Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
07-31-2011, 10:42 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
The wind was picking up, catching engine-smoke and priestly garb amongst the sand and snow.
Do you know him!?
Brooklyn shouted over the crackling vwoosh of the pyramid-turtle-jackal-thing's laser blast. She was itching to fly on up and get a better look at that stone head; figure out how it was doing that. Norman didn't respond – the fact it came out as a mechanical snarl instead of an earnest question may have had something to do with it. The chainsaw waited a further unfulfilling minute for Norman to do something other than glare, then took off-
-and vanished-
-and reappeared, to the taste of metal and the Counsellor's insufferable chatter. Brooklyn strained against the Grandmaster's invisible hold, willing her rockets to blast into life and fly away and keep flying and-
-Brooklyn did just that. With a bellow that lit the great exhaust pipes below her red-hot, the chainsaw's rockets kicked in and shot her out of orbit. Her delighted howls resounded across the starscape, the mad machine refusing to shut off the propulsion until the planetoids were all hurtling by in a disorienting blurred mess. It was exquisite, especially for someone who didn't have those bones in her ears to tell her she was tumbling non-existent head over non-existent heels.
At least, Brooklyn was pretty sure the bones were in her ears. Her contemplations were rudely interrupted by an oncoming seafood restaurant; a few seconds rocketing perpendicular diverted the chainsaw in a gentle arc as the planet's gravity tugged at her and hold on she'd passed that green planet before hadn't she.
Damnit. So rocketing off into the depths of space and escaping wasn't an option. Now Brooklyn had a headache, if only because the ramifications of physics in a space without edges was making the most of her imagination. She orbited a lazy figure-eight round the green moon – little more than a glorified watermelon, it seemed like – carefully decelerating as she went.
A lobster in a mech suit was kicking furiously in midair, clamping a frustrated arm on the lid of the fish tank he was carrying while unsuccessfully trying to regain momentum. Brooklyn moseyed over, ignoring whatever displeased noises Red was making, and nudged him toward the nearest planet big enough to accommodate the suit.
The two of them touched down after a few awkward minutes, followed by a further awkward minute as Brooklyn jimmied her blade out of a joint in the back of Red's armour. The chainsaw hovered expectantly, humming.
The wind was picking up, catching engine-smoke and priestly garb amongst the sand and snow.
Do you know him!?
Brooklyn shouted over the crackling vwoosh of the pyramid-turtle-jackal-thing's laser blast. She was itching to fly on up and get a better look at that stone head; figure out how it was doing that. Norman didn't respond – the fact it came out as a mechanical snarl instead of an earnest question may have had something to do with it. The chainsaw waited a further unfulfilling minute for Norman to do something other than glare, then took off-
-and vanished-
-and reappeared, to the taste of metal and the Counsellor's insufferable chatter. Brooklyn strained against the Grandmaster's invisible hold, willing her rockets to blast into life and fly away and keep flying and-
-Brooklyn did just that. With a bellow that lit the great exhaust pipes below her red-hot, the chainsaw's rockets kicked in and shot her out of orbit. Her delighted howls resounded across the starscape, the mad machine refusing to shut off the propulsion until the planetoids were all hurtling by in a disorienting blurred mess. It was exquisite, especially for someone who didn't have those bones in her ears to tell her she was tumbling non-existent head over non-existent heels.
At least, Brooklyn was pretty sure the bones were in her ears. Her contemplations were rudely interrupted by an oncoming seafood restaurant; a few seconds rocketing perpendicular diverted the chainsaw in a gentle arc as the planet's gravity tugged at her and hold on she'd passed that green planet before hadn't she.
Damnit. So rocketing off into the depths of space and escaping wasn't an option. Now Brooklyn had a headache, if only because the ramifications of physics in a space without edges was making the most of her imagination. She orbited a lazy figure-eight round the green moon – little more than a glorified watermelon, it seemed like – carefully decelerating as she went.
A lobster in a mech suit was kicking furiously in midair, clamping a frustrated arm on the lid of the fish tank he was carrying while unsuccessfully trying to regain momentum. Brooklyn moseyed over, ignoring whatever displeased noises Red was making, and nudged him toward the nearest planet big enough to accommodate the suit.
The two of them touched down after a few awkward minutes, followed by a further awkward minute as Brooklyn jimmied her blade out of a joint in the back of Red's armour. The chainsaw hovered expectantly, humming.
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