"We don't know if these things run out of juice, right?" Punchy asks, not wanting to test his data block until he knows he won't accidentally drain it.
He has no idea what a game of Snake is. He does, however, notice that one of the monsters seems to have decided he's the easiest target. Awesome. Slap leather.
Two of them seem to be getting rounded up, but one's chasing Chell and the other's coming after him. He activates his powers of Idiotic Optimism and slams the breaks, firing off the datablocker. The monster dodges, and Punchy kills the datablocker and turns, barely avoiding having the monster ram right into him, and only avoiding toppling over by a slightly larger margin. Oh shiznit. So much for that. He can't turn fast enough to hit it with the datablocker when it dodges.
He speeds up and slows down again, luring it back in. The creature's mouth is actually pretty intimidating, and manages to put the smallest kernel of fear into Punchy's stupidly brave heart. Punchy resists the urge to speed up again and try to outrun it and instead maintains a solid speed, hunkering down over the handlebars. He slams the brake again, turning on the datablocker, and just like last time, the monster motions to go around the blue stream.
Except this time, Punchy keeps the bike between his legs but leans and slams Puppet into the ground speeding by. The bike spins around this pivot, sending the datablocker in a semi-circle, obliterating the surprised monster. Punchy doesn't get much of a chance to see this, since he goes tumbling off the bike and earns a fair amount of road burn. The bike skids a bit further down the road.
Not much time for a dirt nap - thankfully, he didn't hit his head too hard, and thankfully that worked and there isn't an angry monster on top of him. He stumbles back up and runs over to the bike, checking Puppet as he goes. The Puppet's fine, naturally, as is, miraculously, his hand and wrist. Protected by Puppet's shield, probably. Unfortunately, the rest of his arm and shoulder is a twisted mess of broken bones and dislocated sockets. And it actually really hurts, although not as much as the three square inches of skin he scraped off his forehead in the fall. And he's pretty sure he threw his entire spine out of alignment.
Oh well. Cradling his busted arm close to his body, he gets his bike back up and gets back to riding it, no less enthusiastic or accident-prone than he was ten minutes ago. "I'm okay!" he yells to his crewmates up ahead.
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He has no idea what a game of Snake is. He does, however, notice that one of the monsters seems to have decided he's the easiest target. Awesome. Slap leather.
Two of them seem to be getting rounded up, but one's chasing Chell and the other's coming after him. He activates his powers of Idiotic Optimism and slams the breaks, firing off the datablocker. The monster dodges, and Punchy kills the datablocker and turns, barely avoiding having the monster ram right into him, and only avoiding toppling over by a slightly larger margin. Oh shiznit. So much for that. He can't turn fast enough to hit it with the datablocker when it dodges.
He speeds up and slows down again, luring it back in. The creature's mouth is actually pretty intimidating, and manages to put the smallest kernel of fear into Punchy's stupidly brave heart. Punchy resists the urge to speed up again and try to outrun it and instead maintains a solid speed, hunkering down over the handlebars. He slams the brake again, turning on the datablocker, and just like last time, the monster motions to go around the blue stream.
Except this time, Punchy keeps the bike between his legs but leans and slams Puppet into the ground speeding by. The bike spins around this pivot, sending the datablocker in a semi-circle, obliterating the surprised monster. Punchy doesn't get much of a chance to see this, since he goes tumbling off the bike and earns a fair amount of road burn. The bike skids a bit further down the road.
Not much time for a dirt nap - thankfully, he didn't hit his head too hard, and thankfully that worked and there isn't an angry monster on top of him. He stumbles back up and runs over to the bike, checking Puppet as he goes. The Puppet's fine, naturally, as is, miraculously, his hand and wrist. Protected by Puppet's shield, probably. Unfortunately, the rest of his arm and shoulder is a twisted mess of broken bones and dislocated sockets. And it actually really hurts, although not as much as the three square inches of skin he scraped off his forehead in the fall. And he's pretty sure he threw his entire spine out of alignment.
Oh well. Cradling his busted arm close to his body, he gets his bike back up and gets back to riding it, no less enthusiastic or accident-prone than he was ten minutes ago. "I'm okay!" he yells to his crewmates up ahead.