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.
He was close now, close enough that he could hear voices drifting back down the tunnel.
Maximus frowned. The good thing was he recognised one of them: Miko's piping voice rang against the damp cement walls. He did not know how such a small creature could manage a tone so loud and fierce when her temper was riled. Her guitar was worse. Even a few jarring chords from it, amplified through speakers, was enough to turn Maximus on his heel and drive him further into the base.
And the bad thing was...
The other voice did not belong to Bulkhead.
It was female. Not even close.
Perplexed, he furrowed his brow. The voice was soft and halting, and familiar somehow. Where the hell had he heard it before.
There was another bend in the line ahead. With heavy footfalls Maximus edged towards it. A little light shone beyond it, enough to illuminate the gravel and the metal rails. He switched off his infra-red and went back to visual. At the bend he paused with his back pressed to the wall, steeled himself, and tightened his finger against the trigger of his gun.
In one motion Maximus swung out into the middle of the tracks, his rifle trained upon the figures huddled ahead.
"Don't move, Decepticon," he growled. "Step away from Bulkhead and the human or I will not hesitate to put a shot dead through your - Primus."
He stared at the courier, his red optics widening in shock.
Now that she was outside of his body and staring at the big mass that was Bulk, Miko started to notice the mess of his armor. It looked mostly superficial damage wise but that didn't mean it couldn't drip into seams and ruin what lay underneath. If the solution was nasty as the femme had said. And if the femme could be trusted. Still, the teenager erred on the side of caution and chose to believe what her eyes were telling her.
She didn't have time to ponder why the Con was telling her this or even saving her! Bulk needed help and she'd already screwed things up enough as is with the mix up. With a grunt of effort, Miko flung the ruined guitar from her hands and ran to the water to cup it and carry it back to Bulk. Unfortunately her hands were annoyingly small and didn't carry enough to make much of a difference. Stupid hands! With a frustrated growl, she ripped off her tank top and shoved it into the water to soak and scrambled back to Bulk's side. It worked...sort of, for that one section of armor.
Belatedly she realized backup had somehow fit his huge butt into the tunnels. She paused in her mad scrambling to stare at Fort Max with a confused look. How did he even fit?!
Nose held high in the currents of air, Dart was frantically sorting through the scents. Old oil. The stench of the downed mech's metal still dripping and curling away from his wounds. Water. Dirt. Fabric softener. She'd heard something, she was sure she'd heard something but she couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. Or who. Oh no, please don't let it be a Vehicon, or worse, don't let it be...
The courier's jaw set with determination. She lowered her head and braced her foot against the floor as a low, soft sound began to vibrate her chest and curl up her throat. "If that's my boss," she began to say, "get to cover, I'll-"
Wait, where'd she go?
Dart didn't have even a second to figure that out before there was motion. Tremendously quick for something so big. The bulk of the mech filled the tunnel, and the cold LED lights winked off behind him. For one terrifying moment, the pipes near the top of the tunnel reflected the mech's crimson gaze, and all the courier could think of was who the Decepticons had sent to drag the mech out of here... get the girl, get her and run--
The voice. His voice. She knew that voice. Twenty four hours plus on a river in the baking sun with him. She'd never forget it, especially the way he snarled out the command, "Don't move."
Her spoiler came up over her shoulders, the tips focused on him. Blue optics became equally wide.
Vents whirred overhead and pulled air towards them, and she shoved her nose into it, having to verify. For sure. Because he was walking, he was here, he was in Portland of all places. The last time she'd seen him a few days ago he'd been staggering out of that fuel spattered cave, helped by the medic. It had been a terrible wound; nothing she'd ever seen before. He was a fighting mech, a frontliner built to deal and take damage, and yet, she'd just wondered if he'd survived.
Yes, her systems agreed. The smell of fresh patch, of oil, of the heavy plating itself. Dirt and mud. The tones of metal that were uniquely his, and his alone....
The left side of her spoiler twitched. It shifted slightly back and forth as she looked up at him.
"Oh," she breathed in relief, and then said something that likely no intelligent Decepticon had said in eons.
"It's you! Oh, that's good. You- you're all right...?"
Then she realized how awkward that sounded. Dart also realized that the massive gun was leveled straight on at her.
Right, Autobot down in the hallway behind her. Also awkward.
"Y-yes sir," she swallowed. "I can step away, sir."
Zoom-Zoom shot the ground bridge a sideways glance behind him. He scoffed, though whether it was at the idea of looking after humans, general distaste at the thought of more missions or doing more work was debatable. It probably was a combination of all three together.
