[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]The Aliens commeth [Bee, Carbine; Open]
Oct 3, 2017 3:43:30 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 3, 2017 3:43:30 GMT -5
Episode 2.5
Week 1 - Day 2
24 hours of sanity remain
My Oh-my. You'd think after twenty years of the Louisiana sun, 3 years of Mesopotamian heat, one would be used to the soup. Nope! Odessa was sitting sweating his bum off in a lawn chair staring at some jumbled mismatched hunk of metallic junk. He had many sweat-stained rags on the table around him, the ground, and a table beside him. This was a device that had been giving him a hell of a ride for the past few months. This had been a pet project of unfathomable proportions and here he was just staring at the damn thing. Some people say a look can be worth a thousand words, and all of them were “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”.
"You gon' get an aneurysm Odi." Odessa didn’t respond. The voice was from a familiar being that had plagued him for years now. A man had walked out to him, popping open a tiny fridge with one hand, grabbing two beers with the other. He’d move over between Odessa and his machination to place one beer on top the small table. With a now free hand, he took up some of the papers that littered it. A metric fuck-ton of math. He put the papers back down on the table with a “How about no, ya crazy cajun bastard.” “Why you dealing out of a junkyard and pawn-shop if you can do this? Shouldn’t you be making rockets by hand at N.A.S.A?” He popped his bear, Odessa’s, then took to a seat beside him. He took looked down into the lovecraftian horror Odessa was trying to accomplish. There was no telling where one piece ended and another began, but what was clear was that one end was a base that curved into what looked like a barrel.
“Yeah, I get it to man. This is a pain in the ass. You think you gonna get it working anytime soon?” Odessa remained quiet yet again. Undaunted in his stare. Unmoved from this depression of material hell. “A month huh? What’chu gonna do if it's still not working?”
…
…
…
“Why remake it? Why not give up? This trash ain’t been workin on you for months man. You hardheaded as fuck. You need to get a girl man. You need someone to cook for you, clean you off at night…” The man cheekily started reaching across their distance, with one finger trying to infiltrate Odessa’s nostril. “The touch of a woman.” He coo’d. That was the proper motivator, let's go digging for gold in your boss's nose. Of course, Odessa spazzed out in his chair. Damn near punching his arm off.
“What the shit DeSean?”
He uprooted in a guffaw of laughter. “That got’cha outta’ it!”
Odessa leaned his face into his palms, pulling back his face to strip away the day's stress.
“What chu even working on anyway? Some type’a death ray?”
“Close.”
“Hey fuckboys!” Came a dmonic shriek from the pawn-shop. It was an older woman who hung out the the pawnshop’s exit with extra strong marlboro you could smell a state away. Odessa and DeSean turned to acknowledge her in as minimal a manner as possible.
“Yes, Satan?” Odessa rebutled.
“Thirty minutes to close. No ones in store. I got bingo tonight. I’m gonna go. Gonna’ be late.”
“Couldn’t be able to stop you anyway, Merideth.” She turned back into the store before reemerging once more.
“Odessa!”
“....................................Yeap?”
“Fuck you.” Well that was a long pause. What a nice and interesting relationship with the employees. Odessa finally took up the condensing beer for a quick swig.
“Oh goddammit!” He screeched. Yanking up his notes from the table, some that were ruined by condensation. “Goddammit DeSean, what the shit?! Fuckin-! Setting me back, who knows how long. This thing is already killing me. Thanks for killing me more!” trying his might at clearing the water and only happening to panic-smear it more.
“Hey man! I put the beer down, you coulda moved it. Theres no space on your tables, your doublewide, everything is math. I’ma get a Ph.D. just working here off you. Why do you do it anyway if it’s this much pain?”
“Because I know I can make it work! It can’t beat me! I will beat it! I made you I will unmake you!I was paid to make things like you!” He howled, rising to kick the machine. “Oh my baby, I’m so sorry!” One moment abusing dad then realizing his mistake and turning a one-eighty to doting dad. Combing over the shell and chassis for any damage. No, nothing, at least he made it sturdy. This was a rather large machine after all larger than any normal man. He returned to his chair. Slouching down into it in overwhelmed emotion. Raising the beer to his head for any sort of soothing feeling.
“How far you got it along?”
“Ugh… pretty good. I’m having trouble just stabilizing the internal ion circulation for geoflu-.” He rose again from the chair Interrupted.
“Ok, stop. I don't wanna know. You finish that sentence and tomorrow I’ma get a call from the deans of staff at L.S.U. to come defend a thesis I didn’t write.”
The tears of struggle were real. Almost ready to enter the good old cycle of metal breakdown and assuming the fetal position before hitting the problem again, in jest of course, he doesn't actually enter the fetal position and cry himself to sleep… anymore.
