I heard screaming and clanging below me, but it didn’t really bother me. Not much does when you’re protected by a couple feet of reinforced armor slapped on a giant gun-toting robot. I played around with the controls and found the one that turned on the external speakers.
‘Hey, uuhhh… Dare? That you out there, buddy?’
There was some more screaming. I figured it was him; when I listened hard enough I could make out something like “y’all knew the minute y’all came here y’all don’t mess with mah robot, y’hear?!”, and if that wasn’t Dare, I’d probably just wandered into an episode of Dukes of Hazzard.
‘Oh, hi sweetie,’ I yelled back at him. ‘Just wanted to know how you put the radio on in this thing?’
More screaming. More banging noises. What was he even trying to do, cut me out of there with a can opener? And nothing he was saying sounded even remotely like he was trying to help me find the radio. Actually, some of what he was saying was just downright rude.
‘Honey, you’re gonna have to speak up some,’ I sang back in my sweetest tone. ‘And by the way, do you have any air con in here? Or at least some kind of vent or something? Because it’s smelling pretty funky up in here, and last time I checked this didn’t have a window I could just pop open. Pretty inconvenient design if you ask me.’
The clanging and crashing was getting louder. Dare’s voice was getting clearer. Next I knew, his angry little head popped up out of the lower access hatch. He looked like you could cook breakfast on his face. ‘You get out my damn seat right now,’ he barked. ‘You get out of Chuck.’
Oh yeah, did I mention that? Dare named his mech suit. His name is Chuck. It’s kind of adorable really. But I digress.
Dare was still shouting at me as I slipped out of the security harnesses. He practically pushed me out of the seat. ‘I told you not to touch him. Chrys listened. Jackson listened, but goddamnit Fancy get out of my damn robot or so help me I’ll paint this cockpit with you - ’
‘Okay, okay,’ I said. ‘I get it, you don’t like people touching your robot.’
‘I don’t like you touching my anything,’ Dare growled, falling victim to short man syndrome as he tried to kick me down the hatch of his gigantic robot. ‘Having you live with me is bad enough without having your greasy paws in all my stuff.’
