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There wasn't a cuss in Flash Man's database intense enough to get his fury out into the open air, so he'd settled for a colorful, rapid-fire combination to make up for that gaping vacancy in his vocabulary. Once THAT was out of his system, and he could look up at that dark smudge on top of the freshly-scarred clifface Wily thought it was OH-SO-GENIUS to build his latest fortress atop of without grinding his teeth, he scanned the wreck around him.
What had been the easternmost wing of that shiny new fortress sat like a massive crushed aluminum can at its neighboring canyon's bottom. High-tech pressure-sealed doors, a fully-automated production line for smaller-scale robots, the store room -- all trashed. The new fortress wasn't exactly made of cutting-edge material, but even with all the corners they'd cut this time around, the mess amounted to devastating waste.
Some of that money could've gone to upgrades that MATTERED!! But there was nothing Flash Man could do about his boss' short-sightedness misprioritization straight-up idiocy indiscretion at this time. So, as he turned over the rubble in search of whatever he could salvage, he opted to just let that fresh wave of frustration pass through him with yet another cuss. Didn't occur to him to count his blessings -- he'd made it through the fall with nothin' more than a few dents.
( Or so it seemed! )
His search was a mix of lifesign and emission scans, and just plain kicking things over. Top of his priorities was finding the prisoner he'd be stuck looking after while everyone else was on front-line duty. Chances were she wasn't anything more than a red smear, now, but if he didn't come back with a confirmation, someone was going to give him shit for it somewhere down the road.
It couldn't be said that he'd been one bit enthusiastic about the task, but after digging out the mangled husk of one of his own Joes, what little he had in the tank was gone.
Talk about being stuck between a rock and a hard place. At least that's what it looked like as her vision began to come back. Hazy and blurred, in a dark place, and bitterly dry. She blinks away the brink of death that tried to coax her eyes shut, and succumbed to failure once again. Pockets of light were silhouetted by dust through holes between the broken bones of the fallen fortress. Heavens mocking giggle floated down at her through the punch outs.
Not today you fucks. Laugh all you want, you don't get to watch her fall farther than that.
She didn't ask to be Icarus in this scenario, but there she laid under a layer of rubble after being dragged up to the sun. Just like the soft flesh of the young innovative man, and wings crafted from wax, she could tell she was broken. Her silent celebration was brief as she assessed where she was and in what condition.
Rachael felt parts of her body were in places they shouldn't be with some missing altogether. Even if what just happened wasn't something as powerful as an explosion, having parts of herself severed from tons of rubble wasn't much better. The blunt ends of scrap didn't leave clean cuts and some were stuck skewered into her.
Some other areas of her were crushed. Those were going to be a pain in the ass to pull back together. It's always the chunks that take the longest to reconstruct.
The pain wasn't all there yet. Shock was doing it's job of keeping the searing pain at bay. Knowing what will come, she has to get out and get herself back together before the adrenaline wore off.
She gives it the Old College Try of flexing to see what's available to her. One leg felt free while the other didn't budge at the hip. It's either gone or being held down by something. Her arms aren't in much better shape. The left one is trapped between several pieces of metal and she feels her forearm is pierced through by something. Meanwhile, her right arm is just gone from the mid upper arm down. When she raised it she could see the mass of quills sticking out of the stump that was her upper arm in a beam of light.
There was something cold going through the side of her neck to keep her head in place. She didn't want to try and look. Her monies on rebar. Whatever it was, it wasn't stopping her from swallowing dryly.
Getting out on her own wasn't going to happen this time.
In between the creaking and shifting of metal she can hear the faint scratching of her Splinters feeling around. They're doing their job and trying to reconnect the blueprint of her bodies DNA. They sound like something from out of a horror movie, how they scrape and scratch around like urchin quills. Rachael tries not to think about how far apart they could be to her torso.
But if she doesn't find all of herself soon, then things will begin to turn sour.
Taking a moment, and a shaky breath in, she listens. Her chest hurt and it was hard to take in a full lungs worth. It felt like something was stopping her ribs from expanding fully in the dark. All she has is that little pocket of air from her chest up.
As she laid there, pinned, her nerves started to pick up that something was very wrong. As the pain started to seep in so did the urge to panic. The worst areas were the ones still attached, but probably should have been fully severed.
She knew better than to loosen her grip on herself. Grit through it and cry if she has to, but she can't start hyperventilating.
There has to be something out there. There's no way everything was wiped out up there. Someone should be around to help pull all this shit off of her. The place was crawling with robots before!
