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Private The Weiner Takes It All

Carter J. Burke

Alien
The Company Man
Posts
379
Location
Centria
Age
30
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Occupation
Director (Weyland Technologies)
Alignment
Lawful Evil
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Dating Clara Oswin Oswald
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May 31st, Year 109
Calan Mai Festival


A sleepy, sheepish smile made its way onto Carter Burke’s face as he departed from the Calan Mai Festival’s Eating Contest table. Somehow, surprisingly, he’d actually done it. He’d managed successfully to consume a hell of a lot of hot dogs and finish first at that. As full and as tired out as he was, he couldn’t help but feel a little proud. That damned Private Hudson had taunted and teased him into entering, bragged about how easily he could win against somebody as ‘wimpy’ and ‘weasely’ as him, and yet he’d managed to beat the big dope by a mile, along with every other contestant.

Burke recalled how he had found the time to call out ‘game over, man!’ mockingly to his supposedly biggest competition as he pulled out of the race, which he suspected was due to the slightest twinge of a stomach ache. He chuckled weakly to himself at the memory, though he wished he hadn’t been too busy stuffing himself to see the expression on the doofus’s face as he shouted out his very own words against him. That had to be the highlight of the day, regardless - even over winning the competition.

Naturally, being crowned as first place of an eating contest did come with some drawbacks. Burke was completely drained of energy and felt like he was going to burst, and for the time being, he didn’t want to eat or even look at another hot dog ever again. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he would have the desire to eat anything at all for what remained of the day.

Wearily, he trudged over to the nearest bench and plunked down on it to rest. The temptation to doze off was strong, but the noise going on at the festival was enough for him to keep his eyes open. With a hand resting upon his stomach, he reclined a bit and watched the passersby enjoy the festival. He wondered if anybody would recognize him as the champion of the ‘normies’ and approach him, and if that person would happen to have any Tums on hand.

 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
55
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Race
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
It began with a nasally clash of thunder.

"COWER, MORTALS, FOR I AM SCARAMOUCHE THE RUINOUS, THE CROONER OF CACOPHONY, THE ALMIGHTY PARAGON OF LOUD, OBNOXIOUS THINGS, AND NOW FABULOUS WIELDER OF GABRIEL'S TRUMPET! THE HEAVENS QUIVER BEFORE MY TERRIBLE SOUND!! DID I MENTION I AM ALSO FABULOUS?"

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Guess what a certain someone just won after an intense game of tiddlywinks?

Tinny laughter rang throughout the various game stalls as a pair of scarlet high heels raced across the grass at reckless speed, high-pitched -- 'fwee's!! -- and buzzing -- 'fwoo's!! -- leaving a storm of irritated glares and displeased grumblings in their earsplitting wake. But do you think he cared? Pfffft, no. He was actually having the time of his life!

"We did it, pumpkin, we did iiiiiiit~! We ranked! We - actually - ranked~!!" No, sir! There was nothing -- nothing -- that could bring Scaramouche down, especially not when the android was busy river dancing all over this creaky log, kicking and spinning and throwing up his arms with wild abandon. He clicked his dazzling heels thrice, kazoo in hand, and let loose yet another victory 'fweeeeeee!!' to forever immortalize his elation in song. (And this time taking pity upon his loyal subjects with a much quieter note). Never let it be said that Scaramouche wasn't a generous fellow! Speaking of which...

He glanced down at his partner(s) in crime and proudly beamed. "C'mon, One-One, don't be all wet!" Scaramouche implored the smaller machine. "Don't be afraid to shake what your daddy gave ya~!! Shake it, baby, shake it~!!" Now, what could be worse than God's musical mistake, the bloody kazoo, you may ask? Other than Scaramouche himself?

Here's a hint, it sounded an awful lot like this, and it annoyed the stuffing out of parents everywhere.
...Not this one, however.

"Beautiful, kiddo, B-E-A-Uuuuuutiful, hon hon hon~!!" The awful racket only seemed to encourage Scaramouche further, and he hopped of that moldy old log with an impish gleam in his optics, clearly itching for a good bout of mischief. "Like father like son, eh, passerotto mio~?" the android cooed. "Why, I'm sure with enough practice and dedication, peanut, we'll uncover that musical cog in your body yet!"

Gag.

But, what good was a budding musician without the roaring appreciation of a captive audience? "Hrrrm, true, true... An encore with teacher isn't the same as one with groupies crying for your illustrious John Hancock to bless their chests." It was... better not to ask.

Scaramouche stroked his chin quizzically, fingers curling around invisible fiery locks, and raked his processors across the coals. All CPUs on deck! There was a caper on their hands, and baby 'bot needed a victim selfless volunteer! And who better to grace One-One's first performance than that overstuffed turkey of a man over there, seated peacefully on a park bench?

Not for long.

"Nyeheheee~! He's perfect." Without waiting for so much as a disapproving squeal out of Sad-One's vocalizer, Scaramouche scooped up his lil' roly-poly babe and literally chucked him at the sleepy-eyed galoot. "One-One, I choose you!!"
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
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45
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Definitely somewhere strange!
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Robot
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None Whatsoever!
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Neutral Good
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Marching alongside his amazing (and obnoxious) robo-papa, the little ball-sized robot was practically vibrating as he turned his little toy as best he could! It shook about, creaking and squealing loudly.

