08-03-2016, 01:32 PM
When he returned to the Barrel Train, the cyborg found that his troupe of koopas had exited their karts and circled congregated around Seventeen’s vehicle. One of the koopas—a younger-looking one with a red shell and a single studded bracelet as décor—stepped forward and smiled warmly at the cyborg. “Are we stopped for a short while?”
“Seems that way,” Seventeen answered as he walked forward and reached over his kart’s door toward a container he’d concealed in the storage area. When he leaned away, he was holding a cardboard carton with six glass bottles inside individual slots. “Soda?” He asked as he set down the bottles and reached back inside for a seventh for himself. Once the top was loose, he flipped it into the floor of his vehicle and took a swig from the bottle. Nothing was more satisfying than a glass bottle of Diet Mountain Dew in a sweltering, perpetually arid hell-scape.
After a few moments where the cyborg was certain that none of the koopas were going to say or move or do anything, five of them shuffled forward to grab bottles. The sixth—a massive, winged koopa with bulging biceps, an a-shirt, and wrist and head bands straight from the gym—declined the offer. Seventeen figured it probably had something to do with dietary restrictions, so he didn’t press the issue. Leaves me one for the rest of the drive, at least.
“So we haven’t had a whole lot of time to chitchat,” the machine-hybrid remarked after savory gulp of the bubbly soda. “My name’s Seventeen, and I’m a prime from a place where people blow a lot of things up. Also a surprising amount of drama to go with it.”
“Name’s Dutch.” The bulky koopa stepped forward and held out a hand. Seventeen knew what he was getting into, but he couldn’t say no without looking like an asshole. The cyborg held out his hand and accepted the painful, nearly bone-bursting handshake from the buff turtle, who stared him straight in the eyes for the entire five seconds that their hands shared.
As Dutch stepped away, Seventeen’s focus moved to the other, normal-sized members of the troupe.
One of the two girls stepped forward and smiled warmly at the raven-haired fighter. “I’m Sissy Koopa!” Aside from her exuberance, the female turtle with the green shell had a full head of blonde hair that she had pulled back into a side ponytail through use of a large, pink velvet scrunchie.
“He’s standing right there, Girl, damn!” The female voice came from the koopa in the red shell. She had a full head of brown hair that fell down over her shoulders, and her red lipstick, hoop earrings, and gold bracelets only added to her air of glamor. With a sigh and a shake of her hair, the girl turned to Seventeen and nodded her head. “I’m Marie Koopa. Try not to get us all killed, ‘kay?” With that, she took a small sip from her soda and walked from the group.
As Marie wandered away, the other koopa with the red shell chuckled and held up a hand. “I’m Jiggy Koopa.”
On the other side of the group, an ‘undecorated’ green-shelled koopa waved a hand. “I’m Jed Koopa, and this guy here is Seth Koopa,” he added as he put an arm around the blue-shelled turtle next to him. Aside from a small pair of wings that seemed to go along with having a blue shell, the last member of Seventeen’s troupe was a sharp contrast to the others. Like the females, Seth had hair, but his was slick, black, and concealed one of his raccoon-looking eyes. The Koopa Trooper had a studded choker around his neck and wore black gloves with the fingers removed. Like Dutch, he had a shirt, but his was a black tee with a little skeleton dressed up like a band leader.
“Hey,” Seth mumbled as he held up a hand, showcasing a bunch of claws that had been painted black.
Had he been anyone else, the koopa’s emo ensemble probably would have been a little too much for Seventeen. Fortunately, the machine-hybrid had dressed in similar ways during his stint in high school, so he just shrugged his shoulders and returned the gesture. “Nice to meet you all. You’re all elite troopers, right?”
At that, a few of the turtles started to chuckle, save Dutch, who seemed a little bit disgruntled by the actions of his peers. “That wasn’t a joke, you twits!” The bodybuilding koopa barked as he smacked the back of Jed’s head.
Seventeen, who looked confused yet mildly amused by the situation, turned to look at Jiggy, who just smiled.
“Is that what you thought?” Jiggy asked. When he received a slow nod from the skinny human, the koopa stifled a laugh. “Yea, we all failed. We were offered this assignment to make up for low scores were received on the various entrance exams.”