"Ratchet, I can barely look after my aft as it is. It's only gonna end in sadness if you're expecting more of me." Why yes, Zoom-Zoom had no problem downtalking himself and his abilities. He didn't want to be thought even the slightest bit reliable or responsible. That's how you get more work piled on top of you. Or dangerous missions assigned to you.
At the question of medical aid, he straightened up and queried his systems for a damage report. His sensors were working better, ever since Ratchet had a go at repairing them. "Nah, I'm undamaged. Cons didn't even see me."
Zoom-Zoom shrugged once and reconfigured his paint job, camo gray splotches suddenly melting away as a dull red spread across his frame and infused it with colour. "Soooo. What now? Still need me here or can I go and wash off the dirt I picked up in the tunnels?"
"If you're fine, then go get rid of that dirt," he said. He frowned, his optics narrowing. "And file a report about this incident sometime before the day is over, would you? I'd rather like to know why the Decepticons were down in a mass transit system in the first place. They've mostly avoided operations in densely populated human settlements to date. This is new for them."
He glanced at the empty ground bridge. "In the meantime, I shall wait for Bulkhead to arrive. Thank you, Zoom-Zoom. Take the rest of the day off, or what is left of it."
Unbelievable. Of all the Decepticons he had expected to come across in a cramped light transit tunnel, this one was at the bottom of the list. And yet here she was, looking just as he remembered her from the Grand Canyon: leggy and skittish and soft-spoken. Granted, his recollection of much of that encounter was hazy, but the femme herself had left a stark imprint on his mind. As much as he hated to admit it, she was impossible to forget.
Which begged the question: was she the one who had injured Bulkhead? And if so, how?
Maximus harboured no illusions when it came to the cunning and cruelty of their enemies. No Decepticon was harmless. But this was hard to swallow.
He shook his head. With a soft click he returned his rifle to the clip at his back.
"Stand back and give me some room," he said gruffly.
Walking hunched, Maximus stepped forward. Miko was beneath him, and he lowered himself awkwardly into a crouch at Bulkhead's side, conscious of the need to watch his footing. The little girl looked unharmed, at least. He studiously avoided eye contact with the courier for the moment and focused his attention on the injured Autobot. Looking at Dart only made his head reel.
"You all right, kid?" he said. "What happened here? Bulkhead said he was hit with something that was eating into him. I need to know what it is, to know how to properly smother it out before I can get him to Ratchet. This looks like incendiary gel damage."
He finally looked back over his shoulder at Dart. "Do you know? Who hit him, and with what?"
"She said he got hit with a weapon that shoots a gel that burns things. But it doesn't hurt organics and it washes off with water or dirt," Miko dutifully recited while wringing another handful of water onto Bulk's armor. She was getting beyond gross at this point but that wasn't anything a shower, and a round of preventative shots from Nurse Darby, couldn't fix. She was more worried about Bulk at the moment. Seeming him lying there so unresponsive shook her down to her toes. He wasn't supposed to go down like that! He was supposed to save the day!
"He gonna be ok?" She looked at Fort Max and tentatively at the Con femme. There were so many questions she could be asking about her. Why did she try and help her? Why did she care? Wasn't she supposed to be evil? Why did it seem like Fort Max knew her? Why was this so awkward? Was this one of those gross adult situations she accidentally walked into? Ew.
Dart watched as Maximus lifted his rifle and swung it away. A quick nod was her reply before she too turned her head to not make eye contact. The courier's jaw lifted, exposing a flash of pale grey throat. It was probably the cleanest place on her at the moment. The lanky femme rose cautiously out of her crouch before she picked her way across the tracks and settled off to side.
The courier was careful to stop in a place where both the girl and he could see her. The mech's words from the canyon was still in her mind; stay in front. They'd relaxed a little perhaps, in that last slogging stretch up the trail from the river, but this was not that situation. She was here in a place she shouldn't be, with an injured Autobot and one of their human allies.
That broad swath of patch through the mech's mid-section was obvious, even in the dim LED lighting. Dart wondered why they'd sent him. Were- were they that low on troops that they couldn't send anyone else? Wait, maybe the green mech had managed to blurt a distress signal before he fell and... well, if anyone could move him it and get him out of here, it would would be a tank. That made sense. It was the best outcome she could have asked for; he did not shoot her on sight, and he could get the girl and the mech to safety and she could get out of here before-
Best not to think about that.
A quick attempt to tuck her hands behind her back, set herself into a well-trained stance. Immediately her shoulder protested. Dart shifted uncomfortably but stayed put and distracted herself by tipping her nose into the air currents to gulp a deep draw of air, sniffing warily.
