Writing Challenge #3!

[Brian]

Evidently this is a type of scene I'm good at (at least, people tell me I am). >_>;;

So, relatively straightforward: Write an action scene.

Hard mode: Without making it a fight scene.

[Jason_Miao]

I'm the worst at scenes with action.  But since it's counterproductive to avoid writing exercises that focus on areas where you're unskilled, I suppose I'll try...


She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

It should have been perfect.  The last time should have been perfect.  For that matter, the first time should have been perfect.

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

They'd been at it all day.  Had events worked out, it could have done with in moments

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

Hundreds of times, for practice.  Four tries.  Four failures.  Four agonizing failures.  None of her doing, but failures just the same.

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

This wasn't what she'd imagined.  She had thought that she would be a fairy-tale princess, with elegant gowns, long and silken hair, and suitors on bent knee trying to curry her favor.  Not...this.

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

Still, she took the roles that she was given, and performed them to the best of her ability.  In theory, she could have refused, but that was not how one succeeded.  And she wanted to succeed.

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mike holding a pole.  The shotgun was ready.  He saw her quickly glance at him, briefly, and gave a nod.  She did not acknowledge it.

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

They surrounded her, prepared to shoot

She twisted and punched.

He grimaced at the apparent impact, and fell.

"Quiet on the set!"

She waited, poised to begin.

He waited, poised to begin.

"Kung Fu Princess.  Episode 3.  Scene 7.  Take 5...Action!"  *clap*




...or cheat.  I think that surprise context shift is pretty poor, since it relies on 'shock value' rather than any real skill at describing what is happening, but it can be fun to write.

I was thinking about trying to write something in the style of one of Robert Chamber's vignettes, but the concept of repetition predominated, and it turned out like this.  Shotgun refers to shotgun microphone.

[Brian]

Very Dan Simons-inspired.  This might (almost) be a bizarre Hyperion fanfic.

Almost. >_>;

Spoiler: ShowHide

     The piercing alarm of impending impact snaps my attention to the present moment.  Rain-slicked wet stone streaks past my face only a handful of meters distant, and my impact restraints are not enough to save me from striking the ledge that I am hurtling toward.

     Purely by reflex I orient a repulsor toward the cliff face and fire a burst, launching out, altering my trajectory away from the stone spire and into the field of water.  At this point, my velocity is only slightly less than that of the rain, surrounding me in an eerily still cloud of glittering droplets.  From this altitude, I can see a gray sea of clouds below, and patches of the same overhead, pierced in places and showing the dark blue of sky about to give way to space.

     Further up the spire that I have propelled myself away from is the Hegemony monitoring station, sensors oriented all around.

     My augmented reality interface shows me the cone of its detection range.

     For the entire descent, I must maintain myself in that narrow cone of space away from the spire, and inside its area of coverage.  I've lost track of how long I've been falling; if my gear weren't more intent on keeping me alive, I might study it more closely.

     I need to fall substantially further -- into the cloud layer -- before I'll be low enough to activate the landing harness.  And that's also the safe range for the explosive radius.

     Enough zoning out; the stone spire is needle-like from space.  Rushing past it in person, having only a span of meters of 'safe' travel distance, it's not nearly as smooth looking.  My augmented reality interface shows me the optimal route, but can't calculate forces required well enough for me to use automation.

     Typical.

     The stims kick in from my jump, adrenaline boosting my reaction time and allowing me to keep pace with my augmentation--  Below me, or ahead of me, if you think about inevitability, is the fractured segment of the needle-like spire, and also where the cone of detection hits the side of the mountain.

     If the gravity were more intense, I'd have no chance at pulling this off.  As it is, I start to suspect that it'll take a miracle to pull through anyway.

     My augmentations sweep that distracting thought aside; I focus on the moment.  Tiny bursts of repulsors align me with one of the fissures -- one that should have a reasonably clear route all the way down to the cloud layer.

     In a flash I'm in the maze, swallowed up on all sides by immobile and unforgiving stone.

     Again, from orbit this looked reasonable -- long furrows easily wide enough for a man in FORCE:space gear to navigate using only gas repulsors.  Anything else would spike the sensors before the operation was set to go off.  But there's no time for such thoughts; what looks like a long chute in a tactical relay and mission packet is, in reality, a death-trap, giving even enhanced reactions barely enough time to burst to one side--

     Almost overcompensating and slamming into the serrated, jagged side of the chute, which hasn't been exposed to the comforting, smoothing erosion of this planet's weather system.

     Another juke, just missing being impaled on a spire that separates two runoff channels; according to augmented reality displays, I've chosen the 'easy' route.

     I try to make a note to punch the officer who declared this job would be a cinch; it's swept aside by augment for later consideration.

     Ahead is a rapid series of jukes--  Left, then right, then right again.  First burst is clean; then two seconds of 'rest.'

     If you can call it that.

     Next burst is too close; the impact shield flares, burning off a tiny bit of velocity and warning of the energy spike generated by that close brush.

     The FORCE:space armor could easily protect me from a full impact, but the energy signature would register overhead -- and then mission failed.  So the impact resistance is capped.

     These thoughts distract me from the stone screaming past me less than a meter away in all directions except down.  'Out' is only a theoretical option, here; in practice, that would be into the sensor cone -- and then mission failed.  Again.

