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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jun 24, 2011 0:21:26 GMT -5
This is not an amusing predicament. Or rather it should be amusing, but only for Rampage. Stop being amused Phobia! Rampage growls in irritation.
"I don't care about your preferences," he says, whipping a gun out of subspace to point threateningly. Like Phobia's preference not to drink a dead mech's fluids. He definitely doesn't care about that one. He is going to make Phobia drink that fuel, and he is going to like it. 'He' being Phobia. No wait, Rampage. Rampage is going to enjoy this. Why is he so determined to force feed Phobia again?
He presses his gun hand to his forehead, trying to gather his thoughts. Was there something in that Autobot's fuel? Maybe he shouldn't share it with Phobia. Or he definitely should, and share his troubles. Not that he's truly troubled. Is he? His focus slides away from the thought. He was just under-energized before and now he's not, so he must be fine.
Wait, has he been thinking too long? Glaring up at Phobia, he drops his gun hand to let the weapon hang at his side. "Come down."
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jun 24, 2011 15:01:57 GMT -5
Oh, look, a gun! Phobia had been waiting for that.
What he hadn’t been waiting for was Rampage’s suddenly rather confused state of mind. Having frozen in his spot with the gun pointed at him, the bike watches silently as Rampage goes through his internal dilemma. He then eyes the door cautiously before glancing back again; the Predacon was still mired in whatever was eating him up.
Rather than being a good, nice little bike and trying to suggest Rampage go get help, he instead, swiftly takes advantage of the distraction. Expression set on the terrified pleasant smile, he edges his way towards the entrance. He’s about halfway there when the crab regains his composure. Of course. For a moment, Phobia looks like a deer in the headlights.
“Oh. My. Ah, I really, really don’t want to drink that. So if you don’t mind, I’ll just stay. Here.” A pause. And then Phobia drops to the floor, transforming and trying to dodge around Rampage with a screech of tires.
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jun 25, 2011 12:33:11 GMT -5
The bike is escaping! Rampage drops the fuel line and tries to catch him, but really, Phobia has the advantage in speed and agility here.
"Phobia!" he shouts, rather thoroughly losing his cool for the second time today. Spinning as the bike dodges around him, he flings up his gun arm to aim at Phobia and lets out a growl of frustration. He doesn't want to hurt the Decepticon. Well, not physically anyway.
...but since when has he had compunctions against causing anyone physical pain?
Feeling oddly resistant to it, he forces himself to squeeze off one low-powered energy blast in Phobia's direction, but after all his hesitation does he even half a target left to hit.
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Post by Phobia/Pierce Fobster on Jun 25, 2011 15:35:28 GMT -5
The door isn’t opening fast enough, damnit, damnit, damnit. Phobia brakes and swerves hard enough to scrape his side against the floor and... watches as Rampage’s shot flies over him.
He does buy enough time for the door to open either way, after which the bike partially transforms his floored side to snap back upright onto his wheels and screeches out into the hallway. Somehow, Phobia manages not to wipe out fantastically at the next corner; he was still nauseous from Rampage’s bout of terrifying hunger.
When he’s far enough away and not so intent on fleeing to the furthest corner of the ship away from the Predacon, he will look back on this little scene with utmost confusion. Why did Rampage use a low powered shot? Why was the crab’s emotional state fluctuating so peculiarly?
And what was that squirming, dark presence under it all?
OOC: Heading for a wrap?
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Post by Rampage/Xavier Goodkind on Jun 25, 2011 21:40:18 GMT -5
"Slag," Rampage mutters darkly as his prey escapes. Eyeing his gun for a long moment and trying to work what exactly just happened during this exchanging, he finally subspaces and returns to one of the seats in the room. He does still have rock watch duty, after all, and there's no way he can catch Phobia now. At least Phobia doesn't have to worry about Rampage tattling on him for running out on his shift.
He may have to worry about a flying Rampage in the future, though. Those anti-gravs seem awfully convenient... He'd likely have to see their medical staff to get them installed, however, and that sends a strong burst of aversion squirming through him. He'll have to think on it.
For now he'll watch the rocks and indulge himself in the occasional sip of dead man's fuel.
OOC: Seems like a wrap!
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