Re: The Battle Royale S2 [Round 3: Endymion]
05-19-2011, 09:35 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
”Ow,” the Photographer said, though he wasn’t sure why. The force of something against his head woke him up, though whatever the something was, he couldn’t see it now.
He was awake. He really wished, for once, he was asleep. When he was awake, he was weak and confused and…and…stuff. That lucid dreaming thing he just did, that was the best he had felt. Control and power. He could use things like that. Also, for some reason, being awake now had the problem of feeling fuzzy and weird and it was hard to hear…uh…hear…the knife. Right.
The knife said something like…something was gone? Yeah, something went away. He hoped it wasn’t something important. There was also something else. A shoe was stuck somewhere too or something.
“I wanna go back t’ sleep,” the Photographer mumbled in reply and slumped onto the floor. But he didn’t go to sleep. Instead, he lay on the ground looking like a very odd hobo. It figures that the time he wanted to go to sleep he wasn’t able to. Maybe if he just stayed on the ground, he would go back to sleep eventually.
Then someone stepped in him.
After a bit of struggling and waving about, the two were separated and the Photographer had another shoe to add to his collection. The blob of whatever continued to lay motionless in the hopes that whoever was curiously digging their foot into his side would leave, but found himself instead being dragged somewhere by his legs. It seemed incredibly rude and presumptuous of this person to decide to take him somewhere though he supposed that it was also courteous of the person to think him uncomfortable out lying on the ground, which he had been. Though being dragged wasn’t much better.
The Photographer’s response to all these complaints was a resounding ‘whatever.’ He went back to trying to get to sleep again. When he started lucid-dreaming again, everything will be all better.
There was the sound of a hatch opening and then he was being dragged down, his head hitting each step of a stairway on his way underground. He mumbled apologies to every step along the way. They seemed preoccupied by something else. Actually, a lot of things seemed preoccupied by something else. He never heard quite this much collaboration before.
The person dumped him on a slab, though it could tentatively be called a bed if someone wanted to. After a few seconds, the Photographer allowed himself to take a peek at his surroundings. Pipes. Bright screens, almost blindingly so. Something that sounded like squabbling pistons. Things that connected to things that did other things to move that thing. Everything connected to everything else to make up a really big Thing. Individual voices and one really big Voice. There seemed to be something really…really…awe-inspiring, maybe? About all these individual pieces working together, making up this Thing, whatever it was. Very inspiring.
The Photographer went back to trying to go to sleep as, over some sort of telecommunication device, the person murmured, “…found something interesting…won’t give me back my shoe…”
”Ow,” the Photographer said, though he wasn’t sure why. The force of something against his head woke him up, though whatever the something was, he couldn’t see it now.
He was awake. He really wished, for once, he was asleep. When he was awake, he was weak and confused and…and…stuff. That lucid dreaming thing he just did, that was the best he had felt. Control and power. He could use things like that. Also, for some reason, being awake now had the problem of feeling fuzzy and weird and it was hard to hear…uh…hear…the knife. Right.
The knife said something like…something was gone? Yeah, something went away. He hoped it wasn’t something important. There was also something else. A shoe was stuck somewhere too or something.
“I wanna go back t’ sleep,” the Photographer mumbled in reply and slumped onto the floor. But he didn’t go to sleep. Instead, he lay on the ground looking like a very odd hobo. It figures that the time he wanted to go to sleep he wasn’t able to. Maybe if he just stayed on the ground, he would go back to sleep eventually.
Then someone stepped in him.
After a bit of struggling and waving about, the two were separated and the Photographer had another shoe to add to his collection. The blob of whatever continued to lay motionless in the hopes that whoever was curiously digging their foot into his side would leave, but found himself instead being dragged somewhere by his legs. It seemed incredibly rude and presumptuous of this person to decide to take him somewhere though he supposed that it was also courteous of the person to think him uncomfortable out lying on the ground, which he had been. Though being dragged wasn’t much better.
The Photographer’s response to all these complaints was a resounding ‘whatever.’ He went back to trying to get to sleep again. When he started lucid-dreaming again, everything will be all better.
There was the sound of a hatch opening and then he was being dragged down, his head hitting each step of a stairway on his way underground. He mumbled apologies to every step along the way. They seemed preoccupied by something else. Actually, a lot of things seemed preoccupied by something else. He never heard quite this much collaboration before.
The person dumped him on a slab, though it could tentatively be called a bed if someone wanted to. After a few seconds, the Photographer allowed himself to take a peek at his surroundings. Pipes. Bright screens, almost blindingly so. Something that sounded like squabbling pistons. Things that connected to things that did other things to move that thing. Everything connected to everything else to make up a really big Thing. Individual voices and one really big Voice. There seemed to be something really…really…awe-inspiring, maybe? About all these individual pieces working together, making up this Thing, whatever it was. Very inspiring.
The Photographer went back to trying to go to sleep as, over some sort of telecommunication device, the person murmured, “…found something interesting…won’t give me back my shoe…”