The fresh radiance bleaches everything alabaster white, such that you can see crisp, clear outlines, but you really can’t tell what the colors are supposed to be. Trees grow naturally to the left and right of the main thoroughfare, which splits into something of a lopsided Y about one-hundred fifty yards in. Further on, things appear hazy, as if there was a low pall of smoke hugging the ground some four hundred or so yards distant: that’s where the (barrel?) fire appears to be dancing. About two hundred yards in you see three figures: You figure they *have* to be Reggie and team. One of them is hunched down, looking like he’s getting ready to bolt, one continues to stride forward purposefully, and the third is joggling sideways/backwards, firing what can only be a silenced weapon at the newly-risen night-sun, to absolutely no effect.
Everybody witnessing this is either blind as a bat or *REALLY* thankful they are equipped with overload dampers/flare compensation. There are no two ways about it: The sudden eruption of super-bright light in what was almost total darkness is an unanticipated and largely overwhelming change in current visibility such that biologicals simply cannot cope.
On the main push Ace growls: "One. Three. Do that again and I'll s4 on your head. You nearly made me soil my armor! Out." Ace then takes several deep breaths to calm his racing heart, lower his blood pressure, and try to keep from having an aneurism or something equally fatal, using the moment to call back up over his shoulder to his friend. "Sorry about that, Block,” he says aloud, not on any comms channel. “Tiny mentioned the van getting slagged by a rocket and the next thing I see appears to be the booster flame of a rocket streaking up to kill us. Didn't mean to blow out your ears, Mate." As they glide further along, Ace considers biologically marking the Limo as he and Block silently glide over the wall, losing the moment as new options unfold underneath them. The trees severely hamper vision and navigation up here, even though they’re growing in controlled locations: they tend to “reach out” and mingle one with another, making natural bridges in some places, barricades in others. They offer excellent shade on the walking paths during the hot summer days, though, so nobody thinks to prune them back out of each other. Well, not seriously, anyway.
Cautiously, Block asks, “Leeson, is that shroud yours, or something else?" Out of the darkness Leeson responds, “Not anything I would have done. Looks like it’s concentrated some several hundred meters up ahead,” he continues, “seems unpleasantly murky up there.” |
