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Thread: Lil' Bits, from The Asylum

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    Default Lil' Bits, from The Asylum

    Sooooooo...... activity. I start stuff and never finish. Why not post some stuff I wrote, completely out of context with no explanation? That's what this thread is for- little unfinished bits from your favorite poster (pssst- that's me) of stuff that may otherwise never see the light of day.

    Let's begin with the latest:


    -------



    Like a flash in the darkness, there they were again, opening wide.

    He shot up with a gasp, the cool Odyapes air in his lungs relieving the thick hot sweat that enveloped him. He rubbed his eyes, taking a moment to steady his racing heart as he slowly laid back down on his bed in the darkness. A ringing abruptly disturbed the whistling nighttime breezes of the ocean planet he now called home, but his head had already sunk far too deep back into his pillow to care. The voicemail greeting engaged with a click.

    "Rwaaaaaaaoooorrr! This is Beastman!" His pre-recorded voice bellowed as he swung his legs out over the side of his bed. "If you're in danger, get to a safe spot, now!" A shiver ran up his spine. His trembling hand hovered over the answer button of his communicator console. "I've missed your call, but if there's a monster on the loose, I'll be racing-!"

    With a deep breath, he jammed his finger into the console. "Rwaaaaaaaooorrrr! This is Beastman!" He hollered.

    "Huh," came a woman's voice, "you really do live your gimmick."

    "This is just who I am, ma'am!" He said. "What can the Beastman do for you?"

    "I'm with the Galactic Federation. We need your monster expertise. There's been an incident in Bianca Town."

    He stood up, stretching his arms briefly. "Bianca Town? Not familiar with that one."

    "We'll send you the co-ordinates. I don't mean to be pushy, but time is a factor. How soon can you be on your way?"

    He silently sat back down on his bed. "I can be geared up and gone in half an hour, ma'am. Beastman is always prepared!"

    "Good. We'll discuss payment on-site. A liaison will meet you there."

    With a click, he was left in silence again. He reached over to his night stand, and popped the lid off a large liquor flask. Taking one deep swig, he shuddered and shivered as his veins stung and burned. Capping the flask again, he stood up and lumbered to the closet against the wall. He opened the great big doors, and a dim light flickered on inside, illuminating his outfit.

    He placed his hand on the bright green helmet. "It's showtime."

    ----------------
    The Jaws
    ----------------

    The canopy of the Hyper Speeder slid open, and Beastman nimbly hopped out, landing deftly on the pavement below. "Beastman at your service!" He declared.

    The tall lady in the Federation jumpsuit walked forward with her right hand extended. "Thanks for coming on such short notice," She said, "Hope I didn't wake you up."

    Beastman took her hand in his. "You look familiar," He said. "Wait... Jody Summer?"

    The Federation woman grinned. "I see I've made an impression," she said.

    "About eight inches long on the side of my Hyper Speeder's hull," said Beastman, looking over at his machine.

    Jody shrugged. "We'll call that and the wake-up call even for running me into the rails back in Red Canyon last year. Anyway, back to business?"

    Beastman nodded, and Jody led him to the spot on the streets of Bianca Town that had been cordoned off with a thick yellow tape. A chalk outline lay on the ground of a humanoid figure, with deep splotches of red staining the surrounding asphalt. "A murder?" Asked Beastman, staring at the scene as other Federation officers surveyed the area.

    "A fatal attack," said Jody. "The local civil outfit wanted an autopsy right away. The wounds on our vic- or what's left of him, are consistent with bite marks. Large, sharp bite marks."

    Beastman looked up and studied the surroundings. "A wild animal wanders into town and has a local for a midnight snack," He pondered. "Even for this nothing town in the middle of nowhere, that's a little farfetched. Any witnesses?"

    Jody shook her head. "Nothing. We can get you access to the morgue if you need a look at the vic."

    Beastman wandered off, inspecting the walls of the nearby alley. "That won't be necessary," He said, placing his hand near a large gouge in the metal wall, "I've got enough."

    "Already?" Asked Jody, surprised. "Are you certain?"

    "Positive."

    Then, Beastman lowered his voice.

    "Bio-Rex."

