Board Thread:Role Plays/@comment-2193950-20140413214454/@comment-9087084-20140426033726

Greg stared at the two newcomers. And stared. And stared. Still staring. He opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. "I. . .I'm sorry. But. . .Mr. Torn? Mr. Dark? What kind of sick Disney freak named you? I. . .no, I can't. I can't take this seriously anymore."

Activating his Semblance, several flickering images of Greg Windel began to phase into view. First two, then four, then ten. By the time it was over, at least forty clones of Greg appeared on the battlefield. Some of them began fighting the remaining robots. Some went off to engage Mr. Torn and Mr. Dark. And still, some of them scratched their head at the sheer stupidity of the whole situation. Seriously.

Needless to say, Marianne didn't find anything funny. Not what bit. She had sucessfully melted the robot arms through trial and error and ran up to one of the Gregs. She pulled on his arm, trying to get his attention. The third year in turn raised an eyebrow at her.

"See? I didn't have to save you at all."

"You idiot! That guy said the big robot would explode!"

"What robot?" Then he heard the sound of sparks flying and metal twisting in on itself. He turned to see the damaged thing called a Raksha.

"Oh. That robot."