So combine we could be duper amazing!
Maybe even SUPER AMAZING.
I don't know the order, is it
Super duper amazing > Super amazing > duper amazing > amazing?
Rose roused herself from the nap she had heretofore been enjoying. She could swear, those horrorterrors were getting friskier...
Then she noticed several items of clothing scattered around the room. A glowing pink princess outfit, along with several of her own clothes from the closet.
What...?
She found her sprite sitting on the roof, wearing her old clothes and dangling her legs off the side.
She had legs now, apparently.
OPEN SPRITELOG
ROSE: Hey.
ROSE: What’s eating you?
ROSESPRITE: This whole sprite business.
ROSESPRITE: I’m beginning to think Dave was not in his right mind when he attempted this.
ROSE: What do you mean?
ROSESPRITE: Our timeline was not truly doomed.
ROSESPRITE: Dave simply assumed we had taken unacceptable losses.
ROSESPRITE: His brother, Becquerel...
ROSESPRITE: And all of the trolls.
ROSE: All of them?
ROSESPRITE: Yes.
ROSESPRITE: One of which was apparently close enough to him that he couldn’t stand letting her die.
ROSESPRITE: As well as losing my innocence, apparently.
ROSE: What.
ROSE: Innocent has never been a good description of me.
ROSESPRITE: So I told him.
ROSESPRITE: But he figured, and I quote,
ROSESPRITE: “lets face it rose youre pretty much a threat to society”
ROSESPRITE: “weve got to make sure theres no more of this running around than necessary”
ROSESPRITE: Then I pointed out he had just gestured to all of me.
ROSESPRITE: And he said “right there can never be too little of all of what you’ve become”
ROSE: It sounds to me like he was just being his usual sarcastic self.
ROSE: I don’t see why you’re so uptight about it.
ROSESPRITE: Would you believe that I didn’t want to go through with this?
ROSE: Absolutely.
ROSESPRITE: I didn’t want to become a ghostly advisor.
ROSESPRITE: I was fine with staying normal.
ROSESPRITE: I was perfectly fine with going into a newborn universe without twelve hanger-on trolls and half an entourage of parental figures.
ROSE: A question, if I may.
ROSESPRITE: Go on.
ROSE: Mother was not dead in this timeline, correct?
ROSESPRITE: Right.
ROSE: Could it simply be that you saw nothing wrong because you had personally lost nothing!?
ROSE: Has this dark magic snark really de-empathized you so much that you couldn’t see Dave hurting from the loss of his brother?
ROSE: And if I’m right, I’m sure Jade was one of his first supporters in our little band.
ROSESPRITE: Yes...?
ROSE: She was probably thinking along the same lines!
ROSE: If this is who I grow up to be, some witch who can’t see past her own “rationality,” I’ve had it.
ROSE: Here.
ROSESPRITE: What-
ROSE: Here are your stupid Thorns of Oglogoth. From what I’ve heard, you’d want them a lot more than I do right now.
And she left, just a little bitter about the whole experience. The Rose of the future took the Thorns, looking to all the world like she did a few hours ago in a different timeline, but glowing pink and with whiskery tentacles on her cheeks.
She smiled.
OPEN PESTERLOG
tentacleTherapist began pestering turntechGodhead
TG: good lord rose not the time
TG: busy being awesome
TT: Sorry.
TT: I just thought it prudent to inform you that I informed my past self of the circumstances of our reversal into this time.
TG: and
TG: howd she take it
TT: Surprisingly well.
TT: She is no longer on the road to becoming the “weird not at all lightish seer”
TT: Like you were afraid of.
TT: She also gave me back the Thorns.
TG: great
TG: give me the dissertation later im a little busy
TT: Fine.
TT: Be that way.
also I promise no harm will come to CD! Most likely. If we don't count psychological scarring. (I have been planning out the next three parts, and dear god. Gonna have to tackle something less dark next time).
Okay, you think that you’re starting to get the gist of this. One, two, now you have to find three. And so on. Can’t wait.
You’re starting to think that this whole situation is doing a number on your head. Alone, out-numbered, and you can’t spend a day without worrying that one of your friends isn’t going to make it through. If you were crazy, you might let Rose take a look at you.
But you aren’t crazy.
smack
ohgodwhat
Shit, you forgot about the next guy. You can’t hit him, not unless he shows you where he is.
smack
Smug bastard is toying with you. Well, let’s see how he likes this! Your sword in your hands, and you let loose on the air in front of you. Did you get him?
You decide you may as well wait for the next smack, see if you can get him then. But nothing happened. No smack, no hit, not even the flash of red to accompany it. What gives?
