07-13-2017, 02:40 AM
Patrol Zeugma-310 groaned as his somehow scholastic teammate Patrol Zeugma-312 continued to say things. What things? Who gave a damn? They were patrolling one of the balcony-sidewalks on Pos-32nd Street. Their white plastoid boots clicked on the glass floor, passing by one of the bright “THE EMPEROR’S PERSONAL MESSAGE TO YOU” billboards.
“...just saying, Polysyndeton-15 was telling me that they ran out of Greek letters and-”
“By the Emperor, what is that?” Zeugma-310 snapped, mostly to shut his friend up.
Zeugma-312 looked at the pitch-black beast with the hollow chest. He shrugged.
“Probably another Prime. You know how weird they look,” Zeugma-312 spoke, stumbling over his words to return to his point, “So he says they ran out of Greek letters. And Foreshadowing-139 says that they’re naming us after literary devices now. Who knows, they think it’s the Ape’s idea.”
“Hold up, what are those two doing?”
The two Primes who were sitting on a nearby plastoid bench (the same drab white color of the Stormtrooper’s armors) were now standing. They were drawing weapons.
Zeugma-310 reached for his radio. “Zeugma-310 to Central, we got a Twelve-O-Twenty on Pos-32nd. Silver-haired teenage human-appearing male, wearing black. He just drew a weapon, some sort of big sword, maybe. Anime-type.”
He jerked his head towards the pair while looking at Zeugma-312. The other Stormtrooper sighed and reached behind him to pull out his cuffs.
“One of these days, these asshole Primes will learn.”
“That day, we’ll be out of business.”
The two Stormtroopers marched quickly towards the three combatants, walking past a corner.
“Hey!” Zeugma-310 shouted, “Drop the weapon. You’re under arre-”
A different bench suddenly flung at Zeugma-310, colliding with his torso and throwing him into Zeugma-312. The two Patrols groaned and got up to look at what had just thrown a fucking bench at them. They saw nothing.
“Who was that?” Zeugma-310 shouted, “Which one of you assholes just threw a bench at me?”
“Hands on your head, NOW!” Zeugma-312 said, drawing his blaster and gripping it the same way he learned in training. He moved the pistol’s sights from the hollow black giant to the silver-haired teenager.
“I want you three on your knees and hands on your head!” Zeugma-310 barked.
Zeugma-312 glanced at Zeugma-310. “See, now, Anecdote-53 says stuff like that is a zeugma-”
“Man, ask yourself if this is the right time. You, crystal girl. Hands on your head.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“I said, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.”
The silver-haired boy glanced at the green child and said as earnestly as he could muster, “Officers, we are not the enemy. These things are called Heartless and-”
“And they’re coming too,” Zeugma-310 said, lifting his blaster, “Hands on your head!”
The bench that the two Primes were sitting on suddenly picked itself up and flew at the two Stormtroopers. They split up, moving out of the way.
“Stop doing-”
The hollow giant suddenly smashed into Zeugma-312 with the back of its hand, sending the Patrol flying over the railing of the balcony-sidewalk. The Stormtrooper screamed as he fell into the abyss of T-One.
“THREE-TWELVE!” Zeugma-310 cried after him. He reached for his radio. “Zeugma-310 to Central. Some giant black prick just threw Zeugma-312 over the edge.”
The radio perked. “Central to Zeugma-310, please remain formal-”
Suddenly, the second bench that the other two dodged came to life again, throwing Zeugma-310 over the edge again.
Meanwhile, a Trooper carrier flew across the skies of Tier One. The pilot yawned. It had been a while since the last Prime incursion on Tier One. Who knew why so many of them decided to come here to make a ruckus. All that D-E-Machina-43 knew was that he preferred the quiet days like today.
“Central to all units, we’ve got reports of ten-double-zero on Pos-32nd Street. All units in the vicinity respond.”
Spoke too soon. D-E-Machina 43 clicked his tongue, then pressed a button on his radio.
“D-E-Machina 43 to Central, going there now. I’m towing 11 Combat Troopers. Is it Primes?”
“Sounds like it. Surveillance is picking up about four. One seems to be telekinetic. Sending the approximate location to your navigator.”
D-E-Machina 43 pressed some keys on the holo-screen on his dashboard, typing in the navigation for Pos-32nd Street. The police radio crinkled again.
“Central to all units. Situation on Pos-32nd street is now a 10-10. Move in now.”
“Copy that, Central.”
D-E-Machina 43 flipped a switch above his right ear, a poor placement for the siren. As the incredibly loud noise alerted all the cars nearby, D-E-Machina 43 pulled the plane out of the lane and started flying free-style. One of the citizens watched and grumbled about how sometimes she was convinced that the Troopers did that just to avoid traffic.
