don’t tempt me
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Ever watched ninjago s1?
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The world would blow up.
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Ha ha funny story… I didn’t
But that would be funny if I was the combination of skelly and bones then we would get the best cinematic character ever!
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I, for one, cannot wait to delve into the depths of whatever madness you conjured to write this.
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Chapter 2
–
As it turns out, there was very little information you didn’t already know. But with your superior intellect, was that really so surprising?
Cordax had barely mumbled out the most basic of information before you interrupted him and proceeded to school him on everything you were willing to disclose - but you filled his head with so many obvious details it’s a wonder it didn’t rupture then and there. Maybe if you decided to lecture him on philosophy, you could launch his dumb metallic expression halfway across the continent.
Yet hindsight is exceptionally clear, and maybe it would be wiser for you to not jeer at your acquaintance’s lack of knowledge when you didn’t possess the foresight to see the blatantly obvious mercenary who was hiding in the darkest corner of the ceiling, nor the proper intelligence to determine he was about to kick you through the window, nor the imagination to determine Cordax would do something so pointless as stab the man in the shoulder with a fork.
But, the kid’s got audacity, and that has to count for something. Maybe a free meal at Fifty’s.
Writhing about, the vigilante with his boot on your neck managed to grab the wriggling midget who decided to introduce stainless steel prongs into his bloodstream, and clutching him by the ankle with enough pressure to pop the joint of an organic being, decided to do what all exaggerated egotists love to do when they have even the slightest upper hand: Talk your darn ear off.
“It doesn’t matter if I kill him.” He smoothly stung his words into your mind, letting the nonchalant attitude throw you for a bit of a loop. “You wouldn’t mind much either. I want the info you haven’t told him.”
You sigh. “The bus will arrive at the station in an hour and a half. From there the two of us will arrive at the train depot and rendezvous with the other unlucky saps who were selected to go in this suicidal field trip-”
He slams his foot down into your steel neck, threatening to warp it. “Five seconds.”
Your featureless round head locks eyes with his smooth, featureless helmet, seething with rage that this unbelievably tacky brawler is so presumptuous as to dirty your neck with his footwear. “Ghid is there.”
The last statement seems to come as an absolute surprise to the helmeted attacker, and he recoils in disbelief. Cordax takes advantage of the situation to twist his foot free, and swing on the stranger’s arm to try and land back on his shoulders again. With him turning to prevent this, it is all the opportunity you need to swipe his knee from the back and force it to bend, before lunging your massive hand up past his leg and clutch his shiny helmet. With the newfound leverage, you flip him over your body and slam him into the ground, before rising just enough to sling him back into the diner.
You know perfectly well he’s carrying an EMP, tranquilizer darts, throwing knives, a badly mishandled cassette player, and four copies of Vektroid’s Floral Shoppe written onto cassettes which were actually considerably cheaper to come across. His rocket pack was just for show. But you also knew he needed to get the drop on you to have any sort of advantage, and now that he was probably praying he didn’t have a fractured rib, it would be pointless for him to retaliate.
Cordax, however, cowered behind your legs and peeked out from around your knee at the figure now cradling his side and collapsing onto the floor with a moan. “Who- Who IS he?!”
“Winger.” You respond, cracking your knuckles as you do so. “You now know it’s Ghid who was responsible, so I can’t exactly let you go.”
“So?” Winger retorts, trying and failing to rise and challenge your approach. “Does that mean you’re gonna kill me, you faceless brute?”
“Better.” You imply a smile. “You’re coming along for the ride.”
–
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wow you made me sound so much cooler than I actually am
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it’s a useful skill trust me
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I find this considerably entertaining to read in a calm, slightly sarcastic British accent.
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how do you know what i sound like
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Only Ghid could turn a normal day on the boards into a gritty, noir story.
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Chapter 3
–
You stop for a moment to rest your legs.
Sunlight was finally beginning to have a proper hold over the eastern sky, blazing hues of orange on your left while the purple nighttime retreated to your right. Your journey had been an uninterrupted one, traveling over slopes of grey and the black rocky road, fully expecting it to turn into dirt and loose gravel as you further isolated yourself from modern expansion.
If only you had gotten to the bus on time.
It was all thanks to that cosplaying kid you were lugging over your shoulder. If he had been a little more compliant with being hogtied and didn’t bring a tray of food down on your head you might have made it. You begin to ask yourself why you didn’t just break his neck and get it over with, but the answer - not out of virtue or empathy, no -the real answer came readily to your mind: It would’ve traumatized Cordax.
But he was lagging severely behind after getting too tired from walking and collapsing. Maybe you could simply get it over with here and… Say that he fell? No, too late; you hear his heavy panting and the clicking of his footsteps.
“Oh of course NOW you rest.” Cordax gasped out at you, clearly irritated and exhausted from running. “Sure if I wanna rest I get left behind passed out in the middle of the road, but if you wanna rest YOU can just-”
“There’s a bench here.” You objected, pointing out the bus stop. “Plus, this is where I was heading.”