Oh hey, you just opened a memo in a few minutes. You wonder what you are going to have said.
FTG: so hey
FTG: humor me for a second
FTG: raise your sword
CTG: kay
FTG: now
FTG: just kind of slice the air to your right
You figure you knows what you’re doing, and decide to play along. Sure enough, you slice, and there goes the red image of half a gun clattering to the floor. You’re a fucking genius.
FTG: step two in daves hot new workout plan
FTG: on my signal:
FTG: raise your sword
FTG: jump to the left
FTG: and swing again
FTG: thats raise, jump, then swing
FTG: ready
FTG: okay
You proceed to do just that. On that last slice, you catch a red-tinged glimpse of yourself, as you and yourself slice through this guy at the same (relative) time.
So fucking cool.
So now that that’s over, you head down the hallway again. You activate the timetables, skip ahead a bit, and do a bunch of stuff we already read about.
Looking at this guy on the ground, you think of all the red and green both of you saw. Fucking Christmas all up in this bitch. Oh look, here’s a bright red shiny hat to go along with the festivities. Shit, none of this blood is coming out. You’d make an ironic statement about it being made by imigrants or something, but you think you’ve filled your cool quota for one fight.
You just hope that your luck holds out.
1 TRACE ERASED
3/15 HATS COLLECTED IRONICALLY
3/15 GREEN TORSOS DEAD
This one is kind of short, but I still like it. Trace has one of the cooler time powers.
My sig-quotes:
Originally Posted by Dastreus
ToreaderTornado is Lord English and LE is busy being Spades Slick, who is everyone. ToreaderTornado is everyone because ToreaderTornado is the dreamer.
Originally Posted by Varkarrus
IT'S FUN TO STAY AT THE
Originally Posted by MayorSillyBiscuits
Originally Posted by Tesseract
Y
Originally Posted by Varkarrus
M
Originally Posted by ToreaderTornado
C
Originally Posted by The One Guy
A
I am the bullhornedAirman .
Avatar courtesy of apatheticZombie
Took me about a year to notice the typo. How long did it take you?
Seeing humanoid abominations is not fun. Being one is worse.
Being caught by a SCP Foundation-expy and having tests run on you is even worse than that.
BLUH BLUH AU log: 06-1
April 26: Subject 06 appears agitated and unstable after initial treatment.
"Make it stop make it stop make it stop--
they won't stop talking t o me i can see them I didn't want this TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK!
please, please it hurts make it stop i can't sleep they'll see me please whatever you did to me take it back--"
After initial outburst, subject subsided and began to cry. When personnel were dispatched and subject was asked to identify problem, the subject began speaking in an unidentified language that distorted all recorded sound and had a drastic negative effect on personnel. Several became suicidal.
The surviving personnel described the language as 'unspeakable'. They refuse to return to subject's containment area.
Subject is left alone.
--------
April 30: Subject 06 expresses desire to see other subjects. Introduced to Subject 01. Both subjects seem familiar with each other, to the point that they argue in an apparently friendly way, and inadvertently reveal their names.
Audio Log is as follows.
01: "Man, this place is a bummer. You think they're gonna let us out?"
06: "Doubtful. What do you think, Itchy? They captured us for study."
01: "I dunno, Die. You're always kind of morbid."
06: "I'm being realistic."
01: "It's kinda hard to tell when half the time you kept telling everyone they were gonna die and we didn't!"
06: "I'm sorry for having that as my power? It's not like we can choose."
01: "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You think we should get out of here?"
06: "As soon as possible."
06: "As fatalistic as I am, I would not enjoy another near-death experience."
01: "Man, I don't think anyone does. So--"
At this point, Subject 01 was separated from Subject 06. Do not allow them to plot; they may be able to coordinate themselves to break each other out, and we cannot risk a containment breach.
-----------
Experiment:
Subject 06 introduced to a researcher's daughter, henceforth referred to as RL (Rose Lalonde). Mother expresses hope that if she expresses interest, she may start to converse more freely. RL is extremely reserved for a young child, and expresses more interest in the occult and other subjects than 'normal' people.
Subject 06 also expresses signs of interest in the occult.
RL: "...Hello."
06: "...Hi."
06: "What's the purpose of this visit?"
RL: "My mother wishes to make me engage in conversation, so I supposed I should indulge her this once."
06: "I see."
There are several moments of silence whereupon RL and the subject observe each other with mild curiosity and interest. At this point, the camera is left running, but live observers are removed.
Approximately 45 minutes later, the video feed is checked. 06 and RL are in animated discussion about what is apparently occult symbolism, and several symbols have been drawn with chalk on the floor of 06's room.