The plane spun around one of the tall buildings, having arrived at Pos-32nd Street. There was a small Prime brawl happening. In Tier One! Unthinkable! D-E-Machina 43 lowered the plane and opened the hangar doors.
“Move, move, move!” the Troopers yelled as they scrambled onto the balcony.
“...just saying, Polysyndeton-15 was telling me that they ran out of Greek letters and-”
“By the Emperor, what is that?” Zeugma-310 snapped, mostly to shut his friend up.
Zeugma-312 looked at the pitch-black beast with the hollow chest. He shrugged.
“Probably another Prime. You know how weird they look,” Zeugma-312 spoke, stumbling over his words to return to his point, “So he says they ran out of Greek letters. And Foreshadowing-139 says that they’re naming us after literary devices now. Who knows, they think it’s the Ape’s idea.”
“Hold up, what are those two doing?”
The two Primes who were sitting on a nearby plastoid bench (the same drab white color of the Stormtrooper’s armors) were now standing. They were drawing weapons.
Zeugma-310 reached for his radio. “Zeugma-310 to Central, we got a Twelve-O-Twenty on Pos-32nd. Silver-haired teenage human-appearing male, wearing black. He just drew a weapon, some sort of big sword, maybe. Anime-type.”
He jerked his head towards the pair while looking at Zeugma-312. The other Stormtrooper sighed and reached behind him to pull out his cuffs.
“One of these days, these asshole Primes will learn.”
“That day, we’ll be out of business.”
The two Stormtroopers marched quickly towards the three combatants, walking past a corner.
“Hey!” Zeugma-310 shouted, “Drop the weapon. You’re under arre-”
A different bench suddenly flung at Zeugma-310, colliding with his torso and throwing him into Zeugma-312. The two Patrols groaned and got up to look at what had just thrown a fucking bench at them. They saw nothing.
“Who was that?” Zeugma-310 shouted, “Which one of you assholes just threw a bench at me?”
“Hands on your head, NOW!” Zeugma-312 said, drawing his blaster and gripping it the same way he learned in training. He moved the pistol’s sights from the hollow black giant to the silver-haired teenager.
“I want you three on your knees and hands on your head!” Zeugma-310 barked.
Zeugma-312 glanced at Zeugma-310. “See, now, Anecdote-53 says stuff like that is a zeugma-”
“Man, ask yourself if this is the right time. You, crystal girl. Hands on your head.”
“But I didn’t do anything!”
“I said, HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.”
The silver-haired boy glanced at the green child and said as earnestly as he could muster, “Officers, we are not the enemy. These things are called Heartless and-”
“And they’re coming too,” Zeugma-310 said, lifting his blaster, “Hands on your head!”
The bench that the two Primes were sitting on suddenly picked itself up and flew at the two Stormtroopers. They split up, moving out of the way.
“Stop doing-”
The hollow giant suddenly smashed into Zeugma-312 with the back of its hand, sending the Patrol flying over the railing of the balcony-sidewalk. The Stormtrooper screamed as he fell into the abyss of T-One.
“THREE-TWELVE!” Zeugma-310 cried after him. He reached for his radio. “Zeugma-310 to Central. Some giant black prick just threw Zeugma-312 over the edge.”
The radio perked. “Central to Zeugma-310, please remain formal-”
Suddenly, the second bench that the other two dodged came to life again, throwing Zeugma-310 over the edge again.
Meanwhile, a Trooper carrier flew across the skies of Tier One. The pilot yawned. It had been a while since the last Prime incursion on Tier One. Who knew why so many of them decided to come here to make a ruckus. All that D-E-Machina-43 knew was that he preferred the quiet days like today.
“Central to all units, we’ve got reports of ten-double-zero on Pos-32nd Street. All units in the vicinity respond.”
Spoke too soon. D-E-Machina 43 clicked his tongue, then pressed a button on his radio.
“D-E-Machina 43 to Central, going there now. I’m towing 11 Combat Troopers. Is it Primes?”
“Sounds like it. Surveillance is picking up about four. One seems to be telekinetic. Sending the approximate location to your navigator.”
D-E-Machina 43 pressed some keys on the holo-screen on his dashboard, typing in the navigation for Pos-32nd Street. The police radio crinkled again.
“Central to all units. Situation on Pos-32nd street is now a 10-10. Move in now.”
“Copy that, Central.”
D-E-Machina 43 flipped a switch above his right ear, a poor placement for the siren. As the incredibly loud noise alerted all the cars nearby, D-E-Machina 43 pulled the plane out of the lane and started flying free-style. One of the citizens watched and grumbled about how sometimes she was convinced that the Troopers did that just to avoid traffic.
The plane spun around one of the tall buildings, having arrived at Pos-32nd Street. There was a small Prime brawl happening. In Tier One! Unthinkable! D-E-Machina 43 lowered the plane and opened the hangar doors.
“Move, move, move!” the Troopers yelled as they scrambled onto the balcony.