Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 5: GrandCon]
04-10-2012, 07:08 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
Controller, do you read me?
I should say he does.
Countess froze, her transmitter snapped off like a child hiding something stolen.
"How did you-"
I say he reads you exceptionally well.
Like a book, in fact. A formerly well-paged and tiresomely familiar book.
The amalgam trembled, a very urgent need to rip something apart tempered by nobody else in the room. Unable to retort, she settled for a scream which badly startled a goggled, jetpack-toting blonde passing by in the corridor.
Oh, come now - don't shoot the messenger, Countess. I empathise with you, in more ways than you'd think.
"You're not supposed to be here," she snarled, kicking and stabbing furniture indiscriminately as she paced the tiny room. "You're wrong, something must've happened, you wouldn't be here if he knew-"
If you will not listen to me, Countess, at least listen to yourself. You declare all the facts, yet ignore the obvious conclusions. He is watching, and he does know. He tolerates it, believing I am no bigger threat to his battle's integrity than his agent's realisation of betrayal.
There was a tentative knocking.
"Go away. Leave me alone."
I will not. My terms are written in black and white, so to speak - I cannot choose another host without killing my last. I will not pretend my transferring to you was a premediated action, but I am nothing if not an opportunist. This relationship has the potential to be a fruitful opportunity for the both of us, if you would be inclined to co-operate.
"Um, are you sure? Maybe there's something I can do-"
"I don't care. Go away."
Please, Countess. Be reasonable. Do you honestly want to sign your death warrant for the sake of some solitude?
Countess almost answered "yes", but instead stared at the floor, limbs occasionally twitching as though trigger-ready for a fight.
"Just be quiet, then," she eventually muttered. Countess went for the door, and was as honestly surprised as the lady standing on the other side of it.
"Oh, wow," was the door-knocker's eventual awed response. "That's fucking amazing. 'scuse my language," she swiftly corrected, a gloved hand unconsciously covering her mouth. "I hope it's not too ignorant a question, but... who are you supposed to be?"
Controller, do you read me?
I should say he does.
Countess froze, her transmitter snapped off like a child hiding something stolen.
"How did you-"
I say he reads you exceptionally well.
Like a book, in fact. A formerly well-paged and tiresomely familiar book.
The amalgam trembled, a very urgent need to rip something apart tempered by nobody else in the room. Unable to retort, she settled for a scream which badly startled a goggled, jetpack-toting blonde passing by in the corridor.
Oh, come now - don't shoot the messenger, Countess. I empathise with you, in more ways than you'd think.
"You're not supposed to be here," she snarled, kicking and stabbing furniture indiscriminately as she paced the tiny room. "You're wrong, something must've happened, you wouldn't be here if he knew-"
If you will not listen to me, Countess, at least listen to yourself. You declare all the facts, yet ignore the obvious conclusions. He is watching, and he does know. He tolerates it, believing I am no bigger threat to his battle's integrity than his agent's realisation of betrayal.
There was a tentative knocking.
"Go away. Leave me alone."
I will not. My terms are written in black and white, so to speak - I cannot choose another host without killing my last. I will not pretend my transferring to you was a premediated action, but I am nothing if not an opportunist. This relationship has the potential to be a fruitful opportunity for the both of us, if you would be inclined to co-operate.
"Um, are you sure? Maybe there's something I can do-"
"I don't care. Go away."
Please, Countess. Be reasonable. Do you honestly want to sign your death warrant for the sake of some solitude?
Countess almost answered "yes", but instead stared at the floor, limbs occasionally twitching as though trigger-ready for a fight.
"Just be quiet, then," she eventually muttered. Countess went for the door, and was as honestly surprised as the lady standing on the other side of it.
"Oh, wow," was the door-knocker's eventual awed response. "That's fucking amazing. 'scuse my language," she swiftly corrected, a gloved hand unconsciously covering her mouth. "I hope it's not too ignorant a question, but... who are you supposed to be?"
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow