Roleplay

762

August 05, 2014 15:31:17

@Tracks
@Icestar
((I should try writing the next part! I'm so afraid I'm going to mess up and write you guys' characters badly, but I'll still give it a shot!))

Nonpareil casually looked around at the houses, following Creme as she got closer to one in particular. She seemed to know where she was going, so he decided to just let the femme take the lead. "So, any idea what we're looking for? I was just told that it's a thing, which really wasn't that helpful." He attempted to make conversation, even though Creme was clearly trying to be discreet.

Not a moment later, and the sound of gunshots rang through the air. "Wha-" He shouted incoherently and struggled a bit when Creme pulled him out of the open, but he shut himself up quickly enough. There really are Decepticons here? He just made it up, he didn't actually think the 'cons had already sent someone! ...Well, at least I won't have to explain why there are no Decepticons when I said there would be. I guess even a 'con is good for something.

Indeed, the more he thought about it, the better the situation was! Okay, no, it wasn't really that much better, since Shuttershock was on the ground and looking positively crushed. Still, Nonpareil would get the fight that he came for. He turned to Creme, clearly thrilled that he'd have something to occupy his time with. "So ma'am, do you have a plan? 'Cause my plan is to just go in there with guns blazing and shoot the fragger who shot at us first. Any objections?"

@Icestar
@Tesarus

((You totally should! And don't worry about "messing up our characters" [as if you could mess up], I love seeing how others interpret/write my characters!

Also good on you two for picking up on the references. Yeah, that was Mayday and Bourbon the cat. [There's a little Easter egg for you. Tradewind/Chanti's cat is named Bourbon.]))

Primus... That guy got totally brutalized. Those were kinda just potshots... I didn't even get to check windspeed or direction. Despite his modesty, a smile spread across Bruteberry's features. The thought that he got first blood sent even more impulses to his judgement center, telling him to kill. Kill more. Kill faster. "Did you see that, cat? I shot at that guy and BAM!- right to the ground he goes. I'd be willing to bet that he's dead already. I mean, two headshots. No one bounces back from that!"

"Miaow." The cat licked its paw and began to groom its ears.

"Fine, be that way. Just stay put, not all of them are dead yet. And I think they're a little angry at me." His smile got wider and his holographic targeting visor spread across his optics. "Oh no, an Autobot is mad at me. However will I survive?" A simple flick of a switch, and his assault rifle was now on full automatic. Time to see how many Autobots I can kill with two clips of rounds. Now he only steadied himself on the cat's back, for a gun on full automatic had a lot more variation in its laser spray than single shots.

Who to target next? Hm... Eenie, meenie, miney, YOU. The sprinkle-y one looked fun. To be quite honest, the sharpshooter had little choice. The doughnut was the one who would be easiest to hit from cover. The only question was how this Autobot reacted to another teammate being downed. Was this one the type to lose morale and run away, or did this one get angry? "Let's get you angry anyway. Dance."

Bruteberry squeezed the trigger for a few seconds, letting laser rounds pepper the ground around the doughnut's pedes. Slowly, he was working on forcing him out of cover. Slow, because if the Autobot noticed too quickly, they were more likely to retaliate. And they might hit the cat if they can't see me... Which I... uh, don't care about at all. Let them hurt the cat. S-Sure.

Tracks

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August 05, 2014 22:50:46

@Icestar
@Tesarus

((You totally should! And don't worry about "messing up our characters" [as if you could mess up], I love seeing how others interpret/write my characters!

Also good on you two for picking up on the references. Yeah, that was Mayday and Bourbon the cat. [There's a little Easter egg for you. Tradewind/Chanti's cat is named Bourbon.]))

Primus... That guy got totally brutalized. Those were kinda just potshots... I didn't even get to check windspeed or direction. Despite his modesty, a smile spread across Bruteberry's features. The thought that he got first blood sent even more impulses to his judgement center, telling him to kill. Kill more. Kill faster. "Did you see that, cat? I shot at that guy and BAM!- right to the ground he goes. I'd be willing to bet that he's dead already. I mean, two headshots. No one bounces back from that!"

