#boundbyscience

The metal of the vents was cold, but that was nothing new. Not that the troll minded the chill, not really; if anything the cool-colored blood flowing through his veins caused him to prefer lower temperatures, or at least it would if he cared enough to notice. Gamzee had long grown used to crawling around in tight metal spaces. 

It was almost interesting how similar this place was to the empty meteor back in void space. The same methodized, mechanical layout to the halls designed more for efficiency than aesthetics - but then again, that wasn't completely true here. The populated areas, the places where human cullbait could be found wandering did have a certain aesthetic composed of sterile white and curves, but behind the curtain where the clown lurked it might as well have been another hunk of space rock.

Another damnably large hunk of space rock, that is. Gamzee had been expecting it to be large, but the seemingly endless corridors were starting to irritate. Not that time ever was of the essence, but that didn't mean he was planning on spending the rest of eternity here looking around for a replicate of dear featherbrother's sword. His bird was important, and the art of him even more so, but at this point Gamzee was beginning to wonder if it might not be faster to just demolish the place piece by piece until he found what he was looking for.

Now wouldn't that the be quite the fun experiment.

Unfortunately for the clown, or perhaps not, the status quo of lurking did not seem fit to hold for long. This time Gamzee had seen it fit to explore a bit closer to the inhabited areas than usual, around what he did not know to be some of the moderately advanced test chambers.

There was not a single motherfucking Portal Sword to be found, and as composition for the missed opportunity the clown received the prize of loose panelling instead.

One minute he was tromping along silently amongst the beams and wires, and the next there was the distinct feeling of lack of support and Gamzee barely had time to utter a surprised honk before breaking through the ceiling and falling on his ass into the test chamber below.

There was about three seconds of shocked silence before he registered the sound of breathing behind him, and so he clambered to his feet and  turned to look directly in the face of a human who looked halfway between resigned to such bullshit and completely losing it. Well there went any sort of secrecy. Might as well make the most of it; put on a good show for the lady upstairs.

And so Gamzee smiled and winked for the camera before flash stepping to the human and ripping the man's head off. 

Red blood (boring, dull red mammal blood) went everywhere, the body hitting the ground with a listless thump while the he'd remained firmly in the troll's hands. He would have spent more time with it but that didn't seem fitting for the moment, and the lack of initial fun could always be rectified with an addition to the decor.

Or it would have been if the clown hadn't promptly been knocked forwards by the force of quite a few motherfucking bullets tearing into his backside.

With a low and very displeased growl the troll picked himself up and whirled to face the new adversary, indigo blood dripping down to the floor from wounds that were already simply not there. There was no flashy regeneration stemming from the conditional immortality of a god tier, no injuries racing to close due to other powers. Technically the clown wasn't even immortal - he was just unable to die. 

Not that any of that mattered as the little white robot seemed content to continue shooting him for the rest of eternity. 

Gamzee sighed, gritting his teeth while holding his ground against the endless stream of ammunition. He was really beginning to sick of guns and the like. Not due the pain as he didn't mind that in the slightest, but there was just something both supremely irritating and artless about bullets and the constant encounters with them was beginning to wear.

He didn't wait long before calmly picking up the head lying next to him and tossing it at the thing that toppled over onto the ground with a bit of frantic shooting after being hit and then stuttered out. That did seem like quite the design flow, but then if humans were supposed to have even the slightest chance perhaps it was only fair. 

The chamber now wonderfully quiet, Gamzee walked over the dead turret and with mild curiosity ripped off the leg, but there just wasn't anything enjoyable about tearing apart unfeeling metal. 

Welp, you're here for a reason or whatever. You're supposed to be actually testing for her like you promised. It's been a long time coming and you've been putting it off but. .  you need the release and she needs the data. So why not. Really though, you can kind of understand Davesprite's reluctance to return. It's like you're the only one here. It's too too quiet and too much quiet messes with your head.