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Post by Perceptor on Mar 13, 2011 18:47:13 GMT -5
Perceptor is the epitome of the absent-minded professor; he's already forgotten that Drift had told him to stay put in his lab and wait for an escort to Medical, what with all the Decepticons skulking about the ship. No, instead of waiting, as soon as Perceptor has replicated enough Corrostop - from the scrapings he'd taken from his own systems - to be able to vaccinate a dozen mechs or so, and ensuring that Grimlock is thoroughly convinced to stay and guard the laboratory, he's slipping out the battered door and doing his own skulking, heading toward Medical and the mortally injured Rodimus Prime.
Drift will probably be even more cross to find out that Perceptor doesn't even have a weapon out with which to defend himself. His hands are occupied, instead, with carrying the vaccination hypo-injector.
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
Posts: 247
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Post by Oil Slick on Mar 15, 2011 3:32:57 GMT -5
Behind Perceptor, a familiar leering form is present. He steps out of the shadows, a barrel in-hand. He strolls calm as can be a bit before speaking.
"Rather foolish to walk around during an attack unarmed, especially for one as clever as yourself. I expected better out of such an underhanded 'bot..."
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 16, 2011 18:21:12 GMT -5
If Perceptor possessed hackles, they would be rising at this moment, as he turns to peer at the very unwelcome owner of that very much hated voice.
"Oilslick." If his voice were any colder, his vocal processor would freeze. Perceptor does manage to stifle the faint hint of smug triumph, though, as he stares at the diabolical chemist; Oilslick assumes that he is unarmed, simply because he does not have a weapon in hand.
Oilslick could not be further from the truth.
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
Posts: 247
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Post by Oil Slick on Mar 19, 2011 3:02:56 GMT -5
Oil Slick's Perceptor was purely scientist, as far as Oil Slick knew!
However, this one is different. This one is tricky, and led by emotions, compared to the one of his reality. And emotions are such malleable things. Given Oil Slick's own gloat regarding the state of armament, based on his previous behavior and interactions with Perceptor, Oil Slick expects one of three things:
1. Perceptor will potentially get all angry and indignant over Oil Slick's past transgressions and possibly engage in fisticuffs.
2. Perceptor will attempt to engage Oil Slick in some kind of moral debate, which could also escalate to fisticuffs.
3. Perceptor possibly has some kind of surprise waiting to spring on the chemist, since he knew Oil Slick was on the ship due to the talk earlier.
'Course, like many before him, he does not take into account the light-cannon.
The chemist spies the hypo-gun, and smirks. "Attempting to stop what I've done to Rodimus, I assume?" He chuckles, cracking the barrel open, revealing the chain inside. He brandishes the weapon, slowly spinning one side of it. "An exercise in futility, that."
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 19, 2011 18:26:13 GMT -5
Perceptor doesn't really do fisticuffs, mainly because he lacks any real skill in it. He prefers ranged weapons when he is forced to fight.
Forced, however, is not a really accurate description for what he is feeling at the moment, though. "Spoiling for" would be far more accurate when it comes to Oil Slick. Especially when the glitch just has to go and taunt him about Rodimus. His Prime.
Perceptor's optics narrow as his scope/light cannon swivels the barest bit to bring it in line with his target. Perceptor is never, ever unarmed, something Oil Slick is about to learn as the scientist targets the chain of the chemist's flail, trying to render it useless. Granted, he is far more accurate with his light cannon when he takes the time to transform into scope mode (or tank, but he hasn't really used that form for a very, very long time), but he should be accurate enough at this range.
Why he doesn't just target Oil Slick himself could be chalked up to several reasons: either he hasn't gotten angry enough to go that far yet...
Or he is so angry that he doesn't want the fight to be over that quickly.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 19, 2011 22:58:48 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime is missing his shovel blade. He doesn't know where it went. One arm is wrenched out of socket. There is a hole all the way through his torso; light shines through. His transmission is busted, and the fluid has run out down his chest, drying in thin patches. His transformation cog is on the fritz. He is blacked and blasted all over.
His face is... not a face at the moment. One optic is entirely blackened and out. The other is cracked. The rest of his face is worse.
Then there's his radio and voicebox. Or rather, they aren't all there, hence his incoherent whistling on broadband.
His on-board computer, in the breathy voice of the kind of radio operator you have to pay to listen to, urges him to just give in to stasis lock and take 10. Sentinel Prime has told her, in no uncertain terms, that he's not going to go into stasis lock right now, because there are Decepticons in the ship, and offing a half-dead Autobot who is lying stasis locked in the hallway is exactly what they would do. He's safer if he can get to medical.
Sentinel Prime turns a corner, and he spies the back side of Oil Slick, veteran of the Great War. Oil Slick has survived better Autobot soldiers than Sentinel Prime. As a New Kaon refugee, Oil Slick's survived better Decepticons than Sentinel Prime, too. Oil Slick hasn't seen him. He could just turn a corner and go another way to medical. Sentinel Prime's so damaged already. What more could anyone really expect of him? He took a dive on a bomb!
