Re: The Gradual Massacre (GBS2G4) [Round 5: GrandCon]
07-21-2012, 01:30 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by MrGuy.
"...so at least in my mind, Six's psychoses stem from his language recognition software inevitably forcing him to become human, a sort of "words have power" thing similar to Orwell's Newspeak." The brown-haired woman in a T-Shirt and slacks laid the microphone down and placed her arms on the table, which the assistant in the aisles took as his cue to determine the next person to answer. For some reason, though, as soon as he glanced at the woman dressed as Annaliese, he was convinced she should answer the question - maybe it was the way her tentatively-raised hand and ill-fitting clothes suited the character, maybe it was an inscrutable snap decision, maybe he realized he'd been neglecting that general portion of the audience and wanted to smooth it over.
Maybe, while everyone was intently focused on the speaker, Holly had "accidentally" dropped her glasses and, fumbling around for them, launched what used to be a romance novel or a bag of coffee at him. There were many possibilities, so why bother focusing on one?
As he handed the microphone off to her, the elf cleared her throat, double-checked her brochure, and finally said "This is a question for Mr. 'Firestorm' LeMarche. In round two of The Gradual Massacre, Holly found out that Countess was made of nanobots. So, what exactly were the plans for that?"
Elmo "Firestorm" LeMarche - a man with a crooked nose, a pierced ear that really didn't suit him at all, a trim red beard, and a mildly stained blue suit - gave an exaggerated grimace as he picked up the microphone. "Well, by now you may have noticed that we're not entirely sure what we're doing." Pause for a mildly disappointing amount of laughter. "Initially, Algernon was going to end up with a note about it, which an engineer - probably Rolf, though this was a while ago, so I could be wrong - would explain the weaknesses of. But plans evolve, and we never actually..."
Holly's blood was boiling (figuratively speaking; in actuality, it was only about 115 degrees Fahrenheit). This asshole never even figured out what she was supposed to be weak to? This was the most useless thing she'd done in the whole battle Oh please, don't sell yourself short. You've done FAR more useless things.
In the midst of this hallucinatory self-deprecation, however, LeMarche continued. "...originally a much greater emphasis based on Countess's manipulations on behalf of the Controller, but as we trimmed the fat, it got to the point where we had to add The Message just to make it plausible that he could give her orders, seeing as..."
The elf calmed down a substantial amount at this point, and gave an authentic thank you when the microphone was once again pointed in her direction. The assistant moved on and the panel continued, with one elf much happier for it.
-----------------------------------
The Countess walked down the hallway with a woman wearing repurposed goggles (attained secondhand from a steampunk buff) and a labcoat. The latter, a young woman named Jessica, was scanning the crowds. Countess, doing the same, pointed at a man in the distance. "Is that him over there, perhaps?"
Jessica squinted. "Nah. First, he's blonde, and second I think that's the guy from the battle with all the fish." A rather portly fellow in a robot costume paused to clarify that it was the Relentless Slaughter and they were referring to Martin Holden, before heading off and adjusting the lobster-in-a-fishbowl attached to his hat.
The amalgam was about to suggest someone else, but was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, Countess saw an all-too-familiar face, albeit framed by a pair of glasses that wasn't typically there. Said face chirped "Hey there, Angie! I was wondering where you got off to. How about we go over that way and talk? We can... discuss what we learned at the panels." With that, the elf strolled off to a nearby water fountain.
Countess gave her best "can you believe this shit" look to Dr. Anarchy, who simply said that they could talk later, since her friend was clearly excited. Friend indeed. Nonetheless, she scuttled over, giving a phony grin. "Why, hello there, er..."
"Chelsea!"
"Chelsea," the amalgam continued, speaking with so much treacle you could practically see it dripping. "So, what is it that you're so very interested in sharing?"
Holly simply continued staring back cheerfully. "From what I've heard, a friend of yours already set you straight. What is it like, having a piece of paper as a co-worker?" Countess's grin rather quickly disappeared, and Holly continued, dropping any illusion of friendliness. "I know you're working for him. And after I learned that little tidbit, I got my hands on a copy of the Gradual Massacre, so I could learn more." Never mind that she was lying; she doubted Countess would notice, and if she did, she was unlikely to care. In contrast, if she didn't, Holly had even more leverage. "He's long gone, Countess. Nothing but voice recordings and underlings of underlings left." And finally, the coup de grace: She stared squarely into Countess's eyes, focusing on her with the best mix of pity and disgust that she could convey. "He abandoned you."
To the elf, it was as if flashing lights and ringing bells were going off all around the amalgam. The seed of doubt was planted, and if it took, the feelings of abandonment would bring forth all the worst emotions imaginable. Fear, hatred, despair, all trivial to manipulate with or without magic. She was in.
There was a long pause, though the background murmur of other visitors prevented any true silence. Finally, the Countess managed to spit out the words "I see. Allow me to respond in turn." Holly barely even noticed the sudden increase in anger before she'd been knocked flat on the ground. The wind knocked out of her, all she could do was stare upward and catch her breath as Countess ever-so-gently placed a razor-sharp foot above her chest. "One second, and you're bleeding out on the ground. Much less I have to deal with, too. Give me one reason I shouldn't."
The elf started a silent prayer, but quickly abandoned it, deciding that it was best if she didn't draw the attention of any gods. She managed to wheeze out a "revenge."
Countess sighed and removed her foot, helping Holly to stand. The small crowd that had gathered (as tended to happen when things like this occured at GrandCon) applauded and dispersed. The amalgam scowled. "I need to get back to business. Follow me."
The pair, both of them hastily putting their smiles back on, quickly rejoined Jessica. Countess pushed Holly forward. "Jessica, this is Chelsea. Chelsea, this is Jessica. I think you two will get along excellently."
