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Post by Swerve on Jun 3, 2010 11:32:41 GMT -5
OOC: Leading in from this post in Driven. Semi-private, but do you really want to get between these two?
Swerve's processors are still reeling from their forced reboot as he tries to pick himself up. He can't stay prone or Bonecrusher will have him dead to rights. The fact that he let the sludge-guzzler knock him down like that almost makes him angrier than the actual hit. "Fragger," he groans even as his limbs respond erratically, sluggishly. Everything's too slow. Everything hurts. It's getting too hot. Internal warnings bleat at him left and right, clouding his vision with scrolls of orange and blue text. He clears it all with a snarl of pure frustration and rage. And he's going to take out every erg of his aggravation on the wide load responsible. He heaves himself upright and only now realises he's lost his cannon again. He looks around, wild-eyed, but he can't see it anywhere nearby. He scowls and mutters curses, but just raises both fists – and the tonfa on his arms. It's been a long while since he had a decent brawl anyway, and he gives Bonecrusher a feral grin. "I'm gonna show you pretty when I hang you off the overpass by your optic cable!"
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jun 4, 2010 9:46:55 GMT -5
Bonecrusher pushes up from his knees, swaying for moment, then begins to stomp forward. No point in charging when you he do it properly and his victim is being stupid enough to engage him in close combat. If he wasn't holding his own detached limb he'd crack his knuckles, but he settles for rolling his shoulders and neck before grabbing his improvised bludgeon, swinging it up with a roar, then trying to bring it straight down on Swerve's head.
"That'll be hard to do with your arms torn off!" Which he is most certainly planning on doing. Then he can beat Swerve with the Autobot's limbs instead of his own. He can't help but tack on a hissed, "Pretty-boy."
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Post by Swerve on Jun 6, 2010 21:49:15 GMT -5
Swerve jerks to one side and out of the way when that severed limb comes crashing down. Twisting and dropping sends stabbing pangs through his midsection and for an instant, his coolant pump seizes; he clenches his jaw, enraged scowl masking the pained grimace set off by those grinding, damaged parts.
"Better than you've tried!" he snaps, heaving himself up onto the improvised bludgeon. One push to climb it, then two, and he springs forward to bash a knee into Bonecrusher's face.
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jun 6, 2010 22:41:54 GMT -5
Bonecrusher is releasing his hold on his detached arm to try and snatch up Swerve when a knee collides with his face. The metal panel over his empty eye socket bows inward, grinding into the sensitive machinery behind it. His vision explodes into bursts of light and white-hot pain jolts through his processors.
His balance systems are so off-kilter that it takes him a moment to realize that he's falling over, his tenuous balance disrupted by the knock to the head. He's determined not to go down alone, though and swipes at the air in an attempt to grab or at least smack down that slagging Autobot, trying to see him through the sparks still dancing in his vision.
He has no snappy comebacks this time, just angry howling that might have obscenities mixed in.
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Post by Swerve on Jun 7, 2010 2:48:01 GMT -5
The give of plating under his blow brings a joyous smile to Swerve's face. He starts to bring up his other foot for a second hit when Bonecrusher topples backwards. Inertia leaves Swerve loose in midair for a fraction of a second. There's nothing to grab, nothing to kick, nothing to give him any sort of leverage for escape.
Until a large hand clamps around his leg. Bonecrusher nearly rips that leg off at the hip just taking Swerve out of the air; the racer feels the entire joint, from the hip spar to the outer casing, wrench out of alignment. A servo splits with an audible crack and the lines near his knee pop just before Swerve meets the ground far too hard for the third time. His back takes the brunt of the impact again and his engine stops dead, ventilation and all, leaving him choking, snarling, and thrashing at the big blockhead's arm to get free.
"Fraggin' one-eyed under-clocked oversized heap of scrap tin!" he roars, trying to plunge his hands into the gaps of Bonecrusher's wrist so he can rip out whatever wiring or lines he finds.
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jun 7, 2010 11:27:45 GMT -5
Bonecrusher's vision is clearing, but his head is still spinning as he tries to push himself off his back. Did he get the Autobot? Yes, one of his hands is clamped around something and- ow, slaggit! Allspark-forsaken little glitch is trying to tear out his wrist innards! His hand spasms around Swerve's leg as several wires are ripped out of place, before he forcibly yanks his hand away.
He quickly tries to flip himself over. The first attempt results in him toppling back onto his back, but the second attempt succeeds and he slams a hand down on either side of Swerve, trying to trap the Autobot between his arms. He pauses to regain his balance, glaring balefully down at his opponent.
"Shut up."
Braced on one arm, he cocks back a fist, preparing to slam it down square on the little scrap-ball's chest.
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Post by Long Haul on Jun 7, 2010 21:20:03 GMT -5
Long Haul finally approaches the area, pokey as he is. Towards the end, he has to transform to make his way through the wreckage (but not the Wreckage). With all the debris, it's easy to lose sight of the battle as a whole... at least until he comes across one little section of it.
His optic band flickers in surprise as he pulls himself to the top of a rather large chunk of bridge and suddenly finds himself non-face to 'face' with the encounter between Swerve and Bonecrusher.
"Hoy! What in the name of faulty weld joints is going on?"
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Post by Swerve on Jun 7, 2010 22:40:42 GMT -5
Swerve is far less quick in righting himself than Bonecrusher – especially after that twitch of the hand all but crushes his leg, bending the axle back on itself and crumpling his plating like aluminium foil, snapping the pistons in his ankle. He twists around, ripping a hose from its coupling on his right side, and kicks with his uninjured leg the instant Bonecrusher lets go of him. He can't get himself back onto his feet before the brute has him dead to rights.
