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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The Caballeros Three (and Sad-One...)

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
85
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral

@Max Reed, @One-One
Date: August 18, 109
Time: ???

Now loading the wagon...


"Look alive, kiddo~! This here is bat country."

Between the spiraling rock pinnacles and endless dunes that stretched as far as the optic could see, the Dread Wastes lived up to its name. Lawless, desolate, and harsh, the only thing close to an established settlement was that family of desert cottontails about fifty paces yonder. They were alone out here. Alone, and at the mercy of whatever cruel whims this barren land desired.

Scaramouche would honestly have it no other way.

"H'yah, h'yah! C'mon, ya chuds, daylight's burnin'!!" Cries of protest droned from hardy beasts of burden and onward the wagon pulled, creaking ever diligently across shimmering sands. Worry not for them; the grinning rascal seated confidently atop the jockey box treated his hairy darlings with a firm but compassionate hand. "Y'know, this reminds me of the old days~!" the android laughed. It seemed not even the morning's prickling heat could wither his spirits. "Back home, you'd find plenty of depressin' terrain like this -- sometimes even in your own backyard! Really built character." Aaaaand, uh, also tanked general morale, but that could tastefully be omitted. The android laughed again and wedged a piece of long grass between his pearly whites. "Boy... I'm sure glad the Boss let us pack a few essentials for the road. That was awfully nice of her, huh~? Speakin' of, mind takin' inventory again, squirt?"

It wasn't much, in all fairness. Despite the wagon's robotic majority, that was no excuse to forgo the essentials for its sole organic: extra rations and plenty of water, blankets, first aid, matches, sunblock, a flashlight... Just to name a few of the goodies Scaramouche had been keen to pack earlier this morning. He was certain Max Reed, their mustached companion with a very peculiar medical condition, had brought his own supplies for their arduous journey across the Wastes. The man would be stupid not to! There was animal feed as well, but they should be fine for the time being.

The android hummed a cheery lil' ditty and readjusted the reins, tilting his head side-to-side in tandem with the beat. "I wonder what we're gonna find out here..." he murmured quietly.

Scanners roamed the horizon.

"Hm... not much, apparently." As fascinating as a couple of thorny devils were, Scaramouche wasn't looking to bring home any pets. That rocky outcrop approximately 725.19ft to their left, however? "Hey~! Think that place is worth checkin' out?" he asked his companions, pointing at the landmark. "If nothin' else, could be a perfect opportunity to stetch our gams!" Might even be a suitable vantage point, too. "Lemme know, babes! I'll park in the shade and let our four-legged friends rest for a spell."
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
66
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
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Organizer
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"Aye aye, daddy!" With a proud salute, Glad-One's little optic squinted in search of these here bats! Or maybe he meant a baseball bat...? Hm! Whichever it was, the little robot could see neither kind of bat! Ah, but he had a fantastic view of the dread wastes from here! Dry desert as far as the eye could see, little vegetation, and very little signs of life. The rock formations were quite an impressive sight to behold, easily dwarfing their little company!

"Look alive? Not for long in this place..." Sad-One deadpanned, the depressed half seated comfortably atop Scaramouche's lap. He listened with a curious upturn of his lone optic as the other robot compared their surroundings to his home before the two had even met. Funny to think that there was ever such a time, huh? It wasn't often that their father talked about his life prior to meeting One-One and so the depressed half was almost reverent as he took it all in. "Hm. I don't think snow builds much character. You think this place will build some character for us...?" As for the Boss and her charitable contribution to the cause, he crossed one nub over the other like a smug puddy tat. "Awful nice of her indeed. Guess she didn't want us to up and die, a shame that'd be huh?"

"The Boss is so nice to us~!" Glad-One gushed before snapping to attention eagerly. "You can count on me, daddy!" And lo, he disappeared to the back of the wagon. He skittered over their supplies, little mumbles heard as the 'bot counted under his, for lack of a better term, breath. All sorts of essentials, ranging from the life giving aqua to the giver of light, flashlights! Why, their lovely boss had accounted for most everything!

