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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 28, 2012 1:44:27 GMT -5
Jack stands over Road and his shadow cuts across the way the boxer scrabbles in the dirt. The wind catches on his fade cut, the long bangs fluttering across his eyes that have grown bright and hard with frustrated patience. "You can't even move, you fuck head! What are you gonna do, huh? Explode? Die? Yeah, that's a great plan, just what your precious little babysitter would've taught you to do!"
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Post by Conway on Jan 28, 2012 2:02:33 GMT -5
He might have been ready to concede, to try to stand again. But the demeaning mention of Torque sets him off. He doesn't have the energy to stand with any speed, let alone to throw a punch. But his eye's snap up; only a dull red, but anger running deep. And his arm comes up with them, the double barrel of an armor mounted gun pointed at Jack. "Shut up!" He grinds out through a closing throat and energon still leaking in his mouth.
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 28, 2012 22:12:54 GMT -5
Jack recoils, his shoulders snapping in and hunching into sharp points. His eyes blaze and he leans in, the first real show of vicious courage he's ever shared with road, and grabs at the barrel of the gun. "Go ahead, you stupid fucker! Shoot me! That'll just solve everything, huh? Huh?? You can barely move! So get on your goddamn feet, Decepticon, and act like a goddamn full grown spark!"
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Post by Conway on Jan 28, 2012 22:35:19 GMT -5
He doesn't move or try to yank the gun away. He doesn't have the energy to fight Jack. The idea seems so ludicrous to him. No energy...to fight Jack, so he just glares up at him.
The mechanics of the gun sound, magazine spinning into place for a shot. But the gun just clicks. His hand drops back to the dirt, his eyes don't, even as he's bombarded with ammunition reload prompts and warnings on his overall health. "I can't"
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 28, 2012 23:58:07 GMT -5
Tension wound tight through Jack's long, whipcord body, and he trembled with the bet he's made.
And wins.
He stares at Road, sagging as the gun clicks and nothing happens. He's whole. The battlefield is silent, the cutting wind loud as it howls through in a kick of dust. He cycles air, heavily, and runs his tongue over his teeth. He runs his spindly fingers back through his hair, looks left, looks right. "Y-yeah. Yeah, that's. That's what I thought," he says, but the victory sounds hollow.
"Get out of here," Powershot says, softly. He ducks down next to Road in the sand, hand on his arm that is not raised. "I'll... I'll let you know, if I see anything."
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Post by Conway on Jan 29, 2012 0:48:51 GMT -5
His gaze falls to the ground and he repeats himself. " I can't" It's followed by a forced, pained and raspy laugh. "I can't...stand up." He was depleted, the surge to take cover when being fired upon by humans, followed by the emotional trauma had burned through all he had. His eyes glowed to dim to even see in the sunlight, and he refused to look up at Jack now; crystal blue fluid of despair and frustration starting to trail down his face through his choked laugh.
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 29, 2012 2:13:27 GMT -5
Jack freezes, a bot turn bean pole in the stand. "What! God dammit, you --fucking--fuck--fuck!" He spins, hands clawing through his hair as he frantically runs his eyes over the dirt and sand around them. They're safe, for now, but the roar of jets and the sound of resumed fire carries on the wind to them. The sounds of a scrambled retreat.
Powershot can't look away from Road's face, crouched down next to him in their bare hollow. There's commands feeding into the back of his conciousness, signals and counter-signals and Bounce's thin thread of information dripping into the flow of his thoughts. Press on, press on, drive them back, watch for wounded, don't attack allies.
None of it matters compared to the harsh beauty of a strong robot falling apart.
"Yes you can." Powershot says it firmly, reaching back under the small narrow pack strapped to his back. He pulls out a slender ration bar, given to units that might get stuck out int he field unexpectedly for days at a time. An experiment from the depths of the scientist wing Powershot rarely liked to visit, yet always had to. He pressed it into Road's hand. "Yes, you can."
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Post by Conway on Jan 30, 2012 1:01:38 GMT -5
Road almost rejects the fuel, he's probably bleeding out faster than his ailing systems would be able to process the ration. He just looks at it for a moment, and attempts cover up a sniffle by clearing his throat before he takes it. He can wipe the liquid from his face without either smearing it with more energon or scraping his mangled armor across it. His empty tank is gurgling sickly and he questions if he'll even be able to keep it down, but he'll try, taking the first bite small in case it decides to return on him.
