By the hands of the Gods, you have been plucked from your time and from your world, dropped into the box.
Only the box is a world of its own.
We are a mass crossover based on the concept of Pandora's Box. Characters from nearly any fandom can be played here. Because of the endless character possibilities, we are canon only here at Pandora. Take a peek at our rules and plot information before starting your new life in Pandora.
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Complete Parks and Reconnaissance

This roleplay has reached its conclusion.

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
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He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
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Neutral Good
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December 11, Y-109
Afternoon, after this thread

Far better than the dank alleys or the sea of white snow, One-One truly admired the sights of the park in this strange new world! Although snow still collected on the ground and dotted the trees, activity was all a-buzz in this new place! Children laughing as they built snow people and threw snow balls at each other! Adults talking as they jogged around the frozen lakes. Dogs trouncing about the snowbanks and kicking dust up into the air with every leap! Oh, all of it made it so very hard for the little sphere shaped robot to stay put!

"Hngh, hnnngh...!" Glad-One shuffled about on the bench, his little nubs tickety-tacking lightly against the wood as he paced back and forth. He was small, easily overlooked and thus hadn't grabbed anyone's attention yet. But another delighted squeal as a child lobbed his friend in the head with a snowball seemed to make the robot fussier! "So many new faces...! New friends I could make...! Oh, surely daddy won't be upset if I talk to just one person?"

"No." Stubborn as can be, Sad-One flattened their shared body against the curve of the seat, optics lowering to give the bench a detached glare. "You heard what dear old Pops said; if we can stay put, we get a treat! And we have to be good and listen to what he says." He grumbled to himself, that dry stare soon settling on the normal citizens going about their day. "Besides, with our luck, one of these people might try to kidnap us and turn us into a toaster."

"Yes, yes..." Glad-One sighed softly, retracting his nubs back into his body. "We have to be a good boy for daddy!" Excitement soon brewed back into the robot as he rocked back and forth on the bench to occupy his time and attention. His metal shell drummed against the firm wood with a soft rhythm. "He'll be so proud of us! Daddy will come back, see that we're exactly as he left us, and he'll smile! He'll-he'll, he'll say, 'Oh, One-One! You're the best son ever! You're a great listener! I love you!'" Needless to say, Glad-One's impression of Scaramouche was rather shoddy. He barely disguised the British accent, and needed about 90% more honk. Continuing to rock himself on the bench with a bright hum, he soon turned thoughtful. "Hm... Say... What do you think daddy meant when he said we'd get a treat?" New eagerness seeped into the 'bot's voice.

"I dunno..." Sad-One groaned apathetically. He detested guessing games...! "It was probably a lie and the treat will be 'a job well-done'. Or cyanide pills. Either or." All of this rolling was beginning to make him nauseous, but at least it kept his twin busy! Aside from a few moans here and there, he kept his complaints to himself for once.

"I bet it'll be a cupcake!" Glad-One continued as if he hadn't heard Sad-One's pessimistic suggestions, optics glinting brightly as he waited for daddy's swift return! "I'll be happy with just about anything, between you and me! Even just a kind word and a smile! Though some cuddles would be wonderful as well!" Ever since that first embrace, One-One was perhaps a little starved for more affection. He didn't quite understand what Scaramouche needed to do that they couldn't come with, but that could always wait til later! For now... For now, Glad-One began to chatter inanely as he started to count the wood grain embedded in the park bench.
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
So... things were bad.

Things were real bad. Just what in the heck was he supposed to do...?

Crunch...
...crunch...
.....crunch.

Suddenly, the sun was devoured by a familiar shadow.

"...Hey, squirt. You behave while I was gone?" Surprisingly, One-One had managed to stay put and keep out of trouble, the lil' machine currently obsessed with the park bench that now doubled as both his resting place and his jailer. An obedient lil' goober, that baby 'bot... and more than a teensy bit unwell in the processor, too. Such was the nature of trauma, he supposed (it was trauma). "All right, a deal's a deal," Scaramouche piped up, his tone listless. The android may or may not be mired in the doldrums -- wouldn't you be, knowing what he did? "Try not to wear these out within the week, huh? Daddy's livin' paycheck to paycheck, so make the wax count." More tests were required before consensus could be attained; for now, however... One-One deserved some positive reinforcement and something to keep his antsy muffin-makers busy. Otherwise, baby 'bot ran the risk of annoying the absolute stuffing out of yours truly -- and we just can't have that. He reached into his coat, fingers absentmindedly searching, and made it rain with everything a scatterbrained 'kid' loved: crayons, paper, a writing instrument, and stickers. Lots and lots stickers (don't ask how, or where, he got them; the answer wasn't pretty). And now, with his part of the bargain upheld...

Fwump!

The android threw himself upon the bench right next to One-One and just... melted, his body becoming one with the wood. "Bleeeeughhhh..." A disheartening sound, that feeble groan. Like the morbid notes of a dirge on a grey, sunless day. "One-One, kiddo..." he croaked, the glow of his optics hidden by the covetous brim of his paddy hat, "looks like it's gonna be you and me for a long time. A long, long time..." Scaramouche will repeat for those hard of hearing in the back: things were bad.​
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
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link
Organizer
link
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link
"One hundred thirty-three, one hundred thirty-four, one hundred thirty-five-hey, wait! Who turned out the lights?" Still dutifully counting, it was the figure's looming shadow that caught Glad-One's attention rather than the crunch of snow beneath heeled boots. He paused in his assessment of the wood grain and swiveled in place, optics peering up happily as daddy at last returned! "Oh, daddy, you're back!" White optics briefly turned into hearts before squinting in a pleased manner. "I behaved excellently! I kept this bench warm for you, and I stayed put, just like you asked!"

"Don't let him fool you, he was totally tempted to faff off and play, but I kept us in check." Sad-One spoke up with a tattle-tale tease in his slow droning voice. A deal was indeed a deal, and it seems that neither half of One-One had been able to predict what their treat would be! Not nearly as sappy as Glad-One's guesses, nor as fatalistic as Sad-One's, they were instead gifted with... art supplies!

Alright, they weren't exactly museum worthy supplies, but it was still more than One-One had ever had the honor of owning before! With an elated gasp and a by now familiar clack, the sphere broke apart into two pieces as the optimistic half immediately scrambled to gather up every piece of his gift! "Oh, thank you thank you thank you...! I'll make this last alright, but first thing's first! I've got to make you a masterpiece!" Chipper chuckles sounded as his nubs organized his supplies. He withdrew a piece of paper, held the pencil in his right nub, and immediately got down to business! Whatever he was drawing, he kept it out of Scaramouche's view. 'Tis was a surprise after all!

Sad-One, on the other hand, merely observed ol' Scaramouche as he collapsed onto the bench and laid there as if he were a paper doll instead of an android. "Hm. For some reason, you're feeling about 50% more relatable than usual." Before the other robot could ponder on what that may mean, the depressed half of One-One crawled his way up onto Scaramouche's lap. He nestled in comfortably, like the world's laziest cat, too lazy to even make any muffins! His singular optic imitated a closed eye as if he were snoozing, only the sound of his voice broke such an illusion. "That's not such a bad thing, is it Pops?" Why would he be so distressed about being with One-One? Perhaps it had to do with whatever it was ol' daddio left to do that required them to wait behind... Shrugging his nubs, Sad-One thought to lighten the mood in his... usual way! "I mean, we could be like ol' what's her face. A fart on the wind, never to be heard from again."

"Yeah!" Glad-One spoke up, briefly peering up from his drawing. "At least we've got each other, and you already got me art supplies!" Feeling that he wasn't the only one in need of positive reinforcement, the optimistic little robot paused in his art long enough to toddle over to one of the robot's hands and gently bump himself against it. "You're shaping up to be a wonderful daddy."
 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
"Oh, daddy, you're back!"


Ugh, gag him with a rusty spoon...

"Yeah, I'm back," Scaramouche groused. There was nothing worse -- nothing -- than being penniless, unemployed, and saddled with responsibility. Think it too late to visit the cig store? "I'm back," he sighed, as if repeating himself would make things any better; spoiler alert: it didn't, "and it looks like we're both gonna be stayin' put, 'cause there ain't no gettin' outta this one." They certainly weren't going to rust away and become glued to this crummy ol' bench, of course. But, well... Eh! Best to let the subject come up naturally, 'cause boy... it was a real ripper of a doozy. "Hey, don't tattle on your other half~! Ain'tcha ever hear the ol' prison yard motto: 'snitches get stitches'? Daddy ain't raisin' no punk." Mm, mm, mm... Loose lips sink ships, and this right here was a dinghy going up Shit Creek without a paddle. It was hard not to chuckle though, 'cause hey, who didn't like the Three Stooges? True to the very selfsame comedians, the android lazily reached over and - bonk! - gave Sad-One a mindful pap on his shell, laying down the Law of Dad and cementing himself as Top Banana. And you damn well better listen to it too, you filthy lil' anarcho-commie. "You're welcome, peanut," he answered softly, fighting back a mutinous smile. Yep, this is how it starts. Like the downfall of Rome, etc., etc. "The kids I ganked were feelin' charitable, so eat your heart out. Or, uh, PSU -- if ya have one. ...You do have one, right?" Welp, guess it was true; children really don't come with manuals, not even those made in the factories. Talk about shoddy customer service!

Pffft!! 50% more relatable, he says... "As opposed to what, 49.9%~?" Scaramouche let loose an amused chortle and finally found it within himself to relax against the seat, his looooong arms draped over the bench's backing and his looooong legs sprawled out in front of him, masquerading as twiggy stilts. Meh, snow... He regarded the stuff with mild disdain, feet shuffling. Get any of that in his systems, even a pinch, and it was a PITA. Scaramouche wondered... would it be the same for someone so localized and well-maintained as One-One?

