Author Topic: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V  (Read 62931 times)

Requia ☣

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #120 on: March 30, 2011, 02:35:27 am »
I can't decide if The Old Man is crazy or not.
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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #121 on: March 30, 2011, 02:44:55 am »
Damage Report from an area in the Southampton West Tunnels, specific whereabouts unknown.


Some suicidal nut came down here with a bloody damned bomb, looks like. Explosives, like firearms, are considered a Category 1 Heresy by the Paynite Order for a REASON, people. Hard to tell, what from the charred sewage and scattered rubble, but it looks like a homemade pipe bomb that some chucklefuck thought would be an effective way to take out one of the Western nests while gaining martyrdom for himself in the process.

Tech Recovery is declaring a 95% loss on all suit equipment, and that's saying something given how wrecked something has to be before they call it a "loss." I don't think we'll have to worry about the Nessies making their way through this section any time soon, but keeping the people on the surface from flipping their shit is gonna be hell. If we keep giving them the "maintenance-related structural failure" explanation for the sinkholes, they're gonna come after us with pitchforks and lawyers.

My partner, <name redacted>, reported something particularly strange, though. He said he thought he heard the whirring of power armor servos in one of the uncollapsed tunnels, although no one responded to his radio calls and the sound quickly faded away. No squads were scheduled to be anywhere near this area for a while yet. Also, several of the shattered remains of the suits had their emergency power cells stripped away, and there's no way a simple methane explosion could have destroyed those things. They look like they were taken after the fact.

An entire section of the report, consisting mostly of unfounded and worthless speculation, has been removed from the record here.

Whatever, probably just a side effect of paranoia and lack of sleep. There's nothing more to be learned here.

The Wizard

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #122 on: March 30, 2011, 02:45:21 am »
Holy shit. This thread is amazing!

Anyone mind if I try one?
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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #123 on: March 30, 2011, 02:45:59 am »
**Recording.  Tunnel 9 Operations Lower Office.  6/14/13  2300**

"You wanted to see me?"

"Operator Hayes, yes, have a seat."

"So to what do I owe the change of scenery on this fine shift night?"

"Mr. Hayes, you are not a stupid man."

"Why thank you, sir."

"Yes.  You must have known we were monitoring your workspace."

"I assumed so, yes.  Who drew the short straw having to watch my ugly mug each evening?"

"What is it you do during your down time, when you aren't monitoring any crews out in the sewers?"

"I watch the vids.  Over and over again, I watch the vids."

"Ah, yes, we'll have to come back to that.  Do you know what your partner does?"

"Watches the vids?"

"Yes.  He watches the vids.  The vids of other shifts.  Just like the others watch yours, the ones with a bit more loyal tendencies."

"That's good.  Got us spying on each other.  Ever take a good look at the locker rooms?  Because I'd like you to be able to picture my fat arse when I suggest that you pucker up to it."

"Fair.  And probably deserved.  It's an ugly business, but I think you misunderstand why we're doing it."

"You're in the faith.  You build unwavering trust in your followers so you can abuse it without anyone ever questioning it.  Wouldn't want anyone spreading bad ideas around, which is why I imagine I'm here."

"Haynes, if we were the malevolent organization you thought we were, why wouldn't we just kill you in your sleep instead of this conversation?"

"It's not easy to convince an experienced electrical engineer to give up every aspect fo their lives for an indefinite period of time in favor of a cramped hideout in the lovely sewers of southern England?"

"True, but still off the mark.  The fact is, we don't care what you believe.  I don't.  Actually, a few of us have stared using your colorful 'Payne juice' and 'servohead' expressions.  You're quite right, a lot of the higher ups, Payne and Pixie themselve, for example, don't take it.  It has side effects, I don't mind saying, that aren't conducive on an organizational level, which is why none of our Operators are to use it on shift."

"So then why am I here?"

"Let's get back to the recording.  I, personally, think you'd be a lot more useful to everyone, and probably less harmful to yourself, if you relaxed a bit.  The fact is, we're recording because this is an extremely capable organization.  Don't make that face, your partner Sams is an intelligent young man, brilliant even.
I'll preface this by saying, yes, largely we do have a strategy.  We doing our best."

