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Post by Pee-Dee on May 19, 2008 12:16:56 GMT -5
This takes place after Meep-Meep.
The order to retreat has been given, yet Pee-Dee zips in the opposite direction. Up and down and across streets in a nice little grid she goes. Her horn does not honk, and her engine is subdued as she scans for trouble - either fallen Autobot comrades or upright enemies.
She's a cop, and these are her people. That means she makes sure everyone else gets out first.
Not that she's actually told any of the others that yet. She's fairly certain Chief Kup or the Commissioner would yell at her.
She pauses at a corner, twisting her front wheel this way and that as she peers down the cross-street each way.
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Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 19, 2008 13:50:47 GMT -5
With an echoing clang of metal on metal, a familiar figure with an unfamiliar gleam comes into view. With a few steps, he is out of the deep crater-dent formed by his landing. How he got up to wherever he arrived from is unclear, but the furious expression on his face, the bright red glow to his eyes, are both unmistakable.
Prime has tired of playing with the subordinates, he has lost sight of his alternate, and has just received the news that his own Decepticons may well be following shortly into this reality.
Heaven help the next Transformer, friend or foe, he encounters. But then, that person may well be beyond the help of Heaven.
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Post by Pee-Dee on May 19, 2008 14:25:41 GMT -5
Meep.
The gleaming Prime jars her, like bad CGI moving next to live actors. The red optics mark him with the mark of Cain, but she would have known this one from her Commissioner even without it.
He's also got seven counts of assault with intent to commit murder against him as of this battle, and there is no way between here and the MPAA that she's letting him hurt any of the other Autobots.
The rusty motorcycle backs up a few feet, then zips forward into the crossroads. She flip-transforms, landing on her heels only long enough to beckon the Demon Prime, then transforms and darts across to the other side of the road and in between buildings.
Hastily, she scans for another cross-street, because she has to stay out of Rodimus's line-of-sight as much as possible, or she's not going to occupy him for very long at all.
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Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 19, 2008 14:40:34 GMT -5
Pee-Dee.
No straps. Not his Pee-Dee.
Prime begins with a growl that intensifies to a roar, spins, runs, not down the street, but directly towards the building she just ducked behind. He thrusts both hands before him as he runs, blasting the corner of the building away, so that it will present no obstacle once he makes it that far...
...which will be in less than half a second.
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Post by Pee-Dee on May 19, 2008 15:11:23 GMT -5
Oh, holy Hell.
The air crackles as the energy blast incinerates the corner of the building. Masonry cracks from the heat, crashes to the ground as its support vanishes.
Then the Prime comes crashing through, and it's all Pee-Dee can do not to take a potshot at him.
Not. Fair. But when did the bad guys ever play fair?
Instead, the rusty-looking motorcycle puts her pedal to the metal, zigging and zagging across the street as she races for an alley. Out of sight, out of sight, walls between her and those blasts of his.
But if he's as fast as she thinks he is, then running away is going to stop working very soon now.
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Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 19, 2008 15:44:36 GMT -5
Rodimus is fast, but he's still stuck moving from place to place by foot right at this moment.
He does, however, have very powerful legs.
The demon Prime, from his run, leaps high into the air, landing first on top of the building Pee-Dee had just taken cover behind, then off the building and in front of the speeding motorcycle.
The darkness around him once more grows so deep it is impossible to see through, while his brilliant red, orange, and yellows remain strangely untouched by the shadows. His optics are narrowed, and his brow knitted together in anger and frustration.
"I have had enough of these games," he growls, both arms thrust in front of him.
He does like games well enough, mind you, but only when he's winning.
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Post by Pee-Dee on May 19, 2008 19:50:35 GMT -5
Tires screech as Pee-Dee slams on her brakes and slews herself to the side as Rodimus drops in front of her. Bits of armor tear off as she skids. For an instant, red spikes in her processor, and she lets up on her brakes- Show him, plow into him, spike his armor, grind him under-
Practically on her side, Pee-Dee transforms to her robot-mode just before she plows into his knees. Only by the barest of millimeters does she avoid touching him.
Sprawling at his feet with darkness blocking out everything except the shining Prime, the only thing that comes to Pee-Dee's mind is the need to rend, rip, and tear. Her lips peel back in a snarl, her saw-teeth spinning. Criminal, MDKer, psycopath, murderer-!
"If you can't stand the heat, then get out of the kitchen!" She pulls up one leg and makes to slam her heel into his ankle.
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Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 19, 2008 20:52:36 GMT -5
The kick does not even dent the Prime.
With a furious cry, he curls his right fist into a claw and swiftly brings it downward, punching it through Pee-Dee's armor, grabbing hold of several internal support-struts on the left side of her torso, near and just below her arm. His hand closes on the parts inside, and he lifts Pee-Dee up so he can look at her eye-to-eye.
His silver face is twisted into a mask of hatred, the red lights of his optics reflecting off the surfaces nearest to them.
"You don't know the meaning of 'heat,'" he snarls slowly. Then, he begins to channel dark energy through his hand and into her body.
"Yet."
OOC: Manhandling of Pee-Dee done with player approval.
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Post by Pee-Dee on May 19, 2008 22:04:57 GMT -5
There is no pain.
This is not significant, because Pee-Dee never feels any pain.
What she does feel is the plastic coating on some of her wires melting and dripping inside her. She feels circuit-boards crack from the heat. She feels one of her legs go black as the resistors are burnt out and voltage fries all the control circuitry in the limb. She feels wiring burn to ash and drift inside her shell. She feels spars and tensors warp and begin to melt.
Her fingers dig into his elbow, but the need to rend and tear fades under the onslaught of damage reports and the peculiar feeling of bits of her vaporizing from the heat.
"... Oh." The expression Pee-Dee turns on his is almost puzzled, mostly lost.
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Post by Rodimus Prime-3 on May 19, 2008 22:38:06 GMT -5
"NO!" Rodimus screams, shaking Pee-Dee. "You are not still looking at me! You are not still looking at me!" He makes a noise more befitting the savage growling of a tank engine's than one that should come from any robot's vocalizer, and continues to roughly shake Pee-Dee back and forth, back and forth, until the lights go out.
And then he keeps shaking her. Fifteen seconds. Thirty. A full minute after her optics are black. Only then does he return to his senses and begins to calm himself. He stares for a moment at the ruined wreckage in his hand, as though wondering how it got there.
Then he opens his hand and allows the remainder of her parts to slide off it and clatter to the ground.
Without another word, without another sound, he turns and walks away.
OOC: Out of thread. Manhandling of Pee-Dee continues to be with player permission.
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Post by Pee-Dee on May 19, 2008 22:52:42 GMT -5
There's hardly anything left. Her head, charm cracked and blackened from infernal heat, her face eternally captured in that puzzled-lost expression, a curl of smoke rising from her mouth. The upper left side of her chest, cauterized wiring and tubing exposed, melted plastic and metal cooling in unnatural shapes. One pristinely untouched arm, save for the wisps of spoke rising from her finger-joints.
Nothing else. Nothing else at all.
A snatch of song plays inside Pee-Dee's head as she feels a more metaphorical darkness creeping in around the edges of her unseeing optics.
A bullet did find him./His blood ran as he cried./No money could save him,/So he laid down and he-1
---
1. "Lucky Man" by Emerson, Lake, and Palmer
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