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Edited by Chillton:
10/24/2015 8:48:25 PM
27
[i][b]CHAPTER III: The Golden City[/b]
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[b]Outskirts of the Golden City...[/b]
After a long drive inside of a military buggy through the Terran countryside from the the northern mountains to further inland, Becquerel and Ishmael finally reach their destination: the Golden City.
Becquerel gazes around, mystified, at the sunken pit of rubble that is the Golden City. He quickly glances to and fro as he stands upon his seat and peeks out of the open sun roof of the buggy, his eyes wide and nervous as he scans the area in search of dangerous denizens of the "City."
He then ducks back into the buggy and looks to Ishmael.
"What happened to this place?" the boy asks.[/i]
[spoiler]Open to AGreatDetective. [/spoiler]
English
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[spoiler]Dude, the place is a mess. It's a giant hole in the ground full of rubble and cultists.[/spoiler]
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((Alright, I edited it))
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Ishmael gestures around. [i]A big fight, obviously.[/i] He hands Bec a gas mask. [i]Some parts of this place are irradiated. Watch your step.[/i]
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"Oh..." He warily takes the gas mask and slips it over his face. "Well this place sure doesn't fit its name."
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[i]Most war zones never do.[/i]
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Becquerel looks out of the open window of his door, surveying the desolate ruins around the buggy as you drive on. He hears the wretched cry of something that must be a Tyrannid in the distance, and he quickly grips the pistol at his hip. Though his movements are quick in fright, his blue eyes are noble, fearless as he looks out across the City.
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Ishmael silently slides back into the gunner's turret of the buggy and full-loads the belt of the weapon, creating a loud [i]crick-CHACK[/i] that echoes off the surrounding buildings.
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"Wh-what are you doing?" Becquerel stammers as he looks up at you with wide eyes, the fearlessness which once filled them quickly draining away.
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[i]Just checking to make sure it works.[/i] The PJ fires several stammering bursts skyward, and a dozen cultists burst from the rubble, running away as fast as they can.
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Becquerel jumps at the unexpected gun fire, and ducks beneath the dashboard of the buggy. His pistol is gripped tightly in his hand, no longer in its holster. His face is blanched, and his eyes are wide with fright.
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Ishmael chuckles. [i]It's all good, kid. They're just-[/i] A hoarse roar sounds from a side street as around 50 cultists race toward the buggy, bearing nasty-looking improvised maces, spears, and swords. The PJ turns his gun toward the mass and opens up, gesturing for Bec to begin firing as well. [i]Keep your hand steady and fire slowly![/i]
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As you look down at him, you notice his blonde hair rising, strand by strand, static popping across his head. "A-Alright!" he calls, and peeks out the window of the buggy, and opens fire on the cultist. He flinches as the pistol fires.
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One of the cultist's heads, replete with several surgically grafted antennae, is cleanly vaporized, dropping about 4 soldiers with similar cyber mods. [i]Nice shot, Beck! Keep it up![/i]
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The boy's face twists in disgust as he sees the cultists die, but he keeps firing, shooting at one attacker at a time, steadily. At this point, all of his hair is suspended in the air, raised by electrostatic force.
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Soon, only a dozen cultists remain, but they are dangerously close to the vehicle.
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Bec stumbles backward into the buggy as they near, blindly firing at them in terror. "[b][i]Ishmael![/i][/b]" he cries as the cultists close in on him.
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The PJ quickly finishes off the group, pulls Bec into the buggy, and roars off.
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Bec quickly looks back at the scene of the attack, and then at you. "Who were those people? Why did they attack us?" he stammers, his facial expression exhausted and terrified.
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[i]Cultists of one sort or another, trying to profit in the wastes.[/i]
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"Cultists? What kind of cults do they follow?"
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[i]No idea. I just know that they worship some kind of bird-God-thing.[/i]
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"Bird-god..." Bec murmurs to himself, his eyes trained downward as if in deep thought. He looks out of his window of the buggy, peering out at the surrounding landscape, and then looks at you. "So... where are we off to now?"
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[i]Home. We need to lay low.[/i]
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"Right," the boy says, and settles properly into his seat. As you drive on, he drifts into a deep slumber. ((To be continued on Chapter IV))
