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Evil the Car
"Yo momma so fat, her patronus is a cake!"
Level 7 Decepticon
Evil the Car's Bio
The weary CEO rested back in his chair, fingers massaging his temples and groaned, ignoring the bustling of panicked executives around him. The exquisite gold-lacquered boardroom table groaned under the weight of the chatlogs, complaints, gamer reviews, bug reports and hacker and aimbot accusation printouts, all of which circulated around one gamertag; Evil the Car. No one knew who he was, where he was based, what region he originated from or even what system he was playing on. He changed games daily, sometimes switching between multiple games at once, but always keeping the same gamertag and purple badge avatar. He even used a machine to disguise his voice.
He was like a ghost.
An immature asshole hacker ghost.
All anyone knew about him was his now infamous gamertag and his location was listed as 'WarPorn's Basement lol', but no one had a clue where on Earth that was. The gaming community were equal parts terrified and ecstatic; if he joined your game there was no knowing what he would do, he was pure chaos. Would he alter his opponents accounts and give them millions in lootbox credits? Would be hack the Amazon servers to send them all five tons of raw chicken? Alter his guns to fire minecraft creepers? Would main Hanzo in league? Would he turn all the games NPCs into robots, vegetables or porn stars? He could corrupt servers when he got bored seemingly with just a thought, and on one occasion even altered the framework of the game itself just to replace one players avatar with a giant phallus across networks, just because he dared to brag about landing a headshot on him. Now the entire companies IT infrastructure was in shambles after he had altered everyone's passwords because they had shut down an MMO server after he camped a spawn point for twenty-six hours. He set a new world record for player-kills at over 37,000. The game would likely never recover from that, and was likely to cost them millions.
Needless to say, the Feds wanted to get hold of this guy as much as the stockholders did, who knows what he did to piss them off?!
He closed his eyes and fought back the tears, the board was going to crucify him for this
...and what the hell was a "filthy casual", anyway?
6 weeks earlier
Metallic footsteps broke the silence as they entered the lab. Two figures were already standing over a workbench, the glow of a welding torch and few monitors was the only light in the room apart from the hue from their robotic optics.
"Why is it so dark in here?" the new arrival queried.
"You're late. Got the chip?" Came the abrupt response.
"Ugh, it’s here. I've been trying to find you with it for ten cycles."
Sparks bounced off the arms and face of Mal Practice as he prised open the chest of the recumbent form before him, illuminating the insane grin on his face. The new arrival silhouetted beside him was a near identical-looking mech, but lacking the same ravages of age and cynicism that his mentor possessed in droves. One of the few outsiders that had ever been allowed into the fabled lab of Mal Practice, Mad Science, chief medic of the Shadow Wardens, peered into the unconscious victims thorax, recording the actions of the expelled-Autobot as he waved his hands overdramatically whilst dropping the personality matrix into place. Mad Science couldn't help but be impressed and caught himself before trying to point out a mistake Mal had made in the neural transceiver array, he'd knew he’d spot it soon enough and Mal wasn't the easiest of scientists to work with at the best of times.
"You certain Fileshare got enough data? This is the third attempt to get this right now, that's why we've called you in." the older 'con demanded.
"Fileshare can never have enough data, but he's been snarking at clips from XboxLive for megacylces. Everything you need is in there. Game code, user interactions, aimbot statistics, the lot" Mad was brimming with barely contained arrogance, the great Mal Practice needing someone elses help? Unheard of!
"Good. Wheelie is an awful gamer and we were figuring one of Overwatch's layabout crew would do a better job. Lets see how he turns out this time, shall we?" he waved an arm to a nervous-looking yellow and black mech next to him. "Hazard, activate the console..." A green ring in four segments glowed on the wall, casting an emerald hue over the slumbering black robot. The chest plate snapped back into place, the patient's eyes began to glow as consciousness washed back over him, and Mal Practice stood back.
Evil the Car sat up. Without looking, he raised his rifle and shot Hazard in the head. "BOOOM!! Hahaha scrub!" He shouted laughing hysterically. He paused for a second, rolled off the table and waited for Hazard to get up before shooting him again. "RIP!" he chuckled. He felt a kick to his ribs and looked up at Mal, who handed him a datapad and pointed towards the door.
"Welcome back online. Your first assignment is to go camp somewhere else whilst I put Hazard back together.”
Evil the Car's recent battles
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| ARENA HISTORY |
| Evil the Car does not currently have any arena logs available. |
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