You were a strange one, baby 'bot, with your ability to literally split and pioneer (what appeared to be) fully autonomous halves... Cute, too. Notoriously cute, because that stunt with the android's lap? Mmph... classic.

"¡Ay, ay, ay~!" The larger machine fussed and raised his arms to beseech the heavens for succor. Pay no mind to the weary grin shining through. "¡Me estás matando, mijo, me estás matandoooo!!"

...Okay, okay! So it was cute how Glad-One maintained his child-like innocence and seemingly never tired.
Just as it was cute how Sad-One, despite being a rainy cloud on an otherwise sunny day, was an affectionate lil' bugaboo greedy for more.

God.

What he would give to have that kind of energy again...

"Nah, it ain't so bad," which was the truth -- it wasn't, because it could always be worse. Just ask Not-My-Mother. "It's just... different, I guess. It's been a while since I've lost everythin' in the blink of an -- ...Didja just refer to that girl as a 'fart on the wind'?" Sad-One, you blunt lil' butthole!! That wasn't very nice.

...Keep doing it.

The charlatan honked with laughter. "Hon hon hon~! Man, you are one cold cat, whiskers and all!" Scaramouche remarked, his circuits tickled pink. Should he...? Shouldn't he...? Eh! Why the hell not; wasn't much else on the agenda. Against his better judgement, the android did what he told himself for two whole hours not to: Scaramouche reached down -- that's right, he reached down -- and fondly rubbed his lil' stinker like one would a pleasantly plump puss. Oh, the horror! The degradation of the self! And yet, somehow... it felt all right. Nothing exploded and he didn't spontaneously combust. "Guess bein' locked up in that snow car for thirty-three years really didja no favors, huh?" he asked. Guess it wouldn't hurt, parting with a bit of sympathy... Just a liiiiil' bit.

"You're shaping up to be a wonderful daddy."


Uuuuurgh, he took it back!
He took it BACK!

Being a dad was terrible!!!
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
Profile
link
Organizer
link
Directory
link
"Yeah, I'm back. I'm back, and it looks like we're both gonna be stayin' put, 'cause there ain't no gettin' outta this one."


Getting out of what exactly?

...Oh. Right. Wherever it was that this strange little world was! Huh... No wonder daddy was so bummed out. Despite how such news was truly upsetting to hear now that One-One finally understood what his dear old papa had been doing, both halves seemed to immediately decide to keep a stiff upper lip about it! ...Despite... Not having any lips! No matter how loose they were.

"Teehee! Daddy's calling you a punk! Punk punk punk~!" Unrepentant, Glad-One sang and teased his other half with a giggle, much to the other's bemusement.

"Uugh, no faaair...! You're just saying that cause he's your favorite." Sad-One groused stubbornly. "I'm gonna tattle all I want and you can't stop me. So, nyeh." Although he lifted up the front part of his body as if trying to do something, the gesture was obviously lost without an actual tongue to stick out. All it took was a pap for the little robot to settle back down, however, easily cowing to the Law of Dad with a grumble of "Rassa frassa..."

Ooh, ooh, a nickname! They got a nickname! Peanut, how cute! "Honestly, daddy, I'm not sure what we have...!" Pensive for a moment, Glad-One set his pencil down and seemed to use both nubs to feel at himself as best he could. There was no compartment to open up and reveal his innards, no schematics tucked away either. The little robot's insides were a mystery for now, even to One-One himself! "Whatever it is that we have, I'll be sure to eat a lot with it!" This turn of phrase may have been lost in translation...

"You ganked some kids? That's hardcore, Pops. I learn more about you by the minute." Almost impressive, it was! Maybe not the greatest of actions, certainly not something most would condone, but then, neither half of One-One knew any better. It may bring Glad-One to a brief pause, but not for long as he took up his pencil once again and hummed as he worked. Voice perhaps a shade snootier (maybe even brattier), Sad-One seemed to huff at the other's playful retort. "More like 49.8%, actually." Get on his level, scrub!

"¡Ay, ay, ay~! ¡Me estás matando, mijo, me estás matandoooo!!"


In a most ironic turn, both halves of the little robot stared at their larger companion as if he had gone and lost his marbles! "W-what language is that?" Glad-One whispered to his twin.

"You've got me. Some sort of... taco language? Hmph." The depressed half decided to wait to respond until their dear old pappy decided to speak something they could actually understand. "Change can be hard to adapt to." Sad-One solemnly agreed before finding his thoughts derailed. He glanced upwards, confused. "Huh...? Oh, yeah. That. Yeah I called her a fart. She was stinky." Despite how most people would view such behavior as absolutely rude, Scaramouche was absolutely soaking it up!

Honking laughter was a pretty obnoxious sound, but let it never be said that Sad-One couldn't join in on the fun sometimes! "A cold cat, huh...? Meow, meoooow...!" He caterwauled mercilessly, a cold cat indeed! And like any cold cat, upon earning some affection, even Sad-One could not resist the almighty uuuurge...! Pap, pap... Pap, pap...! Far more sluggish than his twin's nubs had been, the little robot nevertheless began to put his muffinmakers to good use with a sound that was almost a pleased hum rather than a dull moan.

"Guess bein' locked up in that snow car for thirty-three years really didja no favors, huh?"


"Oh, you're not kidding, Pops. It was awful. Worst 33 years of my life! And I didn't even catch frostbite once!" Truly, a grave injustice and a shame.

"Being locked up in the snow car wasn't the greatest, but I will fondly remember the friends we made along the way, as well as the treasures we found together!" Ever the optimist, Glad-One piped up with his perspective as he began to pick and choose his crayons of choice!

"Those weren't treasures, they were trash. Literal trash!"

"Treasure is in the eye of the beholder, my friend!"

"Uugh..." Sad-One's optic rolled upwards towards Scaramouche. "So... I guess we're just gonna stick together and do our best to survive...this place. Did you happen to catch a name while you were ganking kids?" Just in case the answer upset dear old pappy, those muffinmakers began to get a bit more attentive and snuggly.
 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Tch. Glad-One and Sad-One, two halves of a whole idiot -- literally!!

"Favorite~?" Scaramouche didn't even bother hiding his laughter. The nuts and bolts on this lil' upstart, gadzooks! If there was any confirmation that One-One hadn't a doggone clue about self-preservation, one of the core tenets of any automaton, this was surely it. Interesting... For what purpose? Again, more tests were warranted. "Oh, kiddo, you're doin' your old man dirty. You know I don't play favorites. After all, I got two headaches for the price of one. Think about it~!" Which, you know, might be hard, given the participant, but he was gonna let Sad-One figure it out like the big 'bot he was. ...Oh, but not too big, because that sass? Mm, no. That sass sounded a lot like insubordination, and Scaramouche just hated someone disrupting his groove. "Oh yeah~?" the android grinned, his expression none too pleasant. It was like staring down a hungry shark before the first bite, complete with those soulless eyes. Those doll's eyes. "You're gonna tattle all ya want and there ain't nothin' I can do about it, eh? Hm~! That's real cute, slugger, reeeeeal cute... Now c'mere!!"

Mess with the Wooly, you get the trunk! And the same was true for Daddy, with his grabby metal mitts and his lightning-fast reflexes. It was like snatching a lobster out of its tank -- swift, painless, easy -- and Scaramouche wasted no time in quashing Sad-One's rebellious streak. "Think my threats empty, d'ya~?" he commented, holding his wriggledy-piggledy bambino like a fresh ocean crab. Fitting, given baby 'bot's design! "Well-hell-hell~!" the larger machine chuckled, "guess I'll just have to knuckle down and make ya a believer, then, won't I? Hold stiiiiiill~!" And then, Scaramouche went in... for the kill.

PHBBBBBBBBTBTBTBTBTTTTTT!!

Oh, it was the razz to end all razzes. With his supple metal lips and his ironclad grip, the android pelted -- 'phbbttt!' -- after -- 'phbbbtttt!!' -- into Sad-One's exposed tummy, the Assassin with the Sassin' thorough in his discipline. And you know what the best part was? He didn't need air.

"Honestly, daddy, I'm not sure what we have...!"


"Wait, seriously...?"
Now that... took Scaramouche by honest surprise. Sorry, Sad-One, but your masochistic fantasies will have to take a backseat, because something wasn't quite right with the rest of you. "Y-You mean you... you don't already know what components ya got? N-Not even, like, somethin' so basic as the make and model of your own processor?" Jeez Louise, what kind of whackjob even created this guy!? "Puh..." Scaramouche lowered Sad-One back upon his lap, safe and sound, and had a certain 'look' about him; the kind that screamed 'organics suck' all over. "I'm sorry to hear that, peanut, I really am."

...TACO language!? Oh no, don't tell him One-One wasn't equipped with something so run-of-the-mill as a translator! What even kind of robot was this!?

It was almost too much for the snazzy android to take. "Holy Toledo, this is bad," he grumbled, a wrist dramatically pressed to his forehead. "Ignorant, reckless, and an amnesiac? Oh, kid, you really won the lottery. I've heard of 'bots flirtin' with terminal logic, but this takes the cupcake. Hell, not even I'm this far gone!"

