Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 3: Las Orbitas]
01-17-2011, 10:52 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
”What’s even at a Naval Research lab that can get us out?”
“I don’t know, but as long as it gets us out before this whole place crumbles down on us…”
Chris and Douglas had been pretty much pals ever since they were next door neighbors, except for that one falling-out over a girl in high school, but they both got over it when she went with Brad freaking Jones instead. When Douglas went on and grew to be a rather good engineer, Chris tagged along, struggling to learn the same things he did. Douglas had to admit, this seemed a little odd to him, but he never questioned it or brought it up with Chris. Such a conversation could possibly lead to something awkward and he was content to leave all that drama alone. In any case, they were together, inseparable pals, whilst Brad freaking Jones was probably off in a janitor’s office somewhere, getting minimum wage. Both of them enjoyed speculating.
To be honest, being a janitor might not be too bad right now, considering how the whole station was going to hell. Well, it was supposed to go to hell in the first place, but not with them on it.
They both stumbled around in the dark, their headlamps wobbling everywhere as they glanced around for any of the sudden dangers that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere. Killer bugs, a demonic lava girl, bodies found everywhere…this was absolutely the worst time to be a rather smart and vulnerable engineer on Las Junkheap.
“Aw man, do you even know where we are?” Chris cried pitifully.
“Uh, well,” Douglas replied, not really wanting to admit that it was simply too damn dark to tell where anything was really and then he was interrupted by some lights coming on.
It was only a few, and they were flickering and dim, but they were lights. And, as the two watched, they were sure that as time passed, more lights came on, radiating from a certain point ahead of them.
“What the hell’s that?” Chris asked.
“I…guess we’ll find out,” Douglas said rather lamely and the two proceeded cautiously, ready to flee if any bug or flaming fire lady showed up. But all they found in the hallway ahead was some weird, strange, crude machine that was apparently plugged up to a hole in the wall and a rather tired-looking young man who was just sitting slumped on the floor, half his head covered up by a large, metallic helmet. An old-fashioned flashlight had fallen from his grasp.
The machine stood out from the rest of Las Orbitas because, even though the whole place was rather decrepit and abandoned, it was still designed with sleekness in mind. The machine, however, seemed clunky and noisy and not well-planned. Pumps and pistons were scattered everywhere with no real purpose other than to look busy. One exhaust pipe lead upwards and then curved back down to plunge into the confusing innards of the machine. Was its own exhaust meant to also be a fuel source? But…that’s impossible.
The engineer in Douglas urged him to come closer and examine the machine. “It’s…impossible. It just shouldn’t work not just in theory, it just shouldn’t work,” he muttered, taking off his headlamp and running his head through his hair.
“I’m just happy it does. C’mon, we’ve gotta get this guy out of here. Get his other arm, will ya?” Douglas strode back towards Chris, barely able to even rip his gaze from the impossible machine. He picked up the flashlight and turned it off before helping the man up.
As they started to move him, he groaned and groggily looked up. “Did…did it work….?”
Douglas hesitated under the flickering lights before saying, “Yes. It does.” Now that he could at least see partly around him, he knew exactly where to go. The circle of lights was getting dimmer further along the way, though. It was an amazing machine, but apparently not exactly efficient.
“I, I couldn’t…I didn’t know…”
“You made it, right? How does it work?” Douglas urged. His curiosity just couldn’t allow this to go by without a second glance.
“…My hat…I shouldn’t have two…thingies…wh-where, did it work…?”
“I think he’s drugged up, man. Don’t bother,” said Chris. “Just wish he could actually walk. Or at least not drag his feet…”
“It’s just…then how does someone completely high off his ass go and make some sort of machine that can power the place without even being really connected? Out of materials that I’m pretty sure we don’t even have?”
Chris shrugged, which was actually a little hard under the burden of the man’s heavy arm. “Eh. Maybe he built it and then got high off his ass?”
“But then what about the materials, huh? How did he even sneak in? I’m pretty sure he’s not part of the team! If he carried the materials in, how did he carry them all, and don’t you dare say his freaking backpack. And more importantly, how in the hell does it even begin to work?!”
Chris didn’t answer to this and as they walked on to the Naval Research lab, number ten or whatever, the only sound was the slow breathing of the man draped around their shoulders and the buzz of lights struggling to keep on.
“I…I have no…no damn clue…”
Douglas sighed. Well, they were almost to the damn lab that was supposed to provide them with a means of escape. As soon as they were safely packed away, maybe he could interrogate him more. Maybe when he was sober or coming down from whatever it was he was on.