"Nn'yeah, I'm predicting a whole lot of nothin'. Maybe a cactus and some snakes. Think the Boss would like a cactus...?" With a sluggish blink, Sad-One stared at the rock formation in the distance. Daddy seemed interested in checking it out. The depressed half of One-One could only imagine what they may experience. What if it was home to venomous snakes? What if one of them fell through a crack and became pinned by rocks, freedom only earned with the severing of a limb? What if somebody fell from a great height, and became crippled for life? Numerous what-ifs, all ending in blood and suffering. With all of these possibilities in mind... the little robot gave a shrug. "Eh, why not."

Glad-One, of course, was far more enthusiastic. He scuttled back to the front, a triumphant nub gesturing to their destination in the distance! His singular white optic seemed to glisten as the little dummy yelled, "Onward, to adventure!" What's the worst that could happen, huh?
 

Max Reed

The Guyver
Posts
241
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Zoanoid
Occupation
Investigator
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Lawful Good
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Reed sat with a bulky laptop toasting his thighs, the fan thundering as noisily as a jet engine in this dry desert heat. Bricklike textbooks, bloated folders and stacks of printouts surrounded him, the latter weighed down by small rocks so they didn’t flap off in a rare gust of wind.

He pecked at his keyboard with a knobbly forefinger, a lethargically smoldering cigarette protruding from the corner of his mouth. A glass ashtray stood on one of the stacks of printouts, which was almost overflowing with the charred gray remains of his cancer sticks. And those were only from today. The sharp, acrid smell of them stubbornly clung to his little quarter of the wagon.

Loud exclamations and cheerful chatter had him jerking or twitching out of his narrow-eyed concentration. He found himself having to reread the last paragraph of his report so that he could slip back into the flow of his thoughts. Usually, he would manage one or two sentences before the babble would disturb him again. It was always one step forwards, two steps back.

Aww, heck, that’d been his whole freaking life.

The latest round of jabber from the robots had him clamping his teeth around his cigarette, but he tolerated it in silence. He was the one who’d dragged a load of paperwork with him, not them.

It dawned on Reed that he hadn’t saved his document in an age. He made to roll his cursor over to the right menu, but the screen turned blue and filled with a bunch of error messages. Something about a faulty cooling fan? Illegal operation? Turkeys in Brazil?

Exasperation prickled at his scalp. If he’d just lost everything…

“Aww, crap!” he cried, smacking the laptop lid down with both hands.

Reed rubbed at his forehead as though to ease his building frustration and concern. That report was already overdue by a week ‘cos of his massive backlog. He needed to finish it today, but he was pretty fricking useless when it came to fixing laptops. Hey, wasn’t he in the company of two (three? two and a half?) super smart computers? Maybe they could give first aid to their slim little cousin?

“Do any of you guys know how to repair a laptop?” Reed called to the weird mixture of robots, absentmindedly noting the tall rock formation looming up ahead of them.
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
85
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral

Date: August (?), 109
Time: ???

Recuperating from an ancient evil meme...


Between the sudden parade of topless dancing men and fiddling with Reed's craptacular laptop, the android didn't know which was worse. Scaramouche leaned toward the latter -- if only because being designated as glorified "IT support" meant becoming Reed's butt-monkey for the rest of their excursion; a job several pay grades below his lauded qualifications. (Scaramouche had a master's in Assassination, thank you!!)

Naturally, he had to make everything insufferable.

"Didja try turnin' it off and on again~?"

That beautiful comment out of the way (c'mon, it was a classic!), the ragtag band of merry "men" resumed their journey with little fanfare. Scaramouche had repaired both Mr. Cranky's laptop and the wheels, affixing several lengths of nylon rope to the latter's axles, and the wagon's morale had once again soared to high spirits. ...Most of its morale, anyway. Sad-One and Reed were a couple of wet, moldy blankets that stunk up the entire ambiance with their 'fragrant' personalities. Truly, a match made in robo-roach heaven.

Scaramouche nicked one of Reed's cancer sticks when the man wasn't looking and lit it atop the jockey box's scathing-hot surface. "Nothin' but pure wasteland ahead, gents~!" the android smiled, enjoying a drag. Vapors of smoke billowed out his nostrils as Scaramouche kept his optics vigilantly trained ahead. "Yes, sir, just like home..." he muttered. "Juuuuuust like home."

Here's hoping there were no wandering samurais with a magical blade.​
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
66
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
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Neutral Good
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The last member of their little brigade had been so quiet, that both halves of One-One had overlooked the poor man until he unleashed an expletive and asked for help with his machine! Sad-One gave Max little more than a shrug and a sigh, but Glad-One...

