written by gru and lars - updates every friday

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March 31, 2017 10:45pm

Oh, god damn it.

Underestimating jumps like this can cost her life, yet she still takes the risk of doing so. A bit too much of the greasy, oily orange, and a bit too little of the elastic, thick blue. Her grip on the paint gun slips, leaving it ricocheting off a panel and landing just out of reach. Her chest slams hard into a platform hanging over a certain and highly corrosive death, leaving her out of breath with a wheezy “oof” sound.

No. Oh, oh no, no no no no.

She can’t get a hold on the panel, frantically clawing at the surface, smearing it with paint as she continues slipping down towards the edge until her hands, slick from gel, are the only things keeping her away from her fate.

Perhaps returning to that dreaded testing track to humor a certain core was a mistake, after all. She’s stuck in this facility, though, might as well make the most of it. The rush of dancing dangerously close to the line between life and death can be addictive for some. The thrill of the rush, it got her blood pumping, her heart racing. Besides– something about the orange-colored asshole in charge of the entire testing appeals to her.. to a degree. A very small one.

Wait. Oh. Right. Her name. What’s her name? You tell her, honestly you would be more likely to know it than her. All she knows is the number the system used to identify her by, plastered on the shirt she wears and outside the relaxation stasis chamber she had awoken in long ago; 18.

Back to reality.

“Hhh, ughh.. Nigel– NIGEL. H-help me out, I uh… I’m slipping. And I might, you know, FALL. To my death.” Subject 18 wheezes, frantically swinging her legs in an attempt to gain momentum to get back up onto the panel, lean an arm on it, SOMETHING– but to no avail.

The orange-accented android wielding a clipboard and dress shirt shrugs, visible on a screen on a nearby wall, depicting his somewhat organized workspace. “That’s unfortunate.”

“You piece of–!”

“Eh. I’ll come, can’t lose my only subject.” Nigel goes off-screen, hooking himself up to the management rail to swiftly reach where the subject is struggling. He pops back off, standing a few feet away with an apathetic frown, leaning down a little with his lips pressed into a flat line.

“Enjoying the view?” She asks him, her voice anxiously raising in pitch as she fails to remain calm. Nigel is (as nicely and tenderly as one can describe) a dick. A decent to look at dick with major empathy problems.

The core gives a huff of breath and a nonchalant “eh”, kneeling down and resting his cheek in an open palm, supported by an elbow propped on his knee. His eyes narrow ever so slightly, his free hand moving to press a button on the side of his earpiece. A translucent visor made of hard light, colored like his orange accents, moves out to cover the upper half of his face. “You’re really having a hard time down there, eh?”

“Psshh, n-no. I enjoy hanging-” Her snark gets abruptly cut off as she loses some of her hold on the edge. She has to look down, even if she’d told herself how bad it is. Luckily, she isn’t afraid of heights (unlike SOME idiots out there, am I right?) however, she’s afraid of dying. The corrosive goo hisses and gurgles dangerously near, heating up the bottom of her boots, practically begging her to release her grip on the panel.

“Yesyesyesyes– okay, yes, I AM having a bit of.. hhggh– trouble.”

Nigel’s thick eyebrows furrow, an indescribable look full of conflict and (guilt?) other muddled emotions forming on his face. One hand twitches, clenching into a fist, as if he’s been irritated. What the hell is this he’s feeling? He’s not supposed to feel. His programming doesn’t dictate any wiggle room for emotion. “…alright. I’ll help. Only because I need the statistics on that paint gun; I’d just grab it and leave you for dead, honestly, but you’re my only subject.”

“I love you too, sunshine.” With an annoyingly singsong voice, 18 gives him a forced and obviously fake smile. Her breathing is heavy, sweat beading on her forehead and dripping down her temples. The fingers on her remaining hand start to lose grip fast, slipping one by one. After what feels like hours of the worst kind of anticipation, there’s nothing keeping her from dropping.

“NIGEL.” Wow. Her last words and they’re his name.

The sight of the other’s hands slipping and leading to a potentially deadly fall makes time almost stop for Nigel. What the hell is he doing? She’s just some human. He quickly lunges forward, practically throwing himself after her as he grabs for one of her hands with both of his. With the subject’s paint-covered hand firmly in his own glove-covered hands, he takes a deep breath, tapping wirelessly into controls for the current chamber and manipulating the panel to tilt upwards; just enough to get a stable footing and pull 18 upwards.

Afterwards, he unceremoniously throws her backwards towards a more stable area and the paint gun. “You’re welcome,” the core grumbles almost inaudibly.