"Miaow." The cat licked its paw and began to groom its ears.

"Fine, be that way. Just stay put, not all of them are dead yet. And I think they're a little angry at me." His smile got wider and his holographic targeting visor spread across his optics. "Oh no, an Autobot is mad at me. However will I survive?" A simple flick of a switch, and his assault rifle was now on full automatic. Time to see how many Autobots I can kill with two clips of rounds. Now he only steadied himself on the cat's back, for a gun on full automatic had a lot more variation in its laser spray than single shots.

Who to target next? Hm... Eenie, meenie, miney, YOU. The sprinkle-y one looked fun. To be quite honest, the sharpshooter had little choice. The doughnut was the one who would be easiest to hit from cover. The only question was how this Autobot reacted to another teammate being downed. Was this one the type to lose morale and run away, or did this one get angry? "Let's get you angry anyway. Dance."

Bruteberry squeezed the trigger for a few seconds, letting laser rounds pepper the ground around the doughnut's pedes. Slowly, he was working on forcing him out of cover. Slow, because if the Autobot noticed too quickly, they were more likely to retaliate. And they might hit the cat if they can't see me... Which I... uh, don't care about at all. Let them hurt the cat. S-Sure.

@Tracks
@Icestar
((Speaking of the humanformers AU, I'm writing the next bit! I'll have it posted as soon as I finish.))

If the oreo had a plan, Nonpareil didn't get a chance to hear it. The ground around him came to life with gunfire, and he was forced away from his position, cursing like a sailor when one of the shots grazed his pede. "Oh, you wanna dance, 'con? Fine, have it your way." He growled to himself.

Nonpareil was not a patient bot, and he wasn't going to wait around to see if little miss oreo could save the situation. No, the only way out of this was brute force. He kept away from the spray of laser fire as best he could, just waiting for the right moment to blow up that fragging Decepticon and anything in the area around it.

Only too late did he notice he was out in the open again. Swearing again, he quickly grabbed for one of the round sprinkles dangling off his side, then pulled out the pin. "Hope you like the taste of grenades, Decepticon!" He laughed, before lobbing the tiny object with as much force as he could in the enemy's general direction.

osteoh

762

August 08, 2014 18:49:48

@Tracks
@Icestar
((Speaking of the humanformers AU, I'm writing the next bit! I'll have it posted as soon as I finish.))

If the oreo had a plan, Nonpareil didn't get a chance to hear it. The ground around him came to life with gunfire, and he was forced away from his position, cursing like a sailor when one of the shots grazed his pede. "Oh, you wanna dance, 'con? Fine, have it your way." He growled to himself.

Nonpareil was not a patient bot, and he wasn't going to wait around to see if little miss oreo could save the situation. No, the only way out of this was brute force. He kept away from the spray of laser fire as best he could, just waiting for the right moment to blow up that fragging Decepticon and anything in the area around it.

Only too late did he notice he was out in the open again. Swearing again, he quickly grabbed for one of the round sprinkles dangling off his side, then pulled out the pin. "Hope you like the taste of grenades, Decepticon!" He laughed, before lobbing the tiny object with as much force as he could in the enemy's general direction.

@Tracks
@Tesarus

( yay ^3^ cant wait~)

Creme did what she could to hunker down into the cover while Nonpareil was chased out into firing line. "keep me covered, we need to get Shutterstock to safety!" she yelled.

the odd group member was pulling off a tiny grenade. when she saw that, she went for it, diving into the open and transforming to roll her way to where her partner lay still on the ground. at least he didnt weigh too much, as she grabbed him by an arm and started to drag him with all her might. they werent too far from cover, but they definitely had a situation. without the camera-bot, they were down a third botpower and a pair of hands.

she heard him give a small groan. it was pitiful to say the least, but at least he was alive.

for now...

