RE: Intense Struggle Season 2! (Round 4: Deathball Championship)
12-25-2014, 07:23 AM
It had taken a bit of time for Sarika to try to cajole Lloyd into potentially waiting a little longer before blowing the Deathball arena sky-high or whatever, and even then, she hadn't really succeeded, making the whole effort a bit of a waste.
“C'mon, do it for me?”
“We're not quite at that point in our relationship where saying something like that would magically convince me to agree with you. Also, part of me hates what you stand for,” he added, giving a meaningful glance at her grey uniform. Lloyd had not let the conversation detract from his goals and was currently hurrying off with a pile of worryingly bright explosives down one of the hallways that hadn't been locked down. Sarika struggled to keep up.
“I'm just saying, I don't want to die while going after Reudic. Preeetty sure Marcus wouldn't appreciate it either. He's in here, by the way.”
Lloyd shoved a shoulder into one of the double doors and grunted something that sounded vaguely thankful when Sarika pushed it open for him. “You're really bad at this,” he commented, making it sound like a fact rather than an insult. Still, he made a little nod of concession. “It'll take a while to set everything up. But not long. Try to finish your business before then.”
Not even an estimate of time, huh? But Sarika just took what she could get and rushed up the nearest staircase, leaping up the flights as though she wasn't confined by gravity, steps speeding below at a rate that wasn't safe, especially for someone who was made up of a bundle of hollow bones and one really scabby shoulder that was starting to itch.
But she had to do this. She had to be quick. Hora had told her how everything was playing out, and she didn't have much time before someone acted before she got a chance.
–---------------------------------------
“Okay, this is it.”
Marcus had debated whether to share all the information he had on the damn plant, but he knew that it wasn't a good idea to keep necessary shit from your (temporary) allies, no matter how annoying they were.
Turaine was dreadfully annoying. But he still warned her about the whole toxin thing and she gave him a grenade. Not incendiary, he couldn't help but notice. But she had pointed out, rather logically, that they were recruiters, not blow-everybody-up-ers, and it was already damn lucky that she could even get something like grenades for emergencies.
Both of them were currently perched on either side of the door to the control room. Turaine had one hand on the door handle.
“As soon as I open the door, both of us throw a grenade in and hope that it's enough for all the electronic stuff inside to catch fire and burn the plant up.”
It struck Marcus as a pretty shoddy plan, not to mention a completely anticlimactic way to deal with Reudic. But it meant that the both of them wouldn't be in danger of being drugged up and the grenades would at least destroy something important, removing control from the weed. But also potentially unleashing the terror that was Karen down below. And if it didn't work, they'd have to somehow deal with a plant in a stiflingly smokey room. Not ideal for two people without gas masks.
He still nodded solemnly, his finger already on the pin of the relatively primitive explosive, and paid close attention to Turaine's silent countdown before being confronted with the sudden sight of a room full of vines, his grenade rolling along the floor while hers arced beautifully above, the damn plant halfway turning around, right there, Lillian's killer right there and a monster, absolute beast who couldn't be allowed to live, too dangerous, he wanted to watch as it burned away painfully and then the door was slammed shut and Turaine braced herself against it.
A few seconds, there was a satisfying boom that rocked Marcus and forced him to steady himself against the wall and made Turaine jump away, shaking her hands from the shockwave. They stared at the door.
“Did we do it?” she asked, biting her lip, remembering the eerie circle of bodies she had seen surrounding the plant before.
Marcus was still here, so he was pretty sure that was a no. He was already starting to unholster a pistol on his way to the control room proper. Before he could even set a hand against the door, it burst open with a blast of heat and a mess of tendrils that bounced harmlessly off his armor. Turaine leapt back with a curse, fumbling with her own arsenal, but he didn't see her follow him as he ducked his head and jumped through the billowing smoke.
The room certainly changed during his brief glance at it. The panels had certainly exploded into flames, as Turaine had thought, but none of it seemed to have caught Reudic, unfortunately, and the plant currently hovered in front of the broken windows with a menace that was almost apathetic. It seemed unaffected by the smoke, merely flexing its vines in a way that reminded him of snakes.
Marcus covered his mouth with an arm and gripped his pistol tighter. He really wished he could just shoot it, but he didn't know the vitals of plant aliens (or even if plant aliens had vitals to begin with) and even if he did, his eyes were stinging from the constant smoke, meaning any accurate aiming was going to be right out. He could try pushing it into the fire below it, but that meant getting close to the thorns dripping with toxins that would reduce him to a gibbering mess, or worse.
