Speaker for the Dead

What do you want? [This account is a drabble and art hub, I now RP on @overx!] [[Independent Protoverse AU for a fallen Mega.I track the tag afadinglight.]]

[a-fading-light-archive]

Archiving | Moving

[[HELLO EVERYONE. I don’t think many folks will see this, but I am going to finally archive this old account. I love Rock dearly and I think he deserves a fresh coat of paint. I’ve had this idiot since 2013, and there is a lot of old stuff I’ve wanted to redo or write out since I’ve improved as a writer. 

I MISS MY BOY.

When I originally made Rock, I didn’t have much of a vision for him, only that I wanted him to be different from my previous RP account, which had provided a lot of comic relief for my protomen-verse RP partners. My only “goal” with Rock was to try something different, and more serious for myself back then. Now that I KNOW how I like writing him, I want to re-tackle his original story and development, crank up the world-building, as well as open him up to meet people during the earlier parts of his life. 

I WILL NOT BE DELETING THIS ACCOUNT. I like being able to go back and look at the old writing, even if it is really bad. The memories are nice, and this boy is how I met my wife, so I wouldn’t dream of dusting this stuff. 

You can follow the new account at the same url @a-fading-light ! It is currently under construction as in made like 10 minutes ago, so I don’t have pages or a theme up yet but I’m looking forward to new old stuff if you will <3!]]

[a-fading-light-archive]

Archiving | Moving

[[HELLO EVERYONE. I don’t think many folks will see this, but I am going to finally archive this old account. I love Rock dearly and I think he deserves a fresh coat of paint. I’ve had this idiot since 2013, and there is a lot of old stuff I’ve wanted to redo or write out since I’ve improved as a writer. 

I MISS MY BOY.

When I originally made Rock, I didn’t have much of a vision for him, only that I wanted him to be different from my previous RP account, which had provided a lot of comic relief for my protomen-verse RP partners. My only “goal” with Rock was to try something different, and more serious for myself back then. Now that I KNOW how I like writing him, I want to re-tackle his original story and development, crank up the world-building, as well as open him up to meet people during the earlier parts of his life. 

I WILL NOT BE DELETING THIS ACCOUNT. I like being able to go back and look at the old writing, even if it is really bad. The memories are nice, and this boy is how I met my wife, so I wouldn’t dream of dusting this stuff. 

You can follow the new account at the same url @a-fading-light ! It is currently under construction as in made like 10 minutes ago, so I don’t have pages or a theme up yet but I’m looking forward to new old stuff if you will <3!]]

[rockwell-light]

A quick colored sketch from my to-do folder. Loved the sketch, couldn’t decide how to finish it, so I just cleaned it up a little. I’ve got a lot of WIPs I want to work on so off the list they come <3 Rockwell and @hellscythearts‘ MZ, of course, our tired android boys. An unwilling solider and a war machine talk about life’s endless struggles.  

[the-broken-variable-ar]

A Promise to be Kept

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the-broken-variable‌:

@a-fading-light

“This time for sure, is that right?” 

It’s amused, surely, that tone in MZ’s vocal ducts. The training room’s gray and white walls were familiar by now, two years and one reset after they’d first met, it had to be. What had changed were themselves, not their environment. The MZ and Rock who had first walked into this underground stadium were nothing like the pair of today.

The initial ksshh implied the blond’s blade igniting, and the hum after was a sound so familiar it could have been written in his circuitry. Red eyes only matching the glow of his saber, a smirk on his face as a stance that his partner-opponent likely knew by memory solidified.

“Then let’s begin.”

“This time for sure,” is repeated with a nod and a confident grin. He’d been so close lately, inches behind MZ in their proverbial race. Always, always on the edge, before slipping up. His sparring partner didn’t have to be unpredictable to win, just faster, always faster and stronger. The physical disadvantage was an inherent problem neither could solve, but one the Light-bot was determined to work around. If he fought smarter, stayed focused, that was the only chance he had. Any trick he used now would be a one time opportunity, for the next time they met, his partner would have a counter. 