It's rage, heat, pain, and raw hatred that keep his vocaliser running even with that big fist poised to flatten him.
"Make me, guzzler!" he growls, finally shoving with his good leg and turning onto his side. Then he looks aside, optics flickering, when Long Haul bellows onto the scene.
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jun 8, 2010 0:16:44 GMT -5
"Shut. U-" Bonecrusher breaks off as Long Haul speaks up, and he glances away to glare at whoever is interrupting his fun. He lets his fist drop, smashing it down where Swerve's chest was last time he looked. "Stay out of this!"
He can deal with the nosy green newcomer once he's finished with Swerve. Or has at least ensured that the little red Autobot isn't going anywhere soon.
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Post by Long Haul on Jun 8, 2010 22:00:24 GMT -5
Long Haul's optic band flares up brightly.
"To blazes with that!" he snaps when Bonecrusher tells him to shut up. "What do you think this is, one of those lame holovids where the main character faces hordes of fighters but they all nicely line up one atta a time so's he ain't overwhelmed? Sorry, I ain't no honorable warrior!"
With that, Long Haul jumps off the chunk of bridge he'd been on and charges right towards Bonecrusher, attempting to shoulder him /off/ of Swerve. Should Long Haul make contact, Bonecrusher may find that the Constructibot is much stronger than he looks.
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Post by Swerve on Jun 8, 2010 22:28:34 GMT -5
If Swerve had his weapon, he'd be firing on Long Haul for interfering just like he fired on Breakaway if he wasn't struggling to roll himself over still further, clear of the hand making a beeline for his chest. He barely manages; the ridge of Bonecrusher's thumb rips a gash across his hood, but that isn't what makes him choke.
The ground and Bonecrusher's arm are turning queer colours. The world's starting to swim. Swerve wobbles drunkenly, optics too wide and too bright, as he glares in Long Haul's general direction.
"I don't–" he gasps he tries to push himself onto hands and knees, ignoring the heat warnings and the steam beginning to billow from his engine bay and ventral assembly. One, two, three attempts before he gets his shaky limbs under him. Only a second and a half before his arms give out and he topples over – right about when Long Haul and Bonecrusher should be bashing into each other.
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jun 8, 2010 22:44:17 GMT -5
When Bonecrusher's fist hits ground instead of resulting in the delightful crush of metal and circuitry, he twitches his head back to glare down at Swerve, growling. Bad move, because a few moments later his head is jerking up at the pound of approaching footsteps and a shoulder is ramming itself into his side.
The armor at the site of impact caves slightly before he's sent tumbling off of Swerve, rolling several times before he knocks up against a hunk of debris. Growling in frustration and at the new ache in his side, Bonecrusher slams a fist against the piece of cement and rebar, causing it to crack and crumble. Then he begins to stumble back to his feet. That's not really getting easier the more times he has to do it.
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Post by Long Haul on Jun 9, 2010 13:02:36 GMT -5
Long Haul rubs his right shoulder with his left hand, where the exhaust pipes mounted on it had crumpled. Damn. Bruiser was pretty damn tough - maybe even as tough as ol' Bonecrusher.
He spares a glance towards Swerve and snorts. "You don't what? Have two working processor chips to rub togethe-erk!" The 'erk' happens because Long Haul is struck in the place-where-a-face-would-be-if-Long-Haul-had-a-face by a chunk of cement that had been sent flying when Bonecrusher slammed his fist into the cement. Whoops! Better pay attention to the bad guy!
The Constructibot sees Bonecrusher trying to get to his feet and decides that letting the 'Con finish getting upright would be bad, so he goes running towards the much larger Decepticon once more. This time, however, rather than just plowing into his opponent, he leaps, as though to tackle the other. Before he manages to land or make a grab, however, he transforms.
The Transformers of Long Haul's universe often make use of sometimes absurd levels of mass-shifting. Long Haul isn't as extreme as some, but he still goes from a robot that's somewhat smaller than the typical carbot (who are, in turn, slightly smaller than Seekers) to a full sized Cybertronian dump truck, much larger than any car. It's in this larger form that Long Haul tries to slam into Bonecrusher.
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Post by Swerve on Jun 9, 2010 23:06:13 GMT -5
"Nng… slag't…!" Swerve shudders, still struggling to drag himself back into this fight in spite of systems shutting down to fend off the still-rising heat. He can't seem to get his exhaust back online and most of his coolant is long lost in the dirt by now. The heat feeds into the rage feeds back into the heat until circuits start to crackle under the strain of forcing himself upright; he staggers, nearly tripping over his own feet, and only remains vertical because he leans against a pillar.
He can move. He's still in this.
"Bonecrusher!" he roars, Long Haul forgotten for the moment. "We aren't done yet!"
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Post by Bonecrusher/Bane Crusher on Jun 10, 2010 11:46:46 GMT -5
Getting hit in the chest in the with a charging truck is no fun and Bonecrusher can't even manage to roar in pain as Long Haul's weight forces him back to the ground. "Guhk!"
The pain in his chest from the impact is minimal compared to that in his back as something already damaged by his fall from the highway - and not helped by his umpteenth other collisions with the ground today - shifts and flares to life with red-hot agony. He tries to lurch back up, but Long Haul's weight bears him back down combined with a swirl of disequilibrium worse than any before.
For a moment he can't even tell up from down, but through the pain and vertigo he manages to lift his long arms, extending them in an attempt to envelop Long Haul in a crushing parody of a hug before the truck can move away.
Sorry, Swerve, Bonecrusher is ignoring you right now.
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