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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 25, 2010 22:31:09 GMT -5
OOC: Day 26, open thread for baddies! You'll probably be interveiwed though.
ETA OOC: Bonecrusher's room. XD;
Everything had been organized, yes. Phobia had checked and rechecked that the form he’d created to file out all the data he’d gathered on the subject had been correctly spelled and the form’s boxes were properly aligned and...
Well, technically, he’s already interviewed a dozen of the crew already so the process of checking and rechecking had been repeated well over a dozen times to being with. This was, however, an assignment assigned by his section’s SIC and approved by Lord Scourge no less and it deserved nothing but the best and most clean and efficient looking form he could manage to make. Ever. And being on the constant verge of nervous breakdown for the past day or so.
Interviews, however, were a familiar ground and he could navigate the formalities well enough- even with several of the more... unscrupulous members of the ship. Unscrupulous and dangerous too it seemed, seeing as the next name assigned on his list was- well. Maybe that he was about to greet death a bit earlier than initially predicted.
Even the mech’s door seemed to loom over him like the gateway to the smelting pits. Phobia stood frozen and small at its base, simply staring and trying to quell the rising sense of panic. He could feel the presence inside, a seething mass of hatred, so much hatred. He was once again, very glad that he could only feel the very shallowest of emotions without touch and slowly, hand shaking, he reached up to click the buzzer.
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Dec 27, 2010 0:59:12 GMT -5
Bonecrusher is busy picking dirt out of his tires. Which means he's not actually busy at all, but that doesn't stop him from being irritated by the interruption. He hates the sound of that buzzer. And then he has to heave himself off the berth and walk all the way across the room and palm the control to open the door just to reveal the the face of someone he hates. Well, technically he doesn't having to, but if he stayed on the berth and signaled for the door to open wirelessly then his unwanted guest might take it as a sign to come in, and he hates having people in his room more than he hates being forced to get up.
He glares down at Phobia. At least it's not anyone he hates personally, like their glori-fragging-ous leader or his pet Prime-look-alike. He's going to kill them some day. He's going to kill them so dead. Everyone else, too. He's in an especially grumpy mood today.
"What?" he growls.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 29, 2010 19:43:13 GMT -5
Phobia manages to have one of those cheerfully fake smiles on by the time Bonecrusher opens the door. He’s also clutching the datapad to his chest like a shield and trying his best not to quake in unadulterated terror. So far, so good.
He stares up at Bonecrusher for a full three seconds before managing to make a small squeak at the sight. Gathering what little courage he had, the little bike squeaks again before stuttering, “I, ah, I-”
He stops and reboots his vocalizer with a polite static cough before continuing. “I have been assigned to go around gathering data in regards to the Autobots.” That was professionally neutral, right? “Specifically, the Autobots we have fought- or rather, the Autobots you have fought in this case. Would it be alright if I conducted an interview with you? I’ll try to be brief.”
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Dec 31, 2010 14:39:02 GMT -5
Bonecrusher crosses his long arms and leans heavily against the door frame, still refusing to let the little slagger into his room. He gives Phobia a noncommittal grunt, but he hasn't slammed the door in Phobia's face or tried to punch him in the face, so he's free to take that as a 'fine, go ahead'.
He hates interviews, but chances are the glitch-head will just keep bothering him until he talks. Best to get it over with now.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 1, 2011 5:29:47 GMT -5
Phobia really, really has completely no interest at all in getting into Bonecrusher’s room. In fact, the hallway interview is much preferred because it means the bike could take advantage of his sleek little alt mode and haul aft when things get ugly. He's honestly surprised that the large mech was even cooperating to begin with.
“We could, pherhaps, start off with the names, if you can recall any of them?” Phobia asks, peeking down at his datapad. “And a brief physical description would be helpful. Or simply the physical description if, uh, there is no name.”
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jan 1, 2011 23:39:58 GMT -5
Bonecrusher snorts. "Fought that little red pretty boy, and the chunky green one. Slagging jet, too." He probably knows their names by now, but giving them would be far too helpful. And what? There were other 'Bots at that fight? Like he slagging cares. "I'm gonna kill them all, next time I see them."
