Ep. 2 - Shafted (Closed, Megatron, Roulette)
Jul 27, 2015 23:27:14 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jul 27, 2015 23:27:14 GMT -5
“Huh. Kind of funny. I didn’t figure you for a glass half full kind of mech.” Mentally she was cringing at her run away mouth. Why couldn’t she just stay quiet? She had every opportunity to just shut up. But she kept talking. She kept opening that mouth and saying something completely off the wall or offensive. Why did she do that?!
Got to be the stress. I can’t take these situations. This is aging me by decades. I’m not meant to work under these conditions. I’m a delicate flower. She coughed, masking the sound of disbelief as clearing dust out of her vents. The only thing fragile in that body of hers was her easily bruised feelings.
Fact was, she didn’t know what to do with Megatron. There was no pattern she could rely on. And there wasn’t a comfortable niche she could shove him into and react accordingly. Shockwave, was horrible as he was, was very easy to react to. She knew every facet of the mech by now and, while she didn’t always understand him, knew what he wanted from her. Flatline was just as easy. He was a prick but he was a predictable one. Give him enough room and the other proxy would likely hang himself before he even got the rope around her neck.
But Megatron? She didn’t know what the heck to do with him. Propaganda had built him up to this terrifying, violent, irrational force to be reckoned with. And he sort of fragging was. But he was also a hell of a lot more rational and prone to actually paying attention to the stupid things she managed to say or do around him. Expectations hadn’t exactly prepared her for this. She had expected to keep a comfortable, sane distance from him and cower from afar. Instead, she’d straddled his face once already.
At the memory, she was very tempted to just fling herself off of the chasm into the dark and be done with it. A flicker of embarrassed something crackled across her field. She was about to do something, but then the deluge caught up with them. When the slurry of water hit her feet she made a startled yelp and hopped onto his hands a hell of a lot more gleefully than she normally would have. She very nearly wanted to climb his arm to flee the sudden, nasty mix of water and clay.
“I think the glass just tipped over,” she nervously rambled.
-
Roulette’s assessment of the warlord as a pessimist came as a surprise. Megatron was a realist, certainly, and of the most brutal kind, but he was predominantly an optimist. A revolutionary had to be. The belief that the world could be better, and that they could do something to achieve it, depended as much on an ingrained sense of hope as on willpower, charisma and might.
He was about to tell Roulette as much, then the sludge struck him across the chest and spattered into his gouged shoulder. The muddy water made immediate burning contact with his exposed lines, and he bared his dente with a growl.
“Ready!” It was question and command both, uttered a second before Megatron reeled back his arm and flung Roulette over the gorge. The motion plunged his helm into the stuttered torrent of water and clay, and he couldn’t see if she made it to the wall. There was a distinctive clunk sound, which at least boded well.
Megatron backed up scraping the mud out of his optics. By the time he’d withdrawn enough for a run-up, he had regained just enough vision to be able to make out the ledge. Stowing the lantern and securing the closed bag over his shoulder plunged him back into near darkness, but they were out of time.
He ran until the echoes changed, fifteen thundering paces, and then hurled himself into the air. Striking the wall jarred his shoulder and set it sparking again, but he sank his claws into the stone so that he slid down until he caught purchase with his pedes rather than bounced off.
The wall curved a little above them which, whilst making the climb utterly miserable, provided some shelter from the torrent of water. Megatron kicked his pointed toes into the rockface so he was secure enough to let go with one hand, then produced a cleaning mesh from his subspace to try to clear his vision.
Useless as that was in the dark.
“Roulette?” he called up, unable to tell how high above his helm she was. Or if she was even there at all. The thought sent a cold pulse through his tank, and he gritted his dente.
-
It was a shame Megatron missed seeing his throw. Because Roulette’s scream of dismay and outright surprise rang beautifully off of the rocks and the water pouring down. She had not been ready. Not in the slightest. The only thing she had been ready for was to tell him that she wasn’t ready and to not throw her. She just hadn’t gotten the words out fast enough.
