View Full Version : VoD R2: ErrorBlender vs WafflesMgee

09-05-2014, 12:08 AM
Bl.An.C (ErrorBlender): Android suit, weapon/equipment manifestation.
Handyman (WafflesMgee): 9ft-tall monster, arm summoning, dream-entering/manipulating/eating.

This round's condition involved switching powers.

The stories below are posted in the order that they were submitted and may not be the order in the title or of the character blurbs above. When giving feedback (and you should), please keep the authors of the respective stories anonymous even if you know which one it is.

Humanity has always tried to push itself further and further; first, they moved out of the caves where the shadows lurked, and they came back with fire and made those caves their homes. We pushed ourselves, learning of new technologies, sharpened sticks becoming flat blades, flat blades becoming sharp and precise killing tools, and then we learned the power of fire once more and used gunpowder to our benefits, creating weapons never before thought of. But this story isn't based on Earth where we started with weapons, this story's based on another planet- planet KOI-3284.01, to be precise- named "Astraeus", after the Titan-god of dusk. This is a planet humanity reached by using fire and metal to launch themselves out the sky instead of using it to launch fire and metal at each other. Instead of dying, they chose to live.

This story takes place twenty to thirty years in the future, during which Humanity decided that petty fighting would take us nowhere and, in order to make the human race reign forever, developed sciences to take us somewhere; the stars (or more specifically, the planets orbiting around them.)

Astraeus' main settlement is an above-water city named Hesperos, a city enclosed and shielded from the threats of the rough weathers of the world outside. Earth was covered in two-thirds water, but this planet is 100% ocean, the seas of its surface storming constantly, rain pelting down like the tears of a surpassed and forgotten god. Astraeus, though without land, was able to support life, and did. Numerous fish-like creatures swam underneath, some huge, some small, but humans killed them by the hundred with their intrusion into this world.

Around the outskirts of this town, attached to the side of one of the lesser-travelled skylit roads, was a cheap old hostel named "Waterlog Cabins," within which several characters of interest currently reside.


A man clad in a large, filthy black coat slammed his fist down onto the main desk of the Hostel. His hood was that of someone who didn't wish to be seen, a black veil lining the inside making it a one-way window. A tag hung from the man's neck, "MINE WORKER #6201", indicating that he worked down in the underground mining village, the main income of Hesperos' materials.

The person slouched over the desk jolted awake, the loud thump of a heavy fist waking her up. Eyes half-open, the words "A room's twenty-six bucks a night" emitted from her chapped lips, the phrase said like it was recorded, like it has been said over and over again to the point where it was second nature. The man in the coat handed her the money, and she shoved a key over to him. He took it and turned to the stairs, righting the heavy sack hanging from his back, and started to make his way to his designated room. As he left, the only sound around was of the woman's clothes brushing the desk as she slid back into slumber, and the soft white noise of water hitting window.

The keys dangled from the man's grip, a yellow tag displaying "Room #14" hanging from the loop. The room was down the length of the corridor he was standing in, but the hallway was blocked by a behemoth of a machine. Its shoulders hit the ceiling, the head bent down so that the one red eye on its chrome face stared towards the floor, the area around it illuminated by lines of lit crimson luminescence flowing over its shell like a spider's web. The lower half of its face was decorated by a black mesh in the shape of a rectangle, only darkness visible through it.

As the man in the coat tried to edge his way past the machine, he could hear the slight whirring of servos emit from its joints and a sonar-like beep emanate from its head. He tried to shuffle past the thing without disturbing it; who knows what this thing was capable of? Modern-day machines are more powerful than ever, since his research was stolen. Besides, he's trying to be covert.

The sound of the door locking was followed by a sigh, distorted by a broken voice modulator. With a sound like velcro, the man removed the veil from his face and pulled the hood back. His head was clad in black metal, scrapes and dents decorating it; there was a lot of damage visible to the face, the eye in the centre being once lit a brilliant green and giving the user enhanced vision, but now is just dark and inert, hindering the man's sight from the cracks lining its glass.

The area underneath the eye is even more damaged, a large indent ruining a voice modulator, the only sound emanating from it anymore being static. The helmet was once able to be withdrawn to reveal the face inside, but over the years and all the damage the suit took, all it could do now was open up a small gap near the mouth where sustenance can be awkwardly inserted for consumption; the rest of the helmet was jammed. This man was Cooper Price, once known as Bl.An.C, a name from the suit he so meticulously designed.

