Prowl's sleek black alternate mode shot down the narrow residential street, stirring browned leaves into the crisp autumn air. Swerving sharply, it shot down another street and flew past a football stadium packed with screaming parents and less than stellar cheerleaders. It suddenly stopped outside the abandoned high school, throwing gravel and dust in all directions. Inside, the area which should have held a radio retracted into the car, only to be replaced with a smooth black plasma screen. A comm link crackled into life, sending lines shooting across the glossy black screen.
"Prowl here, Prime. I'm practically on top of the energy signal, but I don't see any 'Cons..."
"Keep searching, old friend. They're there, rest assured, they're there..."
The link faded away and Prowl did a few donuts before slowly coasting around the parking lot. He sat in the silence for a brief moment before a shrill mechanical scream pierced his audial receptors. He transformed just in time to see the small missile connect with his chest, knocking him to the ground.
"Alright, ya lousy 'Con. Come on out an' show yourself!"
He slowly did a 360, when, at the end of his rotation, he saw it. A small green rectangle morph into a small green robot. His pistol was out of its holster and firing rapidly at the Decepticon in a matter of nanoseconds. It rolled and dodged the barrage of laser fire before retorting with a salvo of small, soda can sized projectiles, which exploded around Prowl, although one connected with his right shoulder, sending him to his knees.
"Hope you've made your peace..."
The small green robot rasped. He stood over Prowl, and his arm morphed into a blaster (OOC-think like Bee's hand cannon in the WFC trailer) and placed it on Prowl's head. Prowl sighed resignedly before suddenly shooting his fist out and punching the small robot in the face, sending him flying. He slid across the gravel and opened fire with his arm, green bolts of energy flying through the air. Prowl dodged them expertly.
"Heh, didn't even break a cyber-sweat..."
The small green robot stood up and his hands again morphed into weaponry, this time dual grenade launchers. He fired a few at Prowl, who was quite harshly brought back to real life by the explosions around him. He sprinted off, transformed, and whizzed off into the adjacent neighborhood. After a few minutes of going as fast as possible, he stopped by a small park.
"Prime, Prime! I found him, he's some freaky little green thin-"
Another missile slammed into his side, tossing his alternate mode into a small sandbox. He transformed and looked up, only to see the small green robot flying towards him, his feet now replaced with small wheels. He fired rapidly at Prowl, his missile finally finding its mark. Prowl's head. The black and white robot swayed for a moment before collapsing, a smoking hunk of melted metal in place of a head sparking as it landed. The robot walked up and poked Prowl's limp, lifeless exoskeleton with its foot/wheel device.
"Good and dead..."
Dispensor chuckled as he walked off.
Part 1. Short, but there's more to come.
Ballad of the MDRs
Moderator: Blackjack
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The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
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The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
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PrimeDirective
- Gestalt Warrior
- Posts: 384
- Joined: Thu Nov 19, 2009 6:06 pm
- Location: Texas
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The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
-
The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
Jiuquan was a hive of activity. The rocket sat on its pad, awaiting the imminent launch. Crews of men lugging cameras around stood in front of prim, petite newswomen stood in front of them, microphones in hand. Then, the loudspeaker boomed into life, counting down from 10. At 5, Dispensor shifted his hands into sharp claws and leaped onto the lower fuselage of the rocket. He clambered further up and got a good firm grip halfway up. It's rockets roared into life, spewing orange flames in every direction. At first, its progress was slow, but it began to gain elevation more and more rapidly. A few minutes later, it was nearly out of the atmosphere, at which point Dispensor dislodged from the rocket like a tick ripped from a dog's hide. He shifted once more, this time turning into a mass of sleek panels. He controlled his rapid fall, aiming himself south. As the ground grew nearer, he reverted to his normal form and curled into a tight ball only moments before slamming into the thick arctic ice cap, sending huge chunks of steaming ice outwards. He clambered from the massive crater, brushing small chunks of ice of his steaming exoskeleton. He jumped, shifting his feet into two large triangles coated with tank treads and began rolling through the snow. A few hours later, he arrived at a fairly large hill. A sleek grey panel shot out of the side of the hill. Dispensor tapped out a sequence on its keypad. It then retracted as the entire southern face of the mountain slid open to reveal a fairly large hangar filled with the lifeless bodies of several transformers. Another small green robot scurried out from behind the carcass of Hound and consulted Dispensor.