MZ doesn’t make mistakes after all. “Try not t’ feel bad when you lose~“ The familiar hiss of the blond’s saber is met with an echo of the shorter’s own blade igniting. Rock mimicking the stance he was taught before it changes, the decision to move found in only a fraction of a second.  Come in strong and don’t let up. If you hesitate he’ll win, again. Rock’s charging, blade coming in hard for a wide side slash to initiate, colorful fire-like plasma streaking behind it. 

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the-broken-variable‌:

“You didn’t expect me to, because…?” His taste? Or just what he did for a pastime? The blond strolled past his… guest, who seemed he wouldn’t stop staring just because he’d only begun to lay eyes on the vamploid’s collection. 

Making his way over to the back table, parts strewn about its surface, the vamploid only watched, observed the way the raven-haired android bounced between vehicles, from sleek cars to motorcycles of all shape and size. A few alien tanks he’d managed to steal from other worlds, a space ship or two, even the model he’d brought the frozen world to its current state in, rebuilt as if new.

A massive collection, sure, models of old as well as those only in production in MZ’s own timeline. Some that weren’t available to the public, but had been property of elite Maverick Hunters… Only his purely from exposure, and yet those two were his favorite by far. He’d modified them, made them his, and in return they provided being about as indestructible as the Maverick himself.

“I can appreciate the mechanisms that make them what they are. It’s… relaxing to modify these machines.” The Ride Chasers especially. More like Light-Cycles from that movie a certain brunet adored, now. It certainly was entertaining to model something as unique as those.

“Didn’t expect it because I only ever see you readin’ an’ fightin’,” is replied back, the shorter of the two androids already seeming to be lost in the labyrinthine collection of metal and rubber and oil. 

If Rock notices at all that he’s being observed as he weaves through the vehicles, for once he doesn’t seem to mind or care. There are too many beautiful pieces in front of him, too many discoveries to let his curiosity and excitement dim in the wake of someone else’s gaze.  Not that MZ minds his seemingly boundless enthusiasm, perhaps pride kept him from making jabs at the Light-bot? Or Rock assumed too much of him once again thanks to other people. Either way the raven-haired robot starts to wander back towards his sparring partner, and the workbench he stood by. He can’t help the light dancing in his eyes, though he’d normally be loath to show MZ such interest.  “You’ve modified some of them? Now you’re just tryin’ t’ show off,” it’s an uncharacteristically lighthearted statement but he.. Rock manages a half smile up at the blond.  “Ya know I’ve got t’ ask which your favorites are.“

“...not that I could possibly choose somethin’ in here.”

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the-broken-variable‌: 

MZ knows each room that the Light-bot roams past; it was his home after all. There wasn’t much that happened here that he didn’t know about, or own himself. A door is chosen easily enough, closer to the middle of the long corridor, twenty steps away from the weapons cache. 

That one, hm…? 

“Not truly. Depends on how you use the things inside.” The Maverick set down his jug, venturing after his charge, settling behind him with an amused hum. “What made you pick this one?” The handle had the most use, the most wear. A room the blond frequented.

Reaching around the shorter, his fingers made contact with the doorknob, violet sparking at the tips. It clicked, the sound echoing down the empty hallway, the metal sliding open into deep darkness. Then one light sprung on, another, another, rows out to display metal of both sleekness and power, well-loved machinery.

“Are you going to stand there, or are we going to go in?”

“What made me pick it?” Other than he’d remember the location easily enough in this labyrinth of a facility... “I can tell you go here a lot.“ So even if it contained something weird and esoteric, he’d learn something about his companion if nothing else. 

Provided MZ let him in, given all the doors tended to remain locked around the blond’s domain. Paranoia maybe? What did MZ have to be paranoid of?

Seems he’d picked just fine, as the tall war machine reached past him and undid the lock with a spark of nanites. The door slid open revealing.... 

Rock blinked as the lights came on, first the one directly in front of them, then another, and another, one by one filling the distance and revealing a massive collection of vehicles housed in an even more massive garage. Is he... is he gawking? Yes, but MZ’s voice quickly pulls the slack from his jaw, the Light-bot stepping a little too excitedly inside.

Sports cars, motorcycles, many make and models he’d never even heard of. He’s all but drooling just at the front and center pieces, even when there’s so much more to see.  

“I uh, got t’ hand it t’ ya... didn’t expect ya t’ have somethin’ like this hidin’ around. Your taste is... really, really good.”

