Ep. 1 - Much Ado about Nothing - [Open]
Aug 12, 2014 20:31:14 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 12, 2014 20:31:14 GMT -5
The thing about going from zero-to-sixty in seconds, the thing Thundercloud never accounted for when jolting upright and launching himself at Wheeljack like a rabid dog, was that he didn’t exactly have the instant-waking skills required to successfully pull off the maneuver so soon after dragging himself back into consciousness. Had he been less hopelessly disoriented, less battered and confused, had his thoughts not been so muddied and his limbs so difficult to lift, he might have been able to make good on his attempt to blind the mech before him.
As it was, he just wound up barreling towards him, staggering into the smaller mech like a drunk tank with wings. He didn’t have even half of his wits about him by the time he closed the distance between himself and Wheeljack, as his mind was still far too addled by his head’s little high-speed meet-&-greet with the ground, so by the time he finally noticed the Wrecker’s sword raising up into the path of his hands, there was really not much he could do to avoid it.
The razor edge of the blade bit into the palm of his left hand and the base of his thumb on his right, cutting deep into the metal with a loud shink.
Remarkably, this did not seem to deter him in the slightest. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice the wounds until he had shoved Wheeljack back and stumbled forward, his momentum carrying him right back down to the ground. He crashed onto his knees, his hands catching him from falling further as he cursed the world for wobbling beneath him. Everything was spinning, the ground lurching - he could scarcely keep himself upright. It wasn’t until he tried to push himself back to his feet that he noticed the white slag beneath his hands was stained blue, and that his thumb was barely hanging onto the rest of his hand.
Growling, Thundercloud shoved off the ground and forced himself back to his feet, staggering backwards a half-step before finding his balance. He turned his gaze back to Wheeljack, trying to bring the image of the mech into focus. If his vision wasn’t so fragged, he could’ve seen the Autobrand on the Wrecker’s chest, and been able to save them all a lot of trouble, but alas, that was not the case. He was too punch-drunk to see, and too punch-drunk to care to check what it was he was trying to beat senseless. He had no fragging clue what was going on, or who the guy he was going toe-to-toe with was, but he’d rather punch first and give apologies later than wind up getting himself iced by Cons because he didn’t put up a fight.
Vaguely, he was aware of the status update Carbine was throwing over his shoulder. This only reinforced his earlier assumption that these were, in fact, Decepticons, because why the hell else would they be attacking them?
It was with this thought in mind that Thunder seized the near-severed thumb of his right hand and proceeded to tear it clean off with a sickening crack, before subspacing it so he wouldn’t have to go looking for it later. If he was going to keep this fight going (which he damn well intended to) then he didn’t want to worry about the ruined digit getting in his way or falling off at an inconvenient time.
He could hear another voice behind him, one he didn’t recognize. That must’ve been whoever was keeping Bolo busy, then. He had no idea what the mech was saying - the roar of wind and the ringing in his audios obscured most of his words. Something something, warning, something something, stand down, blah blah I am a raging fragface please punch me.
He’d help Carbine out with that guy later, after he finished with the first.
With a flick of his wrist he withdrew a heavy length of chain from his subspace, catching its end in his hand, his fingers gripping it tight. The very second his grip was secure he swung his arm back and whipped the chain forward, intending to either ensnare or bludgeon the absolute Hell out of the dancy white and green fragger with the poke-sticks.
As it was, he just wound up barreling towards him, staggering into the smaller mech like a drunk tank with wings. He didn’t have even half of his wits about him by the time he closed the distance between himself and Wheeljack, as his mind was still far too addled by his head’s little high-speed meet-&-greet with the ground, so by the time he finally noticed the Wrecker’s sword raising up into the path of his hands, there was really not much he could do to avoid it.
The razor edge of the blade bit into the palm of his left hand and the base of his thumb on his right, cutting deep into the metal with a loud shink.
Remarkably, this did not seem to deter him in the slightest. In fact, he didn’t even seem to notice the wounds until he had shoved Wheeljack back and stumbled forward, his momentum carrying him right back down to the ground. He crashed onto his knees, his hands catching him from falling further as he cursed the world for wobbling beneath him. Everything was spinning, the ground lurching - he could scarcely keep himself upright. It wasn’t until he tried to push himself back to his feet that he noticed the white slag beneath his hands was stained blue, and that his thumb was barely hanging onto the rest of his hand.
Growling, Thundercloud shoved off the ground and forced himself back to his feet, staggering backwards a half-step before finding his balance. He turned his gaze back to Wheeljack, trying to bring the image of the mech into focus. If his vision wasn’t so fragged, he could’ve seen the Autobrand on the Wrecker’s chest, and been able to save them all a lot of trouble, but alas, that was not the case. He was too punch-drunk to see, and too punch-drunk to care to check what it was he was trying to beat senseless. He had no fragging clue what was going on, or who the guy he was going toe-to-toe with was, but he’d rather punch first and give apologies later than wind up getting himself iced by Cons because he didn’t put up a fight.
Vaguely, he was aware of the status update Carbine was throwing over his shoulder. This only reinforced his earlier assumption that these were, in fact, Decepticons, because why the hell else would they be attacking them?
It was with this thought in mind that Thunder seized the near-severed thumb of his right hand and proceeded to tear it clean off with a sickening crack, before subspacing it so he wouldn’t have to go looking for it later. If he was going to keep this fight going (which he damn well intended to) then he didn’t want to worry about the ruined digit getting in his way or falling off at an inconvenient time.
He could hear another voice behind him, one he didn’t recognize. That must’ve been whoever was keeping Bolo busy, then. He had no idea what the mech was saying - the roar of wind and the ringing in his audios obscured most of his words. Something something, warning, something something, stand down, blah blah I am a raging fragface please punch me.
He’d help Carbine out with that guy later, after he finished with the first.
With a flick of his wrist he withdrew a heavy length of chain from his subspace, catching its end in his hand, his fingers gripping it tight. The very second his grip was secure he swung his arm back and whipped the chain forward, intending to either ensnare or bludgeon the absolute Hell out of the dancy white and green fragger with the poke-sticks.