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The suburb Huntersburg had been aptly named at the time of its founding, back when it was an independent village and not part of a larger metropolitan area. The dense deciduous forests of the eastern United States had surrounded the community for miles on all sides, making it a minor hub for trappers, fur traders, and eventually sport hunters. As civilization encroached, however, the forests gradually gave way to acres of farmland and a growing city center that would change Huntersburg from a town of hunters and explorers into a town of commuters and grain distributors. A few protected forests remained behind to remind the community's politicians and history buffs of the old days, but they failed to hold a candle to the primeval woods that stretched from one horizon to the next. Still, they remained big enough to hide a twenty-foot-long race-car-red roller coaster train for a number of hours during a long moonlit night. While the county and state police were busy inadvertently mimicking their ancestors by hunting through the trees for unusual tracks, the other enforcement divisions were putting their break to good use. Municipal and federal SWAT teams took stock of their weapons and ammunition supplies, loading up on whatever non-American-made equipment they could find. After a bit of checking, Detective Black found that his standard-issue Glock pistol was manufactured in Austria, and so he assisted a quick raid through local gun stores to obtain a supply of European-imported 9mm hollow-point rounds, theorizing that armor-piercing bullets would not be needed if it was indeed the monster's critical weakness. Black himself took the extra step to miniaturize two full boxes' worth of magazines, his magician contact as sleepless as he was that night. Finally, less than an hour before dawn, the call came: a peculiar set of wheel marks had been found which appeared consistent with Railrunner's movement style and the search parties were collecting in a perimeter around the location, intending to wait for properly armed backup before forcing a confrontation. Detective Black ran out to the helipad where a black FBI helicopter sat, its pilot warming the engine as two agents finished attaching a strange pod underneath the skids at Special Agent Captain's direction. "So did you get what we need?" Black shouted over the accelerating helicopter blades. "Even better!" Captain responded. "Turns out elephant bulls go crazy every once in a while, so India makes these electrified nets to subdue them when they have to. The Columbus Zoo got one to test out, but decided it was 'too inhumane.' The Paranormal Activities Section acquired it a few years back to use on dragons and other large magical creatures; now seems like a great time to break it out again. You coming?" The two men smiled as they climbed into the copter and took off. Ten minutes later, the helicopter was above the target zone. Finding Railrunner's general location was a simple use of radar, its steel hide a bright blip in the dark forest, but its exact hiding spot was harder to pinpoint thanks to the heavy canopy. This also prevented the lawmen from dropping their net, and so instead they used their ride as both a spotter and a beacon, coordinating the SWAT teams in police SUV's to lure the creature out into the open farmland. "Red team here. We've made visual contact with the tango, but it's not taking the bait. Over." "He's probably worried about turning human again at sunup," Captain explained. "Take a shot at him. Let him know we've figured out how to hurt him, over." A subtle flash of light from below revealed the SWAT team's location, and a metallic screech penetrated even through the helicopter's rotor noise and past Black's ear protectors. A wave of birds also scattered into the air, forcing the pilot to lift the helicopter out of their way. "That made him mad!" the SWAT officer shouted over the radio. "Tango is out for blood, repeat, tango is on our tail and closing!" "You've got a meadow one klick to your west, aim for us, over!" Black responded, tapping the operator's shoulder and getting a nod in reply. Hovering over the empty field, Black watched with bated breath as further flashes came from the pitch-black forest below, dotting a line towards the safety of open ground. "poo poo! Hit a tree, going on foot, over and out!" the team leader cried, a sudden burst of lights marking where the SUV crashed a few hundred feet away from the forest's edge. Two endless minutes later, Captain pointed down. "There!" Checking with his night vision binoculars, Black saw three dark figures running full tilt into the chest-high grass and cringed as a fourth was thrown over their heads, digging a dark divot into the dry weeds where he landed. At last, Railrunner himself charged into view, his full attention focused on the three remaining SWAT team members. "NOW!" Captain shouted. The pilot swooped the helicopter down low over the roller coaster train, causing it to pause, puzzled by the sudden act of aggression. This gave the FBI agent all the time he needed to throw the switch and drop the net all across the front half of the creature below. At first, Railrunner laughed at the net, unimpressed, but as his claws failed to cut the steel cords and only got himself more tangled, his screams grew louder and angrier. Deciding that enough of the net was now covering the monster, Captain pressed a second switch that electrified the cords and watched with grim satisfaction as Railrunner's cries grew first more pained and then gradually quieter, until finally it ceased to move at all. As the light of dawn drew down the treetops, the police moved to secure the meadow and close around the fallen roller coaster train, not yet daring to come near it without a few dozen guns pointed at it first. However, as the morning rays touched Railrunner's red steel body, it collapsed in on itself, resolving into the nude figure of Rodney Philips. "Keep him wrapped in the net," Captain ordered, "we don't know what powers he keeps in his human form." "So do we have a place to put him yet?" Detective Black asked as three officers bore Rodney's still form into the waiting helicopter. "Oh, we've got something all set up for him," Captain replied with a cruel smirk. "Something nice and medieval."
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May 16, 2013 00:14
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quote:Thunderbark sighed, realizing he had been caught in a lie. We kind of all laughed at him. He only chuckled as he helped me up. That's not a lie, that's hypocrisy! JosephWongKS posted:Directly contradicting Thunderbark’s observation that “most of them” had survived the battle. Miranda Leek literally can’t remember what she wrote earlier on in the same chapter. I think both were referring to the casualties on their own side.
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May 17, 2013 06:04
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Iced Cocoa posted:Ugh, this is so terrible. I pretty much had the same mental image when I read that paragraph, aside from one thing. I don't know if it is because English is not my first language, but when I read "Blood and saliva dripped like a faucet from it mouth." I have never imagined actual dripping, but more like a faucet on a full blast. It gets even better, because that sentence has a misplaced modifier; I didn't notice the first time because I prefer skimming through this stuff as much as possible. Interpreted literally, it sounds like the faucet itself is known for dripping down things the way blood and saliva do, rather than the water in a faucet. The correct form would be "Blood and saliva dripped from its mouth like a faucet," "like a faucet" now modifying "mouth" instead of "blood and saliva."
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May 17, 2013 19:04
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"Detective Black? Philips is awake." The corrections officer stuck his head into the break room where Black was staring longingly at the coffee pot. He'd had to reapply the Hoodoo powder an hour earlier, and while he appreciated how it prevented him from getting sleepy, he did miss the coffee, plus it made him somewhat anxious about how he'd feel when he finally ran out of the stuff, and that made him miss his cigarettes. Agent Captain was still busy looking after the outdoor security, so Black walked alone down the jail hallway to the large cell at the corner, normally used to house arrestees in for short-term processing or transfers. This day, however, all the regular inmates had been cleared out of the entire building, leaving a single man shackled to the wall dressed only in prison-issue jeans. "He's been Mirandized, Detective. Go nuts," said the escorting officer, who then moved back to his station watching the prisoner. Black nodded, then cringed slightly when he turned to look at Rodney. Dark streaks covered his skin at right angles, and while he did not seem to be injured or in pain, the effect was disconcerting. He was leanly built and over six feet tall, and while his long hair wasn't the bright red of his roller coaster train form, Black did note a perceptible red tint. In fact, Rodney's hair was about all Black could see at the moment as it draped forward to conceal his bowed face. Calming himself, the detective put on his best smarmy grin and approached the bars. "Good afternoon, Rodney. Do you like our new addition to the jail cells? We had to find those manacles at an S&M shop. They're mostly just for show, of course, but they're still made of some sturdy iron. Made by a factory in Thailand, I believe." Rodney looked up as Black spoke. Between strands of straight, dirty hair Black saw a week-old beard and a number of piercings in his lip, ears, and brow that had somehow survived the transition from man to beast and back again. Rodney didn't speak, but his eyes conveyed an angry, almost vicious expression as he looked up at the detective. Black continued: "You really led us on quite the merry chase at the end there, Rod. You mind telling us why you ran at the end there? You seemed pretty dead-set on eating those two officers you were after until they skidded off the road and crashed. Was it just no fun anymore? Rodney?" "Don't call me that. That's not my name." "It isn't? I seem to recall you answered to it for, oh, about twenty six years or so? As opposed to the three days you've been...whatever the hell you are now. A were-roller-coaster?" "It's what I am. What I really am. What I always was. I just never knew it until now." The man chained to the wall smiled almost blissfully as he described it. "We're from another world, one made just for us. We're all welcome there, roller coasters most of all. And I'm a red coaster, the first in decades. They need me. I'm the only one who can help." "Is that why you hunted humans for sport? Because you're 'special?' Why not go back to this world of yours and leave us be?" The smile dropped abruptly from Rodney's lips. "We need a key to make the passage, and mine was lost when I was born. As for hunting humans, why not? It gets boring here in your world. That's why I went looking for rodents before I turned last night. I thought they would be more interesting to fight. They weren't." "And the cops who interrupted you?" "A--a game, One that got dull when they crashed, just like you said." "I see. Well, that's enough for right now." Black turned from the prisoner and nodded to the guard, who escorted him to the security center. "What a loving psychopath," the guard murmured as they left Rodney behind. "I'm afraid not," the detective corrected. "Psychopaths may be born without any human empathy, but they are drat good at faking it. More than that, they love playing with their victims' emotions; it's the only way they get any kicks. Mr. Philips there has become something else: a predator. Him and 'his kind' are the only ones deserving empathy now in his eyes; everything else is prey, only useful for hunting and eating." Black kept to himself the other hint he'd received: Rodney was obviously lying when he said he grew bored of the car chase, it was plain on his face. But what had stopped him? What had led him to flee instead of pursue, to hide from the SWAT teams instead of attack? Special Agent Captain was waiting for Detective Black as he entered the security office. "I finished up outside just as you left the break room," he explained, "so I decided to come up here and watch your interview on the cameras. I don't know how you managed to stay calm down there, Black." "It wasn't easy. I wanted to strangle that guy's smug loving face when he smiled at me. I had to keep reminding myself that it wouldn't do any good." Black sat down in a desk chair and crossed his legs. "I told you I'm a mild psychic, right? On that night at Mystic Park I got a real good look at Rodney Philips. I saw some confusion, some rage, some loneliness in him then. He wasn't coping too well with turning into a monster regularly. But after he changed, things were different. Railrunner was all hunger and animal lust and felt some powerful joy every time he killed or ate. "The man in that cell doesn't call himself Rodney Philips anymore. There's no confusion or loneliness in him now, although there's still plenty of rage. All that's left of him now is Railrunner." The two men sat in quiet contemplation then, each considering what to do next and enjoying the peace and quiet. A few minutes later, Captain looked over at the monitors and furrowed his brow. "Something up?" Black asked. "Something odd," the agent responded. "This camera here should be moving. It's not." Captain pressed a few buttons to switch the monitors around. "Here, this one, too. I want to say it's just a malfunction, but..." "But Paranaturals like us can't take anything for granted," Black nodded. "Right. There was a museum break-in last night that supposedly had the same issue, too. It may just be a coincidence, but I'm going back outside to see what's going on with these cameras. You keep your eye on the monitors." Agent Captain grabbed his jacket and hurried out. Black moved over to the displays and began cycling through the cameras, reporting each one that seemed to be malfunctioning as Captain checked each one in person. When the detective found one that was entirely blank, however, he forgot to report it in and ran straight out of the room. It was the one labeled "Cooling Tank:" Rodney's cell. Skidding to a halt outside the cell, Detective Black looked around as he dropped his hand to his pistol. Firearms were normally forbidden inside jails and prisons, but an exception had been made on this occasion. "Where are the guards?" he demanded. Taking a second glance at Rodney, Black noticed that he now wore a necklace with a dull brown stone on his bare chest, complimented by the feral grin he wore on his face. "I'm afraid they've all been called away, Detective Black. It is Detective Black, isn't it? You're the one who got in my way that second night at the park. You were talking with that nice lady at the impound, too. I didn't recognize you all whole and healthy. Shouldn't you be putting your pieces back together at the hospital like everyone else who faced me? No matter. That's easy to fix. "A friend visited me while you were away, Detective. Do you like it? It's my key. It also lets me focus my powers. Did you know we roller coasters have special powers, Detective? It's not just turning into an apex predator. We can all manipulate things that are the same color as our skin. It's like a kind of telekinesis. And do you know what's red, Detective Black?" Black knew. His mind flashed back in an instant to two nights ago, a minute detail he had absorbed, considered, and dropped at the time: the bottles the first two victims were drinking from were red, a novelty color produced for a local microbrew to stand out from the crowd. The first time was an accident, an uncontrolled outburst; later he might understand but lack the focus to use it intentionally. But if he was correct now, if his necklace did what he said... Detective Black drew his gun, but it was already too late. He screamed as his stomach burst open, dark red blood tearing itself out of his veins to spill across the walls and floor. As he slumped to the ground, he watched as Railrunner grew into his true form, filling out the space inside the cell. Black's ears hurt from the beast's metallic screech as the manacles bit into its growing arms, but eventually the pressure was too much and they burst open, freeing the monster. With an almost casual swipe, Railrunner tore the bars of its cell out of the concrete and raced down the hallway, banking off the walls where the corner was too tight to turn. Black gasped for air, arms and legs drawn around his stomach in a desperate attempt to hold in his intestines. As darkness encroached on the edges of his vision, a final, clear thought entered his mind: Hoodoo powder. Hoodoo powder. Hoodoo powder! Black snapped his arm into the pocket where he kept the bag. Hand trembling violently, he brought it up to his mouth, opened the bag with his teeth, and spilled the contents across his torso. He coughed as the dust went up his nose. He then watched with amazed, clearing eyes as the blood coating the walls and pooling beneath him grew viscous and slid up into the detective's veins. His organs pulled themselves back into their proper places as well, and the bits of flesh shredded apart by Railrunner flew up and knitted into the wound, leaving nothing but Black's hairy, somewhat-overweight belly behind. Detective Black stood up, astonished at the sudden and complete change which had taken place. Still, he knew his final accounting had only become that much more dire, and until then he had a job to do and people to warn. He charged down the hallway, determined to find a radio. Before running ten paces, Black's ankle twisted painfully beneath him and he slammed into a wall. Lifting his pant leg, he watched as his ankle swelled painfully before reverting to its normal size. Moments later, his head grew cloudy and nauseous, only to clear up within the minute. The powder wasn't enough, then: the detective should be dead from his injuries, and that fact was overwhelming even the dangerous overdose of magic he had taken. If that's the case, I'll just have to make this fast, he decided.
