Ep 1 - Good Ol' Fashioned Mexican Standoff - Closed

[Deleted]

(Feel free to come in, but keep in mind the party is BYOMS (Bring Your Own Mexican Standoff). No dogpiling.)

Bristol Bay, Alaska

Rook was having one of those days.

It had started well enough. Field trip via 'bridge to check a weird energy spike that turned up to be nothing more than some minor tectonic activity. Side trip, slightly less on the up-and-up, to chase down a nice stretch of straight, empty road and some traffic oddities that he'd traced back to local kids getting clever with stealth kits. It had been the day for the human factor to ask favors, apparently, and with a fast set of wheels already on the ground, things had... escalated.

And now he was in Alaska, freezing his slagging lines off in the middle of the night. Fraggitall to slag and smelt it off to the scrap heap...

Of course, none of this was out loud. As ever the infiltrator was ghost-quiet as he moved down through the woods, and slid into knee-deep muddy water. He was tracking a ghost of an energy signature, so dim he'd barely registered it until he was practically on top of it. And to think he'd just swung by to see if he could find out anything about sabotage in the nearby drilling test site --

Hello, what's this? He'd almost missed it; it wast tucked away under the flood-weathered roots of a tree hunched-over at an odd angle. Rook left the water and crept closer, back into the trees, just another shadow in the fog. Someone had braced the tree, artificially. And used it to hide an opening into the dirt that quickly went from mud to gravel to -he tapped on it- permafrost. Scans told him the darkness beyond it held a winding fissure that angled downwards at a thoroughly dizzying angle; that would explain the presence of permafrost so far North (so to speak).

He crept further in, and almost bumped into it: a small remote unit staked into the ground and humming inaudibly to itself. The kind that collects inert data, density and composition and the such, and most certainly not anything Autobot-made. Which left him standing in enemy territory with absolutely no warning of when he'd crossed the line to begin with.

Well, slag.

He eyed the fissure and its slope, his optics the only light. No way of telling if there were more sensors. No telling if there was someone down there. No guessing what the 'Cons might have cooking down that black, black hole. No way of knowing if the sensor had read and reported him. Bad odds on having enough time to step out, call for help, wait for said help, and hope that nothing went glitched in the meantime.

Welp, when in doubt...

Rook picked up the little remote sensor and slid down into the fissure like a wraith. There had to be something down there he could blow up.

[Deleted]

Roulette had six words she absolutely loathed. The least partial being 'Megatron wants' because anything that followed that utterance was going to be awful. The war lord never wanted something mundane as, say, a blanket or a good recommendation for a movie. Not that Roulette had either of those to offer.

But her least favorite words had to do with the giant, glacial looming menace hulking in the Nemesis like a tumor. There was a vast, understated grace to how stealthily Shockwave could move. When Roulette wanted to be far away from him, bam, there he was around the very corner she was going to flee around. She'd screamed the first time he'd done that, startling drones in the corridor into dropping what they'd been hauling. What was it with large Decepticons and looming in hiding places??

"Oh good, you're here."

This time she managed not to scream in surprise but her field went from flat to porcupine as he'd given her a task. 'Investigating a remote site.' Such an easy job, really, and yet why hadn't he thought of just sending a drone? Because it was in fraggin Alaska, one of the more extremes on the planet and he delighted in sending her to extremes. Lived for it, she was starting to suspect.

She'd stomped off for the ground bridge without saying a word to him. Granted, she didn't have the weight to make stomping that impressive but the gesture was spark felt. Once through she found herself in a damp forest where visibility was slag even with a keen sight.

Are you kidding me? She eyed the murky, cold water with distaste. There is no way in the pit I am going into that. Nor am I going into that dark hole. Especially if it is infested.

Carefully she picked her way into the woods, her wedge heels silently sinking into the soft ground. She couldn't prevent tracks but in this horrible light, they likely weren't going to be noticed until it was too late. If there was something in there. For all she knew, Shockwave was getting up in arms over local wildlife being cheeky and straying to close to one of his precious sensors.

There wasn't much the forest could offer her for line of sight. There were too many trees and the weather was gross. She didn't stray too far from the hidden tunnel and crouched behind a large tree that split into two, forming a large V. With an irritated grumble, she grabbed a swathe of moss and placed it over the pistol she had resting in the natural gun rest. Despite the low fog and dark, the moon still gleamed annoyingly along the metal without interference.

Now just come on out so I can blow your head off and go take a hot bath.

[Deleted]

Finding out that there was a damn good reason for that sensor to be there was even less reassuring than finding the sensor itself had been.

