Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
04-11-2012, 02:10 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Akumu.
If one were to attempt to follow their Planetary Guidebook to Hoofstad, capital of planets, they would at the current point in time find only a slowly dispersing cloud of dust and debris, pancaking out on one end and stretched out to a point on the other, a tack-like shape which formed, luckily enough, a crude directional indicator. Following in that direction, the signs of destruction would be abundant, space being filled with wobbling pockets of liquid and shards of rock, their trajectories already bending in towards each other to form loose accretionary blobs. It would not be long until Hoofstad itself was located, moving at a stately pace through the heavens, its glacial speed belying the gargantuan amount of momentum it truly possessed. This seeker of Hoofstad, seeing the looming form of Itrelli over the shoulder of the bustling metropolis, would be best served to call off their search and consult their Guidebook for an alternative destination. However, if they were stubborn enough to continue, down past the once gleaming towers now coated in dirt and soot, down past the plutopause to the brick and mortar and iron of the lower levels, down even past street level into the crater that they had been pointed to, they might notice in the crater wall a tunnel burrowed into its side. And when, peering into that dimness, they felt the world shudder beneath them as it scraped apocalyptically into its fairy-tale neighbour, they might see the glint of a pair of eyes snapping open and staring back at them. God help that stubborn, curious traveller then, if they happened to be human and were not, in fact, hypothetical.
His ears swivelled towards a new sound that rose out of the general roar of the ongoing earthquake. A high-pitched keening, like an animal crying out to warn its brothers as it is set upon by predators, was coming from the nearest tower. Instinctively, it made him want to shuffle away from the sound, but even more convincing was the sight of the tower beginning to lean inwards towards him. He scrambled up the side of the crater, gaining footholds on the half-slagged pipes gushing water towards the shear upper edge, and then was out on the hard black stone and running across the broken glass that covered every surface. Behind, the tower screamed and sloughed, its size making its sagging fall seem slow-motion, but when it hit the ground it sent a wave through that shattered apart the surface black shell and picked him up and flung him through the air away from the impact.
His trajectory followed a low, lazy arc down the avenue, taking him half a block in a dreamy low-g freefall before he impacted back into the ground, tumbling across the shattered stone and glass. Old wounds opened alongside new, and the machine in his back ground into him, driving the air from his lungs. When he came to a rest, he was oozing from a hundred different cuts and scrapes, and a deep ragged breath dissolved into a fit of barking coughs that splattered glittering blood onto the street. Despite all that, he could not imagine being happier, because drifting out of the nearby side-streets he heard a familiar voice.
“I LIVE, COWARDS! WILL HAVE TO DROP MORE THAN BUILDING TO END ME!”
Pushing himself shakily to his feet, he staggered into the alleys in search of his brother. He still had a message to deliver, after all.
Focused as he was on the sky, Red missed the motion along the ground until an automated subroutine pinged a proximity warning. Coming towards him through the alley, practically dragging itself, was the hideous aardvark he had thought himself rid of when he had dumped it into freezing arctic waters. It looked even worse than before, its body stretched in unnatural ways and lumpy with crystal growths, torn to shreds and barely even functioning. Red’s antennae twitched in distaste. Why did something this misshapen even bother to exist? He raised a mechanical arm, internal mechanisms spinning an explosive shell into its chamber before popping a mini-cannon out of its hatch. The aardvark drew to a stop and hunched in on itself, probably trying to prepare another blinding burst. Red took aim, and was about to fire when his communications systems came to life in a burst of static, before disgorging a jumbled mess of voices.
“We must not hurt buddy. Buddy must not eliminate buddy, s’alright. Hope hope hope hope hope s’alright. We need to band together as a group.”
On the street, the aardvark loosened again and looked directly up at him, panting with exertion and looking for all the world like it was incredibly pleased with itself.
