|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 11, 2010 18:34:07 GMT -5
Day 26, somewhere in the vicinity of the same city that Club Con is in, sometime after "Tunnel Vision". Semi-private.
The subway cars are absolutely filled with a crush of people of every shape and stripe. It's disgusting, the seats and rails that everyone's manhandled, the indeterminate grime on the floor. Sentinel Prime can sort of ignore it all, but he can't get rid of the twitch under his left optic. The door swing open. This is his stop. He moves for the door, and - - the doors slam closed, and the subway train slides back into motion, Sentinel Prime stares brokenly at the horrible betraying door as it sinks into him that here, on this horrendously unsanitary subway car, full of more species than a zoo, he's alone. He just lost his buddy, the comrade he was supposed to stay with, under the orders of Emirate Xaaron, Supreme Autobot Commander in this misbegotten excuse for a reality. His hand curls into a fist, and he's punched the stupid door, adding a dent to defaced portal, before he even knows what he's doing, cussing, "Well, frag," as the tunnel lights go by in the darkness. The other subway riders pay him no mind. At least he's not ranting about millennium hand and shrimp. Perhaps half an hour goes by before the train slows down to its destination - the end of the line, in the city outskirts. A sullen Sentinel Prime oozes out of the train this time, and he stares up at the boards, horror dawning on him as he reads. This station out of commission for repairs. There'll be no trains coming in or out of here for at least a day, so there go his hopes of hopping a different train. He pulls up a map on his HUD, trying to figure out just where he's stranded, and his sinking feeling hits rock bottom. This is a very, very bad district. Despite all the advice of, 'Just stay put if you're lost,' Sentinel Prime knows he can't linger here too long unless he wants to end up sparkless in a river bottom. Forget trying to solo a simulated Megatron on some stupid desert planet as a training exercise. If they want to scare recruits, they ought to drop them into an inhabited planet. Now that is a terrifying prospect. Sentinel Prime tugs on his space poncho and heads up to the surface to see how far he can get before darkness falls. He taps the side of his head once he's topside, trying to see if radio reception's any better. Nope. Still stuck in no man's land. But there are worse things here than the crime and the violence and the lack of radio reception. Sentinel Prime just doesn't know them yet. - - - OOC: I checked in chat about Sentinel having a buddy he got separated from. If that buddy wants to radio in that Sentinel got lost, that's fine. If that buddy doesn't want to mention that Sentinel got lost, that is fine, too.
|
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 11, 2010 22:42:21 GMT -5
But one of those thing out there, the one with the wings that buzz, two too many arms and a blend of Cybertronian circuitry and organic terran wasp knows him. The one who was persecuted unjustly by those he once called ally and then hunted by his own drill sergeant, oh he knew Sentinel Prime quite well.
At last he was allowed off that prison starship, free to wander the streets of the planet-side city below, free from being hunted or caged. Amongst all the aliens, organic, robotic or otherwise, he didn’t stand out, he was just another strange face in a crowd full of strange faces. Well, that was when he deigned to walk, he had wings now and so he spread them wide and flew, content to explore this new world and go where his curiosity took him.
He was once an Autobot, similar to Sentinel in more than one way so while he noticed the corruption and crime that blended with the city, he paid it no additional heed, the strong survived and he with them. His curious roaming gaze almost missed Sentinel Prime in his poncho but no one could miss that chin. His eyes widened in surprise but slowly his mandibles spread into a predatory grin, maybe he could tick off one of his plans after all. He flew a notch higher above the streets and found a perch where he had a clear view of his target, it felt good to be the hunter and not the prey.
If another ‘con was following him in return, he wouldn’t be surprised one bit, mutual trust only went so far.
