Are You In Pain Like I Am? (Supremacy X*Crown #1)
Jan 10, 2024 17:31:59 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, Dave D-Flipz, and 5 more like this
Post by bloodiedfox on Jan 10, 2024 17:31:59 GMT -5
Most people would panic when opening their front door to see a 6’6” furry robotic lifeform had been the one to ring their doorbell, or at the very least look perturbed.
Brendan Harding was not most people. Face impassive, he looked up into the eyes of ARM815H1 MK.69.
Greetings human designated Brendan Harding. I am here to furminate your spouse Peter Cain, better known under his wrestling, or ‘kayfabe’, moniker Bloodied Fox. This is due to his stabbing of the greatest furry in recorded history, and my personal idol, Armbishi.
Brendan shut the door in the Protogen’s face. ARM815H1 MK.69 stood there for a moment, calculating the most probable reason for this action and best response to continue towards his current objective. Completing the calculations in record time, he pressed the doorbell again. Moments later, the door re-opened.
Greetings human designated…
The point blank shotgun blast to the face ARM815H1 MK.69 took would have killed most people. ARM815H1 MK.69 was not most people. Or people at all. Brendan didn’t get the chance to rack the slide for a second shot before The Furminator ripped the shotgun from his grasp and bent it beyond functioning. Tossing it over his shoulder, he hit Brendan in the chest with a palm strike that sent him flying backwards down the hallway. ARM815H1 MK.69 then stepped over the threshold, stalking towards him.
Your resistance only makes my task and penis harder.
Brendan kipped up, catching ARM815H1 MK.69’s head between his legs and managing to bring the robot over with a hurricanrana. Unfortunately, clawed iron hands grasped his legs as ARM815H1 MK.69 rolled through, using the momentum to regain his footing and hoisting the JROK Visual Kei champion up for a powerbomb. With brutal force the Protogen slammed Brendan down through the living room table, then pinned him down with a heavy metal foot to the chest.
Harming you is not a programming directive. Please direct me to Peter Cain/Bloodied Fox delete as applicable before I am forced to use further violence.
Voice somewhat strained given the heavy weight on him, Brendan replied.
You… can’t…
I am a strong independent robot that don’t need no man telling them what they can’t and can’t do.
He’s already dead, you fucking idiot!!!
ARM815H1 MK.69 displayed loading symbols in his eyes as he processed this new information.
You are lying.
Like fuck I am! Don’t you watch the Network?
I have been inside an undead dinosaur since my spacecraft arrived on Earth. The wi-fi connection was very bad.
Well fucking check it now!
ARM815H1 MK.69, uncertain, removed his foot from Brendan, allowing the man to pull himself up onto the couch where a whimpering corgi nuzzled up to him. Hacking into the house wi-fi, The Furminator searched the world wide web to verify the claim. After an initial misdirect to twitch.tv/bloodied_fox, an underrated UK streamer broadcasting live 2pm to 8pm GMT every Tuesday through Saturday, ARM815H1 MK.69 made it to the XHF Network On Demand. He saw the events of last October. He cross referenced with every wrestling news source. Then he cross referenced with actual journalism. Then he confirmed Daniel Radcliffe was a different person who just looked like Bloodied Fox.
He looked at Brendan.
You were right.
Yeah.
Silence followed for a minute or so.
Why the fuck are you still here?
I no longer have a programming directive. Bloodied Fox is dead. Armbishi is dead. I… I do not know what to do.
Okay. Is this the part where I’m supposed to give you a pep talk to try and find some meaning behind all this?
Having spent near infinite data cycles on TVTropes.org, I believe that would fit convention.
…No, fuck off.
Your response confuses me.
Really? It makes perfect sense to me. My husband is dead. Not just dead, mind you, but dead after a year of him going increasingly off the deep end. Dead after he burnt every bridge and crossed every red line. Dead after some bastard broke his psyche apart to use him as a pawn in some fucking cross-dimensional power grab. And you know what the worst part is? I could have saved him if I had cared less about my feelings of righteousness and more about getting him help when it was obvious he needed it. Instead I get to sit here and watch as the world moves on without him; with the most of a shit that anyone gives is Marty Donovan taking a figurative shit on his grave the first chance he got. I am angry. I am tired. Most of all, I’m just… fucking broken.
ARM815H1 MK.69 looked at the hunched form of the widower of the man he had come so far to kill. Circuits working furiously, he tried to define a course of action to provide this clearly troubled man some solace.
Would you like to have sex?
Brendan jumped up off the couch in a fury and began to punch the Protogen. Even as his knuckles began to bleed from the metal of his body's refusal to yield he continued to hammer in blows.
FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOUR CUTESY HORNY UWU BULLSHIT!!! FUCK YOUR SPACESHIPS AND ZOMBIE DINOSAURS AND ALTERNATE DIMENSIONS AND TIMELINES AND MAGIC!!! I WANT HIM BACK!!! I WANT PETER BACK!!!
If ARM815H1 MK.69 could blink in confusion, he would have done so. Stepping back to prevent Brendan harming himself any further, he looked over at the corgi for support, only to see it was snarling at him.
I… I cannot bring him back.
Blood dripping from his hands onto the carpet, Brendan looked at the robot in utter fury, angry tears running down his face.
Then what fucking good are you to me?
ARM815H1 MK.69 knew that he could check every database that ever existed and run calculations for infinity but would never have an answer. Defeated, he turned and left. Spent in his rage and anguish, Brendan sank into a heap on the floor, Sir Borkington the corgi padding to him and gently licking at his master’s wounded fists.
