shitposting rave 5: discount rejects from every genre

I know, right? At least lay low for a bit, like damn.

Yeah. Like... frag, compared to some people I didn't have a whole lotta time planetside before things kicked off, but I still kinda miss it, y'know? Being able to just walk out and meet people, finding weird slag in local markets, the feel of a full cathedral instead of a cobbled-together shrine... it's not really somethin' you can just replace, even if I think I'd go nuttier'n squirrel shit if I had to stay in a city for more than a century or two at a go. Pits, probably more like decades at this point, I'm all used to havin' my mind to myself...

Well, yeah, but that ain't the hard part, things are mostly in the same general directions if you know what you're looking for. Nah, he's-- Stream's, like, all filigree'n slag? His run was basically made out of things that the local med crew deemed too small to use, so it's a bunch'a tiny pieces that just kinda-- ah, fraggit, here, have a picture. [Where did Wiretap get a Polaroid shot? He drops it over the back of the couch within arm's reach of the batpile. It's a slim, short mech with surprisingly gauzy wing-frills, a translucent 'chestpiece' that doesn't seem to be very protective at all of the various mechanical bits behind it, and intricate 'plating' that could bring a watchmaker to tears but certainly doesn't offer much in the way of armor.

This majestic creature has been captured wings flared out, squawking, and being dragged across the floor by the massive grey ankle he's got one arm hooked around. Graceful.]

 

[Dick perks up, scrambling and leaning halfway over the back of the couch, twisting in an anatomically improbable way (so he can keep a leg hooked around Jason and not feel like he's letting go, because if he lets go Jason might leave and part of him is convinced that would be worse than death right now) to look at the picture properly. He whistles quietly, grinning because of the ridiculous pose.]
That's pretty as hell. Like birdbones and beetle wings. Can see how he's gotta be really hard to put back together though. You must have super steady hands.
[He smiles up at Wiretap, every inch the charming little devil from the circus who just wants to talk shop, pretty pleaaaaase? He won't steal your tech too much, he promises. Can these eyes lie? Yes they're behind a mask. Okay but this smile can't possibly lie. Look at him being an innocent good boy, don't you just wanna share some schematics?]

 

He is, ain't he? [Wires grins.] Only damn thing to thank his planner for, that's for sure. Almost makes it more a pity he wouldn't know what to do with peacetime if it bit him in the tailpipe. [He's just gonna... sidestep that compliment. No mention of the hours and hours and probably collective years spent cursing all those little fiddly bits and himself for not being able to fit them back together right.]

 

Heh. That's relatable though. Got a feeling our war's a bit different from yours but I don't even know what peace would look like at this point. I don't think our kind of war can necessarily be won , not really at least. Not in a way that won't end up with us being the new problem...
[His smile falters just a little before he can put it back in place, somehow even brighter than before.]
Anyways, what're his wings made out of? Material looks pretty as hell. Doesn't fit with the current aesthetic but hey maybe one day I can give the suit a makeover if I have to keep the cape.

 

Ehhh, a mesh-type deal-- I don't think we can get the metals off the Earth in our universe, and Epistemus knows if they even exist in yours. They're mostly for steering, honestly, he uses antigravs and rotors for propulsion when he has to be up in the air. Probably the easiest bit on him to fix, since we can swap it out for the material I use for... slag, what's the equivalent, bandaging? Wrapping stuff to keep it in place while it heals. They're a little different in weave, but it's usable, yknow?

 

Yeah makes sense. And I mean I only use gliders and grappling lines so steering's enough for me. But metal-mesh would just weigh me down big time so I should probably not try too hard to reverse engineer.
[He looks honestly disappointed.]

 

Ehhh, I'm sure you could figure something out if you put your mind to it, humans do a lot more with cloth than we ever bothered to. [Wires shrugs, grinning a little.] Downsides of transforming: extra material tends to get stuck in awkward places if you're not super careful with the design.

 

I can only imagine. Hell, the cape's annoying enough just for ruining my balance and I'm not quite as flexible as you guys must be.
[He rests his chin on his hands, still twisted weirdly.]
Do you guys have circuses? I bet you can do amazing things with the transforming stuff.

 

*Here's a Marcus, he's clearly puppeting a robotic body. The body looks pretty close to normal-Marcus but it's metal and the face is actually more of a screen than a face.*

? ? ?
Whoa, whoa, what's this? No one told me I could dream! Neat!

