#monsteropoliis

[angsty-cobrafish]

Bass had to hold himself back from wanting to go pummel that Turbo.  Sure, he wasn’t Shade’s family anymore, but he still felt protective of him.

[oh-nxts-and-bxlts]

@bionicparrot, @monsteropoliis

Exercise was a bit of a complicated subject for a Robot Master. It didn’t serve to make them particularly stronger, faster, or more agile, their bodies only able to work with how they were built and not much else. They were given hard set limits when it came to their physical capabilities, and overcoming them was not plausible without severe overclocking and degradation of their frames.

Practice, however, was not entirely foreign to them. Sure, their abilities were not going to budge, but their ability to use them efficiently was also dependant on something akin to experience more than it was their starting programming. No matter how well-programmed a ‘bot, there always was some particular quirk that came with the physicality of living through the use of their powers that made experience the deciding factor. Always.

From Celerity woman’s point of view, this was especially tangible whenever a ‘bot’s ability to function depended on high physical performance. What was the minute difference of grit and traction between dirt and concrete? Was this or that material springy enough to jump off of? Mastering one’s own body was kind of important when your main selling point was being ludicrously fast and able to fling yourself at mach speeds from point A to point B without a single slip, skip or fall. Which could very much be what ended you, at those speeds!

...Also from Celerity’s point of view, this was the perfect reasoning behind, or excuse for, depending on her mood, running herself absolutely ragged in breakneck races through long stretches of dirt tracks in the middle of nowhere. She wasn’t sure if the tracks were used by cars, or motorcycles, or both, given they comported both slopes and flat circuits with a lotta’ turns, or if they were even made by man’s interventions. Either way, Celerity adored the spot. It was surrounded by nothing but dry bushes for miles in all directions, safe for one where an out-of-town junkyard seemed to have been left to rust.

No interruptions, no speed limits, no “disrupting the peace”. Just her, the grit of the road, and a lot, lot of adrenaline rushes.

Celerity looked down to the string of dirt hills that were lining up in front of her with a delighted grin, rubbing her once white, but now a light shade of dusty brown gloves together. Her heels dug into the soft soil, testing the resilience of the ground below her, before she pushed in, launching herself down the slope full tilt. Her primary and secondary thrusters roared to life, whipping her body forward with the added push she needed. Struts in her legs whined softly as she hit the curve between the hill she’d rushed down from and the one ahead, fighting briefly against her own momentum as she shifted directions from down, to up.

She skated off the top of the next hill as if she weighed almost nothing, launched clear into the air in the starfish pose. Celerity pumped her fists up in what little time she had airborne, letting out a cheerful, excited whoop before snapping back into position, skidding down the slope she landed on with practiced ease.

Only to leap right back up at the next bump, attempting another, equally comical pose.

“WHOOOOOOOOO!”