Re: The Savage Brawl [Round 4: Small 50s Town]
04-18-2012, 08:30 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by slipsicle.
A figure darted through the wreckage of once-quaint shops and ruined alleys. Another alien ship flew overhead, trailing smoke and fire. The figure ducked into a doorway, and cautiously watched it fall, panting heavily.
Hoss caught his breath while he watched the alien ship crash, and readjusted the makeshift sling around his torso. He felt the hard surface of its contents press against his back, and tried not to remember how vulnerable he was.
His time near the alien power source had yielded the results he'd wanted. Magic had purged all technology from his body, and rebuilt him anew. The process left him nude and hairless, so his immediate priority had been finding clothing, and a method to carry his newest acquisition.
As he'd felt the ethereal powers take hold of him, and realized his mental capacities would be severely diminished after the transformation, Hoss gave his remaining cyborg parts a final directive. As part of a last-resort system put in place to end his own life (in the case that he became severely unstable, or some unforseen circumstance), every heat sink in Hoss's body was capable of directing that heat into the metal parts of his internal structure, and melting them down.
The heat attained was such that Hoss was able to freely reorganize the atomic structure of the liquid metal so as to cool into an extremely dense crystalline structure, capable of storing vast amounts of information. He made a few modifications to certain sections of the proto-orb, allowing it limited functionality of the communication orbs he'd spread through the multiverse earlier. Into it he poured all of his stored knowledge, everything that would be lost with his neural augments, everything that his brain could not store on its own, millions upon millions upon millions of years' worth of memories. Every skill he'd learned, every person he'd met, every moment of every day for the past billion years of his life went into the device taking shape inside him, for in the next few minutes, he'd be losing it all.
His magically-growing body pushed the small, white-hot orb out his left shoulder. It hit the ground with a soft thud, and deformed slightly from the impact. As Hoss's left arm regrew, the orb cooled into a flattened, elliptical dome, its longest axis roughly the length of a forearm.
That dome now lay against his back, held there by the piece of cloth he'd tied across his chest and shoulder. He'd chosen padded jacket, a bit dirty and torn, but the extra cushioning (for the sling), as well as the fact that it was tweed, appealed to him. The only pants he could find were khakis that were a bit too loose, and singed slightly at the cuffs. Add to that the slightly-too-large black leather shoes, and you had what looked like another terrified survivor of the battle.
He shifted the weight of his sling uneasily. So far as he could tell, he'd been successful in surrendering to magic. His body had been created entirely from magic. But all he felt was... tired. And hungry. There wasn't even the awareness of will he'd felt during his first clumsy attempts at wielding magic. He grimaced. He had lost so much in becoming organic again, had he lost what he needed? He could not even remember most of the knowledge that had left him, so how could he know if he was lacking something vital? He cursed, and shook himself. No point dwelling; the decision had been rather final.
He was still left with no idea what to do, though. Especially vexing was that this battlefield had gone from an easily-navigable field of resources to a death-trap laden maze. Not to mention that he'd stand no chance in a direct confrontation with any of his opponents, if they'd even recognize him in this state. He narrowed his eyes. No, it was time to wait, and let this round take its course. In the meantime, there was still work he could do.
He turned from the smoldering street and unslung his satchel. Placing the device carefully on the floor, he pressed a section of its surface, activating its Network connection. A link was established immediately, and a display activated on the surface of the device. Hoss nearly recoiled as his own face looked out from the screen. "Hello, me," it said, smiling his own smile, "You, yourself and I need to have a little chat."
A figure darted through the wreckage of once-quaint shops and ruined alleys. Another alien ship flew overhead, trailing smoke and fire. The figure ducked into a doorway, and cautiously watched it fall, panting heavily.
Hoss caught his breath while he watched the alien ship crash, and readjusted the makeshift sling around his torso. He felt the hard surface of its contents press against his back, and tried not to remember how vulnerable he was.
His time near the alien power source had yielded the results he'd wanted. Magic had purged all technology from his body, and rebuilt him anew. The process left him nude and hairless, so his immediate priority had been finding clothing, and a method to carry his newest acquisition.
As he'd felt the ethereal powers take hold of him, and realized his mental capacities would be severely diminished after the transformation, Hoss gave his remaining cyborg parts a final directive. As part of a last-resort system put in place to end his own life (in the case that he became severely unstable, or some unforseen circumstance), every heat sink in Hoss's body was capable of directing that heat into the metal parts of his internal structure, and melting them down.
The heat attained was such that Hoss was able to freely reorganize the atomic structure of the liquid metal so as to cool into an extremely dense crystalline structure, capable of storing vast amounts of information. He made a few modifications to certain sections of the proto-orb, allowing it limited functionality of the communication orbs he'd spread through the multiverse earlier. Into it he poured all of his stored knowledge, everything that would be lost with his neural augments, everything that his brain could not store on its own, millions upon millions upon millions of years' worth of memories. Every skill he'd learned, every person he'd met, every moment of every day for the past billion years of his life went into the device taking shape inside him, for in the next few minutes, he'd be losing it all.
His magically-growing body pushed the small, white-hot orb out his left shoulder. It hit the ground with a soft thud, and deformed slightly from the impact. As Hoss's left arm regrew, the orb cooled into a flattened, elliptical dome, its longest axis roughly the length of a forearm.
That dome now lay against his back, held there by the piece of cloth he'd tied across his chest and shoulder. He'd chosen padded jacket, a bit dirty and torn, but the extra cushioning (for the sling), as well as the fact that it was tweed, appealed to him. The only pants he could find were khakis that were a bit too loose, and singed slightly at the cuffs. Add to that the slightly-too-large black leather shoes, and you had what looked like another terrified survivor of the battle.
He shifted the weight of his sling uneasily. So far as he could tell, he'd been successful in surrendering to magic. His body had been created entirely from magic. But all he felt was... tired. And hungry. There wasn't even the awareness of will he'd felt during his first clumsy attempts at wielding magic. He grimaced. He had lost so much in becoming organic again, had he lost what he needed? He could not even remember most of the knowledge that had left him, so how could he know if he was lacking something vital? He cursed, and shook himself. No point dwelling; the decision had been rather final.
He was still left with no idea what to do, though. Especially vexing was that this battlefield had gone from an easily-navigable field of resources to a death-trap laden maze. Not to mention that he'd stand no chance in a direct confrontation with any of his opponents, if they'd even recognize him in this state. He narrowed his eyes. No, it was time to wait, and let this round take its course. In the meantime, there was still work he could do.
He turned from the smoldering street and unslung his satchel. Placing the device carefully on the floor, he pressed a section of its surface, activating its Network connection. A link was established immediately, and a display activated on the surface of the device. Hoss nearly recoiled as his own face looked out from the screen. "Hello, me," it said, smiling his own smile, "You, yourself and I need to have a little chat."