Adrian, as it so happens”—he paused here to take a very deep breath, causing the pirate to slam a gloved fist against the wall in annoyance—“It was not my choice, although I must admit, it makes things rather more sporting if you have to fight to get it back, does it not?” The buccaneer sighed and took in the sights of the suite. The fact that the bottom was not coated in, for example, some sort of space cocaine, would make it clear to someone familiar with the H.M.S. Thunderhead that this was merely a second-class room; Ripper was dazzled nonetheless. The walls literally sparkled, and a television the size of a large department store’s combined front doors was affixed to the wall opposite a tremendous bed.
Ripper fondled the key awkwardly, searching for some hidden use. He wants me to win, he claims, which means he gave me something at least sort of useful... but regardless, these are strange waters. I’d better figure out where I am and what to do about it. Almost as if sensing the raider’s inner monologue, First coughed meaningfully. “I left something you might be interested in lining the box, for the record.”
Ripper checked, and inside found a brochure. The word “zeppelin” brought an almost immediate sense of glee; the fact that it contained a full map of the ship only increased this. However, one thing did strike the pirate as incredibly odd, inciting a gasp. “You’re tellin’ me that ladies are wearin’ pants now?”
First failed to respond, merely giving a shrug and a smile before disappearing. His contestant sighed. Well, at least he was some help. Hm... let’s see here. Blackmask scanned the map, eyeballs alighting on the area labelled “DECK A: FIRST-CLASS”. Hm. I’ll need the Core if I want to make good on what I steal, might as well get a disguise while I’m at it so as to catch everyone off guard... After a bit more planning, the pirate smiled, and began rooting through a suitcase laid in a corner of the room. A few items of scar-concealing clothing pilfered, and the pirate was satisfied enough to head to the bathroom. After undressing and spending about ten minutes getting used to the high-tech interface, the pirate settled in for a nice long shower. Ooh, this is nice. I oughta wash myself more often. Eventually, Blackmask finished removing the accumulated grime of several years, and hopped out of the shower just in time to meet a man who was understandably shocked by the naked pirate in his bathroom.
“Y-you... what? Why are you here?”
Ripper looked down at him scornfully. “What, I ain’t allowed to have a shower, landlubber?” Raising a fist, the raider grinned maliciously. “You got a problem with me using the facilities for a brief bit, eh?”
The man briefly stammered, shook his head rapidly, and fled the scene. Blackmask sighed and dried off with the towel before putting on the pilfered clothes.
Ah, nice fit. And quite a comfortable substance. These’ll do me well. Now, just to find a weapon... Once again consulting the diagram of the ship, Ripper ascertained the location of a supply station, and headed to it. Inside was a single guard, easily dispatched by a severe pistol whipping. Ripper snatched up a nice blunt instrument, and set off...
---------------------------------------------------------
A large man leaned against a wall, staring out the window at the vastness of space, brown hair glistening. A small scar laid on his cheek, practically an adornment rather than an injury. Truly amazing, once you think about it... almost makes me regret what I’m going to have to do to this place. He flexed his fingers. Still, I couldn’t call myself much of a pirate if I didn’t kill people and hijack zeppelins. I suppose I’ll just need to... His train of thought was interrupted by a woman he saw out of the corner of his eye. Oho. She’ll be a nice complement to my disguise. He headed up to her, smiling disarmingly. “Excuse me, ma’am. My name is... Richard Bratton. Would you walk with me?”
The woman, tall, with a decent face and athletic build, wearing a slightly oil-stained jacket, laughed. “I’m not one to question a stranger walking up to me and offering the opportunity, but I really ought to make sure all the systems are in order.” She gestured to a wrench held at her side by a belt. “This is my first voyage, and I want to make sure nothing goes wrong.” She thought for a moment. “That said, I believe I could come with you if I made my rounds in the process... and perhaps afterwards, we could eat some dinner before I make sure everything’s alright on the lower deck.”
The man adopted a pleasant smile, perfect to hide the much more sinister thoughts broiling in the back of his head. “Suits me great, miss. Suits me great.”