[The Grid] Chatper 1: Hardwired

As Hank trotted along, his mind would have wandered, if he hadn't been distracted by the odd goings on. Then there was the motor vehicle about to slam into him. Hank just stopped, dumbstruck, saying to himself the phrase that hasn't ceased to sum up the day yet,


"Mysterious ways indeed-"


As he stopped his moon pulled in front of him, making the sight of the oncoming monstrosity that more interesting, and hopefully shielding him a bit as he snaps back to "reality" and tries to do his best to get the hell out of the way.
 
Hank dives for cover. He makes it just fine, and crouches off the road as the huge, crazy looking thing Lace is driving swerves and lifts up on two wheels to get around him. It partially goes around and partially over before the incredible weight and downforce sucks the thing back to asphalt. But Hank is completely fine, with only extra wind ripping through his hair to signal anything unusual just happened.


Then he notices his rings are distended. A leading edge is stringing out wide, caught around a strange, circular thing that juts up from the vehicle's rear. Later he will understand it is an essence dump, and vents biblical quantities of expended magic into the air. Now he just sees the thin, wirelike line of his orbital accretions sticking to it, and stretching wide like bungie cords.


Chris winks at you again. He seems very amused.


Then the bungie cord snaps and the lumberjack is hurled off the road and into the air. The orbiting trash contracts and stabilizes until Hank is bobbing along, a few feet off the road, and watching cars shoot by at a relative speed in the hundreds. He sees the other car come roaring up behind and fall into pace. It's an old something. Funny looking front end. But then Hank's perceptions get odd, as the roar matches the thunder of his blood in his ears, and he is taken away from it all.


Then Hank meets God. To the peripheral roar of the street and traffic, he and the Lord find each other on a battle field. But God is not watching. God has a spear, a sword, a horn, and a shield, and is leading the last vestige of a tattered army against impossible odds, and exulting in the absolute nature of the conflict. Hank is at his side, wielding a nameless sword made by an insangelous smith. One day the weapon will be called Exigence, but now it is, 'sword.' Before them are beings vast as stars, compound principles of the original precepts of Creation. Odds to describe how badly you are outnumbered have not yet been invented. God and Hank are charging, for there is no backup plan, and there is no gambit waiting in the wings. If you win, you live, and if you lose, God and humanity die. Hank rushes forward to protect his Lord, and finds that he can only try to keep up, for his God is swifter.


Meanwhile, fifty odd feet back, Patrick is still not surprised. Oh sure, he's surprised there's a dude floating along behind the other car, shooting along at one sixty five on the side of the highway. Yeah, he's a little startled that when Lace put the Stingray up on two wheels he noticed it now had dual inline 12s, front and rear. Old corvertte's didn't usually have 24 cylinders, but hey, brave new world. Probably gets terrible gas mileage. He wonders what the suspension is like. But really, so far his weirdness threshold has a pretty high bar. This doesn't push it.


Malcom, in the passenger seat, thinks he saw this flick already. Actually, he may have been in this flick already. But he was an extra in a parking lot that time through, so that means his role just got significantly better. Hey, good times.


And in the car in front, Lace glances out the rear view mirror and quirks one eyebrow. "Um, angry lady, do you have any large, lumberjack friends you haven't told us about?"
 
Erin, who responds automatically to "angry lady" as if this was indeed her name, also looks in the rear view mirror and blinks, the words of the tirade she was about to launch at Kase dying on her lips.


"Uh...that would be 'no'. Not in this lifetime, anyway."
 
"Oh. Poop," Lace concludes. "Kase? Any lumberjackish- lumberjackian- lumberjackese-" beat. "Do you know who that is?"
 
Hank


Before Hank could say anything, or even think, he was whipped up into the air behind the vehicle. Whizzing by at ridiculous speeds Hank was a jumble of emotions, but all of the fear, and doubt, and questions washed away as he was absorbed in his vision, where he was met with a new riptide of feelings.