    Jody took a quick glance around before heading into the alley, motioning for Beastman to follow. Once they were alone, she turned to him and whispered, "Take a look at the vic first," she insisted with a near-whisper. "I know you two had a tiff at the Grand Prix, but we need you to do everything you can to rule Bio-Rex out of this."

    Beastman's jaw dropped. "What? Why?"

    Jody closed her eyes and grimaced. Finally, she muttered, "The Federation is... giving Bio-Rex intelligent being designation."

    "You're joking."

    "No, I'm not. The brass decided that he fits all the criteria for being as intelligent a life form as you and I. There hasn't been an announcement yet, but when there is, Bio-Rex will become a citizen under the guard of the Federation, just like the rest of us."

    Beastman paused to swallow the bitter taste in his mouth. "Citizen or not, we can still charge him with murder."

    Jody quickly stole a glace back onto the street before turning back to Beastman. "And that's why we need you to try your best to rule him out. Bio-Rex is intimidating, yes. He's potentially dangerous, yes. But he hasn't done anything illegal- nothing that we're aware of, anyway. If we slap murder charges- cannibalism to boot, on him, the Takorans will latch onto that and start crying discrimination. The Federation will lose any leverage it has at the bargaining table with Takora, and-" Jody paused to lower her voice into a grumble, "and I'm not getting into another shouting match with fucking Octoman again."

    "No, it's him," Beastman insisted, walking back to the gouge on the wall. "Look at this- the height, the angle, the width in the middle- it's consistent with a downward slash from one of his claws. And look! On the ground," Beastman continued, dropping to a knee and placing his hand by a series of grooves in the pavement, "That's Bio-Rex's right foot- his dominant foot, his talons, sitting down into his slashes and swinging for the fences."

    As Beastman stood up again, Jody moved closer to his side. "Look, I don't like the idea of turning a blind eye to any possibility in an investigation, but the Federation won't even consider going after Bio-Rex without absolute proof it was him. And I mean absolute. So unless you can dig up any video records or an entire galactic convoy of witnesses, you're to leave the dinosaur alone. Are we clear?"

    Beastman's teeth began to grind. "We're clear."
    [img][/img]

    Mewfour is a Canadian writer and longtime TPM veteran.
    Over his impressive 9-year ficcing career he has won 5
    Silver Pencils and 3 Golden Pen awards, and currently holds
    the record for most times won Most Evil Fanficcer (3)

    He's also not above posting stuff about himself in the third person.

  2. #2
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    Default Re: Lil' Bits, from The Asylum

    so i did a little bit more

    -

    The bottle hit the table with a hollow clink. The last BET race had been run for the night, and the gamblers and drunks were steadily filing out of the lounge. Beastman nudged the mostly empty bottle aside, and fixed his gaze again on the doors to the outside. The loud chatter amongst the departing crowd soon hushed into whispers, as a tall figure in blue stepped into the bar.

    "It's really him!" Came one whisper, "Captain Falcon!"

    Falcon strode over to Beastman's booth, and sat down on the opposite side of the table. "Alright, I'm here," He said. "You're calling in your favor?"

    Beastman nodded. "Nothing too difficult, don't worry. I need you to keep an eye on Bio-Rex."

    Beastman could sense the confusion playing upon Falcon's face under his helmeted mask. "I thought tracking ferocious beasts was your forté."

    Beastman grimaced uncomfortably. "Normally," He said, "But let's just say that I've been put on a leash."

    Falcon put up his hand. "The less I know, the better," he said. Beastman nodded in agreement. "I can track Bio-Rex, but don't count on another favor like this again. Goroh's not always going to be so easily ran off the grand prix podium."

    "Coincidences can happen," Said Beastman, "Keep me updated."

    Falcon nodded and stood, heading for the door. Then, he stopped, and turned to Beastman. "She'll find out," He said. "She always finds out."

    "And I'm sure you'll give her a merry chase."

    Falcon shook his head as he left the bar, and Beastman took one last gulp and finished his beer.
    [img][/img]

    Mewfour is a Canadian writer and longtime TPM veteran.
    Over his impressive 9-year ficcing career he has won 5
    Silver Pencils and 3 Golden Pen awards, and currently holds
    the record for most times won Most Evil Fanficcer (3)

    He's also not above posting stuff about himself in the third person.