18 wheezes, the sudden rush of the last few seconds all catching up to her. Now, yes, he clearly isn’t a knight in shining armor, but even for him throwing her is a bit too rough. She skids on her side a few feet, scraping her elbows as she practically slides to her trusty tool. She rolls onto her back, gasping and out of breath. For a second, there, she really believed he was going to let her fall. But then.. THAT happened.

“Never, ever, EVER wait till the last second again, okay? Dick move. Even for you.” She wheezes, hugging her paint gun and petting like someone making sure their child’s okay after a scare.

“It didn’t occur to me that the unkillable test subject would end up getting done in by a bunch of.. Whatever makes up the goo down there. Be thankful you’re not dead, will you?” Nigel walks forward and past 18, looking ahead. “You were almost at the end. Imagine– dying seconds before you reach the end. Humiliating, I bet.”

18 lifts her head, watching him walk past as he gives a rather “uplifting” speech about dying.

“Wow. And here I thought you didn’t care. You really know how to charm a gal.” She’d rather just keep laying down– her elbows are burning from the scraping, her heart is pounding too fast and too loud from adrenaline. With a groan, she slowly eases back to her feet, knowing full well that Mr. Walking-Citranium-Advertisement is focused on testing. He had forced her to test before, and she would rather not get hit by a weighted storage cube as “persuasion”… again.

“C’mon,” Nigel gestures for the subject to follow, tucking his hands into his pants pockets and walking close enough to the door at the end of the corridor to make it open.

Nobody told him about the second core in the track at the moment. “..there you are. I was looking for you.” With amber accents aglow and scandinavian accent prominent, the Maintenance Core pushes off of the wall he had just been leaning on to approach the duo.

18, about to give Nigel a certain hand gesture (involving a certain finger), that, in her opinion was rightfully deserved, is stopped in her tracks by the foreign voice. Both literally and concerning that accent. One would think these androids are human enough, but they definitely aren’t. Unless humans started coming out in bright, oversaturated colors like freaking crayons while the subject was in stasis.

18 hates them. Nigel’s the proof she has that they’re all soulless, empty testing machines. And her only interaction with core androids until now. Just because this one has a different accent and a relatively welcoming disposition doesn’t mean squat. She immediately becomes guarded, distrust filling her face as she warily brandishes her paint gun. She wishes she has an actual gun, at the very least it’d be easier to disable larger mechanical things with it.

This android is in for it if he DARES to “test” her– more like, “let’s see if this person can live through a highly dangerous, deadly obstacle course with nothing but a paint ball gun”.

“Nigel,” the stranger, Virgil, begins, an irritated frown on his face, “I need you to come with me to the repair wing.”

“Why’s that?”

“You need your old programming back.” The shorter core, the Maintenance Core, steps forward, an assertive tone in his voice. “You’re not yourself anymore, trust me on that.”

The other tenses up, his shoulders raising as his accents shift to a warmer, slightly darker shade of orange to reflect his shift in mood. “I… I don’t need to be reprogrammed. I’ve-I’ve been doing well enough with testing, right? Besides, you’re– you’re not my boss. You don’t dictate that or not.” An almost uncharacteristic attitude for him. Defensive. Afraid, in a way.

“Nigel– you’ve.. you’ve been doing well enough. We just need to get your old self back, okay?” Man, 18 must be confused.

“Hi, hello, smelly human here.” 18 moves forward, taking an almost protective stride towards Nigel. “Yeah, hi, look, tin man, you are NOT taking him. I kinda need him to watch me risk my life for stupid tests.” Nigel’s reaction, among other things, deepens the confusion rooting in her mind. Reprogramming Nigel, it could either change him for worse or for the better, and she’s only just warming up to him. More or less.

She points the paint gun at Virgil’s face, a serious expression melding together on her own.

Virgil raises his hands in front of himself, eyes locking on the barrel of the gun. Looks a lot like a portal gun– isn’t looking into the operational end of these things dangerous? “You can accompany me, if you want. I just need Nigel to cooperate.”

“And you’re not going to get the satisfaction of that. No way in android hell am I going to get reprogrammed again.” His lip curls, showing some teeth as his fists ball up at his sides, his stance shifting to be a tad wider. “As far as I know, I’ve done nothing deserving of that kind of punishment.”

“It’s not a punishment! It’s going to help, I swear it.”

