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Post by Swerve on Jul 21, 2007 2:41:31 GMT -5
OOC: Coming in from here in the Station Battle Build-up thread.
Swerve guns his engine hard as he roars back out into the desert, making a beeline for the glinting dark vehicle he'd spotted. It's good to be doing something. Sitting there was about to drive him right up the mesa wall. As he closes the distance between them, he realises the other car is an unfamiliar make. Nothing Velocitronian, for sure. Looks downright… mundane. "Hey!" he bellows, continuing to charge head on, eschewing the radio when he's within distance. It's always more satisfying talking through his vocorder. "Hey, y–" At this distance, the purple badge he couldn't see before stands out now. He knows that shape; he's seen it too many times in the underground, on the circuits. He's bashed in too many of them not to know it. // Decepticon!// he shouts over the broadband before shifting gears, pushing himself to top speed. He's aiming to shave just past the Decepticon's right quarter panel at the last second; not close enough to clip him, but if this guy isn't used to that sort of driving, it could throw him. Swerve has yet to learn just what it is to fight a Stunticon.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 21, 2007 3:17:21 GMT -5
Oh, look, an Autobot car is charging Dead End! At least it's not one of those hideously over-armed Aerialbots...
// Dead End here--engaging red and grey Autobot car. Unknown identity-- // he pauses his broadcast on the Decepticon broadband frequency; Dead End does not even recognize the model of car. It's not from Earth. //...Unknown model, probably not Earth-built unless significantly post-2006. I will forward what intelligence I acquire, if I can. //
Wholly unknown capabilities with which to kill him, too. Of course he would wind up fighting a complete unknown. The open road, the prospect of a proper fight on the ground, like a Stunticon is meant to fight--it is much too good a day. He is going to die, he knows it.
He refuses to utter that hideously overused line about "today", "good day", and dying. Dead End is a Stunticon, not a Klingon. His last words should not be some recycled human quote.
His dark red exterior gleams, viciously reflecting the sun's glare into unwary eyes as he floors the acclerator. The Autobot wants to play chicken? Dead End is happy to oblige--though he'll leave the head-on smash-ups to Motormaster. He'll just try to clip the Bots right rear fender and send him into a skid.
"So eager to meet your inevitable fate?" Dead End challenges. "Most Autobots are not so anxious as you."
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Post by Swerve on Jul 21, 2007 5:10:42 GMT -5
Ooh, and this 'Con has something of a mouth on him! Swerve can feel his oil racing through the lines, fuel pump abuzz. The speed, the verbal shots, the unknown, all of it and going flat-out on the road. It's a taste of home as refreshing and sweet as clean energon. Swerve can't recall feeling this keyed up and this torqued off all at once, but he sure as scrap does now. And it's a fragging glorious high.
"I'm not most Autobots!" he snaps back smugly, cutting sharply to his left the last instant before he can plow clean into the other car. It's close as he passes – so close the outer wall of his tire nearly kisses front fender – and there's a skim mere microns from his own rear quarter. Nearly tapped him! It sends a thrill, elation and pique and a dash of uncertainty, up and down his relays. Hasn't been a close call like that in a good, long while.
After he passes, he taps the brakes and spins 180°, then nearly grinds gears in his push to accelerate, to catch up. This guy's not all that slow, either. Maybe not as fast as Swerve if this is the best he can do, but not slow.
"Not too bad, I guess," he shouts after the maroon racer, feeling just a little charitable, "for a Decepticon!"
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 21, 2007 10:32:34 GMT -5
"Oh, I'm just starting with the warm-up!" Dead End replied, feeling furiously alive. This war might be pointless, the battle meaningless, but this was what he was built to do!
His engine roars, an eight-cylinder purr at 180 mph--turning at this speed would sacrifice too much momentum... for now. He lets the Autobot chase him, flashing past the turn-off, away from the other Autobots (and incidentally getting him a better view around the farside of the mesa).
Dead End finally notices the pink car part way up the mesa--something familiar about those lines. He files the picture for later processing; the Autobot racer behind him has his attention now.
Now let's see what this eager young racer can do-- he opens his throttle again, accelerating up to 200 mph--still not his maximum--and opens a general radio channel as well.
