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X-PATH 3 : The Soviet of Dreams (completed 27 November 2006)
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<blockquote data-quote="Capellan" data-source="post: 3018876" data-attributes="member: 6294"><p><strong>Chapter One : Fun at the Fair</strong></p><p></p><p>The streets of Brindinford were thronged with people talking, laughing, trading and generally enjoying the carnival atmosphere of the massive fair that sprawled across half the city.</p><p></p><p>Floyd Anderson was not feeling the fun.</p><p></p><p>"It's not <em>Cherry Coke</em>."</p><p></p><p>"It tastes the same. Better!" Ms. Josephine Coltraine insisted, thrusting the can of <em>Panda Cola Cherry</em> at him once more.</p><p></p><p>"No. It doesn't."</p><p></p><p>"Look, just hold it so the cameras will pick it up when they come past. No, this way. We need to see the label."</p><p></p><p>"Are you sure the Church agreed to this?" Floyd asked, viewing the can with the distaste he usually reserved for <em>Beatles </em>LPs.</p><p></p><p>"Yes. It's all in the marketing contract in 6-point black and white."</p><p></p><p>Screams rent the air.</p><p></p><p>"Now what?" Coltraine flipped her expensively permed black hair with an irritated moue that she'd obviously practiced in front of the mirror.</p><p></p><p>Joseph Isaiah Smith, perhaps glad of the interruption, pushed aside a street vendor who was craning his neck for a look, and leapt atop the man's cart of pumpkins. Despite the mass of a newly-acquired M60 machinegun slung over his shoulder, the powerful Mormon easily vaulted onto the wooden platform.</p><p></p><p>"Some kind of disturbance." He shaded his eyes to see more clearly, and his usually impassive face grew ashen. "Rats!"</p><p></p><p>In his X-Path career, Smith had fought goblins, orcs, troglodytes, dragons, and all manner of other foul beasts. None had laid him low so often: and so emphatically, as black-furred, three foot long rodents.</p><p></p><p><em><strong>BADDA BADDA BADDA BADDA BADDA.</strong></em> The M60 was in Smith's hands and barking its staccato fusillade before anyone could react. A young woman (doubtless a painted doxy or common trollop, if the city encounter tables are to be believed) flailed and died as she was caught in the burst. The rat that was Smith's target squealed in rage as its tail was blown off, but otherwise emerged unscathed.</p><p></p><p>Emerging from the bedlam came five dire rats, their slavering jaws all eager for Smith's flesh, or so it seemed to the quailing Mormon. The three rat-like humanoids behind them barely registered in his consciousness. What one of them barked to the others, however, certainly got everyone else's attention: if not for the words, then for the tongue in which they were spoken.</p><p></p><p>"Boris! Sergei! Kill those interfering fools!"</p><p></p><p><strong><em>Commies.</em></strong></p><p></p><p></p><p>* * * * *</p><p></p><p></p><p>Bedlam ensued.</p><p></p><p>Simon leapt atop another street cart, looking for a clear view of the enemy. Behind him, Floyd examined the jump needed to make it onto the cart and settled for simply levering his rotund, sequined body atop it.</p><p></p><p>"Dude!" Simon danced a jig as his end of the cart rose six inches into the air, "Maybe you should cut back on the cheeseburgers!"</p><p></p><p>Ignoring this blasphemy, Floyd unslung his shotgun and blasted one of the onrushing rat-men. The spray of buckshot severed the creature at the neck. Its body tumbled backwards while its surprised-looking head landed in a nearby flower stall.</p><p></p><p>"Nyah!" Smith unleashed another burst of fire at the tailless rat that was bearing down on him. Somehow the creature ran untouched through the hail of bullets, disappearing under the cart on which the Mormon stood. "Get it! Get it!"</p><p></p><p>"Oh for crying out loud." Ms. Coltraine sniffed. Vaulting onto the cart alongside Smith, she kicked an onrushing ratman in the face with her stiletto heel. The creature recoiled a little with a hiss of annoyance, but did not seem hurt. Coltraine frowned at the lack of damage. "Wererats! Where's Roy Rogers when you need him?"</p><p></p><p>"I'll put my faith in Smith & Wesson." Floyd opined, and gave the third wererat both barrels. The beast staggered, but then lunged through the cloud of cordite smoke to lance a rapier into the Elvisite's substantial belly. "Argh! You'll pay for that, son."</p><p></p><p>"Ninja!" Simon vaulted off the cart, blowing one of the dire rats in half as he somersaulted to his feet.</p><p></p><p>"And?" Coltraine shouted.</p><p></p><p>Simon rolled his eyes and struck a pose with both pistols crossed over his chest.</p><p></p><p>"<em>Panda Cola</em>: It puts a spring in my step." He sighed.</p><p></p><p>Previously unseen, a fourth wererat leapt out of the shadows and sank its blade deep into Floyd's chest. Fortunately, Floyd's vitals were very deep indeed, and the blow made him more angry than dead. </p><p></p><p>"May the King's <em>searin' spotlight</em> find y'all!" he cursed the beast. A blaze of light struck down from above, and smoke rose from the creature as its fur charred and skin blistered.</p><p></p><p>Smith's M60 hammered again, finally blasting one of the dire rats into a five-foot wide bloodstain, while Simon's pistols picked off a third.</p><p></p><p>"Fall back!" the most recent wererat arrival called to his compatriots. They obeyed his order, melting into what was left of the milling crowd. This wererat turned to follow them. As he moved, the light glinted off a red hammer and sickle dyed into his black fur.</p><p></p><p>"I don't think so, homes." Simon flipped a phosphorous grenade. White fire roared, and this particular Soviet was decollectivized.</p><p></p><p>Smith, to no-one's surprise, blew another rat into a gooey mess.</p><p></p><p>"Is that all of them?" he panted.