     Too much distraction; the next burst is slow, augmentations going into overdrive to adjust; impact shield flares, just below the maximum allowable without detection.  Right arm -- shoulder -- hits the smooth lower edge of the chute.  I hear and feel it breaking; 'pain' is a concept that my augs greedily devour, leaving piercing hurried clarity behind.

     I rebound, managing another repulsor blast to keep from ricocheting into the serrated roof of the chute; my flexible armor straightens itself out, working on resetting the bone even as I recover my orientation.  Drugs to deaden sensation are administered as the augs slowly return feeling to me, shifting their focus on keeping me sharp while medicated.

     No suit breaches, at least.

     Ahead, there's one last burst into the cloud layer, the sharpest curve yet before exiting theoretical sensor range.  It occurs to me only as I plummet the remaining meters toward the stone ledge that the speed I bled off with the broken arm might save me; hopefully any broken stone fragments haven't tripped the sensors.

     Would they detect something like that?  The augs sweep that thought aside--

     _Hard_ burst, right arm suddenly aching despite everything as teeth rattle; no more impact shielding until freedom.

     There will be one less FORCE:space marine if I fail -- but the mission might still succeed.

     I fly free of where the chute abruptly ends, spilling into the open space in the cloud--

     Blind except for sensors, as the interdiction on full functionality is released.  I take a breath, realizing only then I'd been holding it since striking my shoulder.

     Half of the sensors go blind as well when the inertial dampeners go into overdrive, my senses going through a step-down from the overdrive I've been in.  The impact shield flares brightly enough that someone standing there -- far, far above on the edge of the Hegemony monitoring post -- could probably see it with their naked eye.

     But what's the care for that?  The eye could be doubted, and they have an array of sensors to rely on.  Our intel said they wouldn't have anything better than second-hand and generations-old FORCE:marine gear; they probably wouldn't know how to use the higher level sensor functions.

     Probably.

     No point worrying about it now; with the package delivered, I have more important concerns ahead of me.

     I explode through the bottom layer of the clouds, shields streaming steam from whatever chemical combination this planet claims as an atmosphere.  Augmentation says it's toxic (expected lifespan without medevac, two minutes, thirty-four seconds), so I don't care to find out more.

     Propulsion comes fully online, and I angle toward my landing spot another two hundred meters below, at a more sedate pace.  No sign of natives; all I can see by eye and sensor are stone slopes and some scraggly plant life that appears to be in a dormant state -- or just plain dead -- at the moment.  The slope is steep, broadening significantly into the base of the spire that now looms above me.

     No chance of my previous stunt being pulled off here; it'd be stealth and pico-creeping the entire distance, if it had to be done.

     Thankfully, it doesn't.  Propulsion allows me to land gracefully at the mouth of a cave spotted from orbit; those systems fold immediately away into armor as my rifle unslings itself, broken arm braced properly by the suit to hold it.

     Unnecessary; the cave is natural and empty.  Protocol demands a sweep of the cave anyway.

     I sweep it; empty, as anticipated.

     A PPC commlink relays a stream from the nano-cam I left at the monitoring station.  Invisible to their other sensors, the infrared targeting beacon has been acknowledged by C^3, a single farcaster away from entering the system.  Even as I leaped from the top of the mountain, a two hundred kilo ceramic spike was spinning up to rail-acceleration.  The monitoring station will have exactly enough time to detect the ship emerging from the shadow of this planet's moon before it's struck.

     By the time any defenses are scrambled, our entire fleet will be in orbit.

     With nothing else to do aside from await evac, auto-doc, and eval, I settle in to enjoy the fireworks.

     Score one for the good guys.

Edit: Some fixes.  Oops. >_>;  Considering I wrote this in 50 minutes.... <_<;;;

[Jason_Miao]

More writing about action:


Male Lead                     {   Court of
                                     {   Popular Opinion
                                     {
v.                                  {   Civil
                                     {   Action
                                     {   Complaint
Female Lead                 {


I, Male Lead (Plaintiff), resident of the State of Confusion, hereby state the following:

1.  The defendant is Female Lead (Defendant).

2.  Defendant is a resident of the State of Confusion.

3.  On April 31, 20XX, was walking northward towards my residence.

4.  One block before the Nyan-Nyan Happy Go Lucky Grocery, Robotics, and Arms Store, I heard someone shout "Hentai."

5.  Plaintiff turned to see who was shouting.

6.  Defendant was run directly towards Plaintiff.

7.  Defendant was only wearing panties.

8.  Said panties were yellow, with lace trim.

9.  Defendant was holding a large mallet.

10.  Defendant reached location of Plaintiff.

11.  Plaintiff awoke at Doctor Sakurai three days after the incident.

12.  Plaintiff was diagnosed with cranial trauma.

I claim, in damages:

1.   $3274.26 for medical treatment from Dr. Sakurai due to battery.

2.   $647.33 for to lost wages due to medical treatment.

3.  $1,000 for pain and suffering.

4.  Theft of heart.

5.  Any legal debts arising out of this action or the above occurrences.

Jun 31, 20XX
Signed:  Male Lead.




A real complaint would probably have many more facts, but doing that would be excessive.  Then again, they probably don't have these sorts of court filings in whatever anime universes are out there, so forget realism.

[Jon]

Statement #3 needs a subject. In statement #4, "I" should probably be replaced by Plaintiff.

[Brian]

Well, they're list items, but then later entries state 'Plaintiff' specifically -- so I'd agree with a change for consistency.