“Oh.” Seventeen muttered as he tried to maintain his poker face. Just so you know, Von, I’mma smack you upside the head if this little trek doesn’t kill me.
“Seems that way,” Seventeen answered as he walked forward and reached over his kart’s door toward a container he’d concealed in the storage area. When he leaned away, he was holding a cardboard carton with six glass bottles inside individual slots. “Soda?” He asked as he set down the bottles and reached back inside for a seventh for himself. Once the top was loose, he flipped it into the floor of his vehicle and took a swig from the bottle. Nothing was more satisfying than a glass bottle of Diet Mountain Dew in a sweltering, perpetually arid hell-scape.
After a few moments where the cyborg was certain that none of the koopas were going to say or move or do anything, five of them shuffled forward to grab bottles. The sixth—a massive, winged koopa with bulging biceps, an a-shirt, and wrist and head bands straight from the gym—declined the offer. Seventeen figured it probably had something to do with dietary restrictions, so he didn’t press the issue. Leaves me one for the rest of the drive, at least.
“So we haven’t had a whole lot of time to chitchat,” the machine-hybrid remarked after savory gulp of the bubbly soda. “My name’s Seventeen, and I’m a prime from a place where people blow a lot of things up. Also a surprising amount of drama to go with it.”
“Name’s Dutch.” The bulky koopa stepped forward and held out a hand. Seventeen knew what he was getting into, but he couldn’t say no without looking like an asshole. The cyborg held out his hand and accepted the painful, nearly bone-bursting handshake from the buff turtle, who stared him straight in the eyes for the entire five seconds that their hands shared.
As Dutch stepped away, Seventeen’s focus moved to the other, normal-sized members of the troupe.
One of the two girls stepped forward and smiled warmly at the raven-haired fighter. “I’m Sissy Koopa!” Aside from her exuberance, the female turtle with the green shell had a full head of blonde hair that she had pulled back into a side ponytail through use of a large, pink velvet scrunchie.
“He’s standing right there, Girl, damn!” The female voice came from the koopa in the red shell. She had a full head of brown hair that fell down over her shoulders, and her red lipstick, hoop earrings, and gold bracelets only added to her air of glamor. With a sigh and a shake of her hair, the girl turned to Seventeen and nodded her head. “I’m Marie Koopa. Try not to get us all killed, ‘kay?” With that, she took a small sip from her soda and walked from the group.
As Marie wandered away, the other koopa with the red shell chuckled and held up a hand. “I’m Jiggy Koopa.”
On the other side of the group, an ‘undecorated’ green-shelled koopa waved a hand. “I’m Jed Koopa, and this guy here is Seth Koopa,” he added as he put an arm around the blue-shelled turtle next to him. Aside from a small pair of wings that seemed to go along with having a blue shell, the last member of Seventeen’s troupe was a sharp contrast to the others. Like the females, Seth had hair, but his was slick, black, and concealed one of his raccoon-looking eyes. The Koopa Trooper had a studded choker around his neck and wore black gloves with the fingers removed. Like Dutch, he had a shirt, but his was a black tee with a little skeleton dressed up like a band leader.
“Hey,” Seth mumbled as he held up a hand, showcasing a bunch of claws that had been painted black.
Had he been anyone else, the koopa’s emo ensemble probably would have been a little too much for Seventeen. Fortunately, the machine-hybrid had dressed in similar ways during his stint in high school, so he just shrugged his shoulders and returned the gesture. “Nice to meet you all. You’re all elite troopers, right?”
At that, a few of the turtles started to chuckle, save Dutch, who seemed a little bit disgruntled by the actions of his peers. “That wasn’t a joke, you twits!” The bodybuilding koopa barked as he smacked the back of Jed’s head.
Seventeen, who looked confused yet mildly amused by the situation, turned to look at Jiggy, who just smiled.
“Is that what you thought?” Jiggy asked. When he received a slow nod from the skinny human, the koopa stifled a laugh. “Yea, we all failed. We were offered this assignment to make up for low scores were received on the various entrance exams.”
“Oh.” Seventeen muttered as he tried to maintain his poker face. Just so you know, Von, I’mma smack you upside the head if this little trek doesn’t kill me.
![[Image: 17.jpg]](http://omniverse-rpg.com/images/17.jpg)