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    Default Re: Lil' Bits, from The Asylum

    And now for something completely different

    With a mighty thump, Raiden's back hit the stone floor of the pyramid. Moaning as his sides felt like they would burst, he looked up through the blood in his eyes at the mountainous figure before him. Shao Kahn, his body radiating the warm glow of Blaze's power, paused at Raiden's feet. "Where are the Elder Gods, Raiden?" He taunted, chuckling quietly as he trudged over Raiden, bending low to grasp Raiden's collar. With an effortless heave, Shao hoisted Raiden up to his level, pulling his face close. "Their pathetic Mortal Kombat shackles me no longer!" He sneered, flecks of spittle dashing across Raiden's cheeks. Winding back his arm, Shao battered Raiden's face with the back of his fist, smacking his knuckles across Raiden's brow back and forth like a paintbrush. With but a flippant wave, Shao sent Raiden flying again, sending him crashing down on the pyramid's plateau.

    "They masquerade as dragons," Shao taunted, closing his fist as his massive warhammer materialized in his hand, "but are mere toothless worms!" Struggling to breathe, Raiden rolled over onto his back, just in time for Shao to plant his foot squarely on his chest, driving what little air remained in his lungs out with a pained gasp. "My venom spreads," Shao continued, raising his arms as Blaze's essence intensified around him. "It is the end of all things- Armageddon!"

    Raiden, still fighting to breathe, wheezed "Stop!"

    Shao, ignoring Raiden's pitiful plea, grinned. "It is done. Your time has passed." He pulled Raiden up again, tossing him away like a broken toy. "Ages wasted in foolish resistance. Now is the dawn of my rule!"

    On his hands and knees, a gleam of light caught Raiden's eye. His amulet, having fallen off his robes during the fight, lay in pieces before him. With the last of his strength, Raiden reached out and grasped a handful of its fragments, and held them in his hands. His eyes beginning to glow, Raiden quietly chanted a desperate spell.

    Shao's grip on his warhammer tightened. "Yes, pray to the worms," He mocked, "as your world ends."

    Sparks of lightning flew from Raiden's hands and into his amulet, as Shao raised his warhammer high above his head. As the Emporer clenched his teeth and began his warhammer's descent, Raiden looked up and uttered, "He must-!"

    Shao Kahn's warhammer smashed into Raiden's forehead, and there was silence.

    ********

    Mortal Kombat: Age of Outworld

    ********

    Thirst stung his throat like daggers. The empty pit in his stomach gurgled again. The chains on his wrists chafed as they rattled, digging further into his raw and bloody skin, holding him upright as his knees had long since failed him. His eyes ached, yearning to see any glimmer of light in the pitch black darkness around him. How long have I been here? He wondered. Months? Years? Millennia? So much of his recent past was a blur, beaten to the brink of death before being hauled to the darkened dungeon. He envied the men of Earthrealm- surely their suffering in his situation would have ended long ago.

    Suddenly, a crack of light pierced the darkness, and he squeezed his eyes shut. As the intense rays penetrated his eyelids, he heard a soft, motherly voice call out to him, "Son of Argus, I have need of you."

    Taven willed his left eye open just a sliver. His blurry vision steadily clearing, he took a short breath before weakly murmuring, "Cetrion?"

    The Elder God, in all her radiance, smiled at him. "Destiny still calls for you, Taven," she said. "There is much ahead for you to accomplish."

    Taven snorted, dismissively. "Accomplish," He muttered. "The realms are shattered, Shao Kahn conquers all, my mother slain and my brother corrupted- I failed!" Taven took a deep, defeated sigh. "What great destiny could possibly be waiting for me?"

    Cetrion drew closer to Taven, the warmth of her divine light washing over him. "Have a care, mortal. Your parents' plan, despite its flaws, was blessed by the Elder Gods," said Cetrion. "You have but one last chance to set the realms right, before all is truly lost."

    Taven looked up, his jaw agape. "How?"

    "That, Taven, is a path best discovered on your own."

