Re: The Battle Majestic (Round 3 - Oxbow Inc.)
06-05-2011, 02:39 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Not The Author.
As a mercenary, Jacob had been in many desperate situations before. No matter how much planning went into a job, there was always a chance of something unexpected coming up and landing you smack in the middle of a bunch of heavily armed guards who did not fire warning shots. As a time-traveller, he’d found himself in some very bizarre circumstances. He’d been to the prehistoric era, where magic hadn’t been set in laws and energy flowed freely, warping the natives into forms relegated to myths in his present. As a high-ranked time-travelling mercenary, he’d bartered with a cult of necromancers, ended up stealing their dark tome when bribery didn’t work, then fought off a horde of undead and golems to buy the future time to send backup.
Chased by yeticops in a submarine society populated by manimals while hunting for a fruitisaur that would probably end up destroying the world with a tree? Just another day at the office.
“Stop! We have you surround! Did. Ded. …Surroundided.”
“What about other side…?”
“What about other side?”
Two of the beasts now barred his path. They were slow and stupid, but he was tired, weak, and nearly out of mana. The first few had surprised him by not only not dying for several minutes after being stabbed in the chest, but continuing to fight even after generous application of additional normally-fatal wounds. Jacob had quickly realized that his sword wasn’t cutting it and decided to just outrun whatever guards he encountered, but there always seemed to be another group of them blocking whatever path he took.
He couldn’t go around them, and going back risked facing all the guards he’d given the slip. He had no chance with a direct, physical route, and only had enough stored energy to create one tunnel a few inches wide for a few seconds. He could kill one of them that way, but the other would…
Fall over, clutching at its neck?
The mercenary wasn’t a man to question his luck. As the upright guard turned his blank stare to his prone companion, he felt a cold spark run through his brain in a way that just felt wrong. Then he felt a cold sword run through his brain. Then he didn’t feel.
By then, the first to fall had stopped moving, and a familiar pair of white gloves extracted themselves from their entanglement with meaty fingers and a crushed windpipe. They performed a mid-air high-five as their owner rounded the corner ahead, grinning sheepishly.
“You looked like you could, uh-“
“Use a hand?”
Steven scratched his neck guiltily. “I… might not have said…”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get moving; these guards are everywhere, and the sooner we’re gone the less likely they are to swarm us.”
One of the gloves curled into a fist and suddenly shot towards a girder overhead. There was a muffled crunch, and tiny scraps of metal rained down from above.
“Yeah, this might help some.”
The glove returned cradling the remains of a large brass beetle. One of the machine’s legs twitched pitifully, as though to compensate for the ones that had broken off. Its shell held a variety of what might have been power tools before its violent demise. The droid’s head was totally wrecked, though the intended function of its cracked glass eyes was obvious enough.
“From the insides I’d say they’re supposed to be for maintenance, but they make good mobile cameras, too. I think they're used to keep an eye on back-alleys like this one, ‘s why the guards kept catching up.”
“I… can’t say I noticed.”
“Well, I didn’t either; the gloves figured it out first. They’ve been keeping me off the radar. C’mon, I’ll show you my place.”
Curious, the swordsman followed the traveler down a corridor, up a ladder, through a window, and into a long-abandoned concrete chamber. a few wooden planks littered the floor, and a pile of sheet metal served as a makeshift table. The centerpiece of the rooom was an incongruous beanbag, which Steven immediately collapsed upon. The gloves remained at the entrance to guard against unwanted visitors, and Jacob leaned against the wall, grateful for a chance to rest.
“So, yeah. Make yourself at home. Sorry I don’t have another ‘bag, but I wasn’t really expecting…”
The swordsman chuckled. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine as I am.”
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, poorly masked under the quiet orchestra playing through Jacob’s coat. Though Steven clearly wanted to fill the void, he never quite seemed to find the words. Jacob spoke first.
“About your gloves. Our… hosts seemed to think that your handwear could create and destroy, but… they weren’t very clear on how that worked. You skipped over that detail in your own explanation as well.”
