Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 3: Abandoned Park]
05-30-2010, 08:28 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
Hoss meditates. To compensate for the power drain of his blade, he begins to shut down peripheral systems. Gyroscopes, inertial compensators, even his ocular implants. He keeps his aural sensors running, but at vastly reduced power; just barely enough to sense the mass of meat rolling through the grass behind him. He delegates a single monitoring protocol to alert him, should Gormand choose to approach. The rest of the ancient intelligence is directed inwards, backwards, downwards through his own timeline...
...the young man looks on impatiently as his identification card is checked. The security guard glances at his screen, brow furrowed. Just as the moment feels as if its gone on just a tad too long, the guard turns away from the screen, declaring, "You can go through. Next."
With an almost visible sigh of relief, the young man moves through the checkpoint into a large, sweeping annex. The convention hall is filled with young-to-middle-aged men, and a very few women, all milling about various screens displaying complex algorithms and animations, and all carrying some sort of personal computing device. The young man is carrying one too, though it is far more advanced than any here, and kept hidden on his person. A false laptop is hoisted under one arm, to avoid suspicion (he doesn't want to be the only person without an obvious piece of technology).
The young man loses himself in the crowd for a while, wandering from display to display, silently chuckling at some of the claims the various exhibitors make about their "unbreakable" security systems. Despite his sense of superiority, he enjoys himself.
After a while, he makes his way over to one of the larger presentation halls, where a lecture on the Future of Cryptography in a Digital Civilization is about to begin. He has chosen this particular presentation for its extensive use of a projection system.
He has arrived a bit late, and is unable to find a seat, seeming content to merely stand in the back with the rest of the tardy. The presentation has already begun, so he stands, and listens.
About halfway through, he puts his hand in his pocket, and taps a button on his hidden computing device.
A diagram of... something complicated-looking is replaced by a single word:
HELLO
The words flash, each replacing the previous.
I. AM. THE. HAND. OF. SILVER.
I. HAVE. TAKEN. CONTROL.
The words continue amongst rising confusion, surprise, shock, and anger, continuing to deliver a pre-programmed message. The auditorium's noise level rises steadily as people discover the same words on the screens of their devices as well. People begin to rise and flood out of the auditorium, discovering the same message unfolding on every display in the building. The young man tries to not assume a nonchalant saunter out of the auditorium, and tries to blend in with the chaos unfolding around him, but... fails. Perhaps his greatest failing has always been his ego, and here too it works to his detriment. Unbeknownst to the young man, he is noticed by another of the attendees, as his movement is just a little... off. Not quite scared enough, not quite confused enough, angry enough... something. The sharp-eyed attendee decides to follow the young man through the morass of former security gurus, all trying to regain control.
The device in the young man's pocket beeps, and he grimaces. He takes it out, and sees that many of the other attendees have begun successfully tracing his hack. He will have to work quickly to avoid detection, and will luckily blend in quite nicely with all the other techies fiddling with their machines.
He removes the device and plugs it into his false laptop, for all appearances just another worried attendee trying to stop this madness.
Hubris, however, gets the best of him. With so many intelligent people making a concerted effort against him, and all of them aware of the specific area he's attacking, and with him using as-of-yet untested technology, he was bound to fail. He realizes this, almost too late, and the conclusion he is forced to reach elicits a mental curse.
As the message continues on what few computers that haven't been reclaimed, the young man makes his way through the now-calm and much more organized crowd. Behind him, still unnoticed by the young man, follows the same sharp-eyed attendee. The young man makes his way out of the building, an easier task than getting in. As soon as he is clear, he takes out his laptop, still connected to his device, and cuts the hack. Inside, the few hacked computers stop displaying the message, which by this time has begun to loop. The sharp-eyed pursuer notices this, and, making the correct conclusion, advances.
"Hey! You! Hold up!"
The young man turns at the voice, and adrenaline-fueled suspicion spurs him to run.
"Stop! Damnit..."
The other man chases after, and follows the young man into an alleyway. He rounds the corner, and stops, faced with an empty alley.
Behind a dumpster, the young man hides from his pursuer. He listens to the footsteps approach, slowly, as their owner searches. He will be discovered, he knows it. His hands fumble through the refuse on the ground, and happen across a loose chunk of concrete. He grasps it, and can feel the familiar rage welling up inside him. Ever since his episode several months ago, he has felt the crave for violence bubbling within him, every day. He holds the feeling, hoping he gets to unleash it.
The other man continues to move cautiously through the alley. As he approaches the edge of a dumpster, the young man he's been pursuing erupts around the corner, yelling and clutching a slab of concrete. Stars fill his vision as a powerful pain blossoms over his head. The stars turn to rolling red-tinged blackness as another source of pain roils through his skull. The blackness overcomes him, and he never feels the rest of the blows. In fact, he never feels anything again.
The young man is standing over the bloodied, pulpy corpse, breathing heavily. He drops the slab of concrete, and runs away.
While the Hand of Silver's first public appearance is successful, and well-known to the world, the failings of that day are never recorded. Records of the murder mysteriously vanish during the following weeks, and the investigation is eventually dropped. The lessons learned by the young man's first experience with such power stay with him for the rest of his life...
Hoss comes out of his reverie, the experience of his first major failure, which was also his first major success, and the lesson of failure which stayed with him his whole life remind him that he is willing to fail if it will eventually bring victory.
He begins to reactivate his peripherals, still conserving most of his power. He stands, and though some time has passed, the mass of Gormand is still nearby, doing... something. Hoss turns away, and sets off towards the edges of the arena, seeking distance from his fellow competitors. What he is about to try is best done in isolation...
