Re: The Grand Battle II! [Round 3: Escheresque!]
10-20-2009, 01:50 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
A different point in time, the same dream.
Vyrm'n floated, isolated in its spherical chamber, when suddenly the gravity re-engaged and Vyrm'n fell with a thump, followed by a rush of staticky discharge as the generators required to maintain the little field of non-gravity failed and ground down with an electronic moan.
The Faceless was surprised; this had never occurred before. Punching the door button and getting no response, Vyrm'n alternated between thrashing ineffectually around the purpose-built cell, ramming into the door with little more success, and letting its mind wander while slumped on the floor.
Several hours later, Vyrm'n heard mechanical noises from the door, and slithered up. It sounded as though someone was manually trying to force the door open. Vyrm'n rammed into it in response; the noises stopped for several moments before starting up again.
Forming and reforming its shape impatiently, Vyrm'n eventually charged for the door when a final mechanism gave way, and slipped through the gap to find plasma rifle in its midsection. The Researcher, divested of his labcoat and now in a full bodysuit, with oxygen tank and helmet, almost pulled the trigger as the shadow flowed through the crack.
Avoiding that scenario, he lowered the gun and pressed a button on his suit, letting his crackled, distorted voice fill the corridor.
"Good to see you're safe, Vyrm'n. The main generators are down, the reserve has enough to send out a distress signal and maintain some life support, but it's not much. We might put a hold on testing for a week or so."
The Faceless padded ineffectually at the man, looking for a channel through which to speak. He shook his head, pointing at an organic wall panel which allowed Vyrm'n to articulate and indicating how it had shut down also. Motioning for the Faceless to follow, the Researcher led Vyrm'n into his private quarters, where he picked up a pen and paper before activating his comm unit again.
"Sorry, Vyrm'n, that's the best I can do. Your speakerpads are down, and I can't get a reading on the atmosphere..."
The Faceless ignored him while it examined the implements in a pair of star-flecked hands. The limbs knew how to hold these tools, but... when Vyrm'n attempted to maneuver the pen across the paper, the lack of muscle and bone and other structure beneath the black exterior became manifest in the form of illegible, jagged mockeries of letterforms.
The notepad fell, discarded, to the floor while Vyrm'n tried the pen on other surfaces. Satisfied with gouging the surface of a holoprojector screen, despite the Researcher's half-hearted protests, the Faceless clumsily wrote:
<I DONT LIKE THIS>
The Researcher shrugged, giving up the screen for lost and slumping in a chair. "I'm enjoying it about as much as you are."
Vyrm'n made a motion of thoughtfully tapping the pen on the extremely expensive "paper"; the rudeness of its pseudo-arms made the motion more like a repeated stabbing which made the Researcher wince with each punctuation. Finally, and with difficulty from the long message, carved out:
<THERE IS A> *taptaptap* <PARADOX IN MY BEING WHICH IRRITATES ME>
The Researcher made no reply, but sat up a little.
<THE KNOWLEDGE MOST FOREFRONT ACCORDING TO EVIDENCE IS THAT OF MY HOST> *taptaptap* <VYRM WHO IS DEAD> *taptaptap* <HOWEVER THE ONLY THOUGHTS OF HERS I FIND RELEVANT IS HER KNOWLEDGE OF FACELESS>
Vyrm'n gazed and turned sightlessly upon the Researcher. Behind his polarised helmet, he was grinning superciliously. With forcibly stab-punctuated writing, Vyrm'n concluded:
<WHY>
A different point in time, the same dream.
Vyrm'n floated, isolated in its spherical chamber, when suddenly the gravity re-engaged and Vyrm'n fell with a thump, followed by a rush of staticky discharge as the generators required to maintain the little field of non-gravity failed and ground down with an electronic moan.
The Faceless was surprised; this had never occurred before. Punching the door button and getting no response, Vyrm'n alternated between thrashing ineffectually around the purpose-built cell, ramming into the door with little more success, and letting its mind wander while slumped on the floor.
Several hours later, Vyrm'n heard mechanical noises from the door, and slithered up. It sounded as though someone was manually trying to force the door open. Vyrm'n rammed into it in response; the noises stopped for several moments before starting up again.
Forming and reforming its shape impatiently, Vyrm'n eventually charged for the door when a final mechanism gave way, and slipped through the gap to find plasma rifle in its midsection. The Researcher, divested of his labcoat and now in a full bodysuit, with oxygen tank and helmet, almost pulled the trigger as the shadow flowed through the crack.
Avoiding that scenario, he lowered the gun and pressed a button on his suit, letting his crackled, distorted voice fill the corridor.
"Good to see you're safe, Vyrm'n. The main generators are down, the reserve has enough to send out a distress signal and maintain some life support, but it's not much. We might put a hold on testing for a week or so."
The Faceless padded ineffectually at the man, looking for a channel through which to speak. He shook his head, pointing at an organic wall panel which allowed Vyrm'n to articulate and indicating how it had shut down also. Motioning for the Faceless to follow, the Researcher led Vyrm'n into his private quarters, where he picked up a pen and paper before activating his comm unit again.
"Sorry, Vyrm'n, that's the best I can do. Your speakerpads are down, and I can't get a reading on the atmosphere..."
The Faceless ignored him while it examined the implements in a pair of star-flecked hands. The limbs knew how to hold these tools, but... when Vyrm'n attempted to maneuver the pen across the paper, the lack of muscle and bone and other structure beneath the black exterior became manifest in the form of illegible, jagged mockeries of letterforms.
The notepad fell, discarded, to the floor while Vyrm'n tried the pen on other surfaces. Satisfied with gouging the surface of a holoprojector screen, despite the Researcher's half-hearted protests, the Faceless clumsily wrote:
<I DONT LIKE THIS>
The Researcher shrugged, giving up the screen for lost and slumping in a chair. "I'm enjoying it about as much as you are."
Vyrm'n made a motion of thoughtfully tapping the pen on the extremely expensive "paper"; the rudeness of its pseudo-arms made the motion more like a repeated stabbing which made the Researcher wince with each punctuation. Finally, and with difficulty from the long message, carved out:
<THERE IS A> *taptaptap* <PARADOX IN MY BEING WHICH IRRITATES ME>
The Researcher made no reply, but sat up a little.
<THE KNOWLEDGE MOST FOREFRONT ACCORDING TO EVIDENCE IS THAT OF MY HOST> *taptaptap* <VYRM WHO IS DEAD> *taptaptap* <HOWEVER THE ONLY THOUGHTS OF HERS I FIND RELEVANT IS HER KNOWLEDGE OF FACELESS>
Vyrm'n gazed and turned sightlessly upon the Researcher. Behind his polarised helmet, he was grinning superciliously. With forcibly stab-punctuated writing, Vyrm'n concluded:
<WHY>
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