It was a cold and rainy day after school and Dave was extremely hungry. He tossed his backpack across the living room of the penthouse and made his way toward the only fridge without shitty swords and plush rumps. Dave navigated the kitchen as carefully as possible, keeping his guard on a maximum high, avoiding possible traps and sneak attacks from the elder Strider. Once he had successfully gotten to the fridge, he stood on his toes, trying to reach the handle for the freezer, "If only I was just a fucking inch taller…" He mumbled.
"Dave? You're home already?" A familiar voice said from the living room, although it was a little robotic, in a way; it had a sort of whirring to it. Maybe Bro was sick? Nah, Bro was never sick. That guy was like an immune system ninja. Hell, that guy was a ninja period.
"Yeah I am, it was a short day today! Bro, can you help me get a hot pocket?" He asked from the kitchen, still trying his hardest to reach the handle. Gosh he was short for his age, even shorter then that prankster nerd kid that sits next to him. And that kid was short. The kid had called him his 'bro' so Dave supposed the kid was worth talking to, even at risk of his coolkid status.
"Oh, I'd get you something but I can't be bothered." 'Bro' said. There were little buzzing noises and the clanking of metal against metal. Dave just thought Bro was working on a stupid robot of some kind, maybe another rapping one. Lame, He thought to himself, but ironically cool.
"Please Bro? I'm gonna starve." He whined, stretching out the 'a' in 'starve' annoyingly. He had skipped the afterschool lunch, given that it would be crowded with the older kids and they only served orange juice and burgers. What kind of a school didn't serve apple juice? A dumb one, that's it. He wished he had stayed at his old school, but he just had to get in that one fight with this kid named Zeke. Nobody makes fun of his brother.
While Dave was cursing mentally at the fact that his school was apple-juiceless and Zeke was a total shitstain, 'Bro' had walked by and reached into the freezer for a hot pocket.
"Here you go lil' man." He spoke with the irregular robotic tone, "Or do you want me to make it for ya?" He smiled sweetly, but something was wrong, it was sort of childish and lopsided. The whole thing was wrong; Bro rarely smiled, let alone showed emotion at all.
"Yeah, hey Bro, are you sick or something?" He asked his brother, looking up at him skeptically. There was a faint orange glow behind the dark anime shades. Okay, weird, he thought.
"I am not Bro, I am Hal." He said with the lopsided smile. Lil Hal opened up the hot pocket and placed it in the microwave for two and a half minutes. "I'm not surprised that you don't remember me, I rarely come out from the study."
Dave thought it over a little, he remembered the name Hal, but from where. He wasn't sure if this guy was just an imposter trying to perv around his sweet pad and try to get in his underage pants. "What? Aren't you supposed to be like.. metal or something if you're a robot? You look perfectly human." He asked, crossing his arms and eyeing the exact replica of Bro Strider in front of him. He had the same muscle build, he was the same height, same hat, shirt, hair, shades and clothes. It was like, a sort of robotic clone. He couldn't help but think about movies where robots took over the world and he shivered, ever so slightly.
"I am metal; my skeleton is metal, but I have a rubbery body suit over it that feels like muscle, then a skin-like fabric other the suit." He explained, laughing at the little guy's curiosity, "And I am a specific kind of robot Dave, I'm an android; perfectly capable of human emotions and common sense." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his surprisingly moist mouth, "Robots are too easily built and programmable, it is sort of an insult to address me as such a thing."
"Oh, okay, I have way more questions to ask you now! Like why you're never around much, why you hair looks to shiny and soft, how you know how to work the microw He was cut off by the microwave beeping and his own scream. He breathed in short gasps for a few moments before he ran a hand through his platinum blonde hair and his poker-face came back.
Hal chuckled, "You scream like a little girl." He ruffled Dave's hair as he grabbed the hot pocket and quickly tossed it onto a plate. "Wait a few 'til it's cooled down alright little screamer?" He smirked.
"Aw come on you tincan, my hair!" Dave whined and fixed his hair, sitting down at the table and reaching for the scolding pocket of burning inferno. He let out a yelp as his tongue touched the scorching, but delicious hot pocket. "Fuck! That is fucking hot!" He licked around his mouth to relieve the burning pain on his tongue.
"Now Dave, I told ya' to wait didn't I? Kids never listen." He chuckled again and leant down, blowing on the hot pocket for a few minutes before leaning back up. "There, should be perfect for ya' now kiddo." He smiled the childish lopsided smile and leant back on the kitchen counter. He crossed his arms as well as his legs. "And watch your language, he would have my head if he found out you've been swearing like a fuckin' sailor."
"What? Come on man, you just cussed too!" He said after his tongue had cooled down a little. When he finally picked up the cool-ish hot pocket and took a bite he had an enormous mouthgasm. It was like heaven buried the hot pocket fuck deep in deliciousness. "Mm," He made annoying enjoyment noises as he scarfed the food down. "Oh yeah." He practically moaned out.
"Dave, Dave, calm the fuck down. Let's not start getting off on artificial supplements for real food." Hal said, rolling his eyes.
"What did you say about my hot pocket?" He faked hurt, letting out a dramatic gasp. "You wanna say that to my face, or its face, huh you bag of bolts?" The smaller Strider laughed.
"Shut up and eat you little shit." Hal chuckled.