// What, losing your zeal already? Even Motormaster's faster than that! I suppose the pointlessness of it all might get to you... //
The black metal road in the black desert is almost uncomfortably warm under his tires, tires already hot from blazing across the same searingly hot metal for hours now, but it hums under the Stunticon's tires like life itself. The desert around them is flat, black gravel and sand, dotted with slabs of rock. Drivable, but treacherous--soft spots waiting to grab tires like a malfunctioning brake and send a car hurtling off in unexpected directions; rocks to tear out the undercarriage of a car that hits them too fast and unprepared.
Dead End chuckles wickedly to himself. This won't be boring!
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Post by Swerve on Jul 21, 2007 12:30:05 GMT -5
The laugh teasing its way up from Swerve's spark is genuine, laced with the pent-up aggravation of the past days. Losing his zeal? What the slag sort of question was that supposed to be? Translucent gleaming tires grab the road, stealing traction on the hot metal as he follows.
//Hah! Pointless? This is the point!// Swerve cries in defiantly zealous answer to the taunt, pouring on the speed after his opponent. Catching up isn't hard – whatever model he is, it just isn't up to specs – metal roadway singing through his tires, through his frame. The roads on Velocitron never responded like this. It just spurs him on. He has to close the gap, get within vocal range, in striking range. It isn't just the racing, no – no, it's the fighting, too. He has to prove himself. He can't be bested, not by a Decepticon. Simply being faster isn't enough.
Quickly, almost too quickly, he's in close again. Close enough to borrow the Decepticon's draft even though he doesn't need to; or maybe he does. Save a bit of stamina. No telling yet how long this mech can go. Split-second decision. Swerve uses it, then, accelerating into the pocket empty of wind resistance, then darting right and pushing forward. His turn to try the Decepticon, aiming to nudge the same fender he nearly clipped on the first pass.
Prodding, testing – he's caught up in it, fighting it. Don't drag it out, finish it! Finish the first real race he's had in days? Now? No way, not just yet. It's only just starting to get good!
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 21, 2007 21:25:25 GMT -5
"Oh, there you are! I was afraid you'd gotten lost!"
The Autobot car is fast--probably faster than Dead End, if his acceleration is any clue. So. Can't rely on outrunning him--how maneuverable is he?
Swerve darts forward to nudge at the Stunticon's fender--
Dead End taps the brakes, suddenly dropping back, and twists his tires ever so slightly--just enough to slam his side against the Autobot's side, sending a spray of sparks and the scream of metal on metal flying through the air.
When they part, there isn't a scratch on Dead End's mirror-polish. The same can't be said of Swerve's finish.
// By the way, my name is Dead End. Welcome to Stunticon racing at its finest! //
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Post by Swerve on Jul 21, 2007 23:27:14 GMT -5
"Well, if you're just gonna run away like that…!" But before Swerve can complete his own manoeuver, the Decepticon brakes, then rams him. It's reflex to push back, shoving against the other to avoid being run off the road. The screech of contact grates over his audios and he shudders into it.
His pipes and the exposed paint on that side are a mess when the Decepticon pulls away. He can still move, though; that's what matters. That and getting him back for it.
"Dead End?" he echoes none too sincerely. To the scrap heap with the radio. The fine art of the verbal exchange is a lost one, apparently. "Well, that's a leaking great name!" He forces himself to brush off the cosmetic damage; he's had worse. But the lack of damage on the Decepticon – on Dead End – how the frag did he get away without the slightest ding? That's what's so slagging infuriating!
"Stunticon? Never heard of it, but if this is its finest, I'm not impressed!" And he punctuates that with a slam of his own, putting more power behind it to drag along as he slowly pulls forward. Even if there isn't a mark left on Dead End, there's a chance the force behind the hit can still throw him off. "And the name's Swerve!"
He quickly puts out of mind the idea that if 'Stunticon racing' is like this all the time, it sounds like his kind of circuit.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 21, 2007 23:59:50 GMT -5
This Bot can drive! He doesn't fight like an Autobot, he fights like a Stunticon! Dead End can scarcely contain his glee--even as he's forced off the road to bounce through the gravel. He'd expected that to happen soon enough.
"Swerve? You need to do more of that, really. Or not--the outcome will be the same in the end."
