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.
‘Sniper.’ Bumblebee looked up at the lambo-bot, EMF tense, the chirp-whirr of his Basic underscored with glyphs for extreme focus and attention. His optics focused with singular specificity on the ex-Decepticon in front of him. ‘How close are the Decepticons to weaponizing the warship?’ The scout didn’t look away from Sniper, EMF intensifying slightly. ‘ I know that Barricade didn’t bring that ship to earth fully armed, but we need to know. Have they been doing/planning/prepping any kind of attack/assault? Or has Shockwave reported any progress/breakthroughs?’
Because if a weapon of the Ancients had been brought to Earth then Shockwave was doing to be the one working on it. The very idea was horrifying. Who knew what terrible algorithms ran through that mech’s neural net? How much of this planet he would deem collateral in the effort to annihilate them. The human cost would be unfathomable... and the Autobots would all be dead. The importance of this made it possible to forget the blitz of loathing that had pasted into Shadow’s stare when he’d looked at her.
Last Edit: Dec 20, 2011 14:28:05 GMT -5 by bumblebee
Sniper looked the scoutbot straight into his optics. There was something utterly serious about them - maybe even a hint of desperation hid beneath their sky blue. In that blue, there was also an urge to do the right thing. The spy's expression, however, did not change. His mouth was a solid, tense line, and his optics two calculative flames that fell under the shadow of his helm. He spent a moment in silence, evaluating his options. There was an unreadable glance to the femme's direction, too, before he decided to speak.
Sniper opened his mouth, but his vocal processor didn't co-operate immediately. It let out a sad whine and drowned his words into a surge of electronic noises. A frustrated grimace followed, along with a silence of a few seconds. Then, he tried again:
"Before Megatron decided to scrap me-," he started, swallowing a set of broken whirs before continuing. "-I found out that the Decepticons are gearing up for an attack. Eradicons are being assigned to targets." Sniper rested his head back on the berth again after having lifted it up. His tone was solid and serious - no sarcasm or ill will lurked behind it, even if it still remained rather cold and distant. "Unfortunately, at that time, I was too busy dodging punches to find out what the said targets are," there was the sour note again. Such grudge he held onto, and not without a very good reason. "But I know there are s-" glitch, glitch, glitch. Sniper's limbs squirmed slightly with frustration. "-seven of them."
Last Edit: Dec 20, 2011 15:54:31 GMT -5 by bumblebee
Bumblebee’s optics flickered with something that was both horror and relief – relief that Sniper had any information worth having and horror at the intelligence itself. He looked over his shoulder at Optimus, EMF gone frazzled with open worry, eyes locks in askance at his CO because the question that hit him harder than anything was – “What do we do now?” Not expecting to find answers in the grim lines of their Prime’s facial plates, Bee turned back to Sniper, doorwings up-ticking slightly, energy field pulsing briefly gratefully against the tense and guarded frequencies off Sniper’s battered frame.
‘Thank you,’ he said, and rather meant it. Sniper was perhaps cooperating out of pure Decepticon-style bloody-mindedness and spite for his once-fellows, but that didn’t alter the fact that his telling them this data could be the difference between them walking blind into a trap and being ready for it. They would have to contact Agent Fowler immediately… maybe call back any of the long-range field agents they had out in the world. Bumblebee whirred a little. ‘This helps, Sniper. Is there anything else you can think of/that we should know?’
After making sure he wasn't going to get shot the moment he moved, mainly by the hard-ass Autobot femme who looked the part, the 'Con sat up slowly, his long, lanky limbs moving against the berth. Claws flicked on the metal and his gaze trailed the movement. It seemed he was a bit un certain about putting weight on his feet, so he remained seated. The pain of a crushing knee joint was still lingering far too fresh on the edge of this processor.
Sniper couldn't name a time when he had last gotten an actual thank you for anything he had done. Not ever since … well, a long time ago. Something stirred in his optics when the scout said it, the 'thank you', but his expression would refuse to change. He didn't even nod, but looked at the scout as though he was waiting for him to say or do something.
'This helps, Sniper. Is there anything else you can think of/that we should know?’
"Not-," there was a loud whir that interrupted Sniper again. "Not that I can think of," or rather, he had a bunch of information the Autobots were much happier living without. He knew he himself would have been. "But then, my files are a bit unorganized at the moment," he continued with a dull expression and tone. Shame swept by his spark. It went without saying that Soundwave had made a serious mess of his archives.
"I only know that Barricade had been keeping the information to himself at the time. He was keeping it even from Megatron," he said, his expression shifting lightly upon the mention of the Lieutenant's name. Yes, Barricade would pay too, in time. "But I'm quite certain ... I made sure things are not that way anymore." Amusement behind his words, even if a feeble and very distant kind.
Last Edit: Dec 21, 2011 6:31:14 GMT -5 by bumblebee
Bumblebee nodded once more to Sniper. ‘Then Megatron won’t know to keep him off the frontlines,’ said the scout and there was something undoubtedly malicious in the way the little sports car chirped those words, some underlying hostility that indicated through no certain terms that he certainly shared Sniper’s seniment on the subject of Barricade at the very least. It was unfortunate, but in the matter of killing Barricade, all four mechanisms in the room had all decided at some point or another to kill that Con… some with more grace than others but it was a commonality nonetheless.
Bee’s EMF flared against Sniper’s slight, like a pat on the shoulder. ‘You should rest. Ratchet will be back to run diagnostics soon.’ And I’m not going anywhere either, was his unspoken message. He looked to Optimus then, briefly to Shadow who’s facial plates had become a foreign territory to him – unreadable as the surface of the sun. They'd just been warned, or at least had their suspicions confirmed, of the coming attack but now the question stood:
What do we do now?
Last Edit: Dec 22, 2011 5:12:20 GMT -5 by bumblebee