Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 1: Focal High School]
07-11-2010, 04:56 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by whoosh!.
Acacia opened her eyes and swept them lazily over the surrounding exhibits. Casually, she leaned against the glass of an exhibit featuring a kind of hooked Catherine wheel, in the act of expanding with the victim still attached. It was an excellent reproduction. She could almost hear the creak of flesh and wood.
Then his eyes flicked towards her. Acacia made no move. His mouth was open, and his straining chest puffed and heaved as he struggled against the pull of his traitorous flesh. However, he seemed to have gone far beyond screaming. Maybe some other person would have heard a whimper, or a final gasp, but she could only hear the raging silence.
She just saluted, turned, and walked away. The only thing she cared about was sitting in her head like a brain tumour on fire:
The Controller is going to die.
Aic weakly scrabbled for control, perhaps more out of panicked self preservation than anything, but Acacia just smirked with dead eyes and turned to face an executioner in the classic black hood from which only the eyes of the Grim Reaper could be seen. She slipped it away from it's previous owner, who was revealed to be lacking lips or even indeed ears. His eyes met hers, just like those of the victim she saluted.
“What are you looking at, my friend? You're defunct. Useless. Out of date. Whereas I have a job to do, and your little mask will be perfectly fitting for it.â€
He still just stared.
She sighed, and ran her fingertips over the stubble of her head. Maybe she should grow it out? The botanist shook her head and looked at the waxwork with a little disappointment.
“Damn, that's boring. Are the eyes following me meant to be creepy?â€
Predictably, no response. Acacia spun around again, picking a random direction to wander in, whilst shoving the hood over her head. She looked out through it with new eyes. And shivered with anticipation of what the future held.
Not now. Not right now. But one day. And then this body can be laid to r-
Her internal monologue was unfortunately disrupted by the axe cleanly splitting the air above her head, nicking the cloth of her hood. Acacia just dropped and rolled. She was winded and perhaps a little dazed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, when the executioner met her gaze again. Unfortunately, he was looking a little more active than last time.
Acacia stared at the ax raised above his head. He turned his attention to the pistol, retrieved during the roll and shaking in her entwined hands. A moment of surprise passed between them, but then the ax had to drop and the shot had to be fired.
A more aurally gifted passerby would have heard the shattering of glass, amongst the crack of the gunshot, the ring of steel and grating sound of metal on stone. And then the profuse swearing of a scientist in a black hood, fleeing a hoard of executioners who were possibly bothered by the splattered wax that lay around a particularly large ax.
Sound or not, Acacia was fleeing for her supposedly non-existent life.
Acacia opened her eyes and swept them lazily over the surrounding exhibits. Casually, she leaned against the glass of an exhibit featuring a kind of hooked Catherine wheel, in the act of expanding with the victim still attached. It was an excellent reproduction. She could almost hear the creak of flesh and wood.
Then his eyes flicked towards her. Acacia made no move. His mouth was open, and his straining chest puffed and heaved as he struggled against the pull of his traitorous flesh. However, he seemed to have gone far beyond screaming. Maybe some other person would have heard a whimper, or a final gasp, but she could only hear the raging silence.
She just saluted, turned, and walked away. The only thing she cared about was sitting in her head like a brain tumour on fire:
The Controller is going to die.
Aic weakly scrabbled for control, perhaps more out of panicked self preservation than anything, but Acacia just smirked with dead eyes and turned to face an executioner in the classic black hood from which only the eyes of the Grim Reaper could be seen. She slipped it away from it's previous owner, who was revealed to be lacking lips or even indeed ears. His eyes met hers, just like those of the victim she saluted.
“What are you looking at, my friend? You're defunct. Useless. Out of date. Whereas I have a job to do, and your little mask will be perfectly fitting for it.â€
He still just stared.
She sighed, and ran her fingertips over the stubble of her head. Maybe she should grow it out? The botanist shook her head and looked at the waxwork with a little disappointment.
“Damn, that's boring. Are the eyes following me meant to be creepy?â€
Predictably, no response. Acacia spun around again, picking a random direction to wander in, whilst shoving the hood over her head. She looked out through it with new eyes. And shivered with anticipation of what the future held.
Not now. Not right now. But one day. And then this body can be laid to r-
Her internal monologue was unfortunately disrupted by the axe cleanly splitting the air above her head, nicking the cloth of her hood. Acacia just dropped and rolled. She was winded and perhaps a little dazed for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, when the executioner met her gaze again. Unfortunately, he was looking a little more active than last time.
Acacia stared at the ax raised above his head. He turned his attention to the pistol, retrieved during the roll and shaking in her entwined hands. A moment of surprise passed between them, but then the ax had to drop and the shot had to be fired.
A more aurally gifted passerby would have heard the shattering of glass, amongst the crack of the gunshot, the ring of steel and grating sound of metal on stone. And then the profuse swearing of a scientist in a black hood, fleeing a hoard of executioners who were possibly bothered by the splattered wax that lay around a particularly large ax.
Sound or not, Acacia was fleeing for her supposedly non-existent life.