Enter: Professor Badass

ENTER PROFESSOR BADASS
by
LAGUNA

Africa.

Why god damn Africa?

As if it wasn't bad enough growing up surrounded by Aussies; motherfuckers seemed to WISH the word “cracka” applied to them.
Of course, the gist of the answer was obvious: the reason Mainport was suddenly located in Africa was because the space/time anomaly that swallowed him up had in fact been a space/time/ETHER anomaly, and had moved him in five dimensions rather than just four.
So not only did he find himself trapped in the past, but none of his historical knowledge from his own world would be worth shit.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

So here he was, standing in the middle of god damned Australia (well, the coast technically) gawking like an idiot in front of this fish-stinking bumpkin who just gave him the bad news.
Recovering his composure, the Professor inquired about seaborne transport and took his leave.
Darwin was a little farther away than Broome, but he wanted to be sure he'd be able to find a charter, so he chose the larger port. Hopefully, the trek he was about to make wasn't any more dangerous than it would have been in his own world. His spell gun got wet during his reentry.

The spell gun would be fine, the Somatic simulators were sealed within the shells, but the speaker for the verbal component, as well as the ether amplifier needed time to dry.
However, fate was less than cooperative with his hope for safe travel.

The Professor began his long walk, but thankfully didn't go for more than three house before spotting a farm with a bike out front, and a “for sale” sign that may as well have been an oasis.
The farmer's eyes narrowed as they discussed the bike. He seemed unaccustomed to the sight of a well-dressed negro, probably assuming the Professor was some kind of Posh Abbo.
He charged out the nose for the bike, but the professor payed. Thankfully this timeline's Aussies at least used the same currency, and 30 years of reversed inflation gave his cash some potent buying power.

Finally underway and making good time, the Professor finally started to relax in spite of his situation. From the sights across the countryside, he gathered that in this timeline, it was some other disaster that necessitated the creation of Mainport City. In his world, one would not be able to travel more than 20 miles without encountering a Emergency Radiation Shelter and Treatment Center, and he had traveled 30 miles seeing neither an ERST center, or even a sign referring to one.
And while the locals had been less than friendly, they weren't hostile or paranoid enough to indicate a large scale social breakdown (besides that they had honored his money)

realizing Darwin, and eventually Mainport itself would be the best place to find answers, the Professor quieted his mind and enjoyed the trip. The dirty rumble of the motorcycle was something nostalgic for him, as was the “poppoppop poppoppop” sound of rural boys playing with fireworks in the distance.

Of course it wasn't rural boys he was hearing. Of COURSE it was bursts of gunfire. OF COURSE he couldn't have a peaceful trip just ONE TIME.

Tracing the sound of the gunfire towards a cluster of rock formations, the Professor began to loose track of the sounds until thankfully, another single shot rang out from nearby, which would guide him the rest of the way.

Unholstering his spell gun, his greatest piece of technology (though one of his students once said it looked like a pringles can with a pistol grip) the professor checked the status indicators for the components. While the speaker had finished drying, the ether amplifier had not.

“no spell gun. I guess I'm doing this the old fashioned way.”
Focusing his mind, the Professor Listened to the sound of his bike, as well as the sounds of the tires on the now gravel road. He focused on the physics involved with generating destructive interference to the sound waves he was creating, finally intoning “SILENTIO”, as his bike rode on, suddenly in complete silence.

Noticing a wisp of smoke coming over a nearby hillside, the Professor dismounted his bike and mounted the hill, crawling the last few meters before the crest.
Peering over, he saw what looked like a straightforward bandit raid. Small supply caravan truck riddled with bullet holes, probably for the local residents. One civilian, single bullet wound in the back, and what looks like one guard, riddled with bullets, with particular attention paid to his face (they must have been angry with him).

There were 3 men in the raiding party, one limping with a bandage and fresh blood on his leg (ah, the angry one) plus 4 still living civilian hostages lined up kneeling.
Although the biggest concern is that one of the raiders was mounting a tripod gun on the back of a technical truck.

Advantages: surprise and high ground. There are several ways to handle a situation like this, but without his spell gun, the Professor was more concerned with saving his body's ether charge than with a convoluted attack plan that would let him spare the lives of murderers.

“Direct assault it is, then.”, the Professor thought to himself as he unbuttoned the top button on his vest.
Thankfully, his vest WAS waterproof, unlike the spellgun; otherwise this situation might actually be dangerous.
Unbuttoning the top button expanded his magical shield from its usual radius (near-absolute protection around the vital organs) to a full body sheild that would still be strong enough to stop bullets. As he did this, all the sand within an inch of his clothes was slowly blown away (including the sand on the suit itself)

Thankfully, the remaining hostages were nowhere near the technical, so no reason to hold back against that thing.
Focusing his mind and drawing on his body's ether charge once again, the Professor stood and concentrated on the bright mid-day sun.
Gathing some of the sand around his body into a ball, he began to channel much of the sunlight in the surrounding 100 meters into the ball. While this didn't darken the surrounding area, everyone within the radius suddenly felt as if they were standing/kneeling in shade.
The raiders looked at each other in confusion at the sudden change in the air.

The ball of sand quickly melted into molten glass, as the professor added a bit more sand and applied pressure to compress the ball.
The Professor heard heated shouting through his semi-reverie. It seems he had been spotted, but it was far too little, too late for such an alarm to be raised.
Opening his eyes with intense focus, the Professor saw nothing but his intended target. The technical, with its gunner barely having noticed him, let alone having a chance to swivel the gun.

“VITRUM IGNIS”, he shouted, as he hurled the ball of pressurized molten glass at the technical.
The ball cratered into the side of the vehicle, before it's pressure was released in a wet explosion followed by the secondary explosion of the gas tank.
The gunner in the back fared as well as might be expected.

Although the hostages were nowhere near the technical, neither were the other two raiders. Both turned and opened fire on the Professor as he strode down the hill towards them, but he paid them little mind. What shots of their spray that didn't miss entirely were harmlessly redirected away from his body, without even the force of them pushing him.
The injured raider would be next and easiest. Without even breaking stride, the Professor applied simple physical force by intoning “ADVENIO PLUMBUM”; summoning the lead from the bullets both in the raider's magazine and in the man's leg, and creating a second hole in the process. He fell, while his weapon skidded forward few meters, and the bloody bullet whizzed past the Professor.

The Final raider had no idea the nature of his attacker, but he began to have an inkling of his magnitude. Even as the professor began to focus his mind on bending the barrel of the man's rifle, he ran to the hostages and grabbed one, slinging his rifle over his soldier and menacing the poor man with his sidearm.

Internally berating himself for toying with the raider, the Professor listened uncomprehendingly to the raider's panicked demands in a language he did not know.
Stopping and raising his hands in surrender, the Professor quickly wracked his mind for an appropriate spell with no somatic component.
Waiting for a pause in the raider's speech, the Professor slowly stated, as if replying, “estuans internis ira vehementi”

Realizing the language barrier and seemingly at a loss about what to do about it, the raider slowly started to back away with his hostage. He never noticed how the veins began to pop into visibility all over the Professor's body, or how his skin slowly took on a more reddish pigment, and he assumed the look of anger on the man's face was from his helplessness in the hostage situation, poor fool.

The spell completed, the Professor took one step forward; one step that was faster than the bullets from the men's rifles and covering the 10 meters remaining to the raider and his hostage.
He applied all of that momentum to the Raider's face.

Later, after calming down from the shock, a black man among the hostages would say, “Shit man, you a badass”
and the Professor, hating himself for saying it, but unable to resist, corrects the man: “that's Professor Badass”

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License