(Untitled)

[ajrimmer_ssc]

WHO: Rimmer Mr. Flibble and OPEN. Tag yourselves in.
WHERE: Financial District.
WHEN: Saturday 27/2 and Sunday 28/2
WARNINGS: Fighty fighty snickety snack.
SUMMARY: With only 48 hours left to save Rimmer's life, certain people better get their smegging arses in gear to try and stop him and shut down his light bee.
FORMAT: Whichever works!

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Saturday, 27 February, 2010 :: Open to all.

[ajrimmer_ssc]

[ajrimmer_ssc]

The shot left a large dent and scorch mark right in the middle of the bull's forehead, making it look like something right out of a Tex Avery cartoon. It clanged to a stop and then keeled over with a loud "KLONG!"

And Rimmer hovered up over the now-scattered crowd. He registered this new intruder, with his shiny gun and ridiculous nose, and scowled.

"You cannot go to the moon yet, you haven't got the proper flight path registered! Fill out the form in triplicate and try again next Wednesday week!" he demanded, pointing a finger at Usopp. There was your warning. Clear out or get zapped.

Sunday, 28 Februrary, 2010 :: Closed to Lister and Rimmer.

[ajrimmer_ssc]

[ajrimmer_ssc]

In the centre of the rubble were the twisted remnants of that bull statue, about fifty or sixty scattered briefcases, hundreds of spent shell casings (not one of which nicked his light bee, miraculously enough), and several uprooted decorative cherry blossom trees.

And that telltale flash of gingham.

Rimmer was curled in on himself, clutching at his head, entire body trembling with the effort of keeping himself in existence. The clock was ticking. He had less than twenty-four hours operational lifespan left to him. After that, the virus was going to burn through his bee entirely and reduce it to cinders.

Even while he was totally insane, he knew this, as Dr. Lanstrom had known it and put herself into stasis to try and preserve her run time. He knew he was dying and could not stop it.