"Sir, I see you've take extensive damage. You simply cannot keep letting yourself crash to the ground like that."
"Until you give me wings, I guess you'll have to keep fixing me afterwards."
The other small robot activated his left eye, a green beam of light shooting out, slowly scanning Dispensor.
"I count at least 17 major fractures in the exoskeleton, several severely melted patches, and about 3 cases of detached wiring. You need a massive repair cycle or you'll be blown to bits the next time almost anything dangerous happens to you."
"Whatever, Refreshor. I have another Autobot to kill. Where's Dewbot?"
Refreshor gave a malcontented sigh before answering.
"The control room. Like always."
Dispensor strutted off towards the control room on the second floor.
"Alright, Dewy. Where is he?"
"Well, I've got readings on Ironhide in New York and Starscream in Cairo. Who do you want?"
Dispensor thought for a moment before answering.
"Gimme that warmonger Ironhide."
Dewbot typed for a moment before bringing up an advanced GPS image of New York, a bright red dot representing Ironhide beating softly on the screen. Dispensor opened up a panel on his right wrist and took out a small cable. He plugged it into a slot on the computer and began downloading the data. When it was completed, he unplugged it and returned to the hangar.
"Alright, Refreshor. You got anything for me before I go take out 'ARHNHAD'?"
Refreshor walked to a remote are of the hangar, picked up a remote control like device and returned.
"I got this for your cargo plane you stole a few weeks ago. Just have Quenchor use this to beam you back up."
He took it and ran to the hangar to get his pilot/weapons specialist Quenchor ready for immediate takeoff.
PART DEAUX!
"Sir, I see you've take extensive damage. You simply cannot keep letting yourself crash to the ground like that."
"Until you give me wings, I guess you'll have to keep fixing me afterwards."
The other small robot activated his left eye, a green beam of light shooting out, slowly scanning Dispensor.
"I count at least 17 major fractures in the exoskeleton, several severely melted patches, and about 3 cases of detached wiring. You need a massive repair cycle or you'll be blown to bits the next time almost anything dangerous happens to you."
"Whatever, Refreshor. I have another Autobot to kill. Where's Dewbot?"
Refreshor gave a malcontented sigh before answering.
"The control room. Like always."
Dispensor strutted off towards the control room on the second floor.
"Alright, Dewy. Where is he?"
"Well, I've got readings on Ironhide in New York and Starscream in Cairo. Who do you want?"
Dispensor thought for a moment before answering.
"Gimme that warmonger Ironhide."
Dewbot typed for a moment before bringing up an advanced GPS image of New York, a bright red dot representing Ironhide beating softly on the screen. Dispensor opened up a panel on his right wrist and took out a small cable. He plugged it into a slot on the computer and began downloading the data. When it was completed, he unplugged it and returned to the hangar.
"Alright, Refreshor. You got anything for me before I go take out 'ARHNHAD'?"
Refreshor walked to a remote are of the hangar, picked up a remote control like device and returned.
"I got this for your cargo plane you stole a few weeks ago. Just have Quenchor use this to beam you back up."
He took it and ran to the hangar to get his pilot/weapons specialist Quenchor ready for immediate takeoff.
PART DEAUX!
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The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
Quenchor sat in the hangar, fiddling with the massive grey underbelly of the cargo plane. Dispensor stormed in and greeted him.
"Quenchor, buddy! Get ready, cause we've another Autobot to destroy!"
Quenchor stood and strolled to a table on the hangars far wall. He gathered his weapons and returned to Dispensor. As he began attaching them to himself, he spoke.
"Who and where?"
"Ironhide, New York. You can fly this bucket of bolts, right?"
Dispensor patted the cargo plane softly. Quenchor sheathed his swords and looked at it.
"Sure can. Although if it's the both of us fighting, we're gonna need somebody else to pilot it."
Dispensor tapped at a panel on his wrist, opening a comm link to Dewbot.