“No! You can’t make m–”

Virgil activates his visor, the glow masking his features beneath as he focuses on it. Being “fully Wi-Fi capable” allows him to wirelessly hack things. Such as remotely deactivating another android, like the robotic version of anaesthesia for a surgery.

After a few tense moments, Nigel’s eyes and accents fade to black as he slumps over. Grumbling Norwegian profanities under his breath, Virgil proceeds to walk over and pull at one of the limp core’s arms.

That’s when 18 decides to take a swing at Virgil with the paint gun– the only weapon she has on hand.

“What the HELL are you doing?! You killed him!” She swings at his head, trying to keep him away from Nigel.

“I didn’t kill him– I deactivated him so it’s easier to get him to the repair wing!” Virgil narrowly ducks, eyes wide. “If– if you help me carry him there, I’ll leave him alone as soon as I’m done, okay?!”

“And why should I expect you to keep your word? Give me ONE reason, a good reason, to trust you tin man.” She readies her gun for another swing. Androids are “truth enhancers”, judging from what she’s experienced with Nigel. They either want you dead or testing.

“I won’t hurt him, I’ll let you be in there while I’m fixing him up!” His voice cracks, sounding more like a faint glitch due to his voice being artificial. He takes a step back, looking from Nigel to the subject. “He– he’ll be better. I promise.”

Yeah you better be scared, 18 thinks to herself. The subject would have beaten him, but this android is… not Nigel. That’s a solid fact from the three minutes she’s interacted with him. She lowers her gun with a cold threat, “You mess with me, I will make sure they find bits and pieces of you all throughout this hellhole.”

“Help me carry him. Please. I… it’s to help an old friend. You might have known him.” Who’s he talking about? He sighs, cautiously pacing back over to the deactivated android.

“Probably not,“ her voice wavers warily as she moves over to Nigel, “I’ll get his arms.”

“..thank you.” Virgil awkwardly hoists the core’s legs in his arms. “Let me call an elevator to the repair wing.” Like before, he focuses on his visor, a bit of a shift causing the surroundings to rumble for a second. Straightening out the piping so an elevator can come. “Alright,” he murmurs, an elevator arriving in the center of the room, “let’s go.”
Call me Lars!
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<Sparkleaf> Technically, you are the fifth RP generation.
April 12, 2017 6:55am

The elevator slows to a stop, opening just outside the doors to the repair wing. The Maintenance Core eases out, gesturing for the subject to follow, an unconscious Nigel still stiffly hoisted in his arms. “...ugh, he’s heavy, isn’t he?” Virgil comments, feeling almost worn out, despite not really needing stamina, given he’s not human.

“It's mainly his freaking ego,” she wheezes out, totally not struggling with carrying a body. Unlike Virgil, she’s beginning to break a sweat-- not that Virgil’s capable of doing so.

“Hah… yeah, I guess so. Must be pretty big, with who he’s become, nowadays,” Virgil sighs. The core’s reply is despondent, edging near sorrowful nostalgia in tone. He silently reflects on things from the past, before shaking his head, as if to physically clear his mind. “Here, let’s set him down; I need to access the door mainframe. I don’t need to hack it, I just upped the security after previous incidents. Mainly one with the actual security system.” He slowly moves down to a crouch, setting the deactivated android’s legs on the floor.

18 drops him like a bag of bricks. Clearly not the most gentle of subjects. She keeps her eyes trained on her new “friend”. Obviously, he isn't like Mr. Tangerine here, he has… a likable personality. He actually cares, or is REALLY good at acting. If he wasn't white and yellow, he’d easily be mistaken for a real human, surely. However, 18 keeps her guard up; she doesn't want to be blindsided by another hunk of metal.

After approaching a keypad (clearly recently installed - much more clean and sleek than the surrounding metal walls) with a hand hovering over it, Virgil glowers over his shoulder at the subject. “...are you TRYING to end up having to spend more time in here than necessary? I thought you wanted nothing to do with Nigel getting fixed.”

“What? It was an accident.”

“Sure it was.” Rolling his eyes and grimacing at the wall (instead of directly at 18), Virgil quickly enters some passcode into the keypad. It’s longer than the usual password. Extra security. With a soft beep of confirmation, the doors shift and slide open, leading to a bit of an odd sight, considering where they are in the facility. The triad are down in older Aperture, yet the repair wing is constructed of mainly modern equipment and paneling on the inside.

That’s why he has so much security on it -- so whatever is in the chassis (or in control of a lot of the facility, in the case of AEGIS) can’t hack into it and sabotage his work.

