Gizmo
Rookie
Blue and Nerdy
Posts: 147
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Post by Gizmo on Feb 23, 2008 0:55:29 GMT -5
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Gizmo babbles as Swerve rants. "I didn't mean to panic, honest... AUGH!" He screams again as Swerve rams him, knocking him clear off the road and onto the sand. Black grit flies in all directions as his tires scramble for purchase, and he's about to ask what the slag that was for when a flapper lunges across the space he'd occupied just seconds ago. Any protest is lost instantly.
Once he comes to a stop, he pauses a moment to reorient his processor. "Uh... I'm okay, Wedge..." At this point, no parts missing and not being digested qualify as "okay." "Uh... I say we get the slag off all this sand before they come after us again! They probably can't tunnel through rocks."
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Post by Swerve on Feb 24, 2008 0:24:57 GMT -5
It's several seconds of staring and listening, waiting to see if those things charge again, halfway expecting them to, before Swerve finally eases off the trigger. His cannons are still armed, and when he finally answers Wedge, he's only giving the words half his attention.
"…'M fine," he mutters, distracted, tense and watching. What're those things waiting on? Why'd they just stop? It hits him after another second or two: …We're off their turf. A gang has its turf, its corner of the world with its own boundaries. Whatever happens on the other side of that arbitrary line doesn't matter and the three of them must have crossed it, wherever it is.
A gang of giant sand-burrowing… things. A territorial gang of giant sand-burrowing things with huge mouths.
"If they could follow," growls Swerve, "they prob'ly would… but they aren't. Fine by me." Finally, he disarms his weapon and the cannon barrels fold back and down, locking into place against his rear deck, before he turns back the way they came. "If we're gonna go, let's go."
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Wedge
Minor
NOT a reckless teen-bot
Posts: 413
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Post by Wedge on Feb 24, 2008 21:37:48 GMT -5
Sparing one last glance over the two, Wedge rolls back onto the road.
Gang turf and boundary lines are things that this Buildbot has little experience with (after all, who really pays attention to boundaries when you have had a space bridge to jump around an entire planet with?). All he knows is that they're not being followed and that's that. Nothing to complain about here.
"Alright, on with the mission!" cheers Wedge. Never mind that they just narrowly avoided becoming a colorful hors d'oeuvre, on to the next challenge. 'And maybe a bit of a refuel,' he amends after a quick look at his fuel gage. But that's not anything Wedge is about to worry too much about. He's got confidence that they'll find some place in time. Call it optimism, call it a feeling of youthful invincibility (is that what Nightbeat calls 'blasted youth element?'), Wedge remains sure as he clatters a few meters on the road before pausing for the others.
"I'm ready when you guys are."
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Gizmo
Rookie
Blue and Nerdy
Posts: 147
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Post by Gizmo on Feb 24, 2008 22:03:36 GMT -5
Gizmo wonders how Wedge can be so cheerful after... that. But then, Wedge didn't flee in panic at the sight of them -- he'd kept his head for the most part. And Swerve, for all his orneriness, did save Gizmo from being torn apart by one of them. He can't help but feel more than a little envious of the others -- they're both fighters to some degree, both with their share of combat experience. Him, he's just a computer tech. He'd rarely fired a gun before coming to Gillinan III, and he knows it was only dumb luck and a vigilant teammate that kept him in one piece just now.
He's a liability to the group, he feels. And he hates that.
He pulls back onto the road, casting a last glance back at the beasts as they mill around. Almost as an afterthought he takes a few visual captures of the creatures -- might help to have info about these things in the database, after all.
"Guys," he says at last, sounding quite sheepish, "I'm sorry... for losing my cool out there. Real sorry."
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Post by Swerve on Feb 26, 2008 1:21:50 GMT -5
There's nothing Swerve can think to say to Wedge; the kid is just too disgustingly upbeat. It's the kind of cheerful resilience that makes Swerve feel vaguely ill, and not just because that attitude is fragging annoying. The sound he makes as he shifts into gear, however, probably sounds a lot like a scornful, irritated snort.
"Don't bother," Swerve snaps at Gizmo as he pulls alongside and slowly passes. "Bein' sorry doesn't fix things." Not that Swerve is the best example of good judgement in a fight. He isn't even in the top ten. But it's starting to look like he'll have to pick up the slack for whoever should've been teaching Gizmo not to pop his hood and tear out blind before he has to worry about not picking up Gizmo's slack. "Just… just do something about it," he adds, then pulls away to take the lead again.
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Wedge
Minor
NOT a reckless teen-bot
Posts: 413
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Post by Wedge on Feb 26, 2008 23:40:16 GMT -5
When Wedge looses his head, that means he does something drastic concerning his problems. Funnily enough, the Buildbot resorts to drastic things all too often. So, he looses his head more often than Gizmo thinks.
"Hey, it's alright. Just try not to let it happen again. We don't want anything to happen to you," chirps Wedge as he starts up after Swerve. His eager rev turns into something a bit more confused at the racer. "What's got your gears in a twist?"
After all, they made it out without serious injury. Isn't that reason enough to stay upbeat?
