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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 24, 2011 21:27:51 GMT -5
OOC: Day 2, semi-private, ask before joining although takers are encouraged! 'Con ship.
There was a familiar and ominous little prickle at the edge of his senses. Phobia stops dead in the middle of quietly organising the files on his datapad, the red band of his visor bright with tension.
He’d felt flickers of the Other’s presence on and off for the past few hours. They’d fade in and out of the range of his senses, but would never entirely disappear no matter which room the bike ducked into and no matter how many times he’d transformed and sped down the Ship’s hallways to escape it. So far, he’d managed to avoid... him, but there was only so much time to flee in between necessary duties and whatever meager rest he can get.
This time, the presence was close. Just the fact that he could feel it surrounded by other people meant it was close. Which was a bit unnerving considering Phobia had been paranoidly keeping an eye out for it since this entire debacle began.
The black bike swiftly gathers up his work and exits the monitor room, saying a quiet goodbye to the room's other occupant(s). It was pretty much the end of the shift already and he really did not want to stick around and be trapped here.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Feb 25, 2011 20:16:42 GMT -5
"Hello Phobia."
Obviously, Phobia should have made a break for it sooner, because Rampage is right there as he leaves the monitor room, pushing off from the wall he's been lounging against.
"Fancy meeting you here," he says, sounding remarkably friendly. "You know, I was just thinking about you. What a coincidence, hmm?"
Stepping towards Phobia, he adds, "Would like to know what I was thinking?"
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 25, 2011 21:38:36 GMT -5
Phobia makes what is possibly the most undignified noise to have ever been made. He nearly drops everything in his arms and desperately grabs at them before snatching them close to his chest and attempting to back into the room- only to find that the door had already closed.
The sound of his back meeting the metal door echoes eerily down the hallway as the bike stares at Rampage, optics over-bright with terror.
“I... I’m afraid I’m a bit busy,” he says softly, trying to move away. "Perhaps on a later date?" There is a barely-there tremor in his voice despite his hardest attempts to suppress it.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Feb 26, 2011 11:26:37 GMT -5
Rampage gravitates towards Phobia like a plant to sunlight. Such lovely terror, and Phobia is a feast of it.
Taking long strides, he attempts to fall in beside Phobia as the Decepticon retreats, as though he just wants to go for a friendly stroll. Phobia would just love an escort around the ship, wouldn't he?
"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asks, sounding innocent. "I was just wondering why someone chose to bless you with such a wonderful curse."
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 26, 2011 12:40:21 GMT -5
Having very little interest in being Rampage’s main source of fear fuel, Phobia quickens his steps, taking advantage of his longer stride. His posture is stiff and his pale lips are set in a grim, thin line, the bike keeps his sight focused straight ahead.
“I’d rather not say. It’s quite personal,” the black bike answers mildly. Yeah, he’s not really into ‘telling strangers his entire angsty past’ thing. “Don’t you have any duties to attend to?” Despite everything, Phobia manages to sound surprisingly admonishing.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Feb 26, 2011 15:57:57 GMT -5
Rampage refuses to jog to keep up with Phobia and so he slowly drops behind as the bike speeds ahead.
"And here I thought we couldn't get much more personal," Rampage says, amusement clear in his voice. His gaze shifts to the side as he passes a lift and he slows to a stop, bumping a fist against the call button. Stepping into it, he calls after Phobia, "I'll be seeing you."
Then the door closes and he's gone, the lift bearing him down and likely out of Phobia's perception.
It's a hit-and-run creeping, but this is long-term game that Rampage has started, and as long as they're on a ship isolated in the depths of space, he has all the time in the world to play.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 26, 2011 17:42:22 GMT -5
This isn’t the first time Phobia’s had to play these games. It was, however, the first time he was playing this game with another empath- another empath who had been inside his head no less. The damage from that particular encounter still hadn’t been entirely fixed and the continual exposure to Rampage... really didn’t help. He keeps walking straight ahead, not answering and refusing to look at the crab. It’s only after the elevator door closes that he stops, the dying echoes of his footsteps ringing off the walls. For a while, the bike stands there, waiting for the Predacon’s presence to fade out of reach and trying to decide if it’d be worth it to try and hide. OOC: Time skip! Phobia hasn’t defragged in days. He generally couldn’t sleep with his roommates in the room anyways, but he compensated for that with a very erratic sleep schedule that would ensure he wasn’t in the same room as them during recharge. The room was empty at this hour. He should have been sleeping. Unfortunately there was another presence to keep him awake now. Curled into a little ball, the black motorcycle had wedged himself into the corner of his bed, trying to drown out the feel of Rampage with old songs and some concentration games. His current score is very, very low. There will probably be no sleep at all for the next few hours.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Feb 26, 2011 18:27:14 GMT -5
Rampage settles against the hallway wall right outside of Phobia's room, leaning casually with his arms crossed and one leg propped up. If he feels anyone coming he'll straighten up and saunter away, but until then he plans to stay here until duty calls. If he wants to improve his game he should really find out Phobia's schedule, and see about altering his own to match better.
