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Post by CS-Stormgear on May 18, 2015 16:10:55 GMT
Many things swam about Slapshot's helm, thinking as to what she was doing. He took a step back, his wheels revving a bit. Slapshot was twice the size of Stormgear, with twice the amount of arms. He showed this, plates on his torso shifting as two arms slowly protruded from his torso, proceeding to crack his knuckles in challenge. If she got out, she wouldn't get far. He wondered what she had done to be thrown in here, but he shooed this thought away. He fought, he didn't think. Stormgear merely stood back from the field, looking at the force field from afar. She then curled up and pretended to sleep, seeing if the mech would go away. If he didn't- well- he'd have to face the consequences. AKA, being shocked to the point of losing consciousness. Anyone behind the cell doors would be spared, but would see a blinding light.
Looking at her torso, she noticed it was bleeding again. But she had to put that aside, What was most important was getting out of the damn cell. she hated being cooped up like a little bird.
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 18, 2015 16:26:54 GMT
Uh-oh. Now she was pretending to be asleep, after touching the field. Slapshot formed shields on each of his arms, preparing to shield himself at a moment's notice. Her behavior was troubling, so the vehicon watched her closely, making sure he didn't make a single mistake that may cost him. Of course, some mistakes are not intentional.
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Post by CS-Stormgear on May 18, 2015 17:22:51 GMT
Stormgear began to squirm a little bit, a bit antsy and annoyed with the trooper. Why wouldn't he go away. For primus's sake, she wasn't eventful- nor humoring. Even Stormgear felt herself grow a bit impatient, and better yet, a bit cranky. Stormgear turned onto her other side, which she pulled herself into a sitting position.
"Gooo Awayyyy" She said in a very annoyed way, acting somewhat her age. "Why are you attemping to humor yourself, I can't take a bloody nap because of you!"
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 18, 2015 18:39:01 GMT
Cawn-trary ta populah belief, I'm nawt a fool.
Slapfoot kept his shields up, just in case. He felt awkward, his voice not having been used in so long. And not to mention it was a full sentence. Well, the only constant is change.
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Post by CS-Stormgear on May 18, 2015 19:26:46 GMT
Cawn-trary ta populah belief, I'm nawt a fool.Slapfoot kept his shields up, just in case. He felt awkward, his voice not having been used in so long. And not to mention it was a full sentence. Well, the only constant is change. "You sure soundddd like oneee! Primus, how long will it take for you to notice that I'm in a cell. Going nowhere, see!"
Stormgear brought herself to her peds and trotted over to the force field wall, which she knocked on it. The electricity pounced onto her knuckle, which she jumped back. 'oh ya, forgot he turned on the electric.'. "Primus, shoo off! Ugh, you fraggin' vehicons.. So simple minded and annoying.."
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 18, 2015 19:48:51 GMT
Slapfoot shook his head, tapping a few things on a keypad. The electricity looked to have stopped, instead giving a painfully hot jolt of heat if they touched the shield. Slapfoot whistled for another vehicon to come, which he did. After a few hand signals, the vehicon took the keypad, typing something on it. Now the cell would adapt to what happened, should an abnormal energy source surface, it would create an anti-energy to counter it, causing the effect to backfire. Slapfoot couldn't do his, his tech skills weren't good enough. Which is why he called the vehicon.
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Post by Krovennan (Quaketread) on May 18, 2015 20:19:10 GMT
ignoring the goings on with Stormgear, Quaketread turned to Black Sun. For a 40 foot tankformer, he seemed easily forgotten by those arrogant seekers, as Starscream implicated himself in the plan right in front of him, with an added little threat to Quaketread's victory from the prime idiot of the three, Skywarp.
"Now. Since we're finally alone for this important Intel you wanted me to see. Place it in the deposit box by the field. Try anything, and I'll activate the cell's sterilisation program. I don't fancy your chances of surviving that."
Quaketread typed a code into the cell panel, a small panel opening up at the side of the cell entrance. Big enough for Black Sun to place the recorder inside easily. Quaketread was going to investigate these accusations of High Treason. If they were true, then Black Sun's fate may be changed. If not, it would make the execution all the sweeter.
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Post by CS-Stormgear on May 18, 2015 20:32:06 GMT
Stormgear
Stormgear quite a few unhappy words, which she silently turned away and sat in the corner. All she had to do was wait this jerk out, which then she'd plot. 'Those regulators have time intervals..' She thought. 'It's not the first time they tried to stop me.. Oh Sky, what would you do..'
Black Sun
Black Sun was kinda ammused by Quaketread's methods, which she kinda wished he'd open the field. But that was unspeakable. What was she going to do? Run? Taking the hearing device, she placed it into the slot Quake spoke of.
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 18, 2015 21:30:53 GMT
Slapshot stayed vigilant. Programmed to give up not whn thought to, but when told to, Slapshot eyed Stormgear, his extra arms slinking back. She wouldn't get out. Not on his guard.
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Post by CallMeAst♥ on May 19, 2015 11:20:12 GMT
Stormgear wasn't one to give up herself, hence she staid in her cured up position. There was one thing this vehicon had, and it was the nerve. He was making her angry. 'He'll go away, after I sleep..' she thought. I haven't blinked for a few days...'. Sure enough, after those thoughts, Stormgear was in a shallow sleep.
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Skywarp
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Seeker
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Gender: Male
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Post by Skywarp on May 19, 2015 14:12:15 GMT
Skywarp dumped Cut-Up into a cell, turning on the shield. He looked to Stormgear, grinning. Two catches in one day. Hell yeah. He walked off, Primus knows where, to do Primus knows what, though it likely included tripping a vehicon.
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Post by Taggon on May 19, 2015 14:57:19 GMT
Clank.
Cut-Up felt his body hit the stone cold floor, and a the vibrations of a shield being generated behind him. he was in a cell alight. The twenty six foot seeker vehicon remained still, letting his optics soak up his surroundings through a limp form. He slowly felt himself; Status? he had no cuffs, no bonds of any kind, and was holding still optionally. Every system of his was perfectly functional. He was still ready for full-on combat, his spark still hummed within him, encouraging him, to get up. To rise. Cut-Up rotated his helm so that it faced the floor, dragging his arms on the floor with a tired performance as he planted both knuckles into the iron-hard surface, shoving his body up slowly like on did a push-up, before one of his legs shifted into position, planting itself;f on the floor before he rose up to full height. The vehicon was an unusually designed one, with all his armor edges or ends being razor sharp, his body holding more commando-like features, lastly his body was riddled with scars painted over by a distinct dim yellow.
The majority of his color scheme was a dark grey, which gleamed dimly, reflecting a portion of the prison light's beams back at the ceiling. Cut-Up knew where he was, and why he was here. His seeker wings did not budge at all while he looked around the area, spotting a few cells across from his. The shield was practically transparent, which was a good trick to use on the bare optics. Cut-Up's wings continued to lifelessly hold their position, unlike the seekers, his wings never moved with his emotions, instead they were doomed to be suspended in the exact same location his entire existence, unless they were torn off.
With his yellow visor, Cut-Up spotted three prisoners; there was that little teenage-like girl Stormgear, a strange looking white Autobot who had a chassis that seemed to hint he originated from Praxus. His door wings. They way they moved. He was a Praxian for sure. Lastly was Black sun. So she had gotten caught after all. Cut-Up almost wanted to sneer at himself, So much for all that effort tough guy. It was the fact that he had sacrificed his position int he Decepticons so that she wouldn't get captured that made him frown. So much for that. What had he been thinking? Or more like it, had he been thinking at all? Cut-Up replayed the scene of him letting black Sun go in his mind. Nope, he had not been thinking through that one. Well, it felt like he had, and he had known, but he sure hadn't acknowledged the consequences. So now he was in prison, where he had wanted to be for a little while. He was on the ship, and he was doomed--so--that meant if he was naughty things couldn't get much worse. Cut-Up continued to eye his surroundings, looking at the guards. They seemed fairly equipped...