He lets himself spin-out on the gravel, timing the spin so that his course reverses, then he stops the skid and stomps on the gas, surging back onto the road in a spray of gravel--behind Swerve and going the other way... toward the other Autobots.
Really, he's not running back to fight them, just to put some space between himself and Swerve--
Slam the brakes again, skidding into a bootlegger reverse--and he's flying down the road back towards Swerve.
"I exaggerated! It would be at its finest if my four brothers were here--alas, you'll have to make do with my poor company!"
Now he deploys his vehicle-mode blaster cannon and fires.
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Post by Swerve on Jul 22, 2007 16:49:13 GMT -5
Swerve would be spewing a long string of invective fit to trip most language filters if he wasn't so surprised – 'pleasantly' doesn't quite enter the equation – at Dead End's racer-caliber manoeuvering. He might even be insulted if he was to find out Dead End thinks he fights like a Stunticon, but right now, his anger is for letting himself get too caught up in the moment. And then caught in the weapons fire.
He lives up to his name in short order, making wild, evasive turns between cannon blasts, hissing to himself as one hits way too close to his rear tires for comfort and reminds him how grateful he is that he's too low to the ground for his axles to be targeted so easily even as he curses being so low for the grind and loss of speed when one side or the other slips off the road and catches in the gravel. This is and isn't like a run in the races; there's something different about it. Not just the unfamiliar track and the unfamiliar opponent. A sharper edge. He can't just run back to his shop if things go bad.
He starts to drop back a little, debating between a flick or a feint of some kind. He has to at least shake the disadvantage he's in even if he can't gain a real advantage either. Focus, treat this like any other oil race. Win – survive – whatever it takes. Worry about recovering from the win later.
Abruptly, Swerve hits the brakes and hard. His tires scream protest at the abuse but he ignores the raking sensation of the skid and throws gear into reverse, hangs up in a wheelspin for a split-second before regaining traction and snapping backwards, gunning it. Imagine how surprised he'd be to learn Earth cars don't usually reverse well at high speed. So is he planning to ram into Dead End in reverse? Frag no.
"My turn!" he snarls, and even as the gap between them closes at blinding speed, the shimmering red specter of a key plummets from the sky and slams home to the port on his trunk. The barrels of his laser cannon unlock and ratchet into place as he drops past the maroon blur that is Dead End. He jams on the brake at the same time as the power surge from the Cyber Key hits him, maybe a little too hard. His steering shimmies against his will at the energy pumping into his systems and the weird feeling it brings with it. Something's… off. Like a bad timer on a grand scale. Internally, he shakes it; systems check later, slaggit; fight now!
He shifts back into gear and launches forward again, then opens fire; aiming for the tires is a lost cause back home, but Dead End isn't Velocitronian (though he'd probably fit in pretty well on the illegal circuits, and his 'brothers' too if they're anything like him). Swerve has no idea what he is, really, but maybe he'll hit something important.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 22, 2007 17:51:34 GMT -5
Now that was an impressive maneuver! So his car mode could reverse as fast as it went forward. Handy, that. He seemed anxious to avoid Dead End's blasters, though.
Dead End swerved violently, though the first of Swerve's shots glanced off a rear fender. Forcefields were still holding, but Dead End decided not to test their integrity too much. As he swerved again, he put his wheels over and gave his lifters a slight nudge, sending himself sailing off the road into the desert. He landed hard, and lurched before getting traction on the packed earth and surging forward in a spray of dust and sand.
He wallowed around a turn, facing the road and Swerve again--the sand was annoyingly soft, bogging him down--then found traction on a patch of packed gravel. Fortunately for Dead End, Stunticons have really good suspensions and tires. Almost as if they were stunt cars.
He tossed off a few more shots at long range, just to show the Autobot he was still interested, then waited. Would the Autobot abandon the road, which catered to his speed advantage, and chase him into the brutal desert terrain?
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Post by Swerve on Jul 22, 2007 19:43:24 GMT -5
Frag this and frag Dead End. Not a scratch on him! How does the sludge-sucker do that?!
Swerve might ask, but Dead End veers off the roadway and blasts at him again. The Stunticon was wondering why Swerve was so keen on avoiding being hit? Well, probably because getting shot is never a good thing – a point illustrated often in the past and once again made painfully clear to the racer as a shot nails his rear fender. He's sent into an ugly fishtail and skids to a stop several lengths after. He doesn't stay stopped for long, spinning himself back to face Dead End as quickly as he can. He isn't pleased when he sees his opponent out there, waiting.
