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WHO: Closed to Rung and Quickstrike
WHERE: Rung's Office
WHEN: Late eveningish
WHAT: Quickstrike's on a mission and Rung is..well..easy prey.
WARNINGS: Death~

It had been quite the long day.

Rung had actually gotten himself out of his office for the first time in awhile and just gone for a walk. Simple things like that were nice every on every once in awhile and sometimes he just forgot to indulge in such simple pleasures.

Things had been somewhat..tense in a way around Haven as of late, what with the disappearances and the current state of Ultra Magnus, but Rung was trying to keep a sound mind. Someone needed to be thinking clearly in order to help others when it was needed.

And that's what Rung did after all.

Finally making his way back to his office, the therapist sank down into his desk chair, vents cycling softly as his optics dimmed.

He had a lot of files to go back over, some new notes to make but a part of him just wanted to pass on it for now. Actually, what he should be doing was going to Dead End's, like they had discussed previously, but sometimes he just found himself coming back to his office out of habit.

A few notes then he'd go to his companion's room. Just a few.

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Quickstrike wasted no time transforming and leaping at Rung's face. His needle-like feet dig into whatever can hold him and he hauled himself up so he could peer into one of Rung's eyes.

"Hee hee, you don't look so well, Round-eyes! Should probably go rest or somethin'."

His snake tail arched and hissed, all four of Quickstrike's eyes staring gleefully into Rung's.

"I was told to make you sorry. And that's what I'm gonna do! Lemme tell ya, it ain't gonna be fun for you!"

It already wasn't fun. The poison was creating a lovely burning sensation that had Rung wanting to just find a way to cool himself down but he was stuck now, staring into the eyes of his...of his...

Well. Soon to be murderer he supposed.

"Make me--but why--" A few different things went through his head and a sickening realization hit him. He really had upset the wrong individual this time hadn't he?

His vents hitched as the burning intensified, the therapist's vocalized fritzing just a bit.

"P-please--"

Ahaha, that fear was beautiful, if Quickstrike could bathe himself in him, he totally would. It was exhilarating to have someone as large as Round-eyes fear him like this. It felt powerful. A shiver of excitement went through Quickstrike and he started laughing.

"Yer gonna beg are ya? Hee hee, maybe I'll letcha live if you keep on doin' it."

Quickstrike dug his feet a little deeper into Rung's face as his snake tail arched again... before striking forward and slamming into Rung's right optic in an attempt to crack it. Once wasn't enough obviously, so he kept going at it until the eye finally cracks...

"P--"

That oh so delightful begging that Quickstrike was looking for is cut off the first blow to Rung's optic, the therapist letting out a static-y cry as pain blossoms through his head. He instinctively jerks to ru and get awy but he can't, stuck in place as blow after blow comes until the optic cracks.

His vocalized is nothing but static at that point, the therapist trembling as the light in the cracked optic goes out completely, his vents cycling heavily, working double time as fear and panic eat at his systems.

Quickstrike was hardly done yet. Sure, he could kill Rung right here and now, but Tarn had said that he wanted it to hurt, and who was Quickstrike not to deliver? Any amount of permission to inflict pain on others was enough for him.

When the optic was cracked open enough, he stopped and hoisted himself up enough so he could get a closer look. Hmm, interesting! Better take an even closer look! How was he going to do that? Well, he was going to reach both claws into Rung's eye and dig into the optic itself. With some creative wiggling, and some cuts here and there, he started to pull the thing out. Quickstrike's normal head was focused on his task, but the other head was staring tauntingly into Rung's remaining eye.

Rung had experienced pain before. Plenty of times over actually. In his line of work, pain was something you had to be prepared for.

But this? This was a whole new level of pain.

He jerked--thrashing as best he could when those claws dug into his optic, a pained cry escaping him that soon turned to static as Quickstrike started to pull the optic out. Hands clenched the arms of his chair, back arching just a touch as pain seized his entire system, the combination of it with the burning almost too much for the therapist to handle at the moment.

Despite Rung's thrashing, Quickstrike managed to easily hang on. It really didn't take long before out came the optic! Quickstrike let's it drop and stops for a moment to admire his own energon-stained claws. That right there is a sign of good, hard work, that is!

"Is it hurtin' enough yet, Round-eye? Hate for jus' the one of us ta be havin' fun."

