After thirty minutes of constant explaining to Bellatrix (who insisted on me calling her Trixie. What kind of name is that? I’ll never understand humans.), I gave up on my fruitless pursuit in explaining my mechanics and the way my planet worked. She couldn’t even get her head around the fact that I was a robot, and not some golem. Honestly, it was very disrespectful to be called a golem; those things have nothing on my finely made exterior.
Of course, she insisted that I wear a blanket and a hot water bottle due to the fact that I had appeared outside. When I told her I didn’t feel the cold, she simply tutted and continued doting on me. Naturally, this made me a very annoyed synthetic indeed. Not a happy bunny. Not even a bunny, at that.
“You have five seconds to take this water bottle off of me.” I stated angrily, wrapped like a mummy in the blanket “This goddamned blanket too.” Being the stubborn female she is, she resisted.
“But- you must be cold!” She exclaimed, not budging from her couch which stood opposite me.
“Five.” I began counting, growing a little irritated.
“But-“She began protesting again.
“Four.” I continued, growing annoyed. Why was this blanket so strong? I can lift a tonne of tungsten, but this blanket was a whole new thing altogether.
She sighed, giving in. ‘Bout damn time. She finally took the blanket off of me, stumbling back and falling on the floor, blanket covering her face as her muffled screams rang out. Coming to think about it, this was bloody hilarious; a teenage girl, thrashing around like a stun gunned beaver under a blanket.
Controlling my laughter, I took the blanket off her, folding it in record time and placing it on the sofa. She simply looked up, stunned as I carried out said actions, mouth hanging agape at my lightning quick actions. For some reason, she now looked like something I like to call a ‘Magikarp’, her mouth a comical circle shape as it hung open.
Not long after I had helped her up, her very badly hiding an embarrassed flush, there was a loud and obnoxious thump upon the side of the carriage, sending her crashing to the floor again. For some reason, this reminded of a ping pong game between me and the floor, with Trixie as the ball. I wasn’t saying that I didn’t like it, because I did. What? Can’t blame a robot for having a little fun.
“So, I’m guessing that thumping isn’t the traveller’s Pizza service?” I asked sarcastically, pointing backwards to the wall, where the thumping continued, growing a little louder. By my guess, whatever is doing that (can’t rule out aliens or monsters yet, new world), is a bad guy. I don’t mix well with bad guys; I tend to knock them out and teabag them, it’s much more fun that way.
“B-bandits. By the sound of it, at least ten.” She began to shake, scared “I may know magic, but I’m not particularly fond of combat spells. Best we give in.” She nodded, safe with her idea. Not that this appealed to me.
“Who do you take me for? I’m a robot, not a flower.” I snorted in derision as I walked to the door of the slowly moving carriage. She tried to stop me, of course, being naive like that.
“Wait! You can’t fight all of them!” She yelled, holding me back. Who did she think I was, some sort of VI bot? Bitch, please.
I opened the door, setting my ion cannon to trap mode. I wasn’t gonna kill them unless I had to, being a good guy and all. Looking out, I saw Trixie was right; ten goons stood there, shoving against the heavy carriage. Three other goons stood behind them, commanding them.
One seemed to be a mage, what looked like runes etched on his face, making him seem outlandish and weird. The other two were much different; one was a large brutish thug, obviously the muscle (he blatantly didn’t seem very smart either as he picked his nose. Gross.) And the final one was a finely dressed man, making it quite blatant that he was one of those pretty-boys. Damn I hated those guys.
I hopped out, the carriage coming to the stop. I made a small combat roll (unnecessary, but it looked damn cool) as I hit the deck. Or rather, the ground. I casually strutted (that’s right, I got ma swagger on now) towards the group shoving the carriage.
“Sup mothertruckers. What’s the haps?” I bellowed loudly, catching their attention. Their eyes went wide at seeing me, obviously not having seen something of my kind before. That’s right, noobs, be scared. The leaders of the group however, didn’t seem scared. No fear though, I know how to deal with confident idiots like them. The large, fat and muscled one walked up, speaking obnoxiously.
“Oi! You! Bugger off, before ah sock you one or set my goons on ya!” He spoke quite loudly, making my audio sensors buzz in protest.
I simply laughed, shaking my head and reading a combat stance. I wasn’t going to use my cannon yet, not point wasting ammo. Even if it could be reproduced. He growled in anger, bellowing for his troops to attack.
The bandit goons ran forward, fists and swords a-swinging, making small ‘swoosh’ sounds in the air as they passed harmlessly around me. I chuckled; these idiots knew nothing. Hell, half of them missed me most of the time.
I ran forward back at them, readying my fist as it charged energy. It turned into a haymaker punch, and as I swung it, knocking three of them down in a row due to the power of my metallic fist hitting their dumb faces, they were knocked cold, slumping to the floor in a groaning heap. This left seven of them left as I beckoned.
“Bring it on” Were the three words that left my mouth as they resumed their attack. But seriously, these guys were terrible. It only took me, what, five minutes to knock them all out? Please, I AM the robot Chuck Norris. Boo-yah.
That left the three leaders standing there, mouths agape once more. What were they expecting, a tin can? I say again; bitch please. They started to close in on me, as one of them began speaking.
“Better piss off, tin can, or we’ll set Rock-fist here on you.” The rune-faced one spoke. Alright, sarcastic comebacks are go.
“Ok, let me guess. Stupid one on the left, pretty one in the middle, and one with weird powers on the right.” I smirked, my chrome lips twisting upwards.
“Oi, I appreciate tha’, but I’m more handsome than pretty.” The muscled one protested. Yeah, what a dumbass.
“And my powers are not weird!” The finely dressed one exclaimed, drawing his head up in an ‘humph’.
The rune faced one simply growled an animalistic growl, baring his sharp teeth. Weirdo.
Naturally, I face palmed. How could bandits be so stupid? Oh wait, they’re bandits.
“My mistake, you’re all stupid.” I chuckled, and then readied myself once more, unsheathing the ion cannon (attached with the trap use on it) as the large muscled one ran towards me, throwing a well aimed fist, which only just missed me. I couldn’t help but quip at him.
“Now now, that tree is not your eating disorder.” I laughed as he pulled his gigantic fist out of the tree, groaning in pain at his smashed knuckles. He yelled at me, being the brute he is.
“Well you’re a penis!” He blurted, pouting childishly. Brain dead, I tell you. I replied, my chat and comeback systems at full snarkiness.
“So long that you haven’t seen your own that you can’t tell the difference, right?” I chuckled to myself, catching him in a trap blast, sending him stunned to the floor. Poor sod didn’t even stand a chance.
The other two surrounded me, as rune boy fired a few blasts at me. I back flipped over the pretty-boy, making the homing lightning bolts strike him, knocking him out and giving him quite the hairstyle. This left the weirdo and me. Fortunately, he wasn’t up to a fight and ran away, metaphorical tail between his legs. Damn, that felt good. Been a long time since I’ve had a fair target practice.
I walked back to the wagon, which had stopped, taking the bandits’ money and weapons, that of which there were few. You’d think they’d be better equipped. I knocked on the door of the wagon, Trixie looking out fearfully, thinking it was one of the bandits. What she didn’t expect was me carrying a small sack of weapons in one hand, and a rather wealthy amount of money in the other. Things that Trixie called ‘bits’.
As she stared wide eyed at my smug appearance, I thought one thing.
‘It’s a damn good day to be me.’