taichara

Two months.  It had taken two months of promises, and wheedling, and dodging shots -- two whole months of interrupted research when he could have been adding even more stars to the Astronomical Catalogue -- but in the end, Galaxy Man had won. Of course, it helped that every time the holidays rolled around, the Doctors wound up calling some kind of unofficial truce or other, and this year was no exception; but even with knowing about the upcoming truce in advance, it took real effort to pull off this idea. Not just the actual negotiations, either, although those were the most complicated portion by far.  No, once he'd finally gotten the targ

High atop one of Monsteropolis' gleaming towers ... a conversation was being had. A very loud conversation. More of an argument, really -- "You're crazy, old man.  I'm not gonna do it." 'Crazy' didn't even feel like strong enough a word for what Forte was thinking right that second.  More like 'You are finally terminally glitching and I should put you out of my misery just for suggesting something that stupid'.  Glowering under the lip of his helmet's crest at the smirking Blues (and didn't he want to just put an eight-way shooter through that knowing face right now, gawd), he crossed his arms and snorted, echoed by Gospel's whrrf of anno

A very useful place, the World Outside The World was; in the formless aether one could find shining paths between existences, the not-crystals of power itself ... and countless land-drifts, glassy and promising some future existence. One of those very drifts, resembling a broad, smooth plain of polished obsidian, was currently the focus of far more activity than the World Outside The World normally experienced.  Chuckling to himself, Nightsilver paced out a broad, wide arena -- scratching the lines into the "glass" with claw and antler -- and, with the task completed, shifted to a more humanoid shape just in time for his counterpart to arriv

New Year's Salute "But what --" For the last twenty minutes and more Enker had followed at Punk's heels like a spiky golden-blue -- and very annoying -- yappy dog.  For those same last twenty minutes and more Punk had stubbornly ignored him, making the trip back and forth from the storage basement to the highest tower of Wily's newest Skull Fortress (without teleporting, even) dragging what were obviously explosives of some kind.  Just what kind, Enker had no idea -- which was why he was trying to drag the information out of his fellow Killer. Really, it was beginning to reach embarrassing levels of failure.  The last thing Enker needed wa

"I can't believe I let the two of you talk me into this --" "I don't know, Blues, I'd kind of like to think it took less talking you into it and more that you did really kind of want to do it, you just didn't want to come right out and say it --" The *SNAP* of a damp dishtowel cracked through the air between them, startling Rock backwards against the countertop, wide-eyed, as Blues tossed his unruly forelock out of his face with a snort and went back to the maddeningly mundane task of washing dishes.  'Big brother' made no attempt to hide his amused little smile, either, which did nothing to sweeten Roll's growing irritation.  Threatening