Re: Vendetta [S!2 Round 1 ~ Presidentialgon]
01-27-2012, 04:11 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by XX.
“Negative, 5106. We have a number of suspects on the move and the Eastern delegation is going in for the kill on the half-shell, double beta gamma Greg. Hold your position at 35 metres. We’ll contact you.” Click.
A deer’s ears are sensitive things.
Even over the screams of frightened tourists and the roars of the furious viking pursuing him Exida could hear the soft crackle and hiss of intercoms going off like fireworks around the edge of the courtyard. Surprisingly few of them concerned the impromptu hunt; most were bored status reports interspersed with a few more interesting whispers of “reptilian” and “knockout” and “sexual harassment”. Low-level stuff. If this was their security, then the place was either totally unused to invasions or far, far too prepared. Exida preferred to imagine it was the latter. It reminded him of home.
He sailed like a glorious deer-shaped meteor over the heads of a squall of gawking tourists, landing nimbly on the courtyard floor in a clatter of hooves. The dreary fur-covered man was having a hard time keeping up with him despite his attempts to punch his way through the crowd. Somewhere between the last few leaps the barbarian had picked up a squealing child and was currently using it as a battering ram against the slower obstacles in his way, ignoring the horrified cries of impending lawsuits around him. With a few more bounds the deer swiftly put the obelisk between the two of them, more out of irritation than fear. The man’s progress was hopelessly slow.
“If you could just-”
“DEATH TO THE ARISTOCRACY!!” Rayeln screamed, obliterating a nearby lemonade cart. With a mighty thrust he sent the child rocketing vaguely in Exida’s direction. “YOUR DAYS OF OPPRESSING THESE PEOPLE ARE OVER, TYRANT! I WILL FREE THESE WRETCHES IF IT MEANS BREAKING EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY AND SUCKING OUT THE MARROW!”
Exida narrowed his eyes and scraped a hoof against the ground. With almost effeminately careful steps he sauntered over to the obelisk’s base and cleared his throat pointedly. Against the whiteness of his fur the laurels flashed.
“Stop,” the deer said, “this idiocy at once.”
Silence hit the crowd like an atom bomb. The people nearest the monument froze with fingers still jammed accusingly in the keys of their cellphones, staring at the stag with wide, blank eyes. Rayeln frowned and slowed to a gentle bull-rush, sword pointed like a compass needle straight at Exida’s heart.
With careless grace the deer struck a magnificent pose, head held high and haloed by the noonday sun. His antlers reached poignantly towards the fluttering NeoTransAmerican flag, arching upward like the hands of the huddled eco-conscious new age masses yearning to be free of the crushing weight of their vague and uninteresting problems, outstretched toward promises of nonspecific comforts. He surveyed the scene like an emperor, visibly hating each and every person with undisguised scorn even as the more emotionally fragile among them sank to their knees and wept with patriotic rapture. All but the furthest reaches of the plaza descended into an inspired hush; even Rayeln found himself slowing to a trot and then a standstill at Exida’s hooves, dimly trying to remember what he’d just been doing.
“You worthless cretins,” the deer sneered. The words echoed around the courtyard with the weight of a presidential address. He snorted and stamped a hoof on someone’s hand, who moaned with joy. “Like a bunch of screaming rats. Where is your dignity? You,” he said, tossing his head at Rayeln. “You did this. Fix it. They’re disgusting.”
“OH GOD, MORE,” someone screamed from the crowd, but Rayeln ignored them. He swiveled slowly, letting his sword drop and scowling at the thunderstruck faces of the crowd. At the fringes of the courtyard a few people had begun to look uncomfortable, but the rest gaped like fish in the direction of the- he had to admit- rather impressive aristocrat. He glanced back at Exida, who was currently scratching his head on the edge of the obelisk and puffing sulkily at his cigarette. Interesting.
“You… command these people?”
The stag glanced down at him with a faint sneer. “You ever had a discussion with the average homo sapiens? I’m not exactly running the Tour de France here. Am I, citizens?”
“PRESIDENT DEEEEEEERR! DEER FOR PRESIDENT!”
The astrocossack leaned heavily on his sword, stroking his mighty beard with a shovel-sized hand. He found himself momentarily dumbfounded. If what this strange creature was saying was true… if the people loved him this much, and presumably had never seen the beast before today… How could it make sense? There had to be some explanation for this behavior. Unless…
The barbarian’s eyes widened in existential shock as a tidal wave of assurance hit him. This must be what a political dissident looks like.
“MY FELLOW PROLETARIATIANS,” Rayeln roared, pointing his sword skyward at the blinding sun. Most of the crowd panicked and attempted to climb on each other’s shoulders. “THIS DEER… THIS MAN WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY AGAINST THE BOURGEOISIE! WE WILL RECLAIM WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS! WE WILL STAND IN THE GLORIOUS DAWN OF THE AGE THAT WE WILL FORGE FROM THE CORPSE OF THE OLD! WE WILL BASK IN THE GLORY THAT IS THE BIRTHRIGHT OF OURSELVES AND EVERYONE WHO AGREES WITH US! LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!”
“LONG LIVE THE REVMNMMMBLE,” the crowd screamed back, and lifted Rayeln above their heads as they waited in breathtaken anticipation for Exida to speak.
Delicate as a queen, the deer stepped down from the pedestal with self-righteous grace. There was a moment of tangible awed silence as he shifted the cigarette to the other side of his mouth and coughed.
“Take us,” Exida said, “to the idiot in charge of this dump.”
“Strike that earlier, 5106. We have a situation. Zeta beta Rambo tango.”