Hoss meditates. To compensate for the power drain of his blade, he begins to shut down peripheral systems. Gyroscopes, inertial compensators, even his ocular implants. He keeps his aural sensors running, but at vastly reduced power; just barely enough to sense the mass of meat rolling through the grass behind him. He delegates a single monitoring protocol to alert him, should Gormand choose to approach. The rest of the ancient intelligence is directed inwards, backwards, downwards through his own timeline...
...the young man looks on impatiently as his identification card is checked. The security guard glances at his screen, brow furrowed. Just as the moment feels as if its gone on just a tad too long, the guard turns away from the screen, declaring, "You can go through. Next."
With an almost visible sigh of relief, the young man moves through the checkpoint into a large, sweeping annex. The convention hall is filled with young-to-middle-aged men, and a very few women, all milling about various screens displaying complex algorithms and animations, and all carrying some sort of personal computing device. The young man is carrying one too, though it is far more advanced than any here, and kept hidden on his person. A false laptop is hoisted under one arm, to avoid suspicion (he doesn't want to be the only person without an obvious piece of technology).
The young man loses himself in the crowd for a while, wandering from display to display, silently chuckling at some of the claims the various exhibitors make about their "unbreakable" security systems. Despite his sense of superiority, he enjoys himself.
After a while, he makes his way over to one of the larger presentation halls, where a lecture on the Future of Cryptography in a Digital Civilization is about to begin. He has chosen this particular presentation for its extensive use of a projection system.
He has arrived a bit late, and is unable to find a seat, seeming content to merely stand in the back with the rest of the tardy. The presentation has already begun, so he stands, and listens.
About halfway through, he puts his hand in his pocket, and taps a button on his hidden computing device.
A diagram of... something complicated-looking is replaced by a single word:
HELLO
The words flash, each replacing the previous.
I. AM. THE. HAND. OF. SILVER.
I. HAVE. TAKEN. CONTROL.
The words continue amongst rising confusion, surprise, shock, and anger, continuing to deliver a pre-programmed message. The auditorium's noise level rises steadily as people discover the same words on the screens of their devices as well. People begin to rise and flood out of the auditorium, discovering the same message unfolding on every display in the building. The young man tries to not assume a nonchalant saunter out of the auditorium, and tries to blend in with the chaos unfolding around him, but... fails. Perhaps his greatest failing has always been his ego, and here too it works to his detriment. Unbeknownst to the young man, he is noticed by another of the attendees, as his movement is just a little... off. Not quite scared enough, not quite confused enough, angry enough... something. The sharp-eyed attendee decides to follow the young man through the morass of former security gurus, all trying to regain control.
The device in the young man's pocket beeps, and he grimaces. He takes it out, and sees that many of the other attendees have begun successfully tracing his hack. He will have to work quickly to avoid detection, and will luckily blend in quite nicely with all the other techies fiddling with their machines.
He removes the device and plugs it into his false laptop, for all appearances just another worried attendee trying to stop this madness.
Hubris, however, gets the best of him. With so many intelligent people making a concerted effort against him, and all of them aware of the specific area he's attacking, and with him using as-of-yet untested technology, he was bound to fail. He realizes this, almost too late, and the conclusion he is forced to reach elicits a mental curse.
As the message continues on what few computers that haven't been reclaimed, the young man makes his way through the now-calm and much more organized crowd. Behind him, still unnoticed by the young man, follows the same sharp-eyed attendee. The young man makes his way out of the building, an easier task than getting in. As soon as he is clear, he takes out his laptop, still connected to his device, and cuts the hack. Inside, the few hacked computers stop displaying the message, which by this time has begun to loop. The sharp-eyed pursuer notices this, and, making the correct conclusion, advances.
"Hey! You! Hold up!"
The young man turns at the voice, and adrenaline-fueled suspicion spurs him to run.
"Stop! Damnit..."
The other man chases after, and follows the young man into an alleyway. He rounds the corner, and stops, faced with an empty alley.
Behind a dumpster, the young man hides from his pursuer. He listens to the footsteps approach, slowly, as their owner searches. He will be discovered, he knows it. His hands fumble through the refuse on the ground, and happen across a loose chunk of concrete. He grasps it, and can feel the familiar rage welling up inside him. Ever since his episode several months ago, he has felt the crave for violence bubbling within him, every day. He holds the feeling, hoping he gets to unleash it.
The other man continues to move cautiously through the alley. As he approaches the edge of a dumpster, the young man he's been pursuing erupts around the corner, yelling and clutching a slab of concrete. Stars fill his vision as a powerful pain blossoms over his head. The stars turn to rolling red-tinged blackness as another source of pain roils through his skull. The blackness overcomes him, and he never feels the rest of the blows. In fact, he never feels anything again.
The young man is standing over the bloodied, pulpy corpse, breathing heavily. He drops the slab of concrete, and runs away.
While the Hand of Silver's first public appearance is successful, and well-known to the world, the failings of that day are never recorded. Records of the murder mysteriously vanish during the following weeks, and the investigation is eventually dropped. The lessons learned by the young man's first experience with such power stay with him for the rest of his life...
Hoss comes out of his reverie, the experience of his first major failure, which was also his first major success, and the lesson of failure which stayed with him his whole life remind him that he is willing to fail if it will eventually bring victory.
He begins to reactivate his peripherals, still conserving most of his power. He stands, and though some time has passed, the mass of Gormand is still nearby, doing... something. Hoss turns away, and sets off towards the edges of the arena, seeking distance from his fellow competitors. What he is about to try is best done in isolation...