    Reaching forward, Cetrion gently touched the shackles that bound him, and with a rattle, the cuffs sprung open. Taven collapsed onto his hands and knees, feeling relief like a decadent dessert for his soul. The radiance in front of him faded, and Taven realized he was alone once again, save for a thin crack of light before him. Hoping against hope, Taven's wobbling legs staggered the rest of him forward, hand outstretched towards the light.
    [img][/img]

    Mewfour is a Canadian writer and longtime TPM veteran.
    Over his impressive 9-year ficcing career he has won 5
    Silver Pencils and 3 Golden Pen awards, and currently holds
    the record for most times won Most Evil Fanficcer (3)

    He's also not above posting stuff about himself in the third person.

  4. #4
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    Default Re: Lil' Bits, from The Asylum

    And now, for a thread called Lil Bits, here's a whole ass chapter

    The plain metal insides of the alien spaceship was hardly any contest for Brendan's attention. The stars, as dazzling to Brendan as they were uncountable, quickly dominated his gaze. The Earth, slowly shrinking away in the distance, was soon to be just another dot on the black canvas as the ship plunged deeper and deeper into space.

    "Jeez, you'd better be ready to clean those windows if you're just gonna' drool all over them."

    Brendan pried his eyes away from the hull window to look over his shoulder, and saw Littich, fiddling with some manner of handheld device, standing behind him. "Sorry," Brendan muttered, his mind not completely ready for a conversation, "but it's just amazing."

    "What, that you can stare at nothing for hours and not get bor-"

    Littich's words were cut short with a sudden, surprised gasp. Dragista, towering head and chest above her, had dropped one of his massive arms over her head, resting his elbow on Littich's plentiful blonde hair. "Of course she remembers her first time up here," He said, grinning as Littich began to tremble with anger. "Hey, we all do."

    Brendan turned back to the window. "I guess it loses its novelty after a few years, huh?"

    Dragista shrugged, still smiling as he watched Littich seethe underneath him. "It varies."

    Littich reached up, and threw Dragista's arm off of her. "Next time you do that," she quietly hissed, "I'm going to-"

    "Do what?" Dragista quietly snorted back at her, still wearing a goofy grin.

    Littich just snarled and stormed away. Dragista shrugged, and leaned up beside the window that Brendan was glued to. "Man, this is gonna' be the longest six months of my life," Brendan muttered. "You're sure you guys don't mind swinging back around to Earth?"

    "Nah, we'd probably end up coming back anyway. Habitable planets aren't easy to come by," said the muscle-bound giant. Then, nudging Brendan in the ribs, he said, "She gives everyone shit, not just you."

    "Nice to know," Brendan muttered. "Ever think of just stranding her somewhere?"

    Dragista let loose a bellowing chuckle. "Would be nice," he said, "but then we'd be short our tech wizard."

    "What, her?"

    "Yeah, it surprised the hell out of me too," Said Dragista. "Like it or not, we're stuck with her."

    "So what do you do, other than being big?"

    Dragista hummed. "Uh, nothing, really." When Brendan stared at him in disbelief, Dragista continued, "Well okay, I might be the chief's second in command and a pilot too, but I'm mostly here just to break stuff."

    Dragista flexed his impressive biceps. "How long do guns like those take you?" Brendan asked, measuring his puny arms against Dragista's.

    Dragista shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I haven't worked out a day in my life."

    Brendan's jaw dropped. "You're kidding, right?"

    "Nope. See this? All natural. Us Titareans build these just by growing up. Our muscle and bone density is roughly three times as much as the others. Hey, you ever seen someone toss a landcraft before?" Dragista asked. When the bewildered Brendan shook his head, Dragista snorted a chuckle. "When we drop you off again, I'll show ya'."

    A sudden beeping rang from the watch-like device on Dragista's wrist. "What's that?" Brendan asked.

    "Dinner," said Dragista, pushing himself off of the wall, "Follow me."

    After following the short, narrow hallway leading into the heart of the alien's spaceship, Brendan found himself in another barren room, decorated only by a circular table in the middle, and a strange upright machine by the wall. Battar, Cova, and Klamoor, already seated, looked up at Brendan and Dragista. "Late fer food?" Klamoor asked, stirring his bowl of the same thick brown mixture Brendan had seen them eating on Earth. "That's a first."

