[ti]Flashback[/ti]Spotlight: Finale
Apr 21, 2018 19:36:32 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 21, 2018 19:36:32 GMT -5
It was raining.
The methane fell from the sky in big, slightly milky droplets that gathered on rooftops and spilled over the sides into gutters. Small puddles formed on the ground and in the streets, rippling and shuddering every time a vehicle thundered past. The hiss of the rainstorm was loud, drowning out all but the loudest of sounds.
The buildings here were tall and heavily guarded. The Decepticons had arrived about three full cycles ago, taking over the cities and using them for their own. The other mechanized race that lived on Malicon 14 had been rounded up and removed to another area to live. Citing it was for their own safety, of course. The Autobots could attack at any time, after all.
A large deposit of energon had been found on Malicon 14, and so the great War Machine of the Decepticons had surged forward, engulfing the entire city and the nearby mines. Even now, at night, the mining area was lit up with brilliant lights as the miners came and went, extracting the energon for the war.
The mining area was overlooked by one of the tall, heavily guarded buildings. The office was luxurious, statues of precious metals adorning the main desk, furniture lush and expensive. There was a balcony overlooking the mining grounds, with chairs outside, where one could sit and watch their money roll in. It had a high ceiling, high enough that even the tallest Cybertronian was more than comfortable.
It was a working office, though. There were several datapads on the desk, and a large monitor, blinking runes and glyphs slowly making their way across the screen in a lazy manner. It looked as if the owner had just stepped outside for a moment.
The large office was in darkness, save for the dim light coming from the datapads and monitor. Dim light came in through the open door to the balcony, a hissing from the falling rain audible in the room.
It was the only sound, save for the mining operation, far, far below.
After a moment, there was sound outside the office door, steps. Fumbling with keys, perhaps, and then the door opened. The silhouette of a large mech reached in, attempting to turn on the light. There was a loud clicking sound, but the office remained hidden in darkness.
A curse.
The mech came in, closing and locking the door behind him. He paused at seeing the balcony door open, but brushed it away within seconds. They were far too high up, and the building too smooth for anyone to have climbed.
The large mech, nearly as dark as his office was now, moved towards the balcony, and stepped outside a few steps, making sure to remain just out of the reach of the methane rain. He studied the operations far below, the huge machines rumbling too and fro as the extracted energon was carried out to be shipped away.
“Megatron will reward me for this,” he said lowly to himself, pleased.
Within the last several days, the mech had ordered mining operations increased by 300 percent. Breaks had been eliminated. Shifts had been increased by four more hours. While the work load had increased, the workers themselves had not, and now each miner had to work longer, harder, and with no rest until they staggered home, exhausted.
But the work was being done. More energon was being harvested with less payout. Therefore, more energon to feed the war. If that didn’t get him noticed by the warlord, what could?
Behind him, high in a ceiling corner, the shadows shifted. A black shadow seemed to suddenly appear, moving, where it had once been unmovable. As if it simply taken form, the shadow shifted, and slid soundlessly to the floor, staying along the wall.
Dipping low, the shadow silently moved forward, any sound it might have been making was drowned out by the loud hissing of the rain.
The large mech continued to watch the mining operations below, red optics focused on his future, his glory.
He almost missed the sight of what appeared to be a wire, suddenly dropping into his vision for a brief second, before all hell broke loose.
A weight settled on his upper back and shoulders at the exact same time something seemed to wrap around his neck, and slam tight.
Letting out a hoarse shout, the large mech raised both hands to try and grasp whatever had landed on his back. Hands found something, and he tried to grasp it, but whatever was on his back was slippery and slick.
Pain, hot and shockingly brutal, ripped through his throat and head. He felt as if his throat and neck were on fire, his vision suddenly rippling and distorting, as if interference were rampaging through his processor.
A hacking cough, an outraged and shocked bellow, lost in the loud hissing of the rain.
The large mech stumbled forward, landing on his knees on the balcony with a shuddering thud. The methane rain was freezing cold. The lights from the mining operations below seemed to jump and sway, doubling for a second, then coming into a sharp focus.
As his weight suddenly fell forward, the weight on his back shifted, sliding forward slightly. The rain seemed to interrupt it’s grip, and he felt it slide slightly.
Now something shifted again, and he felt a tight, constriction around his upper chest and back. Dropping his hands to this new assault, he discovered there were legs wrapped around him.
Someone was on his back.
He staggered to his knees, still making a hoarse choking sound - whatever it had been was causing interference with his ability to speak or even swallow, his vision occasionally interrupted by static. Reaching down, he managed to wrap a hand around one of the legs clenching his chest, and started to pull.
