Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Jul 3, 2008 16:41:31 GMT -5
"Is it going to rain every freakin' day?"1
Motormaster drove down the narrow trail he and Bambi had discovered the day before. Mud coated his wheels and the lower edges of his trailer. His wheels keeps throwing up more of it, dirt mixed with pine needles to make an irritating sludge in the constant rainfall.
They'd stumbled across the road in the middle of nowhere. Going down one end had led them to a small airfield in a quarter of a day. No branches or crossings of the road.
Going back the other way had resulted in a day and a half of driving through dense forest, with trees ancient and taller than anything Motormaster had ever sensed. They'd lost the road a few times, the forest encroaching back over the path.
In Motormaster's opinion, they're getting close to wherever it ended. The road's getting better. Actually coming out from the overhang of the forest, even.
The whole situation nags at him in little ways that make him want to go in with guns blazing. Can't find answers that way, though.
Abruptly, Motormaster plows around a corner, trailer swinging out and smashing down a sapling, and a clearing spreads out in front of him.
"We're here, little sister."
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1. Yes. That's why it's called a temperate rain forest.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jul 5, 2008 13:05:08 GMT -5
Bambi says, "Conditions good for rain here. What, you from water world? Why water bother you?"
She stares at what seems to have been a compound fo some sort. It's fairly recent and horrendously dreary. It looks if it it is intentionally trying to be nondescript. There is a wired and barbed fence around the compound.
Bambi hmms and snatches up a rock, tossing it at the fence. There is a crackle of electricity over the fence where it connects. She taps her chin with a talon and comments, "Huh. Power on. Better be careful."
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Jul 10, 2008 23:57:28 GMT -5
Rain turns the world into blurs of noise. It warps the echoes of his sonar, builds up the idea of a world in constant flux and agitation. Rain is a cacophony that hurts to sort through.
"It just does."
Lucky he had other senses to measure the idea of the world with, but they tended to light up every sensor post in fifty miles when he used them.
Oh, well. He'll pulverize any trouble that comes looking for him.
The road keeps going through the electrified fence, a gate barring the way. It makes Motormaster's engine growl, just sensing it. A pissant little gate across the road.
"They'll have to do better than that." He says in a flat voice.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jul 11, 2008 8:55:09 GMT -5
Bambi, swishes her tail, sniffs indignantly, and squawks, "Of course they need do better." She lowers her voice and admits, "But me very good at disabling traps."
This is really more a security system, but still. She follows the fence a while, looking for where the power source is. From somewhere she doesn't even want to talk about, she produces a pair of wire-cutters, which her opposable thumbs allow her to use in dinosaur mode.
Rar.
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Jul 12, 2008 8:50:35 GMT -5
There's a gate across the road.
There's a trapped gate across the road.
Motormaster shifts his engine up a few gears and rocks forward on his wheels. The loud growl of a truck engine on fast idle fills the area.
People don't get to keep him off the road.
He waits long enough for Bambi to get clear of the area. Then he surges forward, engine snarling, tons of alien metal hurtling towards the suddenly flimsy-seeming gate.
It only hurts for a moment.
Then the gate comes free with a screech of metal, and it's smashed and crumpled under his wheels.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jul 14, 2008 10:00:15 GMT -5
Bambi clamps her forepaws over her audios as metal screams and screeches. When quiet returns, she peers over at what Motormaster has wrought.
Sighing, she puts away her wire-cutters and comments, "That work, too. But be careful. More security systems after that, likely."
She stalks after Motormaster, tail swishing and head raised to the air. The rain makes it difficult to smell anything interesting.
There are many impolite things that Bambi can be called, and tomb raider is one of the more polite. She knows that she has no authorisation here, and she has no idea why the people are gone. They might return any minute, and ignorance is never an excuse, but...
...curiousity damned the dinosaur, so let satisfaction be her salvation.
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Jul 14, 2008 16:08:40 GMT -5
Motormaster transforms, halberd in hand. "You want the buildings intact? 'Cause if you do, I'm going to have to hold back some."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jul 15, 2008 12:20:16 GMT -5
Bambi immediately protests, "They not ours!" However, she remembers that she is in the company of a Decepticon, and adds, "And maybe they have useful info. Smashed info not so good."
