Gathered among the throng shoved together in the Kaiba World™ Grand Amphitheater was the diminutive tortoise inside the robotic shell that was known as Scrimshaw. Currently Scrimshaw was hovering over a group of seats that were situated in the 'nosebleed sections'. Inside the plexiglass orb that revealed the fleshy, well in this case scaly, head that proved not only was this machine not a full machine, but also would show to some observer that Scrimshaw was watching the broadcast intently.
This megalomaniac beyond megalomaniacs had set the wheels in motion for the fated meeting; well Scrimshaw at least hoped that The Creator would be found here. Noting the various parks that were available for playing at the Tortoise racked its enhanced mind to recall which of the park hotels it signed up for. Shortly after this thought Scrimshaw pondered on what to spend the gift card on. While thinking of what possible use it would have the tortoise absentmindedly hovered backwards and pushed back on a poor and unfortunate soul who was sitting directly behind him.
"Eeey shell for brains..." snarled out the patron from behind, a somewhat bulky juvenile rocking a greased up mullet and sporting an open leather jacket revealing a tanned torso. The youth kicked up his feet and placed them right up against Scrimshaw's titanium carapace. "Joo think you can back up into the Puerto Rican Warrior an get away wit it? Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Wrong muchacho." And with that the juvenile furiously shoved his feet on the shell, and with the help of gravity, causing Scrimshaw to spiral down the coliseum's seating.
This megalomaniac beyond megalomaniacs had set the wheels in motion for the fated meeting; well Scrimshaw at least hoped that The Creator would be found here. Noting the various parks that were available for playing at the Tortoise racked its enhanced mind to recall which of the park hotels it signed up for. Shortly after this thought Scrimshaw pondered on what to spend the gift card on. While thinking of what possible use it would have the tortoise absentmindedly hovered backwards and pushed back on a poor and unfortunate soul who was sitting directly behind him.
"Eeey shell for brains..." snarled out the patron from behind, a somewhat bulky juvenile rocking a greased up mullet and sporting an open leather jacket revealing a tanned torso. The youth kicked up his feet and placed them right up against Scrimshaw's titanium carapace. "Joo think you can back up into the Puerto Rican Warrior an get away wit it? Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah. Wrong muchacho." And with that the juvenile furiously shoved his feet on the shell, and with the help of gravity, causing Scrimshaw to spiral down the coliseum's seating.