"But."

"But we're looking for ideas.  Things nobody saw before, about the Nessies.  So as much as I, and many others, hate the invasive nature of it, we'll continue listening in.  New ideas are crucial."

"You didn't call me down here to tell me to keep thinking."

"No.  The other reason for the recording is, very simply, that we need to keep stress as low as we can down here, given the situation.
Hayes, you're a mess.  Take some tranquilizers, or maybe during your down time read a book instead of watching vids.  Get your head out of these tunnels."

"My head's only in these tunnels because you won't let it out of them."

"You, me, all of us.  The other reason we're talking is your relationship with Operator Sams."

"Look, Sams is a good kid, he's just a bit behind on, shall we say, post conventional thinking?"

"Do you know why Sams is down here, Hayes?"

"Guy loves Payne."

"He is the second Sams to join us in the sewers.  The first was his older brother, one of the, what you call, 'servoheads.'  We lost him early on.  Operator Sams, while a follower of his own accord, came to us to find his brother.  Another ugly deceit we've done is take his help, his badly needed help, before telling him his brother's fate.
Given his circumstance, in addition to all of our circumstances, all I'm asking is that you hold back a bit in your conversations with him.  Not add to his burden.
And I can see you're taking that very personally.  I'm also asking that you don't.  There's no way you could have known."

"Will that be all then?"

"You have the rest of the shift off.  Please, try to relax."

"I'll try."

"Do you have any questions?"

"Do you know?"

"About the Nessi-"

"Just.  Do you know?"

"Have a good evening, Operator Hayes."

**End Recording**
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The Good Reverend Roger

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #124 on: March 30, 2011, 02:46:23 am »
Holy shit. This thread is amazing!

Anyone mind if I try one?

That's the general idea.
" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."
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 "Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."
- TGRR, raising the bar at work.

Jenne

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #125 on: March 30, 2011, 03:22:00 am »
CLANG CLANG CLANG

What we got here, is a SITCHEEAYSHUN.  Listen UP, GIRLS—this is going to be one of the WORST days of your life, or one of your BEST.  So shut your whiney little baby mouths and use your heads before you go in and do something ASSOVERTAIL STUPID.  Do you HEAR ME?  You pussies better UP your GAME.


I sat up suddenly and wiped the drool from my chin.   Where the FUCK was I?  I wasn’t on that transport to Panama, that was a dream from long ago—more than two decades had passed since that longlived fatal day.  No, I was on my way to London, on an express military bus that was reserved for top brass.  But someone was desperate and had called in a favor.

Those creatures coming up through the swamps, rivers  and lakes in the American countryside had infiltrated most of the US main metropolis areas as well.  We tried the gas on them, it wasn’t working as well as we’d hoped.  But the boys were holding strong, and as long as we could keep the top brass from knowing what we were really up to, we were going to beat this thing, maybe.

About 4 am this morning I’d gotten a text message that simply read:

GOT YR MSG. UR NEEDED NOW.  BOUT TIME FUCKER. CALL 555-222-4545. TRANSPORT AWAITS. P

So I was going to finally meet him.  The man that started this whole cultish rebellion against the creeps in the sewer and the monsters and the mayhem.  He was on the run, yet still managed to hold whole battallions together through communiqués and contacts in the system.  I’d never seen anything like it, and I thought I was someone who lived off the grid.

The fog was thick when we set down rather sharply on the tarmac, somewhere outside the London lights.  As I alighted, I saw two solitary figures, backlit against the floodlights shining down against the cold, wet ground.  One of them looked like they were smoking, and the other was talking rapidly, hands moving up and down against their sides.

I hefted my hardbound leather case and readjusted my Stetson, duster sweeping the steps as I came down to meet them.  My boots scraped and the silence that met me as I approached them was a little disconcerting.  Who the fuck are these people?

And then I saw them as the fog cleared about ten steps away from where they were standing.  Payne.  Hands in his trench, canvas trainers on his feet, a smirk on a mouth that had a cigar dangling loosely from his lips, turned ever so slightly up in a half-smile of recognition.

