Post by mysteriouscreep on Jun 8, 2005 13:03:07 GMT -5
really cool member RACE
Samuel was in the VIP Bar when he found his.
Emily was in the Library when she found hers.
Philip was in the Archives when he found his.
Patricia was in the Recreation Room when she found hers.
Derik was in the Main Chamber when he found his.
Amber was in the Smoke Room when she found hers.
Minocher was leaving the Smoke Room when he found his.
Pauli was in the Study when she found hers.
~
Eventually, in the elevator and hallways leading to the central, they all met. Amber chased Minocher out of the Smoke Room, coughing wildly and waving her hands about haphazardly. Emily and Philip met running up the stairs – Emily nearly knocking Philip over as she rapidly passed him. Pauli waited at an elevator just outside of the Study, and was soon joined by Patricia, Amber and Minocher. They entered it as Pauli pressed the button for the sixty-sixth floor. Samuel left the bar, went through into the Main Chamber and saw Derik go into an elevator. He ran forward, the tails of his jacket flying behind him. Derik saw him and tried to open the elevator doors wider, but to no avail; they were too far gone. The elevators were glass, so Samuel sighed as he saw Derik’s face form a sympathetic frown. He walked back across the large room, back into the VIP Bar and picked up where he left off, sipping a dry martini.
~
“I’m so glad you’re all here,” Tragedy, owner of Club 667, said.
Everyone was around a large desk, four on one side, three on the other. Tragedy was standing at the foot of it, a briefcase in front of him. He was dressed in his usual attire: formal suit, slick-backed hair. Everyone in front of him was very anxious; Amber and Minocher were agitated: looking at each other then Tragedy, and back at each other. Emily was wide-eyed, as was Philip. Pauli was scribbling something on her hand furiously and Patricia was conversing with Derik. Tragedy’s voice drew their attention away from their conversation.
“Why are we here?” Emily asked. Tension was high.
“Simple.” Tragedy said, “I have several million Derik dollars in my accounts and, well, it’s just too much.” As if in chorus, all the minds in the room went wtf?!. “I know you’re all probably thinking ‘wtf?!’; so am I, if truth be told. Truth be told…” A tense silence. People were giving Tragedy weird looks. He looked away, out a window to look at the outside grounds of Club 667.
“I’m leaving.” Gasps around. “Yes, I’m leaving. I’m setting off on a trek into the wilderness. Emily, Minocher and a few other will probably be thinking now that this is a cheesy rip-off of Lord Of The Rings, but I need to find myself. I’ll be taking limited supplies. I may return, but if I do, I won’t be proprietor of this club.” He turned to face the group once again.
“One of you will.” Silence. Pure, utter, virginal silence. A twitch would have disrupted the untaintedness of it. Five, four, three, two, one: massive outbreaks of joy, sadness, worry, anticipation, various other emotions. Tragedy shook his head. “I won’t be picking; you will – in logic.” He held up a map. “Here is us,” he said, pointing at the smallest of dots on the map, in the top-right hand corner, “and this is where you’re heading… if you want to own Club 667.” He pointed at the bottom-left hand corner.
“This… is Club QW. That’s Quiet World for those who don’t know. In there, there is a library. In the library, there is a book about fungi entitled Fungi. In there – page four-hundred and seventy-four, to be exact – are the deeds to Club 667 and several million Derik dollars. First there wins.”
“How do you know someone won’t check out the book?” Minocher asked, the twinge of his Scottish accent among his newly accustomed American one making Amber smile, the way it always did.
“Does anyone remember Two-thousand and Seven?” Tragedy asked cheerfully.
“The Mycology Ban of Two-Thousand-And-Seven! Thanks to the Fiona-Haters!” Patricia’s said, ending with a smirk.
“Exactly. Any practising mycologist is to be caught and shot for the illegality. So no one’ll be checking that book out soon. Now, I think I’ve told you everything… Go.”
“Say what?” Pauli said, raising an eyebrow.
“Go. Go. Go go go. Go.” Tragedy repeated, opening his briefcase and taking out some papers.
“So, when you say "go", you mean, just go?” Philip said, looking at Tragedy, awe-struck.
“Uh, begin, commence, start moving... theoretically you have been racing for about forty seconds now, and so far Amber is winning because she's nearest to the door.”
“You can’t do this, can you?” Derik said, standing up.
“I can do whatever I want. I'm eccentric. Grr.” Tragedy said calmly.
“Pardon?” Derik asked.
“Go. GO!” Tragedy shouted and, quick as a flash, pulled out a gun from his briefcase and shot into the roof. Unexpectedly, some fibreglass tiles fell down, hitting him on the head and smashing into a trillion pieces. “I have to leave now, and finalised some details. Goodbye.” Picking up his papers, briefcase, and coat from the back of his chair, Tragedy left the room.
A few minutes later, seven people ran out of the same exit that Tragedy had, in different directions, but one goal in sight: get to Club QW.