Without a word, the Maintenance Core strolls back over to Nigel, wrapping his arms around the core’s waist and awkwardly hoisting him over to an elevated, flat surface.

“I still don't understand why you want to fix him. He's not, how should I put it… prize-winning. He lies, he’s manipulative, (kinda nice to look at), but, overall, he’d sell you over to his boss in seconds,” the subject scoffs, crosses her arms. She brings forth a question, her posture stiff. “So why him?”

“Nigel was one of my best friends, at one point in time, next to… ah, I’d rather not say more than necessary. He was changed the most after this incident a long, long time ago. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to get the old Nigel back, and since GLaDOS doesn’t seem to be very overbearing - almost silent, actually - lately, I figured this is my chance. She won’t notice if one of her associates isn’t testing anymore if we keep him down here in the older parts for a while, I’m sure. Well.. not figure out his location, I mean.”

“Huh…” She paces behind him, peering over his shoulder. She’d never heard the name “GLaDOS” before. From the context given, she must be the big boss of this place. As 18 pays attention to what Virgil has to say, (not) surprisingly, she doesn’t believe what he’s describing. However it isn’t as far-fetched as other things in Aperture.

“So, tin man, do you need help?”

“Not at the moment.” Virgil tries to focus on his visor, but finds that there’s just too much to work with to not have any outside help. He sits back, arms folded across his chest, hesitating before a small screen comes out from the panels nearby. It turns on, displaying lines of code-- before becoming surprisingly organized, like looking in the documents of a computer. “I may be quiet for a few. I need to focus.”

18 glances over to the screen. Oh, that's code. That's something more interesting than watching the android meditate over nothing for who knows how long. She steps closer to the screen, skimming the content of the data. Nothing really popping, until it seems like Virgil is finally starting to do something. Bypassing protocols- oh that’s neat. He’s rewriting some codes, revising others-- a little slow, but still impressive.

A small intrusive thought gnaws at her -- she wants to step in and help, for some reason. Part of her thinks she can handle it.

“...where are the memories in here? I know they didn’t get deleted. Just.. pushed away. That’s the important part,” Virgil murmurs, deeply immersed in his work, practically fixated on the screen acting as his workspace. “...ah. Here they are.” With a small grin coming onto his face, he accesses files containing currently-repressed memories belonging to Nigel.

Now to figure out which ones are which. There’s not too many, though. Most pre-android memories are vague, and he didn’t go long before getting completely reprogrammed.

There’s plenty of things to poke around in; oh, imagine getting some ammo on Nigel. It could make her life a bit more easier if she manages to find out something herself.

Virgil glances over his shoulder. “Can you quit hovering?”

“I'm bored. There's no magazines around,” she stands back, “I can help, you know, I know how things… work.” 18 huffs, not really knowing how to explain it. She actually does know how machines work, it tended to help when she was trying to avoid dying. All she had to do was use a faith plate, some gel, and good timing.

“..I’m trying to work,” he grumbles, glancing through some of the files. Some of them come up like videos, both from before and after the reprogramming. After a few, he retracts his visor, stepping away. “I need to go find something that’ll make this easier.”

“An override?” A little suggestion from her, “there’s a crapton of behavior codes on this thing… even more useless stuff, looks like it. --wait, that's a recipe for.. cake?” What's with cake and Aperture? It’s on the markers for chambers in test tracks, on the labels of those large canisters of Citranium, everywhere.

“His system looks like it’s severely clogged up. There has to be a plug of some kind,” she adds, glancing at Virgil.

“Maybe. But I’m going to step out for a couple minutes, try to think without all this other stuff getting in the way. Being able to wirelessly connect to anything has its downsides.” At that, Virgil exits the room. Hopefully not for long.

--he pops his head back in, firmly pointing at the subject. “Don’t. Touch. ANYTHING.” And he’s gone again.

Immediately, she touches something. It’s mainly to defy Virgil’s wishes, like come ON.

Messing with the screen and looking through the data herself, 18 sees that there’s plenty of numbers, files, videos, the likes. Most of these “memories” are probably of her failing tests from time to time. But, now, it’s HER turn to mess with him. Karma’s a bitch, Nigel.

Using the panel, she clicks one of the files. Most of it appears to be encrypted and locked up, but some of it is still visible. And from what she CAN see…

...he was… human.
Call me Lars!
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<Sparkleaf> Technically, you are the fifth RP generation.
April 14, 2017 5:47pm

Nigel sits back in a break room, leaning his face against an open palm while occasionally glancing back down at some papers. “...you know what this chamber needs?”