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May 17, 2013 22:11
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JosephWongKS posted:Oil doesn’t “age”! Machine oil does age, actually; the compounds that make it effective at whatever variety it is can break down over the course of months or years. Of course, this also means that oil is better fresher, so...
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May 20, 2013 18:10
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Special Agent Victor Captain got the warning regarding Railrunner's newfound abilities in time to disengage, but not before a number of officers were shredded the same as Detective Black. The roller coaster train was allowed to escape into the surrounding neighborhood unopposed, but Captain wasn't too worried about finding it; based on what Black told him, there was only one place it could possibly be headed. The two men sat quietly in the federal agent's car as he drove to their destination, flashing lights dimmed by tinted windows and siren muffled by layers of armor. Captain occasionally glanced at Black, worried by his periodic cringes and gasps of pain. Victor would rather have seen the detective go straight to the hospital, but Black had made it clear that it was already too late for any medical attention; being familiar with the effects of the powder he had used, Captain was forced to agree. As their car swung onto a long, straight rural highway, Detective Black broke the silence. "Thanks for the lift." Captain looked over at his passenger again. "You should probably call your wife." Black nodded and pulled out his cellphone. He selected his contact list and found his wife's number, but his finger hovered over the call button. What could he possibly say? What could he tell her? What would she say? He couldn't do it. Instead, he called his voicemail and set it to record a message. They'd be able to find it afterwards. "Mars? It's Rick," he began. "I'm...I'm sorry. I wasn't careful enough. I don't have much time, but there's one more thing I have to do before... "I love you. Tell Sarah I love her, too. Goodbye." Black turned off his phone and leaned back as he rode through another dizzy spell. There was something bothering him, something that was out of place. Something Railrunner had said, something Officer Donnelly had described in his report from the ambulance. If he could only figure it out... Perhaps it was the periodic exhaustion and bouts of pain that connected the random thoughts in his head. Then again, perhaps that was what kept him from realizing things earlier. Detective Black turned to Agent Captain. "So what's a roller coaster known for, Vic? What's it there to do? Two things, two emotions: fear and exhilaration. Happiness. And what I felt off that thing when it went on a rampage was some mighty strong happiness. So what if it was feeding off of fear? What if these things are just a bit empathic, even less than me, just enough to feel fear and turn that into joy? And what if it goes the other way, too? "You read Rob Donnelly's report of the car chase, right? They'd given up completely right at the end, and they were laughing at some stupid joke. The fear was gone and they were laughing when Railrunner screamed and ran! So if fear becomes happiness, then happiness becomes fear!" Agent Captain shook his head. "There's a hell of a lot of supposing going on there, Rick." "And I suppose you've got a better idea?" "Yeah. Snipers and anti-armor rockets. Speaking of..." Captain grabbed the radio receiver. "Dispatch, this is Special Agent Captain. How are those reinforcements coming along?" "Roger, Captain, SWAT regulars are right on your tail and converging on-site. Snipers are a few minutes behind, but the Guard colonel says the imported RPG's won't be ready for another hour." "gently caress!" Agent Captain cursed, smacking the steering wheel. "Minutes behind and they'll need more to set up, and meanwhile the bastard already has a lead and once he finds that portal he's out of our reach. gently caress!" "And with that fancy new sanguikinesis of his, the regulars won't be able to hit him as fast as he can hit us." Black was silent for a moment before continuing: "But there is one thing we could still try." Captain objected, but Black interrupted him. "I've got nothing left to lose, Vic. You know that. And an old con man like me is ten times better at faking emotions than any SWAT guy on the force." The special agent gave Black a long look as he pulled in to the parking lot. The detective's grim expression made it clear that nothing, not fate nor time nor death itself would stop him from ending the monster roller coaster's rampage. All Captain could do was sigh in defeat and nod his acceptance. "Would you mind stopping by that ambulance before we reach the gate?" Black asked, pointing through the window. "I need to borrow a crutch." Mystic Park was utterly silent on what should have been a bustling Sunday evening, the first weekend after its grand seasonal opening. Instead, the park was closed, police tape enhancing the chicken wire fences that blocked off the Park's property from the surrounding farms and campgrounds. Barely blossoming trees shook in the wind, providing the only sound to two hundred acres that should have been full of the shrieking of amusement ride passengers, the babbling of flowing crowds, the sizzling of grills, and the steel rumbling of roller coasters. A small number of police officers and security guards had been left behind to keep the park off-limits to the morbidly curious and uninformed visitors, but all were found dead or dying from massive internal trauma when the first SWAT teams arrived, even those who had run or hid instead of trying to confront the bloodthirsty monster. The reinforcements were still attempting to set up a new cordon when Black and Captain arrived. "So what am I looking for?" the detective asked as a paramedic resized a spare crutch to fit under his arm. "Dimensional portals are always based out of reflective surfaces," Captain explained. "Mirrors, still ponds, glass windows at the right time of day. I believe there is a hall of mirrors in Mystic Park, but none of the panes would be large enough for a roller coaster train to fit through. Most of the water rides probably won't work, either; too choppy." "Hey, isn't there a big reflecting pool up by the Dynamo?" the paramedic, Lenny, offered. "I remember meeting a date there once." "That's right, yeah," Black confirmed. "I passed it on my tour through the place when I was staking it out. Chief Lugo told me it's where they keep the laser light show equipment when it's not in use." "Better hurry over, then, Rick. I'm guessing his confederates have already crossed over, but it seems as though Railrunner has decided to stick around for a bit of 'revenge.' There's no telling when he'll get bored and finally leave." Black checked his pistol's chamber and switched off the safety. "Time for some revenge of our own." The reflecting pool was only a few minutes away from the entrance by foot, even considering Detective Black's occasional limping. The pond was open at one end to the park's main thoroughfare and bordered on the other sides by a two-story restaurant, a ferris wheel, and the main hill of a wooden roller coaster, the Dynamo. Benches were scattered all around the plaza, so Detective Black picked one under a tree for a little shade from the midday sun and waited, his gun in his lap. The wait was not long objectively, although Black had enough time to wonder more than once whether he'd survive long enough for the creature to find him. He didn't sense its arrival, however, until it shouted at him. "YOU?! How are you still alive?!" Black was standing with his gun in his hand in a second, although naturally his ankle took this opportunity to swell and twist painfully. Grabbing his crutch, he hobbled backwards to the edge of the pond, eyes peeled. He didn't have to look very hard. Railrunner's twenty-foot bright-red steel frame was easily visible through the nearby trees and it was only thanks to approaching from behind that Black missed it at all. Rather than responding to the question, the detective raised his firearm and shot. Railrunner screamed in pain and raced over to Black's position, rising up on its rear legs to roar threateningly as long metal spikes extended impossibly from its small plastic wheels. Detective Black laughed. It was kind of funny, really. Who ever heard of a were-roller-coaster before, really? Werewolves at least made some kind of sense; wolves ran in packs, harried their pray to death like humans once did, and were only a bit smaller on average. Haunted amusement parks weren't so novel either, but it was always evil clowns or demons twisting a happy place into a dark reflection. So was Black really supposed to be intimidated by the most elegantly designed, most perfectly engineered, most safely constructed vehicle ever made? Please. The shock on Railrunner's face only made the detective laugh all the harder, and this translated into a growing anxiety. The roller coaster train attempted to dodge past Detective Black and into the pool, but Black brought his gun up to aim at the creature's head even as he laughed. After futilely dodging from one side to the other, Railrunner screeched its metallic cry and spun away. Not to be deterred, Black fired four more rounds and jumped into the train's rearmost car. Sensing what had happened, Railrunner screamed again and attempted to whip Detective Black out of its seats. The rear of the train was not a tail, however, and its centipedial legs were built for traction, leaving Black only mildly discomforted as he swung back and forth. Laughing all the while, he began to climb up Railrunner's body, hopping from one car to the next on all fours, using each faux-leather seat and cushioned restraint as a stepping stone, and occasionally firing a round towards its head to keep it on its toes. Growing desperate, Railrunner charged forward, crashing through the ferris wheel's queue house and directly up onto the side. The pastel blue supports began to groan and bend from the unbalanced weight, and Detective Black nearly dropped his gun as he flopped back and forth against Railrunner's body, hanging onto a restraint handle for dear life. The creature began to twist and curve across the vertical surface of the ferris wheel, changing direction and orientation in an attempt to drop the detective off. For his part, Black holstered his pistol and began to climb, sometimes up, sometimes down, and sometimes across, but always closer to Railrunner's head. This became increasingly difficult as the main support strut began to buckle and the wheel slowly bent towards the reflecting pool below, and Black silently thanked God that his arms had not been injured. At last, Detective Black was no more than two cars away from the monster's head, more than close enough. Railrunner knew as much itself, and it spun its head an inhuman degree to face the detective. Immediately Black felt a pressure building in his chest, the creature's psychokinesis battling with the Hoodoo powder's magic. Spying the amulet dangling from Railrunner's neck, Black cried, "Oh no you don't!" and leaped upwards to grab it. As his fist closed around the charm, the pressure relaxed and Black smiled, glad to know that Park Beyond foci could be negated with mental interference the same way that regular ones were. Too helplessly afraid to defend himself, Railrunner could only ask, "How?" as Black pulled out his pistol. "It's your own fault, really," Detective Black responded. "You should've known you would lose the most dangerous game." He set the weapon against Railrunner's chin and emptied the magazine. The roller coaster train slumped back, still at last. His job complete, Detective Black allowed himself to look back, curious as to how he would get down. Unfortunately, his leg twisted out from under him once again and with both hands full he lost his balance. The necklace cord snapped from around Railrunner's neck and Black fell towards the shallow pool below. Richard Black had always heard that you relive your entire life in your last moments, but he found that it wasn't entirely true. All he could think of were regrets. I wonder what it would have been like if I'd asked Sandy out instead? I wish I hadn't been so obvious in the department store. I wish I'd been there when Dad died. I wish I'd lived to see Sarah's prom night. I forgot to take out the trash today. I hope Mars remembers. I suppose she'll be fine without me. She was always great at remembering those little details I keep forgetting. He closed his eyes as his noontime reflection came up to meet him. Detective Richard Black will return
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May 21, 2013 00:03
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Iced Cocoa posted:Hey Bobbin, I'm tempted to put your story, first part, into a kindle format for me to just keep and read whenever. I don't know how to put it in epub and I use kindle so it's pretty much for me. Would you mind if I did this? And perhaps upload it elsewhere for others to download and possibly convert? Feel free. There are a few ways online to convert from text to pdf or text to epub, so you can put it in whatever format you please. There are a few things I wouldn't mind revising about the story, but it's against my policy to put in that sort of effort into the things I do for free on the internet, so I'm just going to leave it as-is. If you want to collect and share it, go right ahead (but it'd be nice if you credited me, too).
