10-15-2017, 09:19 AM
Ash and Celestia braced against the overturned exam table as a staccato storm of airborne medical instruments clanged against the makeshift barricade. The heroes were careful to watch for any needle that might perforate their defense, though nothing of the sort came to pass. Hope held their hearts high as they pondered the notion that they were wearing the mad machine down. They themselves were running on fumes by this point in their adventure, but as a team it seemed they might stand a chance against Nebula’s commander. Moments later the erratic barrage seemed to slow, the room falling silent as the last syringe clattered to the laboratory floor. The princess and the slayer each slowly craned their necks around their respective side of the table, eyes scanning for their target and their comrade. Neither person presented themselves.
“Great, so now where did the good Doctor go?” Ash asked, popping open his boomstick and stuffing a pair of shells into the breach. “You think Revan finished him off?”
Celestia opened her lips to answer but was silenced by a shrill cackle that echoed through the room. The pair quickly glanced upward toward the ceiling, spying Psyche again charging across the room's polished ceiling with the aid of magnetism. The liberators braced once more against their steel shield and took aim as he closed in, pausing for a moment as they took notice of their foe’s state. His multiple wounds had not seemed to slow him significantly, but a noticeable amount of dark liquid--perhaps the robotic equivalent of blood—was streaming from his injuries, drizzling down onto the floor below as he ran.
“He looks wounded,” the alicorn spoke hopefully, readying her spellcraft. After all of the opponents they had engaged thus far, she was not about to drop her guard even though he looked worse for wear. “Revan!” She cried, keeping her eyes locked on the incoming threat. “See if you can knock him off of the ceiling!”
At the other end of the room, the swordsman heard the sovereign’s cry. He rolled from behind the oxygen tank and took off at a run toward their location, his tattered cloak flying free behind him as he readied a spell. If his aim was true, he was sure he could put a few dents in the metal plating. With enough luck, he hoped this would be enough to rattle the commander free. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he saw the cybernetic scientist stumble before slowing his charge as gravity threatened to reclaim him. Taking the chance he had been given, Revan let fly a fire blast before sprinting forward and following the trail of dark droplets with renewed vigor. It would be child’s play to simply drive his blade through the wounded doctor’s chassis as he clattered to the floor.
Screee!
Before Revan could claim his victory, blistering pain grasped his ankle as what felt like dozens of tiny knives ripped into his flesh. He stumbled as he ran, slowing to a jog as he examined the source of his suffering. It was then that he took notice of the droplets he had been following; they were now decidedly larger, nearly the size of his hand. And they were moving.
“What the hell?!” The mage cried, stopping short and quickly rolling up his pant leg. A trio of amorphous blobs were stuck fast to the flesh of his ankle, their movements delivering searing agony as they crept up his leg at a glacial pace. His breath caught in his throat as each of the blobs suddenly opened a single yellow unblinking eye the size of a silver dollar, rusty red 'pupils' aimed at his own. Before he could ponder the nature of the threat his instincts took over, frantically brushing off the tiny beasts with a cloak-wrapped hand and staggering away from the oily devils. “Darklings?” he stammered, eyeing the moving puddles at his feet. Though the skin on his leg now felt like parboiled meat, the pain had lessened somewhat with the removal of the threat. The fresh hole in his cloak and the acrid smell of dissolved cloth told him that whatever the doctor had spawned, they were much more dangerous than they looked.
“Let’s even the odds!” Psyche called from overhead, drawing the attention of the liberators. A shrill cackle escaped his mouthless visage as his knee joints locked, anchoring him firmly to the laboratory ceiling. His torso began to rotate, slowly at first, before disappearing in a blur of red and chrome as he came to resemble an enormous sprinkler nozzle. His foes quickly dove for cover as a fine mist of caustic ink began to drizzle over them. “Burn under Nebula’s reign!”
“Great, so now where did the good Doctor go?” Ash asked, popping open his boomstick and stuffing a pair of shells into the breach. “You think Revan finished him off?”
Celestia opened her lips to answer but was silenced by a shrill cackle that echoed through the room. The pair quickly glanced upward toward the ceiling, spying Psyche again charging across the room's polished ceiling with the aid of magnetism. The liberators braced once more against their steel shield and took aim as he closed in, pausing for a moment as they took notice of their foe’s state. His multiple wounds had not seemed to slow him significantly, but a noticeable amount of dark liquid--perhaps the robotic equivalent of blood—was streaming from his injuries, drizzling down onto the floor below as he ran.
“He looks wounded,” the alicorn spoke hopefully, readying her spellcraft. After all of the opponents they had engaged thus far, she was not about to drop her guard even though he looked worse for wear. “Revan!” She cried, keeping her eyes locked on the incoming threat. “See if you can knock him off of the ceiling!”
At the other end of the room, the swordsman heard the sovereign’s cry. He rolled from behind the oxygen tank and took off at a run toward their location, his tattered cloak flying free behind him as he readied a spell. If his aim was true, he was sure he could put a few dents in the metal plating. With enough luck, he hoped this would be enough to rattle the commander free. A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he saw the cybernetic scientist stumble before slowing his charge as gravity threatened to reclaim him. Taking the chance he had been given, Revan let fly a fire blast before sprinting forward and following the trail of dark droplets with renewed vigor. It would be child’s play to simply drive his blade through the wounded doctor’s chassis as he clattered to the floor.
Screee!
Before Revan could claim his victory, blistering pain grasped his ankle as what felt like dozens of tiny knives ripped into his flesh. He stumbled as he ran, slowing to a jog as he examined the source of his suffering. It was then that he took notice of the droplets he had been following; they were now decidedly larger, nearly the size of his hand. And they were moving.
“What the hell?!” The mage cried, stopping short and quickly rolling up his pant leg. A trio of amorphous blobs were stuck fast to the flesh of his ankle, their movements delivering searing agony as they crept up his leg at a glacial pace. His breath caught in his throat as each of the blobs suddenly opened a single yellow unblinking eye the size of a silver dollar, rusty red 'pupils' aimed at his own. Before he could ponder the nature of the threat his instincts took over, frantically brushing off the tiny beasts with a cloak-wrapped hand and staggering away from the oily devils. “Darklings?” he stammered, eyeing the moving puddles at his feet. Though the skin on his leg now felt like parboiled meat, the pain had lessened somewhat with the removal of the threat. The fresh hole in his cloak and the acrid smell of dissolved cloth told him that whatever the doctor had spawned, they were much more dangerous than they looked.
“Let’s even the odds!” Psyche called from overhead, drawing the attention of the liberators. A shrill cackle escaped his mouthless visage as his knee joints locked, anchoring him firmly to the laboratory ceiling. His torso began to rotate, slowly at first, before disappearing in a blur of red and chrome as he came to resemble an enormous sprinkler nozzle. His foes quickly dove for cover as a fine mist of caustic ink began to drizzle over them. “Burn under Nebula’s reign!”
Quote:Once more, with feeling! You have one week, and 1500 words. Go nuts.