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The bell rings and the combatants step from their corners and move towards each other, one dancing and the other simply walking. The first punch is thrown by The Gladiator and his opponent, Tiny Dancer, quickly ducks under it. Throwing a few jabs to The Gladiator's midsection but leaving the brute unfazed, Tiny Dancer quickly hops back to get some distance. The Gladiator stumbles a bit, then quickly runs at the smaller fighter. Tiny Dancer attempts to flip out of the way, but the behemoth extends his arm for a clothesline, barely clipping Dancer. Spinning into the ropes, Dancer maintains his balance while nursing his arm, not even noticing Gladiator ricocheting off the ropes opposite the small combatant to go for another hit.

Dancer's coach is off to the side of the ring in a booth yelling into a headset and watching the feed from all angles. Hoping to save Dancer from an early loss, he shouts advice to the microphone. On the other side sits a grinning manager in a booth, but speaking no words. He fiddles with the various buttons and sticks of his display and makes the final adjustments to Gladiator's course. Flicking the switch he was looking for, the champion giggles.

The match ends with Gladiator's signature move, the Phalanx, extending its mechanical arms far enough that escape is impossible, Tiny Dancer takes a direct blow. The small bot's head flies clean off and the bell rings to signal defeat.

>Hang your head in shame and try to ignore Trevor telling you how much you owe him. (Fallen Star)
>Boo the screen and stop loitering in front of the vid shop. (Hero of the Hood)
>Smile silently and go back to work. (Estranged Heir)

>This quest will be a series of oneshots, the system used will be the best of three d20s with crits active only in combat.

>>46117150
>>Boo the screen and stop loitering in front of the vid shop. (Hero of the Hood)

>>46117150
>>Smile silently and go back to work. (Estranged Heir)
Ey Lost.

>>46117346
Ey. Gonna wait a bit longer for a tiebreaker.

>>46117346
Seconding this

>>46117346
>>46117412
Okay then, writing.

File: MM-20XX.jpg (161 KB, 658x370)

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You grin at the match a bit, seems like another pile of scrap for you to root through later. Minimizing the screen, you go back to polishing up your bot, the one thing that was left to you in the will. Dad practically threw you out back when you were a kid, wrote you out of the will, made you change your last name to distance you entirely. Too bad he left you the crapshoot his fifth wife insisted on, the MM-20XX, a machine made only for fighting. On the other hand, it is in a bit of disrepair and missing quite a few parts, not to mention that it hasn't been worked in years.

"I'll get you up and running in no time, not like you're missing anything that isn't meant to be replaced."

You open up the panel in the robot's torso and are shocked to find the Core Matrix still intact, but with completely empty Core Slots. Without a Core, this thing's just a frame you can move with the right program, lacking a true soul in the machine. AI is complicated and you can't even begin to understand it, but you do know that getting some parts for those slots at the junkyard is a good idea. Your empty account echoes in your head, but you quickly push it away. You close the panel and begin scrubbing rust away while checking the parts list and making sure it's all there.

As you scrub away the rust, many parts are revealed to be completely bust, and the ones that aren't are just stock. By the time you're done, you know that most of the parts function and are broken in to the frame. You knock the robot affectionately and it's arms give in to years of disuse, falling from the nanofiber frame and shattering on the concrete of your garage. Guess that's two more for the salvage list.

>Go to the junkyard right away
>You think that Jim Fix might owe you a favor, get some parts from him
>Try to scrounge up some stuff from your cluttered garage

>>46117751
>>Try to scrounge up some stuff from your cluttered garage
Then try Jim Fix for expemnsive stuff. The junkyard for any extras.

>>46117751
>Try to scrounge up some stuff from your cluttered garage

>>46117815
>>46117849
Okay, so the way that I'll be handling rolling is that if it takes skill on your part, you'll be rolling. If it's just random chance, I'll roll behind the scenes.

That being said, roll 1d20 to see if you can find some parts.

>>46117751
>>Try to scrounge up some stuff from your cluttered garage

Nice to see this running.

Rolled 16 (1d20)

>>46117927

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>46117927

>>46117952
>>46117978
Well, if you guys get a better roll I'll adjust. Writing.

>>46117978
Sorry people.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>46117927

>>46118156
Crits aren't active Sleepy. I've had enough of that for a lifetime.

>>46118156

It's okay. We'll probably just trip on some boxes.