If one were to attempt to follow their Planetary Guidebook to Hoofstad, capital of planets, they would at the current point in time find only a slowly dispersing cloud of dust and debris, pancaking out on one end and stretched out to a point on the other, a tack-like shape which formed, luckily enough, a crude directional indicator. Following in that direction, the signs of destruction would be abundant, space being filled with wobbling pockets of liquid and shards of rock, their trajectories already bending in towards each other to form loose accretionary blobs. It would not be long until Hoofstad itself was located, moving at a stately pace through the heavens, its glacial speed belying the gargantuan amount of momentum it truly possessed. This seeker of Hoofstad, seeing the looming form of Itrelli over the shoulder of the bustling metropolis, would be best served to call off their search and consult their Guidebook for an alternative destination. However, if they were stubborn enough to continue, down past the once gleaming towers now coated in dirt and soot, down past the plutopause to the brick and mortar and iron of the lower levels, down even past street level into the crater that they had been pointed to, they might notice in the crater wall a tunnel burrowed into its side. And when, peering into that dimness, they felt the world shudder beneath them as it scraped apocalyptically into its fairy-tale neighbour, they might see the glint of a pair of eyes snapping open and staring back at them. God help that stubborn, curious traveller then, if they happened to be human and were not, in fact, hypothetical.
- - -
His burrow jerked beneath him and he jolted into wakefulness, instantly alert. The shaking continued, dislodging a shower of loose dirt to sprinkle down on him. He had been utterly spent after his struggle against their imprisonment and his retaliation, and he had had just enough stamina to dig out a small den before lapsing into unconsciousness. Now though, the safety it had offered turned sour as images of collapse and entrapment flashed through his mind. His mouth went dry and he scrabbled out of the burrow without even thinking to check whether the coast was clear outside. Luckily, the area around the crater had cleared out around the time of its creation, and now the rest of the population of Hoofstad was trying to make its escape, streaming off the surface and into the void like dandelion fluff. He wasn’t aware of this, of course, wasn’t aware of much of anything other than his need to get free of confinement. Even in that state of mind, it was hard not to notice the form that filled the sky from horizon to horizon, looming above the towers that swayed like stalks of grass in the breeze. With his weak eyesight, it was impossible to gather much information other than it was big, very big, and not where it was supposed to be.His ears swivelled towards a new sound that rose out of the general roar of the ongoing earthquake. A high-pitched keening, like an animal crying out to warn its brothers as it is set upon by predators, was coming from the nearest tower. Instinctively, it made him want to shuffle away from the sound, but even more convincing was the sight of the tower beginning to lean inwards towards him. He scrambled up the side of the crater, gaining footholds on the half-slagged pipes gushing water towards the shear upper edge, and then was out on the hard black stone and running across the broken glass that covered every surface. Behind, the tower screamed and sloughed, its size making its sagging fall seem slow-motion, but when it hit the ground it sent a wave through that shattered apart the surface black shell and picked him up and flung him through the air away from the impact.
His trajectory followed a low, lazy arc down the avenue, taking him half a block in a dreamy low-g freefall before he impacted back into the ground, tumbling across the shattered stone and glass. Old wounds opened alongside new, and the machine in his back ground into him, driving the air from his lungs. When he came to a rest, he was oozing from a hundred different cuts and scrapes, and a deep ragged breath dissolved into a fit of barking coughs that splattered glittering blood onto the street. Despite all that, he could not imagine being happier, because drifting out of the nearby side-streets he heard a familiar voice.
“I LIVE, COWARDS! WILL HAVE TO DROP MORE THAN BUILDING TO END ME!”
Pushing himself shakily to his feet, he staggered into the alleys in search of his brother. He still had a message to deliver, after all.
- - -
Red hurled invective upwards, cycling through detection modes to find one that could pierce through the veil of smoke and dust that obscured the sky. He felt invincible, his suit having performed flawlessly through all the humans had thrown at it. One attacker had evaded him thanks to the earthquakes that wracked the city, but he would remedy that soon enough, if he could just spot them through the haze.Focused as he was on the sky, Red missed the motion along the ground until an automated subroutine pinged a proximity warning. Coming towards him through the alley, practically dragging itself, was the hideous aardvark he had thought himself rid of when he had dumped it into freezing arctic waters. It looked even worse than before, its body stretched in unnatural ways and lumpy with crystal growths, torn to shreds and barely even functioning. Red’s antennae twitched in distaste. Why did something this misshapen even bother to exist? He raised a mechanical arm, internal mechanisms spinning an explosive shell into its chamber before popping a mini-cannon out of its hatch. The aardvark drew to a stop and hunched in on itself, probably trying to prepare another blinding burst. Red took aim, and was about to fire when his communications systems came to life in a burst of static, before disgorging a jumbled mess of voices.
“We must not hurt buddy. Buddy must not eliminate buddy, s’alright. Hope hope hope hope hope s’alright. We need to band together as a group.”
On the street, the aardvark loosened again and looked directly up at him, panting with exertion and looking for all the world like it was incredibly pleased with itself.