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Experimental Log

2 months ago

This is a thread where I'm going to collect some of my more storygame-worthy ideas for safekeeping (and to see if they're actually worth writing about). I should probably focus this energy on actually finishing current projects but I keep getting nagged by ideas. Oh well.

~

He drifted. The car drifted with him. Far to the side it flew. Right off the cliff; it flew. This time, it would be correct.

Target: 1990

Vision melted into words. Words melted into letters. Letters melted into air. Air melted into space. Space melted into time.

There was a thundering crash. Eugene rose with a startle. That sounded like it was on his property. Eugene reached into the nightstand and took out his Colt 1911. Trying to make something out through the blinds, he failed, so he inched off his bed and over to them. Pulling up the cheap, effective plastic blinds, he scanned the surrounding trees. Nothing could be seen, and his pupils shifted to the barn, dilating, sucking in light in an attempt to see the intruder. Suddenly, he saw a flash from inside the barn. Lights had been switched on, their harsh blueish white glow shining through every imperfection in the planks of wood.

Eugene hustled down the stairs, attempting to mix stealth and speed in such a perfect way that he managed to be both slow and loud. Right as he flung the front door open and stepped out, a car tore out of the barn's front gates, howled all the way to the rough asphalt highway, turning at a speed that would've thrown Eugene's truck into a ditch off the road a dozen times. Eugene fired his pistol, but the car was gone before he could wipe the picture it burned into his mind from his eyes. As he stared down the road, jaw lying inert on his clavicle, his brain finally processed what it had seen.

A car, so sleek it looked like a fighter jet, with gleaming headlights, vaguely resembling an alien pair of eyes, and wheels that seemed to be made of tank track (a stark contrast to the rest of the futuristic race car). Only as the last sounds of the engine more powerful than a nuclear bomb fizzled out, Eugene finished wrapping his head around the rest of the image. The car's coat of perfect black—standing out even against the midnight sky—was enveloped in a cloud of churning flames and roiling smoke.

Eugene went back to bed, only after unloading his gun into a distant target in the cornfield, with perfect precision, as always. That was clearly the biggest worry of his life from henceforth, and the conventions of warfare didn't seem to apply. Somehow, Eugene found the perfect's night rest after that. Any criminal within miles would probably be scared shitless by whatever this is.

He deployed the car's uncovert autocannon array. His old division would be here shortly. They would have to be mowed down, as always. Quite possibly the most painful part of this mission, and the most repeated.

Missiles tore the highway apart, several miles behind. He couldn't be tracked by radar. The microwaves emitted were simply too slow to get any sort of accurate reading. The whine of a minigun echoed across the flatlands, and was echoed within a second by dozens more of the identical, air-tearing cry.

He fired a returning volley from his autocannons. Each attack helicopter in pursuit was evaporated by thumb-size projectiles traveling at an uncanny velocity. Even the strike aircraft that had just taken off several counties away were reduced to nothingness. Quantum targeting systems were so far beyond state of the art that this model was still considered Version Negative 3. Several tank battalions at a Texas base were cracked open by violent and seemingly random ammunition explosions.

He proceeded. All ground targets for the timeframe of the mission had been neutralized. The vehicle beneath his form shrieked as it carved across concrete like a knife of diamond across a field of dough.

He arrived. The facility beneath rumbled across space and time, the only signature of its kind (at least here). He shredded down the ramp and erupted into the lobby. He sent quantum blades forth from their unseen holsters in the vehicle, and tore through every living creature within the room. Each researcher's heart exploded like nothing more than a balloon. The security guards suffered the same fate, falling over like game pieces swatted by a curious cat. All underground targets had been neutralized.

He continued through the building on his billowing beast of metals, both mundane and arcane. Down, into the first sub-basement. Further down, past every other sub-basement. All of these were full of nothing but grinding machines, edging humanity closer to extinction.

He thundered across the hall and flew into Its Container. The vessel ruptured, and the mission failed. He bounced off like a spear with no tip. The car sat as the world imploded and unimploded.

Light splashed against eyes, followed by water, and a lack of air. The car was sinking. The mission had failed. The cliffside had been destroyed in the process. The bubble had been burst once more.

He made no noise, for that would be fatal, and instead began guiding the car back to shore. Another cliffside would have to be discovered. All was lost, but not quite yet. He still had tricks up his sleeve.