Portal Breach: The Collision of Worlds :: v.4.0


    Reaching Out

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    Re: Reaching Out

    Post by Knock Out on Mon Jan 07, 2019 4:45 am

    "You ain't my owner, babe, so I technically don't gotta listen to a thing ya say. If I lie for ya, it's 'cause I wanna~!"

    Ugh, yeesh. Knock Out somehow forgot about that whole...owner thing. It always came back around to hit him upside the helm! Refusing to let a hint of discomfort cross his faceplates, the mech chuckled deeply before bringing a servo to his finial. "You don't have to listen to a word I say?! A shame, a true shame." A crimson optic peeked beneath his talons to send a wink towards the robot. "Good thing I trust you so much. Not many can say that." Likely due to their shared background, Knock Out also understood the value in a lie. One doesn't survive tyranny without learning how to tell a few white lies!

    "Oh, if looks could kill, I'd be the last mech standing on this world." He bragged with a huff, puffing his chassis out. Smile, he says. Lighten up, he says! Breathe, he says! Just to be a pill, Knock Out inhaled deeply and exhaled with a stretched out "Haaaa...!" Emotional constipation...! Smirking softly, he shot his friend a haughty look. "I suppose that would make you the emotional ex-lax?" The shamelessness intensified, Scaramouche rising to the challenge and bragging of his prowess! It was quite hard to keep up the smug air, this was a subject he had very little experience in. The entire day?! Could humans truly last that long?! The air around the mech seemed to heat up, Knock Out becoming flustered as his kibble fluttered. Damn you Scaramouche! He would not be beaten! "More like every Tuesday and Thursday." He retaliated with a snort, trying and failing to keep the smile off his lips. Like a stubborn aft, the Cybertronian refused to admit out loud whether he thought it'd be fun or not. His body spoke for him, more likely than not.

    A quick study... Such a simple compliment and yet Knock Out felt starved for it. He hadn't heard such things since the early years in the Academy! War was certainly not a situation where one was commended for being clever or doing a good job. Continuing to live was all the reward one gets. It made sense, but frag if it didn't annoy the medic. Still trying to keep his rock-tossing pose, the mech briefly tilted his helm to the side. What was that robot doing with the oak trees...? Wait, was that a pic-a-nic basket? A thick faux-brow quicked up in confusion. At the encouragement though, Knock Out smiled brightly. Twice in so short a time! Damn him, this robot was far too good to let go! A plaid blanket was unfurled, billowing against the grass ground like a little parachute before Scaramouche hopped onto it eagerly. He was sprawled onto his stomach, legs kicking behind him like a joyful teenage girl. To top it off was Anne-Marie who hopped onto the robot's back to roost! He smirked fondly at the sight and, bit by bit, relaxed out of the pose he'd been molded into. A hip jutting out, elbows kept close to his chassis, he found his servoes unfortunately still full of stones! His gaze fell to them, optics tracing out minute imperfections and ridges in the rock.

    "Of course they would adore me. I'm me!" Knock Out was invaluable. He deserved all of the care and adoration the world had to offer! Were he to find himself in another life-threatening situation, it'd be just for others to come to his rescue! But if all of that was true...why then, did the actions of those in the dragon hunt feel so significant? Ivory lips pursing thoughtfully, he ran his talon along the coarse surface of a stone. "...The majority of the people in the group, I barely even knew. They barely knew me and they risked their lives to help me." He was fantastic and worthy of so much love and care, and yet their care was a little strange to understand. They didn't get anything out of helping him, if anything, it almost made things worse? But it still...he still appreciated it. Because... "They cared about me more than the Decepticons ever did." He at last admitted aloud, both to himself and his friend, with a bitter note to his voice. "The Decepticons would have given up on me. I would have been a lost cause." Why not, when their 'supreme' leader was willing to throw their own home planet into the crapper to further his cause? Sacrificing one medic wouldn't have been anything to bat an optic at! He drew in a low hiss of air and closed his optics. Scaramouche had given him permission (as if Knock Out truly needed his permission!) to take a break, and so the mech focused on breathing calmly. A deep vent in, and a deep vent out. "A fragging good thing there's no need for factions anymore." Time would tell what that meant now that there were two active 'Cons buzzing about the Gamma. It was no business of Knock Out's just yet.
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    Re: Reaching Out

