Flashback – “Scorched Earth” – Closed
May 28, 2012 1:04:13 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on May 28, 2012 1:04:13 GMT -5
It’s amazing, Barricade thought as he watched the Autobot retch transfluid into the ash and carbon-seared earth, that he’s alive actually.
The Decepticon fighter pilot was carrying an energon rifle, munitions-class, heavy-grade plate-piercing – thumbing the safety thoughtfully. The Autobot was an aerialist. Obviously, one of Yellow Squad. Barricade clicked the safety off while he tried to place the mech’s armor color and configuration – thick plating and turbines built into the bottom-heavy pedes, mangled wings turned down at his back, long arms. It wasn’t until the Bot half-blind, dizzy, dragged himself to his knees and looked up through the targeting HUD of the rifle interface that Barricade placed him.
Shattered or not, the quad-optics were a custom job.
Barricade subspaced the gun and looked over his shoulder, past his wheel mounts to the landing ship.
The rest of the Decepticon chalk was, of course, busy two-hundred meters out. They were in the process of setting up the mining equipment in what was now the semi-radioactive crater of Outpost BR7. Barricade was, of course, just the pilot and sometime field LT so he wasn’t needed with the body of the Con miner technicians who were well schooled in their jobs. They were complaining, of course, that if the base had been captured and not destroyed then the subterranean energon could have been mined in comfort, but their comfort was not Barricade’s concern after the Decepticons had dedicated literally eight futile mega-cycles to the capturing this position. In less than three cycles he’d made a crater out this place and he’d never fired a shot.
So.
In the spirit of not wasting resources Barricade moved down the smoking hillside to the pockmark of indented earth where Yellow Squad’s prize jet had crashed and burned. The other mech didn’t seem to be terribly clear on what he was looking at so Barricade kept his tone, his voice, the pitch of his EMF very, very gentle.
“Aquila.” The infiltrator took a knee just outside of arms reach. The deep red of his optics flickered. “It’s Aquila isn’t it?”
The Decepticon fighter pilot was carrying an energon rifle, munitions-class, heavy-grade plate-piercing – thumbing the safety thoughtfully. The Autobot was an aerialist. Obviously, one of Yellow Squad. Barricade clicked the safety off while he tried to place the mech’s armor color and configuration – thick plating and turbines built into the bottom-heavy pedes, mangled wings turned down at his back, long arms. It wasn’t until the Bot half-blind, dizzy, dragged himself to his knees and looked up through the targeting HUD of the rifle interface that Barricade placed him.
Shattered or not, the quad-optics were a custom job.
Barricade subspaced the gun and looked over his shoulder, past his wheel mounts to the landing ship.
The rest of the Decepticon chalk was, of course, busy two-hundred meters out. They were in the process of setting up the mining equipment in what was now the semi-radioactive crater of Outpost BR7. Barricade was, of course, just the pilot and sometime field LT so he wasn’t needed with the body of the Con miner technicians who were well schooled in their jobs. They were complaining, of course, that if the base had been captured and not destroyed then the subterranean energon could have been mined in comfort, but their comfort was not Barricade’s concern after the Decepticons had dedicated literally eight futile mega-cycles to the capturing this position. In less than three cycles he’d made a crater out this place and he’d never fired a shot.
So.
In the spirit of not wasting resources Barricade moved down the smoking hillside to the pockmark of indented earth where Yellow Squad’s prize jet had crashed and burned. The other mech didn’t seem to be terribly clear on what he was looking at so Barricade kept his tone, his voice, the pitch of his EMF very, very gentle.
“Aquila.” The infiltrator took a knee just outside of arms reach. The deep red of his optics flickered. “It’s Aquila isn’t it?”