Post by phil on Jul 6, 2014 7:06:29 GMT
I didn't think anyone would take my request seriously.
A few months ago phil had been just another merc trainee waiting to graduate. Now the ex-miner had become one of the many in the country to go through the graduation process that would make him considered one of the most dangerous individuals to deal with. Phil didn't have many good ideas, hell many people told him his lack of them made him a very ruthless and efficient mercenary. But when he had been reading over some of the local billets for jobs he noticed one about Tyrantrams; The job itself was just asking for footprints but something struck him almost immediately.
Tyrantrams were known as some of the more powerful pokemons, ancient in theory and legendary in battles that they participate in. His robotic arm, his left arm had twitch sporadically while he was reading the Billet. His idea seemed ludicrous to him at first but the more and more that he thought about it the more he figured that it'd be a solid investment. His strength with his robotic limb was much greater than his old human arm. So why wouldn't the same be said of a pokemon?
Not just any pokemon either. A towering Tyrantram; a powerhouse in it's own right. Giving one of those babies the support of robotics would just make it a killing terror for harder jobs. Pokemon were already dangerous but he had figured that this would take the cake. Many people he knew were probably reading his loan request and laughing. The process to going out, catching one of them and then making it robotic would be beyond expensive. The puff of his gasmask woke him from his reverie, he was almost to the Joker's HQ. He looked down at the paper he held in his normal human hand.
Loan request Pending approval
He had just gotten the mail today and saw that it had been accepted pending discussion with the major holder of funds for the Black Jokers. He could feel his smile deepen a bit as he walked up the stairs to the doors of the HQ. They were serious about considering this? He'd gladly work as many jobs as they needed him to in order to make that happen. Hell it'd pay right for itself when he came in to someplace on the back of a fricken tyrant. His boots clanged on metal, the resulting presence opened the doors of the HQ which were automatic. He could tell that the glass was bullet proof with the thickness, not to mention the make up would probably stop anything short of a .50 cal. Not much stopped those to be fair.
His wheezing breath drew the attention of two guards, one with a scanner and the other armed to the teeth. They did a double take at his appearance; his arm didn't match his apparel at all but what did he care about looks? The first waved him over and in a well practiced voice; phil could tell it dripped with venom and distrust. The second guard he could feel the eyes of which boring into the hood that covered not only the back of his mask but most of the sides as well.
Deposit any and all firearm ammunition into the bin, check your safeties and clear any rounds from the chamber. After which you will be scanned for any remaining dangerous material. If you do not follow these instructions you can take your happy ass right back out the door you came through.
Phil rolled his eyes and took out his pistol, his sole weapon other than his arm. He couldn't remove that anyways even if he tried. He let the magazine hit the bin in the center when he released it, he then showed that the chamber itself held no round before handing it handle first to the first guard. He took it with clear disdain before running the scanner over phil's entire body. The scanner only beeped when he passed it over Phil's arm, with a wry grin the masked man spoke.
I can't remove the safety or the round from the chamber on this one. Sorry.
Don't get smart with me, you can still grab your shit and get out.
But then I wouldn't be able to have such a lovely conversation...
You're clear. But I'm watching you.
The guard growled and turned away putting the bin next to several others. They were empty but it held value that many people likely could visit the boss at a time. Or just had to wait in line. Phil sighed softly as the first guard jerked his thumb that way before giving him directions to the office he'd be wanting. Phil shrugged and started walking, he gave a nod to the desk clerk who looked beyond bored.
Place is locked down tight, they probably have hidden guards all over the place.
The mercenary decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator; he might be missing an arm but he didn't mind the extra physical activity. He passed by a few more well armed guards before eventually coming to a door labeled with the name of a man he had only recently found out about. Sharing information about the inner workings of places like this wasn't on the list of things that the training academy did since they were always subject to change. Which meant that any mercenary that went through the school had to be prepared for whatever. He knocked before entering as per the norm he was taught back when he was younger.
