Ep 1 - A Frontline Distraction - Open
Jul 3, 2012 8:52:46 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jul 3, 2012 8:52:46 GMT -5
The shock burst of the blast nearly flattened him and Ironhide could feel his joints scraping, the arm that had taken the 'Con's earlier hit starting to run dry. She'd taken damage too, but she was bigger and heavier than he was, and between her at his front and brawling Wreckers at his back Ironhide was starting to feel boxed in.
Truth be told, the corridor around them had taken the heaviest hits of all, pocked with blaster and ammunition fire never meant for such close quarters. When he braced himself to spin his cannons back out he could feel the grate beneath his pedes shift, creaking on the edge of giving way beneath mass and weakened structure. Ironhide shifted hastily to keep his weight off of the weaker points.
And then the 'Con femme started shooting again and oh, really, just frag this. Pincered into a hallway between two 'Con heavies was no way Ironhide wanted to spend the rest of the Primus forsaken mission.
Spinning out his largest guns, the ones he had held back because they could rip chunks out of the Nemesis walls even before the walls took a Pit load of damage, Ironhide backed up several quick steps until he fetched up bodily against Bulkhead, took aim at the space opened up between himself and the femme, and let fire.
The blast ripped through the plating, heat and shrapnel exploding along with a sizeable chunk of the deck, raining down in fragments onto the deck of the level below. Snarling, Ironhide grabbed Bulkhead by the collar faring, jerked the heavier Wrecker away from Breakdown and shoved him bodily at the rapidly crumbling edge of the gaping hole. "C'mon! Tell yer boyfriend goodbye an' get yer wheels rollin', we're outta this!"
The impact of their combined mass slag near broke a hole through the level below them into the level below that, holding only by the thinnest margin that wasn't going to hold at all with one more impact or a round of artillery fire from the femme. The Autobots scrambled for more secure footing; Ironhide tuned out whatever Bulkhead was yelling, comms and audials both, and snapped an order that finally got the Wrecker moving, dropping onto his wheels as he peeled out down the new corridor ahead of them. Ironhid gritted his jaw plates and followed, the transformation grating sharp pain through his left side as he forced dry joints to scrape into position and sped after Bulkhead.
<<exit autobots, one floor down to the left!>>
Truth be told, the corridor around them had taken the heaviest hits of all, pocked with blaster and ammunition fire never meant for such close quarters. When he braced himself to spin his cannons back out he could feel the grate beneath his pedes shift, creaking on the edge of giving way beneath mass and weakened structure. Ironhide shifted hastily to keep his weight off of the weaker points.
And then the 'Con femme started shooting again and oh, really, just frag this. Pincered into a hallway between two 'Con heavies was no way Ironhide wanted to spend the rest of the Primus forsaken mission.
Spinning out his largest guns, the ones he had held back because they could rip chunks out of the Nemesis walls even before the walls took a Pit load of damage, Ironhide backed up several quick steps until he fetched up bodily against Bulkhead, took aim at the space opened up between himself and the femme, and let fire.
The blast ripped through the plating, heat and shrapnel exploding along with a sizeable chunk of the deck, raining down in fragments onto the deck of the level below. Snarling, Ironhide grabbed Bulkhead by the collar faring, jerked the heavier Wrecker away from Breakdown and shoved him bodily at the rapidly crumbling edge of the gaping hole. "C'mon! Tell yer boyfriend goodbye an' get yer wheels rollin', we're outta this!"
The impact of their combined mass slag near broke a hole through the level below them into the level below that, holding only by the thinnest margin that wasn't going to hold at all with one more impact or a round of artillery fire from the femme. The Autobots scrambled for more secure footing; Ironhide tuned out whatever Bulkhead was yelling, comms and audials both, and snapped an order that finally got the Wrecker moving, dropping onto his wheels as he peeled out down the new corridor ahead of them. Ironhid gritted his jaw plates and followed, the transformation grating sharp pain through his left side as he forced dry joints to scrape into position and sped after Bulkhead.
<<exit autobots, one floor down to the left!>>