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Sep. 12th, 2006 05:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
benchiladaatomic_robo and Sir Reginald team-up for yet another hilarious misadventure, in which our intrepid heroes are cast...oh, just read the fucking story.------------------
“I’m afraid that I must, to some degree, accept responsibility for our current predicament,” said Sir Reginald, refusing to open his eyes.
“I, too, must admit that I made mistakes,” offered Atomic Robo, refusing to activate his optics. “I feel obligated to add, though, that I end up in far more parallel universes than I would care to when you and I work together.”
“Oh, don’t you dare start! If I had a dime for every instance I’ve ended up lost in time because of you, I’d have thirty cents! And that wretched Grandmother Paradox idea…”
“It would have fixed things very quickly—”
“—and would have required me to have sex with my grandmother!”
“Well, technically, she wasn’t your grandmother yet…”
“You insufferable tin can!”
“You’re just jealous because robots don’t have disgustingly saggy jowls.”
Over the sound of their shouting, a booming voice echoed.
“Ho ho ho! It appears, Sir Robo, that these villains can scarcely speak to each other with civility, let alone team up to wreak havoc! Destroying these freedom-hating freaks should be as easy as ordering Freedom Fries at McDonalds!”
The speaker was floating fifteen feet above the ground, wearing a garishly-colored costume so tight that Sir Reginald wagered that the fellow wasn’t Jewish. His eyes were glowing green and his cape flapping in the wind, in spite of there being none. On his chest was a stylized radioactivity symbol superimposed over an American flag, above the words TREAD ON THIS!.
“Tally-ho, Atomic Reginald!” said a nearby robot. It was thin, gangly, and had a face that appeared to have been applied with magic markers. “We’ll kick their knickers and be back in time for tea, wot?”
Atomic Robo and Sir Reginald turned to look at each and said, at exactly the same time:
“This is your fault.”
“Would you stop talking like that?” screamed Sir Reginald. “You’re embarrassing me!”
“Righty-blitghty, then, actions speak louder and all that,” said Sir Robo, half-a-dozen machine guns impossibly popping out from his spindly metal body.
“BALLS!” shouted Sir Reginald, ducking and covering behind Atomic Robo’s short and wide frame as the storm of bullets arrived.
“You’re shooting at me,” said Atomic Robo plainly.
“Indeed!” said Sir Robo, increasing the volume of his audio circuits to be heard over the din.
“With bullets.”
“Yes!”
“Are you stupid?”
“Do wot now?”
“I’m a state of the art…oh, for heaven’s sake! Let’s take care of the floating fellow first” he sighed, raising his arms and firing twin Atomic Blasts from his forearms. His aim was true, and the superwhatsit went flying a few hundred yards. Meanwhile, Sir Robo was spinning the empty chambers of his machine guns.
“One down. Now to take care of…oh.”
“What?” asked Sir Reginald, still hiding.
“His chest is opening.”
“Weak spot! Blast away!”
“But there appears to be a…oh, yes, it is…”
“What’s a what, now?”
“He’s got a Javelin. In his chest. I’d be wondering about the physics of it all if—”
“It’s a bloody javelin, Robo, why are you—”
“Javelin with a capital J, Reg. It’s an advanced medium-range anti-tank weapon system.”
“Well, I’ll grab onto you and we’ll take to the skies with your handy little boot jets. I mean, what exactly can this thing do to you?”
“Apart from activate my ‘Holy Crap’ circuits? It’s got passive intra-red, a lock-on-before-launch system, is automatically self-guiding, has a range of 2500 meters and an explosive power of When I’m Split Open There Will Be A Massive Radioactive Firestorm.”
“So, I guess leaping to the side is not an option?”
“Excuse me if I don’t answer, Reg, I’m currently replaying my life at triple-speed.”
“Oh, out of the way, Pansy-bot.” moaned Sir Reginald, taking a stand in front of Atomic Robo and murmuring under his breath.
“Bangers and mash!” shouted Sir Robo, as the small cannon pointing out of his chest erupted in fire and smoke, followed shortly by a three-foot long missile.
“Missile interuptus!” shouted Sir Reginald, and the projectile froze in midair.
“Missile interuptus?” asked Atomic Robo? “You’re making that up.”
“Shut up. It’s all about intent and sounding important. Now…Missile Redirectorum!”
“You sound like Harry Potter when you—oh.” He sounded quite surprised when the missile vanished.
“What’s all this, then?” Sir Robo demanded.
“No worries, you limey bucket of bolts! His Atomic Blasts only made me stronger, just like those damned Japs at
“My turn to be ashamed, isn’t it?” asked Atomic Robo.
“Afraid so,” said Sir Reginald, “Let’s see if I can’t do something about him.”
