Chapter #7Another Day in Chicago, Am I RIght? by: Kilbil   Gradually, the world grew darker, becoming pitch-black as the sky continued to descend upon Chicago. The thermal radiation emanating from Rumo's descending finger was heating up the ground to nigh-unbearable levels, lighting a few stray trees on fire and turning the iron wrought fences a searing hot-red. Multiple consecutive waves of displaced air battered the impressive structures at the heart of the metropolis, cyclonic winds thrashing desperately at the reinforced steel and flinging anything that wasn't nailed down to oblivion. A few of the older buildings, ones that hadn't gone through the comprehensive reinforcement that had characterized most of Chicago's policies, had already disappeared in a hail of smoke, as though just the very presence of Rumo had cowed them into complete capitulation. The sheer, overwhelming mass was even enough to cause some stray bits of ground to chip of and seeming levitate up into the air - perhaps being attracted by the mild gravitational pull being exerted by the supermassive digit.
This calamity, this nigh-apocalyptic state of affairs, was met by most with little more than resignation and grit, as everyone prepared for what had by now become an all-too familiar routine. Somewhere in City Hall, a flick of a switch had opened up several steel compartments throughout the city, all of which had been installed over the past few years with the help of some very generous federal funding. From those compartments rose a cornucopia of artillery, armed with all the explosive firepower the country's budget could mustered, all of which were attached to Within the few minutes, the city had become an expansive military fortress, each compartment now loaded with the latest in ballistic weaponry.
Without further delay, the munitions were fired up into the sky with full force. Every last missile and thermobaric bomb, hundreds of thousands of them, were sent directly towards the descending realm of skin, some with the pure explosive power of 40 kilotons of dynamite - close to three times as powerful as the Hiroshima bomb.
With any luck, this would be just about enough firepower to get Rumo's attention.
~~~
Just as his finger was about to touch down on Chicago, Rumo suddenly felt the tip get slightly warm, causing him to pull it back.
"Ok, ok! I get it!"
With a huff, he pulled his finger away from the tiny metallic-grey growth, rubbing a bit at the end as checked whether it had gotten singed (it had not, of course)
"If you think you have things under control, then I'll leave you alone."
He knew that they probably had their reasons, but an irrational part of him couldn't help but feel a little miffed all the same. He didn't have any hard feelings or anything, but at the same time, he knew when he wasn't welcome.
With that, Rumo started to get up - then immediately stopped, as a sudden thought burst through his head like the crack of a bat hitting a homerun.
"Oh, before I forget - hi, Uncle Arthek!"
~~~
Meanwhile, somewhere deep in the guts of Chicago, as he coaxes a pale, shivering man from hiding underneath one of the tables, a weary bartender quickly covers his ears as loud, muffled booms hammer down on the city. In spite of not being able to understand a word of what Rumo said, he suddenly gets the distinct feeling that his little cafe was going to get a lot more popular. How annoying...   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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