OOC: “Bugrit millennium hand and shrimp!” Foul ole’ Ron. Well crikey, another Disc World fan ;D
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 11, 2010 23:02:19 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime reflects that if he needed to forage for spare parts, synthesise his own energon, power down under the stars, and find his way back to a base without a GPS, he could do that. He has the training for all that. Standard academy stuff. Finding his way to a safe place and out of gangland? Not so much. He's trying to keep alert, but he keeps noticing that people are watching him look around, like they can sense nervousness. Sentinel Prime gets they can tell how out of place he looks, paranoidly worries that they're tallying out how much the metal he'd made of is worth, what kind of price he'd fetch at a chop shop. That alien spawnling, sitting on the steps of a run-down church, blowing bubbles like he's bored - is he a spotter for a gang? A woman with seven arms bumps into Sentinel Prime, tangles in his space poncho, and comes away giving Sentinel Prime a dirty look before he can even muster a response. A pickpocket? Just as well that he keeps everything important in subspace. Sentinel Prime ducks into a phonebooth with cracked glass sides. Surely he should be able to call one of the Autobots with a landline around here? Then he notices that the phone cable's been chewed through, and he groans. He's so very wrapped up with his own minor catastrophes that the perching green menace goes unnoticed for now. - - - OOC: Disworld's one of my favourite series!  |
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 11, 2010 23:18:51 GMT -5
From his perch and his position on the food chain, Waspinator can see how this might end and he has no intention of letting anyone else be the one to end it. So for now, Sentinel has the weirdest guardian angel ever, but watching him suffer every nervous encounter with perfectly innocent strangers was like golden drops of honey. He would probably have to step in soon, because not every stranger was innocent – except maybe those who fate never gave a choice.
The gang of what appeared to be three youths approaching the Prime from under Waspinator’s perch ought to provide some amusement.
OOC: I always enjoyed any with Death in it, 'Thief of Time' and 'Soul Music' especially.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 12, 2010 0:07:28 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime does, at least, notice the gang of youths trailing him. Could be nothing. Maybe they're just going the way he's walking. He actually pauses to consider his options, because the school of hard knocks had kicked his skidplate repeatedly until he learned that stopping and thinking is a good thing. Sentinel Prime could just keep walking nonchalantly and hope they go away. He could transform and put on some speed. He could turn and assault them in a nervous fit, but that would be stupid. He's trying not to do stupid anymore, but it's a hard habit to break. Sentinel Prime tugs off the space poncho and transforms, zooming off down the sidewalk. He'll cover more ground in vehicle mode, and he's faster, besides. Sentinel Prime needs to just concentrate on not hitting anyone or anything. Being put on trial for disorderly conduct and property destruction is not an experience he is eager to repeat. A flutter of dirty, torn pamphlets is kicked up by his wheels and drifts in his wake. - - - OOC: I like Moist, as you might guess, but they're all good. |
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 12, 2010 2:34:20 GMT -5
“leaving zo zoon Zzarge?” Waspinator buzzed/chuckled to himself. Apparently this Sentinel had learned a bit more common sense. Watching the former drill sergeant run from the youths was definitely amusing, not the result he expected but a positive nonetheless. Still, he didn’t want his prey to just run like a little lost rabbit…
He jumped off his perch, transformed into a wasp the size of…, well, the size of a snowplow and flew after xenophobic ground-hugger. With his speed and agility, it wasn’t long before the giant green, black and purple insect hung in Sentinel’s rear view mirror like some Z-grade movie monster.
All things considered, the description of Waspinator was rather apt. Lets hope Sentinel Prime hasn't seen to many horror movies.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 12, 2010 10:37:35 GMT -5
This avoiding obstacles thing is hard! Sentinel Prime wishes he could just crash through those fire hydrants and stuff, but no, that would be destruction of property, and he'd end up in court again. He even pulls up a copy of the city's legal codex and layers it into his HUD, along with that map, scrolling through the laws just to be extra sure that he isn't breaking some moronic barbarian alien law about no whale hunting on Sunday. Why does he even have a snowplow if he's not supposed to crash through stuff? Oh. To plow snow. Right.