The leg - he couldn’t see it very well in the low distant light of the mining below - seemed to be as black as the shadows in his office, and almost as if it had been poured around him. Slender but oddly strong.
The leg tightened, constricting, as he managed to get his fingers in between it and his chest, and he started to pull, snarling.
A stabbing pain shot through his left shoulder, and he grunted. Whoever had dared attack him would pay. Oh they would pay.
Rising up now, standing fully, the mech turned slightly away from the lights below, and planting both his feet, he planned on lunging backwards, attempting to slam the figure on his back into the wall, the archway of the door leading out onto the balcony. He would crush them between that archway and his own body.
He had just aligned himself with where he thought the archway was, when he discovered he was in fact toppling forward. The balcony floor seemed to lurch beneath him, and with a shuddering groan, he fell forward, his weight slamming into the balcony again hard enough for dust and debris to fall from the balcony into the black night and rain.
The mech fought to stand, to get up, but his body, his frame, wasn’t responding. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to. He felt a strange lethargy seeping into his body, unable to feel his legs or hands. Only the freezing rain, still falling with a loud hiss, was felt on his back.
The mech felt the weight on his back shift, and slowly, slide away from him. Over the roaring hiss of the methane rain he could hear various sounds, noises, that he didn’t understand. Shadows seemed to shift over him.
Autobot scum, he cursed in his mind.
Peds suddenly appeared in his vision. They weren’t large, but were wide from front to back, and from his limited vision, seemed to flare in as the leg rose towards the knee, a sort of triangular shape to them.
Watching, helpless, the mech watched as the peds walked away from him, over towards a corner of the balcony. There, they paused, and then a figure crouched into view.
It…she….was all dark, not a single spot of color to be seen on her frame. She was surprisingly slender and looked delicate. Two triangular projections from either side of her head curved back towards the back of her helm.
As he watched, she removed something from a shoulder pocket, and placed it down in the corner of the balcony. She seemed to fiddle with it a few minutes, before, apparently pleased with what she had done, she rose. Walking past him, taking her time, she moved from his field of vision. From the movement of the shadows, however, he guessed she were doing the same thing on the other side of the balcony.
After another few seconds, the peds appeared in his vision again, a few inches from his face. She lowered herself, crouching before him, this time facing him. He assumed she was facing him….she seemed to have no face.
Suddenly, a black panel covering her face seemed to slide to the right, recessed into the side of her helm, and he found himself looking into the dark purple optics of the femme. A quick scan of her frame brought to him the sudden, shocking realization she was wearing the Decepticon brand.
“Bombastic,” she spoke, saying his name. Although she had to speak loudly, her voice seemed cultured and mellow, “your actions have been noticed, and disapproved of by those higher than you. While your intentions towards the Decepticon Cause were true, you made the fatal mistake of not listening when you were to told to ease back on the miners. Your desire to stand out caused the death of several experienced miners, and now the operations have been set back. You were offered a hand in fixing the problem, but you attempted to bite that hand.
Now that hand has signed your death.
Bombastic, you are removed from the Cause.”
He tried to yell out, to curse, to explain himself, to plead. A face rose up in his processor; a commander in the Decepticon army, who argued with him he was being too harsh on the miners. You needed to give them breaks so they did not break. Otherwise you lost valuable workers. Bombastic had laughed and simply said, when you lose machines, you bought new ones.
Frantic, trying desperately to struggle, to get up, to fight or flee, Bombastic watched as the small dark femme rose, and turned, walking from his line of sight again. He lay, unable to move, as a thin line of light appeared, then vanished; his office door opening and closing again.
Optics flashing wildly as he tried to move, a small blinking light in the corner of the balcony caught his attention. He squinted, trying to make out what it was…before his optics widened in horror.
Explosives.
Far below, the mining operation continued, machines carrying the precious energon from the mine to waiting vehicles. The exhausted miners attempted to grab a few minute’s rest as the machines were loaded, before they knew they would be forced back down into the mine.
Suddenly, over the hissing of the rain, a loud, thunderous crack could be heard, light flashing, filling the sky. Those on the ground below turned, startled, to see what appeared to be a balcony from the nearby highrise, plummeting down from the heavens, already in pieces, trailing dust and debris as it came. They watched, stunned, as the balcony slammed into the ground hard enough they felt it in their peds, felt it in their chests. A great billowing cloud of dust and dirt rose up from where it landed, the hissing rain doing nothing to stop the rising particles.
Moments later, a great siren sang out, clearly heard over the rain; emergency shut down of the mine.
Sighs of relief as the miners sank down to their knees or afts to rest. There would be no more work tonight. There would be no more work for a few days, until they were able to find out what had happened. For now, they would be given fuel, and told to go back to their berths to recharge.
