re_alignment_logs | Tick Tock BANG!

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Tick Tock BANG!

WHO: Whirl, Perceptor and the local Yellow Hat.
WHERE: The Medibayyyyish? Outside the Medbay.
WHEN: Nowwwwwwwwww?
WHAT: Whirl decides to take Vandal for an uninvited ride. Perceptor shoots him.
WARNINGS: Whirl. Vandal. Vandal, Vandal, Vandal.

This place is definitely not entirely fun all the time. When the robots aren't around she's left to think, and quite honestly she's fucking tired of her own mind right now. There's been a headache that just won't leave today.

Even after she wrote into that notebook- that usually helps, but not today.

Kicking at the dust on the steps of the temple, she can feel the itch of her healing wounds as a counterpoint to the cool air outside.

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It took Whirl a bit to get his bearings. All this slag about temples and so on. But a quick, uh, 'conversation' with an acolyte, this time involving throttling--hey, just a little, around the edges--set him straight.

Temple of healing. Seriously? Kind of an uppity name for a Medibay, but, whatever. You can call it 'Holy Magic Special Place' and it probably blows up just as much when hit with some H/E.

Hey. There's a thought.

Right now he wishes for a suitable soundtrack to blast. Something classy, like Ride of the Valkyries, as he flies straight and low, nap of the earth, his velo rotors chopping a steady rhythm in the dim light.

She doesn't hear it at first, eyes glazed, looking out over the alien shape of the landscape.

It's only after a moment that she hears the thrumming of-

What the fuck is that?

She's never actually seen a chopper before. Only in pictures, but when he comes far enough into view, she squints.

"What th-"

Hey. That looks familiar. Familiar being relative, that is.

Whirl swoops lower along the temple's steps, looking at the blob that ruins the nice straight lines of the steps. Huh. Could shoot it. But he's been shooting random shapes all afternoon and that's getting kinda boring.

He swoops in, buzzing just over the thing's surface.

"FUCK!" She ducks as he passes over and then takes off in the opposite direction. Yeah, whatever that thing was, it's definitely dive-bombing her.

It's a little sad, trying to run like this. Her right leg being nearly useless, she limp-hobbles as fast as she can, stumbling, trying to stay upright.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck-!" She thinks about calling for Drift for a moment, but it strikes her how pathetic she'd look. Besides, if she does bite it right now, he'd be better off staying out of it.

No, instead she's fumbling for her plasma cutter.

That is not his name.

Okay, neither's 'Primus', but at least that's the fake name he gave her.

Eh. Not running fast enough. Whirl drops out of the sky, in a suitable dramatic badaft entrance, landing in front of her.

"So. Where's my acid?"

"Ffffffffffffffffffffffffffuck!"

She falls back on her ass when he lands, scooting back, until she recognizes.

"Oh- shit you scared me! Asshole!" She grabs a handful of dust, flinging it up at him in some slight scornful futility.

"God damn. And yeah, I lied about the acid. I was just fucking with you."

"All right. Fine. I give up." He waves his claws around in mock surrender. "You can call me 'fuck'." Whatever. He's not picky.

He laughs. "Yeah. Kind of the point. You should have seen yourself." All that scrambling and flailing, and everything.

"....whut?" No acid? But he wanted acid. You suck. It's official.

"You know I might as well."

She p;icks herself up, dusting off and and adjusting the cutter she'd managed to get out before he landed.

"Yeah well I could still shoot your fucking legs off if you really want."

"You could try."

Snort. You are no threat to Whirl.

She doesn't really want to shoot him, but she wants to assert herself.

So she puts a plasma round into the dirt next to his left foot very casually.

"Your aim sucks." Sigh. Why does he even get his hopes up? This would take all day if he waited for her to, you know, find center mass.

Clearly this calls for plan B. N-not that he'd had a plan A, actually. Or plans in general. He was generally anti-plan, at least beyond vague gestures. Like Wrecker plans: Show up, shoot ALL THE THINGS. That? That was a good plan.

This? Needs some tinkering.

He lunges forward, grabbing the small metal shape and letting his velos spin up. "Kinda liked you better screaming." So, let's make that happen!

It hurts, he grabs her right around her stitches and she gives a sick sort of cry as she's lifted.

"FUCK!" Boots scrape at his arm.

"Hey! Easy! That fucking hurts! Put me down you dickwad!" Okay. This next round is definitely aimed for his shoulder.

"That's my name, don't wear it out."

Hey, he needs that shoulder! The round grazes his arm, but he's halfway transformed, throwing himself up into the air. It hurts and he hisses at the pain.

"Let's have a little, you know...friendly chat."

Wow.

So she's definitely going for a ride. She shifts, wincing at the hold he has on her.

"Hey! Jesus- you could at least stop squeezing! God damn!"