CLACKACLACKACLACKCLACKA--RRRRRR--CLACKACLACKA

"Cower, one and all." Sad-One's lethargic voice could barely be heard over the raucous yells of his father. "We almost won the hot dog contest. We are mavericks in the making. We are the true rebels." He was truly trying his best to get into the chaotic spirit! It was just a little hard... and perhaps draining.

On the other hand, of course, there was Glad-One. Who eagerly ate up their father's attention and musical skills! As Scaramouche darted through the festival like a true speedster, he rolled along after the other robot's ruby heels! "I enjoyed partaking in that contest, daddy! The li'l cock doggies really tasted like dog." Ignore the fact that he possessed no mouth or ability to taste. Wonder why people would make food out of their loyal companions? People were strange!

Upon being told to shake it, One-One did exactly that! He gyrated his little sphere of a body, hopped in place, and continued to shake his noisemaker as if it were a rattle! It continued to blare harshly and annoyingly, much to Scaramouche's delight! He even came up with a new nickname...! He rolled to approach the log, squinting up at his father from the robot's fashionable ankles. "Oooh...~! That sounds pretty! What's it mean?" He brushed up against the side of Scaramouche's heel in a soft nuzzle, buzzing softly. "Ooh then we could start a family band! Wouldn't that be lovely?"

"When our band enters its edgy teen goth phase, I call being the lead singer." Sad-One interjected stubbornly, his little optic gleaming with both interest and resolve. When their beloved father began to, uh, monologue to himself about the need for an audience, both halves of the little robot were obediently quiet.

...

Okay, Sad-One was quiet while Glad-One giggled to himself and continued to play with the noisemaker toy his father had won for him. Certainly not distracting for dear old pops, right? Definitely not, as their dad mimed stroking his chin before laying optics upon a willing participant in their musical!

"One-One, I choose you!!"

"Whoop...!"
"Betrayed by Pops agaiiiin...!"

Without so much as a warning, the little robot had been scooped up and chucked as if he were a water balloon! He sailed through the air and landed against a rather soft and doughy surface! Boing! White optics rolled around the black stripe display before eventually narrowing in on the face of the man whose stomach he'd just become acquainted with! "Oh, I know you!" Glad-One's cheery and British voice piped up as he readjusted himself correctly, perching in the man's lap. "You're the one who won the contest~! Er, well, one of the winners! Congratulations! Your mummy must be very proud! I know mine would be!"

"Hm." And before poor Carter could blink, the hyper voice was replaced by Sad-One's dull one. He eyeballed the man, focusing primarily on his poor hot dog stuffed tummy. Raising a nub, he gave it an experimental nudge. "You must be about to explode with hot dogs. Did you know that 20% of the people who take part in eating competitions die? And those odds increase if you actually win..." Morbid little thing that he was, the little robot let out a monotone "Hehehe..."

"Ooh, listen to this, Mr. Man! I'll play you a victory tune~!" Raising his noisemaker high, Glad-One twirled it around with all the force he could put into those little nubs and gave Carter Burke a one-man seat to the Orchestra of One-One!

CLACKACLACKACLACKCLACKA--RRRRRR--CLACKACLACKA


 

Carter J. Burke

Alien
The Company Man
Posts
379
Location
Centria
Age
30
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Occupation
Director (Weyland Technologies)
Alignment
Lawful Evil
Relationship Status
Dating Clara Oswin Oswald
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Burke was doing his very best to keep his heavily lidded eyes open, but the commotion of the festival couldn’t compete with his desire to sleep off that hot dog feast. He blinked several times and gave a yawn, steadily losing his fight with the temptation of giving in to nap on the bench. Lolling his head back while keeping the sitting position wouldn’t be comfortable enough, he mused, and even if it was too sloppy or conspicuous to lay down on his back and stare at the sky until he fell asleep, he was having a quite a time with trying to resist it. He might have been a respectable businessman - or so he thought himself as one - but even they could have ‘off’ days, couldn’t they? And having eaten an entire plate of hot dogs would certainly count as that, even if he had won a competition by doing so.

He had just scooted to the edge of the bench so that he could lay down and rest comfortably on his side when a sort of whooping sound went off from behind him. Burke glanced up at the sky, missing what had caused the noise by a second, until it landed hard onto his stomach. “Oof…!” he exclaimed, wincing. That hadn’t felt like an ordinary stomach pain, and for a moment he wondered if he needed to be concerned. However, one glance down later, he felt a sense of relief wash over him. Somebody had simply chucked their baseball and it had landed on him.

Burke was just about to pick up the supposed baseball but then it spoke, and he jerked his hand away from it. The thing had repositioned itself, making it look much less like an ordinary sports ball and more like some sort of high-tech machine. And according to its words, it knew exactly who he was. “Uhh...” Burke squinted at it, trying to place where he’d seen it before. “Yeah, I uh, I won the competition. Don’t know how the hell I did it.” He held back a belch and frowned sheepishly. “But don’t bother with my mother. Trust me, that woman could not care less.”