Thank Primus.
The methane fell from the sky in big, slightly milky droplets that gathered on rooftops and spilled over the sides into gutters. Small puddles formed on the ground and in the streets, rippling and shuddering every time a vehicle thundered past. The hiss of the rainstorm was loud, drowning out all but the loudest of sounds.
The buildings here were tall and heavily guarded. The Decepticons had arrived about three full cycles ago, taking over the cities and using them for their own. The other mechanized race that lived on Malicon 14 had been rounded up and removed to another area to live. Citing it was for their own safety, of course. The Autobots could attack at any time, after all.
A large deposit of energon had been found on Malicon 14, and so the great War Machine of the Decepticons had surged forward, engulfing the entire city and the nearby mines. Even now, at night, the mining area was lit up with brilliant lights as the miners came and went, extracting the energon for the war.
The mining area was overlooked by one of the tall, heavily guarded buildings. The office was luxurious, statues of precious metals adorning the main desk, furniture lush and expensive. There was a balcony overlooking the mining grounds, with chairs outside, where one could sit and watch their money roll in. It had a high ceiling, high enough that even the tallest Cybertronian was more than comfortable.
It was a working office, though. There were several datapads on the desk, and a large monitor, blinking runes and glyphs slowly making their way across the screen in a lazy manner. It looked as if the owner had just stepped outside for a moment.
The large office was in darkness, save for the dim light coming from the datapads and monitor. Dim light came in through the open door to the balcony, a hissing from the falling rain audible in the room.
It was the only sound, save for the mining operation, far, far below.
After a moment, there was sound outside the office door, steps. Fumbling with keys, perhaps, and then the door opened. The silhouette of a large mech reached in, attempting to turn on the light. There was a loud clicking sound, but the office remained hidden in darkness.
A curse.
The mech came in, closing and locking the door behind him. He paused at seeing the balcony door open, but brushed it away within seconds. They were far too high up, and the building too smooth for anyone to have climbed.
The large mech, nearly as dark as his office was now, moved towards the balcony, and stepped outside a few steps, making sure to remain just out of the reach of the methane rain. He studied the operations far below, the huge machines rumbling too and fro as the extracted energon was carried out to be shipped away.
“Megatron will reward me for this,” he said lowly to himself, pleased.
Within the last several days, the mech had ordered mining operations increased by 300 percent. Breaks had been eliminated. Shifts had been increased by four more hours. While the work load had increased, the workers themselves had not, and now each miner had to work longer, harder, and with no rest until they staggered home, exhausted.
But the work was being done. More energon was being harvested with less payout. Therefore, more energon to feed the war. If that didn’t get him noticed by the warlord, what could?
Behind him, high in a ceiling corner, the shadows shifted. A black shadow seemed to suddenly appear, moving, where it had once been unmovable. As if it simply taken form, the shadow shifted, and slid soundlessly to the floor, staying along the wall.
Dipping low, the shadow silently moved forward, any sound it might have been making was drowned out by the loud hissing of the rain.
The large mech continued to watch the mining operations below, red optics focused on his future, his glory.
He almost missed the sight of what appeared to be a wire, suddenly dropping into his vision for a brief second, before all hell broke loose.
A weight settled on his upper back and shoulders at the exact same time something seemed to wrap around his neck, and slam tight.
Letting out a hoarse shout, the large mech raised both hands to try and grasp whatever had landed on his back. Hands found something, and he tried to grasp it, but whatever was on his back was slippery and slick.
Pain, hot and shockingly brutal, ripped through his throat and head. He felt as if his throat and neck were on fire, his vision suddenly rippling and distorting, as if interference were rampaging through his processor.
A hacking cough, an outraged and shocked bellow, lost in the loud hissing of the rain.
The large mech stumbled forward, landing on his knees on the balcony with a shuddering thud. The methane rain was freezing cold. The lights from the mining operations below seemed to jump and sway, doubling for a second, then coming into a sharp focus.
As his weight suddenly fell forward, the weight on his back shifted, sliding forward slightly. The rain seemed to interrupt it’s grip, and he felt it slide slightly.
Now something shifted again, and he felt a tight, constriction around his upper chest and back. Dropping his hands to this new assault, he discovered there were legs wrapped around him.
Someone was on his back.
He staggered to his knees, still making a hoarse choking sound - whatever it had been was causing interference with his ability to speak or even swallow, his vision occasionally interrupted by static. Reaching down, he managed to wrap a hand around one of the legs clenching his chest, and started to pull.
The leg - he couldn’t see it very well in the low distant light of the mining below - seemed to be as black as the shadows in his office, and almost as if it had been poured around him. Slender but oddly strong.
