Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
08-26-2011, 10:35 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Akumu.
Something big had happened over on 7th. A great veil of smoke was wafting across the intersection ahead, and cops and EMTs were swarming like ants over a chicken bone. It was a major pain in Pierre's ass. Here he was, stuck in traffic, no fare in the backseat and a whopper of a migraine coming on. Maybe he should have taken that dishwashing job his brother had offered, after all. He thought the big city would be more rewarding, less degrading. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a ragged sigh. What a joke! It was nothing but aggravation, and business was shit with all the rich pricks up in their gleaming towers, never even deigning to come down to street level with its grime and exhaust fumes and working-class schlubs.
The commotion from outside was getting louder, and Pierre lifted his head to squint out through the windshield. A few people were shouting and pointing up into the sky, so the beleaguered cabbie started rolling down his window to get a look at what the fuss was about. He was still working the crank when the car leapt upwards, slamming the steering column into his face. He bounced backwards into the seat, splattering droplets of blood across the dashboard. Something was wrong with his nose, and out the front of the car he could see up past the upper reaches of the towers and into space. That's not usually the direction my car points in, Pierre thought absently as he fumbled at the door handle.
The door was stubborn, and Pierre had to put his weight into it to swing it up and open. Still disoriented, he tumbled out and fell crashing to the asphalt a few feet down. He ended up lying on his back, looking up at his cab which was now scissored into a shallow V around the crater of crumpled metal in its center. Pierre got clumsily to his feet amongst the gathering crowd, one arm hanging limply from a dislocated shoulder, and stumbled forward to investigate what had struck his cab. Within the wreckage, something shifted, underneath the shards of metal, twinkle of broken glass, and... fur? As Pierre leaned in to get a better look, something shot out and tore a ragged gash across his face, and he was blind.
---
He had come down hard, through the egg-like pods that zipped through the air between the upper reaches of the towers, and down to where crisp white and black gave way to a muddy gray, before slamming into the machine that broke his fall. All around him now he could hear them buzzing like flies in his ear, their overlapping speech beating on him like waves, crushing him down. Why was it always them why could he not get free why why why why why and then one of them was there above him, bringing its grotesque flattened face down towards him, and he lashed out. His new webbed feet were not as well-suited for clawing, but he still managed to rip at its eyes and it fell back.
He rose up out of the wreckage, and dropped forward with all his weight on the blinded one. He and it fell back onto the hard black stone with a crunch, but it was only when he began burrowing into its torso that it began to scream. All of them around him began screaming as well, some rooted in place and others turning to flee. The one he was upon spasmed and lay still, and he retreated back against the wrecked machine, coated down his front with blood and chunks of flesh.
“Fuck,” Tria whispered to herself, rubbing absently at her prosthesis, which still throbbed with pain. She was crouched up on a fire escape balcony she had clambered up onto, watching Blazaard tear apart the hapless cabbie. She was supposed to face this monster? It was ludicrous, to say the least. A gunshot rang out, and chunks of asphalt sprayed out inches away from the blood-soaked beast. “Police! H-halt!” somebody called out from outside of the limited view from the alley. From the tight terror she could hear in his voice, Tria could tell he must be shaking like a leaf. No wonder the first shot went wide. Blazaard immediately began galloping towards the cop, who wailed “No! Stop! Stop!” and unloaded his clip at the oncoming beast. Most struck the street around it, but at least one buried itself in the mechanism fused into its back. Then it too was out of view, and she could only hear the wet crunch and short-lived screams that followed. The general nausea she had been feeling spiked and her stomach clenched up, but she managed to fight down the gorge rising in her throat.
Overhead, a black shape flashed, and a loudspeakered voice echoed off of the buildings around her. “This is the police! Stay where you are or we will be forced to open fire!” It looked like the professionals had arrived, which meant it was time to go. When the tac teams moved in, Tria made it a point to move out.
The one who had shot at him lay dead, and the rest of them had fled. The constant screaming terror receded from his mind, and he could think again. Before he could consider how to find his brother again, however, the sky above him was filled with buzzing black egg-pods. From each of them a deep boom accompanied a bursting forth of incredibly bright light, leaving him blinded and transfixed. Their speech pounded down on him from the sky, and he swung his head up to face it, unseeing. A hard mesh slammed into his face, pressing him down into the ground. He was trapped. His limbs were pinned under him. His struggles had no effect on the confining mesh. No, no no no no no no no. He had to get free, he couldn't be held again! He had to move, get loose, the metal strands cutting into him didn't matter, only getting out mattered.
The pitons that had sunk into the concrete sidewalk held firm no matter how the aardvark thrashed. The pods above continued to pour their light down upon him, and in his hysteria he was drawing it all in. Shadows began to move into the spotlights, resolving into human shapes as they came near. His struggles redoubled, slaver frothing up and foaming at the corners of his mouth. They continued to approach, padded and bristling with weapons, they came near enough that he could see his death in their eyes, and he released the light.
Their hateful eyes boiled and burst in their skulls in the split-second before their bodies ignited and burned away to ash. Their long shadows were burned instantly into the surrounding buildings, followed shortly by the shockwave of super-heated air expanding outwards from him, shattering brick and stone and glass and making the steel underneath groan in protest. The concrete and asphalt immediately around him was pulverized, compressed into the underlying earth, and rebounded back into the sky in a great jet of debris. The pods in the sky, heated beyond their limits and slammed by the shockwave, were dropping like flies. Most importantly, the net holding him melted away like a bad dream, and left him free in the center of a rising mushroom cloud, on a planet slowly drifting out of its place in the firmament.
Originally posted on MSPA by Wheeeeeeatthins.
