[G1 RPG] Terminus: The Tempest (Protihex)

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Chip1123
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Constructicon Hospital

Post by Chip1123 » Fri Apr 13, 2012 8:56 pm

Topspin walked over to Mixmaster. "No offense, but I believe the big guy" he said, indicating Fortress Maximus, "will believe that coming from me before he will you."

Highbrow spoke up from nearby. "And he has little reason to expect us to be fighting amongst ourselves when we have a much more pressing target to contend with."

Topspin walked outside and looked up. "Hey Max, Topspin here. If you have wounded, the 'Cons have setup a field hospital here for 'Bots and 'Cons alike. Just got done fixing me up. About to go back out. Been out of the fight for a while. How's it looking out there?"
No Reserves, No Retreats, and No Regrets!!!

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Shine
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Post by Shine » Sat Apr 14, 2012 1:15 pm

Hate Plague Danger Zone

Wildrider's fist connected with Sinnertwin's jaw, a surprising amount of force propelling the strike. He might have felt it if it weren't for the Hate Plague. The ominous luminosity surrounding his body behaved like a numbing agent, blotting out the majority of the pain.

All he felt was rage. And an incredible compulsion to give life to violence on every level possible.

Rippersnapper was way ahead of him in that regard. He lunged at the broken Wildrider, fangs exposed and claws stretched out, ready to slice apart what remained of the Stunticon. Which wasn't much at all, when one viewed him, but that just made him easier to butcher.

As if acquiring a similar notion Sinnertwin advanced upon the two, intending to shred both Wildrider and Rippersnapper into ragged pieces of scrap.

* * *

Getting near Breakdown was a problem. A big problem. Not because a Morphobot's slithering barbed tentacles could snatch away their existences at any given moment. Not because an Autobot could score a lucky shot in their moment of vulnerability and blast them into oblivion. But because this damned Stunticon could not impose self-restraint and cease generating that destructive rumbling.

The Terrorcons' durability was one of their greatest assets, perhaps second only to their strength. However, it was granted no exception against Breakdown's special ability. If put to the test, there was a reasonable chance of collecting an acute injury or two, and Hun-Grrr could not allow that.

He thrust his arm out to the side, indicating a pause in their travels. “You two, stay here. I'll go get Breakdown. Make sure you provide me with cover fire. Understood?”

Like most of the orders he had issued over the vorns, Hun-Grrr had hardly bothered to look at his unit while doing so. He couldn't recall when he had picked up this indelicate habit but he had no intention of changing it anytime soon.

Blot and Cutthroat grunted, both understanding what was expected of them. The former was happy to follow Hun-Grrr's commands to the letter in spite of what it contained, while the latter stowed away his disappointment, frustrated that his leader had the better task. Though he did have the sense to keep his comments to himself, lest Hun-Grrr elected to wield Cutthroat as a disposable shield to reach Breakdown.

With the strategy—admittedly, a lazy one—set, all that was left to do was to carry it out. Hun-Grrr jogged over to Breakdown, calling out to him.

Breakdown! He stopped, halfway to his position, suddenly alert to the Stunticon's rumbling capability. The plan had to be modified. “Come to me. We have you covered. You won't get hurt.”

Pretending to be nice was not his forte, and coating his words with reassurance made him feel like a pathetic weakling. A scowl almost succeeded in dominating his expression but he defeated it, just barely. Surviving this madness was his top priority, so he was bound to step out of his comfort zone eventually.

“Believe us, Breakdown. You're safe now. Just come to me—but keep that rumbling down.”

Anything to ensure his continued functioning...

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Warcry
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Post by Warcry » Sat Apr 14, 2012 7:41 pm

Constructicon Hospital

Bluestreak disembarked off of Fortress Maximus, then looked around the carnage that surrounded the hospital and winced.

"Never knew Vortex," he told Brawl, "other than as an enemy. But you have my sympathies for him, and Onslaught as well. I have a feeling he'll be missed most of all."

His thoughts turned briefly to his friend Fusion, and how his death had driven a wedge between Bluestreak and their remaining comrade Stepper. He wanted to express hope that Brawl and Blast-Off wouldn't drift apart that way, but couldn't find the words. Feeling awkward all of a sudden at the prospect of commiserating with a Decepticon, he started to help Grimstone and Thunderhead with the wounded instead.
_______________________________________

Shuttle Gunner responded to Tinker, "I am Shuttle Gunner of the Battle Gaia squadron. Or at least, I was. Considering the damage to my commander and the status on the field before we retreated, I have to accept the fact that I may be the unit's last member."

He said it matter-of-factly, as if his mind wasn't quite capable of processing the sort of loss that he'd just endured in any other way. In spite of that, though, his voice sounded much more hollow and cold than usual.

But he was still the same mech at heart, as lacking in creativity as ever. Confused, he addressed Darkjet and said, "Your names seem fine to me. Is there something wrong with them?"
_______________________________________

Scrapper chuckled quietly as Long Haul's attempt to help was foiled. But he grew more serious as he answered Moonjet's question. "I can make no promises, obviously, but if you die my patient will die too and obviously I'm going to do my very best to make sure that doesn't happen. I appreciate your help."

He gestured toward a empty bed nearest to the patent he was working on. "Lie down here, please."

(OOC: Is Moonjet still missing an arm? I suppose it'd only be right to fix that, too...)

Then he frowned, pondering what Sixshot had said. "Understood." Then he announced to the rest of the room, "We need an isolation chamber. Somewhere to lock up an infectee so we can study them without contaminating ourselves. Any ideas?"
______________________________________

Battlefield

Twin Twist set his jaw. "Knocked out? Did he get collected by medics, or did you just leave him?"

Sandstorm dropped down, grabbing the drill tank with a tether and following after Springer as the other Triplechanger headed out.
_______________________________________

Hate Plague Danger zone

"I resent that!" Fireflight barked to Blast-Off...then broke sharply, almost crashing into Gunbarrrel. "Oh, close one."

"Excellent flying, sir," Gunbarrrel said sarcastically.

"I'm dodging Nucleon blasts, rookie," Fireflight told him. "Maybe you should do the same?"

"Oh. Right. Will do, sir."
_______________________________________

"Fair fight?" Skydive laughed at the other Skydive. "It's not our fault you're trying to shoot down fighter jets with infantry weapons," he said as he dodged a fusion cannon blast. "I'd say you should pick on a squadron of tanks next time..."

"...but there won't be a next time!" Air Raid finished for him, swooping in and firing his torque rifle, trying to twist the weapons out of the Imperial's hands.

Acid Storm, meanwhile, dodged a nucleon bolt before firing a blast from his hyperion cannons at the Imperial. Thunderflare, being the idiot that he was, actually got hit...but he just kept right on flying even with a smoking hole in his wing.

"Show-off F-15s," Skydive muttered jokingly.

"Hey, it's not his fault he turns into a properly-designed jet!" Air Raid laughed.

Then, almost as if to add insult to injury, Ramjet streaked into the battle intent on crashing into the Imperial and knocking him out of the sky.