Well, he was trying to be helpful at least! Skittering to the man and inspecting his machine, Glad-One's singular optic narrowed as he turned the laptop this way and that. "Hm...! Well, old chap! I think it might be jammed... I suggest putting more jam in it! Should clear it all up eventually. Perhaps a lovely strawberry!" ...Needless to say, Reed would find himself with better luck from the other robot who made up this little group.

Even with as strange as One-One could be, not even he could have predicted what they would encounter as they approached the outcropping of rocks! A portal of some kind opened, which allowed for topless men to dance their way through the wagon! Glad-One attempted to join, confused though he may be, by rearing up on his back legs and attempting a jig! But as soon as the strange group had appeared, they vanished into another portal! "Hmph!" Still 'standing', he crossed his front nubs and did his best impression of the hands on his hips pose. "They didn't even say 'good-bye'! How rude. S'the least they could do, after hitching a ride and acting so wacky!"

"Did that even happen...? Was it real...? Maybe it was all a mirage..." Damage to their wheels spoke otherwise. While One-One wasn't very helpful with a laptop, he was of better use when repairing the wheels so long as he was given directions and guidance! Their little wagon was soon rolling along once again! Nothing could hold them back for long! ...Unless your name was Sad-One. "If portals can just open up wherever, what's to stop a portal from opening up beneath our wagon and swallowing us up whole...? Where would it go? Oblivion? An ocean...? I bet monsters will come out of the next one..."

"No no no, that'd be silly! I mean, scantily clad men dancing around us is rather silly... But um..." Glad-One tapped the bottom of his little half-sphere body with a hum. "Well... Maybe more silly things will happen... but I hope we find something fun! Perhaps a slip and slide with chocolate syrup instead of water! Doughnut inflatable rings! Fudge surfboards!" While daddy sucked on that weird stick he stole from Max, the little half-bot looked between the two eagerly. "What do you two think we'll find here?" It couldn't possibly be emptiness as far as the eyes(and optics!) can see! ...Right?
 
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Max Reed

The Guyver
Posts
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Turn the laptop off and on again!? Put strawberry jam in it!? Jeez. These two were worse than the guys who’d worked in the CIA tech support, laughing and joking whenever Reed had called 'em up with computer problems. He’d never been able to live it down that time he’d complained about not getting any sound out of his speakers, no matter how hard he’d tapped the volume key. It'd turned out that he’d needed to deactivate the freaking mute button first.

The taller of the robots, Scaramouche, managed to fix the laptop, although it took Reed a little time to return to his work due to surprise and confusion. Had a group of half naked guys really partied through the wagon? If Reed hadn’t already seen a bunch of weird stuff in Pandora, as well as from working that “Guyver” case back in California, he would’ve been rocking backwards and forwards in a corner by now.

He widened his eyes and shook his head to clear his mind of the last remnants of his bafflement. Reed figured it was time to work on the Eisenhower Investigation next, but he couldn’t find the right folder among his towers of case notes.

“Aww, jeez!” he groaned, too distracted by his missing folder to notice Scaramouche stealing one of his cigarettes. He was never gonna get any work done at this rate.

Reed scrambled as best he could around the narrow confines of the wagon, peeking through all his work files a-freaking-gain, plus their boxes and sacks of supplies. At one point, he nearly stepped on one of the smaller robot’s crab-like halves - and jerked his foot back as though he’d been about to stand on an iron spike. He mumbled a sheepish apology.

“I’d like to find my notes on the Eisenhower Investigation. That’s what I’d like to find here!” he answered one of the robot crabs. Was it Mad-One? Or maybe Bad-One? “You know what. I’m beginning to think they were stolen by those half naked dancing guys.”
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
85
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral

Date: August (?), 109
Time: ???

It's as ridiculous as it looks...


Boing...!

Boing...!

Boing...!


"Man, screw wizards! They just invite themselves to the party, mutterin' somethin' about 'arrivin' precisely when they mean to', and then wiggle their knobby fingers before castin' some stupid mumbo-jumbo spell that'll further ruin your already insufferable life. BAM!! 'Behold, young adventurers! Your perfectly fine wagon is now some horrible mish-mash abomination of wagon and frog, because screw you if you think you're gettin' a more useful animal, like a freakin' cheetah. You're welcome.' Ugh!! Crusty, old farts... Next time I see a wizard, I'm gonna spare us all the ignominy and just run him over." It was a tough gig, steering a giant living frog-wagon through a desert, but Scaramouche was no stranger to general absurdity (ever see a farting dragon? better yet, ever smell a farting dragon?).

