Re: The Phenomenal Fracas! (GBS2G6): [Round Three: HMS Thunderhead]
05-16-2011, 08:44 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
Richard Bratton poked at his steak, lost in thought. He wasn’t sure if he could get The Core at this point; he had no idea where it was.
Almost like clockwork, his phone began ringing as soon as this thought came to the front of his mind. He asked Diana to excuse him for a moment; she responded by muttering something under her breath and rather inelegantly cramming fish into her mouth. Richard shook his head, sighed, and answered. “Hello, this is Captain Bratton.”
First’s distinctive voice—by now familiar to Bratton, due to their frequent contact—slowly emanated from the speaker. “Good news, Richaaaaard. I think that scientist fellow had too large a first dose. A guard’s managed to lift The Core. Shoooould be three floors below you at the moment.”
Bratton barely managed to spit out “talk like a normal person, for god’s sake” before Fox hung up. He quickly snapped his phone shut and stood out of his seat. “Right, Diana. Duty calls. Have to be going.”
His companion scowled. “So much for politeness. I don’t suppose that you’d consider dragging me along?”
Richard Bratton pondered this for a moment. Worst case, she dies. Best case, she dies helping me get the stupid thing… He grinned and hooked his arm around hers, then (ignoring her frown at this) dragged her to the elevator. “Contraband type 3-B, Stolen Experimental Device (Military). As I understand it, you shove gold in and it makes you tough, or something.”
Diana’s eyes briefly glinted. “Truly amazing. I’d love to get my hands on that device… take it apart, and whatnot. See what makes it work.” Bratton gave a vague grunt of agreement and hammered the button to descend.
A long, awkward silence occupied them until they reached Deck 48. Upon exiting, Diana felt the need to cover her eyes, and Richard snorted. The hallways of the top end of First Class were almost ridiculously opulent, filled with marble statues and lush carpeting. Richard ignored it, for the most part, because he zeroed in on the fox mask poking out behind a corner, its nose pointed directly at an open door. He dashed towards it, dragging Diana along with him. “Good news. We’ve found our man. You have any way to defend yourself?”
“…Got my wrench. Should be enough, right?”
Inside, the pirate was laughing his head off. The whole thing was hilarious, really. After he murdered whatever bastard had stolen what was rightfully his, he’d get rid of her, and then he’d…
As they entered the beautifully-decorated cabin, his thought processes froze up. He’d… after I’ve murdered the bastard, right, I’ll… take the Core… off of his corpse? Murdered… the bastard, and… wait. He blinked at the sight of the man with the suit and the perfectly-groomed black hair.
“Roth? That you, Roth?”
Roth, the man clutching the Core, went completely pale. “Y-yeah, it’s me, Brat. What’s the problem? Who’s this girl you got with you?”
Diana grinned. “Well, how about I introduce myself? My name is Diana Boilerton, and you, sir—“ She proceeded to smack him across the face with her wrench, knocking him to the ground. “Are carrying something you shouldn’t be. Now then, Mr. Bratton, let’s be taking this to security, shall we?”
Richard began sweating, and touched a hand to his scarred cheek. This was a problem, oh god it was a problem. He hadn’t planned for this one bit. “Uh… r-right, Diana. Just one thing.” He whipped out his gun, sighing. “It ain’t goin’ to security.”
She blinked back. If she had any idea what was going on, her facial expression—particularly her eyes—didn’t show it. “But… it’s illegal, I thought, Richard. Shouldn’t we be taking it away from this brigand, getting it to the law?”
Richard laughed a little, and his frown turned to a smile. “No, no. You see, I’m taking The Core for myself. And, well… seeing what you did to the last guy, I have no choice but to make sure you can’t do it to me. If you hand it over, though, I’ll make your death quick and painless.”
She hesitated, and he waved the gun a little to emphasize the point. “Give me the Core, Diana.”
She paused, then slowly nodded. “I guess I’ve got no other option, then.” She held out the gleaming pyramid to the pirate, fingering it lightly with her glove. His hand shot out for it, and as soon as it did so, she drove the tip of the Endorphic Core directly into his left eye. Blood and some sort of eyeball fluid neither of them could name spilled out, and he screamed, firing his gun twice. The first blast of plasma missed her; the second grazed her shoulder as she charged towards him and brought the wrench towards his weapon in an upward arc, knocking it out of his hands. She yanked the Core out of his eye, and got a little of his blood into the slot before slamming the wrench into his right leg, shattering the femur; she then grabbed the gun off the floor, and used it to shoot his co-worker’s arms off. Bratton desperately lashed out at her with a guard’s electrified baton, but she merely dodged to the side and smashed her wrench across his wrist, causing him to drop the stunstick as well. She laughed loudly, a distinctive laugh, familiar to every contestant of The Prestidigtator’s battle, and her soft voice slowly segued into the gravelly growl she had gotten herself used to.