Otherwise, however, amusing.

[Jason_Miao]

Damnit.  I thought I'd found all of those.  Complaints are usually drafted by the attorney, so the writer would not use "I", but putting oneself in the mindset of the plaintiff helped bring out anime-driven twists (i.e facts 7, 8).

I've never read Hyperion.  Is it written in present tense?  The most I've managed to endure and still enjoy the story in question are the short blurbs of the original Bolo fics, since they interspace the occasional present tense Bolo analysis of data with long stretches of Human past tense.  For all that, it certainly works as an action scene. 


Here's one part that I didn't get:  "But what's the care for that?"

[Brian]

Hyperion ... I don't think so.  One or two of the pilgrim's tales might be.

Endymion has some of it written in present tense, and the rest as a past-tense flashback.

[Muphrid]

This prompt spawned...something.  I don't even really know what it is.

Spoiler: ShowHide

When Tsuruya-san invited the brigade to join her in a traditional family pastime, I knew to expect something unusual.  Of all the people I know, only that long-haired sempai can match Haruhi's inexhaustible energy.  Nevertheless, I'd hoped for a mere eccentric show of taste like, say, a flower viewing featuring flora of the ocean bottom.  I could easily picture Tsuruya-san wheeling out a dozen saltwater tanks and considering it a modest expenditure while Asahina-san would lean in curiously and accidentally bump her head on the aquarium glass.  That would draw a hyena-like laugh from Tsuruya-san, and Haruhi would praise Asahina-san for such a cute and clumsy gesture.

I should make clear that I had no reason to believe Tsuruya-san would've invited us to such a tranquil event.  I say tranquil because, despite the apparent oddness, it would've proved positively sedate compared to what Tsuruya-san actually intended for us instead.  Indeed, I would've relished the chance to sit back and watch a string of kelp waft back and forth in simulated ocean currents, but life in the SOS Brigade isn't meant to be so peaceful--at least, not for long.  That's why, instead of sitting in the club room and enjoying Asahina-san's exquisite tea, I hunched behind a pink fabric barricade, wondering which gods or spirits I should pray to for salvation.

SPLAT!

Dots of yellow paint stained the barricade, and I crouched behind it even further.

"Come on out, Kyon!  You can't hide forever!  Taking cover is totally antithetical to this game!  You need to take this seriously!"

This pearl of wisdom came, of course, from our illustrious brigade chief.  When Tsuruya-san had proposed a day of paintball to us, Haruhi had jumped at the opportunity.  I admit, I couldn't quite follow her line of reasoning, but it involved something along the lines of preparing for an alien invasion or zombie hordes.  If Haruhi only knew that the aliens were already among us, she would dismiss the first idea as absurd.  Can you imagine someone like Nagato leading an occupation of planet Earth?  I surely can't, unless it would be to compel all humans to read classic literature.

As for the part about a zombie plague, I'm just as happy not knowing about anything to refute that notion.  In general, I'm not sure if Haruhi's thought processes really don't make sense or if she just thinks five times faster than the rest of humanity, making connections that no mere powerless human would reasonably come to.  Either way, though, there's no chance you can convince me that I don't need to take cover when there are three girls on the other side of the map all shooting at me.  Even a child would know to hide then.

"Who needs cover?  This is a game.  Both sides should just run at each other until everybody except one is dead!  It's more fun that way."

Said the girl who ducked behind an inflatable barricade as I shot back wildly into the air.

"That's because you're dragging this out!  I'm not getting hit before you do!"

You'd think Haruhi would be satisfied with two kills to her name, but apparently not.  She'd decided to split the brigade into boys versus girls, recruiting Taniguchi and Kunikida to fill out the boys' squad.  While Kunikida was a careful and deliberate marksman, Taniguchi ascribed to the Haruhi theory of paintball, charging in recklessly to claim the square bunker in the middle of the field.  Somewhere in the back right corner, Ultra Precision Super Shot Nagato sniped Taniguchi down before he made it two meters off our starting line.  In fact, I still had no idea where exactly she was hiding.  Nagato wouldn't cheat per se unless I asked her to, but she can take to a game and push the very limits of human potential to try to win it.  I dare say I feared Nagato on that battlefield far more than Haruhi.

Then again, Haruhi and Tsuruya-san had made for a fearsome pair of commandos on their own.  Moving together leapfrog style, they'd ambushed Kunikida and drowned him in a bombardment of yellow splatter.  Koizumi had bravely tried to come to Kunikida's aid... only to scamper off when he realized it was a futile effort.  Haruhi gunned him down in the back; I guess even a deputy chief earns no mercy on the battlefield.

So that left me--pinned down hopelessly, clothed in a black helmet with a wide faceshield.  Given that it was just me against a veritable army and that the helmet was almost certainly designed to imitate a certain first-person shooter's design, I could plausibly have called myself Master Chief Petty Officer Kyon of the United Nations Sp*ce Comm*nd, but that would presume I had a chance in hell of winning.  If I got shot, it wasn't like I would automatically respawn at the last checkpoint, now would I?

SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT!  Three paintballs bombarded my barricade.

"Kyon-kun, we're coming for you!  Eheheh."

That was Tsuruya-san, scampering around barricades to try to flank me while Haruhi provided covering fire.  Nagato, of course, wouldn't shoot unless she had within a tenth of a percent chance of a certain hit.  In that, I think the armies of the world would learn something from her precision.  Her techniques would save a lot of ammunition, at least.