“Oh c’mon, you could stand to learn something! Look, I can teach you Calculus in under thirty minutes and you can leave! C’mon it’ll be fun!”
DeSean rose from to his feet in a matter of NopeNopeNope as he was childishly and slowly chased around the area as Odessa held out his notes like a pointed knife.
“Aww hell naw man, you get that demon magic away from me!”
“It doesn’t bite hard!” Odessa said playfully jabbing out his notes like a spear. ”Math ain’t hard, it's like a language! I mean… a really bitch of a language but…”
“I shoulda stayed in church like Momma said!” he made break for the pawn-shop. It was all in good jest though. Ducking into the doorway. “You get that way from me. I’ve still got eight-thousand in student loans man.”
Odessa put his notes down, content with tormenting the guy. Going over to grab a few tools to see if there was anything else he could do to help with today's work. Returning to his machine, he flipped a few switching and an ignition switch brought the machine to life. DeSean came near without Odessa to weaponize his maths. Odessa began a long list of troubleshooting through his brain. Mentally checking calculations, making sure parts were properly connected. Damn, everything seemed correct. He went to a cannister of some gas, releasing the value to load into the chamber. Priming and… fire!
A build up of large energy, a whirling of noises, electrical static filling the air, and the payout equivalent of a wet fart. Daaaaaaaaammmmmmiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttt. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? At the very least he was onto the right approach. The coils were receiving power, cycling the gas into plasmatic matter, and not correctly maintaining itself.
“Is it supposed to supposed to sound like a fart?”
“It doesn’t sound like a fart!” Odessa lashed out, no one insults his baby! He went back to his notes, there had to be something wrong. No… the calculus was right. Ok, took the right derivative. Maybe… maybe there. He set the notes back onto the table and rushed off with a wrench and screwdriver. DeSean followed Odessa on a trek through the junkyard as Odessa went to try to find any working piece to fit his designs. After all that's why he chose to own a junkyard rather than working for N.A.S.A. at three-hundred-K a year anyway. Here he had freedom to create and a buttload of useable parts. His trek brought him all across the yard, until one little glint caught his eyes. He was pulling apart a car that looked nothing like normal.
“The shit is this?”
“Dunno man, some guy brought it in and it looks in good condition, so I used the chart you gave me to buy it from him.”
This ‘machine’ looked quite odd. It was a vehicle by the looks of it but its parts were not in any normal place that they should’ve been. Still, he started cannibalizing the parts. Odd, lighter than they should be too. What the hell is this? These parts don't look like their as damaged as they should be. This had to be german craftsmanship, what? Odessa could only study them in confusion, but nonetheless returned to his machine with an armful of parts.
“Well man, look. Just because you don't have a girl doesn’t mean I don't need to not have one. So…. me and my girl had this thing tonight and I know that ? You mind if I go, I’m gonna be late too so I mean.”
“Yeah yeah. Whatever man, see you tomorrow. Just go lock up.” Another test fire and same results. Nothing. He went to his notes to look them over.
“You sure thats ok? I mean I know how you get and you call and yell at me when I try to leave early.”
Odessa studied his notes, moving from page to page, then the smudged one. Struggling to make out his numbers he even came to flipping the page, turning it, reversing, dammit DeSea-wait. Wait, Wait, Wait, Odessa took out another sheet, scrambling down numbers in a continuation from what he saw in the smudge - all across the page until the damn thing was full in an instant. Pure Inspiration gripped his soul as the pencil whisked across the page.
“Thats it! DeSean you genius.” Odessa grabbed at DeSean, making kissing noises and at the very least putting on a convincing act that brokisses were in is foreseeable future.
“Man, stop thats weird! Lemmie go!” DeSean resisted to fair degree. Able to get a word in while broken away from Odessa. “Can I go or not?!”
“Yeah, get the hell out of here.”
Odessa took to the machine with renewed vigor. Adding the new parts, changing around certain paths to the piping, rushing off to get another canister of some gas. Test fire! Damn still nothing, but progress! The plasmatic flame reached out farther than it had in weeks. More tweaking, more changing, change the coils, add more of those strange parts. Fire! More! Progress!
He continued on and on for another hour, before wheeling the large cannon out into a testing area that was littered with scorch marks and bullet casing all over the area. In front of the canon was a target of a sedan and a school buss behind that.
“Here we go baby. Hold onto ya butts.”
Another press.
Whirring, static, the smell of burning metals, a blast.
A large ball of roiling plasma erupted from the barrel in magnificent fashion. Firing off to bring hell unto its target. Melting the car without any sort of resistance, the buss didn’t prove much tougher, and finally some large steel plates behind that were as if paper. Anything in this bolt’s path was going to meet hell.
Week 1 - Day 2
24 hours of sanity remain
My Oh-my. You'd think after twenty years of the Louisiana sun, 3 years of Mesopotamian heat, one would be used to the soup. Nope! Odessa was sitting sweating his bum off in a lawn chair staring at some jumbled mismatched hunk of metallic junk. He had many sweat-stained rags on the table around him, the ground, and a table beside him. This was a device that had been giving him a hell of a ride for the past few months. This had been a pet project of unfathomable proportions and here he was just staring at the damn thing. Some people say a look can be worth a thousand words, and all of them were “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH”.
"You gon' get an aneurysm Odi." Odessa didn’t respond. The voice was from a familiar being that had plagued him for years now. A man had walked out to him, popping open a tiny fridge with one hand, grabbing two beers with the other. He’d move over between Odessa and his machination to place one beer on top the small table. With a now free hand, he took up some of the papers that littered it. A metric fuck-ton of math. He put the papers back down on the table with a “How about no, ya crazy cajun bastard.” “Why you dealing out of a junkyard and pawn-shop if you can do this? Shouldn’t you be making rockets by hand at N.A.S.A?” He popped his bear, Odessa’s, then took to a seat beside him. He took looked down into the lovecraftian horror Odessa was trying to accomplish. There was no telling where one piece ended and another began, but what was clear was that one end was a base that curved into what looked like a barrel.
“Yeah, I get it to man. This is a pain in the ass. You think you gonna get it working anytime soon?” Odessa remained quiet yet again. Undaunted in his stare. Unmoved from this depression of material hell. “A month huh? What’chu gonna do if it's still not working?”
…
…
…
“Why remake it? Why not give up? This trash ain’t been workin on you for months man. You hardheaded as fuck. You need to get a girl man. You need someone to cook for you, clean you off at night…” The man cheekily started reaching across their distance, with one finger trying to infiltrate Odessa’s nostril. “The touch of a woman.” He coo’d. That was the proper motivator, let's go digging for gold in your boss's nose. Of course, Odessa spazzed out in his chair. Damn near punching his arm off.
“What the shit DeSean?”
He uprooted in a guffaw of laughter. “That got’cha outta’ it!”
Odessa leaned his face into his palms, pulling back his face to strip away the day's stress.
“What chu even working on anyway? Some type’a death ray?”
“Close.”
“Hey fuckboys!” Came a dmonic shriek from the pawn-shop. It was an older woman who hung out the the pawnshop’s exit with extra strong marlboro you could smell a state away. Odessa and DeSean turned to acknowledge her in as minimal a manner as possible.
“Yes, Satan?” Odessa rebutled.
“Thirty minutes to close. No ones in store. I got bingo tonight. I’m gonna go. Gonna’ be late.”
“Couldn’t be able to stop you anyway, Merideth.” She turned back into the store before reemerging once more.
“Odessa!”
“....................................Yeap?”
“Fuck you.” Well that was a long pause. What a nice and interesting relationship with the employees. Odessa finally took up the condensing beer for a quick swig.
“Oh goddammit!” He screeched. Yanking up his notes from the table, some that were ruined by condensation. “Goddammit DeSean, what the shit?! Fuckin-! Setting me back, who knows how long. This thing is already killing me. Thanks for killing me more!” trying his might at clearing the water and only happening to panic-smear it more.
“Hey man! I put the beer down, you coulda moved it. Theres no space on your tables, your doublewide, everything is math. I’ma get a Ph.D. just working here off you. Why do you do it anyway if it’s this much pain?”
“Because I know I can make it work! It can’t beat me! I will beat it! I made you I will unmake you!I was paid to make things like you!” He howled, rising to kick the machine. “Oh my baby, I’m so sorry!” One moment abusing dad then realizing his mistake and turning a one-eighty to doting dad. Combing over the shell and chassis for any damage. No, nothing, at least he made it sturdy. This was a rather large machine after all larger than any normal man. He returned to his chair. Slouching down into it in overwhelmed emotion. Raising the beer to his head for any sort of soothing feeling.
“How far you got it along?”
“Ugh… pretty good. I’m having trouble just stabilizing the internal ion circulation for geoflu-.” He rose again from the chair Interrupted.
“Ok, stop. I don't wanna know. You finish that sentence and tomorrow I’ma get a call from the deans of staff at L.S.U. to come defend a thesis I didn’t write.”
The tears of struggle were real. Almost ready to enter the good old cycle of metal breakdown and assuming the fetal position before hitting the problem again, in jest of course, he doesn't actually enter the fetal position and cry himself to sleep… anymore.
“Oh c’mon, you could stand to learn something! Look, I can teach you Calculus in under thirty minutes and you can leave! C’mon it’ll be fun!”
DeSean rose from to his feet in a matter of NopeNopeNope as he was childishly and slowly chased around the area as Odessa held out his notes like a pointed knife.
“Aww hell naw man, you get that demon magic away from me!”
“It doesn’t bite hard!” Odessa said playfully jabbing out his notes like a spear. ”Math ain’t hard, it's like a language! I mean… a really bitch of a language but…”
“I shoulda stayed in church like Momma said!” he made break for the pawn-shop. It was all in good jest though. Ducking into the doorway. “You get that way from me. I’ve still got eight-thousand in student loans man.”
Odessa put his notes down, content with tormenting the guy. Going over to grab a few tools to see if there was anything else he could do to help with today's work. Returning to his machine, he flipped a few switching and an ignition switch brought the machine to life. DeSean came near without Odessa to weaponize his maths. Odessa began a long list of troubleshooting through his brain. Mentally checking calculations, making sure parts were properly connected. Damn, everything seemed correct. He went to a cannister of some gas, releasing the value to load into the chamber. Priming and… fire!
A build up of large energy, a whirling of noises, electrical static filling the air, and the payout equivalent of a wet fart. Daaaaaaaaammmmmmiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttttttt. Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? At the very least he was onto the right approach. The coils were receiving power, cycling the gas into plasmatic matter, and not correctly maintaining itself.
“Is it supposed to supposed to sound like a fart?”
“It doesn’t sound like a fart!” Odessa lashed out, no one insults his baby! He went back to his notes, there had to be something wrong. No… the calculus was right. Ok, took the right derivative. Maybe… maybe there. He set the notes back onto the table and rushed off with a wrench and screwdriver. DeSean followed Odessa on a trek through the junkyard as Odessa went to try to find any working piece to fit his designs. After all that's why he chose to own a junkyard rather than working for N.A.S.A. at three-hundred-K a year anyway. Here he had freedom to create and a buttload of useable parts. His trek brought him all across the yard, until one little glint caught his eyes. He was pulling apart a car that looked nothing like normal.
“The shit is this?”
“Dunno man, some guy brought it in and it looks in good condition, so I used the chart you gave me to buy it from him.”
This ‘machine’ looked quite odd. It was a vehicle by the looks of it but its parts were not in any normal place that they should’ve been. Still, he started cannibalizing the parts. Odd, lighter than they should be too. What the hell is this? These parts don't look like their as damaged as they should be. This had to be german craftsmanship, what? Odessa could only study them in confusion, but nonetheless returned to his machine with an armful of parts.
“Well man, look. Just because you don't have a girl doesn’t mean I don't need to not have one. So…. me and my girl had this thing tonight and I know that ? You mind if I go, I’m gonna be late too so I mean.”
“Yeah yeah. Whatever man, see you tomorrow. Just go lock up.” Another test fire and same results. Nothing. He went to his notes to look them over.
“You sure thats ok? I mean I know how you get and you call and yell at me when I try to leave early.”
Odessa studied his notes, moving from page to page, then the smudged one. Struggling to make out his numbers he even came to flipping the page, turning it, reversing, dammit DeSea-wait. Wait, Wait, Wait, Odessa took out another sheet, scrambling down numbers in a continuation from what he saw in the smudge - all across the page until the damn thing was full in an instant. Pure Inspiration gripped his soul as the pencil whisked across the page.
“Thats it! DeSean you genius.” Odessa grabbed at DeSean, making kissing noises and at the very least putting on a convincing act that brokisses were in is foreseeable future.
“Man, stop thats weird! Lemmie go!” DeSean resisted to fair degree. Able to get a word in while broken away from Odessa. “Can I go or not?!”
“Yeah, get the hell out of here.”
Odessa took to the machine with renewed vigor. Adding the new parts, changing around certain paths to the piping, rushing off to get another canister of some gas. Test fire! Damn still nothing, but progress! The plasmatic flame reached out farther than it had in weeks. More tweaking, more changing, change the coils, add more of those strange parts. Fire! More! Progress!
He continued on and on for another hour, before wheeling the large cannon out into a testing area that was littered with scorch marks and bullet casing all over the area. In front of the canon was a target of a sedan and a school buss behind that.
“Here we go baby. Hold onto ya butts.”
Another press.
Whirring, static, the smell of burning metals, a blast.
A large ball of roiling plasma erupted from the barrel in magnificent fashion. Firing off to bring hell unto its target. Melting the car without any sort of resistance, the buss didn’t prove much tougher, and finally some large steel plates behind that were as if paper. Anything in this bolt’s path was going to meet hell.