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Post by SceneMod on Jan 29, 2011 23:35:18 GMT -5
The thug decides that Emirate Xaaron is far more trouble than he's worth, and goes scrambling off. The firefighters get back to firefighting, although a few have broken off and are chatting with one of the ambulance crews.
It would appear that they're holding a betting pool to determine how many bodies that they'll find inside. Part way through, one of the paramedics makes a face. "Y'know... I... don't think I want in on this one, Stroe. Call me crazy, but... aren't we supposed to be here to help? I mean, that's why I got into this... don't know where it went so far off."
The other firefighters and paramedics just look at the one speaking, and Stroe just shrugs. "All right. You're crazy." He shrugs, turns back to the others, and gets back to working out the bets.
But one or two of the others look thoughtful as the first speaker walks away.
Sometimes, ideas can spread like a virus, and there's something gaining momentum.
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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 Jan 30, 2011 22:42:00 GMT -5
"H-watch out!" Nightbeat shouts when Jetfire tumbles, immediately leaning down to help him back up, then recoiling when waves of beetles start emerging from the elder mech like beetles from a sinking SR-71.
"Sonuvaglitch!" he exclaims as he jumps back, pulling his pistol off his helmet and blasting at the insects. "Five minutes without something horrible happening. That's all I ask!"
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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 Feb 2, 2011 10:39:05 GMT -5
Slugslinger thinks nothing of what he said, really, though that incongruously urbane smile – and what a curious facial deformity this one has! Are those stitches in his lips? Slugslinger doesn't stare, but does a quick image capture with his right optic to study later – does give him second thoughts the longer he dwells on it. Ah, but this is an Autobot Councillor, he reminds himself with a small shrug. One who knows legalese, but then, that just makes sense.
"More like someone's deposit box prize," he sallies back, erring on the dull side all the same. Now the entertainment really is done with and Slugslinger heaves a sigh to himself; he rolls his shoulders and drops his arms to his sides, lifting and resettling the fragmented bits of his fuselage rather than shake himself off. He grumbles aloud to himself, "Guess I'll just have to try again later," and starts off up the street at a rather sedate pace. The cops have wandered far enough afield chasing thugs that, other than one or two angry paramedics shouting at him to stay put while they're too busy carting off someone on their trolley to actually chase after him, Slugslinger finds no real obstacles. Not that he couldn't just take off if they tried.
He wonders again, however, as he strolls along – just why would a Councillor show up like that? That just isn't normal.
OOC: And out.
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Post by Emirate Xaaron on Feb 2, 2011 14:24:21 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron does have stitches on his mouth. They're stretchy. He doesn't consider them a defect any more than a faskmask is. He watches Slugsinger go thoughtfully, not saying anything back. The Decepticon seems to enbjoy provocation too much.
Then he pitches in to help as he can. It's been a long, long time since he sorted through the rubble of Flame's lab. Maybe he ought to have Holi give him a refresher course.
OOC: Skippable, being Ye Generic Helpful Autobot.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Feb 9, 2011 0:02:24 GMT -5
Arcee, when she jumps back, jumps through the exit door. As more beetle flow toward her, she fires rapidly into the swarm, killing several and causing others to either pause or turn off in other directions.
Taking a moment, she looks around and notices that the gangsters have pretty much scattered.
"I am not touching him again until he's deconed!" she declares.
OOC: Looks like we can maybe fade into a wrap?
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Post by Jasper Stoneham on Feb 13, 2011 20:44:31 GMT -5
First they drop him, and now, Nightbeat is shooting at him. Wonderful.
Okay, so Nightbeat is really shooting at the last of the beetles that are fleeing his systems in their disorganized way, but, still. "Fine!" he growls, crawling out the door without their help as the smoke continues to choke the air. "Bloody hell, the lot of ya."
The rest of his grumbling dissolves into even less coherent grousing as he slowly levers himself upright against the building across the alley and tries to hobble away with what shreds of dignity he has left.
ooc: fade is a go for me!
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