The android loudly clicked his tongue and looked the epitome of deadpan exasperation.
"Ch'yeah, thanks for the sticky seats, too," he groused. Mucous was so not compatible with wool.

Could be worse, however.

It could always be worse, and so Scaramouche grew a stiff upper lip in face of their latest... 'challenge'. (If there wasn't a medal waiting for him at the end of this damn tunnel, he swore...)

As their googly-eyed wagon hopped merrily along through the wasteland, tempted by the occasional scorpion or dragonfly, the android glanced over his shoulder to better gauge the health -- and sanity -- of his companions. (Which, y'know, must've been incredibly uncanny, because Scaramouche's head remained oddly transfixed while the rest of him bobbed in tandem with the wagon.) Yessiree! It was time for some much-needed conversational therapy, 'cause these ancient circuits were starting to fray.

'Scatterbrained existentialism' or 'irritable workaholic'...
'Scatterbrained existentialism' or 'irritable workaholic'...

Talk about a mixed bag! Guess the lesser of two evils will have to suffice. "Take a chill pill, Kafka~!" Scaramouche winked, blowing the man a lighthearted kiss. "One-One'll help ya find your notes. You just sit back, relax, and try not to vomit all over our eldritch monstrosity of a vehicle~! ...Seriously, babe, don't. I can barely tolerate the wonderful aroma that is cigarette smoke and damp frog." State-of-the-art olfactory sensors were a blessing and a curse. Who knew?

He reached over and gave a light -- pa rum pum pum pum! -- atop Sad-One's shell, wagging a finger. "And let's not tempt the fates that be, huh~?" the android said, wearing an obviously forced grin. No more jinxes; his aging PSU could only take so much! "Go help your twin find Max's notes, squirt. Freddie and I will be A-OK in the meantime."

"Ribbit, ribbit!!"
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
66
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
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Robot
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None Whatsoever!
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Neutral Good
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At the mumbled apology, Glad-One sent the man a pleased squint. "Oh, I'm right as rain! Thanks for being careful!" Had Max actually wound up stepping on the little robot, no damage would have been done, but the cautiousness was still quite appreciated! "Oh, you brought your notes? They sound very important!" He hummed thoughtfully, as if truly concerned for the mustachioed man and his mysterious papers. "Goodness...! I hope those blokes didn't steal them..." With the rest of the shenanigans those odd dancers had partaken in, though? He wouldn't put it past them!

Fate, it seems, found the optimistic robot's pondering to be rather inspirational. Although they did not find anything quite as whimsical as a water park themed around desserts, the wagon did find their path blocked by a strange old man! With a wiggle of his fingers and a bippity boppity boo!, their lovely little caravan had been transmogrified! It had become an amazing amphibian, hopping along with the group upon its back! While Glad-One found it to be an amazing, Scaramouche was of a different opinion.

"Hehehe...~! I dunno daddy, I think it's fun! I like our new friend Freddie!" Glad-One spoke up, from his little spot in the corner. With paper and crayons at his disposal, the robot was doodling a picture of their frogon with a chipper little hum! Artistic inspiration strikes again!

"Eh, I'm with pops on this one... It's weird, gross, and lame. Besides, I'm like...85% sure that Freddie should be a toad, not a frog." The sad sack of the gang was still sitting pretty on Scaramouche's lap, one nub crossed over the other as he scoffed to himself. He would have been content to remain there, but then his father performed the ultimate betrayal...! He volunteered Sad-One to do something! "Whaaaat...?" The depressed half began to whine, his little nubs wriggling fitfully. "Nooo... I don't wanna..."

Setting his crayons down carefully, his other half was far more agreeable to the task. "Aye aye, daddy!" He skittered to Max, peering up eagerly. "So...! What, um, do these notes look like? Rather papery I'm sure! Should I just... look for paper?" You know, paper that wasn't already colored on?

