Benedict and Kelvin scream in horror. Benedict because of the now charging gigantic Constructor bot bearing down on him, Kelvin because about seven eighths of him is now encased in Finisci urine. Kelvin attempts to send a vibration message to Miko.
Miko. Help me...
We are busy!
Kelvin feels the vibration of a gunshot.
What was that?
NOT SO FAST!!! MIKO IS NOT DEAD! HEAD SHOTS ARE NOT FATAL TO US!!!
A clunk is heard.
What are you DOING?
A gunshot is heard, followed by a splatter.
Lucrative anatomical research.
Pam, having cleared most of the grapefruit juice from her eyes and gotten her vision back, sees Toby shooting at Larry and assumes he’s a high-priority target now (unaware as she is that she shot at him first). She draws a bead on him as the toaster ‘charges up.’ (in other words, toasts the bread)
When Toby freezes up like that and drops the crossbow, Pam can sense it – he’s about to shame their household, both of their families, and their entire species. Again. She watches him, carefully, as he clambers up onto the even-more-frozen-than-usual Kelvin, and nods to herself with satisfaction once she knows the crisis has been averted. The toast launcher lights up, fully charged, and she works the lever to deploy the jam as she looks for her target…
She aims high, taking advantage of the awkward projectile that is the noble toast slice to lob a shot over Larry’s cover, inflicting bread-and-jam vengeance from above!
Toby raises an eyefeather at Pam’s relentless assault on Larry, and wonders if she secretly resents him being a half-breed, like Benedict. Either way, Toby follows Pam’s toasty attack with another protein-packed pork projectile, furthering their misunderstanding.
Sorry, Larry…! You’ll understand that marriage sometimes requires you to accept your nesty’s prejudiced viewpoints and behavior when you’re older…! I’m sorry!
Said piece of toast arcs clean over the crate and nails Larry in the head. He staggers away from the crate, swearing.
Said piece of bacon nails Larry right in the gut just as he falls back out into the open, and he collapses onto the floor, rolling around clutching his stomach.
Ernest: Oi! What’d I say about language, puke?
Larry rolls back behind his crate, spouting a long torrent of curses containing many derogatory comments about Finisci and quite a variety of cusses. After a few moments Ernest notices that said string of curses is very much not in English, but in some guttural tongue he’s never heard, and that Larry’s voice has dropped several octaves in the last few seconds to much deeper than usual. Larry’s eyes seem to glow red as he stands up and extends a claw, and his pancake cannon floats off the floor and across the hangar into his outstretched claw. He racks in a new batter canister with a flourish, then grins evilly and shoulders the weapon, aiming and firing a barrage of pancakes toward the two Finisci.
Larry kicks off from the ground, floating upwards into the air, propelled by some crimson energy that flickers below him. He laughs uproariously at Pam’s predicament as he spirals upwards.
Larry (in a weirdly deep voice): Rejoice, little fools! Today is the day you shall be delivered unto the Infernal Plane in a glorious death by a thousand pancakes! Yield unto the might of th-
A waffle smacks him upside the head.
Ernest: Oi! Cool your sh*t, puke, before I get up there and cool it for you!
Larry’s eyes glow an even deeper crimson. He slowly turns in the air and looks down at Ernest.
Larry: You dare-
Another waffle smacks him upside the head.
Ernest: Look, if you’re gonna be all corrupted and godly and sh*t, could you at least do me a solid and obliterate those other pukes with some high-velocity breakfast? ‘Specially Benedict? Because your other option is me comin’ up there and smackin’ ya one. He hefts his waffle sword.
He turns towards Benedict and continues his pancake barrage with renewed vigor.
Benedict looks at Larry with a terror that cannot be measured by words. Mostly because his mouth is still clamped shut by the big bot’s legs. And thank The Great Eagle for that because he’d probably make the situation worse somehow. He farts in fear.
And it was in that moment, as he was quickly buried in a mountain of pancakes by a demonic half breed aviant with his mouth clamped shut and his body pinned to the ground by a giant robot who insisted on playing with his increasingly syrupy head crest, that Benedict realized…
EMERGENCY TRANSPONDER IN BENEDICT’S EAR:
Emergency transport beacon quota has been filled for this quarter. Please refrain from any life threatening activities for at least 6 hours.
Benedict’s train of thought is interrupted and his eyes go wide.
Benedict bursts forth from beneath a monstrous pile of pancakes sending syrup, powdered sugar, and raspberry confection flying everywhere. He shrieks as he lifts off, quickly loads his grapefruit launcher, takes aim at Larry, and smacks his head on the ceiling forgetting the height of the room he was in. He’s knocked out instantly and falls to the floor, coming to rest on a bed of soft, fluffy pancakes.
Larry curses in Infernal and floats out of the way. He manages to dodge several pancakes…
…before Benedict comes flying out of the cloud of pancakes. Completely unprepared for a weaponized aviant, Larry fails to dodge out of the way and both the aviants are propelled across the hangar and smack into the far wall. Larry cushions much of the impact, leaving a comical dent in the panelling.
Larry roars and flies out from underneath Benedict, calling his pancake cannon to his claw. His eyes glow a dark crimson and trails of red energy float around him in his rage.
Larry: I swear to you that everyone you have ever loved and everyone you-
Ernest grenade-jumps across the hangar and bonks Larry on the head with the flat of his waffle blade, knocking him out of the air again.
Ernest: How many times, puke? Quit bein’ a mary sue!
Larry spits blood. You will regret the day you were first created you insolent-
Ernest whacks him with the waffle sword again. His eyes flicker back to normal and he groans in pain, now with his normal (much higher) voice.
Seven continues to toss pancakes at its target when suddenly, its eye scanned that full, lush, head poof of Ernest’s. The pretty pink feathers wave in the wind in slow motion, beckoning to be touched, taunting to be snuggled. Seven drops the pancake it was about to toss and begins to purr loudly
Benedict sits trembling in horror. And pain. Mostly pain. Manly, manly pain. And that urine in his diaper is manly urine. From the pain. And definitely not fear urine.
BENEDICT: (His voice barely squeaking out)
Y-you said he didn’t have no demonic powers!
BENEDICT: (Now shrieking in horror)
I WAS RIGHT!!! I WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG!!! Y’ALL TOLD ME I WAS BEIN’ PARANOID AN’ BIGOTED AN’ TERRIBLE BUT HE REALLY DOES HAVE FREAKY POWERS NOT MEANT FOR THIS WORLD!!! I GOTTA GET ME TO A CHURCH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! GREAT EAGLE!!! I’M SORRY ABOUT ALL THE PORN ON MY COMPUTER!!! AN’ MY PHONE!!! AN’ THE HOLOSIMS!!! AN’ THAT TIME I GOT DRUNK BEFORE COMMUNION AN’ THREW UP IN THE HOLY WAFERS!!! I WAS JUST A KID!!! I WAS JUST A KIIIIIDDDDDDD!!!
Benedict runs from the room continuing his panicked confessional all the way back to his quarters.