*A little pixel version of himself peeks out onto the screen, looking excited before his face appears again*

 

[Wiretap winces.] Not... really. Gladiator matches, sure, and sometimes performances put on in honor of some senator or other, but those were by and large military exhibitions. And... well... Garrus-9, but that wasn't exactly the fun kinda circus for any prisoners left there, if ya catch my drift.

[Yesgood a cute minibot perfect distraction]
Hey, buddy! First dream ever?

 

!

Yeah! I didn't know I could, this is pretty awesome actually. I could get use to this, actually.

*Tips his head, looks a bit curious* I'm Retr0-- I mean, I'm Marcus. Yeah, that's my name not what I was called. Uh, yeah, who are you?

 

[Bigger smile! Yes, choose your own name, very important.] 'M Wiretap! This big guy here's-- [he pats Thunderwing, who has apparently managed to fall asleep while dreaming--] Thunderwing, one'a my... eh, call it partners. Marcus sounds like a great name! It mean anything-- besides you, obvs-- or you just like the sound?

 

Hi! Dreaming's pretty neat yeah.
[Dick grins brightly and waves, somehow twisting into an even weirder position to look at the new arrival as well. Someone make this man sit like a normal guy. You'd get an award. While you're at it make him wear a shirt too maybe.]

Yikes.
[You can practically hear his expression hitting the metaphorical floor as his smile falls.]
No... no acrobatics or dancing? Just fighting?

 

There's dancing, yeah. Fancy slag's mostly from Vos, not like I ever got to see it outside of slagged pirated vids, and it's not like you can stop people from movin' when a beat hits 'em, but... nothing like the kinda professional variety you see in Earth media. 'Swhat happens when you're a military state for Epistemus knows how many millions'a years, I guess. I was from a mining town... heh, town, more like a mine with a barracks and a few shops'n bars stuck on top to keep people from rioting... so's not like I got a chance to see a whole lot for myself beyond what I could overhear from the bigger cities.

 

someone said dancing

[A red-and-gold ghost stumbles into the rave, wide-eyed, perk-winged, and grinning. Iridescent gold-silver-copper streamers flutter from the tips of his wings.]

 

Aw man-

Yes! I dance! Well mostly I'm an artist- acrobat of sorts I should say. You've got wings- Can you fly?
[He finally unpretzels, scrambling to stand on the back of the couch with the grace of someone who does stunts like that far too often. Above them a practice trapeze scaffolding begins materializing and Dick's loose sweatpants subconsciously morph into something much more close-fitting, black and red. The bandages and bruises are vanishing as he forgets about them, distracted by the possibility to actually show off again.]
How about you show me what you do and I show you what I do?
[He gives his most charming grin. Please please pleaaaase~]

 

Can I fly? Can I fly? Can a senator suck his own tailpipe? [Ignis leaps into the air without bothering to transform, hovering on his heel thrusters instead; he grins, hands laced behind his head, and leans back against a conveniently-summoned pole. The faintest beginnings of a second one a short distance away can't decide if they want to fully manifest yet.] If I try to show you everything we're gonna be here a long time. Silks? Pole? Ground? Aerial solo, paired, trined? Root or alt? [The seeker laughs, delighted to have someone to nerd out with.] Fair warning, I'm still pretty awful at ground styles, I never got a chance to practice them much.

 

[Dick whoops loudly and cheerfully, grabbing a rope-ladder that just manifests right under his finger, already scaling it before it has fully materialized to make his way up to a platform, hand reaching for the flyer's trapeze like magnetized.]
It's okay I only touch the ground if I have to. If you've already got the pole you can start with that unless you've got a different favorite? Pole's fun, but I like flying best out of all gravity defying stunts.

 

There are some who'd say flying is the only worthwhile dance. [Ignis snorts, but is still smiling as he hooks one arm around the pole and flips into an easy routine; he's aiming for a general display of the craft, not anything too fancy. Beyond some use of thrusters to put more momentum behind certain movements, it's not too dissimilar from the human form, even if Ignis proves himself surprisingly flexible for a giant robot plane.]

 

Uh, well, it's me? It's me before I was me-- It's kind of complicated actually? Marcus Holloway, that's who I am!

Yeah! I thought only humans got to do that, but I guess even robots dream of electric sheep or some reference like that.