Original fiction, Robombie-verse (name so very subject to change)
Title: Zombie Avoidance Techniques
Fandom: Original
Characters: Mel, Zero
Word Count: 580
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Author's Notes: Set in the same world as the prompted zombie apocalypse drabble-ish thing found here. Ever since writing it, my brain has occasionally taken to prodding at said world and there is now something in the way of minimal backstory. Is this that? No, this is two characters bitching at each other. I believe I may have a fondness for such scenarios.
Zombie Avoidance Techniques
"You ever think we should be recording our adventures? Writing them down for posterity?"
"Surviving is an adventure?" Expressionless features belied the implied sarcasm.
She glowered up at him. "Post-apocalypse? Hell yeah it's an adventure. Future generations could learn from our zombie-killing methods, Zero."
"I have killed a total of ten zombies since this began, Mel," Zero said flatly. It was the same tone he always used. His model lacked the voice-modulation for anything else. "You have killed four since we met. More likely they would be learning our zombie avoidance techniques."
Mel frowned. She thought it over. "That would make a terrible movie adaptation."
"I shall weep bitter tears at this loss," Zero replied, then turned away and peered around the corner of the ruins they were wandering through. The setting sun gleamed dully over the shallow scratches along the bottom of his metal face.
It was bad enough she imagined human expressions on that blank robot face, now Mel had whimsically taken to thinking of the scratches as stubble. Rugged, manly robo-stubble. The kind of stubble that would have grown in if Zero were human and lacked the very time and tools necessary for basic grooming that they currently found themselves lacking.
Mel shook her head and grimaced. She needed to interact with other humans. Desperately. Attributing human characteristics to her mechanical companion was, no doubt, a sign of impending madness.
"I think I'm catching the waste crazy," Mel remarked.
"If you try to eat my face, you will chip a tooth."
Mel glowered at him again. "You could at least act like you give half a shit."
"I apologize for not indulging your fleshy desire for hyperbole. Pretend that I expressed shock and dismay at your previous statement. I am now in mourning. Are you appeased?"
"Go to hell," Mel grumbled, kicking at a rock near her foot.
"It is, as you already said, post-apocalypse," Zero replied, finally turning to face her again. The dwindling sunlight cast a sinister red hue on the lights of his normally yellow-white eyes. The same red that identified robots infected with the Zombie Virus. Mel shivered as Zero continued, "We are already in your human concept of hell."
Mel stared at him for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her lower lip out in an irritated pout. "How come when I say shit like that it's 'fleshy hyperbole' but when you say it, it's dramatic?"
"Because I am superior to you in every way. Now quiet your meaty mouth-flappings before you alert the zombie down the street to our presence." Ducking back around the corner, Zero motioned for her to follow him away from it.
"Liar," Mel hissed. "There is no goddamn zombie over there." She still hurried to follow him.
He was an asshole and a robot, but Zero was better than nothing. Her last travelling companion had been her gun. At least Zero talked back. Still...
"I hate you," she whispered, speeding up as she heard something behind them that was probably just the wind moaning like a continuous death rattle. Just the wind.
"You write epic love poems dedicated to my perfection," Zero replied, reaching out to lightly grip her elbow so she would keep pace with him. "I am certain sparkly unicorn stickers are somehow involved."
"...Heh. Unicorn stickers in hell. Good one, Zero."
"I am not uncertain you have not developed the waste crazy."
"Told you."
"Quiet, flesh-bag, I am mourning."
Fandom: Original
Characters: Mel, Zero
Word Count: 580
Rating: PG-13 (language)
Author's Notes: Set in the same world as the prompted zombie apocalypse drabble-ish thing found here. Ever since writing it, my brain has occasionally taken to prodding at said world and there is now something in the way of minimal backstory. Is this that? No, this is two characters bitching at each other. I believe I may have a fondness for such scenarios.
Zombie Avoidance Techniques
"You ever think we should be recording our adventures? Writing them down for posterity?"
"Surviving is an adventure?" Expressionless features belied the implied sarcasm.
She glowered up at him. "Post-apocalypse? Hell yeah it's an adventure. Future generations could learn from our zombie-killing methods, Zero."
"I have killed a total of ten zombies since this began, Mel," Zero said flatly. It was the same tone he always used. His model lacked the voice-modulation for anything else. "You have killed four since we met. More likely they would be learning our zombie avoidance techniques."
Mel frowned. She thought it over. "That would make a terrible movie adaptation."
"I shall weep bitter tears at this loss," Zero replied, then turned away and peered around the corner of the ruins they were wandering through. The setting sun gleamed dully over the shallow scratches along the bottom of his metal face.
It was bad enough she imagined human expressions on that blank robot face, now Mel had whimsically taken to thinking of the scratches as stubble. Rugged, manly robo-stubble. The kind of stubble that would have grown in if Zero were human and lacked the very time and tools necessary for basic grooming that they currently found themselves lacking.
Mel shook her head and grimaced. She needed to interact with other humans. Desperately. Attributing human characteristics to her mechanical companion was, no doubt, a sign of impending madness.
"I think I'm catching the waste crazy," Mel remarked.
"If you try to eat my face, you will chip a tooth."
Mel glowered at him again. "You could at least act like you give half a shit."
"I apologize for not indulging your fleshy desire for hyperbole. Pretend that I expressed shock and dismay at your previous statement. I am now in mourning. Are you appeased?"
"Go to hell," Mel grumbled, kicking at a rock near her foot.
"It is, as you already said, post-apocalypse," Zero replied, finally turning to face her again. The dwindling sunlight cast a sinister red hue on the lights of his normally yellow-white eyes. The same red that identified robots infected with the Zombie Virus. Mel shivered as Zero continued, "We are already in your human concept of hell."
Mel stared at him for a moment, then crossed her arms over her chest and jutted her lower lip out in an irritated pout. "How come when I say shit like that it's 'fleshy hyperbole' but when you say it, it's dramatic?"
"Because I am superior to you in every way. Now quiet your meaty mouth-flappings before you alert the zombie down the street to our presence." Ducking back around the corner, Zero motioned for her to follow him away from it.
"Liar," Mel hissed. "There is no goddamn zombie over there." She still hurried to follow him.
He was an asshole and a robot, but Zero was better than nothing. Her last travelling companion had been her gun. At least Zero talked back. Still...
"I hate you," she whispered, speeding up as she heard something behind them that was probably just the wind moaning like a continuous death rattle. Just the wind.
"You write epic love poems dedicated to my perfection," Zero replied, reaching out to lightly grip her elbow so she would keep pace with him. "I am certain sparkly unicorn stickers are somehow involved."
"...Heh. Unicorn stickers in hell. Good one, Zero."
"I am not uncertain you have not developed the waste crazy."
"Told you."
"Quiet, flesh-bag, I am mourning."