I didn't mind that I was about to be outmaneuvered, though.  As long as I could avoid the indignity of being shot with a paint pellet and having it splatter all over me, I could be content.  Haruhi would never accept someone surrendering, though--not even in a game--whereas Tsuruya-san might be more reasonable and accept smearing a dab of paint on me as proof enough of my demise.

It shouldn't surprise you that once again I'd hoped for too much.  Tsuruya-san didn't come charging over my barricade, not even with guns blazing or what-have-you.  No, what next I heard from her was far worse:

"Bombs away!"

A small object the size of a pomegranate hurtled over my barricade and rolled on the ground.  Let me tell you something--even in a fake battle such as that one, a man can't be expected not to run like an antelope on the Savanna when he sees a grenade rolling at his feet.

I dived over the front of the barricade, and---

Ka-BLAM!  Yellow paint spewed into the sky, and I wasn't about to wait for it to come down.  I got back on my feet and ran for the next bunker.  Scattered shots from a distance chased me, three or four in a panicked cluster and another single shot---

SPLAT!

Getting the handle of my gun.  Thanks, Nagato.  I'll assume that was you.

"You're hit!"

Haruhi was ready to declare victory.

"We got you, Kyon!  Stand down!"

A hit to the gun doesn't count.  I remember that from the rules briefing, Haruhi.  What I don't remember is someone saying there would be grenades!  You could kill someone with that!

"It's perfectly safe!" Haruhi called back.  "And what do you mean you don't remember the grenades?  We talked about them for a while.  You must've had something else on your mind.  It was right after Tsuruya-san went to change into her battle gear."

I resented that implication.  I'm not so immature as to get excited over one girl changing into a helmet and body armor.  But as I recalled, Asahina-san was having some trouble with her equipment, particularly finding a piece of chest protection that wouldn't restrict her---ah, that wouldn't restrict her movements too much.  I had the utmost respect for Asahina-san, too, and I can absolutely assure you, dear reader, that at no time did I consider the space limitations of a one-person changing room as two girls tried to fit inside, shedding their shirts and stockings so as to avoid soiling them with paint.  No, no, I paid absolute attention to the rules briefing.  Haruhi must've slipped in the part about grenades while I was too stunned fearing for my life in this arena.  That has to be it.

I don't know what came over me at that moment, but the sight of the grenade had surely sparked a flow of adrenaline.  When not moments before I was ready to surrender and go to lunch, I felt a warrior's thirst for battle overcome me!  Maybe this is why they give barbarians rage mechanics in most games; once you get a taste of it, it's an undeniable source of power.

Full of misplaced confidence, I dashed for the right boundary line; there was a series of barricades on that edge of the open field, and I hoped they would make any shot for Nagato more difficult.  The constant pop-pop-pop of gunfire enhanced my sense of urgency, and because of that, I'd miscalculated.  The bunker I'd headed into wasn't entirely empty.

"Well, I must say I'm surprised you've decided to hold out this long.  Quite an unexpected development, I should think."

I shouldn't even have to tell you that was Koizumi.  No one else is so unflappable and wordy as to keep speaking even when he's supposed to be dead.

"Hey, Koizumi-kun, no fair!  You can't help out Kyon; you're dead!"

For once, I could be thankful to my opponent in that respect.

Dutiful as ever, Koizumi lowered his head, slumping over the inflated barricade face-down like a bad actor playing dead for a stage show.  The big yellow splotches on his back at least made it seem plausible he would fall that way.  Still, despite Haruhi's warning, Koizumi lowered his voice, whispering to above the paintball fire.

"I truly believe this activity is healthy for Suzumiya-san," he went on.  "It's a small part, but it reinforces the notion that she can't impose her will on the world."

"Why's that?" I asked him.  "Her team is winning; they haven't even taken a hit."

"You're still in the game.  You are the person who can resist her even if the rest of the world is transformed."

I shrugged.  "I'm not interested in resisting Haruhi as long as she can be reasonable."

"That's why she treasures your presence in the brigade."

Koizumi turned his head sideways, holding back a smile smile, as if he'd told some kind of joke.  I, for one, didn't see any logic in what he was saying.  If Haruhi "treasures" my presence, I've seen no evidence of it.

"Don't you remember?  Suzumiya-san wanted to make this affair into a grand battle through the woods or on a mountain, but it was clear such a trek would be dangerous--if not for wild animals, then for the dangers inherent in hiking, let alone during the head of battle.  Asahina-san, for instance, likely would've found such a setting very difficult."

You don't need to tell me things I already know.  I was there, too, and I had to argue with Haruhi to get her to decide on a safe, open area like this.

"My point exactly; Suzumiya-san heeded your advice."

"She groused about it all the way here," I pointed out.

"But the decision stands.  I would keep that in mind were I you.  Suzumiya-san is keen on having your approval; if at times you become frustrated with her, remember that, and I think you will come to a more satisfying resolution for both of you."

I'm not interested in your idea of a satisfying resolution.

Koizumi laughed at that, but his eyes darted across the field.  "Ah, I believe Tsuruya-san is closing in on you.  You should go, but first, take my grenade."

"You have a grenade?  Where?"

"On my belt."

I looked over him.  I didn't see any grenades on his belt.

"Alas, it's pinned between me and the barricade.  If you could just reach for it, I'm sure you'd find it useful."

