paixaorpg | Pie Show and Piggehs [Active]

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Pie Show and Piggehs [Active]

Character(s): GIR, Sylar, and whoever feels like dealing with the little Crack on a Stick >.>
Content: GIR's arrival at Paixao
Setting: the Muspelheim gate
Time: Late morning-ish
Warnings: . . . crack on a stick? 8D

As per usual, GIR was ignoring his Master's orders and playing around the laboratory with PIGGEH. Despite being such a tiny little robot, the place was in complete shambles with the exception of one corner of glistening order and . . . relative cleanliness. Of course this was the place that GIR was gravitating towards, PIGGEH held high over his head. At the very moment that GIR came in throwing distance, however, a single bolt came undone from one of the many broken machines and, landing right in GIR's path, caused him to trip, sending PIGGEH off on a flying adventure.

After a bizarre, complicated, random, and completely coincidental series of bounces against various mechanical parts, PIGGEH managed to turn on . . . something. GIR didn't know what it was, just that it was circular and glowy. And had swallowed PIGGEH. That was right! It was the . . . matter thingy dispearing something weather piggy robot change-y past-y thingamawhatsitpoop. He wasn't supposed to play with that either. But PIGGEH had gone in! So GIR went in too.

And wondered when ZIM had put a giant outdoor domed whosit with sparkly shiny everythings in his laboratory. Following a line of people, GIR found a human at a desk and just as she was about to say something, the little robot cut her off, "HI I'M GIR!"

She scribbled something down, gave him some electric whosigidget and sent him off all by his lonesome into the city of Pie-Show.

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Sylar rubbed his head as his surroundings came into focus. He really wished they'd stop transporting him like that...as much as he liked that Luxord guy, this was getting absolutely ridiculous.

He had no idea "ridiculous" was about to be redifined by what seemed to be a small robot playing with a stuffed pig nearby.

After a curious glance at the robot, he wrote it off as not worthy of his time and instead turned to his journal. He had a lot to catch up on.

The little robot looked over the journal until he realized someone was watching him. He turned around to see some strange human looking at his whosigidget and, with a preparing step backwards, GIR launched himself at Sylar's head.

"HELLOOOOOO MISTER SCARY MAN, DO YOU KNOW WHERE ZIM IS?"

Despite pretty good reflexes and a vast array of powers at his disposal, Sylar failed to see - or hear - the small robot until it was scant feet away from his head. To his utter shame, his only reaction was a yell of surprise, and so he took a very excited robot straight to the face.

It took him a few seconds of very clingy robot to remember his wits. "No, I don't," he yelled, "and GET OFF MY FACE!"

"BUT AH LIKE IT HERE," GIR decided, snuggling against Sylar's face in a very un-henchrobot-like way. This lasted for another few seconds before he jumped off and simply stood at Sylar's feet, clutching his little electrothingermadip and beaming up the human.

What. The burning hell. Had that been.

Sylar stared blankly down at the robot. For once in his life, he was completely at a loss. He had no idea what this thing even was, let alone why it seemed to like his face.

Finally, after a long silence, he found a reasonably plausible question. "What are you, anyway?"

GIR lifted a little clamp-like hand and waved. "I'M GIR!"

He rummaged inside his little chest compartment and pulled out a hotdog bun piled high with . . . well, Sylar was probably better off not knowing. "WANNA HOTDAWG?"

Even Sylar, who was known for eating brains, wasn't about to touch whatever was in that bun. "No," he replied, still trying to figure out what on God's green Earth this thing was, aside from a small robot with ninety percent of its screws loose. "I don't."

"Maybe we should find this...Zim...thing of yours," he finally suggested.

GIR shrugged and scarfed down the hotdog in three bites, smacking his robot non-lips and getting goop and chunks of . . . stuff all over his face, dripping down onto the ground with little splashes. And if some of the goop sizzled when it hit the ground and evaporated, leaving a little charred black hole in its wake, GIR didn't seem to notice or care.