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May 22, 2013 00:27
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Between her fixation on mild swearing and the pages missing from the "sex" portion of relationships, I get this feeling that Miranda may have been raised in a strongly conservative religious environment. It's not a terribly uncommon upbringing here in the United States, particularly not in a Southern state like Tennessee.
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May 22, 2013 14:57
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JosephWongKS posted:Huh? Is that another regional Tennessee expression? I've said it before, but here's a picture worth a thousand of Miranda Leek's strange turns of phrase:  Here's an entry she may have used for "elicit". And one for "riposte." Bobbin Threadbare fucked around with this message at 04:21 on May 25, 2013 |
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May 25, 2013 04:18
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JosephWongKS posted:I was referring to “Did anyone ever tell you to keep your belongings to yourself?” I've never heard of such a saying in anything I've ever read. Well, there's certainly "Keep your hands to yourself," which is something someone might say after getting poked in the chest. Maybe she was switching things around because the coaster's wheel-appendages aren't exactly human hands? Even though "belongings" is even less relevant?
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May 25, 2013 06:42
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Richard Black awoke slowly, gradually growing aware of himself and then of his senses. His memories filtered in first, back to front: he was Detective Black, Paranatural Department, worked for the police for nearly twenty years, married to Marsha Black for nearly fifteen, had a daughter named Sarah who was working her way through the first stages of adolescence. Tried for a son for years, but eventually gave up. Black flinched as he remembered his last case. Railrunner, formerly Rodney Philips, had awakened to his true nature, a roller coaster train (of all things) and lost his sense of humanity in what Black considered record time, going on one rampage after another. Dozens died and well over a hundred were injured before Black and his FBI partner, Victor Captain, pieced together Railrunner's strengths and weaknesses: roller coaster trains were fast, strong, quiet when they had to be, regenerated quickly, and they could manipulate objects the same color as their paint job if given a focus; however, they were vulnerable to objects of foreign manufacture, and while they felt joy when they sensed fear, they felt fear when they sensed joy. In the end, the knowledge had been too late for Black, whose stomach was ripped open when Railrunner escaped from police custody. Some healing Hoodoo powder saved him from dying on the spot, but the weight of his injuries overloaded the dust's magic, making the detective's last gasp only a matter of time. Realizing he was doomed, Black chose to confront Railrunner alone in Mystic Park, whose reflecting pool marked a boundary between Earth and the Park Beyond, home to amusement park attractions of all sorts. In his final moments, Black climbed across Railrunner's body to reach its head as the latter climbed a ferris wheel to shake him off. He grabbed its necklace focus to nullify its powers, then emptied half a magazine of Austrian-made bullets directly into its brain. Slipping as a wounded ankle reasserted itself, Richard Black fell from his perch down towards the pool below and knew no more. And yet that couldn't have been the end, could it? Rick could still feel the weight of his own body. He could feel himself breathing. True, the pain was all mysteriously gone--even the knee which had been giving him trouble for years was finally quiet--but Black figured that whichever afterlife he'd reached would have been more punctual about announcing where he was. Aside from the amazing lack of pain, Black could feel a comfortable bed beneath him, although it seemed to use something besides springs. He could hear the occasional clink of earthenware pots knocking together and smelled a whiff of incense (something Eastern that Mars could have identified in a second but utterly mystified the detective) every time the wind rattled a set of shutters just over his head. And was that someone bustling around a kitchen table just then? Taking a deep breath that turned into a yawn, Black finally opened his eyes and took a look around. What confronted him was utterly mystifying. The cottage he was in appeared to be carved from a single, massive tree, its peaked roof covered in rings that marked out the tree's age as much as they proved depth like contours on a map. The contents of the room looked exactly like how Black might have pictured a witch doctor's abode; mysterious jars, pots, and herbs covered every surface and dangled from every wall, appearing to serve as much use as decoration as for ingredients. The strangest thing, however, the thing which struck Black as the most off, was the telltale smoothness and sheen of plastic which covered nearly every object and surface. Turning his head, Black spotted an elderly woman who was sipping from a large pot on an old-fashioned stove. The woman's hair was completely white and straight, tied into a ponytail, and she wore a simple white gown tied with a gold-flecked rope around her waist. Not a moment after looking, however, Black's psychic power took over and superimposed the image of a white pony with an elegant brass pole that emerged from between its shoulders. Rick shook his head as the image faded away. Usually his telepathy only gave him the vague outline of a personality and a number of important features, like a person's (self-considered) name, loved ones, and unusual features they were particularly proud or anxious about. It also did so on this occasion: the woman's name was Beatrice La Blanc, she was warm and caring to such a fault that she lived alone to avoid being taken advantage of, and she was self-conscious regarding how much fancier Americans were compared to her. Oh, and if his psychic vision was to be believed, she was also a carousel horse. Deciding to take things one at a time, Black coughed quietly to get the woman's attention. Beatrice turned, saw him looking at her, and cried, "Ah, so you're awake!" Black couldn't quite place her accent; she rolled vowels around in her mouth like French, but she bit into the hard consonants like German. "You certainly took your time," Beatrice continued as she resumed stirring her pot. "It has been, what, four, five days since you came over? You must have had much trouble on the other side. I have never seen a roller coaster suffer so much from his injuries." "Roller coaster?" Black repeated. "Yes. You do know that's what's carved into your focus, yes? You must have noticed the changes when you Awoke; I didn't have to try too very hard to supplement your natural healing. How long have you been Awake, exactly?" Mistaking her meaning, Black replied, "Not long at all, actually." "Really? Was there no one to explain your true nature? What happened to your contact, then? And how did you know what sort of portal to use?" Black shifted on his bunk and felt a weight move across his chest. Holding it up to have a look, he realized that Beatrice had tied Railrunner's focus around his neck. Thinking back to his last moments before waking up, Black remembered that it had snapped off the roller coaster train's neck and was still in his hand as he fell into the reflecting pool--into the portal! Railrunner had called it a "key" before he had tried to murder Black; apparently it was a key that worked for whomever was holding it. Pondering the stylized roller coaster train carved into a crescent moon shape, Rick muttered, "You might say I just fell into it." "Hmph! I should have a word with your contact, leaving you so clueless. Do you even know this world is called the Park Beyond? What about your true name, do you know that?" Rick sat up, still amazed at just how effortless it was to do so, considering everything that had happened to his body over the past week. He watched Beatrice as she took one last sip from the pot and then took it off the stove. From what he was feeling from her, she would accept the truth, but she would need to hear every bit of it first. Thus, as Beatrice served her vegetable stew and the two ate, Black related everything that had happened and everything he had worked out about the situation. He explained who he really was, and why he had killed the creature who originally bore the amulet that was now around his neck. Beatrice listened in silence and sat without moving for some time after Black had finished speaking. At last, she stood and walked to the door. "I need to think about this," she said as she opened the door. "Stay here for now." Beatrice closed the door behind her, leaving Black to wonder whether he really had made the right decision.
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May 29, 2013 00:18
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JosephWongKS posted:“Everyone apologises to Railrunner for things which Railrunner should actually be the one apologizing for” seems to be a running theme in this story. Oh, that's just a running characteristic of Mary Sues. If there is a conflict between the main character and anyone who doesn't deserve to immediately die, the other person will be the one to apologize regardless of why or how the conflict started or went. I eventually dropped the idea, but for a while I considered giving Railrunner "MS syndrome." Those with MS are always arrogant, self-centered, and worst of all gain and lose powers however the situation demands. MS victims are the most dangerous of enemies the FBI's Paranormal Section face. quote:Why even bother drinking alcohol if he can’t get drunk? Because Miranda was 17 at the time. quote:What a relief – no Railrunner-Merrylegs sex scene. If I'm right about her background, I somewhat doubt we'll even see one between Railrunner and Clare. quote:I sat up with labor like breathing. I'm surprised you missed this one. It stuck itself right in my head.