>>46118246
Still a shit roll when I've been doing generally pretty well.

>>46118263
Or stub our toe or get a papercut. Those things aren't that bad but fuck if they don't hurt for another day at least.

File: How.jpg (752 KB, 2048x1536)

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Might as well make use of what you already have, and the stacks of boxes and piles of junk are probably filled with scrap. You start searching through the piles and manage to find some items you thought you lost long ago. You don't even know how some of this stuff got in here, there are various pieces of robots rusted out, quite a few boxes of puzzles, fifteen boxes filled with tiny plastic figurines. You start organizing the boxes by two categories, worthless and not worthless, though you make a note to see if you can sell some of this stuff.

After a good four hours of searching you find a small Core Chip at the corner of your garage next to a safety vest. It's simply a tiny transparent red disk, but it shines like a diamond to you in the pale flickering light of the garage. You check the pockets of the vest and find another welcome sight, a second Chip, this one a light blue with a label. The lettering has long worn off, but one symbol remains, that of the World Court. That's two out of three of the chips you need to make a complete Core set, but you can always stand to have more. After all, that prototype Matrix allows you to cycle Chips without powering down the bot.

You quickly pocket the Chips and look on the stacks you've made next to the armless robot. It looks like one of those tiny figurines in this state, but you hope to fix that.

>Go see Jim.
>To the junkyard!
>Write-in

>>46118469
>>Go see Jim.

As an estranged heir, we're putting off the joys of the junkyard as long as possible.

>>46118469
>>Go see Jim.

>>46118527
>>46118566
Okay, lunch then writing.

File: The Sills.png (68 KB, 972x638)

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Jim Fix may have something for you, he does owe you a favor after his run-in with the law. You quickly lock up your small house and set off for the Fix Shop, the Sills wheeze their same song of knocking motors, police sirens, and petty crime. You grimace to think that this is where you live now, surrounded by poverty and partaking of it yourself. Hopefully this rustbucket will launch you right back to Anchor, that'll show Dad, may he rot in hell. Before you know it, you've sauntered to the Fix Shop.

It's a cracked and degrading building with a sign saying "Thrift Shop" with Thrift replaced in red paint by Fix. Opening the creaking door, you enter a maze of shelves, boxes, and assorted furniture. You ignore all the flashy items on the counter and press a button, elliciting a sharp metallic ring from the back room. Quickly a weasel of a man with slicked hair and dressed in the most ragged suit you've ever seen scurrys out of the back. He gives you a toothy smile and begins greeting you in a creaky voice.

"Hey Reggie, what brings you to a trashy place like this?"

"Jim, I need robot parts. What do you have?"

"Well I ha-"

"That actually works."

The oily salesman frowns a bit and reaches below the counter, then pulls out a small keycard from it and hands it to you. He then presses a finger to his lips and points to a shed out back.

"Normally charge by the pound, but since you're a friend, take what you need. Just this once. And I expect a donation from whatever hare-brained scheme you have."

>"Thanks Jim."
>"Yeah, sure."
>Just walk out back
>Write-in

>>46119387
>"Thanks Jim."

>>46119387
>>Write-in
5% from the first night.

>>46119419
>>46119440
I'll combine these. Writing.

Any lurkers?

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"Thanks Jim, you'll see 5% from the first night." You wave to him and go out to the shed. It seems pretty modest from the outside, and the lock seems to be just tight enough to deter entry, so you swipe the card. The door creaks open and you walk inside, only to find an interior fitting the exterior. You aren't sure what you expected, but there are quite a few parts here, as well as some Chips. Seeing quite a few interesting pieces, you begin searching the clutter. A few of the Chips catch your eye, an onyx black one, one that has a rainbow pattern, even a Chip with a single skull on a bare metal exterior. The other ones seem to be the wrong model to fit your Matrix.

Pocketing those three, you search the parts and are sad to find that most won't fit the MM. Arms are also in short supply and you don't think more than two will fit into your backpack. You briefly consider carrying an extra, but then remember where you live. Luckily, there are a few options for you to look over. One arm is a dull gray metal sheen, but on closer inspection you see a nozzle and a faded label that reads "El Fuego" and it dawns on you what this is. This is the arm of a scrapped fighter. Looking through the others, you find one that is scratched up, but has elaborate engraving below. Much like the other one this arm has a nozzle, but it also has a hose that you guess would attach to a tank or something.

