Flight Poll: Armstrong

[Velox]

Vote here for your favorite Flight story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on June 4th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Flight Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 12th round preliminary poll.

• [*]The New Kadin Nuparu loved his new mask. He thanked Mata Nui every single hour for it. But what made him love it more is the looks of envy he got from Kongu. What? It wasn’t his fault he got his mask. Blame the Red Star’s lightning. He inhaled deeply, feeling the wind splash his mask. He loved flying. At first he hated it. He was a Toa of Earth. Why should he be able to fly? When he was a matoran, he hardly ever went above ground. Now, he was literally above the ground. -- With Kongu sitting on a rock, staring at Nuparu’s aerobatics, he wished he could fly. Once, a couple of months back, Toa Lewa had given him a ride. He thoroughly enjoyed the exhilaration, and yearned to fly once more. But, alas, he could not. Yes, he was a Toa of Air, but he did not have a Miru, or, what he most coveted, the Kadin. -- Nuparu noticed Kongu’s depressed look. He did a loop-the-loop and landed, right in front of Kongu. He looked up from the rock, and stopped poking the worm near him. “What do you want,” he asked, quite annoyed. “Here to rub it in again?” “Only if you want me to. But I was going to ask if you wanted to fly.” “Can you handle the weight of both of us?” “Of course I can,” Nuparu said, pompous as ever. He then created a high column of mud and soil, upon which both were standing. A slight breeze kicked in, the air being blown into their faces. “Do you honestly hate me for what I am,” Nuparu asked suddenly. “How can I? It’s not like you asked Karzahni for a Kadin when we were in his realm.” Nuparu shuddered with the thought. “The Land of Nightmares and Death,” he quoted. “I didn’t know you read the ancient texts.” “They were in the archives, practically carved into the wall.” “Anyway, he probably just grabbed a random mask and put it on you.” “He’s a lunatic. Thinking he can ‘fix’ us.” “You really think so?” Kongu asked. “Let’s get started on that ‘flying’ you mentioned earlier. Think you can handle your stomach?” “We’ll see if I can’t,” Kongu replied. “No, really. We’ll be able to see it falling.” -- The feeling of flight, like always, was exciting. You know, because it’s so fun to get whipped in the face with air. But it was always a feeling of freedom that overcame all. -----[*]Fight or Flight Running, running, forever running. The beasts were always behind, ready to consume her. Why didn’t they tire, why was there no escape? Did Mata-Nui, the Great Spirits, or whoever was in control of the universe find it fit for her to eternally suffer like this? Did she commit some overwhelming sin that had gotten her banished to this Doom Viper’s pit, this Karzahni? She didn’t know, and she didn’t know why she didn’t know. She didn’t know how she could find these lost memories, either. She didn’t even know her name. She woke up one morning here, or at least she thought morning was the correct term. She had vocabulary jumbled in her mind, and she knew what a lot of it meant, or at least she assumed she did. She also thought she was in a cave, and that the cries of these terrible beasts sounded like ferocious, starving Muaka. The grunts sounded like furious Stone Apes. The hisses sounded like venomous, hunting Doom Vipers. But she couldn’t remember anything! She was a... Matoran. Of water, she thought, due to the blue armor she caught sight of in the brief light she entered every few hours. The beasts stopped when she entered these areas, staying out of sight. She thought she was safe. Then night fell, and she found herself fleeing again. She still didn’t know why. She didn’t have a clue. She just remembered... blood. Oil. Torn flesh, shattered machinery. Dying gasps. Cold laughs. Utter fear. Bright red eyes. Fire on the water surrounding the village. Darkness. She thought she had died... But she couldn’t remember anything. That was nothing. It was fragments of memory, not memories themselves. She remembered adrenaline pumping, fighting for her life. Against something. It was some beast, or maybe it was some sapient creature. She didn’t remember. She just knew that she couldn’t fight this time. She had to continue her flight, desperately hoping for a light at the end of this tunnel... A light that wouldn’t be from an impossibly tall, perfectly smooth shaft going straight into whiteness above. Fate... that was the word. Why had fate taken her here? What was fate, truly? Was it that she would run until her strength gave out, that her flight would end and she would be torn to shreds by these Rahi? Wait... was that light? She dared not hope. Yes, it was. It grew stronger. But it couldn’t be an escape. Was