[ Tucker didn't have what one might call the smoothest or calmest of orientations. Despite a broad familiarity with being confused about what's going on and getting thrown into nonsense, his interview still incorporates a lot of being deliberately obtuse and childish and failing to win a chick over with pickup lines and then getting zapped. Stuff like that. Blah blah something Stuff blah blah compliance blah blah blah. It's a fancy kidnapping. What they want him for doesn't matter so he doesn't pay a ton of attention. He technically gets to keep his sword, but only for missions, which sucks. Are his friends here? Who knows, they sure don't seem to know.
By the time he's processed and suited up and shoved towards the armored trucks, sans the cool military-grade body armor he's been wearing for years, Tucker is twitchy and irritable and mostly busy trying to scrape his shit together through the ride to Pilton. When everyone's been unloaded and left to their mission devices, he's more or less managed that much. If he couldn't do bouncing back, he'd have lost his whole mind back in Blood Gulch. Dumb bullshit, dumb missions, no other options. Whatever.
He picks up on the concept that everybody on hand might not necessarily know how to do guns good. Does he have a moral obligation or responsibility to try to help with that with his life experience? Technically he probably doesn't, right? He doesn't know anyone here. And no one looks as bad off as Caboose about it... but Caboose sets the bar so low sometimes that they haven't finished digging down to it yet.
Ugh. Or, more to the feeling, ughghghghghghhhhhhh, this is such bullshit, etc. He makes a sound that roughly translates to that, and then he thinks, actually why not include that in his starting pitch? ]
This is such bullshit. [ That's better. Every day he sympathizes more and more with OG Church. ] Hey! If you don't know how to use the guns, go-- I dunno, go aim at the big wall for a while? Aim anywhere that's not at the rest of us! Get some pointers on how to not turn into a team-killing idiot before it's too late!
[ If not from him, a regular idiot, then surely from someone who isn't an idiot at all. ]
c.
[ Who has two thumbs and is making no real effort to actually harvest eggs? This guy. He's fine to try to not die, fight the horror-movie aliens, whatever, but he's drawing a hard line on appearing to be at all mission-competent. That simply is not what he does. Especially when having face-hugger chest-burster combos skittering around the place everyone actually lives is on the line.
He'll eat that punishment later if he has to. That's a problem for future Tucker to complain about.
He might be inclined to stick some face-hugged people into the boxes, but he also knows better than to think anyone's got a real chance. So it's complicated. He's working on his opinions. The thing is, he's very bad at actually not caring about stuff. And he's very, very good at caring whether he wants to or not.
It's a very cool demoralizing pointless experience that he doesn't wanna be experiencing.
So like his whole military career.
Tucker's not brooking any sort of "hissing by his ankles" shenanigans, at least. If he catches a whiff of hatched alien, he's firing on sight. Sometimes he goes for a glowy alien sword slice or a shot and doesn't dodge a stray splatter of the acid blood, so instead of a fun one-liner he says "augh shit sonofabitch!" But he manages okay between those points. ]
Nice try, asshole! [ Manages the low end of "okay." ] Ugh. I don't know what it is with aliens who don't get personal space, but I'm over it. Been there, done that, didn't die, got the honor roll student to prove it.
[ It's times like these he can be really grateful that he somehow didn't die having Junior. Not that he wasn't grateful for that already. He's just freshly grateful. ]
g.
[ Hey, so that was all a bunch of even more bullshit than he thought. Color him vaguely impressed. In the way a person can't help being impressed by a bunch of stuff that they still hate a lot. But now it's over. Finally. No more stupid action movie, horror movie, everything-is-happening-at-once stuff.
