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2/7/2016 12:43:16 AM
142
[b][i]Down on the Borderline[/i][/b]
[b]A tavern, Rebel Territory, Outer Systems[/b]
[i]The figure sat in the back of the bar in full gear, his hood down from his head, mask still covering his face. They hadn't connected him to the deaths of the rebels on Julipse yet, and they probably wouldn't for a while. For the time being, he would be hidden in plain sight, safe to operate as necessary. Perhaps he would do a little research on the others vying for power in the region. Never hurt to know who or what to expect. Looking around, he observed the patrons disinterestedly, making note of those who were armed and those who were not. It paid in his business to be observant. [/i]
[spoiler]Open to all[/spoiler]
English
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[spoiler]just ignore my last character.[/spoiler] A robot of sorts walks into the bar. He looks around 6'3 in height. He holds a cigar in his left hand, a Smith and Wesson Model 500 holstered on his right side and a steel baseball bat on his back. He wears a brown, stylized trench coat with various buttons, stickers, and writings, along with blue faded jeans, brown cowboy boots and a belt with a canteen on it. He takes out his Smith and Wesson and fires the bartender between the eyes, stealing an expensive looking bottle from behind the counter. He sits down and drinks, seemingly unaffected by the screaming people.
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[i]The mercenary seems completely unfazed as well. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before in these backwater worlds. He was honestly more surprised that the robot was drinking liquor.[/i]
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The robot looks up. "Eh, don't look so surprised. I need booze to keep my fuel cells going. And fairly enough, I like booze. But, in an ironic twist, if I don't drink booze I'll become drunk."
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[i]He simply nods, but says nothing.[/i]
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Edited by Xeno: 2/7/2016 5:13:12 AMHe throws a bottle at the man. "Talk to me, meat sack. I'm bored."
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[i]Before the bottle hits, the figure is gone. He appears monetarily, now behind you, a large sword in hand, the edge of which glowed a bright blue, sparking with electricity.[/i] I'm not much a talker. [i]The voice was calm and American, made metallic through the mask he wore.[/i]
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Edited by Xeno: 2/7/2016 5:21:15 AMHe turns around, unphased and drinks another beer. "Well I'm gonna make you a talker. Names Bendy, and you are?"
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Can't exactly give that out, Tin Man.
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"What you got edgy in your ears? It's Bendy. But if you're not gonna give your name, I'll just call you Edgy McEdgy Face. Good? Good, cuz I'm not changing it."
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Aren't you an arrogant little calculator? Did little Timmy not need you in math class today?
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"No, because he was too busy staring at Susan's tits! Meanwhile I was hacking into the Pentagon, and replacing all their backgrounds with kittens."
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At least that's productive. Why so lonesome? Is -blam!-ing with the feds not good enough for you?
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"I'm not lonesome. I've got the voices in my head and you to -blam!- with!"
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The voices in your head are probably less likely to send you to the scrapheap.
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"Oooooh. So scary! Please mister Edgy don't beat me up! Cmon! The scrap heap would be an upgrade for me."
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Self-deprecation's not helping your case too much.
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"And?"
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Neither is blatant bravado.
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"You're using big words. It hurts. Stop."
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I think I'll keep it up. Might short you out and shut you up.
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"Or activate my Killswitch. And I don't care who you are, you DONT want that to happen."
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[i]He shrugs.[/i] Can't say I haven't seen worse.
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"That's because you haven't seen it, amigo. Anyway." He gets up. "Can I hitch a ride?"
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On what? I didn't drive here.
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"Well can I have a piggyback ride?"
