[center][img]https://img.roleplayerguild.com/prod/users/019aaa43-443f-73a9-8b58-01c9b649cd96.webp[/img][/center][hr]Ducking through the corridors of Dufeel, Wade had eyes and ears out, dodging all the recent college grads and strippers of all shapes and sizes. Though the scents of the illicit threatened to drag him to and fro, he kept his eyes straight forward, only bobbing to the beat of music drifting after him a little bit. Shuffling into the entrance, he ignored a pair of programmers staring from their spot on the couch out into the space of the window with vacant expressions. One was vibrating, arms tucked around his head with a low hum coming from his mouth, Wade understanding the feeling of being so high you believe you’re a spaceship quite intimately. Docking by the desks where a number of bags were jumbled together, Wade snatched up a beige one with a Labubu keychain suspended from it, ripping it open and rifling around until he pulled out a small black brick and a beer bottle with liquid sloshing around inside.

Back on the prowl, in moments he was ducking out of sight as a pair excitedly chatted about some ‘phase two’ as they left the office area. Charging in from the other direction, he muttered, [color=e04e4c]“I’m a nice dude, with some nice dreams. See these ice cube fuck-”[/color] he gasped out as the door closed on his torso. Free to ignore the ID operated passlock, he grumbled, [color=e04e4c]“I’ve got to stop using that song.”[/color]

Pulling out the black brick, he flipped it into the air with a grin, only for it to slip from his hand and clatter to the ground. Offering a few more choice swear words as he scooped it back up, he went up to the nearest computer, slapping it to the side and turning a knob on the side. The nearby pens and paperclips rattled alongside the computer's innards before he turned the knob back, moving on to the next one and the next until the room had been cleared. Flipping it once again, he caught it before blowing a breath of air as though he was cooling down his pistol (when in truth, it was currently feeling rather claustrophobic and neglected). Jamming back into his pocket, he had one more stop making it to the server room in due time. Kicking through the small window, he reached in and unlocked the door proper. Taking out the bottle, cracked open and stoppered with a sliver of sleeve ripped from the hoodie, the whole mess smelled of turpentine. With a click of the lighter he’d pilfered moments ago, he sent the molotov flying, heat bursting out as flames came to take the poor baby AI to its robot hell. Taking in the smell of hot metal and molten plastic, he sighed, [color=e04e4c]“Fuck you, bunnies on a trampoline. You’ve hippity’ed your last hop.”[/color]

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

Wade turned to meet Richard Shodd’s panicked face with a wide, stiff smile. [color=e04e4c]“Hey Rick~ Is it hot in here or is it just me?”[/color] Turning to the flames he gasped, [color=e04e4c]“Oh darn! Oh gosh! How could this have happened? Stay away so the fumes don’t give you cancer.”[/color] Rick was already off to get the nearest fire extinguisher. As he was running back, Wade offered, [color=e04e4c]“Don’t do that now!”[/color] Wrestling it from his hands, he swung it against the nearby wall, the nozzle cracking off. Throwing it aside, the pressure let loose and it shot off down the hallway into the dark. Rick gawked in abject horror. Wade started moving backwards. [color=e04e4c]“Yeah a dude who looks like a car dragged him down a road of broken glass for eight miles in a pair pink hot pants burned down your server room that is [i]not[/i] up to fire code while you and your buddies are doing every drug in a ten mile radius. Call me Bill Murray bitch, because no one will ever believe you!”[/color] Rick gawked as Wade ran out of sight, his weak legs collapsing under the weight of a huge backstabbing tool.[hr]Slade didn’t even fucking flinch as Wade’s bare feet crossed the late evening pavement before a leap took him on a slide across the hood of some Craigslist ‘fixer upper’ of a sedan. Cracking open the door he jumped inside with a [color=e04e4c]“Woo!”[/color]

[color=f1930f]“Could you [i]try[/i] to be less conspicuous?”[/color] he moved to start the ignition, only for Wade to meet him dead in the eye, his stare unrelenting. He was quite sure cyclops glanced down to see his cobbled together outfit before shaking his silver haired head lightly. [color=f1930f]“Never mind.”[/color] Car starting up with the sounds of dying machinery, the two were on their way.

