Re: The Vivacious Deadlock: S3G6: Round One: Genreshift
06-27-2011, 09:48 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pharmacy.
The workers were confused by the chaos that somehow seeded in this Research facility. There was this something, mottled, pink, and smelly, slithering through their legs. Then armored security, wielding guns, spilled into the hallways. Those faceless men and women screamed for everyone- employee, visitor, janitor, or otherwise- to get on their knees. As each one was individually searched for biological agents or any sign of a lethal weapon, the quarantined civilians could hear an ominous rumbling above their heads, growing louder and louder with each beat of their adrenaline-filled hearts. They did not know what exactly caused that noise, but the sheer panic and the sudden onset of armed personal riled up among the stalled crowd caused some of them to break out into whimpers, which were quickly cut short by the butt of a gun. Whatever had caused that noise was indeed suspicious.
***
When Merrifield managed to finagle her way into the Research Facility’s air ducts, she was dismayed at the three things she had found that marred this otherwise smooth trip to potential freedom. One was that the asbestos-lined passage was incredibly small. She tried her best to minimize her surface area by thinning her malleable form, but to no avail. Even at her thinnest and slickest, the confounding passage was small enough to curl up her side as if she were some kind of fleshy crepe. The air ducts were also incredibly dirty, and it did not help much that her constantly-hemorrhaging skin squeezed out sticky blood that picked up lint, dead bugs, and other unmentionables that could be found in air ducts. In fact, she had picked up so much garbage during her exodus that she kind of looked like a grey shag rug. For a third thing-
While mustering up complaints on her head, Merrifield was unaware of a particularly weak grater beneath her feet (as if blobs could have feet) and pretty soon, her bulk, writhing and changing in surprise, fell through into the room. The crash made a complete mess of the rather small room, with bits of broken furniture flying everywhere and meticulous files spilled all over the place, the surface now sullied with smears of air duct lint and dirt. Merrifield’s body made a gory spectacle all over the stray objects. To put short, it looked like if rotten road kill was put into a blender and the resulting slurry was sprayed all over the place. The genetic horror was understandably displeased at her own carelessness.
She was even more upset when the armed security busted through the door with guns ready. Great,she was all over the place and then those people come. Talk about timing! Merrifield did not want to know what the buckshot from those firearms felt like, so she decided to hastily scram. Using her entire focus, she channelled to all her nearby giblets, which was pretty easy considering the cramped size of the office. Slowly, the reddish sludge and the fuzzy peach-hued slabs of meat assimilated back to her preferred form, the one with the fleshy flippers on her head, the one with those cruel thorns filled with danger; the one with the feeble arms and the soulless embryonic eyes. That was her combat form, her go-to form and boy, was she ready!
- Except she was not. Although Merrifield was a powerful biokinetic, she had not the foresight to realize that her body parts were strewn across the small office, sticking onto bit of garbage and junk lying about. Unfortunately, her re-assimilation included those broken chair legs, important papers, and bits of china. As a result, the vaguely humanoid form of Merrifield was bristling with splinters of furniture, broken pottery, and flimsy pieces of paper. The security guards were surprised when they saw the face of the genetic abomination redden considerably.
Out of embarrassment, but mostly out of necessity, Merrifield, along with the junk inside of her, leaped into the open grater of the air duct (after several tries). There, she continued to trundle forth, the screech of wood across the dirty metal walls loudly betraying her presence. The security guard’s amusement turned into great concern as they observed the creature escape. Unbeknownst to Merrifield, a massive book was embedded into her sticky back. This was no ordinary book, however: it was a potent artifact with terrifying reality-warping powers that came in conjunction with specific bookmarks. Many had fought for, sought for, and even killed for this artifact. It was supposed to be kept in confines of Dr. Matic’s small office, yet by sheer serendipity, Merrifield had, more or less, absconded with the Tome.
The workers were confused by the chaos that somehow seeded in this Research facility. There was this something, mottled, pink, and smelly, slithering through their legs. Then armored security, wielding guns, spilled into the hallways. Those faceless men and women screamed for everyone- employee, visitor, janitor, or otherwise- to get on their knees. As each one was individually searched for biological agents or any sign of a lethal weapon, the quarantined civilians could hear an ominous rumbling above their heads, growing louder and louder with each beat of their adrenaline-filled hearts. They did not know what exactly caused that noise, but the sheer panic and the sudden onset of armed personal riled up among the stalled crowd caused some of them to break out into whimpers, which were quickly cut short by the butt of a gun. Whatever had caused that noise was indeed suspicious.
***
When Merrifield managed to finagle her way into the Research Facility’s air ducts, she was dismayed at the three things she had found that marred this otherwise smooth trip to potential freedom. One was that the asbestos-lined passage was incredibly small. She tried her best to minimize her surface area by thinning her malleable form, but to no avail. Even at her thinnest and slickest, the confounding passage was small enough to curl up her side as if she were some kind of fleshy crepe. The air ducts were also incredibly dirty, and it did not help much that her constantly-hemorrhaging skin squeezed out sticky blood that picked up lint, dead bugs, and other unmentionables that could be found in air ducts. In fact, she had picked up so much garbage during her exodus that she kind of looked like a grey shag rug. For a third thing-
While mustering up complaints on her head, Merrifield was unaware of a particularly weak grater beneath her feet (as if blobs could have feet) and pretty soon, her bulk, writhing and changing in surprise, fell through into the room. The crash made a complete mess of the rather small room, with bits of broken furniture flying everywhere and meticulous files spilled all over the place, the surface now sullied with smears of air duct lint and dirt. Merrifield’s body made a gory spectacle all over the stray objects. To put short, it looked like if rotten road kill was put into a blender and the resulting slurry was sprayed all over the place. The genetic horror was understandably displeased at her own carelessness.
She was even more upset when the armed security busted through the door with guns ready. Great,she was all over the place and then those people come. Talk about timing! Merrifield did not want to know what the buckshot from those firearms felt like, so she decided to hastily scram. Using her entire focus, she channelled to all her nearby giblets, which was pretty easy considering the cramped size of the office. Slowly, the reddish sludge and the fuzzy peach-hued slabs of meat assimilated back to her preferred form, the one with the fleshy flippers on her head, the one with those cruel thorns filled with danger; the one with the feeble arms and the soulless embryonic eyes. That was her combat form, her go-to form and boy, was she ready!
- Except she was not. Although Merrifield was a powerful biokinetic, she had not the foresight to realize that her body parts were strewn across the small office, sticking onto bit of garbage and junk lying about. Unfortunately, her re-assimilation included those broken chair legs, important papers, and bits of china. As a result, the vaguely humanoid form of Merrifield was bristling with splinters of furniture, broken pottery, and flimsy pieces of paper. The security guards were surprised when they saw the face of the genetic abomination redden considerably.
Out of embarrassment, but mostly out of necessity, Merrifield, along with the junk inside of her, leaped into the open grater of the air duct (after several tries). There, she continued to trundle forth, the screech of wood across the dirty metal walls loudly betraying her presence. The security guard’s amusement turned into great concern as they observed the creature escape. Unbeknownst to Merrifield, a massive book was embedded into her sticky back. This was no ordinary book, however: it was a potent artifact with terrifying reality-warping powers that came in conjunction with specific bookmarks. Many had fought for, sought for, and even killed for this artifact. It was supposed to be kept in confines of Dr. Matic’s small office, yet by sheer serendipity, Merrifield had, more or less, absconded with the Tome.