After RL is removed, Subject expresses disappointment and compliments RL.
Researcher: What did you think of her?
06: She's a little quiet, but she's interesting enough.
Researcher: You seemed to have interested her. She says most people bore her.
06: Really? She seemed perfectly fine to me.
May 5: RL pays several more visits to Subject 06's room, expressing some concern over recent treatment whereupon Subject 06 was exposed to other subjects known for their mind-altering effects upon other personnel.
The subjects did not affect 06 overmuch, but he seemed to be in distress, and again expressed the desire to see other subjects.
Request was denied.
Final notes for April-May log:
Subject 06 continues to grow more agitated. He has taken to pacing his containment area; he can only be pacified by the introduction of other subjects he appears to know or RL.
Strange noises have been heard coming from Subject 06's containment area at night; when questioned about them, he claims that nothing has been happening. Camera feeds appear perfectly fine. However, the strange noises still continue, and several personnel claim to have experienced 'everything warping' whenever they approach Subject 06's containment area.
Subject 06 shows no sign of being triggered into speaking 'unsettling' language. However, it is believed that he is becoming a major influence on RL; RL has begun to show a stronger interest in the occult, especially Lovecraft.
Log: END.
Attachments:
Subject Description: Subject 06 is a green-skinned male humanoid of indeterminate age. He was recovered with a doll, which he seems very attached to, although he has never explained why.
Subject 06 appears long and lanky, and slightly undernourished. He was allowed to keep his clothing and hat after he reacted violently when personnel attempted to take it away.
Last edited by Rukafais; 12-06-2010 at 12:04 AM.
>You see a LINK.
>Click LINK.
>Upon clicking the LINK, you are redirected to a DEVIANTART ACCOUNT. What a STRANGE THING.
AH GOD first actual ficpost in here what am I doing
I know, I know. More goddamn Bro stuff. but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. WARNING: Contains headcanon and excessive violence.
also to me it feels rather drafty. Lots of other stuff I could have/should have done. Muh.
ALSO! Parts inspired by both Lexxy and Kas' beautiful art.
Signal to Noise
Noise
Time slows when he moves fast enough. It's all relativity, simple physics. He's never known why. He's never cared. Most of the time, it's a gift, got the drift? Cept for now. Now it's hell. It's watching something that even he isn't fast enough to stop.
Destiny.
Signal
He's always known this moment would come. No... not always. But he has known for a long time, and while he's never liked it, this isn't a surprise. Shouldn't be.
Except that it is. The form of the event, the way it all happens, this isn't how he imagined it at all. And he didn't imagine he'd feel this way. He doesn't do feelings. He certainly doesn't do sorrow, or despair, or pain.
He holds the bloodstained feathers in his fist.
Reverse
“Fuck you,” he says. Not shouts. He never shouts. He doesn't shout because they always shout, every last fucking one of them. He has the baby in his arms and he looks completely ridiculous, a fifteen year old boy with a baby. She's still screaming in his face about which of those fucking skanks was it (None of them, you dumb bitch) and now he's done. Completely done.
He takes fifteen years worth of saving up from newspaper routes and carrying old ladies groceries and selling his music online and working retail in the record store after school and he walks out, the kid on his shoulders.
Reverse
He runs across the rooftops, five year old feet smacking pavement as he jumps across distances no human should be able to. Here, he's out – here he's alive. No more defense by making stupid jokes and acting like a jerk, none of that. Lil Cal's on his shoulders and there's just him and heat and speed. He didn't try out for track. He knew that he shouldn't, that they'd be suspicious.
He knows a hell of a lot of things. Despite what the belt marks on his back attest. He knows a shitting fuckton of things that that fuckhead who calls himself 'dad' never will. Fathers are fuckheads, the lot of them. Fathers yell. Fathers hurt.
He'll be a brother, not a father.
Reverse
They all look at him strangely. His eyes. Just. His eyes. The woman in charge can't understand it – he passes all the vision test with flying colors. Too well, even – 20/15 vision. It's not right. It's not natural. But that's not what bothers them most.
It's the way he looks at things like he already knows what they are.
It's the way all his drawings are of spirographs. Swords. And some of them of a dog-thing, usually cut into pieces. They put him up for counseling which he sits through in stubborn silence. He hates dogs, sure. But he's never hurt one.
Not yet, anyway.
Forward
It's nothing like how the books say, and everything like how it is in his head. Which is weird. Really fucking weird, he can't deny it. The baby is quiet. Never cries. That's chill with him.
Except tonight. It's three in the morning and the kid is crying and he can't fucking sleep and his job got hit by a fucking meteor and if he can't make the rent this month he's gonna get them both evicted and fuck if he's going to admit that he's really fifteen and fuck if he's going back to the foster care system because that's no place for him and it's really no place for Dave.
