Author Topic: Highrise Showdown  (Read 674 times)

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Foxtrot

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Re: Highrise Showdown
« Reply #90 on: April 13, 2016, 12:32:55 pm »
As soon as Foxtrot finds another glider pack under some debris, it slips from his hooves as the building begins to lean forward. The lights flicker and explode as the current is cut off; furniture, concrete, and metal begin sliding out of the room into the bay below. The agent sprints towards Bravo, the Director himself barely moving. Passing the pack again, the unicorn scoops it up and slings it over his shoulders; cuffs in hoof skids to a stop next to the pegasus. He only manages to get one on when the skyscraper begins to collapse; the structure falling forward halfway. The Director and agent are flung out of the conference room, hundreds of meters in the air; Foxtrot's heart beats erratically, his vision and hearing blurring as his adrenaline kick in full throttle. Finding Bravo too far to secure the other cuff, Foxtrot yanks the chord on his pack; a pair of canvas wings spring out, catching the high winds and violently cutting the unicorn's momentum, and lack of oxygen, by a drastic amount. Tucking his body in he tackles Bravo and clicks on the last cuff, securing the final Director. As he pops out of sight, Foxtrot looks over to see that the building right over him. In a roar that echoes throughout the entire city, a storm of dust swallows the immediate area, the fog of confusion worsening with the lack of visibility. Any cars in the area buzz and honk as their alarms erupt from the seismic vibration. As the dust settle and waves calm, the carcass of what's left of the building now shows. Twisted beams of metal, concrete, wires and stone all litter the area, dotted by small flames throughout. Further out into the bay, a small splash breaks from the water. Foxtrot gasps for air as his pack's inflation device activates, a blessing of The 26's no expense spared policy. Disorientated and losing consciousness, the unicorn looks over his shoulder as his breathing regulates  to find the destruction that was left behind. The sudden sound of creaking wood ahead of him draws his attention forward; out of the smog of soot in the air, a small boat coasts within sight. It's crimson sails are marked as Saddle Arabian, bringing the unicorn to grin as a familiar face shows up. Before he can do anything else though, his body gives out from exhaustion, Foxtrot blacking out as he floats in the water.
When the day needs saving, you don't need a hero. You need a professional.