hats
Acolotls
Posts: 39
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Post by hats on Oct 3, 2020 21:09:37 GMT -5
guns, puns, and violent outcomes: a text-based romp through the war-torn hellscape of 20XX contains adult language, violence, innuendo, bad jokes, anti-establishment rhetoric, and bears
The persistent mosquito buzz in your ear drags you right out of whatever blissful dream had been occupying your brain. You have a brief flash of sandy beaches, clear skies, plates laden with fresh fruit--and then it's gone, replaced by the stark walls and low ceiling of your quarters. The taste of a strawberry, or what you think strawberries might have tasted like, lingers just a moment longer before it evaporates too.
You squeeze your eyes shut again, take in a lungful of recirculated air, and groan.
Your codename is SHRIKE. You fight for a living. Your alarm is still going off. And it is way too early for this shit.
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Post by kaninchen on Oct 3, 2020 22:51:12 GMT -5
Everything you do is in TWOS. Two swords, two guns, two colors in your hair, two different colored socks. Even your eye colors are different. Why? Because you're TWO COOL FOR SKOOL.
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Post by fuzzysocks on Oct 3, 2020 22:58:53 GMT -5
we are also a sentient car
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Post by Eversor on Oct 3, 2020 23:26:57 GMT -5
Sunglasses. But not where you think they would be.
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hats
Acolotls
Posts: 39
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Post by hats on Oct 4, 2020 0:13:10 GMT -5
Everything you do is in TWOS. Two swords, two guns, two colors in your hair, two different colored socks. Even your eye colors are different. Why? Because you're TWO COOL FOR SKOOL. You slap a palm to your ear and shut off the alarm, then hop out of your bunk. It's time for the best part of every single goddamn day: starin' at yourself in the mirror.
Artfully mussed hair? Check. Blues still blue and pinks still pink? Check--plenty of time before those roots start showing. Uniform? Check. Paired holsters, scabbards, and straps for other murder-oriented odds and ends? Check.
You wink and throw fingerguns at your reflection. Who's the hottest killer on two legs? You are.
we are also a sentient car Strictly speaking, Heelys aren't a sanctioned part of the uniform. Also strictly speaking, motorizing them violates all sorts of safety rules and regs.
Nobody's complained yet. Vroom vroom, motherfuckers.
Ready to roll. You shoulder open the door to your quarters, stride out into the hallway, and run straight into Stag, sending them staggering back a few paces.
"Cool it, trashlegs," they say, wincing and clutching their splinted arm overdramatically. "Your gig doesn't start for a couple hours, and breakfast sucks shit today. Where's the fire?"
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Post by fuzzysocks on Oct 4, 2020 0:15:47 GMT -5
uh...your FACE! Ha! That'll teach him.
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Post by thedudeguy on Oct 4, 2020 0:25:55 GMT -5
Back in your room actually, seems like your alarm clock blew a fuse
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Post by kaninchen on Oct 4, 2020 0:58:43 GMT -5
Hand him your new mixtape. THAT'S where the fire is, baby!
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Post by Eversor on Oct 4, 2020 11:15:22 GMT -5
>Cool explosion occur behind you, but be too rad to look back at it, just walk away.
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hats
Acolotls
Posts: 39
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Post by hats on Oct 4, 2020 12:20:25 GMT -5
uh...your FACE! Ha! That'll teach him. Back in your room actually, seems like your alarm clock blew a fuse "It's back in your hidey-hole, Stag. Only reason you'd be awake before 1100 is if something went haywire."
They raise an eyebrow. "S'that so? You sure this isn't a social call?"
"Your face is a social call."
Heh. Got 'em.
Hand him your new mixtape. THAT'S where the fire is, baby!
"Oh, hey," you say, "I made you a get-well present yesterday, on account of you getting shot and all. Check your inbox."
Stag's face turns angelic--the very picture of saintly gratitude. "Shrike! You shouldn't have." Their eyes flicker; you recognize the signs of a deep neural hookup doing its work, feeding info to the optical nerves. "...You really shouldn't have."