It doesn't any he gets the rest down, waiting on his tank to process it into something he can use. He's gone quiet since he started eating, no more crying, no more laughing, not even the face smile to force an outward expression. But after a little while, contemplating the fuel forming in his gut he speaks softly. "Shot...see if you can get the armor off. latches under the chest and in the shoulders..." Sitting here he's becoming more aware of his pains, and that quiet a few of them are being caused by the bent angles of his armor.
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 31, 2012 0:11:25 GMT -5
Powershot doesn't know what else to do. The situation is too big for the three of them, simply side soldiers in a grand war filled with a thousand small stories. He drops down in the dirt, not that he needs to drop far, and his fingers start working as the first words scrape out of Road's mouth.
Road's a wreck underneath, a full out wreck, and above them as Shot pries off with nimble, seeking fingers awkward plates Jack curses. "You fucking, fuck head, fucker, fuck, fuck, fuck," he starts repeating, pacing back one way, then the other. The desire to survive drives him anxiously from side to side. He's not sure why he hasn't left yet. He looks a tthe small traitor helping out the hopeless, and hisses like an oversteamed kettle. He scans the horizon and suddenly takes off, leaving the two of them in their hollow.
Powershot barely notes it. He's gained strength in the last few years, or maybe he's always had it lurking in the way he knows how to used leverage, how to angle, pry, and force edges until the whole plate comes off. His hands are sticky with fluids by the time he tosses the last panel to the dirt, and starts stuffing quick-dry feild patches into the seeping chinks.
He doesn't stop to even think about it, its simply what he does, while his brothers feed him enemy positions in his ear as best they can under the circumstances. They're safe. For now.
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Post by Conway on Jan 31, 2012 0:31:38 GMT -5
Road has to clench his teeth, hissing through the removal over several pieces, the chest is the worst, caved in plates were embedded around the edges and cutting in when ever he moved wrong. The shoulders were a close second, nothing was quite stuck but the amount of movement at that junction left quite a bit of damage from the twisted armor.
He lifts his head when Jack goes, watching the retreating form quietly as Powershot works to seal his injuries. "...thanks, Shot."
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 31, 2012 1:02:30 GMT -5
Powershot just shakes his head. He's small, and his fingers slip easily between bent plates. He has to be quick, or else Road moving to cycle air or absently shift might pinch or trap a finger. Sticky things are smeared all over his hands, and he absently rubs the back of his hand across his brow--bright blue and purple and oil smearing there, before he leans back down. "Not a lot of time, but the retreating action's bought some breathing room," he murmurs, low, as if they might be overheard.
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Post by Conway on Jan 31, 2012 1:12:30 GMT -5
Road 's gaze breaks from Jack's path of retreat to crane his head towards where Bruticus fell. Humans won't here, pests'll be to busy scavenging over there.
His voice is cool, any interest he had in earth's top life form has dissipated after this battle. Autobot's'll be to busy celebrating I imagine...
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 31, 2012 22:14:04 GMT -5
Powershot can't help but be a little stung. Its an old wound that he's pretended to enuring himself to, scrabbling in the line between traitor and ally. No one trusted traitors, even if they proved reliable, and the autobots weren't immune. At least not all of them.
His brothers were safe. He clung to that thought, as he had many times in the past, and prodded at Road's muddled arm.
He shook his head. "Not too much. Too many losses. The battle's been bitter."
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Post by Conway on Jan 31, 2012 22:39:32 GMT -5
Distracted as he is , Road does flinch and grunt occasional at Powershot's touch's And distracted as he is, he doesn't think before speaking either.
He smiles grimly, gazing out across the desert. "Good...good for them."
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Post by gryfeathr on Jan 31, 2012 22:48:43 GMT -5
Powershot draws his hands back, his patch job slip shod by his standards, but it will keep Road alive. He's not thought through his plan beyond the immediate moment. Patching Road up he could explain, but he can hear the Autobot commands buzzing distantly. They're loud and wide broadcast because there's no need to worry about Decepticon code crackers when all you are saying is press on! press forward! Collect Wounded!
Road's wounded, he allows. That counts for now. "You need to retreat," Powershot says, glancing up to that frightfully distant stare.
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