lieutenantantichrist | [6] Action for Violet/Everywhere [Fourth Wall Event]

[6] Action for Violet/Everywhere [Fourth Wall Event]

[Blake is in his apartment minding his own business when there's a flash of light.]

When it fades, nothing seems different for a minute. All's normal and as it should be, everything in its place. After a second, it sinks in. There's something that's been out of place for months, and all of a sudden the feeling of nakedness is gone.]

[He pats his side, and there's the good, reassuring weight of his gun, right where it should be. He takes it out to give it a look over, and it's exactly as he remembers it. He puts it back and feels more himself than he has since he got to this damn place.]

[That's when he notices there's a lot of strange noises outside.]

[Blake opens the door and steps out.]

[He takes a good look at around.]

[He thinks it over.]

Nope.

[He turns around to go back inside.]

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[Blake winces when a voice blares out of some speakers. Wait a minute, he remembers that dumb name.]

[He looks up. And up. And up.]

[He is going to have to deal with this piece by piece.]

That doesn't look anything like a dog.

[...That is actually a very good point.]

The name wasn't my idea, to be honest. But I didn't have any other suggestions, so it stuck.

[There was also the small matter of being in a coma when it was named, but details.]

[This is tough to have a conversation with. Blake's head is craned up.]

[His brain keeps throwing itself against it and bouncing back.]

[One part sinks in.]

It's big.

[Blake's drawn closer. He finds himself in front of a wall of metal.]

[He taps on it with his knuckles.]

[Clang.]

[His face spasms, then quickly settles to distant bemusement.]

Huh.

[That's okay, he can help with that!

...By sitting his robot down in the middle of the street. Sorry, pedestrians!]

It's one of the lighter custom suits, actually. Can't dodge quickly if you're too heavy to move.

[The ground shakes and Blake's nearly knocked off his feet.]

[He reaches out and steadies himself on something cold and metal.]

[Slowly, slowly, a general impression trickles through.]

....robot.

...I guess they don't make them so large in your time. Mobile suits are a few centuries old, but I don't know the exact year of their creation. Some point between us, then.

[Probably closer to his than Blake's, if that shock is any indication.]

[numbly] Don't make a lot of robots at all. In my time.

[no such thing as time travel no such thing as time travel Blake needs to sit down.]

[He hits the ground and leans back against the wall of the thing's instep.]

[...Okay, that doesn't look good.

After a few seconds, the chest hatch carefully opens and Ash's head pokes out. He's wearing his normal clothes instead of a pilot suit thankfully.]

Are you alright?

[Blake waves his hand at him without looking.]

Fine. Never been better.

Giant robots. So...that's a real thing. Gotta be. It's right there.

[Carter doesn't sound like he's wholly convinced, or like he wants to be.]

...You can think of it as a customized fighter jet if you want. It wouldn't be too far from the truth anyway.

[Since the giant robot part is obviously the problem.]

Seriously, you look like you need coffee or a drink.

[He tries that. He tries very, very hard.] Yeah. Just...different technology. They've probably got plans already in a basement in DC.

[It's starting to work, right up until he takes another glance at the thing looming over him, all shining metal.]

[He swallows. The way his head is craning back makes his adam's apple jump distinctly.]

[in a small voice that might not carry through the thing, who knows how this shit works] Both would be good.

That wouldn't be too surprising, if half of what I've heard about mobile suit history is true.

[But obviously talking about mobile suit history won't help, so he just jump down from the cockpit. It closes itself once he's safely on the ground.]

Coffee first. Falling asleep in the middle of this chaos sounds more and more like a bad idea.

[And it might be. That's what shakes Blake worst.]

[The thing spits out Ash like a sunflower seed. Blake's eyes follow him down until he's right beside him, looking the same as ever, except in the shadow of a giant fucking impossible machine.]

[Talking to a human instead of up at that thing is a relief.]

Believe me, that's the one thing I'm not worried about.

Don't be so sure of that. I flew over a small army of Oddishes a while back, and they were quite generous with their Sleep Powder.

[What he does not mention is that those Oddishes were in Blackthorn. It would be relevant information, certainly, but it probably wouldn't help.]

[Blake groans] Getting roofied by radishes would be the normallest fucking thing to happen today.

How about that drink?

It sounds better by the second. Come on, there has to be a bar or a convenience store out there that still has a cashier at work...

[He takes out one of his pokéballs, and out comes a Staraptor.]

...And as long as it exists, Princess can definitely find it.

[with a hint of desperation as he goes to follow] There'd better be.

[He has to work his way around the walls made by the...giant robot's...legs. He tries to think of them as just walls.]

You just gonna...leave this thing sitting out here? [Biting back a sudden hysterical urge to laugh] You'd better lock it. The neighborhood's gone to hell lately.

[Despite everything, Blake gives Ash a look when he pulls out the pokemon.]

'Princess'?

...You know, that's a good idea. No one should be able to make it work without the proper permissions, but if anyone manages to hack into the weapon systems...

[He climbs back up to do just that, though he still leaves it in the middle of the road. It's not like he has a handy barn or hangar nearby.]

She acts like one. Decided that she was going to be the spoiled member of the team, and resists all of my attempts to change that.

[She even nods proudly at that.]

Weapons. Yeah. Can't have a giant robot that can't wreck a city. [He looks up, and up.] Is that a sword?

[His gun isn't as much of a comfort as it was a minute ago.]

Giant robot and a bratty bird.

Whatever anyplace has to drink, I'm gonna need all of it.

Two beam saber, one DODS lancer, two beam vulcans and two anchor shots. The flash eye doesn't count. Not a particularly powerful suit, but it's usually enough.

[That is apparently news to Princess, because she's now backing away from the Gundam, in Blake's general direction.]

You might have to fight to fight half the region for it, at this point.

No idea what most of that is, but if that's the light model, I don't want to see the tanks.

[You've got the right idea, bird.]

Shit. If this is the kind of competition out there, maybe this place taking weapons away isn't such a bad thing.

[He strikes out toward where there used to be someplace to get a drink, though who the hell knows now.]

[with absolute, fervent honesty] I would.

I admit, between the mobile suits and the people who claim they can set people on fire with their minds, I'd be more than a little worried if I just had a gun or knife on me.

[The apparent lack of worry about the 'tanks' being both deliberate and genuine.

He comes back down once more.]

Lead the way, then. I can throw a few chairs if I have to.

Worried. That's one way to put it.

[shaken down to your goddamn boots that they exist in the first place is another.]

[he winces] There's people who say that, too? Just what we need, something out of Carrie.

[A movie that had come out when Carter was a little kid and scared the shit out of him.]

[He heads toward the nearest bar. At least, where the nearest bar was yesterday.]

Hell, do that and I'll forgive you parking the robot on my front lawn.

At least it works as a warning, just in case they're actually saying the truth.

[He'd rather know someone can set him on fire before that person actually does so, though he'd be even happier if it didn't happen at all.]

...I guess it's in the way, huh. I'll move it once we've had a drink or six and the time to get over them.

Staying the hell away from everybody sounds like a good plan right now. I don't have any robots.

[Blake's goal becomes get through this day sane and don't get set on fire. They both sound a lot more difficult than they did when he got up this morning.]

Don't make me give you a ticket for drunk robot driving.

[At least the bar looks normal enough. Blake orders shots and takes one immediately, because fuck this earth.]

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