We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Post by breakdown on Sept 29, 2012 18:53:08 GMT -5
Breakdown glared. "What? No. I'm not -- prodigal. I just need..." Ignoring Downforce's weird smile, he scanned the room.
"What the frag, Downforce."
After two back to back duty shifts in the medbay, in the middle of his third, it took a few tries to get his processor up to speed with what he was seeing. He had gone down HARD in the raid, all however many tons of Bulkhead tackling him even harder than usual. And he could take it, of course he could take it. Hadn't even noticed anything was knocked out of alignment till in some actual downtime Knock Out had suspected something was off and made him transform. First alt was fine, second barely moved before something lurched and he hardly avoided getting stuck like that.
Half a shift later, he FINALLY got a chance to actually get himself patched up, all he needed was one of his old spare triplechanger parts that WAS in his one personal crate next to his berth... before Downforce's slag had exploded across the entire room.
"Where did you even--" he said, looking around for his stuff, at his berth buried under -- no, he didn't even want to know, because Downforce had that look on his face like he had something to say, and Breakdown didn't have time or patience when his internals were stuck where they shouldn't be and he was already never going to hear the end of it just from showing up back here. "Stop smiling and get up. You're going to find my stuff in this scrapheap."
Downforce suppressed a groan. Slagger. Never around, didn't so much as poke his head through the door for vorns at a time, and then comes back in the middle of the first rest shift after a fight, when Downforce was feeling like every hydraulic in his frame had seized up, and demanded his Pit slagging unused berth back. Scrap.
Still, fair was fair, and technically it WAS Breakdown's berth, even if he only ever used it when Knock Out and he... oh. Downforce winced as he climbed down, and it was only partially because of the hitch in his battered movements. Reaching the floor, he scooped up a boxful of MLP figures - mint, still in box, he was holding them for Friederich's squad - and carefully set them aside.
One box followed another - most of them human sized, handfuls of things that he was holding onto for assorted Eradicons, or other things which he found and held onto because the Eradicons would trade for them, duty shifts and rations metered out in exchange for games and action figures. Breakdown's gaze was heavy on him and Downforce, after a few moments, cleared his vents and ventured the second most horrible thought to occur to him given current rumor threads. "So, ah... this doesn't have anything to do with Barricade, does it? You, here... you know."
"No?" Breakdown tried, watching Downforce excavate the berth that was somehow still underneath the stash. He had to tilt his head at the size of it -- so that's where all the stuff the Eradicons were always trading came from -- and at how stiff Downforce was acting. He wasn't gonna be 100% after a wreck like he had, but none of them were, and the makeshift repair hadn't been THAT bad.
"Why would it have anything to do with Barricade?" Breakdown tried to think. He'd shown up at the medbay earlier but he didn't do anything to Breakdown, and now? There was only so much a mech could do from the brig, even Barricade. But Breakdown figured he hadn't really heard the whole thing, maybe.
Last Edit: Oct 8, 2012 15:34:46 GMT -5 by breakdown
Downforce slanted an incredulous look at his erstwhile roommate, upside down from under his own arm as he tugged another, proper sized box off of the berth. "Why... you're not having me on... no? Oh Primus, you haven't heard ANY of it, have you?"
The box was dropped on the floor and Downforce straightened to face Breakdown. His frame type didn't, strictly speaking, sport fully flared door wings, but his alt mode doors did protrude from his back and with enough agitation coiled through his frame they almost vibrated. His hands flicked up, radial claws flashing in quick, rapid motions as he spoke. "Ok, so - Barricade. And a bad case of scraplets, which popular rumor has it he picked up from our great Lord Prime because where the frag ELSE has he been all this time, and how did they know where the Nemesis was and bridge right onto it, that's what everyone wants to know, right? Right! And here's the Lieutenant, waltzing back neat as you please, and RUMOR has it Lord Megatron knew very well where he was and that's why our great lord and master has been, shall we say, a little off lately? And now Starscream knows, and is fragged all the fuck out because HELL-O, it's Starscream."
Flick, went his hands, flick, flick, flick up, flick down, flick to the side as though indicating an invisible facsimile of the second in command. The words were tumbling out in a rush now, irregardless of the look on his audience's face. "So according to what I've heard - and I've heard a LOT - Barricade has gotten around. And I do mean AROUND, and nobody's really sure if he's doing it on orders - and if so, WHOSE orders - or if he just can't keep his plates shut, but his tally list is starting to look like the list of parts they need down in engineering, and THAT'S longer than Arma is tall. AND..." Downforce cycled a long vent, his hands doing a hasty little circular movement between them, "Knock Out's name might have come up and since you only ever come here when the two of you are on the outs, I thought maybe you'd heard, andreallyhonestit'sjustarumornothingtogetupsetaboutiswear!"