Grumbling in the front, only his father's touch quelled Sad-One's grousing. "Fiiin-uuuuuh... I won't tempt the fates and I guess I'll help look... Don't even know what I'm looking for..." He definitely was not upset because he wanted to stay with his dad! Sad-One was a cool rebel! He was just super comfy and now he had to move! That's all! Sad-One toddled over to Max's side of the wagon, slower than his twin as he inspected around the man's laptop. Both diligently assisted in the search, even shifting to search the bags to see if the dancers had displaced the papers!

Yes indeed, nothing would distract from this search-!

"Oooh, look at that weird boulder!" Glad-One hung over the side of the frogon, pointing a nub in the direction of a distant rock that resembled...a melting frog, of all things! "How interesting! Think it might be Freddie's cousin?"

Sad-One barely peered over the side to inspect this strange landmark. "I think it's an omen of death. Let's poke it with a stick so we can end this charade we call existence." Despite his sass, the depressed half of the robot remained focused on the task their father had given them to find Max's nerd notes. "Didja check under your butt?" He eventually asked, leveling a flat stare up at the human.
 

Max Reed

The Guyver
Posts
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What the hell had just happened to their wagon!?

Reed lost track of how long he sat on that sticky, slimy, nasty seat, his eyes wide and mouth open. A wizard had turned their wagon into a giant frog! He tried to think up a more logical reason why their wagon was hopping and croaking now. Well, the guyver unit had turned some kid into an alien superhero. Maybe the same kind of advanced technology had turned their wagon into a frog? But that didn’t explain the crazy bathrobe guy who’d stood in their way…

To conserve his sanity, he decided not to puzzle over it any further and to simply accept what’d happened to the wagon. These robots pushed his sanity enough! And his patience.

“Least it isn’t a cockroach,” Reed muttered bitterly, eyeing the humped back of the frog, or toad.

Then again, they’d probably move a little more smoothly on the back of some big bug. Now Scaramouche came to mention it, all this hopping was making Reed’s stomach roll and churn… It was like being on a small, sweaty, stinky boat that was jerking up and down on tall waves. Aww, crap. Did they have a bucket on this freaking frog?

Reed tried to force his attention back on to his work notes rather than the jerky motions of their “wagon”, or the rising waves of nausea, or the boulder in the distance that really did look like a melting frog. Jeez! If they ever gave him a Rorschach test after this trip, he’d wind up seeing a frog in every freaking picture!

The small crablike robots were awesome enough to help him look for his notes on the Eisenhower Investigation. Well, they were awesome until the more gloomy of the two asked if he’d checked under his butt. Reed felt the last of his patience fray and snap. It was amazing that he’d managed to last this long after the other crab had suggested he feed his laptop jam.

“Under my butt?” Reed repeated, his voice jerking up and down with emotion, or maybe that was the motion of the frog wagon. He glared at Mad-Bad-Sad One and leaned forward as though about to launch into a rant, but paused when he felt something shift under his buttocks.

Reed fidgeted around and pulled a crumpled folder out from between his legs, which had a computer print sticker on the front. Eisenhower Investigation. Oh, thank God. Relief flowed through him like the cool, sweet air-con they could use out here in this desiccated heat. His patience was reinstated along with his notes. He could once more tolerate Scaramouche blowing kisses at him, or Had-Rad-Glad One suggesting he stick burned toast inside his laptop.

“Hey! You’re right!” Reed cried, warm and cheerful. “It was under my butt!”

He waved the folder above his head as though it was a weird looking trophy. Big fricking mistake. The frogan lashed out its long, bright red tongue and snatched the notes out of his hand. It gulped them down with a noisy, undignified belch that rattled their supplies.
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
85
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral

Date: August (?), 109
Time: ???

Don't look down...


It's a bird!
It's a plane!
It's -- !

SPLURT!!

...A steaming hot glob of phoenix shit.

Scaramouche thought himself a patient robot. Honestly, he did. But there was just something about being crapped on that broke his poor spirit in twain. "...Yeah, I'm Audi 5000. Sad-One, here -- go hop us off a cliff or somethin'. I don't wanna live on this planet anymore." True to the android's word, he unceremoniously -- plop! -- tossed Freddie's reins at the morbid lil' stinker and went crawling on his hands and knees to mope beside Reed. After all, Sad-One did jinx them. It's only fitting their conductor of ruin atone for his sins take initiative.