Pixie was standing tensely by his side, her cheeks flushed with the cold air or the wild emotions I could still see were in her eyes.  Her tense attitude was in stark contrast to his nonchalant, patient one.

“Payne.  What the fuck?”

“Fuckin’ finally, Rev.  How the hell are ya?”

We paused a half-second and embraced briefly, clapping each other’s shoulders.  I gave him a punch on the arm, signaling instant camaraderie.  

“Roger!” Pixie jumped into my arms suddenly, and I dropped my case, whirling her in a spontaneous fit of joy and laughter—it was wonderful to be amongst those I’d only spoken to via phone and internet.

“ENOUGH, these are hardly laughing times—Pixie, I know!” this last as she made to interrupt him.  “Roger needs to know why we made this desperate move, Luv. Let’s walk.”

On the way to the taxi that awaited us at the curb outside the airport, Payne laid out what he thought would bring me up to speed the fastest.

“The thing is, Rev, we’ve got a situation, mate, and I’m not sure this is going to ever work.  If there’s one man who might know, I’m thinking you’re it.”

“It’s funny you should say that—and uh, I think I know what you mean.  Because I’m not sure if you’ve heard about what we’re going through across the Atlantic, but…”

Pixie sighed.  “Let’s go have a drink, Boys, and you can tell Payne and me all about it.  Driver, Bonn’s Pub.”

The taxi shot out into the dark night.  I knew that whatever happened, this would be a long night after a string of even longer ones.


Twenty-four hours earlier:

“FUCK FUCK FUCK get outta here—GET THE FUCK OUT!

Junior’s shout as I entered the barn to tell him about what Eddie’d posted on his blog in code brought my feet turning me in a one-eighty right back out the door.

“JESUS!  What’s going on?”

“Brother, wouldn’t you know it?  I think one of those camelbacks is about to blow.  Jimmy set it down and I heard a click.  You know what happens after you hear them clicks.”

“Goddammit.  What happened to Stan?  Wasn’t he going to check all that shit for us?  You remember Eddie told us the damned things were booby-trapped by the government in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, guess he missed one.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.”

About five minutes later, we heard a muted explosion, and Junior and I headed back inside.

“All contained, Sir.  We’re ready to rock-n-roll.”  Jimmy led us into the make-shift command center, putting Junior’s freshly-filled coffee mug on the console.

“Ok, Jimmy, why don’t you ready the vehicles while Rog and I talk shop for a bit?”

I waited for the kid to leave and pick up the rest of the camelbacks that were set up side by side, ready to be loaded for the last of the secret military platoons that were trained and ready to fight for their lives, on whose side they had no idea.  All they knew is they were following orders, and wanted to save America from this latest menace.

“So what’d Eddie say, anyway?”

“What, I’m gonna just blurt it out?” at Junior’s dirty look, I amended, “alright alright—he says there’s more traps to come.  They’re gunnin’ for us, Junior.  They know we’re on to them, and I think we might have a mole.”

“So?”

I squinted at him, staring about 5 seconds while I lit a cigar and took a few puffs.

“You know what I’m talking, here, Junior.  This shit’s gonna hit the fan in all the wrong ways if it gets outta hand.  We’re about on top of this thing, and just now figuring out where it’s coming from.   We got the boys in the lab working without breaks, and we got too many lives on the fucking line.”

“Roger, you’ve been out of action too long.”  Junior sat back, fiddling with a pen and pushing a few buttons, staring at the console and moving the cursor around with his left hand.  On it was a scar that ran from his left pinky knuckle to his thumb.  It was an ugly reminder of a few of the prices he’d paid recently.

“I know, but I’m trying to watch your back, kid.”

He sat up straighter and looked at me.  “Don’t you believe it.  You’re in this for the fucking excitement and adrenaline, man.  You always were.”

I laughed at that, almost choking on my last intake of sweet cigar smoke.  “Hey, not my fault if my jobs are usually boring as hell compared to this shit.”

