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Someone texted him to come get his drunk boyfriend. Were they boyfriends? He squinted at the text on his phone and growled. Why did Wily give him this stupid thing anyway? Thus, he was here, crashing the party, so to speak to pick up his drunk boyfriend. The other general, the stupid red general known as Blues who had apparently gotten drunk and himself into some sort of trouble.

Forte kicked the door down and readied his blaster in case these drunken assholes actually were hostile and looked around. "Where's Blues?"

He kind of eye rolled as Blues stumbled towards him with that dopey grin on his face that showed off his gap teeth (which Forte found cute but he would cut you before admitting it) and caught him before he could fall on his face. The metallic purr and tailwag were typical, but this kiss? Forte stared down at Blues like he was a possessed bot and just colored hard despite his darkened fur.

"God dammit, Blues...." There was no heat to it and he just looked up at the others, squinting hard. "Who got him drunk? Who am I going to have to shoot later? Who's bright idea was it to let him drink so much?" So he was hiding embarrassment by being overly rude and mean. It's what he did. Shut up.

Splash was not in a forgiving mood. The nice quiet party they had planned had gone down the drain rather quickly, and it left her uncharacteristically spiteful. "That would be Magma Dragoon you are looking for," she informed Forte, relieved he had responded to the text. Splash normally avoided bothering Forte, but this was a special case.

Magnet nearly choked as Dragoon slapped him on the back, jarring some of the strong fluid he drank into the wrong tubes. As he cleared his intake, the robot master was glad he hadn't taken another sip to clear the first as he caught the general's kissing from the corner of his eye. The hell. So their pixie leader was THAT kind of drunk, huh? Better Forte than him, Magnet guessed.


The party was going along fine. The robot masters had no idea their DJ was not who they thought and Joe had learned robots not only danced but were capable of getting intoxicated. Things were going great...until the door suddenly burst inward and some crazy bot started pointing a gun. Joe's hand slipped, causing the record to screech before stopping abruptly as his startled jump jerked the system's power cord.

But Ballade had, oh boy, had he been drinking. The first...gallon, had quickly turned into two, then three, and so on. He was on maybe his seventh drink when Forte had ******** YES. His thoughts screamed drunkenly and excitedly. "FORTE! FIGHT ME, FINALLY. AND WE'LL SEE WHO CAN WIN BLUES HEART....OR SOMETHING....OR A TRI-COUPLE, THATS GOOD TOO." That part was said aloud, and also had he been sober, he would have been questioning his choice of words or the fact he revealed his sure fire way to date.

Ah, he'd regret it some day/

Forte was about to last Magma straight in the chest, having locked on to him and his eyes gone to basically little slits. He was seriously pissed off about this. Growling low in his throat, the blaster started glowing brighter and brighter until Ballade spoke.

What? He pushed Blues at Splash with a muttered watch him before letting lose the charge blast at Ballade. No. This was not going to happen. Sharing was not an option and Ballade certainly wasn't any match for him in any form or fashion. So, if the blast hit, it would do quite a bit of damage and Forte would just walk away. If it didn't, well, Forte would use his fist.

“…Okay, don’t stand next to that moron either,” Top muttered quietly to Dance. It was pretty obvious from his tone that he was trying really hard not to laugh. He certainly hoped Ballade didn’t get himself too scrapped, but wow. If the idiot had to go in to Wily for repairs afterward, maybe he could get a processor-to-mouth filter installed.

Top hadn’t stopped dancing when the music had cut out a moment before (he’d been startled enough that his rhythm had faltered ever so slightly, which he was absolutely not going to admit to), but he did start trying to subtly direct himself and Dance over in the direction of the DJ’s booth. “Let’s just sashay our way over there,” he whispered, trying to avoid attracting undue attention from the violent portion of the room. ”And while we sort out why dude hasn’t got the music going again, we will also be conveniently close to the best cover in the room if shots start going a little wide of the mark.” Ironically, it wasn’t Forte he was particularly concerned about- if Ballade started shooting, trashed as he obviously was, then chances were nobody would be safe.

He really wished (again) that he had his goddamn wheels. Not that deflecting projectiles randomly around the room would be likely to help the situation, but at least he’d have been able to shield Dance from any stray shots.

Splash had barely enough time to catch the drunken Blues with one arm, and push Ballade, she hoped, out of the way of Forte's blast. She hooked her arm around Blues, being careful not to hit him with her trident, and back up toward the cake table. IF Ballade survived this fight, he may not survive the rant (she was way past lectures at this point) she would give him later. Great, just great. Splash thought quickly on the futility of attempting to stop Forte from destroying the room. Perhaps a better course of action would be to evacuate everyone else. She noticed Bubble and Air coming towards her. "Well, this party has clearly gone down the drain," she understated. "Perhaps we should get everyone out of the room, then see if we cannot calm General Forte down, or at least convince him to drag Ballade and Magma to the training hall," she suggested to the two Masters.

She looked around the room to see where everyone was and noticed Dance and Top moving toward the Sniper that acted as the party's DJ. Good, groups would be easier to direct then scattered individuals.