    Post by Scaramouche on Fri Jan 11, 2019 6:20 pm

    "Hm~! I betcha trust me as far as you can throw me - which must be preeeet-ty far, considerin' the firepower you're packin', hon hon~!" Lying was classified as one of those 'quirks' Scaramouche picked up while hovering around (and, at times, used by) less-than-savory personalities. Good robots don't lie. Good robots don't kill people for money and then arrogantly brag about the misdeed during weekly jaunts to seedy underbelly dens with the rest of the scum and villainy.

    Good robots also don't make it very far past the assembly line if they're not willing to crack a few eggs to make an omelette. Or, in the android's particular case, a few skulls. The difference became muted after the first dozen or so, but the crunch was roughly the same.

    "Oh, if looks could kill, I'd be the last mech standing on this world."

    Ha! Fat chance on that one, baby. Tit-for-tat, and Scaramouche just loved a good banter. "If you were the last mech struttin' your stuff on this joint," the robot grinned, wagging his finger like an obnoxious tart, "you'd be one lonely S.O.B.!! Is that what'cha really want, baby~? Survey saaaaays...!" Cue the dramatic pause for those in the audience. "...I think not, hon hon hon~!" And who could blame Knock Out, huh? Not even Scaramouche wanted to be alone, stranded on a world with no one else to talk or bicker with. Like, what kind of existence was that...? As for that gem of an 'ex-lax' comment, well... This must've been a strange concept, the robot knows, but Scaramouche wasn't above a healthy dose of potty humor. In fact, the android seemed to cherish it like a bored schoolboy with a bunch of fussy girls on a lazy summer afternoon. "Why sure~!" he laughed, going insofar as to even make a grand, eloquent flourish of his arms like Knock Out were royalty. "I'll be your emotional suppository - so long as ya don't mind shovin' me up your full metal crapper first, oho ho ho~!" Still wanna go toe-to-pizza foot with the Assassin with the Sassin', Doc Knock? It's okay if you throw in the towel; Scaramouche's tongue was a formidable incumbent (and it didn't play fair).

    "More like every Tuesday and Thursday."

    Oh, but this. This right here was like a mating call to the A.I. whose incorrigibility knew no bounds. Scaramouche immediately hollered and whooped at the top of his vocalizer, throwing his spindly arms high into the air as he pranced around his bulkier friend with such unbridled gaiety that it was downright alarming. "HON HON HON~!!! You~? Thinkin' you can last two entire days with me~? Oh, don't make me laugh, baby!" What a little imp! He snickered and grimaced like the Devil himself, wholly delighted by Knock Out's hubris. "Ya don't even know the first thing about hanky-panky," the robot jeered. "What makes a sweet summer child like you think you can play with big boys like me? For someone designed without a pair, ya sure walk around town as if ya got the biggest cock on the block~!"

    Now it was Scaramouche's turn to puff out his chest and appear smug. The android directed a thumb at himself, a proud lil' half-cocked smirk on his metal face, and wasted no expense. "That illustrious title belongs to moi," he boasted, head swaggling. Talk about a Milt Kahl animation brought to life! It's a pity Knock Out hadn't the experience to bump this overgrown turkey down a peg. "Why, you'd be so tired, baby," Scaramouche continued, his grin immortal, "you'd ask to stay the night just so you can walk straighter by the next afternoon!"

    Which wasn't a guarantee, because organic nerves were rather delicate things. Ah! But they were chewing too much fat. Soon, the entire cow would be nothing but skin and bones, and the day itself will have ran away from them.

    From his shady rest beneath the ancient oak trees, dappled sunlight glinting off his metal frame, Scaramouche was content to watch and listen to his friend maneuver through the sea of trauma at his own, determined pace. Bit by bit... Stroke by stroke... Though it was largely unpleasant, Knock Out needed to overcome this - had to overcome this. The Cybertronian simply couldn't go on living if he wore a veil of denial! Truly, what greater disservice to the self was there? He propped up that great big boxy jaw of his with both palms and stared at the mech patiently. Give it a bit; Knock Out wasn't used to introspection and an audience that sympathized.

