07-26-2016, 12:56 PM
The gunsmith stood at the end of the grand hallway, hands behind his back and staring directly at the entrance. On both sides of the hallway were large, golden pillars that shone as brightly as the sun, and it was a good thing they did, as the windows next to each one shone no light due to the darkness outside. The inventor didn’t quite know why his partner-in-crime, Chara, wanted to place her castle inside the diseased land of the Pale Moors, especially since it wasn’t exactly close to the Frozen Fields. He could only assume it was because she had some sort of connection to the undead that roamed the land.
He glanced down to his right, seeing the metallic box he had placed down a couple of minutes earlier. With the multi-colored buttons and the antenna, it looked like a fairly normal boombox you would see in a traditional city. It was the blue-colored crystal at the top, sitting upon a pedestal, that differentiated it. He thumbed the controller behind his back, the switch on the device set to “OFF.”
If the others listened to him, then that would soon change.
He looked back towards the entrance as he heard footsteps approach. It was the rest of the Society of Supervillains, walking towards him in a disorganized line. He sighed, shaking his head as he spoke.
“That distance is preferable,” he said, holding his hand up to halt them in their tracks.
The other members promptly stopped, some of them eyeing the machine next to him. Before any of them could ask any questions, however, he paced back and forth similar to how a drill sergeant would pace back and forth between his recruits.
“Some of you are most likely wondering why I called you here,” he said, pausing for a bit before continuing, “I’ve been observing each and every one of us during our time together. For a couple of calendar months, to be exact. What I have seen has made me ponder for an extensive period of time. At first, I thought it was merely my standards and my sense of paranoia, but with a combination of observations and inferences, I have concluded the following..”
He stopped, staring at his “allies.”
“Each of you are commendable fighters…”
He paused, listening to the various sighs and murmurs going on within the group he had called for. He smiled, interrupting them with:
“Alone. Any more than that, and you are nothing.”
Almost immediately, the excited whisperings soon turned into annoyed protests. The gunner brought his gloved hand to his forehead, shaking his head. He didn’t get why his partners had to have such magnificent egos to them. If they wanted to win so badly, why were they so unwilling to work with each other to do it? He had learned the dangers of working alone within the first week of him being in the Omniverse! These jokers had no excuse…
“Enough!” he shouted, silencing the crowd, “I understand my words offend you, but I don’t care. The point is, this is problematic, and if any of you want any chances of success, then you’re going to have to realize that, right now, your teamwork is atrocious.”
“Which is why,” he said, removing his hands from behind his back and where everyone could see, “I am going to teach it to you, as an officer of a gargantuan and perfectly trained military.”
“Before any of you ask, this is a simulation device. I had mister Warren make it for me, so you can thank him for it. In any case, I contacted all of you to see if you can’t learn teamwork. How to play off each other’s strengths and compensate for each other’s weaknesses. I’ve watched you all, and as much as it causes you mental anguish to hear this, we are not a team. We are just a collective of criminals who THINK we are.”
He closed his eyes, his thumb slowly pressing down on the switch of his device.
“If we ARE a team, though…”
As if on cue, the crystal on the machine began to rotate, the multi-colored buttons flashing in a rapid manner. In just a few short moments, the entirety of the hallway began to change form into a large room similar to that of a parking building. Cars of various sizes and colors stood side by side where the pillars were, and the faint sound of police sirens rang out from outside of the building. What truly stood out, however, was the fire. The entire room was covered in flames, with two large splotches in particular blocking off the exits for both Ballad and the SoSV members. The gunsmith himself had already placed his device inside his belt, pulling out his revolver and his flamethrower.
“Then smiting me will be a simple task.”
He glanced down to his right, seeing the metallic box he had placed down a couple of minutes earlier. With the multi-colored buttons and the antenna, it looked like a fairly normal boombox you would see in a traditional city. It was the blue-colored crystal at the top, sitting upon a pedestal, that differentiated it. He thumbed the controller behind his back, the switch on the device set to “OFF.”
If the others listened to him, then that would soon change.
He looked back towards the entrance as he heard footsteps approach. It was the rest of the Society of Supervillains, walking towards him in a disorganized line. He sighed, shaking his head as he spoke.
“That distance is preferable,” he said, holding his hand up to halt them in their tracks.
The other members promptly stopped, some of them eyeing the machine next to him. Before any of them could ask any questions, however, he paced back and forth similar to how a drill sergeant would pace back and forth between his recruits.
“Some of you are most likely wondering why I called you here,” he said, pausing for a bit before continuing, “I’ve been observing each and every one of us during our time together. For a couple of calendar months, to be exact. What I have seen has made me ponder for an extensive period of time. At first, I thought it was merely my standards and my sense of paranoia, but with a combination of observations and inferences, I have concluded the following..”
He stopped, staring at his “allies.”
“Each of you are commendable fighters…”
He paused, listening to the various sighs and murmurs going on within the group he had called for. He smiled, interrupting them with:
“Alone. Any more than that, and you are nothing.”
Almost immediately, the excited whisperings soon turned into annoyed protests. The gunner brought his gloved hand to his forehead, shaking his head. He didn’t get why his partners had to have such magnificent egos to them. If they wanted to win so badly, why were they so unwilling to work with each other to do it? He had learned the dangers of working alone within the first week of him being in the Omniverse! These jokers had no excuse…
“Enough!” he shouted, silencing the crowd, “I understand my words offend you, but I don’t care. The point is, this is problematic, and if any of you want any chances of success, then you’re going to have to realize that, right now, your teamwork is atrocious.”
“Which is why,” he said, removing his hands from behind his back and where everyone could see, “I am going to teach it to you, as an officer of a gargantuan and perfectly trained military.”
“Before any of you ask, this is a simulation device. I had mister Warren make it for me, so you can thank him for it. In any case, I contacted all of you to see if you can’t learn teamwork. How to play off each other’s strengths and compensate for each other’s weaknesses. I’ve watched you all, and as much as it causes you mental anguish to hear this, we are not a team. We are just a collective of criminals who THINK we are.”
He closed his eyes, his thumb slowly pressing down on the switch of his device.
“If we ARE a team, though…”
As if on cue, the crystal on the machine began to rotate, the multi-colored buttons flashing in a rapid manner. In just a few short moments, the entirety of the hallway began to change form into a large room similar to that of a parking building. Cars of various sizes and colors stood side by side where the pillars were, and the faint sound of police sirens rang out from outside of the building. What truly stood out, however, was the fire. The entire room was covered in flames, with two large splotches in particular blocking off the exits for both Ballad and the SoSV members. The gunsmith himself had already placed his device inside his belt, pulling out his revolver and his flamethrower.
“Then smiting me will be a simple task.”
Quote:Intro Post Complete!
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