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the-broken-variable‌:

“If a sleepover is what you wanted, I’m afraid I’m not going to be the kind of host you’re looking for.” 

The sound of the wind howling outside, audible now that they were no longer below ground, is a comfortable ambiance. The vamploid rolled his shoulders in a shrug, red eyes surveying the ‘living room’ that made up the area. A couch, the back that he leaned against with crossed arms, a television, a table, an open kitchen that he obviously didn’t use often. 

Hobbies that didn’t involve weapons? “…Plenty, I suppose.” A free hand motioned to the long hallway they’d emerged from, the rows of doors that they’d walked past daily to get to the training rig. “Just pick a room I suppose, and I’ll tell you if combat matters.” 

Pushing himself off the couch, the blond ventured into the kitchen only to emerge with a jug of red liquid. Sweet smelling as it was, he took a swig, then dangled it limply at his side. “You’ll find that I’m one of many interests.”

Sleepover? Right. It’s impossible to resist a roll of the eyes at such a comment, not that Rock tries at all to hide it.

“Pretty sure you’re not the type t’ host anythin’ for anyone in the first place.“ He hardly pictured MZ as the hospitable sort, unless doing so gained the blond something. 

Like the way he fixed the General’s injuries between or after sparring sessions. Not truly meant to help Rock, but to ensure their fights-- and thus MZ’s entertainment-- could continue. A simple formula, really, and with that being the War Machine’s prime concern, there is little to expect from this evening other than awkward silence and half baked chit-chat.

He’s not sure if he’s relieved or not when his sparring partner departs momentarily for a drink.

Even so, the answer stills the DLN’s annoyance some, green optics following the hand gesture. “...come t’ think of it this place is pretty spacious...” perhaps the Maverick had a library or something somewhere-- seeing as MZ often had a book in hand whenever the Light-bot arrived. 

“...hm...” there is the slow start of steps, before the raven-haired machine is wandering idly down the long corridor. He stops further in, closer to the training arena they used, before turning around to look for his “host”. “How ‘bout this one?“ Easy to remember location if it was interesting, and if not he’d just start from this end and work his way back towards the front. 

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the-broken-variable‌:

And shut it the Maverick does, an eyebrow raised at the frustration simmering from Rock as if he was a space heater, the door creaking shut with a heavy thud against the frigid wind. Despite the irritation, the Light-bot himself doesn’t look too warm, snow dripping off his jacket and hair alike. MZ doesn’t fight the amused smirk on his own face at that glare. 

MZ dropped his coat over his sparring partner’s shoulders, the holes in its back sealing up with nanites as he shrugged it off his wings. “It would seem you’ll need to stay the night. You can leave tomorrow morning once the wind dies down.” If it died down. There were plenty of days where the blizzard stayed heavy for hours into the afternoon. 

…That left to entertaining his guest, however, and the vamploid… Well, it wasn’t that he wasn’t sure, but that his indifference varied to most activities. Besides that, in a way, he was curious about the activities the smaller would prefer. Certainly not sparring, they’d done plenty of that already, hadn’t they?

“…But it’s only eight. We have plenty of time, even if you do require a sleep cycle.” As in, the blond was egging his… guest on to do.. something.

Glaring is an activity Rock could freely do for the rest of time. As is, however, his shivering frame was somewhat disrupting his attempted hostility. Enough, at least, to have MZ smirking at him again. Damn blond...

But there is an over sized jacked dropped onto his shoulders, the Light-bot fielding mild surprise for the gesture. It’s almost kind, and from anyone other than the tall war machine, Rock might’ve been inclined to view it as such. For the moment though, he’s stuck on a low simmer, grumbling despite snuggling into the coat for warmth.

“...great. Just what I always wanted, a sleepover with tall dark an’ homicidal.“ His eyes roll as he tugs the coat over his shoulders more, defeated by both the weather and his sparing partner’s observations. “Don’t suppose your plan is for us t’ sit around an’ braid each other’s hair while we gossip,” it’s served with flat sarcasm, naturally.