Icestar

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August 08, 2014 19:28:40

@Tracks
@Tesarus

( yay ^3^ cant wait~)

Creme did what she could to hunker down into the cover while Nonpareil was chased out into firing line. "keep me covered, we need to get Shutterstock to safety!" she yelled.

the odd group member was pulling off a tiny grenade. when she saw that, she went for it, diving into the open and transforming to roll her way to where her partner lay still on the ground. at least he didnt weigh too much, as she grabbed him by an arm and started to drag him with all her might. they werent too far from cover, but they definitely had a situation. without the camera-bot, they were down a third botpower and a pair of hands.

she heard him give a small groan. it was pitiful to say the least, but at least he was alive.

for now...

Tis a Dragon at Heart.

@Icestar
@Tesarus

((YEAH HOLLA))

It had been too easy. These Autobots were basically asking to get shot. The doughnut one, who clearly wasn't their science buff or anything else particularly intelligent, had been so focused on being angry and trying to appear intimidating that they hadn't even noticed that they had been forced from cover until it was too late. For some reason, this seemed to make the Autobot even angrier. Shouldn't they be used to their own idiocy by now? Bruteberry wondered.

The pastry seemed to be fumbling with something, and Bruteberry decided to take his chance. He lined the rifle's sights up with the Autobot's chestplate, waited for the targeting information from the holographic readout, and squeezed the trigger in a longer burst than he had before. There. That should rip through that idiot like paper. The mercenary took a moment to be disappointed. He had fought Autobots before, and he had thought they were more of a challenge than these. Maybe the 'Bots are getting desperate, and scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Meanwhile, he had taken his optics off of the doughnut. He was only assuming that the bot was dead, and hadn't planned on retaliation. A grievous oversight on his part. He noticed the grenade sailing through the air without enough time to detonate it before it got to him. Technically, it blew up when it hit the window, but the force of the explosion was enough to break the window pane and send Bruteberry flying backwards into the opposite wall of the window seat. His gun was lost, that much was certain. It had flown out of his hand and had almost definitely been irreparably damaged either from the grenade or the collision with the floor. The sharpshooter himself was knocked silly. The back of his helm (along with everything else) had had quite a sharp collision with the wall.

He couldn't move his right arm, his dominant arm. "My shooting arm... Ngh, there's something stuck- OW!" A shard of glass about the size of his hand was wedged horizontally in the joint. If removed, the wound would reach all the way from his clavicular plating all the way to his mid-upper arm. The cat, spooked but unhurt, had taken refuge on the floor in the corner. Summoning what must have been most of its courage, the feline reached its head up and gently picked up the damaged mercenary. "What a-are you doing? Stupid cat, should ha-have left me there. ...Try not to get any energon in your mouth. Organic bodies don't agree with it."

The explosion had summoned the human house owner, who began to shout angrily when he saw the damaged window seat and broken pane of glass.

Tracks

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August 09, 2014 12:35:21

@Icestar
@Tesarus

((YEAH HOLLA))

It had been too easy. These Autobots were basically asking to get shot. The doughnut one, who clearly wasn't their science buff or anything else particularly intelligent, had been so focused on being angry and trying to appear intimidating that they hadn't even noticed that they had been forced from cover until it was too late. For some reason, this seemed to make the Autobot even angrier. Shouldn't they be used to their own idiocy by now? Bruteberry wondered.

The pastry seemed to be fumbling with something, and Bruteberry decided to take his chance. He lined the rifle's sights up with the Autobot's chestplate, waited for the targeting information from the holographic readout, and squeezed the trigger in a longer burst than he had before. There. That should rip through that idiot like paper. The mercenary took a moment to be disappointed. He had fought Autobots before, and he had thought they were more of a challenge than these. Maybe the 'Bots are getting desperate, and scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Meanwhile, he had taken his optics off of the doughnut. He was only assuming that the bot was dead, and hadn't planned on retaliation. A grievous oversight on his part. He noticed the grenade sailing through the air without enough time to detonate it before it got to him. Technically, it blew up when it hit the window, but the force of the explosion was enough to break the window pane and send Bruteberry flying backwards into the opposite wall of the window seat. His gun was lost, that much was certain. It had flown out of his hand and had almost definitely been irreparably damaged either from the grenade or the collision with the floor. The sharpshooter himself was knocked silly. The back of his helm (along with everything else) had had quite a sharp collision with the wall.

