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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jul 3, 2011 21:53:39 GMT -5
Month 3, Week 1, Day 1. Open, though in personal quarters.
There is something terribly wrong with Rampage. He finally admits it, but it's too little, too late it seems. Whatever it is in his head, twisting things around, making it hard to think. He's spent the past few days falling into ever greater paranoia, avoiding contact with others as much as possible and taking isolated work shifts whenever possible. Now he's just stopped showing up for duty altogether in favour of curling up in misery on his berth.
There's something inside him. He can feel a growing pressure in his abdomen, straining against the metal, and he thinks that his plating might just give way and let whatever it is spill forth. The terrible thing inside him is growing and there's not enough room for it inside him, not even with his hips still burning and itching from their progressive expansion over the past few days. His denial had been crushed when he noticed the growth, but it was too late, and he hid the change away in beast mode, because nobody could notice, because if they noticed they might try to do something, and he has to protect... protect... protect.
Rampage presses his hands to his aching abdomen, wanting to tear it open himself and rip out whatever it is that's tormenting him. Instead he just ends up wrapping his arms protectively around his middle, and he snarls.
He needs help. But the mere thought of asking for it sends him spiraling into a panic. His head. It's messing with his head and there's nothing he can do about it.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jul 3, 2011 22:14:12 GMT -5
Rampage cannot hide forever. Nor will he hide from the disgruntled mechanism he just left to sit a watch alone.
Wreckage is not the sort who craves company, nor who needs another nearby, necessarily. Even less so does he require anyone to perform basic duties such as watches. He actually enjoyed the peace and solitude of it, in all truth, but the principle of the matter is that Rampage shirked duty. And he did it when he was supposed to be on shift with someone who tends to be a stickler for duty.
On principle, of course, Wreckage plans to kick the blasted crab all the way to command if necessary. He has searched Ship high and low, largely to give his irritation time enough that it has returned to a lukewarm sense of minor annoyance, and now he consults the computer to locate his errant crewmate. At the report that Rampage is in quarters, Wreckage feels a brow spar rise in curiosity. He half-expects everyone who skips a duty rotation to do so in the most recreational manner possible, milling in a lounge or booking time in a simulation room. He never expects anyone to go to ground the way he does when not on duty, or in training exercises, or being dragged off by Skystrike to do something peculiar like watch holographic storms.
He mulls over this while lumbering his way down there, using the time to rein himself in further. He is pleased that when the door does not automatically admit him – locked from the inside, he sees, checking the panel to the left of the doorway – he knocks on it with three firm taps rather than pounding away at it.
"Rampage," is all he says, flat voice full of warning.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jul 4, 2011 21:49:50 GMT -5
Rampage jolts at Wreckage's knocking - pounding at the door would probably have had him clinging to the ceiling - glancing around in a slight panic before realizing that there's still a door between him and the potential threat to the horrible thing growing inside him. Growling in utter loathing of the thing he can't help but protect, he curls into a tighter ball on his berth.
Finally he snarls, "Go away!" Even without the monster in him messing with his mind, he wouldn't want anyone to see him like this. So weak and vulnerable.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jul 7, 2011 6:42:22 GMT -5
The response from behind the door elicits another perked-brow expression from Wreckage. It shifts quickly enough back into a frown.
"No," he replies simply. What can Rampage do to make him leave when Rampage is apparently dead-set on remaining safely ensconced in his quarters? Attempting to chase Wreckage away only forces him from his bolt-hole. Belatedly, to explain his presence, the Stryker adds in a voice more like glacial ice scraping over metal than like conversational, "You missed your shift."
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jul 9, 2011 15:13:39 GMT -5
Shift? What shift? Rampage has completely lost track of his work schedule. He's not even sure what time it is anymore. Or what day. How long has he been lying here, drifting in and out of proper consciousness? Focusing, he checks his chronometer.
...Slag.
He forces himself into a sitting position, pain lancing through his abdomen and hip joints, bracing himself heavily against the wall. He's not sure what he intends to do. Open the door and face the large, hostile Decepticon on the other side? The thought sets his foreign survival instincts screaming. No, no, he'll just stay in here and hide and ache and wallow in misery and confusion.
"Leave me be," he mutters, low enough that Wreckage may have difficulty hearing him.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jul 11, 2011 18:19:13 GMT -5
Wreckage not only has difficulty hearing that last mumble; he hears nothing at all on his side of the door. The plates at his brow and around his mouth twitch, threatening a real scowl, and he heaves a rumbling sigh that might be part discontented growl. Then he pounds on the door again, harder this time. Hard enough to leave shallow dents in the surface.
"You will come out of there," he says loudly, "or I will drag you out." Without thinking twice of whatever damage to the door is necessary.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jul 12, 2011 19:42:16 GMT -5
Wreckage's pounding rips Rampage back out of the trance-like state his hazy processors keep trying to fall into, and the threat has him pressing tight against the wall defensively.
"Leave us alone!" he snarls, then cringes at his slip of the tongue. Us? There was no 'us', only Rampage! Whatever was inside him did not constitute an 'us'
He wants to shout to Wreckage to come and drag this thing out of him, to break him open and relieve the pressure on his plating and on his mind, but the thought makes his head throb with pain as warring desires clash. He wants to be rid of it. He wants to protect it. He wants Wreckage to just go away.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jul 13, 2011 19:10:33 GMT -5
Us? Wreckage comes to a full stop. Rampage just said us. Did he skip watch so he could fool around with another member of the crew?
