LNH: Flame Wars Final: First Phase #3
Andrew Perron
pwerdna at gmail.com
Wed May 8 10:41:15 PDT 2013
Literary Impossible and Prehistoric Productions present...
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| ^ ^ ^ ^ FLAME ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ WARS ^ ^ ^ ^ |
| ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ |
| FFFFFFF IIIIIII NN NN AAAA LL |
FIRST | FF III NNN NN AA AA LL | NUMBER
PHASE | FFFFFF III NNNN NN AAAAAAAA LL | THREE
| FF III NN NNNN AA AA LLLLLLL |
| FF IIIIIII NN NNN AA AA LLLLLLL |
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The shadow spread, and the net.heroes were right in its path. Twitter
held on to the exhausted Sp33d Fr34k. She was closest - and so, it
touched her mind first.
Twitter staggered under the sudden mental weight. Kid Borlaug felt like
his legs were turning to cheese. The Crimson @venger fell back,
clenching her teeth. Very Big Boy closed his eyes, overcome by
lethargy. Pummelo fell to one knee.
And Outfielder Boy, feeling the push on his mind, pushed back. He threw
up a wall of telestatic, the psychic noise creating a buffer around his
teammates.
Twitter, first to fall, was also first to rise. "Okay!" she said,
shouting to be heard over the mindnoise. "Very Big Boy, take Sp33d
Fr34k back to LNHQ."
"But--"
"You're both wounded, and you can move faster carrying her than I
could!"
"..." Very Big Boy shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. She was the
leader on this mission, and it wouldn't do to underestimate her.
"Right!"
As he took off toward the headquarters, Twitter turned. "Okay, guys,
stay as far away as you can. Outfielder Boy, keep up the defense.
Crimson @venger, see how it reacts to a long-range attack. Kid Borlaug,
anything you can do to slow it down. Pummelo - you with us?"
"Uh--" He swallowed, struggling with his perspective switch. "Yeah."
"Okay. Shoot acid, right?" Twitter bounced in place. She was finding it
harder and harder to keep up the 'super-serious squad leader' act.
"Anything else?"
Pummelo could see that he was dealing with a no-nonsense hardass. "If I
concentrate, it homes in on people's eyes."
Oh man, ewgh. But useful! "All right, get it ready. On my signal,
squirt the bastard!"
He nodded, and the plan went into action. Kid Borlaug reached out to
the weeds poking through cracks in the pavement. He whispered words of
growth and encouragement, and they responded, climbing up to entangle
the approaching figure - only to lose their impetus halfway.
The Crimson @venger gathered net.elemental force into a swirling sphere
of pure punctuation. She lobbed it through the air, with an arc like a
mortar shell, rising and falling on the figure's head - and thudding to
the ground with no effect.
Outfielder Boy winced at the strain. "'s stronger... closer... they
get!"
"Right!" Twitter had had it. Pummel into unconsciousness with super-
speed fists first, ask questions later!
She raced towards the figure. Her accelerated senses picked out
details: the shuffling gait, the desaturated purple and gray of the
outfit, and the fact that, hey, this guy looked just like a normal
college kid--
And then she looked into his eyes.
It was hard to do it. Too hard. But everything else was harder. No
purpose. No point, really. To anything. And even if she'd had some
sensible reason, it wasn't like she'd accomplish anything.
As her mind was flooded by thoughts flowing like molasses, the energy
leeched from her limbs. Even with a lightning-fast mind, there was only
a fraction of a second in which to act.
Just long enough, in other words, to send a signal.
A squirt of citrus zigged through the air, zagging with mathematical
precision into the figure's eyes.
It blinked.
Twitter tore away at maximum acceleration, looping around in a wide,
ragged arc and knocking over Pummelo.
"Waugh!!"
"Oh... hah... n-nice job." She sucked in a breath and rose - and felt
the shadow. The figure was closing in, and Outfielder Boy had fallen to
his knees.
The Crimson @venger had Kid Borlaug thrown over her shoulder. "I fear
we must retreat!"
"No," said Twitter, stumbling, turning to face the shadow. "Can't let
it get further into the city..."
Kid Borlaug raised his head. "Gotta fight 't the end... 's the Legion
way..."
The Crimson @venger nodded grimly. "Then fight we sha--"
Outfielder Boy gasped, and the blanket of protective static vanished.
It oozed over them like a leaden fog. It wasn't that they couldn't get
away. It just didn't matter if they did. They could get to it later.
Right now, it was time to do nothing. Time to be...
lazy...
A double thunderclap split the sky, and bolts of supersaturated
prismatic color slammed into the figure. The shadow rippled violently,
emotion from all up and down the spectrum bleeding out before it burst
like an overstressed soap bubble. The figure - the man - wobbled and
fell on his rear. "...what!?"
He stared up. Oh. The new people were here. The scintillating
supergods, and their herald...
A being touched down in front of the net.heroes, completely covered in
constantly shifting fractal patterns, blue and purple and red. "Yo. I'm
Chaos Theory, these are the Agents of the Intergalactic Network, and
that was a Servant of Sloth. Any questions?"
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Andrew "NO .SIG MAN" "Juan" Perron, posting this one late because I
forgot, argh
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