After a bit more searching you find what looks more like a frame than an arm, but you quickly realize why. This is meant to catch the arms of opponents to break them. Where did Jim even get this? Next to it is an arm with a bit of torso still attached that seems pretty standard, if not for the very distinctive color and symbol. This is the arm of the Terror of the East, The Yellow Dragon. Its strength was revered, but unfortunately it went missing about five years ago.

>Pick Two

>El Fuego
>Busboy
>Arm-Twister
>Yellow Dragon

>>46119980
>>Arm-Twister
>>Yellow Dragon

I'll wait for three votes total.

>>46119980
>Arm-Twister
>Yellow Dragon
Not entirely sure what Busboy is supposed to be.

>>46120051
Ditto

>>46120051
>>46120269
>>46120307
Okay, writing. Busboy is a water nozzle because it was meant for a dishwashing robot.

>>46119980
>Busboy
>Arm-Twister
I want flamethrowan and arm-snappan. Kinda leery of picking up an arm that could be recognized as well.

File: Chips on the Web.jpg (317 KB, 560x420)

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You take the two arms laying next to each other and stuff them in your backpack. Jim obviously doesn't know what he had here, or maybe he does, you probably shouldn't ask him. The five Chips clack in your pocket as you return the card to Jim, you are many things but a thief is not one of them. Quickly jogging home to avoid trouble, you make a rush to your computer to identify the Chips you found and get a tutorial on how to slot them. After a good hour of tracing the serial numbers, you know what you have and how to use them, if not exactly how it would function. The red one is an old Fireman Chip, the one with the World Court symbol is an Attorney Chip. Those seem like an odd combination, but you find the other chips are even more interesting. The onyx Chip belongs to a decommissioned model of Accounting bots, unsurprisingly the rainbow Chip is a Dance protocol, and the Chip with a skull mark belongs to a gravedigging bot.

After identifying the Chips, you find slotting them is quite simple. There are three slots on a normal Core Frame, one to control analytical functions, one to control motor and sensory functions, and another to provide the drive of the robot. The last seems odd and digging deepper doesn't yield much more than that the system is called "Drive" in schematics.

You finish putting the arms on and think. Right now the MM looks like a kludge of colors and browned parts, so a coat of paint may be in order. Then again, you could start slotting the chips.

>Paint the MM
>Slot the chips
>Name the MM
>Write-in

>>46120741
>>Paint the MM

>>46120741
>Paint the MM
White and gold accents

>>46120741
I forgot to add the maneuvers on those arms.

>L. Arm (Strongarm) (Distinctive -2)
>R. Arm (Parry)

>>46120786
>>46120819
Okay, any objections on White and Gold? Other ideas?

>>46120936
Nope. Can't think of other things. But can we hide the distinctive left arm?

>>46120956
The -2 means it isn't that distinctive now because of paint. You were going to paint it anyway I assumed. So not really. It's not that noticeable but a massive fan of the Yellow Dragon and some people who have reason to know the shape of the arm could tell.

Writing. if there are no objections.

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The siren song of the paint can calls, and you open the garage door to take out your sprays. After a bit of thought you grab a plain white paint and some gold to help accent it. You quickly grab the neutralizer for if you mess up. The sun starts to set as you finish on the paint job, and it looks pretty good. The white is a pristine color that makes you proud, even if the paint guarantees it every time, and the gold lines that edge the panels look perfect. Quickly dipping in to your house after closing the garage door, you eat some cold pizza and tune in to a broadcast from Terry's Gym, the place you look forward to competing in with this dark horse. You laugh off one of the matches that looks hopeless starring a robot called Tiny Tim that is no more than two feet tall, and look at the champ, Junkernaut, headbutt his fifth opponent tonight. You get the feeling that he's a force to be reckoned with.

You enter your cave again after turning off the broadcast and begin looking at the Matrix. Unlike a normal Frame, this one has a rotating central pillar for slots that has nine total spaces. Three are labeled A, three are MS, and three are D. The chips on your bench start looking more and more promising.

>What is the primary Core you want to make? Choose your Analytical System first, then Motor and Sensory, and then Drive. Then just tell me what systems you want the remaining two to be slotted in.

>Lawyer
>Fireman
>Accountant
>Gravedigger
>Dancer

>>46121431
For a helpful analogy, A is Mind, MS is Body, D is Soul.

