04-14-2018, 09:08 PM
"...you're totally full of shit." Vito finally snapped.
"Well then you should be glad I'm not shitting you." Drake responded.
"That...doesn't make sense."
"Neither does your face."
...
"Ice this prime rib." the bandit leader snapped, rewarded with the popping sounds of firing pins locking into place. Drake rose a challenging eyebrow at the gunmen as they took aim.
"Can I just say one thing?" the smuggler asked, stubbing out his cigarette on the limp sleeve of his jacket. Vito rolled her eyes in the corner, hungrily eyeing a bag of heroin. She sighed.
"You gonna tell me to watch my back? Prepare for fire and fury?" she boomed, a deep chuckle looming at the edge of her voice.
"Nah."
"Oh...well then yeah. Go ahead." Vito said, leaning against a small bedstand. Drake nodded, but didn't make any sudden movements.
"You know, I'm sorry about the comment about your face. You're actually quite a beautiful lady." Drake said, turning around from where he was seated and flashing a bright grin at the dusky bandit queen. Vito paused for a moment before busting out a single, harsh laugh.
"Flattery ain't gonna do you nothin' cuz. They been callin' me Schnitzel since I was nine! Kill 'im." Vito said, jabbing an accusatory hand at Drake. This time, Drake seemed genuinely concerned, and rose to his feet.
"Whoa whoa whoa..." he said in a totally false, wavering tone, "...just...hear me out...UNH!" Drake said, tapping a few of his fingers together. The cybermatic command sent a signal to his datavice to start booming out a series of electronic beats and thumps. Vito and her hooded guardsmen looked on in genuine shock as Drake began to dance.
"Dont. Have. To. Be. Beeeuuhuutifuhull..." he sand softly, sliding over to where Vito was standing. He shucked his jacket in the process, revealing his scraggly torso and jagged stump of a right arm.
"...to turn meh ahwn." he finished with a wink, spinning in place and strutting back towards Vito's bed. The gunmen looked to Vito for guidance, but the woman was too taken in by the shameless, horrifying display to give them specific instructions. Drake ran a scandalous hand down his chest to his crutch, and plucked at it with a slight gyration.
"I just need yo body behebeh...from dusk. Til. Dawn." he continued, somehow managing to whip his belt, katana and all, out towards the door in a single, graceful yank. Everyone else was too dumbstruck to bother writing their reactions. Don't worry about it.
"You just leave it all up to me, I'm gonna show you what it's all..." the scrawny man squeaked, sidling up to the increasingly winded woman. He nestled up to her in a rather contemptuous fashion before dragging her back towards the pile of sweaty blankets on the ground. Was it getting warm in here? Vito was feeling warm.
"DON'T HAVE TO BE RICH, TO BE MAH GURL." Drake yelped, tearing his shirt clean off.
"DON'T HAVE TO BE COOL TO RULE MY WORLD." he screamed, ditching his pants in similar fashion. Did he always wear tear-away slacks? Who the fuck knows. He trotted away from the stunned woman, around to the other side of her improvised desk-map.
"Ain't no parti-cla sign I'm more compatible with..." he whispered, hiking a hairy leg up on to the edge of his desk. He wrapped a thumb into the elastic of his lovingly bleached briefs. Drake continued in a whisper.
"I just need your extra time, and your..." he said, winking at the round-eyed hulk of a she-warrior. The underpants came off.
"KISS!"
With this final incarnadine ululation, Drake pressed the detonation sequence into his hand while kicking the entirety of the desk onto its side. Two seconds passed, during which time the buck-ass naked smuggler ducked behind the sold metal platform and the explosives within the hilt of katana exploded. Vito and the two guards were killed instantly, and Drake was sent flying into the wall of packaged MREs and potable water with a terrific whump. It took about twenty seconds for him to figure out which way his ass was supposed to be pointing before he stood up and blinked heavily.
Fire engulfed the far end of the room, and without thinking twice, Drake dove for his previously discarded satchel bag and dug his plasma derringer out of it. It had been a long time since he'd strip-teased his way out of an execution. He was just glad he still had all of the lessons of seduction that Prince had taught him. Unfortunately, the only current exit out of the room was on fire which left him little recourse.
Drake yanked one of the twenty gallon jugs of water off of the supply pallets and doused himself in the startlingly cold liquid. He steeled himself for exactly half a heartbeat before charging, bare skinned and glistening through the rolling carpet of orange pain. Granted, his cybernetic legs saved him from the worst of the pain, but he was suddenly wishing he had been in the habit of shaving his pubes, because they ignited almost instantly.
As he burst out into the hallway and capped the first dumbass he saw, his adrenaline soaked brain tried to formulate a situational pun based around the idiomatic humor that his fiery pubic hair could be compared to a burning bush, similar to a story in the Christian Bible. But, being as the situation was a tad unscripted, even by Drake's standards, the best he could manage was
"MY PANTS WAS MOSES!"
Before streaking off down the hallway at full tilt.
Oh we're not done yet. Not by a long shot.
"Well then you should be glad I'm not shitting you." Drake responded.
"That...doesn't make sense."
