Re: The Great Belligerency [Round 2: New Shambhala]
11-07-2010, 01:45 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SleepingOrange.
Pan-Horizon Solutions, like so every other modestly-successful research firm in Laboratory District 7b, hummed as the sun glinted off its solar panels and skylights. Pan-Horizon solutions specialized in chemical synthesis, especially high-tensile and -performance polymers that had applications in commercial and research enterprises. It was fairly unremarkable, insofar as that was possible given that every person employed was the best of the best in their field, or at least close. Scientists of various species milled about, doing their business dressed in variations on the theme of labcoat. Given the inherent danger in many of the chemicals, processes, and machinery they used, careful warnings were posted visibly on nearly every wall and door, colorfully announcing just how explosive and toxic the contents of any given room were; it was usually "very". Goggles and respirators were very much in evidence.
Gerald Velxen was a human lab tech employed by Pan-Horizon. The job itself was fairly tedious and exacting, but it payed well and it was just something to do while he worked towards his doctorate. The fact that he had been accepted onto New Shambhala to study in their famous schools and work with the top minds of the known universe was so amazing in and of itself that the dull job was a barely-noticeable inconvenience. Today's task was working on the manufacture of a polymer that got used as insulation on spacecraft: it had several unique properties as a result of its complicated molecular structure; it was of course incredibly expensive, since the creation of that structure involved a number of processes, catalysts, and intermediate states that were volatile or toxic. And often both. The complicated process to create this odd polymer was, in addition to being extremely specific and hazardous, required the technician to eliminate any possible environmental contaminant; to that end, Gerald was isolated in a cleanroom and dressed head to toe in a heavy cleansuit. He was about halfway through with the process for his current batch, and as such hadn't seen another living person in hours.
He nearly dropped the tongs holding his current progress when he turned around to see a hovering woman in an ancient plague mask and a glove that appeared to be dripping blood from metal-tipped claws. His heavily-muffled voice yelled (as best it could), "Hey, you shouldn't be in here!" The woman in front of him turned the red-eyed mask towards him and didn't say anything for a moment. Then, with no warning, her ungloved hand pulled a sickle from her belt and began hacking with superhuman speed and ferocity at the unlucky scientist; he barely had a moment to scream in pain.
Ur hovered above his corpse. The murder hadn't even really been spurred by conscious thought, but was simply an expression of the bottomless rage she was feeling. There had been... There had been the perfect tool in front of her. The only way she'd ever found to truly destroy herself and the twisted perversion of what it should be that reality was. She had been so close, and it had been snatched away.
Even now, mere moments after leaving the Rainy Place and the stabilizing presence of the void, she could feel the ghosts stirring. Every second made it harder to think, to truly access her powers, as the whining, angry, weeping, selfish selfish utterly selfish voices raised in volume and quantity. Crystallizing in an instant was the realization that they only thing that could have stopped her had been the Executor and his powers over the void, and the associated desire to utterly subjugate or annihilate the smug bastard. If she wanted to get at him, there were six other's she'd have to slaughter first, and if some other sniveling sapients happened to be caught in the crossfire, well... That was just a bonus. She'd have to be quick, though, before she completely lost herself again to the voices.
---
Laboratory District 7b was near the top level of the starboard side of New Shambala; still, there were three levels between it and the outermost hull of the mountainous city-ship, which meant the explosion that sundered Pan-Horizon Solutions and everything between it and the exterior must have been near-inconceivably powerful. It was impossible to tell from the outside how deep the damage went beyond its source, but as the acrid chemical smoke dispersed into the atmosphere, a glowing man-sized golden orb rose from the crater; it vanished a moment later, and a green blur streaked across the hull of New Shambala.
Pan-Horizon Solutions, like so every other modestly-successful research firm in Laboratory District 7b, hummed as the sun glinted off its solar panels and skylights. Pan-Horizon solutions specialized in chemical synthesis, especially high-tensile and -performance polymers that had applications in commercial and research enterprises. It was fairly unremarkable, insofar as that was possible given that every person employed was the best of the best in their field, or at least close. Scientists of various species milled about, doing their business dressed in variations on the theme of labcoat. Given the inherent danger in many of the chemicals, processes, and machinery they used, careful warnings were posted visibly on nearly every wall and door, colorfully announcing just how explosive and toxic the contents of any given room were; it was usually "very". Goggles and respirators were very much in evidence.
Gerald Velxen was a human lab tech employed by Pan-Horizon. The job itself was fairly tedious and exacting, but it payed well and it was just something to do while he worked towards his doctorate. The fact that he had been accepted onto New Shambhala to study in their famous schools and work with the top minds of the known universe was so amazing in and of itself that the dull job was a barely-noticeable inconvenience. Today's task was working on the manufacture of a polymer that got used as insulation on spacecraft: it had several unique properties as a result of its complicated molecular structure; it was of course incredibly expensive, since the creation of that structure involved a number of processes, catalysts, and intermediate states that were volatile or toxic. And often both. The complicated process to create this odd polymer was, in addition to being extremely specific and hazardous, required the technician to eliminate any possible environmental contaminant; to that end, Gerald was isolated in a cleanroom and dressed head to toe in a heavy cleansuit. He was about halfway through with the process for his current batch, and as such hadn't seen another living person in hours.
He nearly dropped the tongs holding his current progress when he turned around to see a hovering woman in an ancient plague mask and a glove that appeared to be dripping blood from metal-tipped claws. His heavily-muffled voice yelled (as best it could), "Hey, you shouldn't be in here!" The woman in front of him turned the red-eyed mask towards him and didn't say anything for a moment. Then, with no warning, her ungloved hand pulled a sickle from her belt and began hacking with superhuman speed and ferocity at the unlucky scientist; he barely had a moment to scream in pain.
Ur hovered above his corpse. The murder hadn't even really been spurred by conscious thought, but was simply an expression of the bottomless rage she was feeling. There had been... There had been the perfect tool in front of her. The only way she'd ever found to truly destroy herself and the twisted perversion of what it should be that reality was. She had been so close, and it had been snatched away.
Even now, mere moments after leaving the Rainy Place and the stabilizing presence of the void, she could feel the ghosts stirring. Every second made it harder to think, to truly access her powers, as the whining, angry, weeping, selfish selfish utterly selfish voices raised in volume and quantity. Crystallizing in an instant was the realization that they only thing that could have stopped her had been the Executor and his powers over the void, and the associated desire to utterly subjugate or annihilate the smug bastard. If she wanted to get at him, there were six other's she'd have to slaughter first, and if some other sniveling sapients happened to be caught in the crossfire, well... That was just a bonus. She'd have to be quick, though, before she completely lost herself again to the voices.
---
Laboratory District 7b was near the top level of the starboard side of New Shambala; still, there were three levels between it and the outermost hull of the mountainous city-ship, which meant the explosion that sundered Pan-Horizon Solutions and everything between it and the exterior must have been near-inconceivably powerful. It was impossible to tell from the outside how deep the damage went beyond its source, but as the acrid chemical smoke dispersed into the atmosphere, a glowing man-sized golden orb rose from the crater; it vanished a moment later, and a green blur streaked across the hull of New Shambala.