[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Hook, Line, and Sinker [Closed]
Jan 30, 2022 0:16:05 GMT -5
Post by Prowl on Jan 30, 2022 0:16:05 GMT -5
Week 3 l Day 7 l Evening
Follow up of Fly Me To The Moon and One Stone
Something was wrong.
Not just in the sense that the acting chief medical officer had been allowed to waltz out of Omega Base without any sort of escort after the last chief medical officer had been apparently crippled for the rest of his life doing the exact same thing.
No, this time they were unable to raise Patch or Windshield on the comms. The instant that they determined that it wasn’t a problem on Omega’s end, Prowl had assembled a Quick Response Force made up of whoever he could get his servos onto at such short notice.
While the fact that it was short notice meant that he couldn’t have gathered everyone he wanted as time was critical, Prowl figured that the odds would be good enough based on who he had. Petrichor, Sunstreaker, and Starfall. Two of them he could count on, one probable, one maybe, and one wildcard. Well, he’d have to make do.
As the ground bridge sprang to life and Prowl stepped out onto the cooling desert sand as the sun was beginning to drop beyond the horizon, he could tell something was wrong. Old instincts, the kind that told you when a mech hopped up on circuit breakers was trying to eye you up and making the calculations as to whether trying to offline you for your fuel pump would be profitable.
“Patch?!”
Silence.
“Windshield?!”
His interrogatives were met with further silence as he stepped away from the groundbridge to clear the way for the rest of his team, right arm up and in blaster mode as he scanned ahead of himself while walking towards the hanger.
“Something’s wrong...” he muttered.
Follow up of Fly Me To The Moon and One Stone
Something was wrong.
Not just in the sense that the acting chief medical officer had been allowed to waltz out of Omega Base without any sort of escort after the last chief medical officer had been apparently crippled for the rest of his life doing the exact same thing.
No, this time they were unable to raise Patch or Windshield on the comms. The instant that they determined that it wasn’t a problem on Omega’s end, Prowl had assembled a Quick Response Force made up of whoever he could get his servos onto at such short notice.
While the fact that it was short notice meant that he couldn’t have gathered everyone he wanted as time was critical, Prowl figured that the odds would be good enough based on who he had. Petrichor, Sunstreaker, and Starfall. Two of them he could count on, one probable, one maybe, and one wildcard. Well, he’d have to make do.
As the ground bridge sprang to life and Prowl stepped out onto the cooling desert sand as the sun was beginning to drop beyond the horizon, he could tell something was wrong. Old instincts, the kind that told you when a mech hopped up on circuit breakers was trying to eye you up and making the calculations as to whether trying to offline you for your fuel pump would be profitable.
“Patch?!”
Silence.
“Windshield?!”
His interrogatives were met with further silence as he stepped away from the groundbridge to clear the way for the rest of his team, right arm up and in blaster mode as he scanned ahead of himself while walking towards the hanger.
“Something’s wrong...” he muttered.