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May 29, 2013 16:40
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Jeek posted:Isn't Black on the Paranatural department? Yes, but the FBI's division is called Paranormal Activities, and Mary Sues are a national threat.
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May 30, 2013 03:56
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JosephWongKS posted:Is there some dictionary or thesaurus found in Tennessee which defines “twilight” as “as soon as the sun rises”? "Twilight" originally referred to a specific light level between day and night, and it's still used as such on occasion. When using it to refer to a time of day that isn't in the evening, however, it's archaic at best. So yes, Roget strikes again.
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May 30, 2013 14:42
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Richard Black's watch was missing, and so he had no way of telling just how long his host was gone. The shadows had perceptively moved across the walls before Beatrice returned, however. Seeing that he hadn't moved from the table, she took a seat across from him, took a deep breath, and began. "I will start by explaining what a contact would have told you if you had been one of us. As you know, amusement rides don't last forever. Sometimes they break or fall apart, and sometimes their popularity dies away. Sometimes, however, if a ride was very popular and very well loved in its heyday, they don't simply rot away in storage. Sometimes the magic of love touches them and gives them a living form. "This bit of magic isn't quite enough, however. The rides are given a human form and have the chance to experience life in a way they never could have imagined, but they still feel lonely and abandoned. They can never quite fit in the way humans do among each other." Beatrice's eyes wandered away from Rick as she spoke, reliving her own memories. "No one knows who first discovered the Park Beyond, or how he reached it. The foci are made in this world, are a part of it, and they are needed to make the trip. Perhaps there are other, more difficult ways across, or perhaps he created this world himself. However it happened, he became the first contact. He made many trips into your world to find others like him, like us. He told us what we really were and how to Awaken into our powers, and he brought us here to live in peace. Some stayed here permanently, but others joined his efforts. I myself worked as a contact for ten years. I still watch one of the portals for newcomers, which is where I found you. "Finding newcomers on their own isn't that rare. Not every contact is as serious about their job as they should be, and sometimes they have to deal with multiple cases at once. Animatrons are usually found in groups, for instance, and carousel horses always herd together." Beatrice smirked at a private memory. "Still, I thought you seemed odd when I saw the focus in your hand; roller coasters are never in groups of more than half a dozen, are more often solitary, and they can be very temperamental, so any contact would have to be very careful when dealing with one. And then there's the matter of Thunderbolt's rebellion." "Thunderbolt's rebellion?" Black asked. "Yes. There are two major types of ride in the Park Beyond: gentle rides and thrill rides. Gentle rides like myself are generally peaceful and kind, but thrill rides are aggressive and domineering. So long as the Park Beyond has existed, it has been controlled by one thrill ride or another. Normally this isn't so bad; they push around the lesser rides when they show up, but they usually spend their time fighting with other thrill rides. They all seem to enjoy it, but that all changed when Iron Raptor appeared. "You said you already know that roller coasters can control things the same color as their skin, yes?" Black nodded. After Railrunner tore his stomach open with his own red blood, how could he ever forget? "Iron Raptor is black. Color is such a subjective thing, isn't it? Not everyone can see every color. Colors can also change with the lighting; something that's red under the sun may be closer to purple in florescent light. But everything is black at night. "At first, Raptor spent his time in a cave, bothering no one. After some time, however, he realized what his powers could do and he made raids into towns and cities under the cover of darkness. After enough success, he drew others to him, others who had powers that worked well in the day. He deposed the last ruler by challenging her to single combat and then having one of his allies cover the field in darkness. "Gentle rides didn't think much of this at the time; as I said, the struggle between thrill rides is constant. But Iron Raptor had some different ideas on how things should work. Power wasn't enough for him: he wanted control. That meant having to do everything just the way he said, to pay him respects and give him gifts every single day. Maybe taxes are eternal in the human world, but here there is no need. The Park Beyond provides us with everything we could want; food, shelter, places to play...commerce is more a matter of habit and courtesy than a necessity. For Iron Raptor, though, the having isn't enough. He wants to take." "So...Thunderbolt's rebellion?" "One of the other roller coasters has organized a resistance force against Iron Raptor's rule. I am...well, sort of a part of it. The portal I watch is unknown to Raptor's followers, so Thunderbolt has been using it to gather recruits from the human world. Most recently he told me about a very promising new recruit, a red coaster whose power might even rival Iron Raptor's. Even when fully in our ride forms, we have some organic parts hidden away, and the blood that flows through them is always red." "And then I went and killed him, didn't I?" "You did. By the sound of things, you may have done us a favor. I have never, not ever heard of any ride doing in your world what Railrunner did! Not even other roller coasters acted so poorly when they Awakened. I doubt his rule would have been much better than Iron Raptor's." "I doubt he would have won a straight-up fight, either. Railrunner's seats were black," Rick added. "Still, you've left us one savior short, and you have somehow arrived in his place. Did you know you are the first human to lay eyes on the Park Beyond? Perhaps you can do what we cannot. Perhaps you can defeat Iron Raptor for us." Black began to shake his head. "Listen, maybe you all aren't as bloodthirsty as Railrunner was, but this isn't my fight. I have a wife and child back home, and I'm sure they'll want to know that I'm still alive! Now, something I can do is contact the FBI when I get back and explain the situation to them. I'm sure there's something they could send to help out--" Beatrice slammed the table. "No! You are the one who took Railrunner's life, it is only fitting that you should take his place. If you succeed, you will have made up for your actions. If you die, you will have traded a life for a life." "What about all those people Railrunner killed?" Black argued. Beatrice folded her arms. "Killing does not justify killing." Black sighed. Apparently, being a gentle ride meant not knowing why sometimes a life must be taken. "So what's going to stop me from saying yes for now and then just going back on my own?" "I won't tell you where to dive. You'll understand when you leave." Rick was prepared to argue the point, but he sensed a strong conviction from Beatrice that her noncooperation would be enough. "Fine. So let's say I do help you folks out. How would I go about doing that?" "You should seek out Thunderbolt first and explain what happened. There's a town ten miles to the southwest where he's likely expecting Railrunner to show up. Look for either an old man with a thick, white mustache or a long white roller coaster." "White?" Black muttered. The security cameras at the county jail had been malfunctioning just before Railrunner escaped, and what other color would they have been painted? He'd known Railrunner had confederates when a yellow carousel horse rescued his girlfriend from his second rampage, but the new information went a ways toward explaining some of the inconsistencies. "If you're ready to leave, your clothes and things are there by the door," Beatrice gestured. Rick smiled, glad to finally wear something beyond his torn and somewhat stained underclothes. Examining his Glock, he saw that the gun was still empty, having spent its full capacity on Railrunner's final stand. He checked his jacket pockets next, and a wave of relief came over him as he felt the handfuls of shrunken magazines and regrowth patches right where he left them. The first seventeen bullets might have proven to be enough, but Black had prepared for the encounter by convincing a mage friend to shrink boxes' worth of ammunition ahead of time, ammunition he needed now more than ever. As he buttoned up his shirt, Black said, "So if you don't mind me asking, how come you're in human form if you're really a wooden carousel horse?" Beatrice's eyes widened. "When did I tell you what I was? Well, I suppose I must have given it away at some point. As for why I'm human right now, that's an easy question to answer." She smiled as she held up her hand and wiggled her fingers. "Making soup isn't all that easy when all you have are hooves. Now if I can ask you a question, how did you regenerate so well from your injuries if you're really just a human?" Black opened his mouth to answer, then closed it again. The last he knew about his injuries was that he had overdosed on the healing powder that was keeping him going in order to combat his evisceration. Between the overdose and the lethality of his combined injuries, the powder started to act erratically, and its failure at a crucial moment was what led to him falling into the reflecting pool and ending up in the Park Beyond. According to Beatrice, it took him four days to recover--far too slow if the Hoodoo powder had become permanent, but far, far too fast if his healing had been natural. But then she also said she supplemented the healing somehow, perhaps with some spell or enchanted herb native to the new world? Magic was an unpredictable force even at the best of times, and mixing spells was always a dangerous idea. Still, Rick supposed he should be thankful that it saved his life in this instance, even if he had no idea what other consequences might yet be to come. "Just a bit of magic and some awfully good luck," he answered. "Then I hope for all our sakes your luck will continue," Beatrice responded, opening the door as Black tied his shoes. "To be a human in a world full of amusement rides...I think you'll need it." Bobbin Threadbare fucked around with this message at 22:38 on May 30, 2013 |
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May 30, 2013 21:10
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Jeek posted:You can even say Bobbin has... untwisted this mess of a story and remade a proper one in its place. The discoverer's name and identity have been lost, but the traditions he began live on.
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May 31, 2013 03:03
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JosephWongKS posted:This is stupid. They’ve already revealed their identities in two settlements without the slightest repercussion, and suddenly they are concerned that the “remaining cities” have been claimed by the Fallen? I guess she finally remembered that the Fallen have supposedly taken over the world and so revealing your identity as the One True Hero isn't always the best idea regardless of how flashily you manage it. Maybe this means there'll be an action scene in which Railrunner has to struggle for a second! Yeah, I know. But hey, I'm an optimist.