it? It seemed warm... unlike the previous rays. They were sterile, white. This was flickering, warm, orange. It was a... candle? A torch? Those were light devices. They provided fire. Fire was warm, flickering, life-giving. They meant someone was near. With one final push of her tired legs, the Matoran stumbled from the tunnel and into the light. -----[*]The Test “Okay,” said the Le-Matoran instructor, sitting in the passenger’s seat beside Kongu. “Have you quick-checked the levitation and weight disks?” Kongu nodded. “First thing I quick-checked, instructor-sir.” The instructor scribbled on his pad. “The chutes?” “Full,” Kongu answered. “And capped-blocked, too.” The instructor scratched something else down. “Levers and pulleys fully operational?” “Completely, instructor-sir,” said Kongu, pointing at the pulleys before him. “I had my engineer-friend look them over beforehand.” “Emergency lights and radar systems in proper condition?” “Of course, instructor-sir.” “All safety procedures followed?” “To the letter, instructor-sir.” “Then let’s commence-begin the flight test.” Kongu smiled and nodded and turned to the controls. Although Kongu was careful not to show it, his nerves were wracking him so badly that he almost forgot what to do. If he passed this test, he’d become a licensed airship pilot. If he failed . . . well, he could always be a chute monitor, Kongu supposed. All right, Kongu thought. Just need to pull-grab this pulley and up-high we’ll go. The Le-Matoran pulled the pulley toward himself. The airship lurched, almost throwing the instructor off his seat, though thankfully he was securely tied down thanks to his seat belt. “Quick-sorry about that,” said Kongu, hastily letting go of the pulley to turn his attention to the instructor. That caused the ship to lurch back, knocking the instructor’s skull back against his seat’s head. “Ow! Keep your eyes on the sky, student!” “Yes, instructor-sir,” said Kongu, turning his attention back to the controls. This time, the airship flew although Kongu noticed out of the corner of his eye that the instructor was frowning and scribbling something on his pad. Kongu tried to ignore the instructor. His friend, Matau, had told him that as long as he kept his cool, Kongu would be able to pass. The airship was now in the sky, but it was not moving. Kongu had yet to unleash the capped proto chutes because he was busily making sure that the airship was steady and aiming forward. He’d heard tales of careless students who’d uncapped the chutes when the airship was aiming slightly toward the ground, which usually resulted in a bloody, messy death for everyone involved. The sensors indicated that the airship was stable, so Kongu said to the instructor, “Which way do I go-fly, instructor-sir?” “Go-fly north,” said the instructor, pointing straight ahead. “Just don’t-“ In his eagerness to obey the instructor’s commands, Kongu immediately pulled the lever that uncapped the chutes. He opened them a little too wide, however, for the ship shot forward at dangerous speeds. They were flying straight toward a building and would have crashed into it had the instructor not immediately flipped the emergency break switch just in time. Without warning, the airship stopped so abruptly that Kongu was thrown forward and hit the controls. Shaking his head, Kongu looked at the instructor and smiled sheepishly. “So . . . did I pass-succeed the test?” said Kongu, although he knew the answer even before the instructor answered. “No,” said the instructor, shaking his head. “You failed-loss. Land the airship and we’ll speak-discuss your future later.” Kongu nodded unhappily and landed the airship, though this time he was careful to do things right so they wouldn’t crash into the ground. As Kongu and the instructor exited the airship, Kongu decided that maybe being a chute monitor wouldn’t be such a bad job after all. Would be easier than flying airships, at any rate. -----[*]Fight-or-Flight Response All around me, the ground shakes. Structures shift and the dirt beneath my feet seems ready to rupture. It’s coming back to finish the job. I figure I’m the only survivor of the last attack and it’s clearly fixing to change that. I see Matoran scrambling to leave. A mass exodus has begun, but they won’t be able to fully evacuate before it arrives. I travel back within my mind to the first time I encountered it. Several hours ago, my Toa team had been scouting in the forest beyond the village when the ground began to seethe just as it is now. We panicked. And then it rose. This monstrous beast exploded forth from the soil, a gaping maw affixed to a lengthy neck. Tentacles, presumably appendages of the creature, perforated the soil in the vicinity of the abomination. Adrenaline overtook our more rational thinking and fight-or-flight response overrode any other