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Post by Crankcase on Dec 13, 2012 21:02:13 GMT -5
Crankcase makes a low, snort-like sound. He missed. That's annoying. He eases away, several meters to the right until he finds another decent firing position while the soldiers scurry, agitated. It's an imperfect angle he's found; there are other bodies between him and his target. What difference makes a little collateral damage?
He waits a few more seconds, long enough that they might start wondering where to watch for the next attack, before he opens fire again – this time, however, aiming for one of the random companions.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Dec 20, 2012 11:06:16 GMT -5
Maddox is too busy to knock Crankcase's new target to the ground. Having rolled away from Brock, grabbing some of his gear along the way, to hide behind a tree - though it doesn't look like trees offer much protection from enemy fire in this case - he's hastily slapping together one of the heaviest experimental weapons the military had equipped him with for this operation.
Aligning his forearm with the gun and activating it, Maddox flinches slightly as flexible cables lance out from it, puncturing through his fatigues to align with the hidden ports lining his arms. There's a moment of disorientation as the weapon connects with his cyborg nervous system, and it takes another moment to adjust to having two separate visual feeds - one from his eyes, one from the camera at the end of his gun.
Maddox misses the flare of Crankcase firing again, and he hisses out a curse. Turning to press his front against the tree, he squeezes his eyes shut and pokes only the barrel of the gun out of cover. He sweeps the camera across the jungle, hoping to find something to target.
He'd be shaking in his boots right now, but weapon's stabilizing systems send feedback into his arm to forcibly keep it steady.
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Post by Breakaway on Dec 23, 2012 19:52:19 GMT -5
The trees offer protection from enemy fire not because Crankcase can't shoot through them, but because he can't see through them. Unless of course he can see through them, and/or he's willing to burn the entire rainforest to the ground to kill them.
The soldier Crankcase aims at is reduced to ash and vapor, transitioning through a brief and picturesque 'blackened skeleton, posed as though screaming in terror' phase. Brock curses under his breath and wonders which one of his men just died. He didn't get a clear view, but he knows it wasn't Meadows because the poor bastard didn't go off like a bunch of fireworks.
"Hostile is likely alien," he shouts into his radio. "Switch to full auto and aim for the eyes. And if anyone can get a look at its face, I want to know what it looks like." It's an odd request, but the Marines under Brock's command are used to him and his brother being odd. Most officers don't drill their squads on how to handle Decepticons, for instance.
The chatter of machine-gun fire rings out in response to the order, from various points in the forest.
Brock takes a deep breath and dashes out from behind his tree, heading for Maddox, head down, eyes peeled.
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Post by Crankcase on Mar 23, 2013 20:05:20 GMT -5
The trees keep Crankcase from seeing the spectacle of a human plugging into a weapon like it's part of the being in more than snatches of metal flashing between thick branches and clusters of blossoms. He'd stare if he could only witness it. Humans don't do that, after all.
As it is, he ducks when some of that machine gun fire wings his way, trying to avoid being hit more for the risk of losing his cover. Three rounds nearly clip his shoulder spike before he rolls, crushing a few small saplings under himself. He retreats further, sure the crack and crash of limbs gives him away, and fires twice more at the soldiers who will forever remain nameless to him.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Mar 30, 2013 19:42:10 GMT -5
Maddox follows the motion of tree and brush that a massive metal man inevitably makes when charging through dense forest, the targeting systems wired into his meaty brain communicating with the camera in his gun and together they lock onto their target.
Sucking in a deep breath, Maddox lets loose with burning rounds of heavy experimental weapons-fire. Embarrassingly enough, it packs more punch than he ever had as a robot.
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Post by Breakaway on Mar 31, 2013 14:13:55 GMT -5
One of Crankcase's shots goes over the soldiers' heads, leaving a neat pattern of holes burned through the foliage until it finally runs out of energy. Another hits the ground in front of a pair of soldiers, incinerating the one in front from the waist down and blowing the other one off her feet to slump amid the leaf litter. Neither of them is getting up again any time soon.
Brock hits the ground behind a fallen log, near Maddox's position, propping himself up into a firing position and trying to locate his target. His radio crackles. "Lots of eyes, tusks, and dreadlocks, sir . . ." Ramirez's voice says before she trails off into a death rattle.
Breakaway curses quietly to himself, catches sight of Crankcase, and fires, aiming for the eyes.
