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“What do you mean you lost the kid?” Maxima bristled as he fixed his gaze forward. He didn’t want to ask how the Valkyrie managed to convince the owners of the shoddy truck they were in to drive them to the edges of hell, but he had a feeling the price was expensive. “I mean I lost the kid. One second he was there, the next he wasn’t. What’s so hard to understand about this?” Reyna huffed as she stared off in another direction, the flatbed they occupied complaining and rattling with every bump they hit. If it were up to her, she would have taken her skiff by herself, but the walking tincan decided she couldn’t be trusted to root out his ward from whatever trouble he’d found himself in by herself. That meant finding something sturdy enough to carry about his five-tonne ass. “I don’t need the lip, Valkyrie. I sought you out because I thought I could trust you. … I’m starting to think that was a mistake. You know what they say, if you want the job done right…” He folded his arms over his large chest and glowered down at her over the curve of his shoulder. He was aware that he might be being a little too hard on her, but the kid came before her feelings. “… then do it yourself. Think whatever you want. But I’m pretty sure the kid has a mind of his own, with legs to boot. I’m not about to treat him like some toddler and pen him up just to keep him safe.” “You do remember who’s after him, right?” Maxima asked with a raised brow. How could she be so casual about this? “Oh, I do, every damn day because you won’t shut up about it. But he’s not a child, so stop treating him like one. We are not his parents, and sometimes you just have to let bad s**t happen so that he’ll learn.” Reyna had been glad for the fresh blood to her Rogues, and had seen that spark in the white-haired teenager that could be molded and shaped into something great, if only he’d let her help. “A safe haven,” she’d called the Ring. Apparently, not for the one person she was supposed to be protecting. And as if she wasn’t beating herself up enough about it, the teenager’s “babysitter” was giving her hell for it too. Her thoughts were interrupted when she found herself two feet off the ground, held up by the single hand wrapped in the fabric of her shirt. She expected as much - and was honestly surprised it had taken him this long - and stared back at the cyborg with an unimpressed look. “If something’s happened to him, Valkyrie, I’m gonna pay you back ten-fold.” His brow furrowed deeply as his grip on her tightened, and his jaw ached with the clenching of his teeth. He was half-tempted to just throw her over the side and be done with her. He could take care of this by himself, just as he’d done before he came to this place. “I don’t doubt that. But just remember you’d be walking right now if it wasn’t for me.” Reyna didn’t try to fight - it wouldn’t make either of them feel better and he had a couple hundred pounds on her already - and knew that his venting was warranted. “Strangely enough, I would’ve been fine with that.” He released his grip, and Reyna’s boots thudded dully against the rusted metal. Gloved hands smoothed out the massive wrinkle in her shirt as she retook her seat. Maxima, on the other hand, continued to stare her down, at a loss for words. Maybe K’ was right; trusting anyone only got you killed or hurt someone you cared about. Maxima thought he could have minimized that by increasing their numbers, having more people to watch their backs than just the two of them. How wrong he’d been. And once he got the kid out of whatever shit he was in, it was time to start looking for somewhere else to go.
“I fluctuate wildly between ‘i hate these fucking kids’ to 'i love these fucking kids’ to 'these fucking kids are gonna be the death of me’ about once every 15 minutes.”
*replaces his hair gel with crazy glue*
When a panicked Maxima had approached K’ for help, hands half-glued to his head and not willing to move them in case he ripped out his precious hair in the process, the kid had merely stared. Then turned on his heel and left, proclaiming it wasn’t his problem, like the heartless leathery little shitbag he is. Now he was no longer sorry for having replaced his cigarettes with candy ones. And spitefully hoped he suffered many more awful pranks from the rest of the Favour’s crew. And so the poor cyborg, embarrassed by his predicament, sits in his room with his hands stuck to his head and contemplates life.
