He is done. clicky

(GodDAMN he looks flipping good XD. You need to draw a character image for every one of my characters LOL)

(Duly noted, your wish is my command xD I already have something of a to-do list going in my head lolll)

Axl grumbled something under his breath at her horrid reply to his obvious fear of humans in general. "The fun in consent is the not getting your head shoved backwards through your ass." He flashed a smile, though it was more just baring his fangs. He did not know how they hadn't murdered each other yet. He would gladly do it. Actually, he would pay people to let him do it. No more cruel insults that he really didn't care about. Buh-bye.

He ignored her comment and focused on the next thing, an exasperated look on his face. "Be happy I thanked you, human." He scoffed, waving a hand. She was insufferable. She should just ACCEPT the fact that he was TRYING, OKAY!? His eyes narrowed with murderous intent at the Nickname. Didn't they have a deal? Apparently not. "Starting World War 3 would be FUN, princess, and I'm sorry you can't handle this." He mocked, his words adjusting to match hers. He did that. He would match the person speaking... but his dial was broken, and he couldn't turn it down. Only up. Plus, she couldn't STOP him from blowing shit up. He was stealthy when need be, but need never be. "Hrm." He muttered, a little focused on something.

His eyes rolled at Jackson's obvious stellar smarts, a low scoff sounding. "When I get to hell, I know I'll be stuffed in there with you just to torture the both of us. The devil will be cheering. No need to torture us- we'll do it to each other." He complained lowly.

His lips twisted into an evil grin at her yelled words. "Sorry sweetheart, can't promise anything." He said cheerfully before sticking his head back out the roof to glance around. Eh, they'd be fine. He settled back into the seat with a pleased look, lacing his fingers together.

Words scrolled in front of his eyes for a moment, along with a map, before he spoke. "2.4 miles ahead. Take the first left you see, then a right onto the on ramp." He stated begrudgingly. Being a living GPS was hard work, and he didn't have the white woman voice that all of them seemed to have.

"Can't believe I'm going to die within 100 miles of this Dumm Kopf." Axl sighed to himself, poking a shallow scratch on his arm. In all of that, he had barely been touched. Just a bullet burn. He had not lost his skills; no, this would be fun.

"Oh come on, you seem like the type to enjoy that. Or at least be open to trying," Norrie returned. Hadn't he been the one to mention something about intercourse with young males? And also being the bottom. He'd kind of stacked the argument against himself, in all fairness.

"Oh yes, very happy. All sunshine, lollipops, and rainbows. Everything is wonderful," she grumbled sarcastically. Wonderful? Maybe full of wondering why the ever loving fuck anyone was still alive. The million-dollar question: why? To spread chaos, apparently. Elementary, my dear Watson.

"I never said it WOULDN'T be, kitty, just that it's not our goal right now," Norrie shot back. Right now. In the wise words of the Magic 8-Ball, try again later, or some shit. Norrie wouldn't know; she'd only ever really used them as projectile weapons.

"Oh you poor thing. I pity the fool," she snorted. "Y'know, if you think about it, if satan punushes sinners, doesn't that make him a good guy? He's probably just throwing a sick-ass party in hell and God got jealous because his sin-free bullshit was so goddamn boring people were smuggling coke and having orgies just to get to hell." What a delightful thought. And, in a similar vein, one sin or a thousand, you're going to hell. Why not go for the high score? Seems like one helluva challenge.

"Fuck you," She muttered, though loud enough to be heard. Whatever. Now they had a permanent sunroof. Lovely. Better hope it doesn't fucking RAIN or all things electronic in the car - aka all the important shit - doesn't get ruined.

"Wonderful, thanks," She said flatly, ignoring his woe-is-me sighing, and promptly stomped down on the gas pedal like she was trying to crush someone's skull beneath her boot.

A very short time later, they'd made it onto arguably the best road in Germany, and Norrie had to hope that in what little darkness remained, they'd be able to slip off some exit. She was struck with what was probably their only feasible skeleton of an idea- "Hey kitty, see if you can find an Air Bnb or something, ideally with a listing that looks like it was written with speech-to-text." The idea was that maybe, by some stroke of luck, there'd be some little elderly sandbag with space to stay; if it was blind-ish, it'd question less. Hopefully. Norrie was guessing that the odds were slim to none, but hey, weren't the odds of just about anything going their way right now the same?

