An online comic about Ace. A young geek that's too nice for his own good. All he wants is a regular life and a regular girlfriend. But he knows that isn't going to happen. – CGI – Adult situations. Artistic nudity. Not suitable for children or Fundies.
K'Sel: Your reputation does not greatly overestimate you, Code Breaker.
Ace: Nice backhanded compliment. Now don't tell me. Gold with white must be a pretty high rank. You don't have a fleet or you wouldn't have been stuck on this rock for the last century or so. I'll call you General. General Nuisance.
K'Sel: SSSS. It is not wise to aggravate me. I may forget that we have a purpose for you, and the little princess. Serve us, and you will live. We may even allow you to brood your own nest in time.
Ace: I don't think so. If my UFO mad friends are accurate about anything, I'd say that you've been meddling in human affairs, prompting wars and trying to take over since at least the 1930s. I suppose the Tunguska Meteor may have been the shockwave of a ship, your ship, barely avoiding a crash landing. And now it can barely rise out of the ocean, much less reach space. You're cut off from your own kind and your own gene pool is probably already resulting in nonviable eggs, defectives, and throwbacks. You want me to unlock this ship for your use. But, I do that and I'll never see home again. And you'll become a considerably less laughable threat to humanity, Terrans and Orions alike.
K'Sel: I will pin you to a wall and make you watch as we feed on the living, screaming, bodies of the crew!
Ace: I like these people, but I don't have much of an emotional attachment to them yet, other than the fact that they're innocents that you'll kill anyway. But if it means protecting the people I love, and saving these people from a horrific death, I'm fine with letting the ship, your module, and everyone on board getting blown to atoms in about 30 minutes, or rather 95 micro-cycles from when you interrupted me.
K'Sel: That is a bluff. You never touched the console!
Ace: The consoles are fake. Oh, they work for basic functions, but the actual controls work by eye tracking, and you and the Orions, have the wrong eyes. Another “fuck-you” courtesy of your beloved masters, I suppose. I'm also sure that the countdown that I kicked off isn't for pizza delivery. Now, would you like to make a wager that killing power to the console stopped the countdown? A hint, General; that's what we humans call a sucker bet.