    "Of course they would adore me. I'm me!"

    A start. But the foundation could use some elbow grease. Once more, with feeling! This was far too pedestrian.

    "...The majority of the people in the group, I barely even knew. They barely knew me and they risked their lives to help me."

    Better, better... But we must go deeper. To other parts left unexplored! Dip into the reflective waters with more than just your mono-toe, hm? Other than yourself, nothing else will bite - and your bark was certainly meaner.

    "They cared about me more than the Decepticons ever did. The Decepticons would have given up on me. I would have been a lost cause. A fragging good thing there's no need for factions anymore."

    Bingo. Who said you couldn't retrain a narcissistic mind, eh?

    Scaramouche's lips curled into a genuine, adoring smile. "See? I knew ya could do it," he said softly. A metal hand patted the unoccupied spot beside him. "Now come over here and take a load off, babu! Lay down and admire the scenery with me. Listen to world pass us by... to the wind kiss the water... and pet my woefully blue otherworldly chicky-poo~!" Anne-Marie did look awfully plush, not to mention cute as all heck. Wouldn't it be nice to run your talons over something that wasn't a hard, unfeeling stone?
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    Re: Reaching Out

    Post by Knock Out on Wed Jan 16, 2019 11:37 am

    "Oh, absolutely. Once I wind up my throwing arm, I've got quite the distance~!" Knock Out gave a flamboyant wiggle of his shoulders. "So...yeah! I trust you very much, lucky you! I'd say the same for you, but I think I'm far too heavy for you to toss." Sorry Scaramouche~! You were just far too scrawny, whereas he was a robotic Chad! And you know what Chads need? People who would admire them! Ergo, he didn't really want to be the last mech standing. "Well, I never said I wanted to be alone. It would merely be a consequence of my amazingly good looks! A real curse, quite Shakespearean. What I'd want is to be around you and Lunette!" So no, they were not allowed to be driven off or murdered by his handsome mug.

    Scaramouche's response to being compared to ex-lax was surprisingly magnanimous. Obviously, the robot was most comfortable when he was kissing ass! Flexible lips puckered nicely. Knock Out swaggered with a small bounce, smirking like the haughtiest mech in the Breach. "With these pizza feet, I'm great at squatting! So you'll slide right in, even if you might be a bit too tall. We'll be like those donkey costumes where one is the head and one is...the ass!" A rich chuckle bubbled out of his chassis. "A role you'd be very suited for." Tit for tat, blow for blow! This banter exchange was as familiar as a well-worn berth!

    Less familiar was the subject of the flesh! Or perhaps, metallic flesh? Whatever you call it, the mech's inexperience was apparently very obvious. Scaramouche's crowing and bragging was beginning to get a tad grating. That fool finally found something he had over Knock Out! The handsome mech pouted lightly. There was only so much he could pull out of his aft...! "Hmph! Alright, alright. You win this round, you obnoxious toaster!" As much as he hated to admit it, the jazzy robot wore smugness well. Even if he gave in to defeat, there was no way the former 'Con was going to roll over and show his belly completely. "I won't deny that I'd ask to stay the night, but it'd be so you can recharge in my arms, not because I need to recover! You don't survive a war without learning how to keep your energy up!" Take that!

    Ah, but such good sparked fun would need to melt under such unpleasant memories. Scaramouche proved to be an attentive listener at least! Not that any less was expected at this point. He gave Knock Out more reassurance, talking him up and expressing his pride in...what exactly? Just...him actually thinking about the situation instead of ignoring what was bothering? It was...strange. Uncomfortable. Primus, he didn't like confronting this sort of thing, but... He'd spent a month avoiding all of it. When invited to join the robot on the blanket, the mech carefully kneeled down towards the ground. Every single stone was set down into a tidy pile. He briefly brushed his car-door arms off before wandering over to the robot's cozy little setup. Being mindful of his pointy knees, the mech plopped his way down on the plaid fabric. His talons carefully reached for the feathery baby, giving the side of her bobbing head a careful scratch. As his metal body settled, a deep vent shifted out of him.