Roll over, Koizumi.  I'm not searching your body for unused ordinance.

"I cannot; I'm dead, remember?"

You're still talking.

"A trivial contrivance in this game format."

Haruhi wouldn't be very amused; I know I wasn't.  Still, a grenade would undeniably be useful, so I grabbed Koizumi by the arm and flipped him over as paintballs zipped by my helmet.  Sure enough, there was a single grenade on the front of his belt, and with a simple triggering pin at that.

"Found you!  Ehehe."

Tsuruya-san boldly came around the corner of the bunker, gun blazing.  I scampered off, searching for a new safe place as she blasted Koizumi to oblivion.  When the shooting stopped, I heard a muffled groan.

"No crying!" insisted Tsuruya-san.  "That's what you get for helping Kyon-kun when you should be deads, deads, deads!"

SPLAT-SPLAT!

Oh, fantastic, Koizumi--you had to get yourself tortured at the hands of the possibly-unstable Tsuruya-san.  That means I have to make good on your sacrifice with this grenade.

And unexpectedly, I found myself with a rudimentary plan.  I took cover in another inflatable bunker.  I faced the way I'd come and fired two quick shots in Tsuruya-san's direction, and she bailed for safety, too.  While she and I engaged in a close-range shootout, Haruhi would take the opportunity to try to outmaneuver me, but I didn't mind that.  I just needed to make it a couple bunkers over.  The weak point of the girls' team wasn't Haruhi, Tsuruya-san, or Nagato.

I could hear that weak spot whimpering from the safety of her own bunker not five meters down the field, and that's where I headed to, alternating shots to keep Tsuruya-san at by and Haruhi pinned down.  As for Nagato, I was quite sure there was nothing I could to do faze her anyway; I just ducked and wove my way around the artificial barricades, hoping never to expose even a square centimeter of my person long enough for her absurd marksmanship to matter.  I hopped over the barrier to her position, and she weakly pointed her paintball gun at me, trembling mightily.

"St--st--stay back!  Stay back, Kyon-kun!  I don't want to shoot you, but Suzumiya-san said I have to if you get too close, so I--"

POP!  The paintball gun discharged, but Asahina-san's aim was wild.  The ball hurtled into the woods, splattering on a nearby tree.  She yelped in surprise, apparently oblivious as to how she could've pulled the trigger.  To tell the truth, I'm somewhat amazed she could do it, too.

Forgive me, Asahina-san, but this is really for the best anyway.  You don't want to be holding that weapon, and if I'm to make a game of this match, I need to even out the numbers at least a little bit.

I reached out for Asahina-san's weapon.  Her grip on it was light and pliable, so she gave it up with only a slight cry.

Oh, Asahina-san, it would be much better if you didn't make such noises.  Even on this battlefield, you have no idea what they're doing to me.

But I had no time to think about that.  I undid the cap on her hopper and let the paintballs roll on the ground.  Taking one, I turned my gun around and used the butt to break open the ball of yellow paint on Asahina-san's shoulder, tagging her out.  Strangely enough, she let out a relieved sigh after that.

"Ah, Kyon-kun, what are you doing in that bunker with Mikuru?  Haru-nyan's not going to be happy about that!"

With Tsuruya-san's metaphorical breath on my neck, I fled the bunker, leaving Asahina-san behind and letting Tsuruya-san barge in behind me to slip and slide on scattered paintballs.  Though I couldn't understand why she thought Haruhi would take such a keen interest, Tsuruya-san was right about one thing:  Haruhi was the key.  I needed her--and Tsuruya-san.  I needed them both together, and the best way was to go find Haruhi first.

I dashed from bunker to bunker, staying just ahead of Tsuruya-san and her maniacal laughter as she sprayed paintballs at my back.  Of course, Haruhi was shooting at me, too; there was no way I could approach her safely unless she had to refill her hopper and reload.  I couldn't afford to wait that long.

"You're stuck between the two of us, Kyon!"

Haruhi sounded giddy.

"There's no way out now!"

She was probably right about that, but I wasn't looking for a way out anyway.  I needed to get close to Haruhi without getting plastered in yellow paint doing it.  The pink inflatable bunkers were my only protection against her paintballs, so I did the only thing reasonable:

I took one of them with me.

"Hey, what the hell?  That really is cheating, you know!"

I didn't care.  Show me the line in the rulebook where it says so, and I'll gladly accept defeat.  That's what I was thinking.  I lugged one of those barricades--really no more than a thick balloon half the size of a man--and sprayed Haruhi's position with white paintballs to keep her head down.  Carrying that barricade did start to get to me; it was wide and cumbersome to handle, and I may have held my breath as I carried it, for my whole body tensed until I let it go.  Still, I maintained my concentration as best I could, keeping Haruhi busy with the occasional shot.  I didn't want her moving until I got there because when I did, I wanted her to feel my arrival first-hand.

I bumped my barricade into Haruhi's, and her whole bunker shuddered as the pieces of thick fabric rebounded and pushed against each other.  There was a scuffling sound.  As I'd hoped, the wall of Haruhi's bunker had knocked her back with the impact, and she'd fallen back to the earth.  She was, understandably, livid over this turn of events.

"Are you out of your mind?  Assaulting your brigade chief this way carries big penalties!"

I'm pretty sure shooting other people with paintballs counts as a assault, too, if you want to get technical about things, and the important thing is I got you in my sights before you could shoot back.

