Re: Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round One: The Pacific Spire]
09-15-2012, 09:16 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Sanzh.
Elise blinked.
She was no stranger to the supernatural. Treating a host of magic-derived illnesses and maladies had inoculated her to many bizarre sights. But, for all of her trained expertise in such matters, she had never experienced anything like this. She was hanging onto a rope suspended off of a distant fragment of a broken, impossible reality-- the twisted cordage continually coiled and bent itself, acting in utter defiance of reason. She could not estimate just how precipitously she hung-- the anchoring arrow was no longer visible, and the rope was obscured by the fading light of the shaft's upper levels. For a brief moment, her less-rational faculties wanted to assume control and panic, but the survivalist and scientist that comprised her quickly reasserted themselves.
"Uh, Elise? You okay there?" Blake yelled upward.
She didn't respond-- she needed to think, not assuage someone else's concerns. Her own task was finding somewhere other than off of a rope to position herself, and doing so required her to ignore Blake's incessant distractions.
One hand released its vise-like grip around the rope, reaching around in search of a ledge to support her. A nearby rim along the shaft provided adequate room to stand up on, and she reached forward, her gloved hand pushing against the ridge to test it. In an unnaturally light motion Elise pulled herself up, artificially lightened by the alien physics of the elevator shaft. Relieving from the rope's tenuous support, she stood up. Her eyes cautiously flitted upward and downward as she gauged her situation.
Blake saw Elise launch herself upward, and quickly followed suit. The two now stood together. They were precariously balanced on a thin lip-- there was an endless abyss downward, and an uncertain anomaly upward. Blake shivered, uncertain as to whether it was from the cold, sterile air of the shaft or out of the terror of his precipitous position.
The heavy burden of her gear and makeshift plague-suit were almost non-existent in the brief swing upward, Elise now realized. Nothing seemed entirely right-- and now that she was free from her grip onto the rope, she was free to notice the elevator shaft's myriad of other peculiarities. Outside of the turbulent cable, she could see exposed wires seemingly shortening and lengthening, shifting from taut to slack at the pace of an unknown rhythm. The walls seemed to twist and contort, spiraling upward-- and for a brief moment, she nearly thought she saw the concrete of one of the walls crease against itself, its supposedly-rigid material becoming flexible and pliant. Nothing seemed permanent or stable.
She stood silently, quietly aware of the rebellion against the natural order surrounding her.
Blake, for his part, was still acclimating to the extreme height he was now at. What little attentiveness he had left to muster was directed towards the anomaly, but he had little capacity to fully think through his predicament. His own study of magical theory had overwhelmed him, and the anomaly avoided the neat classifications and systematics of the magic he was used to. He tapped Elise's shoulder, hoping she had more of an understanding than he did.
"Doesn't make sense." She replied, only the dullest edge of conviction present in her tone.
"It could be, I dunno, magic maybe?" Blake said. He hated the idea of pointing out the obvious, but it seemed like the most likely explanation-- and he had firsthand experience with the effects of magic. Rationalizing this as falling under its wide purview of impossibilities was not a stretch of his imagination.
Her beak-like breathing apparatus obscured her expressions, but Elise's mouth twitched into a grimace. "Doubtful. The magic I'm used to tends to behave predictably. This is just--"
Elise stopped. She could faintly hear the whirring of unseen machinery down below, steadily drawing near. She looked down and saw a cadre of suited figures, clad in clinical, matte-white armored suits. A pair were beginning to erect some makeshift scaffolding, another one had established lighting pylons and mountings for scientific instruments-- but three were now staring upward at them. Elise and Blake both felt the harsh, scrutinizing gaze of a collection of hand-held spotlights, alongside other instruments.
"Um. Hi." Blake sheepishly said.
"You aren't supposed to be here." One of them loudly broadcast in return. His voice was condescendingly authoritative, and crackled with a harsh radio static. Neither of the two futher up could discern his expression-- his environmental suit encompassed his face, obscuring it with a mixture of a bulky breathing apparatus and a reflective visor.
"Oh, uh, sorr-- ow!"
Elise's elbow jabbed into Blake's side. Her beaked mask turned to meet him, and Blake could see her face twisted into a disdainful countenance. She said nothing, but he could infer more than enough from her thinly-aggressive stance. He quietly acquiesced, letting her respond.
"What is it you want?" She barked downward. Her arm nearly reached for one of the handles on her crossbow, but abruptly stopped. She scanned the weapon critically, checking that its intricate workings remained intact-- the lever-action reloading mechanism, the taut cable serving as its string, the cogs and sprockets of its clockwork components. As soon as she determined they were in working order, she returned her focus to the group below.
Two of the scientists turned towards each other-- their voices were an unintelligible garble of static to the pair situated above them. Their brief deliberation eventually led to a verdict, and one of the pair looked up to respond to Elise.
"We need you to come down from there--"
"That's not too bad, right?" Blake whispered to Elise.