“Now, that ain’t too nice, is it, ya blaggard? You ever had a real scar before, eh? I’d guess you haven’t fought too much, given that little scrape on your cheek you try to pass off as a mark of battle. Here, take a look at some real wounds.” She slowly removed her jacket, and he got a glimpse of the flesh beneath. Her arms, legs, neck—everything he could see, and for that matter most of what he couldn’t, was absolutely covered in gashes of varying sizes, some of which occasionally bled only to suck the sanguine fluid back in. A massive blister on her left shoulder occasionally let out a bubble of orange fluid. “You see these? I’d be dead four years hence if it weren’t for this little prize right here. I don’t know how you heard of it, and frankly don’t care.” She proceeded to drive it into his other eye, grinding it around a little for good measure. “Because now I’ve got it again, and that means another precious hour of life. Be grateful I took this from ya, lubber, and for that matter, be grateful I didn’t quite kill you and your friend. You especially, for threatenin' to kill what I assume ya thought a defenseless, hard-workin' civilian lady.”
Adrian O’Gearailt headed into the bathroom of the cabin and once again donned the red jacket and stone mask she’d stuffed away. She then placed the dropped gun in her holster, and the unused stunstick in her sheathe; grabbed a medal off Bratton’s coat, shoved it in the Core’s slot, and walked away, whistling. There we go, then. Looks like I might survive this thing after all.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Matthew Gallagher groaned as the news of the incident reached him, five minutes later. “Alright, listen, Bratton. You still disabled the emergency escape pods?”
His hand trembled a little, and he curled it into a fist. “Maybe. Maybe, you say. Well, listen to this. If I see a single goddamn pod leave this ship before we’ve gotten every damn item of value off of it, let me tell you, Bratton, some crazy engineer driving a spike through your eye is going to look like the highlight of your day.”
He sighed and terminated the connection. It had been the perfect heist, hadn’t it? But then, these reports of shadow creatures and berserking engineers and god only knows what else—no. He took a deep breath and folded his hands. This heist has not failed yet. I still have time to make this work. It may not go perfectly, but god willing, I can still put myself and everyone else involved on easy street. There is not yet any need to start it ahead of schedule. He smiled to himself, too reserved to laugh out loud. I hope you’re ready, Reed, because this is one time you won’t be able to succeed in your stupid little endeavors.
Richard Bratton poked at his steak, lost in thought. He wasn’t sure if he could get The Core at this point; he had no idea where it was.
Almost like clockwork, his phone began ringing as soon as this thought came to the front of his mind. He asked Diana to excuse him for a moment; she responded by muttering something under her breath and rather inelegantly cramming fish into her mouth. Richard shook his head, sighed, and answered. “Hello, this is Captain Bratton.”
First’s distinctive voice—by now familiar to Bratton, due to their frequent contact—slowly emanated from the speaker. “Good news, Richaaaaard. I think that scientist fellow had too large a first dose. A guard’s managed to lift The Core. Shoooould be three floors below you at the moment.”
Bratton barely managed to spit out “talk like a normal person, for god’s sake” before Fox hung up. He quickly snapped his phone shut and stood out of his seat. “Right, Diana. Duty calls. Have to be going.”
His companion scowled. “So much for politeness. I don’t suppose that you’d consider dragging me along?”
Richard Bratton pondered this for a moment. Worst case, she dies. Best case, she dies helping me get the stupid thing… He grinned and hooked his arm around hers, then (ignoring her frown at this) dragged her to the elevator. “Contraband type 3-B, Stolen Experimental Device (Military). As I understand it, you shove gold in and it makes you tough, or something.”
Diana’s eyes briefly glinted. “Truly amazing. I’d love to get my hands on that device… take it apart, and whatnot. See what makes it work.” Bratton gave a vague grunt of agreement and hammered the button to descend.
A long, awkward silence occupied them until they reached Deck 48. Upon exiting, Diana felt the need to cover her eyes, and Richard snorted. The hallways of the top end of First Class were almost ridiculously opulent, filled with marble statues and lush carpeting. Richard ignored it, for the most part, because he zeroed in on the fox mask poking out behind a corner, its nose pointed directly at an open door. He dashed towards it, dragging Diana along with him. “Good news. We’ve found our man. You have any way to defend yourself?”
“…Got my wrench. Should be enough, right?”
Inside, the pirate was laughing his head off. The whole thing was hilarious, really. After he murdered whatever bastard had stolen what was rightfully his, he’d get rid of her, and then he’d…
As they entered the beautifully-decorated cabin, his thought processes froze up. He’d… after I’ve murdered the bastard, right, I’ll… take the Core… off of his corpse? Murdered… the bastard, and… wait. He blinked at the sight of the man with the suit and the perfectly-groomed black hair.
