[Open] Unreasonable Behaviour

[vvaylon]

A . (for your character to end up a snack or escape and spread the word; indicate which in your subject line!)

He’s found the underwater lake. It’s nice, for the most part, but just like the fish in the river the fare is disappointingly slimy and unappetizing. Seeing as he hasn’t found the kitchen yet (a shame!)  he turns to the next source of food—those wandering about the castle. The first to go is a small white cat lazing about on a chair; tufts of fur remain on the floor, and he continues on. The castle is large enough to  send him on af ew circles; but finally, he sees someone down a hall, and makes his lumbering way towards them.

B. (for your character to lay a beatdown on Croc, or for Croc to lay a beatdown on your character….)

He takes to roaming the halls during the night. It’s quieter, the birds are asleep, he has free rein; it’s daresay, nice. He’s still angry. It bubbles up in his chest like a red foam, leads to clawmarks being engraved in the stone, chairs turned on their head or otherwise made into splinters.

Croc is a simple man, sometimes. Sometimes he likes to scheme and plot, and finds himself quite adept at that! Other times… well, other times, someone’s just gotta get their head caved in. Said someone is going to find a big, scaled surprise in the library.

Comments

duchess don't encourage him >_>

[mettaton_rex]

Oh, Mettaton can definitely sense the LOVE here. It ought to give him pause, but right now any survival instinct is being pushed aside in favour of outrage. This person, this creature, is mocking him. He's being looked down on, like some petulant, pathetic nobody.

Again.

Does he have a problem?

His face twists into a smile, too-bright and vicious and not happy in the slightest. "Oh, yes."

He raises his hands. Bombs start to materialise near the ceiling, dropping rapidly towards Croc - they're shaped exactly the way you'd expect a cartoon bomb to look, only white with a black + sign on each of them. Any that hit will explode into cross-shaped beams of light.

[vvaylon]

Petulant, pathetic nobody?

Sounds about right. Unlike the others, this one launches straight into a homicidal rage. Croc can appreciate that. It's a language he can speak; this, too sharp and matching Mettaton in viciousness. His chest still aches from when the skeleton blasted him and then ran away.

Honestly, he expects this fight to go much in the same vein. It seems too simple, rage against rage, for anything else to happen. He'll either drive the interloper off-- or crush him into scrap.

And then the bombs come.

Instead of standing there like a sitting duck (Croc?) he lunges forwards. If Mettaton wants to hit him, he'll have to put himself in danger as well.

[mettaton_rex]

Mettaton's caught off-guard for just a moment - for all that his level of violence has grown since he came to power, this is the first actual fight he's been in for a long time. He's supposed to have people for this - but he recovers in time to launch a spinning kick, aiming one pink high-heeled boot straight for his opponent's chest. He's noticed that earlier injury, yes, and he's not one bit above taking advantage of it.

Is it going to be enough to keep him from getting tackled to the ground, though? Probably not. He's not making any attempt to get out of the way. (The bombs, meanwhile, when they hit the floor behind Croc, will just disappear. He isn't trying to murder the library, here.)

[vvaylon]

A robot Mettaton may be, but he's not several hundred pounds of irate reptile. And he's not much of a barrier.Croc barrels into Mettaton's outstretched leg and bear-hugs him around the waist, seeing if brute strength will work instead of trying to cut him to bits. His teeth are dangerously close to Mettaton's waist, and his tail smashes against the floor. They both land on the ground.

Well. Mettaton lands on the ground. Croc lands on top and immediately goes to work, clawing at Mettaton's legs-- an attempt to cripple him just in case he gets any ideas of running. But croc claws might not fare so well against Mettaton's armored outsides, even as he handily shreds any clothes the past king wears.

mtt: OH GOD NOT THE LEGS also hdu try to kill me while i'm trying to kill you. rude

[mettaton_rex]

Well, that didn't work at all. Mettaton lets out an undignified yell as he falls backward, as scaly arms tighten around him and threaten to snap him in half right there. And those teeth, far too close to his weakest point, the gleaming pink heart at his waist - he remembers Lemon Bread for a second and then thinks an apology to whatever's left of Shyren's sister for comparing her to this and then he's slammed against the stone, hard. (The crown flies off his head and rolls under a bookshelf. There's probably something symbolic in that.)

He cries out again, a weird staticky gasping sound - robots don't need to breathe, neither do ghosts, so he can't literally get the wind knocked out of him, but it's a similar combination of pain and shock. And then there are claws raking at his legs, shredding the fabric of his cloak that's got itself tangled around them (this outfit was a mistake. He can't get to the switch on his back to change forms dressed like this, pinned down like this...) and leaving deep scratches in his outer casing. Silver shines through the pink and black paint.