    "Someone's gotta' show this guy the ropes," Said Dragista, raising his hand just in time to catch Klamoor tossing an empty bowl his way. Dragista handed the bowl to Brendan, and pointed to the machine at the wall. Littich stood in front of it, her bowl resting inside an internal shelf in the machine. And with a squishy squeaking, a large squirt of the mixture came rushing into her bowl. Muttering something under her breath, Littich took her dinner and sat down beside Cova.

    Brendan looked back at Dragista. "Didn't you guys say you had my food covered? You know, before we left?"

    "We do," said Cova, as stoic as ever. "That's it."

    "What, you're holding out for dessert or something?" Littich snorted.

    A small shiver ran up Brendan's spine. Gingerly making his way over the machine, he placed his bowl on the shelf. The same squishy squirt belched out a generous helping of the dark brown gruel, intoxicating Brendan with a thick, nostril-stinging aroma. Brendan made his way around to the far end of the table, sitting down comfortably apart from the rest of his new shipmates. Brendan stared at the gruel. His dull reflection in the gruel stared back at him. Dragista had sat down with a bowl of his own, and when Brendan looked up, he saw all eyes were upon him. Battar had even rolled forward his extra set of pupils, staring just as intently as the rest of his crew.

    Brendan looked down at the unsettling soup again. "You're... sure I can eat this?" He asked. Cova nodded. Brendan gingerly reached for a spoon. "How sure?"

    Cova cleared his throat. "Though we are of six different species," he began, "we all share a similar physiological makeup. A deep scan of your body upon boarding our ship confirmed what I had long suspected. In addition, your planet's atmospheric composition is all but indistinguishable from that of Tatsis, indicating that our bodies process proteins in remarkably similar ways. Such similarities between the five of us and you, in addition with previous documented experiments with our food in our planet's history, strongly suggests to me that our travel mixture," Cova paused briefly, "shouldn't kill you."

    Brendan looked at the gruel one more time. Then, raising his spoon, he took a quiet, deep breath. "Well, nothing ventured..." Brendan muttered, dipping his spoon in. Steeling his nerves as he raised it up again, Brendan slowly leaned forward, opened his mouth, and wrapped his lips around the spoon. He quickly slipped the spoon out, and rested it on the table. The aliens were still fixated on him, not moving a single muscle between them. Finally, after a few seconds that seemed like hours, Brendan loudly gulped down his first spoonful.

    "Well?" Dragista asked.

    Brendan looked down at the gruel again, and after running his tongue over his teeth, he dug his spoon in again. "You know," said Brendan with a look of surprise, "this isn't that bad."

    Brendan filled his spoon to the edges, and downed another spoonful. Littich grimaced. "He likes it?" She groaned. Klamoor's face was a similar twisted mess as Bendan continued to dig in.

    "I'm guessing this isn't your regular food, huh?" Asked Brendan. Only Battar managed a bewildered shake of his head. "Man, if this is your idea of slop, I'd love to try-"

    Suddenly, Brendan froze. His eyes shot wide as he slowly looked down at his stomach. And with a sudden lurch, Brendan bolted off of his seat, managing to stagger three wobbling steps before collapsing to his hands and knees, and letting loose a roaring torrent from his stomach. As Brendan moaned and cradled his ribs, Battar turned to Cova. "You said it wouldn't kill him," said Battar.

    Cova shrugged. "It hasn't."

    Suddenly, a shrill beeping echoed through the ship. "The hell is that?" Klamoor asked as the crew bolted to their feet.

    "Proximity sensors," said Battar, "Everyone to the bridge. Dragista, drag him along too."

    The spacious, empty command centre was suddenly filled by the crew, Littich the first to leap into a chair by a terminal mounted on the wall. "Found it!" She cheered almost immediately. The gigantic screen at the front of the room flashed briefly before displaying the universe outside.

    "What have we got?" Battar asked, as Cova and Klamoor filled in their seats behind him. Dragista, after curtly dropping the leg he had been dragging Brendan by, sat at the wide helm in the middle of the bridge.

    Littich took a sudden, defeated sigh. "It's Kilhnian."

    "Shit," Dragista muttered. Klamoor and Cova also muttered under their breath.

    The main screen's display swiftly zoomed in, and as soon as Brendan could lift his eyes off of the floor again, the screen greeted him with a sleek spacecraft, bearing a striking visage of a fighter jet. "Distance?" Battar asked.