“Well, I have seen enough action, but I made a promise to see this thing through, come hell or high water, so when it’s ‘Miller time,’ you’ll see me hitting the white sands of somewhere very far away, sipping rum and relaxin.”

Just as Junior’s pipe dream left his mouth, we heard shouting and an explosion right outside the door.

“WHAT THE—“

We jumped up and ran to the door, where Jimmy was standing, a smoking exploded camelback 20 feet away from the edge of the armored vehicle he was loading.

“That’s the second one, Sir.”

“Jesus.  Ok, let’s get going,” Junior clearly didn’t want to think about what this meant.  I smelled a rat, and I wasn’t going to let up until he tried to find out who it was, and what they were after, and who they were selling our plans to.

On the drive out west, Jimmy kept texting someone, and I couldn’t see who it was or what it was he was saying to them.  

Junior caught my eye. “It’s his family.  I allow him to tell them when he’s going out in the field.  The kid puts his life on the line daily.”  Junior went back to driving, and I sat back, thinking that I wasn’t going to win this one with Junior, and decided to take a snooze.

Next thing I knew, I felt like I was in a wind tunnel.  The roar was amazingly loud in my ears.  Jimmy was yelling at someone, and I smelled burned flesh.  Our car had hit a roadside bomb, and it was howling wind outside.  The field where Junior’d manage to get our burning vehicle to safety was on fire, and beside the road I saw a body.  Jimmy.

I stumbled out of the car, thinking I was in a nightmare or something.  But no, this was real.  Junior was yelling on the phone to someone, who I didn’t know, and there was a pain in my head the size of a cannon.  A ringing in my ears told me we’d definitely hit that bomb, and we were lucky to be alive.  I stumbled over to Jimmy, and he was barely breathing.  One leg was crushed, and he had a massive gash on his cheek.

“Roger!” It was Junior.  “Roger!”

In a daze, I looked at Junior.  “Huh?”

“Roger! Get the fuck off him, medics are on their way, helo’s almost here.  You gonna be ok?  You’re walking, you got blood on your face—head injury?” At this point, Junior came over and put a handkerchief on my head.  “Here! Hold that.”

I wearily sat on my haunches, holding the square of folded cloth to the gaping wound.

At the hospital, I got the text from Payne.  I knew shit was going down in London, and that the sewers and underground metro were all fucked up.  I had read the reports coming in from MI6, and I knew they were goddamned desperate to contain the situation.  What I didn’t know, was that this whole thing was about to blow sky high, for all of us.

I texted Payne back and called the number he’d given me.  It was a secure line, but mine wasn’t, so I had to buy a throwaway phone just to dial the number.

“Roger speaking,” I said to the voice who answered.  It was a woman’s, in a clipped British accent.

“Go to O’Hare, at fourteen hundred.  A transport will be waiting, a driver’s at the hospital entrance now.  Godspeed.” She rang off.  I looked at the phone, shrugged, and threw it away, after crushing it with my heel on the hospital floor.

I’d stopped wondering how who knew what when.  I’d figure it out later.

“Junior, I gotta go.”  He was sitting outside Jimmy’s hospital room, talking quick and quiet into his phone.  He stopped to look at me, put the phone to his side, and stood up.  He hugged me, hard.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.  I’ll be here when you return.”

“You’re going back out, aincha?”

At his nod, he went back to his phone conversation.  I raised my voice a little and threatened him that if he wasn’t here when I got back, I’d fuck him up but good.

He flapped his hand at me, and I turned and walked through the hospital doors, a driver in a black sedan exiting to open the door for me as I neared it.  

“Going to O’Hare?” he asked me.  I nodded, weary.

“Can we stop by my digs there, first, to pick up some clean clothes?  I smell like diesel.”

“As long as we make our flight, Sir, we can go to DisneyWorld.”

“Oh Jesus, fuck THAT.
« Last Edit: March 30, 2011, 06:25:44 am by Jenne »

The Good Reverend Roger

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #126 on: March 30, 2011, 03:25:52 am »
 :lulz:

:mittens:
" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."
- TGRR, shaming himself forever, 7/8/2017

 "Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."
- TGRR, raising the bar at work.