The fissure went pretty deep, and colder than any place on this tiny planet had a right to be. As he climbed back up, he brushed the padding on his digits and examined it, feeling the black stain left behind by the faintest of ore veins below. It got much better the deeper it went, too; a generous donation from the planet to the Decepticon cause, if Rook hadn't chanced upon it.

He'd found a massive gas pocket. When in doubt, blow something up. True and tried principle that had yet to fail him, even though sometimes superior officers were a little less understanding than one would like them to be.

It was a cobbled-together thing, his efforts at the bottom of the fissure; he hadn't exactly been expecting that he'd need a remote detonator and some ignition starters. Still, he'd never met a pocket of gas that did not like an overloading blaster.

He scrambled up, and back to the fissure's entrance, nearly running himself into the roots of the tree above and barely restraining himself to a low, aggravated hiss. At that point, Rook was all but done with the day in general, in particular, and any kind of in between. He was not, however, so distracted by the cold and mud and dark, that he neglected to pause and crouch by the sensor, considering the small thing carefully.

It could be telling someone exactly who, what and where he was. It could be blind to him, seeing only the depths of the fissure. It could have sounded an alarm as soon as he'd walked into the hidden cave. Rook had no way of knowing, and not a lot of time to find out. In the end, he decided to leave it. The explosion may take it out, it may not, and he'd be long gone regardless, provided there wasn't a welcoming committee just outside. Rook crouched down and inched back outside as carefully as he'd crept in.

If he'd spent any time at all in the wilder areas of the world, he might have marked the unnatural quiet of the place, even in such a cold night-time setting. But he hadn't, and he didn't. Instead he felt a prickle of wariness to find nothing but the dark waiting for him outside. Some part of him liked that even less than if a dozen 'Cons had been in ambush.

Too easy... where's the catch?

[Deleted]

In her aspiring, younger days of the Academy, Roulette had once shot the bolt out of a ship's bulwark. It had been a trick shock, completely useless in terms of damage. But it had impressed her superiors and given her high marks. She was heralded for her aim and steady hand.

Those sons-of-glitches had never heard of this planet. This planet. The weather was pure scrap.

Roulette was a literal stone's throw from the mouth of the cave and couldn't get on decent shot. Muttering silently to herself, she quietly stamped back and forth in the mud, finger squeezing and relaxing against the trigger. Like a tease, she wouldn't commit. Because she knew she was going to miss.

Primus, I'd have more luck just hiding behind the hill and clubbing the slagger with a stick! There was an unfortunate appeal to that plan...

With a internal huff at this location, Shockwave, and the ensuing misery she was about to bring on herself, she squeezed the trigger.

[Deleted]

No trace of 'Con grunts. No weapons aimed at him. No spotlight on his solitary, muddy, frozen aft. It's a sad commentary on one's life when it's measured by the certainty that if a trap isn't sprung, you've mangled up the job.

Rook stepped out of the fissure into a world of fog and darkness. He felt the searing bite of the bullet before he heard the snap of the shot being fired, and he didn't even register the muzzle flash as such for a couple of seconds. Ironically, his immediate thought was, Well, that's more like it.

Then the kinetic force of the bullet slammed him at the ground. The shot had caught his shoulder high, searing a line into the armor and missing his actual head by the slenderest margin that the combination of fog, cold, dark and trees could actually buy him.

Sniper.

Even as he hit the ground, Rook knew staying flat would probably buy him the most time right that moment; unfortunately, the moment he went down gravel and freezing mud started seeping through the seams in his armor. It was, distinctly, one of the most aggravating feelings he could recall to mind. The flash of cold almost immediately washed away the sharp pain of the near-hit.

And it made it very clear to him that to stay down, as he should, was utter and absolute misery. "Oh, slag this."

Trees. Night. Fog. Slope. All of these variables ran through his mind. They had bought him a breath of physical space. Add motion in, the breath might get just a little longer.

He drew a knife and rolled to his feet in a ball, springing up to one side and launching himself up towards that faintly seen muzzle flash, fast and dark as a ghost, never running in a straight line and darting between the trees as he cut the distance between them. All the while he kept expecting another shot to find a more accurate mark; but if it didn't, there would be lines to cut as soon as he got to that slagger. He'd had the kind of day that did not ask questions first.

[Deleted]

For one brief moment, Roulette felt warm, gooey relief at the sight of the Autobot falling. It had been a crap shot but she'd done it! Only for the icy prickle of failure to sheer away any good feelings, when the bastard had the audacity to get back up. She swore quietly and tried to get another shot. But he was too fast and the weather was too bad for her to commit.

