Ep 1 - Strong Words - Closed
Nov 25, 2012 22:07:34 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Nov 25, 2012 22:07:34 GMT -5
Human built spaces, sized for tiny organics. They'd knocked down walls to make rooms large enough for Cybertronian frames - there were marks and rough edges where walls had been taken out, weld marks where human sized doors had been removed. Ironhide could reach up, if he wanted to, and place the flat of his hand on the ceiling without needing to stretch to the tips of his pedes, and there were only five of his steps, from one wall to the opposite, across the longest width of his quarters.
Four steps, step and turn. four steps, step and turn. It wasn't far enough, leaving him boxed in and pressed by the walls, movements blocky and underscored with the whine of weapon hot systems that he couldn't cool down.
Megatronus had left the DMZ. It was the only thought keeping his cannons from spinning up in ernest. MEGATRON had left. So had Barricade.
So had SHADOW and Ironhide put a fist sized dent into the surface of his worktable rather than rip through the weaker human constructed wall. Leaning into the buckled surface, he lowered his head and vented sharply.
Shadow had run and everything in him, every twitching circuit and hyper charged protocol, needed to be out there finding her and making sure she was safe. It beat in him in time with the spin of his spark - his youngling, vulnerable, in danger, Barricade was out there for Pit's sake, and he was...
...his hands were shaking, the tremors in his struts, and he could feel the memory echo of the sick-wrong-scorching utterly DESERVED feel of the murderer's field flaring against his, the electric crackling tingle of a spark trying to push him away with every iota of the infiltrator's being even as Ironhide had closed his hand...
...hand sliding into blaster transformation, targeting off, HUD full of errors and static, shot gone wild and taking the 'Con with it...
Ironhide wrenched his processor out of the endless comparative spiral of the memory he had made and the one that trembled through mass memory in his hands. Necessary. Regardless of how it had been done it had been necessary and his only regret was that it hadn't been FINAL and he hadn't rectified that mistake right there on the spot, DMZ be damned. Barricade was out there. Shadow was out there. And he was NOT, because the Prime had ordered-
::Ironhide, report.:: The comm line was sharp and curt, glyphs nothing but military crisp, appended with the mark of the sub-basement and the Prime's code. Ironhide growled, the table hitting the far wall as he shoved away from it, the edge sinking into the wall surface.
Anger. Anger was better, by far, than the spark wrenching fear that clamored at the edges of his protocols. ::On mah way,:: Ironhide snapped back, stalking for the door. Primus help them all if the Prime hadn't brought Shadow back with him.
Four steps, step and turn. four steps, step and turn. It wasn't far enough, leaving him boxed in and pressed by the walls, movements blocky and underscored with the whine of weapon hot systems that he couldn't cool down.
Megatronus had left the DMZ. It was the only thought keeping his cannons from spinning up in ernest. MEGATRON had left. So had Barricade.
So had SHADOW and Ironhide put a fist sized dent into the surface of his worktable rather than rip through the weaker human constructed wall. Leaning into the buckled surface, he lowered his head and vented sharply.
Shadow had run and everything in him, every twitching circuit and hyper charged protocol, needed to be out there finding her and making sure she was safe. It beat in him in time with the spin of his spark - his youngling, vulnerable, in danger, Barricade was out there for Pit's sake, and he was...
...his hands were shaking, the tremors in his struts, and he could feel the memory echo of the sick-wrong-scorching utterly DESERVED feel of the murderer's field flaring against his, the electric crackling tingle of a spark trying to push him away with every iota of the infiltrator's being even as Ironhide had closed his hand...
...hand sliding into blaster transformation, targeting off, HUD full of errors and static, shot gone wild and taking the 'Con with it...
Ironhide wrenched his processor out of the endless comparative spiral of the memory he had made and the one that trembled through mass memory in his hands. Necessary. Regardless of how it had been done it had been necessary and his only regret was that it hadn't been FINAL and he hadn't rectified that mistake right there on the spot, DMZ be damned. Barricade was out there. Shadow was out there. And he was NOT, because the Prime had ordered-
::Ironhide, report.:: The comm line was sharp and curt, glyphs nothing but military crisp, appended with the mark of the sub-basement and the Prime's code. Ironhide growled, the table hitting the far wall as he shoved away from it, the edge sinking into the wall surface.
Anger. Anger was better, by far, than the spark wrenching fear that clamored at the edges of his protocols. ::On mah way,:: Ironhide snapped back, stalking for the door. Primus help them all if the Prime hadn't brought Shadow back with him.