The sound of a door opening shot through the hallway, dying down to the voices of two men talking loudly; one sounded young and proud, the other sounding slightly older, attempting to talk in more of a hushed tone whilst still managing to be the louder of the two. Cooper opened the door just a crack to gain a vantage point on the two men, attempting to see if they were people who could cause problems for him.

"- and see this remote here?" the young one bellowed, holding up a small rectangular device in his hand, "This lets me control the big guy." He pushed a button, and the monstrous machine burst into life, contorting itself into a crouch, which amused the two men. "Y'see," the young one continued, "the thing in there isn't so fond of light, and to make it move there's all these lights inside the helmet that let me push him around. Don't worry, it's not human or anything," he chortled.

The machine had its back to him now; a metal orb was behind each shoulder, a third being in the middle of the robot's thin back. Staring past it, he recognised the young man. His name was Clive Barkley, son of the mining village's CEO, the rich spoilt brat. The other man in the conversation seemed to be nobody of any importance, though from his get-up he appeared the type that lived in the slums yet earned more than most. Knowing that such a rich guy had a room in the Hostel, Cooper thought up a plan.

If Cooper managed to 'persuade' Barkley to transfer him some money, he could probably get the materials to fix his suit, the only working systems left in it being the enhanced strength and a makeshift sonar-system messily welded to the back of his head in the form of an ugly black box. Though, as he was thinking of this, an explosion rattled the building.

Price tried to curse, but all that came out was an intense burst of static. He looked to his room's window, water furiously pelting it, thinking that he could escape; but this was no longer Earth, the outside world of this planet held no refuge and had to be kept out, so of course the window was made of incredibly strong and thick glass and couldn't be opened. Contemplating his escape, he could hear an aggressive voice down the hallway.
The tone of the voice made the promise a rather untrustworthy one. Cooper turned to the door, throwing his coat off, revealing a black and ruined metal suit underneath. The green lights that once lined this intricate armour were long dead, though on the back of the armour was something rather new.

The perk of being a mine worker is that you were given a very special and powerful tool, known as the Versa-arms. Workers wore them like backpacks, the Versa-arms being held onto their bodies by a simple exoskeleton letting them safely handle heavy materials. Within the backpack were two tightly-coiled up metal tentacles, each ending in a three-claw grip, and when fully extended could reach three meters each. You couldn't leave the mines with them, but Cooper managed to conceal them under an empty backpack cleverly sewn on to the back of his coat. Due to his suit no longer being able to summon weapons, he had to have something to defend himself with, and what better than a pair of metal arms that could tear a car in half? With some quick thinking, Cooper managed to remove the pack from an exoskeleton and merge it with his suit, the suit itself being a better exoskeleton than what the engineers of Astraeus could ever invent.

He turned to the door, Versa-arms sliding out of two holes on either side of the pack, readying himself into a fighting stance. The shouts of doors being kicked down echoed from one end of the hallway, screams and yells being heard each time. Each door was getting closer.
Eventually, the man kicked down the wrong door. Not wrong because Clive wasn't behind it, but wrong because Cooper was.

Shrapnel from the door shredded the room, destroying the light bulb in the process, though the flying wooden pieces only bounced off Cooper's metal hide. Standing in the hallway was a man with a large blade, a Kukri knife if Price wasn't mistaken, and he was decorated in a strong-looking (and probably stolen) military exosuit.
"Who th'fuck are you?" said the man, looking at the multi-armed silhouette standing in darkness before him.
Cooper tried to reply "Expletive: The wrong man, motherfucker," but all that came was a yell of terrifying static, right before a metal tentacle darted out into the hallway, grabbing the man by a metal bar running across his collar bone, violently yanking him inside.


"Shitshitshit" Clive rambled, taking his chance to dart down the hallway, his mechanical bodyguard lumbering after him.
Running down the stairs, trying to get to the front door (which was now a sizable hole), he saw that there was a man already there. Yet another guy in an exoskeleton, but this time he had a gun.
"STAY THERE, Y'LITTLE SHIT" he yelled, aiming his rifle at the brat.
Clive didn't stay still, he kept running but darted to the right, aiming to escape into the storage basement, an area that dove beneath the water level.
"C'mere y'fucker," said the gunman, starting after him.
With both of the men escaped down into the basement, a metal arm thundered out onto the floor, chrome fingers tearing deep into it with an immense grip.