He looked to the other man rather listlessly, reeking of sulfur, fowl, and soul-crushing despair. "...How goes it, baby? Ya look good." Hm, seems a reboot was in order. Later, though. With any luck, that giant sinkhole looming straight ahead was going to swallow them up, frogan and all, and they'd wake from this terrible, shit-infested nightmare.

...Or they'd, you know, land in a nest of flesh-eating Brazilian turkeys and watch Reed get violently ripped apart, starting with his toes.

Whichever came first.

For now, Scaramouche was going to sit in this here corner of the frogan and quietly rethink his life, the robot occasionally mustering enough computing power to wipe lukewarm handfuls of filth off his once lustrous heels.​
 
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One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
66
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
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Robot
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“Under my butt?”

"Yeah. Did I s-s-s-stutter?" Sad-One narrowed his optic at the man, suspicious of his tone. Perhaps it was just the jerking of the wagon, but the lilt combined with such a stern glare had the robot already on the defensive! He puffed up, standing on the very tips of his nubs as the man leaned forward...! And then blinked in confusion as he merely fished behind himself before eventually pulling out papers! "...Huh." Instantly deflating, the depressed robot's optic quirked. "Well how about that." Wasn't that a stroke of--

SLORP!

Alright, that was more expected. If not rather disappointing. As Max's papers disappeared into the belly of their frogon, Sad-One placed a nub upon the man's shoe in solidarity. "Well that sucks. Sorry about that. Hope those papers weren't too important..." With their luck, though? They were undoubtedly important. Pat pat.

"Freddie! You silly sausage, you cannot eat Max's papers! Bad boy!" Glad-One chastised the frogon before turning to the man with an optimistic squint. "Don't worry, they'll come back out eventually!" And it wasn't like things could get worse for them all, right?

SPLURT!!

...Well! Not even Sad-One could have seen that one coming. A passing phoenix had uh. Well. Decided to do something rather unsavory and now the frogon and its occupants were absolutely covered in flaming goo. Both halves of One-One were rendered speechless. The pessimistic robot would have been happy to just crawl in a corner somewhere and quietly mope over the sticky situation they were now in, but then daddy did something unprecedented! He handed over the reins...! His nubs tightened around them, scrambling to hold them steady as good ol' pops crawled away. Life had at last defeated their father. A crying shame indeed. With a deep breath, Sad-One's gaze centered upon the horizon. "You've got it, pops. I'll make you proud."

"Augh, I can't believe that bird has dumped all of this... this, poo-poo boobie on us!" A small moving glob of excrement, Glad-One shook himself like a dog to get rid of the majority of the gunk before he trotted after his father. "Oh daddy, don't worry! Things will go our way soon, I'm sure!" He squinted up at the taller robot, front nubs propped up on the robot's leg like a dog gazing up at its master. "Just because we're having a hard time right now, doesn't mean things won't change in our favor. It'll get better! Why, I bet we'll find something about this trip to laugh about later!"

Meanwhile, at the front...

"I wish, that I could turn back time. Cause now the guilt is all mine. Can't live without the trust from those you love. I know, we can't forget the past. You can't forget love and pride! Because of that, it's killing me inside!" Completely embracing his father's directions, Sad-One was currently leading their frogon Freddie towards a rather dangerous looking sinkhole! Singing while he did it too, if you could call the half-bot's caterwauling singing. "It all, returns, to noooothing...! It all comes tumbling down, tumbling down, tumbling dooooown....!" Hopefully they would not go tumbling down down into the bowels of the planet's surface...!
 

Max Reed

The Guyver
Posts
241
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Zoanoid
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Investigator
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Lawful Good
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When Scaramouche joined him in the corner to sulk, Reed couldn’t help but rant, his voice bitter and weary: “God, luck, fate, whatever the heck you want to call that force. It’s always thrown shit in my way. I guess it ran out of ideas, so it dumped a load of literal shit!”

Reed reached up to rub at the back of his head, but thought better of the gesture. He would only smear more of that hot, foul stinking crap into his hair. There was a saying that if a bird pooped on you it was good luck, but Reed figured the person who’d spread that around was a freaking moron.

His beliefs were only confirmed when Had-Rad-Glad One shook like a dog, which sent semi-liquid lumps of excrement splattering Reed’s side, plus a few of his work files. Though they were already splattered in excrement, he still jumped up with a disgusted yell.

