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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
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