video; un: ratchet (post attack on palace)

[neveroutwrenched]

[It's midday a few days after the battle when the feed comes to life. Ratchet is settled in the forest on the outskirts of the city, blaster pistol laid in the grass by his feet. Behind him, the trees are covered in scorch marks from his target practice... though truthfully, Ratchet was more interested in blowing off steam than working on his aim.

The race for a cure, the political intrigue, organizing a breakout... it was a lot of hurry up and wait while plans were worked out by those Orbers who'd proven themselves essential. The energy inside the palace walls was the taut, nervous kind that made Ratchet want to disappear into the middle of nowhere and shoot stuff until he got his head on straight.

He was still riding that adrenaline when he begins to speak, tail swishing involuntarily. Addressing a crowd -- even an invisible one -- wasn't in his comfort zone.]

Hey. Hi. [He waves.] Everyone's got a lot on their plates right now, so let me just say right off the bat: that this doesn't have to do with any of that. I promise, this is like... negative important. So if you're looking for the latest news on what's going on at the palace or in Yuryeong or whatever, you can probably skip this one.

[ There goes his tail, swishing harder. Yep, he was nailing this. ]

Anyway... We're dealing with a multiverse spanning AI here, right? Like, I get that part. But... isn't it a little crazy how many people here can straight up do magic? Like, is that a condition of admission? Because if it is, I think there was some kind of mistake when it picked me up. [It's a joke, but maybe not as much of one as he tries to make it sound.] I'm a great mechanic, don't get me wrong. I guess you could say I'm a wizard with engines, but I don't think that really counts when there are... actual wizards around.

[That wasn't offensive, right? "Wizard"? Sitting up a little straighter, Ratchet figures it's time to get to the point.]

So, I guess I'm trying to figure that part out. What did everyone on this team do, back on your worlds? Doctor? Culinary auteur? Unpaid intern? What do you think made the AI pick you for this?

... And if there's anyone else out there feeling a little powerless right now, you're welcome to come fire off a few rounds with me. [He holds up the gun with a lopsided grin.] It's not a magic wand or anything, but y'know. Still fun.

Comments

[longoverdue]

You can't fight me. You're so short, it'll be like a chihuahua trying to gnaw my kneecaps off.

[He is still obviously fond even as he says this, but the smirk on his face says he is absolutely enjoying riling Eddie up over this.]

Ohhh, that explains why Miss Piggy hated my guts. Growing up it was always like, [imitating Miss Piggy's voice dead-on:] You! Bigfoot-looking sac à merde! Come into my dressing room and lace me into my corset! Always thought the Bigfoot part was just a potshot at the hair.

[respirations]

How about I just kick your fucking kneecaps in then because my height is perfectly average, dickwad!

( And he fucking knows what Richie is doing but when haven't they been at each other's throat over stupid shit? )

Ugh— I can't believe I ever forgot your impressions and stupid Voices.

[longoverdue]

Spoken like a true short person, Eds.

[They'd better hope Edward the military alchemist doesn't find this.]

Blame it on the clown, man. I know if I'd had a choice I would've remembered you ranting at me about hay fever.

[respirations]

I'm going to smother you in your sleep.

( We can only hope. )

I do blame the clown. Yeah? I know I would have remembered your complete disregard for rules too.

[longoverdue]

You wouldn't. [You love me too much, he almost says, but this is too public a space and Richie is too conscious of how that might sound. Yes, they are a thing, yes he loves him, but just about anyone on this network can see this. So instead:] I'm the only professional comedian around here, without me everybody here would have to deal with third-rate puns and "a rabbi and a priest walk into a bar" jokes.

[As opposed to mom jokes and impressions?]

Is this about the ten-minute rule in the hammock? Jesus Christ. It's been twenty-seven years and anyway there was no fucking sign.

[respirations]

Try me. ( But it is said fondly, perhaps noticeably fondly even to someone that doesn't understand them and Eddie's love language of threatening Richie's existence on this mortal plane. ) Oh, I don't know but I'm sure we'll survive somehow.

( Even if he wouldn't because what a fucking sap. But, ah— here comes that karate chop of seriousness again. )

There doesn't need to be a sign when it's an agreed upon rule!

[longoverdue]

You'd have to be able to reach the bed first. [There's a deep well of fondness there, but also, Richie is very clearly enjoying this, something obvious to everyone who's, unfortunately, going to have to deal with this on the network now.] Yeah, but all the poorer for it.

[A snort, then a shake of the head.]

I didn't agree to anything! Who'd you get to agree to it, Stan? Fucking Ben? Ben would've agreed to anything if you got him the newest album from New Kids on the Block!

[respirations]

Thankfully I won't have an issue just flipping you and the fucking bed out the window. ( He'd be embarrassed but honestly? This is 27 years in the making especially with lost memories continuing to flood in. ) And yet still able to live long, better lives.

( Just returning that snort because are they 40 or 14? Who knows? )

Yeah, you know, I did get them to agree and Mike agreed too! Guess what that means, Rich? I got the majority so your hammock hogging ass doesn't get to complain about the rules.

[longoverdue]

Have fun trying, I think they’re bolted to the floor. [A huff.] Sadder, too. Would you do that to the people? Would you really?

[A pause, as if he might actually capitulate after twenty-seven long years. And then:]

It still didn’t count, it wasn’t on a sign. You might have the majority, but it’s not official until you’ve got it in writing and on display. Basic legal shit, Eddie.