Editing Chronicles of Sir Bruce (section)

==Prelude: The Website==
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Upon reflection, I probably could have gotten changed out of my armour after the event and headed home. I’d certainly have gotten less weird looks, wolf-whistles and I probably wouldn’t have had to stop for quite so many impromptu videos. What should have been a two hour walk took almost three, but my armour bag has the kinda straps that slice my hands up, and in my experience, wearing the gear is more comfortable than carrying it.<br>
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I’ve been trooping in it for so long that I don’t even notice the extra weight or loss of peripheral vision anymore. When I finally reached the top of the hill where I live and stumbled through the front door, I’d been on my feet for a good seven hours now, and I was damn well ready to drop. I called out, the voice amplifier built into my helmet sending out my voice and giving it a nice, authentic mechanical rasp. The silence was astounding.<br>
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I dropped my armour bag onto the floor and took a sip from the water hose I’d built into my armour (because damn if I’m going to break character in front of sick kids just to get a drink) and made my way to my bedroom. It was, just as I had left it that morning, an apocalyptic scene. My old ex-army sleeping bag was still tossed lazily into a corner, with my collection of nerf guns and ex-military clothing, right next to the only spot on the carpet without layers of mess on it. That was where the armour would go. If I could be bothered ever taking it off.<br>
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Sidestepping the my old larp sword & board and my old practise katana on the way to me bed, I completely ignored both the presence that was staring me down, and the constant click of plastic on plastic that announced my every step. For recon specialists, Scout Troopers were less than stealthy. Collapsing onto the end of my bed and stabbing the power button of my computer with a gloved finger, I mused to myself that at least my gear let me sit.<br>
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Something I always made sure to remind the guys stuck in full Stormtrooper armour.<br>
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As my computer, held together by spit, a stencilled Omnissiah cog on the side of the case and stubborn determination powered up, I took off my gloves – heavy biker jobs that made typing absolutely impossible – and tucked them into one of my webbing pockets. Force of habit, even at home – if I didn’t, they always disappeared into the gaping, pan dimensional maw of my closet, and I wouldn’t see ‘em for weeks. Ah, there we go, power’s on.<br>
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“No, Bruce, I am bloody well /not/ unleashing you on the world today.” I muttered to small, feathery bundle of rage and hate that I shared the room with, finally turning to regard it from behind my visor. It glared defiantly at me with those black, beady eyes that I just knew would one day spell my downfall, and ruffled its feathers. I didn’t need any fancy telepathy to know the exact thought that was rebounding in the great chasm of its skull as it plotted my demise.<br>
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“Soon.”<br>
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Then, it went back to preening its gunmetal grey feathers, dismissing me entirely from its tiny, malevolent mind. Evil, I had learned quickly since adopting the little bundle of fluff, was patient. I gave him a suspicious glare, to make sure he really was simply cleaning his feathers and not sharpening them somehow, before turning back to the large screen that dominated my bedside table. I wiped the worst of the sweat off my hands on the cummerbund of my armour, affectionately nicknamed the ‘nappy’ before grabbing the mouse and keyboard.<br>
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It was time for 4chan. Double-clicking firefox, I booted up facebook and sup/tg/, checking if the missus was online (she wasn’t) and if any interesting threads had shown up while I’d been away. A new instalment of AC Quest had finally appeared, as had a few other quests and some more Warhammer High. Meh, maybe there was something on the new Iron Kingdoms RP that was coming out. Still wearing my helmet, I took a sip of water and headed to the main /tg/ board. Hell yes! Scans of the new character generation system for IK. I’ll download those.<br>
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Okay, seriously. What is that? Looks like some kind of spider/drow/pig armoured like one of those tanks from Ghost in the Shell. This I gotta see. Le click.<br>
What the…head…fuzzy…Bruce…damn you!<br>
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