Matt was very angry. This wasn't like him. then again a lot of things weren't like him. Gaian birds with three wings, a fluffy tail and a 90gN jetpack for example. In fact there were so many things in the universe that weren't like him, that you could logically deduce that he probably wasn't gonna be like him.
Matt didn't like it when things weren't like him. Right now, he didn't like himself.
Looking at him reminded you of a slobbering dog. Matt was slobbering right now. Blood, dripping from his mouth like liquid fecal matter on a mistreated toilet. that is, if the fecal matter were red.
He wasn't sure if the blood was his own. He was an ex-cannibal with a habit of eating his own tongue whenever the supply of warzone casualties could not support his needs. At least space kept the bodies fresh- down here, things rot, yet you still put it in your mouth because you're a biiiiiiiiiiig pain in the ass fussy eater who is an avarietist. That becomes double the trouble when your addiction for human flesh kicks in. Some times, things really sharp get in your mouth and cuts it to the point that you'll just have to walk it off. Other times, you eat steak that came right off a space-cow's carcass. those things are bloody bloody. Was he enjoying a super rare steak? Why was there even blood in his mouth in the first place?
Not that it mattered- his attention was clearly superfixed on something else. you could tell by the look on his face that whatever it was, it was making him angry. Because he's Matt. And Matt was very angry.
Everything around him seemed familiar. He'd been here on multiple occasions - it was his firm proof for his thiesm - there is a god
...and he teleports you here whenever you break da rulez"
His eyes widened as a figure came up behind him.
"Rule 1.4 Using bad language on forums is not allowed without any exceptions."
Gasping for air, Matt clinged onto his ... starflier. In desperation, he looked frantically into the cockpit, trying to find the 40000 units of platinum ore his mother had given him on her death bed.
He tried to protest, but he couldn't speak
He couldn't breathe.
"You may freely take that dagger out of the back of your head once your sentence is up. "
He collapsed onto the ground, the look in his eyes 30% resentment, 43% repent and 27% synthetic marijuana as the un-named adim rode off into the sunset in his adim starflier.
Don't.
No atmosphere? GTFO.
The propeller is the greatest invention of all time.