"--where you'll be taken into custody, and we'll determine whether to extradite you back to your floor or, well. You likely know the rest." He finished, ending his speech on a cruel twitch.
"And if we refuse?" Elise yelled back.
The scientist retrieved what appeared to be some form of weapon-- obscured by layers of scientific tools and extraneous features, but it still possessed the menacing glint that any armament had. He held it up-- both to intimidate the impudent, lost employee, and for the spectacle of displaying such a tool amongst his fellow employees. "I wouldn't recommend that, I think." He said.
Elise took a half-step back-- the ridge did not afford enough space to fully conceal herself, and she could only hope her space was sufficient. One arm reached back for the crossbow, while her other grasped a small flask from her overcoat.
"Um. Shouldn't we listen to them and surrender?" Blake quietly asked.
His face was painted in an expression of nervous worry. The precipice below, the mounting tension between the scientists, the anomaly twisting overhead-- he was caught in a situation he saw no way out of, and Elise was quickly accelerating the situation towards violence. There had only been a few times when he had been forced to fight, and never at stakes like this. Panic clouded his mind.
"I--"
She paused, almost wanting to tell Blake why she couldn't surrender-- that it would take away an unaffordable fraction of her borrowed time, that she would die if they were to confiscate her medicine.
"--I can't do that." She finished. She tossed the flask down, and in a swift motion brought her crossbow forward, aiming it.
The scientists below saw the glint of glass tumbling through the air, along with the figure up above raising her weapon. A few prepared themselves, but in an instant the flask shattered. The liquid evaporated and expanded, almost-instantaneously creating a blinding film of smoke. The collection of spot-lights dimmed, their beams obscured under the haze.
Four bolts rained down in quick succession, interrupted only by the loud groan of clockwork as the crossbow's lever-action was worked. The mechanical workings inelegantly slotted in a new bolt each time, straining under the tension of Elise's rapid barrage.
She stopped-- she could still hear the agonized, pained grunts of the injured below. They were incapacitated. Elise had an opening now-- a chance to escape, to get inside the elevator car and slip away before they could recover fully. She jumped for the rope, sliding downward.
Sir Bradley, still conscious and relatively uninjured, saw his chance as the smoke began to clear-- and in a moment, raised a taser and fired. He watched as the attacker spasmed uncontrollably, before landing in an oddly soft motion.
As the teleportation potion he had desperately quaffed began to work, Blake could only watch this happen-- he was helpless as the group of scientists stood up, began to treat their injuries, and steadily turned their attention to the now-unconscious Elise.
Elise blinked.
She was no stranger to the supernatural. Treating a host of magic-derived illnesses and maladies had inoculated her to many bizarre sights. But, for all of her trained expertise in such matters, she had never experienced anything like this. She was hanging onto a rope suspended off of a distant fragment of a broken, impossible reality-- the twisted cordage continually coiled and bent itself, acting in utter defiance of reason. She could not estimate just how precipitously she hung-- the anchoring arrow was no longer visible, and the rope was obscured by the fading light of the shaft's upper levels. For a brief moment, her less-rational faculties wanted to assume control and panic, but the survivalist and scientist that comprised her quickly reasserted themselves.
"Uh, Elise? You okay there?" Blake yelled upward.
She didn't respond-- she needed to think, not assuage someone else's concerns. Her own task was finding somewhere other than off of a rope to position herself, and doing so required her to ignore Blake's incessant distractions.
One hand released its vise-like grip around the rope, reaching around in search of a ledge to support her. A nearby rim along the shaft provided adequate room to stand up on, and she reached forward, her gloved hand pushing against the ridge to test it. In an unnaturally light motion Elise pulled herself up, artificially lightened by the alien physics of the elevator shaft. Relieving from the rope's tenuous support, she stood up. Her eyes cautiously flitted upward and downward as she gauged her situation.
Blake saw Elise launch herself upward, and quickly followed suit. The two now stood together. They were precariously balanced on a thin lip-- there was an endless abyss downward, and an uncertain anomaly upward. Blake shivered, uncertain as to whether it was from the cold, sterile air of the shaft or out of the terror of his precipitous position.
The heavy burden of her gear and makeshift plague-suit were almost non-existent in the brief swing upward, Elise now realized. Nothing seemed entirely right-- and now that she was free from her grip onto the rope, she was free to notice the elevator shaft's myriad of other peculiarities. Outside of the turbulent cable, she could see exposed wires seemingly shortening and lengthening, shifting from taut to slack at the pace of an unknown rhythm. The walls seemed to twist and contort, spiraling upward-- and for a brief moment, she nearly thought she saw the concrete of one of the walls crease against itself, its supposedly-rigid material becoming flexible and pliant. Nothing seemed permanent or stable.
She stood silently, quietly aware of the rebellion against the natural order surrounding her.