He cackled and deeper into Rung's face, his newly upgraded claws slicing their way much easier than they would have before. Eventually he got bored of trying to go in through the eye and pulled his claws away. If he dug too deep he might kill this guy, and he didn't want this just yet.

Hmm...

Fun?

Rung really wasn't sure what this bot's definition of fun was but it definitely wasn't the same as the therapists. This? This was more along the lines of torture and Primus did Rung just want it to stop.

The arms of the chair he was in cracked a bit under his grip when Quickstrike started to dig his claws into his face, vocalizer a garbled mess of static and other noises as his system went crazy. Warnings flashed, the burning sensation intensified, some areas weren't responding correctly anymore--

He was going to die. He knew it then and there. He was going to die.

His vents cycled frantically when the claws were finally pulled away, his remaining optic flickering then dimming as he tried to...tried to...

Actually, at this point, Rung didn't know what he could do outside of letting his head loll to the side a bit, a pleading whimper escaping him.

That's when Quickstrike got an idea! He lowers himself down until he's level with Rung's mouth, and peers inside, calculating as carefully as Quicstrike is capable of. It's gonna be a mighty tight squeeze, but maybe he'll get closer to the spark if he enters through here! That's a great idea!

The idea that he might not fit all the way doesn't occur to him.

"Gotta bit of a problem in here, pardner, lemme take a look at it."

In between Rung's whimpers, Quickstrike slides inside, his narrow feet pricking the sides of the mouth and his underbelly barely touching the tongue. It really is a tight fit, but it's a start right! He's quick to pull his tail in, he doesn't want Rung biting it off in a fit of terror, that'd be terrible! Imagine him without his tail?

That'd make him all kinds of mad it would.

Further into the narrow tunnel that is Rung's throat he goes. Unfortunately for him, he notices too late that he can't go any further... and that he can't back out!

Oh tartersauce, he's stuck! What now?

There's a moment there where Rung just freezes. Realization of what the other is doing hits and he just sits there, unable to do anything for a moment while the other forces his way inside his mouth.

Time catches up though and crashes into the therapist, panic washing over him as his optic flares brightly and he reaches up to try and pull the other out. But Quickstrike is too fast for that and Rung can do nothing but hunch over, hands going to his throat--clawing at it as if he can get the other out that way.

He just wants the other out of his throat no matter what it takes at this point.

Sounds like Rung is getting back his mobility. Now that ain't good, it says that Quickstrike's playtime is a little bit shorter. Aww well, he supposes it couldn't have lasted forever anyway. But now he has to focus on the problem at claw: He's stuck and the big orange bot is trying to get him out.

Hmm... maybe it's not that much of a problem.

Grinning to himself as much as a scorpion can, he braces his feet against the sides of Rung's throat and prepares his claws. A second later he slashes upwards, piercing the inside easily. He continues digging until he bursts out of Rung's throat towards freedom. Gracelessly he flops onto his back on the table below. Wow, that sure was an adventure huh?

And then the problem solves itself, though not in the way that Rung had been expecting.

When he feels the initial pierce he jerks, hands stilling against his throat before he's wheezing almost as his vents can't seem to cycle proper from the panic engulfing him. Everything else--even the intense burn coursing through his frame--is ignored as his throat is ripped open, his remaining optic dimming to almost nothing as he slumps, a hand against his throat as he leans against his desk slightly, bracing himself weakly--oh so weakly--with his other hand.

Quickstrike is forgotten for the moment as he tries to get his bearings, vision blurred, hearing nothing but a dull buzz because of the pain--

Help. All he wants is help.

Quickstrike flips back onto his feet and gets a very good look at Rung's state. The sight of the bot's face both pleases and disappoints him. It pleases him because it's a pretty darn good job: One of the eyes is missing, the nose and the cheeks are very nicely sliced up, and there's a great big hole in the bot's throat. Not bad if he says so himself. The disappointment comes because he can tell that Rung isn't long for this world.

"Aww, you're dyin' ain't ya? Here I was a hopin' you'd last just a little bit longer. Guess it's time for me to go!

Just one more thing."

His tail arches, and a green light can be seen in its throat. A second later, a thick beam of light flashes forward and hits Rung squarely in the chest.

"Have fun cookin'!"

The energon-soaked Fuzor laughs and turns to scuttle across the desk before disappearing from sight.

Just wait until Tarn hears about this!

Edited 2013-04-17 02:47 (UTC)

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