Unlike the practice toss, this was much, much worse! Not only was the element of surprise making Roulette’s armor bristle in a poor approximation of a porcupine, but she wasn’t really ready to grab for the wall. Belatedly, while the world yawned hungrily below her and the wall (possibly) reared up closer, she brought her arms up to grab. The wall hit harder and sooner than expected and her hands struck hard enough to strike sparks in a brief shower. She tried to curl her numb fingers over the rough facing of the rock but her grip was weak and her shoulder ached. For one brief moment she hung from the rock before plunging like an anchor, hands grasping empty and trailing bits of rock.
No, no, no!
Desperately she snatched up the hammer, even as her other hand clawed at the stupid vertical wall. She fueled the very real thought of dying into a furious swing and the hammer cracked into the wall with enough force to radiate up into her arm and back. But the rough tynes of the tool caught in a wedge and her falling halted with a sudden, ugly lurch leaving her dangling over nothing in sheer darkness. Trembling hard enough to rattle her armor, she carefully groped at the wall and found a hand hold with her free hand. Miraculously her feet found a narrow bump of rock to rest on.
Only after she was safe, as she could be, did she focus outwardly. The watery mess was still pouring across the wide fissure and the whole cave was awake with the activity of the water. It would have been a nice noise if she hadn’t been there to hear it. Below her, the scraping sound of Megatron finding his purchase echoed up to her along with his voice. She grit her teeth and resisted screaming an irrational I hate you down to him.
Primus, he had no choice but I want to shake him like a rag doll! She was aware that her armor plating was still rattling against the rock as she shook but she couldn’t seem to stop the action. Closing her optics (because what choice did she have with no light?) she focused on smoothing out the trembling in her limbs. Then, only then, did she try and answer him.
“W-when I get back...up there…I’m t-tying Soundwave’s cables around h-his face and knott-ting them.”
-
Still half-blind and scraping the sodden cloth across his face, Megatron grinned - safely unseen by the femme. It was relief and amusement in equal measure that brought the expression to his usually severe faceplates, though he tempered both out of his voice when he replied: “You are sorely lacking in imagination.”
He couldn’t tell how far above him Roulette was. The sound of the water steadily pouring into the cavern distorted her voice, and now that their lanterns were out, it was too dark to see her. Their positioning made it impossible to see her optics - the only other source of light by which he could navigate by.
Abandoning the hope that he could do any more with the cloth, Megatron dropped it into the abyss beneath him and settled for shutter-blinking to clear the smears across his optics. It was actually difficult to tell how well he could see in the solid darkness.
There was a very real risk that he might gouge her with one hand whilst climbing if he didn’t know how close she was. With what they had survived so far, Megatron refused to allow such a trivial mistake to be their potential downfall.
“I can’t see you,” he called up, tipping his head back in case he might catch a glimpse of a red glow. “Do you have-” -he groped for the words, knowing she had a native alt-mode- “tail lights?”
-
She gaped at the rock face for a few seconds. Mouth stupidly open and her mind trying to shift to some sort of outrage. The only thing she could retort with was a scoff that echoed off the cavern walls like a bark.
“I’m imaginative!” Oh primus, was she really doing this? She was clinging to the side of a rock face, probably seconds from plummeting to her death or something equally horrible, and the only thing out of her mouth was a childish nuh uh. “I’m just more of a lover than a fighter,” she grit out.
Shifting in place, she shuddered when the rock below the bottoms of her feet rained grit down. Her imagination was already working over time supplying her with endless scenarios of the sturdy structure she was clinging to just up and crumbling under her very hands. Or the whole slab letting go and crunching them both under it like small bugs under a giant shoe. Perhaps having a petty back and forth with Megatron wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It was certainly better than what her mind was giving her.
At the awkward (kind of funny but not funny) question from below, she glanced down at her body. She did have running lights on her and activated them with a half thought. Not exactly in the most strategic of positions for lighting up a cavern. But they would show her off like a beacon in the dark. The bumpers on her back and the headlights set just below the crest of the wheels on her shoulder lit her up like a weird firefly. The shockingly bright light against the stone surface didn’t illuminate all that far. But at least she could see for her next hand hold. Provided she could make herself give up her iron grip.