He groaned a bit, missing the bot’s pessimistic sounding hum in the process and not quite catching on to its sudden switch in personality. “Oorp… I sure feel like it, there is no doubt about that,” he answered the little thing, which was now prodding him in the middle with one of its nubs. “Hey, hey,” Burke warned, nudging the ball away with his hand and then resting it over his overstuffed belly as if to protect it from more pokes. ”D-don’t do that, my stomach has already been through enough.” The factoid it had offered brought a frown to his face. “Well you must be the life of the party, huh?” Burke let out another tired groan and rested his head back, only looking up when he had finally realized the robot had made a significant change in tone. “Wait a second, did your voice just change?”

It was apparently too late to catch the sphere’s attention though, as it had moved on to shake a noisemaker violently, bringing forth the most obnoxious clacking sound. “Ugh…” Burke reclined a little more, almost wishing the ball would roll off of him in the process. “Hey, I didn’t ask for a migraine to go with this stomach ache.” With that said, he plucked the noisemaker from the little one’s nubs and tossed onto the other side of the bench. “So uh, where’re you from, little fella? Who manufactured you? You a product of Stark Industries, or something?” Maybe conversing with it would stop it from making that awful, loud noise.
“Hey, you...you were one of the runner-ups, weren’t you? So what’s the secret, huh? Is there a...some kind of living creature inside that shell?”

 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
55
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Race
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
"I enjoyed partaking in that contest, daddy! The li'l cock doggies really tasted like dog."

...A-bwuuuuuh!?

Just how in the ever-lovin' heck did One-One know what dog tasted like!?
The lil' nitwit didn't even possess a -- !!

You know what? No.

No.

Scaramouche wiped the dumbfounded look off his face and refused to bite the bait. "Y-Yeah, me t-t-too, p-pumpkin~!" he shakily laughed. You didn't see nor hear the android damn near trip all over his synthetic tongue, got it? "But, between you and me, I think those weenies were a lil' more on the beefy side."

Rover: it's what's hopefully not for dinner!

That particular hiccup now cast aside (and buried deep within the recesses of Scaramouche's memory to never again see the light of day), a family band sorta did have a lovely ring to it! But, while the android was a master performer in his own right, what could a tiny menace like One-One play? Other than lacking a mouth, he also lacked the next best thing: fingers!! Fortunately, Scaramouche was smarter than the average blender. "Hrrrm, well... I guess you could start with the triangle," he contemplated, and tentatively. Surely his monochromatic ding-dong wouldn't summon brimstone and hellfire with a piddly triangle, right?

Hm, then again, it was One-One... Scaramouche was certain that if the smaller 'bot put his scrambled mind to it, the latter would come up with a way to ring in the apocalypse, ting ting ting!

Right! Bad idea. No family band until he fully assessed One-One's musical prowess.

"Oh, that? Hon~! It's just a lil' echo of happier times long, long gone," the android smiled. That was all Scaramouche parted with before feverishly jabbing his metal finger at the human hot dog, wiener-whiner extraordinaire. "Now quit with the yippity-yappin' and make with the snippity-snappin', slugger! I wanna hear ya play Pachelbel's Canon in D Major on that bad boy!!"

CLACKACLACKACLACKCLACKA--RRRRRR--CLACKACLACKA!

Holy Toledo, was that unholy racket annoying! (Kind of the point, but still!)
And hey, had Sad-One actually laughed for that other man...?

"B... B-But he never laughs w-when he's with me...!"

They say jealousy was an ugly color, and Scaramouche had the unfortunate quality of having a very complementary body tone. The android sniffed, his PSU broken, and soon glared daggers at the Grand Poobah of Sausages: Normie Edition. "First he makes my baby laugh, then he takes his rattle!? Oh no, no, no, NO, baby! I will not stand for this!!"

The pact was sealed, the threads of fate woven! With a graceful hop and a dramatic power-dive into the nearby bushes, the 8' tall murder machine vanished completely from unaided sight with only one thing on his processors:

Carter J. Burke must die!
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
45
Location
Definitely somewhere strange!
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Robot
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Beefy hot dogs and playing the triangle, between these two little things, One-One was expertly distracted from the way daddy had dropped his spaghetti. Do not ask questions you don't want the answer to, Scaramouche! Like a bird leaving the nest, One-One literally flew away from daddy and began to make the acquaintance of Mr. Carter!

At the news that Carter's mother would truly not be impressed by her son's terrific win, Glad-One couldn't hold back a gasp! His top optic shifted to resemble a tear drop as the little robot expressed his sympathies. "Well, that's no good! All mums should be proud of their son's accomplishments! Even the eating ones!" Especially the eating ones, what with that being so important to the life of a human!

Upon being chided and nudged away from the man's overstuffed tummy, the little robot obeyed and kept his nubs to himself. In fact, the little nubs seemed to retract into his body for the moment as he merely balanced on the man's leg. "Right, too much poking and I bet you'll pop like a balloon. A gross, hot dog balloon." Both optics shifted, taking up an almost smug expression in the form of narrowed little ovals as the little robot chuckled deviously yet again! "Hehehe, death of the party, more like." Very clever, 10/10! You know, there oughta be an award for telling jokes!

“Wait a second, did your voice just change?”

