Uh… yeah… hi… uh… oh come on… get that damn thing out of my face while I’m…
A loud tap against flesh.
OW!!! Alright! Alright! Uh… Benedict here… uh… I… uh… have a special request to make… on behalf of… uh… myself… and not at all on behalf of a certain someone who refuses to come on this forum himself…
A loud thud followed by labored breating. Narrative continues slightly out of breath.
Uh… I think…
Another tap against flesh.
DAMMIT STOP THAT!!!
More mumbling, followed by a sigh.
I… demand… a Foxy Foxtrot skin. Whiskey Foxtrot needs to enter the battlefield with fox ears, and a fox nose, and a furry fox suit, complete with a tail. This is a NEED.
Yet another tap against flesh.
A… a demand… not a need… a demand… Great Eagle, dude… why would I want to see anyone in a furry suit?
Even more mumbling.
G#DDAMMIT WHISKEY I’M GETTING TO THE “WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY” TAUNT!!! WHY IN THE HELL DO YOU EVEN WANT THIS!!!??? WHY IN THE HELL ARE YOU DEMANDING THAT I SAY THIS FOR YOU!!!??? DO YOU HONESTLY THINK THESE PEOPLE CARE ABOUT MY DEMANDS? JUST ASK YOURSELF AND GET THAT DAMN THING OUT OF MY FACE!!! AS IF YOU’RE REALLY GONNA SHOOT—
Loud gunshot, followed by an explosion.
A long pause.
Nice. Real nice Whiskey. You blew up my can of Dust Destroyer.
And that’s what you get for wavin’ a gun in my face and makin’ crazy requests.
Get your own damn first aid! I didn’t invite you in here, and my self-medication privileges were revoked!
You explain to Miko and Alani how you got that plastic straw jammed in your eye. Friggin’… mutant… askin’ me to ask for weird fetish taunts…
ARCHIVED TALE. ORIGINAL POST + EPIC ANIMATED GIF BATTLE BY OTHER FORUM USERS…
The following is the story Deande told us after I spread the news about Whiskey’s awkward request.
DEANDE (Over the Intercom):
Good morning everyone. I trust you all had a good night’s sleep. Before I give you today’s Battleplan, I feel the need to address some, rather scurrilous rumors going around involving Whiskey Foxtrot and… um… myself. A certain loudmouthed Aviant who shall remain nameless…
It was me! Benedict! C’mon I ain’t ashamed! You can tell everyone who the hero was who had the original dirt and video evidence of Whiskey Foxtrot’s weird obsession!
WOOOOOOO!!! EVERYBODY GIVE A CHEER FOR ME!!!
BENEDICT, SHUT THE FCK UP!!! I’M TWO DECKS UP ON THE BRIDGE!!! I SHOULDN’T EVEN BE ABLE TO HEAR YOU!!! GRANTED THE WALLS ON THIS SHT SHIP ARE PAPER THIN, BUT…
Everyone looks in shock at the intercom.
Ahem… excuse me. That was… unbecoming of a Jennerit spymistress. Anyway… A certain rumor has been going around that Whiskey, and by extension myself, are into some… uh… pretty freaky things. Well, I’d like to put that rumor to rest and explain exactly why it’s not really freaky, but actually kind of sweet, from a certain point of view. You see… Whiskey and I were watching an old documentary last week about the wildlife that used to parade around on planet Earth. At one point, the documentary showed some baby foxes, and all I said was, “Oh, I love foxes. They’re so cute.” Because there were baby foxes on the screen, and not for any unseemly reason; to which Whiskey replied, “Really? Huh.” Now, I didn’t think anything more of it, but apparently, he took that as a hint about my… romantic preferences and decided to take it upon himself to fulfill his perception of… what he perceived to be my fantasies. He meant well, but you know Whiskey, he doesn’t always pick up on the… uh… social nuances and appropriate behavior. So, he decided to call on… sigh Benedict…
Ugh… Whiskey decided to get Benedict to request a Fox skin for himself because he figured the bird owed him a favor for annoying him with that pistachio shell, and Benedict is active on the internet through that… transdimensional communications singularity thingy that ISIC opened a few months back.
I really wish you guys would’ve let me finish! We would’ve been able to walk into the real world and slay our brutal overlords for making our lives a living agony!
DEANDE: (Through gritted teeth)
Back on topic… He went to Benedict with the sweetest of intentions. He just… took it a bit too far. It’s not his fault, he just doesn’t pick up on social nuances! It was all a misunderstanding! He just wanted to make me happy and he didn’t realize that his actions were… well… disproportionate to my original remark and my actual wishes. Therefore, I would appreciate it if everyone would please stop walking up to me while singing that annoying tune…
KLEESE: (Through the intercom)
Hey Deande! I just heard the news! Hey… everyone… join in with me in three… two… one…
Mess hall. Lunch time. Oscar Mike approaches Pendles holding a green tray loaded with UPR rations. Pendles has some kind of fancy looking lizard eggs on a crystal plate loaded with apple encrusted armadillo and some kind of blood wine in a crystal goblet. He clearly just completed a major contract and is showing off.
