solarbird | stupid browsers are stupid (Reply)

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Apparently, hover-over isn't working on all browsers. Nice. So here's the section with extensive French dialogue, all translated to English.

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"NO! Dad said to stay here!" The middle child held his place behind the pillow on the little couch in the now-unsupervised playroom. A guard had been stationed, but was, no longer. "No!"

"It's so loud!" the youngest said, sitting next to him, by her own pillow. "Is it the omnics?"

"Someone is outside," the oldest said. "Hide!"

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Oilliphéist danced through her hallway, silver eyes sparkling, occasionally finding a straggler, picking new ways to shoot each one, wetting her blades when she had the opportunity, keeping her counterparts updated, floating, floating so freely.

I heard that, she thought, and spun around a double-doorway, knocking it open with her back, and spinning, instantly targeting the face, and she jerked, back, grace lost, as the child, no more than ten, at the end of her rifle froze, wide-eyed, too terrified to scream.

A moment. A second moment. A third, and she lowered her Breath, and knelt down in front of the boy. "Oh, oh, oh, no, you weren't supposed to be here," she said, looking around the room, seeing two other children, younger, confused, afraid, hiding fruitlessly behind pillows. "This isn't for you, no, no no, no, this... is no place for children."

She thought, hard, struggling to remember her French. "Come with me - I will, ah, ah, hide you someplace safe. Okay?"

"You... you... you're blue!" the terrified boy said, after a moment.

"Yes."

"Are you... an omnic?" he stammered, fascinated, reaching towards her face.

"No. I am a dragon, I am death - but I am not here for you."

"A dragon?" he said, taking his hand away, confusion displacing some of the fear.

"A scary dragon. Who are you? Why are you here?"

"My dad is the cook, he brought us to work today..."

"Come with me, all of you. TRACER!" she shouted, gunfire having faded away. "TRACER!"

The teleporter appeared at the doorway, and the boy shrieked and ran to hide under the bed. "What is it, lu... oh!" she gasped.

"I spun into the room and there they were, my gun at that one's face... I barely had time not to fire. We have to get them... somewhere else. Anywhere else."

"Right," the teleporter nodded. "'Course. Oh, this is awful." She stopped, and blinked. "I just... realised... I'm a little... surprised you didn't just keep going. What with our mission. And all."

"These are not our mission. Ever," she said, as one the children started to wail, and the third tried to shush him, eyes wide.

"Right. Right." She nodded, relieved. "And you're smart, you said so. Yeah. Good." Tracer darted over to the crying boy. "Shh, shh, it's okay." She looked back up to her lover's lover. "Let's get them..."

"I've never killed a child, Tracer. Not ever."

Tracer considered, her head tilting just a little, still trying to soothe the wailing child with her hands, and it not working. "It's not just...?"

"No, it's not." The blue woman glared, partly at her compatriot, but partly at herself, uncertain whether it was always so. But it is so, she thought, and that's what matters. "I'm... a little upset you thought it was. I think."

"Shh, shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay." Lena bit her lip, and nodded. "I apologise, luv. I'm sorry, I really am. I ... the way you've described so many things..." She shook her head. "No. I believe you, and I'm sorry. And I'm... really happy I was wrong."

She believes me, Emily thought, smiling, ...and I think I do too. She smiled more widely. "That's better! C'mon. Help me get these kids down to the basement. Should be safe enough, there."

"Right."

They both looked up at the sound of a single rifle shot, followed shortly by a great crashing sound, and the building shook.

"Tracer, Oilliphéist - Moira here. The target is down, and so is her helicopter. Evacuate at once - our work here is complete."

"Also," came Widowmaker's voice, also over comms, "the building is aflame. Get out, now."

"Oilliphéist here, with Tracer - acknowledged. En route." Off comms, she continued, "Or... maybe... another house would be better."

"Yeh," Tracer grinned. "Guess we broke this one." She picked up the smallest of the children, bodily, who squirmed fiercely to no avail. "C'mon, kids. We need to go outside - the house is on fire!"

"On fire?!" exclaimed the oldest, echoed just later by the middle child.

"Yes. Outside. Move!"