Swerving to avoid a little purple kid who is chasing after a bouncing rock like it means something, Sentinel Prime looks back. Seeing what horror he does, he transforms and throws himself behind a lamppost, which given the width of his shoulders, doesn't really hide him at all, just like those trees on Dinobot Island in "Predacons Rising" didn't hide him.
Maybe this is just a perfectly harmless alien... gross... monster thing, and it was just flying his way for perfectly harmless reasons, and Sentinel Prime's going to feel like a bigoted dummy for hiding behind a lamppost like he is. He can just hear Botanica scolding him now, all life is precious, even creepy ugly life, blah blah blah.
|
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 12, 2010 12:57:52 GMT -5
Nope, no perfectly harmless alien gross monster things here.
Chasing the very erratic driving of Sentinel prime was a sport unto itself. Yes that’s it, avoid the purple kid, we all know what a mess they can make of your paint work if you don’t.
Waspinator was little surprised when his quarry transformed, but he was quick enough to stop and avoid plowing into him. He hovered in the air like some vast predatory bug for a moment watching Sentinel cower behind the lamp before he transformed himself. He continued to hover a moment longer and then gently lighted on the ground about two paces away from the Autobot. “Are… izz Zargebot hiding?” his expression was half quizzical, half amused.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 12, 2010 13:15:00 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime's processor hitches and sputters. There's a huge techno-organic freak wearing a Decepticon symbol and talking to him. He'd complain this doesn't make sense, but if he started complaining about life not making sense now, he'd never be done.
Fear's not going to help him, he decides. Decepticons just laugh at fear. They prey on the weak. Sentinel Prime can be terrified and sobbing later, when the danger's past.
Wait, did that abomination just call him Sarge-bot? The voice is familiar, but he can't place it. Twitching, Sentinel Prime snaps, "You're no cadet of mine!"
He hopes that's true. Please tell him that, in the future he has yet to have back home, Ultra Magnus didn't get it into his rusted old processors that techno-organic Autobots were a good idea and that Ultra Magnus didn't assign him a new techno-organic Autobot as a student the way that Ultra Magnus saddled him with the Twins, a new techno-organic Autobot cadet who then joined the Decepticons because why not, things haven't gone wrong enough yet.
|
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 13, 2010 3:56:13 GMT -5
“Wazp once waz”, Waspinator found himself pleased that he was a head taller than the once drill sergeant, he placed one clawed hand on the lamppost deliberately at the height of the Prime’s neck and leaned nonchalantly. “But Autobotz turn against Wazp, now Wazp is gone, only Wazzpinator here now!” There was defiance and anger in the voice, not much came through but it was there.
“How doez it feel to be hunted?! A zmall bot in a big world and zero body wantz to be nize”. Waspinator was breathing in the fear, feeding his confidence and caressing his fractured mind. He wanted his prey to suffer, like he had all those years. He wanted payment for his torture and if he couldn’t take it from Bumblebot’s hide then Sentinel’s was next best thing.
Or an honest apology, but nobody seems to offering up free miracles. If anybody in this neighbour hood had a miracle up their sleeve then they were hiding it real well for fear of it getting stolen and sold for booze.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 13, 2010 9:06:37 GMT -5
"Wa-wasp?" Sentinel Prime stutters, clearly shocked. Will all of his past mistakes come back to haunt him as huge techno-organic monstrosities? That are all up in his personal space, his own slagging personal space that no one seems to respect, leaning over him, leering at him like he is the freak here? "What the slag happened to you?" Waspinator didn't have freaky download powers like Elita-1. What's his excuse for being a horror?
He scrambles, trying to fast-talk his way out of this, "Good news! We figured out you're innocent, and this is really funny, you're going to be laughing - Longarm's the real traitor. Hah! Hilarious, right? So uh, when we all get back to our own reality, I'll put in a good word with Ultra Magnus, he's a personal friend of mine, you know, and you'll be pardoned in no time."
Pardoned, yeah right, more like vivisected, if Sentinel Prime knows his government.
