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The Micro-Scenes thread

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1 year 3 months ago #64997 by null0trooper
null0trooper replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Monday, February 25, 2008,
Boston, Massachusetts


A foreclaw clicked against marble as its reptilian owner turned a colorful card set amidst a complicated arrangement: the Hermit, reversed. Objects at rest do prefer to stay that way; so much for the wishes of pawns. The reader reached out to set the card aright, to see how that might affect the others spread out. Under usual circumstance, the resulting changes would ripple out until the energies balanced out, but instead, many cards close by stayed unaffected as if protected from outside influence. Curious. What would one of the bog apes do in this situation? Ah, yes. Poke it with a stick.

The task would cost him a couple of bottles of rum and an evening spent over a backroom pool table in a dingy Boston watering hole. The German marks may have broken the rack on this money game, but the push-out was his. They never should have pocketed the cue ball where he could find it.

Forum-posted ideas are freely adoptable.

WhatIF Stories: Dream A Little Dream For Me

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1 year 2 months ago #65380 by Katssun
Katssun replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Tania Crossett typed out her annual message while waiting for her client to show. She selected a new spoofed number at random from a list of unallocated and inactive phone numbers and hit send.

"I will always fucking hate you. And I can always find you ;)"

They thought they had gotten smart this time and switched their numbers a week before she usually sent the message, the day of their anniversary. Working for the Syndicate paid off in more ways than one…

She had just picked up her Principles of Management textbook out of the tote on the floor when her client rolled up. A little flare of annoyance, followed up with a sigh got her back into business mode. Blazer pulled taut, skirt smoothed, 4-inch pumps…no…2-inch today, her client's representative was short. Her wig's golden blonde hair complying with the Sales Department dress code that had been selected for the Fall 2016 season; perfectly aligned straight locks, cut to hang precisely 3 centimeters above the curvature of the shoulders of her blazer. She popped open the door of her huge black SUV and put on a plastic smile to greet the man.

A tight sashay brought her to her client's rep as he stepped down from his truck. Nobody walked this way in real life, but in the Biz, you kind of had to. Their clientele expected a show and presentation. Tania gave one. The man turned to her and she noted that his appearance matched the visual ID displayed on her convertible tablet, his assumed name and key phrase responses listed below the image.

"Mr. Vilnius?" she asked.

"Ms. Werner? I'm glad you were able to meet me before my flight to Denver." He replied, matching the response phrase verbatim.

"Miss," she corrected, starting her own response phrase, and extended her hand, which he took. Their phones both chimed together. "Please, no need for formality. Call me Madison." Her badge was clipped at her waist, displaying 'Madison Werner - Rocco Realty LLC.' It had shifted as she called up the specific appointment on her paired tablet.

All three security checks passed, both eased almost imperceptibly.

"Shall we?" She gestured to the nondescript building that fit in planted in any industrial park. Simple double doors that were anything but the glass they appeared to be, and a ramp to a loading dock down the side. The painted aluminum superstructure hiding the non-explosive reactive armor of the true structure.

They entered the building, skimmed over the warehouse, shipping and office areas, and headed to the primary bulkhead doors hidden in the inventory shelves. Tania answered the client rep's questions about personnel limits, water purification facilities, electronic and surveillance countermeasures, whether they'd be compatible with the control stations their organization had previously purchased from Steph. They would integrate into the facility's systems, but she would arrange an appointment with FELICITY after they signed the paperwork, after providing an additional fee to both organizations. This resulted in a minor panic, a hushed phone call, but Tania had the standard contract for both the leasing company and FELICITY on her tablet, if this little oversight came to a bit of lawyer-type discussion. It was hardly the first time that had happened.

That cleared away, they moved onto power requirements. Tania brought up an elevation diagram of the facility, and gestured at a red-and-black striped block below the last sub-floor.

"A small nuclear reactor stored below the floor, resilient mounts in case of localized seismic perturbations," sales department code words for superheroes smashing things nearby or within the facility, but it impressed the clients. "We guarantee a 99.5% uptime over the period of the lease, accounting for scheduled maintenance periods. Optional high-capacity surge load backup generators can be installed on the roof to ensure you have power for any and all experiments."

