tushanshu | video.

[Good evening chelonauts, tonight you are being treated to the fine sight of one (1) bruised and somewhat bloody Ant-Man looking far more annoyed than he has looked his entire stay on this turtle. There are scrapes and cuts all over his face and his mouth is a thin line that is barely visible until he opens it to speak.]

Heads up: if any of you guys see a rooster that looks like it's been fused with a telephone box, do me a huge favor and run, not walk, in the opposite direction if you want to wake up tomorrow with still ten fingers. [He hasn't lost any of his own yet but it's only a matter of time.] I don't think there's another one of these Frankenchickens out there but just in case.

[There's long-suffering sigh and he's about to say more when he immediately gets drowned out by the rooster rattling around in its makeshift cage and crowing its little cybernetic head off. At the rate things are going, that cage ain't gonna hold it much longer and then fingers are actually going to be lost.

Scott turns and attempts to shush the rooster several times, but since the rooster listens to him about as well as everyone else does (which is to say not at all), he finally gives up and just ignores the damn thing, pinching his nose in exasperation.]

Anyone have any extra bandages? And maybe a flamethrower? You'll get paid back in chicken patties.

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

[Agreed. It sucks.]

Fine, but if Poyo takes off your fingers it's not my problem. [Gives him an address near the cafe he and Tony agreed to meet up at.] This work for you?

I've seen those bitches up close... word of advice, do not say that to their face.

He's a one-bird killing machine, not a hypnotized side show!

No, that means I'm a federal agent and I'm not going to give out classified information. [He was fucking his boss who was there when they put it all in. He knows more than he ever wants to.]

Sorry, but my partner's not for sale.

- Agent Colby

[Damn. Well, he tried.]

Can I hit you up if there's ever a feral cyborg trex?

Yeah. [Short. Gruff. Ignoring that comment about fingers.] Give me twenty minutes and I'll be there.

[He tries!]

Name's Bucky. Sergeant Bucky Barnes. Though if you call is Bucky, there may be two of us showing up. This place's weird like that.

[Honestly, he uses about the same supplies at home when he gets covered in scrapes and bruises (or more often, when Cassie had) so he doesn't even bat an eyelash at everything Bianca pulls out of her kit.]

You sound like my mom.

[Even though he's quite sure she can't be that much older (if even older) than he is.

But he does as she instructs, heading over to the sink to rinse off his face and fingers and whatever parts of him are still splattered with blood. It doesn't take too long before he's making his way back to where she's standing.]

[There is a. Very noticeable head tilt at the name, because if you've spent any amount of time with Captain America (which Scott has) you've heard about Bucky.]

Nice to meet you, Bucky. [That much at least is true. Scott's never met the guy, only heard of him.] And I'm guessing it's like how there are two Tonys here?

Well someone had to train him to be a one-bird killing machine - wow, I got through that without laughing - maybe they trained him to quack, how do you know?

OK, Mr. Federal Agent. Don't you think the last thing this turtle needs is your little nuclear cock? He's gotta go. Voted off the turtle.

You got a deal.

[Hangs up and heads to the location.]

Don't you mean when? I suppose it's the least I can do for a guy with a feral cyborg chicken problem. it's Joe.

Agent, sir. I'm not talking about selling.

[..............................knowing his luck, it probably would be when. dammit, jason.]

thanks joe, will do.

[in the meantime he needs to go cart a crazy cyborg chicken back to its owner so he'll be hanging up for now.]

[And Scott shows up some fifteen minutes after the agreed-upon meet-up time ~~or however long it would be before Colby would get up and hunt him down~~ looking a little better than he had over the console. He's got some bandages plastered over his face and he's toting a very heavily reinforced metal cage that looks like it's about to fall apart at any second, thanks to the actions of the creature inside.

He stops when he sees Colby, a disgruntled look on his face.]

I brought you your chicken.

Poyo was born badass, kid. No one had to teach him anything.

And how exactly do you expect me to send him back? If I had that kind of information, I wouldn't still be here!

You can try to take Poyo if you want, but you'll probably leave without your fingers.

[He hopes Poyo tried to kill you along the way for the amount of time you made him wait. Seeing Scott so banged up, though, definitely helped take the annoyance away and when he sees the pair he smiles.]

Poyo's a rooster. [And with that, he opens the cage, casually picks Poyo up and sticks him under his arm, no problems. Poyo even seems happy to see him. See, Scott? That is how you handle the bird.]

[You are a douchebag order, Colby, and Scott hopes you and your damn CHICKEN both get horribly burnt at a barbecue somewhere someday. Not that he lets any of that show on his face because lord he is not going to devolve into childish insults and sulking despite how much he might want to.]

Roosters are still chickens. [Okay, maybe he'll be a little childish about this.] You should put that thing on a leash.

Poyo wasn't born with nukes. Somebody trained him. And I was thinking more floating chicken coop, trailing safely behind the turtle.

[He may be a douchebag, but you're the petty bastard that stole his bird then dragged your heels to bring him back, so any and all damage from Poyo is all on you.]

Poyo don't do leashes. Now that he's away from you, he'll be just fine. [Poyo looks smug at that.]

So maybe the US government got a little carried away when they wanted to save him from certain death.

And he doesn't just shoot off the nukes at random. [Glares.] Though he might if you try to shove him in a chicken coop.

[EXCUSE YOU there no stealing whatsoever, only protection of the innocents at the expense of his own face. Colby's words (as well as Poyo's dumb rooster smirk) only serve to make Scott a hell of a lot crankier than he is already.]

And what if he starts running towards some other poor person?

What? Criminy, I wouldn't know what to do with killer poultry. Unless someone wants fried chicken that gives you a stomach ache.

What kind of world do you live in, buster? It sounds like the whole country's got crazy.

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