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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jan 5, 2010 21:05:11 GMT -5
The pain clears his head, just a little.
If they wanted him dead, it would be exceptionally easy, he realises. Just call it bad drug interaction. So they don't want him dead, not yet.
They must want something worse.
His Elita-1 wants something worse.
Sentinel Prime doesn't think he's a bad man. He doesn't think he's a bad man for just wanting to see her dead.
But it's to say something stupid that he opens his mouth, "Baby, how do you live with yourself?"
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Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
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Post by Tasha Walker on Jan 6, 2010 16:52:50 GMT -5
She stands, hand still on his cheek, after he asks that horrible question. For a moment, her expression softens, the slightest hint of Elita peaking out from behind the Blackarachnia mask. The voice that answers him is almost devoid of bitterness, so like the naive voice Sentinel knows from both past and present.
"I wasn't ready to die, Sentinel."
Though sometimes...sometimes she wishes she had.
Abruptly, Blackarachnia turns away from Sentinel, giving his head a hard shove as she does so. She glides past Oil Slick, running a hand across his back and shoulders as she passes, then sits again on the bench against the wall.
"I'll stay out of the way now, while the good doctor does his exam," she says, smirking.
//Have fun- but not too much fun, Oil Slick.//
Touching Oil Slick w/ permission
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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 Jan 11, 2010 13:45:15 GMT -5
Oil Slick has since found the vial he sought, and was starting to load it into the hypo gun when Blackarachnia invades his personal space. The scientist shudders, his bubble-helmet closing on reflex. He cuts a glare at the spider-lady, one that says 'don't do that again', then moves close to Sentinel. Oil Slick's bubble retracts as he injects Sentinel with a sedative - one that should definitely calm him down, and maybe make him a little tipsy.
//The sedatives aren't the fun ones, but this Prime is far too strange for the truly fun chemicals.//
---
OOC: Shooting up of Sentinel once again done with permission.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jan 14, 2010 15:55:46 GMT -5
She might not be ready to die...
...but Sentinel Prime is ready to kill her.
She's an abomination; a thing that should not be.
Unfortunately, she and her motorcycle friend have the upper hand.
More drugs. Oh whee. Sentinel Prime twitches, and his gaze turns glassy.
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Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
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Post by Tasha Walker on Jan 19, 2010 12:43:58 GMT -5
Gah! I'm sorry! I completely missed that I was up.
OH, now that reaction was just lovely. She'll have to remember that Oil Slick doesn't like to be touched.
Phobias are such useful things.
//Yes, well, that can't be helped, I'm afraid. However...do you have something in your bag of tricks that induces fear? For a little later on, perhaps?//
She wants to end this interview on a high note, after all.
"So Sentinel, what were you doing when the multi-verse decided to use you in this great cosmic joke?"
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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 Jan 21, 2010 22:32:04 GMT -5
The question prompts Oil Slick to give Blackarachnia a look of mild befuddlement.
//Do I have fear-inducers...// He scoffs faintly. //Is Lugnut a lovestruck fool for Megatron? Is Blitzwing a few circuits short of a motherboard? Does your friend here have a gargantuan chin? Of course I have such compounds. Outside of my dabblings in Cosmic Rust, fear toxins are my specialty.// There's a bit too much glee in his tone than one would expect for someone talking about working with mood-altering chemicals..
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Jan 27, 2010 21:38:37 GMT -5
"Interns," Sentinel Prime replies, smirking arrogantly. Okay, that is a lie. He leans back in his chair as much as he can, given that he's strapped down.
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Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
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Post by Tasha Walker on Jan 28, 2010 13:31:00 GMT -5
Blackarachnia snorts.
"Sentinel, you wouldn't know what to do with an intern if she walked up and bared her chestplate for you."
She crosses one knee over the other, balances her elbow on her knee and leans forward, chin cupped in her hand.
"So your random fantasies aside, what was your timestamp when you arrived in this messed-up universe? Be a good boy and answer the question properly now. Otherwise, the good doctor may have to try and locate it in a more invasive manner."
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Oil Slick
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Pharmacists do it over the counter.
100ccs of Pure Evil
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Post by Oil Slick on Jan 31, 2010 22:57:38 GMT -5
Oil Slick manages to stifle a snort at Sentinel Prime's response, but Blackarachnia's barb elicits a chuckle from him. "I do believe that he might need my help to even get in a situation like that..." This is murmered just barely audibly - whether he means hallucinogens or aphrodisiacs is up for debate.