Reudic reared up a few tendrils and Marcus raised his gun, fired a few shots, some whizzing harmlessly by, others lodging into the mass of vines and doing nothing more than jerking the body back. Reudic started to drift away, out the window, and Marcus shouted (or maybe gave a feral growl, he didn't pay attention) before grabbing Retribution and leveling it, or at least trying to without going into a coughing fit. The fire was starting to spread, licking at things that were potentially explosive when exposed to flames. He should probably be a little concerned, but he couldn't because it was getting away, he couldn't let it, not again, not passing up this chance, no
“Sarika!” he heard behind him, and that was surprising enough for him to turn around.
The fire had circled around him, and jumping through it was that familiar, lithe figure of the prophet. She stumbled from the leftover momentum, looking a little singed around the feathers, but not too bad. Her goggles were on her eyes again, making her look much more like herself than before, and despite everything, Marcus couldn't help but reach over and push her behind him.
“Stop,” she said, shoving his arm off. “I'm taking care of this.”
“You don't even have a weapon,” he couldn't help but scoff, pointing Retribution up at the retreating plant as though he were making a point. Sarika stood in front of the barrel. He frowned. “Move.”
“I told you,” Sarika said, her voice hard even as it worked to push through the smoke, “I'm taking care of this.”
And before he could make some harsh comments about one thing or another, about how it didn't matter who did the deed as long as it got done, about how she couldn't kill anything worth shit, Sarika turned around and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Reudic!”
Surprisingly, the plant paused. “Sarika.”
Marcus couldn't help but let his grip slack. Did he miss something? When was polite conversation on the table?
“I've been thinking about what you said. About Lillian.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. Hold up, what? Sarika had a conversation with Reudic? And none of them killed each other? Another glance towards Reudic revealed nothing more than more impassive floating.
“I have too. It was disgraceful on my part to let you live back then. You were weak. Are weak. You don't deserve to survive.”
That, at least, seemed to have affected Sarika a little. She took a long time before opening her mouth again. “You still let me go, though. Survival of the fittest isn't all you live by, Reudic. And you've learned a lot about society, right? Culture? You understand that people don't have to live by survival of the fittest?”
Marcus started eyeing the fire as he shifted to get a better angle on Reudic. But Sarika moved in his line of sight again. Damn her and her foresight. Couldn't she at least tell this really wasn't the time for a philosophical debate?
Reudic seemed to be of the same opinion, his tendrils already preparing to skewer her. “You say that, but you are entered in this competition as well. You have no choice but to live by this rule. It's the way of the world.”
“People are the way of the world,” Sarika snapped back, somehow her voice still clear despite the amount of smoke she must be inhaling. “We make the way of the world! Do you really want to live like an animal, knowing all the advances society made by throwing away that rule? You've seen medicine, you know about art, you've seen transportation, roads, systems that are only possible through mass cooperation and Marcus, don't you dare shoot!”
He almost dropped Retribution in surprise. Sarika was in front of him again, eyes blazing behind her goggles even as she was covered in soot, and how stupid could she get, turning her back on a cold-blooded murderer, someone who even admitted that it wanted to kill her? She whirled around again before he could think of knocking her out.
“Do you really want to live that way?” she continued as though she hadn't interrupted herself. “Like everybody's against you and you're against everybody? Constantly killing everybody who's too weak for your tastes until someone stronger finally comes along and kills you?”
The mass of vines seemed to curl tighter around itself. “That's irrelevant. The world is what it is.”
“Maybe that's how you see it. But I still stick by my own morals. I still have compassion. I've got a sense of justice. And even though I think you did something wrong, you don't deserve to die, Reudic.”
“What,” Marcus finally said, the smoke harsh against his throat, and he could swear he heard an echo somewhere in the hallway behind him.
Reudic seemed as surprised as a plant could get. “You're being ridiculous.”
“I just want to help,” Sarika snapped before straightening up and wielding a badge that would probably have more meaning if it didn't belong to someone else.
“Reudic,” she bellowed, and Marcus was reminded of his troublemaker years of yore, “by the authority vested in me as the chosen one of Hora, I am hereby arresting you for the murder of Lillian Finch. You have the right to a fair trial. If you are not able to afford an attorney, one will be provided to you by the state. Please give yourself up, or I will have to use force, and an additional charge of resisting arrest will be added.”