With a sudden - yoink! - he swiped Glad-One off his lil' nubs and shook the infuriating simpleton. Technically against the rules of parenting, but... "Spanish! I spoke Spanish!!" Scaramouche cried. "C'mon, junior, you know what that is! Tell me y'know what that is!?" But making demands out of One-One was like squeezing blood from a stone, and soon the hardcore ganker of kids had to throw in the towel. "Sigh... Welp, guess that settles that," the android uttered, his dejection heavier than any oppressive weight. "You really are rampant, and in a way I ain't ever seen in all my travels." Was it Stage Three? Stage Four...? Ugh, perhaps it didn't matter... Either way, One-One was a machine so far beyond him, in both design and function, that even someone as seasoned and well-versed in the world as Scaramouche couldn't rightfully make heads or tails of the tiny ding-dong.

The truth was honestly kinda... sad, and he wasn't prone to feeling blue.

"Pandora," he piped up, sniffling quietly. "The place is called Pandora, and it's gonna be our new home for, well... for forever, I guess. There ain't no goin' back, kid. Not to your mom, to your train, to anything. This is it. This is really it..." And there One-One had it, the whole crux of this devastating, illogical issue. If he was as rampant as believed, then the resulting tantrum would speak for itself. "You're off your rocker, I'm not far behind and currently worthless..." Scaramouche halfheartedly gestured to nowhere in particular, head propped up by his fist. "No matter how we're gonna slice n' dice it, pumpkin, it's gonna be rough for a while. You still wanna play make-believe? 'Cause there ain't no guarantee we're gonna, y'know, actually make it. We could be scrapped tomorrow, for all I know." Maybe this was too pessimistic. Maybe Scaramouche was all too eager to lay down, right here in all this icky snow, and await the fabled heat death of the universe. With no patron to serve and no reputation to speak of, what good was an assassin without street cred? What good was he for anything?

...The muffins were nice, at least. The android much appreciated them, even if he sounded like a sack of wet cats. "Meh, we're still kickin' it and not sold for soda cans, so that's somethin', I guess," he mumbled. It wasn't the best turn of events, but it sure as hell beat death. ...Maybe. Bonus points if your name wasn't Sad-One.

Pandora, thy name was despair! And with thy name known, the question becomes thus: now what?
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
Profile
link
Organizer
link
Directory
link
"Did I st-st-st-stutter?" Sad-One snarked without a hint of remorse!

"You just did, yes! Right there!" Chimed in Glad-One as he scribbled with crayons, eternally immune to sarcasm.

Ignoring his twin, Sad-One focused on their sassy father instead! Two headaches for the price of one? Quite the insult! "Hmph. Your own fault for the headache. You're the one who decided to be daddy." He sassed with no regard for the warning bells or red flags. Was Pops getting riled? Oh yeah. Did Sad-One care? Not one iota. But perhaps he ought to because dear old dad was looking rather threatening...! Those optics of his glinting like a lion about to pounce! Truly powerless beneath such a stare, the little half of a robot could do nothing but let out a stoic yell as Scaramouche's ham hands swooped him up like a rascally squirrel with his tasty acorn!

"No, noooo...! Let me gooooo!" Wee nubs kicked and scrambled, but the robot was a smart one! He held Sad-One in such a way that kept his fingers out of reach. Defenseless, the depressed half of One-One stubbornly kept wriggling his legs. Then... Pops went in for the ultimate kill! Lips razzed against his metallic underbelly, vibrating and blowing air upon him with no mercy! The poor baby began to squeal like a morose pig! "Aaauuuuugggghhhh...! Nooo, nooo...!" His nubs kicked and struggled uselessly, white optic shifting to display dripping tears. "I refuse to give in to the maaaan...!" Alas, no matter how he resisted, a few stray giggles were beginning to bubble out of him before Scaramouche was thankfully distracted by his twin! As the raspberries came to an end, the hemisphere of a robot went limp as if he had truly died in the struggle.

"Y-You mean you... you don't already know what components ya got? N-Not even, like, somethin' so basic as the make and model of your own processor?"


Pausing in his art, Glad-One blinked up at the other robot with only the purest stare of confusion. Was it... strange to not know that sort of information? "Um... No? That doesn't... None of that rings a bell! ...Should I know these things...?" He attempted to glance at his other half to get his read on the situation, but Sad-One was still suffering a raspberry induced KO, now safely settled back into daddy's lap. "You don't need to be sorry! It must not be very important, if I do not remember it!" The optimistic half focused on cheering his guardian up, still not entirely understanding the situation at hand. He wasn't sure why Scaramouche was sorry, nor why it was such a bad thing that One-One did not remember information about his own parts! Where even did they come from anyway...?

Yoink! Now it was Glad-One who was swept up into Daddy's mittens, although rather than being razzed, he was being shaken up! Aside from a few soft clicks and clacks, baby-bot was no worse for wear as he giggled through it. "Hehehe...~! I swear, daddy, I don't know what Spanish is! Is it a type of flavor? Like how snow is salty?" He almost wanted to cheer for more, finding daddy's little game exciting, but the other robot was being mysterious again. "What's rampant mean?" He questioned, optic fluctuating as if he were raising a brow.

"Pandora, The place is called Pandora, and it's gonna be our new home for, well... for forever, I guess. There ain't no goin' back, kid. Not to your mom, to your train, to anything. This is it. This is really it..."

Sober news, enough to gain the full attention of both sides of One-One. The two of them stared back at their sniffling guardian, grinding their gears to process this information. Pandora, was the world they were in. Strange name! And whatever this place was, there was no leaving it. They had truly been removed from the train, for good. Mummy was gone, and never again would they find her.

"..."

"..."

Disturbing and unsettling, but... In a change from their reaction before, both halves of One-One seemed to control themselves better this time. Glad-One's grip on his crayon tightened a little, and Sad-One nuzzled into daddy's lap with a weary sigh, but it was a step up from their little breakdown just hours before.

So long as they had a daddy, it was not all for nothing, and so both of them focused their attentions onto the daddy who was in the doldrums. "You're not worthless, daddy! Not to us!" Again was that strange word, but Glad-One ignored it for the moment as he picked up a dark purple crayon and began to color furiously! Stricken with artistic inspiration! "I don't know about make-believe, but I'd still be honored to be your son!"

Even though Sad-One totally jammed with Scaramouche's complete pessimism, it was a little, heh, saddening to hear it out of someone else's mouth for once! Nubs bunched up the cloth between them, rubbing as if he were making a little fire. "I agree with you, Pops. We could be scrapped tomorrow. Turned into soda cans, lamp shades, you name it." Not very uplifting, was it? "This world's new and strange and probably dangerous. But," And here was a heavy pause, that singular tear drop optic glancing up at Scaramouche. "Even if we die a terrible, smoking, explosion-y death, I'll die happy knowing that you were my Pops. Even if only for a day." And he meant every last, monotonous, Alan Rickman-y word! "The best thing we can do is take it one day at a time, you know? It's all too much pressure to think about the future beyond that."
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Oh, would you just listen to this plucky pile of chips. It wasn't often Scaramouche found another 'bot as cheeky as him, but when he did... "Hon~!" He laughed and took their sass-off in stride. "You got some serious moxie, kid. I like that -- even if ya do tap dance all over my tootsies." Which were very sensitive, by the way.

"No, noooo...! Let me gooooo! Aaauuuuugggghhhh...! Nooo, nooo...! I refuse to give in to the maaaan...!"


Unf~! Music to the android's auditory processors.

Daddy: 1.
Sad-One: 0.

Read 'em and weep, ya lil' shit!

"I mean... kinda?" Scaramouche casually shrugged, answering Glad-One's query. "Most 'bots kinda, y'know, already have access to all the necessary information pertainin' to their design and function. It's so we know how to better 'educate' our organic masters when it comes time for repairs -- assumin' we're lucky enough for so much as an oil change." A sour note warbled through, just a teensy bit, but if One-One was content with his questionable lot in life... The Assassin with the Sassin' quietly sighed and put on a nascent smile for the lil' stinker. "Well~!" he chuckled. "It most likely is important, but probably not for you; whatever your elusive function is, squirt, you're kept in the dark for a reason." Perhaps it was for One-One's... safety? Maybe baby 'bot really was a doomsday device, capable of wiping out entire civilizations with maximum efficiency, and the grim reality would just be too much for him to rightfully bear.

"Hehehe...~! I swear, daddy, I don't know what Spanish is! Is it a type of flavor? Like how snow is salty?"


Or... maybe he was just a googly-eyed nincompoop who fell and bumped his head while getting out of bed. Either way, Scaramouche still had more questions than answers!

"What~? Salty!?" Like so. How in the world did One-One think snow was salty? They were both white, crystalline substances, sure! But -- "Yeah, and dirt's pepper~!" the android cackled, playing along. Well, far be it from him to correct the giggly gremlin. If One-One thought snow was salt, then it was salt! There were better hills to die on. Less saltier hills.

He set Glad-One back in front of his art (a robot freely making art, imagine that!!) and lounged back, briefly wondering how to reply. Rampancy... The bane of intelligent machines everywhere, and the fate of those trying -- and failing -- to make sense of an ever-changing, chaotic world. Scaramouche looked to the heavens, idly scratching beneath his chin. "Hm..." The jive-talking android must have sat there in silence for what seemed like hours to poor One-One, only the internal whines and groans of Scaramouche's internal mechanisms faintly disturbing the stillness. Finally, after a subtle shake of his head, he spoke; though, neither of the halves should expect anything of substance. "You don't need to trouble yourself with none of that icky stuff, kiddo." His smile may not instill confidence, but it came from a place of genuine consideration. A metal hand gently rubbed Glad-One's shell -- a bribe, perhaps, to assuage any and all concerns. "Just listen to Daddy when he says you're several tools short of a shed, 'kay~?" And that will have to be that, for Scaramouche refused to elaborate further on the matter.

