01-04-2019, 11:44 AM
The computer graphics faded away to show a real suit of armor underneath.
"I've got to admit, Helen," Susan whispered. "When you said we were going to watch a video, I thought you mean the other one."
"Shh," Helen snickered. "That one's on the drive, too. You remember the deal."
"What you are about to see... or, should I say, NOT see... is the future of modern warfare."
"Ain't 'at what they say at the beginnin' of every movie where technology fucks up an' starts killin' everyone?" He faked a Texan accent. "Gennelmen, what y'all're seein' here, is the future of modern warfare."
Everyone but Helen laughed.
The video-within-the-video switched to a desert scene with a helicopter flying about 50 feet over the ground. It zoomed in on the person wearing the Springheel suit and helmet, then panned out as they jumped out of the helicopter. The pilot immediately pulled away as Springheel hit the ground feet first, then bounced back up into the air. High enough that if the pilot hadn't moved the chopper, the wearer might have been caught up in the rotating blades. He landed again, and began making shorter, smaller jumps, until he stopped entirely.
The fake audience oohed, then cheered.
"'How did he do that,' you may ask." The speaker said when it died down.
"Why thank you, sir." Troy said, in a stuffy British accent. "I may just ask how, indeed." This time, everyone laughed.
The image switched to a camera inside the suit. An isomorphic view of the surrounding landscape was pictured in a window in the corner. Then a little dotted line appeared in the wearer's field of vision as the window showed a series of dotted lines, corresponding to the pattern in which the suit jumped before.
"It's Missile Command!" Mander blurted out. The room exploded with laughter.
"No, no." Troy said through his howls. "It's more like Family Circus, when Mommy tells Billy 'Time for dinner,' and Billy takes the twisted dotted-line path through the neighborhood to get home." The laughs continued.
"With satellite data, internal sensors that constantly sweep the surrounding area, and GPS information fed directly to the wearer, Springheel's trajectory-plotting can be done in an instant. We're not to the point of 'leap tall buildings in a single bound' yet, but we'll get there in time. That would be enough for some people. But we didn't stop there."
"But wait, there's more!" Julie called out. Everyone but Helen laughed again; she stared intently at the screen.
The video cut to the helicopter's view of Springheel in the desert, zooming in on it. The person in the suit touched their left forearm, causing a panel to slide away and reveal a small keyboard. Springheel vanished before their eyes. The camera panned back, and little clouds of kicked-up dust could be seen when the suit continued jumping.
"Active camouflage, transmitting data in real time to Springheel and adjusting to provide 360-degree stealth capabilities. And as I said, we can't leap that far, but we can certainly climb. Climbing lines and pitons concealed in the wrists..."
As he spoke, from out of nothing, a line fired and latched into the side of a rock formation. The line became taught and seemed to disappear until all that was left of it were a couple of feet sticking out of the piton embedded in the rock and leading to nothing. Springheel faded back into sight, and it was clinging to the side of the bare rock, held by the piton, until the wearer bent his knees, pushed off from the side of the rock formation, and the piton retracted back into the suit as the wearer engaged the camouflage and was gone again.
Susan began humming the "Spider-Man" theme as they watched.
"With concealed blades housed in the forearms..." Springheel became visible again, and a long blade came out it's right wrist before it vanished. "Your enemies won't know what hit them."
The scene changed to a night-time view, bathed in the green of a night-vision camera up in a tree outside of a walled-in compound; guards patrolling the perimeter. A caption on the screen read "Not Actors. Home of known drug cartel boss." A pair of armed guards patrolled the outside. The camera zoomed in on them.
"Stately Wayne..." Troy started to say, before trailing off, noticing now that
Contessa Helena de San Finzione had stopped laughing, and was intently staring at the screen. He paid attention.
"Two coming from the East." Said the spotter with the camera. He zoomed in on the two as one suddenly found himself hoisted into the air, blood coming from his mouth and chest, as if impaled on something. He fell to the ground as his companion looked about in confusion and terror. The other man started to run, when a piton shot out of nothing and speared him in the back. The guard cried out as the piton dragged him backwards, retracted back into nothingness, and a slit in his throat appeared; causing him to collapse, clutching his neck.