Haruhi blinked, surprised, but she must've realized it, too.  She lay on her side, her gun flat on the ground, in no position to shoot while I had her dead to rights.

"Well then."

She smiled to herself.

"Go on.  Finish me off."

I shook my head.  "I have no desire to shoot you, Haruhi."

"Why not?  That's the point of the game.  Why should we even come out here if you're not going to play like you mean it?"

I'm playing my own way, thank you very much, and I do mean to win.  Why I'm bothering to do so is beyond me, but I suspect it has to do with someone's infectious enthusiasm and a timely burst of adrenaline.

No, that's not it, really.  As much as I enjoy and appreciate the quiet days, these events Haruhi organizes and the happenings that go on around her enrich me.  They do, seriously.  I don't need Koizumi to tell me that or to figure out that Haruhi wants all of us to enjoy her plans.  Haruhi gives her all in everything she does.  While I can't put in that kind of energy nearly as often or to the same extent, every now and then I can try.

And while I'm fairly sure I looked utterly ridiculous in that helmet and paintball armor, I can tell you one thing:  at the time, I really didn't care.  It was a fun game.  It was fun for me, and I think Haruhi could see that, too.  A grin came to her face, for she began to suspect what I couldn't hide for long.

"You've got a plan, don't you?"

Got it in one, Brigade Chief.

"Tsuruya-san!" she shouted.  "Stay back!  Don't come any closer!"

"What are you talking about?  I'll save you, Haru-nyan!"

Of course, if Tsuruya-san had chosen to be more careful, this idea of mine would never have succeeded.  Similarly, if Haruhi had made me shoot her to tag her out, Tsuruya-san would've known it was too late anyway.  So, I won't for one minute claim that I came up with the perfect strategy.  I just guessed what ordinary people would do and hoped desperately that logic would still apply to Haruhi and Tsuruya-san, even in this situation.  Luckily, it did, for when Tsuruya-san barged into the bunker, I high-tailed it out of there, pulling the pin on the grenade and leaving it between the two of them.

Ka-PAM!

I sprinted away from there, not wanting to get even a speck of paint on me, and it was a good thing I did, for white residue rained down in at least a five meter radius, despite the bunker blocking most of the blast.

"EW!"

Haruhi's cry came with a distinct note of disgust.

"Kyon, you got your stuff all over both of us!"

Paint, Haruhi.  I got paint all over you.

"What did you think I said?"

...never mind that. 

I tip-toed cautiously back to the bunker, and sure enough, both Tsuruya-san and Haruhi were dotted head-to-toe in white paint.  Haruhi even removed her helmet just enough to spit out a little that had seeped through her faceshield.  Maybe you should've gotten that fixed before the match, Haruhi?

"I would've before, but I didn't think any of this white stuff would come in my mouth!"

Please, would you stop saying such things?!

Tsuruya-san seemed to have caught on, cackling hysterically, and Haruhi too started to laugh at me with a sly grin.  Damn you, I didn't choose the color of this paint, all right?  You did!  You did this on purpose, didn't you?

"At least you put it to good use," said Haruhi.  "Really, I'm impressed.  You came gunning for us, and you got us both.  Not bad, Kyon."

That's right.  That's right, and don't you forget it.  I, Kyon, defeated both Haruhi and Tsuruya-san on a fair battlefield!  I felt pride swelling within me, and I rose to embrace its glow.  Truly, I'd avenged my fallen comrades (and Koizumi); with Haruhi, Tsuruya-san, and Asahina-san out, there was no one left!

My eyes widened a bit.  What was I thinking?  We were on teams of four; there was still one person left to hunt down:  the crack shot, inhumanly precise sniper--

SPLAT!

Nagato.

SPLAT-SPLAT-SPLAT!  Three paintballs struck me square in the back.  I dare say each one hit the same spot along my spine.

Um, Nagato-san?  You got me the first time.  I'm out.  I surrender.  You win.

Silent as a speck of dust wafting through a room, Nagato rose from her well-entrenched position and pulled off her helmet.  If not for that, I doubt I would've heard the next words she said at all.

"I see."

At last, the battle was over, and the felled players rose from the points where they'd died.  Taniguchi came first, complaining of a pinched nerve in his back.  I really wasn't in the mood to comfort him for that.

"Hey, I was lying there all contorted while the rest of you guys got to have all the fun!"

That's your own fault.  I'm not your personal masseuse.

"Ah, but Asahina-sempai knows how to give a good massage, right?"

A single glare from Haruhi took the rest of Taniguchi's words from his mouth.  Thank you, Haruhi.  If not for that, and I would've had to punch this guy, I think.

"It's the least I can do," she said as we gathered up to leave the field and go to lunch.  "After all, you were gentlemanly enough not to shoot me and just blew me up with a grenade instead!"

Well, about that--

"No need to explain!  You were trying to win; I'd have done the same."

That's actually a bit frightening.

As the others started to shed their gear, Haruhi stayed close to me, removing only her black helmet to make her whole face and disheveled hair visible.

"Pity it didn't work out for you, though.  When you're in the game, you put up a pretty good fight, Kyon."

Are you saying you wanted me to win?

"Absolutely not!  Winning is everything, isn't it?"

Good grief.

"But," she went on, "it's not the only thing."

