How far would you go to NEVER fail again?
This question will push Noche L. Grim to the test as she attempts to join the Cross Military. With their resources she intends to find DeathTech and recover her memories.
However, when she lives on a conti...
President Edward sat in his regal crimson velvet chair. His eyes slowly glided over the orange and purple wallpaper, as his long bony claw of a finger slid across the armrest's fabric. His rubbery face bent backwards in an almost cartoonish way as he yelled at the phone.
"NO, we don't want to buy in bulk... Wait... Wait... Did you say guns?"
Edward's chuckle was menacing as his unnatural, rubber face bent forward over itself.
"Why yes." He said in a sing-song tune. "Yes... We do have a problem."
He paused to listen.
"Alright, alright. So let me get this straight. You don't see a problem with buying DriveMetal, the strongest, and rarest, man-made metal on the planet... In bulk... AS GUNS!!!"
There was another pause as Edward listened in silence.
"Well that depends. I'll give you twenty-four hours to fix this mistake." Edward said, "Get rid of the evidence, make sure it isn't traced back to us. If you are successful, I might just let you live... But if Cross gets even a sniff of DeathTech's existence-"
A loud panicked plead emanated from the phone.
"I'm glad you understand."
Edward hung up the phone, then pinched his throbbing forehead.
"Amateurs... I might have to send my surface scout to that DriveMetal factory." He mumbled.
Edward grinned at the thought of pushing that orange hair child to the breaking point. Maybe this was for the best after all. Making him suffer DID sound fun. Heck, he was feeling fancy. Maybe he would take one of Spark's eyes next. Edward stood up with a smile.
"Other matters first." He thought.
Edward walked out of the room and down the hall; checking his cell phone as he did so. Videos of General Dreg and a cloaked girl were all over the internet. Apparently, she was fighting a create terrorist. It was all over the internet, if one knew where to look.
"Is this really the best Cross has to offer," Edward laughed aloud.
He paused, stared at the cloaked girl, and stopped walking. For the briefest moment, she looked very familiar. Then he shrugged, stopped caring, and decided to research what else the people were talking about involving Cross. Any little detail would be useful in subtly slandering their name. Plus it was fun to troll.
Moments later, Edward arrived before a restricted access door. It opened to reveal a giant room, dirty and littered with tools lying about Professor Grim; who was chained to a metal railing nearby.
Edward wasn't interested in the tip of a massive nuclear missile next to the old man. He was accustomed to the view, for this room that went on for miles and miles were full of such missiles. Countless of them, far as the eye could see. More nukes were in this room than all of the countries of the world combined. No, he was interested in Grim.
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