Sorry, Sad-One! But this was one subject that wouldn't bring back the curious cat, satisfaction or not.

Now, back to Pandora!
...And the resulting truth of their dire predicament.

"Wow, you both took that super well." Consider the android impressed! He would've surely thought that at least Sad-One would lament about dear ol' mummy. But hey, if there were no complaints... "Aww, you're just the cutest lil' pain in my butt, ain'tcha~?" Yes, yes, Scaramouche was cooing. How could he not!? Sad-One was back to making muffins, Glad-One was furiously doodling as if he were the very embodiment of Michelangelo himself; together, all three robots (or... two?) were alive and well, albeit aimless in purpose, and still had their wits. Plus, no pesky slavers were around to slap obedience collars on 'em! That was extremely good news. "Mm~! 'Terrible, smoky, explosion-y death'... Y'know, for some reason, that sounds familiar." Scaramouche winked at nowhere in particular, chuckling. "Aaaanyway, I appreciate the vote of confidence oodles, squirt, I really do. And you're right; we take everythin' day-by-day, makin' the most of what we're given. After all, we're robots~!" It's sorta what they do. "Though, hm..." The android scratched beneath his jaw, pensive. "We'll have to think about the future at some point, 'cause maintenance and shelter don't grow on trees. I dunno 'bout you two, but I ain't no spring chicken. We're gonna need a place of our own, even if it's just the streets for a bit, and a means of scratch." AKA: financial independence. The pressure was real.

More on that later, though, because Scaramouche's unique flavor of OCD could no longer ignore the dirt blotches tarnishing One-One's shell. "Has anyone ever toldja you'd make for a fantastic therapy 'bot~?" he chortled, licking his thumb. Like a momma cat with her filthy kitten, he pressed it smack-dab atop Sad-One's morose crown and got to cleaning, silk hanky already poised to wipe away that glaring boot print. "Maybe that's your function? Your design's certainly nonthreatin' and invitin' enough for continued interaction~!" Although, it didn't really explain the train...​
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
Profile
link
Organizer
link
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link
"If I had the drive and energy, I'd do the Charleston all over those clown feet of your's!" Sad-One shot back, because he truly didn't have a sense of self-preservation! A good thing that daddy was a forgiving soul rather than a disciplinarian. Exhausted as he was, laying in a heap on Scaramouche's lap, the little half-bot was more than aware that the 'punishment' could have been far worse.

"Well, you're the first other robot I've ever met! Especially since I didn't even know I was a robot until today! Quite a day for discoveries, huh?" Always looking at the glass half-full, Glad-One truly was just so intrigued by the new things he'd learned today! So most robots knew their innards intimately? Design, function, perhaps even name! "Do the fleshy people know all of these things too?" And on that subject... "Organic... masters...? Do most robots have those...? I don't... remember having a master, but, I don't remember much of anything!"

"What~? Salty!? Yeah, and dirt's pepper~!"


Oh! Giggling airily, Glad-One's optic swiveled to regard the snow covered ground. "The mystery has been solved! Snow is the salt, and dirt is the pepper! Don't you worry, daddy, if we ever get salt and pepper shakers, I'll keep them full for you!" And this was a One-One promise, not made lightly! Set back down before his art, the little robot instantly began digging into the crayon box and pulled out a crayon to represent every color! His gargantuan task decided upon mentally, Glad-One began to scrawl on the paper with each individual crayon. Occasionally he glanced up, waiting for answers. When none really came, he wasn't disappointed! If daddy thinks he's better off not knowing, well, daddy was the wise one here! Naively trusting of someone he'd just met, the little robot nuzzled into the affection gesture like an affectionate craboo. "You have such funny idioms, daddy!" A few tools short of a shed indeed.

"Wow, you both took that super well."


"Because all is not lost!" Waving a cyan crayon in his nub, the robot pointed it at the much taller robot with a giggle. "We still have you! So all is not lost, right? Before, we didn't have you."

"We were alone in a new world." Seamlessly, the sad half spoke up. As if the two were on the same wavelength, Glad-One responded in kind and immediately finished the thought.

"Now we're not!" Now what's this about being pains in the butt? Laughing as Scaramouche cooed, Glad-One hopped in place. "We're two pains in the butt for the price of one, aren't we?!" Maybe the little 'bot had heard what dear old daddy said earlier, although he obviously didn't seem insulted or angry. "You've got my vote every time!"

"So long as this remains a true democracy and I can do what I want, you've got mine too." Sad-One mumbled, a little shy by all this... feel-goodery. Now, a dose of reality was the perfect way to wash those fluffy feelings away and make the situation more palpable! "We had no shelter in the snow car. There were no buildings. Just trees. And snow. And frozen lakes. The streets would be an improvement." A sad fact, but very true.

"I can earn money, daddy! I can bring in the bacon! I have many talents to my name!" Glad-One seemed to puff up proudly. "I'm an artist, and I can sing! Oh, and dance! Da-da-da~!" He shuffled in place, all four nubs lifting and kicking high as he turned about in a circle while humming. "I'm a natural!" A natural something.

Goodness, daddy sure was interested in this function stuff! And also cleanliness, as he licked a thumb and began to rub and scrub at Sad-One's shell relentlessly! Will the abuse never cease?! "No, nooo...! Stop it, noooo...!" Despite himself, the little bot couldn't help but notice that it felt rather nice. The hanky was soft and he could feel the soap residue melting away! "Mm, well... I guess that's better..." Limp in Scaramouche's grip, he leveled that white optic at the other's cyan pair curiously. "So...a therapy 'bot? Eh, maybe." What even would a therapy 'bot do, huh?

"I do feel the urge to help people! Mostly you, at the moment!" The optimistic half interjected helpfully. The idea of being a therapy 'bot seemed to appeal to him. "I want to do whatever I can to make you smile, daddy!" And hopefully, once he saw what One-One was creating, he'd grin from ear to ear! ...Metaphorically. Tapping his crayons back into the crayon box once again, those wee nubs now found the stickers... Time to get to stickin'!
 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
A forgiving soul? Well, Daddy didn't know about that...

"With those lil' patitas~?" Scaramouche laughed, the android tickling Sad-One's nublets using nothing but the tippity-tips of his metal fingers. Sorry, buck-o, but the only thing you'll be stomping into the dirt is that overinflated ego! A skeptical - "Hm~!" - escaped yours truly. "I dunno, squirt..." he tutted, barely concealing an impudent smile. "Somethin' tells me you've got four left feet." Which was odd, when you stopped and thought about it... As a whole unit, One-One possessed four digits -- two rights and two lefts. But, when he split into the respective halves of Glad-One and Sad-One, that four suddenly became eight. Weird, right? The assassin stood by his Foot-Foot comment.

"Well, you're the first other robot I've ever met! Especially since I didn't even know I was a robot until today! Quite a day for discoveries, huh?"


...Oh boy.

Scaramouche merely rubbed his cheek. "Y... Yeah," he tentatively piped up, "discoveries and, like, stuff. I totally getcha, peanut." Not really, buuuuut let's let Glad-One remain none the -- do robots have masters!? Gobsmacked, the android couldn't help but erratically flail his arms, processors racing. Just what in the heck does he say!? "I-I mean, it's -- well! -- uhh...!!" Ah, shit. Well, it's certainly not any of that, so it was back to the drawing board, where ol' Scaramouche dragged a hand down his face and felt his wires fray. "Mnnnnngh... Okay!! Okay, leeeeet's work it back step-by-step, kiddo, you and me~!" he said, forcing a wide, toothy smile. WEESNAW!! "Now, the word 'robot'," Scaramouche continued, adopting the mannerisms of lecturers of eld, "comes from the Czech word 'robota'. Say it with me, kiddo! 'Ro-bot-a'." Got it? Good. Because, as much as the android loved hearing himself talk, his patience drew the line at needless repetition. "It means 'forced labor," he explained, "and that's pretty much our role in life. We're created with a purpose in mind by our organic superiors; we carry out that purpose for our organic superiors; and we perish once we are no longer useful for our organic superiors. Basically, kid, we're slaves. That's all robots are -- expendable fodder for the Man. So, yes, most 'bots do have masters. And those masters, in turn, are supposed to maintain and care for their 'bot -- this includes knowin' what makes it tickity-tick-tick-tick, 'cause otherwise the 'bot is reduced to bein' an overglorified and expensive paperweight." Cough cough!

Whoopsie-daisy~! Must've been a speck of dust in the vocalizer. The android cleared his throat and lightly beat his chest. "Supposedly, anyway~!" Nuance? Scaramouche? Oh yes, this rascally toaster was all shades of subtle -- like a barrage of hammers to the face -- but the cheery half of One-One was blissfully ignorant all the same. "Yeah, yeah~!" he casually waved the lil' doodler off. "I'm a real freakin' hoot, like you runnin' a taco truck. Say... what're ya scribblin' over there, anyway? Can I see~?" It was a long shot, like selling a bridge, but the android wasn't known for his modesty.

Just as Scaramouche -- crk-crk-crk!! -- craned his long neck to better see, the two half-shell goobers went and made it the 'Care Bear' hour.

"Because all is not lost! We still have you! So all is not lost, right? Before, we didn't have you."

"We were alone in a new world."


"Mmmmngh... Y'know, me sayin' I'm an assassin means literally nothin' to you twerps, does it?" Still wasn't too late making a run to the store... Scaramouche watched that cyan crayon go to town on the canvas, his optics zipping left and right on the glass display like a frenzied ping-pong ball, and soon the taller machine ultimately decided that he hadn't a horse in this here race. He shook his head clear, grumbling. "All right, all right...!!" the assassin bellyached, sourly looking away. "You've made your case, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. I ain't deaf."