“C'mon, do it for me?”
“We're not quite at that point in our relationship where saying something like that would magically convince me to agree with you. Also, part of me hates what you stand for,” he added, giving a meaningful glance at her grey uniform. Lloyd had not let the conversation detract from his goals and was currently hurrying off with a pile of worryingly bright explosives down one of the hallways that hadn't been locked down. Sarika struggled to keep up.
“I'm just saying, I don't want to die while going after Reudic. Preeetty sure Marcus wouldn't appreciate it either. He's in here, by the way.”
Lloyd shoved a shoulder into one of the double doors and grunted something that sounded vaguely thankful when Sarika pushed it open for him. “You're really bad at this,” he commented, making it sound like a fact rather than an insult. Still, he made a little nod of concession. “It'll take a while to set everything up. But not long. Try to finish your business before then.”
Not even an estimate of time, huh? But Sarika just took what she could get and rushed up the nearest staircase, leaping up the flights as though she wasn't confined by gravity, steps speeding below at a rate that wasn't safe, especially for someone who was made up of a bundle of hollow bones and one really scabby shoulder that was starting to itch.
But she had to do this. She had to be quick. Hora had told her how everything was playing out, and she didn't have much time before someone acted before she got a chance.
–---------------------------------------
“Okay, this is it.”
Marcus had debated whether to share all the information he had on the damn plant, but he knew that it wasn't a good idea to keep necessary shit from your (temporary) allies, no matter how annoying they were.
Turaine was dreadfully annoying. But he still warned her about the whole toxin thing and she gave him a grenade. Not incendiary, he couldn't help but notice. But she had pointed out, rather logically, that they were recruiters, not blow-everybody-up-ers, and it was already damn lucky that she could even get something like grenades for emergencies.
Both of them were currently perched on either side of the door to the control room. Turaine had one hand on the door handle.
“As soon as I open the door, both of us throw a grenade in and hope that it's enough for all the electronic stuff inside to catch fire and burn the plant up.”
It struck Marcus as a pretty shoddy plan, not to mention a completely anticlimactic way to deal with Reudic. But it meant that the both of them wouldn't be in danger of being drugged up and the grenades would at least destroy something important, removing control from the weed. But also potentially unleashing the terror that was Karen down below. And if it didn't work, they'd have to somehow deal with a plant in a stiflingly smokey room. Not ideal for two people without gas masks.
He still nodded solemnly, his finger already on the pin of the relatively primitive explosive, and paid close attention to Turaine's silent countdown before being confronted with the sudden sight of a room full of vines, his grenade rolling along the floor while hers arced beautifully above, the damn plant halfway turning around, right there, Lillian's killer right there and a monster, absolute beast who couldn't be allowed to live, too dangerous, he wanted to watch as it burned away painfully and then the door was slammed shut and Turaine braced herself against it.
A few seconds, there was a satisfying boom that rocked Marcus and forced him to steady himself against the wall and made Turaine jump away, shaking her hands from the shockwave. They stared at the door.
“Did we do it?” she asked, biting her lip, remembering the eerie circle of bodies she had seen surrounding the plant before.
Marcus was still here, so he was pretty sure that was a no. He was already starting to unholster a pistol on his way to the control room proper. Before he could even set a hand against the door, it burst open with a blast of heat and a mess of tendrils that bounced harmlessly off his armor. Turaine leapt back with a curse, fumbling with her own arsenal, but he didn't see her follow him as he ducked his head and jumped through the billowing smoke.
The room certainly changed during his brief glance at it. The panels had certainly exploded into flames, as Turaine had thought, but none of it seemed to have caught Reudic, unfortunately, and the plant currently hovered in front of the broken windows with a menace that was almost apathetic. It seemed unaffected by the smoke, merely flexing its vines in a way that reminded him of snakes.
Marcus covered his mouth with an arm and gripped his pistol tighter. He really wished he could just shoot it, but he didn't know the vitals of plant aliens (or even if plant aliens had vitals to begin with) and even if he did, his eyes were stinging from the constant smoke, meaning any accurate aiming was going to be right out. He could try pushing it into the fire below it, but that meant getting close to the thorns dripping with toxins that would reduce him to a gibbering mess, or worse.