Breakdown's optic focused flickered wildly back and forth from Downforce's face to his hands flailing and miming, WHAT Breakdown couldn't tell. He could barely follow the words in the story, rattled off at a speed to make light itself say slow the frag down. Barricade, okay, infested with SCRAPLETS... that he got from Prime? He held up a hand to stop Downforce right there, because really, WHAT, but Downforce had worked himself up into some kind of frenzy down to his shaking struts and he just barreled on.
Breakdown gave it up and just listened to the tangled web of officer drama that Downforce had collected, stuff Breakdown preferred not to get anywhere NEAR, while he crossed the room and rummaged through his newly uncovered stuff. Barricade willing to pop plates for anyone who doesn't run away fast enough, he figured he could buy. Did kind of explain some of the weird stuff going on, if Megatron and Starscream were in on it...
And Knock Out's.
Wait.
"What?" Breakdown repeated, hand closing around the one part he needed as he finally identified it. "You heard Knock Out -- and Barricade? When he had scraplets?"
He stood up and looked at Downforce, and -- okay, he was serious. Breakdown let that sink in for a second while Downforce's plates shook, and then busted. up. laughing.
"Knock Out wouldn't go near scraplets if they were between him and... anything," Breakdown forced out between gasped ventilations. "And for Barricade?"
Downforce joined in laughing kind of nervously while Breakdown was cracking up. "I know, I know, you're just telling me what you heard, right? Good one!" He slapped Downforce on the back, and let himself out. "See ya around," he called back, chuckling to himself as he left.
"Finally," Breakdown said, stretching out on the medberth as Knock Out pulled the bent connector out of his chest for good. You don't realize how awful having something digging into your spark chamber for that long hurts -- well, you do, because it's kind of hard to forget, but it still feels like your circuits are singing when it's gone.
"So I heard something weird just now," Breakdown started, out of pain and now idle while Knock Out was busy away from him, getting and cleaning off the replacement part. "You know they're talking some real interesting slag about you and Barricade out there?" He lifted his head off the berth and nodded to the side, meaning the medbay full of Eradicons right outside the door and on the whole ship.
Knock Out was too old and cunning a player of Decepticon politics to freeze or jump or anything else telling. However, he was also tired, his processor running full-tilt keeping up with dozens of active medical treatment plans and monitors. So when Breakdown came up with THAT little tidbit, Knock Out's processor took just a bit longer than usual to listen, analyze, and conclude that no, really, WHAT? Breakdown couldn't mean...no...surely not?
It wasn't entirely out of the question, though...it was possible that someone had been listening or...something. Knock Out had long ago given up trying to figure out how the rumor mill on the Nemesis actually functioned.
Knock Out frowned as he tossed the bent connector aside and reached in to replace the new one. "What have you heard?"
Breakdown was tired from the endless duty shifts and his last interrupted recharge, had his plates open on the table, and wasn't that good at the best of times, but he couldn't miss the cogs turning in Knock Out's head. He was hesitating, and that meant he was strategizing. Why was he hesitating? What was there to think about unless he already knew it? And if he knew it why isn't he laughing, but asking what has Breakdown heard, like seeing if Breakdown had heard the whole story? Like there WAS whole story?
"Wait, it's TRUE?" Breakdown accused. Knock Out and Barricade doing... whatever it is they say Cade has been doing, okay, after four million years they did that, who didn't? But acting like it was a big secret... and with Barricade? And scraplets?
No, there was still no way in the Pit Knock Out would get that close, no matter what the other Con officers were doing.
Breakdown's train of thought was derailed for a klik when Knock Out slotted the new connector into place. Felt good, and should last him for another... however long until it got damaged again. Should be never if he could just avoid Bulkhead fragging things up, not that it was easy to take a contact hit directly to the internals like that. And he hadn't been hit THAT hard. But it had never been replaced since his reformat way back when, maybe it was just old, or... wait.
Knock Out reset his optics at Breakdown, his hands pausing in the process of closing up Breakdown's chestplates. "Do you have WHAT?"
Knock Out's processor tried gamely to connect "something weird" with "scraplets" and came up with a whole lot of nothing. Still working on too little recharge, his processor spat out the query and immediately turned back to the queue of repairs he had to do that cycle. Whatever Breakdown had heard or thought he heard or made up in the glitched expanse of his processor, it was certainly not about Breakdown and Megatron and thus NOT important enough to deal with right now.
Knock Out engaged Breakdown's chestplate latches with an irritated huff. "You do NOT have scraplets, and I don't even WANT to know why you think you might. Now go make yourself useful."
<<Feel free to puppet KO however's required for maximum hilarity. >>