txrash-the-world:
“Well, not just me, no. I’m not even a combat model, that would be pretty ludicrous for me to be the sole person responsible for stopping you. I had… help.” Io elaborated, tone slow as she picked carefully her words as to not spill beans - as far as she was concerned, she preferred not to spill anything without Dizzy’s express permission. She twiddled her thumbs nervously, before cracking a more relaxed, genuine smile. “And, there’s no need to apologize. You didn’t even hit me. I’m not sure what exactly you were briefed on but, I was busier with trying to pin down the other Maverick interloper in the building. He did a lot more hurtin’ than you did.”
She grimaced nervously, still remembering the raw burn of the scruff of her neck being yanked about, reaching to touch the fur to soothe the unpleasant, yet tenavious memory. Io promptly felt one last shudder course through her, causing her fur to stand on end briefly, before she shook her head, returning to a smile. “It IS nice meeting you on good terms. I’m Io, I usually don’t use my more offical, model-ish name. Io just feels shorter, simpler. And, I’m glad you’re doing much better! It definitely shows.”
The feline Reploid took an exaggerated step back, putting up her paw-like hands as if wanting to hide behind them. “Those punches look fierce enough that I don’t really wanna’ get too close, for sure.” She chuckled warmly, grinning.
“Heh, you betcha! One punch from these beauties’ll knock ya flat on your ass if you don’t put up your guard!” Flame Stag snorts with pride, as Magna is seen on the side just awing slightly. “So uh, yeah, I’m just spending some time here for now. Doc’s saying they’re trying out a new formula on this antidote we’ve all been getting for the Sigma Virus an’ what-not, so hopefully we’ll be even safer in no time!”
“-- I should really hope so, Flame Stag. Would be quite unbecoming of you to not be in prim shape.” came a voice from nearby, and a red/yellow, tall and lanky insectoid Reploid was seen standing by the doorway, a trademark pair of scissor-blades adorning his head as his mandibles clicked idly. “Glad to see you’re doing better though.”
“Aah! If it ain’t my pal Boomer Kuwanger! How are ya, chump?” Flame Stag grins heartily... and if Io were to look around, he’d find that Magna Centipede had suddenly gone absolutely rigid, as if he had a spur case of Reploid Rigor Mortis. Stiff as a board, not moving an inch. Not even seeming to breathe. Kuwanger seemed to not notice Magna at first, however, as he spotted Io, who, to his surprise, was about as tall as he was.
“Well, this is a first... normally I’m used to having to look down at whoever I’m talking to.” he chuckles. “As in, having to crane my head down a bit. Say, you wouldn’t happen to be that Arctic rescue Reploid that Chill Penguin has told me about?”