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Post by Krovennan (Quaketread) on May 19, 2015 22:45:50 GMT
Quaketread closed the deposit box, opening it on the other side and taking the device. Analyzing the recording device with his internal scanners, he felt a faint, familiar signal coming from it. Rolling it in his hand, he inspected the device visually.
"So, this is the source of the signal that allowed me to find you. Probably tied in to broadcast whenever it is activated. Looks like a little light listening is what got you in this predicament after all."
Quaketread stopped inspecting the device, finding the playback button and depressing it with the edge of his thumb, his large hands made manipulating smaller devices difficult, but he managed basic controls with more subtle gestures.
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 20, 2015 0:00:14 GMT
Jagged design, unique helm. A foot taller than the mold. No.... Couldn't be... But it was. The scanners said he had his weapons. Slapfoot deactivated Cut-Up's shield, and stepped in, his khopesh forming. Slapfoot pointed a digit at it, saying for him to cough up his weapons. Even if he didn't understand him, Spapfoot knew his slight telepathic prowess might be able to pick up the message. Slapfoot took a deep vent, as if about to do something exhausting.
Why?
A simple word. Yet a powerful one. Why was he here? Why had he done what he did? Why had he not put up a fight? For those who knew Slapfoot, a word meant extreme circumstances. Either someone was about to die, already had, or something dramatic had happened.
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Post by Taggon on May 20, 2015 13:21:09 GMT
Cut-Up was indeed semi-telepathic, and if he listened, he could hear peoples' thoughts. He really didn't bother most of the time, since he found the thought of him reading what people thinking disturbing. Plus, once he listened hard enough to hear them, their voices would just get louder, and louder, and louder.... Cut-Up remembered when he clutched his head throbbing helm once, he had listened for too long, and his listening had branched off into not one mind, but another, then another, then another. He owed perhaps his sanity to his cousin, who had smacked him in the back of the helm hard enough for Cut-Up to be knocked out. When he had woken up, Cut-Up had decided on to not endeavor to keen his audios to that degree ever again.
Slap foot stood before him now though, and listening or not, Cut-Up didn't need telepathy to know that Slapfoot was full of sorrow at Cut-Up for winding up here. Cut-up wanted to duck his helm in shame, but he just clenched his dentals and fists at what Slapfoot asked him to do with his hands: Cut-up was to cuff himself. Cut-Up even thought to going as far as hitting Slapfoot hard in the gut right now. he didn't know why, but the sight of this sad mech made Cut-Up angry at someone, and hence he needed a punching bag. Or something to destroy. Some kind of scape goat. Cut-Up found himself looking for such a thing for a full two seconds, his mind racing for an accusation or reason to mince someone before he concluded there was no such logical answer. Cut-Up inhaled sharply, his yellow visor meeting Slapfoot's head on.
"Because of this Primus forsaken war Slapfoot." Cut-Up almost spat out, still partially angered, "Because I made a single mistake in a dark place. War gives no grace. You know that."
Cut-Up stated with more control over himself. He did not let his servos be cuffed though. he stiffened them, and kept them clenched. Splayfoot knew that no vehicon went down without a fight. it was the sight of Slapfoot that made Cut-Up sad though. it made him want to just give up now, ask to be reprogrammed and start over. Slap foot was an old friend. he was someone who Cut-Up had been able to lean on before, someone Cut-Up had trusted with his life. He remembered countless missions were he and Slapfoot did muscle work together, and than critiqued each other's tactics. It was just plain depressing to find out the mech was still alive, and here to give Cut-Up the guilt-look-of-no return.