(OOC: Being who he is, I'm assuming he just got bored of not being able to kill Sharp Edge and wandered off. ;) )
_______________________________________

Snarl hacked into the nearest Morphobot, then the next, Jackpot's taunts falling on deaf audio sensors as long as he was distracted with another, more immediate outlet for his fury. In fact, he was so distracted that he didn't notice the dozen or so more creatures closing in on him, chased in his direction by the uninfected Autobots' sonic blasts.
_______________________________________

Rage, on the other hand, was perfectly aware of what Jackpot was trying to do. After all, he'd done it before, many times, to enemies who were too stupid to realize they were being played. Normally he would have answered with a quick burst from his fusion rifle, but with the battlefield so cluttered with enemies he knew he'd never make the shot.

A part of him was inclined to ignore the taunt, given the target-rich environment he was in...but the part of him that he'd trained to think rationally through the fog of hatred recognized that Jackpot's path would take him into uninfected parts of the city, and that he could spread the corruption even farther if he wasn't dealt with.

So Rage allowed the anger that he felt at the Autobot's insults to take hold, transforming to vehicle mode and roaring off after him.

"You have a problem with my body type? Come back here and say that to my face!"

The Autobot wouldn't, of course, but it would hardly matter...Rage was among the fastest ground-based Transformers, and with Blurr lying on the ground in a hacked-up pile no living Autobot could hope to outpace him.
_______________________________________

Though he was infected with the Hate Plague, Target Hawk was actually feeling something a whole lot closer to giddiness. The deaths of Great Cannon and Leyland (the latter at his own hands!) along with Sandstorm's crippling, had left him alone on the battlefield, free from their overbearing, loathsome ideas of friendship and companionship. He was alone, blissfully, contentedly alone for the first time he could remember in months. Nothing, not even the plague's roiling miasma of hatred, could penetrate that fog of bliss...because the only thing he truly hated, he'd just got to watch die.

(OOC: I, uh, guess that counts as a happy ending. Right? Unless the Terrorcons want to burst his bubble. :glance:)
_______________________________________

Imperial Landing Zone

Sideswipe ducked under one of the chunks of debris that Windcharger was controlling, grumbling, "I think Magneto has better control than you, Windy!"

He didn't have time to stop and think about that, though. With quick, controlled slashes, he took off the arms of several encroaching Demons. His instincts were to go for big, dramatic decapitation strikes or impalements, but his training with Drift had rubbed off, even to the point of erasing many of the bad habits he'd picked up from Sunstreaker over the years. Effect was much more important than appearance, he realized. What you accomplished was important. How you looked while you were doing it was not.

Dodging to the side to avoid a lunging mouthful of razor-sharp teeth, he dispatched the Demon with a flare to the eye without even looking.

Although...sometimes you can be good at both.
_______________________________________

As Optimus Prime approached, the Demons began to slaver, charging hungrily toward the Autobot leader intent on tearing him apart to reach the light and warmth of the Matrix that rested within his torso.

"FEED!" they boomed in unison, and dozens of them swarmed toward Prime paying no heed to Pyro or anyone else nearby.

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Blackjack
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Post by Blackjack » Sun Apr 15, 2012 9:04 am

Constructicon Hospital

“No offense taken.” Mixmaster told Topspin. The Constructicon very nearly spat out a sarcastic offensive slang for ‘Autobot’, but he wisely bit his tongue before it came out. Mixmaster turned to Scrapper, then shrugged, “A CR chamber, maybe maybe maybe? Why do you ask, boss?”

“We’ve probably got an airtight isolation whatchamacalit in the shuttle if it hasn’t been destroyed in all the, well, explosions.” Long Haul said. “You want me to go check?”
_______________________________________

(OOC: Mixmaster or Long Haul, I forgot which one, had attached a random Imperial arm to Moonjet before.)

Moonjet shrugged as he got up and laid down on the bed that Scrapper had indicated. “It’s the least I could do for you guys, well, not killing us and everything.” He closed his optics, hoping that it would not, well, hurt. Decepticon medics are sadists most of the time.
_______________________________________

“Hmm.” Brawl muttered at Bluestreak, his relatively expressionless face remaining expressionless. He wasn’t very good with emotions either… he only knew ‘happy’ and ‘angry’, usually. Sadness wasn’t something he had really felt. “Really didn’t know Vortex that well either. Or Swindle. Or Onslaught. But I’ll… well, I’ll miss them, I guess.”

Not very good with working with the wounded, he left Grimstone and Thunderhead to deal with it. Brawl walked up to a relatively-unharmed Breacher. “How many of us are in fighting condition, Breacher?”

Breacher shook his head. “You, me, Grimstone, Thunderhead, Brimstone, that creepy Undertow guy… we're probably all that's left able to fight. Skyburst and Darkstream took off to help Blast Off… about everyone else are wounded to some extent, or, well…” Breacher trailed off, scowling.

Brawl nodded. “Rest, soldier. Road Hugger’s coming.”

Breacher’s expression brightened up slightly at this, as he walked off to help Thunderhead and the others with moving the wounded.
_______________________________________

"Fortress Maximus, Constructicon hospital, this is Road Hugger and Hoist, we carry supplies from the Steelhaven." The de facto Combaticon leader broadcasted to those below. He was landing the shuttle anyway, but it was polite to ask.

Road Hugger was more than pleased to see that Hyperdrive and Detour were already rushing towards their aid, less pleased (but not surprised) that Hyperdrive had sustained some damage in his absence.
_______________________________________

Battlefield

“I was still under the rubble when it happened but I saw Highbrow getting him to safety.” Springer told Twin Twist. “Hold on a moment, let’s check it-”

“You too? Am I the only Autobot Triple Changer around here who doesn’t spend half a battle under rubble?” Broadside goaded.

“Hush, you.” Springer replied, with a smirk. What would be a smirk, anyway, if he were in his robot form. “Topspin, this is Springer. Are you operational? If you are, we’re going to rack up the kill count. Meet us at these coordinates.”

The Wrecker group would near the Imperial Landing Zone, and Tidal Wave and the Omega Sentinel would come into view. So would the Demons and Autobots below. Broadside, being much faster than Springer or Sandstorm, came into firing range first, and his onboard cannons started to open fire at the much-larger Tidal Wave.

"WRECK AND RULE!" Broadside announced with his booming voice to the Autobots below.

Springer joined in, firing with his lasers, repeating the Wrecker war-cry. He spotted Arcee, still fighting and holding her own against an Imperial. Near Arcee was.... well, that Inferno-looking guy that was part of the pretender Neo-Wrecker group. Springer supposed that since the Inferno lookalike was helping Arcee out, he wasn't so bad after all...
_______________________________________

Skies

“Battle Gaia? The Bruticus lookalike?” Tinker asked Shuttle Gunner. “You guys were pretty impressive on the field. I am sorry for your loss. Don’t worry about your commander – the Constructicons are the best medics hereabouts. They’re quite… creative, for lack of a better word, but they get their job done. Always.”

“Mmm, let’s just say people expect names to be… more… creative than ‘insert adjective’-jet, especially when they are doled out in a row. You know, people generally pick names like Skyquake, or Stalker, or Fearswoop, or….” Darkjet trailed off. “Or Falcon. You know, that’s the guy you want. Falcon, he’s the guy who shot down your gestalts…”

“That the one, being ganged up by half of the airborne Transformers in Cybertron? Say, he looks quite like you.” Tinker said.

