RE: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 4: Deathball Championship)
05-21-2013, 06:23 AM
Marcus wouldn’t have called the Deathball security guards the best of company in an ordinary situation, but in a situation where he was coercing them into something they certainly didn’t want to do, they were decidedly worse. All dirty looks and shared glances. He was just glad that he was the one behind them and not vice versa.
The elevator was not working, so they had to take the stairs. And what an uncomfortable five flights it was. Five flights of silence as heavy as lead and the echo-y clanking of his boots on the damnable stairs. When was the last time he took a break? Did getting knocked unconscious count as resting? It certainly wasn’t restful. Steady, Marcus, you’re almost through this, don’t wear out now. Just bottle up your griping until you can release it all over that shitty plant.
And then…what? Regroup and find a way to get to the Monitor? That was Sarika’s plan. And he supposed it was his plan too, back when he made that cheesy-ass speech…yesterday? A few hours ago? But who was left now?
If the plant burned…it would be Lloyd, who was…weird. Karen, who was batshit insane at the moment and probably unwilling to cooperate. And Sarika. No comment.
Not a group that inspired confidence. He had worked in groups and he had worked alone. At this point, the situation was becoming one where he’d rather work alone, if possible. So then what? Was he going to just…play the game? He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it, he would really rather survive…but…
“Here’s the floor,” said one of the guards, sliding open a door. Marcus looked up, realizing that he had drifted off too much. He couldn’t afford to lose focus at this point. “So, um, you just take a left and – “
“Hey! What’re you scrubs doing?” a voice called out from the hallway. Marcus cringed. He definitely recognized the voice.
The unwelcome visage of Turaine peered into the doorway. “I figured everybody was escaping or – “
By the look on her face, she didn’t seem particularly happy to see him either.
“What’s a player doin’ all the way up here, huh?” She squinted at the guards. The leader met her, squint for squint.
“He wanted to take on the psycho messing with the game or something.” Marcus didn’t comment on the irony of the word ‘psycho.’ “So we led him up.”
Turaine stepped to the side so that she was fully framed by the doorway. In her hands was a heavy-duty gun that Marcus was certain she wanted to point at him. “Weeeeell, that’s just what I’m doin’ so you can just march him back down.”
“No,” said Marcus, pushing his way up to the door. “I happen to have a personal score to settle.”
Turaine leaned against the frame, casually blocking the way. “I happen to have somethin’ personal against the thing too. At this rate, he’ll put me out of a job.”
Marcus couldn’t help but think that his reasons were a bit more righteous. But he tried not to roll his eyes. “Look, I actually know a few things about this flying plant. Things you probably should know if you really want to fight against him. But if I’m not tagging along, I don’t see a reason to tell you.”
Turaine didn’t have the restraint that Marcus did, and her eyes rolled like a three-ring circus. “Alright, fine.”
“So we’re just gonna go now,” said the security guards, and they did just that. Neither the recruiter nor the mercenary noticed.
“First of all, do you have incendiary weapons?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
First, there was nothing. The nothing that came with pushing everything out. Pain. Weariness. Emotion.
Then came the enlightening voice.
Sarika panicked when she couldn’t understand it at first, but then she realized that the voice was speaking in her native language, a language she had never spoken ever since she ran away and abandoned her duties no, no, there was another oracle. Stop. No negative thoughts. Breathe.
The voice was comforting. It spoke in words and in abstract. Was it Hora? Did her influence really seep through multiverses? Yes, even after so long, she could still recognize the goddess, c’mon, she was a freaking prophet.
She apologized. She laid her soul bare. She admitted that she didn’t know what to do as much as the next person. Didn’t know what was right anymore. She needed guidance.
She understood Reudic. She really did. His survival of the fittest philosophy. How it was perhaps, a part of the culture he grew up in. How perhaps Lillian would have been a burden, unable to live, how she would have been a waste of resources.
She didn’t agree with him. But was it wrong to kill him for that? Would it just be cold vengeance, murder for murder? Or maybe a result of her frayed nerves reacting out of fear, out of survival instincts? Was justice just a matter of imposing one belief over others, forcing them to comply, treating that as right until some other civilization came along to enforce their beliefs over the “barbaric” ones? No matter what, she couldn’t ever see Reudic being ‘right.’ But that was the point, wasn’t it? Justice was a matter of where you happened to be standing. Justice wasn’t real.
Hora made no effort to break her disillusionment. Yes, morality was all in the mind. But that doesn’t make it imaginary…
When Lloyd came out again, he found Sarika riding shotgun. “C’mon, hurry up,” she snapped. “We’re missing all the action at the arena!”