The question seemed to take Sad-One aback though, blinking softly. Right, right, this guy was still a stranger and all that! "Oh yeah, right." He mumbled, likely unable to be heard over the racket he was making. And speaking of that racket... "Heeey...! Rude!" He huffed, peering over the man's side to eyeball the other end of the bench where his toy had been confiscated and deposited. "Is that just something people do here? Yank things out of others' hands? ...Nubs?" His optics narrowed irritably, and if it were up to Sad-One, none of Carter's questions would have been answered, let alone considered!

...

Good thing for Carter's burning questions that little ol' One-One was a package deal of sorts, and Glad-One just loved questions. "I'm from over there!" Glad-One's chipper voice returning, he gestured in the direction that he had been thrown from, where it seems that daddy had disappeared from...! Hm. The little 'bot was momentarily concerned, but found his attention drifting as more and more questions came! "I'unno! What is a Stark Industries?"

"So what’s the secret, huh? Is there a...some kind of living creature inside that shell?”

...Huh. You know... it wasn't often that either half of One-One encountered a question that could stump them. At least, not quite like that one! What an... odd thing to ask about. "Hm...?" Optics furrowing, Glad-One tapped a nub upon the bottom of his round little body. "I don't... think there's a living creature in me! Let me check!" Without much further explanation for the man, the little sphere suddenly let out a soft POP! and abruptly split into two half-spheres that landed on the side of the bench to finally give Burke his space!

Each half did a little turn around, and even helped to inspect each other before the half containing Glad-One peered up at Carter. "Nope, no creature! Honestly, I imagine eating is the same as it is for you! You just shove the food into your face, right? Just... Blahghahghahle!" He mimicked the sound of somebody stuffing their face, rather poorly. Complete with using his little nubs to pretend his was shoving something against his optic! The little robot's true technique had involved mashing the food against his little body and...honestly, just leaving a mess all over afterwards since he had no way to ingest the food.

Sad-One's plopped down upon the bench lethargically, his single optic a narrowed half circle that seemed to lazily glance up at the man. "Mm. Well, this kinda explains the two voices for you at least. I'm One-."

"-One! What's your name, Mr. Man person?" Glad-One skittered a little closer, his gaze never ceasing to seem friendly and curious.
 

Carter J. Burke

Alien
The Company Man
Posts
379
Location
Centria
Age
30
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Occupation
Director (Weyland Technologies)
Alignment
Lawful Evil
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Dating Clara Oswin Oswald
Profile
link
Organizer
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“Yeah?” Burke mused aloud, as if having a proud mother was a concept he couldn’t even begin to comprehend. “Well my mother isn’t like everybody else’s. Too bad, huh?” He sighed lightly and rested his head against the back of the bench. Why the hell were they discussing that awful woman, of all subjects? The very mention of her made his stomach turn more often than not, and it would have done a flip right now if it wasn’t so sleepy from being overloaded with food. The spherical robot wouldn’t understand though, as it had no parents apart from a manufacturer, and Burke doubted the little guy had much contact with whoever that had been. In a way, he thought that was lucky.

“I’m not gonna pop,” Burke insisted to the depressed half of the sphere, though he didn’t sound too convinced with his own comment. “I just...I feel like it, okay? And it’s not very comfortable.” He gave his distended belly a gentle pat before moving on to poke his new friend in the center of its body. “I’m sure you would feel the same if you had as much stored in there as I do.” He doubted there was much that it could store, of course, what with it being such a tiny thing. It was only natural for the bot to lose the contest, even if there was a living creature with a split personality hiding beneath its metal exterior.

Burke watched on cautiously as Sad-One peeked over his side to look at the noisemaker he’d taken away. If it dared to crawl over with the intention of snatching it up and shaking it again, he had to be prepared to stop it from happening. “You know, you were making me sick, with all of that noise,” Burke answered its question bluntly. “More sick than I already feel. You don’t wanna give me something else to complain about, do ya?” Not that it would surprise him if the depressed persona wanted him to suffer some more. Misery did love company, after all.

He couldn’t help but smile, if just barely, as the chipper voice surfaced again. Burke found that he was preferring the happy side of the robot's personality, and he wondered if there was a switch on its body to make it stick around permanently. “You came from the bushes, huh?” Burke remarked jokingly as his robotic pal gestured over to the shrubbery from behind, and gave a quick glance at them himself. “Stark is uh, it’s one of the more prominent companies in the tech industry.” He grimaced a little before pointing out, “but it’s not as ambitious or innovative as WeyTech, that I can guarantee.”

Burke flinched as One-One offered to check what was inside its body and then split in half without much more of a warning. “H-hey..!” he protested, pulling back a bit. A part of him had expected it to reveal a trapped facehugger inside but perhaps that had been his paranoia speaking. As it turned out, the shell was empty. “Think you could’ve warned me before you popped in half like that?” Burke asked, looking a little queasy from the surprise. His anxiety soon faded as the cheerful half pulled off a poor imitation of eating.