"...so at least in my mind, Six's psychoses stem from his language recognition software inevitably forcing him to become human, a sort of "words have power" thing similar to Orwell's Newspeak." The brown-haired woman in a T-Shirt and slacks laid the microphone down and placed her arms on the table, which the assistant in the aisles took as his cue to determine the next person to answer. For some reason, though, as soon as he glanced at the woman dressed as Annaliese, he was convinced she should answer the question - maybe it was the way her tentatively-raised hand and ill-fitting clothes suited the character, maybe it was an inscrutable snap decision, maybe he realized he'd been neglecting that general portion of the audience and wanted to smooth it over.
Maybe, while everyone was intently focused on the speaker, Holly had "accidentally" dropped her glasses and, fumbling around for them, launched what used to be a romance novel or a bag of coffee at him. There were many possibilities, so why bother focusing on one?
As he handed the microphone off to her, the elf cleared her throat, double-checked her brochure, and finally said "This is a question for Mr. 'Firestorm' LeMarche. In round two of The Gradual Massacre, Holly found out that Countess was made of nanobots. So, what exactly were the plans for that?"
Elmo "Firestorm" LeMarche - a man with a crooked nose, a pierced ear that really didn't suit him at all, a trim red beard, and a mildly stained blue suit - gave an exaggerated grimace as he picked up the microphone. "Well, by now you may have noticed that we're not entirely sure what we're doing." Pause for a mildly disappointing amount of laughter. "Initially, Algernon was going to end up with a note about it, which an engineer - probably Rolf, though this was a while ago, so I could be wrong - would explain the weaknesses of. But plans evolve, and we never actually..."
Holly's blood was boiling (figuratively speaking; in actuality, it was only about 115 degrees Fahrenheit). This asshole never even figured out what she was supposed to be weak to? This was the most useless thing she'd done in the whole battle Oh please, don't sell yourself short. You've done FAR more useless things.
In the midst of this hallucinatory self-deprecation, however, LeMarche continued. "...originally a much greater emphasis based on Countess's manipulations on behalf of the Controller, but as we trimmed the fat, it got to the point where we had to add The Message just to make it plausible that he could give her orders, seeing as..."
The elf calmed down a substantial amount at this point, and gave an authentic thank you when the microphone was once again pointed in her direction. The assistant moved on and the panel continued, with one elf much happier for it.
-----------------------------------
The Countess walked down the hallway with a woman wearing repurposed goggles (attained secondhand from a steampunk buff) and a labcoat. The latter, a young woman named Jessica, was scanning the crowds. Countess, doing the same, pointed at a man in the distance. "Is that him over there, perhaps?"
Jessica squinted. "Nah. First, he's blonde, and second I think that's the guy from the battle with all the fish." A rather portly fellow in a robot costume paused to clarify that it was the Relentless Slaughter and they were referring to Martin Holden, before heading off and adjusting the lobster-in-a-fishbowl attached to his hat.
The amalgam was about to suggest someone else, but was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Turning around, Countess saw an all-too-familiar face, albeit framed by a pair of glasses that wasn't typically there. Said face chirped "Hey there, Angie! I was wondering where you got off to. How about we go over that way and talk? We can... discuss what we learned at the panels." With that, the elf strolled off to a nearby water fountain.
Countess gave her best "can you believe this shit" look to Dr. Anarchy, who simply said that they could talk later, since her friend was clearly excited. Friend indeed. Nonetheless, she scuttled over, giving a phony grin. "Why, hello there, er..."
"Chelsea!"
"Chelsea," the amalgam continued, speaking with so much treacle you could practically see it dripping. "So, what is it that you're so very interested in sharing?"
Holly simply continued staring back cheerfully. "From what I've heard, a friend of yours already set you straight. What is it like, having a piece of paper as a co-worker?" Countess's grin rather quickly disappeared, and Holly continued, dropping any illusion of friendliness. "I know you're working for him. And after I learned that little tidbit, I got my hands on a copy of the Gradual Massacre, so I could learn more." Never mind that she was lying; she doubted Countess would notice, and if she did, she was unlikely to care. In contrast, if she didn't, Holly had even more leverage. "He's long gone, Countess. Nothing but voice recordings and underlings of underlings left." And finally, the coup de grace: She stared squarely into Countess's eyes, focusing on her with the best mix of pity and disgust that she could convey. "He abandoned you."
To the elf, it was as if flashing lights and ringing bells were going off all around the amalgam. The seed of doubt was planted, and if it took, the feelings of abandonment would bring forth all the worst emotions imaginable. Fear, hatred, despair, all trivial to manipulate with or without magic. She was in.
There was a long pause, though the background murmur of other visitors prevented any true silence. Finally, the Countess managed to spit out the words "I see. Allow me to respond in turn." Holly barely even noticed the sudden increase in anger before she'd been knocked flat on the ground. The wind knocked out of her, all she could do was stare upward and catch her breath as Countess ever-so-gently placed a razor-sharp foot above her chest. "One second, and you're bleeding out on the ground. Much less I have to deal with, too. Give me one reason I shouldn't."
The elf started a silent prayer, but quickly abandoned it, deciding that it was best if she didn't draw the attention of any gods. She managed to wheeze out a "revenge."
Countess sighed and removed her foot, helping Holly to stand. The small crowd that had gathered (as tended to happen when things like this occured at GrandCon) applauded and dispersed. The amalgam scowled. "I need to get back to business. Follow me."
The pair, both of them hastily putting their smiles back on, quickly rejoined Jessica. Countess pushed Holly forward. "Jessica, this is Chelsea. Chelsea, this is Jessica. I think you two will get along excellently."