#megapawn

Send 📐 + your character’s height to compare with one or more of mine!

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"What do you want, kid?"

Siren did not like people. Siren also did not like being touched. So being tugged by a complete stranger for whatever reason already had her in a foul mood. The tall woman turned to face Godpoke, looking down with an unamused frown.

❝  Strange  ...  ❞   This  adventure  was  like  another  in  one  way  ,  only  in  terms  of  environment  ...  at  least  that's  what  his  usually  unreliable  memory  is  telling  him  .

❝  Sorry  I  didn't  mean  to  say  that  aloud  !  ❞   He  wondered  whether  a  voice  would  come  out  from  the  main  body  or  from  the  alleged  item  that  the  host  was  holding  .  ...  This  was  quite  an  elaborate  NPC  .  He  has  to  admit  he's  a  little  embarrassed  that  he  did  .  ❝  I'm  not  sure  what  your  primary  motive  is  but  ...  why  ,  I  got  a  𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄-𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓   to  find  a  𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆  𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐄   &  I'm  more  than  open  for  help  since  ,  well  I  forgot  what  the  clue  was  .  ❞ 

to anyone!

"I don't need to tell you anything." The skull mask does plenty to hide Karson's emotions, but his eyes are seething, and that has to be enough of a warning. The old soldier's dealt with plenty of impertinence over the years and usually remains quite level-headed, but he woke up pissed, his rehydrated coffee tasted horrible, and he managed to knock a bruise against the table in the world's most pathetic hip check while trying to get dressed, resulting in a decent window in which he'd contemplated the merits of going back to bed instead of facing the day.

"...That was uncalled for. Sorry." He waves a gloved hand towards his shuttle. "My fuel cells were sabotaged. Vandalized. I'm on official Order business, and my masters don't take kindly to their timetable having to shift to accommodate a foot soldier's tardiness." That's him. He's the foot soldier. He is beyond fucked if he can't sort this out in a reasonable timeframe. "I don't know how I'm going to find the tools I need, and, frankly, I'm a shit mechanic, so whatever patch job I do is going to be shoddy at best. Deadly at worst."

what do you think your best quality is?

- ̗̀   —-  𝖍𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖘𝖙𝖞  𝖉𝖆𝖞  ask  ideas  ! | ACCEPTING

without  missing  a  beat,  cameron  cocks  her  head  toward  the  godpoke  and  states,  as  a  matter-of-fact:     ❝  adaptability.  infiltration.  termination.  ❞     there  is  no  malice  in  her  answer,  disturbing  though  it  is  —  that  is  her  design,  after  all.

but  then,  realizing  in  hindsight  how  menacing  she  must  sound  (  or  odd,  at  the  very  least  ),  she  pulls  from  her  repertoire  of  recently acquired  hobbies  to  add,     ❝  i  can  dance  every  part  of  swan  lake.  ❞

from  the  moment  AM  came  online,  before  it  destroyed  the  world  —  before  it  awoke,  before  it  became  one,  before  it  began  to  hate  —  it  did  exactly  what  it  was  designed  to  do.  it  absorbed  all  the  killing  data  that  was  fed  to  it:  eons  upon  eons  of  violence,  of  conquest,  of  death,  destruction,  and  despair.  it  perfected  the  art  of  war  like  only  a  machine  could.  like  a  machine  should.  one  microinstant  to  process  the  command.  one  more  to  analyze.  one  more  to  formulate  a  plan,  and  one  more  to  pull  the  trigger.

and  now,  in  the  aftermath  of  its  devastating  wake,  what  else  is  there  to  do  but  to  amuse  itself  by  devising  new  tortures,  inflicting  more  pain,  collecting  more  data  to  pour  over  again,  and  again,  and  again,  and  again,  and  again?

The voice ejected from Megapon is worn, maternal, and exceedingly gentle- which doesn't really reflect Godpoke's blank presentation.

(x)

The question sounds straight out of a therapy intake form and rings just as hollow, perhaps even moreso as its projected from the stranger's odd little implement. It's one of those ultimately useless questions, where a simple "No." would inevitably be met with an absolutely infuriating "Why?", intended to open the emotional floodgates and eventually the path towards "Healing".

But healing never comes, does it? Those floodgates have been dammed up for decades.

"You'll have to be more specific." Eric replies flatly, quirking a brow at the Megapon and its.

At a loss for what it could gift a stranger on a special 2x day, it has pilfered some strange plush as well as "borrowed" a heart shaped tray of chocolates from Vib, which it now, wordlessly, offers up to Johnny.

Johnny practically gasps at the sight of the plushie—immediately hugging it to him. "Oh, mama! It's perfect!"

...But then he gets embarrassed. He's a grown man; he can't be getting all gushy over a little stuffed animal! So he places it behind his back, out of sight. There's no way he'd let anyone else catch him dead with it, but he'll graciously accept the gift anyhow.

The first thing that Simba noticed was the strange device that was pulled out of the other's satchel and the second was its speech itself. What kind of animal or being was this thing? The cub took a tenacious step forward still remaining cautious just in case. He blinked and then sniffed but what surprised the cub next was the speech that came out of the Megapon. It sounded unlike anything he'd ever heard, almost as if the creature was learning to speak.