"I told you, you smell like chocolate soaked in engine oil—" Venom grinned, using a strange tone that mixed sudden realization with disgust and excitement. "No, it's engine oil soaked in chocolate! Good god, did you plagiarize your look from 'the terminator'? Did you pay the copyright fees?"
The Plague Doctor—or rather, the Mechanical Doctor—had the muscles on the half of his face that still had human skin twitch, while the pupil of his other intact, human eye contracted slightly.
He raised his hand, his movements still terrifyingly steady, and tore off the other half of the teetering Plague Doctor mask from his face, tossing it casually into the dirt at his feet with a soft 'thud'.
Exposed to the air were more structures shimmering with a cold metallic luster and complex, precise wiring. Small electrical sparks occasionally burst from the fractures with a soft 'crackle'.
"An attack outside the established algorithm. The occasional, illogical whims of flesh-and-blood creatures do indeed have some... unpleasant... merits."
His voice seemed to have lost some of the roundness provided by the filter, gaining a more noticeable, metallic, rasping quality.
He raised his still-human hand, his fingertips gently stroking the exposed metal skull with a precision that bordered on tenderness.
"Furthermore," his human eye turned toward Venom, his gaze icy, "please do not lump me in with those crudely made mechanical creations from works of fiction. It is an insult to precision engineering."
"How rare," a cold voice drifted over.
Wednesday walked out slowly, her black skirt brushing over the broken branches and fallen leaves on the ground, silent and soundless.
There was no expression on her pale face, only those eyes, like deep pools, sharply locked onto the Mechanical Doctor's half-human, half-mechanical face.
"From your tone, which attempts to mimic human cadence, I actually captured a hint of... genuine anger." She tilted her head slightly, her tone full of inquisitive mockery.
"What, did having your lack of original design thinking exposed cause you to develop a low-level emotion known as'shame turned into rage'?"
Although Wednesday knew nothing of 'the terminator'—her viewing preferences being strictly limited to a list of black-and-white horror classics—this did not stop her from accurately seizing the moment to strike a psychological blow.
"Hey, seriously," Venom's voice rang out again, full of childlike curiosity, as if the life-and-death struggle from a moment ago had never happened.
"Can you transform? Like, 'clink,' and your finger turns into a gun barrel or something? Or a chainsaw pops out of your arm? That's how it always goes in the movies!"
Victor let out a hearty laugh from within Venom:
"How could he! Stupid Venom! Those iron guys in movies always show up butt-naked and then steal other people's clothes and weapons! They can't transform into anything themselves! They're dirt poor!"
The corner of the Mechanical Doctor's human eye seemed to twitch ever so slightly.
His exposed metal jaw opened and closed with a faint 'click,' and his crimson electronic eye flashed rapidly a few times, as if the system were processing some extremely nonsensical, wildly out-of-bounds junk information.
"My design intent," he finally spoke, the metallic friction in his voice even heavier, almost sounding like he was grinding his teeth, "does not include... such useless and extremely energy-wasting... slapstick performance functions."
"Oh—" Victor and Venom drawled in unison, their tones filled with undisguised disappointment.
"How boring," Victor summarized.
Venom nodded his massive head. "Agreed. Not even a decent special effect."
"C-136," the Mechanical Doctor's slow voice rang out, the half of his mouth that was human curling into a cold arc, mixed with a metallic rasp.
"I heard that old fool Dr. 062 personally used the thickest catgut to sew that non-stop chattering mouth of yours shut on the operating table back then."
A hint of almost joyful cruelty flashed in his human eye.
"In my opinion, that was probably the most correct decision he ever made in his life, and most regrettable that it failed to remain permanent."
Before his voice had even faded, his still-human hand rose and took an object from somewhere—
It was a cylindrical alloy hilt, minimalist in design yet exuding a cold sense of technology. Upon it, a perfectly cut ruby sat like a congealed drop of blood, refracting an ominous light in the dim forest.
"Uh, Venom," Victor's voice held a hint of hesitation, "why does that thing look so familiar? Like... a sense of déjà vu from some far-off corner of the galaxy."
Venom's massive white eyes narrowed, showing he was trying hard to remember.
"Me too, that looks like... something some old movie-making guy dreamed up to scam people out of their money..."
Before Venom could finish—
Vwoom—!!!
A low and highly intimidating energy hum suddenly rang out!
A blazing beam of light suddenly extended from one end of the hilt!
It wasn't a perfectly straight pillar of light; its core was as blindingly bright as the heart of a star, but its edges flickered and blurred due to the terrifying energy overflow, emitting scorching heatwaves and a halo that distorted the air around it.
The light illuminated the Mechanical Doctor's half-human, half-mechanical face like a messenger from hell.
"Holy crap! A lightsaber!" Victor and Venom exclaimed in unison, the massive sound wave making the leaves rustle.
Venom looked at the Mechanical Doctor with an extremely strange gaze, his massive head tilting to one side, his tone full of unbelievable disdain:
"No... did your lab's funding all go toward buying copyrights? After plagiarizing 'the terminator,' now you're doing'Star Wars'?! Does Lucasfilm know you're playing around like this? Cease and desist warning, brother!"
"SHUT UP!!!"
The Mechanical Doctor was like a powder keg instantly ignited. The human half of his face flushed and distorted with extreme rage, and a faint'sizzle' like a processor overloading even came from beneath his exposed metal structure!
His crimson electronic eye flashed wildly, and for the first time, his voice completely lost all calm and pretense, turning into a pure, hysterical metallic shriek:
"This is a F***ING Plasma Sword! It's an Individual High-Frequency Cutting Weapon I designed independently! I invented it before your damn, stupid, unscientific movies ever came out!"
"Do you understand?! It was ME! Before that damn hippie George Lucas ever put his childish space opera on the screen! I! HAD! INVENTED! IT!"
"You idiots poisoned by pop culture!!! The laws of physics! Engineering! These are the truths! Not that Hollywood pile of horse sh*t fantasy!!"
A total mental breakdown!
He no longer performed any elegant dodges or data reviews. Instead, he gripped the hilt with both hands, raised the 'Plasma Sword'—which was emitting terrifying heat and energy—high above his head, and charged at Venom with a roar in the most primitive and violent manner!
The blazing blade of light tore through the air, carrying a momentum that could destroy everything as it hacked down fiercely!
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