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Post by Springer on Jun 18, 2011 17:40:51 GMT -5
OOC: Semi-private for Springer and whoever all is coming with him, as well as SceneMod.
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Wrecked-up walls and floors, parts everywhere, with orange goo everywhere, inside a ship decorated with the dead.
Springer's in his element now, and is probably enjoying this a little too much. Granted, after all that happened on Pz-Zazz, he's been itching for some proper action.
He leads the group through the innards of the ship at a slow pace, being careful. "Optics open, boys (and/or girls). No telling what we'll find here."
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 18, 2011 17:45:01 GMT -5
Like Guzzle was going to miss out on this.
He follows, flanking Springer. Both of his hands are on The Judge, walking carefully and as silent as he can while holding his hand cannon ahead of him. The sight of the ship's insides are just as gruesome at the outside, and while it's unsettling, he doesn't let it bother him to much.
He saw Garrus-9, this is nothing compared to that.
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Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 18, 2011 21:40:49 GMT -5
This would be a fitting setting to encounter zombies, which is probably why Impactor is along. He is, for the time being, quiet, and it would appear that his last trip to medical is relatively recent, as he looks very nearly normal, with only a faint hint of the greying. He glowers at his surroundings as he stalks along behind the group, most likely bringing up the rear, though sometimes that glower falls on Springer. While he knows the reason Springer did what he did, the two never really did have it 'out' after Springer took him down during the Decepticon attack, and Impactor still doesn't even know what the hell this Springer's issues are with his own Impactor.
'Sap', indeed. Hmph.
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Post by Drift on Jun 19, 2011 20:24:49 GMT -5
Springer. It had to be Springer. Could they have found anyone MORE annoying to lead this little jaunt?
And Impactor: his favorite zombie and LEAST favorite zombie all rolled into one. Mech was at least an asset in combat--if he could manage to get to combat without falling apart. Something Drift will have to watch out for. Maybe find some duct tape or something.
That other mech looked like Guzzle, but Drift was waiting for the inevitable surprise. Tentacles, pronouns, zombie bits, whatever. If it was Guzzle, he re-he-heally hopes Guzzle doesn't remember him as Deadlock. That would be...awkward as hell.
So, just to be safe, in case things do get 'awkward', Drift's behind them, swords drawn.
Typically Drift to be aiming his weapons at....EVERYTHING.
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Post by SceneMod on Jun 21, 2011 13:12:24 GMT -5
In the middle of the ship, things are eerily quiet. Off in the background is the rattle of the ship's engines, of course, but in this particular place, the rattle is more a dull hum. The walls, if anyone inspects them, are thin, as patched and jagged as the rest of the wreck, and sound really should be carrying better than it seems to be doing so.
The lights flicker, giving the illusion of movement where there is none, and casting an almost greenish glow. Back behind them, there is a sharp crackle and pop that often accompanies the blowing out of a light track.
Ahead is a T intersection, and just into the left-hand passage, a small seating alcove. There is a larger concentration of that orange liquid spattered here, and smears of the liquid are streaked down the wall, almost as if someone dragged their paint-covered fingers down the wall. There's also what looks like the back plate to a helmet sitting on the seat. It does not look Lithone.
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Post by Springer on Jun 23, 2011 18:57:17 GMT -5
Springer approaches that alcove, scowling at what's there. The sound, or lack thereof doesn't occur to Springer. He's constantly turning to look at those flickers, to make for certain that they're not movement.
Springer was in the midst of looking over the seeming helmet-piece when the radio erupts into talk of bogies. He drops the plate, then cocks his rifle. "Look alive, boys, looks like we do get to have some fun after all. We'll continue looking for the controls, but be ready to break if either of the other teams need help. Impactor, you go with me, Guzzle and Drift, you two go together."
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 23, 2011 20:32:58 GMT -5
No, he's not some weird female mutant, but he is a tiny ball of pent up aggression. And he knows who you are, Drift. If that is your real name. Which it is not.
Every little flickering shadow is scrutinized with the eye of an expert gunman, then discarded as a potential threat. He has been in enough combat missions to still jump at them, or to dismiss them entirely. He's seen good bots die with both ways.
When the T-section comes up, Guzzle turns, aiming down the way they came, then ahead at both forks, before slowly sweeping it again. Never is his guard let down, the laser sight of the Judge dancing with the shadows, ready to rain down it's wrathful judgment on any who would jump them.
Well, normally he wouldn't have let his guard down. But that order got Guzzle to sharply turn his head to Springer and give him a 'WTF' look. Deep down he wants to complain about how he always ends up being paired with bots he dislikes, but all he does is nod and mutter a 'Yes, sir' before turning to Drift, jabbing a finger at him and then down the corridor. "You, take point."
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Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 24, 2011 7:52:50 GMT -5
Impactor doesn't dismiss the shadows, though anyone watching him might assume that. His glances around the area as they move are swift and almost casual. They pass over the helmet, past the splatterings of orange... is that some form of fuel? He snorts at what he hears over the radio. So the clean cut diplomacy boys managed to find action before the Wreckers? Now that's just wrong. Of course, he's not a Wrecker anymore, and needs to remember that.
At Springer's orders, he narrows his optics and studies the Triple-changer suspiciously. Yes. Because things went incredibly well for him last time he and Springer were alone during a combat situation. After a moment, however, he gives a curt nod, and waits for the other to take point before following. You either let the one most able to soak up damage or the most expandable one take up rear, in case they're surprised from behind, and Impactor is at least one of those. Besides, at least this way Springer can't shoot him in the back.
OOC: Might be a good idea to establish which team is heading forward and which is heading aft, for when the time comes to start intersecting with other threads.