“No, that’s Skydive, my progenitor…” Darkjet trailed off.
_______________________________________

Blast Off chuckled as he dodged one of the Nucleon blasts. “Come on, Fireflight… you can’t deny that the old times were fun. Remember the giant gryphon? And the Aerialbots had to form Superion and you were lollygagging halfway across the globe?”
______________________________________

Skydive snarled at the other Skydive, aiming his fusion cannon and his nucleon shock cannon at the Aerialbot, muder in his green optics, wanting, more than anything in the world, to kill his namesake...

Skydive pressed the triggers to his weapons, just as Air Raid’s torque blast slammed onto his nucleon shock cannon, twisting the barrel around, and causing the nucleon blast to slam onto Skydive’s own face. “GAH!” Skydive shrieked, the explosion shearing off his face, as well as blowing off his helmet and his left optic-ball.

Acid Storm’s Hyperion blasts slammed onto Skydive’s feet, just as Sky High’s paralytic beams locked up his right hand, locking it up in that position. “GOAAAAAAL!” Sky High yelled, lost in his own little world.

Skydive snarled and fired his fusion cannon, the blast hitting Sky High square in his chest, blowing a fist-size hole through the Pretender's chest. "I'll kill-" Skydive spat out, energon coming out of his mouth. "I'll kill you all!" Skydive aimed for the already-wounded Darkstream and the slow-moving Blast Off, and fired.

Ramjet crashed onto the Predator, the Conehead’s reinforced nosecone crushing through the metal that made up Skydive’s frame, sending his mangled form tumbling down and the fusion blast intended for the Combaticons flying wide away from the allied forces... Skydive aimed his fusion cannon at Ramjet, about to fire, wanting to send the Conehead to the Pit.

He couldn't miss at this point blank range. Time to kill another throwback-

“DARK MISSILE LAUNCHER!”

The missile slammed onto Skydive’s Fusion Cannon, blowing it (and most of Skydive’s left arm) apart, the explosion washing over Skydive’s already mangled face. How could this happen? He was Skydive, the greatest inventor, Liege Imperio of the Cyebrtronian Empire, third in command of the great Predator forces...

And here he was, defeated by a bunch of fresh, wet Aerialbots, a group of outdated Seekers, and an assortment of other Decepticons and Combaticons... how? How could this happen?

Moreover, he recognized the weapon, it was one of his own design, given to that spineless spawn of his-

Skydive garbled out something as he tumbled down, a mangled, ruined mess.

Fire. Just one more shot. Just one more shot...

Kill Skydive, kill Acid Storm, kill the Aerialbots, kill that bastard Darkjet… Skydive’s fingers twitched…

No.

This was not how he should die, this was not how he should die! Killed by a bunch of throwbacks, a bunch of Xaldamned baby Aerialbots fresh off the oven, by a bunch of Seekers and someone with an alternate mode from a museum and a bookworm and someone with ADHD and a group of ragtag idiots and-

He was knocked out of the sky by an idiot that rams others for a living, for Xal's sake.

He was shot by one of his own spawn, who had less personality than a Sun-Eater Cannon.

He had everything! He had minions, he had the superior intelligence, he had the best weaponry, he had the strength of numbers... how could he lose?

How could he lose?

All his great weapons of mas destruction. Scraplet Missiles and Implosion Cannons and Negatron Force Fields and Nucleon Shock Gauntlets and Ion Machinegun Repeaters and Polarity Gauntlets and Unicron's Breath and Cyber Venom Dart Minigun and Macross Missile Rack Launcher and Mini Homing Lipoles and Freeze Rays and Boson Darts and Galvatronic Haunches and Dimensional Prison Creators and -

How could he lose?

Any one of his weapons could kill two, three of the throwbacks. He knew they could.

The most those idiots could muster is a single power from a power chip. He had dozens of weapons! Dozens! How could he be defeated by a couple of greenhorns and throwbacks?

HOW?

This was not the death he wanted, this was not the death he wanted!

Skydive's subspace pocket ripped open, and out of the area around his remaining hand, poured out dozens upon dozens of impractical-looking absurd weapons of mass destruction.

Oh, how Skydive wanted to fire them on his attackers...

Just one more time...

Skydive twitched.

And he shot his own face again with the torqued Nucleon Shock Cannon, this time blowing off his own head for good.
_______________________________________

“What an idiot!” Skyburst roared in laughter as he transformed next to Blast Off, Darkstream and Fireflight. “Eh? Eh? He blew his head off!”

Blast Off, wounded and would have certainly been killed had it not been for Ramjet's intervention, transformed and gave the Conehead a quick salute. "Thanks, mate." The Combaticon said breathlessly.

“That was… theraupetic.” Darkjet told Tinker and Shuttle Gunner some distance away, his dark missile launcher smoking. “It’s him… and everyone in his generation… that forced us into mindless soldiers.”
_______________________________________

Hovering nearby, Sky High looked down at the massive hole in his chest. His Pretender shell, flying nearby, fell like a broken puppet down into the ground below, without a radio signal to control it. Sky High looked at the hole in his chest, uncomprehending. His grip on his sonic schyte and his paralytic gun went loose, and the two weapons tumbled down after his shell.

He was...

Sky High looked at his hands.

He was...

He looked at the hole in his chest, as if it was the first time he saw them.

He was Sky High. An Autobot Pretender, a member of the Pretender Strike Force. His teammates were Landmine, Waverider, Splashdown, Cloudburst and Groundbreaker.

He was Sky High. A Transformer. A Cybertronian.

Clunk, clunk, clunk as his Pretender shell and weapons hit the ground so far below.

Those sounds sounded real.

No more dragons, no more spies, no more demons, no more bug-eyed aliens.

Sky High smiled, slightly, energon trickling out of the corner of his mouth. Was this... reality? Or is it another of his fantasies... or is it the other way round? No, Sky High decided. This is it. This is the real, real world that has been eluding him for so long.

Besides, it was too painful for one of his fantasies.

It was pain. Pain. Real pain, the real world.

Who was he?

He was Sky High, Autobot warrior, Autobot hero.

He had been living in a fantasy world for so long because he could never learn to face that he was a loser, someone who always screwed up, someone who always gets screamed at.

But in the end, it seemed like he did good.

Was the Decepticon tumbling down without a head his work? Sky High supposed it was.

Sky High's jet boots fizzled out lost power, and the Pretender tumbled backwards, watching as his life flashed through his optics. Sky High smiled as the ground rose up to greet him.

He was a giant transforming alien robot... how... realistic was that? It was almost like a fantasy.... a dream...

All of life is probably just another fantasy, another dream...

No, he wasn't dying. He was just moving on to the next fantasy.

Sky High smiled at this.

Then he hit the ground, and all was blissfully dark.
_______________________________________

“No, you come here, kitbash boy!” Jackpot snarled at Rage, as he swerved around, heading away from a swarm of Scraplets.

