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Description
Stalker Machine

"I don't get it," Fayt said for about the eightieth time. Nel nodded agreement for about the eightieth time. Albel, once again for the eightieth time, suppressed an overwhelming urge to run them both through with the Crimson Scourge. The situation was embarassing enough, but then the other two had to make it worse.

Behind them, a shower of sparks flew from the disaster area. A strong smell of burning rubber permeated the air and Nel coughed. Fayt waved some of the thick, oily smoke away from his face and blinked blearily at the Glyphian swordsman.

"Why did you do this again?" the blue-haired Earthling asked. Albel's eyes narrowed.

"It was stalking me," was the simple answer.

"Enlighten us," Nel rationalized, "as to how an inanimate object stalks someone?"

Albel gritted his teeth against the urge to slay them again. It would only come back to tarnish his karma later. The others wouldn't be pleased if they found the bloody remains of Fayt and Nel lying in a hallway filled with smoke and minor fires, the Crimson Scourge conveniently spitting them both through the gut. Albel was rather sure he would turn around to have Fists of Fury in his face, at the very least.

"It followed me," Albel said again. Fayt and Nel looked back at the wreckage, then back at Albel.

"HOW?" Fayt was practically begging.

"It just DID, maggot!" Albel snapped. "I would be walking down the hall and I would hear that annoying hum behind me at every corner!"

"Did you ever stop to think that there might have been more than one?" Nel asked. She prodded the mutated pile of twisted metal with a boot. It sparked dangerously at her. Albel wished sorely that it would rise up and attack her as it had him.

"Why would there be more than one, wench?" he hissed.

"There's thousands," Fayt said, "that's why. Millions, maybe. Probably more."

"How the hell do you know?" Logic was beginning to annoy the captain of the Black Brigade. "That one keeps coming back from the dead, worm."

"Because the Coca-Cola company has been around for a long time on Earth. There's thousands of soda machines on that planet alone. Who knows how many were installed when they went Galaxy-wide?"

Nel prodded the wreckage of the vending machine again, turning over a charred shred of metal that read, in blackened letters, "COKE." The remains of a plastic button crunched under her foot as she stepped forward to investigate closer. With a cough, she said, "Well, at least there's a lot of money in here."

Albel sneered at Fayt, knowing that money was always a good thing. Fayt sighed.

"But still. Albel, try not to attack these things anymore? They're not following you. There's just a lot of them."

"Beh."

"At least stop destroying them in every inn we stay at," Nel tried to persuade him.

"Beh. Fine."

As Fayt and Nel walked off, the Aquarian woman wrung her scarf dry of the soda that had exploded all over her once the flames reached the cans. This always happened.

"How much have we made from him destroying these... 'vending machines'?" Nel asked, still somewhat unfamiliar with the word despite the constant need to explain the damage to the innkeepers on Moonbase.

"I think we're up to 10,000 FOL now."

"Hmm. Almost enough for those boots Sophia likes."

"Almost."

Another explosion rocked the building, followed by a fizzle that only wildly spraying soda can make. Fayt's forehead connected with the wall.

"Make that 12,000."

"I'll go get the mop."

Description
Stalker Machine

"I don't get it," Fayt said for about the eightieth time. Nel nodded agreement for about the eightieth time. Albel, once again for the eightieth time, suppressed an overwhelming urge to run them both through with the Crimson Scourge. The situation was embarassing enough, but then the other two had to make it worse.

Behind them, a shower of sparks flew from the disaster area. A strong smell of burning rubber permeated the air and Nel coughed. Fayt waved some of the thick, oily smoke away from his face and blinked blearily at the Glyphian swordsman.

"Why did you do this again?" the blue-haired Earthling asked. Albel's eyes narrowed.

"It was stalking me," was the simple answer.

"Enlighten us," Nel rationalized, "as to how an inanimate object stalks someone?"

Albel gritted his teeth against the urge to slay them again. It would only come back to tarnish his karma later. The others wouldn't be pleased if they found the bloody remains of Fayt and Nel lying in a hallway filled with smoke and minor fires, the Crimson Scourge conveniently spitting them both through the gut. Albel was rather sure he would turn around to have Fists of Fury in his face, at the very least.

"It followed me," Albel said again. Fayt and Nel looked back at the wreckage, then back at Albel.

"HOW?" Fayt was practically begging.

"It just DID, maggot!" Albel snapped. "I would be walking down the hall and I would hear that annoying hum behind me at every corner!"

"Did you ever stop to think that there might have been more than one?" Nel asked. She prodded the mutated pile of twisted metal with a boot. It sparked dangerously at her. Albel wished sorely that it would rise up and attack her as it had him.

"Why would there be more than one, wench?" he hissed.

"There's thousands," Fayt said, "that's why. Millions, maybe. Probably more."

"How the hell do you know?" Logic was beginning to annoy the captain of the Black Brigade. "That one keeps coming back from the dead, worm."

"Because the Coca-Cola company has been around for a long time on Earth. There's thousands of soda machines on that planet alone. Who knows how many were installed when they went Galaxy-wide?"

Nel prodded the wreckage of the vending machine again, turning over a charred shred of metal that read, in blackened letters, "COKE." The remains of a plastic button crunched under her foot as she stepped forward to investigate closer. With a cough, she said, "Well, at least there's a lot of money in here."

Albel sneered at Fayt, knowing that money was always a good thing. Fayt sighed.

"But still. Albel, try not to attack these things anymore? They're not following you. There's just a lot of them."

"Beh."

"At least stop destroying them in every inn we stay at," Nel tried to persuade him.

"Beh. Fine."

As Fayt and Nel walked off, the Aquarian woman wrung her scarf dry of the soda that had exploded all over her once the flames reached the cans. This always happened.

"How much have we made from him destroying these... 'vending machines'?" Nel asked, still somewhat unfamiliar with the word despite the constant need to explain the damage to the innkeepers on Moonbase.

"I think we're up to 10,000 FOL now."

"Hmm. Almost enough for those boots Sophia likes."

"Almost."

Another explosion rocked the building, followed by a fizzle that only wildly spraying soda can make. Fayt's forehead connected with the wall.

"Make that 12,000."

"I'll go get the mop."