The tour ended with the barracks and executive offices and quarters.

"Madison, it all looks in order, and I think your offices will be receiving a signed copy of the paperwork shortly. Digital is okay?" She nodded, the tech weenies took care of that. "But I do have one question. Why was there a pamphlet rack in the break room? I thought your organization's post-client cleaning policy was more stringent."

"Those were for the Witch Queen. This facility is well within her territory, hence the pricing on the lease. We do advocate that your organization check with her own, just in case. Our previous client found that she was more than satisfied with the installation of the display as the only...'consideration' for operating this facility in her region. She does know the facility is here, and will likely attempt to infiltrate your ranks, if only to restock that display when she releases new product lines."

"I will have to clear that with my management."

"Please do. If you have any questions, direct your call to the main number. They will direct you to me, or my
management. If you'll step this way, I'll guide you back to the entrance."

Tania returned to the freeway before dialing another number into the phone. It rang and rang. It was 6 pm! Her annoyance rose.

"Szczepanski."

"Oh baby…I'm hot for teacher."

"I'm a guard. You know that. Was before, still am."

"But it's so much more fun to say…" she purred to her favorite boyfriend. "How's my alma mater doing?"

"Pure chaos. But I'm starting to settle in because that's normal. How'd your day go?"

"I didn't get any time to study between clients, but things went smoothly today…"

They talked until Tania got back to her empty apartment before hanging up. Tania wasn't in the mood to call one of her other boyfriends. She never was after talking to Dave…
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1 year 2 months ago #65518 by Kettlekorn
Kettlekorn replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Janak sat back and smiled as the girl skipped away down the hallway to get her own injuries looked at, then she glanced at the young guy behind the desk. He couldn't be more than a couple years older than she was. She made a production of stretching, even giving a happy little moan as the movement pulled her dress tighter against her chest. Feeling warm and limber since her safe return to the ground, Janak flowed to her feet and slinked up to lean on the counter before him, making sure the angle was just right. "Hey... I was wondering, do you guys have any Burn Begone? I got kind of... carried away doing something a little too... hot, you know? So now I've got these burns on my chest, and when I was rubbing on my lotion a little while ago I realized I was almost out. Things are going to get pretty sore without frequent attention. Do you think that's something you could help me with?"

"I, um. Yeah. Yeah, we have Burn Begone. The pharmacy is just down that hall and to the right."

"Mmmmm," she purred, sinking just a little closer to the countertop. "That's good to know, but I've had a really long day. My feet are so sore. They really need a massage. Hell, all of me could use a good long massage. Do you think... do you think you could do me a favor and fetch the lotion yourself? I'm sure you know exactly where to go, and then I could just stay here and rest."

"I'm really not supposed to leave my...."

He trailed off as Janak stretched her neck and shifted her shoulder just so. "Mmmm, that's okay. I guess I can limp over there and get it myself." She sighed. "But I'm just... so tired." She grinned slightly, transitioning from an exhausted voice to a comfortably lethargic one. "And this lobby is so cozy." She slumped a little bit more, letting the counter push her chest up while she smiled lazily at him. "I'd rather just stay here, you know?" She laughed faintly and let her eyelids lower a bit while her smile widened. "I could almost fall asleep right here at your counter...." The guy was looking a little warm now and seemed pretty conflicted. "Hey..." she drawled, "you wouldn't happen to know a good masseuse you could recommend, would you? With nice, strong hands like yours?" She shifted a little without picking herself off the counter. "Someone who could give me a good rub down after I grab that lotion? Because I don't wanna keep bothering you here. You've probably got a long, busy shift ahead of you. I'll just... go get that stuff and get out of your hair...."

She started to straighten up, but the guy almost knocked his chair over as he leaped to his feet. "N- no," he said. "That's- You can stay right there and rest, and I'll go grab your lotion. Not a problem at all! I'll just be a minute."

