Sang Sacré
The fictional Buffista City. With a variety of neighborhoods, climates, and an Evil Genius or two, Sang Sacre is where we'd all live if it were real. Jump in -- find a neighborhood, start a parade, become a superhero. It's what you make it.
History. Map.
I have enough stuff for one more bomb, so I decide to use it well. I can't think of a better target than the HQ of the paper that just referred to me as a "Mad Bomber".
I've got it down to less than 10 seconds now. Bottle, match sling. I watch the bottle arc in a glorious curve towards the bland, brick building. It glitters in the sun as it spins. I am overwhelmed with a feeling of calm and satisfaction at a job well done.
Also - a stabbing pain in my chest. What's happening? Oh, fu. . .
(Psst, elaris, if you're going to use the <i> tag to start every line, you need to use a </i> tag at the end of every line...)
Ah! Sorry, DX. The original post had just one
t i
at the beginning and one
t /i
at the end, but when I pressed the post button, it looked like only the first line was italicized. I figured there was some auto-closing going on, but I guess I was confused.
t disturbing in the middle of the story
I don't have nearly enough of that English thing to become a citizen of Sang Sacre, but it doesn't damage in any way my enjoyment of reading and lurking. It's a great thread to catch up on, even for a non-participant. That is all. You may return to your regularly scheduled world.
t /disturbing
Ack. Head rush. I feel a popping in my ears and a wave of dizziness. It lasts only a second, and I'm better. Much better. Stronger, snarkier, more complete. Ahhhh.
I turn to Miracleman who is about to moon his own mirror.
"Hey. Who in hell is Aeshma?"
(Hi, Nilly!)
These folks who are born with magic and never get any decent training really annoy me sometimes. Letting the Jell-O zombie go before I had a chance to interrogate it? That's practically unforgiveable.
However, what's done is done, and with luck I can catch it again. And Penny is onto one good thing: who is Aeshma?
I look at Miracleman, waiting for an answer. I feel lighter somehow, but I dismiss it as the effect of vomiting so hard.
Hah! I have escaped Am-Chau's pocket (don't you just hate people who store
everything
in thier pockets? I can see why Gollum hated Bilbo). I straighten my skirt, lift my chin, and slip behind the sofa. Soon, soon, someone will open the door and I will be able to start my mission.
I have to find my master, Clovis the Great Devil Bunny.
"Aeshma? Oh, he's uh...well, you see...he's a guy I had to imprison in the heart of a mountain for five hundred years. Slips my mind why..."
Obviously, I think, Aeshma's back and hot on revenge. I don't suppose I could recommend a therapist to him.
"Five hundred years? Gosh, I can't imagine what he's so cranky about. Is he after just you, or is he a free form mayhem kind of guy?"
"Good question, Penny. I'm not staying around if he's after you personally, Miracleman, old buddy- no point in dying senselessly even with you,"
insert patented twisted grin here
"but if he's free-form, I want to be with a few other magic workers."
I pat my pocket. I feel the need of a little comfort.