When the girl spoke, the courier glanced over and nodded quickly in agreement. She angled her nose to indicate the still spraying pipe. "Yes. I mean, that's it. She's right. Be careful where you move him from, sir."
Then she hesitated at the girl's question, unsure if she should answer. A faint drift of scent, a sharp touch of fear. Not at the danger the teen had been in; no, she'd come out swinging. This was for her friend that she could not help.
"I think so," Dart murmured. "I- I honestly don't know what happened." The courier's spoiler fell slightly with her confusion. "He's not dying. Honest. I'd smell it."
Maximus narrowed his optics. It had not escaped his attention that the courier had avoided one of his questions.
But no matter. He could get a description of the mech with the gel incendiary from Bulkhead once the big mech was operational again. It was a nasty weapon. If more Autobots could avoid it in the future – if it could be countered – so much the better.
He turned his attention back to Miko.
“He’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ve seen this kind of damage before. Bad shock to the system, which is probably what knocked him out. Eats down to fuel lines. But Bulkhead is tough and has heavier armour than anyone else on base. The stuff will have a hard time getting through him. That said...”
Maximus eyed the spraying pipe that Dart motioned to. It was a ways back down the tunnel, but within easy reach. Better yet, a heavy stream of water jetted from it, intense enough to wash out the embedded gel. Ratchet could neutralize whatever was left.
He touched the side of his helm.
“Ratchet, this is Maximus,” he said. “I’m going to need a ground bridge about... one hundred feet from my current position, just down the tunnel behind Bulkhead. We’ll be coming through shortly. And we’ll be coming through wet.”
A ground bridge opened with a burst of green light on the other side of the spray, just as Maximus rolled Bulkhead onto his back and worked his hands under the big mech’s arms. He lifted Bulkhead straight up by the shoulders, his jaw set against the strain.
“You go through the bridge first,” he grunted to Miko. “I’ll follow behind you. And you stay there,” he added, eyeing Dart. “Actually, you know what – scratch that. Your hands are free. Rip open that pipe wider. I’m dragging him through the spray en route to the bridge.”
Last Edit: Oct 30, 2014 21:27:12 GMT -5 by Deleted
Miko was all ready to get the frick right outta there. Not only was she so done with tunnels for the duration, she was done dealing with confusing situations like this. They weren't shooting at the Decepticons and one had tried to help her and Bulk. Nothing made sense underground. Worst subway ever.
She dangled her shirt away from her with a few fingers. There was no way she was putting that gross thing back on over her under shirt. Ew. It was going to get so much detergent and decontaminating before she wore it again. There was probably five unknown diseases on there. Which brought to mind the petri dishes she had at home for a science project. Hey, maybe this whole clusterflub could be for something after all!
"Ok." She bobbed her head, practically hanging on every instruction Fort Max tossed her way with an ease that would probably sicken Red Alert and every teacher she'd ever had. Slipping across the ground, she waddled for the water and hugged the nasty shirt to her stomach to protect the science project in progress. Before ducking through the spray, she turned to look at the Con femme one last time. A frown drew her brows down and she was, for once, at a loss of words for the enemy.
"...sorry I clubbed you in the head with my guitar." Apology handed out, she made a mad dash through the water and portal ahead.
The courier had turned quickly back into the currents of air. Her spoiler was over her shoulders, the tips up as she focused into the dark, sniffing. The smell of the mud and the rain wafted from the mech along with the smell of fresh patching. She let herself quietly search out a bit of it, checking quietly. No gaps. No smell of oozing fuel. He'd been cared for well, and she doubted they would have sent him out to this if they'd thought he couldn't handle himself.
Dart quietly admired their medic's skill. Well his repair skill. She'd seen Ratchet's blades up close and had a healthy respect for that as well.
Then she couldn't believe easily Maximus managed to lift that dead weight. The green mech's feet ground against the floor as he was heaved upwards. Dart could only imagine the strength required; well, okay, the sort that could oh, tear a mech in half. Right.
Stay. Absolutely she would, right here, she understood. Then she realized with a touch of confusion that it meant he would have his back to her for a second, and wait, was that okay with him--
"What- oh, oh, the pipe," she stammered, having not expected those words at all. She looked up at it down the hall, right near the opening of the bridge. The green light whirled and flicked off the walls, shimmering along the wet floor. It lit up the gushing water, and threw emerald points along the concrete curves.
"Yes sir, I- I can do that," she agreed, drawing herself up.
