[They should be used to Ivan's antics by now, but instead of the usual grandeur, today it was just plain old Ivan, clearly frustrated with his fuzzy TV reception and flickering lights
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He had good ears; the goddamn scientist was right.
A potential ally (and like-minded company) was lost. Clearly, the psychic was on Ocelot's side. Diplomacy was not one his strong suits, he was aware of that much.
The robot shouldn't be terribly hard to find in the likes of this room. He was going to take up on the stash within it.
He muttered some nonsense in Russian. No more cigars today.]
But she liked Liquid. As much as an AI pod could like someone. And she'd said she'd look out for him.
...
...
...
Mission failed? These odds were not good. Two "dead", and two exiled. That meant they had a very small change that one of the two exiled, or both, was a wolf. The alternative would mean that the enemies were in the majority. Minority or majority? Exiled, or remaining?
This time she hovered a short distance above the rest, not too far. Just watching. And listening. There had to be an answer. A hint. Something in the way they spoke or acted. Humans were weak like that. She already had some suspicions, but nothing concrete.]
La, la la, la la la, la la laaa... la, la la, la la, la la laaaa...
[Volgin gave the robot a look... at wherever he ... approximated its face. Not that that even that was clear.]
Don't give me a reason to, and we'll be splendid.
[That chain gun was something more threatening than a mere pea-shooter pistol, he knew that much.
And so, came the electric bull in the technological china shop: Volgin, electricity as tightly held inside as he could manage, surveyed the very small hatch beneath the offered pod. He had made out liquor in there, the other day, and confinement had eroded any finickiness he may have developed from the lull of modernity; he was going to have it. He opened the hatch, and poked his large head in.
And found his large shoulders unable to really follow with it.]
Hnng.
[A little adjusting and he could probably... force himself into the cramped, tiny space and that stash of provisions. He wasn't planning to live in there. With that, he quietly damned his size, something often thought but seldom heard, and tried to squeeze himself in again, using a very awkward edging of one limb in
( ... )
Ugh. [Folding his arms as the power continues to flicker.] Participating in this game is annoying enough without The Nexus screwing up every 5 seconds.
This isn't exactly the kind of crowd I'd enjoy being stuck in the dark with...
[After complaining, EVA takes a look at the list of remaining contestants.]
[EVA will wait a while to cast his next vote... Though he already has a pretty good idea of how to proceed.]
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He had good ears; the goddamn scientist was right.
A potential ally (and like-minded company) was lost. Clearly, the psychic was on Ocelot's side. Diplomacy was not one his strong suits, he was aware of that much.
The robot shouldn't be terribly hard to find in the likes of this room. He was going to take up on the stash within it.
He muttered some nonsense in Russian. No more cigars today.]
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[He cast a wary glance at Volgin.]
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It's mutual.]
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Liquid was?
But she liked Liquid. As much as an AI pod could like someone. And she'd said she'd look out for him.
...
...
...
Mission failed?
These odds were not good. Two "dead", and two exiled. That meant they had a very small change that one of the two exiled, or both, was a wolf. The alternative would mean that the enemies were in the majority. Minority or majority? Exiled, or remaining?
This time she hovered a short distance above the rest, not too far. Just watching. And listening. There had to be an answer. A hint. Something in the way they spoke or acted. Humans were weak like that. She already had some suspicions, but nothing concrete.]
La, la la, la la la, la la laaa... la, la la, la la, la la laaaa...
[It was a good thing she could not feel guilt.]
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[His voice was a growl, not fond of the remaining company either. His eye followed the machine, tracing around its shape when he could.
Not only was it a talking gun, but a singing gun.]
Open up. I'm taking up on the provisions offer.
[Yeah, he was going to try to fit in the hatch.]
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[Now the question was whether he was going to cause damage to her systems.]
Please refrain from causing any unnecessary electrical damage.
[Lowering herself to the ground, she set the AI pod as long as it could go without being detached.]
I am unsure as to whether you will fit within.
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Don't give me a reason to, and we'll be splendid.
[That chain gun was something more threatening than a mere pea-shooter pistol, he knew that much.
And so, came the electric bull in the technological china shop: Volgin, electricity as tightly held inside as he could manage, surveyed the very small hatch beneath the offered pod. He had made out liquor in there, the other day, and confinement had eroded any finickiness he may have developed from the lull of modernity; he was going to have it. He opened the hatch, and poked his large head in.
And found his large shoulders unable to really follow with it.]
Hnng.
[A little adjusting and he could probably... force himself into the cramped, tiny space and that stash of provisions. He wasn't planning to live in there. With that, he quietly damned his size, something often thought but seldom heard, and tried to squeeze himself in again, using a very awkward edging of one limb in ( ... )
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This isn't exactly the kind of crowd I'd enjoy being stuck in the dark with...
[After complaining, EVA takes a look at the list of remaining contestants.]
[EVA will wait a while to cast his next vote... Though he already has a pretty good idea of how to proceed.]
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Maybe you should take the rest of your clothes off, then we might get a better clue.
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Major Raikov isn't giving us much to go on...
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[The wolves could very well be trying to frame him. Sheep and wolves aside, it was a game of dogs and he was a lone beast against a connected pack.
Volgin did not offer Ocelot any of his usual sure, condescending gazes this time.]
Tell me, would you find these connected, Major?
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Or perhaps the wolves are picking blindly, but I don't think that's the case.
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Every cause has a purpose.
Seven sheep and two wolves, and that was their selection.
The scientist was on to something.
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[How did-? When did-? Who did-?]
[Damnit, now he was actually getting paranoid and wished he had paid better attention to the geek.]
I want a drink.
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