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Post by Carolyn Blake on Dec 6, 2010 11:57:10 GMT -5
"Damnit!" Arcee mutters. So much for sniping. She's going to have to go in there and help, isn't she?
She gets to her feet and leaps from the rooftop and across the expanse of street. Her hand catches on a flagpole (there are always conveniently placed flagpoles in stories like this), she does the required Action Girl spin, then crashes through one of the few still intact upper story windows.
//I'm in. Coming down to the old man's level// she transmits, before leaping down the hole Jetfire made, gun at the ready. Chances are good she'll land smack dab on the Blackbird's torso.
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Post by SceneMod on Dec 6, 2010 14:38:31 GMT -5
The Atrocitans seems to be disappointed by Jetfire being pinned and not too mobile. Also, he's clearly not screaming enough.
Then one of Nightbeat's shots drops the living polearm, neatly severing it in two. The Atrocitians are hushed for a moment over their fallen member. Then, they break out laughing in delight - more punks for them to rearrange! Rad! Something like a collection of kites flutters up after Nightbeat, shooting something a lot like a firecracker after the Detective.
And then Arcee enters the fray, too! Even better! The hyena tries to hit Arcee with a flaming couch cushion.
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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 6, 2010 21:23:25 GMT -5
"Scrappit, this is why I work alone!" Nightbeat shouts, whipping off his trenchcoat and flinging it at the kite monster, hopefully forcing it to fly blind. Then he jumps down to Jetfire's level, landing with a crunch of metal on tile and shooting the nearest Atrocitan, a hideous gangly reptiloid crouching behind an improvised shield.
"Jetfire! Can you move?!" he shouts. Even as he asks, a quick glance tells him that Jetfire isn't going anywhere. Primus, there are way too many of these guys, even if Gramps was on his feet.
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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 7, 2010 11:06:39 GMT -5
Slugslinger might be down the street and busy looking for a specific building, and he might be a little dense, but he'd have to be deaf and blind to miss the crazy spectacle that takes place only a couple of blocks away as a huge robot appears from nowhere and crashes. He stops and stares, frozen in the middle of reaching to knock on a door, mouth slightly agape even on the left side.
"What the heck was that?" he asks no-one. He stands there in the silence for a few seconds, shoulder vanes tense and twitching. This calls for investigation, he decides, and he grins, flipping his sheet of paper aside and over his shoulder. If anyone happens across it, they'll find nothing written on it save an address and a short note beneath it in handwriting that, to knowing eyes, blends Decepticon and Quintesson elements. He takes off at a sprint toward the brouhaha to get a running start on his backflip into the air; the thrusters in his shoulders fire the moment he's sure his parts are locked in – and that they stay that way even with the shock of ignition is an immense relief.
OOC: Still skippable, but I'll be posting in properly next round if that's cool.
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Post by Jasper Stoneham on Dec 9, 2010 20:11:59 GMT -5
"Of course I can move!" Jetfire screeches, flailing one arm to prove it. He leaves out the part about not being able to move in a useful manner, and groans as he takes a swing at the spheroid alien with his cane.
"Bloody damn useless scrapping RUSTBUCKET!" he howls, managing to connect on the spheroid... only to watch it bounce off the wall (a new dent in one side) and come flying right back at him, smacking him square in the face.
Well, maybe he isn't screaming enough, but to groans count?
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Dec 10, 2010 22:48:27 GMT -5
Arcee (who did land smack in the middle of Jetfire's chest) drops flat onto the Blackbird, face pointed toward Jetfire's legs as the flaming cushin flies over her head. This probably gives the old jet a good view of Arcee's aft. Saying so would probably not be the smartest thing right now.
She rolls off the Blackboard and lands in crouch, rifle up and firing at the hyena.
//Nightbeat, he's moving, but he's stuck like a turtle on his back.//
"Jetfire, we need to get you unstuck. What's the best point for me to get leverage?
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Post by SceneMod on Dec 11, 2010 14:18:22 GMT -5
OOC: Slugslinger joining would be very cool. Also, feel free to make up disposable mooks. There's about a hundred of them here, after all. In this particular case, I don't mind if the NPCs go down easy, although the Autobots, at least, might want to fight to disable and knock out, not to kill. These NPCs are, for the most part, street fighters, and they don't have the level of combat training of soldiers, but they're certainly more dangerous than normal civilians. They don't really work well as a team, for the most part, and some of them don't even like each other. Most of them have melee weapons, but some are armed with ranged implements.