Samuel was in the VIP Bar when he found his.
Emily was in the Library when she found hers.
Philip was in the Archives when he found his.
Patricia was in the Recreation Room when she found hers.
Derik was in the Main Chamber when he found his.
Amber was in the Smoke Room when she found hers.
Minocher was leaving the Smoke Room when he found his.
Pauli was in the Study when she found hers.
~
Eventually, in the elevator and hallways leading to the central, they all met. Amber chased Minocher out of the Smoke Room, coughing wildly and waving her hands about haphazardly. Emily and Philip met running up the stairs – Emily nearly knocking Philip over as she rapidly passed him. Pauli waited at an elevator just outside of the Study, and was soon joined by Patricia, Amber and Minocher. They entered it as Pauli pressed the button for the sixty-sixth floor. Samuel left the bar, went through into the Main Chamber and saw Derik go into an elevator. He ran forward, the tails of his jacket flying behind him. Derik saw him and tried to open the elevator doors wider, but to no avail; they were too far gone. The elevators were glass, so Samuel sighed as he saw Derik’s face form a sympathetic frown. He walked back across the large room, back into the VIP Bar and picked up where he left off, sipping a dry martini.
~
“I’m so glad you’re all here,” Tragedy, owner of Club 667, said.
Everyone was around a large desk, four on one side, three on the other. Tragedy was standing at the foot of it, a briefcase in front of him. He was dressed in his usual attire: formal suit, slick-backed hair. Everyone in front of him was very anxious; Amber and Minocher were agitated: looking at each other then Tragedy, and back at each other. Emily was wide-eyed, as was Philip. Pauli was scribbling something on her hand furiously and Patricia was conversing with Derik. Tragedy’s voice drew their attention away from their conversation.
“Why are we here?” Emily asked. Tension was high.
“Simple.” Tragedy said, “I have several million Derik dollars in my accounts and, well, it’s just too much.” As if in chorus, all the minds in the room went wtf?!. “I know you’re all probably thinking ‘wtf?!’; so am I, if truth be told. Truth be told…” A tense silence. People were giving Tragedy weird looks. He looked away, out a window to look at the outside grounds of Club 667.
“I’m leaving.” Gasps around. “Yes, I’m leaving. I’m setting off on a trek into the wilderness. Emily, Minocher and a few other will probably be thinking now that this is a cheesy rip-off of Lord Of The Rings, but I need to find myself. I’ll be taking limited supplies. I may return, but if I do, I won’t be proprietor of this club.” He turned to face the group once again.
“One of you will.” Silence. Pure, utter, virginal silence. A twitch would have disrupted the untaintedness of it. Five, four, three, two, one: massive outbreaks of joy, sadness, worry, anticipation, various other emotions. Tragedy shook his head. “I won’t be picking; you will – in logic.” He held up a map. “Here is us,” he said, pointing at the smallest of dots on the map, in the top-right hand corner, “and this is where you’re heading… if you want to own Club 667.” He pointed at the bottom-left hand corner.
“This… is Club QW. That’s Quiet World for those who don’t know. In there, there is a library. In the library, there is a book about fungi entitled Fungi. In there – page four-hundred and seventy-four, to be exact – are the deeds to Club 667 and several million Derik dollars. First there wins.”
“How do you know someone won’t check out the book?” Minocher asked, the twinge of his Scottish accent among his newly accustomed American one making Amber smile, the way it always did.
“Does anyone remember Two-thousand and Seven?” Tragedy asked cheerfully.
“The Mycology Ban of Two-Thousand-And-Seven! Thanks to the Fiona-Haters!” Patricia’s said, ending with a smirk.
“Exactly. Any practising mycologist is to be caught and shot for the illegality. So no one’ll be checking that book out soon. Now, I think I’ve told you everything… Go.”
“Say what?” Pauli said, raising an eyebrow.
“Go. Go. Go go go. Go.” Tragedy repeated, opening his briefcase and taking out some papers.
“So, when you say "go", you mean, just go?” Philip said, looking at Tragedy, awe-struck.
“Uh, begin, commence, start moving... theoretically you have been racing for about forty seconds now, and so far Amber is winning because she's nearest to the door.”
“You can’t do this, can you?” Derik said, standing up.
“I can do whatever I want. I'm eccentric. Grr.” Tragedy said calmly.
“Pardon?” Derik asked.
“Go. GO!” Tragedy shouted and, quick as a flash, pulled out a gun from his briefcase and shot into the roof. Unexpectedly, some fibreglass tiles fell down, hitting him on the head and smashing into a trillion pieces. “I have to leave now, and finalised some details. Goodbye.” Picking up his papers, briefcase, and coat from the back of his chair, Tragedy left the room.
A few minutes later, seven people ran out of the same exit that Tragedy had, in different directions, but one goal in sight: get to Club QW.