A philosopher would struggle for at least an hour trying to make sense of that response.  I, on the other hand, took the sentiment for what it was worth, saying nothing.  Haruhi didn't let the silence last for too long, though.

"Maybe we can play again sometime, then?  To give you another chance?  Two out of three?"

I glanced back at the paintball field, with its bunkers moved and peppered with paint, with blast marks where two grenades had detonated.  Compared to how dire things could be when they involved the world-shaping powers of Suzumiya Haruhi, it was practically a day at the beach.

"Sure," I said.  "Why not?"

Haruhi stopped in her tracks, looking at me with a bewildered expression. 

"It was fun, wasn't it?" I said.

She beamed at that--a smile so radiant it was like a bolt of lightning.

[Brian]

Um, I couldn't finish your entry, Muphrid.  I will say the action parts feel in keeping with the Haruhi universe, and fit the characters mostly.  I caught this error:

during the head of battle.

I think you meant 'heat'?  Otherwise, good work on the action parts. :)

[thepanda]

Muphrid Damned fun drabble. Your Kyon-voice is pretty good (I think 'dear readers' was one of maybe two parts where it felt it broke) and the action moved nicely. Gonna post it as a standalone?

[Muphrid]

Yes, indeed, heat of battle it is.

I toyed with the idea of fleshing this out, using it the action part of a more meaty one-shot, something that would smooth out various points I felt compelled to gloss over, but I'm not planning on doing that at this time.  Maybe at some point, though.  I did leave a one-shot half-finished on my hard drive for two years and then got the urge to finish it, so who knows what the future will hold.

[Jason_Miao]

I didn't really get the underlying feeling of tension that one usually expects from an action scene.  It's probably the result of writing a Haruhi story, since the narrative style emphasizes thoughts and communication over everything else; every time something happens, Kyon ponders it.  The chat with Koizumi while they were being shot at felt leisurely.   

The description of the action itself worked nicely.  There were no points where I was left wondering what was going on.  I was wondering if this was another result of the style or you, but I don't remember Identity having any problems with this either, so it's probably you.

[Oroboro]

Originally wasn't even going to do this, but had some random late night inspiration.

Spoiler: ShowHide

"Daddy, wait!"

I ran, harder than I ever had. I ran for my life, to get away from the hell that was following right behind. I ran, trying to escape the reality of what had happened in that room minutes before.

I held my little girl with my left arm, as close to me as I could manage. All that mattered now was keeping her safe. In my right hand I tightly gripped my only chance for that – A fully loaded six shot revolver. The blood trickling down my arm and the burning pain made it difficult to keep a good grip, but dropping it is simply not an option.

"Daddy, stop! We have to go back and get Mommy! We have to stay together, remember?!" With a painful innocence, Lana squirmed in my grip, trying to get free. Summoning every ounce of courage I still had in me, I turned to her, put on an honest smile, and lied.

"Mommy is going to be fine, sweetie. She's just taking a different route than us, okay? We'll get out of here and meet up with her soon. I promise."

Her smile – Her beautiful, innocent, and trusting smile hurt far worse than the gash in my arm.

Rounding the corner at full speed, I almost ran headfirst into one of the beasts. Its shriek was one of surprise, and I lucked out, skidding to halt out of range of its claws.

As the leathery bastard turned to me and howled, puffing itself up and getting ready to pounce, I was already raising my gun. I fired, and Lana screamed. My first two shots went wild, bouncing off the stone walls somewhere ahead in the darkness, but my third caught it right in the chest, and it crumpled to the ground, rolling around and screaming in agony.

I briefly considered saving my ammo and leaving it wounded, but the way it was thrashing about I probably couldn't get past it without it tearing out my hamstring or something. Carefully lining my shot, I placed the next bullet right in its brain, and it fell still just like that.

Inhuman demons they might be, but at least they can still be killed. Of course, with only two bullets left...

I carefully made my way across the twitching corpse before breaking into a run again, mindful as the ground became rough and uneven. While before they had been delicately carved, this section of tunnel was considerably less polished. I don't even know where they go. All that matters is getting away, but around any corner could easily be a 100 foot drop, or even lead me straight into...

A dead end.

Shit. I came to a stop in a large, open cavern. The light was dim, but it was clear there weren't any other paths leading out of here. I knew I was being followed. I'd managed to get a lead on them, but they'd be here soon. I hadn't even seen any side passages I could double back too.

Gasping for air, I set Lana down, and then sat down on the ground myself. So it was going to end like this, huh? Cornered, trapped, and torn into pieces. I looked down at my gun, my own blood staining the handle. Just two bullets left. Could I...?

Just one glance at my baby girl was enough to dispel that thought from my head now and forever. Instead, I reached into my pocket for a cigarette, and fumbled for my lighter. I almost had it lit when Lana slapped it out of my hands.

"Mommy says you're not supposed to smoke! She doesn't like it!" This time, I couldn't stop the tears from coming. That's right. She did always hate that. I guess I should've tried harder to quit when I had the chance.

I tried to smile for my daughter's sake, and flung both the cigarette and lighter off into the darkness. To my surprise, it landed with a hollow, metallic plink. Over in the corner of the room, hidden by deep shadows was what appeared to be a large drainage pipe, leading somewhere outside. It was far too small for an adult, but...

"Sweetheart, listen to me. I need you to climb in here and go all the way through it, till you get outside. Once you're out, I want you to find the best hiding place you can, and stay there. Do you understand? Daddy is going to go back and get Mommy, and then we'll both come and find you."