The kite is now covered in a trenchcoat! It flies around blindly, making angry noises and bumping into things. A little green man (maybe he's a Nebulan?) takes a running leap and jumps on top of the trenchcoat-covered kite, trying to steer it around to charge Nightbeat.
The hyena takes a shot to the shoulder and goes down howling, but behind there, there's a big broccoli man with a knife, who springs at Arcee and Jetfire.
There's a term for a situation like this. 'Surrounded' is the nice one.
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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 11, 2010 20:14:24 GMT -5
"Forget about pulling him off the debris!" Nightbeat shouts, pistol-whipping a tentacled mass that somehow manages to have a mohawk and has approached him too close for comfort. "Just cut through whatever he's pinned on! We don't want him to bleed out! Agh!" This last exclamation is due to the fact that the detective just got smacked upside the head with a rock. The anthropoid who threw it gets blasted for its trouble, but two more gangbangers move to take its place.
"We need to get out of here now."
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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 12, 2010 11:37:53 GMT -5
Now looks like the perfect time for Slugslinger to get in close where he can see what's going on – and what's going on can only be described with the phrase "unbridled chaos", he thinks as he circles to find the best angle. Those look like Autobots down there getting mobbed; it's a thought that makes him laugh raucously and roll with delight. He can practically feel his guns itching to make it worse on them.
"Oh, this is too perfect!" he crows. He turns himself back over and slows, looking for a good point to hover and open fire.
Then a large guy with a piggish sort of face and dark glasses spots him and, assuming the robots are one big group, takes a few shots on him. Slugslinger pitches hard right and drops to evade, putting what's left of the roof between him and Porky.
"What's the big idea?!" he demands at top volume. He pushes up into a climb, arcing away from the building until the curve takes him toward it again. At the peak, he cuts thrust and turns over into a dive, rolling as he plummets for the fracas below. "You think I'm with them?!" he bellows, indignant and infuriated, the instant he squares Porky in his sights. It's the biggest insult anyone's ever paid him and he has to do the courteous thing and return in kind; the Autobots can wait. He locks onto Porky first, firing his disruptor cannon, but doesn't wait long enough to see just what a mess the fleshy makes when it splatters before turning his electrostatic guns on the next big distraction – that kite thing with the little goblin riding it.
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Post by Jasper Stoneham on Dec 13, 2010 13:41:21 GMT -5
Of all the indignities, now to add "Autobot Landing Platform" onto them. He should have stayed in recharge today. At least the view isn't too bad. For a few moments, at least, until Arcee uses him as a launching platform and rolls away. Damn. If he's going to die, it could at least be with a pretty young thing like her crouched over him! "Anywhere but here, lass," he manages, free hand scraping along his chest where a big girder punches through. The worst one, the one near his spark.
Jetfire groans again, slashing out wildly with his cane, only to have it knocked away by a walking catfish. No, really, it's got a big, flat head, thick, slimy whiskers, and a wide, toothy maw drooling slime, and the rheumy sort of glazed look in his drooping eyes as a land-stranded catfish.
It smiles nastily as it bats the cane away and hops forward on it's finny feet to land on one crumpled wing panel, barbs in the tips of the toes ripping into Jetfire's plating and tearing deep furrows into that fold of wing. If only he had the energy to, Jetfire would spacebridge the lot of them right back up out of there and into orbit! Then he'd see who was superior, when all those fleshy meatsacks boiled in their own fluids!
The catfish-mook burbles unpleasantly as it flops down to loom into Jetfire's face, reading the groan of frustration as one of pain and fear. It's his last mistake, though.
Half-senile or no, Jetfire was once the best of the Empire's Seekers. Build and bred to range far, stand alone, face anything and walk away laughing, he may be old and soft now, but those fires burn within him, still. And he's got his own "whiskers", sharp as blades. As soon as the mook leans in close enough, Jetfire rears up with a howl and tilts his head back, slashing from belly to throat with the very barbs of his own face!
Catfish blob gratifyingly flops away, clutching at it's own spilled guts, tumbling into a pair of laughing beetles. Of course, Jetfire is now wearing some of those entrails on his face, and they taste horrible!
