Testy Conversations: OpRatchExasperated. he did what?"
Smirk. Ironhide ran over Sams pet, sir.
Sigh. Mutter. Curse. I suppose I better make a formal apology to the family.
Smirk widens. Oh, I didnt say the boys pet was dead.
With some amount of disappointment. Its not?
No, its not.
Mutter. Pause. With some amount of trepidation. and the family?
In some amount of glee. Two of them are looking for Ironhide. Mr. Witwicky is the only one home and caring for the immobilized pet. Mrs. Witwicky and Sam are in pursuit of Hide with the assistance of Bumblebee.
Hes currently headed towards Las Vegas, a city a couple earth hours away at the speed limit.
First Time, Last TimeFirst Time, Last Time
Did something come up?
Nightraid stopped dead in her tracks upon hearing Shadowrunners voice, and she retreated back into the shadows cast by the boulders around the Arks entrance, her optics going up to the lookout point nearby. She knew that her older sister was on watch tonight, and she had planned to go up there and keep her company for a while, but apparently, someone else had already come up to her.
Naw, nothin really. Just Red askin where I was headed off to. There was only one mech in the Ark Pit, even on Cybertron, Nightraid was sure who spoke with that particular drawl. Curious now, she slid deeper into the shadows, trying to get as close to the two Autobots now sitting next to each other on the ledge that overlooked the western quadrant.
Shadowrunner sighed. I know that his paranoia has its uses, but really, dont you think he might be overdoing it?
TwinningDeep in the bowels of the Transformer base was a small, bare room with two bunks, one overhead light, no windows, and a barred, locking door. The room was used as a holding cell for troublemakers to the faction and today held its usual occupants, a set of twins. Rather than using the flat bunks, each twin settled himself on the floor with his back against it, rehearsing their well-used complaints.
"I tell ya," said the red twin to his brother, "I wish they'd shut up about it! We're nothing like them!"
"Yeah!" replied the other twin, his glowing optics scanning for a possible escape route. "Just because they have a set of twins, who also enjoy playing pranks, they think we're all alike!" He jumped to his feet, lunging at the barred door. "Let us out!" When no answer was forthcoming, he sulked back to his side of the tiny cell and sank down onto the bunk.
The red twin eyed his brother. "It gets so boring here…at least we try to liven things up! After all, we only hacked i
Testy Conversations: Op-JazzBig O, this sucks
Im not disagreeing with you, Jazz.
This really, really sucks
I know, Jazz.
did I tell you how much I think this sucks? Cause if I did, I dont think I managed to get my point across
Yelp. OW!! What in the slaggin pit was that for, Optimus?!
my attempt at silencing you seems to have failed. Should I try again?
No need, no need! Jeez, what crawled down your smoke stacks?
a certain silver mech who does not know the meaning of the word silence.
if you wanted me to shut up why didnt you just say so?
that was uncalled for! Frag, that hurt
0700 hours at the Ark0700 hours at the Ark, and Prowl was walking towards the Common room, a mug of energon in one hand and the day's schedule in the other. However, he stopped short at the doors and froze in open-mouthed astonishment. There in the center of the room, were Jazz and the twins doing the Cancan and cajoling other Autobots into joining them. The 2IC let out a world-weary groan, doorwings wilting. "It's too early for this." He muttered, executing a perfect paradeground about-face and retreating with some haste.
Rule One of surviving the Ark- If in doubt, don't ask.
1005 hours found Prowl lying on his back under a computer terminal, attempting to figure out why it wasn't functioning properly. As he worked, he couldn't shake the strange feeling that he was being watched. Nevertheless, he continued his task. Reaching up, he unscrewed another access panel and released a shower of rubber spiders.
"Gyaa!" Prowl yelped, batted at the spiders, automatically bolted upright…and smacked his hea
What's The Child's Name?Its said and I can fully attest to this, now that trackers have a perverse level of tenacity. More so than most in other functions, save for espionage and medical, perhaps. Still, not many compare to the trackers. Essentially, theyre the Cybertronian equivalent to the earths bloodhounds. Their whole purpose in life is to pick up a scent trail, a clue, and trace it all the way to the source. Start to finish, start to finish. Never wavering, never being tempted off course, and never, ever giving in. And, really, that analogy doesnt put it in proper perspective to say just how tenacious a tracker can be. Its just the way theyre programmed.
Hound, on the other hand Just the notion forces a tired, airy sigh from me. Not lost to him beneath the gentle whistle of wind that might otherwise hide such an expulsion from another mech.