TheAuthoressComplex

Beep. Beep. "Ugh..." Angela Cross groaned, slow and groggy. The pattern of light – on for two seconds, then off for two seconds, to repeat indefinitely – indicated that someone was trying to reach her via communicator. At this hour? It could only be an emergency. It better be an emergency, or SOMEBODY was going to pay. Beep. Beep. "Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time, you hunk of scrap!" Had she been more awake, the words likely would have been more sharp. As she was still half asleep, at best her tone mimicked an irritated kitten's growl, "Rook, could you ID the caller, please?" The hologram of her personal assistant, Rook

At this point a short break in the action was announced. The audience immediately flooded the lobby, gathering in small groups and talking excitedly about the play. Some, the friends of Ratchet and Clank or members of the military, complained about the inaccuracy of play, while others praised the acting and special effects. The actors, including Qwark, waltzed around the lobby, accepting praise and gifts from their adoring fans. Miss Gears and Captain Qwark, used to the praise, accepted this with grace. The Ratchet actor, clearly new to the scene, seemed not to know what he should do with his newly found fame, just sticking close to the othe

The stage was vacant; a simple platform elevated up from the ground that featured upon it an empty void of nothing. Surrounding the simple stage was a collection of chairs; most were on the ground, surrounding the stage with a cone of seats. A few were elevated above the ground, hidden safely within balconies. Murmurs of excitement echoed throughout the large room, all eagerly anticipating the start of the show. Well, almost all… "Ugh, how long is this gonna take?" "Patience, Ratchet. This is a big moment for Captain Qwark. The least we can do is be here to support him." "Yeah, I guess… let's just hope he didn't screw this up."

The teenagers were all standing outside, bleary-eyed and confused, talking amongst themselves. Behind them, the previously roaring flames were just about settled down, the men and woman of the fire department working tirelessly to destroy the flames. Somewhere out of sigh, a freshman watched the scene with an annoyed expression, before turning it on the two people behind her, “Really, guys? Setting my dorm on fire? Really?” The yellow cat-like creature pouted at her with arms crossed, looking just about as pleased as she was, “Hey, you started it. You're the one making all those stupid stories.” “They're. Just

Why was it that Ratchet refused to properly clean up his own room? He kept the garage, where he spent the majority of his time, in relatively good condition – every now and again Clank would have to ask him to mop, but he kept it neat. And he would do his fair share of tidying up in the living room/dining room and kitchen, even if Clank had to more or less bribe him into it. But it was as if he had something against any sign of order in the place where he slept. Honestly, it was not like having his things well kept would kill him or something. Or perhaps he was hoping the mess would trip up any nighttime intruders attempting to sneak u

This. Is. Stupid. "Ratchet," Clank kicked the Lombax subtly under the table, "Be polite." "Sorry, sorry," Ratchet sighed, "It's just... this is so BORING. Why are we even here? This isn't exactly a matter of galactic security-" Before Clank could answer properly, a loud holler attracted his and Clank's attention to the stage, to the very reason that they WERE here. Qwark cleared his throat loudly and began speaking, "Thank you, one and all, for being here today as I, President Captain Cornelius Qwark, give my official state of the union address," At that, from his pocket he produced a scroll, which unraveled into a very long list of topics

This... this was perhaps the most befuddling thing Clank had ever heard in his admittedly short life. "You mean you have never celebrated your birthday?" "Nope," Ratchet leaned back in his uncomfortable looking chair. Why did he like that chair so much? It was not particularly soft, and the posture Ratchet had to take to avoid sitting on his own tail was not pleasant looking. Note to self: buy better chairs. The robot filed this observation into the stores of his memory banks for later retrieval and continued the conversation that Ratchet, as apparent by the sudden attention he was paying to the television, "I- pardon me if I seem to be be

Romance had always been something of an odd subject with Ratchet. To say he was romantic was not just an understatement; it was an outright fabrication. Yeah, he'd been interested in people romantically, but that spark always just kind of... died down. Incredibly quickly. The relationship would just continually get more and more platonic until, finally, one of them (usually Ratchet, because he was used to it) would break it off, usually with little to no permanent damage to the friendship that sparked the romance. It was always, ALWAYS the same. He'd assume it'd be the same way with Clank, too. And that honestly scared him, that he wouldn'

"So," She smiled, charismatic and sweet. A deception. Clank had seen this woman at her best and her worst and he knew what she was really like. That this sweet, charming television persona was simply an act. But she had helped take that ad campaign against Ratchet down. The least he could was offer her a free interview, "I've heard from multiple sources that you and Ratchet have recently returned from yet another adventure. Tell me, how was the..." She blinked at the paper, "Breegus sector? Can't say I've heard of it." Clank smiled politely, more for the camera than his interviewer, "To be fair, it is an out of the way section of the Polaris

This was all his fault. Ratchet sighed, turning onto his side. He probably should have just told Clank about the extra missions (didn't want you to worry; can't bring you with me, can't let you be hurt). He'd probably overreacted. He'd probably blown that out of proportion. He'd probably chased Clank out of his life for good. ...on the other hand, he was kind of cross at the robot at the moment. That had been his thought process since escaping their apartment; a constant fluctuation between some sort of sadness and red hot anger. How could this have happened? He should've seen it coming. He should've guessed, should've taken a hint, should'