“So there’s no creature inside, no hot dog meat either,” he said thoughtfully, chuckling a bit. “How the hell’d you compete?” At the introduction, he nodded. “So you’re name’s One, huh? I’m…” he paused to burp. ”I’m Burke. Carter Burke.” Burke looked at One-One sheepishly, hoping the little robot didn’t think the rude noise was somehow a part of his name. “Uh…” He suddenly turned around to face the bushes, which had rustled from behind.
“Is there somebody watching us?”

 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
55
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Race
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
"Hehehe, death of the party, more like."

There it was AGAIN.

That sweet sound, that heavenly choir!
The innocent laughter of a thousand rosy-faced angels...!!

And it was all for that accursed Hot Dog Man.

Oh, Scaramouche was fuming, the android seeing red. His temperature spiked hotter than the surface of the sun, his oil pumped faster than the fastest man (not something to brag about on dates), his ceramic teeth gnashing, and clashing, and -- !! ...Wait, what else rhymes with 'gnashing' and 'clashing'? Ah, that's right, 'thrashing'. His ceramic teeth gnashing, and clashing, and thrashing!! And he did all of this from his lovely, very-quick-very-spontaneous vacation rental in the giant boxwood nestled conveniently behind baby 'bot and Mr. Man Person.

“Uh… Is there somebody watching us?”

Not 'somebody', Mr. Man Person!
But 'what'.

And the 'what' was currently running your weaselly likeness through a comprehensive database of murder.

Shall it be every hit man's favorite necktie? Nothing says 'classy' like a garrote wire!
Should it be a furtive love tap to the right kidney? Can't go wrong with spontaneous organ failure!

Or should it be something worse?

Something so heinous, so unspeakably vile, that not even the vaunted likes of history's most notorious contract killers would dare employ such a wicked act? It was, after all, unspeakably vile (and 'vile' shuffled around spells 'evil'). Surely the angel of mercy would take pity on Carter J. Burke this day...?

"Heeey...! Rude! Is that just something people do here? Yank things out of others' hands? ...Nubs?"

Ha ha, no.

No, because Mr. Burke did the truly most despicable thing of all.

He.
Took.
One-One's.
Rattle.

And that was plenty enough reason to muller a guy, honest to Bob.

"FORBIDDEN TECHNIQUE: A THOUSAND PATHS TO PAAAAAIIIIN!!"

Divine retribution came in with a crash of thunder -- bold, unrepentant, and with a complete disregard for the eardrums of others.
It came flying wildly out of the boxwood like the furies themselves -- swift, absolute, and (not to toot his own horn, but...) fairly well-dressed.

But, most of all, it came decisively --

Swooooosh!!
...Plunk! Noot noot!!

Moist.

Consider one Wet Willy of Fatherly Justice, administered.

"Is this walkin', talkin', toy-stealin' weenie-bo-beenie botherin' ya, pumpkin~?" Enter daddy 'bot, and he looked none too pleased at the sight of a certain fellow whose name starts with 'C' and ends with 'deadski'. The towering automaton loomed there, menacingly (well, he definitely wasn't here to sell cookies!), and wore a toothy, open-mouthed grin. He also reached for the noisemaker, those pinprick optics trained upon the whites of Mr. Man Person's eyes, and casually offered it back to the diminutive One-One as if to say, 'I dare ya. I double-dog dare ya. I triplety-diplety-dippy-dog dare ya.'

Well, King of Franks?
What say you to this proverbial wiener joust?


Mama Mia! Papa Pia! Baby's got the...!!
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
45
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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“Yeah? Well my mother isn’t like everybody else’s. Too bad, huh?”

"That is too bad!" Glad-One gasped, his tone honestly distressed at the mere idea of a mum not being quite so pleasant. Just as quick as he was to become upset, however, the little robot did a quick turn around as he nudged at one of Carter's hands. Much like a dog! "I'd offer to share my mum with you, but, uh... She's... missing. But that's okay! I think you would like her, she's very comfortable. Soothing too!" A robot with a parent? It's more likely than you think! Particularly with such a... special little 'bot.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you gotta tell yourself to make it easier." Sad-One droned before suddenly making a soft displeased beep at the poke. "Myeh...!" His nubs batted once at the man's finger before the depressed half of One-One seemed to be drained of any fight. "Maybe I would, but I don't think I can store anything inside of myself..."

"Well, never say never! Perhaps we've just never tried in the past!" Glad-One retorted with a chirp, much to his twin's chagrin.

"Eh, I'd rather not even try. We don't even know what our innards are made of." And knowing his other half, the goober would try to store things like cake and balloons inside! Uncomfortable and, mind you, lame things!

“You know, you were making me sick, with all of that noise,”

"Actually, I don't know that. Because I'm not a mind reader." If Carter was searching for sympathy, he would not find it from Sad-One. He perked at his full height (which wasn't much) and gave a huff as he continued. "I'unno, maybe if you had more to complain about, we could complain together." Misery indeed loves company, on that note Mr. Burke had the little robot pegged.

"Was I really making you sick?" Now here was where Burke's plight would find the perfect audience, Glad-One's optics quirking into a furrowed expression, narrowed with concern. "I'm sorry about that, I didn't realize that could happen! Sounds, making people sick... Is that a people thing. Does your tummy have a direct connection to the little...flappy flaps on your head that you hear with?" Sweet as he was, the little dope was perhaps straying a little off-topic. Even the robot seemed to realize it, as he switched gears and stared up at the man with wibbly optics. "Could you give me my toy back, please? My daddy won it for me, and I don't want him to think I've lost it already! I'll be really good, and I won't make a peep! Pinky swear!" Behold, the pinky! ...Alright, obviously his little appendages didn't possess any fingers at all, but he still sounded genuine as he raised one of his fore-nubs towards the man.