</p><p></p><p>As if in answer, a furry body streaked onto the top of the cart and latched its teeth deep into his ankle.</p><p></p><p>"Argh! Get it off! Get it off!"</p><p></p><p>Coltraine slammed her heel down over the little beast's neck, then sharply twisted her foot.</p><p></p><p><em>Snap</em>.</p><p></p><p>"<em>That's</em> all of them."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Capellan, post: 3018876, member: 6294"] [b]Chapter One : Fun at the Fair[/b] The streets of Brindinford were thronged with people talking, laughing, trading and generally enjoying the carnival atmosphere of the massive fair that sprawled across half the city. Floyd Anderson was not feeling the fun. "It's not [I]Cherry Coke[/I]." "It tastes the same. Better!" Ms. Josephine Coltraine insisted, thrusting the can of [I]Panda Cola Cherry[/I] at him once more. "No. It doesn't." "Look, just hold it so the cameras will pick it up when they come past. No, this way. We need to see the label." "Are you sure the Church agreed to this?" Floyd asked, viewing the can with the distaste he usually reserved for [I]Beatles [/I]LPs. "Yes. It's all in the marketing contract in 6-point black and white." Screams rent the air. "Now what?" Coltraine flipped her expensively permed black hair with an irritated moue that she'd obviously practiced in front of the mirror. Joseph Isaiah Smith, perhaps glad of the interruption, pushed aside a street vendor who was craning his neck for a look, and leapt atop the man's cart of pumpkins. Despite the mass of a newly-acquired M60 machinegun slung over his shoulder, the powerful Mormon easily vaulted onto the wooden platform. "Some kind of disturbance." He shaded his eyes to see more clearly, and his usually impassive face grew ashen. "Rats!" In his X-Path career, Smith had fought goblins, orcs, troglodytes, dragons, and all manner of other foul beasts. None had laid him low so often: and so emphatically, as black-furred, three foot long rodents. [I][B]BADDA BADDA BADDA BADDA BADDA.[/B][/I] The M60 was in Smith's hands and barking its staccato fusillade before anyone could react. A young woman (doubtless a painted doxy or common trollop, if the city encounter tables are to be believed) flailed and died as she was caught in the burst. The rat that was Smith's target squealed in rage as its tail was blown off, but otherwise emerged unscathed. Emerging from the bedlam came five dire rats, their slavering jaws all eager for Smith's flesh, or so it seemed to the quailing Mormon. The three rat-like humanoids behind them barely registered in his consciousness. What one of them barked to the others, however, certainly got everyone else's attention: if not for the words, then for the tongue in which they were spoken. "Boris! Sergei! Kill those interfering fools!" [B][I]Commies.[/I][/B] * * * * * Bedlam ensued. Simon leapt atop another street cart, looking for a clear view of the enemy. Behind him, Floyd examined the jump needed to make it onto the cart and settled for simply levering his rotund, sequined body atop it. "Dude!" Simon danced a jig as his end of the cart rose six inches into the air, "Maybe you should cut back on the cheeseburgers!" Ignoring this blasphemy, Floyd unslung his shotgun and blasted one of the onrushing rat-men. The spray of buckshot severed the creature at the neck. Its body tumbled backwards while its surprised-looking head landed in a nearby flower stall. "Nyah!" Smith unleashed another burst of fire at the tailless rat that was bearing down on him. Somehow the creature ran untouched through the hail of bullets, disappearing under the cart on which the Mormon stood. "Get it! Get it!" "Oh for crying out loud." Ms. Coltraine sniffed. Vaulting onto the cart alongside Smith, she kicked an onrushing ratman in the face with her stiletto heel. The creature recoiled a little with a hiss of annoyance, but did not seem hurt. Coltraine frowned at the lack of damage. "Wererats! Where's Roy Rogers when you need him?" "I'll put my faith in Smith & Wesson." Floyd opined, and gave the third wererat both barrels. The beast staggered, but then lunged through the cloud of cordite smoke to lance a rapier into the Elvisite's substantial belly. "Argh! You'll pay for that, son." "Ninja!" Simon vaulted off the cart, blowing one of the dire rats in half as he somersaulted to his feet. "And?" Coltraine shouted. Simon rolled his eyes and struck a pose with both pistols crossed over his chest. "[I]Panda Cola[/I]: It puts a spring in my step." He sighed. Previously unseen, a fourth wererat leapt out of the shadows and sank its blade deep into Floyd's chest. Fortunately, Floyd's vitals were very deep indeed, and the blow made him more angry than dead. "May the King's [I]searin' spotlight[/I] find y'all!" he cursed the beast. A blaze of light struck down from above, and smoke rose from the creature as its fur charred and skin blistered. Smith's M60 hammered again, finally blasting one of the dire rats into a five-foot wide bloodstain, while Simon's pistols picked off a third. "Fall back!" the most recent wererat arrival called to his compatriots. They obeyed his order, melting into what was left of the milling crowd. This wererat turned to follow them. As he moved, the light glinted off a red hammer and sickle dyed into his black fur. "I don't think so, homes." Simon flipped a phosphorous grenade. White fire roared, and this particular Soviet was decollectivized. Smith, to no-one's surprise, blew another rat into a gooey mess. "Is that all of them?" he panted. As if in answer, a furry body streaked onto the top of the cart and latched its teeth deep into his ankle. "Argh! Get it off! Get it off!" Coltraine slammed her heel down over the little beast's neck, then sharply twisted her foot. [I]Snap[/I]. "[I]That's[/I] all of them." [/QUOTE]
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X-PATH 3 : The Soviet of Dreams (completed 27 November 2006)
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