He's curious about how long it might take for Phobia to leave with him out here. But mostly he's just busy feeling Phobia's mind, trying to sense every nuance, every unique shape and flavour of it, learning and memorizing. He wants to be able recognize the Decepticon wherever he goes, to be able pick him out of a crowd of any size, to sense the smallest variations in his mood, to tell when he's asleep and when he's awake...
Phobia's lack of a spark puts Rampage's abilities at a disadvantage, demanding such concentration from Rampage to attune himself to the other empath. However, their previous... encounter left its marks on Rampage as well, and he can feel Phobia more intensely then he thinks he will ever be able to feel another sparkless Transformer.
He's not sure if Phobia can feel it, but he let's his dark amusement and curiosity bubble up. The empath has caught his attention, and his attention tends to be obsessive.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 26, 2011 19:14:57 GMT -5
While his ranged senses were weak at the best of times, he could still feel the ghostly imprints of Rampage’s emotions. Worse yet, he felt the same little dark flickers within him resonating to the Predacon’s presence like little strands of sound. They rose to the surface and Phobia shuts his optics off hard, trying to push them back under.
He’s tired however. This wasn’t going to last. Unable to sleep and terrified, the bike covers his visor with both hands and tries to dredge up some relatively happy emotions in an attempt to discourage Rampage’s continued presence. The memories they came with were faded and difficult to grasp however, and mostly just left the bike feeling rather hollow.
Please, please leave, he pleads quietly. Please just leave.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Feb 26, 2011 19:52:52 GMT -5
The worse you feel, Phobia, the more pleased Rampage is going to be.
But it seems like Phobia is going to get his wish! Distracted as he is, he almost doesn't notice the approach of a spark, but it still tickles across his empathic senses before the spark's owner comes into view. Straightening, Rampage begins his casual stroll away from the scene.
Take what relief you can, Phobia, he'll be back the next time you try to rest, so long as duty doesn't interfere (and maybe even then. He's been known to wander off on his own devices in the middle of a mission).
OOC: Permission granted to sense Rook's arrival. Out of thread for the moment, unless he's addressed.
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Rook
Minor
Avatar by Tai
Posts: 301
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Post by Rook on Feb 26, 2011 23:44:45 GMT -5
Rook walks purposefully down the corridor, hands clasped behind his back, concealed beneath his cloak-like wings. He nods as he passes Rampage, optics lingering on the crab.
When he comes to Phobia's door, he raps on it with a single knuckle. "Phobia, are you in?"
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 27, 2011 0:00:54 GMT -5
Phobia cycles his optics online when he suddenly realizes that Rampage’s presence is suddenly... gone. He stares in bewilderment at the opposite berth for a moment before the answer came.
Rook.
He quickly sits upright, and tries to regather his composure, but he doesn’t have much time before he hears his unit leader knock at the door. The bike takes a second to panic briefly before managing to get his emotions somewhat restrained and stepping swiftly over to answer the door.
The sight that greets Rook is... not very Phobia-like at all. The mech’s posture was nervously slouched, there were scuffs in his armor from trying to wedge himself into the wall. Most unusual, perhaps, was the rather haunted glow in Phobia’s optics as he stares blankly down at the crow, unable to dredge up much of a greeting outside of a gasped ‘sir’.
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Rook
Minor
Avatar by Tai
Posts: 301
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Post by Rook on Feb 27, 2011 0:23:18 GMT -5
Rook isn't actually the leader of Phobia's unit, Barricade is. However, if enough people keep making that mistake, it might become true, which Rook would not mind in the least.
He lowers his claw and stares up at Phobia, taken aback by the cycleformer's appearance. "I'm actually here to collect those reports you've been compiling, but it seems that will have to wait. Unicron's beard, mech, when was the last time you defragged? You look awful."
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Feb 27, 2011 1:00:16 GMT -5
Phobia doesn’t have enough energy to stop himself from giving Rook a long, blank stare. When he does catch himself, he abashedly turns away and goes to retrieve the datapad with the interviews on it.
“I’m... fine, sir,” he answers over his shoulder in the most soothing voice he could manage under he circumstances. He takes the brief reprieve to pull himself together, smoothing his expression into something less haggard. The Predacon really didn’t need to know just how vulnerable he was right now; it was bad enough that the crow had witnessed his humiliation in the pool room.
“Here they are,” Phobia adds quietly when he returns to the entrance, offering up the pad.
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Rook
Minor
Avatar by Tai
Posts: 301
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Post by Rook on Feb 27, 2011 17:04:45 GMT -5
Rook matches Phobia's blank stare with a penetrating look. He sighs inwardly when the cycleformer says that he's fine, but accepts the proffered datapad without comment and slides it behind his back into his subspace.
"I'm sure that upon reading it, I will find your work to be excellent. You'll hear about it if I don't, of course," the crow says, nodding at Phobia and departing.
There's clearly something going on with the Decepticon, but Rook isn't about to press the issue. As long as he's not on Blight or something.
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