“Negative, 5106. We have a number of suspects on the move and the Eastern delegation is going in for the kill on the half-shell, double beta gamma Greg. Hold your position at 35 metres. We’ll contact you.” Click.
A deer’s ears are sensitive things.
Even over the screams of frightened tourists and the roars of the furious viking pursuing him Exida could hear the soft crackle and hiss of intercoms going off like fireworks around the edge of the courtyard. Surprisingly few of them concerned the impromptu hunt; most were bored status reports interspersed with a few more interesting whispers of “reptilian” and “knockout” and “sexual harassment”. Low-level stuff. If this was their security, then the place was either totally unused to invasions or far, far too prepared. Exida preferred to imagine it was the latter. It reminded him of home.
He sailed like a glorious deer-shaped meteor over the heads of a squall of gawking tourists, landing nimbly on the courtyard floor in a clatter of hooves. The dreary fur-covered man was having a hard time keeping up with him despite his attempts to punch his way through the crowd. Somewhere between the last few leaps the barbarian had picked up a squealing child and was currently using it as a battering ram against the slower obstacles in his way, ignoring the horrified cries of impending lawsuits around him. With a few more bounds the deer swiftly put the obelisk between the two of them, more out of irritation than fear. The man’s progress was hopelessly slow.
“If you could just-”
“DEATH TO THE ARISTOCRACY!!” Rayeln screamed, obliterating a nearby lemonade cart. With a mighty thrust he sent the child rocketing vaguely in Exida’s direction. “YOUR DAYS OF OPPRESSING THESE PEOPLE ARE OVER, TYRANT! I WILL FREE THESE WRETCHES IF IT MEANS BREAKING EVERY BONE IN YOUR BODY AND SUCKING OUT THE MARROW!”
Exida narrowed his eyes and scraped a hoof against the ground. With almost effeminately careful steps he sauntered over to the obelisk’s base and cleared his throat pointedly. Against the whiteness of his fur the laurels flashed.
“Stop,” the deer said, “this idiocy at once.”
Silence hit the crowd like an atom bomb. The people nearest the monument froze with fingers still jammed accusingly in the keys of their cellphones, staring at the stag with wide, blank eyes. Rayeln frowned and slowed to a gentle bull-rush, sword pointed like a compass needle straight at Exida’s heart.
With careless grace the deer struck a magnificent pose, head held high and haloed by the noonday sun. His antlers reached poignantly towards the fluttering NeoTransAmerican flag, arching upward like the hands of the huddled eco-conscious new age masses yearning to be free of the crushing weight of their vague and uninteresting problems, outstretched toward promises of nonspecific comforts. He surveyed the scene like an emperor, visibly hating each and every person with undisguised scorn even as the more emotionally fragile among them sank to their knees and wept with patriotic rapture. All but the furthest reaches of the plaza descended into an inspired hush; even Rayeln found himself slowing to a trot and then a standstill at Exida’s hooves, dimly trying to remember what he’d just been doing.
“You worthless cretins,” the deer sneered. The words echoed around the courtyard with the weight of a presidential address. He snorted and stamped a hoof on someone’s hand, who moaned with joy. “Like a bunch of screaming rats. Where is your dignity? You,” he said, tossing his head at Rayeln. “You did this. Fix it. They’re disgusting.”
“OH GOD, MORE,” someone screamed from the crowd, but Rayeln ignored them. He swiveled slowly, letting his sword drop and scowling at the thunderstruck faces of the crowd. At the fringes of the courtyard a few people had begun to look uncomfortable, but the rest gaped like fish in the direction of the- he had to admit- rather impressive aristocrat. He glanced back at Exida, who was currently scratching his head on the edge of the obelisk and puffing sulkily at his cigarette. Interesting.
“You… command these people?”
The stag glanced down at him with a faint sneer. “You ever had a discussion with the average homo sapiens? I’m not exactly running the Tour de France here. Am I, citizens?”
“PRESIDENT DEEEEEEERR! DEER FOR PRESIDENT!”
The astrocossack leaned heavily on his sword, stroking his mighty beard with a shovel-sized hand. He found himself momentarily dumbfounded. If what this strange creature was saying was true… if the people loved him this much, and presumably had never seen the beast before today… How could it make sense? There had to be some explanation for this behavior. Unless…
The barbarian’s eyes widened in existential shock as a tidal wave of assurance hit him. This must be what a political dissident looks like.
“MY FELLOW PROLETARIATIANS,” Rayeln roared, pointing his sword skyward at the blinding sun. Most of the crowd panicked and attempted to climb on each other’s shoulders. “THIS DEER… THIS MAN WILL LEAD US TO VICTORY AGAINST THE BOURGEOISIE! WE WILL RECLAIM WHAT IS RIGHTFULLY OURS! WE WILL STAND IN THE GLORIOUS DAWN OF THE AGE THAT WE WILL FORGE FROM THE CORPSE OF THE OLD! WE WILL BASK IN THE GLORY THAT IS THE BIRTHRIGHT OF OURSELVES AND EVERYONE WHO AGREES WITH US! LONG LIVE THE REVOLUTION!”
“LONG LIVE THE REVMNMMMBLE,” the crowd screamed back, and lifted Rayeln above their heads as they waited in breathtaken anticipation for Exida to speak.
Delicate as a queen, the deer stepped down from the pedestal with self-righteous grace. There was a moment of tangible awed silence as he shifted the cigarette to the other side of his mouth and coughed.
“Take us,” Exida said, “to the idiot in charge of this dump.”
“Strike that earlier, 5106. We have a situation. Zeta beta Rambo tango.”