Steven shrugged. “Must have, uh, slipped my mind. But yeah, I can make things, though it takes some effort, and destroy them as well.”
“Things like what?”
“Like… anything, I guess. Sandwiches, chains, this beanbag… I made a whole biplane, once, but that was…”
The vagrant trailed off, lost for a moment in his memories. Then his gaze snapped back to the swordsman.
“Don’t ask me to make a-”
“No, no, that shouldn’t be necessary.” Jacob traced a slow path across the room. “But since you offer, I could use a few things.”
Steven frowned, hunching forward in his seat. “Like what?”
“Oh, nothing major. One or two adrenaline shots, something to hold them, and a map should suffice.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not so… I have a map with me, actually, but, uh, if you don’t mind me asking what the adrenaline's for…?”
The mercenary sighed, wary of telling others too much about himself. On the other hand, it would build trust. Trust was useful.
“I draw energy from myself to power my spells. I can store that energy in my sword, but right at the moment I’m not in peak condition. Nor,” he grumbled, holding his stained, not-glowing blade up for inspection, “do I have any energy left in here.”
“One shot for now, one shot for emergencies. If I’d had advance warning of this… contest, I’d already have some syringes on me, but at the moment you’re the only available source.”
Steven shrugged, acquiescing, as one of the gloves floated idly back to him. He seemed about to set to work, but looked up at the swordsman instead.
“Could you, uh, turn around, or something? I don't really like people… hovering, when I'm…”
“No, no, that’s fine, I understand. If you could make a cup of water as well; adrenaline tends to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I’ll just be… Is there a phone nearby? I have a call to make.”
***
Liss had opted to remain in the Central Security Office until this debacle had been resolved. Two of her scaly subordinates had joined her, bringing with them a flock of security specialists to replace the original incompetent chair-warmer. They had been keeping better tabs on the situation but still hadn’t made much progress. One of the humans had been located in the warehouse district, but she had apparently conscripted the aid of some sort of… glowing, transparent raptor and destroyed the one Sentinel they’d sent after her. A few more had been sent to secure the area, but the administrator had the nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t be enough. Reports of a suited man had been crisscrossing the security channels, but his location never seemed to follow any logical or even euclidean pattern. The one that could turn invisible... could turn invisible; his evasion was not terribly surprising, but it still annoyed her to no end. She didn't even know what they were doing there; if they were going to blow the dome, Hydropower was the ideal place to do it, but-
A phone rang. The phone rang. The phone they’d told people to call if they had information. Liss was sort of surprised; she’d expected the idiots this place employed to be too panicked or too dead to actually respond. She hissed, picking up the receiver. “You’ve reached Oxbow Central Security. We’re busy. Make it important and make it quick.”
“My terms are simple.”
The lizard couldn’t actually frown deeper, though her efforts were admirable. The voice at the other end sounded… odd. Most species native to Nubium had slight but identifiable vocal quirks, except of course for the Rhone, whose accents were anything but slight. No rolling S, no clicking beak, and certainly too articulate for a Yagg. With a sinking feeling, she realized that this was probably one of the humans.
“There is a green, glowing, dinosaur-like creature somewhere within this facility. The longer it lives, the more likely it will to plant one of its seeds and destroy this dome. Kill it, and the intruders in this facility will leave without a trace.”
“Who is this?”
The caller paused, seeming to mull the question over.
“How about this… When I find you, I’ll tell you. And I will find you. Have the thing dead before then, or your life will become very unpleasant. And very short.”
*click*
He’d known about the raptor. She hadn’t known about the raptor until it’d killed one of their robotic guards. Something was going on to which she wasn’t privy, and she suspected that someone, somewhere was having a wonderful laugh about it all. Liss licked her eyes irritably. “Tell me someone traced that call.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am, we know exactly where they are. Coincides with the trail of dead Beetles, too.”
The lizard exposed her jagged, carnivorous teeth, in what still didn’t quite amount to a smile. “Good. Send a squad of Sentinels down there. I want this cocky bastard dead.”
