Yeah I I live off the feeding of lies
WHO: The Major, Schrodinger, Jan and the Captain versus Shockwave, Kiryu, Slipstream and Terrorsaur.
WHERE: A suitably remote junkyard.
WHEN: Night of Sunday the 22nd.
WARNINGS: Definite violence.
SUMMARY: The Nazis and the Decepticons meet for a throwdown.
FORMAT: Whatever works, separate threads for each fight, fights should be one-on-one for simplicity's sake.
The Major stood precariously at the peak of a mound of jagged metal in the center of the junkyard, moonlight shining softly off of his glasses and his wide smile. He was wearing his SS uniform instead of his usual suit, although his coat was draped over his shoulders. Slung across his chest was a German G36 assault rifle, in the unlikely and regrettable event that he was unable to restrict himself to simply spectating on the proceedings.
His forces were arrayed around him at the foot of the mound. The yard was still in operation this late in the night, and a cacophony of tortured metal and grinding machinery filled the air. The noise would serve nicely to prevent any possible interference, but this wasn't the only reason he'd chosen the junkyard. This was a graveyard for machines, a place where constructs and mechanisms came to be destroyed and broken. The Major could only hope that the appropriateness would not be lost on the Decepticons, as Millennium wiped the filthy ground with their bodies.
WHERE: A suitably remote junkyard.
WHEN: Night of Sunday the 22nd.
WARNINGS: Definite violence.
SUMMARY: The Nazis and the Decepticons meet for a throwdown.
FORMAT: Whatever works, separate threads for each fight, fights should be one-on-one for simplicity's sake.
The Major stood precariously at the peak of a mound of jagged metal in the center of the junkyard, moonlight shining softly off of his glasses and his wide smile. He was wearing his SS uniform instead of his usual suit, although his coat was draped over his shoulders. Slung across his chest was a German G36 assault rifle, in the unlikely and regrettable event that he was unable to restrict himself to simply spectating on the proceedings.
His forces were arrayed around him at the foot of the mound. The yard was still in operation this late in the night, and a cacophony of tortured metal and grinding machinery filled the air. The noise would serve nicely to prevent any possible interference, but this wasn't the only reason he'd chosen the junkyard. This was a graveyard for machines, a place where constructs and mechanisms came to be destroyed and broken. The Major could only hope that the appropriateness would not be lost on the Decepticons, as Millennium wiped the filthy ground with their bodies.