“So what should we do? Ain’t really in a mood t’ have my ass handed t’ me more.“ A frown. “...ya got any hobbies that don’t involve weapons an’ combat by any chance?“

[rockwell-light]

Late Valentine gift for @the-hellscythe-cat / @hellscythearts ! We got legally married on V-day so I didn’t quite have the chance to work on it then /w\ We met through these two losers though so it seemed fitting to draw something sweet with them for that reason!

I also recorded most of the process: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=74qcgraVOLs so check it out if you wanna!

[rockwell-light]

This came from a sketch I did last year. I wanted to clean it up without putting MAXIMUM EFFORT into it. So it’s like, a simplified version of my current cell shading ^^;  clean but no textures and not a light of highlights. Just simple shadows and a few bright spots. So, for those of you who are new or just very confused, Rockwell (my screen name sake) is the short one there. He’s a character I’ve had for a long time and identify with pretty hard whiiiich is ironic because we’re not really alike at all. He’s a bitter, violent, self destructive type with an all too soft heart. He basically set out to make the world a better place and got consistently dealt the worst hand possible, and eventually became pretty jaded for it. He’s from a timeline where sentient robots are few and far between (he’s one of three currently functioning ones), and robots are generally despised by the public he set out to serve. Pretty much went hero, to anti-hero, to villain, to ??? Another friend once described him as a “Morally-Gray-Ex-Anti-Hero”, which is my favorite one to date, besides “dumb dog”, “grumpy blueberry”, and of course “Goldfish”. Beside him is MZ, belonging to @hellscythearts ! He’s an 8'2" murder machine. Built entirely for war and combat, and entirely lacking certain emotions. MZ doesn’t really do “social” or “mercy”. Just what he wants, when he wants. He also hails from a completely different universe/timeline than my blue idiot. In their story, multiverse travel is semi-common, even expected by most folks. By some struck of nonsense they ended up meeting, fighting, becoming friends, and eventually getting married years down the line. Changing for the… better? We’ll call it better, all the while. They may not be the most upstanding people morally, and certainly neither ends up where they pictured when they were first built, but they’re happy with each other and the odd family they end up putting together. They’re a really strange duo with a lot of personal issues and a lot of chaotic stuff that goes on outside of their control, but their dynamic is one of my favorites and has a special place in my heart. They’re also how my fiancee and I met each other! Which is part of why they’re always a favorite of mine. Also why you’ll see elements of both of their designs in our “AUs” and other projects. Recently we’ve been rewriting and reworking our old RPs because man, we wrote that stuff like, 4-5 years ago now? A little longer? Before we really had any idea what we wanted beyond “LET’S WRITE TOGETHER!” And it seemed time to revisit and fix things up.

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the-broken-variable‌:

“They’re the reason I’m as unpredictable as I can be,” said with amusement, but not at all disappointment when Rock once again waves the white flag. What irritation meets him is gone quickly enough, and is more than enough to surprise the blond inwardly at the lack of aggression. 

A hand reaches out to pull the android to his feet, and when it’s taken, does exactly that. “I have no qualms with it.” Ah, but… The vamploid straightened, eyebrows furrowing briefly with the frown that followed. “…I believe I’ve kept you later than our agreed time, anyhow.” 

Around eight, according to the clock that ran on this world’s skewed time system. The Light-bot should have left at six at the latest– two hours longer than the blond had liked. That, and… “I’ll advise you not to leave. You can’t, in fact.” Only MZ could, but likely even that wouldn’t be taken very happily. 

He does follow the raven-haired one into the kitchen-living room, but doesn’t repeat himself, even as the door is thrown angrily open. The Maverick happily takes the frigid air in his face, the steady creak of ice layering the floor and crawling up the door frame, but Rock hardly seems as pleased about it as he did.

“Unpredictable is one way of puttin’ it...” 

More like impossible. 

Equal surprise meets the offered hand, but Rock would not turn it down. It didn’t exactly pay to be amiable with MZ but he... saw no reason to get snappy for the offered help. He’s sore, anyway. The General is quickly dusting himself off, frowning at the Maverick’s statement. “Late ain’t a problem, long as it ain’t too late.” And seeing as he’d only been here a few hours, there was no need to worry about violating the parameters of his more subtle programming.

