06-02-2008, 05:10 AM
A sigh escaped the android’s lips as he tilted back the bottle and downed another lengthy swig. As the last of the bitter liquid poured down the back of his mouth, Seventeen let out a grunt and threw the bottle off the side of the rooftop. With a childish glee, the cybernetic warrior leaned forward and watched the fifth of tequila hit the ground and shatter into a thousand pieces, each twinkling softly in the every increasing sunlight.
Somewhere high above Seventeen’s unkempt head of hair, the womanish voice of Karl Jak echoed forth—spreading the news of the last six hours to the participants. Within the first few seconds of the man’s speech, the machine-hybrid found his attention waning, and a heartbeat later, he completely blocked out the excessively loud voice of the petite, feminine host. Lurching forward, the cyborg stumbled against the concrete wall that served as a barrier for anyone foolish enough to try and walk of a rooftop.
Unfortunately for the android, the lovely brown elixir that he had chugged was burning through his veins, supplying him with an endless arsenal of idiotic ideas and moronic thoughts. Strangely enough, however, the hissing, venomous voice at the back of his mind remained stern and coherent even as Seventeen’s own thoughts blurred and began to run together like a wet painting splashed with a cup of turpentine.
“I need to shank some bitches,” the android gurgled, his breath rancid and his words a heap of incoherent slurs. With a grunt, the machine-hybrid twisted his upper body and began forward, or at least that’s what he was trying to do before his equilibrium crumbled like a superheated I-beam. “Fuckshitcock!” Seventeen groaned before smacking the unyielding graveled floor of the rooftop.
How do you expect to win if you can’t walk? For the first time in a while, the rasping voice in the android’s mind was making some sort of sense. You really are just a silly little man, aren’t you? With that, the disembodied voice began to laugh—a haughty, condescending cackle that stung at the cyborg’s numb brain. Rolling his eyes even as the laughter continued, Seventeen dragged himself from the rock laden rooftop.
Although his jeans and battle armor had absorbed the majority of the impact, the android’s hands had been punctured in a few places by the bevy of small stones. The minor pained was an irritant at best, and despite the noise in his head, Seventeen managed to stumble forward and make his way to the roof access door. Reaching into his pocket as he lurched and swayed, the android fished out another cigarette and light it with a flick of his lighter.
By the time the machine-hybrid collapsed through the front door of the relatively tall building, the sun had climbed high above the skyline and was nearly at a forty-five degree angle. All around the white hot ball of gas and fire, the sky came to life as tendrils of light crept further and further across the world that lie above the android’s head. Despite the burning sensation that he felt staring at it, Seventeen could not deny that the sun was quite majestic.
The machine-hybrid, however, had bigger problems to deal with than stellar observations. As he stared up at the giant star, something in his stomach churned the wrong way—prompting the already depleted reservoir of color in the android’s face to drain away. An open mouth frown spread across Seventeen’s countenance as his knees started to wobble beneath the weight of his lithe frame. From the android’s trembling lip, his cigarette fell in slow motion before hitting the ground and bursting apart into ash and unburnt nicotine. With a final groan, he dropped to his hands and knees—his face taking on a light green hue as he began to retch.
“Bollocks,” Seventeen shouted before open his maw and screaming a volatile mixture of tequila, Mountain Dew, and Twinkies onto the cold pavement.
Nice. I’m sure that all the other competitors will curl up and die from sheer horror of your projectile vomit. The internal voice snickered, sounding just as snide and condescending as always.
“Oh sod off,” the android groaned, wiping his lips clean before another wave or vomit burst up from the hellish abyss that was his stomach. “Arrogant, disembodied nancy boy…”
Somewhere high above Seventeen’s unkempt head of hair, the womanish voice of Karl Jak echoed forth—spreading the news of the last six hours to the participants. Within the first few seconds of the man’s speech, the machine-hybrid found his attention waning, and a heartbeat later, he completely blocked out the excessively loud voice of the petite, feminine host. Lurching forward, the cyborg stumbled against the concrete wall that served as a barrier for anyone foolish enough to try and walk of a rooftop.
Unfortunately for the android, the lovely brown elixir that he had chugged was burning through his veins, supplying him with an endless arsenal of idiotic ideas and moronic thoughts. Strangely enough, however, the hissing, venomous voice at the back of his mind remained stern and coherent even as Seventeen’s own thoughts blurred and began to run together like a wet painting splashed with a cup of turpentine.
“I need to shank some bitches,” the android gurgled, his breath rancid and his words a heap of incoherent slurs. With a grunt, the machine-hybrid twisted his upper body and began forward, or at least that’s what he was trying to do before his equilibrium crumbled like a superheated I-beam. “Fuckshitcock!” Seventeen groaned before smacking the unyielding graveled floor of the rooftop.
How do you expect to win if you can’t walk? For the first time in a while, the rasping voice in the android’s mind was making some sort of sense. You really are just a silly little man, aren’t you? With that, the disembodied voice began to laugh—a haughty, condescending cackle that stung at the cyborg’s numb brain. Rolling his eyes even as the laughter continued, Seventeen dragged himself from the rock laden rooftop.
Although his jeans and battle armor had absorbed the majority of the impact, the android’s hands had been punctured in a few places by the bevy of small stones. The minor pained was an irritant at best, and despite the noise in his head, Seventeen managed to stumble forward and make his way to the roof access door. Reaching into his pocket as he lurched and swayed, the android fished out another cigarette and light it with a flick of his lighter.
By the time the machine-hybrid collapsed through the front door of the relatively tall building, the sun had climbed high above the skyline and was nearly at a forty-five degree angle. All around the white hot ball of gas and fire, the sky came to life as tendrils of light crept further and further across the world that lie above the android’s head. Despite the burning sensation that he felt staring at it, Seventeen could not deny that the sun was quite majestic.
The machine-hybrid, however, had bigger problems to deal with than stellar observations. As he stared up at the giant star, something in his stomach churned the wrong way—prompting the already depleted reservoir of color in the android’s face to drain away. An open mouth frown spread across Seventeen’s countenance as his knees started to wobble beneath the weight of his lithe frame. From the android’s trembling lip, his cigarette fell in slow motion before hitting the ground and bursting apart into ash and unburnt nicotine. With a final groan, he dropped to his hands and knees—his face taking on a light green hue as he began to retch.
“Bollocks,” Seventeen shouted before open his maw and screaming a volatile mixture of tequila, Mountain Dew, and Twinkies onto the cold pavement.
Nice. I’m sure that all the other competitors will curl up and die from sheer horror of your projectile vomit. The internal voice snickered, sounding just as snide and condescending as always.
“Oh sod off,” the android groaned, wiping his lips clean before another wave or vomit burst up from the hellish abyss that was his stomach. “Arrogant, disembodied nancy boy…”
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