Re: Vendetta [S!2 Round 1 ~ Presidentialgon]
03-05-2012, 06:48 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Yako.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
He had been lucky that time, even he realized that. Very few complex organisms could be taken out from a few blows to the head. That particular human seemed out of sorts already. But if anyone else was here...
Zenith reached a fork in the passageways, stopped, listened. There wasn't the sound of anyone coming from either side. Best go right, then, always turn right.
This was sticky. Zenith understood the language of these people well enough-- it had been taught to him as one as a sort of romantic language, the language of a people who never traveled into space, only ever sending broadcasts and weird object out in hopes someone would find them. They were a very popular space culture among the Vella Kehn, almost a sister-culture with whom they could never communicate: the lonely travelers and the lonely broadcasters.
The words she was saying were definitely not friendly. Weapons? Always bad. And this place, Zenith thought as he made another right, with its sterile halls and ominous machines-- this place was not friendly. If they caught him, there was no telling what kind of probing he'd be subject to-- that's what aliens who didn't understand First Contact did, right?
Oh right, and there was that... interdimensional battle to the death thing, too. Today was shaping up to be a very bad day.
How many more rights would there be before he found an exit? Hoped he hadn't missed any...
---
Altara moved through the Presidentialgon with ease and grace, ignoring the din of all the chaos currently happening through its halls. Few people paid her any mind, if they glanced at her at all. Perfect.
Her newfound memory led her down the emptiest halls to the depths of the facility. Even with the changes to her stolen body, the DNA-based security system proved no difficulty to pass. Let's see what kind of power they hide here.
She had no memories of this place, these cold, smooth white halls, but that did nothing to worry her or slow her progress-- she moved through the harsh complex with absolute determination.
She stopped only when she came face to face with a very flustered little gray man.
Zenith was far too tired to try the "hit them in the head until they fall" strategy again. Instead, he stood staring blankly at the young woman.
She looked back at him-- not frightened or disgusted, just merely curious.
Curious was good. Curiosity usually meant that they'd leave you alive, at least. Why did she look so familiar? He was sure he hadn't seen her before, but she was irritatingly and uncannily similar to a human he had just seen...
Zenith moved almost without thinking, straightening his posture and raising one hand in pledge. She hadn't drawn any weapon yet, wasn't dressed like the person he had seen earlier. His instincts had told him that this was to be his best chance at first contact.
"I come in peace.
"...In unfortunate circumstances."
Very unfortunate.
Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god.
He had been lucky that time, even he realized that. Very few complex organisms could be taken out from a few blows to the head. That particular human seemed out of sorts already. But if anyone else was here...
Zenith reached a fork in the passageways, stopped, listened. There wasn't the sound of anyone coming from either side. Best go right, then, always turn right.
This was sticky. Zenith understood the language of these people well enough-- it had been taught to him as one as a sort of romantic language, the language of a people who never traveled into space, only ever sending broadcasts and weird object out in hopes someone would find them. They were a very popular space culture among the Vella Kehn, almost a sister-culture with whom they could never communicate: the lonely travelers and the lonely broadcasters.
The words she was saying were definitely not friendly. Weapons? Always bad. And this place, Zenith thought as he made another right, with its sterile halls and ominous machines-- this place was not friendly. If they caught him, there was no telling what kind of probing he'd be subject to-- that's what aliens who didn't understand First Contact did, right?
Oh right, and there was that... interdimensional battle to the death thing, too. Today was shaping up to be a very bad day.
How many more rights would there be before he found an exit? Hoped he hadn't missed any...
---
Altara moved through the Presidentialgon with ease and grace, ignoring the din of all the chaos currently happening through its halls. Few people paid her any mind, if they glanced at her at all. Perfect.
Her newfound memory led her down the emptiest halls to the depths of the facility. Even with the changes to her stolen body, the DNA-based security system proved no difficulty to pass. Let's see what kind of power they hide here.
She had no memories of this place, these cold, smooth white halls, but that did nothing to worry her or slow her progress-- she moved through the harsh complex with absolute determination.
She stopped only when she came face to face with a very flustered little gray man.
Zenith was far too tired to try the "hit them in the head until they fall" strategy again. Instead, he stood staring blankly at the young woman.
She looked back at him-- not frightened or disgusted, just merely curious.
Curious was good. Curiosity usually meant that they'd leave you alive, at least. Why did she look so familiar? He was sure he hadn't seen her before, but she was irritatingly and uncannily similar to a human he had just seen...
Zenith moved almost without thinking, straightening his posture and raising one hand in pledge. She hadn't drawn any weapon yet, wasn't dressed like the person he had seen earlier. His instincts had told him that this was to be his best chance at first contact.
"I come in peace.
"...In unfortunate circumstances."
Very unfortunate.