![]() To all of this and more, Vrissy is blissfully ignorant. The car seems to regard the laws of gravity as mere suggestion. The Secret Police, perched strategically in trees and behind mailboxes, are now doing a synchronized slowly-take-off-your-badass-shades-and-gawk-at-the-sky type routine. The enfilade is halted without recording a single hit. The vibrations cause Tavros' gnome to fall over. She cracks her knuckles one-by-one with each impact. The ground begins to shake, as a battery of naval cannons materialize in flashes of cerulean light and drop into formation behind Vriska. Behind her, from a shadowy corner of the room, there is an agitated growling noise and the rattle of chains. It winks coyly in the afternoon sun.įar away, in her lair, Jane Crocker grabs the two sides of her computer monitor with enough strength to snap it in two. The car approaches the apex of its trajectory, and as it slows it appears to hang in the air, in a manner quite uncharacteristic of motor vehicles yet to be fitted with hover technology. Then, he curls into a shaky ball and tries to remember the advice John gave him. As one of the snotty-faced and terrified reporters attempts to hide in his shrub, Harry gives her a cautious jab in the leg with his scissors. The press are fleeing for their lives, their professionalism and trashed equipment abandoned. In a dance-like motion she spins in space once, twice, before loosing the vehicle skyward like an olympian might a hammer. Vriska is now holding the car end-on above her head, its burglar alarm wailing in protest. The fluorite octet tumble end over end, and the gunshots seem for a moment to coalesce into the sound of a thunderous roulette. In a single beat of her fairy wings she zips over to a nearby car, reaches underneath the front fender, and LIFTS. Tavros wishes he had chosen a bigger gnome.īullets continue to fly stupidly wide, and Vriska tosses her dice into the air without even looking. The stiff breeze comes in at a cheerful 5 on the Beaufort wind force scale-"Fresh". He takes a series of gasps, in and out, just to be sure, and clutches his scissors very tight. Tucked inside of a small yet accommodating shrub, Harry Anderson worries that he might be forgetting how to breathe. The instantaneous loss of such a large sum of money causes a substantial drop in the ambient air pressure and conjures up a stiff breeze. A small fortune's worth of very expensive recording equipment is dropped and promptly shattered on the ground in the ensuing scuffle. In his hiding place behind a moderately sized garden gnome, Tavros Crocker lets out a small rodential squeal, and puts his hands in front of his eyes.įearing gunfire, the few paparazzi who aren't currently getting their asses handed to them by the world's angriest traffic cone start to trip over each other, diving for cover. There is a deliciously pointed crunching noise when her fist connects. It is swiftly joined there by half a dozen more: the Secret Police has begun to open fire with a vengeance, if not a great deal of accuracy.Įven before her first victim hits the deck, Vriska is already winding up a punch to the jaw of the next she has wedged some of the signature octahedral dice between her fingers as a makeshift knuckleduster. He sprawls in the driveway, two rivulets of red starting to spring from his expertly broken nose.įrom its hole in the wall of Roxy's house, the bullet that flew over Vriska's shoulder seethes with indignant rage-furious to have missed such an easy shot. In one smooth motion, she helicopters it around her head by the cord and sends it hurtling into the face of the witless journalist whose needling questions had been so, SO irrit8ting. She reaches out with incredible speed and grabs the microphone that was brandished at her a moment before. She has evidently, and by her own admission, had enough. In the blink of an eye, Vriska is airborne. A whole bunch of things start happening at once.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |