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Post by Deleted on Jun 19, 2016 18:11:51 GMT
Scary requests a groundbridge to the Nemesis. Her priorities don't include killing bots yet, even when it's something that a decepticon is taught to do. But now things are different. Since the highrankers where changed, they would figure to lead towards a new mentality about the war, at least a more rational mentality.
Even if that sounds a bit suicidal, Scary would run in middle of Vampiricon and Viroid, turning her back at the bot. So, If Vamp made an attack against Viroid, Scary would serve as a shield. Even if shots hit Scary's armour, the tungsten found in her armour layers would avoid the damage of the femme's back.
Her face was serious, but behind the mouthplates, Scary's face would be a bit concerned. The groundbridge is opened beside Dynamite.
Leave, now. We need to talk about some thing...
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Sydrone
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Sky's little helper.
Autobot
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Post by Sydrone on Jun 19, 2016 18:46:11 GMT
Dynamite listens to what Scary has to say, before slowly placing his hand on her shoulder I can hear the concern in your voice. Walk with me, and I will listen to what you have to say. he says, motioning to the Groundbridge. He then turns to Viroid Go and get yourself checked out. You're no good to us one handed. Viroid nods, walking through the Groundbridge.
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Post by Deleted on Jun 19, 2016 19:00:14 GMT
Scary moved her swords towards Dynamite's servo. before to get the edge touching him, Scary stops. Aparently, the mech wanted to help her, but she wont alloy physical contact, and now less at knowing she got the place of a TiC. It wasn't a matter of pride or ego, she was worried since her first experience as an authority didn't started good at all, and her missing optic is the evidence of that.
We'll talk in the ship, not here.
She walked towards the GB and waited to Viroid, Once Viroid and Dynamite gets inside the whirling vortex, it will dissapear.
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Sydrone
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Sky's little helper.
Autobot
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Post by Sydrone on Jun 19, 2016 19:15:50 GMT
Dynamite looks at his scratched palm and laughs Slightly introverted. Will add that to files. He thought before saying No physical contact. Got it. before walking through the Groundbridge, flicking energon from his palm.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 22, 2016 12:21:40 GMT
A bridge that Vampyricon had left open upon his entry from the Autobot base was used a second time~
A wounded vehicon walked through, his form surprisingly whole, save for his right arm that had been split, then crudely mended into a skewer. Cut-Up had lost many chunks of his armor, but his worn and charged protoform rested beneath. it was old, persistent, and despite how it was pushed to its limits, the indescribably tough metal had pulled through. it was meant to last a life time, according to the ones who'd given it to him so long ago.
Cut-Up hastened, before he glanced around. Autobots could come through the bridge soon. Maybe even Cataract, to bring him back. This golden opportunity he had taken was something to not be wasted. Cut-Up started to move. He was on the outskirts of the city, where plenty of old abandoned ware-houses were, He strode to one of the old run-down buildings as fast as he could, dashing and ducking behind a wall, taking brisk refuge int he farthest one form the bridge. It wouldn't be much cover. Cut-Up shook his head slightly, as his helm swelled with a dizziness. He hadn't had energon for a while, and his emergency reserve was running on low. Escape was something proving to be more than difficult. I can do this. Cut-Up grunted, through heavy vents. I can...I won't...I will not be caught by Autobot...scum. Cut-Up's old survival instincts were kicking in, as well as his determination to get away from the Autobots. For the first time in a while, eh was actually slightly frightened. He didn't know by what. It wasn't the thought of Protectobots coming in, no, that just made him feel tired.
Was it the fact that he was alone? He was lonely? No, that wasn't it either. Focus! Cut-Up thought to himself urgently, snapping himself out of his tiredness. He lurched for the back-doorway to the ware-house, deciding that a few alleyways to hide in would do fine. But he also knew that he had no help. He was low on fuel. He had almost no weapons.
But he had nothing to lose.
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Tarn
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Post by Tarn on Jul 22, 2016 14:04:01 GMT
Today had been the usual. Wake up, spend an hour or so in the torture chambers, and check his commlink inbox. It was obvious Tarn had slightly embraced his half-haitus from hunting individuals on the list. But not fully, he knew it would go against the DJD's design to travel without a Tesarus and a Vos. It was wrong, but the explanation to why was lost. It had months since Vos's death, and the disappearance of Tesarus. So he assumed two things: They had defected or they had died. And it was time for replacements. And even though Tarn had sent the word to Death Wish, he hadn't had time to register his grief. If he had any- that is.
So here he was today, awaiting for his- 'applicant'. Although Cut-up had gone rogue for particular reasons, he was still an asset to the DJD. And if you proved worthy, 'asset' turned into 'applicant with perks'. If Tarn was going to choose anyone for Vos's position- a member of his team- he wanted somebody Vos had initially taken interest in. And Cut-up was the only person to fit these- guidelines. 'You react weird to grief, Tarn..' He thought to himself. 'It's not grief, it's acceptance.'
When a groundbridge signal activated, Tarn perked up from his sitting position. That was Cut-up, he could- sense him. Sparkbeats were hard to ignore, especially the ones he spent his time around. And he could tell Cut-up was in a state of distress. his suspicions were confirmed when his signal popped up on his scanner. Alright Tarn, let's get this over with. There are other days for autobot slaughtering..
Tarn wasnt someone to hide in the shadows. That's how Kaon played his games. But Tarn wasn't idiotic to call himself out on an open frequency. It was to obvious. He had to get up-close and personal. And quite honestly, if there was somebody after his 'applicant', they had to go through him. It's one think to slaughter autobots for a sport, but it's another thing to slaughter them when they become a pain in the back.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 22, 2016 14:29:35 GMT
Cut-Up's spark signature was surprisingly small. It wasn't weak, but it was as if the mech had a minion's spark~
Cut-Up released another few harsh breaths. How old was he anyways? More than two years, you darn deception scientists. Cut-Up hissed in his mind. Two years was supposed to be his life-span, however, thanks to some accidents, and his own sheer skill and luck he'd managed to get by that two year life-span limit. It was at a high cost though. Cut-Up leaned against a wall, as he stepped to the side, steadying himself against the concrete.
It was then he heard something in the distance...his instincts gripped him like a cold hand, warning him of something that was coming. He was behind a ware-house. Cut-Up tried his best to slow his breaths, as his helm gradually protruded from behind his cover, gazing down an alleyway, locking onto the form of someone all too familiar. Tarn. Cut-Up blinked, almost wanted to slump to the ground, and laugh his last. The irony of the situation was excruciatingly bitter. He'd just run away from the Autobots, for his freedom, only for Tarn to be awaiting somewhere in the distance. The mech most likely already felt Cut-Up. The vehicon's chassis didn't shake, though he knew what was coming. These were going to be his final minutes. if Tarn had heard of Cut-Up, or sensed Cut-Up, Tarn already knew his secret.
Cut-Up grunted to himself. He couldn't look weak like this. He stood up as straight as he could, unsheathing his long-hilted double bladed Great axe, it's metal as experienced as Cut-Up was, but the blades were as sharp as ever. He stood as tall as he could, before stepping out of his cover. If he was dying today, he'd die swinging. He had no strategy, he had no other weapons other than his axe. But he still had fight in him. Cut-Up took another step forward, lifting his axe's hand off the ground. He would not show Tarn he needed a crutch. He'd face this mech looking as strong as he could, no matter what. He didn't say anything at firs,t he only walked towards Tarn, his dim yellow optic still blazing with some small quantities of fire.
Inside, Cut-Up felt more fear...it wasn't the same as the fear he had recently been feeling. Tarn was bad new though. "Speak of the devil." Cut-Up said as if he were fresh from the medical bay, with no injury whatsoever. "It's a shady day in France, which means that I won't need my coolant to help me end you."
