mikeawmids
Explorer
Savage Worlds / Daring Tales of Adventure / To End All Wars / Part 8
Trailing a plume of oily smoke, Doc Gizmo rocketed after the falling journalist. An insistent beeping sound drew the inventor’s attention to the fuel gauge on his pack. The needle hovered ominously over the zero. Gizmo crunched some numbers in his head. If his remaining fuel equalled ‘x’ and the distance back to the zeppelin equalled ‘y’, then even if he managed to save the young lady, their combined weight would deplete his fuel reserves before they could return to the gondola. Given the circumstances, Doc Gizmo soon arrived at the only logical decision.
“I’m awfully sorry, but it‘s just not practical to save you at the moment!” he yelled over the roar of his rocket pack, “On a more positive note, it looks as though you’re falling towards the river and I calculate a 47% chance that you’ll survive the initial impact. Cheerio!”
(Mal spent several rounds trying to catch the damsel in distress despite crippling multi-action penalties, eventually resulting in his decision that she wasn’t worth the bother).
Meanwhile, in the gondola, Brett holstered his pistol and advanced on Starkweather.
“A bullet’s too easy for the likes of you, doctor.” the aviator growled, “I prescribe an ass kicking. I’m going to beat you until you actually do need that wheelchair to get around.”
“Stay back!” Starkweather sneered, pointing the aerosol in Brett’s face, “This can contains a weaponised version of the same nerve gas that I’m about to release over Washington! One spray and you’re a dead man! You’re all dead men - and one dead monkey!"
Suddenly the can was pulled from the villain’s hand! It flew across the gondola and Nicolas snatched it out of the air. He had moved the weapon with his amazing powers of telekinesis!
“Don’t you know these things are bad for the environment?” the mesmerist quipped.
“Ook, ook, ook!” Columbus added. (“That was a passable one-liner Nicolas, but the campaign against chlorofluorocarbons in aerosols didn’t occur until the 1970’s, so you’re actually referring to an event that hasn’t yet occurred in this timeline. Of course, since I am from the future, I can appreciate the reference.”)
Brett grabbed the lapels of Starkweather’s lab coat and lifted him off the floor.
“You’re going down, doctor!” he snarled.
“It’s not over yet!” Starkweather shrieked, snatching Brett’s pistol from its holster and unloading the clip through the open hatch into the envelope. The bullets sparked off the metal ribs of the zeppelin and ignited the hydrogen gas in a catastrophic explosion!
KABOOM!
(There was a lot of discussion back and forth about the risk of us accidentally blowing up the zeppelin, apparently the answer was that the blimp would not explode until the GM decided it was time for the blimp to explode).
The detonation rocked the gondola. Brett let go off Starkweather’s coat and watched with a mixture of horror and satisfaction as the genocidal industrialist fell to his death. Claudia Knight screamed as she rolled towards the gaping hole that Nicolas had made in the floor. Diving after his Nazi girlfriend, Emilio grabbed her wrist with one hand and the edge of the hole with his other. Together, they dangled helplessly over the Washington skyline.
“I like your gas mask,” he said conversationally, seemingly oblivious to the dizzying drop, “I don’t usually go in for the kinky stuff, but for you I’ll make an exception. I hope you haven‘t forgotten about our date.”
“Look me up the next time you’re in Berlin.” she said, slipping her hand free of his.
Emilio watched her fall towards the river. Oh well, there was always Miss Braveheart.
Just then, Doc Gizmo reappeared. Alone.
“Where’s the girl?” Emilio cried in despair.
“In the river, I expect.” Gizmo answered, “Why is everything on fire?”
“We’re out of control!” Brett cried, struggling with the blimp’s control lever.
“Try and put us down in the river!” Emilio suggested.
“Good idea, if we land in the water that might prevent the nerve gas from getting airborne.”
“Never mind that, both of the women are down there!”
“Gah!” Brett cried, the control lever snapping off in his hand, “No matter how well I roll on my piloting die, we just keep heading towards that conspicuous white building over there!”
CRASH!
In a bone-jarring collision, the zeppelin crashes down on the President’s lawn! Miraculously it does not explode! Four men and an ape stagger from the twisted wreckage. Humourless men in suits boil from the White House, accompanied by President Franklin D. Roosevelt himself! He raises his presidential hand and salutes the heroes, even though there is no conceivable way for him to know that they are the good guys. I mean, they just crashed a blimp into his garden. He has to be pissed about that, right? Or at least a bit suspicious? Apparently not! This is Pulp after all, it doesn’t have to make sense!