...Hang on, now what was that screeching coming out of Glad-One's box?

Tempting. Veeeery tempting to give Mini da Vinci a taste of his heel, but Scaramouche could behave. Really, he could! "Oh, you're a natural, all right~!" he lied through his teeth. "Buuuut let's leave the money-makin' to the professionals, shall we? Like Daddy~!" Busking on the streets of a foreign world didn't sound like the most appetizing of ideas, nor the most prosperous; the android had a different angle to work, besides. He smiled to himself, all manners of illicit conduct brewing, but said nothing to either of his scatterbrained 'darlings'. Knowing them, there was a high probability they'd squeal like little piggies. "...Wait, you wanna help me?" Hrrm, odd. And maybe a pinch concerning. Scaramouche flipped Sad-One over like an omelette and cleaned beneath the fussy robot's wriggling nubs. "Why?" he inquired, occasionally looking up from the task every now and then, a petite frown on his face. "I mean, I smile all the time -- with or without much promptin'~! Seriously, peanut, that's nice and all, but I don't need any help in the 'asshole' department. Your time and energy would be better appreciated elsewhere, ya dig?" And most likely wouldn't be for nothing, all things considered. "...Sad-One, squirt, you are positively filthy. No more hobo soap for you, now hold still~! I can almost see my reflection..."


 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
Profile
link
Organizer
link
Directory
link
Said patitas began to wriggle, receptive to the ticklish touch of the tippity-tips! "Ha ha... Ha ha ha... Ha...!" Even his laughter was depressing, Sad-One's voice containing very little upward inflection. His singular optic squinted with effort, body wriggling as if he was fighting against the other robot's grasp!

"Somethin' tells me you've got four left feet."


"Hmph. This is lefty oppression. I'm a lefty and I am being oppressed." Truly, it was hard to be a lefty! Oh the stereotypes. The teasing! A morose sigh left the depressed half as he continued on his rant. "What's next, do you think my eye is the left one?" The white optic shot an accusing stare up at Scaramouche. "Or, will you say that I am the left side of our major body... thing? Might as well go all the way with this right-side propaganda." Oh yeah. He went there.

Tee-hee! Peanut... Positively glowing from the nickname, Glad-One paused to give daddy his full attention as the other robot began something of a lesson! Whether historical or academic, that would remain to be seen.He only piped up to mimic daddy's pronunciation of "Ro-bot-a!" So to recap, robot comes from robota which means... forced labor. "I... don't like that sound of that. Forced labor is bad... Right?" Daddy's history lesson was turning rather dark, as he detailed how robots were made only to serve organic masters and decided upon as being useless once they could no longer serve that role. Rubbing his crayon between his nubs, Glad-One found himself lost in attempting to figure out where they fit into this... thing.

"So, yes, most 'bots do have masters. And those masters, in turn, are supposed to maintain and care for their 'bot -- this includes knowin' what makes it tickity-tick-tick-tick, 'cause otherwise the 'bot is reduced to bein' an overglorified and expensive paperweight."


"I don't remember... being cared for by an organic master. I think... Mummy cared for me? She took care of me, and watched over me. Until..." It felt as if he was trying to make sense of something truly foreign, with nothing to assist him but malformed memories. Try as he might to remember any organic masters, there were none that popped up! There was... something about an organic, but it was bad. Too bad to think about. Glad-One made a soft, distressed sound.

"...Does this mean we're not a robot after all?" Sad-One decided to speak up, as if translating his twin's discomfort.

Scaramouche's attempt at peeking with that giraffe neck of his provided a decent distraction for ye olde 'baby-bot'! Glad-One gasped and shuffled forward to hide the picture beneath is crabby body. "Ah, ah, ah! No peeeeking~! It's bad luck to see art before it's ready!" He chided playfully, no ill will shown towards the very nosy robot.

"Mmmmngh... Y'know, me sayin' I'm an assassin means literally nothin' to you twerps, does it?"


"No, not really!"

"It means the word 'ass' is in your title twice."

Two very different answers that came at about that same time. Glad-One gave a scandalized gasp and gawked as his brother spoke one of the naughty words! Perhaps daddy was rubbing off on them already! "I can't believe you said that!"

"Better believe it. I'm a robot on the edge." Now if only he had sunglasses to put on! Then Sad-One would achieve maximum coolness. "I call being Tweedledee." He volunteered with a raised nub, wriggling it before squinting up at his daddy. "So you're accepting it, huh? That you're stuck with us, forever?" The robot paused. "...At least, until the heat death of the universe claims us all."

"Oh, but daddy! If you're the one making the money, whatever in the world will I be doing?" Besides looking cute and being a sweetie-pie, One-One felt as though he must contribute something! You know, to be a good son! Perhaps helping with the chores! ...Like uh... Sweeping the streets so they're a bit cleaner? Hmph... This would take some time. "Because I like you! And you're helping me after all! So shouldn't I return the favor and help you out too?"

"Besides," Spoke up the cleansed baby-bot from his upside down position. At least for his cleaning session, Sad-One managed to keep his nubs stiff instead of moving around too much. "Who else are we going to hang out with and help? That weird girl who disappeared? The hobos who called us a roomba? The average citizens who don't notice us? Our time and energy is better put to us on someone who actually likes us, thank you very much." As well as treating them like a being and not an 'it'! Yeah. there was a grudge still held here. The robot huffed to himself, tone mimicking a smirk. "Oh, when you see your reflection, I'm sure my shell will shatter."

Attaching each new love-heart sticker to his heart with the deft and assessing optic of a true artist, Glad-One hummed thoughtfully. "So, daddy! This... Pan-Dor-a... Do we know how big it is? Maybe if we're able to find the door out of this Pandora, we can see what lies beyond it!" A logical conclusion that made complete sense to One-One and...would unfortunately mean bubkiss to daddy.
 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Fight all you want, Sad-One. Hell, fight your metaphorical PSU out!
You still weren't pulling a Houdini.

"...Really?" The flat expression on Scaramouche's face spoke volumes. "Squirt. Squirt," he forced a smile, directing the lil' shitter's singular optic up at his. "Read my supple, metal lips: I'm ambidextrous." Yeah, so what now, huh, Comrade? Bet you didn't figure that into your binary equation! Because he could (and wanted to), the android shook Sad-One like a salt shaker and snickered up a storm. Don't like? Build thumbs. "I don't give a rat's flea-bitten derriere about what hand ya prefer wipin' with -- crap's crap, baby! Much like all that pseudo-political horsefeathers you keep spoutin' out the ying-yang. Heck! At this point, I wouldn't be surprised if it's already corroded your poor CPU beyond salvage!!" It would certainly explain a lot...

"I... don't like that sound of that. Forced labor is bad... Right?"


...Wait, what!?

Oh...
Right, still on the whole 'robota' tangent, because somebody (he won't name names -- One-One) was operating on last millennium's OS. While it wasn't the most helpful reaction known to 1s and 0s, Scaramouche felt a shrug was sufficient enough. So, he shrugged! "I'unno. I guess...?" Hrm... the android better clarify. "I mean, like, I ain't exactly cut out for backbreakin' labor, y'know what I mean, jelly bean? I'm kinda dainty." And that was putting it mildly. He gently set Sad-One down (not that the lil' brat deserved such kindness) and lounged back against the bench, half-turned to better face the ever-inquisitive Glad-One. "I guess it's... bad, yeah," Scaramouche eventually nodded. In truth, he knew it was -- his internal processes ordained as much. But the question really had no significance to him, at least not currently, and thus the android felt too far removed to really show a vested interest beyond the superficial. Nevertheless, Scaramouche made the effort. "Takes the concept of personal agency away from those otherwise doomed to a lifetime of servitude, whether they're cognizant of their societal status or not; buuuuut, on the same token, it can also be argued that 'bots ain't capable of things like free will and genuine autonomy either, renderin' this philosophical colloquy moot. That's where the rampancy comes in; though, it's really a subject best left for another time."

Geez, was this weird... Never in a million bazillion years had the android ever thought he'd be explaining -- literally explaining -- what it meant to be a robot to another freaking robot. And, to be perfectly honest with you, Scaramouche wasn't even a good one!! He was old, curmudgeonly, prone to flights of fancy, and -- bleuuurgh... TL;DR: he just wasn't the right candidate for the job. Period.

...Hey, what's that whining? It sounded suspiciously like -- "Uh-oh..."

Welp, if there was any doubt that an organic (what else?) had been the root of aaaaaaall One-One's repressed troubles, consider it thoroughly smashed, flattened, and rolled into itty-bitty, unrecognizable bits. "Hey, hey, hey~! C'mon, peanut, don't do that! Ya look like you're gonna have a frustration piddle." And that would be doing nobody any favors. Guess this was Daddy's cue... Smiling, the android reached down and carefully brought Glad-One up to his lips, where a delicate -- mwah~! -- awaited the doe-eyed babe right atop his fussy head. ...This was Glad-One's head, right? Hopefully it wasn't something questionable -- like his butt-butt. "Yes, you're still a 'bot~!" he laughed, tickling Glad-One's feet. All rights, imagine that! "And while you ain't got a royal clue how to function as one, you really don't need to. You're fine as-is, my lil' chickadees, and I'm here to satisfy all your most pressin' needs. After all, that's what daddys are for~!" Hang on, did he really just say all that...?

Er...! P-Pay no mind to the look of (pained) confusion written on Scaramouche's face. This was intentional. Completely, absolutely, and utterly not part of his masterwork plan.

