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G03 - Bump: Patch Fragment

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Decided to give my original Madness Project Nexus arena characters some art and little stories for shits and giggles~.


The third character I made, focussing on an unarmed build when grappling throws were still in the game. This little guy would send grunts to the moon and with Murder Room 1's giant blender fan he was an absolute blast to play (would love to see the beta arena stages back in M:PN through a cheat code :3). Taking the original characters love for making gibs and just tossing dudes around resulted in the not-so-gentle giant Bump.


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Length: ~920 words


Generation___: 03

Identification_: Bump

Designation__: Job Seeker


“RRAAAAAGH!!”


Another filthy denizen split in half under whirling, crushing fists. The others stood quivering. Improvised weapons held defensively as if to protect themselves from the mashed remains of the first fool splattering across the floor. One found themself overwhelmed with hatred and drove a shiv into my colossal body. Fear took over the man as my hands encapsulated his head.


“Would you kindly REFRAIN FROM THAT!?”


Pushing hands together the man’s skull popped, contents sprayed over the walls like another coat of paint. The other men rushed forward roaring, hoping that it would be enough. It was not. One by one I dismantled them until I had renovated the room with a pleasant bright red shine. Appreciating the finesse of my work I pulled the shiv leaving a flap of skin hanging from my side. Another flesh wound. That of which matched the rest of my stitched together body.

 


“The gall I say. The absolute gall of it all.”


Lumbering out of the building and back onto the street I noticed something I had not seen before. A man, strapped to the brim with rectangular boxes. Such an oddity indeed, but the man brimmed with purpose, with pride.


“Priiide…” The word escaped me. I was meant to have that same pride from purpose, but it was long lost. I was so faithful. Such a good house body. I ensured the floors were always mopped, dishes always stacked, clothes clean. Then the state of things took it from me. Maybe it was that economy the master’s mentioned. That vile economy. It took my purpose. It must have.


“Damn you economy. I’ll kill you!”

 


Simmering my rage, I recollected myself. Such an unsightly moment. Most uncivilised. Clearing my throat, I decided my next journey would be in the direction that the man strapped with boxes came from. Maybe I’d find purpose like him that way. Pacing down the ruined streets another group of men leapt from the buildings, desperation etched in their faces. Chuckling, I met them.


“My apologies, I’m not on the menu.” One of the men looked to the others before stepping back.


“Oh, bugger this. The big fella ain’t worth it. We’ll just wait for the delivery boy and eat his bones when he comes back.” Another one of the men piped up.


“Do you really think he was carrying pizza? It sure smelled like pizza. Been years since I had a pizza.” The first man turned to caution the second.


“Aye that be real pizza, but don’t get any grand ideas. Those delivery lads are easy meat but if you threaten their load they become murder machines. Don’t ever try to grab the packag-“ While distracted, I curled my fingers around the top of his head.


“Excuse me kind sir, could you tell me where that most resolute postage man came from?” Beginning to squeeze the man panicked.


“Alright big man! Just follow the road! They keep coming from that way.” Letting my hand loose I raised it to give the most helpful man a pat on the head.


“Why, thank you.”

 


I soon found what I was hoping for, and my heart sunk. A dainty delipidated little store. A pizza shop, so ruined it was surely out of business. Hands shaking, I struggled to contain myself. The economy had struck again, why was it so merciless? Picking up my pace I lumbered toward the shop. Maybe there was something inside, something that could still be saved. Crashing through the wall, debris cascading around me, I stumbled through looking for something, anything, before the floor gave way.


Those pesky little men. Those dreary little liars. This must be a trap. This was all for my meat. How dare they. Throwing my weight around I found a shelf full of stock. Ripping it down saw the contents scatter across the floor. Clattering objects sent more items flying through the maelstrom of my madness. It was then that a voice shrieked out from behind me.


 

“What are you-a doing to my shop?!” Lost in my mind I only found one word.


“ANGRYYY!” I started whirling at where I thought the voice came from until noticing a man with raised hands quivering.


“What do you-a want? Food? You-a hungry little guy?” At that moment I felt my stomach pang at the mention of food. I stopped for a moment to see the man gesturing at a box but beside it was something far sweeter.


I poured the vat down my gullet. Sweet, sensational Soylent green, reviving my weary heart.


“You like-a the clone juice huh?” Dropping the vat and wiping my mouth, I turned to the man whose shop I had just dismantled.


 

“How uncouth of me, allow me to explain. I had only just made acquaintance with the most boorish hooligans. I thought that this building might have been associated with such men.” The man began to collect himself.


“Well best to assume whoever you-a don’t know is a cannibal I-a suppose.” An awkward silence sat between us before the man spoke again. “Say, if your done going Bump in-a the night, you-a wouldn’t be opposed to cleaning this up, would you?” My body shot around to respond.


“Are you asking that I might… labour for you?” The man shrunk for moment.


“Ye… yes? Is this where you-a eat me?” I blinked, then allowed a well of bellowing laughter to erupt from me.


“If I could impose only one question before business, where are the sanitary tools located?”


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Uploaded
Sep 22, 2024
5:55 AM EDT
Category
Illustration

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