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May 31, 2013 22:41
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When Richard Black stepped outside, he understood immediately why Beatrice knew he wouldn't find the portal on his own. The tree house stood in the middle of a massive swamp; bogs and ponds bordered by thin strips of land and plant life spread out as far as Black could see. "We call it Swamp Land," Beatrice added to Rick's thoughts as she leaned against the door frame. "I've heard some claim it is bigger than the Florida Everglades, but no one's managed to chart the whole thing. Only one part of one of these pools is the portal back to Earth. It's how we've kept it safe from Iron Raptor, and it's how I'm going to keep it safe from you." A thought occurred to Black. "What about the other portals?" "All controlled by Raptor's creatures. All rides who come through, whether new discoveries or contacts, must swear allegiance to Iron Raptor or be killed on the spot. You might try one of them, but you'd have to strike a heavy blow against Raptor's forces in the process..." "I get the picture," Black replied. Turning back to his surroundings, he had to admit that "Swamp Land" had a very strange kind of beauty. Rick had visited the Everglades once during a family vacation, and so while the cypress and palm trees looked familiar enough, they competed directly with an odd number of pine and fir trees which would have been more at home in northern climates. In addition, many of the plants looked distinctly off, just a bit too symmetric, a bit too perfect, and a bit too shiny to be natural. Turning back to the tree house, he saw that the massive oak bore the same mark of artificiality, a mark he now realized matched the sheen of plastic he had noticed while inside. Seeing Black's look of amazement, Beatrice smiled and said, "Welcome to the Park Beyond. Everything that is or ever was a part of any amusement park, theme park, carnival, circus, or world, state, or county fair has a place here. What is artificial there is natural here, and what is a prop in your world is real in ours. Would you like to see where your stew came from?" She gestured over to a perfect rectangle of black dirt that stood a few feet away from the tree house where several neat rows of vegetables were growing. Black could identify tomatoes, cabbages, and carrots, but there were at least half a dozen more. Beatrice walked over and pulled a carrot out from the end of the line and handed it to Black. "Try it. You already had some earlier." Rick gave the vegetable a dubious look as he brushed off clods of dirt. To every appearance, the carrot was fake: it was perfect and straight, it had no branching roots, the color was a uniform orange, the skin was smooth and warm in his hand, and the weight matched that of a hollow plastic toy rather than a real plant. Looking closely, he even saw a seam running down its length. Still, Beatrice was feeling more pride than humor, plus he had eaten carrots in the stew, so he gave it a tentative bite near the thick end. Black was utterly shocked when the plastic coating seemed to melt away and his teeth bit into the tough flesh of a real carrot. He pulled the vegetable away as he chewed and admired the cartoonishly straight bite marks his teeth left behind, the plastic appearance extending to the plant's interior. "How--" "Everything in this world that is fake is also real," Beatrice repeated. "Everything that was manufactured or prepared in your world is natural in ours. Have you seen the corntails?" She pointed to a nearby stand of what Black had thought were unusually thick cattails. Coming nearer, however, he realized that the reeds were tipped by what were unmistakably corn dogs. Plucking one from its stem, he tore off the top and saw that, sure enough, a frankfurter was hiding underneath. Curious, Black ate the part he pulled off and found that, although the temperature was lukewarm, the corn dog had been fried to perfection. "You shouldn't eat that," Beatrice warned. Black stopped chewing and looked back at her. "It's high in cholesterol." Rick laughed and finished swallowing. "You sound just like my wife. She always manages to find the one guy selling salads no matter where we go, and she always makes us eat them no matter what we say." Black was about to take another bite of the forbidden food, but then it hit him. His wife wasn't here to stop him, never would be here. Mars probably thought he was dead, and if things went poorly in Park Beyond, she would be right. There was a very good chance that he would never see her again, and all the little gripes he had built up over the past fifteen years seemed to vanish into mist when set against that one solid idea. Rick felt grateful to Special Agent Captain for making him say goodbye to his wife, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to say hello just one more time. And then there was Sarah. Black had always laughed at the old stereotype of the gun-toting father looming over the young boyfriend, but as his own daughter grew interested in boys her age, he suddenly understood exactly how those fathers felt. It didn't help that Sarah was his one and only, and Rick wasn't ashamed to admit that, after giving up on a second child, he and Mars had spoiled the poor girl rotten. How would she get by without him? Black felt Beatrice's hands on his shoulders. He hadn't cried, but it had been a close thing. "I know this must be hard for you," she said. "You must miss your family terribly. I hate doing this to you, I do, but I must, for all our sakes. Iron Raptor has murdered many families since he took power. Some did not please him enough when they had no more to give, and some he killed simply for the pleasure of their pain. Your family is safe now; ours are not." Beatrice turned Black around to look into her eyes. "I was one of two dozen carousel horses when I first came to Park Beyond. I was always a solitary mare, and I left them to become a contact when they settled into Blancterre, a town many kilometers from here. Iron Raptor visited it a few months ago. No one knows what angered him, but many died before he was satisfied. Out of two dozen horses, there are now only six, including me." Watching the tears stream down Beatrice's face, Black could no longer keep his own in check. "Your family is safe, and mine can never come back. But you can protect those who still live. You must." Beatrice swallowed a sob and forced herself to become calm again. "Find Thunderbolt. Protect us, Richard, like you protect the people of your city. Do this and you can go home." Detective Black took a deep, shuddering breath, wiped his eyes, and nodded. Beatrice gave him directions to the nearest settlement, Cajun Town, but when he asked about provisions, she smiled and said, "I told you already, Park Beyond provides everything we need. This house was already here when I found it. You will see. Go, now, before you run out of light." Shrugging, Black began the long hike. "Good luck! I will pray for your safety!" Beatrice La Blanc called after him. Before long, she was nothing more than a white speck behind a wall of trees, and then she disappeared.
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Jun 2, 2013 01:08
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JosephWongKS posted:“Red and yellow with patterns all over the fabric.” Miranda Leek has quote:“Static doesn’t stand out, he looks more ordinary than we do.” quote:What kind of amusement park ride is a “tin lizzy”? The top 5 results from Google were Tin Lizzy’s Cantina, the Irish rock band Thin Lizzy, the Ford Model T (colloquially known as the “Tin Lizzy”), TinLizzie18 Longarm Quilting Machines and Systems, and a Yelp review of Tin Lizzy’s Cantina. quote:Which part of the thesaurus did Miranda Leek get “prominent” from?
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Jun 2, 2013 04:41
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Plus the horse looks utterly off-perspective compared to everything else.
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Jun 3, 2013 14:20
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Cuntpunch posted:...unreliable It's not unreliable. It turns out dragons have really lovely vision.
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Jun 4, 2013 06:35
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JosephWongKS posted:Now I'm not sure this even qualifies as Stockholm syndrome. For Stockholm syndrome to activate, the captor must be at least somewhat kind to his captives.
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Jun 4, 2013 18:51
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There were times during his walk that Richard Black could have sworn he was still on Earth. Birds still chirped in the canopy, squirrels still raced up tree trunks, and mosquitoes still attacked every bit of exposed skin. The plastic trees didn't appear too off so long as Black didn't look at them directly, and there were even convenient walkways to take him across the less solid areas of the swamp. Other times, however, he would spot yellow rubber ducks sleeping in circles or small plastic frogs lined up on the shore trying to jump into fast-moving glass-sided lily pads. Black noticed something else that was off as his walk dragged on. Despite having never walked for a mile straight since his days as a beat cop, let alone ten, his bad knee still wasn't bothering him. Not only that, but his back, which had never owed him any favors, was also doing just fine. Even his legs didn't feel a bit tired after five straight miles without a break. Was this endurance a feature of Park Beyond, or some continuing side effect from whatever mix of magic had saved his life? There were still plenty of questions without answers, and considering their impact on his health, they worried Black. Still, for the moment they seemed to be only positive, and there was nothing he could do even if they weren't. The shadows were thick by the time the detective reached Cajun Town. The village looked nothing like what Black had expected, neither in size nor in nature. Emerging from a copse of willows, Black found himself at one end of a long line of building fronts: rather than being full structures, each building was only the front-facing wall of an old-fashioned wood or brick two or three story store in the style commonly seen during the American frontier. Every storefront was painted in garish pastels across the front, but the backside was unpainted wood and support beams. The only exception was the squat concrete bunker sitting past the far side of the street, set off to one side from the line of buildings and nearly fading into the forest that surrounded the town on every side. By far the strangest things, however, were the lights and sounds coming from within the false buildings. Looking at one from the side, it was clear that the structures took up hardly a foot in width, but the windows on the front seemed to show lit, occupied rooms inside. Although the street itself was empty, the tinkling of distant music and conversation clearly echoed between the flat walls. Remembering Beatrice's warning that "everything fake is real," Detective Black took a deep breath and opened the door to a mauve building whose tankard sign promised a drink within. Sure enough, instead of seeing the back of a painted wall and the forest beyond it, Black found himself in a large room with the strangest mixed crowd he had ever blundered into. Half the building was set up with the standard bar and tables for humanoid occupants, but the rest was given over to stranger accommodations suitable for rides small enough to fit through the door without shifting to their human forms. For the most part this meant carousel animals and nonhuman animatrons, but Black also spied a go-kart which seemed to be on a date with a bumper car. On a two foot stage along the back wall a band of bears was playing a gusty bluegrass tune whose lyrics Rick couldn't pick out from their heavy Appalachian accent. The bar smelled like sawdust and whiskey and everyone seemed to be laughing and having a good time. Every noise stopped when the patrons spotted Detective Black standing by the door. Every eye turned to watch him and every set of lungs seemed to hold their collective breath. Black could read the fear and distrust in every mind as though they had written the words in permanent marker across their foreheads. Deciding to take things easy, Black sat on the nearest stool to the bartender, a portly man in a white shirt and embroidered black vest with a carefully trimmed beard. Once again the detective felt a rush of vertigo as the image of a black antique car made of fiberglass and steel imposed itself over the bartender, only to disappear a moment later. Curious, Black took a look around the room and concentrated on each individual in turn, just as though he were trying to read their personalities. Sure enough, for every human he looked at he could see their ride form, and for every ride he saw the human they could become. "What'll you have?" the bartender, Al, repeated. Tearing himself away from his newfound insights, Black replied, "Bourbon on the rocks, if you've got it." Al nodded and moved to get a bottle as the rest of the bar quietly turned back to their own conversations. The band also started up a new song, but this one was much quieter and darker than what they had been singing before. Black took a second look around the room as Al poured out his glass. The detective saw plenty of wary looks in his direction as the patrons talked in hushed, broken tones, but he could find no one answering to Thunderbolt's description. Black felt mildly surprised as he sipped his whiskey. Most bourbons he'd ever had tasted of oak charcoal with a hint of sweet corn, but the drink in front of him was remarkably sweet and just a bit fruity, perfectly suited for the sort of party that was going on before he had entered rather than the dismal discussions taking place behind him now. Waving the bartender back over, Black asked, "You mind if I ask who makes this stuff?" "Makes it?" Al asked, confused. "It comes with the bar." "Really? Doesn't it ever run out?" "No, it's always back the next day. Er, how long have you been around here, friend?" "Oh, not long. Say, you mind if I ask you a question? Do you know a man--a fellow around here, looks like either a white coaster or a thin old man with a big mustache?" Al, who had been almost smiling at the detective's ignorance, suddenly dropped a blank expression over his face. "No one here like that, friend." Detective Black didn't have to be psychic to know Al was lying. Rick figured that all strangers were treated as agents of Iron Raptor until proven otherwise, and so getting a straight answer would be a matter of showing his trustworthiness. Fortunately, this was hardly the first time Black had ever conned his way into someone's good graces, and he happened to know a few things that the bartender likely didn't. Black took an exaggerated look around the tavern, then pulled out the roller coaster pendant he had kept hidden under his shirt. He couldn't help smiling as Al's eyes widened. "You were right about me being a new arrival, Al. It is Al, right? Short for Electric Buggy Seven? Thunderbolt said you might know where to find him before we got separated." Al leaned in. "Thun--he said you went mad, or else you were dead!" he whispered excitedly. Rick smiled. "Do I look dead or crazy to you? I just had some...debts that needed settling before I came here. So you know where I can find him now?" "The yellow shoe shop across the street. Ask for the most exciting shoes in the store. And can I say how--how glad I am that you made it after all!" Al beamed. "Your drink is on the house, sir." "Cheers." Detective Black raised his glass and took another sip. A bourbon this fine deserved to be savored.
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Jun 4, 2013 22:52
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Iced Cocoa posted:e: As for the ebook versions, I was going to update at milestones, but I'll change that to keep up with Bobbin. I'd disagree with doing that. Perhaps you didn't notice the plot summary and restatement of rules or the tonal shift, but "Detective Black and the Deadly Ride" and "Detective Black and the Park Beyond" are meant to be two separate works.