"Can’t leave? Just watch me,” is retorted with some irritation. A little snow hadn’t stopped him from coming and going yet, now had it? The insinuation is frustrating at best, and here he thought they were finally getting along. MZ had the most annoying habit of underestimating him and.... Rock is already simmering, fuming, boiling over by the time he’s marched to the door.  But when it’s thrown open, he staggers back from the combined wind force and blinding snow and ice biting at his face. Shielding his eyes with his arms, the Light-bot groans lowly before: “Alright alright I get it-- would ya shut the fuckin’ thing already?!”

Extreme weather would have been understated even if the damn blond tried to explain. Uuuugh. 

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the-broken-variable‌:

Weeks, months, since they’d first met, and all he could truly say was that the Light-bot was as entertaining as the Maverick had hoped he’d be. The constant banter, the barking even when MZ had barely responded, amused him to no end, but it also raised questions that sparked his curiosity, made him analyze every response that was thrown his way.

The most recent one, for instance, dripped with irritation, but was not filled with it, the smallest bit of satisfaction returning with the idea that Rock himself was improving– and the blond would never lie about it, as they were both starting to level on, which made made what he’d said all the more praise-worthy. A grin slipped onto his face. 

“I suppose it was,” was retorted, the murderer dipping away from another burning column of fire, the heat blistering even when it wasn’t on his synthetic skin. His hand scraped over the ice to his right, nanites quickly reshaping it to his whims, liquefying and yet still its traditional temperature stayed the same even as it lashed out at the General’s arm– a whip.

It would yank the android forward, into a punch that uppercut into his stomach. “It takes a lot to even get this far. To lie about how impressed I was… would hardly be fair.” 

It would’ve felt more like one if he’d managed any real impact on the Maverick. Instead the blond is slipping away from his grasp, his flames, again and again, and again. Biding his time for the right time to counter-- and he finds it.

Always unexpected-- the only thing Rock did expect. The makeshift whip is wrapping around him limb while it’s still forming, and with the same speed yanking him into MZ’s range. A literal punch in the gut, that has the Light-bot wincing, before falling backwards. The General doesn’t bother picking himself back up yet, taking a second to collect himself.

“That... that was hardly fair.” He breathes, but what frustration there is fades easily enough. “...bestin’ your nanites is goin’ t’ take a lot more than a few rounds in the ring.” That would require understanding how MZ thinks, somehow a far more monumental task of defeating him outright physically.

There is a sigh from the floor, before Rock sits himself upright. “Ya mind if we take a small break?” 

“Much as I “love” gettin’ my ass handed t’ me, I think I need a few.” Just to think, run over today’s session, take a minute to shake the feeling of getting run the hell over. 

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the-broken-variable‌:

@a-fading-light

He’d shown promise, continued to show as such. Satisfaction shines on the Maverick’s eyes as he chafes out of reach again, the flaming punch he’d once delivered to Rock now mirrored back at him with almost the same intensity and grace. 

“Not bad.” And while the Light-bot hadn’t quite landed a hit yet, he was getting faster with each passing day, and his ability to use said weapons supplied to him improved with impressive speed. Spikes and bombs this time, and the blond is rolling to avoid them, but only out of determination to not use…

MZ scoops up one of the icicles that grew in patches on the floor after failed attempts at re-freezing him only minutes prior, and hurls it at his partner like a javelin. “I haven’t even pulled out my weapons yet, and still… you’re doing better than when we first met.”

But not quite fast enough to defeat him yet.

It’s not like he has MZ on the ropes. Rock would love to think he did, but right now the Maverick is being purely defensive. Avoiding and blocking where he must, but rarely striking back. A decent workout to say the least, and greatly preferred over the now routine ass kicking that made up the other 50% of their sparring sessions. 

The blond rolls again, this time coming back with an improvised weapon in hand. The icicle lobbed Rock’s way is surprising for the nanoseconds it can be before the Light-bot is forced to react. The weapons on his hands shift their energy again, fire venting from each knuckle as he not only pivots to the side to avoid his core being hit, but raises his hands to melt the frozen spear narrowly missing his body. 

“That was almost a compliment,“ he snarks back. Even if Rock didn’t look as thrilled with his progress as MZ did-- he wanted to win already goddammit!-- they were starting to get somewhere. Enough at least, for him to receive comments almost resembling praise. 

