|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 24, 2011 16:20:01 GMT -5
OOC: Month 5, week 1, day 2, private.
It was a small, unpleasant stretch of sand. The smell of stagnant water trapped in plastic bottles and bags, the sickly sweet rot of washed up sea creatures. There were pieces of glass, lost beach toys and electronics scattered across the sand, occasionally found in a dense clump surrounded by the skeleton and feathers of dead sea birds. A bright neon yellow flip flop was perched atop a rock, the branches of a dead mangrove tree shading it from the red afternoon sun.
Only a salt bitten and weathered shack stood nearby, the only sign of habitation for miles around and even then it had obviously been abandoned. The door was gone entirely, the windows were stained and cracked, their frames eaten by rust.
Not too far away, Phobia once again found himself in the shadow of a palm tree in bike mode- albeit, it was more of a palm stump as the leaves had died off. The well-maintained shine of his armor stood out like a sore thumb against the barren, weed ridden land around him. He’d contemplated hiding earlier but there wasn’t much point. The bike had simply parked himself on the nearest patch of packed, level ground and listened to the sickly hiss of waves as they carried their daily load of poisonous foam onto the beach.
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Dec 26, 2011 21:16:34 GMT -5
Right on time, Rampage picks his way along the sea bottom and up onto the beach, though Phobia can probably feel him coming awhile before he can see him. He's taking his time, possibly so he doesn't seem too eager. Possibly so he doesn't spook the bike and have to chase him down anyway.
He emerges from the water, twitching antennae first, and takes a good look around the beach before he focuses on Phobia. He already knows the Decepticon is there, after all, no need for him to confirm it visually.
Picking curiously at a particularly... juicy bit of stinking marine carrion, he greets Phobia with a sardonic, "What a charming place you've discovered."
Eying the lump of rotting meat, Rampage grasps it with one massive claw and promptly stuffs it into his toothy maw.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 26, 2011 22:30:19 GMT -5
It’s a pity Rampage hasn’t discovered charm, Phobia groans inwardly. He can feel the crab eating that. Eugh, eugh, eugh. So glad he wasn’t human because he’s pretty sure he would puke on very short notice.
“What do you want?” the bike asks cagily, voice strained and on the verge of panic. It was no use hiding his fear from Rampage, but habit dictates that he tries. The mask is beginning to crack already and they’ve barely even begun.
Why did he even come here? He shouldn’t have trusted Rampage’s words. Of course the Predacon would still chase him afterwards, this was just another boundary test. How far is this stupid little bicycle going to let him go?
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Dec 27, 2011 0:31:09 GMT -5
Rampage feels a surge of amusement at Phobia's discomfort at such a simple action on his part, but he quickly quashes the feeling, trading it for a more contemplative mood. He mere presence is enough to send Phobia into near panic. Sweet fear. He has been terrorizing the Decepticon for months for just such a reaction, has he not? Is this what he has been missing during Phobia's absence from the ship? Is this what he wants?
"That is the question, isn't it?" Rampage muses. He doesn't approach closer, instead choosing to make an idle examination of the beach's detritus, though he refrains from eating more of it.
The most obvious answer is that Rampage wants to be near Phobia. That much should be obvious. You don't attempt to stalk and capture people you don't want to be near for some reason or another. Unfortunately that answer only raises further questions, which he has put some thought into over his three-week wait.
What he really wants is to know is what Phobia is to him, because while he thought it was as simple as 'entertaining plaything', he's no longer quite so sure.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 28, 2011 14:12:51 GMT -5
“You don’t know.”
On one hand, that made both of them. On the other hand, it would make predicting Rampage’s future moves quite a bit more difficult- and Phobia was already having a hard time with that. He’d thought the emotional chaos of the city would keep the other empath away; he’d been wrong. Even then, why would Rampage brave potential insanity and death to get to him?
The bike bites back a shaky sigh, opting to try and quietly calm himself down instead of overthinking things. Relaxing techniques, relaxing techniques, imagine the nicest, cleanest place in the world and nothing to worry about...
“Honestly, this is beginning to be a waste of time for both of us,” the bike remarks unhappily.
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Dec 28, 2011 20:03:42 GMT -5
"I might," Rampage mutters, antennae drooping slightly as he disentangles a bedraggled teddy bear from a nest of seaweed. Just because he doesn't know doesn't mean he wants Phobia to know that he doesn't know. Not that he has much of a choice in the matter.
He snorts. "Time spent with you is hardly a waste, my friend." If nothing else, it tends to be amusing. Disemboweling the teddy bear, he tugs out its soggy cotton innards as he speaks again, voice soft, "We may have gotten off on the wrong foot..."
Understatement of the century? Quite possibly. Rampage isn't exactly well versed in interpersonal relationships. He doesn't think of most people as much more than obstacles to either work around or destroy, and his longest lasting relationship was with a man who wanted nothing more than to kill him. Depth Charge's attention was rather flattering. He thinks he might miss it.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 29, 2011 11:52:05 GMT -5
“The wrong...” There is a rather long bout of stunned silence from Phobia as he watches Rampage tear the teddy bear apart. If he weren’t in bike mode, the expression on his face would have been something spectacular. After a moment, he laughs, a small and slightly hysterical sound.