To be able to stand with God, even if it was a last stand, was the greatest feeling Hank had ever felt. This swelling of pride, and this sense of fullfillment succeeded that of his youth, when things were simple. As God's charge pulled away from, both in his vision and in his present Hank screamed as burning hot tears poured down his face. He only screamed one word. A word that had never graced his lips but it felt like the most familiar of words. This one long cry held in it all that could be said. The scream of,


"IGNIS!"
 
[Patrick]


"...and just when you thought the day had reached its possible quota of weird, something else gets added to the list of impossible things before dinner," Patrick observes in a dry, level tone as he sees Lumberjack Dude suddenly start road-skiing behind The Incredible Stretching Corvette. "There should be my phone in the glovebox, want to hit redial and ask the folks up there if this was part of Plan C?" he asks Malcolm.
 
Malcolm nodded confusedly while glancing at the spaced-out lumberjack-like man. Like he's on ecstasy. Somehow, he managed to superimpose an idea of the words with his imagination of an actor screaming in that manner. "Ignis...or could be Invictus? The heck?"


But, words aside, he hit redial.

Perception + Linguistics:


4d10 → [8,1,10,1] = 3 sux.


http://invisiblecastle.com/roller/view/2892560/
 
To his credit, Kase picked up the phone quickly.


"Pat? You wanna tell me what in the nine blocks of Tartarus is going on here?"
 
"What, you don't know either?" Malcolm responded, then added for explanation, "Your friend's driving this flying umbrella, and he wants to know what Plan C is, if that ecstasy-tripper isn't part of it."
 
Hank


Memories hit you with all impact of gunshots. Always through the First War one of your most insidious enemies was Despair. When making war on the Father of Color, or defending from the assaults of the Perfect Godhand, constantly besieging you was the knowledge that winning was impossible. It violated the very laws of nature that the progenitors, your enemies, had laid down, and on which you stood. Yet with God at your side, the warmth of defiance filled you, and your movements bucked the laws of nature even as they smote your enemies.


The battle should have been a last stand. In the end, you won. You and Four Armed God hit the enemies at the very van of your forces, and with such force and ferocity that their inevitable onslaught is for a moment stopped. Then Flee-bag, a poor and stupid wretch who could never walk right for broken legs, charged up God's back and threw himself into the face of Jormungund with no hope or skill beyond defiance. In the instant they collided, the great serpent bit down to cleave him in half, and Flee-bag Exalted. You didn't have time to watch a beaten cripple ascend to glory and perfection directly beside you, for the Fetich Soul of Words That Kill was already upon you, and her army of syphilitic worm apes was at her side. The full will of one of the Creators bore down on you to speak her name and die, and you refused. Another of your pitiful horde, mortal, and insignificant in her eyes, made it past and hurled a spear at her open mouth. In that instant he too Exalted, and in your adversary's moment of shock, her body fell beneath your heel. Unwilling to give her minions the freedom to even live without her, that decimated the enemy forces.


One by one your army bursts into incandescent light. Some to flare for but an instant and die, some to burn a bright path across the battlefield behind you. In the end, you stand with your comrades in Victory with the first true army of the Exalted at your back. Their faces are like suns.


"Remember them always," whispers the Unconquered Sun into the silences of your mind. "For in your memory you can save them from banishment, when we fight the Creators of the Time, and defeat them. They will fall, but their fall may drag their victors down with them. You must remember them, that something anchors their Souls to this world."

I don't have Glories, so if any of this contradicts any of that, well, so be it.
 
"Well, we're just as confused as you are at this point, but we do have one plan...just, we're not sure what to make of our new friend, either..." he said, looking pointedly at Lace.
 
Erin Hagens


At this point, Kase's attention is probably distracted by Erin scrambling off his lap and towards the rear of the car, rolling up her sleeves as she does so.


The wind strikes her like a blow from an angry fist as she climbs outside the car, causing her sweating hands to slip. For a moment the wind threatens to tear her loose and batter her to pieces; it seems to laugh shrilly in her ears, bearing echoes of inhuman whispers and moans.

Dexterity + Athletics...uh-oh: 1,5,5,7
I tore the heart out of a devil with my bare hands and built a ladder of its bones to climb to the Sun! she snarls at it silently. You're nothing!