Stark, WeyTech. Both of them big companies, neither of which One-One had ever heard of before! Not a grand feat, that. Both halves were fascinated, though their thoughts were derailed as their singular body split into two and startled their new friend! He pulled back and had a look upon his face as if the duo had whipped out a pair of guns rather than just splitting themselves into halves! An... interesting response, and not what they were used to. Sad-One scoffed, his singular optic deadpan and skeptical. "Oh, right. Warn you, huh...? Like you warned me before taking away my toy?"

"Don't be rude!" Glad-One skittered to his twin, leaning on him and pressing him even further against the wooden bench. His twin offered no protest aside from a long suffering sigh. "What we mean to say, is that I didn't realize that might startle you! We'll warn you next time!" He giggled softly, offering his best shrug. "I'unno! Nobody turned us away, so... I just did my best!" The man gave his name, pausing to make an odd little sound that elicited another giggle from the robot. "Nice to meet you, Carter Burke!"

“Is there somebody watching us?”

"Is this walkin', talkin', toy-stealin' weenie-bo-beenie botherin' ya, pumpkin~?"

Before either half could offer up an answer, a figure came springing from the bushes like a demented Jack-In-The-Box! Oh horror, oh woe! Carter didn't stand a chance. As the man's ear was given a swift Wet Willy, One-One's respective optics widened as they realized who had come to their 'rescue'. And, at the question... gave conflicting answers.

"Nope!"
"Yes."

Helpful. Before the two could fight over their different answers, both of their optics became round and affixed to their lost toy! As soon as it was in range for them to take, Glad-One was the one to grab for it. "Aaah...! Thank you so much, daddy!" Remembering his promise to Carter earlier, the little robot didn't return to making obnoxious sounds with it and instead tucked it close to his hemispherical body protectively. He nestled against it and even let out a soft thrum. "I missed you, Debbie."

Begrudgingly, as he knew Scaramouche would be itching for an actual answer, the depressed half sighed to himself. "Well, now that we've got our toy back, I guess we can let bygones be bygones. Though I still think he's rude."

"Where've you been, Daddy? Were you hiding in the bushes all this time?! You really got me, you know, I thought you were a cougar!" One that still smelled faintly of hot dog. Glad-One waved at the taller robot with a nub, patting the bench. "Come, sit! Sit with us and our friend! Those bushes can't be comfy!"
 

Carter J. Burke

Alien
The Company Man
Posts
379
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Centria
Age
30
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Male
Race
Human
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Director (Weyland Technologies)
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Lawful Evil
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Dating Clara Oswin Oswald
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While Burke did think that the bipolar sphere on legs had been kind to offer sharing its ‘mother’ - whatever it’d meant by that - he wasn’t feeling very up for discussing anybody’s maternal figure at the moment, or ever. Being soothed and comforted sounded nice regardless, but he suspected he needed something slightly different than another robot, person, or robot person to quell the upset in his stomach. “You know, what I could really do with right now is a bottle of Tums,” he said in response, barely managing a smile. He may not have felt his best, but the round little thing did amuse him to a certain degree. Or at least, it’s cheerful personality did.

The sad one seemed to hope for him to feel worse, and if it was trying to succeed in ailing him, it was doing quite well. “Trust me, you don’t want me feeling any worse than I already am.” Burke argued, giving a sigh. “‘Cause if I have to puke, there’s a very good chance I’ll be facing your direction.” He didn’t expect he’d have to hurl any time soon, but all the same he didn’t want to take too many more chances. “Yeah, it’s...it’s a people thing,” he added, noticing the robot’s personality had switched back to happy. “Too many snacks in here,” he patted his overfilled belly, “make us sick. And if these,” he gestured to an ear, “hear too much noise, it can make our heads hurt. Give somebody a sick stomach and a hurting head and...well, it’s not a pretty sight.”

He stared wearily at One-One as its chipper voice pleaded for the noisemaker, and he would have considered returning it if he hadn’t been distracted by the mention of its dad. “Your father, huh?” he mused aloud, proceeding to watch as the robot’s two personalities began to squabble. It was right when he was about to forfeit and return the toy that the aforementioned parent showed itself. Burke jumped a bit, startled as the android popped out from the bushes, poked his slippery, wet finger into his ear and then stared him down. Quickly, he moved his hand away from the noise-making toy and allowed the humanoid machine to give it back to One-One, all while eyeing the former nervously.

“Hey, hey. What was that for? I’m not the one bothering anybody here,” Burke barked defensively, pulling away about an inch or two as the tall robot had a bit of an intimidating look on its face. “I take it that’s him, that’s your father,” he assumed, glancing over to One-One and hoping the optimistic voice would answer him. Returning his fatigued gaze back to Scaramouche, he added, “Your uh, your son was making a hell of a lot of noise with that thing, and the racket was starting to nauseate me.” Burke paused for a moment to examine the android’s frightening features. “Hey, you were in that competition too, huh?”