“All of this is true,” he conceded. And he would have given her the bear then and there if he wasn’t curious to see just how long she was willing to keep up this bull-faced lie. “Except, as you just pointed out, I’m in hiding. So the amount of people I’m in contact with is relatively low... Which means there’s no actual need for your connections in this instance; all the likely suspects are on the Favour. I just need to ask them one on one until I find the owner.”
With that, he settled the bear on his massive shoulders, further out of her reach. Its arms stuck out either side to caress his sideburned cheeks like a small stuffed lover, and the bra pressed lightly against the back of his skull. “Anyway, K’ can tease me about this all he wants; I’ve got a secret admirer sending me underbears, so I don’t care.”
[@burdokk liked for a starter]
“I’ve seen a lot of strange things in my life...” It was a staple of KoF tournaments, after all. And even before then, during his time working in NESTS, he’d encountered all sorts of oddities. “But humans with monkey tails is a first.” And that wasn’t even taking into account the strange energy his sensors were picking up...
Despite his wariness over that particular detail, he offered the Saiyan a good-natured grin. “Mind if I ask for the story behind that?”
[@reynavaleria from X]
A cocked brow. “Really? Well it’s definitely not mine. And K’ doesn’t have the hips for these.” He gave the hem of the lacy underwear a gentle tug. Much too wide for the resident fire hazard’s scrawny body. Not that lace seemed to be something he would even wear in the first place... And he wasn’t hooking up with anyone at the moment, to the cyborg’s knowledge. Or if he was, he wasn’t bringing them - and their underwear - back here.
Maxima hummed in pretend thoughtfulness, looking into the bear’s shiny black eyes. A teasing glint entered his own as he glanced back down to Reyna. “If it’s not yours, then I guess I’ll have to hang onto it until the actual owner shows up, won’t I?”
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Getting ahold of the Don of Southtown was an impressive feat in and of itself. But having the privilege of chatting to the man himself over coffee was unheard of; rarer than hen’s teeth, even. Between protecting the town and what seemed to be a lengthy search for something or someone, the poor fellow likely didn’t get much time to relax and indulge in these sorts of trivialities. Maxima reached for one of the powdered doughnuts in the middle of the table, bike jacket whispering with the motion. He’d left the heavy ordinance body behind, both as a sign of peace and to remain inconspicuous. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t still armed and dangerous, however. One could never be too careful, after all.
It was after dunking the end of the doughnut into his coffee and taking a bite that he finally decided to speak. “My partner didn’t stir up too big a fuss during his stay here, I hope?”
He felt somewhat sorry for having to taint pleasure with business, but that was why he’d come here in the first place. He’d seen the news - the breakout of another fire in a town barely recovered from a previous onslaught of it - and K’ had come limping back to the apartment some time back sporting a myriad of cuts, bruises, and what looked like electricity burns. So now he was here to try and do damage control in the wake of the kid’s mess. They had enough people after their heads without adding Alba Meira, Son of Fate, and Devil of Daybreak, to that list.
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“Challenging a complete stranger you just met to a fight is a little odd, don’t you think?”
One look at his heavily built 6’9 physique seemed to attract these fired up wrestler types to him like ants to sugar. Though this was the first time it had happened to him in a non-tournament setting. And this was supposed to be a relaxing outing, too... One where he could have a small break away from the super powered teens he looked after and their shenanigans. Maxima sighed, running a hand through his hair. Judging by the man’s expression and the tautness of his body - an obvious tell that he was itching to throw fists - he’d probably get dragged into a fight even if he turned down the offer. A weary sigh left his throat. Better to comply and get it over with, he supposed.
“Well, since you’re doing this during my off time, can I at least finish my whiskey first?” He gave the amber-filled glass a small shake, making the ice cubes rattle against each other.
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With twin massive crates on his shoulders, Maxima followed along behind Pendles, traversing the treacherous path into one of his hideouts. He was careful to place his feet in the exact same spots the roa did. And paid careful heed to any and all verbal instructions that were uttered, to the letter. His scanners could pick up a fair few of the traps, but not all, and he’d rather not have an acid bath or lose his handsome head to them.