To be continued… in Chaos in Crete!
Trailing a plume of oily smoke, Doc Gizmo rocketed after the falling journalist. An insistent beeping sound drew the inventor’s attention to the fuel gauge on his pack. The needle hovered ominously over the zero. Gizmo crunched some numbers in his head. If his remaining fuel equalled ‘x’ and the distance back to the zeppelin equalled ‘y’, then even if he managed to save the young lady, their combined weight would deplete his fuel reserves before they could return to the gondola. Given the circumstances, Doc Gizmo soon arrived at the only logical decision.
“I’m awfully sorry, but it‘s just not practical to save you at the moment!” he yelled over the roar of his rocket pack, “On a more positive note, it looks as though you’re falling towards the river and I calculate a 47% chance that you’ll survive the initial impact. Cheerio!”
(Mal spent several rounds trying to catch the damsel in distress despite crippling multi-action penalties, eventually resulting in his decision that she wasn’t worth the bother).
Meanwhile, in the gondola, Brett holstered his pistol and advanced on Starkweather.
“A bullet’s too easy for the likes of you, doctor.” the aviator growled, “I prescribe an ass kicking. I’m going to beat you until you actually do need that wheelchair to get around.”
“Stay back!” Starkweather sneered, pointing the aerosol in Brett’s face, “This can contains a weaponised version of the same nerve gas that I’m about to release over Washington! One spray and you’re a dead man! You’re all dead men - and one dead monkey!"
Suddenly the can was pulled from the villain’s hand! It flew across the gondola and Nicolas snatched it out of the air. He had moved the weapon with his amazing powers of telekinesis!
“Don’t you know these things are bad for the environment?” the mesmerist quipped.
“Ook, ook, ook!” Columbus added. (“That was a passable one-liner Nicolas, but the campaign against chlorofluorocarbons in aerosols didn’t occur until the 1970’s, so you’re actually referring to an event that hasn’t yet occurred in this timeline. Of course, since I am from the future, I can appreciate the reference.”)
Brett grabbed the lapels of Starkweather’s lab coat and lifted him off the floor.
“You’re going down, doctor!” he snarled.
“It’s not over yet!” Starkweather shrieked, snatching Brett’s pistol from its holster and unloading the clip through the open hatch into the envelope. The bullets sparked off the metal ribs of the zeppelin and ignited the hydrogen gas in a catastrophic explosion!
KABOOM!
(There was a lot of discussion back and forth about the risk of us accidentally blowing up the zeppelin, apparently the answer was that the blimp would not explode until the GM decided it was time for the blimp to explode).
The detonation rocked the gondola. Brett let go off Starkweather’s coat and watched with a mixture of horror and satisfaction as the genocidal industrialist fell to his death. Claudia Knight screamed as she rolled towards the gaping hole that Nicolas had made in the floor. Diving after his Nazi girlfriend, Emilio grabbed her wrist with one hand and the edge of the hole with his other. Together, they dangled helplessly over the Washington skyline.
“I like your gas mask,” he said conversationally, seemingly oblivious to the dizzying drop, “I don’t usually go in for the kinky stuff, but for you I’ll make an exception. I hope you haven‘t forgotten about our date.”
“Look me up the next time you’re in Berlin.” she said, slipping her hand free of his.
Emilio watched her fall towards the river. Oh well, there was always Miss Braveheart.
Just then, Doc Gizmo reappeared. Alone.
“Where’s the girl?” Emilio cried in despair.
“In the river, I expect.” Gizmo answered, “Why is everything on fire?”
“We’re out of control!” Brett cried, struggling with the blimp’s control lever.
“Try and put us down in the river!” Emilio suggested.
“Good idea, if we land in the water that might prevent the nerve gas from getting airborne.”
“Never mind that, both of the women are down there!”
“Gah!” Brett cried, the control lever snapping off in his hand, “No matter how well I roll on my piloting die, we just keep heading towards that conspicuous white building over there!”
CRASH!
In a bone-jarring collision, the zeppelin crashes down on the President’s lawn! Miraculously it does not explode! Four men and an ape stagger from the twisted wreckage. Humourless men in suits boil from the White House, accompanied by President Franklin D. Roosevelt himself! He raises his presidential hand and salutes the heroes, even though there is no conceivable way for him to know that they are the good guys. I mean, they just crashed a blimp into his garden. He has to be pissed about that, right? Or at least a bit suspicious? Apparently not! This is Pulp after all, it doesn’t have to make sense!
To be continued… in Chaos in Crete!