thought processes… And flight was the dominant response. We fell back and regrouped. It was only when we calmed down that we realized that the Toa of Plasma in our squad was nowhere to be seen. It was obvious that he hadn’t escaped. Once we overcame the shock, we began to violently debate. What was it? What should we do about it? Could it be taken down? It didn’t give us a chance to find answers. It struck again before we had completely recuperated from our distress after the first attack. The earth opened wide and the monstrosity lifted itself from the abyss below. Fight or flight. The Toa of Water in our team looks at me, tells me to run and warn the village. They need to know as soon as possible so they can escape to the safety of the coastline before it arrives. She tells me that she and the rest of our team will slow it down, but her eyes betray it all. She doesn’t expect any of them to survive. Fight or flight: my choice. If I fight, I might provide the necessary support to save them all… but if we lose regardless… the village will go unwarned. The casualties will be extreme. If I flee, I can guarantee they gave their lives for something. I choose flight. So here I am. I got the warning out, and the village is escaping. Yet, I’m devastated. My team is dead, and all because I chose flight. They could have had a chance if I’d fought… but I didn’t. I look around. To my dismay, I realize that not enough villagers have evacuated. I need more time, but my team has already paid the ultimate price to give me as much as possible. Fight or flight… I’m done with flight. They need time. I choose to fight. Once again, it rises up from underground. Sickle-shaped teeth abound from the ravenous mouth. A primeval roar resounds through the village. Elemental bolts streak towards it and tentacles thrash me. The fight is lengthy… just lengthy enough. I look around and see that the village deserted. The Matoran escaped. My inattention as I survey the village costs me. A tentacle hurls me to the ground. I’m battered. The physical trauma is extensive… too extensive. I know that I am slipping out of this realm of reality and into whatever life lies beyond. For a moment, I see her standing over my body. The Water Toa from my team. I’m not sure if she alone survived the last battle, or if she’s guiding me into the afterlife. I don’t care. All that matters is that I chose against flight. -----[*]Impossible Dream Tamaru hated the height. He truly despised both it and every facet of it. But, mainly, he abhorred it because it was just so ... ... well, it was just so high. That was the problem. Height was high. Surely that wasn't one of the most profound statements to be thought by any Le-Matoran in history, but it was true. That didn't make it any less scary. It wasn't always like this, though. Why else would Tamaru have his sights set on being an airship pilot? As a Le-Matoran, his inception did not come with the inherent oxymoron of hating heights - rather, something had to do it for him. Unfortunately, he was a Matoran who valued first impressions, and a Matoran whose first impressions of things pretty much defined his view of that particular thing. Like height. He hated heights because of flight - flight being the gateway to height. When he first came into being, seemingly all he could set his thoughts on was flight. It would be awesome, he thought, to fly around in an airship like the ones that constantly circled kios above Le-Metru. The freedom, the exhilarating thrill ... So, like every Le-Matoran before him, he found an airship as it was moored to the ground and asked about how he could fly in one. The operator, who was nice enough to him, kindly let his dreams of flying in one of them down by informing him of the fierce competition of the job. There were only so many airships, you see, and pretty much every Le-Matoran wanted them. Only the best got in, and that was only with a little bit of luck. Tamaru was unfazed by this, and, thanking the operator for his time, proceeded to sneak aboard a craft carrying cargo - sails for Ga-Metru boats, in fact. The interior was spacious, even with the mountains of boxes and occasional loose sails that were arranged therein. He was exhilarated by this, but tucked inside the depths of the airship, there wasn't much he could see - and the sight, no doubt, was the most breathtaking part of any air excursion. Even a first-time flyer such as he could figure this out; it was obvious to anyone who put much thought into it. Looking over - and unaware that the ship had smoothly taken off from its mooring - he spotted a hatch that let to the outside. Tamaru was blissfully ignorant of the fact that there was nothing between him and the ground far below if he removed it. He also had no idea whatsoever that the pressure difference between inside and out