~Beyond the Border~ > Rumia's Party Games
The Complex of Horrors! (RP Thread)
FinnKaenbyou:
Rou-R-KAN-1 takes a deep breath and smiles at the sight of the bot merrily strolling down the room.
"That's better. Odds are that now that we've tripped the Robot_Rotation flag when we need help the most in our mission this scrub bot will burst into the fray and save us...or someone will slip on the wet floor and break their neck for an instant Bad End. One or the other, really."
He pulls out a notebook and begins to scribble down the names of some non-existent variables, mentally working his way through all the ways this little decision could expand into life-or-death. This was normally the point when most people took a nervous step away from him, but that had been back when he was of Infrared clearance. Perhaps Troubleshooters would be somewhat more accepting of his little quirks...
Zengar Zombolt:
"Heh, those silly malfunctioning bots always crack me up. At least they don't know when to stop doing their jobs."
Zengar-R-SRG-1 keeps laughing to himself.
"Maybe one day, those Troubleshooters will find out a way for the scrub bots to not crash into the first wall they meet. That day would be the cleanest day ever."
Rabbit:
"Wouldn't that be considered treasonous for tampering with the Computer's equipment?" Jamie-R-SWH-1 wonders aloud.
Mr_Bob:
As the other Troubleshooters crowd around the scrub bot at the fore, a lone figure enters in from the back, wearing a gas mask which covers the face, but leaves the bright red hair of the owner visible. It is an interesting sight coupled with the Red uniform of the Troubleshooter.
Saying nothing, the figure quickly takes a seat in the back.
A nametag with Ginger-R-UYT-1, CPU: Eye in the Skypanel, RED clearance serves as identification.
Hello Purvis:
Whilst the troubleshooters meet and greet each other, or play with the bot, time has passed. It is now 1010 hours, and there is no sign of any kind of briefing. Where could the briefing agent be? Perhaps he's in the bathroom? Perhaps he got unavoidably by pre-briefing forms? Perhaps he has been terminated?
Then, finally, the door slides open. The wave of anticipating this builds up quickly dies as a bored-looking Infrared citizen in his black overalls steps out. Paying no mind to any of the gathered troubleshooters, he approaches the lectern, places a piece of paper on it, and walks out back out through the door. As it closes, the room is left silent once again.