(Loudly and slightly robotic.)
Hello Pendles. How are you fellow Varelsi hunter? Do you mind if I sit here next to you and have a normal, casual conversation just like anyone else would with a fellow soldier at chow time?
(Sporting a broad grin as he reaches for his wine)
Of course, si’down my friend. Would ya like some armadillo? It’s quite good. I imported it from the outback of Ekkunar. Expensive. But, very, very worth it. Mmmm…
Uh… no thanks. I prefer the UPR ration packs.
Oscar glances around quickly.
(In a quieter tone)
I have a job for you.
I see… ya want me to give someone the ol’ one, two special eh? Who is it? Cap’n Ghalt rub ya the wrong way? Galilea gettin’ to be a bit much? Ernest ridin’ yer ass too hard? Gotta say, I don’t envy yer 4:30 AM workout sessions.
Uh… No… I get along just fine with all those guys… it’s… uh… it’s not any of them.
Well out with it, whod’ya want killed?
Oscar Mike glances around again.
What? Ol’ Benny? What the hell ya want him dead for?
Shh… keep it down. Montana can’t know. He likes the guy, and he’d never forgive me if he found out I murdered him. That’s why I need you.
Ohhhh kay… so what’d he do to ya?
He knows things. He knows that I’m a…
Clone… He knows and I’m afraid he’s gonna spill the beans. He’s a huge loudmouth and he’s already using clone slurs around me like, “copy boy,” and “test tube baby.” It’s only a matter of time before everybody else catches on… I can’t have that. I can’t have the rest of the guys find out.
Right… ok then… Listen… I’d love to help ya… but… Benny… Benny’s a special case. I don’t really like the guy either, but as far as my services are concerned… he’s off limits.
C’mon man! You’re supposed to be the best executioner in the galaxy! And you’re scared of a loudmouthed bird??? You could rip him apart like a Christmas goose! Like a Thanksgiving turkey! Like a chicken dinner! Like a roasted pheasant! Like a… a… a… um… like an emu burger! WHY CAN’T YOU KILL THIS GUY FOR ME???
Let’s just say… Benny’s sufferin’ more right now just bein’ Benny. Ya ain’t seen him the way I seen 'im. Ya ain’t seen 'im at rock bottom. And I can tell ya right now… when ya really understand, and I mean really understand the demons of another man’s soul, well, ya just can’t bring yerself to put ‘im down. Especially not when he owes ya money. Or a round of drinks. I never DID GET PAID FOR THAT LIT’L FAVOR I DID YA BENNY!!! That’s why I always ask for a contract. Besides, yer bein’ a clone ain’t exactly a secre—
I AM NOT A CLONE!!!
You guys know we can hear you right?
Benedict calls from the next table over just a couple feet away. He’s sitting with Montana, Boldur, and El Dragón, who are all staring at Oscar Mike.
Oscar, c’mon man, don’t put a hit out on Benny, that’s not cool…
Oscar Mike cloaks and runs out, only to reenter 5 minutes later.
HEY EVERYONE! Sorry I’m late for chow time! I got held up… in the… er… bathroom. Important business. Anyway… oh, have any of you guys seen my identical twin brother Josh around? He looks just like me… same armor and everything. Let me know if you see him ok? Ah… Montana… there you are! With Boldur, El Dragón, and Big Bird’s mentally handicapped brother in law! How are you all doing, especially you, winged jackass, whom I totally don’t want to kill?
Hey, @JoeKGBX, I want to officially nominate @Benedict_87 for a community spotlight one of these weeks. Lol. His imagination keeps me glued to the forums nearly as much as the battle plans! Throw a proverbial bone to the rocket hawk already!
Benedict… ISIC almost destroyed the universe with MATH; i’m pretty sure he can figure out a few simple locks. The REAL question you should be asking is what the belt-sander is for… I mean, to kill you, obviously (he hinted at that); but its the HOW that bothers me… I know a LOT about torture, but a belt-sander is new to me; all i can say for certain is that your death would be extremely painful and slow, and that ISIC and I would find it funny.
(Gone off comms, will update this when i feel like)
well if we’re going into it i’d say abrading a few layers of skin off just before reaching the nerves and then getting some salt to laugh over…i’m leaving it at that
I’m ashamed to admit it, but i don’t get the reference… -flays self with flog- Moving on! I guess… i just… slow torture=more enjoyment is the equation that has ruled my life for years; and while i know that i already mentioned ISIC’s math skills, i just can’t wrap my head around this “logic”. What’s more likely? That a magnus is wrong; or that my world view is a sham?
(Gone off comms, will update this when i feel like)
good counter point, I still thin ai’s process faster even in “meatspace” simply because human reaction time is atrociously slow…
but there’s also a point where torture loses it’s flair, remember true torture is a balancing act(note I advocate mind games not outright torture but it carries over)
think of it this way, normal human reaction time is about a quarter of a second. that means in a corner of a second you have perceived the change and have begun to react. now…a magnus i’d imagine is much faster at processing all of this. hence every “moment” for us is an eternity for them. even when contained within a robot body.