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Jun 5, 2013 14:35
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GrizzlyCow posted:^^^^^Yes.^^^^ And let's not forget the issues that come with selling something that's been freely distributed. I write off the stuff I do for Something Awful as "practice." It's easier that way. I'm also in the process of writing something that is entirely original, and it's closer to finished than started at this point. I probably can't say too much without breaking forum rules, though. Heck, I still haven't come up with a good name for it yet. Still, let's enjoy what we've got while it's here, yes?
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Jun 9, 2013 23:43
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JosephWongKS posted:Which part of the thesaurus did Miranda Leek take “concur” from? I'm seeing "approved" and "collaborated" with "concur" in their thesaurus lists. quote:Previously he “burped deeply in [his] throat”, and now he “laughed deeply in [his] throat”. If you [make a sound] “in your throat”, doesn’t that just mean it doesn’t come out and can’t be heard? Nah, it means it sounds like this!
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Jun 10, 2013 18:46
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Detective Black followed Al's instructions at the cobbler's shop and let an excitable teacup named Terry lead him up to an unremarkable bedroom on the second floor. The old man who stood up from the seat by the window looked strangely at home in the faux-frontier town. Thunderbolt was tall and lean, his wavy hair and mustache were an almost bluish white, and his white shirt and gem-speckled vest looked to be period-authentic for the Wild West. All he needed were a pair of tiny spectacles and Black would have sworn Thunderbolt was a well-to-do frontier banker. That, and a stocky white roller coaster train themed with electric blue lightning symbols along the sides. He was also unhappy to see the detective. "Who are you? How'd you get Terry to let you in?" he demanded. Rick took a deep breath. "That's a long story. Let me start by saying you might recognize this necklace I've got." Black pulled the pendant off and threw it over to Thunderbolt, whose eyes widened as he realized what he was holding. "Now that I've got your attention, I think we ought to sit down. This is going to take a while, and you'll need to hear the whole thing." Detective Black began by describing who he was and how he came to be assigned to the case of the red roller coaster. He also took the time to explain in detail the casualties caused by Railrunner during its various rampages and the reasoning behind every act law enforcement agents performed. Black ended with the tale of his final confrontation with Railrunner on the side of the ferris wheel and how he was rescued by Beatrice, who demanded he help the Resistance before he would be allowed to go home. One thing that he left out, however, was how he had discovered the connection between fear and joy in the roller coaster train's mind. Thunderbolt frowned more than once during Black's explanation, but he did not interrupt him. When Black began describing Railrunner's joyride down Jefferson Avenue, he turned away to watch the growing darkness through the window and didn't turn back until the detective explained how he found his way into Park Beyond. When Black caught up to the present and fell silent, Thunderbolt took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. "I suppose I owe you the rest of the story. You already know that my associates and I were in your city to recruit Railrunner. The yellow carousel horse who rescued Railrunner's girlfriend? Her name is Janice. She isn't here right now; I sent her on to our reporting cell to let the Resistance know the red coaster likely won't be coming. I suppose you've confirmed he isn't. Terry is the other one who came; you've already met him. "The reason I went after Railrunner is because he was a red roller coaster train, which meant he could control blood. All us rides are at least a little organic, regardless of which form we're in, and that means he could've torn out Iron Raptor's insides even faster than Raptor's cronies could've dropped darkness on the battlefield. It didn't even matter that his seats were black; we would've painted them white. That's how us thrill rides kept Raptor at bay at first, before he found the swing who calls the night down regardless of the time of day. "I'm afraid I may be partly to blame for what Railrunner did. I was perhaps a bit too excited at finally finding a trump card to deal with Iron Raptor, and I forgot just how desperate and lonely it feels before someone finds you and brings you to the Park Beyond, and how little control you have over yourself when your power is first Awakened. I should have waited until we were on this side to do it, but I...I was impatient." "So why didn't you leave after the first night? Save us all a lot of trouble," Black responded. "That was mostly Railrunner's doing. He refused to leave his girlfriend behind. We also needed to get him a proper focus, and Iron Raptor has a stranglehold on new pieces made on this side. I knew of an old roller coaster who died in the human world, though, and his focus had wound up in a museum as a curiosity. You were right that we broke in and took it the night of the breakout, detective, and that I disabled the cameras to sneak in and get it to Railrunner. Please believe me, though, I didn't expect him to attack you and the other guards like that. He could have gotten away without killing anyone. I told him to do just that." "You expected him to run away without getting any kind of revenge? After what happened the two nights before?" Black asked. Thunderbolt sighed and turned away. "Most of us aren't bloodthirsty monsters, detective. Most of us think it's enough to get a good fight out of those willing to give one. Iron Raptor and--and Railrunner are the exceptions, not the rule. Rides are dying every day on this side thanks to him. I suppose I felt that a few humans dying here or there were acceptable losses to stop the massacres we have to face." "You can understand how I wouldn't think the same thing," Black dryly replied. Thunderbolt nodded without turning back. "I guess I can only wonder what would've happened if Railrunner had made it over here alive. He insisted on remaining behind, by the way. Said his 'revenge' wasn't complete after killing the few guards at Mystic Park. I suppose he didn't notice how one of their bullets had passed clear through him, or else he thought it was a fluke. I noticed, though. That's how I knew he wouldn't be coming through, blood powers or not. I considered pushing him through, but he could've done the same to me as he did to you, and he was angry enough that I figured he would if I provoked him." The old man finally looked back into Black's eyes. "I suppose it wasn't a total loss, though. You must be a formidable human to take on a roller coaster and win, and if you did so once, perhaps you can again." "Not that I have a choice," Rick muttered. "There are many times in life when we are forced down a path we do not choose. Just tell yourself this is one of them and do the best you can." Thunderbolt gave Black a tired smile and stood up. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a handful of quarter-sized brass tokens and a few yellow raffle tickets. "You'll need some money if you want to get around Park Beyond safely. Travel is restricted, but the guards are easy to bribe." The old man counted out a number of tokens and handed them to the detective. Taking a closer look, he saw they were stamped "Park Beyond" on one side with the image of a generic smiling face on the other. "These coins are the basic currency on this side," the roller coaster explained. "They weren't always necessary, but Iron Raptor forces us to use them so he has something to tax." Next, Thunderbolt handed Black six tickets. The only thing printed on them were the word "TICKET" and a seven-digit number along one side. "The coins come out of arcade dispensers at a set rate per day, but to get tickets you need to prove your skill at the arcade games. The games are all fairly hard, so tickets are worth around five coins each. Of course, Raptor's men control all the coin dispensers, and if they see you doing well at the games, they'll force you to trade in your tickets one-for-one. If you're any good yourself, make sure you have another Resistance member present to distract the dispensator." Detective Black thought for a moment. "Couldn't you just...cheat? You know, climb onto the basketball game and dunk the ball, that sort of thing? Or, hell, just break the drat thing open and get at the tickets that way?" Thunderbark shook his head, disgusted. "The machines don't work if you don't use them properly, and they don't break so easily as they do on your side. Even Iron Raptor himself needs someone to be good at the arcade games before he can steal their tickets." "Well, what about getting some straight from the source? I saw a maintenance shack out on the far end when I came into town." "Maintenance shack?" "Yeah, that big concrete bunker off to one side from the main road. Sticks out like a sore thumb." Thunderbolt furrowed his brow, puzzled. "The only buildings in Cajun Town are false fronts. I have no idea what you're talking about." Detective Black smiled as he began to understand. Of course the amusement rides wouldn't understand the kind of work it took to maintain the illusion of their world, just like how the guests at an amusement park carefully ignored all the employees and back entrances when they didn't have to think about them. As far as they were concerned, the bourbon restocked itself, the carrots regrew overnight, and the coin dispensers had an unlimited supply. But the hidden world that supplied the visible did exist, and the concrete building at the end of the street was the proof. Perhaps it was because he was human, or perhaps it was because he was a detective and used to getting behind normally closed doors, but Richard Black could see the employee-only entrances and, if he was right, he'd be able to make the Resistance amazingly wealthy in a single stroke. Standing up, Detective Black dusted off his pants and got ready to leave. "Go buy us the best jambalaya in town," he directed Thunderbolt. "Tell 'em it's on me. When I get back, I'll be the richest rear end in a top hat in this whole drat world."
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Jun 10, 2013 22:12
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Iced Cocoa posted:I did not see that twist coming. And while Black is certainly getting powers and insights in each chapter, it still feels more of a natural progression rather than power of convenience. While he may be diagnosed with small case of MC Syndrome, it still feels not like a cop-out and more realistic, well, within the rules of the world. Keep in mind that he's still a squishy human in a land full of super-strong, super-fast, regenerating steel monstrosities. He's gotta Batman it up if he wants any hope of surviving. And don't forget what color a Glock pistol is; with his issues with remembering details, I'm not sure Black will remember that fact in time... quote:I looked back to the army again, I raised my sword high in the air, and like dominoes they all followed me. So does that mean they're all a bunch of faceless interchangeable mooks, or that they're setting themselves up for a fall? 
