town meeting, alien breaking hoa rules

[amberhearted]

Who: OPEN
When: January 25th, Saturday, 5:00PM and onward
Where: Elian Price’s house – specifically, the basement
What: The Numbers discuss how to go about addressing the alien in the farmhouse. Nothing could go wrong, certainly?

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GETAWAY CAR??

[tenaciousc]

Intangibility is some way to travel. After thanking Danny, Michelle makes a beeline for her car, thankfully still safely parked by the curb.

It would be entirely unremarkable if not for the sunny orange paint job (so much easier to find in a parking lot than red, white or blue!)- a small, practical little car, a decade or so old but well cared-for. Five people (including herself) might be a squeeze; more than that and they'll be sitting on each other's laps, but it beats being snakemurdered.

As she agreed to do, she gets the car started and warmed up while she waits for her charges to arrive (by Danny or otherwise.)

[epimethean]

Wheatley knew--perhaps better than anyone--that he would be completely useless in the event of snakemurder, so he was quick to high-tail it out of there. In the growing pre-fight chaos he slipped out of the house in an effort to get to his moped and get away as fast as possible, leaving the actual fighters to do the actual fighting.

It was difficult not to miss the orange car on his way out, which meant that he spotted the driver not long after. Yes. Great. Michelle. She would most certainly know what to do.

"Michelle!"

[tenaciousc]

Yes. This was exactly the kind of person she meant when she offered to get people out of here.

"Wheatley?" she called, waving him over.

[epimethean]

Luckily, Wheatley sort of knew that, not that he planned to say as much. His general uselessness was not exactly a secret.

He wasted no time in running up to the car, leaning against it and sounding a little winded once he arrived.

"What's the--what's the plan? I mean, assuming you've got a plan. You're sort of standing here with purpose, so I'm guessing there's a plan.

Please tell him there was a plan.

[tenaciousc]

Michelle walked around the front of the car to meet Wheatley. "Like I said, I'm getting people out." She leveled a calm, "you should know this already" look at him. She thought she had made herself heard over the commotion back in the basement.

"I think the ghost kid's bringing them out here," she continued. "You brought your scooter, right?"

[epimethean]

"Yeah," he nodded, still a bit breathless and thumbing towards the vehicle in question. His beautiful, beautiful little scooter that could probably reach speeds of 30 mph. "I can take someone on the back, shouldn't--shouldn't be a problem."

[massivescale]

Oh, but problem it shall be! Why? Because one particular snake had managed to find itself on a direct path for Michelle and Wheatley. Why, it was none other than old Stinky, who had managed to free itself from the evil that is magical girls. The girls had not made this snake statue a particularly happy one and it showed with how fast it approached. A trail of slime and sewage (accompanied by a nice stench) was left in its wake as it slithered closer and closer to the two. Magical girls didn't succeed in getting it to put on an air freshener around its neck, it seems.

[tenaciousc]

Michelle looked towards the moped. Then she glanced further ahead, and her eyes widened as she caught the snake speeding directly towards it--and them.

"Get in," she snapped at Wheatley. "Now!"

She rushed back around to the driver's side, yanked the door open and practically threw herself into her seat. What had possessed her not to move the car earlier?

[epimethean]

Wheatley, of course, didn't need to be told twice, though he did spare a second to let out a shocked cry as his beloved moped was more-or-less mown down by the approaching snake with a crunch.

Goodnight, sweet moped.

Perhaps in a less dire situation, he would have mourned, but there was no time and all he could do was dive into the passenger's seat, trying to fight off the telltale freight-train roar in his ears of someone else's memories coming back to him at the most inconvenient time possible. He crushed his hands to his forehead as he slammed the door, half in an effort to block out the images rushing through his head, half to maybe pretend a giant pink snake didn't just total his moped.

"I'm in, I'm in--drive! Now's a good time to--to drive!"

[tenaciousc]

Michelle winced at the sound of crunching metal and plastic. That sounded rather final. Hopefully Wheatley had another means of transportation.

"I am, I am!" In fact, she was already starting to pull away from the curb by the time he slammed the door. The Orange Box was a sturdy little car, as little cars went, but she didn't think it would fare much better versus twelve feet of angry statue.

Though she spared a glance at him once he was more-or-less safely seated, she said nothing, totally focused on putting some space between them and that snake.

[epimethean]

He kept his eyes squeezed shut as the car lurched into action, the images rushing behind his eyelids regardless, more and more of that strange, overgrown place, and Michelle this time, in orange and white, and the distinct feeling that something about him is very, very wrong.

"I keep--"

When he opened his eyes again, unfortunately, it was accompanied by two glaring beams of light, which he instantly slapped his hands over, so as not to blind Michelle as she tried to drive.

"Agh, god, sorry--sorry, I can't--"

It was probably not conducive to a car chase.

[tenaciousc]

Well, that answered the question of whether he'd gotten control of them yet. She was grateful for him covering his eyes so quickly- the reflection off the inside of the windshield would have been distracting at best.

"You said you could turn them off!"

Sorry, Wheats. She'd be more sympathetic if they weren't in mid-car chase.

A quick look in the rearview mirror showed that they were gaining some breathing room. As she swung the car too fast around the corner, she hoped dearly for two things: One, that there weren't any pedestrians, and two, that Stinky would lose track of them.

[epimethean]

"I can, I can, they're--"

He kept his hands over his eyes for a few prolonged moments, fighting down his panic and making the conscious effort to cease the eye-beams.

"They're off, they're off."

With that taken care of, he turns in the seat, trying to see through the back window. "I'm not sure it's still after us, but, uh. I'd keep driving. If I were you."