    "Oh Scaramouche... I have so many thoughts. So many things in my processor." His helm drooped, with a long face. Knock Out was tempted to drape across his friend, but instead propped himself up on one elbow. "I mean, that heart allowed me to be mind controlled by a tree. A tree! A strange, blue, coral-like tree!" Kibble shivered at the memory. "There's a portion of my memory missing. One moment we were on the surface, and then...we were in the caves. It took over. And then...when we killed the dragon..." Scritch, scritch, scritch...

    Knock Out's mouth turned down into a small sort of frown. Quite perturbed by the memories. Of course, that sadistic thing would leave him unknowing of what happened when they traveled, but allow him to keep the memories of Curiosity's fate! ...Oh right, he was supposed to be telling Scaramouche what happened, right? His metal brows furrowed. "Fluffy chose the wrong time to get all cuddly. It hollowed me out, shoved me out of the driver's seat, so to speak, and brought my buzzsaws down on his fuzzy skull. I turned him into mince meat." The mech cringed as he admitted the sordid affair. Who could tell how that robot would react! He was quite fond of the ditzy fluffer!
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    Re: Reaching Out

    Post by Scaramouche on Sun Jan 20, 2019 3:48 pm

    "So...yeah! I trust you very much, lucky you! I'd say the same for you, but I think I'm far too heavy for you to toss."

    Hmph! You know what they say about assuming...

    Scaramouche closed an optic and wore a knowing smile. "Oh? So sure about that, are ya~?" he teased, confident. "Well-hell-hell~! Maybe one of these days we'll have to put that lil' theory of yours to the test, won't we?" It could even be accomplished now, but something told the android that Knock Out wouldn't be very... receptive to a spontaneous science experiment. Some other time, then! And when that great red peacock wasn't so obnoxious adorable strutting his stuff. "Hon~! Fortunately for you, I'm like a genie," Scaramouche chuckled, sticking out his synthetic tongue. "Your wish is my command, and never shall ya be alone~! ...Though ya only get the one, 'kay? I'm kinda stingy in my old age~! Comes with bein' trapped in a suffocatin' bottle." Hey, those were stuffy! Much like suitcases and utility closets...

    "With these pizza feet, I'm great at squatting! So you'll slide right in, even if you might be a bit too tall. We'll be like those donkey costumes where one is the head and one is...the ass!

    A role you'd be very suited for."

    ...Holy shit. The robot throws Knock Out a bone even for one second - one! - and then the Cybertronian turns around and slays poor Scaramouche. And he got called an 'obnoxious toaster', the britches on this brassy-balled bozo! "Hey, are you callin' me a kiss ass!?" the android snapped, shooting his most lethal glare Knock Out's way. Read: not very potent, but certainly animated. "Hmph!" Scaramouche sharply looked away and crossed his arms to pout. Gee, wonder who the robot was miming? "I'll have ya know that I don't kiss just any ol' ass..." he grumbled, sneaking a cursory glance through the corner of his LED display. If a certain someone looked veeeery closely, he'd see the beginnings of an impish grin. How irritating! "And of course I win this round, you big red BOOBY! Unless you can grow the necessary parts you lack, I'm the top-diggity-dawg of interfacin' and there ain't nothin' you can do about it~!" And what was a potshot without a - PHHBBBBT! - victory razz? "Hon hon hon~! Recharge in your arms... As IF, baby~!" The robot directed a thumb toward his back and appeared quite the smug charlatan. "With this new battery of mine, I could rock your world aaaaaall week~! And even then, I gots me a solar mod for the 'bot on the go!" Scaramouche practically purred this next part, his voice smooth as silk. "Methinks you're just inadequate when it comes to the carrrrrnal delights of organic lovin', oho~! But don't feel bad, baby. Teacher's here for ya~!"

    Tit-for-tat, blow for blow~! Now roll over and expose them tums, 'cause you, dear Knock Out, were in the presence of a mastah of disastah. And also biting more than he could chew! But, y'know...