    "50 units," Littich replied. "We should be just out of range of his sensors. I'm patched into his com, doesn't sound like he's noticed us yet." Littich let out a quiet, nervous laugh. "Guess our stealth's back online after all."

    "Thank ye," Klamoor chimed in, "I do my best."

    "Good to know," said Battar. "Dragista, keep our distance. Let's see where he's going."

    Still reeling from the inside, Brendan used the back of Cova's chair as a support as he glued his eyes on the screen. Within moments, Battar put his hand up, and Brendan felt the ship coming to a slow, drifting stop. The small spacecraft soon became a blip among the stars, with only a rocky, grey planet standing out in front of them. "It's that planetoid we saw coming in to this system," said Dragista. "The one with the wacky orbit at the edge of this system."

    "Wacky orbit?" Brendan gasped. "Planetoid? Edge!? That must be Pluto!"

    "You know this rock?" Battar asked. "I didn't know your species had come out this far."

    "No, just me," said Brendan. "Hey, we're not stuck in a stone age, you know." Battar rolled his eyes. "So- so that spaceship, was it heading to Pluto?"

    "I've got bad news fer ya, kid," said Klamoor, "Our friends that toasted Tatsis? They're here."

    Brendan's heart suddenly jumped into his throat. "Here?" He gasped.

    "Kilhnian scouter craft, standard issue," said Littich. "And he's not alone."

    "Lucky we weren't caught coming into this system before," said Battar. "Dragista, get us out of here on the first opening. The last thing we want is to stir up the nest."

    "Wait! Nest?" Brendan sputtered. "They've got some kind of base down there?"

    "Scouters don't come out this far on their own," said Battar.

    "And we're just running away?"

    "That's the plan."

    "But-!" Brendan protested. "They're the guys that nuked your planet? What about Earth?"

    Battar shook his head. "It doesn't look good for Earth. You've got a month at the most."

    Brendan was trembling. "Can't we stop them? Can't we do anything?"

    "Hey, caveman!" Littich barked, snapping her fingers. "Five of us, five hundred of them. At least."

    "But, y-you can't just run away!" Brendan pleased.

    "We can, and we will," Battar shot back.

    "Hey, I got you guys off of Earth," said Brendan. "Without me, you'd be stuck back there, with no ship, and you'd just have to watch as our planet goes boom along with you."

    Battar glared at Brendan. "Are you saying we still owe you something?"

    "That's exactly what I'm saying!"

    The bridge was suddenly silent. Battar turned fully towards Brendan. Brendan bit the inside of his lip, and glared back at Battar. "Alright," said Battar, with an odd calm, "let's say we do owe you something more." Battar took a step forward, slowly approaching Brendan. "Let's say, even if we still owed you our lives, we just kept on going anyway." Now with their faces only inches away from each other, Battar lowered his voice into a rumbling growl. "What would you do about it?"

    Brendan glared back at Battar. Then, with just a blink of his eyes, Brendan looked down at the floor.

    Battar snorted. "Thought so." He turned back to the main screen. "Dragista, we're getting the hell out of here."

    "Commander, if I may," Cova suddenly chimed in.

    Battar paused briefly, then shrugged his shoulders.

    Cova cleared his throat. "Encountering a single scouter suggests to me that this forward outpost is a new establishment. Otherwise, we would likely have been met with a swarm instead. It may also explain how we evaded detection coming in. Either way, if the Kilhnians have reached this far this quickly, we will be encountering them again, and soon. Regardless of our course of action now, conflict with the Kilhnians is inevitable."

    "Now that's depressin'," Klamoor muttered under his breath.

    "However," Cova continued, "were we to disable this outpost as our guest would have us do, depending on it's level of completion, a surprise attack would effectively wipe all knowledge of this system's existence from Kilhnian hands, if only briefly. We will encounter them again, but we will have bought us some time to better prepare. As we stand now, our chances of survival against a Kilhnian squadron is marginal. We may ultimately benefit from a decisive- and successful, first strike."

    Battar thought it over for a moment. "Are you saying that's what we should do?" He asked.

    "The decision is yours as always, commander."

