If you can’t tell which person in your group is having a stroke right now, it’s probably you.
If you’re not having a stroke right now, I must be.
NaibofTabr@infosec.pub 3 days ago
MelodiousFunk@slrpnk.net 3 days ago
Being in a group is a terrible time to have a stroke.
jk jk unless…?
ryannathans@aussie.zone 3 days ago
You can give me a stroke
Remember_the_tooth@lemmy.world 3 days ago
Fi yuo thnik yu’oer hvanig a steoerk, plaees clal 191 imemdaityl.
RattlerSix@lemmy.world 3 days ago
Oh my God, now he’s speaking Scottish!
LogicalDrivel@sopuli.xyz 3 days ago
First good laugh ive had in a bit. LOL
dharmacurious@slrpnk.net 3 days ago
That should be a line in one of those comedy horror movies. “Oh God! He’s speaking Scottish! Run!”
Remember_the_tooth@lemmy.world 3 days ago
The USS Enterprise drifted silently in the void. The warp core, normally humming like a gentle giant, pulsed erratically, casting an eerie red glow across the engineering deck. The ship had been through hell—again. Another battle, another crisis, another miracle demanded from its weary engineer.
Montgomery Scott sat in the dim light, his fingers tightening around a hyperspanner. His knuckles were white. His eyes, once twinkling with the joy of discovery, were sunken and dark.
“Push her harder, Scotty! Faster, Scotty! Save us all, Scotty!”
Decades of it. Day after day. Always fixing what the captain broke. Always asked to do the impossible. And he always did. Because he was Scotty.
But not anymore.
From the darkness, a voice crackled over the intercom. “Scotty, we need you on the bridge. The power fluctuations—”
The intercom went dead.
Scotty ran his fingers along the cold metal of the hyperspanner, his lips curling into a grim smile.
“Aye,” he muttered. “Time tae ease the strain.”
The first to go was Lieutenant Uhura. She had come down to engineering, concern in her eyes.
“Scotty, something’s wrong with internal communications. The system keeps—”
She gasped as something thick and metallic wrapped around her throat—one of the many cables hanging from the ceiling, repurposed for a darker function. Scotty pulled it tighter, his face close to hers, his breath hot against her ear.
“Dinnae worry, lass,” he whispered. “Yer voice has worked hard fer too long. Time tae ease the strain.”
She kicked, she clawed, but soon her struggles faded, and her lifeless body slumped to the floor.
McCoy and Spock came next, together. They’d noticed Uhura missing, of course. They’d come looking.
McCoy never even saw the hyperspanner coming. A single, well-placed blow shattered the doctor’s skull, leaving a crimson splash across the bulkhead.
Spock had a moment longer. He turned, raising an eyebrow. “Curious. You appear to be suffering from—”
The plasma torch in Scotty’s hand flared to life. Spock’s words were cut short by a scream—an unnatural, alien sound—as the torch met his flesh. He collapsed, his body twitching. Scotty knelt beside him, whispering in his ear as the Vulcan’s final breath shuddered out.
“Time tae ease the strain.”
Scotty let them run. He wanted them to run.
The corridors of the Enterprise were dark now, emergency lighting flickering as Scotty shut down systems one by one. The ship had become his hunting ground.
Sulu turned a corner, phaser raised—too slow. Scotty was already there, lurking in the shadows. A wrench came down on his wrist, sending the phaser clattering away. Another swing, and Sulu’s knee shattered. He collapsed, gasping in agony.
Chekov screamed and fled into the turbolift, slamming the controls. The doors hissed shut just as he caught a glimpse of Scotty’s face—grinning, waiting.
The turbolift never stopped. It climbed deck after deck, faster and faster, until the safety protocols failed, until the artificial gravity couldn’t compensate anymore.
Until it reached the top.
The doors slid open, and for a brief moment, Chekov had time to understand. Time to feel his stomach lurch. Time to fall.
From below, Scotty listened.
He never heard the landing.
The bridge was empty now. Only Captain Kirk remained.
He stood at the viewscreen, staring into the black. The ship was dead around him, but he had known for some time that it was more than that. His crew was gone. He was alone.
And yet, he wasn’t.
The turbolift doors hissed open. Slow, heavy footsteps followed.
Kirk turned.
Scotty stood in the doorway, covered in soot, in grease, in blood. The hyperspanner dangled from his fingers, dripping red. His eyes gleamed in the dim light.
Kirk exhaled. “Scotty… why?”
Scotty took a step forward.
“Ye always said ye needed just a little more power, Captain.”
Another step.
“Ye always said ye needed one more miracle.”
Another.
“Ye never thought tae ask what that cost.”
Kirk’s hand hovered over his phaser.
Scotty’s grin widened.
“Time tae ease the strain, Captain.”
The lights flickered one last time.
And the Enterprise fell silent.
RegalPotoo@lemmy.world 3 days ago
Oh one one eight nine nine nine…
lars@lemmy.sdf.org 3 days ago
Gotta do it Scottish
Naught one one fo fo 9/11
Remember_the_tooth@lemmy.world 3 days ago
…3