Re: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 1: Training Facility ONX)
07-13-2010, 07:48 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by GreyGabe.
[background=#000000:200rjws7]Marcus glanced around the chamber, taking the time to get a grip on his emotions, and push them into a deep, dark corner of his psyche where no one would ever hear from them again. Here he was, on unknown turf, apparently being pitted against enemies the likes of which he'd never seen, for the most part, all according to the whims of some sort of amoral god-like entity. Probably wouldn't do him any good to start blubbering like a little girl. Deciding nothing was going to sneak up on him for now, it didn't take him long to regain control of himself, and begin analyzing the situation. He started by checking his gear and ammunition, and formulating a loose plan of action. His levelheadedness, after all, was why Marcus got paid the big bucks.
Speaking of, is there some sorta prize for winning? Nevermind. Worry about that later.
He checked his ammunition reserves first. Plenty of spare clips for the Retribution, a fair number for his pistols, quite a few for his shotgun, and of course he didn't have to worry about his knives. Oh, and he had grabbed a few grenades, too. Could be better, but could be a hell of a lot worse, I guess.
He double checked his armor, finding it securely fastened, and made sure he had all of his extra equipment, which hung from belts and in pouches distributed around his person. Marcus just wished he had grabbed his helmet before… whatever the hell happened, happened. As it was, he would just have to hope nothing tried to redecorate his face to badly, ‘primitive appearance' or not. Marcus had to smirk at that. Always with the jokes about his face.
Okay, so. What am I up against? A little girl, a scary robot… thing, an android, a plant, a bookworm… uh… let's see… an ‘avatar' from a computer game, and some sorta fortune teller. I think that's it. Okay, so all I gotta do is take them down, or let them take each other down, and then I can… go… home…
Wait. Had that… thing ever said it was going to send the winner home? Marcus didn't think so. Hmm…
Marcus sighed. “Well, shit.â€
And what had it said about entertainment and data collection? Marcus was liking this less and less the more he thought about it. So perhaps the solution was not to think about it so much. Marcus took a longer look around the chamber he was in, noticing that there wasn't much to it that his cursory examination earlier had missed. Metal walls, concrete floors. Big fish tank. Green fluid in puddles on the floor. Minimalist décor (ha ha). No terrible monsters waiting to eat his delicious eyeballs. He poked at some of the green fluid with the toe of one boot, finding it to be… a slightly slippery green fluid. Meaning that it didn't eat through his boot or anything. Marcus shrugged and moved to the door, which suddenly opened automatically, causing Marcus to snap up his weapon, scanning the hallway beyond. Seemed to be empty. He relaxed. Slightly. Straining his hearing, Marcus listened for a few seconds. Nothing.
The way he figured it, all he had to do was survive. Surviving was something Marcus did well, if past experience was any indicator.
"'Course... I might be dead. And this might be Hell."
On that happy note...
Marcus began to stalk down the hall, slowly, quietly, holding the Retribution ready in case he needed to blow anything away.
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[background=#000000:200rjws7]Marcus glanced around the chamber, taking the time to get a grip on his emotions, and push them into a deep, dark corner of his psyche where no one would ever hear from them again. Here he was, on unknown turf, apparently being pitted against enemies the likes of which he'd never seen, for the most part, all according to the whims of some sort of amoral god-like entity. Probably wouldn't do him any good to start blubbering like a little girl. Deciding nothing was going to sneak up on him for now, it didn't take him long to regain control of himself, and begin analyzing the situation. He started by checking his gear and ammunition, and formulating a loose plan of action. His levelheadedness, after all, was why Marcus got paid the big bucks.
Speaking of, is there some sorta prize for winning? Nevermind. Worry about that later.
He checked his ammunition reserves first. Plenty of spare clips for the Retribution, a fair number for his pistols, quite a few for his shotgun, and of course he didn't have to worry about his knives. Oh, and he had grabbed a few grenades, too. Could be better, but could be a hell of a lot worse, I guess.
He double checked his armor, finding it securely fastened, and made sure he had all of his extra equipment, which hung from belts and in pouches distributed around his person. Marcus just wished he had grabbed his helmet before… whatever the hell happened, happened. As it was, he would just have to hope nothing tried to redecorate his face to badly, ‘primitive appearance' or not. Marcus had to smirk at that. Always with the jokes about his face.
Okay, so. What am I up against? A little girl, a scary robot… thing, an android, a plant, a bookworm… uh… let's see… an ‘avatar' from a computer game, and some sorta fortune teller. I think that's it. Okay, so all I gotta do is take them down, or let them take each other down, and then I can… go… home…
Wait. Had that… thing ever said it was going to send the winner home? Marcus didn't think so. Hmm…
Marcus sighed. “Well, shit.â€
And what had it said about entertainment and data collection? Marcus was liking this less and less the more he thought about it. So perhaps the solution was not to think about it so much. Marcus took a longer look around the chamber he was in, noticing that there wasn't much to it that his cursory examination earlier had missed. Metal walls, concrete floors. Big fish tank. Green fluid in puddles on the floor. Minimalist décor (ha ha). No terrible monsters waiting to eat his delicious eyeballs. He poked at some of the green fluid with the toe of one boot, finding it to be… a slightly slippery green fluid. Meaning that it didn't eat through his boot or anything. Marcus shrugged and moved to the door, which suddenly opened automatically, causing Marcus to snap up his weapon, scanning the hallway beyond. Seemed to be empty. He relaxed. Slightly. Straining his hearing, Marcus listened for a few seconds. Nothing.
The way he figured it, all he had to do was survive. Surviving was something Marcus did well, if past experience was any indicator.
"'Course... I might be dead. And this might be Hell."
On that happy note...
Marcus began to stalk down the hall, slowly, quietly, holding the Retribution ready in case he needed to blow anything away.
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