Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
03-26-2012, 08:06 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Mirdini.
Tria had just clambered down onto the highest landing of a fire escape in an attempt to get a closer look at the alleyway below when Brooklyn came roaring out of the bunker’s entrance, her exit accentuated by the dim rattle of machine gun fire behind her. The ghost punctuated her furious ascent by flaring her rockets as soon as she reached open air, which unfortunately for Tria meant precisely when Brooklyn was next to the rooftop the girl had been scoping out the alleyway from. Only a jarring dive to the floor saved Tria’s eyebrows from a lethal scorching, her prosthetic thankfully bearing the brunt of the impact with no more than a twinge in her still-aching shoulder.
As the sound of Brooklyn’s propulsion faded into the distance, Tria momentarily considered what the hell she was doing above what was by all accounts a kill zone. Why had she instinctively headed towards danger? Had she lost even more of her mind since getting caught up in this nightmare? The murderous rampage she’d caught snippets of during the broadcast was awful, sure, but what made her think she’d stand any more of a chance against whoever was behind it than the tattered remnants of the spec ops teams fleeing the neighborhood? She had barely a clue as to how to use her only weapon, she’d never been in a combat situation – the idea that she’d be able to save someone from whatever was going on down there was crazy! And who was she hoping to help – the feds? They weren’t her friends, or even neutral parties – hell, they’d probably arrest her on sight! So why had she come over here? What had possessed-
Tria’s agitated introspection was rudely interrupted by the sharp clang of a door swinging open once more as Red emerged from the bunker. What he was doing there was less important to Tria than the fact that if the broadcast was any indication there was a bloodthirsty mechanical – … lobster? Is that what he was? - directly below her, one that might at any moment chance to look up. As far as she could recall Brooklyn couldn’t actually speak, which left the owner of the apologetic voice on the broadcast a mystery – maybe that Pollet guy? The crazed laughter from below and heavy weaponry still bristling on Red’s secondary carapace while he took potshots at the security men unfortunate enough not to be out of sight left no similar doubts as to the source of the brutish jeering.
Red’s bloodlust had hardly been dimmed by Brooklyn’s exit; if anything her disparaging comment about his suit made him more determined to prove its worth. Not that he had anything to prove to such a crude, makeshift piece of engineering – but his machine was finally performing in the environment he had designed it for, and he could hardly turn down the opportunity for more testing. As the terrified humans had seemingly deserted the bunker, he worked his way back up to street level, eager to see if he had truly driven them out of their precious control center. He was almost disappointed to find no ambush set up as he clattered into the alleyway, and settled for launching a few missiles at the fleeing remains of whatever human group had dared challenge his beautiful craftsmanship. He laughed at their impotence, marveling at the efficiency with which his mech reloaded and fired as he painted the alleyway red.
As the smoke cleared Red scanned his immediate surroundings, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done when it became apparent that there were no more life signs to be found in the alleyway. This left him at somewhat of an impasse, however: continue pursuing the humans, or return to the bunker to ensure the chainsaw’s meddling hadn’t endangered his kin? Deciding on the latter (after all, there’d still be time to wreak havoc later) he managed a step towards the bunker before the glass of his aquatic enclosure was splattered by some sort of low-viscosity liquid. Quickly ascertaining that it had come from above, Red swiveled to investigate the source – were the humans trying to blind him now? Or was it some sort of bioweapon? He shouted a challenge at his hidden aggressors.
“WHAT IS THIS? YOUR SNEAKY ATTACKS WILL NOT HARM ME, COWARDS! COME OUT AND FIGHT!”
Tria had fucked up. She had a low tolerance for lactose products in general, but when a quick raid of an empty flat during her way over had turned up only cereal and milk she’d gone against her better judgment and scarfed some down. After all, she hadn’t had an opportunity to eat since she’d been transported by the Counsellor and who knew when the next one would come along. She promptly regretted that reasoning when upon witnessing Red’s casual slaughterhouse action in the alleyway her already upset stomach decided to stage a full-scale rebellion. It was all Tria could do to not vomit on her sneakers, and as she leaned over the railing of the fire escape the dreadful realization of what gravity was doing with her puke slowly dawned on her. She glanced down to find the crab-bot shouting and pointing its myriad weapons straight at the fire escape she was sitting on. And her arm still wasn’t done cooling down.
Though his reserves were somewhat depleted, Red still had enough missiles stocked to feel comfortable launching one into the proverbial dark. Though his vision was somewhat obscured he could still make out some sort of platform directly above him, which was doubtlessly where the foul assault had come from. He readied a missile, aimed-
Hoofstad had been careening through space for a little under three hours at this point, narrowly avoiding several major collisions. It ran out of luck moments before Red locked onto Tria’s fire escape, colliding apocalyptically with the fairytale planet Itrelii. The ensuing earthquake understandably threw off Red’s aim.
