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
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?
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.
Dammit to Hell and the Matrix both.
Here I am, lying flat on my back, dying and dead all around and Decepticons scurrying around like goddamned retrorats, and I cant do a fraggin thing about it. Prowls gone, Brawn might be on his way if not already there, and Ironhides too tough to die. If I can just slaggin move Wait. What is--?
W was that ? Oh Primus, no Ironhide
Its strange. When youre dying, you have time to think.
I dont like thinking. Might explain why I started drinking so much. Especially after we got stuck on Earth. What with seeing the same patients time after time, memorizing their systems and bringing them back from the Void each time they were carried in. It gets harder and harder.
Ghn. The pain wait, what pain? Slag now I know my time is coming. And coming quick.
Funny how you never seem to have enough time once youre dying, but
TF - Best Laid Plans"Best Laid Plans"
Red Alert wrung his hands in concern, watching as a troop of Autobot warriors vanished down the road from the Ark, a dust cloud kicking up their wake and the Aerialbots flying off overhead. Normally, such a small rescue team wouldn't be of concern to the Security Director...except that they were the fourth one to leave in the last three days.
A few days prior, a call for help from Cybertron's Autobot femme resistance force regarding some troublesome activity from Shockwave and his drone army reached the Ark, causing Ironhide, Mirage, Smokescreen and Powerglide to climb aboard Omega Supreme for a flight home to kick a little aft. Then, late last night, word reached the Autobots from Kuwait that the country's oil fields were under heavy assault from not only the Insecticons, but the Constucticons as led by Megatron, as well. Optimus Prime gathered a force consisting of Bluestreak, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, Trailbreaker, Warpath, Gea
Rust, apparently, was the bane of Ironhides existence. Everyone who met him was quick to discover that the trigger-happy old warrior had issues with any substance that even looked remotely like oxidized metal. Technical Sergeant Epps was no exception.
It was a normal day for the human as he walked into the secluded and low key aircraft hanger. It was even normal to hear the insistent arguments between two giant and colorful robots sitting across from one another at a similarly giant table. Ironhide was, of course, grousing about the potential for metal deterioration and the constant threat of fluids in systems that needed no such liquids. Ratchet, on the other hand, looked more put off at the idea of arguing over this -again- and was constantly prattling off the nearly rehearsed lines of his counterargument. It was like a play that never ended. Today, however, something caught the Sergean