BCP3O: “Red? RED! Have you no sense of decency? No SHAME?”
Benedict’s shrill voice carried even to the ground fighters below.
“This will clash horribly with my wardrobe! I’m a winter, you twit!”
Still flailing his arms and complaining loudly about the splash of red paint, he peered over Jaselyn’s shoulder as she fussed with the bomb. “No, no, you’re doing it all wrong. You’ve activated the espresso maker. Here, permit me.”
With a series of wrist-flicks and knob-twists he succeeded in activating a huge digital countdown display currently set to the number 0:30. “Ah, there we are.” He flipped a final switch.
The display flashed red and the count changed to 0:03.
A digital voice said, “Self-destruct activated. The Sherwin-William Paint-o-matic Twenty Ex Kay will detonate in three.”
Benedict’s eyes went wide.
“Margaret Thatcher’s massive balls! Help me get this thing over the side. QUICK!”
Angela spends the entire descent, riding the wind and unloading her balls onto the chaos below. “Merry eff’n Christmas,” she says with a grin and pulls out the bazooka she had shoved down her pants before climbing the trees and making the death-defying leap onto the dirigible ladder.
Taking careful aim at the bear bartender, Angela fires the bazooka and catches an updraft that carries her right to the steps of Machu Piccu.
“Hopefully, Edward will have the sense to follow,” she mumbles. “I’ve got important dealings inside,” and Angela rushes into the ruins.
Jaselyn: And it’s a good thing Angela rushed as soon as she did, because with Benedict’s help, Jaselyn is able to push the bomb out of the dirigible, but only just in time.
It falls through the air, beeping its warning countdown, and just before it hits the ground: BOOM! A shockwave spreads through the jungle, carrying a tsunami of paint. Everything within a half-mile radius is splattered. From the vantage point of the dirigible, it looks like a color-wheel vomited all over the jungle.
Jaselyn once more wipes the sweat from her brow, simultaneously smearing the paint.
“That was a close one,” she says to Benedict, catching her breath as the adrenaline leaves her system. “I just hope Edward and Angela made it out safe. And I hope Sugie and Ben got splatted with colors that match their outfits…”
Still dancing Edward looks at his watch” Dame” he says soaked in paint”Computer open the door.
“why “asks the computer speaking through his beats headphone” your in the middle of a paintball war”
He looks up” Its Christmas” he says almost right, it was the day after Christmas” My kids need their toys”
Understanding human pain somewhat “ok” say the computer opening a door for him” your welcome”
Dancing out the door, Edward looks back at the mess the bomb made. Good thing he gave Angela his magic poncho(and a ham sandwich) before he leaves the Holodeck, heading for Louisiana.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYONE!!!!
Angela bites into the ham sandwich. And chews. She wonders if anyone happened to see her slip in and believes she is safe, for now. Cocking her gun, Angela confirms she’s packing and dives into the darkness into the countless corridors that slither to the belly of the ruins.
If the programing I installed on Ben does its job, he’ll be joining me in no time.
Angela can’t help, but crack a smile.
It was he, after all, who summoned this Peruvian jungle due to the program I imbedded into his frontal lobe back in Brooklyn. Ah yes… everything is working out as planned.
Ben: KAAAAAAAAAHN!”…errr….I mean…”PENNINGTOOOOOON!” Splattered in paint, Ben shakes an angry fist at the dirigible.
Sugie was right: Ben could foresee exactly what was going to happen. That implant in his frontal lobe provides a connection back to Angela’s brain as well.
“Everyone, up to the ruins! Double time! There is not a moment to waste. It’s a good thing our bear bartender has two friends”
The three jump on top of bears and the unlikely steeds race up the slope with the nimbleness of cats. In no time Ben, Sugie and Cory stare at the doorway to the ruin and the darkness beyond.
Ben pats his bear’s muzzle: “Sorry, Vladimir, where we go, you should not follow”. He turns to his two comrade in arms.
“Here’s what I suggest: two of us should go after Angela and the third, well..” He looks around conspiratorially, then lead them a little to the side where a large catapult lies cleverly hidden. “Somebody’s gotta go and back up Ernesto up there. Volunteers?”