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Tarn
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Post by Tarn on Jul 22, 2016 14:59:01 GMT
Tarn remained silent as he tracked Cut-up's signal. He walked with ease, not rushing his search. It was him and Cut-up, and that was all that mattered. That meant he didn't have to rush formalities. That was if Cut-up wasn't like everyone else he'd 'interviewed'. And guess how they turned out: dead. Somehow, this reminded him that he forgot to turn off the music box- in the torture room. Meh, I'll fix that later.
Tarn tore himself from his thoughts when Cut-up's sparkbeat changed. He smirked behind his mask, the skip of faith so he called it. Whatever Cut-up did, Tarn was almost certain the vehicon knew of his presence. His suspicions were laid to rest when Cut-up revealed himself with an axe at hand. Just resting his crimson optics on Cut-up satisfied Tarn. he could tell Cut-up was in a world of pain. it would be rude to exploit that. I could kill him on the spot.
But you see, Tarn wasn't so cheap.
"I hate to disappoint you Cut-up, but Im not gracing you with death today." He said. eh, to theatrical. "Im here on other business. So put your axe away, before I disarm you. And that would be- rather rude of me."
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 23, 2016 13:57:27 GMT
Tarn wasn't killing him yet. Interesting.
Cut-Up narrowed his optics at Tarn's words, as the mech's reply swelled with amusement, his own mask emotionlessly gleaming down upon the vehicon, like a tiger upon an injured bird. He was refraining, but his own response, his very voice told Cut-Up one thing: 'I am in control'. Cut-Up despised everything in that moment, wanting to spit upon Tarn. It would be rude to remove his arm? You're welcome to try Tarn. Cut-Up wanted to snap. His fogginess was not helping with his mood. Cut-Up released a warm ex-vent. Tarn wasn't trying to kill him. Not yet. But it was clear whatever 'business' was going to be offered wouldn't have much of a choice involved. Tarn was in control. He had full control of the board, he had all his chess pieces in tact. He even had the power to throw away the board--and that was what gave him the control. He didn't even have to play the game he was so clearly setting up, just the fact that he was providing enough room at the table for Cut-Up told Cut-Up that there wasn't anything good in store for him.
Unfortunately, the only method Cut-Up saw of living was to play this game. Tarn never truly invited, each invite was something that was backed with a force of sorts. Cut-Up's optical brightness still remained as active as a fire, as Cut-Up's axe hilt was lowered, hitting the ground as he gripped it. He couldn't sheath it just yet. He needed a crutch. Now, his limbs were weak, whether he liked it or not.
"You have succeeded in disappointing me Tarn." Cut-Up said in a low tone, "But you cannot persuade me to be rid of my axe." Cut-Up stated obstinately. "Given your reputation Tarn, you can guess why." Cut-Up grunted, trying hard to make it unclear of his need for his axe. Even if Tarn tried to rip Cut-Up's arm off, he'd have to apply a great deal of brute force. Tarn had this brute force--but--
"If you're conducting some kind of twisted deal with me Tarn, and you haven't killed me just yet, then I'm betting you need me in a functional condition for whatever. So what is it?"
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Tarn
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Post by Tarn on Jul 29, 2016 3:11:03 GMT
At first it was a glimpse, but he caught a sense of- familiarity in Cut-up's visor. It reminded him to much of Vos. that kick of a flame that would never die: the ability to fight besides the circumstances. The smirk behind Tarn's mask widened. He had a feeling Cut-up had shuffled a slick thought or two. Almost as if he could take Tarn on in his condition. The sort that thinks before they do. Oh Vos, there was something else about him- He evaluated. But what was it?
"Tsk tsk, judging before you listen. How unkind of you. Im still wondering why Vos took an interest in you.." He waved his servo with a hasteful sway. He turned and took a seat ontop of some cargo boxes. Probably what was leftover from the warehouse nearby. "Why dont you come take a seat with me, you look rather bleak. I thought offering you a position as the DJD's new Vos would loosen some- tensions. But I might be wrong, Maybe Vos liked you for your nature of always being on guard.." Behind his mask, he sneered at his words. Bring your leash back, your sounding like a cocky soldier with the upper hand.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Jul 29, 2016 4:47:57 GMT
A place at the table.
Cut-Up couldn't believe his audio receptors. He was being given the opportunity to be given the job of Vos. He arched a brow behind his mask. Nothing like this has ever happened in my experience. This could be him baiting me into a trap. Cut-Up thought, he was about to open his mouth, releasing a river of cutting insults upon Tarn, when something in him clenched, causing him to stiffen, sucking in ventilation, choking at first. He tensed, his frame trembling slightly as he clenched, trying so hard to fight the pain in his chest. His spark was weakening, flickering. The continual stress of battle as well as the lack of energon brought the warrior to his knees on the ground. Cut-Up's frame finally contracted, as ventilation restarted, after he coughed ferociously. The pain was searing, causing things to fog in his vision. Still, he clutched his axe. His joints aced, every part of him strained. He was sure there was no stronger agony.
He looked back at Tarn, his amused red optics glowing from his mask. Cut-Up clenched his other fist. "How unkind of me? That's an interesting comment coming from you." Cut-Up growled through clenched teeth, struggling to get back on two feet. It became obvious that he needed his axe as a crutch, as he stabbed the end of the hilt into the ground, pulling himself to both feet again. Think. If I turn him down he kills me. If I accept his offer, and this isn't a trap, then he fixes me. I get a new job. A new purpose---I can show the Autobots how ferocious I truly am. Cut-Up thought, scowling at Cataracts little psychologist talk with him. He hated how she scratched at his walls, tried to bring something out of him that would make him weak. She couldn't be anything good. No, that was impossible. She had been trying to make him a weak incompetent weakling of am Autobot by making him talk. A lie. But he wanted it to be the case so desperately. So it was.
He knew he had little choice anyways. He was going to die. And if Tarn was as cruel as he was, perhaps he wouldn't grant him any death, and simply let Cut-Up die. In that moment, Cut-Up began to believe that was what would happen. Tarn knew everyone's nightmares, and Cut-Up's nightmare was to die like this. In a dark alley, not in the glory of battle. Alone. Cu-Up knew that if he accepted the job he'd be hunted Taggon, his cousin--he'd be hunting Slapfoot and Stalaken, his only friends from the old days left. Or maybe...maybe he could find a way to let them in somehow. There had to be a way. He was being 'accepted'. If this was a trick and he died, then that would be that--but if that wasn't the case, technically there was a chance he could bring them back to the Decepticons. Memories of BlackSun flushed through, images of him sparing her, letting her go. Then being caught and imprisoned. A spark flew from his back. His power systems were failing. He would be thrust into stasis lock any second.
"I accept the job." Cut-Up said curtly. "But keep the true identity of Vos--me--low. If I'm taking that title, that is going to be who I am. As far as anyone else is concerned." Cut-Up stated. He knew the codes of the DJD as well as they did.
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Tarn
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Post by Tarn on Aug 5, 2016 3:25:38 GMT
[occ: kdjdj im so sorry for not responding. Im having the worst of writers block TnT]
As soon as he'd finished speaking, Tarn watched the vehicon fall to his knees. He was close to death, Tarn could feel the weak pulses coming from Cut-up. The thing was, he had no idea what Cut-up was afraid of. Learning one's fear took time. A conversation, a few pushes and pulls, and finally the volley of test assaults. An anticipation game. That was the idea of torture to him. And that was what made people so afraid of him. He was different, and he liked it.
When Cut-up coughed up a snarky comment, Tarn merely leaned over and placed his forearms on his knees. The slow leaning was sure to bring anticipation. Tarn merely said nothing, but he watched Cut-up's form. It was to obvious that he was surprised. Tarn didn't care. All he wanted to know was if he was going to accept his offer or not. Tarn could tell he was thinking really hard. And Cut-up was right: he didn't have much of a choice. Tarn had to take him in two ways: as the new Vos, or as a victim on the list.
"I accept the job."
Cut-up's response was brief, but sweet. Tarn's lips coiled into a smile. While Cut-up talked, Tarn got up from his sitting perch. Vos was injured, and Tarn had to get him to the medbay before he died. Tarn didn't wait for consent from Cut-up: Tarn grabbed the vehicon's axe, and used his other arm to pulled him over his shoulder. Cut-up was in no condition to struggle. "At ease Vos." Tarn said. Alas The mech began walking back to his pick up coordinates. "But to succeed in that, you'll need a mask swap." With his free servo, Tarn dug out a mask from his subspace, and moved his servo to the side to hand it to Cut-up. "I know how vehicons are with there concealed faces. Consider it as a badge of office."
As he walked, he created a commlink to the nemesis command center. :: This is Tarn, I require an immediate groundbridge. My coordinates are embedded in this message. ::
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Post by Deleted on Aug 5, 2016 3:51:24 GMT
A Ground bridge opened beside them. The tyrant request was heard and now the access to te Nemesis is availabe temporaly.
The shape of the vehicon who attended Tarn would be seen throught the groundbridge, the 3 banded helmet stared at them, waiting for their arrive. It looks like a a barely small vehicon with diferent physical features, but is actitude and manner were following the vehicon standards. Evo stood in there as a way to welcome them, just like a soldier waiting for the next orders of his superiors.
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Aug 6, 2016 15:52:43 GMT
There were things that could be far more saddening, even as he died. This wasn't the first time, so Cut-Up's worn body was used to such heavy damage. His thoughts drifted as he regretted one fact: if Tarn was going to be his new commander, that meant several things: number one was going to be sarcastic comments directed at Tarn weren't going to be tolerated. Number two was he'd have to get accustomed to his new family: Kaon, Tesarus, Helex, and maybe that little annoying femme-nanny. Her name slipped his mind. Whatever her deal was, she was aggravating.
Cut-Up's vision was almost completely blackened, as he was hoisted over Tarns shoulder. Hmm mph. Guess this Vos thing is for real. Thanks for the hug buster, means a lot. To the extent where I know I'm not gonna friggin' die yet. Cut-Up withheld the comment. He was back on the leash, though it wasn't going to be a tight one. He'd get some new privileges, sure enough. Cut-Up held onto his axe with a death grip, scowling behind his mask as other thoughts haunted him. The pain was crippling, and yet distant. Tarn's voice was heard, but Cut-Up didn't bother responding. Might as well not risking any sly comments from coming out of his mouth. he didn't need to test his luck any further.
But he'd discovered why he was truly angry within this moment. Why he was scared. It was Cataract. Never in all his days had someone played around with his mind, seen through him--it'd been a nightmare, to be told he was predictable, and to feel.....understanding for the Autobot in his spark. To feel sympathy, to feel like he could maybe find a friend. No, he wouldn't lower himself to that level. By becoming Vos, he would prove to her that his so called useless fighting skills were good. He'd tear through Autobot and ex-decepticon alike, he'd burn a path of fire--he'd evolve into something else. He was bred for war. The glory of future battles and new experiences awaited him.
Or was that what the DJD wanted him to become? Cut-Up caught himself, as he examined the situation. Tarn didn't know precisely what was going on inside him, but he would quickly become a pawn at this pace. He needed to think past these emotions. He needed to think bigger, see the bigger picture. Cut-Up's line of thought slowly slipped away; he was forced into a rest.
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Tarn
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Post by Tarn on Aug 7, 2016 21:38:24 GMT
[ Vos yo were just gonna skip to the command center. i dont want to waste a post just for going into the groundbridge >.> ( oh and we need to finish this up. ) ]
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Vos
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Post by Vos on Aug 8, 2016 0:14:56 GMT
((Alright Tarn . I'll get a position gon the other thread then. ))
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