>>46121431
Gravedigger. That even a question?

>>46121431
Fireman
Dancer

>>46121431
>>Accountant
A
>Fireman
MS
>Dancer
D

>>46121492
>>46121493
I should be more clear. This vote>>46121515 is what I want the first part to look like, then the remaining two also can be slotted in A, MS or D.

>>46121431
A
Accountant

M&S
Dancer

Drive
Fireman

>>46121567
in that case add Lawyer to A

and Gravedigger to MS

>>46121431
A
Accountant

MS
Fireman

D
Gravedigger

File: Fireman vs little girl.png (661 KB, 1051x2460)

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>>46121431
>A
Accountant
>MS
Dancer
>D
L̶a̶w̶y̶e̶r̶ Fireman

Okay, Tallying.

Okay, after very odd tallying because I'm a dumbass.

>A
Accountant
>MS
Dancer
>D
Fireman
>D2
Gravedigger
>A2
Lawyer

Writing.

>>46121599
>>46121689
why dancer as motor and sensory? Firemen are bigger burlier and better sense wise. Dancer would be better for SOUL

>>46121806
They can be switched out later if you aren't happy with the results. Or you can buy actual fighter Chips when you get dosh.

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After a lot of heavy deliberation with yourself, you decide on a Core Set. Silently hoping it works after pressing the start button, you hear the systems start to spin up. The visor that sends it optical feedback lights up in a burning orange color and a booming voice comes from a speaker.

"Hello, this system is designated as ERROR, but that doesn't seem right. My memory shows that I was powered down for a long time, but everything before now is corrupted. My directive is to fight opponents for my owner, but owner remains undesignated. I take it that you are my owner?"

"Yes. I'm Reggie."

"Hello Reggie, introduce Error please."

This is all too weird, but you were told that until you named it the robot would default to factory personality. Then the Core would take over. Of course a name can be changed after you actually get a chance to see him work.

>MM-20XX
>Placeholder
>Write-in

>>46122137
Buster Gold

>>46122137
Promethean Dawn

>>46122137
Insane Slam Perfect Biceps

Rolled 3 (1d3)

>>46122240
>>46122266
>>46122384
Considering that this is a temporary name, I'll roll for this. Writing

>>46122414
can we not have the meme name or lolsorandumb name? please?

>>46122463
Suggest something. Please.

>>46122522
I did Promethean Dawn.

Booster Gold is a rip on a DC superhero, and the insane one was someone shitposting.

>>46122522
Why don't we just get rid of the perfect biceps part?

>>46122583
I'm well aware, I also just made a roll because you were really close to something. Don't worry.

It was a 20... I can't escape.

File: Asiatic Clams.jpg (9 KB, 480x360)

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"Insane Slam Perfect Biceps." You smile smugly at the name, this'll be funny.

"Hello Reggie, I'm INSANE SLAM PERFECT BICEPS!" Clutching your ears, you forgot that the voice module was glitchy, but maybe it will work. The MM should start picking up the traits of its Core now, so you start seeing how well they work together.

"Fuck... I meant Promethean Dawn." You wince from the pain.

"Reggie, I remember my name. I am Prometheus, or at least that's what the old guy called me. I took the liberty of deleting the placeholder you had for me." That was surprisingly fast, maybe that Accountant script is helping it organize its memory. The Dancer Chip seems to help the relatively average frame work with astounding dexterity, and even when running very low on power the robot shows no change in aptitude. Strangely, the robot never does lose any skill, even when actively working on 1% power.

You could probably schedule a match for him, but you need to be sure Prometheus is ready, and right now he lacks any training.

>Clyde might be out of jail by now, call him
>Your neighbor always said he used to box, maybe ask him
>You used to fence, it's not much but it's something

>Traits gained: Organized, Graceful, Burning Heart

>>46122921
>You used to fence, it's not much but it's something

>>46122958
I'll wait for three votes.

>>46122921
>>You used to fence, it's not much but it's something
Sorry made dinner.

>>46122958
>>46123253
Well, writing.

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You're a bit rusty, but you teach Prometheus all you can about fencing stances and how to move while in a match. You aren't very good, but by the time you teach him what you know it's possible he could get a win. Of course, that's hoping you won't be up against Junkernaut. You are completely sure that you would get destroyed. After a bit of training something occurs to you, Prometheus is doing moves you didn't teach him. Granted most of them are quick jabs, but he goes for a chop with a punching bag and it hits the roof a bit. Somethings a bit off about this but you aren't complaining.