The leg tightened, constricting, as he managed to get his fingers in between it and his chest, and he started to pull, snarling.
A stabbing pain shot through his left shoulder, and he grunted. Whoever had dared attack him would pay. Oh they would pay.
Rising up now, standing fully, the mech turned slightly away from the lights below, and planting both his feet, he planned on lunging backwards, attempting to slam the figure on his back into the wall, the archway of the door leading out onto the balcony. He would crush them between that archway and his own body.
He had just aligned himself with where he thought the archway was, when he discovered he was in fact toppling forward. The balcony floor seemed to lurch beneath him, and with a shuddering groan, he fell forward, his weight slamming into the balcony again hard enough for dust and debris to fall from the balcony into the black night and rain.
The mech fought to stand, to get up, but his body, his frame, wasn’t responding. Nothing was working the way it was supposed to. He felt a strange lethargy seeping into his body, unable to feel his legs or hands. Only the freezing rain, still falling with a loud hiss, was felt on his back.
The mech felt the weight on his back shift, and slowly, slide away from him. Over the roaring hiss of the methane rain he could hear various sounds, noises, that he didn’t understand. Shadows seemed to shift over him.
Autobot scum, he cursed in his mind.
Peds suddenly appeared in his vision. They weren’t large, but were wide from front to back, and from his limited vision, seemed to flare in as the leg rose towards the knee, a sort of triangular shape to them.
Watching, helpless, the mech watched as the peds walked away from him, over towards a corner of the balcony. There, they paused, and then a figure crouched into view.
It…she….was all dark, not a single spot of color to be seen on her frame. She was surprisingly slender and looked delicate. Two triangular projections from either side of her head curved back towards the back of her helm.
As he watched, she removed something from a shoulder pocket, and placed it down in the corner of the balcony. She seemed to fiddle with it a few minutes, before, apparently pleased with what she had done, she rose. Walking past him, taking her time, she moved from his field of vision. From the movement of the shadows, however, he guessed she were doing the same thing on the other side of the balcony.
After another few seconds, the peds appeared in his vision again, a few inches from his face. She lowered herself, crouching before him, this time facing him. He assumed she was facing him….she seemed to have no face.
Suddenly, a black panel covering her face seemed to slide to the right, recessed into the side of her helm, and he found himself looking into the dark purple optics of the femme. A quick scan of her frame brought to him the sudden, shocking realization she was wearing the Decepticon brand.
“Bombastic,” she spoke, saying his name. Although she had to speak loudly, her voice seemed cultured and mellow, “your actions have been noticed, and disapproved of by those higher than you. While your intentions towards the Decepticon Cause were true, you made the fatal mistake of not listening when you were to told to ease back on the miners. Your desire to stand out caused the death of several experienced miners, and now the operations have been set back. You were offered a hand in fixing the problem, but you attempted to bite that hand.
Now that hand has signed your death.
Bombastic, you are removed from the Cause.”
He tried to yell out, to curse, to explain himself, to plead. A face rose up in his processor; a commander in the Decepticon army, who argued with him he was being too harsh on the miners. You needed to give them breaks so they did not break. Otherwise you lost valuable workers. Bombastic had laughed and simply said, when you lose machines, you bought new ones.
Frantic, trying desperately to struggle, to get up, to fight or flee, Bombastic watched as the small dark femme rose, and turned, walking from his line of sight again. He lay, unable to move, as a thin line of light appeared, then vanished; his office door opening and closing again.
Optics flashing wildly as he tried to move, a small blinking light in the corner of the balcony caught his attention. He squinted, trying to make out what it was…before his optics widened in horror.
Explosives.
Far below, the mining operation continued, machines carrying the precious energon from the mine to waiting vehicles. The exhausted miners attempted to grab a few minute’s rest as the machines were loaded, before they knew they would be forced back down into the mine.
Suddenly, over the hissing of the rain, a loud, thunderous crack could be heard, light flashing, filling the sky. Those on the ground below turned, startled, to see what appeared to be a balcony from the nearby highrise, plummeting down from the heavens, already in pieces, trailing dust and debris as it came. They watched, stunned, as the balcony slammed into the ground hard enough they felt it in their peds, felt it in their chests. A great billowing cloud of dust and dirt rose up from where it landed, the hissing rain doing nothing to stop the rising particles.
Moments later, a great siren sang out, clearly heard over the rain; emergency shut down of the mine.
Sighs of relief as the miners sank down to their knees or afts to rest. There would be no more work tonight. There would be no more work for a few days, until they were able to find out what had happened. For now, they would be given fuel, and told to go back to their berths to recharge.
Thank Primus.