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Post by SceneMod on Nov 2, 2010 18:18:04 GMT -5
Day 12, Atrocitan secret hideout, the one that the Autobots found Last Time. Open.
Wimm peers out the upper window of the old, abandoned theatre, keeping watch on the street below. He is a slight little thing, still young, but his growth was stunted from long hunger - he'd never be full height for an Eurythman, already a small species by Pz-Zazzian standards, about the size of humans and quite resembling human tales of elves in looks, at least.
His excellent hearing and his small size make him a great lookout, but he's getting tired, and Wimm's mind is wandering. He wonders when Space Kitty's going to make a stand against those Venturi jerks. They really need to be shown what's what!
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Nov 2, 2010 19:28:46 GMT -5
Nightbeat lurks in a shadowy alley across the street from the abandoned theatre. He's wearing his fedora and trench-coat again. He's scoped out all around this blasted place, and all the approaches are watched.
Not for the first time, he wishes he had Hound's ability to project holograms, or Mirage's cloaking field. He grins as Muzzle pipes up in his head, Guess we'll just have to content ourselves with two brilliant minds.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Nov 24, 2010 16:53:09 GMT -5
On a rooftop, Arcee surveys the street through her targeting visor, her rifle at the ready. Such endeavors always need a sniper, and Mirage is currently busy.
//How's it look from your end, Nightbeat?//
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Nov 24, 2010 19:30:38 GMT -5
//All the entrances are watched. Muzzle might be able to get in, but I doubt it. I don't suppose we have a diversion handy?// Nightbeat transmits back.
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Post by SceneMod on Nov 25, 2010 20:36:30 GMT -5
Wimm is really not the best guard, though. His wandering mind has led him to start reading some Pirate Comics, which is probably allegorical for the situation in general or some junk like that.
So that's one not-so-watched entrance.
There's also the roof, if they can jump there from another roof.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Nov 27, 2010 21:00:57 GMT -5
As long as no giant cycloptic cephalopods appear out of nowhere and unleash a psychic scream that kills millions, Wimm can read all the comics he wants.
//Hold that thought,// Nightbeat transmits. //I see an opening and I'm going in.// He pulls up his collar and hurries across the street, hoping the Eurythmian doesn't look up from his comic book, then presses himself against the wall of the theater, right below the window and well out of the field of view of any of the Atrocitan watchers.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Nov 30, 2010 23:43:07 GMT -5
OOC: yeah, so I totally forgot I was in this thread. >_> Sorry
//All right. Watch yourself. I can't do much for you if you get caught on the inside. Except bust in and save your aft, I suppose.//
Wouldn't that be a twist, the Dame saving the Detective? Except Oracle does that, at some point in the future. Maybe Nightbeat secretly wants to be the damsel in distress?
Arcee continues to scan the area, watching for trouble, and for any of the other Autobots who came with.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Dec 1, 2010 10:15:58 GMT -5
The scream of jet engines splits the dingy air as a rather flat-looking jet with two cockpits skims into view. It's flying ridiculously low, rattling the old windows as it passes, and clearly on a mission as it circles a few times before dropping below rooftop level. It even makes a pass of the house where Wimm sits reading comics and sails further up the street, slowing, then turning the corner with the agility of a VTOL craft and disappearing down the side street. The jet circles back after it finds the dead end down there and stops, hovering at the intersection.
Just as abruptly as it appeared, the jet transforms and drops. Slugslinger's legs and hips lock into place just before his feet touch pavement and he lands in a pose of genuflection; his arms, held out to the sides and back for his landing, ratchet into the proper configuration and his wings fold back against his forearms as his shoulder vanes swing up from his chest. The last thing to lock down is his cannon, which thumps on his shoulder.
"Okay," he mutters as he stands, patting off the dust that isn't actually there and doing nothing for the collected soot that is, "now." He whips out a sheet of paper and starts scrutinising building fronts, looking for address numbers. "Where is this joint?"
OOC: Skippable for now, I think, since he's still up the way a bit.
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Post by SceneMod on Dec 2, 2010 13:06:17 GMT -5
Psychic screams are canon in Nightbeat's reality. So are giant cephalopods. They're even involved with each other, since Octopunch shot Primus in the face. Nightbeat might want to be more cautious.
Wimm, however, is completely busy reading his terribly meaningful pirate comics. Nightbeat has a flawless infiltration.
The interior of the theatre is completely ratty and full of refuse, the bunch of buttery popkernels all off the floor, the crinkle of discarded paper. The posters on the wall have all been defaced with enlightening slogans such as 'Space Kitty rulez' and 'Atrocitans forever', so it is quite obvious to whom this abandoned theatre now belongs.
The question, detective, is where are the Atrocitans?
