"...Daisy, Daisy..."TR-8C muttered as he walked, almost aimlessly throughout the landscape, the floor of the area shaded from the canopy of the massive trees overhead. Sauntering along, he started running system diagnostics, gauging his battery, checking his servos and joints; everything was fighting fit as far as his diagnostics could tell him. He did this about 4 times out of boredom...if there was ever a time that he wished for a skag to jump out of nowhere, it was-
"THE TEETH WON'T STOP RATTLING! THE TREES TELL ME TO MAKE THEM SING!" ...Psychos. Fuck. ING. PSYCHOS. If the scientists still had a monitor stuck inside, and he still had veins, they'd know that he was mad enough to pop a goddamn blood vessel! But, of course, steel and oil gives less opportunities for Aneurisms. Still, that psycho and his buddies were going to be paste in a few minutes. Or swiss cheese. Regardless of their future status, TR-8C held his left hand up and started shifting it, forming it into a DAHL spinnigun, then into a semi-auto pistol, almost like a luger, then back into his normal hand. "...Still taste the fucking raspberry..." was all he mumbled as he started walking.
Naturally, given that he was a half-ton robot walking through a forest floor littered with with dry leaves and twigs, it didn't take long before the psychos' apparently intact sense of hearing kicked in, and the first to notice the robot-man shouted: "I CAN TASTE THE OSTRICH ALREADY!" before charging at him, manically swinging his axe behind him as he approached. As he got within 4 feet of TR-8C, he did the obvious and took a swing at his head, though the only thing his axe met was cold, 3 inch thick steel in the form of a massive riot shield, easily 6 and a half feet tall, nearly causing the buzz-saw's blade to shatter. Which then smacked him in the face, knocking him clear across the forest floor into the trunk of a sizable tree. Before the psycho could even stand, TR-8C had already started sprinting full-speed, having digistructed the shield back into himself. Once he was close, he grabbed the psycho up by the mask, forcing him to cling onto it, letting go of his buzz-axe and kick his feet around in the air in an attempt to move out of the robot man's grasp, but to no avail. Leaning in close, TR-8C opened up the yellow visor to his helmet, and only showed the flat, grey, mouthless steel face beneath. His oral speaker simply said: "Thank you for shopping at DAHL industries, and remember: Keeping you alive is our best interest!" before taking a grenade and punching it through the psycho's mask, right into his mouth, and pulling the pin, before football tossing him at the other psychos who'd finally started running towards him. A satisfying KABOOM later, and he was already sifting through the giblets of the 4 bodies, wondering if any of their cash or guns had made it through.
RPM,
Professor Birch,
O O,
abcbcb,
Not a Sayan,
ppppppp,
Lunamaria Hawke,
Neziul,
pppp,
flat lovenote
