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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 1, 2011 20:26:05 GMT -5
“Yes sir,” Phobia answers quietly, standing back to watch Rook go. He wants to worry about that instead, he really, really does. It would have been nice to have spent the next few days just being neurotic about something as simple as paperwork again after all this time. Paperwork was lovely compared to potential episode of insanity he’d get from dealing with an empathic psychopath.
Right now, he can’t stay in his room.
The bike doesn’t bother waiting for Rook’s footsteps to fade off before transforming and gunning down the hallway. His room was a trap and the sooner he got away from it, the less time Rampage would have to come back and figure out he was gone.
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Rook
Minor
Avatar by Tai
Posts: 301
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Post by Rook on Mar 2, 2011 21:17:32 GMT -5
OOC: Should have indicated this in the previous post, but Rook is out of thread.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 5, 2011 21:28:44 GMT -5
OOC: Timeskip. Day 6.
He was starting to feel like someone had taken his laser core apart and was dipping each individual piece of it into a vat of acid. The datapad in front of him was beginning to get bleary and his energon cube had emptied itself alarmingly quickly but he he needed a few more minutes to pull himself together long enough to get another one.
Leaving soon would also be a good idea. The mess hall was crowded and all the emotions were slowly abrading his defenses, sandpapering away the edges of any caution he’d had. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea. Phobia wasn’t sure. His processors were used to slogging through many weeks of sleeplessness and even energy deprivation; it wasn’t quite used to sorting though the thick and churning haze of Sigma knew how many mechs were in the room. Everytime someone walked by him, he felt like he’d been passed over a blowtorch and it took all of his energy not to flinch.
It’d been, admittedly, and act of desperation coming here. There was only so much of Rampage’s disturbingly familiar presence that he could take however. The ship didn’t have enough room for him to run away from the crab and he certainly wasn’t about to lead the Predacon to any hiding places he’d manged to find- especially not when he knows for a fact that the crab had a more ranged emotional reach than he did.
It’d made sense half an hour ago, but then he’d been in a bit less in pain and a bit further away from the razor’s edge of insanity. How had this been a good idea? … Ah, yes, he’d been hoping it’d deter Rampage. If a crowd’s painfully wild emotional range had any similar affects on the other mech as it did on him, then simply being here should keep the crab away. So far, there hadn’t been any signs of the Predacon.
If it meant another hour of not feeling Rampage’s presence then Phobia was going to damned well sit here, regardless of how mad he’d be by the end of it.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Mar 7, 2011 13:23:15 GMT -5
Technically Phobia has the right idea. Rampage does prefer to avoid large crowds if he can - unless he intends to reduce their numbers post-haste - but unfortunately for Phobia, there aren't enough Decepticons on Ship to form what Rampage would consider a large crowd. Still, the tactic almost works! Rampage almost loses track of Phobia's presence in the haze of the crowd.
But almost won't save him, and Rampage casually enters the mess hall and glances over the crowd. He may not be able to sense where in the room Phobia is, but he knows he is undeniably there, and he has other senses available to pick a person out of a crowd, after all.
Heading to a dispenser to retrieve his own ration of energon, he does his best to spot Phobia without looking like he's searching.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 10, 2011 1:30:34 GMT -5
The energon was beginning to look like it was alive. Phobia eyes it suspiciously but forces the last droplets woefully down anyways. He definitely isn’t going to waste his ration just because it might have gained some form of sentience. He’d been fuel starved enough that energon in any form was to be quickly ingested and this would be especially wasteful considering the quality of energon.
A flash of red and purple out of the corner of his optic nearly makes the bike’s systems seize. Phobia quickly sets the empty cube down and tries to choke as quietly as possible. The datapad somehow ends up slipping out of his hand and clattering on the tabletop and it’s through some miracle that manages not to jump of his own armor at the sound.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Mar 11, 2011 23:15:39 GMT -5
The clatter is enough to draw Rampage's attention and, prey spotted, he saunters over with his cube of energy and just happens, entirely coincidental really, to settle down at Phobia's table, across from him and several meters to the right. He doesn't look a Phobia yet, instead taking a long swig of his energon. At the same time he drinks in Phobia's emotions, the sensations slightly dulled by the presence of the crowd.
He's a delicious wreck.
Setting his cube on the tabletop, Rampage finally looks at Phobia, lifting a brow. Doing his best to sound aloof, but mildly curious, he asks, "Is something the matter?"
OOC: If that seems like it covers too much time or something, give me a heads-up and I can fix it!
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 13, 2011 14:37:41 GMT -5
It’s really rather unfortunate that Phobia doesn’t have the ability to entirely control his facial expression at the moment. The look of pure dread was something he’d preferred to have kept under wraps, despite it’s truly quite brief stay on his face. The wash of nausea from just feeling Rampage’s presence was an entirely different beast however; while he’d managed to grasp control over his face, he didn’t have as much luck with the chaotic emotional maelstrom that suddenly rose up inside him. Rampage was just within range too. Had he sat a seat over the buzz of the crowd would have drowned him out, but there he was.