The Autobot’s mind was full of red, red, red rage. He saw Snarl, he saw Magnus, he saw the Terrorcons in the distance, he saw groups of Combaticons and Stormtroopers and Decepticons and whatever infected remained fighting nearby.

Picking Magnus, who Jackpot was suddenly, inexplicably, full of hate for–how dare he strut around with an armour hiding his copycat form of Optimus Prime?—Jackpot opened fire at the Autobot leader, hoping to goad Magnus and Rage into fighting each other.
_______________________________________

“Yes. Tell me where you want me, Scrapper.” Sixshot told the Constructicon.

He scanned the battlefield, ignoring Magnus below him. Where were Cyclonus, Gigatron, Spinister, Starscream and the rest?

He watched as Jackpot played a game of chicken with Rage, as Snarl battled against the Morphobots. With a sigh, Sixshot transformed into his cannon mode, and opened fire at the Morphobots with his weapons, which are, lest they forget, a sonic-based weapon. Sixshot adjusted the setting for his weapons so that they would send a massive wall of sound towards the Morphobots, without harming Snarl... well, no more than a massive earsplitting headache, anyway.
_______________________________________

Wildrider’s arm actually came off his wrist, the connections having been sheared off by a mixture of Sinnertwin’s flames and a group of Scraplets – how did they get there unnoticed? – but Wildrider was past caring.

Wildrider swung with his other arm, roaring incoherently… but the blow never his Sinnertwin. Rippersnapper’s claws tore into his form, the Terrorcon’s jaws biting down on his chest, the impact crushing the Stunticon’s spark core. Wildrider made one last, surprised yelp… then his optics went dark and his limbs went limp.
_______________________________________

Breakdown replied to Hun-Grrr with a scream. Who was that? What was that? One of them? One of the people looking at him looking at him looking at him oh god oh god they are here to kill him butcher him take him apart look at his innards poke around his head oh god oh god looking at him looking at him

Breakdown screamed, pulling out his sidearm and opening fire, blowing up the head of one particularly boggle-eyed corpse.

“STOP LOOKING AT MEEEEEEEE!” Breakdown screeched. “YOU’RE ALL OUT TO GET MEE! STOP LOOKING AT ME- STOP LOOKING AT ME!”

Partially caused by the forced decombination from Menasor, partially caused by Breakdown’s already ruined psyche, the Stunticon seemed to ignore Hun-Grrr, blasting apart heads of the corpses surrounding him.

Then, at last, the madness seemed to lift for a brief moment as Breakdown turned around and saw Hun-Grrr… and the Stunticon lowered his weapons. For a moment, he seemed sane, almost docile. “You’re… you’re…” Breakdown shrieked. “YOU’RE LOOKING AT ME!”

Breakdown screamed, and raised his weapon again. "STOP LOOKING AT ME!"
_______________________________________

Imperial Landing Zone

“Magneto’s got a funky helmet and a cape, I don’t!” Windcharger retorted to Sideswipe, shooting one of the girders to pierce one of the Demons onto the ground by the shoulder, pinning him so Sideswipe or Drift or whatever could take down the Demon easily. He threw another chunk of metal to stun another Demon that was about to attack Sideswipe’s blind side.

“Hey! When did you get so good with a blade, ‘Swipe?” Windcharger asked, as he launched another girder to knock aside a Demon pursuing Searchlight. Searchlight rushed and hid behind Windcharger.

“Next time, I’m riding in the same pod as you guys.” Searchlight muttered. The Throttlebot transformed into vehicle mode. “Cover your optics.” Searchlight’s rack of lights activated, sending an extremely bright strobe effect onto the encroaching Demons, hoping to dizzy them enough for Windcharger and Sideswipe to knock several more before their optics adjusted.
_______________________________________

Time to end this, Drift thought. It was dragging on for far too long.

Buzzard armed another ICBM and was about to fire it at the Mirror-Manifold when Drift pulled out his greatsword.... by turning his head around and biting the hilt, then pulling the blade out. Holding it in the unorthodox method of biting it (his arms were holding the two shorter swords) Drift darted towards Buzzard in a display of speed and agility that was almost... snake-like.

Buzzard's shoulder machineguns opened fire, but Drift dodged them relatively easily. Leaping into the air, Drift slashed with the two blades in his hands, which Buzzard blocked easily by raising his thickset arms, and the blades plunged through them, momentum absorbed by the arms.

With one flick motion, however, Drift turned his head backwards and then forwards, plunging the tip of the greatsword's blade straight through Buzzard's face. Unexpecting the odd style of fighting, Buzzard could do nothing as the blade slammed through the center of his face, and through the other end, spraying green and purple energon everywhere.

The Predator’s ICBM shot straight into the sky and exploded harmlessly away from any of the Imperials.

Pulling his three blades away, Drift kicked away from the corpse, sheathed his blades. Buzzard's limp body fell. Drift sheathed the swords he was holding, and pulled out the sword in his mouth, and turned to Boss. “That’s the Three-Swords Style. Extremely impractical, but people never expect it. It takes care of that… and, oh-”

Drift looked behind him to see a golden streak hacking apart giant, shambling creatures. Electro brandished his lightsaber, the crackling energy blade slashing and tearing at Demon limbs, doing the double effect of feeding them and disarming them.

One of the Demons slapped Electro aside, where he tumbled next to Drift and Boss. The Laser Rod got back to his feet. "Hello Drift. And you, too, what's your name- Blizzard? Sorry."

"Nice day, isn't it?" Drift asked Electro, shaking his head at the younger fellow ex-Decepticon.

The Demons charged them, and Drift brandished his greatsword, holding it in a two-handed grip. The gemstone on the hilt of the blade glowed slightly. “Here we go again…”
_______________________________________

Falcon clutched the side of his head, leaning against Tidal Wave's head to steady himself.

That idiot Skydive's dead. Pity. Which left him and that spineless traitor Snare as the only ones alive of the original Predators. Things were getting shot to hell quite quickly...

Falcon looked around, seeing Hyena, then Trap, then the Twins, then Buzzard die in quick succession.

"Oh, typical. The day I become the leader of the Predators, every single Predator had to kick the bucket." Falcon muttered. "Ah well, I've still got Tidal Wave... aaah!" Falcon ducked as several of the Wreckers' fire passed over his head. The Wrecker's strafing run did little than annoy Tidal Wave, but to Falcon they were still deadly missiles.
_______________________________________

“Get away from him!” Pyro roared, pulling out his flamethrower and opening fire at the Demons. “BURN!” The large Autobot roared, not aware on how counterproductive his attacks really are.

He looked at Optimus Prime, hoping to seek some form of guidance, some form of inspiration. Optimus Prime, beacon of freedom, beacon of hope...

He would be like Optimus.

To be selfless.

To be someone who would be able to lay down his life for the good of the many.

Pyro's trailer transformed into a battlestation, and began opening fire at the Demons with missiles, unaware that the Demons are absorbing the flames from said missiles.

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Shine
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Post by Shine » Mon Apr 16, 2012 4:19 am

Hate Plague Danger Zone

Even if they were still in possession of their original selves, Rippersnapper and Sinnertwin would not have stopped at Wildrider's grisly demise. They would have simply moved on, in search of more prey to gratify their staggering demands for carnage. Provided they were Autobots or some other perceived enemy of the Decepticons.

