gone_byebye: (grr)
[personal profile] gone_byebye
The door from Milliways opens onto what would ordinarily be a picture-perfect day in early October over Central Park West. The air ought to be crisp and clear this high up. Certainly the view of Central Park, its leaves beginning to turn all kinds of colors, would support that...

... only anyone who actually pokes a head or hand or limb out the door will feel that it's not. It's warm- unseasonably so- and the air is tight somehow, shivering against the skin. There's an unpleasant, greasy feel to it, a sense of something about to precipitate out of nowhere at all. And far, far overhead, the sky roils and writhes in livid bruise-purple colors, torn open in a ferocious act of metaphysical savagery.

Looking up for too long is probably not a good idea.

Date: 2005-10-12 06:52 am (UTC)
stilljustandrew: (bloody but unbowed)
From: [personal profile] stilljustandrew
*And in the sky, behind the sky, there is a tremor; a brief subtle discoloration that moils uneasily, like oil on the surface of a pot of water almost about to boil --*

*-- and Andrew's chant rises to a shout:*
Zi dingir a nunna dingir galgalla e ne kanpa! ZI DINGIR ANNA KANPA! ZI DINGIR KIA KANPA!

*And there is a soundless pulse of sickly greenblackpurple light from the disturbance in the sky, and a blue-white crackle of discharged energy that flares around the entire rooftop, and -- *

*-- nothing. The connection's been severed.*

*Andrew sags to the floor, panting.*


--I think it worked.

Date: 2005-10-12 07:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] ucav-tinman.livejournal.com
And the plane climbed. He had already run simulation after simulation - he knew where he needed to be, the velocity, and which direction he needed to fire.

He turned, wings drawing beautiful twin contrails in the sky. His missile arm lowered and rotated, the Truncheon missile locking on target.

[Firing,] he transmitted.

The missile burned forward, and Eddie was close behind, pulling up almost too late-- but then the missile struck.

True to its name, the missile was an implosion missile. The burst of flame was centered, doing its job on impact. Most of the debris stayed as centered, falling only a short distance from the building, but all the same there was a rain of debris as the temple was reduced to rubble. Even the focusing rods that Shandor had so carefully placed were left either broken or warped.

[One hundred over one hundred.]

Eddie carefully circled until the last of the debris was down, and then he began to close in on approach.

He had his soundtrack again.

We are the champions, my friends.
And we'll keep on fightin' 'til the end.
We are the champions,
We are the champions -
No time for losers
'Cause we are the champions--
Of the world!

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Raymond Stantz

February 2014

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