Alright, okay. Calm down. Rampage wasn’t going to pull anything in such a public place, was he? Right. Better to stay here for a bit longer, try to think up a swift exit plan. Most importantly, he needed to not look like he was panicking and fleeing the room at this very moment would definitely be noticeable. That would attract more than Rampage and make a bad situation worse.
“Nothing at all,” Phobia answers mildly, a slight tremor in his soft voice. Regardless, he pushes on, casually lifting the datapad he’d dropped before adding, “Just doing some work. How are you this cycle?”
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Mar 14, 2011 12:46:13 GMT -5
Ah, it's almost as pleasing to actually see that fear as it is to feel it, for however brief a moment. He can't help but snort in amusement at Phobia's denial that anything's wrong, though he does keep in check the full-bellied cackle that would love to burst out. Mad laughter has its places, and the middle of a mess hall when you're trying to keep a relatively low profile is not one of them.
"I've been keeping myself entertained," he replies conversationally. Then he transmits a radio signal weak enough that nobody but he and Phobia should detect it, unless the eavesdropper has especially sensitive equipment. //Do so few people really bother you so much?// he says as he glances around the room, words dripping with dark humour. //Are you so weak, my friend?//
He should really see about getting Phobia's personal frequency...
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 15, 2011 16:16:23 GMT -5
“I see,” and feel too, unfortunately.
There is a very, very brief flare of anger when Rampage calls him weak. Phobia had lived through his own fall to insanity, had survived millions of years of war and starved in its aftermath and he never once asked for help. But... the little scene in the pool room comes back to him, how easy it’d been for Needlenose to incapacitate him and toss him around like an empty can. Under the slow burn of the crowded room’s emotions, the memory pulls out another tangle of pain, another moment of weakness, all the times he’d failed utterly to prevent...
… and he’s playing right into Rampage’s hands. He really needs to stop that.
//Just a little sensitive,// he whispers back with a bemused little smile. That and the Predacon hadn’t been baking here for the past hour. “Ah, apologies for such a brief stay, but I really must take my leave now,” he continues out loud, subspacing his datapad and picking up his cube. “Is there anything you need before I leave?”
As long as it's not Phobia's personal frequency, of course.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Mar 16, 2011 12:58:00 GMT -5
Rampage almost leans towards Phobia at that flicker of anger, but he holds himself still even as his gaze snaps to the empath. Usually he's much more interested in pain and fear than in anger - though rage can be entertaining at times - but in Phobia's case it's such a startlingly new sensation that he finds himself wanting more.
//So there is some fight in you, buried beneath all that delightful terror. Perhaps you should let it out more.//
A pity, Phobia is already running from him again, seeming to perpetually choose 'flight' over 'fight'. Rampage is curious about what would happen if he could change that, and what it would take to do so. But perhaps he shall leave the Decepticon be for the moment. He's gotten something new out of Phobia and, after all, he doesn't want to break his shiny new toy. Not yet, anyway.
Though his careful absence may speak just as loudly as his presence.
"Hm? I'm just here for the energon," he says out loud, raising his cube.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 17, 2011 18:03:02 GMT -5
//If I need it.// All Decepticons had fight in them, even the weak and cowardly ones who hated any sort of confrontations. This weak and cowardly one would rather not pay the steep price it’d come with though. //I prefer not needing to.// His voice is tired and scared, but there is a quiet acceptance in it.
Rampage was, after all, not the first to play this game with Phobia. The stakes were higher, but even with the crab’s empathy Phobia doubts Rampage is too different from the previous partners, youth aside. As the bike had survived all the players with varying degrees of success, he does not see why this would be any different; it was simply a fact of his life. Not a very pleasant fact, but a fact nonetheless.
“I will see you around then,” the black mech says softly with a smile and a nod of his head before turning to leave.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Mar 18, 2011 12:39:12 GMT -5
"True," Rampage says quietly.
He doesn't watch Phobia leave, at least not in any way that can be seen or readily detected, but as he nurses his energon he tracks the Decepticon with his the senses of his spark, until his presence fades into the background of the crowd.
Rampage is an arrogant thing, perhaps a function of his youth, or maybe just a result of his feelings detachment from the race that spawned him, but wherever it comes from, he holds no doubts about being able to win his game with Phobia. After all, he won his game with Depth Charge, didn't he? He may not be certain of the specific goals of his game yet, but in the end it's about making his target all about him.
He doesn't dwell on the fact that the culmination of his game with Depth Charge may very well have been his own death.
OOC: Is this a good place to end?
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Mar 20, 2011 21:26:16 GMT -5
OOC: Ending is fine here!
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