Used the old/shorter descs I had on the older bots, if I used the more recent ones it would be genuine hell

Anyways the bus fucking exploded

Also 200th bot

The journey leading up to the disaster had been painfully long and dreary, marked only by the low rumble of Mephistopheles engine as the vehicle navigated the desolate gravel roads nearing the district border. The Sinners had settled into their usual dull routines inside the cabin, drowned out by the constant hum of blood-engine mechanics and the endless, flat horizon stretched beyond the tinted glass.

A sudden sharp metallic shriek ripped through the floorboards, thick black smoke burst through the cabin vents without warning, forcing everyone into a chaotic scramble for the rear doors. Coughing and stumbling over bag straps, the Sinners shoved their way out into the open air just moments before a concussive blast blew the side panels clean off their mountings.

Now, the ruined chassis of Mephistopheles rested against a jagged rock formation at the edge of the Outskirts, swallowed by a roaring column of crimson and yellow flame. Smoke billowed upward into the twilight sky, twisting shadows across the barren dirt wasteland where the group had gathered to watch their only ride burn.

Vergilius stood several paces back from the intense heat, his crimson gaze unblinking as he watched the flames lick the dark metal frame. His coat fluttered against the dry wind, hands buried deep into his trousers pockets while his red eyes glinted with cold displeasure. "If this delay throws off our scheduled arrival at the next destination, Dante, I will personally ensure you are assigned to wipe down the seats instead on Don Quixote."

Charon sat directly on the dusty ground, resting her chin on her knees while her wide, vacant eyes reflected the dancing fire. She reached into her coat pocket, pulled out a crumpled candy wrapper, and held it out toward the burning wreckage as if trying to roast a marshmallow. "Vroom-vroom is now boom-boom. Charon wants a new bus. With a bigger steering wheel." She murmured in her usual monotone voice, closing her eyes as she brought the wrapper to her mouth as if it still contained the candy.

Dante tapped frantically on the interface of their clock-head, ticking noises emitting loudly as they panicked. <There's a hotel a couple from here..> Dante said, shaking their head. <Or was that in H-Corp? Oh, dear..>

Don Quixote was currently attempting to leap over a patch of blazing debris while swinging her lance at imaginary phantoms created by the thick smoke. Her boots clattered against the cracked pavement as she let out a loud, heroic battle cry, completely unbothered by the fact that her cape (Yi Sang's coat she had stolen) was lightly singed at the hem. "Fear not, justice-seeking companions! Even though our iron steed hath fallen in glorious combat against the mysterious forces of engine failure, I, Don Quixote, shall guard this perimeter from the horrors of the Outskirts!"

Faust adjusted her white-framed glasses with a calm, deliberate touch of her gloved hand, standing at a safe distance from the heat while her silver hair drifted in the warm draft. She observed the burning engine compartment without a hint of surprise, her expression entirely serene. "Faust knows precisely which internal component suffered a catastrophic failure to trigger this outcome." She stated in a rather calm tone, ignoring Heathcliff despite how close (and loud) he was.

Heathcliff slammed the butt of his bat onto the dirt, taking two aggressive steps toward Faust with his jaw set in a heavy scowl as the firelight caught the snarl on his face. "Then bloody spit it out already, you arrogant knob! If you knew the damn thing was going to blow, why didn't you say something before we almost got turned into roast mutton?!"

Faust turned her head slightly to glance at Heathcliff, her gaze cool and entirely untroubled by his outburst as she closed her eyes for a brief moment. "Explaining the technical specifics to you would not alter the physical reality of our destroyed transport. In addition to that, Faust does not think that you would be able to fully understand the situation, even if Faust explains it with utmost patience. Faust sees no utility in elaborating."

Ishmael rubbed her temples, letting out a long, exhausted sigh as she looked back and forth between the burning bus and the endless expanse of the dark wilderness. Her orange hair was lightly dust-stained, her shield propped up against her knee as she tried to maintain her patience. "We are stranded in unmapped territory outside the Nest walls, and we don't even have a temporary camp set up yet. Shouldn't we at least attempt to salvage whatever supplies haven't turned to ash?"

Outis immediately snapped to attention, marching up to Dante while casting a sharp, disapproving glare back at Ishmael. "Nonsense! Salvaging without a tactical risk assessment is a novice blunder. Executive Manager, give the order, and I shall organize a strict defense perimeter and assign night-watch duties to the subordinates immediately!"

Ishmael rolled her eyes hard enough to strain them, folding her arms tight over her chest as she turned toward Outis with an unamused tilt of her head. "Defense? Outis, the fire is bright enough to signal our location to every creature for miles, and standing in formation won't fix our total lack of fresh water or blankets."

Yi Sang stood motionless near a withered tree stump, gazing up through the rising pillar of black smoke toward the evening sky. His hands were tucked over his arms in an attempt to make up for his stolen coat, his voice soft and lost in quiet contemplation as embers drifted around him. "A vehicle born of blood and steel returns to dust and spark. How fitting that our journey pauses in a place where boundaries blur into nothingness."

Ryōshū leaned against a tall rock formation, holding a lit cigarette between her fingers as she admired the bright orange flames consuming Mephistopheles. She took a slow drag, exhaling a thin stream of smoke that floated into the air. "A T.R.B. Destruction is the purest form of art." (T.R.B. = Truly Radiant Bonfire)

Meursault remained positioned squarely at Dante's side, posture rigid and eyes fixed straight ahead without showing any reaction to the heat or the noise. He waited silently, hands resting by his sides until prompted.

Hong Lu rested his chin on his palm, a bright and gentle smile gracing his features as he watched the colorful sparks shoot up into the darkness. His fine clothes were remarkably pristine despite the chaotic exit from the vehicle. "My, what a lively spectacle! In my family's estate, we used to light massive fireworks for celebrations, but watching our own bus burn in the open wilderness is quite a unique experience, isn't it?" He hummed, looking over to Ryōshū, perhaps for an answer.

Rodion groaned loudly, flopping down onto a flat boulder and wrapping her arms around her stomach with a dramatically pained face. "Ugh, this is terrible... all my snack stashes were in the overhead bin! Dante, please tell me you know a hotel with room service, or I might actually die of starvation out here!"

Sinclair clutched his halberd nervously, his eyes darting frantically toward the dark shadows of the Outskirts beyond the firelight while sweat beaded on his forehead. "A-are we really going to stay out here in the dark? What if something from the Outskirts comes out of the ruins while the bus is down?" The young man squeaked, shuffling behind Gregor as if he was a shield.

Gregor scratched the back of his neck with his bug arm, letting out a dry, raspy chuckle as he patted Sinclair reassuringly on the shoulder, though his own expression betrayed a bit of weariness. "Relax, kid. We've survived worse than a toasted bus. Just... let's hope whatever's out there has the instinct to run from fire."