After tearing the Kukri guy in half using his now-crimson Versa-arms, Cooper made his way out. He noticed that Clive's room was empty, save for the slum guy cowering in the corner. Not minding him, he walked past the doorway and made his way to the reception.
"Expletive: Shit," he tried to say, "Observation: They must have got out." But, again, static crackled out of his face.
Standing there for a few seconds, he detected sounds coming from the stairway to the basement. There were trails tearing through the walls, like giant hands clawed through them. He hesitated, but he decided to head down there.

The basement was dark, save for a red-lit behemoth standing in front of an exoskeleton-fitted gunman, lit red by the machine's luminescence, and it was that gunman who was the only thing between the machine and Clive. That was a very, very bad place to be.

The machine crouched over, displaying the flat of his back to the man, before three red lights started flashing from the orbs on his shoulders and back. A large, metal cannon was slowly being constructed from vibrant pulses of red light, metal materialising out of nowhere, and when it was finally built it was quite visibly a giant metal cannon mounted onto the machine's back. The gunman was shooting at the robot during the construction of the cannon, but the only damage that occurred were to the walls, ricocheted bullets creating little holes were water started to leak in.
"Shit, what the fuck are you?" shouted the man, his gun running empty.
He tried to reload, but the fact that the metal cannon on the machine's back just shot out a powerful laser that blew off the man's right shoulder made that impossible to do. Clive, cowering in the corner, was now painted in blood, some entrails, and several metal shards entangled in his hair. Realising that the gunman couldn't do anything to him, Clive made a run for it, darting past a bewildered Cooper and up the stairs.
"COUGHM BACKEGH" the man yelled, mouth full of blood.
But before he could vomit out another word, a giant chrome hand picked him up and, with a squeeze, quickly crushed him into two pieces, his internals becoming externals. After doing so, it pointed its great red eye towards Cooper, discarding both parts of the ex-gunman onto the floor. Some metal had peeled off its hand, showing dark flesh underneath.

Both of them stared at one another for a time; the man-turned-monster and the monster-turned-servant, lens to lens.

Cooper readied his metal tentacles, feeling like they wouldn't do a thing against this monster, but then he saw something in it; he saw himself. He understood what it was like, being a slave of technology, the once-thought prosperous idea turning into something that corrupted and enslaved, separating the humanity from the human, and although this thing staring him down wasn't human, it certainly was natural.

Cooper lowered all of his arms and withdrew to the basement's corner, the darkness of his suit making him near-invisible in the shadows, though he knew the beast still saw him, feeling the sonar-like tones coming from the thing's red eye hitting off him. The creature relaxed itself, letting the cannon on its back slowly disintegrate into light before starting to trundle out of the basement, covering the crack in its shell with its other hand.


Cooper returned to his room, slouching onto his bed. He still expected comfort as he did so, but his suit denied him any of that. He turned and shuffled until he laid down on his front, the Versa-arms slowly withdrawing into their home. He let off a static sigh and closed his eyes.

He usually dreamt of returning to the labs with all his old friends and fixing his suit, making it into a marvel once again, but this time he wanted to dream of living a life where the suit never existed. Instead of being stuck on a man-colonised planet where technology was the only thing between humanity and death, he wanted to dream of being on Earth, sitting on a park bench, enjoying the feel of the breeze and the smell of a freshly-plucked Lilly.