Reed was almost frustrated enough to kick Had-Rad-Glad One like an incomplete soccer ball right out of the frogan, but that probably wouldn’t go down well with his “father” or “brother”. Instead, he yelled “dammit” and flung his shit covered laptop over the edge of the frogan.

It hit the hard, sun baked wasteland and broke in two. A little puff of smoke bloomed up from a big jagged crack in the screen. Its murder helped loosen a few knots in his chest.

Reed stalked around the frogan, snatching up the worst of his soiled work items and pitching ‘em over the side. Shit blotched folders flapped and flailed to the earth like pairs of severed bird wings. Stacks of loose brown soaked papers exploded in the air. Even a dripping pencil or two went whistling off into the distance as though tiny arrows fired by some toilet Cupid.

He guessed he’d just have to drop all of these cases and spend the next year living off stale cereal. He’d done it as a poor criminology slash international affairs student. He’d do it again.

Reed would’ve ditched his whole office worth of files over the frogan had he not seen where the shrieking and wailing Mad-Bad-Sad One was trying to lead them. A cold gust of terror blew away his anger and depression. Crap. Mad-Bad-Sad One was gonna drop ‘em into that sinkhole, where they’d plunge to their deaths. Reed wasn’t that suicidal yet!

Wait!” He leapt over and tried to grab the slimy, slippery reins off the crablike robot.
 

Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
85
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Species
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral

Date: August (?), 109
Time: ???

One reboot later...


"Worst. Vacation. EVER."

First, it was the dancing topless men from Outdated Meme VII.
Then it was the nameless wizard with the frog fetish.
Followed by that lovely "gift" from above.

And now...?

Beach balls.

That's right, beach balls.

Scaramouche just stood there, his expression blissfully stoic as his processors refused to parse one iota of cockamamie randomness further. "Y'know," the colorful android spoke, his tone uncharacteristically level, "I can technically end it all with a jump. Just slam dunk myself -- sploosh! -- right into this here marsh and be done with it. Technically." Seriously, no excursion was worth this. But, daydream of greener pastures as he may, Scaramouche ultimately forwent such talk and knew he had to 'tough it out' like a man.

Ironic bit, that.

Anywho! He drew a tired 'breath' and refrained very hard from skinny-dipping into nebulous muck -- if only because it had taken forever and a day to get all that rank bird shit out. "Sad-One," the android gruffly croaked, his optics directed balefully at the horizon, "you're fired, kiddo -- and I say that with love. Next time I say 'send us hurdlin' toward oblivion', you steer us First Class into the awaitin' arms of Jesus Christ with no survivors, capisce?" Scaramouche was sorta kidding. Sorta. The android then set his pixelated sights onto Max Reed -- the only member of their ragtag crew that had reservations about dying a glorious, shit-free death. Roaches gotta roach, Scaramouche supposed.

"You wanna drive?" the robot asked the man. It was less an offer and more a frustrated, thinly-veiled 'here, you do this because I sure as hell don't give a kangaroo's left tit to bother anymore'.

Yes, yes, Scaramouche was a generous fellow. He'll consider it penance for the murder of their cousin.​
 
Last edited:

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
66
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
Species
Robot
Occupation
None Whatsoever!
Alignment
Neutral Good
Profile
link
Organizer
link
Directory
link
At the man's disgusted yell and subsequent tossing of his jammed up device, Glad-One flinched before scuttling to hide behind his father's leg. He peered out just enough for one white optic to peek back at the man. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Max..." The little robot apologized, nervous as the human's spree of tossing continued. More and more of Max's own poop covered items were chucked off of the wagon. "I didn't mean to capture you in my splash zone...! Please don't destroy your own things... Maybe you'll feel better if you sit down for a spell, maybe eat something...! I bet you must be peckish after everything we've been through!" Quality and, uh, poop status of their supplies notwithstanding... Surely something could be rustled up! Perhaps Mr. Reed was just hangry!

No break was to come for Max, who dove for the front of the wagon and successfully managed to wrestle the reins from Sad-One. Not that it was hard when Max had a whopping five fingers to work with compared to Sad-One's wee nubs! Still, the depressed half of One-One offered a lukewarm glare at the man as control of the wagon was wrestled away. "C'mon... I was just about to get to the best part... You know, emptiness. Oblivion. We were just about to tumble down into the loving embrace of death itself."