Axl opened his mouth with a delightful retort in mind before immediately shutting it again, pondering her words. "Fair enough." He nodded slightly, leaning back in his seat. Couldn't argue with that logic. "But I usually try to refrain from shoving stuff in my ass from the top.... technically that's called suicide, and then I wouldn't be on this DELIGHTFUL mission with you." He commented, tone dripping wifh sarcasm towards the end. Although he didn't really remember everything he had said that had been R rated, he did remember specifically saying he did NOT fuck men. Or anyone to be fair.

.

He clicked his tongue at her depressed view on life, pretending to be disappointed. "C'mon Norrie, look on the bright side." He drawled with a snarky, therapist like voice. His eyes rolled a moment later. God, even the words sucked. He hated when people said that to him. Look on the bright side! Although you have no parents, you were kidnapped as a baby, you were tortured your whole life, you're part animal, everyone hates you, you've been chained down and muzzled and handcuffed not in a sexy way, and you constantly get sedated for 'safety'... you're alive! He grumbled just thinking about it. How was being alive a bright side. Seemed like the dark side of this.

.

"Maybe it should be. You follow way too many fucking rules, sweetheart." He scoffed under his breath, annoyed that they were here to do something for the stupid fucking military and not just to blow stuff up. Total put down.

.

"Satan is obviously the good guy." He arched an eyebrow. "And hell would be great if I didn't have to hear your mouth blabbering every 3.2 seconds." He mocked with a snort, shaking his head. He was sure the rest of his life- whether that be five minutes with her driving skills, a year, or somewhere in between- they would be taunting each other constantly. Every second they were actually around each other. And he guessed he'd be stuck here for a while.

.

"Fuck you too, princess." Axl smiled brightly, running his tongue over his fangs as he glanced up at the hole in the ceiling. He could fix it with duct tape. Pshaw. And if he got his hands on a welder, he could actually fix it. Not that they'd have time. "Hey, I took out a helicopter. We would've gotten blown up if not for me." He added with a glare towards her.

.

"I feel like I shouldn't comply until you rewire your brain into understanding what a name is and how to use it." He studied his hands for a moment, his nose wrinkling slightly. Didn't even make sense. He was mostly canine. Then, of course, he thought- and doggy was so much worse. Better accept what he had. His eyes flicked up for a moment as his mind fed him information. "Okay, sweetheart, Air BnB 32 miles away, on the edge of a small town. Seems shitty and like the owners have no care for it in the world. Good enough?" He asked flatly. It was the best option he could find, out of the thousand closest to them. Considering there wasn't a single period or comma in the entire description, he felt like this would be a good one. The shirt was already making his skin itch- weird ass fabric- and the sticky blood of people was making the metal of his arm rather dull and lifeless. And coating his hands. It was also splattered across the shirt, and becoming annoying. He frowned slightly, debating stealing Jackson's shirt and giving them this one. They would have noooo idea what happened.

"Oh come on, I thought you were flexible, kitty," Norrie said flatly. Generally, muscle mass had a tendency to hinder one's ability to be a contortionist, but Axl'd maybe possibly manage, with some "encouragement".

"The bright side's the motherfuckin sun, and we're told not to look directly at it," She harrumphed in return. He could go stare at the sun, for all she cared. It might make an improvement. Then again, that was likely part of Jackson's problem, so maybe not. She certainly didn't need two brain-dead toddlers lollygagging around.

"Say that again," Norrie grumbled. Goddamn asshat. How she'd love to stuff both of Jackson's socks in his mouth and duct tape them there. Ideally for a minimum of 36 hours.

Her scowl only deepened as his yapping continued, and she gritted her teeth in an effort not to yell at him. That two-socks fantasy quickly became a two-socks-and-two-boots fantasy. Just wrench his jaws open and cram it all in there. Then maybe dangle him in a straitjacket from a crane. Let's see if he can get outta that.

"Deal," Norrie said with a shit-eating grin. Mwah ha ha. Walked right into that one. "Is that really a bad thing, though?" She was starting to think not. Certainly couldn't get much worse. Well, hopefully. Hope is obviously the BEST plan EVER.

"Bitch, please. Try again." She could and would absolutely call him something worse; he was getting off easy with kitty. She could go with doggy and then say he made doggystyle popular.

"Fantastic, kitty," She snorted, "I do need directions though." Which he was kind enough to provide. Not quite 10 minutes later, they were there. The house, if one could call it that, looked like it was built sometime while the US was arguing over whether slavery was bad or not. It leaned a bit to the right and surely hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint since it was built. One of the two windows peering out at the rutted dirt driveway was boarded up, making it seem almost like a pirate in an eyepatch. One bathroom, one bedroom, y'know, bare minimum.

