It Tastes Like Ice Cream (Open)

Storm has decided to take a walk to the ice cream shop today. Bad idea. Upon arriving, he saw the giant tin can and Jet fighting it. "Jet?! What the Hell are you doing?" Storm run up next Jet to face the mechanical behemoth.

OOC: he was hit by Ice cream trucks by with the drill and being picked up he sticks his robotic arm out to counter the drill and dull it's point

((The robotic arm wouldn't dull the point, but it would block the attack. If anything, the drill would damage the robotic arm if Jet tried too hard to hold it off.))

Again, Shakira growls to herself as the ice cream trucks disappear through the other portal leaving Jet in one piece. So instead, she goes for a more lethal attack. Especially since wavelength attacks didn't seem to be enough.

"YOU STUPID HIPPO FACE!"

Clenching her fists, she listens for the ground to start rumbling until it started cracking. Out of the cracks came a large, floating spike in the shape of a waffle cone. Aiming it at the dangling Jet, she points at him. A grin crossed her face as the spike headed straight for Jet's shoulder. It wasn't big enough for him to lose an arm, but it was big enough to dislocate his shoulder or shatter his collar bone.

Jet starts releasing the soul wavelength from his right hand in a effort to stop the drill from damaging his arm. "Oh come on DrillSargeant don't leave me hanging!" When the spike hit him, he stopped sending the wavelength into the drill. "Oh Christ! I think you just dislocated my arm!"
OOC:pun count: 2

Shakira's giggling started to grow when the weapon hit home. She readied her syringe and motioned at Mr. Freezee to "let him down". As she did so, she approached the ground near the clown and held both hands dangling in front of her with the syringe in both grasps.

"Go ahead Mr. Freezee."

Cutting off the drill, the clown tosses Jet a couple of feet in the air and gets a firm grasp on his body. Then the clicking and hissing noise of the hydraulics in his arms and the gears in his shoulders escalate as he slams Jet hard into the ground with his hand. It was enough force to crack the ground beneath him and cause a small crater. It wasn't enough to kill him, but it would crack or snap a couple of ribs.

"MR. FREEZEE!"

Shakira crossed both arms and looked up at the towering clown with a pouty face.

"You know you could've hit him harder! Silly you!"

Chuckling, she skips over to where Jet was and held the needle of the syringe over his face. The tube connected to the weapon was filled with a dark, but thick substance. And it wasn't black blood either. It was her version of hot fudge.

"Too bad you're made of metal, Mister Airplane. Because if you weren't, I would've eaten your ice cream by now. But.....you still never got to try my hot fudge! I made it myself! Why don't you try it?!"

Shakira lowers the needle to his chest and violently pushes the sharp point right below his rib cage. She wasn't going to insert the fudge yet. Almost as if she wanted to hear his choice.

"It's verrrrrrrrry hot! So be careful!"