It doesn’t help the disappointment, but it eases it somewhat. It would be better if any of the strikes that followed actually landed, but neither the swirling flames nor his fists ever quite seem to touch MZ. I’ll be lucky to even singe your shirt at this rate you fucking prick.

[the-broken-variable-ar]

a-fading-light‌:

While it was true MZ had bothered to answer his questions plenty, it was the air about the Maverick that rubbed him the wrong way. Something in how MZ spoke and carried himself that read as holier-than-thou in Rock’s mind. Whether he seemed to already “know everything”, or came off as bored and unbothered most of the time. It was… aggravating to feel like just another piece of entertainment. Just another tool for–

Rock takes a deep unnecessary breath. As if the action of moving his artificial lungs and lightly cooling his internals would actually quell the fire in his belly. It doesn’t, but he’s trying to reform his thoughts, to better explain the problem.

“It’s only right we give each other the same treatment,“ he starts, irritation under each word despite his attempts at diplomacy. “…an’ I don’t know you very well, an’ the same is true for you. We only have prior experiences for comparison,“ and in the General’s case, those experiences made MZ very reminiscent of someone else, from how little he’d gleaned. 

“…truth is, ya remind me a lot of someone I really hate the shit out of. The type of person who is always right an’ always better.“ Always in control. “I don’t really fancy someone with a big ego or someone who is disingenuous.” Pausing, thinking… sighing. “…but if ya say you’re not then I guess ya just have a certain…“ he rolls his hand in the air, trying to come up with the word and failing. “A certain… ness, ‘bout ya that makes me think you’re the type. Prob’ly cause ya don’t emote much.“ Which might not be the war machines fault, now that Rock’s actually thinking about it.

“…’s goin’ t’ take us a bit t’ get used to this I think. So uh, sorry in ad-fuckin-vance I guess.“

“I am nothing like the person you know, and they are certainly nothing like me.” A statement, not quite of annoyance but a matter-of-fact response. What other was he supposed to give? As flattered as he was for the Light-bot to think so highly of him, MZ had to disagree.

His arms crossed, fingertips tapping the leather of his jacket quietly. “…I am not always right. Better… depends on my opponent’s skill level.” 

But if what’s acknowledged is acknowledged, the Maverick supposed he didn’t really care past that point. The jab at his expressions was skipped, ignored only because he knew of how it unsettled some and frustrated others. Most didn’t live to express an opinion until now, though. “…But fair enough.”

Onto the topic they meant to address with bringing a stranger here to his world at all. “Until your gauntlets are completed, we’ll use hand-to-hand.” Only because that buster could hardy amount up to the vamploid’s arsenal without an upgrade. “…I hope you’re ready to start early.”

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the-broken-variable‌:

Surprise isn’t quite what appears on the vamploid’s face, an emotion he didn’t really encounter, but there is a slow raise of the eyebrows as Rock rants, but is not interrupted. His stance is still as fire was spit in his direction, relaxed if attentive at most, and his expression only furrows at what was being assumed of him.

“…I’ve only given you respect.” He listened when talked to, but… “I answered all of your questions as readily as you asked them, is that not true?” Whether he was believed was relative, but it was going to be annoying if he weren’t taken at face-value. “We don’t need to get along. But so far it is you who hasn’t shown respect.”

“I’m not talking down to you. Don’t put whatever perceptions you’ve gained of me in my mouth without hearing me first. I’ll only do the same to you unless you give me enough educated reactions for me to guess otherwise.” But the Maverick hadn’t gained much yet about his new rival, other than he was hot-headed, and perhaps liked violence more than he’d let on.

The blond crosses his arms, true annoyance reflecting onto his features as he was glared up at. “Am I looking down upon you? Is that what you see? If you had truly been looked down upon, I can swear to you now we would not be having this conversation, and I would have never offered you even a glance at my arsenal other than that which would have crushed you to the pavement back in your world.”

“As that is the case, Rockwell Light, I demand respect from you as well.”

While it was true MZ had bothered to answer his questions plenty, it was the air about the Maverick that rubbed him the wrong way. Something in how MZ spoke and carried himself that read as holier-than-thou in Rock’s mind. Whether he seemed to already “know everything”, or came off as bored and unbothered most of the time. It was... aggravating to feel like just another piece of entertainment. Just another tool for--

Rock takes a deep unnecessary breath. As if the action of moving his artificial lungs and lightly cooling his internals would actually quell the fire in his belly. It doesn’t, but he’s trying to reform his thoughts, to better explain the problem.