He gets up, lifts the kid out of his crib, and looks into the boy's eyes.
“Crying is for pussies.”
Forward
The porn site is doing way better than he'd ever dreamed, which is both awesome (for his bank account) and kind of disturbing. He'd already had a pretty dim view of humanity in general and this just confirmed what he suspected all along – people are seriously fucked up. And way too fucking easy to make fun of.
He looks up at the sky. Those meteors can't come fast enough.
Forward
Dave loses again in a sparring match. He does his usual big-brother cocky smirk and puts his foot down on the smaller boy's chest. He's twenty-five years old and it's really nothing to beat a ten year old.
Except this time it had gotten a little closer.
“Give it up, lil bro. You ain't never gonna touch this,” is what he says.
But what he thinks is, get back up. Take me down. I know someday you'll do it, you little bastard. Get stronger. I want to live to see it.
Forward
He doesn't scream from the nightmares. Just like he doesn't cry. Just like he never shouts, or loses his temper.
But they do come. Green fire and orange feathers. He has no idea what the latter means. But the former...
“Jack.”
Forward
He climbs up on the roof and he stares at the sky. He doesn't scream. But his fists do shake. Some nights are like this. Some nights, he just wants to live his own goddamn life.
Some nights, he wants to be human.
He walks back down the stairs and looks at Dave's sleeping face.
Maybe I wanted to see him grow up. Did you fuckers ever think about that?
Forward
Skaianet. He's on the website and he already knows where to click. What to look at. It's like this shit is predestined. It is predestined, actually, and he hates that just as much as he hates dogs (and cats. And chess. And fucking harlequins). He looks over at Dave and for a split second something in his chest tightens.
Jesus fuck I am so sorry about what's coming.
“Yo. You do your reading?” he says instead.
“Yeah,” says Dave.
“Fuckin liar. Go back and do it again. Motherfuckin Tolkien. You gonna learn this shit or I'm gonna put you back in the public school system.”
“Whatever,” says Dave, but he picks up The Return of the King anyway and goes to flop on the couch.
Maybe I'm Gandalf. Maybe I'll show back up and be like sup bitches got me a white staff and even more badassery!
But he knows that's not the case.
Forward
The ground spins. The heat burns. His eyes narrow behind his glasses.
A wordless challenge.
Jack recognizes it. Both of them know – this was fated. Neither quite know how it's going to end, though. Jack doesn't know how this will end. And he...
He knows the ending. Just not how he's getting there.
Pause
Flash. Speed. Steel and flesh puppet and flash they fly, a cloud of orange and black feathers and blades. He's not even sure if he's breathing anymore, maybe he's already stopped; maybe he's moving too fast to breathe. Between it all, he somehow has a conversation.
“How's life?”
“Incredibly shitty.”
He smirks, just a little. “C'mon, lil bro. Live it up. We be heroes, here.” For the few seconds left that they have. Which at this speed, might actually be an eternity.
There's no reason to treat this version of Dave any different than the one he knows. They're both Dave. They're both his son brother.
“Sides,” he says. “Ain't nothin that can stop two Striders.”
Davesprite actually cracks a smile at that. Just a ghost of one. Just a hint. And he fights on.
For an instant, he thinks, maybe it'll be alright. He doesn't remember Dave being here. He grins. Maybe they can win. Fuck you, Jack Noir. We'll end it here. Here and now.
Scratch
Except in the next instant that dream dies.
Thunder.
Fire.
Green.
Fucking dogs. He's always hated dogs.
Noise
Time slows when he moves fast enough. It's all relativity, simple physics. He's never known why. He's never cared. Most of the time, it's a gift, got the drift? Cept for now. Now it's hell. It's watching something that even he isn't fast enough to stop.
It happens so fast.
He has enough time to think, Dave bleeds orange birds? before it hits him that his brother is dying, his outline shimmering and fading. And no, fuck you, that is his brother. He has two brothers, future and past, and one of them is dying.
For the first time in his life, he loses his composure.
“Dave-!”
Jack picks him up by his shirt. How the hell did the guy get there? How did Jack even catch him?
He didn't remember it like this. He can't think of anything but that orange form currently fading, turning into a flight of orange crows all around them.
Dave
Something in him is breaking.
I'm a Guardian I'm a Guardian I guard I guard I guard, dave dave, “Dave!”
Jack grins, and throws him. He hurls across the place and when he hits the ground he hears something snap.
He can't feel his legs. But that doesn't matter, he can't even think straight. He's not thinking about how he's going to die, he's not thinking about how fucked up this all is.