But Perceptor's there, and Sentinel Prime knows that Perceptor can't handle himself against a single no-name Seeker grunt. There's no way Perceptor can handle himself with Oil Slick. Perceptor has been... nice to Sentinel Prime.
More than that. This is how society breaks down. If everyone gave up just because they didn't want to do something, nothing would ever get done. Sentinel Prime is in the position to do something, and that alone means he cannot do nothing and maintain his social contract. He is bound to do something. He must, or society falls apart.
Sentinel Prime lurches up behind Oil Slick and attempts to throw him clean through the nearest doorway. His arm falls off in the process, and he drops down on one knee, which crunches unpleasantly. She's in his head again, chiming about stasis lock.
Slag no.
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Post by Drift on Mar 20, 2011 19:13:28 GMT -5
Drift's also not at his pristine prettiest. He's still leaking energon down his chassis from Barricade's little love nip and his left side is charred by that...whatever kaboom had blasted a hole in the floor.
He (briefly) wishes for Twin Twist, who at least had some knowledge of where the action was and no strange and icky need to touch him. Two new Big Pluses. Without a real guide, he's more or less wandering the ship.
His Urge to Stab is rising as he hears voices from around the corner. He stops, dropping to one knee, hands reaching for his swords. Two voices. One of them....Perceptor.
Right. Stay in the lab till I come for you, Perceptor. Huh? And mechs thought Drift had a problem obeying orders.
Only difference was, he thinks, as he hears the sounds of what can only be combat--an energy weapon discharge, a spooling metallic sound--is that he carried enough firepower to back it up. He pulled his blades out.
He steps around the corner--he's behind Perceptor, swords ready to strike, to lunge around the red microscope.
Saved your aft in my world, he thinks. Time to do it again.
He sneers at Perceptor's opponent. "Get away from him, ugly."
Damn. Combat repartee still sucks.
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
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Post by Oil Slick on Mar 21, 2011 16:09:41 GMT -5
So that scope is useful for stuff -other- than looking at things. Handy to know. At least Oil Slick now knows to target it now. He also finds one end of his chain has gone flying across the room.
He would have started spinning the other one with even more creepy banter, but he suddenly finds himself in flight, and getting intimate with a door. Perhaps this will be trickier than planned.
The chemist stumbles up, sputtering as his cool countenance has been ruined - all scuffed up and dented in the front. And great, now there's three of them, and one looks like he may have been Sentinel Prime at one point. The other looks to be another melee combatant. Time to up the stakes.
Oil Slick pulls out a large box - Perceptor might find it familiar, as the one he dealt with looks very similar - and hooks one finger into a pin. "I would be careful, Autobots - I've got a chemical bomb, and I'm not afraid to use it!" There's a terribly wicked leer on his face as he says this.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 21, 2011 16:39:49 GMT -5
In Perceptor's defense, he isn't that far from his lab yet. Really just far enough to keep a trigger-happy dinobot from crashing the party. But, no, Drift, he didn't stay put like you told him to. There will be time to scold him later.
It's a measure of how much Perceptor is focusing on Oil Slick that he doesn't even spot Sentinel until that worthy's hands close around Oil Slick's frame and gives him a heave. Impressively, heaving the chemist right through a door, leaving remnants of such to crumble and crash down in the doorway and hall. And then, before Perceptor can even do more than call Sentinel's name, there's someone else there, surprising the metaphorical whey out of him as the stranger pipes up right behind him.
The familiarity of the voice - he'd just heard it very, very recently via radio, that is - and the threat aimed at Oil Slick are the only things that prevent Perceptor from turning his light cannon upon the white swordsmech. Instead, Drift gets the dubious honor of being the first mech vaccinated, when Perceptor chokes out a startled sound, turns to glance at him, takes in his appearance, and then jabs Drift with the hypo-gun for a quick dose.
Hopefully, Drift won't take his head off for that, but Perceptor won't risk anyone against Oil Slick. He makes himself a moving target, just in case, and flings himself at Sentinel to dose him quickly, as well.
The sight of that box, though, especially with Sentinel all but down for the count beside Perceptor, and Oil Slick's smug expression, sends a frisson of uncharacteristic rage through his processor. He's already used two attacks this round, though, and barely has time to manage a glacier glare before someone else would be doing something.
ooc: vaccinating of characters done with permission.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 21, 2011 20:54:45 GMT -5
Oil Slick flies into a door? Oh right, Sentinel Prime threw him. So that worked. Good.
Sentinel Prime's depth-perception-lacking vision flickers as the scene updates. Oh hey, there's handsome, out of nowhere like a ninja-bot. What was his name again? Guh, Sentinel Prime doesn't need these drifting thoughts. Got to focus.
Why is his arm on the floor?
Sentinel Prime is reaching for it when, suddenly, Perceptor jabs him. Sentinel Prime twitches and loses one of his wheels. Doesn't matter, anyway. All his tyres are flat, popped by the blast. With his one functional optic, he gives Perceptor a brief look of a deep horror. There are many reasons to fear doctors and needles, such as a) having a medical system wherein it is okay to inject enemy CNA into civilians in an untested procedure, b) one has an evil spider ex-girlfriend who has pointy claws and injectable venom, c) one has been tortured by Oil Slick with various syringes full of horrible chemicals, or d) all of the above.
