Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round One: Gamexus X99
02-17-2012, 11:15 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Snowyowl.
Weaver eventually found his way to a fence topped with barbed wire on the edge of the combat zone. The smoke seemed thicker down here, rolling across the terrain in thick strands like fingers. In the distance on his left was a gate, which was probably how normal people went in and out. Weaver prodded the fence. It was solid as a rock, and he couldn't tell whether it was meant to keep people out or keep them in. There was no obvious way through it, it didn't look easily destructible, and it was just a little too high for someone of Weaver's height and strength to vault over it; certainly too high for the soldiers to climb over. He wondered briefly what purpose it was meant to serve, then decided it didn't matter.
Peering through the fence, he noticed a towering city on the horizon, oddly indistinct and lit by dim lights. It struck him as strange, and for a few seconds he wasn't sure why. Then he realised he'd already looked in that direction earlier, and hadn't seen the city then. And there was a contestant who was a "ghost of some kind", wasn't there? Who might, if given a wide area, take on the appearance of a city? Weaver carefully reviewed his memories of the few seconds he'd spent looking at Gomorrah, but didn't find anything to suggest that was possible or impossible. Maybe he was wrong, and it was just that this world was the sort of place where physical locations appeared and disappeared with no rhyme or reason.
Either way, there was a city. It was probably safer than being in the middle of a warzone, there might be some useful information there, and if the other contestants were anywhere near here they would probably head for a big landmark (either the city itself or one he would be able to see from the top of the skyscrapers). Yes, the city would be a good place to head to. Still, it would take a long time to get there on foot. He would need transport.
There were two men left guarding the trucks. They were on edge - as they should be - but they were expecting to be comparatively safe where they were. The enemy would need to fight through the rest of their team before they made it back to the trucks, which was unlikely to happen for a while. And they were expecting reinforcements. It stood to reason that anyone approaching them from behind was friendly. So the soldiers kept their guard up, but their attention was mostly focused on the battlefield in front of them. They hadn't quite lived through enough battles to be properly suspicious of everything, all the time.
Of course, there was also a deafening amount of noise, so it was perhaps forgiveable that neither of them heard the tall dark figure approaching down the road until he was nearly on top of them. But there was no excuse for the nearest soldier hearing running feet behind him, turning to see who was there... and getting Weaver's fist to the side of his head, knocking him down. The other soldier reacted much better, and didn't stop to wonder who or what was attacking him. He brought his side-arm up in a practised movement and shot Weaver twice in the face. This did not have the result he was hoping for, though, and Weaver promptly swept his legs out from underneath him and kicked his gun away.
Weaver decided not to try to kill them - they were armed and trained to kill, while he only had a lifetime's experience in running away. Instead, he piled into the nearest truck and started it up. He'd never driven anything with a steering wheel before, but he'd seen pictures and had some idea of how it was supposed to work. After a false start while the soldiers picked themselves up and Weaver realised the handbrake was on, the truck suddenly revved up and skidded wildly on the dirt track. The truck was not designed for someone of Weaver's height, and he was sitting in a cramped posture that made it difficult to turn the steering wheel properly. Still, he managed to get the truck turned around, after bumping against one of the other trucks and nearly running over both the guards (who hadn't yet had the presence of mind to shoot his tires out), and drove off towards the gate he'd seen earlier.
By the time he made it to the gate, he had worked out how to use the steering wheel and the accelerator, but none of the other pedals. He didn't bother slowing down, and simply crashed straight through it before heading off towards the city in second gear.
Weaver checked his face in the rear-view mirror. There were some unsightly bullet holes, but they were small ones that had already started to heal. They would be completely gone in a few minutes.
Weaver eventually found his way to a fence topped with barbed wire on the edge of the combat zone. The smoke seemed thicker down here, rolling across the terrain in thick strands like fingers. In the distance on his left was a gate, which was probably how normal people went in and out. Weaver prodded the fence. It was solid as a rock, and he couldn't tell whether it was meant to keep people out or keep them in. There was no obvious way through it, it didn't look easily destructible, and it was just a little too high for someone of Weaver's height and strength to vault over it; certainly too high for the soldiers to climb over. He wondered briefly what purpose it was meant to serve, then decided it didn't matter.
Peering through the fence, he noticed a towering city on the horizon, oddly indistinct and lit by dim lights. It struck him as strange, and for a few seconds he wasn't sure why. Then he realised he'd already looked in that direction earlier, and hadn't seen the city then. And there was a contestant who was a "ghost of some kind", wasn't there? Who might, if given a wide area, take on the appearance of a city? Weaver carefully reviewed his memories of the few seconds he'd spent looking at Gomorrah, but didn't find anything to suggest that was possible or impossible. Maybe he was wrong, and it was just that this world was the sort of place where physical locations appeared and disappeared with no rhyme or reason.
Either way, there was a city. It was probably safer than being in the middle of a warzone, there might be some useful information there, and if the other contestants were anywhere near here they would probably head for a big landmark (either the city itself or one he would be able to see from the top of the skyscrapers). Yes, the city would be a good place to head to. Still, it would take a long time to get there on foot. He would need transport.
There were two men left guarding the trucks. They were on edge - as they should be - but they were expecting to be comparatively safe where they were. The enemy would need to fight through the rest of their team before they made it back to the trucks, which was unlikely to happen for a while. And they were expecting reinforcements. It stood to reason that anyone approaching them from behind was friendly. So the soldiers kept their guard up, but their attention was mostly focused on the battlefield in front of them. They hadn't quite lived through enough battles to be properly suspicious of everything, all the time.
Of course, there was also a deafening amount of noise, so it was perhaps forgiveable that neither of them heard the tall dark figure approaching down the road until he was nearly on top of them. But there was no excuse for the nearest soldier hearing running feet behind him, turning to see who was there... and getting Weaver's fist to the side of his head, knocking him down. The other soldier reacted much better, and didn't stop to wonder who or what was attacking him. He brought his side-arm up in a practised movement and shot Weaver twice in the face. This did not have the result he was hoping for, though, and Weaver promptly swept his legs out from underneath him and kicked his gun away.
Weaver decided not to try to kill them - they were armed and trained to kill, while he only had a lifetime's experience in running away. Instead, he piled into the nearest truck and started it up. He'd never driven anything with a steering wheel before, but he'd seen pictures and had some idea of how it was supposed to work. After a false start while the soldiers picked themselves up and Weaver realised the handbrake was on, the truck suddenly revved up and skidded wildly on the dirt track. The truck was not designed for someone of Weaver's height, and he was sitting in a cramped posture that made it difficult to turn the steering wheel properly. Still, he managed to get the truck turned around, after bumping against one of the other trucks and nearly running over both the guards (who hadn't yet had the presence of mind to shoot his tires out), and drove off towards the gate he'd seen earlier.
By the time he made it to the gate, he had worked out how to use the steering wheel and the accelerator, but none of the other pedals. He didn't bother slowing down, and simply crashed straight through it before heading off towards the city in second gear.
Weaver checked his face in the rear-view mirror. There were some unsightly bullet holes, but they were small ones that had already started to heal. They would be completely gone in a few minutes.