Instead of 'tumbling down' into the sinkhole... There came a rain storm of plastic proportions! Beach balls of all sizes and colors came down upon them, disturbing their frogon in the process. Ultimately harmless, it seems, but... Definitely random. "Whoa...! Lookit all these mums!" Glad-One giggled and left the safety of his father's leg to bounce with the balls that landed in their wagon, while Sad-One sagged as they bounced off of his shell harmlessly.

As if that wasn't depressing enough... Father giveth and father taketh away! Fired from the duty of driving, Sad-One gave up what little fight he'd put up for the reins (aka light whining and reaching for them). "That's not FAAAAIR... I did my best pops! We almost saw Jesus, but the man stopped it from happening..." Rather than put up the effort to leave the front of the wagon, the pessimistic little guy just plopped down and continued to mope and grumble.

Having had his fill of the 'mums', Glad-One approached Max's ankle and squinted up at him with unfailing friendliness. "If you drive, maybe I could find you a bit of food to eat from the back! To make up for before, you know. And besides! Yummy yummy food in that tummy will make you feel LOADS better!" It wasn't fun to watch the man explode the way he did, and he felt the need to make him feel better. It was the same for his father, who was as down in the dumps as his twin! Glad-One briefly nuzzled at Scaramouche's boots. "I still think things will turn around soon! We just have to keep our chins up and power-walk through it! You two relax and think calming, happy thoughts! Like those lovely bouncing mums, aren't they wonderful?"
 

Max Reed

The Guyver
Posts
241
Species
Zoanoid
Occupation
Investigator
Alignment
Lawful Good
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link
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“Drop me off next time you want to commit mass suicide!” Reed yelled at the more apocalyptic of the two robot crabs. He tightened his grip on the filthy reins. “I’m not ready to die yet!

In fact, he couldn’t ever imagine being ready. But he would still have to die one day… Heck, he’d been supposed to after those asshats had stuck that alien bug DNA in him, but then he’d wound up in Pandora and strangeness had saved him.

Strangeness was likely to kill him, too… And probably on this freaking trip…

Scaramouche’s question came across as more of an order to Reed, but he nonetheless nodded his head. Reed figured he could postpone his death a little while longer if he was behind the reins.

“I’ve just cleared my work schedule,” he said with a bitter twitch of his mustache. He had already resigned himself to his future diet of stale cereal. “So I’ve plenty of time to drive now.”

And play volley ball…?

The bright, dazzling downpour of beach balls had Reed scowling in bafflement, but it was the other crab robot’s reaction to them that really put the icing on the WTF cake. He bounced along with the beach balls and called ‘em… Mom!? That sure filled Reed’s head with a bunch of bizarre and disturbing imagery. Maybe they should’ve died in that sinkhole after all…

Reed could no longer look at Glad-One the same way again, and he had to fight the urge to flinch when he squinted up his skinny ankle and offered to fetch him food. “No, thanks. I lost my appetite after that bird decided to empty its freaking guts over our wagon.”

Did Scaramouche and the crab robots “eat” anything? Oil, maybe? He was curious to know and would’ve asked ‘em, except a fresh torrent of beach balls began to stream down on them. They struck Reed’s head and shoulders with sharp, rubbery plinks, then bounced over the sides of the frogan. Each hit seemed to rattle his bones and throw his brain against the walls of his skull.

Aww, crap. It was like dodgeball at high school all over again.

He glanced wildly around the frogan, hoping to find somewhere that he could take cover from the hurtling beach balls. Before he could identify a suitable location, a freaking bowling ball crashed down on his skull and killed him knocked him out cold.

Reed flopped to the floor on his face and front, while more beach balls bounced off his back. Without anybody holding the frogan’s reins, it launched itself into a frenzied hopping run as though it could flee the “mums” that were still careening out of the sky.
 

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Pinder, schminder. People should just stick with archery contests, and base all future dates on the results.
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WHAT!? YOU NAMED THE AMPHITHEATER AFTER ATHENA!? But she's not even an artist! She's a boring stick in the mud! What do you do there? Watch old women weave all day? This is egregious! Egregious I tell you!
Hello mortals! It was a beautiful day today wasn't it? I know. I know. No need to thank me. But you're welcome anyways. ;)
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