"Dewbot, get down here now. You're learning to fly a plane."
Dewbot groaned and tromped into the hangar, carrying a small pistol.
"Okay. Show me."
The trio clambered into the plane, where Quenchor and Dewbot headed to the cockpit. Dispensor lingered in the middle, checking his weapons. Suddenly, he felt the plane lurch forward and begin to pick up speed. It was soon out of the hangar and as he looked out the window, he saw the harsh Antarctic landscape whiz by past him. Then, he felt the plane angle up sharply and he knew they were in the air.
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Two soda machines sat on the sidewalk, humming softly. A balding middle aged man walked up and dropped some coins into one of them, received his can of soda and walked off. He had taken only a few steps before it exploded, sending him flying. The two machines morphed into their true forms and opened fire on Times Square. Laser fire, missiles, and the occasional car flew through the air, sending the city into absolute panic. Police officers ran into the street, emptying their handguns into the two metal beasts. In the middle of all the chaos, a bright red SUV with golden racing stripes shot through the explosions before shifting into a squat red robot. He withdrew two pistols from holsters on his hips and began spinning them on his fingers.
"Ah came here fer lazer fire and-"
He was cut off by a missile slamming into his shoulder, exploding and sending him flying. He stood and looked at his blackened shoulder.
"An' I just got a fancy new paintjob from Ratchet..."
He sighed and held the two pistols together, where they proceeded to shift into one. He held the new rifle to his shoulder and fired in bursts at the two small green robots. They dodged them expertly and then returned with their own fire. One of them spoke.
"Quenchor, now!"
The robot ran off into a back alley, leaving Ironhide and Dispensor standing alone. Dispensor's finger twitched. Suddenly, a small panel popped up from Ironhide's wrist and a small rocket shot out at Dispensor. He leapt to the side just as it passed him, sending the missile straight into a building. Ironhide turned away from the massive explosion just as the second robot appeared from nowhere and jumped onto his back, slid two swords out of their scabbards, and plunged them into Ironhide's back. He shuddered in pain and collapsed onto the asphalt. He coughed, spraying oil out of his mouth. He tried to stand, but the swords were placed in such a manner that even the slightest movement sent jolts of pain shooting throughout his body. He fought the pain and stood before pulling them out and throwing them aside.
"It'll take more than that ta kill me, ya little cretins!"
He took his rifle apart and began firing at the two robots with his pistols. They skittered around and avoided all his attempts to kill them before spinning around and firing at him in unison. Four missiles streaked through the air before connecting with his chest, tossing him like a ragdoll. He lay on the ground, his chest sparking feebly as the two approached him.
"Gi-git over here so I can kill ya with mah own two hands..."
He struggled for his pistol, his fingers extended towards it. They were an inch too short to reach it. His arm went limp and he panted, staring up into the sky. He saw soft blue clouds floating lazily in the sky. Then, two hands clutching pistols materialized in his field of vision. Their fingers squeezed the triggers, and then there was nothing.
Dispensor placed a foot on Ironhide's chest and a hand on Quenchor's shoulder. He used the remote Refreshor had given him and felt a strange tingling in his servos, and before he knew it, he, Ironhide, and Quenchor were in the cargo plane again.
Part 3
"Quenchor, buddy! Get ready, cause we've another Autobot to destroy!"
Quenchor stood and strolled to a table on the hangars far wall. He gathered his weapons and returned to Dispensor. As he began attaching them to himself, he spoke.
"Who and where?"
"Ironhide, New York. You can fly this bucket of bolts, right?"
Dispensor patted the cargo plane softly. Quenchor sheathed his swords and looked at it.
"Sure can. Although if it's the both of us fighting, we're gonna need somebody else to pilot it."
Dispensor tapped at a panel on his wrist, opening a comm link to Dewbot.
"Dewbot, get down here now. You're learning to fly a plane."
Dewbot groaned and tromped into the hangar, carrying a small pistol.
"Okay. Show me."