”What’s even at a Naval Research lab that can get us out?”
“I don’t know, but as long as it gets us out before this whole place crumbles down on us…”
Chris and Douglas had been pretty much pals ever since they were next door neighbors, except for that one falling-out over a girl in high school, but they both got over it when she went with Brad freaking Jones instead. When Douglas went on and grew to be a rather good engineer, Chris tagged along, struggling to learn the same things he did. Douglas had to admit, this seemed a little odd to him, but he never questioned it or brought it up with Chris. Such a conversation could possibly lead to something awkward and he was content to leave all that drama alone. In any case, they were together, inseparable pals, whilst Brad freaking Jones was probably off in a janitor’s office somewhere, getting minimum wage. Both of them enjoyed speculating.
To be honest, being a janitor might not be too bad right now, considering how the whole station was going to hell. Well, it was supposed to go to hell in the first place, but not with them on it.
They both stumbled around in the dark, their headlamps wobbling everywhere as they glanced around for any of the sudden dangers that seemed to have popped up out of nowhere. Killer bugs, a demonic lava girl, bodies found everywhere…this was absolutely the worst time to be a rather smart and vulnerable engineer on Las Junkheap.
“Aw man, do you even know where we are?” Chris cried pitifully.
“Uh, well,” Douglas replied, not really wanting to admit that it was simply too damn dark to tell where anything was really and then he was interrupted by some lights coming on.
It was only a few, and they were flickering and dim, but they were lights. And, as the two watched, they were sure that as time passed, more lights came on, radiating from a certain point ahead of them.
“What the hell’s that?” Chris asked.
“I…guess we’ll find out,” Douglas said rather lamely and the two proceeded cautiously, ready to flee if any bug or flaming fire lady showed up. But all they found in the hallway ahead was some weird, strange, crude machine that was apparently plugged up to a hole in the wall and a rather tired-looking young man who was just sitting slumped on the floor, half his head covered up by a large, metallic helmet. An old-fashioned flashlight had fallen from his grasp.
The machine stood out from the rest of Las Orbitas because, even though the whole place was rather decrepit and abandoned, it was still designed with sleekness in mind. The machine, however, seemed clunky and noisy and not well-planned. Pumps and pistons were scattered everywhere with no real purpose other than to look busy. One exhaust pipe lead upwards and then curved back down to plunge into the confusing innards of the machine. Was its own exhaust meant to also be a fuel source? But…that’s impossible.
The engineer in Douglas urged him to come closer and examine the machine. “It’s…impossible. It just shouldn’t work not just in theory, it just shouldn’t work,” he muttered, taking off his headlamp and running his head through his hair.
“I’m just happy it does. C’mon, we’ve gotta get this guy out of here. Get his other arm, will ya?” Douglas strode back towards Chris, barely able to even rip his gaze from the impossible machine. He picked up the flashlight and turned it off before helping the man up.
As they started to move him, he groaned and groggily looked up. “Did…did it work….?”
Douglas hesitated under the flickering lights before saying, “Yes. It does.” Now that he could at least see partly around him, he knew exactly where to go. The circle of lights was getting dimmer further along the way, though. It was an amazing machine, but apparently not exactly efficient.
“I, I couldn’t…I didn’t know…”
“You made it, right? How does it work?” Douglas urged. His curiosity just couldn’t allow this to go by without a second glance.
“…My hat…I shouldn’t have two…thingies…wh-where, did it work…?”
“I think he’s drugged up, man. Don’t bother,” said Chris. “Just wish he could actually walk. Or at least not drag his feet…”
“It’s just…then how does someone completely high off his ass go and make some sort of machine that can power the place without even being really connected? Out of materials that I’m pretty sure we don’t even have?”
Chris shrugged, which was actually a little hard under the burden of the man’s heavy arm. “Eh. Maybe he built it and then got high off his ass?”
“But then what about the materials, huh? How did he even sneak in? I’m pretty sure he’s not part of the team! If he carried the materials in, how did he carry them all, and don’t you dare say his freaking backpack. And more importantly, how in the hell does it even begin to work?!”
Chris didn’t answer to this and as they walked on to the Naval Research lab, number ten or whatever, the only sound was the slow breathing of the man draped around their shoulders and the buzz of lights struggling to keep on.
“I…I have no…no damn clue…”
Douglas sighed. Well, they were almost to the damn lab that was supposed to provide them with a means of escape. As soon as they were safely packed away, maybe he could interrogate him more. Maybe when he was sober or coming down from whatever it was he was on.