Can She Make It?:






10,6,7,2 +1wp


Erin's scrabbling hands find purchase again, and inch by inch, she eases herself over to the stack.
 
Everybody


"Kase, why is Angry Lady-" Lace begins and then stops as the wind sucks the words away from her mouth. On a lighter vehicle the sudden suction would drag it all over the road, but this brute is not lightly moved. After a moment she glances back in her rear view mirror a few times before concluding, "Yeah, this is happening." Kase isn't sure if she's talking to him or herself.


Meanwhile, in the car behind, Patrick and Malcom both see this in perfect detail. Erin, who doesn't look like a stuntwoman by any stretch of the mind, has dragged herself outside the vehicle and is climbing towards the back. Hundred plus miles an hour winds rip her hair and wind about. Once she slips and seems to dive for the asphalt and a grindy death before catching herself on some rear aerodynamic effects. Very gingerly after that she moves towards the suspended lumberjack and reaches into the flying blur of dust that tethers him to the car.


People in cars you're flying past are looking at you weird.


Inside Hank's all consuming memory, the scene suddenly shifts. Hank is standing in a cavern with bone walls and membranous ceiling, deep in the dead heart of the beast who's single body would one day lay at the heart of mountains. God is no longer with him, for there are many things to be done, and God cannot do them all. Instead Hank is looking at a pool of water and blood, where in the names and metaphysical locations of their enemies appear. He is pointing at Kimbery, who has receded like a neap tide.


"I'm telling you, she's left Heiggerhast, Breath of Winter," a young man is saying with eyes that sparkle with earnest confidence. "The very guard towers of the King himself are build in his domain. With the Sea that Marched receded, I can strike now and end Endless Winter."


"But Heiggerhast will not fall lightly," Hank, or a prior Hank who wasn't named Hank, replies. "He is one of those who stands against time."


"With him dead, our victories can no longer be undone!" the youth pleads. "No more will we win a battle, only to find out one of the Primordials simply whimmed it otherwise!"


"You know you will die?" Hank finally asks, getting to the heart of the question.


The youth laughs. "Eigen, we're all going to die; we're fighting the Emperor of What Is. Survival is one of those things you laugh about and ignore. Like you not being fat."


"I'm not going to send you too your death just for insubordination," Eigen, Hank, and a thousand more reply.


"Of course not. You'll do it for the Sun, because he must not be conquered, and we will sacrifice everything to make sure he isn't."


"Even you?"


"Me first."


"Go in His name, Cyrian."


"In all things, Eigen. In all times."


Eigen and Cyrian clasp hands for the final time, and then he awakens to find himself looking into-


One hell of a wind. Erin has him. Of course, who's got Erin?
 
Erin smiles madly, dark eyes glittering.


"Hello, sir. Let me ask you a serious question: do you know Sol Invictus as your personal Lord and Savior?"
 
Malcolm's eyes bugged out as he saw the lady clamber out of the car. "Is your lady friend acting according to plan? I've done quite a few stunts, but that...." He failed for words to describe his shock. "Look, just tell me what to do, ok?"
 
Some dreams you linger in as you wake, questioning where reality ended and dream began. Hank doesn't have that luxury. He is immediately plunged into the now and forced to grab it by the horns.


Acting fast he reaches for the outstretched hand with one arm, the spoilery bits of the car with his other, and places his feet on whatever he can find purchase one (most likely a bumper, if there is such a thing) and just barely succeeds. As a man of the word, Hank is always ready and able with a quick response,


"I'm starting to think that I do."

5d10 → [7,4,3,1,8] 2 sux
 
"No she is not," Kase said bluntly, watching as Erin pulled the most insane trick he'd ever seen in his life. "As for the plan, here's the basic gist of it. Tell Pat that we're going to try and get the girl, once she's done risking her neck, from our car to yours. We'll split up and then meet up at..."


He paused, looking back towards Lace.


"Where exactly are we headed?"
 
"We aren't going to meet up later, sweetie," Lace replies. She's watching the acrobatics on the rear hood through her mirror with pursed lips as she thinks. "After all of you disembark, I'm going to run south until I can't evade them any more, and then I'm going to unplug. I think I can lose them if I leave the Grid."