Hello Mr. Manzuelo. I received your Notice.
A few months ago phil had been just another merc trainee waiting to graduate. Now the ex-miner had become one of the many in the country to go through the graduation process that would make him considered one of the most dangerous individuals to deal with. Phil didn't have many good ideas, hell many people told him his lack of them made him a very ruthless and efficient mercenary. But when he had been reading over some of the local billets for jobs he noticed one about Tyrantrams; The job itself was just asking for footprints but something struck him almost immediately.
Tyrantrams were known as some of the more powerful pokemons, ancient in theory and legendary in battles that they participate in. His robotic arm, his left arm had twitch sporadically while he was reading the Billet. His idea seemed ludicrous to him at first but the more and more that he thought about it the more he figured that it'd be a solid investment. His strength with his robotic limb was much greater than his old human arm. So why wouldn't the same be said of a pokemon?
Not just any pokemon either. A towering Tyrantram; a powerhouse in it's own right. Giving one of those babies the support of robotics would just make it a killing terror for harder jobs. Pokemon were already dangerous but he had figured that this would take the cake. Many people he knew were probably reading his loan request and laughing. The process to going out, catching one of them and then making it robotic would be beyond expensive. The puff of his gasmask woke him from his reverie, he was almost to the Joker's HQ. He looked down at the paper he held in his normal human hand.
Loan request Pending approval
He had just gotten the mail today and saw that it had been accepted pending discussion with the major holder of funds for the Black Jokers. He could feel his smile deepen a bit as he walked up the stairs to the doors of the HQ. They were serious about considering this? He'd gladly work as many jobs as they needed him to in order to make that happen. Hell it'd pay right for itself when he came in to someplace on the back of a fricken tyrant. His boots clanged on metal, the resulting presence opened the doors of the HQ which were automatic. He could tell that the glass was bullet proof with the thickness, not to mention the make up would probably stop anything short of a .50 cal. Not much stopped those to be fair.
His wheezing breath drew the attention of two guards, one with a scanner and the other armed to the teeth. They did a double take at his appearance; his arm didn't match his apparel at all but what did he care about looks? The first waved him over and in a well practiced voice; phil could tell it dripped with venom and distrust. The second guard he could feel the eyes of which boring into the hood that covered not only the back of his mask but most of the sides as well.
Deposit any and all firearm ammunition into the bin, check your safeties and clear any rounds from the chamber. After which you will be scanned for any remaining dangerous material. If you do not follow these instructions you can take your happy ass right back out the door you came through.
Phil rolled his eyes and took out his pistol, his sole weapon other than his arm. He couldn't remove that anyways even if he tried. He let the magazine hit the bin in the center when he released it, he then showed that the chamber itself held no round before handing it handle first to the first guard. He took it with clear disdain before running the scanner over phil's entire body. The scanner only beeped when he passed it over Phil's arm, with a wry grin the masked man spoke.
I can't remove the safety or the round from the chamber on this one. Sorry.
Don't get smart with me, you can still grab your shit and get out.
But then I wouldn't be able to have such a lovely conversation...
You're clear. But I'm watching you.
The guard growled and turned away putting the bin next to several others. They were empty but it held value that many people likely could visit the boss at a time. Or just had to wait in line. Phil sighed softly as the first guard jerked his thumb that way before giving him directions to the office he'd be wanting. Phil shrugged and started walking, he gave a nod to the desk clerk who looked beyond bored.
Place is locked down tight, they probably have hidden guards all over the place.
The mercenary decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator; he might be missing an arm but he didn't mind the extra physical activity. He passed by a few more well armed guards before eventually coming to a door labeled with the name of a man he had only recently found out about. Sharing information about the inner workings of places like this wasn't on the list of things that the training academy did since they were always subject to change. Which meant that any mercenary that went through the school had to be prepared for whatever. He knocked before entering as per the norm he was taught back when he was younger.
Hello Mr. Manzuelo. I received your Notice.
֍ CREDIT: By Requiem of Remoor!