He's holding onto three orange feathers. And that's all he can think about at all.
Noise
“Hate to uh, stab you and... er...”
He pushes himself up so that he's almost sitting and glares.
“Shut up and finish it, you son of a bitch,” he spits. He swears, he's not crying. Somehow, it must be the rain.
Somehow.
“It'd be my pleasure.”
But the bastard doesn't even make it through his heart. A stomach wound. A fucking stomach wound, so he can watch as Jack takes his glasses and so he can squint as the light hurts his eyes. So he can watch as Jack walks off with Cal.
So he can sit alone.
So he can die alone.
Signal
He can feel his body shutting down. He struggles against it, gasping like a fish, feeling his own fucking diaphragm against the blade. He fights it to the end. He won't lay down and sleep. Not ever. Not Bro strider.
His fingers are white knuckled around the orange feathers.
His breathing slows. He can't keep this up. The green flames grow higher, and his vision narrows. Everything goes blurry.
(Though he thinks he feels a breeze...)
He holds those feathers like his fading life depends on them. He takes one last breath.
Seeing humanoid abominations is not fun. Being one is worse.
Being caught by a SCP Foundation-expy and having tests run on you is even worse than that.
BLUH BLUH AU log: 06-1
April 26: Subject 06 appears agitated and unstable after initial treatment.
"Make it stop make it stop make it stop--
they won't stop talking t o me i can see them I didn't want this TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK TAKE IT BACK!
please, please it hurts make it stop i can't sleep they'll see me please whatever you did to me take it back--"
After initial outburst, subject subsided and began to cry. When personnel were dispatched and subject was asked to identify problem, the subject began speaking in an unidentified language that distorted all recorded sound and had a drastic negative effect on personnel. Several became suicidal.
The surviving personnel described the language as 'unspeakable'. They refuse to return to subject's containment area.
Subject is left alone.
--------
April 30: Subject 06 expresses desire to see other subjects. Introduced to Subject 01. Both subjects seem familiar with each other, to the point that they argue in an apparently friendly way, and inadvertently reveal their names.
Audio Log is as follows.
01: "Man, this place is a bummer. You think they're gonna let us out?"
06: "Doubtful. What do you think, Itchy? They captured us for study."
01: "I dunno, Die. You're always kind of morbid."
06: "I'm being realistic."
01: "It's kinda hard to tell when half the time you kept telling everyone they were gonna die and we didn't!"
06: "I'm sorry for having that as my power? It's not like we can choose."
01: "Yeah, yeah, whatever. You think we should get out of here?"
06: "As soon as possible."
06: "As fatalistic as I am, I would not enjoy another near-death experience."
01: "Man, I don't think anyone does. So--"
At this point, Subject 01 was separated from Subject 06. Do not allow them to plot; they may be able to coordinate themselves to break each other out, and we cannot risk a containment breach.
-----------
Experiment:
Subject 06 introduced to a researcher's daughter, henceforth referred to as RL (Rose Lalonde). Mother expresses hope that if she expresses interest, she may start to converse more freely. RL is extremely reserved for a young child, and expresses more interest in the occult and other subjects than 'normal' people.
Subject 06 also expresses signs of interest in the occult.
RL: "...Hello."
06: "...Hi."
06: "What's the purpose of this visit?"
RL: "My mother wishes to make me engage in conversation, so I supposed I should indulge her this once."
06: "I see."
There are several moments of silence whereupon RL and the subject observe each other with mild curiosity and interest. At this point, the camera is left running, but live observers are removed.
Approximately 45 minutes later, the video feed is checked. 06 and RL are in animated discussion about what is apparently occult symbolism, and several symbols have been drawn with chalk on the floor of 06's room.
After RL is removed, Subject expresses disappointment and compliments RL.
Researcher: What did you think of her?
06: She's a little quiet, but she's interesting enough.
Researcher: You seemed to have interested her. She says most people bore her.
06: Really? She seemed perfectly fine to me.
May 5: RL pays several more visits to Subject 06's room, expressing some concern over recent treatment whereupon Subject 06 was exposed to other subjects known for their mind-altering effects upon other personnel.
The subjects did not affect 06 overmuch, but he seemed to be in distress, and again expressed the desire to see other subjects.
Request was denied.
[B]Final notes for April-May log:[/B}
Subject 06 continues to grow more agitated. He has taken to pacing his containment area; he can only be pacified by the introduction of other subjects he appears to know or RL.
Strange noises have been heard coming from Subject 06's containment area at night; when questioned about them, he claims that nothing has been happening. Camera feeds appear perfectly fine. However, the strange noises still continue, and several personnel claim to have experienced 'everything warping' whenever they approach Subject 06's containment area.