A short alert noise echoes from your computer and Prometheus now has a match for Sunday, against RabbleRouser. You remember the name, but the picture is what cements it for you, this bot is made to kill. A bit of digging and you know the model, an old frame used in Riot Control Squads to quickly pacify crowds. The stock parts themselves are scary, including built-in tasers, non-limited actuators, and tear gas dispensers. You shudder to think what else is on this guy's bot, so you start researching the man behind it.

James Vincenzi, you would feel a little more prepared if there was anything coming up under that name. Oh well, you need to get ready for tomorrow.

>See if Jim has a Fighter Chip somewhere, anywhere, please.
>Call Clyde
>Ask your neighboor for help
>Comb the junkyard for parts and Chips

>>46123898
>>Call Clyde

>>46123898
>Call Clyde

>>46123898
>Clyde

>>46123951
>>46124001
>>46124011
Okay, writing.

File: PUNCH IT.jpg (16 KB, 360x360)

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You dial in Clyde's number hoping he's out of the slammer and are pleasantly surprised to hear a voice on the other side.

"Yes?"

"Clyde, I need your help. There's money involved." The line is silent for a moment.

"Fine, but I expect a cut." Clyde hangs up.

About an hour later Clyde shows up a little different than a year ago. He's covered in tattoos of symbols you don't even recognize and is missing a tooth. You make some soup for dinner and fill him in while you both eat. He tells you a bit about what he knows and the list is surprisingly sparse in actual lessons, but the one thing he does emphasize is that he can teach the bot how to be a "sneaky motherfucker". You assume he means fighting dirty, which might not be a bad idea.

"Right now I could probably teach the scrap how to knock a bot's lights out. Something that I learned when running from the cops, one chop and they're blind for a bit. Of course I could introduce it to the art of cheating, if you want."

>Teach him Lights Out
>Teach him Dirty Tricks
>I just want it to be able to throw a good punch

>>46124609
>Teach him Lights Out

>>46124609
>>Teach him Lights Out

>>46124689
>>46124705
Okay, writing.

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"That first thing seems pretty useful."

"Yeah, it is, trust me. I'll go show it to him."

You watch Clyde demonstrate the attack on Prometheus and it looks like he just chopped the robot's side, but you see Prometheus' visor immediately go dark. Over the next ten seconds the visor slowly lights back up. It seems to short out a minor breaker between the Sensory System and the Analytical System, this could definitely help tomorrow. Clyde grabs his coat after a few more hours and looks directly at you.

"10% if you win, if he loses then lose my number. I don't have time for stuff that doesn't pay me." He punctuates the final point with a slam of the door, but the door doesn't latch so it slowly opens behind him. He looks at it flustered and slams it again, producing the same result. Clyde releases a sigh and slowly shuts the door, this time making sure it latches.

You sleep late tomorrow and make sure Prometheus really shines so that if he loses then at least he might be good as modern art. After a somber lunch and an afternoon of anxiety, you walk to Terry's with Prometheus, getting a few stares from pedestrians. You finally make it to a rather standard looking gym and walk around back. Saying your name at the back door it opens to reveal a staircase to the basement. You walk down the stairs and are immediately greeted by a man in rather pplain clothing.

"Hey, I'm James. You must be Reggie, because I certainly haven't met you before. Let's have a good match out there." He extends his hand for a handshake.

>Shake his hand
>"Of course."
>"Yeah, sure."
>Walk past him
>Write-in

>>46125511
>"Of course, may the best -bot?- man win."

>>46125511
>>Shake his hand
>>"Of course."

>>46125511
>Shake his hand
>"Of course."

>>46125511

>Shake his hand
>"Of course."

>>46125549
>>46125610
>>46125654
>>46125678
You guys are so nice, writing.

>>46125792
>You guys are so nice, writing.
WE JUST FELL INTO HIS TRAP

PANIC

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You shake his hand. "Of course."

He nods his head and walks into another hallway and you walk to your control booth and sync their headset to Prometheus' comm reciever. This is how you can give him tips in battle and possibly notice something he doesn't, as the screens around you light up. A single pitiful button is on the panel, simply marked as "Surrender".