Something big had happened over on 7th. A great veil of smoke was wafting across the intersection ahead, and cops and EMTs were swarming like ants over a chicken bone. It was a major pain in Pierre's ass. Here he was, stuck in traffic, no fare in the backseat and a whopper of a migraine coming on. Maybe he should have taken that dishwashing job his brother had offered, after all. He thought the big city would be more rewarding, less degrading. He rested his forehead against the steering wheel and let out a ragged sigh. What a joke! It was nothing but aggravation, and business was shit with all the rich pricks up in their gleaming towers, never even deigning to come down to street level with its grime and exhaust fumes and working-class schlubs.
The commotion from outside was getting louder, and Pierre lifted his head to squint out through the windshield. A few people were shouting and pointing up into the sky, so the beleaguered cabbie started rolling down his window to get a look at what the fuss was about. He was still working the crank when the car leapt upwards, slamming the steering column into his face. He bounced backwards into the seat, splattering droplets of blood across the dashboard. Something was wrong with his nose, and out the front of the car he could see up past the upper reaches of the towers and into space. That's not usually the direction my car points in, Pierre thought absently as he fumbled at the door handle.
The door was stubborn, and Pierre had to put his weight into it to swing it up and open. Still disoriented, he tumbled out and fell crashing to the asphalt a few feet down. He ended up lying on his back, looking up at his cab which was now scissored into a shallow V around the crater of crumpled metal in its center. Pierre got clumsily to his feet amongst the gathering crowd, one arm hanging limply from a dislocated shoulder, and stumbled forward to investigate what had struck his cab. Within the wreckage, something shifted, underneath the shards of metal, twinkle of broken glass, and... fur? As Pierre leaned in to get a better look, something shot out and tore a ragged gash across his face, and he was blind.
---
He had come down hard, through the egg-like pods that zipped through the air between the upper reaches of the towers, and down to where crisp white and black gave way to a muddy gray, before slamming into the machine that broke his fall. All around him now he could hear them buzzing like flies in his ear, their overlapping speech beating on him like waves, crushing him down. Why was it always them why could he not get free why why why why why and then one of them was there above him, bringing its grotesque flattened face down towards him, and he lashed out. His new webbed feet were not as well-suited for clawing, but he still managed to rip at its eyes and it fell back.
He rose up out of the wreckage, and dropped forward with all his weight on the blinded one. He and it fell back onto the hard black stone with a crunch, but it was only when he began burrowing into its torso that it began to scream. All of them around him began screaming as well, some rooted in place and others turning to flee. The one he was upon spasmed and lay still, and he retreated back against the wrecked machine, coated down his front with blood and chunks of flesh.
“Fuck,” Tria whispered to herself, rubbing absently at her prosthesis, which still throbbed with pain. She was crouched up on a fire escape balcony she had clambered up onto, watching Blazaard tear apart the hapless cabbie. She was supposed to face this monster? It was ludicrous, to say the least. A gunshot rang out, and chunks of asphalt sprayed out inches away from the blood-soaked beast. “Police! H-halt!” somebody called out from outside of the limited view from the alley. From the tight terror she could hear in his voice, Tria could tell he must be shaking like a leaf. No wonder the first shot went wide. Blazaard immediately began galloping towards the cop, who wailed “No! Stop! Stop!” and unloaded his clip at the oncoming beast. Most struck the street around it, but at least one buried itself in the mechanism fused into its back. Then it too was out of view, and she could only hear the wet crunch and short-lived screams that followed. The general nausea she had been feeling spiked and her stomach clenched up, but she managed to fight down the gorge rising in her throat.
Overhead, a black shape flashed, and a loudspeakered voice echoed off of the buildings around her. “This is the police! Stay where you are or we will be forced to open fire!” It looked like the professionals had arrived, which meant it was time to go. When the tac teams moved in, Tria made it a point to move out.
The one who had shot at him lay dead, and the rest of them had fled. The constant screaming terror receded from his mind, and he could think again. Before he could consider how to find his brother again, however, the sky above him was filled with buzzing black egg-pods. From each of them a deep boom accompanied a bursting forth of incredibly bright light, leaving him blinded and transfixed. Their speech pounded down on him from the sky, and he swung his head up to face it, unseeing. A hard mesh slammed into his face, pressing him down into the ground. He was trapped. His limbs were pinned under him. His struggles had no effect on the confining mesh. No, no no no no no no no. He had to get free, he couldn't be held again! He had to move, get loose, the metal strands cutting into him didn't matter, only getting out mattered.
The pitons that had sunk into the concrete sidewalk held firm no matter how the aardvark thrashed. The pods above continued to pour their light down upon him, and in his hysteria he was drawing it all in. Shadows began to move into the spotlights, resolving into human shapes as they came near. His struggles redoubled, slaver frothing up and foaming at the corners of his mouth. They continued to approach, padded and bristling with weapons, they came near enough that he could see his death in their eyes, and he released the light.
Their hateful eyes boiled and burst in their skulls in the split-second before their bodies ignited and burned away to ash. Their long shadows were burned instantly into the surrounding buildings, followed shortly by the shockwave of super-heated air expanding outwards from him, shattering brick and stone and glass and making the steel underneath groan in protest. The concrete and asphalt immediately around him was pulverized, compressed into the underlying earth, and rebounded back into the sky in a great jet of debris. The pods in the sky, heated beyond their limits and slammed by the shockwave, were dropping like flies. Most importantly, the net holding him melted away like a bad dream, and left him free in the center of a rising mushroom cloud, on a planet slowly drifting out of its place in the firmament.
Originally posted on MSPA by Wheeeeeeatthins.