What others do on their own time is no business of Wreckage's, though he takes exception when they start maiming each other. They have a simulation room for that without causing troublesome, actual injuries. If Cannonball wants to read some of Swindle's odd, black-label catalogues and chuckle greasily over the contents in his off-hours, that is his prerogative. But when he should be on duty is another matter, and one Wreckage finds grating.
He says nothing; his answer is to pull back one arm, sword locking into place, and ram a blade through the door so he can cut his way in.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Jul 13, 2011 19:50:00 GMT -5
"I could've just unlocked it for you," Slugslinger drawls as he sidles up to Wreckage from the forward end of the corridor. He had to investigate the racket when he heard it two sections away. Who knew Wreckage could get so loud? Slugslinger sure didn't! "But now you had to go and break it instead." He stops and stands hip-shot, arms crossed at his waist. It's sheer coincidence that his shoulder cannon points right at the Stryker's face.
Probably.
"Just outta curiosity, why're you rippin' up my door, anyway?" he wonders archly.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jul 13, 2011 21:38:33 GMT -5
Suddenly a blade pierces the door, and it sends the already on-edge Rampage straight into fight-or-flight mode, the protective instincts that have been forced on him churning up into a screaming frenzy.
Wreckage is currently attacking his only clear line of flight, so that leaves fight as his only option. He's not even thinking as he draws his Gatling cannon from subspace and fires a single missile at the already abused door.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jul 18, 2011 17:05:13 GMT -5
OOC: Posing Slugslinger with player permission.
Rampage could be in there having a grand time with Lord Megatron himself; no matter. No partner can be worth firing missiles over, and Wreckage starting the fight has nothing whatsoever to do with it. The missile blast sends him staggering backwards, nearly into Slugslinger, who curses and shoves him off before they can fully collide.
"That," is his explanation, and he gestures to the blasted door with his now scorched sword.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Jul 19, 2011 6:22:38 GMT -5
That curse is because Wreckage is a big, unwieldy slagger and he bloody near took Slugslinger out without even trying. Slugslinger gives him another vengeful shove just because it's the bone-headed thing to do, and only then addresses the matter of his axe-crazy roommate.
"Maybe if you weren't trying to cut the door open," he mutters, giving Wreckage a dirty look. Louder, he adds, both fists braced on his hips, "Rampage! Knock it off! This bullet magnet hacking it up wasn't bad enough? We still gotta sleep in here, y'know!" He doesn't add that he's dying to know what got these two started. This is prime ammunition for later shenanigans.
After a long pause, he tacks on the broadband so they can both hear: //Rampage and Wreckage are trying to kill each other. I've got it. Thought you oughtta know.//
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jul 19, 2011 20:32:59 GMT -5
Rampage's false instincts are screaming into his processors to fight or flee, making it terribly hard to think which is unfortunate given that don't give him any other direction other than fight or flee. Fight or flee, fight or flee, fight or flee-
"Shut up!" he screams at Slugslinger, the voice grating on him as speech takes far too much processing power to decipher at the moment. "Go away!"
He struggles to his feet, hips throbbing from the pressure of whatever is growing inside him. He can't go out the door, that's where the threat is, and he could never move fast enough to dodge past them in this condition. What other option is there for him then but to fight? Slag, it's hard to think... There's a slight groan of metal as his abdomen swells minutely outward, the plating thinned from being absorbed from the inside.
Should they look in, the two will find Rampage quite alone, unlike what Wreckage expected, and pressed tight against the back wall of the room. His gun hand is pressed to his temple, weapon pointing to the ceiling, while his other arm wraps protectively around his middle. He's also rather obviously sporting a newly acquired set of what might be described as 'child bearing hips', though what he's bearing is unlikely to be described as 'children'.
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Wreckage
Major
One of the Quiet Ones
Posts: 554
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Post by Wreckage on Jul 27, 2011 18:35:12 GMT -5
"He had it locked," is Wreckage's only attempt at an explanation of his actions. Had Slugslinger arrived only a little sooner, Wreckage might have requested he unlock the door so Rampage could be dragged out kicking, screaming, or in pieces depending on how much he resisted.
The Predacon's stricken condition does nothing to sway Wreckage. In the pause after Rampage's attempt to stifle Slugslinger, he barges into the room, intent on seizing his truant crewmate.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Jul 29, 2011 7:11:32 GMT -5
Slugslinger pantomimes rolling his eyes after Wreckage; okay, so he can't really fault the logic there. He'd have probably tried to blow the door down, too, if there were people around to see him play with the codes instead. He could just make himself look like an idiot while guessing at the locking sequence, he supposes as he just sort of peers round the doorframe after Wreckage. But that would get tedious, being "stupid" while tapping out code after code and having to keep at it even after he probably had it figured out; can't get it too soon, after all.
When his optics settle on Rampage, Slugslinger stops. Nothing dramatic; he simply stops moving. Then he blinks, jaw slack. Is he seeing things? Does his right optic need recalibration, or is Rampage fat? He frowns and looks again, zooming in on the crab tank.
"No," he murmurs, "he is definitely fat. Hey," and he raises his voice, "when did you put on the pounds, buddy? Duskwing toldja too much snacking couldn't be good for you. It's all that organic garbage in your systems!"
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