Grimacing at her shoddy luck, she ducked low against the tree and turned her back against the sturdy surface. There was no time to get another shot without wasting her energy and effort. She'd just have to wait for the slagger to come to her. Then she'd just blow his freakin spark right out of his body.

[Deleted]

There were no further shots as Rook launched himself up the hill, further convincing him that he was dealing with a sniper. He just had to keep moving faster than the slagger could aim, get up the damn hill and get inside his range.

Panache might have demanded that he leap through the crook of the tree to confront his attacker, but panache, in Rook's experience, did nothing but get mechs killed under embarrassing circumstances. Instead he dropped to a crouch, slid around the trunk and surged upwards, one short blade leading and his free hand readying another. He didn't even need a good look, he just needed an idea of where what body part was; where to cut a line.

He registered two things, but he registered them very quickly: first was the general build, attention immediately drawn to the neck. His blade was moving for those lines when he realized he did not see a sniping weapon anywhere in the vicinity. Closing in with a sniper, even doing so blindly, is almost always good; closing in with anything else, particularly blind, not so much.

If I get x'd-out in this Primus-forsaken bit of incredibly cold and slushy planet, I am never gonna let myself live it down...

[Deleted]

For someone injured he moved like Primus had set his aft on fire. Roulette had it all planned out in her head. She would wait for him to come around her cover, then cap him in the head. Neat, efficient, and suitably non-messy. She'd be back on the ship in time to sling nasty bog water at Shockwave's head.

Well, theories were always nice. In practice however she didn't get so far as waiting. Instead of a clunky, slow moving, dying mech she was greeted with a whirlwind that dove around her cover and was beyond her comfort zone before she could bring her already drawn gun up. Instead of wasting the energy with a desperate maneuver, she quickly pulled the other pistol and tucked it close and up between them like a barrier. He was too close to stop, but if he knifed her, the fleeting stimuli crashing through her body would squeeze the trigger for her.

[Deleted]

Not a sniper.

It was an interesting thing, how the average mech thought 'sniper' and 'sharpshooter' amounted to the same thing, but anyone who dealt with silent killing knew, to deep and ofttimes painful detail, how they were not. You could get inside a sniper's range, just as you could get inside most mechs' range. Getting inside a sharpshooter's range? Whole different barrel of energon. Particularly when his --

Her.

-- her arms were not that much longer than yours, and your shoulder feels like someone dripped acid on it so that you cannot stretch your arm to its full length. Rook had banked on facing a sniper. Not a sharpshooter.

Well, slag.

There's few things blacker and more worthy of your entire attention than the barrel of a gun when you're staring into it. It's a very small thing; it's also one stark reminder that you're not where you wanted, or needed, to be. Rook could practically feel the rush of fuel through her neck lines, one twitch of his hand away from the edge of his blade - one twitch he did not indulge. From this close, the surge of death through her frame would likely (make that surely) pull the trigger for her and the Aero would have no head left. But then again, if she did fire on him, the surge would go through his frame instead.

As he stood there, holding very still unless someone misconstrued his desire to not die, one single solitary creature in the muddy, chilly, foggy, insufferable woods started calling into the dark like a high-pitched buzzer. It seemed oddly apropos to the whole miserable night.

There's only so many things one can do when things have gone so cluster-slagged. "Hey." His voice was as deadpan as deadpan gets. "Nice shot."

[Deleted]

Roulette was far and away not a touchy-feely femme. She didn't like when someone got in her comfort zone all the time. Which was probably why she'd never partnered with a cassette. The occasional sharing of space with Windy had never presented a problem because they weren't stuck together all the slagging time. If she had to share space with someone for more than a few cycles she started to get itchy feeling along the lines.

So sharing her small amount of swamp with an enemy close enough to note the details of his optics actually made her want to groan in dismay. She hid that desire under a layer of resentment and dully stared at him. This was, without a doubt, one of the worst situations she had been stuck in for a long, long time. Worse than being stuck in a lift with Shockwave. The only thing she could do for sure was speak. Speaking didn't get one killed unless they were mouthy.

"Think so? Off by a small grade since I rushed the shot."

[Deleted]

Rook had to admit to himself that he had no idea where the situation was going.

His tended to be a job where you went in expecting things to go glitched; it was a given that your plans, no matter how carefully laid out, were going to go awry and you could only hope that when they did you would not end up dead; capture was always a possibility.

Stalemates, he was nowhere near as familiar with.

He kept his voice perfectly calm, friendly even. His knife never even budged. "Nah, I wouldn't say so. Conditions like these, that was fine shooting."

Which of course drew his mind back to the cold, wet, slushy misery all around, and his next question was pretty much a given. "So. What you here for?"

