Re: The Fatal Conflict! (GBS2G7) (Round 1: Everybody's Dead!)
07-20-2010, 12:38 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by Pinary.
Scott stumbled back when the invisible barrier vanished, nearly tripping on the curb. He found himself with his back to another solid surface, but his eyes were still locked on the corpse that had been lying not a meter away. Feeling around with his hands, he discovered the edge of the brick wall just to his left. Slowly, he shuffled sideways towards it, and he was soon backing into an alley. A few steps later, the side of the building obscured the body, but Scott just kept backing away, nearly falling over a cardboard box as he did.
He'd taken another dozen steps back when a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him sideways, pulling him into a doorway. After a moment of disorientation, he found himself staring into his own eyes.
The other him slapped him, hissing, "Focus, dammit! Yes, there are bodies, but if we don't want to be one, you have to calm down!"
The original Scott blinked a few times, rubbing his cheek. Something in the depths of his mind said that, yes, that would be a good idea, but the rest of it was still busy screaming at him about the body oh god the body.
He just stared at himself a bit, eyes not really focused.
"Dammit... Alright, think. Assuming an even chance of victory for each of the eight contestants, what are our odds of survival?"
Numbers. He could do numbers. He liked numbers. "One in... One in eight," he eventually said.
"And what percentage is that?"
"Zero point one two five." His voice was gaining a bit of confidence. His heart was still racing, but he was at least able to think somewhat clearly.
"Are those good odds?"
"No, they're not."
"Is it going to take everything we've got just to survi-"
There was a flash of light and an electrical snap as Scott jumped. He was a bit further back in the alley, and, checking his watch, there weren't any others of himself around. His experience said he was probably in the past, soon to encounter his past self and calm him down. Of course, knowing how far back he was would be hard.
After a moment's contemplation, he decided to check the street and wait for himself to show up.
As he started down the alley, a thought occurred, and rather than just walk to the end, he tried the door that he had ambushed himself in. It was a bit sticky, but it opened, rusty hinges creaking a bit as it did. High shelves lined the walls of what was apparently a storage room, and by the dim light coming through the door, he could see the silhouettes of assorted bottles and boxes filling them. There was another door leading towards the front of the building, and Scott made his way over to it, stumbling over something on the way.
The front room of the pharmacy was divided up into rows by several sets of waist-high shelves, each shelf lined with neatly-arranged bottles and boxes. There was a counter along the whole of the back wall, behind which the pharmacist would usually be standing. Now, though, he was nowhere to be found. This was probably for the best- Scott didn't really want to run into more corpses just yet.
A thought occurred to him, grabbing him in that certain way that mathematical problems always did. There was a key in the till, and a few experimental button-presses later, the tray popped open. There were an assortment of notes and coins there, as well as some rolls of coins and a few keys.
He picked up a few of the notes. He examined them, but aside from determining that they were issued by the Bank of England, there wasn't much useful information. He put them carefully back in their slots before turning his attention to the coins, which yielded better results. There was a year stamped on the back of each one, and the most recent he could find was from 1994- just before the turn of the millennium.
He didn't have much longer to consider that, though- his watch beeped at him, indicating that there was now another him present. Looking up, he saw a few of the others stand up in the street outside, waking up from their paralysis. He crouched down behind the counter and returned to the back room, heading out to the alley.
He nearly tripped over the object again, and he cursed. What sort of pharmacist would leave something like that laying on the floor where someone could easily trip over it?
Feeling around, he found the light switch and flicked it on.
Presumably, the grey-haired old man on the floor was the pharmacist. He wore a clean, white apron over a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face was wrinkled with age and good humour.
Scott had managed to push the corpses out of his mind for a while, but it all came rushing back to him when he saw the old man's body. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. It's just a body, he told himself. It can't hurt you or anything. Just a body. He'd have to face them at one point or another, he knew, and now was as good a time as any. He took a few deep breaths and, slowly, he opened his eyes. The dead man was still there, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Steeling himself, Scott moved over and knelt down beside him. The was no blood on the man's apron, no gaping wounds to indicate how he'd died. He was just... gone.
Scott reached out, closed the man's eyes, and stood up. This guy was dead, and there was nothing Scott could do about it. He could only focus on not sharing the man's fate himself.
Something made a noise out in the alley, and Scott realized that the other him must be getting close. He went to the open door just in time, grabbing the other Scott's shoulders and pulling him in. He slapped the other him, distracted him with numbers, and did his best to calm him down before he vanished.
That done, he sighed and went back into the alley. That loop had closed, and now he had to focus on the matter at hand. There were seven other people around, all of whom probably wanted him dead, and he had no real means of fighting back. He walked slowly to the far end of the alley, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon.