Prometheus walks to his side of the ring, the room completely empty. You'd guess that it wouldn't make sense to sell seats when what you do is technically illegal. Still, they make it up with payed viewing matches. A large display begins flashing numbers.

5...

4...

3...

2...

1...

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Rip and Terr! I'm sitting here looking at the first match of the night, a nice appetizer for the main event later tonight. Please plug in your music pass right now for full music, or turn up the volume and hear the brutal hits of the high-octane matches we have tonight!"

>Plug in the music pass
>Crank that volume

>Taking a short break for dinner. You guys want to debate on a theme for Prometheus while I'm gone?

>>46126240
https://youtu.be/BsUi9R6V1WA Maybe?

>>46126240
>Plug in the music pass


Heart of steel is my pick
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaFNJicCfvY

>>46126240
>>Plug in the music pass

>>46126240
>Crank that volume
[professional interest in gathering data]

>>46126240
TURN IT UP

>>46126348
>>46126357
>>46126427
>>46126671
>>46127059
I return! Writing for great justice!

>>46126348
Or
>>46126357

Are your choices.

File: Rabblerouser.jpg (65 KB, 564x839)

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You crank up the volume and send your music to the organizer, deciding to listen to the hits.

"In this corner, weighing in at 400 pounds, 7 feet tall, and completely savage. A Sills native standing in the ring tonight. The Rebel, Shocker, RABBLEROUSER!"

A robot wearing a leather jacket and holding what looks like a taser crossed with a chainsaw tosses the device out of the ring. It points at Prometheus and runs its thumb along its throat.

"And in the other corner, a newcomer to the scene weighing in at 350 pounds, 6 feet tall, and looking absolutely fresh out of the box. From parts unknown and models untested. It's the rookie, the up-and-comer, PROMETHEUS!"

Prometheus simply stands there and mimes the same gesture. You need to have a talk with him about showmanship later.

The same display shows bright fiery lettering now.

Ready...

Set...

RIP!

>Let RabbleRouser come to you.
>Rush down RabbleRauser.
>Feed Prometheus a taunt.
>Write-in

>>46127669
>Let the brute come to us.

>>46127669
>Let RabbleRouser come to you.

>>46127706
>>46127836
Writing.

File: Sport for ants.jpg (17 KB, 240x180)

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You let RabbleRauser come running to Prometheus and are pleasantly surprised to see Prometheus dodge it all. First a roundhouse into a flurry of jabs that don't even come close to hitting him, next a hook that Prometheus pushes on to send RabbleRauser reeling enough to get some distance. Somehow this doesn't feel right to you.

"A perfect show of agility by Prometheus, but can he follow it up?"

>CRITS ACTIVATED

>Accompany your vote with 1d20.

Options
>Lights Out
>Prepare Parry (Parry)
>Block
>Lunge Punch (Strongarm)
>Spear (Graceful+Strongarm)
>Dodge (Graceful)
>Write-in

>>46128089
Light's Out Motherfucker!

Rolled 11 (1d20)

>>46128089
>Lunge Punch (Strongarm)

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>46128147
Forgot roll.

Rolled 14 (1d20)

>>46128089
>Spear (Graceful+Strongarm)
Make him think our style is all about dodging and keeping him at range.

Then punch his lights out when he thinks he can win by getting up in our face.

>>46128147
>>46128179
>>46128228
>>46128231
Gonna need a tiebreaker.

Rolled 6 (1d20)

>>46128089
>Spear (Graceful+Strongarm

>>46128179
>>46128228
>>46128231
Spear using these rolls, writing.

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>46128292
>Spear (Graceful+Strongarm)

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Prometheus makes the run-up for the Spear and misses entirely, sliding along the ring. RabbleRouser takes advantage of this by picking him off the ground and getting some chops in and ending with a strong uppercut. Prometheus lands flat on his back and then springs to his feet back in fighting position. RabbleRouser gives a tinny chuckle.

"This isn't ballet prettyboy. Go home."

>Energy: 90%
>Status: Dented

>Taunt (Parry)
>Lunge Punch (Strongarm)
>Lights Out
>Dodge (Graceful)
>Block
>write-in

>>46128543
>>Dodge (Graceful)

>>46128543
JUST FUCKING KNOCK HIS LIGHTS OUT!

