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Post by Perceptor on Dec 9, 2010 21:04:18 GMT -5
In a ditch. Covered in petrol. On fire.
Swerve is on fire! Well, his head, anyway. That seems to amuse the landsharks, who jump into sight along the sides, and snicker before dropping back into the road, and overhead, the bleeding, dazzling sky is dotted here and there with the flitting forms of tiny little micromaster cars, their little insect wings buzzing furiously to keep them aloft.
Wait. Swerve is on fire. Swerve is on FIRE!!!
"FIRE! He's on FIRE!" Perceptor howls, kicking free of his morphobot and flinging himself away from Burning Justice(tm) Swerve with a look of horror. "Someone help him! He's on FIRE!"
He tumbles backwards out of Long Haul's bed, rolling right out and falling into an ungainly sprawl right in the middle of the roadway as a blue-scaled whale dives past with a load of iron beams sticking out of its mouth like neatly trimmed whiskers.
Perceptor groans, struggling to his feet with surprising speed, considering that his hands are still bound firmly behind his back - and how his morphobot managed that neat trick, he isn't certain, but that will bear looking into in the near future! At least the sky isn't bleeding any longer, but packs of sharks are circling him now, and birds and whales and polka-dotted balls and star-spangled plates and even a random purple mammoth, are all flitting about, dodging here and there, chittering in a thousand languages at once.
"RklSRSEgRklSRSEgSEUnUyBPTiBGSVJFIQ=="1 he shrieks, taking off in a dead sprint in the first direction he happens to be facing. Dodging between the legs of s stellar freighter leading it's cadre of duckings down the causeway, he adds, "SOMEONE GET SOME WATER! HE NEEDS SOME WATER!"
A shark rises up, tripping him, trying to take a bite out of his foot before he kicks it away and launches himself back to his feet. He's facing a different direction this time, when he takes off again. "54 48 45 20 53 48 41 52 4b 53 20 41 52 45 20 4f 55 54 20 54 4f 20 45 41 54 20 4d 45 21 20 48 45 4c 50 212 01001000 01000101 01001100 01010000 00100000 01010100 01001000 01000101 00100000 01010110 01000001 01001110 01001001 01001100 01001100 01000001 00100000 01010011 01001011 01011001 001000013"
1 - "FIRE! FIRE! HE'S ON FIRE!" 2 - THE SHARKS ARE OUT TO EAT ME! HELP! 3 - HELP THE VANILLA SKY!
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 10, 2010 11:18:44 GMT -5
Despite Emirate Xaaron's best efforts, Perceptor falls out of Long Haul and goes running off like a madman. At least they were at the spaceport when it happened. Problem: they were at the spaceport when it happened. Emirate Xaaron hops out of Long Haul and gets to doing what he does: ordering people around.
"Long Haul, check the chartered flight arrivals boards - we need to know where Skyfire is landing," Emirate Xaaron directs. Long Haul has Magic Logistics Powers. This is reasonable.
"Swerve, transform, get ahead, and cut him off," he continues. Swerve has From Velocitron Being Fast Powers. This is also reasonable.
Emirate Xaaron then does the thing that is reasonable for him to do and shouts, "He lost at slots!" and chases after Perceptor, intent on blocking any retreats, should Perceptor run into Swerve and decide to reverse.
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Post by Long Haul on Dec 10, 2010 12:53:40 GMT -5
Long Haul transforms as soon as everyone's out of his bed, shuffling the remaining supplies into subspace. He spins and stares after the running Perceptor and persuing Emirate Xaaron (and possibly the racing Swerve), optic band widened. Instinctively, at first, he starts to jog after, but he immediately hesitates. First off, because the others have too much of a head start and he really isn't fast enough to catch up, and second, because he has alternate orders, ones that actually make some level of sense for him! He can handle that.
"Erm... yeah. Find Skyfire's landing. Got it." He starts to look around. Being someone who works in the field of supply and transport, he tends to be pretty good at getting the lay of how locations dedicated to transport work, even here, on this alien world, so he's able to locate an arrival board rather quickly. He immediately toddles over to it, standing on his dump-truck toes to try and read it, referencing a small datapad for translations where necessary.
