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Chaos! Rumble in the Crystal City!
[This is for Team 2: Jinx, Mindfuck, Zouichi, Ter'thelas, Ashley, Edward, Jamie, Victoria. The first shore leave / observation deck post is here where they can say goodbye to others.] ]
The massive crystal spire jutted skyward perhaps a thousand feet. Alone, it would be beautiful.
With lasers playing up and down its sides, floodlights sweeping the sky, and banners hanging over it, though, it was just tacky. ULTIMATE ENTERTAINMENT! proclaimed one banner. D☺☺M AWAITS YOU! another added. And over top of the massive doors chipped in the entrance hall flashed a brilliant neon sign: CRYSTAL CITY.
The path led up to and through the wide-open doors, into a black hall beyond. No sooner had the last of the crew stepped in than the doors slammed shut behind them, plunging them all into pitch blackness. But not for long; a second later, two bright-white signs flared into life.
MEN -->
<-- WOM N
(A bulb was out.)
Each arrow pointed to a door surrounded by an ominous crystal. Try to go through the wrong gender's door and it would reject you, possibly making disparaging comments about your mental status. The rooms inside looked as if they'd been lifted straight from an athletic stadium; a row of lockers stood opposite a few lacquered benches, and each had a crewmember's name on it. Inside their assigned locker were a set of clothing along with instructions to retract their plantsuits to minimal coverage and don the provided garb.
The fanservicey-but-functional provided garb. Tight-fitting shirts that breathed magnificently, sleek shorts (rather short shorts) for both men and women. None of it interfered with motion in the slightest, and the outfits were only slightly uncomfortable, mostly because they were just a bit tight.
Once everyone had garbed themselves properly -- and not before -- the doors on the far wall snapped open. Through them, the members rejoined their companions in a large room (which of course made no physical sense, as the doors could not possibly have led to this room, but who's counting?), in a grand crystalline foyer filled with sweeping spotlights, glittering sparks deep in the walls, and extremely canned applause.
A drumroll began over the applause. A hush fell over the prerecorded crowd, the drumroll building in strength and then declining again, like a wave, to build suspense.
The drumroll abruptly stopped.
"TURN TAPE OVER!" blared over the invisible audio system. After a moment, fumbled clattering and muffled grumbling echoed distantly from some far point in the chamber, followed by a sharp CLACK, then a click. The drumroll resumed.
Then, in a crash of cymbals and a triumphant fanfare, the spotlights all swung as one to focus on a hitherto unseen throne at the far end of the room.
The massive crystal spire jutted skyward perhaps a thousand feet. Alone, it would be beautiful.
With lasers playing up and down its sides, floodlights sweeping the sky, and banners hanging over it, though, it was just tacky. ULTIMATE ENTERTAINMENT! proclaimed one banner. D☺☺M AWAITS YOU! another added. And over top of the massive doors chipped in the entrance hall flashed a brilliant neon sign: CRYSTAL CITY.
The path led up to and through the wide-open doors, into a black hall beyond. No sooner had the last of the crew stepped in than the doors slammed shut behind them, plunging them all into pitch blackness. But not for long; a second later, two bright-white signs flared into life.
MEN -->
<-- WOM N
(A bulb was out.)
Each arrow pointed to a door surrounded by an ominous crystal. Try to go through the wrong gender's door and it would reject you, possibly making disparaging comments about your mental status. The rooms inside looked as if they'd been lifted straight from an athletic stadium; a row of lockers stood opposite a few lacquered benches, and each had a crewmember's name on it. Inside their assigned locker were a set of clothing along with instructions to retract their plantsuits to minimal coverage and don the provided garb.
The fanservicey-but-functional provided garb. Tight-fitting shirts that breathed magnificently, sleek shorts (rather short shorts) for both men and women. None of it interfered with motion in the slightest, and the outfits were only slightly uncomfortable, mostly because they were just a bit tight.
Once everyone had garbed themselves properly -- and not before -- the doors on the far wall snapped open. Through them, the members rejoined their companions in a large room (which of course made no physical sense, as the doors could not possibly have led to this room, but who's counting?), in a grand crystalline foyer filled with sweeping spotlights, glittering sparks deep in the walls, and extremely canned applause.
A drumroll began over the applause. A hush fell over the prerecorded crowd, the drumroll building in strength and then declining again, like a wave, to build suspense.
The drumroll abruptly stopped.
"TURN TAPE OVER!" blared over the invisible audio system. After a moment, fumbled clattering and muffled grumbling echoed distantly from some far point in the chamber, followed by a sharp CLACK, then a click. The drumroll resumed.
Then, in a crash of cymbals and a triumphant fanfare, the spotlights all swung as one to focus on a hitherto unseen throne at the far end of the room.
no subject
Duck the ledge! Jump the beams that tried to sweep your knees! Then leap onto the ledge and back down without sliding off!
no subject
She appreciated the words of encouragement from her fellow teammate, though, so she responded with a thumbs up. She was a superhero, yes, but she was a master of mental prowess! If she lost a limb (or two or three) she made sure she was going to take up Howard's suggestion.
The first obstacle was easy enough; with her short stature it took little more than her crouching down on the surfboard, though she had an iron grip on the edges of it. She wasn't ready to loosen her hold just yet but she knew if she didn't, she was going to be S.O.L and really? Dying here just wasn't attractive at all.
Her leaps over the beams were probably the least graceful thing that was ever attempted by something on two legs. Anxious expression, borderline flailing arms and a wobbled landing that always ended up with frantic scrapping at the surfboard to maintain her balance.
One of the large balls was nearly the end of her and she found herself slipping over the board and nearly tumbling off. Furious expletives erupted from her silent mouth as she struggled to right herself before she faced the horror of having to repeat the action. Really, it was a good thing she was currently 'mute'.
He hair was a mess as she zipped past the last beam, her hands quickly working to push wayward strands from blocking her visor. Her breathed heaved with the effort of the previous obstacles, though she was crouched on the board, ready to attempt a leap towards the ledge.
It was easy enough to reach and heft herself over, though the sight that awaited her only caused her to groan.
The small woman took her time crossing the terrain and even more on the balance beam. After the little surfboard tricks, this was comparatively easy. Once she reached the conveyor belt, she breathed in deeply, then began running. Her face was red with effort and she promised herself if she were to make it out, she would keep up the physical workout portion of her Superhomey's training.
Her breath was heavy and she used the corner of her (now wet) shirt to wipe sweat from her eyes. Spooky would have been laughing her ass off right about now, she was sure. Nevertheless, she hopped from pillar to pillar, taking a quick moment to catch a breath in-between.
Once she reached solid ground, she hunched over, both hands on her knees. This was ridiculous and she wanted nothing more than to give this god, her daughter and their butler an aneurysm. Still, she had to deal with the sumo who barreled through the wall.
Screw that. She took a running leap and opted to tumble between its legs. She only hoped her feet would slam into its jewels on the way under and she would feel some odd sense of accomplishment.
A stumbled hop found her back at the end of the ledge with an expression that clearly read 'fuck this world'.
no subject
And possibly avoid the sumo who's barreling up behind you to knock you in.
no subject
She had lived a barely tolerable life, anyways.
Peering over the side, she watched the board closely as it zipped closer, the rumbling stomps of the sumo growing ever closer. She landed on the board with a resounding smack of flesh hitting a wet object none-too-lightly. She held on, her face screwed up in both a frown and effort, until it passed near the ledge to the finish line. A well-timed jump saw her over the small space to the ledge and she landed in a heap on the ground.
Okay, she really, really needed to keep up with the physical training.
no subject