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Post by Drift on Jun 26, 2011 10:48:30 GMT -5
Oh fantastic. Drift knew Springer secretly [?] hates him. Pairing him up with Guzzle? Yeah, that old 'you don't have to be a meteorological technician to know the way the predominant air currents are blowing'. This is what we like to call a 'set up'. With, Drift imagines, Springer's usual and entirely unsurprising lack of subtlety.
Drift figures the odds. Yeah, if he needs to, he can either take the gun from Guzzle or chop off his shooting hand. He hopes.
His mouth thins. Sure, he prefers point, but not with...you know...Gun Happy GUZZLE behind him. "You don't give me orders," he snaps. He never thought he'd rather be with Impactor, but...life is funny that way.
Still, damn right he takes point. Not going to be a coward and wuss, after all.
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Post by SceneMod on Jun 26, 2011 21:01:35 GMT -5
OOC: I will be handling the posts for both groups in one pose, but split them as I do here. Springer, please clarify in your post who goes where.
Skitter skitter skitter
Regardless of which pair goes which way, both groups can hear a disturbing scratching along the inside of the walls- and the ceilings. Once the two groups are far enough away from each other that coming to aide would be problematic...
Team to the Fore
As the group moves through an intersection, a grate in the ceiling smashes open and the lifeless, chewed-upon remains of a technorganic avian creature tumble through along with a conglomeration of cords and conduits. It hangs there like some macabre puppet, fluids dripping down onto the flooring (and possibly on our heroes).
Several moments later, once the heros have gotten over the Expected Scare Fake-out, a manically giggling, hunchback... something, drops down in front of the duo, as two more near-identical creatures tumble out of ventilation shafts on either side of the hall. They look like might be Lithones, if someone took off nearly all their plating and replaced their fingers with razor blades.
With an incoherent cry, the three launch themselves at the fresh meat placed before them.
Team to the Aft
The duo heading toward the aft eventually comes to an area of the hallway that is nearly devoid of flooring. A lattice work of pipes and girders stretches over the opening. It looks well traversed, given the amount of scuffs and smears along it, but not very sturdy, and there is certainly room for an average-sized mechanism to fall to the floor below. If they look over the edge, they will just see the tips of jagged spikes poking up from somewhere beneath, and bits and pieces of remains impaled upon said.
Behind them, their path is blocked by a very large, giant of a robot with a single, cracked optic. His body is covered in deep, stylized gouges and what looks like black rust, and he is large enough that he truly fills the entire hall. He carries a large, spiked club which hangs loosely in his hands. Behind him, hands like claws strain around him, often digging in and stripping bits of metal and paint from the behemoth.
The creature begins to slowly lumber forward.
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Post by Springer on Jun 27, 2011 22:19:07 GMT -5
Springer's choices are totally free of ulterior motives. At least, of his own.
Hooking a thumb toward the fore, Springer turns to Guzzle and Drift. "You two go that way, meet up with Override's team. Impactor and I will take care of whatever's got Sentinel's group in the aft."
--
Once to the hallway bit lacking flooring, Springer starts to look back, considering backtracking until he spots the big lug and the apparent entourage following him.
"...great, didn't plan on leading a slaggin' parade." He turns to Impactor. "Guess we can either try and take him down, or try to beat him across." Springer looks at the hallway. Is there enough room to go helicopter mode here?
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 28, 2011 17:27:03 GMT -5
Guzzle's response is short, simple and an annoyed grunt sweet.
"Scared? Get over it."
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Once they do get under way, Guzzle is even more tense. He spares Drift the occasional glance, but his attention is far more on their surroundings. So when something crashes through the grating Guzzle fires off two rounds from his hand cannon, splattering wiring and gore around while the 'BOOMS' of the discharges echo through the corridor.
Afterwards he stands ready for anything else, letting his laser sight dance over the interior of the corridor...When something drops down and then breaks through. He only gives himself enough time to assess the threat level before simply stating "Hostiles" and opens fire on the ones that crawled from the ventilation shaft, aiming for the weak spots in the torn up armor.
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Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 29, 2011 17:53:30 GMT -5
Impactor glances towards the overhead of the open area, trying to judge whether there's anything up there sturdy enough to support his weight - anything he can snag his harpoon on. He grunts, and nods. "Or we try to get it to put itself down, and you stay ready to jump for it," he mutters. If they can get the thing to run itself right off the edge...
But a slow lumber will never do for that. Impactor fires his shoulder-cannon at the thing, using a low setting to try and torque the monster off. "What the blazes is taking you so long?" he roars. "Scared?!"
OOC: Mayhaps we should thread-split?
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Post by Drift on Jun 29, 2011 18:42:38 GMT -5
((ooc: I'm cool with a split--shall we leave it to scenemod and our glorious leader Springer?))
"Scared?" Drift gives Guzzle his 'I'm just trying to find the best spot for stabbing you' look. But there are things in this place possibly even more worthy of stabbing. And besides, yeah, that whole 'autobots really don't kill other autobots' thing. Urgh. RULES. Such a hassle.
He leaps back as the grate crashes down, bits of the broken metal bouncing off his foot, one or two droplets of...ewwwwwhatisthat landing on his left leg.
And that's when the shooting starts. "HEY!" Drift bellows. "It occur to you I'm standing in front of you?!"
Eh, probably had. Drift's on his own, again, right? Fine. Just...fine. He stands for a moment, dripping from the gore that Guzzle's handcannon's splattered over him.
Awesome.
And then Guzzle calls out, just as Drift hears the approach. "YEAH kinda figured that!" he yells, drawing his blades. And look, there's one right here in front of him. Hello, ugly fragger. Drift's got some...therapy he'd like to try out on you. Slicy therapy.
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Post by SceneMod on Jun 29, 2011 21:44:34 GMT -5
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