Subject 06 shows no sign of being triggered into speaking 'unsettling' language. However, it is believed that he is becoming a major influence on RL; RL has begun to show a stronger interest in the occult, especially Lovecraft.
Log: END.
Attachments:
Subject Description: Subject 06 is a green-skinned male humanoid of indeterminate age. He was recovered with a doll, which he seems very attached to, although he has never explained why.
Subject 06 appears long and lanky, and slightly undernourished. He was allowed to keep his clothing and hat after he reacted violently when personnel attempted to take it away.
I love the idea of Rose and 'Subject 06' being occult buddies.
Tagrin shuffled down a corridor in the Espionage and Covert Homicide Training Center, hands shoved into his pockets, bobbing his head up and down to the beat of the song being blasted into his ears. The corridor was stuffed with young trolls, all going every which way, to lockers, to dorm rooms, to classes, to practice sessions, mess hall, every-fucking-possible-where. But they made sure to cut a clean path around him. He was Tagrin fucking Jajuka. Top of the class, most deadly troll in the whole place. He’d earned that title, and all the respect that went with it. And he loved every minute of it, everything that his position got him. And why shouldn’t he? That’s right, no good reason not to.
Matari and her group of heart-pupiled admirers and fans passed by him. He gave her a nod of recognition, then kept along his way. He and Matari had an odd relationship thing going on. They were like inverse moirails. They tore into each other, wearing away at the other’s patience and defenses, mocking any failures and downplaying any triumphs. And they kept the other sharp, made them better than they could ever be without the other one there. It wasn’t a rivalry, close, yeah, but not quite the same thing. Something constructive came out of this, not dead trolls. Well, no dead participating trolls. There were still dead trolls, but he and Matari weren’t among them.
He nonchalantly shoved the door to the Hard Light Construct Training Room Command Center (Gog what a long and boring name. Seriously, why couldn’t they give it a totally awesome and short name? Drove him nuts.) open and walked in. His instructor, some old veteran that had managed to live long enough to make it to retirement age but was waaaaaaaay too valued by the public for some amazing victory or something to just get rid of, stood there glaring at him. Ha. He’d made it on time. No wonder the old man was pissed. Just like every other day. Yeah, he’d love to cull some body part of Tagrin’s in punishment for being late. Not today, bitch.
Tagrin switched his music player off, hung his earphones around his neck, and looked at the instructor. Had to play it cool, but not come off as too insubordinate. He didn’t fancy a stint in the slammer.
“Heyyyyyyy, Prof, how’s it going?” He threw in a little smirk.
The instructor glowered at him. “Twenty-seven seconds. Just twenty-seven seconds were between your finger and the axe.”
“Damn. Sorry, sir, I’ll be sure to make it earlier next time.” His smirk never wavered.
“You better. Now get down to the locker rooms, the others are already changing.”
“I thought we were doing a mission today, not just a generic obstacle course today.”
“You are.”
“We are? But I figured you’d fill us in on the mission parameters if that were the case.”
“I already told the others. Ask them.”
Curmudgeonly old bastard.
“Right. Glad to know my superior makes sure every man knows every detail.”
“Was that lip I heard?”
“What? No, sir. Of course not. I’m very glad that you make sure we all know the details. If you hadn’t told me to ask the others, I’d think you wanted to see me fail.”
He went for the elevator that would take him down to the lockers/ready room, but the instructor stopped him. “One more thing, Jajuka, those headphones. Leave them behind. You know they’re not approved combat gear. I see them on you, you fail this mission.”
Tagrin rolled his eyes and punched the “down” button. “Right, sir. Thank you for reminding me.”
He rode the elevator down for the full twenty-seconds it took to get to the Prep Room/Locker Room. He stepped off and walked over to his locker. The other guys in his team were already mostly finished changing.
“Jajuka! You made it!” Andren said through a bright smile. “Didn’t think you were going to!”
You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
“Come on, man, have a little faith in the number one, will ya?” Tagrin asked as he opened his locker door. Yeah, enjoy that reminder of who’s top dog and who’s not. He smirked a little as Andren’s smile hardened.
He hung his headphones up, then slid his hoodie off and tossed it into the bottom of his locker. “So what’re we doing?”
Zentil looked up from his PDA. “Rebels have taken over a space station. Holding hostages. They’ve got scanners, so we’re not using firearms. Only unpowered melee weapons. Swords, knives, clubs, whatever. We’ve been inserted using low-energy signature spacesuits, with air-propulsion as opposed to jetpacks, to hide our approach. Our goals are to take out the rebels.”