Reudic reared up a few tendrils and Marcus raised his gun, fired a few shots, some whizzing harmlessly by, others lodging into the mass of vines and doing nothing more than jerking the body back. Reudic started to drift away, out the window, and Marcus shouted (or maybe gave a feral growl, he didn't pay attention) before grabbing Retribution and leveling it, or at least trying to without going into a coughing fit. The fire was starting to spread, licking at things that were potentially explosive when exposed to flames. He should probably be a little concerned, but he couldn't because it was getting away, he couldn't let it, not again, not passing up this chance, no
“Sarika!” he heard behind him, and that was surprising enough for him to turn around.
The fire had circled around him, and jumping through it was that familiar, lithe figure of the prophet. She stumbled from the leftover momentum, looking a little singed around the feathers, but not too bad. Her goggles were on her eyes again, making her look much more like herself than before, and despite everything, Marcus couldn't help but reach over and push her behind him.
“Stop,” she said, shoving his arm off. “I'm taking care of this.”
“You don't even have a weapon,” he couldn't help but scoff, pointing Retribution up at the retreating plant as though he were making a point. Sarika stood in front of the barrel. He frowned. “Move.”
“I told you,” Sarika said, her voice hard even as it worked to push through the smoke, “I'm taking care of this.”
And before he could make some harsh comments about one thing or another, about how it didn't matter who did the deed as long as it got done, about how she couldn't kill anything worth shit, Sarika turned around and shouted at the top of her lungs, “Reudic!”
Surprisingly, the plant paused. “Sarika.”
Marcus couldn't help but let his grip slack. Did he miss something? When was polite conversation on the table?
“I've been thinking about what you said. About Lillian.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes. Hold up, what? Sarika had a conversation with Reudic? And none of them killed each other? Another glance towards Reudic revealed nothing more than more impassive floating.
“I have too. It was disgraceful on my part to let you live back then. You were weak. Are weak. You don't deserve to survive.”
That, at least, seemed to have affected Sarika a little. She took a long time before opening her mouth again. “You still let me go, though. Survival of the fittest isn't all you live by, Reudic. And you've learned a lot about society, right? Culture? You understand that people don't have to live by survival of the fittest?”
Marcus started eyeing the fire as he shifted to get a better angle on Reudic. But Sarika moved in his line of sight again. Damn her and her foresight. Couldn't she at least tell this really wasn't the time for a philosophical debate?
Reudic seemed to be of the same opinion, his tendrils already preparing to skewer her. “You say that, but you are entered in this competition as well. You have no choice but to live by this rule. It's the way of the world.”
“People are the way of the world,” Sarika snapped back, somehow her voice still clear despite the amount of smoke she must be inhaling. “We make the way of the world! Do you really want to live like an animal, knowing all the advances society made by throwing away that rule? You've seen medicine, you know about art, you've seen transportation, roads, systems that are only possible through mass cooperation and Marcus, don't you dare shoot!”
He almost dropped Retribution in surprise. Sarika was in front of him again, eyes blazing behind her goggles even as she was covered in soot, and how stupid could she get, turning her back on a cold-blooded murderer, someone who even admitted that it wanted to kill her? She whirled around again before he could think of knocking her out.
“Do you really want to live that way?” she continued as though she hadn't interrupted herself. “Like everybody's against you and you're against everybody? Constantly killing everybody who's too weak for your tastes until someone stronger finally comes along and kills you?”
The mass of vines seemed to curl tighter around itself. “That's irrelevant. The world is what it is.”
“Maybe that's how you see it. But I still stick by my own morals. I still have compassion. I've got a sense of justice. And even though I think you did something wrong, you don't deserve to die, Reudic.”
“What,” Marcus finally said, the smoke harsh against his throat, and he could swear he heard an echo somewhere in the hallway behind him.
Reudic seemed as surprised as a plant could get. “You're being ridiculous.”
“I just want to help,” Sarika snapped before straightening up and wielding a badge that would probably have more meaning if it didn't belong to someone else.
“Reudic,” she bellowed, and Marcus was reminded of his troublemaker years of yore, “by the authority vested in me as the chosen one of Hora, I am hereby arresting you for the murder of Lillian Finch. You have the right to a fair trial. If you are not able to afford an attorney, one will be provided to you by the state. Please give yourself up, or I will have to use force, and an additional charge of resisting arrest will be added.”