"Aw, thank you!" she purred as he slipped out from behind the corner. She didn't miss how he angled his pelvis away from her; she rested her head on her arms to hide a smirk. As soon as he was out of sight, she channeled into her new silence ring and slipped over the countertop. She stopped channeling as soon as her feet were on the ground, not wanting to be caught by surprise if anyone approached, and began rummaging through the records from the previous night. "Ah, here you are," she whispered. The name Krizz Kad was written in sloppy print between lines of script, followed by a silly little doodle and then some cramped notes about an infection written in another hand. All the way at the right was a file number. Janak took the pen and carefully modified the name to Krizzon Kad-Nar, then corrupted and smudged the file number. She glanced down the hall the receptionist had used, then bypassed the cheap lock on the file cabinet and rummaged through it for the referenced file. As soon as she was sure she had the right one, she slipped it into her satchel and retreated to the lobby's sofa. Mission complete, she curled up and faked sleeping.

When Janak felt the guy enter her sensing range and set the Burn Begone gently atop her satchel, she cracked her eyes open for a moment, smiled, and snuggled the sofa with a soft hum. The new position she settled into presented her shoulders to him. He lingered a moment before leaning over her and reaching his hand toward the base of her neck. She held her breath as he hesitated an inch away, but then the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall and he snatched his hand back. Janak sat up and tried hard not to laugh as he rushed back to his spot behind the desk, shooting frequent glances at the hallway. She wouldn't have minded the massage, nor the look on Krisik's face when she walked in on it. Oh well!

I am the kernel that pops in the night. I am the pain that keeps your dentist employed.
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1 year 1 month ago #65539 by Katssun
Katssun replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread

She looked over the translated words that hovered magically above the sheet, the details perfectly matching what had been explained to her. Dipping the pen into the small container filled with her blood, she signed her name on the elaborate contract and completed the seal with a press of her still-bleeding finger. The words on the page, which she knew wasn't paper, flared with an eerie light before fading.

"Come," her new master stated. "I will fulfill my end of the contract immediately, as detailed within."

The being led her through endlessly twisted hallways that appeared to have infinite branches. She wasn't sure if she would ever find her way back to the portal she had entered on her own, but then again, she had the next five years to learn the layout of the atelier.

After walking what felt like miles and miles, they approached a set of simple bronze doors. She should be exhausted, but the cameo around her neck seemed to be doing its job at granting her super-human endurance.

Her master pressed a claw-tentacle to the door. "As promised, The Karmic Engine."

She slipped into the narrow gap created between the doors, and tried to take in the enormity of the machine before her. The closer she looked, she more detail she noticed. Gears, cogs, bevels, planetaries, tracks and vacuum tubes, and bubbling flasks. Shapes she had never seen before and could barely begin to describe. A low hum stood above the rest of the whirring sounds, and there was an undertone of something that she couldn't hear or feel physically, but made her very mind vibrate. The more she focused to try and recognize the sensation, the further it slipped from her description. In front of all that, there was a simple stool of rosewood, and a tiny console with orbs inlaid in a lustrous metal. As she approached, the console shimmered and reformed into what looked just like an All-in-One PC and a standard QWERTY keyboard.

"For your benefit," her master intoned behind her.

"How does it work?"

"Sit, and I believe you will figure it out rather quickly. The interface only requires a name, a sample from them, and it will handle the rest."

She fished out the small plastic case from the pockets of her skirt and popped it open. A lock of hair rested within. She smoothed her skirt behind her as she sat down on the stool and the "monitor" came to life. There were only three icons: Target, Sample, Activate/Deactivate.

"I just want him to suffer."

"That, my dear, is where patience comes into play. Every little bad thing they do, so long as the engine is focused on them, will come back several magnitudes. But the good too. That's why you have to be patient. It will hurt you a great deal, seeing the temporary successes. Staying away and out of the way is key for you. The very nature of my price is what guarantees the outcome you desire, and keeps you far from the ever-growing storm that you are about to initiate."

"But what good does it do me if he gets a promotion or wins the lottery! What about ME!?"

"That's where you must have faith in the nature of the target, when combined with the power of The Engine. That, and the funny thing about good karma versus bad. You humans tend to gain some degree of ephemeral happiness from the results of amplified good karma. On the other end of the scales, you tend not to survive the results. The outcome you want? Simply a matter of turning off The Engine at the right moment."
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1 year 1 month ago #65542 by Katssun
Katssun replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Arches National Park, September 2016

"We don't need your help genescum!" the man spat a viscous mess at in the general direction of my boot, but it only made it halfway. It was still impressive, considering he was probably quite close to heat exhaustion and of course extremely dehydrated.