He didn't seem to particularly care about finding his Master, either, as he just suck-suck-sucked away on one of his hands and only removed it to say, "OKAY!"

Sylar couldn't help but watch with widened eyes as the little robot snarfed down the most toxic pseudo-food item he'd ever seen as though it had been...well, tasty.

Maybe this thing would be useful after all, if all the stupid encased inside didn't ruin it.

Of course, finding this Zim-person would be difficult if they had no idea where he was, so Sylar turned his attention back to the journals, intent on returning the little metal bundle of pure insanity to its owner.

GIR continued suck-suck-sucking on his arm until he saw the human start fiddling around with his journalwhositoots. He looked at his own, then back up at Sylar, then down at his own, then back up at Sylar, then down at his own, etcetera. And then he jumped back up towards his new friend, plopping down on his shoulder and leaving a sticky, gooey mess all over it (though, strangely enough, it didn't leave any scorch marks) as he opened up his own journallythingymadoongy and mirrored Sylar.

Dak was lost. Of course, the good thing about being lost and knowing it made it easier to decide whether or not to ask for help. The only problem was, the strange things that looked rather like Gedds didn't seem inclined to give assistance. They only asked his name and handed him something that was obviously some sort of technology.

Maybe they knew the Andalites, or even Aldrea, but by the Deep, they just smiled and waved him on.

Dak sighed, though he figured a way to hook the technology around his neck via a cord, and that made him rather pleased; he'd be able to use both his hands. But the pleasure was short-lived when he realized that there were no trees. Anywhere. At least, not that he could see. The thought made him nervous, and he stretched to his full height- nearly eight feet- but to no avail.

Another sigh, and he deflated, though he was careful of his blades around the fragile-looking aliens. Another glance, though, caught him a view of a man who clearly didn't belong in the regalia-clad society. So, Dak made his way over, hunkering down a few paces away and snaking his head lower so they were almost eye-to-eye.

"Do you know where we are?" he asked politely, hoping at least that these creatures weren't threatening even though he doubted they could win a fight with him.

For the second time in ten minutes, Sylar had been taken by surprise. For the second time in ten minutes, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

Today, it seemed, was not going to be his day, not by any stretch of the imagination.

He started not at the voice but the face that went with it, taking a step backwards, swearing aloud and dislodging the crazy little robot with the sudden movement.

It was several long seconds before his act and the manners that went with it returned to him. "Paixao," he finally managed. "Huge city in the middle of nowhere."

GIR had watched the big green dragony thing walk up to them and thought that Sylar's reaction to it was absolutely hilarious. He laughed and shouted as he was thrown from the human's shoulder and twisted in mid-air to jump up onto the dragaony thingy's head instead, cuddling one of its horns. "Piiiiie shoooooooow . . . "

For being a 'big green dragony thing,' Dak was rather gentle as he plucked the little robot from his horns and set it on the bench.

"I am not a Pie Show. I am Dak Hamee, a Hork-Bajir.... and this is Paixao..." He raised his great beaked head to look out over the city, scanning the crowd of people briefly before looking at Sylar again. "If we are nowhere, then surely there must be a 'somewhere' that we can find," he reasoned.

Sylar glanced over at GIR, wondering what it would be like if it ever took anything seriously.

Terrifying, he decided, ending the moment of contemplation and turning back to what seemed to be the saner of his new companions. Neither the name nor the...species, he guessed...were familiar to him. He simply decided to chalk it up to one of the many less-than-normal attributes of the city and go with it. "I'm Robert," he lied easily, working his way through Dak's rather interesting logic. "We're somewhere," he continued calmly. "We're in Paixao. It's just nobody has any idea where Paixao is in relation to...well, anything else." He knew. He just wasn't telling.