Tria might’ve been relieved by the sight of a missile narrowly missing her perch if she hadn’t been so preoccupied with the fact that the building next to her was collapsing - Hoofstadian building codes apparently not being written with interplanetary collisions in mind.
Shit shit shit shit shit what the fuck was that it’s like the planet exploded what the hell is going on oh damn oh damn this thing is going to fall
The building lurched, setting the fire escape at an untenable tilt to the ground that only grew more precarious as the building slowly proceeded to fall like some giant domino piece. The fire escape itself was barely holding onto the building, its moorings snapping one by one. A few more and it would go careening into the landing zone of the building on the other side of the alley – and the irritated crustacean that was still struggling to regain his balance below it. Tria felt like a protagonist in one of those cheesy disaster flicks she’d sometimes caught on the holo. This building didn’t seem like it was going to miraculously stop collapsing, though. On the other hand, it seemed to be doing the whole collapsing thing rather slowly now that Tria thought about it.
Oh. Right. Low grav.
She had been so at home in the cityscape that she’d forgotten the planet she was on was essentially a miniature, and that with just a bit of force she'd hopefully be able to launch herself clean away from the whole disaster.
Alright, deep breaths. One, two, three
She leapt from the top of the fire escape, shooting into the sky. For a moment she was elated, but gravity would have none of that. Despite her heroic effort it acted, leaving Tria briefly suspended above the imminent devastation below before slowly pulling her back in. She could picture it chuckling darkly at her predicament as she floated back to earth - and with her current trajectory she was set to fly straight into yet another crumpling apartment block. It was precisely at this juncture that Tria realized her arm had finished cooling down. Though the fire escape wasn’t directly below her anymore it was still the closest metal object of any significant mass, and Tria pointed her prosthesis at it, hoping it’d live up to half of its name as she fired off a juiced-up directed magnetic pulse. The shock to her shoulder felt like she’d punched a brick wall.
Tria rocketed out of Hoofstad’s gravitational pull parallel to the colliding planets, caught between confusion at being able to breathe in what was supposed to be a vacuum and spouting liberal profanity over the pain in her shoulder. Those distractions were replaced with a growing sense of alarm as she closed in on Itrelii’s surface at an uncomfortable if not outright lethal velocity, this time without any handy metal constructions to bounce off of. She braced for impact.
Tria had just clambered down onto the highest landing of a fire escape in an attempt to get a closer look at the alleyway below when Brooklyn came roaring out of the bunker’s entrance, her exit accentuated by the dim rattle of machine gun fire behind her. The ghost punctuated her furious ascent by flaring her rockets as soon as she reached open air, which unfortunately for Tria meant precisely when Brooklyn was next to the rooftop the girl had been scoping out the alleyway from. Only a jarring dive to the floor saved Tria’s eyebrows from a lethal scorching, her prosthetic thankfully bearing the brunt of the impact with no more than a twinge in her still-aching shoulder.
As the sound of Brooklyn’s propulsion faded into the distance, Tria momentarily considered what the hell she was doing above what was by all accounts a kill zone. Why had she instinctively headed towards danger? Had she lost even more of her mind since getting caught up in this nightmare? The murderous rampage she’d caught snippets of during the broadcast was awful, sure, but what made her think she’d stand any more of a chance against whoever was behind it than the tattered remnants of the spec ops teams fleeing the neighborhood? She had barely a clue as to how to use her only weapon, she’d never been in a combat situation – the idea that she’d be able to save someone from whatever was going on down there was crazy! And who was she hoping to help – the feds? They weren’t her friends, or even neutral parties – hell, they’d probably arrest her on sight! So why had she come over here? What had possessed-
Tria’s agitated introspection was rudely interrupted by the sharp clang of a door swinging open once more as Red emerged from the bunker. What he was doing there was less important to Tria than the fact that if the broadcast was any indication there was a bloodthirsty mechanical – … lobster? Is that what he was? - directly below her, one that might at any moment chance to look up. As far as she could recall Brooklyn couldn’t actually speak, which left the owner of the apologetic voice on the broadcast a mystery – maybe that Pollet guy? The crazed laughter from below and heavy weaponry still bristling on Red’s secondary carapace while he took potshots at the security men unfortunate enough not to be out of sight left no similar doubts as to the source of the brutish jeering.
