0.5-New Mexico-Diamonds in a Field of Coal-Open
Apr 12, 2012 15:49:54 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 12, 2012 15:49:54 GMT -5
The impact that ran up his arm was a mix of what he expected. The smoke obscured the surroundings aside from the very close; he did not register the green portal form itself from nothing on the other side of the scrapyard.
Scrap...
He did hit Arma but only with a glancing blow, his mace twisting in his hand as it terminated its path kicking up a splash of hard dirt and scrap. His body groaning in exertion, his helm rotated in the light smoke, optics looking only for movement, shadows. A grin spread on his face; his optical limitations wouldn't be as crippling with the cover. The attack came at him from the side, his optics detecting the movement as his forehand released the mace and twisted to react. The smaller bot struck vertically and Gasket was forced to guess, forced to react to the blow despite his inability to see the exact vector of the strike. Clenching his left fist, the one that blocked Arma's first blast he swung backward, hoping to catch the strike mid swing and, thankfully, he did. The blow didn't glance on his armor but bit in, bending and warping the plates and drive wheel that protected his hydraulics along his arm.
I'm not so... slow, little one.
Turning fully he took several tentative steps back and grabbed his mace, putting distance on his attacker as he anticipated the next movement. The only reason he still had a limb to stand on was due to a little bit of anticipation as to what Arma could do after his attack. However, what happened next was something even he could not have anticipated and a voice rang out over their confrontation forcing his optics to search for the source. :stand down/command: Prime/acknowledge/immediately: That was a dialect of cybertronian that he had not heard in some time. Opening his mouth he forced himself to drop to a passive stance as something, what looked to be a tractor-trailer truck appeared out of the smoke to slam into Arma. His optics, still unfocused, opened wide as his mouth fell open.
:Stand Down/A-acknowledgement: Noncombatant/Compliant/Prime:
For the first time in several minutes his energon status flashed onto his optical display, errors and low operating energy forcing him to begin rerouting, shutting down auxiliary systems to save power as the form before him took a vaguely humanoid form.
--Tactile Response System: Offline--
--Cannon Charge Conduit: Offline--
--Olfactory Processes: Offline--
--...--
--...--
--...--
-System shutdown: Recommended--
Not... yet...
His grip on his mace was faltering, the energy infusion his system received not enough to sustain him for much longer...
Scrap...
He did hit Arma but only with a glancing blow, his mace twisting in his hand as it terminated its path kicking up a splash of hard dirt and scrap. His body groaning in exertion, his helm rotated in the light smoke, optics looking only for movement, shadows. A grin spread on his face; his optical limitations wouldn't be as crippling with the cover. The attack came at him from the side, his optics detecting the movement as his forehand released the mace and twisted to react. The smaller bot struck vertically and Gasket was forced to guess, forced to react to the blow despite his inability to see the exact vector of the strike. Clenching his left fist, the one that blocked Arma's first blast he swung backward, hoping to catch the strike mid swing and, thankfully, he did. The blow didn't glance on his armor but bit in, bending and warping the plates and drive wheel that protected his hydraulics along his arm.
I'm not so... slow, little one.
Turning fully he took several tentative steps back and grabbed his mace, putting distance on his attacker as he anticipated the next movement. The only reason he still had a limb to stand on was due to a little bit of anticipation as to what Arma could do after his attack. However, what happened next was something even he could not have anticipated and a voice rang out over their confrontation forcing his optics to search for the source. :stand down/command: Prime/acknowledge/immediately: That was a dialect of cybertronian that he had not heard in some time. Opening his mouth he forced himself to drop to a passive stance as something, what looked to be a tractor-trailer truck appeared out of the smoke to slam into Arma. His optics, still unfocused, opened wide as his mouth fell open.
:Stand Down/A-acknowledgement: Noncombatant/Compliant/Prime:
For the first time in several minutes his energon status flashed onto his optical display, errors and low operating energy forcing him to begin rerouting, shutting down auxiliary systems to save power as the form before him took a vaguely humanoid form.
--Tactile Response System: Offline--
--Cannon Charge Conduit: Offline--
--Olfactory Processes: Offline--
--...--
--...--
--...--
-System shutdown: Recommended--
Not... yet...
His grip on his mace was faltering, the energy infusion his system received not enough to sustain him for much longer...