“Try not to look at my butt!” She resisted the urge to smirk. The only good thing about this situation was that he was far below her (she thought) and he couldn’t actually reach her or reprimand her properly. In theory she had just enough room to be cheeky. And that, kids, is how one turns lemon into lemonade.
Got to be the stress. I can’t take these situations. This is aging me by decades. I’m not meant to work under these conditions. I’m a delicate flower. She coughed, masking the sound of disbelief as clearing dust out of her vents. The only thing fragile in that body of hers was her easily bruised feelings.
Fact was, she didn’t know what to do with Megatron. There was no pattern she could rely on. And there wasn’t a comfortable niche she could shove him into and react accordingly. Shockwave, was horrible as he was, was very easy to react to. She knew every facet of the mech by now and, while she didn’t always understand him, knew what he wanted from her. Flatline was just as easy. He was a prick but he was a predictable one. Give him enough room and the other proxy would likely hang himself before he even got the rope around her neck.
But Megatron? She didn’t know what the heck to do with him. Propaganda had built him up to this terrifying, violent, irrational force to be reckoned with. And he sort of fragging was. But he was also a hell of a lot more rational and prone to actually paying attention to the stupid things she managed to say or do around him. Expectations hadn’t exactly prepared her for this. She had expected to keep a comfortable, sane distance from him and cower from afar. Instead, she’d straddled his face once already.
At the memory, she was very tempted to just fling herself off of the chasm into the dark and be done with it. A flicker of embarrassed something crackled across her field. She was about to do something, but then the deluge caught up with them. When the slurry of water hit her feet she made a startled yelp and hopped onto his hands a hell of a lot more gleefully than she normally would have. She very nearly wanted to climb his arm to flee the sudden, nasty mix of water and clay.
“I think the glass just tipped over,” she nervously rambled.
-
Roulette’s assessment of the warlord as a pessimist came as a surprise. Megatron was a realist, certainly, and of the most brutal kind, but he was predominantly an optimist. A revolutionary had to be. The belief that the world could be better, and that they could do something to achieve it, depended as much on an ingrained sense of hope as on willpower, charisma and might.
He was about to tell Roulette as much, then the sludge struck him across the chest and spattered into his gouged shoulder. The muddy water made immediate burning contact with his exposed lines, and he bared his dente with a growl.
“Ready!” It was question and command both, uttered a second before Megatron reeled back his arm and flung Roulette over the gorge. The motion plunged his helm into the stuttered torrent of water and clay, and he couldn’t see if she made it to the wall. There was a distinctive clunk sound, which at least boded well.
Megatron backed up scraping the mud out of his optics. By the time he’d withdrawn enough for a run-up, he had regained just enough vision to be able to make out the ledge. Stowing the lantern and securing the closed bag over his shoulder plunged him back into near darkness, but they were out of time.
He ran until the echoes changed, fifteen thundering paces, and then hurled himself into the air. Striking the wall jarred his shoulder and set it sparking again, but he sank his claws into the stone so that he slid down until he caught purchase with his pedes rather than bounced off.
The wall curved a little above them which, whilst making the climb utterly miserable, provided some shelter from the torrent of water. Megatron kicked his pointed toes into the rockface so he was secure enough to let go with one hand, then produced a cleaning mesh from his subspace to try to clear his vision.
Useless as that was in the dark.
“Roulette?” he called up, unable to tell how high above his helm she was. Or if she was even there at all. The thought sent a cold pulse through his tank, and he gritted his dente.
-
It was a shame Megatron missed seeing his throw. Because Roulette’s scream of dismay and outright surprise rang beautifully off of the rocks and the water pouring down. She had not been ready. Not in the slightest. The only thing she had been ready for was to tell him that she wasn’t ready and to not throw her. She just hadn’t gotten the words out fast enough.
Unlike the practice toss, this was much, much worse! Not only was the element of surprise making Roulette’s armor bristle in a poor approximation of a porcupine, but she wasn’t really ready to grab for the wall. Belatedly, while the world yawned hungrily below her and the wall (possibly) reared up closer, she brought her arms up to grab. The wall hit harder and sooner than expected and her hands struck hard enough to strike sparks in a brief shower. She tried to curl her numb fingers over the rough facing of the rock but her grip was weak and her shoulder ached. For one brief moment she hung from the rock before plunging like an anchor, hands grasping empty and trailing bits of rock.
