[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

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.