[Nexus] Inside 49

[ThirdEmperor]

Yellow Dog Saloon

The gunslinger nods enthusiastically, only to abruptly regret the movement as nausea kicks in hard and forces him to sit, no, more like collapse into a chair. "Jupitah! I'm -hic- I'mmm Jumper Jupitah!" For some reason he finds this unbearably funny, nearly falling out of the chair again a in a fit of giggling-slash-hiccuping. "No no, waitsh... -hic-" Fighting down the laughter he holds up a finger and tries to force his brain to start back up, the cogs turning in his head practically audible. "Jumpin' Jupiter. Not -hic- not Jumper Jupiter... -hic-" Yeesh. How much did this guy drink?

Hall of Heroes

"Mmm. Yes. That thing." Melbourne points out the fork on it's dais, practically licking his lips with unrestrained avarice. Doesn't even know what it is, but he does know he wants it. "Distract guard, then maybe we both have what we want, no?" Or, more likely, they'll both end up in a jail cell for a few years.

Grey Zone- House of Wares

It's not much of an AI by Elexxion's standards. Even at it's highest difficulty setting, unshackled, the design is still primitive enough for even a highly skilled human to out-think it. But still, it's something to do other than sit around and worry about the inevitable. Or, the somewhat-evitable. This is the Nexus after all; Death isn't quite the certainty it is elsewhere, and I pity the taxman who tries to collect in these parts.

"You're welcome. It's the least I could do." Planting his arms on the armrests, Wrath levers himself out of the chair and starts walking around the outer edge of the warehouse. He's a little curious about his surroundings, poking at the items on the shelves inquisitively, but mostly he's just looking to keep his own mind off things... Guh. Crimefighting wasn't supposed to be this damn complicated.