No, no, no!
Desperately she snatched up the hammer, even as her other hand clawed at the stupid vertical wall. She fueled the very real thought of dying into a furious swing and the hammer cracked into the wall with enough force to radiate up into her arm and back. But the rough tynes of the tool caught in a wedge and her falling halted with a sudden, ugly lurch leaving her dangling over nothing in sheer darkness. Trembling hard enough to rattle her armor, she carefully groped at the wall and found a hand hold with her free hand. Miraculously her feet found a narrow bump of rock to rest on.
Only after she was safe, as she could be, did she focus outwardly. The watery mess was still pouring across the wide fissure and the whole cave was awake with the activity of the water. It would have been a nice noise if she hadn’t been there to hear it. Below her, the scraping sound of Megatron finding his purchase echoed up to her along with his voice. She grit her teeth and resisted screaming an irrational I hate you down to him.
Primus, he had no choice but I want to shake him like a rag doll! She was aware that her armor plating was still rattling against the rock as she shook but she couldn’t seem to stop the action. Closing her optics (because what choice did she have with no light?) she focused on smoothing out the trembling in her limbs. Then, only then, did she try and answer him.
“W-when I get back...up there…I’m t-tying Soundwave’s cables around h-his face and knott-ting them.”
-
Still half-blind and scraping the sodden cloth across his face, Megatron grinned - safely unseen by the femme. It was relief and amusement in equal measure that brought the expression to his usually severe faceplates, though he tempered both out of his voice when he replied: “You are sorely lacking in imagination.”
He couldn’t tell how far above him Roulette was. The sound of the water steadily pouring into the cavern distorted her voice, and now that their lanterns were out, it was too dark to see her. Their positioning made it impossible to see her optics - the only other source of light by which he could navigate by.
Abandoning the hope that he could do any more with the cloth, Megatron dropped it into the abyss beneath him and settled for shutter-blinking to clear the smears across his optics. It was actually difficult to tell how well he could see in the solid darkness.
There was a very real risk that he might gouge her with one hand whilst climbing if he didn’t know how close she was. With what they had survived so far, Megatron refused to allow such a trivial mistake to be their potential downfall.
“I can’t see you,” he called up, tipping his head back in case he might catch a glimpse of a red glow. “Do you have-” -he groped for the words, knowing she had a native alt-mode- “tail lights?”
-
She gaped at the rock face for a few seconds. Mouth stupidly open and her mind trying to shift to some sort of outrage. The only thing she could retort with was a scoff that echoed off the cavern walls like a bark.
“I’m imaginative!” Oh primus, was she really doing this? She was clinging to the side of a rock face, probably seconds from plummeting to her death or something equally horrible, and the only thing out of her mouth was a childish nuh uh. “I’m just more of a lover than a fighter,” she grit out.
Shifting in place, she shuddered when the rock below the bottoms of her feet rained grit down. Her imagination was already working over time supplying her with endless scenarios of the sturdy structure she was clinging to just up and crumbling under her very hands. Or the whole slab letting go and crunching them both under it like small bugs under a giant shoe. Perhaps having a petty back and forth with Megatron wasn’t such a bad idea after all. It was certainly better than what her mind was giving her.
At the awkward (kind of funny but not funny) question from below, she glanced down at her body. She did have running lights on her and activated them with a half thought. Not exactly in the most strategic of positions for lighting up a cavern. But they would show her off like a beacon in the dark. The bumpers on her back and the headlights set just below the crest of the wheels on her shoulder lit her up like a weird firefly. The shockingly bright light against the stone surface didn’t illuminate all that far. But at least she could see for her next hand hold. Provided she could make herself give up her iron grip.
“Try not to look at my butt!” She resisted the urge to smirk. The only good thing about this situation was that he was far below her (she thought) and he couldn’t actually reach her or reprimand her properly. In theory she had just enough room to be cheeky. And that, kids, is how one turns lemon into lemonade.