Blake, for his part, was still acclimating to the extreme height he was now at. What little attentiveness he had left to muster was directed towards the anomaly, but he had little capacity to fully think through his predicament. His own study of magical theory had overwhelmed him, and the anomaly avoided the neat classifications and systematics of the magic he was used to. He tapped Elise's shoulder, hoping she had more of an understanding than he did.
"Doesn't make sense." She replied, only the dullest edge of conviction present in her tone.
"It could be, I dunno, magic maybe?" Blake said. He hated the idea of pointing out the obvious, but it seemed like the most likely explanation-- and he had firsthand experience with the effects of magic. Rationalizing this as falling under its wide purview of impossibilities was not a stretch of his imagination.
Her beak-like breathing apparatus obscured her expressions, but Elise's mouth twitched into a grimace. "Doubtful. The magic I'm used to tends to behave predictably. This is just--"
Elise stopped. She could faintly hear the whirring of unseen machinery down below, steadily drawing near. She looked down and saw a cadre of suited figures, clad in clinical, matte-white armored suits. A pair were beginning to erect some makeshift scaffolding, another one had established lighting pylons and mountings for scientific instruments-- but three were now staring upward at them. Elise and Blake both felt the harsh, scrutinizing gaze of a collection of hand-held spotlights, alongside other instruments.
"Um. Hi." Blake sheepishly said.
"You aren't supposed to be here." One of them loudly broadcast in return. His voice was condescendingly authoritative, and crackled with a harsh radio static. Neither of the two futher up could discern his expression-- his environmental suit encompassed his face, obscuring it with a mixture of a bulky breathing apparatus and a reflective visor.
"Oh, uh, sorr-- ow!"
Elise's elbow jabbed into Blake's side. Her beaked mask turned to meet him, and Blake could see her face twisted into a disdainful countenance. She said nothing, but he could infer more than enough from her thinly-aggressive stance. He quietly acquiesced, letting her respond.
"What is it you want?" She barked downward. Her arm nearly reached for one of the handles on her crossbow, but abruptly stopped. She scanned the weapon critically, checking that its intricate workings remained intact-- the lever-action reloading mechanism, the taut cable serving as its string, the cogs and sprockets of its clockwork components. As soon as she determined they were in working order, she returned her focus to the group below.
Two of the scientists turned towards each other-- their voices were an unintelligible garble of static to the pair situated above them. Their brief deliberation eventually led to a verdict, and one of the pair looked up to respond to Elise.
"We need you to come down from there--"
"That's not too bad, right?" Blake whispered to Elise.
"--where you'll be taken into custody, and we'll determine whether to extradite you back to your floor or, well. You likely know the rest." He finished, ending his speech on a cruel twitch.
"And if we refuse?" Elise yelled back.
The scientist retrieved what appeared to be some form of weapon-- obscured by layers of scientific tools and extraneous features, but it still possessed the menacing glint that any armament had. He held it up-- both to intimidate the impudent, lost employee, and for the spectacle of displaying such a tool amongst his fellow employees. "I wouldn't recommend that, I think." He said.
Elise took a half-step back-- the ridge did not afford enough space to fully conceal herself, and she could only hope her space was sufficient. One arm reached back for the crossbow, while her other grasped a small flask from her overcoat.
"Um. Shouldn't we listen to them and surrender?" Blake quietly asked.
His face was painted in an expression of nervous worry. The precipice below, the mounting tension between the scientists, the anomaly twisting overhead-- he was caught in a situation he saw no way out of, and Elise was quickly accelerating the situation towards violence. There had only been a few times when he had been forced to fight, and never at stakes like this. Panic clouded his mind.
"I--"
She paused, almost wanting to tell Blake why she couldn't surrender-- that it would take away an unaffordable fraction of her borrowed time, that she would die if they were to confiscate her medicine.
"--I can't do that." She finished. She tossed the flask down, and in a swift motion brought her crossbow forward, aiming it.
The scientists below saw the glint of glass tumbling through the air, along with the figure up above raising her weapon. A few prepared themselves, but in an instant the flask shattered. The liquid evaporated and expanded, almost-instantaneously creating a blinding film of smoke. The collection of spot-lights dimmed, their beams obscured under the haze.
Four bolts rained down in quick succession, interrupted only by the loud groan of clockwork as the crossbow's lever-action was worked. The mechanical workings inelegantly slotted in a new bolt each time, straining under the tension of Elise's rapid barrage.
She stopped-- she could still hear the agonized, pained grunts of the injured below. They were incapacitated. Elise had an opening now-- a chance to escape, to get inside the elevator car and slip away before they could recover fully. She jumped for the rope, sliding downward.
Sir Bradley, still conscious and relatively uninjured, saw his chance as the smoke began to clear-- and in a moment, raised a taser and fired. He watched as the attacker spasmed uncontrollably, before landing in an oddly soft motion.
As the teleportation potion he had desperately quaffed began to work, Blake could only watch this happen-- he was helpless as the group of scientists stood up, began to treat their injuries, and steadily turned their attention to the now-unconscious Elise.