But that was no longer the case. With the Stunticon dead, more kills still had to be made. Many more. Conveniently, both Rippersnapper and Sinnertwin had an immediate target standing before them: each other.

So Decepticon charged Decepticon, for the Hate Plague did not discriminate. No, it loathed all.

Rippersnapper slashed Sinnertwin's left head, raking away the exterior plating in large chunks—including an optic. Sinnertwin responded by clamping his jaws down on the amphibious Terrorcon's offending arm, teeth burrowing quickly into the metal and crushing it in the process.

Both emitted guttural snarls during their ferocious struggle. Both were well aware that this was going to be their last fight.

* * *

In order to save Breakdown, he had to help himself first. Screaming at the top of his vocaliser while blasting anything and everything within range was not doing him any favours. Or Hun-Grrr, for that matter.

The Terrorcon leader's patience was withering, rapidly weakening with each idiotic action Breakdown performed. The more the Stunticon carried on, the more aggressive Hun-Grrr wanted to be in rescuing him. Soon enough, Hun-Grrr was going to approach him, knock him unconscious, and take him with them. It would be an effective method, guaranteeing success.

For now, though, he maintained his composure and played by the Stunticon's rules.

“Nobody's looking at you!” As he spoke to Breakdown, he averted his optics. “Now, calm down and come with us. Unless, of course, you want to stay here and die. Is that what you really want?”

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Post by Blackjack » Mon Apr 16, 2012 4:25 am

Hate Plague Danger Zone

Not looking at him?

They were not looking at him? LIES! Hun-Grrr has FOUR EYES!

Breakdown took one unsteady step forwards, his optics wide, darting from side to side. Hun-Grrr's offer not to look at him had snapped his mind into sanity, although for how long, and how sane he was...

"You- You're the Terrorcon leader. Hun-Grrr." Breakdown said, his voice shaking, but as calm as he could muster. His optics still darted here and there, however, hands gripping his weapons. Corpses. He had been shooting corpses. "Why- the Hate Plague. Drag Strip, Dead End, everyone's dead. Everyone's dead. That fake Bruticus, Rage's little tin soldiers, everyone's dead. Why are you alive? Why is- Who is- what- the Hate Plague, the Scraplets, those giant kraken plant things oh god oh god oh god what are we doing here"

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Shine
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Post by Shine » Mon Apr 16, 2012 9:50 am

Hate Plague Danger Zone

“I don't know what's happening.”

It was the truth, Hun-Grrr could admit that. One breem he was waging war in...wherever it was (he and his team had hardly been furnished with any tactical information regarding that battle), the next he was plucked from that city and redeployed in Protihex. Although he appreciated the opportunities offered in Protihex for unmitigated destruction, he would have liked to have been informed of its present situation prior to the abrupt shift from one battlefield to another.

Hun-Grrr remained fixed in place; he did not wish to frighten Breakdown by approaching him and accidentally instigate a second psychotic episode. “But what I do know is that if you join us, your chance of survival will be greater than if you were on your own. Am I correct?”

His words were mottled with the truth, at best. Yes, Breakdown would increase his chances of survival if he stuck with the Terrorcons, but only until his value was exhausted. After Hun-Grrr had left this danger zone, the Stunticon would most likely be on his own again, his fate delegated to whoever would grant him their attention. Hun-Grrr only needed him for the troubling Scraplets and Morphobots, little else.

He snuck a glance over his shoulder-plate. Blot and Cutthroat were watching over him, eliminating any threat foolish enough to stalk too closely or openly assault them. They were doing a good job, Hun-Grrr thought. Not that he'd let them know, or remember to tell them when a more peaceful moment arose.

He looked at Breakdown again, then suddenly directed his gaze elsewhere. He shook his cranial unit, quashing his frustration. How long was he going to keep this up for?

Pushing the anger out of his tone, Hun-Grrr said, “Let's get a move on, then, yes?”

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Post by Ulcrain » Mon Apr 16, 2012 8:37 pm

(OOC: Post the stuff with Ziggys characters later. Oh, and poor Sky High:()

Imperial Landing Zone

Treds watched as Warpath just walked away, oblivious to Treds wanting to finesh their fight. He then watched, as Warpath was blown apart by Tidel Wave. A perfect fight just went with it.

"That was a fight between the two of us" he said, transfoming and walking over to the minibots remains. "But you decided that you want to fight something as big as Warworld." He said sadly to Warpaths severed head. Maybe it wasen't the best, being an Imperial.

Treds picked up the tattered remains of Warpaths Autobrand, brushing the ash off it.

Should he?

_______________________________

Arcalights wonderful meal was sudenlly interuppted when Arcee tore into his body, sending him flying back. He was about to yelp out in pain, when Serchlight fired at him, tearing through his gut.

"Hyena? Skydive? Someone? Help!" he scremed out in pain. Darting his head around, he manedeged to spot Hyenas body, or what remained of it. They got him. Not that it matters. He would make a good feast.

Arcalight fired his two missiles, one at the approuching Artfire, and the other into the distance. He lept at Arcee, ready to tear her cheastplate off, claws outstreched.

"I'M GOING TO VIOLATE YOU!"

(OOC: All Gundam fans have a bad feeling...)

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Constructicon Field Hospital

Post by Chip1123 » Tue Apr 17, 2012 3:49 pm

Topspin received Springer's transmission and smiled. "Good to know there are Wreckers still around." Topspin replied back. "Thought we had all bought it. I almost did myself - the 'cons at the field hospital just brought me back online a few moments ago." Topspin transformed and took off to Springer's coordinates. "I'll be right there. Save something for me to kill."
No Reserves, No Retreats, and No Regrets!!!

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Post by zigzagger » Wed Apr 18, 2012 12:02 pm

Hate Plague Danger Zone

...The Morphobot's tendril violently whipped Barricade and Freeway off the back of Countdown's ATV, taking the armored vehicle's x-ray cannon with them.

Freeway landed hard against the ground and tumbled into a heap.

"Hold tight!" Turbofire shouted. "We're coming!"

The Throttlebot tried to sit up, but found he was unable to move. His vision blurred, his entire body ached. He was helpless.

From the corner of his optics, the Autobot saw Barricade, not far from where he lay, be lanced by the Morphobot's spiked tentacle, killing the Decepticon. And still, he couldn't move.

"Get...up...damn it...get up..."

For a second, against his will, the world around Freeway grew dark.

Yet, he could still hear his comrades. They were screaming. His comrades were screaming and he couldn't move to save them or himself.

To his horror, he came to just in time to see that a tendril had grabbed hold of Turbofire. Overflow and Full Barrel were nowhere to be seen.

Did they climb out in time?

Freeway futily reached up. "Tur...bo...firrrre...."

The Throttlebot's vision was once again obscured behind a vale of darkness. Rest seemed so appealing at that moment, but he resisted. He had to.

Suddenly, an explosion came. Freeway could feel the resulting radiation and force of the blast, feel it push his body along the metallic ground beneath him. A dark silhouette appeared overhead, barely distinguishable. The form was not mechanoid, though -- but L-shaped. Like a gun.