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Gizmo
Rookie
Blue and Nerdy
Posts: 147
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Post by Gizmo on Feb 27, 2008 0:27:41 GMT -5
"Okay," is all Gizmo can think to say in response to his teammates. He drives on in silence, mulling over the attack and what he could have done differently. Not shrieked like a human femme and taken off blindly, for one thing...
He'll probably be quiet awhile, unless something catches his attention.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 28, 2008 17:07:04 GMT -5
Swerve upshifts angrily, skipping a gear and lurching forward.
"None o' your business!" he snarls back at Wedge. Not nothing, because it's something, but nothing the kid has any blasted right to know. Nothing Swerve would tell him. Fragging nosy pain in the gearshift. And Gizmo back there, moping away like somebody just slashed his tires. He'll have to get some thicker plating if that's all it takes to throw him off. This stupid scouting mission has barely started and already Swerve's re-evaluating his decision to go along with it. He agreed to keep the two of them from not coming back; he isn't about to start going easy on either one.
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Wedge
Minor
NOT a reckless teen-bot
Posts: 413
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Post by Wedge on Feb 29, 2008 21:46:26 GMT -5
"Fine," he grumbles, concentrating at the road clanking under his tracks. "No need to snap about it."
'None of your business' Wedge's engines make a sound liken to something catching on his belts at Swerve's rebuttal. Of course, he's not quite used to the concept of 'None of your business'. Being in a gestalt doesn't leave much room for secrets and the such. But his annoyance will pass like the road beneath him. Swerve's comment stings, but this Buildbot is anything but easy to break. He's highly elastic, kind of.
"Hey, Gizmo. Say something, eh? You alright?" Wedge makes to bump Gizmo's rear bumper lightly with a gentle raise of his shovel.
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Gizmo
Rookie
Blue and Nerdy
Posts: 147
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Post by Gizmo on Feb 29, 2008 22:03:15 GMT -5
"Huh?" Gizmo starts slightly at the nudge to his rear bumper. "Oh, I'm okay. Just thinking." Gizmo doesn't mope for long -- instead he's replaying the scenario over again in his mind, calculating what he could have done differently. He's no Prowl, but he can at least plot out a basic tactic for the next time they encounter a vicious critter or other foe.
And he's certain there WILL be a next time.
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Post by Swerve on Mar 2, 2008 2:34:53 GMT -5
Wedge had better get used to things being none of his fragging business. Swerve isn't about to share a single blinking thing he doesn't absolutely have to hand over. It's just… safer that way. The fewer who can get at him, the better – wide-eyed fresh-paint nuisances included. He opens the throttle and pulls further ahead, wanting more distance from the two of them, not wanting to hear them talk.
It's off road again – the packed, rocky soil is easier to find traction in than the sand, but less forgiving to his undercarriage – and an irritatingly long drive out, if he remembers the maps correctly. Nothing worthwhile is actually on the blasted road, is it? At least they're almost to the arrival point. Maybe if the desert floor was pale brown and the sky orange instead of purple, and he'd arrived out here… no. The roads would've ruined it as soon as he found them. But it's the closest thing he has to home, being out here. He needs to come out here again sometime, on his own, smelt the other Autobots, and just drive.
Those thoughts are interrupted by the flash of metal – not a roadway – on the ground. Swerve slows at first, then speeds up to check it out. If this is one of the places others show up, maybe they've just found someone. More than one someone, Swerve determines, several shapes growing distinct through the heat shimmer. Three. And, he realises as he eases to a stop not far from the first of them and transforms, all dead. The nearest one can't be much shorter than the racer himself, but stouter-built, with a barrel of a torso and a large, blocky back. His plating's gone to shades of grey like that Optimus Prime Swerve woke up next to all those months ago and there's a hole blown in the left side of his chest… clean through, closer inspection reveals.
Not too far away is the second, a whole smelting lot bigger than the first, even with chunks of him missing. This one isn't all greyed out; there's still a little colour, yellow stripes on the dark blue-grey shoulders and some red on the chestplate – some sort of weapon, Swerve will bet, considering the rest of the husk. It's massive, angular, with pincers instead of hands and what looks like a cannon mounted to hard points on his right dorsal plate; Swerve's guessing that's the mech's head there, bracketed by sets of small bulbs, but it's nothing he'd recognise as a face on first glance. That looks like a tread on the remaining leg. The third… is barely recognisable as anything that used to be living, blackened and twisted, half-melted and partially crushed, like it was thrown into a giant blast furnace. It might've had wings at one time, unless those long panels were for something else. Even Swerve can only guess so much looking at a wreck like this.
"…Primus…." The name, an oath, leaves his lips in a grating whisper before he can stop himself, and his brief, stunned look narrows into a more characteristic scowl.
OOC: Slight timeskip with permission.
Because Swerve doesn't know half of what he's looking at, other than a pile of dead Transformers, due to various factors including alt modes that are entirely strange to him, his thoughts are vague. However, to avoid confusion, the identities of the dead are as follows for those who can't gather from his descriptions, in respective order: Brawn, after receiving his fatal gunshot wound during the attack on the shuttle in the '86 film; Beast Machines Tankor, after he started disintegrating in The Techno-Organic War, Part 3: End of the Line; and Energon Mirage, after he dove into the energon sun (which then turned into a black hole).
