[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Cause and Effect [Closed]
Jul 29, 2021 16:10:46 GMT -5
Post by Blitzwing on Jul 29, 2021 16:10:46 GMT -5
The emotional spectrum of 'Trapped on a sunken ship' to 'Completely fine with it' was readily apparent in this particular Nemesis stairwell. Both poles were on display, today. On one hand, the two rightly surprised and terrified Decepticon medical officers, and on the other, Blitzwing. And on Blitzwing's other hand was Knock Out. He made no sound, movement, or sign of sentience after politely requesting an introduction from the both of them, choosing to provide a moment of silence for them to comply within. He took note about how the one slumped against the wall seemed more inclined to spring a leak than give him a response, while the red, short, annoying one draped over his arm had the audacity to ask him a question instead.
It made him furious, in fact.
Blitzwing firmly secured his grip around Knock Out's torso, wrenching his servos around the littler mech. His not-free-for-much-longer hand shot out towards Flatline, similarly grabbing the medical officer by the chest, hoisting him up for a more intimate spark-to-spark. As he straightened his right arm, Knock Out ended up more or less upside down, though Blitzwing was unconcerned with this. With both mechs now firmly in his grasp, the many frail safeguards all began to fall away at once, and the tranquil, emotionless façade plastered across Blitzwing's face was swiftly blasted away by a hateful, angry scowl.
"YOU ARE BEING ADDRESSED BY GENERAL BLITZWING OF THE DECEPTICON ARMY, YOU OIL-LEAKING PETRO-RABBIT!!" His voice had grown about three orders of magnitude louder, but the least he could do was to answer the mech's question. While he answered however, Blitzwing unconsciously jostled both of his guests back and forth, slightly. It was more so just angry trembling, rather than a show of force. While he had them both here, he switched on a pair of his own spotlights, mounted on each shoulder. Little regard was given to whether or not this blinded any optics, although one of his captives definitely didn't need to worry. The Decepticon Medical Corps badge branded on the mech in his left hand was swiftly noticed, and allayed some of Blitzwing's more immediate concerns. Any light pointed at his own chest would've revealed a similar Decepticon insignia stamped into his hide, albeit one that sported a set of four violet stars beneath it.
Judging by what he'd gathered so far, both mechs had come to the Nemesis together, and logic would dictate that the more pompous mech had to be a Decepticon as well. This was fine. However, this was not enough to soothe his fury, as they had failed to give him their name and station, not to mention they didn't proudly sport their leader's required brand. Any mistake, no matter how trivial or severe, was always a perfect opportunity to instill discipline and spread terror. Blitzwing saw them more as chances for learning, however.
He set the mech in his left hand down rather gently, having appreciated his visual dedication to the Decepticon brand, and also noting his reluctance to provide sufficient identification to a senior officer of the army. The other one however, he dropped. On his head, to be precise. Before they were able to right themselves up off the floor, Blitzwing slammed his massive pede into the interloper's chest, scraping them against the floor until they were forcefully pinned against the wall behind them.
All at once, each and every one of Blitzwing's separate weapon systems powered up. His wrists produced a pair of twin-barreled energy cannons, the cryo-missile launcher on his shoulder hummed to life and slotted in a fresh projectile, and to top it all off, the massive plasma cannon sitting on his back slammed to the right, elevated, and leveled its muzzle down toward Knock Out's head. Each weapon produced a healthy amount of glow, which somewhat illuminated the stairwell better. All the while, the vitriolic look on his face had more or less subsided, replaced with a much more reserved and composed frown.
"I will ask again," he repeated.
"Name. And. Station."
The corner of his mouth twitched, and his optics went wide with a smile.
"AND THAT MEANS THE BOTH OF YOU, TOO!"
It made him furious, in fact.
Blitzwing firmly secured his grip around Knock Out's torso, wrenching his servos around the littler mech. His not-free-for-much-longer hand shot out towards Flatline, similarly grabbing the medical officer by the chest, hoisting him up for a more intimate spark-to-spark. As he straightened his right arm, Knock Out ended up more or less upside down, though Blitzwing was unconcerned with this. With both mechs now firmly in his grasp, the many frail safeguards all began to fall away at once, and the tranquil, emotionless façade plastered across Blitzwing's face was swiftly blasted away by a hateful, angry scowl.
"YOU ARE BEING ADDRESSED BY GENERAL BLITZWING OF THE DECEPTICON ARMY, YOU OIL-LEAKING PETRO-RABBIT!!" His voice had grown about three orders of magnitude louder, but the least he could do was to answer the mech's question. While he answered however, Blitzwing unconsciously jostled both of his guests back and forth, slightly. It was more so just angry trembling, rather than a show of force. While he had them both here, he switched on a pair of his own spotlights, mounted on each shoulder. Little regard was given to whether or not this blinded any optics, although one of his captives definitely didn't need to worry. The Decepticon Medical Corps badge branded on the mech in his left hand was swiftly noticed, and allayed some of Blitzwing's more immediate concerns. Any light pointed at his own chest would've revealed a similar Decepticon insignia stamped into his hide, albeit one that sported a set of four violet stars beneath it.
Judging by what he'd gathered so far, both mechs had come to the Nemesis together, and logic would dictate that the more pompous mech had to be a Decepticon as well. This was fine. However, this was not enough to soothe his fury, as they had failed to give him their name and station, not to mention they didn't proudly sport their leader's required brand. Any mistake, no matter how trivial or severe, was always a perfect opportunity to instill discipline and spread terror. Blitzwing saw them more as chances for learning, however.
He set the mech in his left hand down rather gently, having appreciated his visual dedication to the Decepticon brand, and also noting his reluctance to provide sufficient identification to a senior officer of the army. The other one however, he dropped. On his head, to be precise. Before they were able to right themselves up off the floor, Blitzwing slammed his massive pede into the interloper's chest, scraping them against the floor until they were forcefully pinned against the wall behind them.
All at once, each and every one of Blitzwing's separate weapon systems powered up. His wrists produced a pair of twin-barreled energy cannons, the cryo-missile launcher on his shoulder hummed to life and slotted in a fresh projectile, and to top it all off, the massive plasma cannon sitting on his back slammed to the right, elevated, and leveled its muzzle down toward Knock Out's head. Each weapon produced a healthy amount of glow, which somewhat illuminated the stairwell better. All the while, the vitriolic look on his face had more or less subsided, replaced with a much more reserved and composed frown.
"I will ask again," he repeated.
"Name. And. Station."
The corner of his mouth twitched, and his optics went wide with a smile.
"AND THAT MEANS THE BOTH OF YOU, TOO!"