Dart started to bring her hand up in an automatic salute. Her fingers stopped a few inches from the deep scars on her chest; she caught herself. A bit of green goo dripped off the edge of her hand as she quickly touched the two fingers to the brim of her helm instead instead of her sigil.
"Be careful," she said suddenly. "I mean, not to let that stuff- don't let it get on you."
With that, she turned quickly and trotted towards the pipe. Her knife had done a clean cut, sliced through it, but the clamps holding it to the ceiling hadn't pulled away from the concrete. Dart quickly reached up and set herself to pull; oh, owch, arm overhead, not the best idea. The bolts creaked and popped; the water sprayed out in a larger fan.
Well, pain means you're still among the living, Dart... think positive.
I'm positive my Commander's going to come back and --
Good job. That's not positive, brain.
However, it was the girl's words that made her blink and look down as the teenager hurried past. Dart hadn't expected her to say anything. Even though she was soaking wet from head to toe, the Decepticon paused. The femme's blue eyes blinked, and then her expression softened at the girl's words. A bit of the wary air she held close smoothed away, much like it had done at times on the Grand Canyon.
"Oh. Hey, it's okay," she replied, ducking her helm. A quirky little smile sloped across her face, her spoiler tipping. "My nose. Your personal space. S'understandable. I'm - I'm just sorry about--"
By then, the girl had crossed into the green whirl.
"Your guitar," Dart finished quietly, not knowing if she'd been heard. She was. There were some things you couldn't replace for all the sentimental reasons.
Then she hurried to tug more of the cut pipe away so that Maximus could clean off as much of the injured mech as possible on the way out.
Maximus watched with approval as Miko scampered back towards the portal. She was sharp and acted fast, he’d give her that.
With the girl safely off, he returned his attention to Bulkhead. The big Wrecker was heavy, and Maximus was unable to stand in the cramped confines of the tunnel, but with some effort he was able to drag his burden backwards alone the tracks. Remembering what the courier said, he took care not to touch the gel that still dripped from Bulkhead’s raw injuries.
The pipe groaned. The sound was immediately followed by a metallic screech and the roar of water spraying under high pressure. Maximus grunted and aimed for it without turning around. It sounded as if the courier had worked the damaged pipe open wider and let loose a heavy torrent of water. Good. That would help make Ratchet’s job a little easier.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered at how quickly she had moved to help. It had been like that in the Canyon too. A Decepticon, minding the words of an Autobot without a flippant comment or a snide report. If it were any other ’Con Maximus would have expected to be shot in the back by now.
Walking backwards, Maximius hit the spray first. He coughed out water when it slammed into his head and poured down his back and chest in turbulent streams. When the spray rushed over Bulkhead he deliberately slowed in order to let it play over the Wrecker’s armour and rinse off everything foul and harmful that needed to be washed away.
’Good bye,’ he thought.
Dart stood somewhere to the side. Maximus risked a glance down at her as he passed. The uncomfortable thought occurred to him that something needed to be said. The courier could have left at any time, but had chosen not to.
Maximus set his mouth grimly and gave her a nod.
“Thanks,” he said.
Simple and to the point. And he meant it.
With Bulkhead’s heels digging furrows into the gravel behind them Maximus dragged the Wrecker backwards into the ground bridge, where they both vanished within a flash of green light before the portal gently irised shut.
Dart forgot her words. That happened sometimes, and usually it didn't matter, but...
"You're welcome," she finally managed to say softly.
But by then the portal had closed, and the tunnel was dark and empty. Water was still roaring out of the pipe overhead, flicking across the floor. It washed the muddy tracks left by Maximus away, and silently filled in the heel drags of the green mech, obscuring the signs that anything had happened here. Well, minus a pipe that had been sliced and ripped up out of the wall.
Can't have that, have to... do something with it, she realized. She reached over her head and scrabbled at it for a moment, trying to pop it at the welds as if it had somehow just had a catastrophic failure and not been the recipient of a giant robot hack.
Icy water rushed and gurgled. It dripped off the courier's helm, trailing dirty tracks and worked cold fingers against those deep rents in her chest, washing the coolant onto the floor where it swirled away. A twitch, a flinch but it was more reaction than thought, because her thoughts were somewhere else.
One word.
No, two.
In Dart's corner of the world they were rare ones.
Often, she wondered if anyone really realized how rare they could be. They took them for granted in conversation sometimes. Humans said them back and forth over the smallest things; sorry I ate your sandwich, aw, thanks for getting me a new one, sorry I forgot to walk the dog, thank you for the carpet cleaner.