"Is - is that Shockw...? C-Countdown? Sssiren? Turbofire? Where -- are you? Oh Primus, nnn-not like this...."

The last thing Freeway saw was Overflow and Full Barrel standing over him. He could hear Countdown calling out from somewhere nearby, before finally slipping into stasis lock...
________________

Constructicon Field Hospital

Fortress Maximus waited until everyone disembarked off of him before assuming his hulking mechanoid form. "I know," he answered Topspin. "Hoist and Road Hugger informed me, hence why we are here -- who should be along any moment now with additional weaponry and medical supplies. The latter I'm certain the Constructicons will find use for."

The large Autobot's face took on a somber expression. "I'm afraid that the situation has...escalated," said Fortress Maximus. "Since I know that there'd be little point in telling you to remain here, I must advise you to stay clear of the former-Steelhaven site. We've already lost Ultra Magnus and so many other to this so-called Hate Plague."

----

Hoist's slowly lowered his shuttle down in front of the Constructicon Field Hospital. The Iaconian escorts that had followed them hung high overhead and made certain the small vessel safely reached its destination.

Once the shuttle touched down, the Autobot flightmechs moved on, making their way back toward the Trion.

Hoist deactivated the engines and flicked a switch on the overhead control panel to lower the boarding ramp.

He looked to the passenger seat at Road Hugger and said, "This would be our stop."

----

"Ah, the solution is simplicity itself, my dear Hook," Perceptor confidently replied. "Initially, I was able set up a new band frequency for the Steelhaven via our relay network when the Imperials attempted to block out all communications. In fact, they were kind enough to leave several relay stations intact for me to utilize. They will serve our purposes once again. This shell's in-built transceiver," he motioned to the Thunderwing copy, "will serve as one point for measuring the radial distance of the received signal..."

The science officer opened a small compartment at his forearm and reeled out a cable with a data connector at its end. He inserted into a small port on the dissected shell's now-exposed transmitter.

Pointblank cringed. "You actually want to plug yourself into that...thing?" He muttered.

"Hush." Perceptor then looked over his shoulder. "Highbrow, your assistance? I have need of your expertise. Or rather, your in-built tech." The science officer extended his hand to the facsimile's receiver. "If you would, please plug yourself in -- Do not worry. I simply need you to contact our remaining relay satellites and stations. You will be provided with the coordinates. I will do the rest."
_______________

Imperial Landing Zone

Optimus Prime was quick to recognize that his presence had not gone unnoticed by the Demons, who seemed keenly interested in the approaching Autobot Leader.

In fact, the creatures seemed more interested in him than his fellow Autobots.

"It is just as well. I know of these creatures."

Optimus released his twin rifles from his grip and let them drop to the ground. He then retracted his hands into his wrist sockets, and in their place came a matching pair of energon axes.

As the Autobot Leader propelled headlong into the throng of slavering gold beasts, he swiped outwards in a wide horizontal arc....

---

Boss stared blankly on as Drift dispensed with Buzzard with precision and flare.

"Impractical? Maybe," he replied. "But at least it got the job done, I suppose."

At that moment, Electro came tumbling down in front of the two Autobots. Boss glanced down and tilted his head. "It's Boss," he corrected the former-Decepticon. "At least, that's the name my unit so affectionately calls me by."

The Turbomaster shifted his attention toward the Demons that had managed to humble Electro. The hilt of a beam saber ejected from a hidden compartment in his wrist and slid into his open hand. The weapon itself was unremarkable; a simple, standard military issue particle-beam saber.

Boss activated it with a push of his thumb, a bright yellow 'beam' emitting from the lens inside the hilt.

His stance was deceptively basic, with his right knee positioned forward while, with both hands, he held the point of the saber down and behind him. Boss stood with Drift and waited for the Demons to come to them. And sure enough, they did.

As the golden creatures fell upon them, Boss swiped in a full upward cut....

---

Hurricane followed Pyro, taking cover behind the Autobot's weapon platform. Taking Pyro's cue, the Turbomaster joined his firepower with his compatriot's, likewise oblivious of the effects it had on the encroaching Demons.

----

The Omega Sentinel paid no mind to Falcon, registering the comparatively tiny Predator as a non-threat. It would carry out its single-minded objective until it ceased functioning.

It knew nothing of 'fear'.

The guardian robot disappeared beneath the smoke and blaze of Tidal Wave's cannonade. But even as the flamboyantly dubbed "Tsunami Blaster" slowly melted through its dense armor, the Omega Sentinel pressed forward, stepping a mere few paces until it stood before its equally massive opponent.

In a markedly swift motion, the giant robot then drove its claw at the cannons protruding from Tidal Wave's chest, with the intent of crushing them.
______________

Manganese Mountains, Steelhaven

Ratchet led Groove and Brainstorm to the boarding ramp, already deployed and extending out into the hangar of the underground base.

The hangar was dark, faintly lit by the miscellaneous mechanisms and windows along the Steelhaven's hull. It was suitably large and cavernous, having once been used to launch the massive starship itself.

With his headlights switched on, Ratchet moved boldly down the ramp, his wrist-mounted LED held out in front of him. The slight sound of his boot steps reverberated throughout the open halls.

"Stay close, you two." he said in a hushed tone.

---

As they moved deeper into the hangar, the trio soon came upon a giant blast door, not far off from the Steelhaven. Naturally, it was closed shut.

Ratchet guided his LED along the archway of the entrance as he searched for a access panel. "Hmm..."

"We're locked out?" said Groove. "So how do we get in?"

The Captain opened his comlink. "Cog? Are you receiving me?"

"I'm receiving you, Ratchet," Cog answered.

"There's a blast door down here blocking the way in. Think you can open it for us?"

"I believe so. One moment..."

An eerie silence fell on the hangar as Ratchet and the others stood by and waited for Cog to access the old base's security grid.

They didn't have to wait long. The shrill creaking of scrapping metal, equally as unnerving as the darkness, shattered the silence as the thick blast doors slowly spread open.

Before them, a seemingly vast corridor appeared from the archway.

Groove winced. "Ugh. That was just terrible."

Ratchet smiled. "That did it. Thanks, Cog," he said. "See if you can get the power back on while you're at it."

"I'll see what I can do."

The Captain looked to Brainstorm and Groove expectantly, before starting down the long corridor.

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Post by Blackjack » Thu Apr 19, 2012 5:18 pm

Constructicon Field Hospital

“Do you think they’re going to have an isolation CR chamber?” Long Haul asked Scrapper and Mixmaster. “Guy that big, with a head with a head which has a head that turns into a-”

“We know all about Fortress Maximus, delivery boy.” Mixmaster said, slapping Long Haul upside the head again. “Now get out there and help those Autobots and turncoats to unload the medical supplies.”
________________________________

Road Hugger snorted with evident distaste at the Iaconian ships as they moved away, but did not voice his displeasure, as he nodded at Hoist. Taking one of the crates full of Vaporators, Road Hugger went down the ramp, where he was almost immediately accosted by Hyperdrive and Detour. Brawl was making his way towards the shuttle a short distance away.

“Took you long enough-” Hyperdrive began.