Your grin turns feral. "I crowdsourced vocals from the rest of the team for 'sorry u suck at dodging,' but my favorite is deffo 'Since You've Been Gone [mariachi dubstep remix].' Really captures the spirit of the sentiment."
"Capture this, dickweed." It takes a second to figure out that Stag's flipping you off with both hands, what with the cast and all. "I dig the cover art though." >Cool explosion occur behind you, but be too rad to look back at it, just walk away.
"Yeah it's pretty sweet. Gas stations still blow up real nice." You slide your sunglasses out of their sleeve holster and slap 'em on. It's way too dark for 'em, but cool kids don't need to see indoors. "Catch you at the all-hands later, yeah?"
Stag nods and shoves hair out of their eyes. "Right on. Good luck out there today--don't die, or else I can't kill you myself."
Good old Stag. Such a joker.
You step out of the residential hallway and into the first floor hub. Still early enough that it's not too busy yet. Mess hall's empty except for Rat (elbow-deep in a mass of plastic and wires, a bowl of nutrient slurry congealing on the table next to him); sound's blasting from the rec room as usual; doors to the conference room are open, though it looks like nobody's camping out there. Muffled bangs coming from the stairs to the second floor, which means somebody's getting an early start at the range and pissing off anybody in the library.
It's 0704. Plenty of time to kill; morning meeting ain't 'til 0800. Where to?
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Post by fuzzysocks on Oct 4, 2020 12:31:19 GMT -5
Have we eaten yet? we might want to go to the mess hall.
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Post by Eversor on Oct 4, 2020 13:51:51 GMT -5
>Slurry tastes better with friends. Time to eat!
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Post by kaninchen on Oct 4, 2020 14:04:42 GMT -5
Plot twist: The Mess Hall is actually just the area where everyone makes a huge mess. What you want is the /cafeteria/, where you can eat food.
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hats
Acolotls
Posts: 39
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Post by hats on Oct 4, 2020 15:30:30 GMT -5
You roll on over to the mess hall. For one of the most trafficked spots in the bunker, it always looks kinda shabby. (Or maybe that's why it's so run-down.) Tables are all dinged up, benches are wobbly, stains all over the concrete floor... some of those were your fault.
Well, not "fault." That has negative connotations. It was your privilege to grind that bowl of re-hydrated soy isolate into the ground.
You grab your own bowl of shapeless, tasteless, gray goo (Rat says it's "efficient." Everyone else says it's "fucking awful, Rat, and stop trying to convince me it's good or you'll be slurping it through a fucking feeding tube."), snag a Nanners-and-NutsTM synthetic muffin for fiber and flavor, pound down a cup of coffee straight from the pot, and slide onto the bench opposite Rat.
"Mrrrn'n," you mumble through a mouthful of muffin.
He doesn't respond. Now that you're closer, you can see that he doesn't have his arms buried in a pile of tech garbage--his arm is a pile of tech garbage, and he's messing with wiring and chip housings and gods know what else in the depths of the prosthesis.
What a nerd.
Finally he looks up, the red light of his optic implant just barely visible behind that creepy-ass one-way eyepatch. "What."
"It's nice to see you, man," you say, only just managing to keep a straight face between gruel-slurps. "You really light up the room, y'know? You're just so..."
Rat waits. There's a twitch in his temple.
"...disarming."
He locks gazes with you for a long, silent moment. Then he turns back to his work. He's probably laughing super hard on the inside, you tell yourself. "Are you in adequate condition?" he asks, squinting down into the rat's nest (ha!) before him. "Any implants misbehaving? Any concerns about today's mission?"
Good question. How are you doing today?
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Post by kaninchen on Oct 4, 2020 15:37:22 GMT -5
Awful! Your mission has you paired with your main rival /and/ love interest, which means your stomach is full of good-and-bad butterflies. Wait, the butterflies might just be part of the shitty muffin.
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