He pulled a handful of shiny rocks from his tweed jacket and hurled them towards the floating man. They picked up speed at a positively insane rate and rocketed towards their target. Atomic Reginald just smiled.
“Missiles interuptus!” he said as he made a few flourishing gestures in front of his chest. The rocks stopped dead still in mid-flight.
“Good old American science and a bit of Pagan hoodoo goes a long way, doesn’t it?” grinned Atomic Reginald, showing over a dozen of his Da Vinci veneers.
“Did he just magic my magic rocks?” asked Sir Reginald rather dejectedly.
“No. He magicked your magic rocks with American science and a bit of Pagan hoodoo.”
“That’s not funny.”
“Oh, it is from over—”
Atomic Robo was rudely interrupted by Sir Robo leaping into the air and sprouting a half-dozen new arms, each with a different horrible thing attached to the end.
“PRAM!” he cried as he descended, fists of fury spinning.
The terrible row that resulted—sounding not unlike a hailstorm of cars falling on other cars—drowned out what Atomic Reginald had to say, but Sir Reginald was sure it had something to do with apple pie and processed cheese.
Atomic Reginald made a quick sign of the cross, and Sir Reginald found himself dodging a plague of frogs. On fire. Frogs on fire.
“Gah!” shouted Atomic Robo, firing both of his boot jets into the chest of his opponent, knocking Sir Robo back a bit. He was on his feet in no time at all, and was preparing for another barrage against Atomic Robo’s dented shell when a rounded tube suddenly exploded through his chest. It was the tip of the Javelin.
“Reg!” shouted Robo.
“Wha…shit! What do…oh hell!” Reg shouted, as Atomic Reginald directed the frogstorm with the panache of a genius conductor.
“Did you freeze a missile in time, teleport it away, and make it appear in my enemy’s chest a few minutes later?”
“YES!”
“I think I love you—”
“So what’re you so afraid of? Now duck!”
Atomic Robo ducked, and Sir Robo exclaimed “Arse, guv’nor!” before exploding. A lot.
“He just—”
“Yes, fine, exploded,” screamed Sir Reginald, his pants smoldering. “FROGS ON GODDAMNED FIRE, ROBO!”
“Ah,” said Robo, getting to his feet and activating his boot jets.
By the time Atomic Reginald noticed that Robo was hurtling towards him, it was too late to avoid the double punch that broke both of his arms. And the two kicks that broke both of his legs.
Atomic Reginald was left floating in the air, his arms bent in unnatural ways, his legs dangling incorrectly.
“Nothing smarmy to say about absorbing my Atomic Power and becoming stronger?” asked Robo.
“GODLESS HEATHENS! SONS OF A…” screamed Atomic Reginald, as wisps of green steam began to escape from his shattered limbs.
“Robo?”
“No, Reginald, that’s not safe. Indeed, that’s a superhero powered by atomic energy that’s about to explode.”
“Can we get out of here?”
“Why don’t you just make up a spell, you filthy Englander?”
“GAH! AN ATOMIC BEARHUG WILL TAKE YOU WITH ME, YOU HORRIBLE FOREIGN ROBOT!” cried Atomic Reginald, bouncing repeatedly off of Robo as his arms refused to move.
Robo kicked him back and stared at Reginald, who was fumbling through his pockets for something that could get them home. He pulled out a Motorola cell phone covered in runes, twigs, and bits of hair.
“You have the most disgusting magical things ever, Reginald.”
“Well, they work, don’t they? And I refuse to accept criticism from something without a mouth. Ah, yes…”
Reg put the phone to his ear and listened, occasionally glancing over at Atomic Reginald, who was now spinning in place, screaming obscenities.
“I’d like to reverse the charges on one sorcerer and one atomic robot, please. Yes. No, thank you. Yes. Right, thank you!” he smiled and flipped the phone shut.
“They’ll be digitizing us home any second now.”
“Digitizing?”
“Yes. It’s like calling our universe collect. Regrettably—”
“Well I’m proud to be an American, where at least I know I’m free! And I won’t forget the men whoAAAAAAAAAAAH!” sang Atomic Reginald as Atomic Robo blasted him into the next county.
“Regrettably,” continued Sir Reginald, “the karmic charges are going to be astronomical. Next time I’m going with Verizon.”
The two of them began to get staticky and indistinct as a distant ringtone grew in volume.
“You know, I can recommend a fabulous body shop where you can get those dents pounded out, and maybe get some racing stripes applied, old chap.”
“And I can recommend a fabulous body shop where you can get those wrinkles ironed out, and maybe get your head removed from—”
------------------
“Please Check The Number And Try Your Call Again” starred Anna Pacquin as Sir Reginald and Melissa Rivers as Atomic Robo