Fitzpatrick and I quickly assessed the situation. Our faith in humanity taking yet another hit, not because of the bigot father, but because of the whole family. There were questions why they were out here at all. The daughter with a broken ankle, her one flip-flop broken, a giant grapefruit growing around undoubtedly shattered bone. I hoped that she wasn't into track or cheerleading. By the look of that, she wouldn't be recovering any time soon. That said, she was still holding her cellphone in a death grip. The father was bright red, sweating, and trembling slightly. He needed medical attention far sooner than his daughter. Judging from the daughter's condition, he had probably been carrying her, at least until he collapsed and another set of passing hikers radioed it in to the Park Service. The mother carried equal amounts of fear for her family and directed at me.

Not one water bottle, no proper footwear, no other supplies of any kind. Aside from clothes, keys and phones, just two purses and one floppy hat between the three of them.

I still couldn't shake the feeling, deep down, that at least a part of this was my own fault.

Yes gentle readers, with my wispy bioluminescent pale-blue hair that seemed to ignore gravity, I was the sole reason for the influx of park patrons who were looking for proof of alien life. And selfies of the rock formations in case they didn't find any aliens. Too bad for them that one Rebecca Sweetin grew up outside of Provo, Utah and still had two very loving baseline parents. Even if they were kind of hippies. And a loving boyfriend who just landed a job as a mechanic on a racing team. However, my same ethereal appearance at night made it obvious I was a mutant with GSD during the daytime.

Though I was the senior officer, it was Fitzpatrick's turn for our ongoing game of Bigot Brigade, which always made it so much more fun. He was the spitting image of the Aryan Ubermench. Strong jaw, blue eyes, sandy-blonde hair, and oh by the way, his girlfriend, Shawna, was a Nubian Goddess, though I don't mean she's an Avatar. She was a total softie and sweetheart too, just like her boyfriend.

"They don't want our help, Fitzpatrick. Though you are the senior officer..." I started the game. We were going to help anyway, but that wasn't the point. We had already been called, and the family would be billed for this rescue. He looked each of them in the face, assessing them carefully.

"I suppose we'll continue on Trash Patrol then," Fitzpatrick boomed in his dreamy baritone. You could actually see the hope draining from the daughter's face!

"Sir! We can't just leave them here!" I pleaded. I held back a smile. Barely.

"My decision is final Sweetin. Let's go."

"No! I have to help them! Go on ahead, I'll take them back to the visitor's center, by myself if I have to!" Eat your heart out Meryl.

"Sweetin. I won't repeat myself."

"Sir!"

Fitzpatrick took a deep breath in through his nose, and steeled his face. "Fine. But you're carrying the girl." I had to turn away to let out a quick snort. I was going to have to be the one to carry her anyway, she couldn't handle the bouncing of the buggy. It's why the Park Service sent the two of us out in the first place. The rough terrain necessitating returning someone with a broken ankle on foot.

"Thank you sir!" I chirped after finally managing to compose myself.

Fitzpatrick put the father into the back of the buggy and gave him a hydration gel pack while I pulled gear from my pack. The knurled metal rod that kinda-sorted looked like lightsabers, so sue me, extended two poles built from carbon nanotubes as I activated them. These and some collapsible netting I had also developed formed a quick travois to carry the girl back to the first aid building. The girl secured and given a big dose of ibuprofen, the father hopefully not dying, and the mother behind with a brand new bottle of water, we set out for the two hour hike back to the visitor's center. I'd also keep an eye on the father to see if we'd have to radio in a heli evac instead.

We made it back before dusk, thank you very much.
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1 year 1 month ago - 1 year 1 month ago #65797 by Katssun
Katssun replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Schuster Hall - September 13, 2016

Mary enjoyed watching.