He couldn't move his right arm, his dominant arm. "My shooting arm... Ngh, there's something stuck- OW!" A shard of glass about the size of his hand was wedged horizontally in the joint. If removed, the wound would reach all the way from his clavicular plating all the way to his mid-upper arm. The cat, spooked but unhurt, had taken refuge on the floor in the corner. Summoning what must have been most of its courage, the feline reached its head up and gently picked up the damaged mercenary. "What a-are you doing? Stupid cat, should ha-have left me there. ...Try not to get any energon in your mouth. Organic bodies don't agree with it."

The explosion had summoned the human house owner, who began to shout angrily when he saw the damaged window seat and broken pane of glass.

@Tracks
@Icestar

Nonpareil's sense of satisfaction lasted for less than a second- he didn't even get to see if his grenade found its mark before a burning pain erupted in his chest and a cry tore itself from his vocalizer. He crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at the fancy new hole that had just been shot through his chestplates. He lay there for a moment, trying not to scream, before clenching his teeth and rolling a little bit to try and get a better look at his wound.

Well, to say the least, he was still alive. Judging by the soft blue glow of his partially-exposed spark chamber, he was very lucky to be that way. Nonpareil curled up a little more and tried not to cry, though he shook slightly with the effort it took. This was... probably the most pain he'd ever been in. Sure, he'd had limbs shot off before, but somehow, this was just so much worse. Distantly, he thought he heard yelling.

No. Enough of this. I'm not dying, I'm fine. The Wreckers had probably all had worse. Nonpareil wasn't going to whine about a little injury like this! It's time to bite the bullet and stand up. He forced himself to his feet, and though he swayed slightly, he didn't fall. He kept one hand to the hole in his chest and blearily looked around for his teammates. Judging from the fact he wasn't being shot at, his grenade had done the job. Thank Primus for small miracles, I guess.

It took a moment, but he spotted the femme. She had gotten Shuttershock out of the open, which was probably good, but it meant Nonpareil had to walk a little farther. He attempted to wave to get her attention, but the motion was rather listless. As he walked, he noticed the source of the yelling; some human was upset about the window. Belatedly, Nonpareil remembered that the mission was an undercover one. Whatever. The human can deal with his broken window. I'm not dead, and that's what counts. Being alive is way more important than being undercover.

osteoh

762

August 11, 2014 16:09:27

@Tracks
@Icestar

Nonpareil's sense of satisfaction lasted for less than a second- he didn't even get to see if his grenade found its mark before a burning pain erupted in his chest and a cry tore itself from his vocalizer. He crumpled to the ground, hands clutching at the fancy new hole that had just been shot through his chestplates. He lay there for a moment, trying not to scream, before clenching his teeth and rolling a little bit to try and get a better look at his wound.

Well, to say the least, he was still alive. Judging by the soft blue glow of his partially-exposed spark chamber, he was very lucky to be that way. Nonpareil curled up a little more and tried not to cry, though he shook slightly with the effort it took. This was... probably the most pain he'd ever been in. Sure, he'd had limbs shot off before, but somehow, this was just so much worse. Distantly, he thought he heard yelling.

No. Enough of this. I'm not dying, I'm fine. The Wreckers had probably all had worse. Nonpareil wasn't going to whine about a little injury like this! It's time to bite the bullet and stand up. He forced himself to his feet, and though he swayed slightly, he didn't fall. He kept one hand to the hole in his chest and blearily looked around for his teammates. Judging from the fact he wasn't being shot at, his grenade had done the job. Thank Primus for small miracles, I guess.

It took a moment, but he spotted the femme. She had gotten Shuttershock out of the open, which was probably good, but it meant Nonpareil had to walk a little farther. He attempted to wave to get her attention, but the motion was rather listless. As he walked, he noticed the source of the yelling; some human was upset about the window. Belatedly, Nonpareil remembered that the mission was an undercover one. Whatever. The human can deal with his broken window. I'm not dead, and that's what counts. Being alive is way more important than being undercover.

