Five hundred eighty six years and counting... [OPEN RP]

As with a lot of mornings, Toaster was woken up by the devastating crash of his armour hitting the floor, as he fell out of bed.

However the internal clock on his visor revealed it hadn’t been the morning for several hours, and was no in fact the afternoon. He groaned and got to his feet, eyes scanning the calendar on his H.U.D. December the first… doomsday had come around again. He was now five hundred and eighty six.

He heard movement in the lounge next door. Kaiser maybe? No it was too soft to be the ironclad, and it would have probably left hours ago to get cake. Cautiously, he managed to sneak from his bedroom, cautiously sliding the lounge door open and peering inside. “Nyello? Who’s in here?”

Hopefully not someone who wanted to shoot him. That was the last thing he needed on his birthday.

If the echidna could feel pain he would be in a lot of it right now as he slowly came too. At first he thought his eyes were damaged or outright removed, but with his h.u.d. popping up it seems it was just extremely dark where ever he was. Since switching to night vision didn’t help matters he started to take his shirt off, but stopped when his arm hit a wall. Feeling around it seems this place, where ever it was, was too small for him to fully stretch out.

“Great. A tight, dark place. My fav-”

Cut off by some unexpected movement shoving his face into one of the walls, he used a hand to push himself away from it, before finishing getting his shirt off. The green glow of his birthmark lighting up the container he was trapped in brought him a little comfort at least.


A floating city was admittedly a fairly novel idea, particularly given the time period, and Toaster was most certainly intrigued by this place. He couldn’t say he thought much of the… patriotism however. The whole place seemed a little too tidy and clean to be genuine too. He’d hardly been here an hour and he had already grown suspicious of the city in the sky.

He suddenly became aware of a whistling noise, a melody of some kind, and an extremely annoying one at that. His head turned, his H.U.D pinpointing the source of the noise to a tall, brassy coloured statue. He approached, inspected the whistling mannequin and promptly drew his fist back. He felt his kinetic knuckles engaging as he swung a devastating right hook at the machine, taking the head off with a deafening clang, and causing the tune to grind to an abrupt stop. “Well that shut that prick up…” he muttered.

He turned on his heel, about to walk away but instead coming face to face with bronze and brown behemoth. He looked the creature up and down, hands on his hips as he tapped his foot.

“Okay then. So where the fuck are Elmo and Cookie Monster?”