    Battar rubbed his chin, and hummed deeply to himself. Turning back to the main screen, he stood almost like a statue, in stark contrast to Brendan's twitching. Finally, Battar let out a quiet, grumbling sigh. "Dragista, set us down." He muttered. "Littich, we need a deep scan as soon as we're down. Everyone, in the hall, ten minutes." As Battar turned around and headed to the exit, he glanced at Brendan and growled, "You too."

    -

    Just creeping out of the spare quarters, Brendan looked down the cramped hallway. Three doors lined the walls on each side, each leading into the other alien's quarters. Suddenly, the door beside him slid open, and to Brendan's surprise, Cova stepped out beside him. Just as Cova passed him, Brendan said, "Hey, you're Cova, right?"

    The tall bald alien, expressionless as always, nodded once.

    "I-" Brendan stammered, "What I mean is- well, thanks. For helping me out back there."

    Cova only raised a hairless eyebrow. No hint of any sort of emotion stained Cova's face. Then, after a short and awkward silence, Cova simply said, "You assume too much."

    Cova turned and vanished from the hallway, and Brendan suddenly felt truly alone.
    Last edited by Mewfour; 11th December 2021 at 02:47 AM.
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    Mewfour is a Canadian writer and longtime TPM veteran.
    Over his impressive 9-year ficcing career he has won 5
    Silver Pencils and 3 Golden Pen awards, and currently holds
    the record for most times won Most Evil Fanficcer (3)

    He's also not above posting stuff about himself in the third person.

  5. #5
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    Default Re: Lil' Bits, from The Asylum

    "...is this thing on? Testing? Testing?

    ...

    ...

    ...alright, here goes.

    This is... my first time doing this, not exactly sure what I'm supposed to say. Well, I guess the attack is a good place to start. Yesterday, at 0900 hours, our ship was attacked by an unknown assailant. We were- oh, wait, my name. Yes, of course. I... I am Emilio Velasquez. Our starship, the Valiant, was exploring the uncharted zones, areas of our galaxy no human eyes have seen before. It was like every other morning- I received my tasks for the day, and was just getting my gear together when they struck.

    I'm... not entirely sure who "they" are, actually. From the ship's logs, or whatever was left of them, they appeared out of seemingly nowhere and hit us with some serious heavy firepower. Most of the crew was killed in the assault, and those who survived are in no shape to serve any longer. We lost... what was it...? Ninety? Nintey-two percent? Ah... we lost a lot of good people. Somehow... somehow we fought them off and drove them away, but at too high a price.

    The Valiant took severe damage- I'm amazed she's holding together as well as she is, seeing how we've lost most of our lightspeed power and can only run basic life support functions on only thirteen decks at a time. Engineering... oh man. Engineering is still flooded with radiation from the reactor breach, so for the time being repairing our engines are out of the question. But all that is nothing compared to the human cost. Out of almost one thousand on board, there are only seventy-six left, and only three of them are the ship's crew. Now, only a handful of civilians are left to help me steer this ship back home. Wherever home is. With navigation systems as damaged as they are we're limping blindly into a dark, unfamiliar room, flailing desperately for a light.

    Yesterday morning, I was the head janitor of the Valiant, this galaxy-class Type A cruiser. This morning... I am her captain. Being the longest-tenured member of the civilian compliment still able to walk and alive outside of cryo stasis in sick bay, I am by default the most qualified to lead the survivors through this hostile ocean of stars, though that's hardly saying much. My new crew for tactical, weapons, and whatever we have left of navigation and engineering, are cooks, councilors, and janitors, like myself.

    ....huhhhhhhhnn. I'll be honest, I don't think I'm up for the job. I hold the lives of almost one hundred people in my hands where I once held a broom. But... after the last fires were extinguished, the last crewperson loaded into stasis, and our former captain's body laid to rest in the cargo bay, they all turned to me. They flocked to me. Asked me where to go and what to do. Like I knew. God, I wish I knew. I just picked a direction and said go. And that's where we're going.

    Now, how do I turn this off? This one? No... this one? No... this o-?"
    [img][/img]

    Mewfour is a Canadian writer and longtime TPM veteran.
    Over his impressive 9-year ficcing career he has won 5
    Silver Pencils and 3 Golden Pen awards, and currently holds
    the record for most times won Most Evil Fanficcer (3)

    He's also not above posting stuff about himself in the third person.

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