She turned out to be right when, as they were getting out of the poor old car, she caught the flicker of a curtain in the attic window, which had presumably been turned into a small living space for the sole resident, and surprisingly quickly, an ancient old woman who looked comically like the chocolate grandma from Spongebob. (click) She was no taller than 5 feet, wore thick coke-bottle glasses, and spoke hardly a lick of english, thus Norrie nudged Axl forward to do the talking. She figured Chocolate Grandma couldn't see him well enough to be alarmed, anyway.

"Flexible, hardly, contortionist, no." Axl snorted. He knew she was thinking of a way to crack every bone in his body trying, so he was going to be on the lookout for an attack. "Aw, some princess didn't get enough sleep last night?" He cooed mockingly, snickering at the look on her face. She was so easily riled up, always ready to throw a smashing insult. They had that in common.

His smirk grew a twitch. "You follow way too many fucking rules, sweetheart." He repeated in the same bored drawl, practically cackling with evil intent at her glowering. He may just be the one being on this earth that wasn't scared of her. Although she was a legitimate threat... whatever she could do wouldn't be worse than what he had encountered, and if she murdered him, hallelujah.

Axl barked out a rough laugh at her singular word and murderous grin. "I legitimately can't tell if that means you fuck yourself or I fuck you, but they seem equally horrifying." He stated with an absolutely devil worthy grin, something that could haunt kids nightmares and cause therapists to go out of business. "Eh, I don't want to die this close to Jackson. So yeah, it is kind of bad." He scratched his chin as he thought of if the blast would blow Jackson away so he could die in peace knowing his mind wasn't tainted by that idiot.

"Stay on the fucking Autobahn for 30 FUCKING MILES and THEN I will tell you where to go, sweetheart." He rolled his eyes. That was kind, for Axl. She got a good deal.

He was quite unhappy that the person hadn't died in their shack- and that was a glorified word for that. He climbed out of the car, peering at the Lady that looked... well, not quite dead, not quite alive. Like she got stuck in between. Like a zombie, but- no, actually, she looked like she'd bite him. Axl wrinkled his nose and hissed lowly as Norrie shoved him forward. "Learn a language, useless human." He growled at her before tucking his arm partially behind his back because the metal was glinting brightly and even a blind person might think something was wrong. Everything else should be fine, though. He listened to her blabbering, his translator giving him garbled sentences that he had to take a moment to figure out. "I'm 20 percent sure she just said that we looked so poor and sad that we could stay for free." He scowled, mostly at the old lady. Not like she could tell. He fired off a couple fast words, getting a droning response back. After almost falling asleep, he blinked himself back awake... 5 minutes later.. and nodded. "We... can sleep downstairs. I think. She said Don't go upstairs. And that she will be gone for the night so since that's all we're staying, she won't bother us. Or... she said that pandas are ugly and your face looks like a baboon butt." He paused. "I'm not quite sure what language she's speaking. It ain't German. And she isn't speaking just one. I think, like, Spanish, Vietnamese, and Korean." Axl glanced slowly back at Norrie. "Help."

"Sounds like a you problem, then," Norrie said flatly. It didn't help him escape his fate of one day being used for the demonstration of folding clothes with him still inside them.

She glanced at him briefly, long enough for him to guess what was coming, and then slapped vaguely in his direction. Not particularly hard, either, as that may kill the fun, and however little she'd like to admit, she did rather enjoy this. It was far more entertaining than anything she could've done were she stuck with just Jackson. Axl was entertaining in the way that someone else's child, whom you'd given a sharpie and taught to say shit was. Chaotic.

"You'd better figure it out. I seem to recall you saying I should try getting laid and see if it improves my mood," she snorted. Honestly, she wasn't entirely sure of the answer herself. Going off of grammar and shit, probably the latter. Fuckin heebie-jeebie-invoking though.

"I don't wanna die near me either," Jackson grumbled," wait, no, you. Fuck." Dipshit. Norrie couldn't decide between pushing him out the door or settling for groaning and banging her head on the steering wheel, so for the time being did neither.

"I like to know ahead of time," Norrie sniffed. Really, she was just pestering him for entertainment.

"You mean a fourth?" She muttered back. Hey, Jackson hardly knew ONE language, she was doing pretty goddamn good. The old lady's blabber, though, was a different story. Norrie wasn't sure, but it sounded like 7 languages in a trenchcoat all talking over each other. "I think that means you played your part well. She pities us," She snickered. They couldn't have done better if they were despairing Victorian children. "Help? How? I'm just gonna assume it was the first option- thank the old bag for her kindness or whatever. I'm fucking tired," Norrie returned. Or they could just sneeze at her wrong, blow her away, and enjoy the ramshackle dwelling without the lump of living leather.