“A Unicron sized foot, yes!” His front wheel shifts in agitation, engine revving a pitched note. “Stalking and harassing people are generally not gestures of goodwill!” After good moment of digging a trench into the ground with his front wheel, he adds, “If this is some misguided scheme to gain my trust, you are failing miserably at it.”
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Dec 29, 2011 13:29:49 GMT -5
Phobia's laughter sets Rampage on edge, irritation spiking. He's trying to be somewhat sincere! He doesn't like his attempt being laughed at, even if it's not exactly amused laughter. With a slightly sulky tone to his voice, he says, "You were interesting and I wanted to get to know you better."
How else do you learn about people and express interest in them than by stalking them and trying to make their life miserable so you can revel in their fear?
His annoyance fades quickly as he stares at the hollow husk of the teddy bear, and turning his head to look at Phobia, he asks curiously, "Do you hate me?"
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 30, 2011 10:48:05 GMT -5
“If that’s your idea of going about it, it’s really no wonder we got off on the wrong foot.” There would be so much facepalming right now but Phobia stubbornly stays in bike mode. It was easier to get away in bike mode and it was especially important to be ready now that he knows Rampage can fly.
At the question, he pauses and carefully considers his words before answering hesitantly, “... Yes.” The crab would know even if he lied. “Or at least, I don’t particularly enjoy your company.” Now it’s his turn to make the understatement of the century.
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Dec 30, 2011 12:44:08 GMT -5
Rampage is actually pleased with Phobia's answer - he matters enough for the bike to hate! - but that too fades quickly, vanishing into the soft ponderous churn of curiosity and uncertainty. He feels... lost, and he sounds slightly disappointed as he says, "I prefer the sort of hate that makes you want to hurt someone so much that you'd hunt them across time and space just for the chance to destroy them."
He turns to stare longingly out at the ocean. He knew where he stood with Depth Charge - a self-destructive downward spiral with himself at the center. He knew his place with Megatron - he would hate the tyrant and obey, and when he finally slipped up, Rampage would kill him. He thought he understood what he could have with Transmutate - a companion as twisted and wrong as himself, just for him, to keep close and protect, who would think of him as friend.
All of those seemed so obvious, but he doesn't really understand what he wants with Phobia, other than the fact that what they've been doing so far isn't it.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Dec 31, 2011 14:57:21 GMT -5
“I don’t think I have the proper resume for that,” the bike murmurs bemusedly. “As I recall, you’re currently the one chasing me.” Was Rampage looking for a replacement then? But that didn’t make sense either; you didn’t exactly look at someone like Phobia and think ‘eternal nemesis material’.
He falls silent once again, watching Rampage and feeling the distant roil of his emotions. He doesn’t dare try to sort through them; mostly, he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Secondly, he highly doubts Rampage would particularly appreciate it, and he’d really rather not have a repeat of the scene at the marina.
Unfortunately, this leaves him with no answers either.
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jan 1, 2012 0:48:35 GMT -5
"Ha! No, I suppose you don't," Rampage says with a laugh, then turns to eye Phobia appraisingly. "You're entirely too hard to anger properly, and far too in control when in does happen."
Recalling that he still has it clasped in one claw, Rampage idly tosses the soggy teddy skin in Phobia's direction. "You're not all that fun to chase either, you know."
Well, stalking him while they were on the ship was pretty fun, given that Phobia was almost never out of range of his senses. On this planet, however, chasing the bike has quickly gone from 'fun' to 'tedious' to 'maddening'. Not even finally catching up with him had turned out satisfactorily!
"What to do with you, hmm?"
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 2, 2012 16:46:15 GMT -5
Engine stuttering a startled rev, Phobia backs up a few meters when Rampage tosses the sad remains of the stuffed animal at him. It flops lifelessly in the sand, it’s black button eyes staring up at the bike.
“You could,” Phobia begins delicately, staring at the disemboweled teddy and idly wondering if this was the fate awaiting him. “Just not do anything with me. Seeing as I have been quite troublesome for you. Perhaps we are simply not a suitable pairing for this game.”
|
|
|
Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jan 2, 2012 17:57:48 GMT -5
Rampage gives Phobia a flat stare and a long silence, before answering with a blunt, "No." He hunkers down on the beach, looking comfortable. "I enjoy your presence."
Enough so that he was willing to stalk Phobia for months because he missed having him around. And enough so that he might be willing to stop terrorizing Phobia so much if it means the bike will stop avoiding him with such extreme prejudice.
|
|
|
Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jan 4, 2012 20:36:57 GMT -5
“Right,” Phobia uttering another strained, exasperated sound. The panic had ebbed somewhat at least. “As much as I’d like to park myself in this lovely place and... let you bathe in my apparently sublime presence, I am supposed to be scouting.” Although, really, ‘captured by creepy crab and threatened by death if escape is attempted’ was probably a valid excuse to not be working.
The bike just didn’t WANT to be captured by the creepy crab. He wants to run away and stay away forever. That, and he was one of those people who rather liked working.
|
|