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“   WRENCH …   ”      and   while   she   didn’t   want   to   crush   his   dreams  ,    or   his   infectious   enthusiasm   ,       she   realised    that   he   was   entirely   serious  ,     and   for   many   reasons  ,    it   wouldn’t   have   worked  .     “   Maybe   for   outdoor   venues  ,     sure  ,    but   ninety   percent   of   our   shows   are   still    in   low - ceiling   basements    where   the   height   of   the   stage    only   reaches   the   front   row’s   knees  .     I   don’t   want   anybody   getting   hurt  .    ”

She    had   to   admit   ,     though   ,      it   did   seem    pretty   fucking   rad  .      Perhaps   something   to   strive   for   in   the   future  ?

               ʜᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ᴘᴏᴜᴛᴇᴅ, had there not been a mask covering his face--so it does it for him, two ':(' showing up on either side of the LED screen over his eyes. ❝ I don't like that tone, it worries me, and I don't worry, ❞ he says, but quickly pipes back up with exclamation marks on the screen, ❝ OK BUT IMAGINE HOW BADASS: ‘all-female punk band burns down basement’. It would be the headline of the century! Cathead becomes infamous, the world goes insane, you guys would go down in fucking history. ❞ he punctuates this by using his hands and sound effects to imitate explosions. ❝ Punk music hall of fame gets created in your honor, and BAM, comes rolling in the riches. ❞ heart emotes now showing on the visor, his terribly creative mind inventing all sorts of dream-like imagery for the fame of his favorite friend-band.

                 ʜᴀᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍ to “win” the raffle had been extremely easy. he hopes c’s programming is more secure–for her sake. if not, well, he can always offer up his services, make a good, quick buck, but tonight isn’t the night to test that out. her music might not be his favorite thing in the world, but an AI pop star? what’s not to fucking love about that! these awesome times to be living in. 

                he’s giddy with excitement as he’s being ushered into the restaurant where he’s about to have an exclusive dinner with the world’s most famous and most loved android. he sits down, a wide grin plastered underneath the mask, which he programmed to show double c’s in her honor. 

                 ❝ holy fucking shit! ❞ he announces in lieu of a hello as he sits down in front of her, scraping the chair as close to the table as possible. her guards don’t seem to happy about him, but hey, what can they do? he’s the goddamn winner. ❝ i’m a huuuuge fan, but i bet you get that a lot. i’m wrench by the way, machines and coding’s kinda my thing. well, that and other things. what do you even eat? what’s up with this whole “lunch date” thing anyways? ❞

             ❝ ᴊᴀɴᴇ, janey jane jane, janey! you gotta see this, dude! ❞ he says, running to her with his laptop in hand, twin exclamation marks lighting up his mask, and on his computer screen he has a video open of a random concert he found. on the stage they’ve set up flamethrowers in front and rings of fire in the back, and the whole thing ends with an explosion of colorful fireworks. it’s pretty fucking glorious. ❝ what if you did some cool shit like this in your next show, huh? just imagine: fireworks, explosions, big booms... it'd be so fucking badass! i'll hook you up, do all the rigging, whatever you need, i got your back. ❞

@owntheinternet : “ HAH !! I told you so. ” 

DISBELIEF AND UTTER STUBBORNNESS TWISTS THEIR FEATURES ---  heavily lined golden eyes narrowing on the screen as they leaned forward to read what was presented to them. a pause, barely a beat before painted lips purse, discontent in their discovery — it didn’t mean anything, they’d fight fact if they had to. “ not /***/ POSSIBLE. ” radio crackled to life, mismatched jumble of pre-recorded words mixing together to give them what they needed. back straightened and hands rested on hips, head cocked before shaking, even going as far as to give the smallest pout, how dare they be bested. “ well it’s /*******/ obvious /*****/  YOU CHEATED  ” 

            ❝ ᴅᴏ ɪ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ʟɪᴋᴇ the kind of person that's going to spend hours editing a wikipedia page just to prove that strawberries aren't berries? actually--don't answer that. ❞ he puts his phone away, quite content to have won this round. ❝ plus, the game says i'm right so... i'm right! suck it. ❞ his masks blinks something cheerful as he sits back down, arms stretched behind his head. it's quite entertaining to see glitch lose, especially when they get so sore about it. ❝ fire it up, let's go again, i'm fucking loving this! ❞

              ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇꜱɴ'ᴛ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀᴛᴇꜱ, but it doesn't matter, because it feels like they've known each other for ages. and that's one of the sappiest, most cliche things he's ever thought, something he never expected would bloom in his mind, but it's true. he feels a level of comfort with kazimir he can't say he's ever felt with anyone before, and he's scared, terrified, really, everything that's happening is so new and unexpected. but it's a good feeling. 

              expressing himself has always been a challenge, and the mask has eased that burden considerably, so he has something to say to kazimir but he uses the mask for it instead. he's nervously checked the programming a thousand times, and almost walked back on it at least half those times. it's a risk he's not exactly ready to take, but he's going to anyway--there's not much more left to lose at this point. 

@owntheinternet​  liked.

❝  hey,  don’t  look  at  me  like  that.  ❞  haha,  it’s  funny  because  wrench  is  wearing  a  mask.  ❝  i  can’t  just—  here,  hold  this.  ❞  after  forcing  the  small  crate  of  explosives  into  wrench’s  arms,  jordi  pulls  shut  the  ancient  garage  door  by  hand,  &  reclaims  them  before  the  guy  can  run  away  just  like  that,  or  kill  him,  or  anything.  ❝  i  can’t  just  give  you  freebies  every  time,  or  you’ll  start  thinking  you’re  my  favorite  customer.  ❞  is  wrench  his  favorite?  is someone  else  his  favorite?  does  he  have  a  favorite  at  all?  he  refuses  to  answer  any  of  these  pressing  questions,  but  they  both  know  he’d  usually  be  happy  to  give  the  kid  some  fun  extras.  he’s  just  having  some  trouble  with  his  guy  lately  …  oh,  the  trouble  is  that  he  killed  his  guy.

❝  anyway.  ❞  he  enunciates  the  word,  &  places  the  crate  on  the  ground.  he  feels  at  home  beneath  the  empty  night  sky  &  dim  streetlights;  cities  are  so  much  better  than  any  rural  area,  that’s  for  sure.  ❝  how  many  did  you  need,  again?  ❞

                  ʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ᴀ ʀᴇᴘʟʏ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴘ ᴏꜰ ʜɪꜱ ᴛᴏɴɢᴜᴇ, but decides against it, mask blinking from faux-angry to his neutral double Xs. With the crate shoved in his arms, he did. for a second, consider running off with jordi's shit, but then again, he needs an explosives contact more than he needs a bomb dude who hates him. ❝ but i am your favorite customer, ❞ he replies, the static voice through his mask more high-pitched, making him sound like school girl, and his mask flashes two smiley faces to add to the effect. 

                  ❝ oh, you know, a shit load? maybe throw in a grenade launcher for good measure? we wanna make some REALLY big booms. ❞