It's probably hard on the claws, yes. But he's made out of metal and magic, fully corporeal now, not just inhabiting a shell, and being torn at like this hurts. His legs aren't going to fall off the way they did when he was fighting the human while only half-finished, but - joints are still vulnerable. Croc could do serious damage if he twisted them hard enough the wrong way.

Mettaton's not going to make it that simple for him, of course. His arms are still free, and he aims a burst of lightning from his fingertips right at Croc. "Get your hands off me!"

UM so how badly do you want metta to get f'ed up?

[vvaylon]

"I'll gladly do so."

After that, he chomps down onto Mettaton's midsection-- missing the heart, just barely, but it'll still hurt, and now he's got Mettaton in his jaws. The lightning hurts, sure, but it's not as bad as the shock prods guards at the asylum use; maybe a few more volts, and it'd faze him.

His past (and condition) breeds thick skin, after all. Mettaton's touch; Croc can only hope he's tougher. It's with a roar he chomps down in retaliation for the shocks, minus the awe--

releases his grip to claw at Mettaton's arms.

PM'd you but tl;dr: finish him :/ sorry murderbot

[mettaton_rex]

Mettaton fights back an urge to scream as those jaws clamp down. He twists in Croc's grip, kicking as hard as he can once his legs are free. He just needs to get away, get enough distance so he can attack properly -

- claws dig into his arms, and he snaps.

"I said get OFF ME!" His voice rises to a shriek, of pain and outrage - how dare this person even be touching him? "Hah - you - you want a taste of me, you disgusting creature? Here it comes!"

And with that, the bombs are back, and something else - little copies of his classic box-shaped form. They drift down from the ceiling, blowing heart-shaped kisses in Croc's general direction as they near the floor. The kisses are, naturally, also bullets.

...and of course, all of this is aimed at Mettaton too. To the extent that he's thinking at all, he's relying on Croc getting hit first. That might not be a safe assumption.

croc & i chanting: DEATH DEATH DEATH

[vvaylon]

"Eat dirt, robot."

It's a strange calm; divorced from the anger from earlier. This is cold-blooded. Reptilian, even. He flips them over until Mettaton is on top; his hindclaws fix in the grooves between Mettaton's hips and legs and pushes, shearing his lower half clean off should Mettaton's joinings be weak enough, or Croc's legs be strong enough-- he's not picky. As long as he succeeds.

He's missed the heart, in any way, and he's not hitting the switch on Mettaton's back, or accidentally.

He then levers Mettaton off of him, feral laugh edging in on a growl.

"How's that for getting offa you?"

[mettaton_rex]

No, no, nonononoNO -

Alphys built this body well, before she ...left. It's designed to cope with even Mettaton's most enthusiastic performances. It's not built to cope with being literally ripped apart at the seams, by an opponent with even more physical strength than a human and murderous intentions to back it up.

The few bombs that hit before he manages to abort the attack don't help either.

He hits the floor hard, smoke and sparking wires trailing from him - somehow his core's still intact, not cracked or torn open, but it might not matter. He can't win this. He can't -

- he's going to -

"You - you..." He tries to lever himself upright - he still has his arms at least - but it's hard to move. "You can't do this, h-how dare you -!"

Zig-zag lightning bolts spray from his core. Most of them go wide, hitting the ceiling or bookshelves.

uM OKAY

[vvaylon]

Croc doesn't even try to dodge. Most go wide and score craters into the shelves, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. The ones that hit are annoyances at most.

Then, he stalks forwards, slow and deliberate. He pushes Mettaton down until his back is flat against the ground, one hand staying on his chest to pin him there.

Mettaton's right arm is yanked off. His left. Croc growls at the sharp smell of electronics and machinery, eyes fixed on Mettaton's face. "Heh. Normally they'd start beggin' by now."

The claws of his free hand close, deceptively gentle, around Mettaton's core; like he knows. Can feel Mettaton's SOUL thrumming inside, a caged and panicked bird. He simply cradles it for a moment, breath falling strangely cold and clammy onto Mettaton's face.

snap.

In a quick motion, he shatters the heart. Shards pierce his palm, some are shunted off by the scales, but either way--

it feels good.

robogore all over this thread

[mettaton_rex]

This is the part where the cavalry arrives, Mettaton tells himself desperately, as claws grip around his heart. This is the part, just when it looks like all hope is lost, this is that scene, it has to be...

But nobody came.

He's not going to beg. Like hell is he giving this creature the satisfaction. He's not going to beg and he's not going to scream and he's not going to -

snap.

He feels himself shatter and cries out despite himself, convulsions smacking his head against the stone. There's a muffled bang behind his chestplate as something vital blows out.

You can't do this to me you can't you can't you can't don't you know who I am -

And then everything just

fades to black.