An unfamiliar voice replies with a sigh. “Not gel, Nigel. You try putting it in every chamber we make. It’s gonna get old fast when people actually use these.”

“But it’s fun. And new. C’mon, Wheats, it’ll make Mr. Johnson happy, won’t it?”

“It’d also make him happy if people also tested the other new products. Like… I don’t know, anything other than more gel.” Nigel looks over to the other- a tall, skinny man with a head of messy, curly, ginger hair. “You should also cut back on drinking that,” ‘Wheats’ gestures at a drink Nigel is holding, an orange can, “it’s not even real soda. It’s chemi--”

Someone bursts through the door, making both men startled. ‘Wheats’ immediately looks over, but Nigel chooses to side-eye whoever just came in for a split second and look back at the can in his hand. “It tastes good, at least..”

A familiar, feminine voice approaches. “Nigel Smith, I swear to god if this was because of you again-”

The memory cuts off, leaving 18 flabbergasted at what she had just seen. That was only a small clip, yet it… oh, she needs to sit down.

Human, he had been human... SOMETHING was familiar, something hit her, but she just can't put her finger on it. Maybe she should see if there’s more…

“...I thought I said not to touch anything.” Virgil comes back in, going from being relatively passive to somewhat disappointed in the other. He buries his hands in his pockets, chewing his lip. “You didn’t mess any of the codes up, right? Be honest.”

18 almost jumps out of her skin, startled by the core returning. It takes her a moment to collect herself before responding.

“Oh, pshhhh-- no, I didn't mess with anything! Just, y’know, skimming through.”

Virgil silently eyes the subject with suspicion before nudging her aside, moving back to the monitor and getting back to work. He checks every bit of code over, making sure she really hadn’t done anything -- nope, the only thing that was done was that one file containing a memory has been recently viewed. “What were you doing with the files?”

“I just... took a look…” She fold her arms across her chest, trying to look casual about having digged into a guy’s head.

The core blankly stares at 18 in silence, then goes back to focusing. He lets his visor back out, allowing him to be a bit more efficient. In almost no time at all, he’s done.

“There. Hopefully I-- we’ll have-- nn, the old Nigel will be back.” Virgil trips over his words, furrowing his brows and internally scolding himself for the slip-up. He puts away the monitor, then rolls Nigel over so he’s face-down. With the press of a button located with all the ports on his back, Nigel is easily reactivated.

Leading to him temporarily panicking and falling onto the floor. Whoops.

“What-- what’d I do wrong..?? I-- I did the testing right! What’d you get rid of this time?! I--”

“Nigel. Nigel, you’re fine, I didn’t get rid of anything.” Virgil tries to reassure the other core.

“Is he supposed to be like that?” 18 leans on Virgil’s shoulder, looking legitimately concerned for the Nigel.

Virgil looks from the other core to 18, clarifying. “GLaDOS would keep having him reprogrammed as punishment after an.. incident from a long time ago. He’s pretty much developed a fear of it. But, Nigel,” the Maintenance Core looks up at Nigel after the latter gets to his feet, “I fixed what She originally did to you. You did nothing wrong.”

“Except being an asshole.”

Virgil glares at 18. “...nothing. Wrong.”

18 raises her hands, moving away from Virgil. She’s curious about what Virgil “fixed”. To her, Nigel looks the same. Seems the same. He’s scared, but the same, as far as she can tell. With a sigh, she attempts to help with reassuring the panicky core. “Just take it easy, okay, tangerine?”

“Are you s-- tangerine?” The sudden nickname snaps Nigel out of his panic. A confused grimace takes over his features. “The hell kind of nickname is that? It doesn’t even roll off the tongue that well.”

Virgil scoffs, “what, not even a thank you for fixing you? Just criticism of some harmless word someone called you?”

“I don’t even know what you FIXED, Virgil.”

“Ah. You remembered my name. It worked.” With a friendly smirk, Virgil almost goes to high five himself, but that’d definitely rub it in too much.

“I don't see a difference. Still sounds like a dick to me.” 18 interrupts the spat between the cores. She regards the Maintenance Core with a question, “will he change? Or is this how he actually is?”

He shrugs. “Eh. He was always a bit of a prick.”

“You two really enjoy insulting me, don’t you?” Nigel grumbles, leaning back against the nearest wall. “Are you planning on dragging me into anything else, “Virgil”, or are we done here?” He puts the other core’s name into air quotes, as if he doesn’t completely trust the changes made to his code as being real memories resurfacing. He doesn’t. Not an ‘as if’.

