"How old?"
Bastion stepped forward, raising his greatsword to strike, only to hear Shut Up suddenly ask that question out of nowhere. Despite his towering bulk, Bastion was quite willing to exchange a few words with the tiny robot.
"Thirty. Halfway to the grave."
"Do people in Los Angeles have such short lives?!" Taco had never expected such a huge fellow to openly declare that he would not live past sixty.
"I didn't send you over to chat! Bastion, kill him!"
Left with no choice, Bastion swung the door-sized sword in his hands, bringing it straight down on Shut Up's head.
Shut Up neither dodged nor evaded, letting the greatsword strike his head.
Sparks flew. The tremendous force knocked Shut Up's head sideways, but never mind damage-there was not even the slightest dent in his outer armor.
Shut Up's counterattack was equally decisive. He splashed a cup of dark liquid straight into Bastion's face.
Though its appearance and viscosity were very similar, it was not Himeko's Coffee, but Shut Up's motor oil.
Of course, it was not motor oil inside Shut Up waiting to be used, but oil he carried with him to make a certain mysterious little drink.
After all, no matter how one looked at it, Shut Up hardly qualified as combat equipment.
What those two little hands held most often were cleaning cloths and drinking glasses. Their shape did not even support gripping firearms or other ranged weapons.
That cup of motor oil seemed to have no effect when splashed onto his face. Bastion was practically filled with machinery from head to toe; even drinking the oil would only count as a little aperitif.
"If that's all you've got-"
Shut Up had no long legs, but his wheels were by no means slow. Before Bastion had even