“Roth? That you, Roth?”
Roth, the man clutching the Core, went completely pale. “Y-yeah, it’s me, Brat. What’s the problem? Who’s this girl you got with you?”
Diana grinned. “Well, how about I introduce myself? My name is Diana Boilerton, and you, sir—“ She proceeded to smack him across the face with her wrench, knocking him to the ground. “Are carrying something you shouldn’t be. Now then, Mr. Bratton, let’s be taking this to security, shall we?”
Richard began sweating, and touched a hand to his scarred cheek. This was a problem, oh god it was a problem. He hadn’t planned for this one bit. “Uh… r-right, Diana. Just one thing.” He whipped out his gun, sighing. “It ain’t goin’ to security.”
She blinked back. If she had any idea what was going on, her facial expression—particularly her eyes—didn’t show it. “But… it’s illegal, I thought, Richard. Shouldn’t we be taking it away from this brigand, getting it to the law?”
Richard laughed a little, and his frown turned to a smile. “No, no. You see, I’m taking The Core for myself. And, well… seeing what you did to the last guy, I have no choice but to make sure you can’t do it to me. If you hand it over, though, I’ll make your death quick and painless.”
She hesitated, and he waved the gun a little to emphasize the point. “Give me the Core, Diana.”
She paused, then slowly nodded. “I guess I’ve got no other option, then.” She held out the gleaming pyramid to the pirate, fingering it lightly with her glove. His hand shot out for it, and as soon as it did so, she drove the tip of the Endorphic Core directly into his left eye. Blood and some sort of eyeball fluid neither of them could name spilled out, and he screamed, firing his gun twice. The first blast of plasma missed her; the second grazed her shoulder as she charged towards him and brought the wrench towards his weapon in an upward arc, knocking it out of his hands. She yanked the Core out of his eye, and got a little of his blood into the slot before slamming the wrench into his right leg, shattering the femur; she then grabbed the gun off the floor, and used it to shoot his co-worker’s arms off. Bratton desperately lashed out at her with a guard’s electrified baton, but she merely dodged to the side and smashed her wrench across his wrist, causing him to drop the stunstick as well. She laughed loudly, a distinctive laugh, familiar to every contestant of The Prestidigtator’s battle, and her soft voice slowly segued into the gravelly growl she had gotten herself used to.
“Now, that ain’t too nice, is it, ya blaggard? You ever had a real scar before, eh? I’d guess you haven’t fought too much, given that little scrape on your cheek you try to pass off as a mark of battle. Here, take a look at some real wounds.” She slowly removed her jacket, and he got a glimpse of the flesh beneath. Her arms, legs, neck—everything he could see, and for that matter most of what he couldn’t, was absolutely covered in gashes of varying sizes, some of which occasionally bled only to suck the sanguine fluid back in. A massive blister on her left shoulder occasionally let out a bubble of orange fluid. “You see these? I’d be dead four years hence if it weren’t for this little prize right here. I don’t know how you heard of it, and frankly don’t care.” She proceeded to drive it into his other eye, grinding it around a little for good measure. “Because now I’ve got it again, and that means another precious hour of life. Be grateful I took this from ya, lubber, and for that matter, be grateful I didn’t quite kill you and your friend. You especially, for threatenin' to kill what I assume ya thought a defenseless, hard-workin' civilian lady.”
Adrian O’Gearailt headed into the bathroom of the cabin and once again donned the red jacket and stone mask she’d stuffed away. She then placed the dropped gun in her holster, and the unused stunstick in her sheathe; grabbed a medal off Bratton’s coat, shoved it in the Core’s slot, and walked away, whistling. There we go, then. Looks like I might survive this thing after all.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Matthew Gallagher groaned as the news of the incident reached him, five minutes later. “Alright, listen, Bratton. You still disabled the emergency escape pods?”
His hand trembled a little, and he curled it into a fist. “Maybe. Maybe, you say. Well, listen to this. If I see a single goddamn pod leave this ship before we’ve gotten every damn item of value off of it, let me tell you, Bratton, some crazy engineer driving a spike through your eye is going to look like the highlight of your day.”
He sighed and terminated the connection. It had been the perfect heist, hadn’t it? But then, these reports of shadow creatures and berserking engineers and god only knows what else—no. He took a deep breath and folded his hands. This heist has not failed yet. I still have time to make this work. It may not go perfectly, but god willing, I can still put myself and everyone else involved on easy street. There is not yet any need to start it ahead of schedule. He smiled to himself, too reserved to laugh out loud. I hope you’re ready, Reed, because this is one time you won’t be able to succeed in your stupid little endeavors.