re_alignment | [audio, airborne]

[You know what Whirl doesn't like? Okay, everything. You got him there, smarty bolts. But more topically, Whirl is not fond of waking up in strange places and being fed ridiculous stories about blah blah the First Forged blah. And the fraggin' Acolyte would not shut up.

[At least, until Whirl had punched him in the face. Just a little friendly feedback to stop being so damn boring. So he's doing some information gathering, the old fashioned way--flying around looking for trouble. ]

So. Stupid mech was telling me something about a fresh start.

I dunno. Maybe it wasn't 'fresh start.'. Maybe he meant like, fresh tar or freeze tarts or something. Kinda hard to enunciate after some editorial knuckles.

[Which are Whirl's favorite flavor of knuckles.]

Thing is ['scuse him while he shoots something. Because...uh...reasons. It needed shooting. Damn piece of scrap metal ] I've heard that before. And let me tell you: there's always a price.

Anyone figure out what it is yet?

And don't give me any boo hoo slag about never going home again.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I'll take anything, man. If I never see another twinkie in my life it will be too soon.

Well well. Looks like we've got a badass on our hands. What's your story?

[If he knew what the frag a twinkie was, he'd find about six hundred of them and airdrop them on you all at once. Just to see what happens.]

[He may do that anyway.]

Yeah, well, variety's the spice of life or something.

[You can stand corrected. There is in fact, more badass than can fit in your hands right here.]

Real simple: I'm good at my job. And mechs somehow like to mess that up. Rinse. Repeat.

Yeah something like that.

Okay. And what's your job exactly? Because I'm going to have a different opinion of you if you turn out to be like... a mail clerk or something.

What are you, the fraggin' employment agency?

[He snorts.]

Like I'm supposed to care what you think of me? Unless you have a really big fraggin' gun in there somewhere.

Nope. Just a harmless, useless human. So. What's your name?

[Well. Maybe not harmless. She could probably take off one of your limbs with the Line Gun but...]

You forgot 'ugly'.

[Whirl: laying on the charm.]

My name? [His mind for a moment positively boggles at options.]

Primus.

Woooo. Ow. I'm super hurt.

Well okay, Primus. Primus the mail clerk. I like it.

[SHRUG. Man she doesn't even...]

Yeah, I heard your kind was fragile like that.

[No, he hadn't. He has no idea what you are. Other than someone deserving of his special brand of awesome.]

You just want to get a good look at my package.

[When in doubt? Horrible innuendo.]

Well you're probably baring up the wrong tree if you're looking to make someone cry.

Haha... oh my god. I kind of like you.

Gonna make me cry with terrible mental images like that.

[He's more likely to shoot the tree than bark at it.]

Heh. Guess I'll spare you my 'special delivery' joke then.

Poor baby.

Oh see now I'm curious.

Yeah I may need a hug to survive this trauma.

[He snorts.] Works better as a performance piece.

Well aren't you just a bucket of sunshine.

Better than a bucket of whatever you're suppose to be.

You could go the uncreative route and call me a meatbag.

Yeah, that's not my style.

[Unfortunately for you, 'Primus' here likes you.]

How 'bout I call you 'Target'?

We can do that. I have a core-extractor here with your name on it.

Tsh. No core extraction till the second date.

[The tone is flirtatious, you forward little thing, you.]

Well aren't you just so modest.

Call me old-fashioned like that.

And you have to bring me flowers, first.
[Because why not?]

Yeah let me just go pick some out of the vast, green fields on this fucking rock.

What? You think I'm not worth a little effort?

[He's wounded. Truly. ]

Sometimes you just have to prove yourself.

[It sucks to be you: Whirl actually kind of likes you.]

Yeah? What do I have to do? [What the hell. Could be less boring than flying around shooting at random shapes.]

I don't know. What can you do? Impress me.

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