Red’s bloodlust had hardly been dimmed by Brooklyn’s exit; if anything her disparaging comment about his suit made him more determined to prove its worth. Not that he had anything to prove to such a crude, makeshift piece of engineering – but his machine was finally performing in the environment he had designed it for, and he could hardly turn down the opportunity for more testing. As the terrified humans had seemingly deserted the bunker, he worked his way back up to street level, eager to see if he had truly driven them out of their precious control center. He was almost disappointed to find no ambush set up as he clattered into the alleyway, and settled for launching a few missiles at the fleeing remains of whatever human group had dared challenge his beautiful craftsmanship. He laughed at their impotence, marveling at the efficiency with which his mech reloaded and fired as he painted the alleyway red.
As the smoke cleared Red scanned his immediate surroundings, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done when it became apparent that there were no more life signs to be found in the alleyway. This left him at somewhat of an impasse, however: continue pursuing the humans, or return to the bunker to ensure the chainsaw’s meddling hadn’t endangered his kin? Deciding on the latter (after all, there’d still be time to wreak havoc later) he managed a step towards the bunker before the glass of his aquatic enclosure was splattered by some sort of low-viscosity liquid. Quickly ascertaining that it had come from above, Red swiveled to investigate the source – were the humans trying to blind him now? Or was it some sort of bioweapon? He shouted a challenge at his hidden aggressors.
“WHAT IS THIS? YOUR SNEAKY ATTACKS WILL NOT HARM ME, COWARDS! COME OUT AND FIGHT!”
Tria had fucked up. She had a low tolerance for lactose products in general, but when a quick raid of an empty flat during her way over had turned up only cereal and milk she’d gone against her better judgment and scarfed some down. After all, she hadn’t had an opportunity to eat since she’d been transported by the Counsellor and who knew when the next one would come along. She promptly regretted that reasoning when upon witnessing Red’s casual slaughterhouse action in the alleyway her already upset stomach decided to stage a full-scale rebellion. It was all Tria could do to not vomit on her sneakers, and as she leaned over the railing of the fire escape the dreadful realization of what gravity was doing with her puke slowly dawned on her. She glanced down to find the crab-bot shouting and pointing its myriad weapons straight at the fire escape she was sitting on. And her arm still wasn’t done cooling down.
Though his reserves were somewhat depleted, Red still had enough missiles stocked to feel comfortable launching one into the proverbial dark. Though his vision was somewhat obscured he could still make out some sort of platform directly above him, which was doubtlessly where the foul assault had come from. He readied a missile, aimed-
Hoofstad had been careening through space for a little under three hours at this point, narrowly avoiding several major collisions. It ran out of luck moments before Red locked onto Tria’s fire escape, colliding apocalyptically with the fairytale planet Itrelii. The ensuing earthquake understandably threw off Red’s aim.
Tria might’ve been relieved by the sight of a missile narrowly missing her perch if she hadn’t been so preoccupied with the fact that the building next to her was collapsing - Hoofstadian building codes apparently not being written with interplanetary collisions in mind.
Shit shit shit shit shit what the fuck was that it’s like the planet exploded what the hell is going on oh damn oh damn this thing is going to fall
The building lurched, setting the fire escape at an untenable tilt to the ground that only grew more precarious as the building slowly proceeded to fall like some giant domino piece. The fire escape itself was barely holding onto the building, its moorings snapping one by one. A few more and it would go careening into the landing zone of the building on the other side of the alley – and the irritated crustacean that was still struggling to regain his balance below it. Tria felt like a protagonist in one of those cheesy disaster flicks she’d sometimes caught on the holo. This building didn’t seem like it was going to miraculously stop collapsing, though. On the other hand, it seemed to be doing the whole collapsing thing rather slowly now that Tria thought about it.
Oh. Right. Low grav.
She had been so at home in the cityscape that she’d forgotten the planet she was on was essentially a miniature, and that with just a bit of force she'd hopefully be able to launch herself clean away from the whole disaster.
Alright, deep breaths. One, two, three
She leapt from the top of the fire escape, shooting into the sky. For a moment she was elated, but gravity would have none of that. Despite her heroic effort it acted, leaving Tria briefly suspended above the imminent devastation below before slowly pulling her back in. She could picture it chuckling darkly at her predicament as she floated back to earth - and with her current trajectory she was set to fly straight into yet another crumpling apartment block. It was precisely at this juncture that Tria realized her arm had finished cooling down. Though the fire escape wasn’t directly below her anymore it was still the closest metal object of any significant mass, and Tria pointed her prosthesis at it, hoping it’d live up to half of its name as she fired off a juiced-up directed magnetic pulse. The shock to her shoulder felt like she’d punched a brick wall.
Tria rocketed out of Hoofstad’s gravitational pull parallel to the colliding planets, caught between confusion at being able to breathe in what was supposed to be a vacuum and spouting liberal profanity over the pain in her shoulder. Those distractions were replaced with a growing sense of alarm as she closed in on Itrelii’s surface at an uncomfortable if not outright lethal velocity, this time without any handy metal constructions to bounce off of. She braced for impact.