@Tracks
@Tesarus

Creme turned to look at Nonpareil when she heard his cry. am i the only one here thats on their feet? she thought hastily as she pulled Shutterstock to cover as fast as she could, hearing the human yelling. surely he would be looking for the culprit.

said culprit was currently getting onto his feet and staggering her way. "stay!" she yelled through her commlink at him. it wasnt hard to see the soft glow of his spark chamber in the wound. "ill be there in a little bit."

and she was. no matter what her partner would argue, she looked into the hole on his chestplate to assess the damage. "grazed, but i dont see anything..." she straightened as she looked at Nonpareil. "think you can get in the house at least? you and Shutterstock need to take a rest. and Shutterstock, is not going to be getting up." she then said firmly as she looked at him. "we need help. those bullets blinded him, if not grazed his processor! we need to see if he even wakes up..." she looked hurt. more than hurt. you could almost see something different in her optics. maybe they dulled in color, or their light altogether did. but it was quickly gone with a shake of the head.

"come on." she peered up, waiting for the houseowner to go somewhere else. "okay, now. lets hurry." she hefted half of Shutterstock under her arm -taking care of his wounds- then carefully moved under Nonpareil's arm to support him.

Icestar

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August 11, 2014 17:55:16

@Tracks
@Tesarus

Creme turned to look at Nonpareil when she heard his cry. am i the only one here thats on their feet? she thought hastily as she pulled Shutterstock to cover as fast as she could, hearing the human yelling. surely he would be looking for the culprit.

said culprit was currently getting onto his feet and staggering her way. "stay!" she yelled through her commlink at him. it wasnt hard to see the soft glow of his spark chamber in the wound. "ill be there in a little bit."

and she was. no matter what her partner would argue, she looked into the hole on his chestplate to assess the damage. "grazed, but i dont see anything..." she straightened as she looked at Nonpareil. "think you can get in the house at least? you and Shutterstock need to take a rest. and Shutterstock, is not going to be getting up." she then said firmly as she looked at him. "we need help. those bullets blinded him, if not grazed his processor! we need to see if he even wakes up..." she looked hurt. more than hurt. you could almost see something different in her optics. maybe they dulled in color, or their light altogether did. but it was quickly gone with a shake of the head.

"come on." she peered up, waiting for the houseowner to go somewhere else. "okay, now. lets hurry." she hefted half of Shutterstock under her arm -taking care of his wounds- then carefully moved under Nonpareil's arm to support him.

Tis a Dragon at Heart.

@Icestar
@Tesarus

((Hello yes i am here and i totally didn't get distracted by Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days at all ~~axel my babe~~))

The cat clearly had no ability to discern whether or not its passenger was at all comfortable. All it was doing was acting on instinct. Its instincts told it that the best course of action was to get itself and its tiny master/friend/kitten-surrogate/whatever away from the thing that scared it so. Bruteberry had figured all this merely from the haste with which the ginger tabby was moving. And also from how roughly he was being held. The cat wasn't very good at carrying him softly, and the sharpshooter wondered if the cat was doing more damage than was done to him by the Autobots.

The flow of energon from his wound couldn't be staved off with only his hand. In fact, without the ability to apply pressure more evenly around the shard of glass, what he was doing was basically useless. "And of course those Decepticons wouldn't have the foresight to give me a medic. As if slapping a field dressing on this will be enough for it to heal." He complained without an audience, knowing that what he just said was all he could do to keep enough energon in his frame for him to function.

The cat didn't want to draw attention to itself by jumping all the way onto the aquarium, and it instead took the tiny mercenary to the soft-yet-disgusting cat bed where it spent a majority of its time. It set him down in the middle and curled itself around him, still shaking. "Right," Bruteberry began with a baleful look at the broken window. "That could have gone much smoother. I halfway regret wishing for Autobots now. I forgot that they sometimes shoot back." In his opinion, the omission of that crucial fact was forgivable, since he was almost never involved in pitched battle. Well, this glass has to come out sooner or later. I'm not going to live with a gimpy shooting arm forever.