Off-road. Swerve fragging hates off-road driving.
Right about now, though, he hates Dead End quite a lot more than he hates off-roading and concerns about his undercarriage and suspension, along with a little thing called good judgement, are among the furthest things from his mind. He accepts the tacit invitation with return fire as he leaves the road, throwing gravel and dirt up behind him.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 22, 2007 20:43:19 GMT -5
Dead End swerves and dodges as he bounces across the hard-packed desert soil. Black sand, black gravel, compacted black ash... the black clinkery ridge of a half-buried lava flow...
Dead End swerves around the end of the lava flow, then turns to run along the backside, perpendicular to Swerve's course. Perhaps Swerve will be tempted to take the straight-line path and tear his undercarriage apart on the lava. At the very least, it blocks shots to his tires, as only Dead End's upper half is visible over the low ridge of lava.
Dead End's vehicle guns are fixed mount; he can't fire off to the side while he's running like this. Not every move in a chess game results in a piece captured, either. Now, is there a useful bit of ground here? He scans with radar and optics.
Oh yes, there--just off the end of the lava ridge. Sand sloping down in a bowl. Now, is Swerve still following him, or was he silly enough to cut across the lava?
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Post by Swerve on Jul 22, 2007 22:07:05 GMT -5
If Swerve was annoyed with the 'road' in the forest, he's downright infuriated with this messy volcanic terrain. It and Dead End's off-road superiority aren't helping his temper or his temperature, not that he's paying attention to that particular technical detail. Traction out here is a joke; he's re-learning how to drift the hard way, sliding gracelessly through turns that shouldn't be a problem – that probably wouldn't if he was concentrating.
Following Dead End around the long way is no way to catch him, not on this ground. Can't pummel him if he can't be caught. Wanna smash in that stupid purple logo and a few other choice parts. But Dead End avoided the ground for a reason, didn't he? A trap? Something wrong there. Frag it all!
Swerve revs and follows Dead End's path, all the while just working himself more and more toward an overheat debating just how badly he'll pound on the Stunticon. He'll figure out how to ruin that stupid shiny finish and the metal underneath it, whatever it takes.
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Dead End
Major
Yes, we're all doomed. I already knew that.
Posts: 797
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Post by Dead End on Jul 22, 2007 22:26:46 GMT -5
"Ah, a finely-tuned racer--not built for off-roading, are you?" Dead End says condescendingly.
Swerve is following him. Perfect! Dead End guns it, and gives his lifters a tiny nudge--just enough to let him fly across the surface of the sand without doing much more than feathering the sand with his tires. On the far side of the bowl, he lets his full weight rest on the ground again, for traction's sake.
After all, the lava bubble that lurks beneath the sand would hardly support his full weight. Not if the top is weak enough to have cracked and started slowly sucking sand down into the cave below...
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Post by Swerve on Jul 22, 2007 23:18:12 GMT -5
Okay, that did it. The tone – that slagging uppity tone–!
"I'll show you!" Swerve's voice is a tangle of rage growling up through his engine. An overheat alarm sounds at him and goes ignored as he wrings out every last bit of speed he can. The faster he gets there, the faster he can bash in Dead End's smarmy face after he rips apart the chassis hiding it!
Rage-blind, he notices too late the shift of the sand and the crackle beneath him. He's light, but not that light; the ground that wouldn't hold Dead End won't hold him, either, and gives way with the strangest-sounding shatter Swerve, who is accustomed to the splinter and crash of windscreens, has ever heard. His engine hits a painful high with no ground for his spinning tires to grab.
His speed carries him partly over the gap, but gravity does take its hold and he makes a last-ditch effort not to fall, transforming mid-air. He slams into the rim of the new hole in the ground chestplate first – something punched through, he's pretty sure, but the impact has scrambled a bunch of tactile sensors and he can't tell where or how deep – and his gun clatters to the floor of the cave while he tries to get a purchase on the sandy earth.
He fell for the trap anyway. And his last scrap of common sense needs to shut up and quit reminding him.
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