Sorry for any trouble.
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Sideburn
Rookie
Must not chase Swerve, must not chase Swerve...
Posts: 211
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Post by Sideburn on Mar 2, 2008 3:31:26 GMT -5
Things got rather boring back at base, so Sideburn decided to head out and join the three exploring the continent. There were only so many shifts he could take in the medbay before he started going crazy from inactivity.
Besides, the ground felt good under his tires and he had never really gotten a chance to test out those upgrades he got right before leaving for Earth... No time on Cybertron, and he couldn't get anywhere near even his old speed on Earth without Prowl coming down on his audios for breaking the speed limit, reckless driving, endangering innocent civilians... Well, he still didn't know what his current top speed was. He'd been getting energy from dirty charges since he left the base (not wanting to bother anyone to create another energy converter just for him), so he wasn't about to try to push himself to his limits. What he did find in his increase in speed delighted him, though.
So, all in all, he's pretty pleased with the amount of time it takes to catch up to the other three, given their head-start. The first they'd likely notice of him was a plume of dust and sand heading towards them. As soon as he spots the three vehicles, he slows down. He changes modes with a cheery, "Transform!" and looks at them.
"Hey guys! What's-" And then he notices the bodies. "Uh oh... Those don't look good..." He kneels next to fully-grayed-out body, almost touching the gaping wound in its side.
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Wedge
Minor
NOT a reckless teen-bot
Posts: 413
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Post by Wedge on Mar 2, 2008 13:45:18 GMT -5
So everything gets quiet again. Wedge resists any urge to blurt out in an effort to break the silence. Silence is one thing, but this--this silence is another thing entirely. Looks like he's going to have to get used to this as well. Well, as much as Wedge is going to allow himself to just sit in idle and get used to things.
For a while, he makes to concentrate on the crunching sediment beneath his tracks and trying to narrow down any properties. But that only lasts for a few moments before Wedge finds himself restless once more.
The sight and sound of Swerve speeding off breaks off the boredom and Wedge makes to follow as quickly as he can. What he sees sends Wedge into a shocked transformation sequence, his command short and stilted. "Who are they? What--what happened to them?" A few steps closer and he stops. Sure he's seen the deceased Prime that arrived here before, but--so many dead..."Wait! We can save him right?" Wedge dashes closer to the only non-greyed out mech. Of course they can save him. Miraculous recoveries and such happen all the time, right? After all, whoever they are, mechs can't just die--like this. Especially when it comes to Wedge's universe.
He nearly misses Sideburn's arrival, but the familiar presence brings a hopeful look to the Buildbot's face.
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Gizmo
Rookie
Blue and Nerdy
Posts: 147
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Post by Gizmo on Mar 2, 2008 20:25:56 GMT -5
Gizmo's still lost in his processing -- a state he can attain effortlessly and stay in for hours if allowed -- when he hears Swerve speed off. He resists the urge to yell for him to wait up and increases his speed to keep after the red racer. It's only now that he notices the rockier terrain, and his gears grind in the mechanical equivalent of gritting his teeth as he jolts over a few particularly nasty bumps.
Then he spots the dead bodies, and he halts and transforms, approaching cautiously. Two of them are unrecognizable, but the third... he's seen, if only in passing, in the Autobot Base, and even knows his name.
"Brawn?" he says quietly. He'd heard the minibot had been killed in the shuttle attack before the battle of Autobot City... but to actually see his dead body... it's more than a little unsettling.
When Sideburn pulls up he gives a halfhearted wave but doesn't say anything. Turning to Wedge, he says softly "I don't think we can do anything. Even if we had the med center close by..." In Gizmo's experience, mechs can and do die, and unless they happen to be named Optimus they tend to stay dead.
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Post by Swerve on Mar 4, 2008 5:31:57 GMT -5
Swerve can't help a harsh look at Wedge even as he treads slowly after the Buildbot.
He really is a kid. "My guess? They died," he mutters, looking around at the bodies. Dead, dead, and… very dead. Even the big one Wedge is favouring, if there's anything left of life in that gutted husk, it's already too far gone. Too much of the body missing to sustain anything, not enough left to save. He gives it a once-over – it ought to have some useful parts in there somewhere – and doesn't so much as flicker an optic as those last touches of colour start fading. It was too late long before they showed up.
He glances toward Gizmo when the hacker speaks up; somebody he knows. Okay, one of these has a name, then. Swerve starts to say something, then stops and glowers into the distance, tensing, at that low cloud of dust. Company coming their way; Swerve's weapon is in hand on instinct and he watches, waiting. The paint job is familiar…. That blinking half-shifted dipstick, Sideburn. Just what the group needs. Swerve grinds out a discontented rumble and disarms, about as far from happy as he can get, before Sideburn pulls up and transforms. At least the clinker-head catches on quickly enough, ditching that goofy smile.
"Lemme know when you're all done gawking at 'em," says the racer, "so I can get something useful out of 'em." His gaze drifts to the third body again. "…Or try to, anyway."
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