Just weird sippy cups of water, flavorless ration bars, a little kickass Bob Ross energy, and the space to do what he was born to do: poke at his handful of minor burns and complain. Before maybe napping. Grif would nap if he were here. It's a touching tribute to friendship or something dumb like that. ]
Man, acid blood is totally unfair. If your blood's acid, it shouldn't be legal for you to stir shit up where other people have to deal with it! Fuckin' take it easy for a while. All work and no play makes you look like a tool.
lavernius tucker | red vs blue
[ Tucker didn't have what one might call the smoothest or calmest of orientations. Despite a broad familiarity with being confused about what's going on and getting thrown into nonsense, his interview still incorporates a lot of being deliberately obtuse and childish and failing to win a chick over with pickup lines and then getting zapped. Stuff like that. Blah blah something Stuff blah blah compliance blah blah blah. It's a fancy kidnapping. What they want him for doesn't matter so he doesn't pay a ton of attention. He technically gets to keep his sword, but only for missions, which sucks. Are his friends here? Who knows, they sure don't seem to know.
By the time he's processed and suited up and shoved towards the armored trucks, sans the cool military-grade body armor he's been wearing for years, Tucker is twitchy and irritable and mostly busy trying to scrape his shit together through the ride to Pilton. When everyone's been unloaded and left to their mission devices, he's more or less managed that much. If he couldn't do bouncing back, he'd have lost his whole mind back in Blood Gulch. Dumb bullshit, dumb missions, no other options. Whatever.
He picks up on the concept that everybody on hand might not necessarily know how to do guns good. Does he have a moral obligation or responsibility to try to help with that with his life experience? Technically he probably doesn't, right? He doesn't know anyone here. And no one looks as bad off as Caboose about it... but Caboose sets the bar so low sometimes that they haven't finished digging down to it yet.
Ugh. Or, more to the feeling, ughghghghghghhhhhhh, this is such bullshit, etc. He makes a sound that roughly translates to that, and then he thinks, actually why not include that in his starting pitch? ]
This is such bullshit. [ That's better. Every day he sympathizes more and more with OG Church. ] Hey! If you don't know how to use the guns, go-- I dunno, go aim at the big wall for a while? Aim anywhere that's not at the rest of us! Get some pointers on how to not turn into a team-killing idiot before it's too late!
[ If not from him, a regular idiot, then surely from someone who isn't an idiot at all. ]
c.
[ Who has two thumbs and is making no real effort to actually harvest eggs? This guy. He's fine to try to not die, fight the horror-movie aliens, whatever, but he's drawing a hard line on appearing to be at all mission-competent. That simply is not what he does. Especially when having face-hugger chest-burster combos skittering around the place everyone actually lives is on the line.
He'll eat that punishment later if he has to. That's a problem for future Tucker to complain about.
He might be inclined to stick some face-hugged people into the boxes, but he also knows better than to think anyone's got a real chance. So it's complicated. He's working on his opinions. The thing is, he's very bad at actually not caring about stuff. And he's very, very good at caring whether he wants to or not.
It's a very cool demoralizing pointless experience that he doesn't wanna be experiencing.
So like his whole military career.
Tucker's not brooking any sort of "hissing by his ankles" shenanigans, at least. If he catches a whiff of hatched alien, he's firing on sight. Sometimes he goes for a glowy alien sword slice or a shot and doesn't dodge a stray splatter of the acid blood, so instead of a fun one-liner he says "augh shit sonofabitch!" But he manages okay between those points. ]
Nice try, asshole! [ Manages the low end of "okay." ] Ugh. I don't know what it is with aliens who don't get personal space, but I'm over it. Been there, done that, didn't die, got the honor roll student to prove it.
[ It's times like these he can be really grateful that he somehow didn't die having Junior. Not that he wasn't grateful for that already. He's just freshly grateful. ]
g.
[ Hey, so that was all a bunch of even more bullshit than he thought. Color him vaguely impressed. In the way a person can't help being impressed by a bunch of stuff that they still hate a lot. But now it's over. Finally. No more stupid action movie, horror movie, everything-is-happening-at-once stuff.
Just weird sippy cups of water, flavorless ration bars, a little kickass Bob Ross energy, and the space to do what he was born to do: poke at his handful of minor burns and complain. Before maybe napping. Grif would nap if he were here. It's a touching tribute to friendship or something dumb like that. ]
Man, acid blood is totally unfair. If your blood's acid, it shouldn't be legal for you to stir shit up where other people have to deal with it! Fuckin' take it easy for a while. All work and no play makes you look like a tool.