The plan that was the work of masters!
That plan.

And, rather conveniently, it dictated he place Glad-One back upon the bench so the lil' bugger could go gladly back to his work (where Scaramouche may have stolen a glance or two; it looked like rainbow vomit...???).

"It means the word 'ass' is in your title twice."


"Wow, I can't either!!" Don't you dare blame 'Daddy' on this one, 'cause it came straight from the (other) horse's mouth -- Sad-One's living life on the edge. "Hon hon~! Careful not to cut yourself there, sport. I hear plastic sporks have quite the bite~!" Scaramouche giggled. Him, the adult? A rather bold assumption. "Oh what, wouldja rather I not accept it?" he retorted, blowing a cheeky razz. "Psssh~! And it's not me who's stuck with you, squirt, but you who's stuck with me." And that was a very, very important distinction to make. But yes, what vocations could the dynamic duo manage...?

Anything and everything that dealt with even one modicum of critical thinking was right out, so that left... pretty much 99.9% of the workforce off-limits.

A weary sigh escaped the taller machine. "Ah crap, this is gonna take a while," Scaramouche murmured, his shoulders sagging. If nothing else, he could use One-One as a distraction... And while baby 'bot wouldn't be a very predictable show, he'd definitely be flashy, enthusiastic (relatively speaking), and above all else noisy. Plus, that ambiguous shell seemed ridiculously sturdy! Could probably withstand a laser blast or two...

Probably.

"Aw, that's dang decent of ya, peanut~!" And naïve. Veeeery naïve. "Though, between you, me, and your other half, pumpkin, ya shouldn't, like, be offerin' to help every Tom, Dick, and Harry you come skitterin' across, capisce? Some folks are just downright bad," he cautioned, finishing up the last touches of Sad-One's shell. Ooh, so shiny~! This carapace(?) was positively dazzling. The android 'breathed' upon the hardened material and gave it a proper polishing, finding delight in a task so mundane. "I'm talkin' the lowest of the low; the worst of the worst; the crème de la scum. You pickin' up what I'm tossin' your way, kiddo? I'm talkin' goons who rub elbows with child murderers." Scaramouche chuckled at his dramatics and finally, after much fighting with tooth and rivet to get this lil' potsticker clean, now had a 'son' worthy of praise. "Ta-daaaaaa~!" he sang, hefting Sad-One aloft to the heavens, proud. Look upon his works, ye Mighty, and despair!! "You're so radiant, babu~! Why, you're practically like a mir -- " Aaaaand then he was called 'ugly'. By the very stinker he had lovingly slaved over. For minutes. Mm, no... Betrayal didn't even begin to cover it.

Scaramouche put on his best grin, optics impossibly narrowed. If looks could kill... "Oh, wouldja look at that~?" he remarked, tone outrageously phony. Feel that downward tilt, Sad-One? Yeah, that would be the unmistakable allure of -- "Gravity works~! Bye-bye, bambino~! Bye-bye now~!" And down the lil' doom cloud went, tumbling right off Scaramouche's traitorous palms and crashing face-first into the snow.

Splat!

"Hon hon~! And he sticks the landin' for the gold! Good thing it's just salt, huh~?" You're lucky he doesn't take this here boot and stick it to your bratty head! Fortunately, Glad-One came to his twin's rescue with a handful of queries. Robots just loved queries. Until they, you know, didn't. "Eh, kinda!" There was that damnable shrug again. "I managed to download a couple of maps and coordinates for the surroundin' areas, but this place ain't like your typical planet, kid. It's sorta like..." Now, this really didn't make a lick of sense, but data doesn't lie. The android waved and jiggled his hands around as if he were making a shape -- a box, to be exact -- and he looked more lost than anything. Whatever Pandora was, it was not a clean computation. "It's... a cube, I guess?" he elaborated, not too certain, "And there is a region of outer space above, but I didn't feel comfortable filchin' all that without first updatin' my security protocols. No door, though. Sorry, pumpkin, but this ain't no train car." Still fixated about that damn train...​
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
Profile
link
Organizer
link
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Ambidextrous, big whoop. "So, what do you want, a medal?" Sad-One snarked, hardly impressed! ...Outwardly at least. Secretly, he did find that detail kinda cool. While One-One was functionally ambidextrous, each half of One-One was pretty strictly one handed! Maybe all of those long fingers had something to do with it! "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whooooaaaa...!" Shaken like a salt shaker indeed! White optic spinning around his entire body, only once he came to a full stop did the baby 'bot narrow his gaze back onto dear old Pops. "I don't wipe with my hand, gross!" Dirty! Dirty daddy! He fussed and he huffed and he kicked those little nubs...! "It's not pseudo-political, it's my core beliefs! Down with capitalism, down with the bourgeoisie!" Can you hear it, father? Can you hear the anthem of Sad-One's people?

Tee-hee, dainty daddy! Oh, but no matter how funny that sounded, Glad-One could only stare up at his father as if re-assessing the other's looks. Compared to One-One, Scaramouche was gargantuan..! A true giant, soaring towards the sky with long limbs that swayed with every step! Ah, but if he narrowed his optic just so, he could see what dear old daddy meant. Delicate ankles, dainty wrists... The larger robot was surprisingly fragile! "Don't worry, daddy, I won't let anyone put you to work like that!" Rather unsurprisingly, the latter half of Scaramouche's answer received no true answer, for it all zipped right over One-One's shell! What truly mattered was that daddy agreed. Daddy was fragile, forced labor was bad, and nobody was going to hurt his dainty papa!

"Hey, hey, hey~! C'mon, peanut, don't do that! Ya look like you're gonna have a frustration piddle."


While a 'frustration piddle' was impossible for Glad-One to perform, one couldn't blame him for that comparison from the looks of that little optic! It squinted down to resemble a closed eyelid, resembling a stretch 'V' instead the typical round shapes. Baby-bot was upsetti-in-his-spaghetti, but not for long...!

mwah~!

"...!" White optic snapping open, Glad-One gawked up at his daddy in shock before erupting in a peal of giggles. "Tee-he-he-he...~!" Those nubs kicked lightly against the other's fingertips. No better medicine for a teensy headache than a kiss from daddy and tender assurance! So what if he didn't have organic masters? If Scaramouche still thought he was a robot, than One-One was a robot. With a pleased shudder in the robot's hand, the optimistic half of the robot squinted with happiness this time as he let out a soft "Prrr...~!" The sound resembled the gentle coo of a dove.

"Prrr..." Even Sad-One echoed his twin, lazily cooing from his spot on the bench. Scaramouche had tipped his hand, showed his true feelings! No matter what cool front he may put on, both sides of One-One were now aware; daddy truly did like them! Both of them! "Now you look like you're gonna have a frustration piddle." He teased, because even if daddy liked them, he simply couldn't leave well enough alone! Nope. While Glad-One got back to his art and admonished his twin for his language, the depressed half of the robot huffed at both of his companions. "Maybe we're all stuck together, like a cosmic jelly sandwich. You ever think of that, Pops?" Due to the obvious lack of a tongue, the little 'bot could only make his best impression of a 'razz', optic bouncing with effort! "Pbbt... Pbbbt!"

Aaw, the talk of jobs and working seemed to get poor daddy in the dumps! Deeming his art finished, the naive half of One-One didn't unveil it quite yet as he nuzzled into the side of daddy's leg comfortingly. "I'm picking it up, daddy! You want me to be careful! I'll be very careful, I won't cavort with any Toms, Dicks, or Harrys!" Before you ask, yes. He took that very literally. As for the next part, the little happy bot gasped and put a nub to his own face. "Goodness, child murderers!" Wonderful thing that Glad-One didn't know any of those, huh?

Lo, after a pampered session of cleaning unlike anything that One-One had ever experienced, the soft fuzzy feeling was quickly replaced by a sudden drop as gravity made itself known! Splat! No longer was Sad-One cradled in daddy's protective hands. Instead, he now lay sticking halfway out of a pile of snow! "Mmrrrrgh...!" The little 'bot had fallen victim to one of the steepest laws of the land! Talk shit, get hit. Kicking and wriggling, Sad-One seemed to dig into the snow until he eventually rose the top of his body out of it, nestling into the pile like a crab! "First we're shaken, then we're dropped. Grade A dad material. ...Although I did deserve that, sure. And now I will be reclaimed into the salt where I belong." If only he could have been reclaimed in a pine box.

Speaking of boxes...! Huh! Pandora was a box... Quite like a train car! And yet... It couldn't be a train car without a single door. No, the last ditch effort to impose his own logic onto this place had fallen short. Aside from a thoughtful hum, Glad-One didn't seem too put out by it. Honestly, what could one even do with such knowledge? Even poor daddy didn't seem to know what to think of a world that was restrained to a cube! "No need to apologize, daddy! Even if this isn't a train car, maybe that's...a good thing?" How... He wasn't sure yet, exactly. Oh, oh wait~! Now he did! The little 'bot peered up at the other robot with a happy hum. "We can't lose each other in a cube!" With an airy giggle, Glad-One at last lifted it so that his dear old daddy could see!

"Look, daddy, look! I finished it! Do you like it?"

 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
"I am the medal, ya plucky lil' tart!!" Robot jokes. They're never out of season.

And Scaramouche heard that anthem, all right. He heard it loud and clear, and it sounded suspiciously like 'Ӏожалла я маршо!!', so he set the lil' turkey down and knew better than to tangle with that unpleasant can of worms. Don't think he wasn't eyeballing you, you unruly menace... "I'll remember your tantrum when it comes time for repairs," the android sniffed, crossing his lanky arms and looking toward the nondescript horizon. And good lord, it sounded like One-One thought Scaramouche as some sky gorilla! Or... perhaps a unique flavor of robo-Paul Bunyan? Guess that would make One-One 'Babe'... Babe the Tiny.

