As the piano blared to life under Akira's fingers, sparks traveled his palms, his arms, his shoulders, and finally that cracked face plate shone in an array of garish colors. Just as quickly as it appeared, so did it settle until broken voices echoed against Akira's mind. "S̡afe͡ p̸la̸ce̢?͜ Y̡e͡s͠,̴ bu̧t ͢ąn͝ot̸he̕r s̡h͏ares̕ ̀t̨hi̕s ̸sp҉a͏c̀e...͢W̕e s͘h̵OUL̶D̕ ̷T-T̡-TA͘--̛ ŃO̷! B̷ad...̧ ̛Bad...̕"
The shock of static traveling up his metallic body creates a violent montage of crackles and snaps- AKIRA’s head spinning a vicious 360 degrees before his entire body shivered mechanically and his hands slammed down on the ivory keys in a disheveled, frantic manner.
“WOO-WEE THIS SURE AIN’T FEEL GOOD! {BUUUUUUZZZ}
Th&2-This ain’t at all in protocol- {BZZZZZT} just what in blazes are ya? Don’t y0c-u know this h77unk of metal’s t-ta-ta-47te&&aken?”