Potential use should be reason enough to stay his hand.
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Jul 21, 2008 12:01:14 GMT -5
"That's why I asked." Bambi telling him not to is reason enough to stay his hand.
Motormaster lightly thunks the bottom end of his halberd against the main door of the building. As much as it feels like he held back there, there's still a dent in the middle of the door left. "Too small for me. Gonna have to find a loading dock."
So saying, he transforms and rolls off towards the corner of the building.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Jul 21, 2008 15:58:04 GMT -5
Bambi considers the dent left in the door. She could probably jigger the door open, but she isn't a big fan of splitting up, once she's in a group. Splitting up is how the monsters get people! Always.
So she follows after Motormaster, tail swishing and flicking rain every which way.
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Aug 2, 2008 14:01:06 GMT -5
The rain has slowed to a sullen drizzle from light grey skies. In another time and place, someone might find those skies depressing for their vast uniform grey emptiness. Motormaster, however, only detects the uniform cloud cover.
Around the side of the building, he finds the loading dock. Transforming back to robot-mode, he uses his halberd to start slicing open the door.
Lights begin to flash all over the compound, alarms awooga in a low but constant and irritating tone, and there is a heavy thud as an armored door crashes down behind the main loading dock door.
"Slaggit."
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Aug 6, 2008 11:47:50 GMT -5
Bambi is used to nasty weather. She has seen worse, and she will see worse yet, she is sure. Right now, she is rather more interested in what's on the ground than up in the weeping sky.
Finally arriving, for the dinosaur is much slower than the truck, she surveys the situation and comments, "This trickier now."
Bambi withdraws a toolkit and cranes her head around, considering the set-up of the door.
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Aug 8, 2008 15:59:04 GMT -5
Motormaster briefly considers shoving his halberd through a nearby wall. Chances are that'll make it worse, though, or he'll destroy something Bambi wants intact.
He edges to the side to let the little lady handle it.
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Post by Lynn Deanna Payne on Aug 12, 2008 18:01:36 GMT -5
Bambi pries open a panel. These alien systems are wholly unfamiliar to her, so she sits down on the floor, tails splayed out behind her, and she settles in for a bit of fiddling. The dripping water does not improve the situation. Softly, she trills to herself, the way that someone else might hum.
Hmm, wrap this wire three times, cut that one...
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Motormaster
Rookie
Not the Nicest Guy You Know
Posts: 127
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Post by Motormaster on Aug 14, 2008 19:28:51 GMT -5
The low, grating moans of the alarm system make Motormaster edgy. There's something in the sound of them that just won't fade into the background. Just when he thinks it's settling into a pattern of noise, it changes the tempo, and it forces its attention on him again.
He digs the end of his halberd into the ground. Between the rain making it hard to get an idea of the area and the alarms, he was starting to growl low in his throat.
As soon as the door opens, Bambi darts towards it. Motormaster lunges, grabbing her by the scruff of her neck and lifting her off the ground. "You're the specialist. I'm the soldier. That means you stay back, and I go in and take any shots that need taking. Got it?"
Once he's sure that Bambi does indeed 'get it' and has possibly acquired some interesting new scars on his armor from manhandling the Dinobot, the truck enters through the open loading dock into the warehouse.
It's a big space, tall enough for him to stand upright. There are a number of contraptions off to the side - forklifts, he thinks. A lot of boxes of various materials. Some stuff's been knocked over - there's glass on the ground. He can't see the stained floor underneath the glass, or the large percentage of boxes with brightly-colored stickers and tapes shouting about hazards in an alien language.
He also can't see that most of the lights are only hanging on by shreds of power. A lot of the warehouse is just dark, but there's a glowing path of blue luminescent tubes on the ceiling that connect the loading dock to the door into the rest of the building.
The alarm's still droning but nothing's tried to kill him. Yet. "You can come in."
Some of the stains are chemical, but a few spots here and there look like blood.
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Posing of Bambi done with player-permission.
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