Conversation · Measurehead
Speakers · 28
Measurehead
You
Kim Kitsuragi
Conceptualization
Measurehead's Babe
Rhetoric
Volition
Visual Calculus
Encyclopedia
Composure
Inland Empire
Esprit de Corps
Logic
Authority
Empathy
Reaction Speed
Savoir Faire
Perception (Hearing)
Physical Instrument- Suggestion
Electrochemistry
Scab Leader
Half Light
Pain Threshold
Drama
Endurance
Interfacing- Perception (Smell)
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"No one is the new Measurehead -- let's go. Before he gets up..." The lieutenant makes haste toward the door.
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Oh god, wrong move! Your head is in his hands, like a pair of forceps crushing you and you can feel every joule...
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Oh god, wrong move! Your fist is in his hand again, like a pair of forceps crushing you... he has a monstrous recovery rate.
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"YOU KNOW THE WORDS: 'I AM A DEGENERATE DRUNK.'"
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"YOU ARE A POOR PLAYER OF PHYSICAL CHESS." He lets go of your head. You slump to the ground.
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"IT MUST BE NEURODEGENERATIVE. YOU NEVER LEARN." He lets go of your head and lets you slump to the ground.
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- Continue
- The compression is unbearable. This is causing some serious damage to whatever precious, gelatinous thing is inside there... your sight turns red.
- Even under the increased force on your skull there is no pain... just the sound of your own blood gushing in there, feeding your mind with oxygen.
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Even under the increased force on your skull there is no pain... just the sound of your own blood gushing in there, feeding your mind with oxygen.
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The compression is unbearable. This is causing some serious damage to whatever precious, gelatinous thing is inside there... your sight turns red.
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You were. But then you made a wrong move. And now your skull feels like it's about to crack.
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Don't wait. You've only got a millisecond -- he's coming to, time is breaking loose from the stupor, his left hand curls up into a fist...
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He's open, rip into him. Right hook. Escalate it, get intimate with him... bring the hurt closer!
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It has happened again! The titan has your fist locked in his hand and he's twisting it...
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"YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND, DEGENERATE DRUNK." The pressure on your hand becomes unbearable. "SAY IT: I AM A DEGENERATE ALCOHOLIC."
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"ANOTHER FIT OF CRIMINAL RAGE." The pressure on your already broken hand hand becomes unbearable: "WHO ARE YOU? IN YOUR OWN WORDS?"
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"D-d-d-degenerate alcoholic!"
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"GOOD." He releases your hand. "NOW LEAVE, BEFORE YOU HUMILIATE YOUR HOMO-EROTIC ORGANISATION ANY FURTHER."
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"I'm a hero...."
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Your hand cracks and twists in his grasp but your body is too numb with adrenaline to feel it...
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He can't hurt you. What more can he do that you haven't gone through already?
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"RABID ANIMAL, YOU SHOULD BE PUT DOWN." He releases your poor hand from his grasp. "I WILL NOT BE THE ONE WHO GETS YOUR STINK ON ME."
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"There's nothing you can do to me... that treacherous whores haven't done to me already."
Conditional
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Your hand twists in his grip and the pain blinds you. Still you press the words out of your swollen mouth...
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Your fist cracks in his hand like a ripe apple. Pain shoots up into your brain as he's twisting it more and more:
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"I don't remember, please..."
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How did this happen? Your little fist is in his giant hand and he's squeezing it. It hurts...
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Yes. Better not to expand your mind in this direction. You may find out too much about the mystery, fly too close to the race sun.
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"Measurehead, I am new to this world. Help me understand its races. I need to know what kind of different races are there?"
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"What thing? We already got in the harbour. You just want to hear about races, don't you?"
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"YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY A LIBERAL, SEOLITE," the man tells him. "A POLYCULTURALIST. I CAN SEE IT FROM YOUR LOVE OF MICROTECHNOLOGY AND YOUR SARTORIAL CHOICES. DO NOT DENY YOUR FRIEND THE TRUTH YOU HAVE DENIED YOURSELF."
"THERE ARE THREE CATEGORIES OF RACE: TYPE A -- THE HEROIC RACES -- TYPE B -- THE SERVILE RACES -- AND THE VILE C-F RACE CAULDRON OF PEDERASTY. WHICH ONE DO YOU NEED EDUCATION ON?"
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The lieutenant looks toward the harbour's electronic door and then to you. He lets out an audible sigh.