It was just kind of her deal, ever since she had manifested seated with her family inside the township's diner just before a huge brawl erupted outside in the parking lot. A woman pulling back for a haymaker that connected to the rounded jawline of her apparently two-timing husband, only stand stock-still as another woman struck her backhand, bloodlessly, across the nose. Next, more solid, she had seemed to repeat the act, only this time the first woman fell down screaming.

It fascinated Mary.

So, the oh-so-young-looking Freshmen, still confused about their new surroundings, skittered about the hallways, still a little lost looking for their classrooms. An evanescent 'Whisper' proceeded each and every student around her. "Intents" she used to call them, early on anyway, until she actually understood what her ESP was representing to her visually. Mostly desperation or determination heading into classrooms. A nervous introduction. A grateful thank you, shyly delivered. One exemplar boy, his Whisper stumbling and falling flat on his face, only for the real boy to catch himself with his enhanced coordination. Startled at the result. Not only a Freshman, but also a recent manifestation, apparently.

Mary walked gracefully through the Whispers and their owners on her way to Philosophy, never having to worry about bumping into another student. She paused momentarily when she saw a very talkative redhead with a Whisper that barely lead her at all. Airheads were dangerous. Next to the redhead walked a pale girl, not with a single Whisper, but flickering between four and six at any given moment.

"Paranoid much?" she murmured mostly to herself.

"Hmm?" her companion said, trailing behind her. Mary made a good trailblazer through crowds.

"Just someone interesting…"
Last Edit: 1 year 1 month ago by Katssun. Reason: You shouldn't proofread right before bed.
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1 year 1 month ago - 1 year 1 month ago #65832 by E!
E! replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
“I don’t get why she has to assign homework. It’s Art Appreciation. I can appreciate art all day.” Tom leered at the passing exemplar girls.

“As if…” the gaggle chuckled to themselves hoping to embarrass the young man.

“You never stop do you? Oh, 12 seconds half-step right.” Jack explained while snacking on the cantaloupe in the checkout line.

“No, why would I. If I did then the ladies wouldn’t know how great I am?” Tom sneered. Following the directions Jack gave him while swiping his ID card. Narrowly avoiding the slop of mashed potatoes thrown through the air.

Followed by a roar of “HEY WHO THREW THAT!” Then the boots of security stomping to stop a fight, but the pair continued unabated. Until they reached their table.

“Sup guys.” Jack mentioned further out, while Tom waited to get a little close to announce his greeting.

“You alright? Cog Slip?” Tom questioned his roommate.

“Yea, I don’t know. Got jarred pretty hard in BMA today, that could be it.” Jack shook his head as they took to their lunches.

“Who did you take on today?” Tom asked while snacking on his pizza.

“Chick, red hair?” Jack replied staring at the table trying to jog his memory.

“So yea, you fought Fey.” Tom

“Please, if I fought Fey I would be a skid mark right now. And Ito would’ve failed her for not doing it in a nanosecond.” Jack sassed. “Hmmm, I think her name was Globe? Ball, maybe?” He quizzed himself.

“Sphere, Hit like a freight train?” Tom finished Jack’s thought for him.

“Yea…and she smelt nice too.” Jack mused.

“You would be the one to notice that in a fight.” Tom jabbed, “But, I’m the weird one for being confident.”

“13 years in the dark, you tend to pick up a few things. Unlike you normal folk.” Jack ribbed back

“OH OH OK” Tom gasped before cracking a smile. “Your eyes still doing…the thing?”

“Every now and then” Jack shrugged. “25 seconds, 180*, left hand, food.” He continued as he stared at an empty patch of tables in the cafeteria.

“Who is it going to be this time? Hopefully not Unstoppable again.” Tom fussed. Before glancing around spotting a nice girl with a black pixie cut bobbing up and down through the crowd blissfully unware. “DUDE! NO WAY! Brittney M!” He hunched over to stifle his yell.

“Go get’em, tiger.” Jack winked as his friend got up from the table. He knew what was going to happen, yea he saw it, but it didn’t have the same pizazz as watching it in real time. Plus he couldn’t hear what was said between the two. Jack only saw the heroic success immediately followed by bone crushing defeat.

Just as Jack saw it, a rival girl tripped Brittney hoping to spill her food and humiliate her. However, her knight in shining armor, Tom, was there. To catch her food in his left hand, and…let her hit the floor.