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Post by Crankcase on May 30, 2013 22:36:01 GMT -5
The searing heat of advanced weaponry fire comes very close to Crankcase, and the rounds he ducks from likely only miss due to a combination of reflexes and obscuring forestry as he spins and turns his back to the soldiers. A bullet bounces off one of his dreads with a sharp, ringing sound that echoes off into the trees.
Not all of those fiery rounds miss, and the hideous sensation of melting metal lances through his thigh, staggering him. He ceases return fire and drops low, twisting to slip between trees and reduce his signature so he can retreat and regroup. He's used to Hatchet planning movements and barking orders, so it takes effort to stop and think of his own plans. He needs cover and the security of leaving the humans wondering while he thinks of how to go about this. The weapon that shot him is an unexpected factor; it wasn't part of his information going in. It changes things.
Whoever has that weapon dies first, he decides as he slips back into the jungle shadows, covering the wound on his leg to stay the fluid leakage until repair closes the breached lines.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Jun 6, 2013 11:56:33 GMT -5
If Maddox was a hero, he'd probably go charging off into the forest to take the fight to their enemy and avenge his fallen comrades. But he's not a hero. He's not even a very good soldier. He's just a guy in a body that should really belong to someone more heroic.
Instead, he just squeezes off a few more shots for as long as he can keep track of the enemy's movements, then continues to sweep the surrounding jungle with his gun's sights as he turns to look at Brock.
"W-what now?" he asks. There are dead people around him, some of them little more than dust. Before his biochemical-regulating implants can compensate, Maddox begins to shake then promptly doubles over and throws up.
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Post by Breakaway on Jun 7, 2013 13:06:35 GMT -5
Brock peeks up from behind his cover log, scanning for enemies. Spotting none, and not hearing any more weapons fire, he whispers into his radio "Squad, sound off." Reports come in. Including himself and Maddox, there are four Marines left alive and in fighting shape. The rest are either dead or about to be. High-powered energy weapons don't have a lot of middle ground between 'miss' and 'kill' when targeting humans.
Suddenly keenly aware of his responsibilities, Brock curses when his little brother starts vomiting. That's good calories going to waste. "Regroup and salvage what you can when you collect dog tags. We're retreating into the jungle."
An angry voice breaks out over the radio "Sir, we should go after it! It killed-"
"It's going to kill the rest of us too if we go after it," Brock hisses back. "You have your orders, Marine. We'll reengage when the odds are in our favor."
"Hate to rush you, Mad, but we need to move," he says, turning to examine Mayday. In the back of his mind, he's already plotting strategy.
"What do we do if it attacks us while we're moving?" Meadow's voice asks over the radio.
"Break out the grenade launcher and cover our rear," Brock responds.
"I was hoping you'd say that," the Marine replies, a smile evident in his voice.
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Post by Crankcase on Aug 19, 2013 20:37:48 GMT -5
Not until his leg stops leaking does Crankcase start moving in earnest, circling the humans wide. They all can pose a problem with the right weapons, but the one who shot him has to die first, even ahead of the target. It wouldn't do to be killed in the process of eliminating his target because he left that loose end with a high-energy rifle.
Also, he thinks as he inches along, needs to deal with this one he finds separate from the others, covered in explosives. This one could be a problem otherwise. Shooting him is almost certain to set off the walking powder keg. Slowly, quietly, Crankcase draws a spear instead – one of his own, not Crowbar's – and tracks round until he's behind the soldier. Could the man have a dead switch on him? It's something Crankcase shouldn't bet on with the mission at stake. He draws a line of sight, HUD reticule squarely in the middle of the Marine's back, and throws.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Sept 8, 2013 11:55:06 GMT -5
"No, no," Maddox says, as his body chemistry readjusts to help calm him. "It's fine. We've gotta- we've gotta keep going." Gotta be soldiers.
He straightens up, wiping his free arm across his mouth. His other still clutches the weapon that's currently fused to his nervous system. He's not even sure if dying would get him to drop it if he didn't consciously choose to. The military really didn't want him losing their experimental weapons.
Never mind that he's one of them.