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Post by Swerve on Dec 11, 2010 0:01:17 GMT -5
No sooner does Xaaron give the order than Swerve is up and moving; his toolkit vanishes and he launches himself after Perceptor, vaulting over the side of Long Haul's bed. He hits the ground and rolls with the impact into a handspring; as soon as his feet touch ground again, his arms fold back into vehicle configuration and his legs follow suit once his front wheels land. He lays on the accelerator and vanishes into the hustle and bustle of the crowd, a too-small car among giants.
Even as loud as he can get with his pipes reverberating his already noisy engine, the crowds and the air traffic mostly drowning him out. It means more shocked curses as he veers around people with only inches to spare, but he doesn't bother keeping track or returning fire; his focus is on the goal, and that goal is somewhere in front of Perceptor.
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Post by Perceptor on Dec 13, 2010 12:44:40 GMT -5
Heedless of the traffic he is disrupting (traffic? Whales and sharks and flying plates and beach balls and ornothopters have no traffic! They have tea parties!), Perceptor continues careening through the crowd, shouting about "him" being "on fire" in every language and dialect he knows, from Fortran to ancient Sumerian. All around him, the sharks keep pace, herding him, watching for their opening to pounce. Perceptor is too cagey for them, though, his wild blue optics flashing as he tries to dodge between a pair of small striped dwarf planetoids wassailing their way through the rainbow nebula...
His morphobot is plotting against him now, though; he feels one of it's tentacles seize one foot in its grasp and yank, sending him sprawling... He lands on a bed of coals.
Wait. No. He recognizes that deep red plating, and the large silver symbol painted so prominently upon the bonnet of the warm, thundering heap he's landed upon.
"Oh. Hello, Swerve," he groans out, panting from his exertions. "Someone extinguished the fire, I see..."
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 13, 2010 14:25:23 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron notes how, whenever the situation comes to a crunch, Swerve's always ready to do what needs to be done. Swerve may have been a outlaw, may be ill-tempered and violent still, but there's the soul of a soldier in him somewhere in there, and that's undeniably the right symbol he's wearing. Emirate Xaaron would tell Swerve he's proud of him, but he doesn't feel like being punched right now. Maybe later.
When Perceptor falls on top of Swerve, Emirate Xaaron immediately tries to haul Perceptor off, remembering how little Swerve liked the cold touch of Perceptor's fingers. He looks back over his shoulder and calls, "Long Haul! Status update," but he can't help adding, "Good work, Swerve."
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Post by Long Haul on Dec 13, 2010 14:53:29 GMT -5
Long Haul starts to trot slowly to catch up with the others, not because he's not in a hurry, but because slow trotting is about the best he can manage.
"Q-23. Small private shuttles or smaller businesses, so's it's kind of at the outter edges of the port." In other words, the 'crap location concourses.' "Bad news is, this means we got more station to go through, good news is, it's going to be a lot less crowded once we're outta the main areas."
"I'm, ah, gonna go ahead and radio Skyfire that we're at the station."
And he does just that. //Hey, Skyfire, we're at the station. We'll try to get out to you as quick as we can, but it's a bit of a mess.//
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Skyfire
Major
I'm a scientist, not a....
Posts: 891
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Post by Skyfire on Dec 13, 2010 21:27:51 GMT -5
A sonic boom shakes the city, followed by the howl of air brakes and reversed thrusters as Skyfire shrieks across the sky to settle down in the pad nearest the terminal at the groundside starport. Fortunately, even Pz-Zazz's air traffic control recognizes the words 'Emergency Medevac'; Skyfire hasn't broken quite as many rules and regulations as he might have otherwise.
He extends his wheels and lands; the tarmac steams from the heat of his thrusters even after he's shut them down. Skyfire is here, and waiting.
// I have just now touched down, Long Haul. //
---- Skippable until Long Haul et al get there with Perceptor
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Post by Swerve on Dec 14, 2010 22:50:10 GMT -5
Swerve had every intention of tripping Perceptor the moment he got the scientist in his sights. What he hadn't planned was Perceptor falling on top of him.
It isn't the cold that hurts quite as much as the sheer weight hitting him. He used to be sturdier, built to take more damage without it affecting his performance. This body is built for speed and manoeuvrability – it's nimble, light, designed to evade the hits instead of enduring them. It certainly isn't built to shrug off a mech twice his size using him for a landing cushion.