With a blink, she turns back to Kase and admits, "I guess it's not the sort of thing one can be told: who those Abyssals are, or why they're so dangerous. Bob was of the opinion we just just grab you and manually unjack you, but Athena wouldn't let him. She's hung up on individual choice. Personally I don't know if it really makes a difference, because without proper information you might not be able to meaningfully choose at all. Sorry, not relevant."


She keeps the car going at a constant rate. Now you're all past the city, and Patrick recognizes this area as the spot where that thief crashed his car. It was first action for him in this whole mess.


"Bob said he was working on an extraction team. Hopefully I can link up with them. I'm sorry, but you guys are going to be stuck here until we can extract you all. Athena can explain it better than I can. You can call her if you want."
 
"That's all I needed to know," said Kase. "Besides, asking to join shows you care more."


He then turned back to the phone. "Okay, change in plans. Once the lady gets our friend out of harm's way, we'll join you in your car and then we'll split up. There's talk of an extraction team coming, but we won't know for sure. I'd rather get this out of the way first and foremost."
 
Patrick


"...well. No doubt about it," Patrick mutters as he sees Erin climbing out the window of the NotAVette. "She's definitly Pinky. Because she's insane."


Keeping his eyes on the road, he stabs the Challenger's brakes when he sees the woman slip, then slams the Hemi's throttle back down when she catches herself. "Plan? We ain't got no plan," he mutters, hearing Malcom's query over the phone. "We don't need no plan. We ain't gonna follow no steenkin' plan!"


He does indeed recognise the place, but given the road and the speed, he doesn't have time for reminicing.


"And how, exactly, do we make this transfer? Slowing down might be a bad idea," he'll point out after the Plan has been relayed.
 
Now that you've left the city proper, the traffic evens out quickly. More cars and trucks get off onto side streets. Unfortunately, you're going so fast the few that remain don't have time to get out of your way, and the two vehicles shoot around them. Somewhere far behind is a horde of cops, but they aren't within sight. It will be a while. The minivan with the agents is around, somewhere. Not within sight though.


Erin and Hank find themselves stuck on the back of the lead car. There's enough to hold onto that staying perched isn't that hard. They can't move forward for the wind, though. Kase can see them perfectly through the rear windshield, and he's got Malcom on the line. If the two climbers are going to be removed either you've got to slow way down, in which case the cops will probably be on you in a second, or the trail car is going to have to get close enough that they can transition right over. There is space in the Dodge, but people will probably need to sit in the trunk.
 
Malcolm groaned. "Ok, gotcha. I'll see about getting you guys into here. Mr. Daredevil Driver might be able to pull off something..." Not bothering to hang up, he turned to Pat. "Get closer then, if I've survived this long, I'll get them into this old hunk of metal. Then we split up after the others board this flying umbrella."
 
Patrick


"...rriiiiiight. I suppose now's the time to say I have a bad feeling about this?"


The race driver (two Indy 500s, one Daytona 500, no finish in any of those better than 30th) shakes his head, but shoves the Challenger's loud pedal down further, the Hemi roading, well, louder as he approaches the Notavette, his eyes barely registering the roadside signs for the approaching state park as he concentrates on his driving.


Dex+Ride+1stunt → [3, 1, 3, 10, 10, 3, 8, 3, 7, 3] = (4)
 
The part of this that makes it really fun is that Patrick can't simply draft the other car. Instead, he waltzes up beside it until Malcom's window is nearly in line with rear hood, and then has to deal with the sudden, violent shift in aerodynamics of Malcom actually opening the window. It's a serious, vehicle moving jerk at that speed, right near the ocean where the air is thick. Yet it pans out, and soon Malcom's staring at the two who disdain riding inside their cars.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.

Users who are viewing this thread

Total: 2 (members: 0, guests: 2)

Similar threads

Sora No Kami
A vicious dance with death (RP 1x1 based on the song "My R") TW: Self-loathing, Suicune
Replies
1
Views
103
Sora No Kami
Sora No Kami
Back
Top