As Blackarachnia lies on the threat of letting Oil Slick tinker with Sentinel Prime's head, the chemist cuts a low-lidded look at the Autobot, the most devious of grins on his face.
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Feb 2, 2010 12:16:28 GMT -5
OOC: Off-colour comment cleared with Elita-1 and Blackarachnia's players. The accuracy of thereof... questionable.
Sentinel Prime's voice almost turns teasing, though there's a thick, oily overlay of paranoia, "Are you sure you're Elita-1, sweetheart? Because she never seemed to mind. Or is your boyfriend there so bad that you've forgotten entirely? Sounds like he's the one who has to use drugs to get any action."
C'mon, really? Suggesting that Sentinel Prime would even need that kind of help? Jocks get all the babes. The girls go wild for a ticket to the gun show.
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Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
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Post by Tasha Walker on Feb 3, 2010 0:23:56 GMT -5
Continued off-color remarks also cleared w/ Elita and Sentinel. Apparently, we all have the same twisted sense of humor.
Blackarachnia's eyes narrow at Sentinel's rebuttal. Slowly, she rises and stalks back over to the bound and drugged Autobot. Gently, she rests a hand on his shoulder as she sidles around behind him. She leans against his back as that hand travels down to rest on the bond holding the arm down.
"That was because Elita almost always held a whip, darling," she drawls, "You all tied up here, why, it's almost like old times, isn't it?"
"Do I have to start phrasing my questions in the form of orders, Sentinel Prime?"
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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 Feb 7, 2010 18:21:31 GMT -5
Oil Slick's grin twists into a disgusted sneer, optics narrowing at Sentinel Prime. His jaw clenches, and his hand closes into a fist.
"It would be wise to listen to my comrade, Autobot. It would be...unfortunate to have to send you the way of Rodimus Prime."
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Post by Sentinel Prime on Feb 9, 2010 15:43:46 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime jerks a bit, like her doesn't want her touching him, but he really can't move.
He's a bit of a coward, really, but he had this torrid love affair with Protocol. Ah, Protocol. He abuses her so - she applies to everyone but him, used like a great bludgeon to beat people with when he doesn't like them, but ignored by him when she wants his attention.
But he has nothing but Protocol, now. She's been faithful and hasn't deserted him, despite his ill-use of her.
Sure, sure, he could summon his shield and lance. Maybe he could even escape one room down.
And then...
And then.
"Name: Sentinel. Rank: Prime. Serial number...."
That is all they'll get now. That is all Protocol will allow.
Sorry, Blackarachnia. Sentinel has found a stricter mistress.
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Tasha Walker
Minor
She's got legs, she knows how to use them. She never begs, she knows how to choose them.
Posts: 430
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Post by Tasha Walker on Feb 9, 2010 16:21:33 GMT -5
Blackarachnia snarls in pure rage as Sentinel finally remembers Protocol. She knows they won't get anything else out of him now. The one thing Sentinel was always good at was following rules to the letter- but only when it benefited him. She raises her hand in preparation to backhand the helpless Prime, but stops herself before the blow falls.
He wouldn't treat her like this, if she still looked the same. If she wasn't this freak, wasn't trapped in this disgusting form, it wouldn't matter what symbol she wore. Sentinel would be twisted around her little finger, just like always.*
"Very well, Sentinel. You want to be done? I'm done. No more games," she spits out, voice deadly cold. Her hand drops and she moves around in front of him. She grasps his wrists and leans in close. It's so tempting to just dose him with venom and watch him die. But that is too easy a death for him.
"I'm going to let Oil Slick make you a gibbering, convulsing wreck. But you're not going to die, because I want to see your face when I take that pretty young Elita-1 you've been blessed with and break her innocent little mind."
She stalks back to her seat, snarling at Oil Slick, "Do what you want. Just don't kill him, or I'll kill you."
*Remember that Blackarachnia isn't entirely mentally stable. This is her twisted opinion/memory of the past, and may not be entirely accurate.
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Oil Slick
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Pharmacists do it over the counter.
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Post by Oil Slick on Feb 14, 2010 22:24:25 GMT -5
Oh, joy, he's continuing to be difficult.
And it's actual joy! That means that Oil Slick gets to play with the big blue bot some more.
He offers Blackarachnia a wide grin as she walks past, nodding. "Oh, of course, of course..." The cycle them chuckles to himself, wandering over. "Now, Prime...would you prefer to hear colors or taste them?"
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