Seizing the glass and gritting his dentae, Bruteberry tugged on the sharp object, whimpering slightly as it seemed to bite further into his plating until it was ripped free, spattering energon on everything surrounding him. He could barely feel his arm, what he did feel just felt like it was being smelted down while it was still attached to him. The sharpshooter groaned and- feeling slightly lightheaded- sat down roughly. Not wanting to be caught off-guard again, a panel in his thigh slid down, revealing a standard-issue Enforcer pistol, which he brandished loosely in his left hand. "This'll show 'em what happens to bots who cross Bruteberry. And if they thought that what I did to 'em on the front walk was awful, they have no idea how creative I can get with a pistol."

Tracks

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August 15, 2014 21:33:42

@Icestar
@Tesarus

((Hello yes i am here and i totally didn't get distracted by Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days at all ~~axel my babe~~))

The cat clearly had no ability to discern whether or not its passenger was at all comfortable. All it was doing was acting on instinct. Its instincts told it that the best course of action was to get itself and its tiny master/friend/kitten-surrogate/whatever away from the thing that scared it so. Bruteberry had figured all this merely from the haste with which the ginger tabby was moving. And also from how roughly he was being held. The cat wasn't very good at carrying him softly, and the sharpshooter wondered if the cat was doing more damage than was done to him by the Autobots.

The flow of energon from his wound couldn't be staved off with only his hand. In fact, without the ability to apply pressure more evenly around the shard of glass, what he was doing was basically useless. "And of course those Decepticons wouldn't have the foresight to give me a medic. As if slapping a field dressing on this will be enough for it to heal." He complained without an audience, knowing that what he just said was all he could do to keep enough energon in his frame for him to function.

The cat didn't want to draw attention to itself by jumping all the way onto the aquarium, and it instead took the tiny mercenary to the soft-yet-disgusting cat bed where it spent a majority of its time. It set him down in the middle and curled itself around him, still shaking. "Right," Bruteberry began with a baleful look at the broken window. "That could have gone much smoother. I halfway regret wishing for Autobots now. I forgot that they sometimes shoot back." In his opinion, the omission of that crucial fact was forgivable, since he was almost never involved in pitched battle. Well, this glass has to come out sooner or later. I'm not going to live with a gimpy shooting arm forever.

Seizing the glass and gritting his dentae, Bruteberry tugged on the sharp object, whimpering slightly as it seemed to bite further into his plating until it was ripped free, spattering energon on everything surrounding him. He could barely feel his arm, what he did feel just felt like it was being smelted down while it was still attached to him. The sharpshooter groaned and- feeling slightly lightheaded- sat down roughly. Not wanting to be caught off-guard again, a panel in his thigh slid down, revealing a standard-issue Enforcer pistol, which he brandished loosely in his left hand. "This'll show 'em what happens to bots who cross Bruteberry. And if they thought that what I did to 'em on the front walk was awful, they have no idea how creative I can get with a pistol."

Last edited on Aug 15, 2014 23:00:43 by Tracks

@Tracks
@Icestar
((hot dang! okay, posted here and on the other thread. GOTTA POST FAST.))

Nonpareil was all too glad to stand still and let Ms. Oreo run to him. It was a way better option than doing the moving around on his own, and he was content to just try to keep standing straight. He awkwardly moved his hand away from the hole when she came to check.

My spark chamber's been grazed, huh? It was almost Wrecker-worthy, and he couldn't help feel a little proud of his own survival. "Yeah, I can get into the house just fine." He wheezed, trying to sound nonchalant.

Nonpareil almost rejected her help. Almost. He thought better of it very quickly. Even though he could probably get inside by himself, he really didn't want to try if there was even a tiny chance of failure. It was tough to be seen accepting help, but it'd just be embarrassing if he rejected support and then fell over.

"I wish they'd sent a medic." He muttered. "'Cause I dunno how to fix this slag, and I bet you don't either." It was too bad about Shuttershock. Nonpareil didn't know the guy that well, but the camera-bot was apparently pretty nice. Really, without a good medic, the injured mech's chances seemed slim.

osteoh