At the talkative little sphere’s proposal for its dear old dad to occupy the empty spot on the bench, Burke made a faint humming sound. “Mm.” As much as he wanted to speak out against the idea, he feared doing so would somehow have no positive effect and end up putting him in an even more discomforting situation.

 
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Scaramouche

Samurai Jack
The Assassin with the Sassin'
Posts
55
Location
Anywhere the wind blows
Race
Android
Occupation
"Problem" Solver
Alignment
Chaotic Neutral
“Hey, hey. What was that for? I’m not the one bothering anybody here."

The taller machine narrowed his optics eeever so slightly. "Riiiiiiight, and I'm a fluffy bunny..." came a low, dulcet grrrowl. Mm, mm, mm... It seems manners were severely lacking among the citizenry on Pandora.

"Yeah, that's right, Einstein," Scaramouche quipped sourly, not laying off the edge, "and you snatched my lil' schizo's toy without askin'. What, think yourself too good for common decency?" He then drew close -- real close -- almost to the point where Carter's nose made a lil' kiss with anodized metal. "Or d'ya think yourself too good for a robot?" Dun dun dun... The android snapped his teeth -- CLACK!! -- the teeth that could grind bone to make his bread, and felt his point humbly made.

"Where've you been, Daddy? Were you hiding in the bushes all this time?! You really got me, you know, I thought you were a cougar! Come, sit! Sit with us and our friend! Those bushes can't be comfy!"

What d'ya know? Carter was saved by the baby.

The baby he bullied.

"All right, all right, I'm comin'! Don't get your wires tied in a knot, sheesh." The feeling was mutual; Scaramouche wanted to share the same space with the slimeball as much as he wanted to violently jettison all the chewed-up hot dog bits, shredded buns, and cups of muddied ketchup/mustard mix churning in his consumption tank all over Carter's face. Alllll over, baby. Fortunately for the corporate suit, the android was impulsive only on Sundays.

Oh wait.

Anywho! Baby 'bot requested his parental unit sit, so that's precisely what baby 'bot's parental unit was going to do. Albeit grotesquely, as One-One's colorful guardian had a knack for mischief. Hm, must be the scarf.

Cr-r-r...
C-Crrr...
...Crack!


Like a malformed creature out of the worst horror films, Scaramouche crawled his way from the bushes to the bench as a mass of tangled limbs and contorting body parts -- all while keeping his head perfectly leveled with Carter's. Fairly certain the humanoid physique wasn't supposed to bend that way, but he was an android of uncertain model and make, so... In any event, he finally sat, placing One-One snugly upon his lap, and reached deeeep, deep down to find the one kernel of hospitality Scaramouche didn't even know he had.

"Yeah, I competed," he sniffed, not looking Carter in his beady lil' eyes. That's how the man would've stolen his soul, should Scaramouche been organic. Or swindled him into purchasing an overpriced vacuum cleaner. Whichever came first. "Don't think the judges knew where to sort me, so I went toe-to-toe with the best of those sausage-slurpin' freaks. Same for my lil' goober, here. I'm kinda amazed they even let us participate, if I'm gonna be on the level with ya."

Ugh, making small talk with a rat... Felt mildly comforting.​
 

One-One

Infinity Train
The Ball of Mixed Emotions
Posts
45
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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"Oh, Tums! What a curious word that is, Tums! Tums, Tums, Tums~!" He had no idea what Carter would have wanted with whatever Tums was, but at least he gave the robot a new word to say! Glad-One continued to hum the new word, bouncing in place eagerly. He had been successfully distracted from the 'mommy' subject.

"Eew..." Sad-One grumbled, eyeballing the man with obvious disgust in his voice. "That's gross. You're gross." Oh yeah, he was judging you, pal. What kind of freak considers vomiting on people?! Guh... What a terrible feature in an organic. "I'm just going to ignore you and think about the sweet release of death instead." He insisted with a derisive little sniff, flattening himself against the bench and looking as if he might not move anytime soon!

'Tums' had at last worn out its welcome, the happy side of One-One shifting to watch Carter attentively as he explained his ails. Too much food made people sick, and too much noise gave people migraines! Put it together and it was apparently not a pretty picture. "Oh goodness! That's quite strange, innit? Why have an eating contest if it makes people get upset tummies, then? For that matter, why take part in it if you might get an achey tum?" Even a broken clock is right twice a day, and occasionally the little ditz that was One-One might actually bring up a good point! Why did people subjugate themselves to potential pain like that?

A philosophical debate for another time. For now, daddy had made his grand return, much to the joy of both halves of One-One! Yes, even Sad-One was a little more energetic, as he shifted to actually stand on his nubs. "Yeah, you're definitely a fluffy bunny, dad. Too bad those were hot dogs instead of carrots. By the way, who're you calling schizo...?"

"Yep, that's my daddy!" Glad-One proudly proclaimed before he reared back onto his rear nubs. His 'arm' nubs reached up towards the robot with a soft grunt. He let out a gleeful sound as Scaramouche assured him that he was coming. The taller robot moved about in a most strange way, like a spider! Despite the odd way his limbs were twisting, his head stayed the same all the way! One-One knew the movements were wrong, and yet he found it entertaining rather than disturbing. "I didn't know you were a gymnast! 10/10, daddy!"

