Log in

No account? Create an account
February 2007   01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28
Ash on the train

I'm on a LazyTown kick. XP

Posted by numb3r_5ev3n on 2007.02.04 at 01:59
Current Location: Work
Current Music: Apoptygma Berzerk - Nonstop Violence
Tags: ,
TITLE: The DUEL Debacle.

GENRE CROSSOVER: Moorcock's Multiverse/LazyTown

DISCLAIMER: Lazytowners belong to Magnus Scheving. Michael Moorcock's characters may or may not appear to him and tell him their stories via Miss Una Persson and Colonel Oswald Bastable, as he has sometimes claimed. However, these characters can be said belong to him in strictly legal terms. ;) (Or is it the other way around...)

SPOILERS: Lazytown: everything up to the end of Season II. Moorcock: Everything up to the end of The White Wolf's Son.

SYNOPSIS: A tale about growing up in this often scary modern world, inspired by Apoptygma Berzerk's song Nonstop Violence. (Lyrics here.)


The íþróttaálfurinn #10, more commonly known to his friends as Sportacus, would never forget the day that Miss Brunner turned against the League and went rogue.

He and Colonel Oswald Bastable had been asked to scout out the defenses of a fortress that was reputed to be a staging ground for the dastardly Klosterheim and his corrupt confederate Prince Gaynor von Minct, neither of whom had been seen since their defeat at the hands of Monsieur Zodiac, Oona Von Bek, and certain other members of the League. Sportacus himself had not participated in that particular adventure, though Oswald had been along for a great deal of it.

Aside from his sidearm, Oswald was equipped with a military-issue titanium-reinforced laptop (a late-mark Ono-Sendai) with a wireless NIC and all of the latest cracking software, which he was using to penetrate the fortresses' online defenses as the two of them crouched behind a section of the fortress's massive outer barricade. Their mission: to obtain any information regarding the fortress's defenses, and the purpose for its existence.

As usual, Sportacus was armed with nothing but his wits his physical fortitude, and a bevy of sports equipment - and thus far, none one of these assets had ever failed him. He'd never needed anything else.

Oswald was gradually cutting the ice surrounding their target's network, but his work was going slowly.

"Don't worry, Number Ten. I should have this sorted in a moment," Oswald assured him as he punched the keys. Suddenly, Sportacus's attention was caught by movement, and a low, mechanical sound coming from above their heads. He blinked, nearly coming to a standing position as he spied what was certainly a hidden gun turret - which was now sliding into an open and armed position.

"Oswald...." Sportacus warned, as a barrel became visible within the tube.

"Only a moment more...I'm almost in," Oswald answered. A tap on the shoulder from Sportacus finally got the man's attention.

"Good Lord," he remarked, his eyes widening in fear as he spotted the danger.

Both men took off running - and not a moment too soon, as a jet of flame from the turret above them blackened the concrete where they'd both just been.

"Good God!" Oswald exclaimed as he looked back over his shoulder, seeing how close they'd come to being incinerated. He held the laptop in both hands as he ran. "My God," Oswald repeated, before glancing down at the laptop, which was still in a half-open position. "I'm still receiving their signal! I'm still in the system!" He proclaimed. "They're targeting us!"

Though he was phyically in good condition for his age, Oswald was nowhere near as fast a runner as Sportacus.

Oswald's not going to make it! Sportacus realized in mounting horror, as his friend slipped further behind.

Then, his crystal flashed. That decided him.

Sportacus doubled back behind Oswald, and without any further warning, he grabbed the taller man - hoisting all 165 pounds of confused, protesting Brit onto his back, laptop and all.

"Hold on, Oswald!" Sportacus shouted...and was nearly knocked off his feet as an incoming mortar strike slammed into the ground where Oswald had been mere seconds before.

Without another word, Sportacus raced away from the scene - as yet another rocket came down, missing them by only a few feet. Oswald had the laptop fully open, holding it balanced upon Sportacus's head as the íþróttaálfurinn's heels pounded the turf.

"I can still see them targeting us!" Oswald shouted. Then - "INCOMING! Head off to your left...YOUR OTHER LEFT, MAN!" Oswald shouted, as Sportacus zigged first to the right, before zagging off to the left in the nick of time, as yet another missile whizzed past them.


Previous Entry