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Jun 11, 2013 15:25
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The sun had long since set when Detective Black set off for the concrete building at the edge of town, but there were enough electric street lights that he was able to find the structure by the black silhouette it left on the forest behind it. Black had trouble searching the sides for a door, but eventually found one by using the faint glow of his cell phone. Out of curiosity, he checked the screen, but just as he suspected it informed him that he was out of the service area. The door was locked, but a few good kicks broke the latch. Black fumbled around for a light switch, then blinked in pain as his eyes adjusted to the bright florescent panels that lit the interior. When he could finally see again, the detective found that the building was just what he'd suspected: a series of connected rooms were lined floor to ceiling with shelves, cardboard boxes, and wooden crates. A large steel shutter in the floor of the largest room caught his interest, along with the accompanying manhole, but Black busied himself with hunting through the shelves and boxes until he found exactly what he was looking for: a medium-sized box stacked full of reels of yellow raffle tickets, still sealed in a protective plastic bag. Rick considered taking the entire box with him, but decided against it when he remembered they were supposed to be money in this world. Two spools hidden under his jacket would have to do for now. "Excuse me, sir, you're not supposed to be here." At the sound of the unknown voice, Detective Black dropped the tickets and spun around, hand on his pistol and heart pumping overtime. He found himself face to face with a nondescript man half his size dressed in a plain green coverall with the name "Justin" stitched onto the left breast. The short man had his arms crossed and looked plainly annoyed, but appeared unarmed beyond the tool belt around his waist. What made Black most uneasy, however, was the fact that he couldn't read him. During his years on the force, Black had found that his psychic power worked on all unprotected humans and near-humans, such as vampires, werewolves, and ghosts, but he had on occasion met fey spirits and extraterrestrials, and in neither case had his telepathy worked. Whatever the person in front of him looked like, Detective Black knew he was not--and never had been--human. Still, the situation itself was hardly unfamiliar to the detective, and he found his hand reaching for his badge out of instinct. Pausing for a moment, he decided that it was at least worth a shot, and completed the action. "Detective Richard Black, Paranormal Department," he announced, holding his shield out for the unknown creature to inspect. "Oh! Excuse me, sir!" Justin replied, surprising Black with a respectful bow. "We don't get many visitors back here. May I ask what your business is?" "I, um, I need to speak with your supervisor. It's a confidential matter." "Certainly, sir. Let me just finish my delivery and I'll take you down to him." The detective followed the short man back to the large room, where he now saw a clean, freshly painted yellow forklift laden with a large pallet of secured boxes. Justin climbed onto the forklift controls that were sized perfectly for him and drove it over to the far wall, where he dropped the stack and reversed back onto the elevator platform which had emerged from the metal shutters. Justin waved Black over. "Please come stand next to me on the lift, Detective." Once he had done so, the man turned and pressed a button on the wall behind him. "Watch your arms, sir. This lift has no safety rails." With a jolt the elevator dropped down into a long tunnel. As the shutter closed above them, a series of amber lights flickered on along the walls, giving Black a sense of just how many hundreds of feet below the surface they were going. After Black had popped his ears twice, the lift clattered to a halt and another set of shutters whispered open in front of the two occupants. Justin carefully drove his surprisingly quiet forklift over the lip and partway down a ramp which led into a massive warehouse, then pointed off to an elevated office that overlooked the chamber from the opposite wall. "Just follow the catwalks around the edge until you reach the office. If the boss isn't there, his secretary will know where to find him. Now if you don't mind, I've got some more deliveries to make tonight." Black nodded and let the operator continue down into the warehouse. The catwalks were easily accessed from a staircase whose stairs were so small and close together that the detective was forced to take them two at a time. The walkway had enough room above it that Black could stand straight, but the rails only came up to his knees, leaving him somewhat anxious about getting too close to the edge. From his vantage point, he saw a large number of other workers in the warehouse, some on foot and some in forklifts, all of whom looked and dressed almost identically to Justin. Black also noticed that he was getting more than a few stares in his direction and hurried over to the office. Detective Black was forced to duck and squeeze sideways through the office door, and the paneled ceiling was just a bit too low for him to stand erect. The man behind the secretary's desk was also dressed in a green coverall, although this one had "Kyle" stitched above the breast pocket. "Excuse me, sir?" Kyle asked. "What are you doing here? This area is authorized for gnomes only." Feeling more confident, Black flashed his badge again and identified himself. Kyle acted more puzzled than differential, however. Pressing a button on an old-fashioned intercom, he said, "Hey, Boss? I've got a...Detective Black here to see you?" "Detective?" the intercom crackled. "Send him in, I suppose." Kyle shrugged and waved towards the door leading in. The man standing behind the large desk in the inner office looked just the same as every other gnome Black had seen, except that the words "Warehouse Boss" were written where his name tag would have gone. However, a glint of thoughtfulness in the boss's eyes led Black to suspect that he might understand the situation better than any of his underlings could. "Good evening, Detective Black," the gnome greeted him, stretching out a hand which Rick shook. "My apologies if anyone gave you a hard time, but it's very rare for us to get any visitors. Possibly unprecedented, but we've been around so long it can be hard to keep track sometimes. Normally, the inhabitants of this world are unable to see us gnomes or our outposts, let alone reach the Factory and arrange a visit with a foreman such as myself. Might I ask how you managed it?" "I'm, er, not an amusement ride. I'm a human," Black explained awkwardly. "And I'm a detective. I figure it's one of those things that lets me see you guys." The foreman nodded sagely. "That makes sense. We don't get too many of any of those things. Well, now that you're here, what did you want?" Rick scratched his chin, still trying to process everything he had seen. "Say, how'd you like a tour?" the gnome offered. Deciding it could only help, Black accepted. Grinning at the prospect of showing off, the foreman led the way out of his office. "It would seem the detective wants a tour of the Factory," he informed his secretary. "Hold the fort while I'm gone." With a wave, the gnome strutted out onto the catwalks and opened a door that led further into the complex.
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Jun 12, 2013 22:32
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DmitriX posted:Well that fanfiction is great and all ( certainly reminds me that Bobbin is a skilled writer...) but I have a question about Park's monetary system. The use of coins and tickets as currency had been in place since before Iron Raptor took over. Their use wasn't strictly necessary, but in the sense that that "Please" and "Thank you" or server tips (in America) aren't necessary--that is, you could still get what you wanted, but you'd be considered very rude unless you had a valid excuse, like an addiction to arcade games without the skills to get tickets. As such, there wasn't much to drive to use them to get rich and so the coins dispensed every day were distributed more or less evenly between the community. Oddly enough, the dispensers always seemed to produce enough coins for everyone to get a fair share regardless of how big the community was. When Iron Raptor came around, he wanted the best of everything reserved for himself and his cronies, even though there was no real reason to hoard resources. To Raptor, it was the disparity that mattered, the acknowledgement that he and his were better and should thus get better stuff. To enforce this disparity, he made the use of coins and tickets mandatory and set agents at every dispensary to make sure his crew got the lion's share. They then tax business operators so they can't ever get too wealthy, either, and to make sure that the coins and tickets are being properly used. In regards to tickets, his agents only grow interested in someone if he or she starts to win too often, enough so that their wealth might rival that of Iron Raptor's followers. In response, the other rides have taken either to only winning a few tickets per day, working with other rides to distract the agents and sneak away with a large amount, or else bribing the agents to look the other way after taking a large cut.
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Jun 12, 2013 23:26
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DmitriX posted:There is still no valid reason to deliberately play games for tickets, since unless you are good at them you will just lose money, and if you don't, you get robbed by minions and break even or get a very slight profit(unless you employ bribery or diversions but that's not a reason for tickets to be valuable). Tickets were valuable before Iron Raptor took over and he has since enforced the ticket-coin trade rate since it benefits him. Besides that, you are allowed to make a certain profit by playing, since Raptor cronies take significantly more coins than what others get; between that, the taxes, and the ticket thefts, there is definitely some wiggle room to be had between haves and have-nots. Also, the coin agents all have pretty individual ideas on how much is "too much" and when it's time to force winners to trade back. quote:Also if resources are infinite and anyone could just self-serve themselves, why would it be rude to take them without paying? Paying whom anyway? How do they determine who owns the source of infinite resources? Rides can claim ownership of shops, hotels, bars, etc., and that ownership is usually acknowledged by the community. Admittedly, they can't act as much more than tellers and salespeople, but it gives folks something to do and a reason to feel useful in a world that provides everything for its inhabitants. You might say that Park Beyond relies solely on the service industry. 
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Jun 13, 2013 00:08
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And so Railrunner literally nuked a dimension designed to be a paradise.
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Jun 13, 2013 05:45
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attackbunny posted:Your Wise Old Mentor actually being your (god)father is not equivalent to getting cancer. Being Railrunner's godfather might well be. Yeah, being told that the guy who's been looking after you was told to look after you by your mother isn't all that big of a revelation. It's a bit closer to "Knew your father I did" than "I lied to your face, but only from a certain point of view."
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Jun 14, 2013 14:51
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JosephWongKS posted:So why were the “swinging ships” and their cannon-mounted cannons effective against the Fallen during Railrunner’s “liberation” of Alcator? Having the villain shout "See you never!" and leap out of the building in the middle of what really ought to have been the final confrontation suddenly makes me think Luke should have shouted "gently caress off, shitlord!" before falling off the catwalk on Cloud City.
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Jun 16, 2013 07:24
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JosephWongKS posted:Isn’t Railrunner still in his roller-coaster form at this point? Is the typical US gas station large enough to hide a twenty-foot long, twenty-thousand pound vehicle? Or are only gas stations in Tennessee constructed on that grandiose scale? Am I getting Tennessee confused with Texas for that state where everything is larger? "Grandiose?" Twenty feet isn't all that much when you're talking about a vehicle. A compact car could be over 14 feet long, and the smallest kind of semi-trailer is 28 feet long without the truck. A 20-foot-long roller coaster could hide in the car wash, easily. Really the crazy part is how the train manages to weigh 10 tons when that same 14-foot car is only one and a quarter tons.