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 20, 2015 16:50:14 GMT
Slapfoot nodded. He did know that. Most former comrades would hate Cut-Up, call him a traitor. But not Slapfoot. He didn't think like that. Slapfoot waited for Cur-Up to lay down his weapons, knowing well that his friend had them. To fight. That was their purpose. Yet something deep within Slapfoot wished to help his friend. But he couldn't. War gave no grace, gave no chance at peace. It only took it. So Slapfoot tapped his insignia, thinking a single word again and again. Redemtion.
Slapfoot could not help fix such issues, but he gave the only solution he was programmed to give. And with that, he bows his head, closing his optics. Perhaps, some time in the future, things would look up.
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Post by Taggon on May 21, 2015 0:00:16 GMT
Cut-Up didn't know what to say to this mech, but he knew no words would do much now. Cut-Up continued to hold his ground though, stubbornly facing the former friend before him. He gave a small reach with his mind, caressing the thoughts of the mech, Cut-Up's feedback understanding and more sorrow. Slap-foot knew his duty, and so did Cut-Up. Or he had used to. Cut-Up was now faced with little to no objectives. Black Sun was engaged in a conversation, as he listened, that was had her existence at stake. Stormgear was just wresting in her cell. The Praxian was cluelessly standing in his cell, raised by something. Cut-Up didn't touch ny of their minds, but he heard them talking or breathing. The twenty six foot vehicon sighed, coming to one conclusion; He had more than one person to get out of this dilemma, Slap-foot included. Cut-Up reluctantly unsheathed four of his larger throwing axes, a grenade, two explosive hatchets, and lastly some ammunition clips for for his Flack cannons. Cut-Up folded his arms afterward. He hadn't had many resources to replenish his inventory ever since leaving the Decepticons, so Slap foot was being given all the weapons Cut-Up could pile together for the meantime.
Cut-Up had indeed given the mech a good portion of what would have been his normal inventory, but Cut-Up had been short of resources--Slapfoot could have still been suspicious of more weapons, but Cut-Up simply lifted his fore-arm, and unfolded an empty compartment where he usually kept excess explosives. Cut-Up shrugged at him. Cut-Up kept his line of thinking clear of some particular other things, such as some of his emotions and such, but over all he maintained a calm standing.
"Just take what I gave you. Then please do us both a favor and get out of my line of sight. I don't like looking at you when you're my enemy, and neither do you. Just leave me here for judgement to pass." Cut-Up mumbled a bit loudly. He genuinely hated the situation he was in with all of his spark, having to betray friends and everything he had once had--he was not of them, so he had already betrayed them in that sense. What mighty brotherhood had been shattered.
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Slapfoot
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Vehicon
Posts: 164
Likes: 11
Gender: Male
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Post by Slapfoot on May 21, 2015 23:49:17 GMT
Slapfoot nodded. The first thing coming to mind, "How the mighty had fallen." But Slapfoot swatted that down quickly. Cut-Up had not fallen, he had just... Gone astray. Yes. Slapfoot kept telling himself that. The vehicon picked up the weapons, and quickly subspaced them. He'd learned how to do that from Cut-Up himself, and it was a useful trick at times. He stepped back, before extending his left extra arm, and closing both servos into a fist, placing them both n his chest in a well known sign of respect, yet with his own twist to it, then he walked away, keeping an eye on Jazz and Stormgear.
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Post by Taggon on May 23, 2015 14:30:00 GMT
((*considers piping up about something, stops* Okay, welp, I guess I'm gonna start breaking out tonight.))