Yet Cooper didn't know that he was already in a dream, and by drifting into unconsciousness, started to hurtle into another.
Handyman leaned back on his chair. It was old and it creaked a bit but it felt safe enough not to break under his weight. He had other names but he preferred everyone to call him Handyman for the moment as he knew it would change later on. His face was plaster white and had nothing remarkable on it save for one thing: there was nothing on it but a mouth. He curled the only thing he had on his face into a smile at relief that he had gotten the hostel at a decent price and at a time the rain set in. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck and turned his head to the inside of the room. The room was covered in a floral wallpaper and the bed was tidy; sheets were white and tucked in the sides and the pillow fluffy as ever but none of this could have been seen by the eyeless man. Instead a black helmet whipped from behind his neck and covered his face in a few seconds. A green eye glowed and focused its lens to its surroundings. Handyman jolted a bit from the motion. He could never get used to the feeling of tiny little wires suddenly drilling into his brain but he tried not to mind it as it gave him the sense of sight. Just above his bed was a window to the outside and his eye focused on it. He felt lucky to have bargained good rooms that night. Drops of rain pelted the glass pane hard and the darkness lit up only to show a vivid fork of lightning that arced either overhead or downwards to a far away ground. Handyman decided to stand and check next door. He wasn’t alone in his trek outside. He was accompanied by a man of little intelligence but amazing powers. He approached his companion’s door, labeled thirty four in gold letters, and knocked. The door came open a few seconds later to reveal a man with eyes without pupils and several more appendages than a normal man should have. He was sitting down on the floor as he drew on paper with his numerous arms and hands, one of the hands opened the door for Handyman and the owner of the appendage didn’t bother to look up.
“How are you Cooper?” Handyman asked politely as he entered and closed the door silently behind him.
Cooper did not respond but the sound of Handyman’s voice made him pause but he continued drawing. Handyman sighed and watched his companion draw a scene that depicted chains around an object and a lock that kept it together.
“What are you – ?” His sentence was cut short when an abrupt knock banged on the door. Cooper’s arms quickly retreated back into him as Handyman opened the door.
Outside was one of the owner’s helpers. From his appearance alone, he looked to be a child no greater than ten years of age. Ruffled strands of brown hair escaped his red cap and his eyes stared at the unusual appearance of Handyman.
“Sir,” He started. “Mr. Cortez told me to tell you that there is someone trying to break in the hostel.”
Handyman simply nodded and patted the kid’s head. He then gestured the kid to go with a wave of his hand. The boy moved to another room and knocked and continued to inform the rest of the hostel.
Handyman thought for a bit, maybe he and Cooper could help assist in the taking of the suspect. He then tapped Cooper’s back and motioned him to follow. Cooper reluctantly did. The two moved quietly through the corridor towards Mr. Cortez’s office which was situated at the very center of the oval hostel. When Handyman and Cooper arrived, they found themselves in front of a door with gold letters that simply said: “Cortez.” Handyman knocked once but there was no answer and then he looked at Cooper. Cooper looked back and furrowed his brows at the door. Several arms grew and proceeded to knock at the door continuously. Handyman quickly grabbed the arms he could with his own and shook his head.
The door opened to reveal a man in casual clothing, a shirt under an unbuttoned polo and jeans.
“Good evening, Mr. Cortez.” Handyman nodded. His voice was mechanical and monotonous and it surprised the man inside. The voice box of the suit worked the same way as the jade optic; the wires through the head.
“What is it?” Mr. Cortez asked. Just behind him, a plethora of monitors hung on his wall. “If it’s due to the break-in, I assure you we have things under control.”
Handyman’s singular optic zoomed in towards the monitors and saw in one of the cameras that the suspect had just entered through a window. An alarm blares inside Mr. Cortez’ office, the owner of the hostel walks to his desk and pressed a button that silences the noise.
“Mr. Cortez, allow us to assist.” Handyman said. “We are very much capable of taking him out quickly. We are gladiators of Stickpage City. We’ve handled more difficult opponents than a trespasser.”
Mr. Cortez raised an eyebrow at Handyman and then at Cooper. “I know what you gladiators are and what you can do! But what about him? He doesn’t seem special. In fact, he looks blind!”
“Don’t judge a book by its cover, Mr. Cortez.” Handyman said. “You might find its contents better than what you expect.”
Mr. Cortez scoffed at the thought and grabbed a shotgun hidden from the underside of his desk. He checked his drawers for shells and pocketed what he found. “Some books are best shelved. Follow me then, you two.”
After Mr. Cortez had locked the door of his office, he proceeded to walk along the corridor with Handyman and Cooper in tow.