He half-turns, grabs the lamppost, and, trying to avoid touching that disgustingly half-fleshy hand that Waspinator's put on the pole, climbs it. Sentinel Prime remembers old Kup Minor, back in boot, trying to teach them all how to climb a pole, and Sentinel Prime remembers thinking that was the dumbest thing ever. When the slag was he going to need to climb a pole? What did pole climbing have to do with fighting Decepticons? Then he remembers teaching it to his students, secretly wondering if they thought it was as dumb as he did.
Well, thanks, Kup Minor, wherever you are, whenever you are.
|
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 13, 2010 12:05:15 GMT -5
“Wazp got upgraded” and he got betrayed – again – by his room-mate. It’s a big multi-verse but a small world. Waspinator shrugged, not really intending to go into the details, he didn’t quite understand how the teleporter transwarp pods worked anyway.
“Wazzpinator not go back, Wazzpinator like it here”. He tilts his head as Sentinel puts the blame on Longarm, yes he heard that excuse before but therein lays the problem, it’s still only an excuse and as such does not remove targeting sight from Sentinel’s head. And Waspinator is a somewhat vindictive product of fate.
Credit where credit due, it’s generally not easy for a metal creature to climb a metal pole but Sentinel Prime seemed to manage quite well, Waspinator hovered up beside him, the pole still between and kept slightly higher than level. He was quite lost as to the intentions of the snowplow on the pole but was patient enough to watch and learn. His stingers were ready however just in case.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 13, 2010 13:57:49 GMT -5
"That's a sick mod," Sentinel Prime mutters, not managing to keep all the appalled sarcasm out of his voice. There, now he's at the top of a pole. Now what?
Crouching on top of the lamppost, he sees the flaw in his plan: Decepticons fly, a lot of the time. Jerks. Sentinel Prime springs away from the pole and grabs the nearest fire escape on the side of a building, now ascending that. His servos protest at the abuse he's putting them through, but they can just shut up. Work now; ache later.
"Fine. Stay here," he grumps sullenly, hauling himself up the fire escape. It's not like Sentinel Prime's under any mandate to hunt down Wasp here, not like he was back home. In fact, his only real mandate at the moment is not get himself freaking arrested again, though he was supposed to be casing the Club Con area and figuring out where he's going to be a lookout tomorrow. "But uh, the Autobots and Maximals are pretty nice here. Like Botanica - she's not a stuffy Councilor here, she's a plant lady, all mixed up, kind of like you. So if you run into problems with those mods, maybe you should talk to her."
And not Sentinel Prime. Any time Waspinator wants to stop talking to Sentinel Prime would be great.
|
|
|
|
Post by Waspinator on Dec 13, 2010 23:24:27 GMT -5
“Maybe Wazzpinator look her up later. Right now Zargebot more interezzting”. Waspinator flew up and landed on the fire escape in the path of where Sentinel was going. “Where izz Zargebot going, cant escape”.
Oh poor Sentinel Prime, Waspinator is not going anywhere soon, you’re just too amusing and easy to tease.
Waspinator inspected the fire escape on the side of the building, looked to poor Sentinel and then began picking at the old concrete surrounding the rusty old bolts that held the structure up. Yep, Decepticons and self appointed Predezecticons can be real jerks.
|
|
|
|
Post by Sentinel Prime on Dec 14, 2010 0:01:23 GMT -5
Sentinel Prime snaps, "Like I'd tell a Decepticon where I'm going! You might not have been a traitor back in boot, but wearing that symbol now, cadet - what's your old sarge supposed to think, huh?"
The soul of sensitivity and understanding, Sentinel Prime is not.
So Waspinator's at the top of the fire escape and is working on taking the fire escape off the side of the building. Sentinel Prime stares up at the Donkey Kong-like doom awaiting him above and decides that jumping down is the better part of valour. He transforms as he's falling and lands hard on his wheels, his shock-absorbers complaining at him even as he guns it away.
|
|
