http : / / www. GiantEffingRobots .com/ -uploads-post/
Well, my little civilian friends, I am sure you are in your doubt. I have even received a few uploader comments on the opening thread page stating that some of you 'don't believe any of this bulls***', that 'giant effing robots are a piece of **** invented by conspiracy theorists', and where is all the 'God**** f****** proof?'
Proof, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, cats and dogs, civilians of every color and state of wackiness, is coming.
And you better hope it comes from me before it comes from them.
Let me clear up just a few things for you. I am an ex government agent who has been on the inside of everything that occurs behind sealed doors. I invented the meaning of the word 'classified.' I know what happens that you and your little Taco Bell dogs and everyone else in your little operations have NO IDEA EVEN EXISTED.
Here are the basics; there are two sides. The good, and the bad. The protective, and the ugly. The ones that want to use our planet as a little home-away-from-home, and the ones that want to eat us in our sleep. Look around you. 'Where are these giant effing robots?' you say.
Two words; IN DISGUISE.
You think an advanced technological race that made it all the way to earth couldn't blend in? They're all around us! Hidden as that shiny sports car on the street, that new kitchen application you picked up, the newest 3G phone in the Apple Store! They're everywhere! And we're just making it easier for them. I have seen with my own eyes how they can hide among us. TRUST NOTHING. Or wake up to find your toaster strangling you. Be my guest.
What real proof do I have?
Two words; MISSION CITY?
A gas leak in the terrorist attack cause hallucinations? Are you FREAKING SERIOUS?
There are real live witnesses that saw what happened, people. Many of us- myself included- payed the price of that battle. We are hunted because of what we know. And I'm going to bring the proof to you real soon. Tomorrow.
The truth get's out.
Tomorrow, it begins.
COMMENTS;
QuickSilver13; Well. This is…interesting.
Robo-Warrior; Oh, so you don't believe? Just wait. They'll come knocking on your front door next.
Quicksilver13; I trust me, I believe. Probably more than you do.
Robo-Warrior; You are an imbecile. What are you doing on my site?
QuickSilver13; Classified.
Robo-Warrior; DO NOT ANTAGONIZE ME!
QuickSilver13; Yes, sir.
Robo-Warrior; And don't you sir me either, punk.
QuickSilver13; Roger that, sir.
Robo-Warrior; I'm warning you, buddy.
QuickSilver13; Aye aye, captain?
Robo-Warrior; One more time and I'm throwing you out, hot shot.
Quicksilver13; Acknowledged.
Robo-Warrior; I hate you.
QuickSilver13; Acknowledged.
Robo-Warrior; GET OUT!
QuickSilver13; Aye aye, sir.
Robo-Warrior; YOU PUNK ASS LITTLE BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEPING BLEEP.
QuickSilver13; Your mother know you talk like that?
~Site master has closed thread.~
Simmons drummed his fingers on the edge of his laptop severely, like the drum beat to a march of war. Critics, he could take. Those little amateurs at TheRealEffingDeal .com he could take. Their uploads were border-line limbo, at best pathetic. But little snips like this- they really got on his nerves.
Not to self; terminate account of QuickSilver13.
Whoever the hell it was, anyways. It wasn't anyone from that little freshmen college website, he knew that much.
/That was unwise, Sideswipe. Do not antagonize the man so./
/Hey, I'm all for it, Sides. Sounds like this guy needs a lesson on cyber wars./
/Optimus, perhaps it is best if we monitor this website…just in case./
/What are you suggesting, Ratchet?/
/We's goin' unda-cover! Yeah, listen to da' doc!/
/Slag! Who patched them into this network?/
/Like it matters, Jolt. Just get them out./
/You try keeping them from hacking such primitive technology, Sideswipe. It's not easy./
/I managed to get an account on that idiot's website./
/That's nothing./
/I can always slag 'em for you, Jolt./
/Negative, Ironhide. I'm sure Ratchet would not appreciate his med bay being filled with those two again./
/Quite right./
/C'mon, Prime. We haven't seen a 'Con in weeks./
/Ironhide, we've had to track down three Cons in the past three months, all on separate continents. Don't tell me you like traveling via cargo plane?/
/Aw, give it a rest, Arcee. It's better than just sitting around the firing range./
/I think Ratchet has a point./
/Bumblebee, you choose now of all times to speak up?/
/Sorry, Arcee, but I do. Who knows what this guy has planned to upload?/
/We could just report him to the JCS./
/And take all the fun out of it? C'mon, Jolt, this is your thing. Live a little./
/Side, you're crazy./
/Sideswipe, though you have acted recklessly, I will let this pass. Bumblebee and Ratchet may be right. We will see what this website has in store for us./
/It could be an ex-Sector Seven agent!/
/Good theory, Bumblebee. We'll see how this guy likes my plasma cannons on this website. Hey, do you think it could be-?/
/All theories are being considered./
/It certainly sounds like him./
/That it does, Ratchet./
/Hey guys, I've got to go. The boy is back from school./
/Does he know where he is going for college?/
/Not yet, but with his scores, I'd bet on anything./
/That's great! Give the boy our best, Bee./
/Sure thing, Arcee. Hey, can we get a different network or maybe something on this site that we can chat on? I can't keep on this network forever. Actually, I'm probably going to loose it the second I move./
/I'll see what I can do./
/Thanks, Side./