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Post by Drift on Feb 14, 2011 22:55:06 GMT -5
It's Drift's hand around Barricade's throat this time. Turnabout sucks, doesn't it, 'con? And Drift's hands may not be razor tipped talons, but they are a swordsmech's hands, so they're...strong.
"What do I care?" he hisses. "What do I care about being a proper 'con?" His mouth works for a long moment. "Try this, Barricade. I just want an opponent who's worth my fraggin' time."
He shoves Barricade away, just as the talons swatted at his face, gouging white lines of pain over one cheek.
That...settles it. He grabs the wrist, roughly, whipping Barricade around by it, aiming to throw him down the hallway. He releases his grip to send Barricade flying, the hand flying to grab one of his swords.
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Barricade
Minor
Knight of the Spastic Sword
Trust Me
Posts: 372
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Post by Barricade on Feb 14, 2011 23:19:09 GMT -5
What vision he has left, begins to grey out as those strong fingers grip his throat, constricting the cables and conduits that supply his cranial systems with needed power and coolants. Drift's fuel is still strong on his taste receptors, though; he will die knowing that he struck hard enough to taste his enemy's oil. It is for that reason, if nothing else, that he meets Drift's insults with a surprisingly lucid grin.
Drift can claim all he wants about Barricade's unworthiness, but most of the fluids splashed about the corridor aren't Barricade's. Drift will remember him, especially with that last little parting slash.
Time skips. He remembers feeling his talons bite into Drift's cheek, remembers that quick flash of temper upon the white mech's features, remembers feeling Drift seize his wrist tightly-- but then, a blur of darkness until he finds himself crashing to the floor some distance away, sparks kicking up from where his plating skids along the decking. Back the way he'd been flung from, Drift is ripping a sword out of its scabbard.
No. No! If he is to die, he will, by the Allspark, die on his feet, and not in a huddled pile on the floor of some broken down Autobot tramp freighter! He won't!
"'CADE!!!"
The sound is a primal shriek coming from behind Drift, from the direction of the lift, whose lights suddenly begin to flicker, as the whole lift gives a jarring lurch. A flash of quicksilver, quick as lightning, and even more nightmarishly bladey than Barricade, zips past Drift from that direction, flinging itself toward Barricade with a rapid fire chatter of Cybertronian insults and sputtering hisses.
"HATE YOU!" Frenzy shrieks toward Drift, launching himself at the wall, slamming his upper set of hands against the surface, embedding the hacking dataspikes deep into the lines hidden behind the corridor plating. What emerges next can only be called an unholy bane-sidhe wail, the mating of a fax modem and the death knell of a thousand motherboards as the hacker rips his way through the Event Horizon's systems with all the finesse of a charging rhino. "Comeoncomeoncomeonfrag!"
There. There! He triggers the command, even as Drift continues toward them both, blade and expression equally edged.
With a hiss of triumph, the bulkhead doors slam together and seal, not more than an armlength from Drift, sealing the Decepticons away from the white swordsmech's wrath. If Drift peers through the small porthole windows in those doors, he might just see Frenzy flipping him the bird, before scuttling over to Barricade's side.
ooc: posing of Drift done with permission.
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Post by Drift on Feb 15, 2011 21:09:52 GMT -5
If Barricade thinks that getting a few knocks and dents is going to be particularly memorable, well...then Barricade's even dumber than he is ugly. He'd been beaten, worse, and by better mechs.
Frag, even some idiot named 'Braid' had worked him over better.
The Pretty, Barricade, Abides.
However, what doesn't abide so much is the shrieking...whatthefraggin'PITisTHAT? silver thing that looked like some demented experiment by Jhiaxus done on a box of razors and a centipede. A centipede that has a command of invective that would impress Gasket.
Ah, this must be the...partner. Drift wishes he could say he was impressed--well, not really--but he can't squeak a word in edgewise to the chattering and yowling.
Then again, why slip words in when blades do so much more damage?
Which is why he's striding down the hall, both short swords drawn. Time, he thinks, to finish this.
...Apparently not. The bulkhead seems to slam shut in front of him. Huh, nice trick. Pulled that himself on Turmoil's ship. Drift manages to pull himself up short, just before he would have gifted the heavy blast door with an imprint of his nasal. And glaring at inanimate objects doesn't, he discover, make them work.
"GET THIS DOOR OPEN," he yells. At the Elita. At the razorpede. At...anyone. Drift does not like leaving things unfinished.
Well...not when he's winning.
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Barricade
Minor
Knight of the Spastic Sword
Trust Me
Posts: 372
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Post by Barricade on Feb 16, 2011 22:14:48 GMT -5
If Frenzy weren't so worried about getting 'Cadecade up and stumbling away before the psycho sword freak can cut his way through that door? He'd totally be laughing at Drift's impotence at the moment.
