Author Topic: Meanwhile in the Escape Pod...  (Read 866 times)

The Dan

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Meanwhile in the Escape Pod...
« on: April 15, 2013, 08:46:50 PM »
Meanwhile in the Escape Pod...

Megabaron Minos Bruel peered ferociously into the monitor screen, surveying his prize airship as it spiralled across the Gourimpestian skyline. Intermittantly, a plasma bolt would arc spitting from the brokwn windows of the gondola, like a dying firework, and plunge into the city below; from time to time as it lurched and swung, a silhouetted body would accompanying them. He fumbled at the brass-edged microphone. The peasant on the other end just wasn't taking him seriously...

"Rebels! Terrorists! Anarchists!" Bruel spluttered, "Outlaws of base origin! Federation terror squads backing Sigman insurgents and animal rights activists! Members of the Imperial Court are under attack!"

He could already hear the air alert sirens. It would only be a matter of time until some pistol wielding fool-

The inevitable happened - some rebel plasma pistol tearing through that priceless Hellborian lacquer-wood ceiling and into the gas bags; the unstoppable marriage of hydrogen and flame. Destruction was total. Bruel released the speak-button and peered back into the monitor. Oh thank goodness, at least the debris and flaming canvas was falling onto the Lower City.

He turned surveying the lounge-come-cockpit of his personal escape yacht. The drapes were in array, trophies swung half-dislodged from their mounts... but the grav-catchers had saved the valuable potteries from swan-diving from their pedestals. The console's brain tank was illuminated with the calming green AUTOPILOT ENGAGED message, and through the front window, the megabaron could see the fine imperial architecture of upper quarter sliding serenely passed as the pod made it way to the nearest landing strip suitable for his status.

The Megabaron sighed. Another set back.

"Ah well, could be worse, I suppose," he mused, making his unstead way towards the drink's cabinet. "Perhaps now, his peace violated, the emperor will see sense in helping me push back the damned rabble - and at least I live to fight another day."

"Alas," a voice interruped him. "It appears not."

Startled into a porcine snort, the baron turned, 240 year old brandy forgotten in his hand.

"YOU!" He gasped, then relaxed, clutching his chest in relief. Then: "Oh thank goodness!" He took a swig of the brandy. "I thought I was in trouble for a moment then. Thought some proletariat ape had snuck onboard."

"I'm afraid that's exactly what happened," said Servalan, lounging insouciantly in the doorway to his bed chambers. For a moment, his soul was filled with lust - Then he saw the sleek raygun in her equisitely manicured hand, and the small box, his precious box of blood diamonds in the other.

"What is this?" Bruel demanded, his tiny eyes flicking around the room. Where did he hide that holdout pistol?

"What's this?" she smiled, brandishing her gun. "Why, exactly what it appears, my dear Baron. Some terrible, terrible people; rebels and terrorists, just as you said, and thieves to boot, those awful Federation renegades in fact - no doubt working with your rebellious labour grades, broke into your pod and stole all those purloined diamonds of yours.

"You monstrous feline woman!"  The Baron exclaimed. she laughed at him, a coldly melodic sound.

"That has been said," she smiled, "and worse. In fact, its so much worse baron. You see, not only did they rob you... they murdered you as well."

She smiled.

She fired.

He died.

Dan: A title of honor for respected men, equivalent to Master or Sir. Any of 12 levels of proficiency at the grade of black belt in martial arts such as judo and karate. An expert or expert level in shogi and other such games. He that judges.