[With everything that's been going on, Rocket has been restless. Extremely restless. So much so that he's taken to digging through the junk in the junk pile while he waits for word from Wheeljack on when they're going to move.
And that's when life got a little bit more interesting for the resident talking raccoon.
When the video feed turns on, Rocket's ears are pressed flat to his head, tail lashing as he holds his comm device with one paw and a laser pistol with the other, said weapon aimed at..
[Guess who's back and pissed off and probably going to end up shooting someone by the end of all this?
This furball right here.]
What the fark happened????
[He's glaring at the screen, ears pressed flat to his head as his tail snaps about behind him, paws on his laser pistols.
See? He's itching to shoot something.]
I died? Who the fark did it?!
[Rocket really thought he was getting off easy with this whole species swap thing. Everyone else was changing but he'd stayed the same.
Alls well that ends well right?
Except, he'd gone to sleep curled up near his shooting range in the junk pile, too exhausted to head back to the temple...
And woke up feeling much bigger than he should have been. And scalier.]
This isn't farkin' funny. At all.
[Have a pissy looking Krogan, ladies and gentlemen. ]
[ The network turned on by accident, we’re not models. The communicator flips on to an unusual show. Anyone expecting anything norman should give up just now, because onscreen is a lopsided communicator camera in the middle of a scurrying horde of mechanical centipedes. In the midst of this chaos stands one surly lizard man and an ever surlier racoon. Pumping his rifle, he nods to the smaller creature.]With the network, we’ll see who gets the high score.( Read more... )(((OOC: Both Rocket and Wrex will be replying to this post.)))
[What with all the beasts invading Haven, it was only a matter of time before Rocket got involved. He'd managed to track down one of the smaller ones and had some fun with it, using his smaller size and speed to dodge away from it, firing at every spot he could hit until he found a good weak point.
Once that was found, well, it was all over then. Though he didn't get away without some damage himself, especially to his tail where some of that acid had gotten.
Perched on top of the thing's head as he checked his pistols over to make sure they were alright--it had been awhile since he'd used them in such a manner after all--Rocket has his comm link active though he doesn't glance at it.
His guns are a far more pressing concern after all.]
They're pretty tricky bastards, so be careful, mates. Especially watch out for the acid.
[His singed and extremely painful tail jerks a bit, causing the raccoon to flinch slightly, his ears falling back.
Finished with his once over on the pistols, Rocket holsters them both and scoops his comm unit up.]
Anyone need some help dealing with the farkin' bastards?
[When the video clicks on, the feed is distorted, something making it very hard to see Rocket.]
[An annoyed, chittering sort of growl escapes him and the camera bounces a bit as he wipes it off quickly, the view sharpening now to focus on the grime stained raccoon. He's covered in...most likely unpleasant things, Rocket covered in some of it as well but he doesn't look injured.
Rather pleased with himself in that angry sort of way he has.
His ears flick as he settles the camera down, revealing that's he's currently near the border of the badlands, one paw rested on the laser pistol on its side, his ears swiveling back and forth as he keeps tabs on everything around him.]
Took some advice from one of the farkin' Firstforged and decided to take a little bit of a break from things. I'll be scouting for a bit if anyone needs anything.
Guess I just wanted to see what was so bad about the Badlands.
[He pauses, red eyes narrowing as his ears pitch forward before he snorts softly, the tip of his tail flicking.]
Rumor has it there's no farkin' way to communicate once you get out there so this'll be my last transmission for a bit.
[Rocket freezes again, straightening up a bit as he looks off at something, a smirk appearing as his ears fall back flat against his head.]
I'll be seeing you lot, or maybe I won't. Who knows.
[For a moment after the camera clicks on there's nothing. No movement, no sound, just the view of what seems like an otherwise empty room as the camera sits perched on something--the bed maybe? After a brief bout of silence the sound of something moving around can be heard, an object being repositioned, and then a pair of ears would appear followed by a pair of red eyes surrounded by black, mask like markings. The eyes narrow as the ears flick then fall back, the individual staring at the camera before straightening up further, letting himself be in almost full view of the camera. Rocket's glare keeps up, the raccoon clutching one of his laser pistols in his hand as his tail snaps furiously back and forth, the irritation the furball is feeling quite clear as he outright sneers now, a chittering noise rumbling up out of his throat.]
I don't know what kind of farkin' joke this is, but someone other than some robotic worshiper needs to tell me what's going on before I start tearing this place apart. That thing was going on about me falling through some bloody hole in the sky and being separated from my world or whatever the fark it said--I don't care. Wouldn't be the worst thing that's ever happened to me so I want to know where I can find a ship.
[He waves the laser pistol at the screen a bit, tail snapping to the left sharply as his ears press flatter to his head.]
Mutt, Pete buddy, Groot--if any of you can hear me, I can't get my passport to work--
[Rocket motions to the bracelet cuff on his left wrist, practically sneering at it as he shakes his arm around a bit.]
Thing's farkin' useless here. I'll get back one way or another.
[His focus returns to the camera and he glares, pointing the laser pistol at it slightly.]
And if this is some bloody trick by those morons at the UCT, you can farkin' bet I'm going to tear this place apart--even those damn Cardinals of yours! 'I believe I can win'--go to bloody hell you worthless saps!
[The raccoon holsters his laser pistol, it's mate tucked away on his other side as he sends one last glare at the camera before hopping down off his perch, muttering angrily about churches and cults.]