He gives Phobia a look, trying to silently get across the idea that he's totally going to kill Phobia, too, when circumstances allow.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 2, 2011 16:39:36 GMT -5
“Eheh,” Phobia utters nervously when Bonecrusher lands him with the look of death, quickly gluing his visor to his datapad as he inputs the information. This was actually going better than Phobia thought it would go, but then the bike hadn’t had terribly high hopes of it going well at all to begin with.
“Uhm, names w-would really be useful,” he insists quietly before quickly continuing. “Was there anything particularly notable about their fighting style? Unusual weapons or abilities?”
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jan 3, 2011 18:48:40 GMT -5
"I was beating them into scrap, not having a tea party," Bonecrusher snorts. "We weren't doing friendly introductions."
He shifts his balance to lean on the other side of the door frame and shrugs. "Jet's a slaggin' coward that can't stop fluttering around to get involved in real fighting." That goes for most jets, in Bonecrusher's opinion. Jets. He hates them, too. "Chunky guy was stronger than he looked. The little red one was a crazy little overheated glitch that didn't know how to stay down when he was put down."
Incredibly useful tactical information, that.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 4, 2011 19:22:26 GMT -5
The bike whimpered unhappily. It was either persist and get better data or desist and potentially get stomped on by Lord Scourge for gathering useless data. As Scourge was the person who’d personally defeated Bonecrusher though, and was part of the high command no less, the pecking order was a bit obvious.
He could get information from other places (and more cooperative mechs) but without a better description than ‘angry red car’ he rather risked inputting false data. And that was going to be bad if someone relied on it and the information turned out to be wrong. He, would, of course, get blamed for that.
“I...” The grip on his datapad is hard enough to make the screen squeak under his fingers from terror. Phobia invents sharply, peers up at face of hatred itself and in the most polite tone of voice he could manage, says, “To... be truly honest, the more difficult you make this, the longer we’ll have to be here. I’m afraid I really do need a better general description if there are no names.”
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jan 7, 2011 12:23:35 GMT -5
Ugh, what a bother. A pathetic, whimpering bother, too. Bonecrusher considers just punching the guy in the face and shutting the door. That probably wouldn't go over well with command, and he wasn't keen on having his slagging control device active all the time again. Better to control his violent tendencies himself than to to have a shock device do it for him. Less painful, too.
Making a big show of grumbling, like talking to Phobia is the most trying thing in the universe, he relents, "Red one was Swerve or something, green one was Long Haul, I guess. The jet was from my miserable universe, didn't bother figuring out his name."
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 9, 2011 8:29:11 GMT -5
Phobia had not been expecting that to work.
He’d expected to be grabbed and crushed into a tiny little ball and thrown to the opposite end of the ship. He’d been expecting any number of scenarios ending with him dying some kind of horrible death one way or another, but the huge mech had... actually just answered his question.
The small bike stares for a moment, composure entirely lost and a stunned expression on his face.
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jan 12, 2011 13:16:04 GMT -5
Bonecrusher shifts irritatedly as Phobia just stares at him like he just smashed his pet turbo-fox in front of him or something. He would totally kill someone's pet turbo-fox, because he hates those little slag-piles, but as he hasn't done anything of the sort, being stared at like that just ticks him off. Actually, just being stared at in general is pretty irritating.
"We done?" he growls. Urge to punch things... rising.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 16, 2011 6:47:31 GMT -5
Phobia has never had a pet and really, he was rather low on things to lose, so any loss of non-sentient life wouldn’t affect him so much. He would probably be unnerved if Bonecrusher did kill a turbo-fox in front of him, but that was purely because the violence would probably be turned on him afterwards. And that would be bad.
“I, ah, no. No I think we’re, ah, fine. Now,” the little bike answers carefully, slowly beginning to edge away from the larger mech. “Yes.”
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jan 16, 2011 22:23:08 GMT -5
"Good." With that, Bonecrusher promptly pushes himself away from the door frame and shuts the door in Phobia's face. We would have slammed it if possible, but that's the problem with automated doors.
Good riddance!
OOC: Out of thread unless Phobia wants to continue trying to talk to him. XD
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 22, 2011 22:14:02 GMT -5
That went a lot better than Phobia could’ve possibly concieved. How... strange. Of course, since he’d landed in this universe things had always been quite strange and not in an entirely unpleasant way.
Still, he wasn’t going to keep his hopes up. Phobia quickly subspaces his datapad and transforms before hightailing it out of there.
<i>OOC: Wrap! </i>
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