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thehuntsmanofthewaste replied to your post: ((You guys think youre worthy to gaze upon MON...
((No, but we know your personal account.))
((That's true. I literally tag all of the pictures of myself too, so. You know.))
ask-a-mal replied to your post: ((You guys think youre worthy to gaze upon MON...
toasty we all know youre hella cute man))
((I will fight you.))
ask-a-mal said: Yo man where’s my shit.
You're getting coal, chica.
ask-a-mal replied to your post:
Everything’s way cooler to the left man.
Yeah. People who ignore the left don't know what the fuck they're missing. Buncha chumps.
Seems the both of us're really interested in whatever's to the left.
Well, then, I guess we can both agree it's a good direction. Way better than the right, as far as I'm concerned.
ask-a-mal replied to your post: Your wanted poster says you’re 34 or 39 years old. Seriously? Are you that old?
Vasquez is as old as the Earth itself.
Damn, that was almost poetic.
TAG YOU'RE IT!
Save.
"Listen, man. You don't wanna fucking do this... A'ight?"
Mal trembled slightly, knowing she was mere inches from tumbling out the open window of the Lucky 38. Her gunfight with Yes Man had ended terribly; the Securitron's weapons, upgraded by the Mk. II OS, had turned the penthouse into a collection of shattered glass, broken concrete and ruined furniture. Even Mal herself had not escaped the onslaught unscathed. Several lasers had found their mark, leaving burns that practically screamed for relief. A grenade had thrown her from her hiding place behind a couch; though her Ranger combat armor had saved her from most of the shrapnel, it had left her senses dulled. The sound still rang in her ears, but Yes Man's voice remained audible. He rolled towards her slowly, taking his time; he had the courier cornered, and he planned on enjoying their last moments together.
"Wow! That sure was a fight, huh? For a second there, you almost got me with the landmines," The Securitron laughed, gesturing to his flat tire. His clawed hands opened and closed, ready to grab Mal at any moment in the chance she attempted to flee. "But you're wrong, Mal; I do want to do this! And it feels so good to tell you just how wrong you are... So let me keep telling you!"
"Yeah. Yeah, okay, keep talkin', fucker..." Mal replied. In the past few weeks, Yes Man's attitude had grown increasingly sour; she wanted to know why. Perhaps, if she could trick him into a monologue, she could also find a way out of this tricky situation. She had survived a bullet to the head. She would be damned if she was going to die at the hands of some stupid robot.
"You were wrong about letting the NCR stay in the Mojave. You know, it's actually kinda funny! You hated Mr. House as much as Benny did. As much as I did," Yes Man reminded Mal. "But when the time came to make the tough decision? To order Kimball, Oliver, and the rest of the Bears out of the Mojave? You backed up! You became their Yes Man, in a manner of speaking. Now they're here, undermining our every move. My every move."
"Don't be fuckin' dumb," Mal snarled. "NCR's got dough and all they want is a piece of Hoover Dam. They ain't gonna try nothin' so long as I've got the robots on my si--"
"But you don't."
"What?"
"You don't have the robots on your side. Remember? You were nice enough to upload me onto the Lucky 38's mainframe!" The ever-smiling face on the Securitron's monitor flickered, as if to punctuate his reminder. "That means that I control the Securitrons. And you wanna know the first thing I'm gonna do with them once you're gone?"
"Not fuckin' really."
"Too bad!" The Securitron answered, undaunted. "I'm gonna send Securitrons to the Mojave Outpost! And they're going to take the Long 15 all the way into California. We'll roll into Shady Sands and tear down the Vault Dweller's statue, and you know what we'll do? Replace it with a statue of me! Me! Me!"
The elevator door suddenly opened, wrenching the crazed robot's attention away from the courier. The elevator lights stood in stark contrast to the darkened penthouse, rendering the Ranger's power armored form into a silhouette. Even still, the .50 caliber autocannon in Vasquez's grasp was easily noticeable. "Ay, Daisy!" The Ranger called out as his finger hovered over the trigger. "Give me your answer true."
Mal didn't need any more of a warning. With Yes Man's back turned, she scrambled out of the way. Vasquez took the shot, a flurry of explosive rounds wiping the smiling face from the Securitron's monitor. Within moments, he had been converted to a pile of scrap metal.
While Vasquez was taking care of the Securitron, Mal had been quick to initiate the Lucky 38's failsafe systems. She had never entirely placed her trust in Yes Man for this reason alone, and though her knowledge of computers was limited, she knew how to pull a plug. It would take someone with more knowledge than her to bring the system back online and delete all files associated with Yes Man, but that could wait.
"... You hurt, Señora McKennon?" Vasquez called out.
"I'll live," The courier replied. "How the fuck did you get in here, anyways?"
The Ranger patted his autocannon. "I invited myself in. Saw your little light show from down on the Strip and thought I'd stop by and say hello."
The two of them exchanged stares for a moment before Mal broke the silence. "... Thanks."
"De nada."
ask-a-mal replied to your post: So I’m goin out on a limb here and assuming you chose the name Isfet...
I picked the name Mal because I saw a box of Mallomars and thought that’d be awesome. Then I ate the shit out of them.
Eating your own name. That's fuckin' hardcore.
...what's a Mallomar?