The trio clambered into the plane, where Quenchor and Dewbot headed to the cockpit. Dispensor lingered in the middle, checking his weapons. Suddenly, he felt the plane lurch forward and begin to pick up speed. It was soon out of the hangar and as he looked out the window, he saw the harsh Antarctic landscape whiz by past him. Then, he felt the plane angle up sharply and he knew they were in the air.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Two soda machines sat on the sidewalk, humming softly. A balding middle aged man walked up and dropped some coins into one of them, received his can of soda and walked off. He had taken only a few steps before it exploded, sending him flying. The two machines morphed into their true forms and opened fire on Times Square. Laser fire, missiles, and the occasional car flew through the air, sending the city into absolute panic. Police officers ran into the street, emptying their handguns into the two metal beasts. In the middle of all the chaos, a bright red SUV with golden racing stripes shot through the explosions before shifting into a squat red robot. He withdrew two pistols from holsters on his hips and began spinning them on his fingers.
"Ah came here fer lazer fire and-"
He was cut off by a missile slamming into his shoulder, exploding and sending him flying. He stood and looked at his blackened shoulder.
"An' I just got a fancy new paintjob from Ratchet..."
He sighed and held the two pistols together, where they proceeded to shift into one. He held the new rifle to his shoulder and fired in bursts at the two small green robots. They dodged them expertly and then returned with their own fire. One of them spoke.
"Quenchor, now!"
The robot ran off into a back alley, leaving Ironhide and Dispensor standing alone. Dispensor's finger twitched. Suddenly, a small panel popped up from Ironhide's wrist and a small rocket shot out at Dispensor. He leapt to the side just as it passed him, sending the missile straight into a building. Ironhide turned away from the massive explosion just as the second robot appeared from nowhere and jumped onto his back, slid two swords out of their scabbards, and plunged them into Ironhide's back. He shuddered in pain and collapsed onto the asphalt. He coughed, spraying oil out of his mouth. He tried to stand, but the swords were placed in such a manner that even the slightest movement sent jolts of pain shooting throughout his body. He fought the pain and stood before pulling them out and throwing them aside.
"It'll take more than that ta kill me, ya little cretins!"
He took his rifle apart and began firing at the two robots with his pistols. They skittered around and avoided all his attempts to kill them before spinning around and firing at him in unison. Four missiles streaked through the air before connecting with his chest, tossing him like a ragdoll. He lay on the ground, his chest sparking feebly as the two approached him.
"Gi-git over here so I can kill ya with mah own two hands..."
He struggled for his pistol, his fingers extended towards it. They were an inch too short to reach it. His arm went limp and he panted, staring up into the sky. He saw soft blue clouds floating lazily in the sky. Then, two hands clutching pistols materialized in his field of vision. Their fingers squeezed the triggers, and then there was nothing.
Dispensor placed a foot on Ironhide's chest and a hand on Quenchor's shoulder. He used the remote Refreshor had given him and felt a strange tingling in his servos, and before he knew it, he, Ironhide, and Quenchor were in the cargo plane again.
Part 3
Hahaha. Nice job.-
The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
-
The Last Autobot
- City Commander
- Posts: 481
- Joined: Wed Jul 29, 2009 2:47 pm
- Location: Deep Beneath Cybertron
Optimus sat down at a large elliptical table. He sighed softly and looked at the remaining few Autobots that sat at the table. Bumblebee, Mirage, Powerglide, Outback, Cliffjumper, Blaster, Jazz, Warpath, and Wheelie sat there, looking at the gaps that had formed in table. Half of them were gone. Then, he spoke.
"Autobots, we must face the facts. We're being killed off. We need to do something about it."
A low murmur of agreement shot through the crowd.
"Any ideas?"
He sat back and was greeted with silence.
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Megatron sat in the bridge of the Nemesis, his fingers twitching.
"Shockwave, time to destination?"
Soundwave chimed in.
"Sir, last week, he-"
"I know! I know! Old habits die hard!"
He looked about the bridge. A few other Decepticons sat there, attempting to man posts they were never meant to hold.
"Swindle, is there any sign of the enemy?"
Swindle looked up from punching the console, shocked that Megatron was consulting him.
"I....uh...well....I don't know."