    "Thaaaat's it, babu. Sit down with ol' 'Mouche and enjoy the moment." Cyan optics kept a diligent eye on the Cybertronian as he rested before the smaller robot, the latter offering another encouraging smile. Even Anne-Marie, for all her proud bluster, wasn't above being greedy for attention. The cucco fluffed up beneath Knock Out's talons and softly cooed, nestling deeper against Scaramouche's plated spine. What a warm basket of chicken nuggets! And cute, too. "I know, babe, I know; the mind's a troublin' thing. But hey! You're doin' great, a real class act~!"

    Guh, mind control and drawing blanks. Talk about the screamin' meemies! Scaramouche thanked his lucky stars no one forced an override during his more... problematic days. He nodded every so often while listening to his friend quietly, legs swaying back and forth with a lazy cadence. Only when a lull presented itself did Scaramouche speak. "That sounds like ooooone ugly-buggly. ...The tree, I mean!" It probably wasn't a tree (sounded more like a parasitic organism), but that was fairly irrelevant. Knock Out was still shaken up - and rightfully so - by the event, and Scaramouche wasn't going to let his friend weather this alone. "That must've been awful for ya, Adonis. To lose control like that and then suddenly 'wake up' discombobulated. But, if it means anythin' to ya, you're still here and the tree's toast. It can't hurt ya anymore. You're safe and sound, and still very much loved. Ain't that right, Anne-Marie~?"

    "Bok!"

    The android curtly laughed and leaned against his metal palm, his free hand playing with the blades of grass running beneath his fingertips. "...Hm~! Anne-Marie gives ya her vote of confidence. Anyway, what happened when you guys iced the - ?"

    "Fluffy chose the wrong time to get all cuddly. It hollowed me out, shoved me out of the driver's seat, so to speak, and brought my buzzsaws down on his fuzzy skull. I turned him into mince meat."

    Oh.

    Oh no. That was...

    At first, there was silence. Great silence as Scaramouche just stared at his friend, optics wide and his expression one of flabbergasted shock. Fluffy? Minced meat? The corner of his lips trembled. Was he going to cry? Was he going to disown the Cybertronian right then and there? "...M-Mm... mmmph-h-hh...! BWAHAHAHAHAAAAAA~!" No, he was going to laugh. And it was the ugliest snort of laughter Knock Out had yet heard out of Scaramouche's big metal trap.

    It rolled off his tongue like thunder, birds taking off with a start and nearby fauna looking their way curiously, as the robot could hardly 'breathe' in-between his howls and pixelated tears. "You - ! You - ! Y-You KILLED him...! H-He nuzzled his l-last nuzzle and you...! Y-You chopped him up like CAT FOOD, YOU GLORIOUS SON OF A BITCH~!" FUCK, Knock Out was gonna think he was being a jackass, but this was comedy gold! Who wouldn't laugh at the mental image of a great big furball cuddling up to a guy who had buzzsaws for hands and then proceeded to get hacked into fuzzy meat chunks!? No offense to the Nargacuga, but Curiosity kinda had it coming! "O-Oh, that's t-too much...! My s-sides are hurt-t-tin' and in fuckin' ORBIT!" he wheezed. Wait, one more!

    Prrrr, prrr, prrr - whiiiiiiir...! BZZZTCHNKCHNKCHNK!! - prrrr-r-rr-rrrrr...!

    Yes, those sound effects were Scaramouche's 'tastful' rendition of what happened, including the last purr of betrayal and the shockingly accurate wet sound of metal teeth ripping into flesh.  

    Yes, he was still laughing and falling to figurative pieces.

    "Nyeheheheeheeuuaaargh...~! Oh Christ, I'm sorry...!" He wiped the pixelated tears off his LED display and looked to Knock Out pleadingly, distress visible. "P-Please don't take this the wrong way, b-babe, but that was just too funny! N-Not your feelings, of course~! Oh no, n-never your feelings," he stammered with a crooked smile, "but the way ya described it, I just... I just couldn't believe it, hon hon~! That damn walkin' rug is too curious for his own good sometimes, I swear!" Minced meat... Scaramouche bit his lower lip and rattled where he laid, another burst of laughter threatening to blast its way out of his throat. "He heeee~! Nuzzled his last nuzzle..."

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    Re: Reaching Out

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      Current date/time is Wed Jan 23, 2019 8:08 pm