“The hostages?” Tagrin asked as he slipped into a standard issue ECHo Mission shirt. He slung his swords’ sheaths’ straps over his back and buckled them, then quickly cinched them. He tested the straps to make sure they wouldn’t slip off, then checked the swords to make sure they could be removed easily enough.
“Doesn’t matter one way or the other about the hostages.”
“Didn’t think so.” He kicked his shoes off into the locker, then quickly put on a pair of light combat boots. Good grip, not too heavy, short laces you couldn’t trip over if you tried.
“Oh, and we can’t use any kind of comms. Don’t want them to know we’re there, and the station’s got pretty much every transmission detector ever made.”
“Right.” Tagrin popped a few handy tools and devices into his many pockets, then double checked his sword straps. “Okay, I’m good, the rest of you ready?”
Zentel and Travej both nodded. Andren said “We’ve been ready.”
Seemed he was still smarting from the earlier comment. Not that that bothered Tagrin any.
“Okay, ramblers, let’s get rambling.” He walked over to the door to the Hard Light Construct Training Room (the name still bothered him) and went through into the large, stark white room beyond. The other three were close behind him.
The door closed behind them with a click. Immediately after, the stark white room suddenly got a whole lot smaller. The walls changed color, taking on a dark gray metallic hue. Empty spacesuits melted up through the floor and took their places at their feet. The mission had begun.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Tagrin began. “We go for the nearest security center. Once we’re there, Zentel, you’re in charge of hacking into the system and getting us camera feeds.”
“And after that?” Andren asked.
“Then we figure out the rest of the plan.”
“Ah, always one for thorough plans, you are.”
“We don’t know shit about where any of the rebels are at, what their patrol patterns are, if they’re even doing patrols, how many rebels we’ve got on board. And without knowing that, we can’t properly plan, now can we?”
Ahhhhh, Andren, there’s a reason why you’re number four and I’m number one. He made a mental note to tell him that later, when they weren’t at risk of failing a mission big time.
“…right,” was Andren’s sullen reply. Tagrin relished the resentful defeat that was so evident in that one word. Today was a good day.
“Okay, troops, let’s move it.” He went for the door and held down on the “open” button. It slid open silently. He stucked his head around the corner and looked out to the left, then the right. Good. Nobody else around. He gave the “all-clear” sign, and the other three scurried out of the room.
Matari waved goodbye to the last of her hangers-on and shut the door to her dorm room. She smiled a little bit. Being the number two student, and all the popularity that came with it, was rather nice. She didn’t know why Tagrin scorned it and would rather people avoid him. Just him being his socially retarded self.
Of course, being Number Two wasn’t the only reason people liked her. She just exuded trustworthiness and charm. It served her well. Both in her training as an Infilterrorator and her day to day life. And night life. It was a good deal all-around.
She dumped her bag onto the floor next to her desk and sat down in front of her computer. She wiggled the mouse a bit to get the screensaver to disappear. When it did, she was greeted by a flashing Trollian window.
-exuberantMelody [EM] began trolling hiddenBeauty [HB]-
EM: hey matari!!!
EM: are you back from classes yet?
EM: matari are you there?
EM: i guess not, talk to you later then
-exuberantMelody is now an idle troll!-
Oh, looks like I forgot to sign out earlier. Oops. Matari sat down and quickly typed out a reply.
HB: Hello, Zakiah!
HB: I’m back now.
EM: matari!!!
EM: i’ve got something really exciting to tell you you’ll never guess what it is in a million years!!!
HB: But I presume you want me to guess anyways?
EM: yep!
HB: Your wriggling day is coming up soon.
EM: =O how did you know???
HB: A lucky guess.
EM: you always guess right no matter what, how do you do it???
HB: It’s just a talent.
EM: okay, so, my wriggling day is in a week and i was wondering if you could come to the party that chanok’s throwing for me!
HB: I’d love to.
EM: yay!!!
HB: But I can’t.
EM: =(
EM: that’s okay, you must be really busy at that boarding school, i hope you aren’t too bored there.
HB: Oh, life here is anything but boring.
EM: really? i figured having to do schoolwork all the time must be really boring but if you say its not i guess it isn’t!
HB: The classwork’s sometimes boring, but not always, and there’s plenty else to do here.
EM: like what?
HB: Oh, you know, this and that. Nothing really worth specifically mentioning.
EM: you’re always so mysterious, why are you?
HB: It’s like the guessing, it just comes naturally to me.
EM: okay, talk to you later, then!
HB: Goodbye.
HB: I’m sorry I can’t attend your party.
HB: I’ll try to send you a card, though!
EM: yay!!!
