Interdimensional Managers (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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interstellar55552016-08-03 01:24 pm
interdimanagers) wrote in interstellar55552016-08-03 01:24 pm
☆TRACK XIII: HIT THE BOTTOM PT 2
 It’s almost the very end of the Tokyo tour when it happens. There was no way for anyone to be sure when exactly Gold would strike, but at least with the information gained from Silver and their dreams, the rebels have been able to prepare and lay in wait. Despite some effort, contact with Gold has been impossible. It isn’t until Lesedi has presented herself on stage that Gold comes out of hiding. It’s a special occasion, presumably. Maybe our of arrogance, or maybe as some key feature of her plan, one of the final performances is Lesedi Santiago herself singing. The crowd loves it, irrationally so – it’s clear to anyone that knows what’s going on that by this point Lesedi could be making fart sounds into a microphone and the audience would swoon. The magic is thick, and the civilians are all but zombies in its wake. So much, so, that they don’t even seem to notice when Gold drops the entire metal lighting structure right onto the stage, on top of Santiago, mid performance. Gold rides the structure down, and metal bends and grinds, screeching as lights explode and sparks fly. It’s so brazen that even Lesedi doesn’t seem to be expecting it. That becomes all too obvious when the nebulae emerges from the wreckage, furious and literally glowing with astral energy. Her song and its momentum has been cut like a rope, and the stage has fallen down like the figurative piano. “What is this?!” she screeches, indignant beyond words but ostensibly not actually hurt. Metal shrapnel bursts into the air as Gold emerges as well, a powerful aura surging around their masked form as well. The remaining musicians that were dosed with Gold’s powder some months ago will feel a strange pull against their spirits. “You.” The word is cold, in contrast to Lesedi’s fury only a moment before. Gold only offers a theatrical shrug as they tight rope walk across twisted metal scaffolding. The crowd roars in appreciate for a performance that only they seem to understand. “This is where you swear you’re going to destroy me, right?” Gold says, with antagonizing ambivalence. “Well, here’s your chance, princess.” Yet, in this moment, Silver is nowhere to be seen. [This is mostly going to be one, big free for all log, though you can make separate top levels if they aren’t going to be related to the main fight. Remember, your actions here matter! What players characters do or don’t do will heavily affect the outcome.] |
Doc vs. gadgetry | OTA
He'd tried to call out to his friend in that strange dream from a short while ago, but it wasn't enough. It would never be, not until this ends. And at times like this, desperation can become inspiration.
Doc's odd toolbox jingles at his side, an odd item for a concert---but he's glued some out of place speakers on the side. It looks like a boombox from a distance, and that's marginally less suspicious, right? If it buys him some time, that should be enough.
The falling metal is his cue to move. This is it, this is the end, and that desperate half-baked plan in the box needs to pop out of the oven now. He slips further into the crowd's chaos, ducking behind a pillar to get some space---and here's as good a time as any to announce his intentions to the other rescuers.
I believe our mechanical friends could benefit from a signal jam. Can anyone cover me? And if you've found any falling scrap parts, that would also be excellent---it's entirely untested and I need to set up the shot---
And add a finishing touch for stability, but he sees no need to start a panic just yet. What's important is that they have something to fight for, and he reminds himself of that with a silent wish. This has to work.
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He catches the tail end of Doc's announcement and rushes over to the man. "Let me help you!" he shouts over the noise from the crowd, only just then getting a better view of who he's dealing with. Was this... the old man he had met on the streets in Vista? What do you know? Roy smirks. "Tell me what to do."
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"This is an electromagnetic pulse---intended to disrupt any efforts to subdue us. It's got a kick to it, so I'll need some help pulling it together."
That...sure is one big boom box. He sets it down, then removes a few items that he'd awkwardly concealed---his beer belly is actually a barrel under his shirt, there are rods up his sleeves, and he's soon wedging some sort of cannon together.
"See the big cannister at your feet? We need to securely drop it on this base portion."
He kneels to guide it more precisely, but he pauses in his task a moment to assess his ally. "But are you alright, Mr. Mustang?"
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"I'll get that for you," he says, kneeling down to grab the canister Doc had pointed out. Roy tries not to rush to quickly, lifting the canister steadily with both hands up and over the base Doc had readied. Someone in the crowd bumps him in the back and he freezes in place for a second just to be sure before nestling the canister in its place.
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"Excellent, excellent...I'm flipping the switches on my side, flip the others from their current positions, and then we hoist it up. It'll be fairly messy from that point. Be ready to run."
...not that it isn't entirely messy around here already, he thinks with a smile.
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"I may be able to help with the hoisting and stabilizing in other ways. Can this machine still function with its base covered in concrete?" Strange question but entertain it anyway please.
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