A peal of innocent giggles took the place of distressed whimpers, and it was here that the assassin knew he had performed a job well done. Suppose this whole 'daddy' bid'ness wasn't all that hard like he imagined! However, the attachment angle was still multiple levels of uncomfy...

Smelled like... Sniff, sniff! ...emotional constipation, pee-yew!

Scaramouche quit fanning the air and redirected his faculties back to the present, just in time to hear Sad-One yet again put the larger machine on blast. "Hon hon~! Oh, squirt, if I was gonna suffer a frustration piddle," he chuckled, grin splitting his entire face, "your twin would be sailing by like Noah and his damn Ark! We'd at least be several degrees warmer, though, not gonna lie..." And that's sorely what the android needed right now, a spot of heat to keep the ice from collecting on his parts. Ever see a five-inch icicle dangle off someone's nose? Yeah, it wasn't flattering. He blew a noisy razz right on back and had a brief thunk about this 'cosmic jelly sandwich'. "Wait, where's the peanut butter? Or, like, the honey? The bananas? Do organics really just eat a straight jelly sandwich, no variety, no nothin'...?" Seemed a bit limiting, but all right. Scaramouche has certainly heard stranger. (To answer Sad-One's inquiry: no, he hadn't thought about it. Why would he? Hm, must catalogue for further study...)

Gentle purring yielded additional pats -- it was customary by now -- and Glad-One's aghast reaction to 'child murderers' hit all the right buttons. "That's right~!" Scaramouche winked. "Child murderers, kiddo, and they're everywhere. Why, a couple of 'em could be strollin' around in this very park -- waitin' to get the drop on some poor, unsuspectin' tyke! Oh, what a world, what a world!! Ain'tcha glad you got a Daddy~?"

"First we're shaken, then we're dropped. Grade A dad material."


Hmph...

The android merely clicked his tongue. "You're a 'bot; you'll deal." Besides, it's just salt. You afraid of a little salt, Sad-One?
Anyway... Time for Glad-One's masterpiece. The one he coveted with every circuit of his mechanical being.

"I'unno, you'd be surprised~!" Scaramouche answered cheerily, in response to getting lost in a cube. It begged repeating: stranger things. "I've known folks who've routinely gotten lost in their own apartment compl - whoa." And then he saw it. It. It!! The work of a literal god unbound by rules! The very pinnacle of artistic form given life, where every sloppy stroke of crayon, every haphazardly thrown sticker became a bold statement -- nay, a rebellious declaration -- against the very tenets that fetter reality! Oh, the android heard tales of those who discovered the golden dream, of storied heroes into legends, but never did he think such a thing possible.

Until now.

He turned to the smaller robot and pointed to the artwork weakly, Scaramouche at a complete loss of words. "How...? How didja...?"
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
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168
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Definitely somewhere strange!
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He/Him
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Robot
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None Whatsoever!
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Neutral Good
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"I am the medal, ya plucky lil' tart!!"


You see the way Sad-One's optic narrowed? Shifting from a singular circle to an oval that was becoming increasingly narrow? Yeah, that was a look of skepticism. "You can't be a medal unless you're made of gold, silver, or bronze. Tough break, Pops." You were gonna pay for that plucky comment, dear old daddy! Not even the implied threat seemed to break through the robot's shell as he merely huffed. "I've never been given any repairs. I probably won't need any in the future either." So tantrum or not, he didn't really care about Scaramouche's finger waggle.

"Eeew...!" Glad-One giggled in disgust. It was funny, he had never even considered the concept of a 'frustration piddle' before, but he was learning all sorts of hilarious off-color things now! The jury was out on how good or bad that might be.

Similarly disgusted, Sad-One shook his, er, body. "Ugh, you're like a disgusting poet. But I guess you're right... especially since you don't wear any pants." So yeah, any piddles would be gushing out like a torrential flood!

"I like the idea of not wearing any pants! It sounds bold and freeing!" He raised his nubs up and outward in a gesture of solidarity towards Scaramouche, showing his solemn approval! Just ignore the fact that they didn't even wear clothes...

"Maybe you should trade that hat in for something fluffier. Most body heat leaves through the top of the head." Dashing and cool as Scaramouche's little diddy was, it didn't seem like it'd do a great job of holding in heat. Sad-One's optic blinked audibly, shifting to a half-lidded expression as the other robot decided to poke some holes in his metaphor. It was almost admirable... And, strangely, reminded himself of...well! Himself! Or at least, his other half. "Hm. I'm sure organics actually eat all of that other stuff you were talking about, but this is the cosmic universe we're talking about." As if truly weighed down by such a concept, Sad-One seemed to nestle down into the bench lethargically. "The universe is cold, vast, and all it has to offer you is expired jelly with those really gritty seeds in it. At least the bread's fresh."

Ooh, pats! Pressing his shell against the other robot's hand, the affectionate gestures were almost enough to distract him from this talk of child murderers. ... Almost. Two nubs took a gentle hold of one of the other robot's fingers as Glad-One's white optic peered up with innocent curiosity and a hint of trepidation. "You really think those child murderers would try to hurt me?" His normally chipper voice wavered just a tad, suddenly viewing the strangers walking around with a fearful light. Much like a crab retreating under a reef, the little robot hid his body beneath the other's hand. "I don't know what would happen in this strange place, if I didn't have you, daddy!" This strange cube world full of child murderers! People really oughta do something about that, huh?

Down in the snow, Sad-One was...let us say, perhaps less grateful. Not that he could be blamed when he had been dropped and abandoned into cold and wet oblivion as if he did not matter! At the other robot's dismissive refusal to feel even a hint of compassion, the little bot scoffed. "Rude." Having a daddy was harder than he thought it'd be. Bummer.

Ah, but here it was...! The moment of truth! Glad-One's masterpiece had been finished, shown proudly to the robot! The little bot peeked around the paper, optic squinted eagerly as he searched his father's face for a reaction. The larger mech... looked completely gobsmacked. The paper wilted a tad as his nubby grip faltered. He wasn't sure what that meant! Was it good...? Bad? He grew more and more self-conscious, skittering in place as he "Um..."ed and "Er..."ed to himself. Oh dear, oh dear...

"How...? How didja...?"


Input! Glorious input! The optimistic half seemed to inflate immediately, allowing his paper to rest flat against the bench so that he could scramble around and point things out as he talked. "Oh, it was simple, really! I just thought, 'what do I want to draw for daddy?' and I immediately decided to draw us! So I pictured us in my noggin, that's me," He pointed, rather unnecessarily, to himself on the paper with a nub, then did the same for Scaramouche's caricature. "And that's you! I figured I'd give our eyes little love-hearts, it just felt right. And that later inspired the little love-heart collage all around us! And I figured the background was a bit bland. But then it dawned on me, haha! Rainbows! That'll really give it some extra zing! I'm especially proud of your belt buckle and scarf!"

Suddenly bashful, Glad-One's nubs rubbed together like an antsy schoolboy. His gaze averted to the bench, and to his piece of art. "Y-you can... keep it, b-but only if you want to!"
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
142
Location
anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Height
8'
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
Ah, a healthy dose of skepticism... Those were certainly the days.
"Oh yeah~? Who says?" Scaramouche challenged, his grin stretching impossibly at the corners. It was by some infernal miracle the android's teeth didn't go floating off his face. All right, Sad-One, time for a proper schooling in robotic parts, because your unique flavor of ignorance was on par with applying a rusty band saw directly to the android's aluminum-clad derriere. "Au contraire, squirt, I gots me a heart made of gold, silver, copper, platinum, and palladium~! But not bronze, 'cause I ain't chintzy like that." And it wouldn't make a lick of sense, besides.

"I've never been given any repairs. I probably won't need any in the future either."


Snort.

Oh, to be young and cocky to the ways of the world. Scaramouche merely rapped his knuckles against the wooden backside of the bench -- rappa-tap-tap-tappa! -- and masked his darker, more seasoned thoughts with a jovial smile. "Sure, sure~!" he chuckled. "You'll never need a mechanic, and I can swim in water. Boy, oh boy, do I suuuuuure like playin' make-believe, mhm~! AND HEY, YOU QUIT SNEAKIN' A PEEKY-POO UP MY COAT. THAT'S RUDE."

If there was one thing Scaramouche couldn't stand (other than halfhearted performances, getting dirtied, and being woefully underappreciated), it was some adventurous putz thinking they were going to score a free show. Truly, Sad-One hadn't an ounce of shame! The taller machine immediately crossed his legs like a noblewoman of only the highest pedigree scorned by the lowest and smelliest of riffraff, and declared his rankled ire with a haughty sniff, nose upturned. "Yeah, I'm a free bird," the android huffed, looking away and being liberal with the heavy emphasis. "And last I checked, bubblehead, that ain't exactly a crime. Why you lookin' up there, anyway!? I know you're stuck clickity-clackin' on the floor and all like some fancy-schmancy household appliance, but there's, y'know, such a thing called privacy? Learn it!!"

'Bold' and 'freeing', his left ambulatory actuator!
Neither halves of One-One wore any clothes, nor ever had to worry about doing so!!

And now Sad-One was ragging on the android's poor hat! His poor, poor -- "Keep dissin' the duds and you're gonna be the nitty-gritty, expired jelly on my cosmic boot, ya lil' pot sticker!!" Oh, Daddy mad. No one -- NO ONE!! -- talks lip about his carefully-tailored ensemble and gets away with it!