As it is, he's going to be badgering the infiltrator, and outright hacking him if necessary, to get Barricade on his feet and shuffling off in the direction of the nearest airlock - in the opposite direction of Slice-o-tron back there.
"Comeon, comeon, comeon, 'Cadecade!" he cajoles, begs, orders as he tugs on Barricade's hand. "Frak them. We go NOW!"
ooc: out of thread and abandoning ship before Drift turns them both into steel sushi.
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Post by Elita-1 on Feb 16, 2011 22:37:55 GMT -5
When the elevator shudders, Elita throws herself out of it, yanking Mirage's limp body along with her. She just catches a glimpse of Frenzy before the bulkhead doors shut. "Allspark," she mutters as Drift yells at her, "This day gets better and better." "I'm not a hacker, Drift," she says, "If the doors are locked down..." She opens a panel and checks the terminal, "And they are. Plus, we need to get out of this section, since it sounds like we might be losing this segment." Elita looks back at Mirage. "And drop Mirage off at medical." OOC: Dropping Mirage at medical can be offscreened, if you want Drift. We can go whereever you want battle-wise from here.
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Post by Drift on Feb 19, 2011 21:35:09 GMT -5
(ooc: Drift, alas, has no map of the ship and his mun is dim. So we're gonna follow your lead, Elita!)
Drift growls...but then realizes that growling at a door is not only ineffectual, but probably looks pretty dumb. It's not really the door he's mad at (well, not really) so much as that on the other side the razorpede of ugly flashing him a gesture or two (or three) he hasn't seen in a long time.
Drift...responds in kind. Adding a few choice words at VERY HIGH VOLUME which he hopes makes it through the bulkhead metal, and has the added benefit of drowning out whatever the 'female' Elita was trying to say to him, except the fact that...apparently, she can't get the door open.
He whirls to her.
"What?" Another growl. Yeah, he hears. Another someone telling him to leave the battlefield, another someone cheating him of victory. He storms back toward Mirage. Fine. If this is how it has to be? He'll grab the downed mech and carry him. As long as they were heading where there was something more to kill.
(cyber-bird-flipping Frenzy action cleared with Frenzy's player, and Drift hasn't actually touched Mirage, just stating that that's what his intent is.)
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Post by Elita-1 on Feb 20, 2011 12:59:15 GMT -5
Um, well, if you don't mind then, Elita is going to go haring off to help her boys and try to keep a promise, dragging Drift along. If at any point Drift desires to slip away from her, he is more than welcome to do so.
My, my the pretty has a hell of a temper, doesn't he? "Right. This way. We can cut through Section 14b. Should bring us out nearer to the engines, since that's where most of the fighting is. Though it sounds like we might be pushing them ba-" Elita had been walking in the direction indicated, but when Sentinel comes across the radio sounding for all the world like he's about to hork up his engine, she stops stock still. After a minute, she turns down a different hallway. "Change of plans. Gonna take care of a bug problem." Shifting threads on Elita's next post!
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Post by Drift on Feb 20, 2011 19:41:53 GMT -5
Well, as long as you're not an inanimate object standing between him and something he really, really wants to kill, he'll manage to control his temper, Elita.
Right. Engines, most of the fighting--no, apparently not. Drift grinds his optic shutters. How this band of incompetents was managing to push any enemy back at all was...making him believe in the Hand of Primus.
"Not an exterminator," he mutters. He hates that he has to follow her.
Bugs. Seriously. Zombies and females and bugs. This place was infested. There has to be someone around here who makes some damn sense.... Perceptor. Perceptor was here. Maybe he can raise him on an audiochan and at least get...some explanations that make sense.
"Access to audio channels. How?" He's also not so fond of the fact he has to ask for help. Be happy you're facing away or you'd see The Pretty is pretty damned unhappy.
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Post by Elita-1 on Feb 20, 2011 22:57:11 GMT -5
Cross-posting to Fantastic Four, and moving out of this thread with this post. It's a good thing that "band of incompetents" comment wasn't said aloud. Just because things are running the way Drift thinks they shouldn't doesn't make people incompetent, and Elita is very much not in the mood now to discuss the matter in any civil manner. For now, she is moving at a very fast clip toward the coordinates given by Sentinel, though they do make a zigzag to drop Mirage with Botanica. She looks back over her shoulder at Drift's question, "You can't hear the Autobot and General broadband back and forth? For some reason, when new folks show up, they seem to always be on the same frequencies we're using, and people have the same personal frequencies. Like, the Kup here has the same personal frequency as my old boot instructor, Kup Minor. It's odd. But if you're an exception... folks are going to want to talk to you. I-" Elita stops abruptly as the sounds of laser fire and screams carry through the halls. They're still a few corridors away, but Elita easily recognizes the loudest. It's her own after all. She takes off at a run. Will actually "arrive" on next post, though Drift is welcome to pass her and show up first!
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