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Post by Crankcase on Dec 21, 2013 12:01:23 GMT -5
There is movement – birds fleeing the trees when Crankcase scoops up part of a fallen tree trunk and hurls it overhead to his right, startling the creatures. A second chunk of rotten wood, a little further out, and he pauses. Too much racket is uncharacteristic; they expect him to be as stealthy as he can, circumstances allowing. It's all he's done so far.
He goes still and listens, every line of his body taut, sensors maxed out. Not that he can make out much above the remaining ambient sound, though the surrounding jungle has gone still after the explosion rocked the forest floor. At least he's still upwind of the smoke. How long does he have until the wind changes? Until someone reports it and investigators come? Will they come? Human military operations are so fickle sometimes. Prepare for the worst, Hatchet's training reminds him. Prepare. Gather all the information you can find. Make the most of what you have. What Crankcase has are two opponents, likely preparing for him even as he begins a cautious route angling to the left of the creek bed as it curves off to the right. He has only a limited stealth advantage on this terrain. There was one surviving human, wasn't there? He checks his video memory to be certain.
Three little fleshies running from the explosion. Can he use that last human to his advantage? He wonders how sentimental these two disguised Autobots are toward their comrades.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on Dec 27, 2013 21:17:03 GMT -5
Mayday laughs nervously as Breakaway complains about his position of authority. Yeah, he's really getting that feeling right now, because as the only person here who's not 100% squishy human, he's feeling awfully responsible for his brother's safety right now.
"Yeah, c-covered." The muzzle of his gun twitches this way and that, tracking the movement of birds and mammals as they flee something unseen. His lips press together into a thin line.
"Do, um. Do you want a hand up here?" A tree isn't really going to deter a Decepticon that can knock it right over, but somehow he'd feel better with Breakaway off the ground.
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Post by Breakaway on Dec 28, 2013 18:31:28 GMT -5
"No thanks," Brock says, finishing assembling of his rifle and flipping the covers off the scope as he sights through it. "If I'm at the bottom of the tree and you're at the top, he hopefully can't kill us both with one shot."
He's silent for a moment, waiting, sighting on various objects. There's no wind under the rain forest canopy, so he's not worried about making his shots. "Make sure you get a good shot on him when he shows himself. We might not get more than one chance." Left unspoken is 'before he kills us.'
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Post by Crankcase on Feb 10, 2014 22:30:52 GMT -5
The two Autobots are waiting for him. Their last human companion split off. Safety? A diversion? Crankcase snorts to himself as he keeps moving, weaving between trees, while the jungle still tries to settle back in and he can afford to be a little less cautious during the chaos. Autobots aren't in the habit of sacrificing others for their own sakes and certainly not the defenceless humans. They must be trying to keep the little man safe.
He'll have to prove them wrong. He doesn't pause when the scent of sweat and fear catches his olfactory sensors; he pivots fluidly as if the track drew him along on a line. It leads away from the Autobots but straight for his target. The human has a decent start on him; he's moving more slowly and trying harder to be unheard, unseen by the one with the rifle that scored his leg. He can just hear the human hurrying through the underbrush, breathing ragged, cursing every few gasps. Something like a grin shifts his mandibles and Crankcase rumbles low in his chest as he picks up speed. No doubt the human can hear him by now, feet thudding into the thick carpet of rotting leaves and loamy soil, branches whipping against his plating. He wouldn't want it any other way.
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Post by Mayday/Maddox Wayne on May 26, 2014 20:57:12 GMT -5
Maddox laughs nervously at Brock's justification for not coming up. "Hahaha, yeah, right."
Oh, thank you neural mods that keep him from freaking the slag out. He'd be shaking his way out of his armor in his real body.
His attention flicks from target to target, the barrel of his gun twitching minutely. Where is the stupid Decepticon? How does something that big hide?! Then suddenly! A glimpse of something metallic moving through the jungle! Moving very fast. Away from them.
He's already fired off a shot before he can start to speak, but even with all his sophisticated technology there's only so much a guy can do when shooting a rapidly moving target through a significant amount of cover. "I think he's after Franklin!"
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Post by Breakaway on Jun 1, 2014 21:04:34 GMT -5
Brock curses loud and long even as he raises his rifle's scope to his eye. It is so weird not having eyes with 10x zoom on them. "Where is he?" he yells over the sound of Maddox's weapon, scanning for the Decepticon. "Come back here you tin-plated, mass-produced, spark-glitched, underclocked coward! The Autobots are over here! You too chicken to take us on?!" he shouts at the top of his lungs, yelling himself hoarse.
Part of him is disgusted by the fact that it's possible to yell himself hoarse. Stupid meat body. Another part is already composing letters. 'Dear Mrs. Franklin, I had the honor of serving with Albert . . .'
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