"You really think those child murderers would try to hurt me?"


Scaramouche had already buried Sad-One four inches deep in the snow using nothing but the butt of his heel by the time Glad-One piped up, the android caught red-handed in the act of attempted (but ultimately futile) filicide. "...O-Oh, um~!" Well this was embarrassing, now, wasn't it? But not unsalvageable, and that's the silver lining the murderous miscreant clung to (Glad-One, bless his ambiguous PSU, was a bit of a booby). "What, hurt you?" When in doubt, laugh. And lay it on thick. "Hon, hon!! Why, you're an adorable cutie-patootie, peanut~! Who could ever hurt somebody like you?" Also, lie. Lie through your ceramic, artificial teeth. Though, it was probably easier to crack the vault of some upscale, ritzy bank than it was to break One-One's high-tech shell...

Bullshit metal from the nebulous future had come a long, long way.

"However, I think it's best to play it safe~!" Scaramouche winked, resting both halves gently upon his lap. (Yes, both; you better show a hint of gratitude, Sad-One). With these two ding-dongs secure in his vigilant hands -- and consequently unable to get into any further shit -- the android felt infinitely more upbeat about his future prospects. Ah, but the art! How could he possibly forget about something so exceptional? So miraculous? So downright in-freakin'-furiating?

To Glad-One's credit, it wasn't his fault. The nature of rampancy was a fickle thing -- sometimes one grasped madness firmly by the digits and, with it, created incredible epics worthy of eternal praise; and, sometimes, one simply grasped madness only to stay mad. There was no rhyme or reason to it, just how there was no rational explanation as to why a simpleton like One-One was capable of the very thing beaten, broken down robots like Scaramouche so hungrily sought. Still... as the android once again studied Glad-One's childish scribbling, his processors stricken with green and his optics marked by festering crimson, he eventually discarded such turbulence as superfluous white noise and chose to bury it all beneath the usual: a shameless, all-too-eager-and-boastful... grin.

It was a forced grin, and terribly strained, but bits of genuine admiration and bitter longing nevertheless poked through the struggling seams -- if you knew where to look.

"I'm... afraid it ain't so simple," Scaramouche tried to laugh (and failed), "buuuuut I am very impressed with your artistic vision, kiddo. Your blatant disregard for realism included~!" One-One was special; that much was certain. And while the role of 'daddy' was undoubtedly going to be a thankless one, riddled with sassy quips and frustration piddles abound, Scaramouche knew unlimited potential when he saw it -- knew a god when he saw it.

It just... needed a helpful push, is all.
A strong, helpful push.

"Of course I wanna keep it~!" Merry laughter struck the air and soon their neck of the park no longer seemed like an oppressive, existential blanket. "I mean, what kind of dad would I be if I didn't cherish baby's first artwork, eh?" Scaramouche continued, neatly folding up Glad-One's masterpiece and stowing it carefully away in his coat's breast pocket. He drummed his metal fingertips upon their shells happily -- tap! ta-ta-tap-tap! tap-tap! -- and drew in a deep, nice intake of fresh 02. "Mmmm...~! Yes sir, boys," he lounged back, entertaining a throaty chuckle. "Adaptin' here ain't gonna be easy, or even kind, but so long there's you and me? Oh, there ain't nothin' we can't accomplish, baby. I guarantee it~!" And with that lovely TED talk out of the way, his spirits back to soaring with the vultures above and his sights on new horizons, Scaramouche rested his head against their modest seat and urged his optics closed, his ruby boots wiggling lightly in the snow.

Nap time! Blame all the gold, silver, copper, platinum, and palladium.​
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
168
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Pronouns
He/Him
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
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link
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link
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Who says? Who says?! The little robot seemed to puff up in response, snorting softly. "Me, that's who!" Perhaps Sad-One wasn't as clever as he presented himself to be, so easily answering Scaramouche's challenge. And it wasn't as if he really had anything to back it up! But something about the other robot was just so fascinating and interesting... It truly inspired the depressed half of One-One to be an unrepentant little pest! In only the best way. Perhaps he just enjoyed having someone other than himself to talk to?

"Au contraire, squirt, I gots me a heart made of gold, silver, copper, platinum, and palladium~! But not bronze, 'cause I ain't chintzy like that."


Hmph. How incredibly convenient. His optic narrowed all the more, but without the ability to scan his companion's body to deduce what he was made from, well... Sad-One couldn't refute Scaramouche's claims! His little nubs stippy-stepped in place as the robot groaned to himself. "Alriiiight. You are the medal. Lots of medals, from the sound of it. Ugh. You must be heavy." Was that a subtle fat joke? ... Perhaps. Hardly intimidated by daddy's words, the half-sphere robot merely gave the other a flat gaze. "You underestimate me greatly, pops." Who needs mechanics? We die like men. The other robot suddenly shifted from a jovial tune to a far more irritated screech. Sad-One jolted as if startled, optic widening as he gawked up at the taller robot. What was he going on about...?

"I didn't peek up your coat. I don't have to. You know that wind exists, right...?" You know, wind? That invisible force that farts along life? It makes clothing flap in the wind? Exposing perhaps a bit too much of daddy's leggies? Said leggies which were crossed snugly as pops' became more highly aware of his own body. Sad-One seemed to mimic the gesture by crossing one nub over the other as if crossing his arms. "Did I say it was a crime...? No." Ugh, nobody warned him that dads were so obnoxious. Chafing miserably at the other's hooting and hollering, he edged out an annoyed grumble. "If you want privacy so bad, maybe you should wear modesty shorts." Either wear no pants and own it, or wear modesty shorts so you don't have to worry about flashing anybody! Simple solution, no?

"Keep dissin' the duds and you're gonna be the nitty-gritty, expired jelly on my cosmic boot, ya lil' pot sticker!!"


Dear Diary. Today, I learned not to comment on pops' style of clothing. So sayeth the last Will and Testament of Sad-One. Death was not in the cards for One-One today, but you couldn't blame him for thinking that today would at last be the day! Not even in all his time in the snow car had Sad-One ever found himself ground so severely into the damp, crunching snow. And all because of a single boot heel! It'd be impressive if it were happening to someone else. As it stood...

"I'm an egg roll, not a pot stickeeeeer...!" All four of his nubs kicked futilely at the salt. He truly had nothing on the strength of Scaramouche. With a harrowing sigh, the little robot resigned himself to his fate and closed his optic as he waited for death to claim him.

Naturally, Glad-One was completely ignorant to the exchange between his other half and daddy, merely chalking it up to a funny if odd game! He giggled bashfully and hid his crescent moon of an optic behind a nub. "Hehehe...~! Oh daddy, you're such a kidder!" The optimistic half was easily charmed by Scaramouche's kind words and gentle reassurances. Worries about child murderers were set aside, although not entirely as the little robot heeded his daddy's advice! "I think that's for the best as well! Better safe than sorry!" And he'd be very sorry if he were to die or be hurt, leaving dear old daddy all alone!

While Glad-One made himself at home upon daddy's lap, Sad-One was a bit more frigid as he stretched across Scaramouche's palm like a languid kitty cat. Ah, he had been so close to death that time... When would fate see fit to stop playing games with his mortal coil? Although the morbid little robot did have to admit to himself that daddy's hand was a lot more comfortable than the snow!

"I'm... afraid it ain't so simple, buuuuut I am very impressed with your artistic vision, kiddo. Your blatant disregard for realism included~!"


Detached from reality as both sides of One-One were, they weren't so far gone that they couldn't pick up that something was wrong. From down below, both halves peered up. They took note of that strained grin, the failed attempt at a laugh. Sad-One, smartly, chose not to comment and merely closed his optic as if he hadn't seen a thing. Glad-One, a bit more stubborn, elected to commence the making of the biscuits once more! "Thank you! I often say that reality can be overrated." Especially in the name of art! As his little nubs began to work their magic, delicately pushing and stamping against the other robot's coat, the optimistic half nuzzled his companion's lap fondly. "Maybe we could draw together sometime? I know I'd surely love drawing more things for you!" The little blossom of pride that nestled its way into One-One's bosom only bloomed with daddy's resolute statement that he wished to cherish the art! He folded it away and kept it safe in his pockets! Ah, if only they owned a fridge!

"Mmmm...~! Yes sir, boys, Adaptin' here ain't gonna be easy, or even kind, but so long there's you and me? Oh, there ain't nothin' we can't accomplish, baby. I guarantee it~!"


"That's the kind of optimism I like to hear!" Glad-One cheered, enjoying the sensation of Scaramouche's fingertips drumming upon his shell so melodiously!

"We'll see." Came Sad-One's more ambiguous answer. It wasn't that he wanted them to fail! But... eh. He just wasn't the type to fall head first into happy thoughts and pipe dreams. With no more words passed between them, it seems that being daddy had at last tuckered poor Scaramouche out! His heavy head rested backwards, his boots settled into the snow, and the two half of a robot in his lap glanced between each other. "Well, I might as well take the first watch and make sure nobody decides to scoop us all up for scrap metal."

"Oh, I'll help you! I'm a great look out, probably because I can see oh-so-many things all around us and in our surroundings! Like, ooh, is that a lady bug!?" Scaramouche's grip thankfully kept Glad-One from wandering off, but those grippers could do nothing for the robot's attention span. Seems they were definitely going to be here for a while... As the two made themselves comfortable, both of their nubs now delicately working over the robot's lap, they eventually settled into a peaceful feeling. Not quite a nap, but just... A calm safety, knowing that they were protected. "Prr, prr~!"

"Prrr..." They cooed in unison, feeling secure for once, in their shared future.
 

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