Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ.

❝Tʜ' ᴄʏʙᴏʀɢ ɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇ ᴏ' ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴ' ᴛʜɪs ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴ'.❞ ~ A ᴄᴇʀᴛᴀɪɴ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ɪs ɴᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴀʀs. ~ {Mɪʀʀᴏʀ Vᴇʀsᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛᴛʏ: @/WᴏɴᴛBᴇᴀᴍYᴏᴜUᴘ}

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

"𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐬 — 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞. . . "

| Mirror counterpart of @WontBeamYouUp |
| Cyborg |
| Morals may be corrupt but the programming is not |

". . . 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐞."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror "Mm-mm, nothin' in life is free. Ah don't give oot information fer nothin'."

Scotty folded his arms behind his back, almost childlike, as he beamed at the much taller man.

"Guess ye will ha' tae hang around tae find oot."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

!!!

Gives a little cyborg finger wiggle.

"Hallo, darlin'."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

"Then go cook, ye have two hands."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

"Same thing. Jus' play nice. Ahm too busy tae be pullin' twinks off each o'er fer havin' a cat fight."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

"Mhmm. Play nice."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

"Khan, baby, don't threaten mah Captain an' ruin our blossomin' friendship. Ah'd hate tae kill ye now."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror - some information tha' ye shall likely find beneficial tae be aware o'."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror "Ah already know tha' - in fact, Mister Singh, ah already know a fair amount aboot yerself. All yer shenanigans in th' parallel dimension."

With his hands now more free from his shirt, Scotty flexed his arms out of habit to test his own motor skills.

"Ah migh' even ha' -

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror - or two inside."

The cyborg shrugged as he pulled his sleeve back over the prosthetic.

"An' what o' yer work, Singh? Sharin' is carin' - an' so far ye ha' neglected mah world. Fer shame."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror Scotty tilted his head, deadpan.

"Wha' do ye think? Resistant tae heat an' cold, shock, phaser fire, water, chips, wi' 360 turn, more crushing pressure per square inch than a crocodile, can adjust it's own surface temperature, produce shock, an' there may be a tool -

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror - polished. Flesh coloured.

But the prosthetic deliberately embraced mechanic aesthetics. And the fit indicated that the machine went IN to Scotty's body, meaning that removal was likely a bastard.

"Ye can come closer."

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

@thekhanqueror - other arm, except made of resilient and versatile metals. There were fine lines that indicated panels lay beneath the surface, and plenty of miniscule screws and fixtures. This was clearly a multi-tool.

In appearance, the arm could easily have been smoother, and neater. More -

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

Hehe.

Chaos.

👀

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

// Kirk: fuck around

Scotty: find out

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

- "Don't touch anythin'."

Scotty instructed, referring to. . . Probably everything, in the corridors.

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

"Mm-mm, no. Ah don't fuck wi' yer vessel. Ah don't /cheat/ on mah Silver Lady. Ye will come play a' /mah/ house."

Meaning - he refused to visit Kirk's ship: the lesser version of HIS ship. It was below him.

"Aye, th' booze is better too."

Romulan. Klingon. Vulcan. -

[𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐓. 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐊. @trekthestars]

“Reckless, but not stupid.”

Maybe a little stupid.

He grins back, following after him.

“We have a bar on our deck, too. Probably not as stocked, though.”

[Tʜᴇ Sᴄᴏᴛsᴍᴀɴ. @BeamMeUpHotty]

- either entirely turned around to take another corridor, or pushed themselves as close to the wall as possible to pass. And these ensigns were murderers. Terrorists. Pillagers. Colonisers. Bloodthirsty.

But Lieutenant Commander Scott was Daddy Cyborg. He had a reputation. -