Cut-Up just kept his visor to the ground, not at all interested in looking upwards to face the mech as he backed away. But behind his mask, Cut-Up just grinned. He listened. Nothing was going on, and he didn't hear the sounds of what he thought he would. No. It was just silent in that particular area, he did not hear the click of the machine, he did not hear the particular sound he thought he would hear. Was it mercy? Was it a second chance? Was it a mistake on behalf of his brother? Maybe. Cut-Up listened hard enough so that he just caressed the mind of his compared, Cut-Up sensed sorrow still, but he did not feel the kind of feeling he would have if there had been grace intended in what Slapfoot had just done. Or in this case, what Slapfoot hand't done. Cut-Up was slightly baffled by it, or the fact that the vehicon believed Cut-Up was all out of weapons. While it was true Cut-Upo only had so many, when he did carry weapons he carried arsenals at a time. No exceptions when he armed himself. He had given two explosive axes, but he still had a few more, plus he still had his large axe, some extra ammunition for his buckshots in his subspace, his long axe, his Chaos Rifter, his normal sized-axes which could chop through limbs, and a few other nifty little tools. Oh yeah. He had his grappling blades too.
Perhaps after today Slapfoot would recall that Cut-Up never packed light. He had given Slapfoot a decent chunk of his arsenal, but he had not given Slapfoot everything. On the bright side, Cut-Up wasn't tagged, who had practically any weapon concealed somewhere on his body. Taggon had about sixty or so knives on him, all ready for combat. Cut-Up? axes, hatchets, and tomahawks were harder to conceal, so Cut-Up hid less, but still used quite a bit of them. Now, as Cut-Up lifted his helm, his optics instantly addressed the matter and mistake which Slapfoot had so unfortunately committed. It was almost sad, but the mech had forgotten to close the plasma shield behind him. It was something that Cut-Up was surprised to see, even if he had heard nothing and hypothesized that Slapfoot hadn't done so. But to cross the line? To leap across and begin to wreck havoc on the entire brig and bring shame and dishonor to Slapfoot? Cut-Up almost hesitated. Slap foot would be in trouble with high-command for making such a mistake. But Cut-Up wanted to wreck havoc. He had used his previous sentence to fool the mech in the first place, save for the first part. Cut-Up had hoped the mech would have moved off to the Bridge....but no. No one listened these darn days.
So Cut-Up would just have to destroy everything now. He would just have to destroy the cameras so that Slapfoot would get no proof against him, and he would have to obliterate everything, every cell, every single little laser turret. or better yet. The power! Yes, that was it. He could make it so the brig wouldn't shut up entirely if he ousted the power. But where was it...Cut-Up kept his visor angled forwards, but out of the corner of his vision the mech spotted the small box which had a red knob atop it. Power lines went in and out of it. That'll do. Cut-Up grinned behind his helmet. So Cut-Up took a step out of his cell. He took a fast leap, crossing the line, since there was no plasma shield put back up, sliding his servos to his belt where there was just a plain old hilt waiting to be used. As Cut-Up grasped it, the hilt extended into a much longer rod, and out of the top of the rod, came a long blade. It was a large tomahawk, a class of weapon Cut-Up used especially for cutting through tough things from long distances. So he launched the weapon, the axe hurtling for the power line. The blade spun vertically, twisting in the air from such to horizontally, until the axe's razor sharp blade penetrated and severed the power lines. Instantaneously, the list went out. While the cameras would be depleted of their power source, and the large thick door would be unable to clamp down now, the plasma fields would still be powered by the generator, and half the auto-turrets would be offlined. The lights? Mostly offlined, making the room very dim now.
As for Cut-Up?
"PRISON BREEAAAK!"
((Everyone feel free to poor on in here. I don't care if this works or if it doesn't. ))
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Post by CS-Stormgear on May 23, 2015 15:06:32 GMT
"PRISON BREEAAAK!"
Stormgear's helm popped up at the voice of a vehicon, which she turned her helm at the of Cut-up... outside his cell. Stormgear's optics grew wide at the site, hence looking at her own forcefield. The barrier's special layer had recided, hence providing her whatever else she needed. So, in reaction, Stormgear stood up, and ran directly at the field. Then, when others would think she'd hit it, Stormgear manifested a magenta portal in front of her and dove through it. Stormgear landed on the floor outside of her cell, instantly switching abilities to her electricity. Her servo would pulse with the charges, her faceplate holding a smirk. Obviously, she was happy to not be in a cage- despite being in for such a short time.
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