“What do we do now?” Detour cut Hyperdrive off.

“Help me unload these. Hoist, this is Hyperdrive and Detour. Detour, ‘Drive, this is Hoist.” Road Hugger said, already making his way towards the Constructicon Hospital. “Fortress Maximus.” Road Hugger said by way of greeting, before placing the crate close to the hospital, before moving back to help unload.

“We’ve got about eight Combaticons in fighting shape, counting yourself.” Brawl told Road Hugger as he reached the ship, used to being professional and all military with Onslaught. “Blast Off and two of the fliers are off fighting one of the Predator captains.”

“The rest are-”

“We lost about fifteen to eighteen to the Plague and Scraplets.” Brawl told Road Hugger. “Discounting those killed by the giant Thunderwings and Imperial troops, we’ve got… uh… twenty wounded.”

“Damn.” Road Hugger cursed. “Help me unload these supplies, Brawl. We’ll… we’ll figure out what to do now.”
________________________________

Hook nodded at Perceptor’s explanations, standing back and watching as the Autobot scientist explained his plan, and is about to plug himself into the Pretender shell. “Worry not, Autobot lackey.” Hook told Pointblank, though his tone was more of indifference rather than actual malice. “Your scientist knows what he is doing. And if there is- by some chance- a booby trap lying in wait for him, I shall disconnect him from the network with haste.”
________________________________

Hate Plague Danger Zone

“You don’t know-” the somewhat-lucid Breakdown began, trying to process the sentence spoken by Hun-Grrr. “Yes. Yes yes yes, you wear the Decepticon badge, yes, you’re those Terrorcons Terrorcons are Decepticons too we are allies, right. Not like Motormaster no I’m not like Motormaster he’s a bloody bastard. No. He keeps looking at me. Yes. Survive. I can survive with you- just don’t- just don’t look at me.”

Shivering, Breakdown started to crawl out of the building he was hiding in, yellow eyes darting across the battlefield, moving while crouching, optics transfixed on Blot and Cutthroat.
________________________________

Imperial Landing Zone

“The Wreckers will always be around, Topspin.” Springer told his fellow Wrecker. He was, frankly, surprised that Topspin was healed by Decepticons. He had heard of Autobot medics fixing Decepticons, but- Springer barked a laugh. It seemed like he was not the only one to change in these past years.

Maybe these goofs running this ‘gray race’ here in Protihex do have a positive effect. Who knows, the war doesn’t have to end with the Decepticons in manacles and chains…

And he wondered the validity of what he had just said to Topspin. The Wreckers will still be around… what if the war is over? What then?

Twin Twist, you heard that. Topspin is alive.” Springer told the other Wrecker. “Now, Sandstorm, Broadside… and, Scoop… kill that giant thing!” Springer spotted Arcee, below, fighting against a wolflike Imperial. He locked on with his laser cannons and opened fire at Arclight.
________________________________

Yes. Fight the Demons. Like Optimus Prime.

With a loud battlecry, encouraged by Hurricane joining him, Pyro charged onto the Demons, unleashing his flamethrower and his shoulder-mounted missile launcher at the Demons, unaware that his attacks are feeding them, making the Demons grow ever larger.

“I won’t fall to the likes of you!” Pyro yelled.

His trailer split apart, and turned into a battlestation, and began to open fire at the Demons as well, sending missiles and laser blasts at them.
________________________________

“Swords are impractical in a world of laser blasts and missiles. Doesn’t make them any less effective.” Drift told Boss, swinging his greatsword as he hacked at the Demons. The gemstone engraved to the hilt glowed with a blue light as he swung down on the Demon, hacking off his limbs.

“That’s right, brother!” Electro replied gleefully, deactivating the electricity running through his laser sword and stabbing the now armless Demon in the side, forcing it to take a step back.

Drift finished off the Demon with a savage swing through his chest, sending the Demon tumbling backwards onto the ground.

“Boss, huh?” Electro said. “Heh. Sorry ‘bout that. Volt did always say that I’m never good with names and faces. I think I’m going to remember you, though. Your name is easy. As in, ‘hey, boss, you’re the leader of the Turbomasters’.”

“Electro, you talk too much.” Drift said as he thrust his greatsword at the Demon that Boss was engaging. “You are a sword-user too?”
________________________________

“Oh, shut it.” Arcee snapped at Arclight. “Violate me? That's the best taunt you could come up with? You Imperials, without personality and full of mental problems. You’re just like your cackling psychotic friend. You’re all going to die.”

Arcee swung aside, wincing as Arcalight’s claws dug into the left side of her chest, but she used the proximity to attempt to drive her lightsaber through Arcalight’s head.

Meanwhile, her other arm opened fire with the EMP cannon at Arcalight’s exposed underside.
________________________________

Falcon floated away as the Omega Sentinel clashed with Tidal Wave. Granted, these ancient Sentinels are truly a powerful sight to behold… but they, like the Autobots, like the Decepticons, are million-year old throwbacks.

Whereas Tidal Wave was designed by Afterburner, Skydive and the greatest mind in the Cybertronian Empire.

“Tidal Wave.” Tidal Wave said, as the Omega Sentinel appeared to be destroyed by his Tsunami Blaster, but took another step backwards as the Omega Sentinel charged forwards out of the smoke and explosions. Tidal Wave attempted to retract his Tsunami Blaster cannons, but the Omega Sentinel’s massive claw managed to tear into the left cannon and completely crush it.

Tidal Wave replied with a roar, and the numerous small-arms turrets, cannons and missile launchers befitting a battleship such as himself began to open fire at the Omega Sentinel.

Moving with surprising agility for something his size, Tidal Wave lashed out with his arms, attempting to drive his fist through the Omega Sentinel’s head. His other arm tried to push the Sentinel’s giant cannon away from himself.

Falcon snorted, pulled out his Megavisor missile launcher and opened fire at the Omega Sentinel’s head, intending to help Tidal Wave murder this obsolete weapon.
________________________________

Manganese Mountains, Steelhaven

Brainstorm stuck close to Ratchet and Groove all the while, watching as the giant door opened. “I assume Fortress Maximus was the one last to use this base?” Brainstorm asked, wincing at the noise, before following Ratchet down the corridor. “And, um, you know, I’ve got the feeling that we’re not the first ones to step foot in here.”

Brainstorm pointed at the relatively fresh-looking footprints in the dusty floors of the base.

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Post by Ulcrain » Thu Apr 19, 2012 8:22 pm

Imperial Landing Zone

Arcalight lept at Arcee, planting his claws into the fembots cheast. Finally, he had her to consume...

...before Arcee fired her EMP blaster into his damedged underside, blowing most of it open. Arcalight howled in, despretly trying to keep his systums functional.

Arcalight lept in, prepering to wrap his claw around Arcees head, then bite it off. "You say I have a mentel disorder, you pycotic, violence obssesed physco? Because well then, DIIIIEEE!!!!!"

Arcee then drove her beam saber right through Arcalights mouth, spearing right through his brain molacule and into his inareds.

Arcalight fell to the groud grey, his splayed inreds leaking onto the ground.

