no bird? ;.;

"What, c'mon! Haven't you ever felt the lingering hand of death hovering over your shoulder? The taste of blood in your mouth as you fight for your life, adrenaline flooding your veins!?" "It's fucking INVIGORATING!"

I just can't think of too many people who would step down from something like that. I mean...a cushy safe seat at the head of a kingdom where your words alone carry more power than anyone could imagine. Most'd go ga-ga at the idea of it. I hate the thought, myself...but that's just me, I guess.

"You act like it's weird to want to bleed a little to remind you that you're still alive in the first place." "Sheesh."

"The hell are you talking about? I'm just your average, everyday, ordinary lunatic who enjoys violence and pain and..." "..." "Yeah I'm not doing myself any favors, am I?"

Actually, y'know what? Y'know what? All you losers set off my crippling cartism. I am going to tell you all about cars that are fucking awesome and you're going to sit here and listen to it because you NORMIE ASS MAMMALS BROUGHT IT UPON YOURSELVES.

I swear to all things holy if I see one more person get on my case about driving a car I am going to get into this one-thousand horsepower Hummer H1 of mine and RUN THEM THE FUCK OVER. I LIKE ALL KINDS OF RACING. A REAL RACER RESPECTS THAT. OH MY GAIA SHUT THE FUCK UP.

"Yeah? Name one."

"C'moooooon, where's the fun in that!?"

Jet's every muscle tensed up, like a snake coiled and ready to strike, waiting anxiously for this deathly still to end. It happened in a flash. Kage lashed out, then the avian swatted an arm away with his palm, shifting his torso to avoid another punch, just grazing the plumage on his chest. ...

"Okay, yeah...that's true. I can and will parry bullets. And it's fucking rad, too. Don't forget that." "But can't you create some sort of cool cyborg implant or ninja power armor or something that lets you parry bullets too?"

"Oh c'mooooon! Trouble is fun! There's nothing like the rush of getting shot at!" "Join me in the fun! Do it do it do it do it!"

"You're on."

"That was a VERY cool idea what the hell are you talking about!?" "I wanted to make a necklace out of police officer's teeth! I thought it'd go well with my style!"

"Believe me, Jet has no problem being wanted for felonies. He causes too many on his own." "I wish he'd STOP bringing heat to the Rogues all the time with needless offences. We spend too much time needing to lay low because Jet thought it was a good idea to start collecting teeth from random cops."

"Alright, fine, if you say so." The bandit took a step back, only to allow himself room to take a fighting stance...an odd mishmash of other styles that seemed distinctly Jet-like. "Ready when you are."

[ The hawk paused for a moment, like he had to think over what he'd just heard. ] Y'know...I think I can respect that.

"Cool. Storm just picked up a huge pack of these bad boys and..." He looks into the fridge...there's...there's a LOT missing. "Sis uh...how much...how much cheese string did you have?"

Really? I thought your role as a monarch kept you out of any danger. Y'know, delegate all the danger to those of less regal blood and all that.

(( Jumping wildly between RPing all three Rogues at the same time is harder than I remember oops. ))

"Well fuck me jogging. Welcome me into the club, I guess." "Want a cheese string? This shit's delicious."

Eh, if I can't handle this then how am I supposed to be able to handle half the stuff I push myself through. I'm fine. I'm made of tougher stuff then most people give me credit for. It's just more annoying than anything.

It's hard to keep anything around here, honestly, because everything needs to be fastened down in some way, shape, or form. There's always the risk of turbulence shaking something around, so even stuff like our fridges and cabinets need to be specially designed to keep everything inside still.

I sure do love not being able to sleep for more than a few hours at a time because my arm is flaring up from old battle wounds and I go stumbling across the zeppelin for an ibuprofen and a packet of string cheese.

How the hell not? I thought with all the intel and info you go around gathering, you'd at least have found some security footage of me cracking a few skulls in. ...Tempted to fix that right here and right now.

"Holy shit I am...suddenly one very very eepy birb." "I'm gonna just...y'know..." "Do this." And he just...flops face-first into a mattress, launching the sheets into the air as they slowly float down onto him.

"We bury the body and take it to our graves"

Oh fuck oh shit I actually killed him I didn't even mean to oh shit oh shit oh shit I've never actually killed anyone before what the fuck do I do???

Oh well now you're just fulla sh

How the hell not? My old man was a swordsman. You think he didn't teach me anything before he croaked? And besides, haven't you seen the way I wield my Bashosen? They're practically HF blades in my hands!

Looking at your history, it's not even that hard. I'd probably have to breath on your candy-ass and you'd croak.

I will fucking end you.

OF COURSE I CAN DO SPORTS. I kicked ASS at surfing and snowboarding. Also was pretty damn good at fencing. Fuckin' CREAMED Bowser in a swordfight. Though I regret not signing up for boxing and missing my chance to punch Sonic in his ugly stupid asshole face.

"This was ages ago." "Like uhhhh...Rio? Was it Rio? Fuck I forget where I even went."

Man, FUCK the Olympic Games, anyway. Last time I showed up at one of those, I got fucking electrocuted because FUCKING SCOURGE booby trapped the archery targets.

"Lemme guess. You've seen the wanted posters?" Vainly, the hawk props his beak up on a thumb and forefinger. "Y'know, they never capture my good side. It's kinda embarrassing." "As for what I'm doing here? Well, I hardly think that's any of your business, is it?"

And the more you speak, the more you prove my point. Honestly, though, my fans deserve to be ten times as obnoxious after all the crap they have to deal with from numbskulls like you.

"...Yessss?"

See? This is why I WANT something bad to happen to Sonic. Cause all of you louts in his cheering section annoy me.

Well sooo-reee for speaking my mind.

I hope something bad happened to Sonic!

Jet would continue to panic, swiping his hands across the inside of the glovebox, sweeping away anything leftover from the cricket party in his glovebox. "Aaaaah aaaah c'mon don't stain anything please don't stain anything nonononononononoooooooo" Seems that was all that was on his mind.

(( JET YOU MOTHERFUCKING GOLDDIGGER STOP OFFERING ME MORE TITLES THAT I WANT. )) (( GOOOOOOOOOOD IT SAYS CATCH ME IF YOU CAN IT FUCKING SAYS CATCH ME IF YOU CAN I AM LOSING IIIIITTTT I WANT IT. ))

"Right! Gotta find 'em first!" Jet hurriedly plants the side of his head to the car door with a hollow THUNK. "Where areeee youuuuu? C'mon, where are you bastards hiding?"

In a heartbeat, Jet whips out one of his fans and begins swatting wildly at them. "AAAACK! NONONONONO GET OUT OUTOUTOUTOUTOUTOUTOUTOUT!"

Jet was out and practicing once more, though this time in someone not too many people would expect. The avian carried an ornate-looking epee in his left hand, taking the stance of a traditional fencer as he made jabs and cuts at the empty air with a great degree of grace and practice.

"My-my-my-my CAAAR IS CHIRPIIIING" " Do you hear it!? It's chirping! Something is inside my baby!"

Jet is just drooping from the grip on his feathers. "But HOW? I take care of my babies! I wouldn't let any bugs within a mile of them!"

(( The Legendary Wind Master is here. Get on the track. ))