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Dec 2, 2010 14:39:57 GMT -5
Getting captured would totally fit Nightbeat's genre. Especially if he gets stripped to the waist, tied to a chair, and beaten under a single bare lightbulb. Eat your hearts out, ladies. Besides, Arcee is an Action Girl. Getting rescued by her does not make Nightbeat a damsel in distress.
//We'll keep that option open, Arcee.//
Nightbeat draws one of his photon pistols, covering the room as he enters, discarded refuse crunching under his feet. The place looks deserted. Smells like a trap.
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Post by Jasper Stoneham on Dec 2, 2010 16:22:12 GMT -5
Grampa Blackbird is supposed to involved in this operation. Grampa Blackbird is running late for the operation. Clearly, there is only one solution for this:
Spacebridge time!
Slugslinger will not be the only jet on the scene for very much longer, indeed. In fact, if Arcee is still paying attention outside, she may just notice a few odd crackles of bluish-lavenderish lightnings starting to spark just above the decrepit old movie theater.
A few seconds later, though, those lightnings erupt into a ball of plasma and ozone... and one very disgruntled shuttle-cum-jet who is now hurtling downward at the building as if thrown by the hand of Unicron himself.
"BOLLOCKS!"
Jetfire goes crashing through the roof of the theater with a roar of splintering boards and steel and masonry. He goes crashing through the offices near the front of the theater on the third floor. He goes crashing through the projection rooms on the second floor. He goes crashing through what's left of the old concessions stands on the first floor, cracking the ancient lino and ceramics of the lobby floor.
Only the basement floor manages to stop his ungainly progression through the old building, leaving him in a heap of tangled limbs, struts, debris, and dust, still raining down as the building groans ominously.
"No' one of my better landings," he groans, flicking dust out of his optics to stare up from his sprawl...
Into the optics and eyes of a circle of rather... surprised Atrocians.
"...bollocks..."
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Dec 4, 2010 16:12:37 GMT -5
Arcee flattens herself against the rooftop as a jet screams overhead. She glances up. No symbols. Still, it makes her plating shift uneasily, a jet that close. Pushing herself slowly back up, she returns to scanning the streets. With her targeting visor, she picks up Slugslinger down the way.
Slugslinger does have symbols in robot mode.
//Got a lost little Decepticon at <coordinates>. I- Jetfire! Are you all right?//
Arcee gets ready to lat down cover fire- or take out some bad guys. Whatever is needed.
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Post by SceneMod on Dec 4, 2010 22:08:38 GMT -5
Pz-Zazz is a busy, noisy place, by the way, hence why Wimm didn't notice Slugslinger.
But mostly, it was that he was preoccupied with the black robot down falling through all the levels of the abandoned theatre. Wimm looks down, twitches, and promptly wonders if Gutt's gang is hiring.
The Atrocitans surrounding Jetfire quickly harden in look, the shock fading. "We're gonna have to abandoned this here safehouse," reasons a big hyena woman alien. "So let's make this turfjumper even more ruined."
One of the gang-members, who appears to be a living, sapient polearm, surges at Jetfire, while the other get ready, uncaring about any backup Jetfire may have, not even Nightbeat, just one floor up.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Dec 4, 2010 23:24:52 GMT -5
//Looks like we're moving on to Plan B,// Nightbeat transmits, aiming his photon pistol down into the room below. He takes a potshot at the assembled Atrocitans, hoping to scatter them, or at least give Jetfire time to recombobulate himself.
//Nice entrance, old-timer!// The sarcasm, it drips.
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Post by Jasper Stoneham on Dec 5, 2010 0:11:24 GMT -5
// Well, if you'd waited for me, then I wouldn't'a been late! // he howls back at Nightbeat. It makes sense to Gramps, and that's what counts.
"No' turnjumping! Space bridging! An' I tripped! I-- aaaggh!" and that's Gramps howling aloud as the polearm alien slashes messily through the guard on one flailing forearm, before being batted away by Jetfire's cane.
Jetfire would love to get on board with this "recombobulation" thing that Nightbeat's planning on trying to give him time for, but, you see, there's this girder that he fell against, and, well, it's rather jammed itself up and through him. Rather near his spark chamber, actually. And this other tangle of steel and rebar has tied itself into a Chinese puzzle knot at the base of one wing assembly and is slowly tearing its way through his transformation seams in an incredibly painful manner.
Plus, there's the fact that old gramps here isn't exactly designed to right himself without much help when he's lying there, pinned by debris, flailing in the air with all four bleeding limbs like a tortoise on its shell on a super-highway.
Another Atrocitan that looks like nothing more than a shiny purple sphere, glittery and mirrored, with no discernable features, slams into Jetfire's abdomen like a dodgeball thrown by Bonecrusher, knocking Jetfire's systems for a loop and shoving those bits of steel and iron and debris even deeper into his systems. It hurts so much, he doesn't even have the presence of mind to cry out in pain.
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