[color=f1930f]“How’d it go, little bro?”[/color]

[color=e04e4c]“Glad you asked!”[/color] Clapping his hands together, he began, [color=e04e4c]“As per the text message thread they accidentally let that New York Times journalist into-”[/color]

[color=f1930f]“Derek Day Richie, one of the good ones.”[/color]

[color=e04e4c]“Interrupt me again and I will have you turn this car around old man! Anyway, Derek gave you a heads up that Jack Hammer and friends had developed something good enough to pass as true AI, a deal being struck with Dufeel to pass it around to the world at large and ruin everything forever. So, you hatched the plan: posing as Derek, you would interview Richie Bitch for the purpose of smuggling my severed finger in, cutting it to refresh my regeneration and hiding it on the premises before sending me a message to pulp myself so I could regenerate in Dufeel by the time night rolled around. A night that was going to be full of all the debauchery a bunch of horned up bisexual college kids could imagine. From the messages, you knew that, and also that Jack ‘joked’ about burning the building down with a molotov to keep what he’d created from the world. So, you got to one of the strippers who was hired and paid them a fat stack- money too, to have them smuggle me a molotov and a super magnet in their bag, marked by that stupid bunny thing.”[/color]

[color=f1930f]“The Labubu was your idea.”[/color]

[color=e04e4c]“Damn right it was! But once I got my shit together, and the parts that hold the shit, I could use the magnet to fry all their work computers, use the molotov that only the people in that texting group knew about, and if anyone saw me it could be readily dismissed as drug induced hallucination. All in all, not complicated enough to warrant a big exposition dump sequence, but fuck it, we saved the fucking day, maybe the whole future. Your brains, my everything else, expect the car. That’s right! You know who the fuck we are? We’re-”[/color]

[color=4e849c]“THE WILSONS!”[/Color] The two cried in unison.

[color=e04e4c]“Fuck yeah!”[/color]

Slade shot him a side glance. [color=f1930f]“Can you keep it to yourself?”[/color]

Wade’s naked brow shot up. [color=e04e4c]“What? I thought we were getting along great just now!”[/color]

Slade turned to face him, lines on his face run with disappointment. [color=f1930f]“You’ve been muttering to yourself for the last five minutes, I’ve been filtering it out. Did you take something while you were in there?”[/color]

Wade, insides tumbling down like the lives of Richard Shodd and those of Dufeel, slumped back in his seat, dejected. [color=e04e4c]“[i]No[/i]. I fucking wish though. I didn’t eat anything either, can we get some McDonalds? I grew back with an empty stomach and if I don’t get a Dr. Pepper in the next thirty seconds I will probably pass out.”[/color]

Face stony as he took an unwanted turn, Slade said, [color=f1930f]“Next time you go through a woodchipper, eat first.”[/color][hr]The smell of smoke hung in the air, red and white lights flashing outside of what was only for a short time longer the headquarters of Dufeel. A gaggle of scared looking tech bros ran the whole spectrum of terrified, confused, drowsy, or head fucking empty while a collection of strippers took their steady leave, firefighters and police popping in and out.

Jack sat with his head trying to coddle his pounding head. His thoughts swam, only starting to come back when a foot found his back. Turning to see a frantic Rick, he only then realized he tried to kick him, because his arms were out as he tried to regain balance. “This is your fault!”

[color=bdaaac]“Yeah, it was. I trusted you. A mistake I won’t be making again.”[/color] Looking over the impotent raging little mad standing over him, Jack laughed, [color=bdaaac]“God you’re so fucked. I fucking [i]wish[/i] I had anything to do with this. You’re the one who didn’t want security cameras only to cry to the fucking cops the moment something went wrong.”[/color] Rick winced as the two glanced down the block, where Doug, their IT technician and peer at their school, was sitting on the curb and staring straight ahead while completely still. The cop questioning him stood over him with two others at his side, a few more buzzing about. Another cop cruiser parked on the other side of the street, because a dozen officers apparently wasn’t enough. One of them made a beeline for the group hovering around Doug. [color=bdaaac]“Was the guy you said you saw black?”[/color]

Embarrassed, Rick admitted, “He was bald. Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” Jack shrugged, and Rick shook his head before storming off. Slipping his hand into his pockets, he heard a crinkle, carefully drawing a piece of paper out and giving it a quizzical look. In the light of the emergency vehicles, he could barely make out the message: ‘Call me if you ever need a hand, or if anything goes to shit. Don’t worry about me, I keep it clean ;)’. Accompanying the message was a phone number, a drawing of an asterisk within a circle with a small heart nearby, and a flood of memories Jack and no desire to share with anyone. Another look made him realize the circle did not contain the asterisk, but rather when viewed in its entirety it was a butthole.