Post by Runamuck on Apr 22, 2008 3:23:02 GMT -5
Takes place on day 9. Open scene, anyone is welcome to join.
He's not smart enough to be useful for planning the coming assault, he's not fast enough to be useful as a messenger or transport, and he's not stealthy enough to be useful as a spy. So Runamuck's only current standing orders between patrols amount to "stay out of the way and don't screw anything up", as far as he can tell.
Fine by him. All that planning is so dull. Besides, his only job would be to drive out in front and smash stuff, why does he care what everyone else is doing? As long as he's out of sight, nobody can order him into some menial task unless they want to specifically look for him or call his radio.
Unfortunately, bashing up the city got boring already. It's not as much fun when there's no Autobots shooting at him or organics screaming in terror. On the plus side, he's finally found something worth looking at.
"Beautiful. Those clean lines, these nice curves, and then it erupts into decay. It's just beautiful."
Most people probably wouldn't say that about a junkyard, especially one already picked through for anything more useful than scrap materials. Most people aren't Runamuck. His fingers trail almost lovingly across a stack of wrecked vehicles, tracing the edge of a crushed side, the metal tainted brown with rust. It is, to him, a rather pretty wreck. He has to wonder what command would say if he brought it home. Probably nothing good.
He sighs forlornly, giving the wreck a light slap. Unfortunately, that's just enough to unbalance it. Runamuck manages a loud profanity or two before finding himself knee-deep in rubble.
"This'd better not be a trend starting," he grumbles irritably.
He's not smart enough to be useful for planning the coming assault, he's not fast enough to be useful as a messenger or transport, and he's not stealthy enough to be useful as a spy. So Runamuck's only current standing orders between patrols amount to "stay out of the way and don't screw anything up", as far as he can tell.
Fine by him. All that planning is so dull. Besides, his only job would be to drive out in front and smash stuff, why does he care what everyone else is doing? As long as he's out of sight, nobody can order him into some menial task unless they want to specifically look for him or call his radio.
Unfortunately, bashing up the city got boring already. It's not as much fun when there's no Autobots shooting at him or organics screaming in terror. On the plus side, he's finally found something worth looking at.
"Beautiful. Those clean lines, these nice curves, and then it erupts into decay. It's just beautiful."
Most people probably wouldn't say that about a junkyard, especially one already picked through for anything more useful than scrap materials. Most people aren't Runamuck. His fingers trail almost lovingly across a stack of wrecked vehicles, tracing the edge of a crushed side, the metal tainted brown with rust. It is, to him, a rather pretty wreck. He has to wonder what command would say if he brought it home. Probably nothing good.
He sighs forlornly, giving the wreck a light slap. Unfortunately, that's just enough to unbalance it. Runamuck manages a loud profanity or two before finding himself knee-deep in rubble.
"This'd better not be a trend starting," he grumbles irritably.