"I've got to admit, Helen," Susan whispered. "When you said we were going to watch a video, I thought you mean the other one."
"Shh," Helen snickered. "That one's on the drive, too. You remember the deal."
"What you are about to see... or, should I say, NOT see... is the future of modern warfare."
"Ain't 'at what they say at the beginnin' of every movie where technology fucks up an' starts killin' everyone?" He faked a Texan accent. "Gennelmen, what y'all're seein' here, is the future of modern warfare."
Everyone but Helen laughed.
The video-within-the-video switched to a desert scene with a helicopter flying about 50 feet over the ground. It zoomed in on the person wearing the Springheel suit and helmet, then panned out as they jumped out of the helicopter. The pilot immediately pulled away as Springheel hit the ground feet first, then bounced back up into the air. High enough that if the pilot hadn't moved the chopper, the wearer might have been caught up in the rotating blades. He landed again, and began making shorter, smaller jumps, until he stopped entirely.
The fake audience oohed, then cheered.
"'How did he do that,' you may ask." The speaker said when it died down.
"Why thank you, sir." Troy said, in a stuffy British accent. "I may just ask how, indeed." This time, everyone laughed.
The image switched to a camera inside the suit. An isomorphic view of the surrounding landscape was pictured in a window in the corner. Then a little dotted line appeared in the wearer's field of vision as the window showed a series of dotted lines, corresponding to the pattern in which the suit jumped before.
"It's Missile Command!" Mander blurted out. The room exploded with laughter.
"No, no." Troy said through his howls. "It's more like Family Circus, when Mommy tells Billy 'Time for dinner,' and Billy takes the twisted dotted-line path through the neighborhood to get home." The laughs continued.
"With satellite data, internal sensors that constantly sweep the surrounding area, and GPS information fed directly to the wearer, Springheel's trajectory-plotting can be done in an instant. We're not to the point of 'leap tall buildings in a single bound' yet, but we'll get there in time. That would be enough for some people. But we didn't stop there."
"But wait, there's more!" Julie called out. Everyone but Helen laughed again; she stared intently at the screen.
The video cut to the helicopter's view of Springheel in the desert, zooming in on it. The person in the suit touched their left forearm, causing a panel to slide away and reveal a small keyboard. Springheel vanished before their eyes. The camera panned back, and little clouds of kicked-up dust could be seen when the suit continued jumping.
"Active camouflage, transmitting data in real time to Springheel and adjusting to provide 360-degree stealth capabilities. And as I said, we can't leap that far, but we can certainly climb. Climbing lines and pitons concealed in the wrists..."
As he spoke, from out of nothing, a line fired and latched into the side of a rock formation. The line became taught and seemed to disappear until all that was left of it were a couple of feet sticking out of the piton embedded in the rock and leading to nothing. Springheel faded back into sight, and it was clinging to the side of the bare rock, held by the piton, until the wearer bent his knees, pushed off from the side of the rock formation, and the piton retracted back into the suit as the wearer engaged the camouflage and was gone again.
Susan began humming the "Spider-Man" theme as they watched.
"With concealed blades housed in the forearms..." Springheel became visible again, and a long blade came out it's right wrist before it vanished. "Your enemies won't know what hit them."
The scene changed to a night-time view, bathed in the green of a night-vision camera up in a tree outside of a walled-in compound; guards patrolling the perimeter. A caption on the screen read "Not Actors. Home of known drug cartel boss." A pair of armed guards patrolled the outside. The camera zoomed in on them.
"Stately Wayne..." Troy started to say, before trailing off, noticing now that
Contessa Helena de San Finzione had stopped laughing, and was intently staring at the screen. He paid attention.
"Two coming from the East." Said the spotter with the camera. He zoomed in on the two as one suddenly found himself hoisted into the air, blood coming from his mouth and chest, as if impaled on something. He fell to the ground as his companion looked about in confusion and terror. The other man started to run, when a piton shot out of nothing and speared him in the back. The guard cried out as the piton dragged him backwards, retracted back into nothingness, and a slit in his throat appeared; causing him to collapse, clutching his neck.
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