As a mercenary, Jacob had been in many desperate situations before. No matter how much planning went into a job, there was always a chance of something unexpected coming up and landing you smack in the middle of a bunch of heavily armed guards who did not fire warning shots. As a time-traveller, he’d found himself in some very bizarre circumstances. He’d been to the prehistoric era, where magic hadn’t been set in laws and energy flowed freely, warping the natives into forms relegated to myths in his present. As a high-ranked time-travelling mercenary, he’d bartered with a cult of necromancers, ended up stealing their dark tome when bribery didn’t work, then fought off a horde of undead and golems to buy the future time to send backup.
Chased by yeticops in a submarine society populated by manimals while hunting for a fruitisaur that would probably end up destroying the world with a tree? Just another day at the office.
“Stop! We have you surround! Did. Ded. …Surroundided.”
“What about other side…?”
“What about other side?”
Two of the beasts now barred his path. They were slow and stupid, but he was tired, weak, and nearly out of mana. The first few had surprised him by not only not dying for several minutes after being stabbed in the chest, but continuing to fight even after generous application of additional normally-fatal wounds. Jacob had quickly realized that his sword wasn’t cutting it and decided to just outrun whatever guards he encountered, but there always seemed to be another group of them blocking whatever path he took.
He couldn’t go around them, and going back risked facing all the guards he’d given the slip. He had no chance with a direct, physical route, and only had enough stored energy to create one tunnel a few inches wide for a few seconds. He could kill one of them that way, but the other would…
Fall over, clutching at its neck?
The mercenary wasn’t a man to question his luck. As the upright guard turned his blank stare to his prone companion, he felt a cold spark run through his brain in a way that just felt wrong. Then he felt a cold sword run through his brain. Then he didn’t feel.
By then, the first to fall had stopped moving, and a familiar pair of white gloves extracted themselves from their entanglement with meaty fingers and a crushed windpipe. They performed a mid-air high-five as their owner rounded the corner ahead, grinning sheepishly.
“You looked like you could, uh-“
“Use a hand?”
Steven scratched his neck guiltily. “I… might not have said…”
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get moving; these guards are everywhere, and the sooner we’re gone the less likely they are to swarm us.”
One of the gloves curled into a fist and suddenly shot towards a girder overhead. There was a muffled crunch, and tiny scraps of metal rained down from above.
“Yeah, this might help some.”
The glove returned cradling the remains of a large brass beetle. One of the machine’s legs twitched pitifully, as though to compensate for the ones that had broken off. Its shell held a variety of what might have been power tools before its violent demise. The droid’s head was totally wrecked, though the intended function of its cracked glass eyes was obvious enough.
“From the insides I’d say they’re supposed to be for maintenance, but they make good mobile cameras, too. I think they're used to keep an eye on back-alleys like this one, ‘s why the guards kept catching up.”
“I… can’t say I noticed.”
“Well, I didn’t either; the gloves figured it out first. They’ve been keeping me off the radar. C’mon, I’ll show you my place.”
Curious, the swordsman followed the traveler down a corridor, up a ladder, through a window, and into a long-abandoned concrete chamber. a few wooden planks littered the floor, and a pile of sheet metal served as a makeshift table. The centerpiece of the rooom was an incongruous beanbag, which Steven immediately collapsed upon. The gloves remained at the entrance to guard against unwanted visitors, and Jacob leaned against the wall, grateful for a chance to rest.
“So, yeah. Make yourself at home. Sorry I don’t have another ‘bag, but I wasn’t really expecting…”
The swordsman chuckled. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m fine as I am.”
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence, poorly masked under the quiet orchestra playing through Jacob’s coat. Though Steven clearly wanted to fill the void, he never quite seemed to find the words. Jacob spoke first.
“About your gloves. Our… hosts seemed to think that your handwear could create and destroy, but… they weren’t very clear on how that worked. You skipped over that detail in your own explanation as well.”
Steven shrugged. “Must have, uh, slipped my mind. But yeah, I can make things, though it takes some effort, and destroy them as well.”