Scott stumbled back when the invisible barrier vanished, nearly tripping on the curb. He found himself with his back to another solid surface, but his eyes were still locked on the corpse that had been lying not a meter away. Feeling around with his hands, he discovered the edge of the brick wall just to his left. Slowly, he shuffled sideways towards it, and he was soon backing into an alley. A few steps later, the side of the building obscured the body, but Scott just kept backing away, nearly falling over a cardboard box as he did.
He'd taken another dozen steps back when a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders and hauled him sideways, pulling him into a doorway. After a moment of disorientation, he found himself staring into his own eyes.
The other him slapped him, hissing, "Focus, dammit! Yes, there are bodies, but if we don't want to be one, you have to calm down!"
The original Scott blinked a few times, rubbing his cheek. Something in the depths of his mind said that, yes, that would be a good idea, but the rest of it was still busy screaming at him about the body oh god the body.
He just stared at himself a bit, eyes not really focused.
"Dammit... Alright, think. Assuming an even chance of victory for each of the eight contestants, what are our odds of survival?"
Numbers. He could do numbers. He liked numbers. "One in... One in eight," he eventually said.
"And what percentage is that?"
"Zero point one two five." His voice was gaining a bit of confidence. His heart was still racing, but he was at least able to think somewhat clearly.
"Are those good odds?"
"No, they're not."
"Is it going to take everything we've got just to survi-"
There was a flash of light and an electrical snap as Scott jumped. He was a bit further back in the alley, and, checking his watch, there weren't any others of himself around. His experience said he was probably in the past, soon to encounter his past self and calm him down. Of course, knowing how far back he was would be hard.
After a moment's contemplation, he decided to check the street and wait for himself to show up.
As he started down the alley, a thought occurred, and rather than just walk to the end, he tried the door that he had ambushed himself in. It was a bit sticky, but it opened, rusty hinges creaking a bit as it did. High shelves lined the walls of what was apparently a storage room, and by the dim light coming through the door, he could see the silhouettes of assorted bottles and boxes filling them. There was another door leading towards the front of the building, and Scott made his way over to it, stumbling over something on the way.
The front room of the pharmacy was divided up into rows by several sets of waist-high shelves, each shelf lined with neatly-arranged bottles and boxes. There was a counter along the whole of the back wall, behind which the pharmacist would usually be standing. Now, though, he was nowhere to be found. This was probably for the best- Scott didn't really want to run into more corpses just yet.
A thought occurred to him, grabbing him in that certain way that mathematical problems always did. There was a key in the till, and a few experimental button-presses later, the tray popped open. There were an assortment of notes and coins there, as well as some rolls of coins and a few keys.
He picked up a few of the notes. He examined them, but aside from determining that they were issued by the Bank of England, there wasn't much useful information. He put them carefully back in their slots before turning his attention to the coins, which yielded better results. There was a year stamped on the back of each one, and the most recent he could find was from 1994- just before the turn of the millennium.
He didn't have much longer to consider that, though- his watch beeped at him, indicating that there was now another him present. Looking up, he saw a few of the others stand up in the street outside, waking up from their paralysis. He crouched down behind the counter and returned to the back room, heading out to the alley.
He nearly tripped over the object again, and he cursed. What sort of pharmacist would leave something like that laying on the floor where someone could easily trip over it?
Feeling around, he found the light switch and flicked it on.
Presumably, the grey-haired old man on the floor was the pharmacist. He wore a clean, white apron over a flannel shirt and jeans, and his face was wrinkled with age and good humour.
Scott had managed to push the corpses out of his mind for a while, but it all came rushing back to him when he saw the old man's body. He squeezed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth. It's just a body, he told himself. It can't hurt you or anything. Just a body. He'd have to face them at one point or another, he knew, and now was as good a time as any. He took a few deep breaths and, slowly, he opened his eyes. The dead man was still there, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Steeling himself, Scott moved over and knelt down beside him. The was no blood on the man's apron, no gaping wounds to indicate how he'd died. He was just... gone.
Scott reached out, closed the man's eyes, and stood up. This guy was dead, and there was nothing Scott could do about it. He could only focus on not sharing the man's fate himself.
Something made a noise out in the alley, and Scott realized that the other him must be getting close. He went to the open door just in time, grabbing the other Scott's shoulders and pulling him in. He slapped the other him, distracted him with numbers, and did his best to calm him down before he vanished.
That done, he sighed and went back into the alley. That loop had closed, and now he had to focus on the matter at hand. There were seven other people around, all of whom probably wanted him dead, and he had no real means of fighting back. He walked slowly to the far end of the alley, looking for anything that could be used as a weapon.