[Deleted]

This is so awkward. I'm dying of awkwardness. Can you die of situations like this without being stabbed? Because I think I may actually be dying.

Roulette was pulled away from her internal fit that was threatening to be downright maudlin in nature. The calm, aloof nature she projected was a lovely facade. Inside she found herself to be as emotionally stable as a child getting their cookie snatched out of their hands. Moments such as these were rather embarrassing but she could comfort herself knowing she'd never displayed them outwardly. Yet.

What was she here for? Lovely question and she could wax poetics about how meaningless this whole mission had been in the grand scheme of things. Because Shockwave was a horrible villain that existed to drain the peace out of her life. What did she care that his stupid sensors got destroyed? But she did care and that's what irked her even more than the cold and the knife at her neck. She cared because it had happened under her very watch. Which was, however small, a failure on her part.

"You tripped an alarm." She almost made the mistake of shrugging but instead rolled her optics, "Of course, then you blew up the place. I think one of the two is probably frowned upon."

[Deleted]

Rook's shoulder was beginning to remind him, pointedly, that he'd been shot. There was a trickle of mud running along the wound that only made the whole affair even more irritating.

He measured the sharpshooter's words with only slightly less care than the gun she had leveled on him. Slowly, smoothly, ever so careful to make it not a threat at all, he smiled a lazy, wry grin at her. "Well, I meant what'd you get this slag mission at this slag place for, but that works too, I guess. Good to know there wa--"

He trailed off when the ground, the up-to-then very solid, incredibly frozen, uncomfortably cold ground under his knee grumbled, groaned, and shivered like a tank afflicted with very bad energon. His optics widened minutely, even though he was very careful to stay very still regardless.

Apparently what he'd done down there had done, possibly, slightly more damage than he'd expected...

[Deleted]

Later, after Roulette slogged her way out of the mess this idiot had dumped her into, she would deny that she had screamed like a human child. Not only was that woefully unbecoming of a Decepticon soldier, but her pride burned at the thought of making such a vulnerable noise. She didn't scream (unless Shockwave was involved and at that point, who didn't?) and would be a hard nut to crack even under the worst torture. At least, she liked to think so. But having a series of bad encounters was making her start to evaluate her life.

To be quite frank, the ground under them imploded and them vomited up a morass of sludgy soil and freezing water. Only after they were bounced up into the air for a scant moment, did gravity pull them back down into a fairly sizable hole where the cave system had trailed to. Around them the whole area had caved in with a nauseating gurgle of mud. Which is how Roulette found herself sprawled on her back, optics deep in some of the foulest (but likely the richest) silt that seeped into armor. While over coming the shock of such a rude invasion, Roulette pondered the sky and loudly bemoaned her stray shot.

"I really wish I had killed you." Because you deserve it, you slag-ridden wretch!

[Deleted]

There were few things that threw Rook off-balance, physically or mentally. Very few, really; his was a life where things were expected to be wrong. Where you improvised before trouble rolled along, because that trouble was guaranteed when success rarely was.

Losing his footing with no nearby island of stability was part of that very short list. It usually meant something had blown up, melted or otherwise vanished before it should. In this particular case, it had done so when it shouldn't have. No amount of agility would save him - every possible perch was coming down with them both. Apparently the gas-filled cave where he'd left his gun to overload and detonate had been a cave system, not just a cave. Nature abhorring vacuums as she did she was making haste to fill the suddenly breached environment with anything and everything in the vicinity.

That everything, unfortunately, included both Rook and his dance partner, several tons of silt, chunks of frozen mud, trees, rocks, brush and everything in between. Even as the sinkhole came to a halt a long-dead log swung around and caught the assassin a solid wallop on the back of his helm. The yelp the swat may have drawn from him got him a mouthful of mud instead. Spitting, he looked around.

He, and the femme, were both now a lovely shade of brown; they were equally non-descript, angles and juts of armor gone to slag-all under the mess. She was face-up, he'd ended up partially face-down, struggling to climb to his hands and knees without slipping. And that was nothing to the amount of goopy, ice-cold, filthy stuff now trapped under every inch of his armor.

Rook batted mud out of his optics with an equally mud-coated hand, rocked back to a kneeling position, and looked at the crater. There was no reason, none at all whatsoever, to be in this pit. None. No amount of goodwill towards humanity, no measure of diplomatic interspecies goodwill, no order given in the universe. Just no. Nothing excused his ending up covered in freezing mud after a simple lurk-and-check.

"I wish you had." He groaned and stretched - it was a bad idea. Something squelched and slimed its way out from under his intercostal plates. ".... Alright, you know what? No." He stood up, wobbling, and eyed the Decepticon femme. ".... Do we want to dance this?"