Then the terror washes away when the program process it is meant to latch onto just isn't there, and he gives Perceptor a hideous rictus of an expression that is probably meant to be an 'all-clear' smile. His hearing isn't too great at the moment, but considering what he thinks Oil Slick just said, Sentinel Prime does what he feels most appropriate: he makes a rude gesture with his free hand, indicating that Oil Slick's protoform forge moonlighted as a manufacturer of energon farm equipment.
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Post by Drift on Mar 21, 2011 22:05:25 GMT -5
Oh, that's a warm and friendly welcome, Drift thinks, as the hypo-gun stabs into his elbow joint. Most mechs--at least where Drift's from--say 'hi'. But here? Nope. Here, apparently a friendly greeting is 'let me inject some foreign substance into your body.'
Turmoil would at least have said something snappy, first.
And the way Perceptor dodges out of his way makes Drift suspect that whatever's been injected in him is going to make him explode.
Still, Perceptor's out of his line of attack. He squares off against the drab looking mech. It was almost soothing, after all these blinding Autobot colors, to see some proper Decepticon drab.
"Talk, talk, Decepticon." He rolls his optics, showily. "Wasting time, with your threats." He's got his swords ready. If that thumb moves on the pin? He's ready to take off the whole hand.
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Oil Slick
Rookie
Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
Posts: 247
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Post by Oil Slick on Mar 22, 2011 1:09:30 GMT -5
"You say wasting time, I say preparing a proper garden so that I might reap a proper harvest." Because the best fear is that which has been cultivated.
"I could tell you what I have in this lovely little gift - I do take such pride in my work and my creations, but with your top scientific mind here, I can't run the risk of him formulating a cure before things are properly shared," he adds, tone low and sinister. "Like he's already doing for my cyber-oxidant..." he snarls, glaring in Perceptor's direction.
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Post by Perceptor on Mar 22, 2011 1:20:29 GMT -5
Perceptor will apologize for being rude and shooting you both up without a "howdy do" later. Y'know, when all three of them aren't facing off against a psychotic chemist with a god-complex.
And apparently an unhealthy attachment to his creations, Perceptor guesses from that irritated snarl. That gives him something to work with.
With a very gentle pat upon Sentinel's shoulder, meant to convey a measure of comfort, however tiny, Perceptor rises back to his feet and squares off against Oil Slick. He holds up the hypo-gun and summons a cold smile.
"Your pitiful 'cosmic rust', you mean?" he asks, flipping the hypo-gun over in his hand showily before tucking it away in subspace. "Unfortunately for you, I cured that decades ago. It is, as they say, 'old hat', in fact. So old that I neglected to ensure that everyone was inoculated against it; no one from my reality is so unimaginative and pathetic as to utilize that incredibly sad and worthless pathogen any longer. Rodimus will be quite fine, I assure you."
He laughs with a bitter amusement that he doesn't really feel as he shakes his head at Oil Slick. "Quite frankly, I expected better from you."
Bait him into making a mistake that Drift can utilize. That's the plan. Just as long as it doesn't blow up in Perceptor's face.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Mar 22, 2011 10:25:10 GMT -5
If Sentinel Prime could just pull out his Skyboom Shield, he could protect everyone from any kind of evil bomb! However, his shield is broken, really, really broken, since he decided to jump on it with a bomb and then fall through the floor. He can't blame that on Perceptor, but he will probably try to, later. Sentinel Prime even starts the subspace commands to pull out the battered shield when all that comes back to him, an aftershock of a quake.
He pulls out his lance instead and props himself up with it like a crutch, a clear abuse of a pointy piercing weapon that does triple damage when charging, mounted. That ninja-bot seems a soldier, at least. That's a good ready stance.
Some of Sentinel Prime's shoulder armour, weakened by the blast, flakes off at Perceptor's gentle pat. Wait, Perceptor just shot him up with a Cosmic Rust cure? The dreaded scourge of the Great War? One of the worst chemical weapons ever known to Transformer-kind? The sickness that felled any number of fine, skilled soldiers? Sentinel Prime can be Fallen may care and doesn't have to fear it?
Static comes out of his mouth, a ridiculous laugh. Perceptor's just grabbed Oil Slick by the USB cord and gone snip snip snip with a sharp pair of shears.
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Post by Drift on Mar 22, 2011 17:53:32 GMT -5
There is something seriously wrong with this Oil Slick, talking about war like it was...gardening? Harvest? Garden? Right. What are they--flowers? Maybe he's been sniffing some of those chemicals a bit too long.
"So," he says, to Oil Slick, "Basically, you cheat. You want an unfair fight."
Whatever bad might have been said of Deadlock, he didn't cheat. Disobeyed or 'conveniently ignored' orders? Yes. Cheat? No.
And Drift just sighs, adding 'cosmic rust' to the ever growing list of Things He Does Not Get, including zombies, women, freaky insect-looking mechs.....
He casts a warning glance at the other Autobots. This Oil Slick is his.
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