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #127 on: March 30, 2011, 03:33:12 am »
Okay, that most recent part was as far ahead as I thought when I started Mr. Exposition Dispatcher.  Done for the day, maybe/maybe not coming back to the character.  Hopefully continuing with something or other tomorrow.

Thanks for the praise of the first two parts, it's much appreciated.  Hope the second two measured up.

And again, this thread is balls fucking awesome, and I'm happy to be a part of it.
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EoC makes creepy worse.

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Jenne

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #128 on: March 30, 2011, 03:44:04 am »
:lulz:

:mittens:

...is ok?  It's more novella than the rest of you, but I'm trying to pull in backstory.  I'm keeping it 1st person, and being inside your head is probably weird to you, but you're allegorical, not the actual ROGER.  Um, BUT...I did throw Panama in there, sorry.  I can take it out and fix it around.  And I put your Stetson, boots and duster in there, too.

Let me know if it's too personal, Rog.

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #129 on: March 30, 2011, 03:46:26 am »
:lulz:

:mittens:

...is ok?  It's more novella than the rest of you, but I'm trying to pull in backstory.  I'm keeping it 1st person, and being inside your head is probably weird to you, but you're allegorical, not the actual ROGER.  Um, BUT...I did throw Panama in there, sorry.  I can take it out and fix it around.  And I put your Stetson, boots and duster in there, too.

Let me know if it's too personal, Rog.

My head is like a great big party full of loud drunks, who keep bellowing at you even when the music stops.  There's always room for more, especially if you don't sick up on the couch or grope the cat.
" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."
- TGRR, shaming himself forever, 7/8/2017

 "Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."
- TGRR, raising the bar at work.

Jenne

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #130 on: March 30, 2011, 03:50:15 am »

My head is like a great big party full of loud drunks, who keep bellowing at you even when the music stops.  There's always room for more, especially if you don't sick up on the couch or grope the cat.

Ah, I should fit right in, then.

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #131 on: March 30, 2011, 03:51:53 am »

My head is like a great big party full of loud drunks, who keep bellowing at you even when the music stops.  There's always room for more, especially if you don't sick up on the couch or grope the cat.

Ah, I should fit right in, then.

Just keep the cat away from your booze.

You can't put a whiskey down near the little bastard.  It's not even MY cat!  It just wandered in after I moved here, and took the fuck over.
" It's just that Depeche Mode were a bunch of optimistic loveburgers."
- TGRR, shaming himself forever, 7/8/2017

 "Billy, when I say that ethics is our number one priority and safety is also our number one priority, you should take that to mean exactly what I said. Also quality. That's our number one priority as well. Don't look at me that way, you're in the corporate world now and this is how it works."
- TGRR, raising the bar at work.

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #132 on: March 30, 2011, 03:58:55 am »
Fucking Christ, Jenne. That was BRILLIANT.


I've got one or two more, but nowhere near the scope this has gone.

I am simply blown away by where this has gone.

I will endure months of fallow times for one thread of this.

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #133 on: March 30, 2011, 04:03:22 am »
I had that fucker stewing all day.  Thanks, Alphapance.  I've wanted to contribute to this site for years.  So... ta da?

And Rog, your cat's so very safe from me...not only am I NOT a fan of whiskey, but I'd rather induct the feline set into the wine club...

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Re: More Futurisitic Fun Than You Really Wanted, part I of V
« Reply #134 on: March 30, 2011, 04:07:52 am »
Ok, I'm setting the next damned scene (shit, this could go MOVIE if we wanted it...which reminds me of a whole OTHER site I was on that was an MW offshoot--did any of you know I was part of a Pagan television show production company, via internet, back in the day?  I'd almost forgotten myself...).

EoC, Richter, anyone else--Cainad, Semaj, Hawk and Req--if I forgot your name, I'll ask permission anyway--anyone in this thread!!!--can I incorporate your characters into the Payne + Rog + Pixie scene?  I might have to mention ops.  I can make up names, but it might blend better if I use the ones already in play.
« Last Edit: March 30, 2011, 04:10:58 am by Jenne »