Outside, walking across the dunes, ARM815H1 MK.69 headed towards the setting sun. Clutched tight in his hand was the one thing he had left: his contract for a spot in the main event of Supremacy.
Brendan Harding was not most people. Face impassive, he looked up into the eyes of ARM815H1 MK.69.
Greetings human designated Brendan Harding. I am here to furminate your spouse Peter Cain, better known under his wrestling, or ‘kayfabe’, moniker Bloodied Fox. This is due to his stabbing of the greatest furry in recorded history, and my personal idol, Armbishi.
Brendan shut the door in the Protogen’s face. ARM815H1 MK.69 stood there for a moment, calculating the most probable reason for this action and best response to continue towards his current objective. Completing the calculations in record time, he pressed the doorbell again. Moments later, the door re-opened.
Greetings human designated…
The point blank shotgun blast to the face ARM815H1 MK.69 took would have killed most people. ARM815H1 MK.69 was not most people. Or people at all. Brendan didn’t get the chance to rack the slide for a second shot before The Furminator ripped the shotgun from his grasp and bent it beyond functioning. Tossing it over his shoulder, he hit Brendan in the chest with a palm strike that sent him flying backwards down the hallway. ARM815H1 MK.69 then stepped over the threshold, stalking towards him.
Your resistance only makes my task and penis harder.
Brendan kipped up, catching ARM815H1 MK.69’s head between his legs and managing to bring the robot over with a hurricanrana. Unfortunately, clawed iron hands grasped his legs as ARM815H1 MK.69 rolled through, using the momentum to regain his footing and hoisting the JROK Visual Kei champion up for a powerbomb. With brutal force the Protogen slammed Brendan down through the living room table, then pinned him down with a heavy metal foot to the chest.
Harming you is not a programming directive. Please direct me to Peter Cain/Bloodied Fox delete as applicable before I am forced to use further violence.
Voice somewhat strained given the heavy weight on him, Brendan replied.
You… can’t…
I am a strong independent robot that don’t need no man telling them what they can’t and can’t do.
He’s already dead, you fucking idiot!!!
ARM815H1 MK.69 displayed loading symbols in his eyes as he processed this new information.
You are lying.
Like fuck I am! Don’t you watch the Network?
I have been inside an undead dinosaur since my spacecraft arrived on Earth. The wi-fi connection was very bad.
Well fucking check it now!
ARM815H1 MK.69, uncertain, removed his foot from Brendan, allowing the man to pull himself up onto the couch where a whimpering corgi nuzzled up to him. Hacking into the house wi-fi, The Furminator searched the world wide web to verify the claim. After an initial misdirect to twitch.tv/bloodied_fox, an underrated UK streamer broadcasting live 2pm to 8pm GMT every Tuesday through Saturday, ARM815H1 MK.69 made it to the XHF Network On Demand. He saw the events of last October. He cross referenced with every wrestling news source. Then he cross referenced with actual journalism. Then he confirmed Daniel Radcliffe was a different person who just looked like Bloodied Fox.
He looked at Brendan.
You were right.
Yeah.
Silence followed for a minute or so.
Why the fuck are you still here?
I no longer have a programming directive. Bloodied Fox is dead. Armbishi is dead. I… I do not know what to do.
Okay. Is this the part where I’m supposed to give you a pep talk to try and find some meaning behind all this?
Having spent near infinite data cycles on TVTropes.org, I believe that would fit convention.
…No, fuck off.
Your response confuses me.
Really? It makes perfect sense to me. My husband is dead. Not just dead, mind you, but dead after a year of him going increasingly off the deep end. Dead after he burnt every bridge and crossed every red line. Dead after some bastard broke his psyche apart to use him as a pawn in some fucking cross-dimensional power grab. And you know what the worst part is? I could have saved him if I had cared less about my feelings of righteousness and more about getting him help when it was obvious he needed it. Instead I get to sit here and watch as the world moves on without him; with the most of a shit that anyone gives is Marty Donovan taking a figurative shit on his grave the first chance he got. I am angry. I am tired. Most of all, I’m just… fucking broken.
ARM815H1 MK.69 looked at the hunched form of the widower of the man he had come so far to kill. Circuits working furiously, he tried to define a course of action to provide this clearly troubled man some solace.
Would you like to have sex?
Brendan jumped up off the couch in a fury and began to punch the Protogen. Even as his knuckles began to bleed from the metal of his body's refusal to yield he continued to hammer in blows.
FUCK YOU!!! FUCK YOUR CUTESY HORNY UWU BULLSHIT!!! FUCK YOUR SPACESHIPS AND ZOMBIE DINOSAURS AND ALTERNATE DIMENSIONS AND TIMELINES AND MAGIC!!! I WANT HIM BACK!!! I WANT PETER BACK!!!
If ARM815H1 MK.69 could blink in confusion, he would have done so. Stepping back to prevent Brendan harming himself any further, he looked over at the corgi for support, only to see it was snarling at him.
I… I cannot bring him back.
Blood dripping from his hands onto the carpet, Brendan looked at the robot in utter fury, angry tears running down his face.
Then what fucking good are you to me?
ARM815H1 MK.69 knew that he could check every database that ever existed and run calculations for infinity but would never have an answer. Defeated, he turned and left. Spent in his rage and anguish, Brendan sank into a heap on the floor, Sir Borkington the corgi padding to him and gently licking at his master’s wounded fists.
Outside, walking across the dunes, ARM815H1 MK.69 headed towards the setting sun. Clutched tight in his hand was the one thing he had left: his contract for a spot in the main event of Supremacy.