Under his load, Lloyd shrugged. It was probably best not to argue with the prophet. Though if he thought she knew what she was doing, he was sorely wrong.
The elevator was not working, so they had to take the stairs. And what an uncomfortable five flights it was. Five flights of silence as heavy as lead and the echo-y clanking of his boots on the damnable stairs. When was the last time he took a break? Did getting knocked unconscious count as resting? It certainly wasn’t restful. Steady, Marcus, you’re almost through this, don’t wear out now. Just bottle up your griping until you can release it all over that shitty plant.
And then…what? Regroup and find a way to get to the Monitor? That was Sarika’s plan. And he supposed it was his plan too, back when he made that cheesy-ass speech…yesterday? A few hours ago? But who was left now?
If the plant burned…it would be Lloyd, who was…weird. Karen, who was batshit insane at the moment and probably unwilling to cooperate. And Sarika. No comment.
Not a group that inspired confidence. He had worked in groups and he had worked alone. At this point, the situation was becoming one where he’d rather work alone, if possible. So then what? Was he going to just…play the game? He wasn’t going to sugarcoat it, he would really rather survive…but…
“Here’s the floor,” said one of the guards, sliding open a door. Marcus looked up, realizing that he had drifted off too much. He couldn’t afford to lose focus at this point. “So, um, you just take a left and – “
“Hey! What’re you scrubs doing?” a voice called out from the hallway. Marcus cringed. He definitely recognized the voice.
The unwelcome visage of Turaine peered into the doorway. “I figured everybody was escaping or – “
By the look on her face, she didn’t seem particularly happy to see him either.
“What’s a player doin’ all the way up here, huh?” She squinted at the guards. The leader met her, squint for squint.
“He wanted to take on the psycho messing with the game or something.” Marcus didn’t comment on the irony of the word ‘psycho.’ “So we led him up.”
Turaine stepped to the side so that she was fully framed by the doorway. In her hands was a heavy-duty gun that Marcus was certain she wanted to point at him. “Weeeeell, that’s just what I’m doin’ so you can just march him back down.”
“No,” said Marcus, pushing his way up to the door. “I happen to have a personal score to settle.”
Turaine leaned against the frame, casually blocking the way. “I happen to have somethin’ personal against the thing too. At this rate, he’ll put me out of a job.”
Marcus couldn’t help but think that his reasons were a bit more righteous. But he tried not to roll his eyes. “Look, I actually know a few things about this flying plant. Things you probably should know if you really want to fight against him. But if I’m not tagging along, I don’t see a reason to tell you.”
Turaine didn’t have the restraint that Marcus did, and her eyes rolled like a three-ring circus. “Alright, fine.”
“So we’re just gonna go now,” said the security guards, and they did just that. Neither the recruiter nor the mercenary noticed.
“First of all, do you have incendiary weapons?”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
First, there was nothing. The nothing that came with pushing everything out. Pain. Weariness. Emotion.
Then came the enlightening voice.
Sarika panicked when she couldn’t understand it at first, but then she realized that the voice was speaking in her native language, a language she had never spoken ever since she ran away and abandoned her duties no, no, there was another oracle. Stop. No negative thoughts. Breathe.
The voice was comforting. It spoke in words and in abstract. Was it Hora? Did her influence really seep through multiverses? Yes, even after so long, she could still recognize the goddess, c’mon, she was a freaking prophet.
She apologized. She laid her soul bare. She admitted that she didn’t know what to do as much as the next person. Didn’t know what was right anymore. She needed guidance.
She understood Reudic. She really did. His survival of the fittest philosophy. How it was perhaps, a part of the culture he grew up in. How perhaps Lillian would have been a burden, unable to live, how she would have been a waste of resources.
She didn’t agree with him. But was it wrong to kill him for that? Would it just be cold vengeance, murder for murder? Or maybe a result of her frayed nerves reacting out of fear, out of survival instincts? Was justice just a matter of imposing one belief over others, forcing them to comply, treating that as right until some other civilization came along to enforce their beliefs over the “barbaric” ones? No matter what, she couldn’t ever see Reudic being ‘right.’ But that was the point, wasn’t it? Justice was a matter of where you happened to be standing. Justice wasn’t real.
Hora made no effort to break her disillusionment. Yes, morality was all in the mind. But that doesn’t make it imaginary…
When Lloyd came out again, he found Sarika riding shotgun. “C’mon, hurry up,” she snapped. “We’re missing all the action at the arena!”
Under his load, Lloyd shrugged. It was probably best not to argue with the prophet. Though if he thought she knew what she was doing, he was sorely wrong.