“Great. We’re going back to testing! Thank you, tin man,” her voice dripping with sarcasm, 18 annoyedly hits Virgil upside the head. Here she thought Nigel wouldn't drag her back into life-endangering situations for the sake of “science”, or something, but WOOP DE DOO. Here we go again.

“Actually,” Virgil moves to stand facing both of the others, holding his hands up in front of himself, “I have a better idea.”

“Like what?”

“Getting rid of GLaDOS. Not like murder. Not that. She’d hate that. What if we got her deactivated again? The facility is actually pretty good off without anyone in charge-- we’d have some peace back in our lives.”

Nigel stares at the other core. “...you’re kidding me.”

“Hi, test subject here, what exactly do you mean? Are you talking about, dare I say, leaving?” 18 cuts in, annoyed at being left out.

“If you want to leave, I could get you an elevator out once we get GLaDOS out of the picture. Wouldn’t be my first success at getting someone out.” Virgil grins, proudly putting his hands on his hips.

Nigel rolls his eyes. “The last time somebody tried to mess with Her and that chassis, it ended up with a lot of attempted murder and explosions. Definitely a good idea.”

“What, do you have a better idea? Is your plan to put gel in it? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I didn’t even imply I had a ‘better idea’. I don’t even support the idea of overthrowing Her again.” Wow, these two bicker easily, don’t they?

“Boys, boys, you're both pretty.” 18 places herself between them, hands raised. “I have no idea about taking over, but... I don't like the idea of being stuck down here. If,” she sighs, “Virgil… thinks he can get us out, well… I… ugh, I trust him.”

“Not taking over! Deactivating.” Virgil corrects the subject, jerking an index finger in her direction for a moment. He’s tense.

“Fine, deactivating. Happy?”

“Yes. Anyways! What do you say?”

“I'm in. If-- if Nigel is in.” She huffs, crossing her arms, scrunching up her nose.

Nigel glares at the subject. “Why me? Assuming whatever Virgil “fixed” got rid of my loyalty to GLaDOS? You don’t know if I’ll help or just sabotage you.” He narrows his eyes, leaning forward and glaring downwards to the shorter woman.

“I know a bit more than you think. You won't turn us in, because, even if you help… WHATEVER her name is, she will reprogram you. Probably” She steps forward and jabs Nigel’s chest. “You don't want that, now, would you?”

At the prospect of getting reprogrammed-- punished by GLaDOS --again, he freezes up. “...no. I-- I don’t. Are you trying to guilt trip me or something?”

“No, she’s just playing on your fear of GLaDOS. Petty. But it seems to be working.”

“I wasn’t asking you, Virgil,” Nigel snaps.

“It's working. So, tangerine, here are your choices. Either be a dick and get reprogrammed, or help us leave this hellhole with your programming intact.”

Virgil sighs. “Not. Leaving. You can leave, yeah, but we’re-- I’m, I’m just trying to get her out of the way as a threat.”

“We get it. Deactivating. Not taking over. Not all leaving. We get it.” Nigel rubs his temples, grumbling under his breath.

“Are we in this together, then? Or are we gonna just keep yapping about DEACTIVATING ?”

The taller core looks from Virgil, to 18, to the ceiling, then rolls his eyes. “I’m in. I guess.”

Virgil eagerly clasps his hands together, walking towards the doorway out of the repair wing. “Alright! Great. Let’s go.”

“...we’re really doing this.” Nigel exhales, his voice monotone.

“Don't worry, I'll protect ya.” 18 nudges him with her elbow, winking up at him. She follows Virgil to the doorway. Hooboy, she’s actually teaming up with a couple robots. Well, technically… not really robots. She glances back at Nigel.

“Let's go, Romeo.”

“...Romeo? There is NOTHING between us.”

“Yeah… I probably should just stick to tangerine.”

Call me Lars!
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Portal RP Blog (Virgil) | Borderlands RP Blog (Doppelganger) | Pokemon RP Blog (Colress)
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<Sparkleaf> Technically, you are the fifth RP generation.
April 17, 2017 12:36pm
Possible hiatus from now until mid-May. We'll be trying to get the weekly updates out if possible. If not, hiatus!
Call me Lars!
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Portal RP Blog (Virgil) | Borderlands RP Blog (Doppelganger) | Pokemon RP Blog (Colress)
Art Tag | Writing Tag
<Sparkleaf> Technically, you are the fifth RP generation.
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