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Post by Elita-1 on Jul 11, 2011 23:06:18 GMT -5
"Only if you ask nicely," a familiar voice says from behind Sentinel, "But I don't expect you will." There's a strained quality to Elita's voice, but otherwise she sounds normal enough.
If Sentinel turns around, he'll certainly notice the chunk bitten out of her shoulder, still leaking fluid slightly from a torn coolant line. There are also several scratches and cuts on her body, particularly on her helm and lower arms. There's flecks of various colors of paint on her fingertips, some black, some teal, some gold.
She looks a hot mess, but she's smirking at him the way she always used to back when they were cadets together.
"Move over and let me get under there. I might be able to find a bypass. You can go keep a look out for Optimus while I work on it."
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jul 12, 2011 9:44:01 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime bumps his head on the damaged panel as he scrambles to pull himself out and turn around to see what unspeakable horror has fallen upon him. His battlemask slips over his face, muffling the involuntary youch! he cries from that bonk. His fingers twitch for the comforting weight of his lance in his hand, but the summon command is belayed when he sees who it is. His battlemask peels away, and Sentinel Prime looks well and truly relieved.
The nagging paranoid voice in his head suggests, What if it isn't her? What if it's a shapeshifter?
Sentinel Prime ignores it, however, and he takes a step forward, looking for all of Cybertron as if he wishes to embrace her. He catches himself, just barely, and instead settles on trying to clap a hand on her uninjured shoulder in a comradely way. That is proper, he thinks. Hot mess or not, she's always hot.
Without thinking, Sentinel Prime does just as she says, taking up a lookout post with lance and shield. So what if he's practically obeying orders from a subordinate? She's the tech. He's the meathead. She's talking sense. Sentinel Prime says, unable to quite keep the enthusiasm out of his voice, "Elita-1! Glad you were able to regroup. I asked Impactor and... Springer," not so fond of Springer, "to keep an optic out for Optimus."
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Post by Elita-1 on Jul 12, 2011 21:41:06 GMT -5
As Sentinel moves away from the console, Elita moves forward- but not immediately to it. Instead, she steps up to him and places one hand on his shoulder. Gently, she touches his helm where he smacked it against the console.
"Sorry about that," she says, sounding almost normal now, "Don- didn't mean to get you hurt."
Elita sways a bit on her feet, leaning hard against Sentinel for a minute before literally shoving herself off of him and practically stumbling over to kneel and peer under the console.
"Ugh. This is a mess, but I think..."she murmurs as she reaches in and starts tracing lines.
"You trust them to keep him safe? I don't. This shouldn't take long, really. You can go after him. Worst case, I've got your shield now."
Touching w/ permission
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jul 12, 2011 21:49:51 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime flinches a little at her touch, the corners of his optics tight with pain, the lines around his mouth drawn. Tragedy follows them, that she who would give comfort brings agony with her touch and that he can feel no comfort at all, so empty is he.
Sentinel Prime explains, "I've worked and trained with Impactor a bit. I know he's an obsolete bucket of junk and kind of creepy, too, but he's a blasted hard obsolete bucket of junk. I wouldn't get between him and a goal. He said he'd keep an optic out for Optimus. It's not ideal, but..." he shrugs.
Is Elita-1 going to be jealous of the zombie, too, now?
He shakes his head. "No more of this 'splitting up' nonsense. We stay together 'til this stupid mission's over."
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Post by SceneMod on Jul 13, 2011 8:44:48 GMT -5
The wiring under the console really is badly chewed, but there's enough functioning connectors that Elita should be able to reroute the power in a couple of rounds.
Meanwhile, from out of the eerily lit shadows comes a faint dragging sound. The sound is accompanied by growling.
Guess who's coming to dinner?
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Post by Elita-1 on Jul 13, 2011 8:56:25 GMT -5
Please. Elita is a nubile, trim little car. Impactor is a mostly dead tank with peeling paint.
No. Contest.
(No matter how big Impactor's barrel is.)
She's elbows deep in the guts of the console when that dragging sound reaches them.
"Sentinel, I need at least five more minutes. If something bumps me wrong, I could send the whole ship to the Allspark. And while wouldn't be sad to go there with you and Optimus, it isn't exactly on my ideal travel itinerary."
Okay, that's one patch. Now if only her head would stop spinning. She's starting to have trouble differentiating wires by color.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jul 13, 2011 10:07:23 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime stiffens at the sound of dragging, and he checks his grip on his lance and shield, flipping the shield up into a tower just to be extra careful. He takes just one step out into the hallway, using the wall to cover what his shield doesn't. Whatever is out there ought to find him about as hard to take down as an anklyosaurus, and that lance of his is at least as dangerous as a thagomiser.
He laughs nervously and insists, "Elita-1, none of us are going anywhere near the AllSpark. It'd be a waste of at least three nice sets of taillights, for one thing." Did he just say that? Oh, whoops. So Sentinel Prime says foolish things when he's unnerved; what else is new? "Don't talk like that."
"You'll have your five minutes. I won't let anything get us." It's almost a promise but not quite. Sentinel Prime's failed so many times before.
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Post by SceneMod on Jul 14, 2011 22:55:24 GMT -5
Just visible on the edge where light meets shadow crouches what once was a Lithone. It claw-like fingers are curled tightly before its chest as it growls lowly. Sentinel can probably tell that its right leg is badly damaged.
