Description: It's an old fashioned reunion as K' moves on in to Abigail's Scrap Metal and Team Heavy Metal Burn is formed!
The rev of engines is hardly a new thing at Abigail's-- though this one may be particularly noteworthy. It's attached to a motorcycle that's difficult to discern the origins of, rebuilt from parts (some from this very yard) and heavily customized by the expertise of the NESTS rogues. The supercharged chopper glides smoothly up towards the gates of the yard, turning towards the obvious destination leisurely.
Whoever the titanic mechanic has watching the front is utterly ignored, though. The bike carries its rider towards the gate without slowing, and RF codes passed off from the cybernetic Canuck trigger the thing to slide open, admitting the denim-and-leather clad, white-haired youth who may be a little hard -not- to recognize, for Abigail, crimson-framed sunglasses and all. He rides like he knows the junkyard-- which if we're honest, K' rather does-- straight to an empty mechanic's bay, rolling on up into the workspace like it's his own.
It's not unlike the first time he was here, after a fashion... but this time the prototype is much, much more blatant. Much, much less stealthy. Just as damnably arrogant as ever, though. Plus side: This time K' doesn't incinerate part of the fence. He //does// immediately start going through the nearby tools however, taking stock of this arrangement Maxima made in the -most- polite way possible.
Difficult to discern the origins of. Oh, ho ho ho ho. Oh, fu fu fu. This is Abigail. The answer to any sort of question that asks 'how is this possible'. 'It's Abigail'. - How did that bus end up crushed into a five foot cube? It's Abigail. Etc.
The man has identified the most hacked up, jacked up, modded up, nature of things from his sleep and while mimicing the sounds by pursing his lips together and humming.and so he hears th cycle and even the modified elements ring some degree of identification to him in that if he doesn't know where they are from he knows what they do and how powerful they are. Powerful enough to get his attention and rouse him from his idleness his office to send him emerging from its depths like King Kong squeezing through a cave entrance far to small for him.
He -assumes- it is Maxima. The sounds are similar..familiar now..to those of Maxima's flamboyant arrival the other day. But..then..this is different. This is more..more? More 'much'?
Thus when he rounds a corner and sees K' brazenly ruffling through his tools, claiming the spot Abigail normally reserves for his own trucks.. his eyes just widen and his skin slowly boils towards a burning red. No, it's really -not- Maxima..
"Y..Y...YOU!!!" He thunders while pointing at K'. "What're -you- doing here? HOW did you get in..AGAIN!?"
There's a pause and then Abigail acknowledges with a more inside voice, "..That's a nice a bike.."
Hacked up, jacked up, professionally modded in its own right-- it's definitely the kind of thing K' would have expected to draw Abigail's interest. ... if indeed the prototype thought about it. He's certainly less dramatic about their reunion than the big fella, spending several moments continuing his uninvited inventory as the giant bellows.
Nodding to himself rather than the unlikely shopkeep, K' then turns to face Abigail sidelong, arching one platinum brow from behind his shades... and then smirking slightly out one corner of his mouth. It's oh-so-tempting to be a jerk, the default defense against the chaotic unpredictability of dealing with other people.. but K' reins it in. Mostly. "Maxima." He answers without quite answering. How did he get in? Why, the Beast of Flame just sort of rode in.
"We're going to be the Three Kings of Kicking Ass, or did you forget?" There's sarcasm dripping all over the idea, like the glory and honor of such an accomplishment just doesn't land with the bioweapon at all. Then again, that kind of prize money buys a whole lot of Trouble for NESTS. K' can get behind that. "You can't ride it." K' observes in abrupt afterthought. It's his way of saying 'thanks'. "You'd fucking break it."
Oh no he didn't.
"I don't ride that suped up piece of crap." Now he did just say 'nice bike' but, a man can change his mind.
"The very fact that I'd break it means it needs more work done to its frame while still keeing its capacity for speed and power! You're trying to put a batterin' ram on wheels but it'll just fly apart under any real pressure!"
He prowls around it like some sort of rolling ball of meat, peering down at it, running his eyes over the particular parts, doing the math in his head despite the fact that he's been accused of barely being able to speak english before or read.
"And get out of there! Those tools aint for something like this.."
He waves a meaty hand, tryign t shoo K' back and away from the shelving and alcoves for the varying tools. "You'll just mess it up worse.. Freakin' amateur.."