GIR was disappointed that he wasn't able to cuddle Dak's horns anymore, but he was at least given something better to do when he was on the ground again. He ignored pretty much everything that was being said, since it was pretty boring, and started running around, up Dak's tail, over his back, up his neck, onto his head, and then jumped off onto Sylar's head, back onto the ground, and started all over again.

Even though Dak was slow, his reflexes were nothing to sneeze at. After all, it wasn't more than a chore to grab the little flailing bot from the air and hold him still in strong arms, all while a contemplative look was still on Dak's beaked face.

"If Paixao is somewhere, and therefore in relation to something, wouldn't it be wise for someone to find out?" he asked, sitting back on his haunches somehow without stabbing himself, while still holding GIR. "Or... has a way to do so not been discovered yet?"

"We still can't get out of the gates," Sylar replied flatly, ready to freeze the robot in place (quite literally) if it got loose again. "As far as anybody knows, this city is on the island, but they never let anybody out of the gates to try and figure things out." He didn't bother telling Dak exactly why people weren't to leave the gates just yet - that wasn't anything he needed to know. "I tried to leave the gates with a few people, and we were attacked. I wouldn't suggest trying to leave."

GIR just continued on ignoring the conversation, not really reacting when he was stopped from jumping around more. He simply hung there for a bit, then turned to stare up at Dak, over at Sylar. And then he started dancing in Dak's hands. Claws. Paws? Well, he started dancing whatever Dak called them.

"Attacked?" Dak asked, pulling back and very much surprised. "Attacked by... who?"

Not 'what,' as the case may be, because Yeerks couldn't be told from their host bodies once they were infested. Dak even vaguely wondered if the Yeerks had even come here. Wondered if they could come here.

He felt a pang of guilt, to remember that several of his people- now surely more since he'd been gone- had been taken, made to kill Andalites and their own people. He tried, too, "You have not seen... more like me?"

"It wasn't really a "who,'" Sylar replied. It also wasn't the entire truth, but hey, Dak didn't need to know that either. "It was more of a "what" - these weird white things that didn't obey gravity at all."

Sylar raised an eyebrow at the next question. "No I haven't," he replied, following up this scarce truth with a blatant lie. "Sorry."

Were you to ask Zim how he ended up choosing this gate in his search, he would have told you that, after much deliberation, he had decided to begin his search for his robotic minion in a counterclockwise fashion in order to search as thoroughly as possible. In truth, he'd simply closed his eyes, pointed dramatically at the journal's screen, and headed in the direction that was close enough to where he pointed.

In other words, he had arrived at the correct gate through sheer dumb luck.

As he laid eyes on GIR, he couldn't help but feel relieved. He would never admit it, but he'd been worried for the little robot. He was the closest thing to a frie--NO! INVADERS NEEDED NO ONE! Yick. He must have been spending too much time around those humans. Far too much time. At least he found a spare wig.

"GIR!" Zim called out, "There you are!" He sighed and shook his head before throwing one hand up in a point to the sky. "We have much work to do!"

Dak turned to look over his shoulder at the diminutive green boy, dipping his head low and tilting it in slight confusion. "Gurr?"

Obviously, it was the robot he was speaking of, since the man was named Robert, and therefore negated. So he let the little spaz-attack to the ground, still considering the tiny invader.

"What type of creature are you?" Again, he was polite as he spoke to Zim, though the little alien was no bigger than one of his taloned feet.

Sylar raised an eyebrow as a rather small, very annoying...thing...burst onto the scene, pointing and making proclamations. This had to be the thing he'd talked to over the journals.

"Oh," he gestured to GIR, "so this must be your robot." He bit back a comment about people looking like their pets - he was supposed to be acting nice, after all, and he really didn't have anything to say that wasn't some sort of witty insulting remark.

His other eyebrow rose to match his first at Dak's question. "That's what I'd like to know."

Zim was beginning to think that this "Paixao" was populated by three different types of creatures: fellow aliens, FOOLISH HUMAN FOOLS, and small-headed Dibs. The human before him was obviously a small-headed Dib, but he had never seen such a species as the alien before him.

