We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Slipping Bluestreak's battered form into Shadowrunner's arms with more gentleness than a mech of his size looked to be capable of, Ironhide had spun away and dived into his alt mode as soon as Arcee's summons had cleared the comm. line. She and Barricade were still close - close enough that he could feel their hate-poisoned EM fields before he'd set optics on them.
Using a rust-coloured Chevrolet as a launching ramp, Ironhide cleared a stack of crushed cars in a snarl of engine and transformation cogs to land almost on top of the blue femme. Barricade's expression at the sudden ambush lasted as long as it took the specialist's fist to travel from his shoulder into the mech's helm.
Once Barricade was down, Ironhide slammed him in the back before pressing a cannon hard between his wheel arches. "If you know what's good fur ya, you'll stay down, glitch."
Last Edit: Nov 17, 2011 15:15:40 GMT -5 by Deleted
Barricade snarled like an animal as his head hit the floor, vision blitzed with static, Ironhide’s considerable weight pinning the Saleen Mustang to the floor so hard his plates threatened, briefly, painfully to give under the weight. He jerked reactively, serrated claws spitting sparks from the floor as he jerked and was promptly slammed right back down by the massive Topkick shoved the smaller mech to the ground.
“Frag you, Autobot!”
The snarl was more for the sake of it than anything, the heat of the canon against his back strut was convincing persuasion not to move. A shot this close at anything close to full power would punch through his frame and make a smelt pit of his spark chamber. Fragging bots. He’d heard Ironhide was planetside but he’d been kind of hoping against it. Fraggit all. The police car torqued his head around, glaring, EMF searing of his dark paneled frame and his looked first at Ironhide, then Arcee.
“It was nice talking again, ‘Cee.” He bristled under Ironhide’s cannon. “So let’s get the part where you slag me and get this moving, shall we?”
Arcee swayed precariously as she staggered tiredly to her pedes. A nearly numb and damaged arm pressed into the seams of her armor providing both support and relief to the wretched shoulder and battered chasis. The flying black mass in the form of her backup whizzing, mere feet, over her helm had caused her processor to reboot and optics to frazzle out momentarily at absurd acrobatics. She approached the snarling infiltrator, dropping her arm and straightening up to lessen her disheveled state. The two-wheeler met Barricade's piercing optics unrelenting and scorn-saturated EM field bashing forcibly against his.
"What's the rush, 'Cade? I didn't know you were in such a hurry to rejoin your maker, Unicron, in the pits." Arcee spat scathingly, her voice taking a far harder edge then used in their old verbal spats. "Besides screaming at each other with our claws in each other's spark chamber is hardly what I would call a 'nice' talk. Even by our vague definition of the word back in Maverick."
"Call for a ground bridge, Arcee," Ironhide instructed flatly, not moving his optics a micron from the infiltrator he held pinned. "Blue's hurtin' and this slag-scrap oughta be in our brig already."
He leaned in a little with a grim smile, field black and lashing down on the Decepticon's frame like a predator all its own. His cannon whined, modulating. "So we'll be seein' you then, Barricade. Lights out." And then he sent a concussive blast straight into the mech's helm and watched his red optics flash to black.
The blue femme nodded in affirmation. Turning her back away from the scene, Arcee opened up a comlink channel to base, but not before cringing slightly internally at Ironhide's obvious delight in excessive force. Not that she didn't agree with Ironhide whole-sparkedly that Barricade was a unicron spawn scrapheap and had it coming, but she could only maintain her fraying neutral composure for so much longer against the lingering impressions of the past.
Shrugging stiffly, Arcee called out on the com., "Ratchet, requesting a bridge to our location and prep medbay. We got wounded and fraggor in need of delivery to the brig."