That said he just sighs and rubs his jaw, "..So you're the third guy huh? Maybe I shoulda stuck with Marduk.. Don't think that I'm not gonna still kick your ass for stealing stuff from my junk yard.. but later. Maxima told me you're all just after ruffling some folks feathers.. NESTS or something. Don't drag me into some stupid James Bond crap, alright? You psycho's are always getting into the middle of stuff.. Just win the tournament."
"Or it means you're a bigger motherfucker than it's properly engineered for, and maybe the only shithead alive who can drive the kind of behemoth trucks half these tools are specced for without being accused of overcompensatory bullshit." It's possible K' knows more than he typically lets on; it's possible that the surplus of snark in his retort is actually a nod of respect, after a fashion.
"Besides, any battering ram that'll fall apart under pressure is a shit battering ram-- I'd say go for one of those goddamn trucks if you're looking to smash something up." At best, K Dash's crotch rocket is more of a K'-tipped missile in a pinch. And it's acceptable when missiles explode; the thing's clearly been built and rebuilt repeatedly, likely the Frankenstein's monster of a half-dozen resurrections and replacements by now.
"Marduk's a flaming asshole who's secretly scared he doesn't even punch his own weight." K' observes dismissively. The prototype has seen the vids, heard (part of) the interviews. He's decidedly not impressed. "Someone in your line of work should have a better nose for superheated bullshit." It's unlikely K' realizes just how on the nose that might be, given Abigail's various erroneous alliances. "And I'm not about to promise NESTS won't fuck with you; they're shitheads. But I'll do my part, and it's fuckin' likely we all walk away a whole lot richer." Which, again, is spoken in tones entirely too impassive for the subject matter.
"You decide you want parts paid in fire, you just let me know." Behind the shades, it's hard to catch K' winking. Or would be, if he didn't expressively cant his head and sell it with a furrow and a smirk. He then digs in his coat for a cigarette. Taking a moment to peruse the scene, Abigail might notice the deceptively powerful fighter carries his life on his back. A noteworthy backpack leaning against his bike, and a pair of hefty saddlebags. That's really all it takes.
It's hard to argue with any of those points... So he doesn't. Instead he just quietly fumes, thinks, fumes, thinks some more..and then shrugs while tossing a wrench onto a nearby table, producing a loud *THUD* upon the impact. "Yeah, yeah." he rumbles, acknowledging the rightness in ..most of what K' said.. though he doesn't specify what, if anything, he disagrees with.
"Truthfully, getting any sort of target placed on his shop is the last thing he wants..but at the same time the potential rewards and financial benefit are..pretty much impossible to ignore. This does bring a slightly amused grin to his face as he notes, "We all walk away a whole lot richer? Heh..and here I thought Maxima said I could have all the prize money. I'm thinking you all don't care about the cash and are just in it for love and revenge.."
He claps his hands together, dusting them off and still amused as he adds, "Alright then.. We can make it happen.. But like I told Maxima, I'm the Chief! I'll call he shots! Besides..that'll leave you more free to jack NESTS up as you see fit, right?"
K' is a hard bastard to argue with, for any number of reasons. Just ask Kula.. or Maxima.. or anyone that knows the prototype, really, if we're being totally honest. Abigail all on his own is a rather large target-- but thankfully, a target that hits back pretty damn hard. Could he stand up to Igniz? It's unlikely indeed... but there's an inarguable concentration of strength centered on his scrapyard, now, even beyond the seemingly endless waves of mooks a Metro boss seems always able to muster.
It might be an appealing target.. but they're certainly not a particularly vulnerable one. It's a force now centered on a rather formidable challenge, and a rather impressive prize pool. "13 million US dollars buys a metric fuckton of revenge." K' notes without missing a beat, and once again it's hard to say the celestial conduit is //wrong//. As to the rest, it's easy to expect that to be the dealbreaker for a REBEL like K'. But the bioweapon just snorts, punctuating it with a sardonic chuckle.
"Sure, Chief." There's a beat. But it's easily apparent there's more coming, the Beast of Flame relaxing his weight easily back on one heavy motorcycle boot and upnodding to Abigail once. That was easy, right? "... Long as you remember I'm notoriously shit at following orders." Luckily, their interests seem to align. And at least on K''s part, the cooperation speaks volumes of quiet, snarked-over respect for the mountainous mechanist.
Log created on 19:25:10 05/28/2019 by Abigail, and last modified on 00:18:26 05/31/2019.