would be dangerous ... He clicked open the hatch. At once, the entire airship lurched over to the side and down, making Tamaru weightless as the hatch flung open. Air rushed out of the ship, equalizing pressure with the atmosphere that surrounded it. The pile of boxes tumbled over, crashing on towards Tamaru. Klaxons of all timbres shouted out, drowning Tamaru's senses as he struggled to avoid the tsunami of boxes in the fluctuating gravity of the tilting craft. Fortunately, mercifully, the boxes had rushed past. Tamaru had managed to not get impaled by the boxes' newfound velocity. But the pilot and copilot worked diligently to right the ship, they found success, and the boxes tumbled down again towards a now thoroughly frightened Le-Matoran. There was only one thing he could do. Tamaru grabbed a sail that had floated next to him ... and jumped. As the sail inflated and he came down in the shadow of the now-landing airship, one thought kept going through his head: I hate flying, -----[*]Black Spike Sentry A smile touches my lips as my blow leaves a dent in the rusty flap of sheet metal emblazoned with the symbol of the Fire Tribe. This red-armored warrior had better hope his tribe is stronger than his shield. Or just him. The Glatorian was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Perhaps his broken body will serve as a potent enough warning to his brothers, a warning that says not to trespass and not to pry. This poor unfortunate has been carried too far from his homestead. It's been a long and harrowing journey, from the look of it. He won't have to be bothered making the return trip. He doesn't know it yet, but he will know soon enough. My club whistles through the air, matching the keening of cold unfeeling wind as it wails through the canyons and crevices in the mountains. It meets a sloppy block, weaker than the last and an irritated curse slips out of the same lips that my smile of impending victory had lit upon only moments ago. "Why can't you save us both time," I growl, stomping forwards as the Glatorian stumbles back. I ram him with my shield back towards the edge of the cliff face. "And just jump now?" "And miss out on all this fun? I don't think so," He tries to laugh weakly in the face of danger, in my face, and fails utterly. He is young and full of life, for the time being, that is, and ridiculous. Who actually says those kinds of things in the middle of a life-or-death struggle atop a mountain? He's probably been raised with too many war-hero stories about the Core War. We're dancing about on a small precipice which is my sentry post. Foolishly enough, the warrior thought he could surprise me here. One of the majestic black spike peaks stands guard over me. My studded club, an extension of my arm really, answers for me. It lands a heavy, thumping blow in the Glatorian's side that was left unguarded. Amateurs. Cracks in the brittle desert-worn armor jag out to meet me. He feels his armor give beneath my blow, I see it in his eyes. In a panic, he fires one of his Thornax. It deflects off my shield like he'd aimed it there, sailing over the edge of the cliff into oblivion. "Did you hear that? Your Thornax fruit is calling for you to follow it," I tell him, again driving my shield into his own, curbing the distance between him and the edge to a mere couple feet. Finally, the Glatorian sees that he is done for. He lowers his shield and empty launcher. He is trembling like a baby bird from helmet to armored feet, clearly exhausted. He looks at me with wide eyes, and we both know that Skrall know no mercy. I hold his insolent gaze in my iron one, shield and club raised. I do not see fear in his eyes, which is admirable, but not uncommon. "Make it quick," He says to me, not begging, not even asking politely. I shrug, and step up to him, placing my shield between the two of us. "Now why would I want to do that?" I return, and give him a shove with my shield just hard enough to send him toppling and howling to his death far below. "Fly, my baby bird. Fly away home."

[Toa of Dancing]

Number two. The rest are good, however. Especially 4, the one person who got the same idea as I did. =P

[The Marlfox]

i went with six because i really liked the different approach the author took to the theme.

[Ballom Nom Nom]

Two and six were pretty close, but I eventually went with the former.~B~

[fishers64]

I went with 3.

[Maganar]

Now that I've actually had the chance to read it, I realize just how unlike mine Jello Pickles' was. Yay for originality! I cringed when I realized I'd submitted an entry with the same title as someone else's, but I rushed to change it by a couple words before the 30-minute edit grace period expired. Turns out it was all good after all and my story bore no similarities with his anyway.

[Velox]

Polling period over; poll closed.