"Eh, I give you three stars out of five. Coulda used a flip."

Once daddy sat himself down, he scooped up both of the robots and settled them down upon his lap. The two each let out a soft thrumming coo of a sound, nestling onto his lap comfortably. Glad-One kept himself balanced upon the robot's legs so that he could still talk and interact, while Sad-One seemed to press his face firmly against the robot's jacket. If it were at all possible, he would have retreated inside of the jacket to hide. Perhaps only peeking out of the neck hole? Hm, something to consider in the future when things were less tense.

"I think you got farther than I did in the competition, daddy!" He was also able to actually consume the food too, putting him at a real advantage! The little dummy bunched the fabric of his dad's coat together carefully, kneading into it and subtly hiding his little toy within the folds. The action kept him distracted for the moment when a thought suddenly hit him with all the subtlety of a falling anvil. "Oh! Oh, oh, oh! Daddy! I got intel, daddy!" He whirled around the face the looming face of Scaramouche, Glad-One's optic squinted excitedly. "Mr. Carter was telling us earlier about tech industries here in Pandora! One named Stark, and one named Weytech!" Dear old dad had been doing the leg work for a while to dig up more information about this place, and for once One-One had managed to unearth a wee nugget of information! To say the little ding dong was proud of himself would be an understatement.
 

Carter J. Burke

Alien
The Company Man
Posts
379
Location
Centria
Age
30
Gender
Male
Race
Human
Occupation
Director (Weyland Technologies)
Alignment
Lawful Evil
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Dating Clara Oswin Oswald
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link
Organizer
link
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link

The cheerful half of One might have been having fun with his little antacid inspired mantra, but it was unfortunately at Burke’s expense. He rubbed his forehead as if to try and fend off the headache even though he figured that getting one would be ultimately inevitable. “Chanting the word Tums counts for making a lot of noise,” he warned Glad-One, a groan accompanying his words. It was too bad that his stomach was already giving him so much grief, as a headache to go with it would likely end up making him feel unbearably ill.

He was a little nauseated as is, but he didn’t really want to give the depressed half of the little bot something else to complain about. The somber fellow showed no restraint in citing how disgusting he was for suggesting he might have to throw up. “Yeah? Well, maybe you can tell Mr. Bright Side over there to keep his voice down. Trust me, I’m doing all I can to keep everything down, myself.”

Luckily, the optimistic side of the bot had moved on to ask about the purpose of an eating competition in a much less noisy way. “It’s done for cash, for bragging rights,” Burke answered, sighing as he recalled just why he’d entered. “It wasn’t my plan to take part in this, not initially, I knew it would be too much. But seeing the look on my old pal Hudson’s face, watching him pull out first...guess you could say that it’s worth the hurt.”

Scaramouche’s rude interruptions were making it difficult to continue thinking positively, however. He could handle a talking bipolar sphere but three eccentric personalities around him was one too many. The lanky bot’s finger-to-the-ear technique had worsened his headache, and so was his awful, obnoxious voice. “You know, keeping the commotion down is a common decency,” Burke retorted, pulling away a bit as the android brought its face closer to his. “And the same goes for not hurling in public, which I’m having a hell of a time trying to accomplish.”

It looked as if everything was working against him and his miserable feeling stomach regardless, as again without warning he was forced to witness another unexpected robotic transformation. Burke made a muffled gagging sound at the unpleasant sight of Scaramouche’s grotesque contortions, and he averted his eyes from the wreck of limbs as it crawled over to take a spot next to him on the bench. He may have seen far worse things, but being surprised like that while he was feeling unwell was a little hard to handle. “Mmph. What is with you synthetics not dealing out warnings when they’re most needed, huh?”

While he kept his gaze on the sidewalk ahead of him instead of his robotic acquaintances, Burke didn’t try to tune them out as he figured doing so would be impossible. He listened as the tall one bragged about being lumped in with the ‘supers’ even though he hadn’t won, and the chipper half of One was acting all impressed about it as well. “Yeah, I thought I’d seen your ug...your mug before,” Burke remarked, stopping himself from calling the android ugly just in time.

Glad-One’s sudden enthusiasm about the tech industry perked him up a bit. “Look, forget I mentioned Stark. If you need repairs, new software, upgraded hardware...WeyTech is the place you’ll wanna be. We’ve got state-of-the-art technology and we’re not afraid to use it. For example, your schizoid personality could…” His voice trailed off as he caught sight of a ten year old boy walking past them, munching on a hot dog. “Ohh...I was really hoping not to see or smell another one of those today,” Burke mumbled, his features twisting into that of a grimace. “I know it’s a long shot but you wouldn’t happen to have a bottle Tums on hand, would ya?” His question was aimed at Scaramouche, but he’d be equally pleased if the one of the halves of One had any medicine to give just as well.

 

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...Man, I'm old xD
So ah...how do you ask somebody you haven't known for a long time to be friends with you...?
Posts will be short due to being written on the phone. No internet outside of that, but my unannounced hiatus is finally over!

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