{ Code Cherry Pie }
[As Redd orders his crew to throw themselves to whatever fate awaits them in that evil red fog, he holds his breath, eyes bright and wide.
Curling around in much the same way it did for the other creatures it had been offered, the mass pulsates, but more excitedly this time, swelling and gorging itself on the sacrifices. Bones snap and blood squelches over tortured screams in a horrible cacophony of murder.
Redd raises his arms to the heavens and throws his head back.]
NOW! FIRE!
[As the multitude of passenger weapons fire against the End, something strange happens. The hissing, gaping holes caused by the ammunition are wider, deeper. They smoke more and the mass seems to rumble and twist in pain -- if it even feels pain at all -- but it doesn't defend itself.
A few moments later it whirls and spins in a frenzy of anger, then curls its entire mass into one compact, swirling red flurry. Whipping around itself to force the air into a sound much like a shriek of rage, it dives towards Redd and sharpens itself into an enormous, ephemeral blade. A flash of red, and blood splashes against the top deck. Redd drops to one knee, clutching his side, blood pouring from between his fingers as the Heron stands over him protectively, clacking her beak and flapping her wings, one of which is now missing a large chunk from the tip.
Redd's teeth bare in a laugh, and his eyes are wild and crazy as he fixes his gaze on the swirling mass which now expands and contracts questioningly. It spreads itself tall and wide, but seems to hit some kind of invisible wall around the ship itself, a shimmering force field that wasn't there before. Something rings through the minds of everyone on board -- not quite a voice, but an innate understanding of some projected idea.]
You will not survive. The longer you prolong your demise, the more my hunger grows.
[Lurching to his feet, Redd grins maniacally.]
We'll all die here. But even if we do, you won't get away. You're trapped here, just like the rest of us.
[Compressing once more into a small, solid ball no larger than a truck, the mass suddenly vibrates and melts away from view. In its place is that person. That person. You know the one. The one person your character loves and respects more than anyone else in the world. That person they fight for, the one they think of, the one they worry about. And that person is looking right at them with frightened, mournful eyes, a look of shock and disbelief. It is that person, such a perfect replica that it is impossible to see any kind of flaw.
It ... might be a trick, right? Just an illusion.
But the person next to them is cocking their gun. There's a look of determination in their eyes.
Wait, are they aiming at that loved one, or another innocent? What are they doing, firing on their own side; have they gone crazy? And it's not just them, everyone can feel it. That edge of paranoia, that fear. Distrust. Anger. Head-spinning nausea and the realization that it's every passenger for themselves.
Someone fires the first shot.]
Curling around in much the same way it did for the other creatures it had been offered, the mass pulsates, but more excitedly this time, swelling and gorging itself on the sacrifices. Bones snap and blood squelches over tortured screams in a horrible cacophony of murder.
Redd raises his arms to the heavens and throws his head back.]
NOW! FIRE!
[As the multitude of passenger weapons fire against the End, something strange happens. The hissing, gaping holes caused by the ammunition are wider, deeper. They smoke more and the mass seems to rumble and twist in pain -- if it even feels pain at all -- but it doesn't defend itself.
A few moments later it whirls and spins in a frenzy of anger, then curls its entire mass into one compact, swirling red flurry. Whipping around itself to force the air into a sound much like a shriek of rage, it dives towards Redd and sharpens itself into an enormous, ephemeral blade. A flash of red, and blood splashes against the top deck. Redd drops to one knee, clutching his side, blood pouring from between his fingers as the Heron stands over him protectively, clacking her beak and flapping her wings, one of which is now missing a large chunk from the tip.
Redd's teeth bare in a laugh, and his eyes are wild and crazy as he fixes his gaze on the swirling mass which now expands and contracts questioningly. It spreads itself tall and wide, but seems to hit some kind of invisible wall around the ship itself, a shimmering force field that wasn't there before. Something rings through the minds of everyone on board -- not quite a voice, but an innate understanding of some projected idea.]
You will not survive. The longer you prolong your demise, the more my hunger grows.
[Lurching to his feet, Redd grins maniacally.]
We'll all die here. But even if we do, you won't get away. You're trapped here, just like the rest of us.
[Compressing once more into a small, solid ball no larger than a truck, the mass suddenly vibrates and melts away from view. In its place is that person. That person. You know the one. The one person your character loves and respects more than anyone else in the world. That person they fight for, the one they think of, the one they worry about. And that person is looking right at them with frightened, mournful eyes, a look of shock and disbelief. It is that person, such a perfect replica that it is impossible to see any kind of flaw.
It ... might be a trick, right? Just an illusion.
But the person next to them is cocking their gun. There's a look of determination in their eyes.
Wait, are they aiming at that loved one, or another innocent? What are they doing, firing on their own side; have they gone crazy? And it's not just them, everyone can feel it. That edge of paranoia, that fear. Distrust. Anger. Head-spinning nausea and the realization that it's every passenger for themselves.
Someone fires the first shot.]