“Ow what the hell! You catch my food, but not me!” Brittney yelled getting up from the floor. “YOU”RE SUCH A JABRONI!” she huffed before taking her tray shooting daggers at the girls who tripped her.

“Jabroni.” Jack laughed and Tom sat back down at the table. “I haven’t heard that one in a while.”

“You could’ve told me catch HER with my left hand. Man, I just blew it with her.” Tom fussed shaking his head.

“Nah, it would’ve been worse the other way.” Jack explained.

“How bad?”

“Crotch shot level bad?” Jack told him as him imitated a level bar. They both cringed.

“It’s doing it again.” Tom whispered handing Jack a napkin.

Just then a sweet smell filled Jacks nostrils, a metallic taste filled his mouth souring his lunch, and the red sticky liquid overflowed pouring from his eyes. Luckily, Jack caught it with the napkin. Holding it to his face he made a make shift eye mask.

“Doyle?”

“Yea, Doyle.”
Last Edit: 1 year 1 month ago by E!.
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1 year 1 month ago #65840 by null0trooper
null0trooper replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
High School Rules


"What do you say, ladies? Do we take the trash out or not?"

"Down a peg, maybe, but not out. She's not worth detention."

"Too True." Antionette took a few minutes to craft her spell, adding a few artistic touches, before cutting loose with the altered disenchantment.

Hikaru almost missed the show. The Melville girl's casting had been a subtle, precision strike. Few practitioners would have even noticed the casting until the effects developed. Amaterasu considered herself – with reason – much better than the ruck and run of modern mystics. Even with Ama alerted, the best either she or Hikaru could say afterward was that the beautiful girl on their arm happened to the spell. An audible gasp and poorly concealed laughter revealed who had cast the spell, which had been altered as it was reflected.


"Ben, would you be a sweetie and bring us some of the punch, before it's spiked, again?" 'Death' leaned in, "One of the rules of this game is There is no blood."

*That is surprisingly good advice.*

There wouldn't have been blood shed even if the spell had landed.

*Do you think it would be seemly to take public notice if it had?*

No. That might betray weakness. But as it hadn't ...

*A warrior or a prince is measured better by his enemies than by his allies. Thus, there is no blood.*


Most days, Nikki Reilly wasted enough effort trying to ignore all the petty spell-casting carried on at Whateley that it wasn't worth taking note of which of the Mystic Arts students had just screwed up. A quick inspection revealed that the girl would be wearing condiments for the next several hours, reminding her Meddle not in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup. She hoped that the next department meeting would be free of If the Foo shits... jokes.

Something in the way the spell bounced reminded Nikki of something or someone. She worked her way through the crowd to see who was involved. Wasn't she still too young to be part of the adult supervision? Well, well. Miss "Of course I wasn't influenced by some plebeian scribblings in a comic book" must be cultivating a new enemy. One good enough to make her failure look like her own accident? Her empathic senses picked up on someone close by radiating amusement...

Nikki felt a hand on each shoulder. From behind her and to the side, a soft soprano voice whispered, "Darling Nikki said - How'd you like to waste some time and I could not resist when I saw little Nikki grind."

She wheeled around, to be faced by an appallingly good rendition of Death of the Endless. She even felt? Wait a minute!

"Metro. It's been a while." Not long enough. "Where's your shadow?"

"Watching out for my date."

"Who could you possibly be dating?"

"Here you go, a cup of nonalcoholic punch for each of us."

Hikaru Myoujin. As Ben 10. Nikki washed the irony down with a gulp of punch.

< Myoujin-sama. Need I introduce you to the Queen to Come, or should I call around for seconds? >

< I have no quarrel with this one, who may yet become one of my instructors. Mother's views regarding certain blood debts notwithstanding. >

< Sadly, I can sympathize with the ache of old wounds.> "Nikki, have you met Hikaru yet? She's the—"

"Voice of Amaterasu, yes." Nikki held her hand out for a handshake that was warmly returned, "Nichole Reilly. I've heard that you were on-campus. Pleased to meet you."

"The same."

"Now, Mads, aren't you breaking the rule against attending as yourself?"