Maybe they're assessing the losses.
Or looking around.
Something?
Anything.
Please...
Her vision becomes warbled again as she forces herself to remain quiet and listen. The inside of her mouth splits open between her molars from how hard she was biting it. The cut lazily filled with quills that scraped against her teeth and gums.
Maybe this is how it finally happens and heaven had a reason to finally laugh. Well, they always say you come into this world the same way you go out. Alone.
Right as relinquishment began to sound like the best option, she heard something much better. Someone was out there!
But... Did they just say "prisoner"?
Shit.
Fuck.
Damn it.
That wasn't one of the Look Alike bots. This sounded like one of the more advanced ones. Rachael could guess which one, too.
But beggars can't be choosers.
Fighting against what little air she could push out her dry throat, she tries to give a yell. She ended up sounding more like a scraggly street cat than a human. The serenade of the process of dying!
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But for a long time I also associated her with the Wolf Eel for their jaw strength and teeth. The puffer fish also has a mean bite and resembles her more than an eel. Eels are more Lafayette's thing.
"Man. I hope my boyfriend doesn't show up today..." He holds up a clipboard to shield his field of vision to only the top half of Ed.
"This is going to be awkward to try and explain."
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“Excellent idea!” The detective pipes rather boisterously in response to the cashiers attempt to prevent them from holding up the line any longer.
“Listen, Miss. I have my reasons for interrogating you specifically--now if you would step outside with me to prevent any nearby eavesdroppers from listening in," (as if his display didn't draw immense attention to them already), "I can clarify a few things for you. Perhaps you can do the same for me." He gestures towards the door.
"I will... buy you lunch as recompense. If you comply."
"I git the feelin' I'm not gonna be left alone until I do this, am I?" Rachael tosses her head back and gives a loud sigh.
"Fine. We're not eatin' here though! It's weird now." If there's actually people in the sauce, then she wants none of that smoke either. Burgers sound better now anyway.
❝ It's about having a constant ❞, Mista reluctantly admitted. There wasn't a reason before to explain himself as things merely happened and he let them pass, but since the topic was on the table... why not further expand on that topic? Resting his cheek against the heel of his palm, he continued.
❝ It has always been about that to have someone that'll become both my cynosure and my refuge. Someone to return to once the day's over ❞. The gunslinger wasn't certain whether that description was being slow and steady, rather... It was like a mutual commitment, a rather heavy one that he wasn't certain about finding in this lifetime if he was being honest. Finding someone who could potentially understand the risks that getting involved with him meant, especially a death magnet like he was. Raw sincerity about how fleeting life could be and living to the fullest, no way he was finding that now.
❝ What about you? What's your ideal type of relationship, Rach? ❞.
"Hmm... I haven't thought about that for some time now." She laces the tips her of fingers together to give it some reflection. Relationships weren't high up on her hierarchy of needs now that she was a bit older. Her logical expectation is for them to fizzle out eventually. That doesn't stop her from having a shred of fuzzy envy towards the older couples she sees.
Is that what a fairytale feels like, she wonders? Having one person to adore for the rest of your days, flaws and all?
To love them like a hand made painting. All the strokes and lumps of paint one on top of each other, never to be one smooth texture. The small splatters of off white acrylic on darker areas meant to bring depth, like dust caught in a ray of light. Oh, to adore the covered up imperfections and slips of the wrist as one whole work of art. Beautiful and unique, never to be identical to another.
To be cast upon by someone else in that manner, though.
The thought fondles the lower apex of her heart. It ruffles up as a mourning dove does on a balcony in the morning sun. What an embarrassing reaction to give herself from a simple question.
She places her hand over the side of her face he's standing beside. Her skin feels hotter. Most certainly going ruddy.
It seems she was projecting a bit before. It is her who is the hopeless romantic between the both of them.
"I guess... hah-That no matter what, when I look at them, I couldn't possibly ever not love them. And when they look at me, I can feel that same energy coming back through their eyes. Regardless of what happens or what we do, they've become a piece of who I am." Was that the same as his answer? It felt different despite the words sounding similar.
Like second nature, Rachael grabs the collar of her jacket and shoves the wool inner lining to her mouth and nose. She holds it there like a face mask while he takes a drag. As much as she misses cigarettes, they're a real pain in the ass for her now.
"I'll make a footnote in yer file under personality traits fer 'vindictive'. Apparently, smackin' me around isn't enough, and yew like to hold grudges."
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