|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jun 10, 2012 17:37:49 GMT -5
M9W1D1, open, in a spooky underground parking garage in Detroit, Imp mentioned with permission
"People are going to start thinking you're my sidekick," Metatron comments to Imp, her voice low as she hides behind a dingy concrete pillar in a shady underground loading dock. The lights buzz. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. But I think you're more of a headshot than a sidekick."
She narrates for the benefit of the comic book readers, "Organ trafficking is a serious issue that the humans face. Now, they have a tougher time of it than we do. Their parts tend to go bad more easily than ours do. Also, they tend to die more easily if you remove critical parts from them than we do, and they can't reboot from disc. So every stolen organ in this shipment likely represents a murder." Pan in on her sober, grim face. "Now, I'm not exactly sure what these organs are, but I know that Biotech Unbound cannot have anything good planned for them..."
Metatron hears the sound of engines and nudges Imp, ordering, "Wait until they start unloading these trucks. The police will need good evidence to pursue a bust on a giant like Biotech Unbound. Just a few beat up truck drivers won't help them any."
She tries to be a good citizen vigilante and make things easier for the police.
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 12, 2012 14:21:53 GMT -5
Imp narrows her eyes and glowers at Metatron when she calls her a 'headshot.' Then she grunts. "I don't give a damn who these folks have been doing what to. I'm out here to make sure you don't get your fool self killed. That is, more or less, what she spends a good bit of her time doing.
It's hurry up and wait, then? Imp can do that. She watches the thugs from their hiding place, rather relaxed considering the circumstances, and waits for them to get started.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jun 12, 2012 21:33:27 GMT -5
Perhaps that was in poor taste, considering the manner of Impactor's death, but Metatron is too cheeky and feckless to care. She raises an eyebrow and asks, "Before our war, if someone had been murdering Transformers and stealing their parts for the black market, would you have cared?"
She's not sure Imp would. They agree on some issues, usually the ones that matter, but they don't agree on everything to be certain, and Imp is more inclined to disregard the 'fine details'.
The truck rolls in and comes to a stop at the loading dock. The passenger side door opens and the the driver's, as the two generic henchmen exit the vehicle. They start to walk around to the back of the truck.
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 13, 2012 19:21:21 GMT -5
Imp considers Metatron's question for a moment, then shrugs. "Depends on how long before the war, and whether I was being ordered to care." Perhaps oddly, the closer they got to the war, the more likely Impactor was to care against orders.
She quiets as the truck comes to a stop and watches, still looking as relaxed as ever - right up until they get the back of the truck open and start getting the first couple of boxes out. With that, she dives towards the truck, landing on top of the truck in a crouch, looking down at the men behind the truck, expression hard, impassive, and challenging.
At this point, enough boxes are out of the truck that if they drive off suddenly, they won't be able to avoid leaving it behind. Evidence!
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jun 18, 2012 22:04:00 GMT -5
The mooks are idiot mooks who do not pay attention to the meta news and thus pull out clubs and try to club Imp off of the truck.
Metatron approaches slowly and asks pleasantly, "And just what is your cargo today?"
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 20, 2012 21:10:29 GMT -5
Imp snorts. "Y'gotta be kidding me," she mutters, catching one of the clubs with her foot, then flinging it into the head of another mook. Then she swings the chain in a wide circle to clear herself a path and leaps from the truck roof to one of the crates, one that had still been held by two of the thugs. In the process, she knocks it to the ground. She adjusts her balance to stay upright on the edges as one side cracks open, but beyond the need to adjust her stance, Imp pays little attention to the breaking of the crate, instead twisting to send a kick to the nearest mook's chin, making use of her elevation advantage.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jun 21, 2012 20:03:39 GMT -5
Inside the crate are some refrigerated boxes, looking vaguely like weighted companion cubes, only less friendly. None of them are larger than a human head. They feel cool to the touch and are sinisterly generic.
"Didn't ask. Don't wanna know," says one mook to Metatron.
She grabs ones of the boxes and holds it up to block when he tries to club her.
He hesitates.
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jun 23, 2012 19:40:03 GMT -5
Imp is not one to go rooting through boxes when there's an enemy to be fighting (unless that's her mission, of course). Since the outer crate is breaking, in order for her to continue to stand on it anyway, she must constantly adjust her balance, sticking largely to standing on the edges and corners. She flings the chain around the club of the mook menacing Metatron and yanks, pulling the thing from his hand and into any other thugs between him and Imp herself.
"Quit playing with building blocks and get off the battle-field," she snarls.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jun 30, 2012 21:00:28 GMT -5
But no sooner has Imp rescued Metatron that there is another mook threatening Metatron.
His club cracks against the box and lands hard on the ground. it pops open, and Metatron draws in a sharp breath. if that's a kidney or a liver or a heart or a lung, splattering it on the ground means that someone might die waiting for a transplant who could have used the organ in that box.
It's not a kidney or a liver or a heart or a lung.
It's a brain.
The mook looks genuinely surprised by the contents of the box. Metatron, more ruthless than most, takes advantage of his lapse of concentration to command him, "Kneel."
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jul 1, 2012 19:47:14 GMT -5
Imp slams the thug she had just yanked away from Metatron into the ground, then drives her elbow back into one behind her...
... And that's when she realizes what it is on the ground.
Largely because she can smell it.
She begins salivating. "Dammit," she snarls angrily beneath her breath. She should not let herself get this easily distracted. She knows better. But suddenly she's incredibly hungry.
(Which is pretty annoying, considering she knows that they taste terrible.)
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jul 2, 2012 14:48:42 GMT -5
The mook is startled enough that he kneels, and Metatron takes advantage of his shock to zip-tie his wrists together to the bumper of the truck. Shouldn't be on a battlefield, her left actuator! If Primus didn't want her to fight, she wouldn't have Jedi mind trick powers.
Metatron tries to catch Imp's attention and hisses, "Not now!"
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jul 3, 2012 22:09:56 GMT -5
It's pretty hard to get Imp's attention when there's a part of her that's desperately calling out, "BrraaaaAAAAAiiiiiIIIIIIns!" It's really less Metatron that snaps her back to reality and more one of the thugs slamming a club into the back of her shoulders. Fortunately, nothing's broken, and she doesn't really properly bruise, so there is that. She snarls and spins, slamming her hook right into the side of the criminal in question.
This is liable to cause some legal problems, if he dies, since vigilantes who take lives don't get quite the same treatment as the 'knock out and capture' bunch.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jul 14, 2012 11:37:47 GMT -5
"Primus almighty, if you kill someone, I will have you reformatted as a Seeker," Metatron hisses at Imp.
They probably both feel like they can't take the other anywhere!
She tries to tackle the thug behind Imp.
The brains remain on the floor.
|
|
|
Post by Impactor/"Imp" on Jul 14, 2012 20:11:33 GMT -5
Imp grunts. "Be an improvement over this one." She pauses, kicking another thug as Metatron tackles the one behind her. "Pitt, if it's not falling apart, it might be better than my usual one."
At this point, several of the thugs have come to the conclusion that sticking around is a bad idea, and are therefore acting to make themselves gone.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Jul 15, 2012 14:09:51 GMT -5
"...as a hippy," Metatron corrects, narrowing her eyes.
She tries to zip-tie the thug's hands behind his back.
|
|