"No, no, no no no–!" he bellows, veering sharply right and trying to avoid the inevitable as Perceptor seems to drop with unnatural speed. There's a loud crunch when his windscreen splinters under Perceptor's weight and the frame warps. His first impulse is to slam on the gas in reverse and pull himself free no matter how much worse it tears up his windscreen; something stops him. Sounds – footsteps. Voices. The others are here. It's enough to keep him on the brakes; he growls irritably at Perceptor but holds still, idling until Xaaron relieves him of his load. As the weight is pulled off him, he sort of unfolds into robot mode with a groan, propping himself on knees and one hand. The other hand goes to his back and the main support strut Perceptor hit when he came down. Isn't broken. Good. Feels like it's bent a little, though.
Then Xaaron praises him and Swerve just puts one foot under himself.
"Would've been better if I'd dodged," he mumbles.
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Post by Perceptor on Dec 18, 2010 22:50:41 GMT -5
Lucidity creeps in around the edges for a moment, just long enough for Perceptor to make note of the damage to Swerve's windshield, and the way he is braced upon the ground. He tries to step closer, to offer some assistance, but Xaaron's grip on his bound hands brings him up short.
"Swerve? What... Why are you damaged?" And why does Xaaron have him tied up?
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 18, 2010 23:22:12 GMT -5
"Long Haul, you've looked at a map of the place? Lead the way," Emirate Xaaron commands.
He tries to get a better grip on Perceptor, to haul him up and drag him off along after Long Haul.
Emirate Xaaron gives Swerve a slightly pained smile as Swerve opines it would have been better if he dodged. Well, yes, it would. Poor fragile little race car. How ever did Swerve survive his chosen sport? Emirate Xaaron chooses to joke, "Any crash you can walk away..." He shakes his head. "I'd offer you a hand, but, well."
He jerks his head over at Perceptor, and he says softly to the scientist, "Damaged in the line of duty. Long Haul can look at him on Skyfire on the way back." That's all true.
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Post by Long Haul on Dec 19, 2010 0:06:01 GMT -5
Long Haul gives an absent wave of his hand. "Don't need a map. Already know the layout." He is actually not lying or being a typical male who refuses to ask for directions - his internal navigation system, while not exactly cutting edge, is enhanced over the baseline standard due to his function of transport.
He turns and heads towards the security area - since this is Pz-Zazz, a person's ability to make it through security the fastest has less to do with how suspicious one appears and more to do with how many wheels are greased. The fact is, the security personal are liable to be remarkably uninterested in the fact that they're escorting a bound robot through the spaceport.
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Post by Swerve on Dec 20, 2010 21:31:45 GMT -5
"Gnnn," is Swerve's only answer for Perceptor and Xaaron as he heaves himself to his feet. Transforming again will be painful, but he's had worse. He can walk normally, saving himself the indignity of needing any assistance on that front. "Times like this, I miss the old chassis," he mutters to himself, stretching. Glass fragments crumble from his windscreen frame and a damaged bolt shears off, but he doesn't do much more than grumble curses about it and move to follow the group.
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Post by Perceptor on Dec 27, 2010 20:03:47 GMT -5
"Skyfire?" Perceptor asks, confused. First he asked about Swerve - who is picking himself up off the ground, while crystalline tears of rainbow fish drip from his back and the gauzy wings drifting about him like a halo, and now, Xaaron is talking about Skyfire? And Long Haul?
He tries to turn, looking for the aforementioned mechs, but the grasp upon the thorns cutting into his wrists prevents him from doing more than craning his head around. Bubbles rise from the pavement, slipping free with an audible *pop* before floating upward into a paisley sky, while around him, a tangle of trees and vines writhe in a formless nest, hemming him in.
"The hamster said that tea would be promptly at Quiddich, and I shouldn't like to miss tea," he observes, deciding that since he's all hemmed about, that the best thing to do is simply plop down onto his aft right there and wait for the nebula to come and chase all the gnats away.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Dec 27, 2010 20:14:26 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron grabs Perceptor and throws him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, grumbling, "Micromasters are better behaved than you are. We're going to find Skyfire, and Skyfire will take you home."
He follows along after Long Haul, and when they near the guards, he tries to decide on an appropriate bribe. Emirate Xaaron's a lawyer on Pz-Zazz. He's conversant with the going bribe rates in a lot of areas, and he tries to discreetly pass off an appropriate amount for one tied up high kite, one semi-damaged racer with anger management issues, and two normal citizens.
Quietly, he asks Swerve, "You switch bodies a lot?"
OOC: Manhandling Perceptor with permission.
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