“It’s only right we give each other the same treatment,“ he starts, irritation under each word despite his attempts at diplomacy. “...an’ I don’t know you very well, an’ the same is true for you. We only have prior experiences for comparison,“ and in the General’s case, those experiences made MZ very reminiscent of someone else, from how little he’d gleaned. 

“...truth is, ya remind me a lot of someone I really hate the shit out of. The type of person who is always right an’ always better.“ Always in control. “I don’t really fancy someone with a big ego or someone who is disingenuous.” Pausing, thinking... sighing. “...but if ya say you’re not then I guess ya just have a certain...“ he rolls his hand in the air, trying to come up with the word and failing. “A certain... ness, ‘bout ya that makes me think you’re the type. Prob’ly cause ya don’t emote much.“ Which might not be the war machines fault, now that Rock’s actually thinking about it.

“...’s goin’ t’ take us a bit t’ get used to this I think. So uh, sorry in ad-fuckin-vance I guess.“

[rockwell-light]

💦♞ maybe two muses @ each other?

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the-broken-variable‌:

Should he have expected such a response? Sure, he had, but most would have jumped on a chance like the one he offered, though the answer given to him had just the same amount of merit. The Maverick was a murderer, why would anything in their right mind trust him, especially if they were human?

But Rock wasn’t human, and he’d already gained his new sparring partner’s respect quite a bit, something that was more difficult to receive than it seemed. And while he hadn’t quite put it in his head that the blond would never lie, the response was nonchalant at best, and possibly irritated at worst.

“If there was one, I suppose you’ve already paid for it.” His boot is tapping on the floor, metal clacking lightly against metal. “…But if you don’t want it, that’s fine. There was never any problem for me if you didn’t accept them.” It would just be that it would take even longer for them to find progress, and MZ… didn’t care for the inconvenience of such easy victories.

“You’re already aware that I won’t kill you as you are now, so if you’re willing to accept years of that fact, I don’t really care.” But no, there’s another reason he’s annoyed isn’t there? “…I won’t repeat myself again: I’m not a liar. A murderer, a Maverick as they say, but there’s no need to lie when you’ll eventually receive an answer anyhow.”

No need to deceive when it would just delay the inevitable, and MZ was… while patient, didn’t want to be kept waiting when efficiency was involved.

Already.... paid for it...? 

There’s several blinks, the Light-bot’s hostility fading to simple bewilderment. That... was an answer he’d take, just not what he’d expected. Then again, what more did he have to offer than what he’d already agreed to give? This God among machines couldn’t want more from him than a half decent fight. There was no need when those nanites could just... build shit on a whim.

There is a sigh, slowly growing to a more indignant huff.

“Fine, fine, yes I want ‘em.“ No use trying to pretend otherwise when he’d been ogling every single weapon presented today. Rock folds his arms, casual but the very real building of a wall between them. Keeping his gaze trained on the tall blond before him, there is an irritated silence before: “I don’t... really give a shit if ya lie out your goddamn ass or not so long as our deal is kept at the end of the day.“

His own fingers tap at the leather sleeves of his jacket. “...Okay. ...Not a liar. If bein’ an “honorable” fuckin’ serial killer is your thing or whatever, I’ll respect that. won’t imply otherwise unless I see it for myself. But listen here ya tall bastard,” there it returns, narrowed eyes and flaring green optics. It’s hard not to feel like he’s being brushed off or looked down upon from such a non-pulsed response, from something so similar to--

“You don’t have t’ get me, but understand if I ask you a fuckin’ question like that I’m not doin’ it just t’ waste your goddamn time alright? People ain’t really all that “charitable” where I come from for one--” if it weren’t obvious from his earlier scrutiny. “An’ my freedoms are pretty fuckin’ limited. There’s goin’ t’ be a lot of shit I don’t know-- but I also don’t appreciate bein’ talked down t’ like that. Ya want respect? You best damn well give it. So keep it at a fuckin’ minimum an’ we won’t have any problems.”

Not that hating this asshole’s guts would make fighting him any harder.