Re: The $300,000 Fight-A-Thon! [Round One: Storage Park!]
08-27-2012, 02:39 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by SeventeenthSquid.
The good Doctor Schuster had seen many, many horrors in his short and brutal life. From the bloody battlefields of Starygrad, where he had to clean a man's brain matter out of a stalling tank engine while mortars exploded all around him, to the horrors of the hallway-beyond-space where countless eldritch entities sought to drain his very life force, Schuster was a man of the world. Worlds. Places between worlds. Whatever. Point is, Schuster knew a thing or two about fear.
And Schuster was afraid.
He scrambled backwards, one hand reaching for the pistol he had dropped after running into the machine's leg. The huge machine turned towards him, ponderously graceful on its quietly wheezing hydraulics. Oh no, he thought, it has a hammer. Oh no, he thought, that hammer is almost as big as I am. Just as his fingers finally found the runaway firearm, the machine lurched forward and in a single step closed the distance and placed one huge metal foot on his chest. He was slammed back into the floor, his arm spasming and knocking the pistol away from his reach. The metal foot on his chest was crushing his lungs. He could barely breath! He flailed at it with both arms but his fists ricocheted harmlessly off its cool metal surface. It raised its hammer back for the killing blow. Schuster closed his eyes, awaiting the end.
Imagine his surprise, then, when instead of a crushing hammerblow he instead heard the sweet, beautiful voice of a young woman, probably even younger than him! Schuster hadn't heard a voice like that in... well, a lot of Tatarstian women sound kinda like men, so actually not in about ten years. At least. Maybe his whole life.
"Stop wiggling, stupid Kyelz," she said. She sounded breathless, on the verge of panic. What the fuck is a Kyelz? he thought, still barely believing he was alive. "Something is following me," she continued, her strained voice emerging from a speaker somewhere in her expansive metal chest. "I need to keep moving."
With that, Schuster found himself suddenly able to breath again! He inhaled a few massive gulps of stale warehouse air, tasting faintly of dust, and prepared to climb to his feet.
Eriz let her foot up off Schuster's chest. Just as he was beginning to stand, she swung a massive hand down towards him and lifted him up by the back of his green jacket, hoisting him easily with one hand and flinging him over her shoulder, pinning him in place with the steel vice of her arm. One of her aux-arms swooped down to scoop up the fallen pistol and she continued charging through the stacks of crates, the disheveled man bobbing up and down on her shoulder as she ran.
"What the fuck is going on!" he howled, barely audible over the sounds of box-related carnage. Eriz didn't exactly have a good answer for that, so she didn't say anything, only continuing her relentless assault on the crates that blocked her path. She knew, now, where she was going. She was leaving.
The good Doctor Schuster had seen many, many horrors in his short and brutal life. From the bloody battlefields of Starygrad, where he had to clean a man's brain matter out of a stalling tank engine while mortars exploded all around him, to the horrors of the hallway-beyond-space where countless eldritch entities sought to drain his very life force, Schuster was a man of the world. Worlds. Places between worlds. Whatever. Point is, Schuster knew a thing or two about fear.
And Schuster was afraid.
He scrambled backwards, one hand reaching for the pistol he had dropped after running into the machine's leg. The huge machine turned towards him, ponderously graceful on its quietly wheezing hydraulics. Oh no, he thought, it has a hammer. Oh no, he thought, that hammer is almost as big as I am. Just as his fingers finally found the runaway firearm, the machine lurched forward and in a single step closed the distance and placed one huge metal foot on his chest. He was slammed back into the floor, his arm spasming and knocking the pistol away from his reach. The metal foot on his chest was crushing his lungs. He could barely breath! He flailed at it with both arms but his fists ricocheted harmlessly off its cool metal surface. It raised its hammer back for the killing blow. Schuster closed his eyes, awaiting the end.
Imagine his surprise, then, when instead of a crushing hammerblow he instead heard the sweet, beautiful voice of a young woman, probably even younger than him! Schuster hadn't heard a voice like that in... well, a lot of Tatarstian women sound kinda like men, so actually not in about ten years. At least. Maybe his whole life.
"Stop wiggling, stupid Kyelz," she said. She sounded breathless, on the verge of panic. What the fuck is a Kyelz? he thought, still barely believing he was alive. "Something is following me," she continued, her strained voice emerging from a speaker somewhere in her expansive metal chest. "I need to keep moving."
With that, Schuster found himself suddenly able to breath again! He inhaled a few massive gulps of stale warehouse air, tasting faintly of dust, and prepared to climb to his feet.
Eriz let her foot up off Schuster's chest. Just as he was beginning to stand, she swung a massive hand down towards him and lifted him up by the back of his green jacket, hoisting him easily with one hand and flinging him over her shoulder, pinning him in place with the steel vice of her arm. One of her aux-arms swooped down to scoop up the fallen pistol and she continued charging through the stacks of crates, the disheveled man bobbing up and down on her shoulder as she ran.
"What the fuck is going on!" he howled, barely audible over the sounds of box-related carnage. Eriz didn't exactly have a good answer for that, so she didn't say anything, only continuing her relentless assault on the crates that blocked her path. She knew, now, where she was going. She was leaving.