He's also shifted the girder a little too close to his spark for his own comfort, and collapses back weakly with a moan. He's no longer the virile warrior he once was, and his body is only too happy to remind him of that. "Gettin' too old for this crap," he mutters, and slashes half-heartedly at the twin beetles as they tumble down at him. Gramps vanishes under a pile of hundreds of smaller beetles, as the two big ones suddenly dissolve into a wave of tinier versions.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Dec 14, 2010 23:40:44 GMT -5
"Cut through with what, Nightbeat? I shoot things, not skewer them!"
No, that's a different, less sane Arcee.
"Arrrr," Arcee drops to one knee and clamps a hand on her now-smoking and melted shoulder. She snaps a shot at the cause, a skinny bipedal creature in a blue wetsuit and ruby visor. The shot misses, and the creature reaches up to his visor to send another blast of energy Arcee's way.
"Nevermind!" She shouts back at Nightbeat "Got an idea!"
She launches herself at her attacker.
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Post by SceneMod on Dec 15, 2010 17:34:13 GMT -5
They need to get out of there now? Those creeper vines trying to wrap themselves around Nightbeat's ankles say different!
Nightbeat, meet Audrey V. She's hungry.
The kite with the green man explodes as the rockets the kite was carrying go up - several unwary Atrocitans are caught in the blast, and some of Our Heroes(?) might as well, if they are not careful.
Will Arcee be too busy with Cyclops to notice that Nightbeat is being a Damsel In Distress again? Will Jetfire get that girder away from his spark before beetles get him?
Tune in next time.
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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 15, 2010 21:51:36 GMT -5
"Decepticon? Perfect. CAN WE DO THIS ANOTHER TIME?!" he shouts up at Slugslinger. "I'LL BE PERFECTLY HAPPY TO KICK YOUR AFT BACK TO KAON ONCE WE TRASH THESE PUNKS!"
Nightbeat drops one of his pistols as green tendrils yank his feet out from under him and start dragging him toward the maw of a sentient plant that apparently thinks it lacks iron in its diet. His fedora falls off too, and disappears into the crowd. Really, it's a miracle it managed to stay on this long.
The detective subspaces his remaining pistol and draws his plasma blaster, taking aim at Audrey V and attempting to invent deep-fried salad. A strange crystalline being and something that looks vaguely eel-like weigh in on the issue, taking the opportunity to kick Nightbeat while he's down. Clearly not salad fans.
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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 19, 2010 9:53:17 GMT -5
Somewhat satisfied with the kaboom the kite makes, Slugslinger pulls out of his dive at the last instant before he'll be stuck in the ruins with the rest of them; it takes turning his fans on full blast to help brake and reverse his descent. He slows at the bottom of the curve – slows dangerously, in fact, and rolls to lessen the exposure of his underside. He's close enough that his jet wash could do some hurt to any squishy types in what's left of the upper levels.
Is that Autobot yelling at him? Little old Slugslinger? He'd be flattered if it wasn't so hilarious.
"I'D LIKE TO SEE YOU TRY!" he jeers back with a raucous bout of laughter.
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Post by Jasper Stoneham on Dec 27, 2010 20:27:20 GMT -5
Sadly for the beetles, Jetfire is one-hundred percent mechanical. There's nary a dollop of flesh for them to devour, and their tiny little mandibles are not really suited to sawing through even his fine wiring. A few wires do, however, come loose, spitting thin sparks as they short, just from the pressure of all the little blighters trying to cram themselves into his every circuit and seam.
It kind of tickles, actually.
Anyone who had any doubts about Grampa Blackbird's sanity before will probably have no more doubts when the mound of beetle and jet starts quaking and the sounds of helpless laughter erupt from within. He can't help it! They're in his systems! Thousands upon thousands of tiny little feet and jaws trampling their way across his every sensor and connector! He couldn't stop laughing if his life depended on it!
Alas, the bugs aren't giving up that easily, and keep prying their way inward, seeking for that tiniest little sliver of flesh that he surely must have somewhere, right? One wing painfully rips free from the twisted railing and wires constricting it as Jetfire continues to laugh and squirm.
'Nuff's enough!
He opens a channel to the Autobot Broadband and sends out a rather mirthful distress call to everyone who's listening.
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