Meanwhile, in room thirteen of the hostel the trespasser has cornered one of Mr. Cortez’ helpers; the boy with the red hat.
“What are you afraid of?” The trespasser asked the kid. His face was shrouded by the darkness of the room; the winds howled outside as the rain dropped in. The trespasser had shattered the bulb when he had forced entry.
The kid didn’t speak and instead trembled in fear. He attempted to make a sentence out but his fear kept him from uttering a word.
“Are you afraid of me?” The trespasser asks again. “Because you shouldn’t be, I want to help. Here, I’ll convince you.”
Just several steps away, the trio led by Mr. Cortez briskly walked past door thirteen and knocked on the door next to it. What opened up was a woman with disheveled black hair and eyes that scanned each person in front of her warily. “What is it? I’ve heard the announcement from the boy. Is it safe?” She stammered and some of the words simply slipped her tongue.
“Have you heard anything from the room next door?” Mr. Cortez asked courteously. Handyman and Cooper stayed a bit behind, just beside door thirteen, to allow the owner to do his job.
“Yes. Yes!” The woman said, nearly excited that the matter was going to be dealt with. “Your boy went in there after my door. I’m sure he went out.” She said and nodded.
“Thank you, Miss Fleur.” Mr. Cortez gave a nod and moved to door thirteen. The sound of Fleur’s door closing echoed in the halls. Mr. Cortez walked towards the two gladiators. “Be ready to subdue him, yeah?”
“I have been thinking, Mr. Cortez.” Handyman started. “That the person entering may just be searching for shelter.”
“He should have had knocked instead of trespassing.” Mr. Cortez snapped. “No one new should enter this night.” He decided rashly. “Now! Please, help me get rid of the vermin.”
Handyman looked at Cooper and nodded. His companion slouched and nodded back. Cooper’s mouth opened and a whisper of words came out. “Stand back, Mr. Cortez.”
Mr. Cortez seemed to have froze in place as he heard the sound of Cooper’s voice. He moved away and allowed the other to approach the door. Cooper’s eyes widened and his head twisted to face the owner. “You have a child here. Inside the room. He feels scared but at the same time calm.” Several arms sprouted from Cooper’s back and one hand slowly turned the doorknob.
Before Cortez could ask, Handyman began to clarify.
“Cooper has an innate ability to sense children.” Handyman said. “Their innocence is like an odor to him. He can make out the mental status of them because of it as well.”
The door swung open and Cooper slowly entered the dark room. His discolored eyes shot around the area as if finding something and his numerous hands extended around him. He then recognized the child at the corner but he locked on the man with half his body already out the window and his dark figure outlined by a lightning strike.
“I am here to help.” He calls out.
Cooper stopped moving and his arms relaxed. He began to asses what truth could lie behind the man’s words but before he could finish his thoughts Cortez barged in with his shotgun and aimed.
“Get out!” He cried. Cooper quickly grabbed the gun and pulled it upwards which caused the shotgun shell to blast the ceiling instead. In the commotion, the trespasser escaped.
“What!” Cortez yelled. “What did you do that for?”
“Violence is rarely the key. We will subdue him but not kill him, Mr. Cortez.” Handyman said as he entered the small room. The suited man looked around and spotted the child as he simply sat there and watched them. Handyman approached. “Did he hurt you?”
“He didn’t. He merely explained.” The kid muttered in reply.
“Explained what?”
“He explained why he was here.” The kid said as he stood and sighed. “I’ve got to go.” He stammered the last few words before he ran out the door. Cooper’s arm retreated into his back as he ran after the kid.
“I suggest we split.” Mr. Cortez said. “The guy couldn’t have left the scene with the rain this hard and this is the only place within three miles.”
“It is not wise to leave you with the trespasser. We have already split either way.” Handyman said as he looked behind Mr. Cortez at Cooper’s running figure. “Cooper will trail the kid. It might lead back to him. You and I will return to your central room. The cameras will prove to be useful.”
Mr. Cortez eyed Handyman warily before actually agreeing to the plan. The door swung open as they came around Ms. Fleur’s room.
“I heard a bang!” She cried.
Across the corridors, as Handyman and Mr. Cortez handled the panicking Ms. Fleur, were Cooper and the kid. The spawner of arms moved as silently as he could but his joints, dry as they were, began to creak as he moved. The kid then looked behind to see Cooper, silent but watching.
The boy’s eyes looked tired as they stared at Cooper, unafraid of the extra arms.
“Aren’t you curious?” The boy asks. He pauses but continues after a breath. “He’s here to help. He knows a lot more and can help us!”
“How help?” Cooper asked, his blind eyes squinted in the direction of the boy.
“He knows things! Things Mr. Cortez is afraid of but…” The boy trails off. “He can help!”
“What needs help?”
Several gunshots are heard as they echo across the room. Cooper turned to gauge its distance but as he turned back to the kid, he only found an empty space. The blind superhuman follows the corridor in an attempt to tail the kid.