"I never said I was Endless, but I could be, for the right person!"

"I think I'll pass."

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1 year 1 month ago #65975 by Sir Lee
Sir Lee replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
"Jadis, WHY are you making me watch... THIS crap?"
"Because, Jobe, it's MY house and MY TV. You are bored because you are away from your lab and you dropped your PDA and cracked the screen, I know; try stiing and watching -- you might learn something useful."
"But this is... comedy! Can't you at least turn to something marginally more useful, like a news channel?"
"Jobe, comedians are this era's court jesters; they have the privilege and the duty of pointing out the errors of politicians, corporate moguls and the like. Remember, if something goes wrong with your father's cloning backups, next time he has an accident your could find yourself kicked up from Princess to Empress. You should get some feel for what not to do."
"But this... is moronic. The best this guy find to make fun is the hairpiec of the man? With that tired old joke of the wig being some sort of furry animal? This is not wit, is not even a half-wit. It's like one-thousandth..." Jobette's eyes suddenly glazed.
"Jobe?"
"Hmm?"
"You kinda went offline there for a bit."
"Oh. I think I can make that work."
"Make what work?"
"The hairpiece. I can engineer a small, flat, furry animal... possibly by hybridizing a mollusc with an weasel... and have it adhere to the subject's head. A number of variants for the fur, to match the natural hair... perhaps even splicing the subject's own DNA so the hair would be identical... a living, self-maintaining, self-attaching wig."
"Are you going into the hair-replacement business?" Jadis wondered. This seemed remarkably... tame for Jobe.
"What? No, who do you take me for, Hazmat? No, the living wig is just the hook. The good part is having those influential morons carrying one of my creations on their heads all the time. Just consider the possibilities... besides the obvious spying, I could also send subliminal messages to their ears all day long, via bone conduction..."

Don't call me "Shirley." You will surely make me surly.
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1 year 3 weeks ago #66104 by Erianaiel
Erianaiel replied the topic: The Micro-Scenes thread
Not so Welcome To Whateley


The first sign of trouble was the earth shattering thundercrack of a massive amount of air, and suborbital interdictor, being displaced by an emergency teleport. The guided missiles caught up in the teleport did not help things any. The interdictor point defense guns where screaming supersonic ammunition into the distance, trying to intercept the barrage of ballistic and guided projectiles that suddenly were no longer within range.

While everybody was still reeling from the crash, and only beginning the glass of the shattered windows flying everywhere there was the follow up of nearly 700 tons of natural, exotic and meta metals, crashing through the corner of a building and plowing into a parking lot at several hundreds kilometers per hour. The teleport had bled off most of the horizontal speed but by no means all of it. Digging into the bedrock on the otherhand took care of that.

Finally there was a whoomp, that was not as loud as the initial teleport had been, but had at least as much air pressure behind it. A final desultory incendiary missile found a crack -- or rather a gaping tear -- in the interdictors hull and struck the hypertech powerplant, causing it to implode in a spectacular and reality defying way.

Only then the screaming began. Being flooded with exotic particles did nasty things to warp fields and pk shells not to mention the unprotected human body -- a fact that the powers researchers had long suspected but for obvious reason never studied. Quite a few students who had barely gotten used to the thought of being nearly invulnerable found that the debris had sliced through their protection as if it was not there.

Whateley security scrambled with commendable speed, but there was nothing to defend the school against. All they could do was look imposing and reassuring and direct the search and rescue operations while the heavy armour backed up the school staff's heavy hitters as they approached the burning wreck that was wavering -- like in a heat distortion -- in unreality. The after effect of what the exploding powerplant had set off.

A single imposing figure in a torn black and red stylised, but clearly hardened, combat uniform came out of the improvised ramp that the ripped out loading bay doors had becom. He was silhouetted against a backdrop of flames that were unnerving to look directly at thanks to that same wavering unreality effect. Hopefully. He was carrying a limp and bloody body of a girl in his arms and shouted "Ajuta-ma," desperately. "She's dying. Again."

Mihaela Brâncoveanu had arrived at Whateley.
The following user(s) said Thank You: Kettlekorn, Malady

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