But neither was of too much consequence. Everything was lackluster in comparison to the Irken Empire. Consequently, everything was absolute DIRT in comparison to Zim.

"Creature? I don't know what you're talking about!" Zim hastily proclaimed, "I'm a perfectly normal human with an incurable skin condition." His excuse didn't seem to be working as well in Paixao as it did on Earth. Maybe there were more small-headed Dibs than he thought... Or they were spreading information about him through an underground network of small-headed Dibs! What if the big-headed Dib was here! The gargantuanly gargantuan-headed one!

No. Zim had to keep his composure; he had to stop glancing around like a paranoid fool.

"Oh," Dak said genially. "That must be unpleasant."

Still, the (obvious) alien didn't look like any human Dak had ever seen (of course, he'd only met the others who lived here, and Robert was the only one that seemed slightly more intelligent,) but that didn't seem to phase him.

The invader seemed to be as twitchy as his robot, though, and Dak tilted his head. "You seem worried."

Sylar was trying very, very hard to keep a straight face at the exchange between Dak and Zim. The best part was, despite Dak's understatement and Zim's hysterical exaggeration, they were both completely serious, meaning every word they said.

It was all he could do not to burst out laughing.

"What kind of disease?" he inquired lightly, feigning concern. "It'd have to be pretty bad to turn your skin green."

"Worried? Me? No... Of course not! Why would I be worried? WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING?!" Denial came easy, calming down after it was the hard part. He coughed a little and looked away. "Er... I mean... no."

The small-headed Dib was a wily one, Zim would give him that. And yet, just like the large-headed Dib, these questions and skepticism were quickly becoming a pain in his rear. "A horrible disease!" Zim loudly proclaimed (the louder you were, the more likely you were to be believed), "Its name is so unpronounceable that not even I can pronounce it!"

"Ah," Dak replied thoughtfully, though he was rapidly leaning toward deciding that the alien was just that- an alien- instead of one of the Gedd-creatures. "That is rather unfortunate. Maybe you should consider being treated by... someone," he offered, quite perturbed that he didn't quite know the name of the species that lived... here, yet.

"And," he said after a moment more, "I don't think he's implying anything. Are you?" he asked 'Robert' genially, tail curving in a thoughtful 'S.'

"Yes," Sylar replied offhandedly, making a show of rubbing one ear. He highly doubted Zim would get the hint to "quiet the hell down," but it was worth a shot. That, and it allowed him to be sarcastic without it being obvious, insulting when people thought he was being nice.

He'd need to get out of here, though, or at least away from these two. He'd rather be hiding himself in the shadows than hiding his personality under a facade so nice it burned. But for now..."There's a hospital here you could visit if you wanted," he continued, keeping up with the act for now.

"Nope." Another simple reply to Dak's query. "Were you, maybe?" He was starting to feel like an Abbott with a very strange Costello.

...had he really just thought that? He needed to get out of here and soon.

"Hospital?!" Zim squeaked out, "Er... I mean... Hospital? HA HA. No, no no, no... Aside from this skin condition, I'm PERFECTLY fine. I need no hospitals." Oh yes, they were indeed onto him, but foolish they were to believe that Zim would willingly go into that wretched place and allow himself to be discovered and dissected!

At least he had a great excuse. Weren't most humans afraid of going to the hospital in the first place? "Besides... those places are" a false shudder, "creepy." Actually, now that he thought about it, they were, with their white walls and hovering doctors with their metal instruments...

Zim shuddered, for real this time, as he continued to think about it. Wonderful, he'd just freaked himself out. Maybe it was just the fact that he was thinking of those filthy human doctors. Irken doctors could fix anything without fail. Human doctors... Well, they were human, therefore they automatically were terrible at anything they tried to do.

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Pie Show and Piggehs [Active]

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