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Holodeck:
Bludgeon: "That is part of your problem, Flywheels. You should be of one mind." -gaze taking in Ragnarock as well- "We shall change the scenario. Both of you against me. To have any hope of defeating me, you will all have to work together."
[Original RPG] End of the Line: Dark Waters (Nemesis)
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Rollerdash
- Protoform
- Posts: 299
- Joined: Tue Jan 03, 2006 5:39 pm
- Location: Madason SD
Constructors' Lab
Hammer paced impatiently about, checking his chronometer far more frequently than necessary. Grit stood in the corner sulking with folded arms, while Excavator sat at his bench at the other end of the room reading alloy specifications and absently stroking the cold tabletop. Neither much enjoyed being on-call experts.
After deciding he couldn't take waiting any longer, Hammer clicked on his his commlink. It was too much to think he couldn't oversee the operation himself. How could he trust an amateur?
"How's it going out there, Octopunch?"
********
Medbay
Knockout and Sledge sat quietly on an empty biobed adjacent to Cryotek's. The work was slow lately, and both were interested to see the revival of such a revered Decepticon as Soundwave. Inside, Knockout was jealous he hadn't received the honor; Sledge was unperturbed.
********
Hidden Room
The wall banged again, and again Stonecruncher clicked into reverse to get distance. The frustration had been stewing with each failed attempt, but it was channeled, constructive, silently steaming into an enraged shout that came each time the truck front hit the wall. He stopped, and he shifted gears.
This would be it.
With his tires squealing in the dark, Stonecruncher bolted forward. In an instant his grill made contact with the wall, and finally the atrophied divider buckled under the pressure. Stonecruncher swerved through, his momentum surprising even him, and he skidded to a stop by denting the corner of the opposite wall. Normally he'd be bothered that he'd need to fix that later, but his mangled grill was a testament to his sense of satisfaction, as was the roar that followed his transformation.
"See 'at!" he shouted at Wingspan. "Fists and a bad attitude! This Micro was made for crushin'! Hoo-ha!"
Stonecruncher pumped his fist in the air dramatically, but he forced himself to simmer when he remembered the generally timid nature of his company. He swaggered forward toward the dust cloud of the newly-formed doorway and into the newly-lit room. Stonecruncher stopped at a dusty steel crate, giving it a perplexed look before lifting the lid.
"What the..."
His free hand pulled out one of dozens of datapads while the other absently hefted the lid onto the floor with a loud clang. Stonecruncher was oblivious as he charged up the old datapad, and as the screen slowly lit, he recognized a zoomed aerial photograph of Arcee at the carwash! He furrowed his optic-ridge and turned the datapad over to find a crude etching in the back:
prop. of NEEDLENOSE
The ship's ancient halls echoed with uproarious laughter.
Hammer paced impatiently about, checking his chronometer far more frequently than necessary. Grit stood in the corner sulking with folded arms, while Excavator sat at his bench at the other end of the room reading alloy specifications and absently stroking the cold tabletop. Neither much enjoyed being on-call experts.
After deciding he couldn't take waiting any longer, Hammer clicked on his his commlink. It was too much to think he couldn't oversee the operation himself. How could he trust an amateur?
"How's it going out there, Octopunch?"
********
Medbay
Knockout and Sledge sat quietly on an empty biobed adjacent to Cryotek's. The work was slow lately, and both were interested to see the revival of such a revered Decepticon as Soundwave. Inside, Knockout was jealous he hadn't received the honor; Sledge was unperturbed.
********
Hidden Room
The wall banged again, and again Stonecruncher clicked into reverse to get distance. The frustration had been stewing with each failed attempt, but it was channeled, constructive, silently steaming into an enraged shout that came each time the truck front hit the wall. He stopped, and he shifted gears.
This would be it.
With his tires squealing in the dark, Stonecruncher bolted forward. In an instant his grill made contact with the wall, and finally the atrophied divider buckled under the pressure. Stonecruncher swerved through, his momentum surprising even him, and he skidded to a stop by denting the corner of the opposite wall. Normally he'd be bothered that he'd need to fix that later, but his mangled grill was a testament to his sense of satisfaction, as was the roar that followed his transformation.
"See 'at!" he shouted at Wingspan. "Fists and a bad attitude! This Micro was made for crushin'! Hoo-ha!"
Stonecruncher pumped his fist in the air dramatically, but he forced himself to simmer when he remembered the generally timid nature of his company. He swaggered forward toward the dust cloud of the newly-formed doorway and into the newly-lit room. Stonecruncher stopped at a dusty steel crate, giving it a perplexed look before lifting the lid.
"What the..."
His free hand pulled out one of dozens of datapads while the other absently hefted the lid onto the floor with a loud clang. Stonecruncher was oblivious as he charged up the old datapad, and as the screen slowly lit, he recognized a zoomed aerial photograph of Arcee at the carwash! He furrowed his optic-ridge and turned the datapad over to find a crude etching in the back:
prop. of NEEDLENOSE
The ship's ancient halls echoed with uproarious laughter.
Continued in End of the Line: Riptide (Nemesis)