The pipe spanged and popped and the courier released it, tossed the broken chunk off into a corner and hoped they'd think pressure alone had done it. With that, she turned. Time to get out of here. She should have asked him maybe if- if she should avoid that tunnel, go the other way to get out, but... they were gone, and hopefully the Autobot who had shot her was a long way gone too. Oh please let that be the case, she thought as she broke into to a nervous trot, ready to run---
The broken guitar caught her eye. It lay between the tracks, left behind and shattered.
Dart paused. She frowned. Then suddenly, she scooped it carefully up. It jangled in her hand as she went to quickly stuff it into the left hip pannier. Nervously, she sniffed at the air as it settled into place among the other things within. A blanket, folded carefully over metal and glass. The brassy click of a dog tag against a nylon collar. A map of Oregon...
The rock from the Grand Canyon was gone though, buried in a bucket, high on the hills where the horses ran. Starscream's gift of time off had been gracious, and she'd put it to good use.
A quick click of her thumb on the lock to secure her carrier, and Dart loped back up the tunnel, picking up speed. She flung herself out into the dark, into the rain, into the fresh air. A second later she'd leapt up the embankment, scrabbling into the trees that lined the side of the tracks.
Find Pyrotech and Ghost, that was the only thought now. Get out of here before the Autobots came back.
Meanwhile, the night was still wet, cold, and miserable.
It soaked the Tomahawk from tire to tail. The rain blew sideways, and Ghost would find himself buffetted by wind. Icy puddles made the drive treacherous for a two- wheeled vehicle. Pyrotech had swung out though to take the point; the red mech's hood was nosed into the weather. The rain rolled off his shining flanks, beaded up on his smooth finish. His wipers tersely across his windshield, a two bit swish-slap.
He'd been silent as he led Ghost through the maze of Portland. Traffic lights shimmered and shone. The alleys were cobbled; rough passageways that threatened to slide the motorcycle's tires out from under him. It was obvious the red mech knew these streets well, he moved effortlessly through them. He was in no hurry - no frantic flight, no careening and scooting... no, there was a sense he was half daring anyone to come after them.
There was no half about it. The red mech knew. The Autobots would bend over backwards not to confront him in the city.
After ten minutes though, he slowed and pulled into a curving road. Inside of it was a silent park, dark and cold. As Ghost and him moved further in, the lights hazed a curving parking lot. Oak trees rustled and chattered. On the ground, a carpet of acorns had been tossed down by the weather; they shattered as the mechs rolled over the top of them.
Pop, pop, crunch.
Pyrotech rolled past, going deeper within the park. When he came to a metal bar and an old rusting chain set across the road, he halted for a moment, and then the red mech pushed himself up, transforming. He eyed the bar and then casually stepped over it, striding forward into the gloom.
Ghost Wind, carefully, kept his sigh to himself. It took absolutely no time flat for him to be soaked to his struts; his holo had just enough substance to pick up rain and have it run in thin streams behind him.
He kept just behind Pyrotech. City driving was not something Ghost had practiced, but the rules were not hard to look up online. He kept exactly the appropriate distance between Mister Utmost's rear bumper and his front double-tire, leaving no room for anyone to try and sneak in between them. Every passive sense and sensor he had was out, and he was listening in to the local police band, just in case they could tell him about any approaching Autobutt trouble before he himself had noticed it.
Mister Utmost's complete confidence was unsettling in and of itself, but Ghost was not about to ask the boss if perhaps he was being a liiiittle bit too confident. Ghost had trouble thinking of Autobots as mindful of native lifeforms that were entirely anonymous when his own experience had shown him they had hardly cared about their own.
Nonetheless Ghost followed, still on the alert. His one comfort was that Dart had been awake, aware and mobile last he'd checked; the Tomahawk didn't dare call her again, particularly lacking a dedicated commfrequency.
As he kept close to Officer Utmost, Ghost's one idle thought was that he was getting to solidly hate the planet, its weather, its slag-all lousy-aft roads, and surely a few dozen other things that he couldn't name at the moment. He bled speed as they detoured into the park, wishing he'd had time to test the treacherous, noisy footing underneath; instead he rolled through his own transformation as soon as Pyrotech started through his, his bow deployed but momentarily offline so as to keep the energy wire from betraying their position with its light. Almost immediately he felt the crunchy round things start slipping into the seams of the soles. Again he bit back a sigh.
"Follow me."
"Yessir."
In an open space like this his knowledge of tunnels and conduits was next to useless, but that was nothing new. He stepped over the bar, pedes setting down carefully and rolled his senses outwardly, keeping the best watch he could.