Re: DEATHGAME 9000 [S!3] Round One: Gamexus X99
02-20-2012, 11:40 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by -Benedict.
The city was having... difficulties. Being a barely-sentient spectral memory... thing, it didn't understand concepts like "object-oriented programming", or "location references". What it understood (if it could be said to understand things, anyway) was the metropolis. It saw towering pillars of stone and steel, and said "Yes, that's what I am." It pulled the cityscape to itself, not cognizant of the differences between Los Angeles and, say, Raccoon City. How could it? Cities don't play video games. So it saw a ruined town full of monstrous, violent mobs and thought "perfect!" And if that place was busy occupying some other location in space and time... what concern was that to Gomorrah? It didn't have the capacity for greed, and if it had the capacity to respect another place's personal space, it certainly didn't show it. Raccoon City could share, right?
This was a problem, though, wasn't it? Certainly, the shade Lucky Stones didn't appreciate having been thrown out onto the streets by his own hostage. That wasn't right. He'd have to run, go back to the bosses and let 'em know the heist was a bust. He didn't really notice the undead hordes running around the place- wasn't all that different from the usual rioting, was it? All that mattered was making sure the Don didn't have his kneecaps for screwing up the job.
Lucky ran for a couple blocks, running out of breath. He rounded a corner, and found himself face to face with... a cloud of purple smoke.
"How'd it go, Lucky?" asked the smoke.
"Oh, it went off without a hitch, boss. Got away with a cool eighty grand in Hamiltons, right here." Lucky answered.
"Well, den. Dat's excellent news, innit? Hand it over. We'll put in a good word with the Don." The smoke extended a hand, and Lucky handed over a fat sack of purple smoke. The cloud of purple smoke opened up the sack and looked inside. "Lucky, can you count?"
"'Course I can. Graduated kindergarten with top honors, boss."
"So when I look in this bag, and you say eighty grand, and then you says Hamiltons... what do you count when I says Benjamins?" The smoke gave a questioning grin.
"Well, I'd count eight hunnerd thousand, wouldn't I?" The smoke broke into peals of laughter. Lucky laughed along with the boss and his men. Er, the smoke.
"You done a great thing, Stones. Whaddaya say to some drinks with me and the Don?"
"That'd be--"
Wait.
Wait a minute, Lucky thought to himself. Where did I get eight hundred K from, he pondered.
"Lucky?"
"Yeah, uh... boss, are you sure there's-- I'm meanin', is there really all that..."
He didn't rob the bank, did he? Could have sworn... he were gonna, weren't he? And then... that kid! That kid crashed into him, and he tried to take a hostage... and then he didn't rob any bank at all, did he? Got thrown right out on his ass.
"Boss, it's just, I'm thinkin', like maybe I goofed, are you sure about dat sack of cash there?"
"Yeah, Stones. Eight hundred thousand dollars in green."
That wasn't right. He didn't get anything, did he? He was supposed to march up to those tellers, get everybody on the floor, and take the money... but he didn't. Where'd... where'd the cash come from?
The bag disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
"Boss? Where'd it go?"
"Yeah, Stones. Eight hundred thousand dollars in green."
"What?"
"Yeah, Stones. Eight hundred thousand dollars in green."
"Boss, you're not makin' any--"
"Whaddaya say to some drinks with me and the Don. Green. You done a great thing. Thousand dollars in green." The boss and his men disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
Lucky froze. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. How could that have happened? Who was the bulletproof kid? Where... where'd the boss go? Lucky's head swam, this wasn't right. Where was he? Why was there a disheveled cannibal gnawin' on his arm? The Don drove the cannibals outta town like four weeks ago.
Don batted the cannibal away, ignoring the moans. He didn't have time for this, he didn't... he didn't know what on God's green earth was going on. He had to... he had to get away, this didn't make sense. He'd go back to the bank, see if he could... get a do-over, or something. Honestly, cannibals? He knew this city was goin' to the dogs, but really? Damn it.