She squirmed around, looking unsure before asking, "But how will you know where I am if I'm hiding?"

"Haven't I always found you before when playing hide and seek? We'll all be together again soon. I promise."

She smiled, and I helped her into the pipe, watching my daughter disappear into the darkness.  It's a pretty risky thing, normally. She could get stuck in there, or maybe there's a drop, or it could even be barred off. But that slight hope was all I had to cling to. That somewhere beyond that pipe, the real world still existed, and she could find it. Escape from the hell this trip had become.

Once I couldn't see her any more, I reached down and found my discarded cigarette, lighting it anyway. Clara will have the chance to scold me again soon enough, it seems. I could hear their low growls echoing down the corridor.

The beasts shuffled in slowly, cautiously. There were at least ten, maybe more, and they closed in around me, forming a semi circle around me as I backed against the wall. They may be animals, but they had at least some level of intelligence. I could see the glint of my gun reflected in their eyes, and I knew they feared it.

"Listen up you sons of bitches! Do you know who I am!?" I'm not sure if they can actually understand me, but they seemed to at least take some measure in my words.

"I am a loving and devoted husband, and you are all responsible for the death of my wife. I am also the greatest Dad in the world – Lana told me so herself. And I will do absolutely anything to make sure she has a chance of survival. Oh, and I happen to have just two bullets left.

The click of the revolver's hammer being pulled back echoed around the cavern.

"So whichever one of you wants to die first - Go ahead and take a step forward."

[Grahf]

Not really sure how much of an action scene this is. Still, I thought that this might at least get a chuckle or two. You'll understand what I mean:

Spoiler: ShowHide

She's probably thinking how she gets herself into these situations, assuming that she's not just concentrating on getting somewhere, anywhere safe. If she had the time to muse she'd probably complain that she's supposed to be the hunter, not the hunted. The only reason that she's even in this situation is that she decided to make a move on her target.

There's no time to think about that right now though; the hell beast that's chasing her insures that.  This blasted monster has been her enemy for almost her entire life depending on how you view it. It was always there, lurking, waiting in the background for when she would be at her most vulnerable and now it's capitalizing on the opportunity that she's presented it.

Her short frame carries her around corners and through alleyways as fast as she can manage, but she feels like the creature is almost just toying with her. Surely given what she knows about its kindred it could move faster then this if it really wanted to. No, to it this is just a game, and that fact almost makes her anger override her fear. The fear wins out in the end though as she comes to a dead end - oh she knows that meaning isn't supposed to be this literal!

Summoning all the courage she can, she turns around to face the thing from her nightmares. If she's going to go down she'll make sure that it's not without a fight. As it closes in she tries everything she can, from grabbing rocks and other debris from the alleyway to throw at it -- something which seems to annoy it more then anything -- and even trying to pull the tactile sensors on the beasts face ... an odd place for a presumable weakness she thinks, but she'll take what she can get. The creature does seem a little taken aback when she gives them a yank, but not enough to discourage it. It swings on of its front limbs, knocking her off balance to the ground. Again she fumes that it's not even using the razor sharp claws that she knows it has! Still, it pins her down and she can't bring herself to open her eyes.

This is it, it's the end of her. She has a few regrets, mostly about how she'll never get to finish off her own prey. She thinks that maybe she should have just gotten used to her boring but safe new life. She waits for the finishing blow ... which doesn't come. Instead she finds herself feeling being lifted off the ground. She opens her eyes and finds herself face to face with her saviour ... and her captor.

"Asakura Ryoko, you have received instructions not to leave the apartment without notifying me and having Kimidori-san accompanying you."

The stoic giant now holding her betrays no emotion, although if Ryoko had to guess she's probably annoyed more then anything else. She can't exactly tell her that she was hoping to find Kyon and fulfill her mission, so she gives her most charming smile and replies,

"I know Nagato-san. I'm sorry, but I wanted to go to the park and you were busy playing one of your games. I asked Kimidori-san, but he was too busy watching his fishing shows."

That last part was a lie, at least about asking Kimidori-san, the balloon animal does have a strange fascination with fishing shows despite the fact that she'd think he'd be scared to death of hooks. Still, her roommate looks like she's bought the excuse despite how flimsy it seems.

---

The short haired girl blinks once, then opens the book-bag that she brought with her. Normally the chibi would make more of a fuse about being stuffed into it, but no doubt the lingering presence of that familiar white housecat is dissuading her from making a scene at the moment. It was a good thing that Kimidori-san had noticed his friend's absence and managed to rouse the master of the house from her latest game.

Nagato doesn't really believe the excuse of her tiny roommate, this is hardly the first time that she's tried to go after Kyon. Still, given her lack of any real combat prowess -- she'd barely managed to suppress a laugh when Ryoko pulled the cat's whiskers in a desperate attempt to get it to back off -- she believes there's no overt harm in it. It doesn't hurt that thanks to her tiny houseguest's somewhat compulsive cleaning habits that Yuki has more time to play games.

Before she turns away to walk back home she spares a glance for the housecat which looks vaguely interested in the scene that just played out but still mostly bored. She's not sure why the creature shows such an interest in Ryoko. For a brief moment she considers perhaps finding a way to employ it should Asakura ever make it more then a few blocks from the apartment. She's quick to dismiss the notion though, he already has a cat, after all.