[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Question & Answer (Closed)
Dec 15, 2023 22:36:21 GMT -5
Post by Knock Out on Dec 15, 2023 22:36:21 GMT -5
It didn’t take Knock Out long to realize that he’d messed up. Oh, he’d gotten Optimus riled up alright, but unlike Prowl - there were no words, instead only actions.
He hadn’t realized it at first, and as the Prime moved over to the table, the cherry-red mech assumed that he’d simply moved over to set it right. To return it and some sort of order to the room so they could have a civil conversation, face to face, mech to mech…
Ah, but no.
Watching in horror, almost, as the leg from the table was snapped with what looked to be little effort at all, Knock Out could only assume - as the motion was paired with the sound of a battlemask slipping into place - that he was about to be beaten to death.
Surely Optimus was nicer than that! Surely he could be reasoned with.
“I, uh-” he stammered as the Prime turned, and before the table had even hit the floor had begun making his way over with a purposeful stride that didn’t bode well at all.
Move, you idiot!
His processor screamed at him to do something. To use the only thing he had - the chair on which he sat - as some sort of makeshift shield or a weapon, to fight back against what would be a probably and inevitably swift end.
It was like poetry in motion, in a way, and as his body finally found the will to stand up, to move even a little bit at all, he found himself already grabbed and lifted. It was effortless, he hadn’t seen it coming, and he wasn’t sure what was even happening as his HUD blipped to life with errors, protesting about being upside down.
Despite the lack of use of his arms, he would struggle. Trying to kick out at the other mech with his free leg, twisting his frame awkwardly to try and land a hefty smack with one pede against wherever he could.
Not that it did much. Did he even hit him? He wasn’t sure - panic had overtaken him now, and rational thought had gone completely out the window to the point he couldn’t focus.
The sudden movement from the Prime, paired with the sickeningly loud noise that seemed to vibrate throughout his entire frame that followed, he was sure - if only for a second there - that he was dead. Dangled upside down, beaten with a hefty blow of the table leg like some pathetic defenseless piñata. His optics closed in response, arms moving in unison to shield his faceplate.
…
Only, he was still alive. Or, so said his HUD, anyway.
Eh, he was always a little dramatic. Opening one optic, there was a half-second there where everything was fine. Or… as fine as it could be while being held upside down by a furious Prime, anyway. His processor hadn’t quite clicked what the almighty SLAM had been, though it was what came next that made him realize just what’d happened.
Before he could even open his mouth to protest, plead or placate - he was slammed harshly onto the new wall decoration with haste. A garbled yell escaped him as it splintered through the spokes of the wheel, his first instinct to try and remove the thing that was causing him so much pain, though of course he couldn’t do much of anything with both servos shackled at the wrist. The ability to use his saw was lost due to the device, which was frustrating as it would’ve been damn perfect to simply cut himself down.
Relenting quickly, if only to save his own energy, he let himself hang where he was - staring at the Prime, optics wide.
“What is wrong with you?!” he squawked with indignation.
“This is no way to treat a prisoner!”
He hadn’t realized it at first, and as the Prime moved over to the table, the cherry-red mech assumed that he’d simply moved over to set it right. To return it and some sort of order to the room so they could have a civil conversation, face to face, mech to mech…
Ah, but no.
Watching in horror, almost, as the leg from the table was snapped with what looked to be little effort at all, Knock Out could only assume - as the motion was paired with the sound of a battlemask slipping into place - that he was about to be beaten to death.
Surely Optimus was nicer than that! Surely he could be reasoned with.
“I, uh-” he stammered as the Prime turned, and before the table had even hit the floor had begun making his way over with a purposeful stride that didn’t bode well at all.
Move, you idiot!
His processor screamed at him to do something. To use the only thing he had - the chair on which he sat - as some sort of makeshift shield or a weapon, to fight back against what would be a probably and inevitably swift end.
It was like poetry in motion, in a way, and as his body finally found the will to stand up, to move even a little bit at all, he found himself already grabbed and lifted. It was effortless, he hadn’t seen it coming, and he wasn’t sure what was even happening as his HUD blipped to life with errors, protesting about being upside down.
Despite the lack of use of his arms, he would struggle. Trying to kick out at the other mech with his free leg, twisting his frame awkwardly to try and land a hefty smack with one pede against wherever he could.
Not that it did much. Did he even hit him? He wasn’t sure - panic had overtaken him now, and rational thought had gone completely out the window to the point he couldn’t focus.
The sudden movement from the Prime, paired with the sickeningly loud noise that seemed to vibrate throughout his entire frame that followed, he was sure - if only for a second there - that he was dead. Dangled upside down, beaten with a hefty blow of the table leg like some pathetic defenseless piñata. His optics closed in response, arms moving in unison to shield his faceplate.
…
Only, he was still alive. Or, so said his HUD, anyway.
Eh, he was always a little dramatic. Opening one optic, there was a half-second there where everything was fine. Or… as fine as it could be while being held upside down by a furious Prime, anyway. His processor hadn’t quite clicked what the almighty SLAM had been, though it was what came next that made him realize just what’d happened.
Before he could even open his mouth to protest, plead or placate - he was slammed harshly onto the new wall decoration with haste. A garbled yell escaped him as it splintered through the spokes of the wheel, his first instinct to try and remove the thing that was causing him so much pain, though of course he couldn’t do much of anything with both servos shackled at the wrist. The ability to use his saw was lost due to the device, which was frustrating as it would’ve been damn perfect to simply cut himself down.
Relenting quickly, if only to save his own energy, he let himself hang where he was - staring at the Prime, optics wide.
“What is wrong with you?!” he squawked with indignation.
“This is no way to treat a prisoner!”