Hello again, Gimpy.
He doesn't attack, though. He just sits there, his face screwing up and twitching as he snarls and growls and chitters his teeth.
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Post by Elita-1 on Jul 14, 2011 23:58:27 GMT -5
Elita can't help but chuckle. "Nice to know you're still appreciating our taillights, despite everything."
She's up to her neck in cables- literally- so she can't see that her friend from the walkway is currently menacing Sentinel. What she can see is how to reroute power to the self-destruct. However....
//Guys, we might be losing what little lighting we have on this wreck in about a minute.// she warns.
The she starts splicing wires.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jul 15, 2011 7:59:19 GMT -5
It didn't attack first. A proper Autobot would try to negotiate now or at least try to disable rather than kill.
Sentinel Prime isn't a very good Autobot. He's also tired, young, in pain, and seriously frustrated. There's a violent edge to him that he doesn't usually have. Another day, he'd debate the morality of killing a sapient being that hasn't struck first.
Right now, he just extends his lance, aiming for a low abdomen shot. Has to be something critical there, he reckons. Sentinel Prime hisses out quietly between clenched dental plates, "Elita-1, they've found us."
He'll hold this door as long as he can, but they're still trapped in a little malfunctioning room. Sentinel Prime can't tell her to run, or he would.
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Post by SceneMod on Jul 15, 2011 10:49:45 GMT -5
Gimpy tries to dodge, at least, but with his damaged leg and the injuries he sustained when he fell, he simply can't move fast enough. Sentinel's lance spears Gimpy like he was the last pickle on the plate. Sentinel now has a a rabid Lithone hors d'oeuvre.
Eww.
Gimpy isn't quite dead yet, though. He's snarling and scratching at the lance, actually trying to pull himself down toward Sentinel. Sentinel might notice the glow of optic lights moving through the shadows, moving closer.
The room itself is, as Sentinel suspects, a death trap if the Lithones get through. Sentinel can probably hold them off long enough, but what will he do about the ventilation vents that open into the room itself?
The emergency lights flicker as Elita works.
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Post by Elita-1 on Jul 15, 2011 11:22:23 GMT -5
Elita pushes herself out from under the console just enough to take in the situation. She looks up at the grates in the ceiling.
"We are so fragged."
Back under the console she goes.
The red wire connected to the green wire....
*The lights in the immediate area go out, perhaps in other areas as well, and there is a crash and clatter as the vent cover falls to the floor.
Elita screams.
*Included by Scenemod request
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jul 15, 2011 19:14:23 GMT -5
The lights go out, and more eyes light the dark, a forest of eyes, like a peacock's train. Claws and spikes and chains and hooks crackle as they test the strength of the Skyboom Shield, rushing against it, trying to push him over and down. Under his battlemask, Sentinel Prime bites his lip, hard enough that he tastes his own energon on his tongue. His feet dig into the floor, and he strains against the crush of the crowd. Sentinel Prime refuses to cry out, even as Elita-1 screams, and his curses would only fall upon a deaf AllSpark. What he needs is a plan, and he doesn't have one. Thinking on his feet is not what he does. Sentinel Prime can plan in advance; he's good enough at that. When life goes off the rails, however, he needs.... Optimus. //Thank the AllSpark that Impactor found him! What'd I tell you, eh, Elita-1 my girl?// Sentinel Prime fairly crows, delighted as ever to be proven right. With that surge to his spirits, Sentinel Prime thinks the situation through, and he directs, //Elita-1, get out of there, and on the mark, jump into my bed with lance and shield. Three, two...// He'll subspace his Skyboom Shield at the last moment, transform, and just plow those cannibal freaks down, and Elita-1 can ride on the back, protected by her shield copy, and skewer anything that gets too close. (And the lady shall ride a snow plow?) - - - OOC: SceneMod wanted me to mention a rush, so there's a rush!
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Post by Elita-1 on Jul 15, 2011 20:09:09 GMT -5
Swapping rotation with Scenemod per request. Details provided at her request.
Elita finds herself not quite lost in dark. There's some light from the console, some from Sentinel's shield. Enough light for her to see the two grinning monsters circling her.
Circling, but not attacking.
//I'm gonna remind you of that 'my girl' slip later.// Elita says, // And I have to complete the self-destruct sequence-//
She jumps toward the console and the circling Lithones jump her. This time, she doesn't bother fighting them. She just grabs hold and drains, ignoring their slashes and blows.
If she manages to knock them out enough, she'll slam the self-destruct button, then try and make that Perfectly Timed Slow Motion Jump that happens in all the action movies.
Of course, Michael Bay may have copyrighted the move and forbidden its use without a certain amount of explosions. If that's the case, she's screwed.
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Post by SceneMod on Jul 15, 2011 21:38:35 GMT -5
Thank you for pressing the self-destruct button. This ship will self destruct in exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds.
This message plays throughout the ship's intercom system, and on a low-level general radio frequency. The message is rendered in a pleasant, calm female voice.
Elita leaves two unconscious Lithones on the floor. She just might make that leap, even though there are no explosions to push her forward.
Thank you for pressing the self-destruct button. This ship will self destruct in exactly two minutes and forty-three seconds.
Thank you for pressing the self-destruct button. This ship will self destruct in exactly two minutes and forty sec-.
Self-destruct canceled.
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