Megatron sunk further into the seat, his anger building. He looked over at Onslaught, who was trying to comprehend the weapons systems.
"Well...maybe if I hit this..."
He slowly pressed the button, sending a salvo of missles flying off into space. Megatron facepalmed and sat in the chair, hoping this miserable voyage would soon be over.
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A heavy metal panel slid down in front of Refreshor's face, his hand morphing into a blowtorch as he did so. Dispensor sat in front of him in the chair, awaiting his repairs.
"You realize this is just to get the basic systems under control, right? You're going to have to spend a few cycles in the healing pods to be back at maximum functioning capacity."
Dispensor mumbled his answer while Dewbot and Quenchor admired Ironhide's lifeless corpse. Dewbot marveled at the thick armor plates on it.
"Think about how it'll be once Refreshor's dissected him and applied his armor and weapons technology onto you..."
Quenchor shuddered with excitement at all the firepower he'd have at his disposal.
"OW! WATCH WHERE YOU PUT THAT!"
Dewbot and Quenchor spun around to see Dispensor clutching his face and letting loose a stream of obscenities. Refreshor shrugged.
"You've seen worse. Anyhow, I've done all I can. Get in the pod."
Dispensor hopped into the large cylinder, a thick cyan liquid bubbling up around him. A grey metallic tube snaked out and lodged itself firmly in his neck. His red optics flickered off and he was out. Refreshor turned around and gestured for Quenchor to take a seat. He did so reluctantly before feeling heat blossom across his chest as Refreshor began reparing a few dings and pockmarks in his chest. He eventually hopped into the tube and followed suit before going into a temporary stasis-lock. Refreshor ran a quick diagnostics check on the two robots before going to Ironhide's body and allowing his hand to morph into a buzzsaw.
Part 4
"Autobots, we must face the facts. We're being killed off. We need to do something about it."
A low murmur of agreement shot through the crowd.
"Any ideas?"
He sat back and was greeted with silence.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Megatron sat in the bridge of the Nemesis, his fingers twitching.
"Shockwave, time to destination?"
Soundwave chimed in.
"Sir, last week, he-"
"I know! I know! Old habits die hard!"
He looked about the bridge. A few other Decepticons sat there, attempting to man posts they were never meant to hold.
"Swindle, is there any sign of the enemy?"
Swindle looked up from punching the console, shocked that Megatron was consulting him.
"I....uh...well....I don't know."
Megatron sunk further into the seat, his anger building. He looked over at Onslaught, who was trying to comprehend the weapons systems.
"Well...maybe if I hit this..."
He slowly pressed the button, sending a salvo of missles flying off into space. Megatron facepalmed and sat in the chair, hoping this miserable voyage would soon be over.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A heavy metal panel slid down in front of Refreshor's face, his hand morphing into a blowtorch as he did so. Dispensor sat in front of him in the chair, awaiting his repairs.
"You realize this is just to get the basic systems under control, right? You're going to have to spend a few cycles in the healing pods to be back at maximum functioning capacity."
Dispensor mumbled his answer while Dewbot and Quenchor admired Ironhide's lifeless corpse. Dewbot marveled at the thick armor plates on it.
"Think about how it'll be once Refreshor's dissected him and applied his armor and weapons technology onto you..."
Quenchor shuddered with excitement at all the firepower he'd have at his disposal.
"OW! WATCH WHERE YOU PUT THAT!"
Dewbot and Quenchor spun around to see Dispensor clutching his face and letting loose a stream of obscenities. Refreshor shrugged.
"You've seen worse. Anyhow, I've done all I can. Get in the pod."
Dispensor hopped into the large cylinder, a thick cyan liquid bubbling up around him. A grey metallic tube snaked out and lodged itself firmly in his neck. His red optics flickered off and he was out. Refreshor turned around and gestured for Quenchor to take a seat. He did so reluctantly before feeling heat blossom across his chest as Refreshor began reparing a few dings and pockmarks in his chest. He eventually hopped into the tube and followed suit before going into a temporary stasis-lock. Refreshor ran a quick diagnostics check on the two robots before going to Ironhide's body and allowing his hand to morph into a buzzsaw.
Part 4