The city was having... difficulties. Being a barely-sentient spectral memory... thing, it didn't understand concepts like "object-oriented programming", or "location references". What it understood (if it could be said to understand things, anyway) was the metropolis. It saw towering pillars of stone and steel, and said "Yes, that's what I am." It pulled the cityscape to itself, not cognizant of the differences between Los Angeles and, say, Raccoon City. How could it? Cities don't play video games. So it saw a ruined town full of monstrous, violent mobs and thought "perfect!" And if that place was busy occupying some other location in space and time... what concern was that to Gomorrah? It didn't have the capacity for greed, and if it had the capacity to respect another place's personal space, it certainly didn't show it. Raccoon City could share, right?
This was a problem, though, wasn't it? Certainly, the shade Lucky Stones didn't appreciate having been thrown out onto the streets by his own hostage. That wasn't right. He'd have to run, go back to the bosses and let 'em know the heist was a bust. He didn't really notice the undead hordes running around the place- wasn't all that different from the usual rioting, was it? All that mattered was making sure the Don didn't have his kneecaps for screwing up the job.
Lucky ran for a couple blocks, running out of breath. He rounded a corner, and found himself face to face with... a cloud of purple smoke.
"How'd it go, Lucky?" asked the smoke.
"Oh, it went off without a hitch, boss. Got away with a cool eighty grand in Hamiltons, right here." Lucky answered.
"Well, den. Dat's excellent news, innit? Hand it over. We'll put in a good word with the Don." The smoke extended a hand, and Lucky handed over a fat sack of purple smoke. The cloud of purple smoke opened up the sack and looked inside. "Lucky, can you count?"
"'Course I can. Graduated kindergarten with top honors, boss."
"So when I look in this bag, and you say eighty grand, and then you says Hamiltons... what do you count when I says Benjamins?" The smoke gave a questioning grin.
"Well, I'd count eight hunnerd thousand, wouldn't I?" The smoke broke into peals of laughter. Lucky laughed along with the boss and his men. Er, the smoke.
"You done a great thing, Stones. Whaddaya say to some drinks with me and the Don?"
"That'd be--"
Wait.
Wait a minute, Lucky thought to himself. Where did I get eight hundred K from, he pondered.
"Lucky?"
"Yeah, uh... boss, are you sure there's-- I'm meanin', is there really all that..."
He didn't rob the bank, did he? Could have sworn... he were gonna, weren't he? And then... that kid! That kid crashed into him, and he tried to take a hostage... and then he didn't rob any bank at all, did he? Got thrown right out on his ass.
"Boss, it's just, I'm thinkin', like maybe I goofed, are you sure about dat sack of cash there?"
"Yeah, Stones. Eight hundred thousand dollars in green."
That wasn't right. He didn't get anything, did he? He was supposed to march up to those tellers, get everybody on the floor, and take the money... but he didn't. Where'd... where'd the cash come from?
The bag disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
"Boss? Where'd it go?"
"Yeah, Stones. Eight hundred thousand dollars in green."
"What?"
"Yeah, Stones. Eight hundred thousand dollars in green."
"Boss, you're not makin' any--"
"Whaddaya say to some drinks with me and the Don. Green. You done a great thing. Thousand dollars in green." The boss and his men disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.
Lucky froze. That wasn't how it was supposed to go. How could that have happened? Who was the bulletproof kid? Where... where'd the boss go? Lucky's head swam, this wasn't right. Where was he? Why was there a disheveled cannibal gnawin' on his arm? The Don drove the cannibals outta town like four weeks ago.
Don batted the cannibal away, ignoring the moans. He didn't have time for this, he didn't... he didn't know what on God's green earth was going on. He had to... he had to get away, this didn't make sense. He'd go back to the bank, see if he could... get a do-over, or something. Honestly, cannibals? He knew this city was goin' to the dogs, but really? Damn it.