She's at least a little calmer. For how inconsiderate the guy is, she doesn't really see him as... to big a threat.

"You just shot me and you're bellyaching about pain?" Wow, and everyone says Whirl's the crazy one. Seriously. "Just trying to keep you, you know, all...safe and slag." Because he's going to show you exactly how he rated as a flight instructor, Vandal.

He flies the same way he does everything: Crazy and violent. Hope you don't get motion sickness.

Perceptor had been trying to enjoy a bit of peace in the junk pile, scavenging for components when a commotion in the distance catches his attention. It takes a moment for just what he's looking at to sink in. That's... Whirl of all mechs, and he's not alone. It takes another moment for Perceptor to focus, targeting reticule zooming in on... Is that the human? Vandal?

Oh, well then. Clearly there is a bit of a situation going on here--one that Perceptor is all too happy to rectify, because it's Whirl and if something's going on it's probably his fault.

He drops smoothly to one knee, pulling out one of his pistols and carefully lining up the shot. It takes him less than a second to hone in on Whirl's tail rotor and pull the trigger.

Edited 2012-08-05 04:54 (UTC)

"Hey, fuck you, don't you have seats in there? If you're gonna take me on a terrifying death-flight you don't have the decency to let me in? You're a shitty robot!"

She's too busy to notice what's happening below, but she does hear the shot.

"The fuck was that?"

"The worst," Whirl agrees. Stroke his ego, why don't you!

"Besides, fresh air's supposed to be good for convalescence, right?" Or something. See? He's just trying to help!

His next brilliant comment was cut short into a burst of NeoCybex so profane that it defies translation. It's probably also anatomically painful.

Yeah, let's do some math. Sudden shot, out of nowhere, nailing his tailrotor's mount. HUH WHO COULD THIS BE.

Maybe the mech who ironically told HIM not to go shooting important things?

"Hypocrite," he manages, as the rotor gives up and he begins to swing, wildly, toward the ground. He shifts his position, to take most of the weight of the landing on his right shoulder, the velo's manifold yielding with a sickening crunch. You don't fly as crazy as he does without learning how to crash land.

Perceptor is already up and moving as the shot connects, heading to intercept Whirl and his apparent victim at their crash site.

He keeps his pistol drawn and ready, more out of habit than due to any plans for further violence. Whirl is unpredictable, and Perceptor wouldn't put it past him to react to an attack with his own aggression.

"Whirl," his voice is rather even for someone who just took a potshot at a former colleague as he approaches, optics fixed on Whirl.

"What are you doing?"

They're falling. They're fucking falling and Vandal prepares herself. Hell of a way to go, this.

And then he's turning and it's rough, god damn does it hurt, it's a miracle she doesn't tear her stitches open, head colliding with his chassis on impact. It takes a moment for her to get her bearings again, wriggling out of his grip and stumbling to the ground.

"What the fuck?!"

This guy again? Percipitor? Premancipator? Receptor?

"Hey!"

That's all the warning he gets before she powers up her Kinesis module, grabbing hold of his right leg and jerking it to collide with his left.

Unfortunately for all involved, Whirl has a tendency not to let a little thing like, you know, ballistic trauma slow him down. You might have shot his aft, Perceptor, but he still has his vocalizer.

"No need to thank me for, you know, taking the worst of that fall or anything." Really. Ingrate.

He rolls his optic over to Perceptor, as he pushes to his feet, wobbling on his leg. You know, the one that's been SHOT?

"Me? Lessee. I was getting shot out of the sky, but right now? Right now, kinda planning your imminent demise." He snickers. "It's pretty gruesome."

"I was-"

Before he gets a chance to explain himself he finds control of his limbs is suddenly a great deal harder as one leg crashes into the other, sending him tumbling face-first into the ground. He manages to break his fall before he actually faceplants, but it's still not one of his most proud moments.

Graceful. It takes him a few moments to gather himself and start pushing his way back up.

"I was trying to help."

She turns, only briefly to regard Whirl.

"I'll sing your praises all over the network if you want, but right now, you're still not on my happy list."

And now, turning to Perceptor.

"You could have killed us both. I appreciate the concern, but seriously. Are you both fucking... malfunctioning?"

"Hey, come on. Only trying to add some much needed aerial excitement to your abysmally crummy life."

Singing may commence at any time.

He does chortle at Perceptor getting it in the leg. Serves him right. He'll just sit back and let Vandal handle this.

Perceptor lurches to his feet, the lingering effects of whatever Vandal blasted him with still tingling up his leg.

"You'll have to forgive me for assuming you were in distress. Whirl has a history of... erratic behavior."

It's not his fault he assumed the worst.

this is like Jaws circling his prey . dun dun. dun dun.

FGdfghfd Whirl would make a cute shark

If only I could draw.

oh gosh eeee ;w;

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#helping

ARGH sorry for delay ;-;

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