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Post by Breakaway on Sept 15, 2013 10:56:22 GMT -5
The demolitions specialist does not, in fact, explode when Crankcase impales him. He's carrying military grade explosives, not nitroglycerine. What happens is that he makes a barely audible gasp as the spear passes messily through his body and plants itself in the ground, leaving him standing there as a human kabob. His finger twitches spasmodically on the trigger of the grenade launcher as he dies, though, and a single high explosive grenade launches out to hit the shaft of the spear protruding from his chest and bounce down to ground at his feet. Then the grenade explodes. Then he goes off like a fireworks factory, because there are two Bayverse Transformers here, and even if one of them is currently human, something was bound to explode spectacularly. It's probably in slow-motion and everything.
Breakaway curses when he hears the explosion behind him. "That's one way to cover a retreat, I guess," he mutters to himself.
One of the three remaining Marines chances a look over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of a hulking metal figure through the trees. "The hell! It got behind Meadows! How the hell did something that big flank us without us noticing!?"
"It's what they do," Brock shoots back, voice grim.
"You know about this thing?!"
"I have my suspicions as to the specifics." He doesn't have any plan right now except to keep running until they can find an advantageous position to strike back from.
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Post by Crankcase on Nov 10, 2013 11:50:08 GMT -5
Finally, something that makes logical sense. Crankcase retreats from the explosion to avert the heat damage, but the fireball is like an island of sanity and reason in the midst of a world gone topsy-turvy. He lets himself bask in it for an instant – long enough for the shape of him, the thin gleaming lines where bevelled edges hold no dulling filth, to be silhouetted – before he breaks away and vanishes into the jungle again. His quarry is on the move.
He makes a pleased sound as he drops into a shallow, empty creekbed. It doesn't parallel the soldiers' course for long, but it's relatively clear of the low trees and saplings that have been his greatest vexation. The change in terrain lets him put on a little more speed as he follows the scent of humans, all sweat and frustration and fear. And a sharper pong, acidic, foul, that he doesn't pick up until he circles the blaze where Meadows once stood. That sour stench is all wrong for the heavy jungle air and Crankcase's mandibles curl a little in a sneer as he takes it in. It's vaguely disgusting, but it's a beacon with line of sight lost.
Best run, humans. The hunt is on again.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Nov 17, 2013 16:57:58 GMT -5
Maddox squeals and cringes as poor Meadows goes up in flames and smoke. "No, no, no, no, no..." His gaze is fixated on the burning pyre that used to be human, even as he continues to move with the rest of the soldiers, the sight of his gun keeping track of where he's going. "He's gonna kill us all!"
He hates Decepticons. He hates Decepticons! The last time he came face-to-face with a 'Con he was lucky to be snatched away from the jaws of danger by his crewmates. But there is no ship full of Autobot warriors behind him now. There's just him, and Brock, and some soldiers. All weak bundles of under-armed and under-armored human flesh.
Except him. Right now he is the strongest and most machine of the lot of them. He swallows heavily.
In one surprisingly graceful leap and grab, Maddox swings himself up into a tree, getting himself a better vantage point. Then he sweeps his gun across the dense foliage around them, flipping his gun sight through vision modes as he searches desperately for a hint of motion or a heat signature or a glint of metal... something.
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Post by Breakaway on Nov 17, 2013 19:12:24 GMT -5
"Keep it together, Mad!" Brock shouts back. They cannot afford for Mayday to have a breakdown now and turn their best weapon into a panicked liability.
And then Brock's little brother finds himself some high ground and starts scanning for targets. Breakaway smiles briefly. He'll celebrate Mayday's accomplishments when they're safe. For now he turns to the one remaining Marine who has never been a giant alien robot. "Franklin, I want you to head off into the jungle and stay low. Maintain radio silence until you hear the all-clear. Move off perpendicular to our current heading."
"What? Sir, are you sending me off to die as a diversion?"
Brock's face contorts with anger. "You know me better than that! I'm sending you hopefully out of harm's way. This thing isn't after you, it's after the two of us."
"Wha- why? Sir, what are you not-"
"I don't see you moving out, Marine! Double-time!" The human runs off into the jungle, chancing a look behind himself as Brock squats down next to a tree (not the one Mayday is in, that would be dumb) and starts unpacking his sniper rifle. This is about as far from an ideal sniping position as it's possible to get, but it shoots high-caliber armor-piercing rounds, and he could actually damage the Decepticon with it.
"If we ever get back to our old bodies, I am going to tell Rodimus Prime, Emirate Xaaron, Kup, and whoever else cares to listen exactly where they can shove their Air Commander slag, because I hate this being responsible for other people's lives crap," he says, not bothering to look up at Maddox. "Keep me covered, bro. Any movement?"
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