Having that part of the journey eventually end with their entrance into the main room was a small relief. Though he still gave the digs a short, wary appraisal. He could pinpoint a few more traps here and there. Evidently, Pendles was a very cautious snake. And clever, much of what he was picking up very well-hidden, and in likely spots for thieves to try sticking their hands.
“Impressive set-up,” he commented, very much genuine in the compliment. Metal-capped fingers drummed one of the boxes lightly. Whatever was in them both was heavy; enough so to warrant the cyborg’s help with transporting them. His assumption was that this was something murder and/or torture related. “So, where did you want these?”
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Maxima didn’t look up from chopping up vegetables for tonight’s dinner, an action almost as soothing and instinctively ingrained as touching up his sideburns. They’d be having stew tonight, among other things.
“You know. I had my doubts about you, initially...” Well, he still did, but he kept them private. Even if the strange readings his scanners kept picking up from her put him on edge. “But it’s been good to have you around, Naomi. If only because it’s made K’ become less withdrawn.” In all the years Maxima had known him, he didnt think he’d ever seen the kid smile so much and so freely.
“Well,” he added as an afterthought. “Having an extra set of hands to help me with the chores is good, too.” He did look up this time, grinning and gesturing with the knife at the dishes she was washing. They went through so many in this little apartment; ravenous appetites abound here.
“ i respect that. but you should know, i don’t HAVE to play nice.”
[X]
“I do know. And I don’t expect you to.” To do so would have been a foolish endeavour; he hadn’t known her for long, yet he’d already figured out this much. The Valkyrie bowed to nobody’s will but her own. “That said… was it really necessary to replace my Vapor Cannon shells with glitter bombs?”
He held out an arm, letting her get a look at all the sparkly flecks settled on the metal. And, to his lament, into the crevices of his arm cannon.
“I mean, c’mon. It was just a donut - which I will again remind you came from a box I bought, in the first place - and I was going to go out and buy more, anyway.” He picked sulkily at one of the glitter flecks, but only succeeded in pushing it deeper into one of the cracks in his armour. He’d be picking this mess out for the foreseeable future. Maybe he should get the vacuum… “Or is this because I made you deal with the fire hazard on your own for a week?”
Forest, Tide
[X]
Forest: Where are you most calm?
“On the balcony, just before dawn breaks.” When the world is quiet, save for stirring birds, and he can enjoy his coffee, maybe even read a book, in peace. “The kitchen in general, too. Well… up until K’ tries to fix himself something non-microwaveable to eat, anyway.” Despite his best efforts to teach the damn kid, he couldn’t not set off the fire alarm with his atrocious stovetop cooking skills.
Tide: Can you swim/do you like to swim?
“If you can call boosting myself through the water with my leg jets at full power swimming… then yes, I can totally still swim.” A wry grin slips into place. “This body’s useful, but it isn’t exactly the most buoyant. And Doc Makishima’s still working out kinks in the civilian one… The aforementioned buoyancy problem, and lightening it up in general, mostly. So unfortunately, it’s sunbathing or sticking to the shallows for me, right now.”
It would probably help if he had all the weapons removed, bar the chest cannon of course, since that is, essentially, his heart… But there are still small pockets of people trying to hunt him and the kids down, who want to follow in NESTS’ footsteps and create living weapons of their own. He’d rather not be so unprotected when fending those people off.
{{I swear I’ll be properly active soon, I just wanna get all of those starters done in one hit and I’m. Y’know. Slow and useless in general.}}
Cyberpunk Street by Yoshimitszu
{{Mun and rules pages up - just copied and pasted from K’s blog with different wording for the ns.fw threads section - aaaaand a muse blurb is up, too. Verses and AUs I’ll do up another day.}}
{{Fuq. Guess whose birthday I missed?}}