"Neither does your face."
...
"Ice this prime rib." the bandit leader snapped, rewarded with the popping sounds of firing pins locking into place. Drake rose a challenging eyebrow at the gunmen as they took aim.
"Can I just say one thing?" the smuggler asked, stubbing out his cigarette on the limp sleeve of his jacket. Vito rolled her eyes in the corner, hungrily eyeing a bag of heroin. She sighed.
"You gonna tell me to watch my back? Prepare for fire and fury?" she boomed, a deep chuckle looming at the edge of her voice.
"Nah."
"Oh...well then yeah. Go ahead." Vito said, leaning against a small bedstand. Drake nodded, but didn't make any sudden movements.
"You know, I'm sorry about the comment about your face. You're actually quite a beautiful lady." Drake said, turning around from where he was seated and flashing a bright grin at the dusky bandit queen. Vito paused for a moment before busting out a single, harsh laugh.
"Flattery ain't gonna do you nothin' cuz. They been callin' me Schnitzel since I was nine! Kill 'im." Vito said, jabbing an accusatory hand at Drake. This time, Drake seemed genuinely concerned, and rose to his feet.
"Whoa whoa whoa..." he said in a totally false, wavering tone, "...just...hear me out...UNH!" Drake said, tapping a few of his fingers together. The cybermatic command sent a signal to his datavice to start booming out a series of electronic beats and thumps. Vito and her hooded guardsmen looked on in genuine shock as Drake began to dance.
"Dont. Have. To. Be. Beeeuuhuutifuhull..." he sand softly, sliding over to where Vito was standing. He shucked his jacket in the process, revealing his scraggly torso and jagged stump of a right arm.
"...to turn meh ahwn." he finished with a wink, spinning in place and strutting back towards Vito's bed. The gunmen looked to Vito for guidance, but the woman was too taken in by the shameless, horrifying display to give them specific instructions. Drake ran a scandalous hand down his chest to his crutch, and plucked at it with a slight gyration.
"I just need yo body behebeh...from dusk. Til. Dawn." he continued, somehow managing to whip his belt, katana and all, out towards the door in a single, graceful yank. Everyone else was too dumbstruck to bother writing their reactions. Don't worry about it.
"You just leave it all up to me, I'm gonna show you what it's all..." the scrawny man squeaked, sidling up to the increasingly winded woman. He nestled up to her in a rather contemptuous fashion before dragging her back towards the pile of sweaty blankets on the ground. Was it getting warm in here? Vito was feeling warm.
"DON'T HAVE TO BE RICH, TO BE MAH GURL." Drake yelped, tearing his shirt clean off.
"DON'T HAVE TO BE COOL TO RULE MY WORLD." he screamed, ditching his pants in similar fashion. Did he always wear tear-away slacks? Who the fuck knows. He trotted away from the stunned woman, around to the other side of her improvised desk-map.
"Ain't no parti-cla sign I'm more compatible with..." he whispered, hiking a hairy leg up on to the edge of his desk. He wrapped a thumb into the elastic of his lovingly bleached briefs. Drake continued in a whisper.
"I just need your extra time, and your..." he said, winking at the round-eyed hulk of a she-warrior. The underpants came off.
"KISS!"
With this final incarnadine ululation, Drake pressed the detonation sequence into his hand while kicking the entirety of the desk onto its side. Two seconds passed, during which time the buck-ass naked smuggler ducked behind the sold metal platform and the explosives within the hilt of katana exploded. Vito and the two guards were killed instantly, and Drake was sent flying into the wall of packaged MREs and potable water with a terrific whump. It took about twenty seconds for him to figure out which way his ass was supposed to be pointing before he stood up and blinked heavily.
Fire engulfed the far end of the room, and without thinking twice, Drake dove for his previously discarded satchel bag and dug his plasma derringer out of it. It had been a long time since he'd strip-teased his way out of an execution. He was just glad he still had all of the lessons of seduction that Prince had taught him. Unfortunately, the only current exit out of the room was on fire which left him little recourse.
Drake yanked one of the twenty gallon jugs of water off of the supply pallets and doused himself in the startlingly cold liquid. He steeled himself for exactly half a heartbeat before charging, bare skinned and glistening through the rolling carpet of orange pain. Granted, his cybernetic legs saved him from the worst of the pain, but he was suddenly wishing he had been in the habit of shaving his pubes, because they ignited almost instantly.
As he burst out into the hallway and capped the first dumbass he saw, his adrenaline soaked brain tried to formulate a situational pun based around the idiomatic humor that his fiery pubic hair could be compared to a burning bush, similar to a story in the Christian Bible. But, being as the situation was a tad unscripted, even by Drake's standards, the best he could manage was
"MY PANTS WAS MOSES!"
Before streaking off down the hallway at full tilt.
Oh we're not done yet. Not by a long shot.
![[Image: screen_shot_2018_02_16_at_4_33_57_pm_by_...c3dkog.png]](https://orig00.deviantart.net/883e/f/2018/047/1/d/screen_shot_2018_02_16_at_4_33_57_pm_by_tearen_and_zearen-dc3dkog.png)