“Oh really?” Cordax began to retort, but the satisfaction of being able to sit down on an actual seat defused his argument. With an incoherent grumble he plopped down, forcing you to give up a bit of room for him.
“What about him?” Cordax murmured after a moment or so, nudging you and motioning to the bound figure over your shoulder.
“My guess is he fell asleep.” You offered. “It’s not like there’s much you can do face-down in the middle of the night for three hours. But with any luck, he won’t be on my shoulder much longer.”
“…Head…” Winger mumbled, slowly roused by the sound of your voices. “All the blood… Where are we?”
“We,” You began, fully prepared to spin him a wild tale of how you were on your way to sell him into slavery for blood money, before the distant churning of a motor drew your full attention. Slowly standing, you noticed the shining singular headlight of a bus traveling south, and immediately stood in the middle of the road. The bus slowed to a halt right in front of you and Cordax forced open the door.
“What’re you doin’?” The driver said. He had a snappy voice, spoke extremely quickly, and was barely taller than Cordax, yet had a significant number of years under his belt, as his roughened hands jabbed a finger at you as you entered. “This is my transit bus and my paycheck you’re interrupting, and- Hey! Are you paying attention?!”
You plop your captive down in one of the back seats and turn to the driver. “Sir, you are going to turn this bus around and return to the train depot or I will throw you out the back window and do it myself. We are in a rush I might add, so make it snappy.”
The driver’s metallic face set in a vile scowl as he glared into your perfectly spherical head. “Fine. But only because I pay for damages.”
–
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Is the bus driver one of us? (Or maybe I’m just stupid I can’t tell who it is) loving the story so far, can’t wait for the next chapter.
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Every character who makes an appearance is someone from the list. You’ll get more info on this fellow in the next chapter.
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It’s true, I would seek out a position as a bus driver for the sole purpose of mowing down unsuspecting civilians.
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Dream job
Oh wait! I already do that!
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Me when ever there’s a game with cars and citizens
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Chapter 4
–
“If you don’t want to believe I’m a knight, fine. You can be wrong, I ain’t stoppin’ ya.”
You had suffered just about enough of this. “You sound incredibly American, for one thing. For another, I have the highest doubt any living or dead member of British royalty would’ve actually agreed to your title being ‘Sir Keks-a-lot.’”
“I’ll have you know,” Sir Keksalot snapped back, “That the queen was very drunk that night.”
You rubbed your fingers against the top of your circular head in the general location of a theoretical forehead before your attempts to alleviate your headache were washed away in a sea of stinging irritation by Cordax’s voice. “Oh yeah? Which queen? Mary? Elizabeth? Victoria? Elizabeth again?”
Your glowing head flushed into a swirling mass of red and orange, burning brightly as you swivel to face Cordax. “I brought you for the comedic relief. But if you utter another word in my presence from here to the factory I will knee you in the face with enough force to implode your cranial cavity which you refuse to lease out as a gas tank.”
“Would you shut up?” Sir Keksalot swung around and hissed at your particularly featureless face. “I’ll be stringing you up by your calf tendons on the rear bumper of this bus if you so much as spit on those cushions. I may not get the best routes but my reputation for ‘cleanest interior of an operating public transportation unit’ isn’t about to be ruined by some tempermental snowglobe in winter fashion.”
You sigh, relapsing back into the chair as your swirling consciousness returns to its normal blue. Cordax has retracted all the way to the cab wall and would have remained paralyzed for the rest of the cab drive, had you not grabbed him by the collar and stood him up thirty minutes later.
“See that?” You pointed out the windshield towards what appeared to be some overly science fiction nuclear power plant surrounded by smaller buildings, silos, and agricultural equipment. “That’s it, Cordax. Much, much larger up close. That’s why we’re going by train.”
Cordax didn’t respond, simply quivering in your grip, only looking out the windshield briefly because he was commanded to. You sighed deeply and set him down, him immediately dropping to the floor and continuing to stare up at you in terror. The bus pulled into a station which was clearly abandoned some long time ago, where a bizarre contraption vaguely resembling a train was waiting, impatiently vibrating on the rails.
You gently pushed Cordax along, which caused him to tumble into a sprint out of the doors. You collected the silent Winger whose glare you could feel underneath his franchise pandering helmet boring through your puffy coat, but an orange metal arm stopped you with a snap of its fingers.
“I don’t mind the exaggerated threats and the hogtying of whoever that is.” Sir Keksalot mumbled. “Even if you did the tying wrong and all. But I’ve seen too many slick injustices done by stupid know-it-alls like yourself. Now that Cordax is a nice kid. You treat him that way or I ain’t pickin’ you back up when this is done. You can hitchhike for all I care.”
“I could kill you now, and-”
You weren’t allowed to finish that sentence, as Sir Keksalot nearly inverted your lower arm and threw you over your own head out of the bus. Your deft driver brushed his hands off and looked down from the bottom of his eyes.
“Get on better standings or I’ll keep my promise to the letter.”
He turned away and the doors closed.
Then they opened again.
“For the record, I was referring to the hamstringing bit.”
–
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Ooh goodie a nuclear power plant, I wonder where this is going. Great job so far
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