“Things like what?”
“Like… anything, I guess. Sandwiches, chains, this beanbag… I made a whole biplane, once, but that was…”
The vagrant trailed off, lost for a moment in his memories. Then his gaze snapped back to the swordsman.
“Don’t ask me to make a-”
“No, no, that shouldn’t be necessary.” Jacob traced a slow path across the room. “But since you offer, I could use a few things.”
Steven frowned, hunching forward in his seat. “Like what?”
“Oh, nothing major. One or two adrenaline shots, something to hold them, and a map should suffice.”
“Oh. Well, that’s not so… I have a map with me, actually, but, uh, if you don’t mind me asking what the adrenaline's for…?”
The mercenary sighed, wary of telling others too much about himself. On the other hand, it would build trust. Trust was useful.
“I draw energy from myself to power my spells. I can store that energy in my sword, but right at the moment I’m not in peak condition. Nor,” he grumbled, holding his stained, not-glowing blade up for inspection, “do I have any energy left in here.”
“One shot for now, one shot for emergencies. If I’d had advance warning of this… contest, I’d already have some syringes on me, but at the moment you’re the only available source.”
Steven shrugged, acquiescing, as one of the gloves floated idly back to him. He seemed about to set to work, but looked up at the swordsman instead.
“Could you, uh, turn around, or something? I don't really like people… hovering, when I'm…”
“No, no, that’s fine, I understand. If you could make a cup of water as well; adrenaline tends to leave a bitter taste in my mouth. I’ll just be… Is there a phone nearby? I have a call to make.”
***
Liss had opted to remain in the Central Security Office until this debacle had been resolved. Two of her scaly subordinates had joined her, bringing with them a flock of security specialists to replace the original incompetent chair-warmer. They had been keeping better tabs on the situation but still hadn’t made much progress. One of the humans had been located in the warehouse district, but she had apparently conscripted the aid of some sort of… glowing, transparent raptor and destroyed the one Sentinel they’d sent after her. A few more had been sent to secure the area, but the administrator had the nagging suspicion that it wouldn’t be enough. Reports of a suited man had been crisscrossing the security channels, but his location never seemed to follow any logical or even euclidean pattern. The one that could turn invisible... could turn invisible; his evasion was not terribly surprising, but it still annoyed her to no end. She didn't even know what they were doing there; if they were going to blow the dome, Hydropower was the ideal place to do it, but-
A phone rang. The phone rang. The phone they’d told people to call if they had information. Liss was sort of surprised; she’d expected the idiots this place employed to be too panicked or too dead to actually respond. She hissed, picking up the receiver. “You’ve reached Oxbow Central Security. We’re busy. Make it important and make it quick.”
“My terms are simple.”
The lizard couldn’t actually frown deeper, though her efforts were admirable. The voice at the other end sounded… odd. Most species native to Nubium had slight but identifiable vocal quirks, except of course for the Rhone, whose accents were anything but slight. No rolling S, no clicking beak, and certainly too articulate for a Yagg. With a sinking feeling, she realized that this was probably one of the humans.
“There is a green, glowing, dinosaur-like creature somewhere within this facility. The longer it lives, the more likely it will to plant one of its seeds and destroy this dome. Kill it, and the intruders in this facility will leave without a trace.”
“Who is this?”
The caller paused, seeming to mull the question over.
“How about this… When I find you, I’ll tell you. And I will find you. Have the thing dead before then, or your life will become very unpleasant. And very short.”
*click*
He’d known about the raptor. She hadn’t known about the raptor until it’d killed one of their robotic guards. Something was going on to which she wasn’t privy, and she suspected that someone, somewhere was having a wonderful laugh about it all. Liss licked her eyes irritably. “Tell me someone traced that call.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am, we know exactly where they are. Coincides with the trail of dead Beetles, too.”
The lizard exposed her jagged, carnivorous teeth, in what still didn’t quite amount to a smile. “Good. Send a squad of Sentinels down there. I want this cocky bastard dead.”