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Jun 17, 2013 14:11
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As he led Detective Black through a claustrophobic concrete corridor, the foreman began his tour. "You've already seen the warehouse where we ship our products out into the world at large. You must have come down on one of our three magic elevators which connect to facilities across the globe. We're careful to remodel and restock only after midnight when the local rides are all asleep, but what with how your average planet works the lifts are in full use every hour of the day." "Connect anywhere, eh? So would I be able to use the lifts to get around?" Black asked. "I'm sorry, Detective, but the elevators are for authorized personnel only. If you didn't get in here with the help of an authorized gnome, then I assure you your use of the lift was a fluke in timing. Besides, you'd need the seven-digit code that connects our warehouse to each facility, and we don't leave those lying around just anywhere." "What about that manhole that was next to the elevator?" "Maintenance ladder. For maintenance gnomes only." Black nodded his understanding and the foreman opened the door at the far end of the hallway. Following the gnome, Black found himself on another catwalk that encircled a massive room filled with assembly lines, pressing machines, pallets of boxes, and identically dressed gnomes directing devices whose functions the detective could only hope to guess at. "This is our product packaging center!" Black's guide declared, sweeping his arm across the room with a grandiose wave. "Here we merge our various finished products with all the bottles, cans, boxes, and packages we craft to house them for final consumption. From here it's just a hop, skip, and jump away from the warehouse and final delivery. Follow me, detective!" Over the next several hours, the warehouse foreman showed Detective Black through an uncountable number of chambers and factories. Everything Black could conceive of was created in one place or another, from artificially aged bourbon (along with carefully weathered bottles to house the liquor) to plastic carrots to building facades which somehow housed real buildings in the empty space behind them. Even the "real" trees Black had encountered during his hike were carefully cultivated in underground greenhouses before being transplanted to painstakingly determined spots on the surface. "Every need and want of our clients is taken care of here," the foreman bragged. "When a new client arrives with new expectations, every gnome knows how to craft what they desire before the end of the day and full implementation is in place before the end of the week. I'll admit our production picked up after the Industrial Revolution got up to speed in your world, but the dedication has been here since day one." "So what do the rides do for themselves?" Black asked as he watched a crane operator lift a wide building assembly onto a flatbed truck. "I saw one acting as a bartender before I came down here." "Oh, we give them places to play around in, both as humans and as their other forms. Still, playing isn't enough for most clients. They want to contribute, to feel useful to their societies. That's something I can understand, myself. Some of them work as entertainers or artists, but most of them pick a goods distribution center--sorry, a 'shop'--and act as proprietor and salesperson. They then pay each other in arcade tokens and everyone feels better about themselves. They seem to be using them more often now than ever before, too." "Hmm. So you said earlier that you've been ready to go since 'day one,' right? You mind if I ask when 'day one' was?" The gnome frowned and considered the question. "None of us really know. We all just appeared one day, fully aware of ourselves and the jobs we had to perform for our clients. We're all of us perfectly skilled in whatever job we have to do when we do them, and no more. Secretaries and bosses like myself are smarter than the rest, and I think the other bosses sometimes wonder how we got here like I do, but we're all too busy to talk about anything but our work during our meetings. I figure there must be some higher power out there, mortal or immortal, who built this place as a haven for amusement rides and other communally loved objects, but I just can't figure out what that power might have been." Black and the gnome stared out into the factory for a while, each lost in his own thoughts. "How would you like to see our latest secret project?" the foreman asked, regaining his chipper attitude. "Of course, it's not that much of a secret considering the only people who know about our headquarters facility are us gnomes--oh, and now you, Detective--but we do try to keep an air of mystique around our big projects. Come on, it's not far!" The gnome ran off and Detective Black hustled to keep up with him. Chasing him down another branching corridor with so many lefts and rights that Black would have been lost on his own, the two finally came to a stop in front of yet another unassuming steel door. This time when the foreman opened the door he gestured for Black to enter first. Moving inside, Rick found himself in the largest hollow space he had ever seen. The ceiling faded out into a dark, unknown haze, the lights lining the walls so distant that they turned invisible. In the center of the tremendous chamber sat a number of skyscrapers, perfectly at home in any city center Black had seen, but utterly dwarfed by the room they were currently stored in. Half of the buildings seemed finished, but the rest were in various stages of construction. Gnome workers busied themselves on the steel girders and concrete walls, looking like nothing less than a swarm of tiny green ants in the distance. "We're calling it Urban Land!" the foreman explained. "It's up to the clients to come up with a final name, of course, but it fits with the scheme they usually use. Just think of all the possibilities! Skyscraper drop towers, ten-story carousels, rooftop swings! We're setting up an elevated track for slow trains and an exciting undulating subway for roller coasters! And oh, the malls will be tremendous! We're really expecting Urban Land to be a big hit with our clients. I'd bring you in closer, but this is an active construction site." The gnome turned back to Detective Black with a grin. "This concludes our tour of the factory. Did you have any questions?" "Yeah, I've got one," Black responded. "It sounds like you're aware of what happens on the surface. You know about Iron Raptor then, right? How he's basically enslaved the other rides and kills them for shits and giggles? It sounds to me like you could stop this whole thing in its tracks by moving resources away from him and to the resistance. Why don't you?" The spirit shrugged noncommittally. "It's not our place to say how our clients live their lives. If Urban Land doesn't take off, we'll adjust things until it does, or take it down and replace it with something better. It's our job to make this world as pleasant a place to exist as possible. If our clients wish to make things unpleasant for each other, that is their decision to make. "I'll tell you what I can do, though. I'll let the other gnomes know that you are authorized to use anything you find in one of our aboveground facilities. It's all there to be used by our more...traditional clients anyhow, so I don't see any harm in letting you get some early access. Just don't bring any friends in or things will become a mess. Alright?" "Yeah, alright," Black agreed, and shook the gnome's hand again. The trip back to the warehouse was uncannily fast, and the foreman quickly brought the gnome Justin back in to deliver Black to the surface. Once there, Black waited around for Justin to leave, then carefully copied into his notebook a scrap of paper he had seen just above the lift doors which said, "Cajun Town: 0812694." The detective almost left without remembering the reason he had come in the first place, but encountering the open box and fallen ticket spools reminded him. On his way back into town, Detective Black took stock of himself. He noted that his legs still felt fine even after all the walking he had done, but he was almost relieved to feel dead tired after the long day. In his experience, less magic was always the better option, regardless of how helpful it seemed. Thunderbolt was still awake when Black reentered his room. "Where were you?" the old man asked. Your jambalaya got cold hours ago." "Oh, nowhere much," Black replied with a sly grin. "Just getting these." The detective's smile widened as he watched Thunderbolt's reaction when he produced the two rolls of tickets from under his coat. "God in Heaven have mercy," Thunderbolt muttered as he took the tickets almost reverently from Black. "Where could you even find this many unguarded tickets? They look almost new!" "I wouldn't say they were unguarded, exactly, but let's just say I have my ways. I doubt you'd believe me anyhow. Just be glad you got them." "Unfortunately, I can't be all that glad you found this many tickets. Having this much wealth in one place will draw suspicion and make us everyone's targets, even those not associated with Iron Raptor. It'll take a lot of effort to distribute these to the point where they don't draw too much attention." "It's still a hell of a lot better than nothing, though," Black answered, crossing his arms. "Language, please," Thunderbolt chided. "But you're right, this is much better than nothing. My apologies. It's just not the game-changer I was hoping for. Iron Raptor uses force to impose our economy upon us, rather than the other way around. It's late now; we'll figure something else out after a good night's sleep. You can use the room at the far end from the staircase." Detective Black thanked the older man and went to find his room. The next day promised to be just as eventful as the one just ended, but Rick at least had the comfort of knowing where his bed came from and just how well the sheets were made.
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Jun 18, 2013 20:14
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quote:Trust me think, James Bond. Gotta put this one in the hall of fame with the others. I have no idea what the intended sentence would look like.
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Jun 19, 2013 16:08
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quote:“This is Woody Jackson of the US secret service. For federal investigations we will be staying at your residence. The situation concerns you and the ones known as Rodney and Clare. Several of our agents will serve as your guards until further notice.” Thunderbark said in a serious tone. For a minute there was a long silence between the two, and then he unexpectedly smiled and hung up. Ahaha. I know the guy is spouting bullshit on purpose, but it's so rare that I see fictional characters violate the Third Amendment to the US Constitution. Constitution of the United States of America posted:"No Soldier shall, in time of peace be quartered in any house, without the consent of the Owner, nor in time of war, but in a manner to be prescribed by law." Federal agents can operate inside a person's home for the sake of an imminent security risk, but they cannot "stay" at a residence except in shifts.
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Jun 20, 2013 16:09
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"What do you mean you don't know what's happening next? I thought roller coasters could see the future." "Well, yes, but only when it's convenient. By the way, how come you're asking me? You're a roller coaster, too!" "...I don't understand."
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Jun 21, 2013 04:13
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| # ¿ Apr 26, 2024 23:05 |
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Detective Black woke up and found a covered plate on a tray by his bed. Inside was a pair of Belgian waffles with strawberries and syrup, sausages links, and three eggs cooked sunny side up. While not quite what he'd call a perfect breakfast, Black was still impressed by the meal and ate heartily. After he finished, he walked downstairs and followed the sound of conversation into the back room where Thunderbolt and Terry the Teacup were cleaning up after bowls of plain cereal. "So did neither of you get breakfast in bed?" Black asked. "No. This world may be a paradise, but it's not that nice. There's fixings in the kitchen for better than cereal, but Terry and I don't know how to cook. I've heard there are luxury hotels you can find where meals appear overnight and in rooms that unlock on their own at lunch and dinnertime, but nobody's been in one of those aside from Iron Raptor and his lieutenants since he took over. Why, were you expecting better? We don't exactly have General Mills here, but--" "No thanks, I'm good," Black assured them. Terry and Thunderbolt gave each other concerned looks, but decided not to comment. "Well, if you're ready to go, we should leave right away. I understand the local Raptor agent is getting suspicious of us, so we should get to my cell's meeting place. Hopefully you'll find something to prove your worth when we get there." "I hear you're the reason we won't have to stick around for the coin distribution!" Terry added cheerily. "True enough. Come on." As Thunderbolt walked to the front door, he stripped off his clothing and folded it over his arm. Black averted his eyes as the old man pulled off his pants, but Terry came up and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "You'll get used to it. Everyone has to be naked to shift. Even most automatons don't use real fabric," the teacup explained. The detective still decided to wait inside until the transformation was complete and only emerged once the creaking and stretching noises ceased. Thunderbolt's bulky white frame was hard to see in the early morning fog, and the sun was a faded white disc just visible past the thick tree canopy along (what Black hoped was) the east end of town. The roller coaster train was stuffing his human clothes just underneath the row of seats behind his head when Terry and Rick approached him. "Hop aboard, boys," he offered. Trying not to think about how the creature he was climbing onto was technically both alive and naked, Black selected a seat a few rows back from Thunderbolt's head and locked the lap restraint against his thighs. The detective noted that the foam cushion on the restraint was sloppily painted white over the original black, and the paint still felt a bit sticky when he pulled his hand away. Terry picked a spot more towards the middle of the train, and then Thunderbolt turned his head to face his passengers. "Watch this," he said with a wink. Thunderbolt took a deep breath and blew. As he blew, the morning mist cleared in a corridor in front of them, parting to either side like the Red Sea. As Thunderbolt rolled forward, the fog continued to clear in front and drew back together as they left it behind. "I love fog," the roller coaster remarked as they plunged into the woods. "Ice and snow, too. A shame we don't see much around these parts." "So where are we heading?" Black asked. "There's a settlement along a river nearby. We can buy passage on a ship that'll take us right where we need to go." "Looks like we're going pretty fast as it is," the detective commented as he watched trees fly by in a blur. "Can't you take us there yourself?" Thunderbolt laughed. "Through a swamp? Come on, do I look like I could float in water and mud? Besides, wooden coasters are built for traction, not comfort. Even if we were in Plains Land, your rear would still be sore in under four minutes. Trust me, you'll be glad we're taking a boat by the time we hit Voodoo Town." Detective Black had to admit the train was right as the group came to a halt in a tree stand outside Voodoo Town. Still beyond the town limits, Thunderbolt transformed back and put on his clothes, explaining, "I'm a bit of a notorious member of the Resistance these days. Lucky for me they don't know my human form yet, but Thunderbolt the Roller Coaster can be identified just about anywhere he goes." "So what do I call you while we're there?" Rick asked. "Allen. You remember the director, right?" Thunderbolt gave the detective another wink. The roller coaster led the way into Voodoo Town. The village was built on a series of uneven wooden planks and walkways that crossed between posts driven deep into a marshy outflow of the nearby Cedar River. Mismatched wooden shacks rose up at random intervals along the walkways, with workshops, stores, and residences sharing space without any apparent regard to order or urban planning. There was also another concrete structure in a small clearing on nearby solid ground, but Detective Black chose not to draw attention to it this time. Thunderbolt took the lead in finding passage, so Terry and Rick passed the time by sticking gummi worms on toy fishing poles to try and catch Swedish fish off the side of a dock. "You shouldn't let on you're a human while you're here," Terry advised the detective as he threw back a bright goldfish which had bitten on the hook by mistake. "I don't think most folks would mind, but Raptor's thrill rides would see you as a big, soft target that can't fight back. They'll be all over you." "We'll see about that," Black muttered. He reeled in his fishing line and pried another wriggling red fish off his hook and dropped it into a steel bucket where it began swimming around with the others they had caught. "I thought you said these things came in more than one color." "Must be a school of the red ones down there right now. They are more common," Terry admitted with a shrug. "Anyway, since your necklace was meant for a roller coaster train, it should be pretty easy to make people think you are one just by leaving it out. I'd use a different last name, though. Nobody really likes black these days." Terry shivered. "Richard, Terry." The pair turned to see Thunderbolt smiling behind them. "I found us a ship that leaves today. It was supposed to leave tomorrow, but I was able to...fund its early departure. Eat the fish you want and throw the rest back. We're boarding right now."
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Jun 21, 2013 20:37
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