-exuberantMelody [EM] has ceased trolling hiddenBeauty [HB]-
Matari closed the window. Zakiah was a nice enough kid. They’d met once when Matari had been on a live-fire training mission. She’d had to explain that she was on a field trip, knew where she was and how to get back, and give Zakiah her trolltag with the promise that they’d talk later. At the time, Matari found her kind of annoying, but after talking to her, in circumstances that weren’t life-or-death, she kind of liked her.
Well, that was enough play, time for work. She needed to finish detailing the history of her newest cover identity and memorize it. No holes. Everything needed to be solid come the due date. Or else she’d face a bullet through the cortex. Metaphorically, of course. No, she wouldn’t have to worry about an actual bullet through the cortex until midterms.
An hour later, and she decided it was time for a break. She’d spent long enough remembering what hairstyle Mifoel Hugrhi had last sweep (short ponytail) and what her favorite food was (hoofbeast steak, medium-rare) and the pet name her lusus had for her (Squeak-squeak). Time to dick around a bit.
She checked her chumproll to see who was on. Maiara was idle…Zakiah was offline…Ghenna was on, but she didn’t really want to talk to her, she gave Matari the creeps…ah, Tagrin!
-hiddenBeauty [HB] began trolling aceAdept [AA]-
HB: So, Tagrin, how’d your mission go?
HB: Fail horribly?
AA: Hey there, bitch.
AA: Guess what.
AA: I’m still number one.
HB: So you didn’t fail horribly, but you still could have failed.
AA: I’ll have you know that the computer gave me one hundred percent on this assignment.
AA: I’m still at the top.
AA: So stick that in your meal flap and suck it.
HB: You’d like that, wouldn’t you?
HB: Let me set up a webcam so you can watch.
HB: First five minutes are free, but then I start charging.
AA: Whatever.
AA: There’s nothing you can say that will bring me down.
HB: Sure I can. Your marks still haven’t beat hers.
AA: Fuck you, Kunich.
HB: I love the smell of ruined moods in the afternoon.
HB: Smells like…
HB: Victory.
AA: It’s not like you’ve got room to talk, bitch.
AA: You’re still number two, and still behind her score.
HB: Yes, but, unlike you, I’m not bothered by it.
HB: I’m not bothered by most things.
AA: Neither was she, and look where it got her.
AA: A lonely death in the desert.
AA: A painful one, too, gut shots are pretty bad.
HB: You know there was never any official closure.
HB: She could still be alive.
HB: Still better than you.
AA: Just shut the hell up.
AA: I’m still the best one here, and if she was still around I’d be kicking her ass in the rankings too.
HB: Just keep telling yourself that.
HB: Whatever it takes to keep your spirits up.
HB: I bet you repeat it all the time at night.
HB: The only way you can sleep.
AA: Whatever, I still aced the mission.
HB: How, though?
HB: I’m sure Andren tried to sabotage you somehow.
AA: Andren couldn’t sabotage a wriggler’s plot to get an extra cookie without their lusus noticing.
AA: Yeah, he got the guards attention on Travej, poor bastard took a few rounds in the back.
AA: But the thing is, the goal of the mission was eradication of the rebels.
AA: Not avoiding them perfectly.
AA: Not saving the hostages.
AA: So I got Zentil to the reactors and he rigged them to blow.
AA: And we got the hell out of there.
AA: Andren valiantly volunteered to hold any pursuers off.
HB: I’m sure he did.
AA: Well, falling face-first onto the deck right before we got to the escape pods like an uncoordinated wriggler with brain damage had to have been volunteering.
AA: There’s no other reason that should have happened to the number four.
HB: Not even your foot tripping him in what I’m sure would be an accident?
AA: Maybe.
AA: So anyways, the station got blown, two of the squad perished, but all the rebels were put down like the mangy howlbeasts they were.
AA: Yeah, the instructor wasn’t happy with my performance and I’m sure he would have loved to fail me after giving a speech about how there was a reason the rebels were a problem at all, because they were a threat to the safety of the people, but the computer was what scored the assignment, so fuck him.
AA: I met the assigned mission requirements.
AA: And that’s all that matters.
HB: Of course it is.
HB: Well, I’m afraid I need to get going.
HB: I happen to have somewhere I need to be soon.
AA: Yeah, Ullsis’ pants.
AA: Whore.
HB: You’re just jealous of my superior luck in the flushed quadrants.
HB: Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful and others appreciate it.
HB: You know, maybe if you weren’t such a completely irredeemable douchebag you’d actually be getting some right now.
HB: Wait, who am I kidding.
HB: Hahaha.
-hiddenBeauty [HB] has ceased trolling aceAdept [AA]-