The kid runs fast but Cooper, aided by his increased number of arms, quickly closes the distance. Like a spider, Cooper pounces the kid and traps him in a cage of arms. The two begin to roll on the floor like tumbleweed. They eventually lose speed and Cooper releases his arm cage. The boy rolled out from his arms, dazed and queasy.
“Woohoo…” The boy said cheerily. “I think...I think I need to puke.”
“Tell me.” Cooper begins. “What help trespasser has.”
The boy looked at Cooper with the fingers of one hand combed into his hair under the cap. He sighed and sat down on the floor and began to speak.
On the other side of the hostel as the kid answered Cooper, Handyman and Mr. Cortez chased after the trespasser. The trespasser climbed over a new room as the gladiator and owner happened to ask a customer for entrance to his room. Using the surprise to his advantage, he threw a nearby lamp at Mr. Cortez and ran through him and Handyman.
“I should just shoot him to bits!” Mr. Cortez said, audibly enraged by the continual escape of the trespasser. He grabbed a few shells from his pocket and began to reload his gun.
“A terrible idea,” Handyman said as he kept his sights on the fleeting figure of the trespasser. “I have a better one.” A flash of white light enveloped Handyman’s back. It only took a few seconds for his pack to fully solidify and once it was, orange jet flames began to seep out its exhaust until it roared alive and allowed the suit and pilot to soar. Within seconds, Handyman was near the trespasser and he could have wrapped his hands around its waist to have locked the man in place and ended the chase but somehow, the trespasser managed to move quickly enough to face him, dodge his attack and run the opposite direction. The entire movement surprised Handyman; he attempted to correct the direction he was flying in and swung his entire body sideward. He reached for the ground with one hand and used in to pivot himself as the wingpack kept him moving. Once he was in the right direction again he charged for the trespasser. Handyman watched as Mr. Cortez’ eyes widen in surprise and raise his weapon at the trespasser but even with a weapon aimed for him, the man did not slow with his run.
“Slow down or you will be shot.” Handyman decided to say and opened his arms wide to increase his chances of trapping his prey in them but the trespasser managed to dodge his attack again this time by jumping to one side clear of his arm’s reach. What Handyman grabbed was a surprised Mr. Cortez with a loaded shotgun. The suited man crashed into the owner but was able to slow down slightly by shifting his weight back and switching off the wingpack. They landed on the floor not too far away. With Handyman just above him, Mr. Cortez could Mr barely move. The trespasser was inches away but the shotgun had gotten loose from his hands in the sudden crash. The unknown suspect walked closer, enough for Mr. Cortez to see him.
“Why are you afraid of me? I can help you.” The man pressed. “I know a solution.”
“What do you know?” Mr. Cortez snapped back. “You’ve never known me or this place!”
“I know enough. I grew up elsewhere but I improved my home, once I did that. The leader of my home went ahead and set me free, wanting me to help others.”
“Your help is not wanted!” Was all the reply he got from Mr. Cortez.
“Why must you be so xenophobic?” He asked. “Why do you reject new things?”
“Because we’re doing fine on our own! We don’t need new--!”
Mr. Cortez was cut off when Handyman stood from his place. The jade optic stared at him and then at the trespasser. “You never even considered his help did you?” Despite not looking at the owner, the question was directed at him.
“He did not.” The trespasser spoke for Mr. Cortez. “I visited a few days ago as well but he did not let me enter when I said I wanted to help. Instead of going to him directly, I appealed to some of his workers and sometimes to his customers.”
“What happened then?” Handyman asked.
“They began to slowly accept what I could offer but Mr. Cortez adamantly refused despite my growing support.”
Out from the corner of Handyman’s eye, came Cooper, his hand on the kid’s shoulder. Soon enough, more people poured from the side of the corridors, mostly several of his staff and some of the customers, even Ms. Fleur. They all gathered around them. Handyman decided to fall back to Cooper.
“What did you learn?” Handyman asked as he approached his friend.
“Learned from kid. Last to know of trespasser.” Cooper said. “Kid was afraid of Cortez, not trespasser. Trespasser wanted to help but kid afraid of what Cortez say.”
The growing circle around Mr. Cortez began to get noisy. Voices began to dictate their worries, their complaints and their suggestions. Every single one of them came from the trespasser, the new guy, backed up by the staff and customer.
“I suggest we turn in, Cooper.” Handyman said. “The night has been tiresome and it looks to be these will end with Mr. Cortez accepting the ideas the new guy conveys.”
Cooper merely nods and follows Handyman’s lead.
(Personal apologies, I messed up the poll the first time and I've requested the other thread to be deleted as soon as possible.)

09-06-2014, 01:38 AM
This is actually a very hard decision, both are so good, not sure which to choose yet, will reread this