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Post by Blackjack » Fri Apr 20, 2012 3:43 am

Imperial Landing Zone

Arcee watched as her EMP blast tore into Arcalight, ignoring the Imperial's taunt. Her flame saber tore through the Imperial's head. Arcee deactivated her lightsaber, letting the Imperial fall onto the ground.

"That was for Gears." Arcee hissed.

She looked up to see... Springer, of all people, leading the Wreckers against the gigantic battleship Imperial. A soft smile played on Arcee's lips. So he hasn't given up yet...

That was the Springer he knew.

"Artfire! Are you all right?" Arcee yelled as she rushed towards the Inferno-esque Autobot. "We've got to help the Wreckers!"

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Post by Ulcrain » Fri Apr 20, 2012 9:05 am

Borders

Mindset looked up at the Trion. "I'm waiting for the true commander of this vessel, Thunderclash" he said, sielently loading sniper rifle. "I'm fine with fighting your men if your uncooprative."

_________________________________________

Imperial Landing Zone

Treds looked up to see the Omega Sentinel fighting Tidel Wave. Hopeless, the Sentinel would lose. It was inevitible.

Treds looked down again at Warpaths insignia. He didn't this. He didn't want to sit on the sidelines while Tidel Wave killed everything. He wanted to fight propuly. Shoot and win well. He wanted a propur fight...

Turning to a wounded Demon, Treds used his rifle to blow its brains out. He then picked up its hand and began chiseling around his insignia...

____________________________________

Bad Boy backflipped away from Roterstorms strikes, landing keenly on the ground.

While he was never trained in Meetelkio or Circut-Su or any other Mystic art, he was skilled in martial arts, something that would be useful in this fight.

Bad Boy released two energey probes, forming an inpenatrateible field around the Turbomaster before dashing at him. "Die"

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Blackjack
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Post by Blackjack » Fri Apr 20, 2012 1:51 pm

Imperial Landing Zone

Falcon was not much for one-on-one battles, especially not one fought by giant battleship-sized behemoths that could step on him. And no matter how advanced Tidal Wave and Imperial technology was, an Omega Sentinel's fire could kill him.

Hopping off Tidal Wave's shoulder once he had fired onto the Sentinel's face, Falcon scanned the battlefield for the rest of his men.

He recognized that non-Predator jet Bad Boy, battling against some throwback helicopter, but with the Wreckers and Optimus Prime incoming, well, Falcon wasn't in a hurry to make himself a viable target for the angry Wreckers.

Just because he was a notch above all others, does not make him someone who takes on powerful enemies. He knew he could beat them -- he demonstrated his power by murdering two of the combiners -- but Falcon knew how desperate these throwbacks are. Skyquake, Stalker, Talon, Skydive... they've all fallen. Skyquake to Shockwave, a gaudy Seeker and a runt, Stalker to the Wreckers, Skydive to the massed forces of the Aerialbots and miscellaneous Decepticons and Combaticons, Talon to a Xal-damned dinosaur Cassette...

Falcon knew, if he made himself shown as a commanding target, the throwbacks would swarm over him and murder him like they did Skyquake and the others.

So he should not engage the Wreckers. Or Optimus Prime.

Fair enough.

Falcon took aim with his launcher, and opened fire randomly to the Autobots on the ground, hoping to pick off or damage one or two for the... for the whatever eldritch abominations Thunderwing had unleashed to finish off.

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Post by Bartmanhomer » Fri Apr 20, 2012 7:54 pm

Battlefield

Mauler still following the Wreckers

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Post by Shine » Sat Apr 21, 2012 7:47 am

Hate Plague Danger Zone

So this was the “secret weapon” Hun-Grrr had been explaining to Cutthroat and Blot while they converged on Breakdown's position. His physical appearance barely caused anything but embarrassment to register, particularly when he spoke. That was if jabbering could even be considered as an effective form of communication.

A sour expression stationed on his face-plate, Cutthroat's hard gaze stabbed right through Breakdown's being, as if he boasted the ability to pierce his armour-plating merely by looking at him. Of course, Breakdown was not aware of this fierce scrutiny; Cutthroat did so during his brief preoccupation with other spectacles. The Terrorcon didn't want the tinfoil toy to start freaking out again, creating more problems that they did not need.

And wasn't he lucky? The instant Cutthroat threw his gaze elsewhere, he noticed Breakdown fastening his on him. It came as no surprise.

He glanced at Hun-Grrr and nodded quickly as his leader ordered them to move on. It was about time, too. That stupid Stunticon was costing Cutthroat precious opportunities of close combat supplied in other parts of Protihex. It was clear this specific area cared nothing for his unparalleled penchant for taking the fight to the enemy.

“Hey! Oh, brave one!” he said to Breakdown, rifle held firmly in his grip. “Unless you got slag stuffed in your audio receptors, you heard Hun-Grrr. Let's go.”

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Post by Blackjack » Sat Apr 21, 2012 3:23 pm

Hate Plague Danger Zone

Breakdown crouched, hunched slightly, twitching. He regarded Cutthroat and Blot, not sure if he recognized the two lesser Terrorcons. He wasn't even sure he recognized Hun-Grrr, but they were wearing Decepticon insignias, right? They had to be on the same side.

Probably.

What about the Civil War, though? Wildrider and Dead End said something about Gigatron and Megatron and something.

And are they Terrorcons or Predacons or Monstructicons or...

Breakdown twitched as Cutthroat addressed him, and the Stunticon scowled. Was he being sarcastic? Breakdown thought he was. But all Decepticons are. This wasn't any worse than Motormaster or Wildrider or Drag Strip insulting him... probably.

Or was it the same?

Not sure what he should do, not sure whether he should murder Cutthroat or not, he simply transformed and moved alongside the Terrorcons. "Wh- Where are we going? Why are you helping me?"

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Post by Bartmanhomer » Sat Apr 21, 2012 6:42 pm

Battlefield

Mauler transform into his car mode and drove off.

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Shine
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Post by Shine » Sun Apr 22, 2012 2:37 am

Hate Plague Danger Zone

Patience, as he had been informed on many occasions, was a virtue. Hun-Grrr held not even the vaguest idea in his core processor why he had been told such nonsense. If he wanted anything, anything at all, he placed it at the top of his agenda and set out to obtain it. Waiting was for losers and cowards too weak to go out and grasp what they desired.

The words being exchanged by Breakdown and Cutthroat were not going to end well. The Stunticon's puzzlement, the Terrorcon's murderous temper: complications would soon emerge if Hun-Grrr did not intervene. Plus, he didn't have time for this.

He growled ominously at Cutthroat, an indication of his fraying temper and to shut his mouth immediately. His subordinate flung a resentful look at him but otherwise fell silent. Hun-Grrr couldn't have him attacking Breakdown out of rage, thus hampering his plan. The Stunticon was the vital component to it.

At least for a little while.

“We're getting the frag out of here, that's what we're doing.” Hun-Grrr turned away from Breakdown and studied his surroundings. “It's a waste of energy fighting the Scraplets and Morphobots; we'll never get through them all. So we're heading to another area to fight, one where our destruction will mean something and be worth it.”

With nothing further to add, Hun-Grrr began marching, presuming his Terrorcons and Breakdown to be behind him following.

Locked