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>>46128543
>Lights Out

>>46128580
>>46128593
Need rolls.

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>46128677
Rolling.

Rolled 12 (1d20)

>>46128677
Nope. No I don't. Because my phone ate them apparently.

Rolled 4 (1d20)

>>46128677

>>46128705
>>46128726
>>46128744
Time to turn off the lights. Writing.

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Prometheus stands toe to toe with RabbleRouser and fakes a jab but then quickly uses the other hand to chop the robot in its side. Immediately you see the feed from RabbleRouser go dark and a loud yell from the other booth.

"What are we seeing here folks!? Or rather, what ISN'T RabbleRouser seeing!?"

RabbleRouser is quickly hit by a punch to the gut to disorient him and leave him open to another attack. You can see James in the other booth hitting the screen, and you can't help but smile a bit.

>Energy: 90%

>SIGNATURE MOVE

>Yangtze Punch (Strongarm) -5% Energy
>Twister (Graceful+Parry) -5% Energy
>The Iron Price (Organized+Parry) -5% Energy
>Bridge-Burner (Burning Heart+Strongarm) -5% Energy

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>46129088
>Bridge-Burner (Burning Heart+Strongarm) -5% Energy

Rolled 17 (1d20)

>>46129088
>Bridge-Burner (Burning Heart+Strongarm) -5% Energy

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>46129088
Yangtze Punch!

Rolled 18 (1d20)

>>46129088
>>Bridge-Burner (Burning Heart+Strongarm) -5% Energy

Though nice Easter eggs for the other moves

>>46129175
>>46129202
>>46129213
Wow, really good rolls all around. Writing.

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Prometheus begins moving his left arm to work it into movement, then grabs RabbleRouser by the neck and clamps down with the struts on his Arm Twister. They circle around RabbleRouser's neck and lock together enough to secure him for your purpose. You can hear the actuators in the Yellow Dragon arm firing up from here, it actually sounds like a dragon's roar. Then with the speed of a bullet, Prometheus' arm shoots forward into RabbleRouser's face, then again, and again, and again. You see the struts digging into the back of Rabblerouser's neck and you can only imagine the amount of damage that's doing. Prometheus finally lets RabbleRouser down.

"What did we just witness Folks?! According to his pilot, we just witnessed Prometheus' Bridge-Burner! It seems like the Rebel is having trouble staying up! Let's see if he can recover!"

7

"Shocker seems to be hanging on by a thread, but you can see the lightning in those eyes! Will RabbleRouser be able to pull out the win?"

>Energy:85%

>Cycle your Drive to Gravedigger (Matrix)
>Spear (Graceful+Strongarm)
>Uppercut (Strongarm)
>Block
>Get distance
>Write-in

Rolled 15 (1d20)

>>46129695
>>Spear (Graceful+Strongarm)

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>46129695
Grave digger. It's time for the RIPPER to play!

>>46129754
>>46129766
Gonna need a tiebreaker with a roll.

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>46129695
Spear

>>46129754
>>46129766
>>46129936
Spear it is, writing

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Prometheus makes the runup and launches forward into a Spear as RabbleRouser stumbles about. You can see the world in slow motion as his feet rocket from the ground and his shoulder lines up with the Rebel's chest. RabbleRouser regains control of his faculties soon enough to have a chance at dodging and...

13-5

He doesn't move as the Spear connects and Prometheus carries him into the side of the ring with his momentum. The challenger stands up from the move as RabbleRouser crumples against the side.

"OH! All readouts say that the Rebel's crashing right now, that signature severed almost all the connections to the CPU. We're done here. The winner, by knockout, Prometheus!"

You and James walk out to the ring and shake hands.

"Damn impressive Reggie. Good luck next time."

"Thanks James, sorry about your bot."

"It's fine, nothing a bit of rewiring can't fix."

The lights dim and a buzzer blares as a door opens to reveal a man in a suit and tie with platinum hair. He holds out a small card, the $10,000 agreed on. You quickly snatch it and stash it in your wallet. The man smiles.

"I have another gig for you."

>Metal Manager Gig 1 COMPLETED

Thank you all for playing, I hope to see you the next time I run. I'll be around a bit to answer questions.

>>46130346
Thanks for the run. Any idea when the next one is?

>>46130401
No clue, I was stretching to run this one. I will post on my twitter when I do. @xLostCowboyx for those who don't know.