(Untitled)

[phasebitchin]

Characters: Lilith, Jack Skellington, Motoko Kusanagi, Ironhide
Location: Deck 11
Date: Midday
Rating: PG, PG-13? (possible language and/or attempted violence)

Comments

[heavyweaponsbot]

Like another prowling the halls, the mood of the newly arrived female was none of his concern. In fact, if he passed by her, it was doubtful Ironhide would even know who she was. He had an agenda of his own, spurred on by another conversation.

He limped along, headed unerringly for the room in which he'd found the books and clothing. Good a place to start as any, he supposed. Even if the snow still made his joints ache, and his broken hip still caused the leg to drag behind him, he had a mission to accomplish.

And at the very least, it kept his processor off things.

[phasebitchin]

Far as I can tell, Lilith grouched alone, Prisoners are picked randomly. Which a) did not give her any clues as to why Captain Redd chose who he did, and b) backed up the theory of failing realities. Tough little lady she may have been, but she wasn't ready to accept that everyone she knew and liked had disappeared. Utterly.

Metalbutt plodding along was just the event to distract Lilith from nasty introspection. She slowed, arching a brow, and let out a long whistle.

[heavyweaponsbot]

He would have kept on marching, dragging his leg, had it not been for the whistling sound. Gears ground as he turned, good optic narrowing in a glare. Yes, he was in terrible condition. Yes, he knew it. Yes, he needed to see a medic, but scrap him if he wanted to be gawked at for it.

"What?" he growled, forgetting everything Ratchet and Prime had tried to teach him about the mystical concept of diplomacy. "You have a problem?"

[phasebitchin]

Nothing like discomfiting those in her immediate vicinity to lift a girl's mood.

Lilith grinned widely. Big bonus, even! She didn't speak with androids or CL4P-TP so often that Ironhide's voice would slip away after two nights. Even better, that his parts weren't fully functional. Sweet cheeks was the one with a problem.

"No, not really," Lilith said cheerfully. "Might wanna see to that gimp leg, hon, for real."

[heavyweaponsbot]

Oh for the love of... Not this. Anything but this. Give him Shockwave. Give him anything but this little creature. He growled again, shifting his weight on the good leg. Big hands grasped at the air, and he desperately wished for his cannons. Again.

"Then quit staring," he retorted, shrugging huge shoulders before they went tense again. "Yeah, because repairs are so simple on this ship. You see a medic around here?"

[phasebitchin]

Too easy! But ever so satisfying. Just the sight of Ironhide flailing like an agitated schoolboy stretched her shameless grin wider.

"I haven't, but that's besides the point as I've been here less than a week. Betting that you're not so lucky as me." And this said with the most smug, shit-eating smirk Lilith could reasonably affect and maintain unreachable superiority. "Can help you look, if you need help so bad."

[heavyweaponsbot]

His intakes worked, venting out a low, rumbling rush of air. He wanted to ignore Prime's mandate, and take his metal fist to the back of this human's skull. But always, his leader's command held firm, aligning with his own deeply ingrained programming.

We do not harm humans.

Lucky for this one.

"And I would bet that if you had suffered half the damage this frame has, you would not be functioning." He turned, ducking his head to hide the grimace as he moved. This hip was going to kill him. "I need no help from you. You want to pester someone, go find that Dahl of yours."

[phasebitchin]

Sadly, even if she had knowledge of his inner struggle, at the most it would have delighted and tickled her. Lilith examined her fingernails to show him how impressed she was by Ironhide's huffing and puffing. I need a repaint. Stupid desert.

For the gimp-legged Autbot she kept her voice sweet as honey, if honey came in the guise of a short, bitchy young she-devil. "Nice thing about being me, babe? I know how to avoid the moaning and groaning by--get this--learning to dodge."

Interestingly the pleased-as-punch attitude Lilith sported had gone strained. Not that she would expect or want Ironhide to know, but a reminder of Dahl was a reminder of where she was and the futility of this fussing.

ooc

[phasebitchin]

.. autobot*

[heavyweaponsbot]

He snorted. Even if he'd been built with avoidance in mind, he couldn't have very well dodged the causes of his injuries. One, a multiple artillery strike back home--lucky Decepticon shot--and the other Mikaela's interference. And while he was agile for his size, age, and weight... he was still massive, and ancient. Which was the purpose of armor.

"And the nice thing about being me," he said. "Is that I do not have to concern myself with dodging. Only on taking down my enemy."

He shot her an appraising glance, optic still narrowed, before shrugging dismissively. Even Mikaela looked sturdier than this little creature.

[phasebitchin]

"Mmmmmhmm."

She allowed for a break in teasing to do a full-frontal scan. Albeit still fairly geometric, he followed popular biped design. From his crotchety vernacular and mentions of having fought before, very likely a war model. Where Lilith came from that meant Ironhide would be answering to organics, taking wage or (more probable) laboring without pay wired to an account.

Buuut it was persistently and glaringly obvious that Lilith wasn't in Kansas anymore. So to speak. "Well then! We've got something in common." To follow his once-over, the corners of her lips quirked up, and she belligerently Phased halfway.

[heavyweaponsbot]

Well aware he was under scrutiny, he drew himself up, glowering back at her. He made no attempt to hide the hole in his chest armor. That was a show of weakness. This meant he didn't care if she saw it or not. Battle scars were to be worn with pride--the more you had, the harder you were.

He wasn't prepared for her little disappearing trick, in all honesty. His optics shuttered, then refocused. Some kind of... camouflaging trick. Interesting, to say the least. Ratchet would be fascinated. "Am I to be impressed?" he asked, flatly. "You change colors?"

Even if he was intrigued.

[phasebitchin]

Hey, permanent marks meant you'd survived to live another day. Lilith was all about her own aesthetic, sure, but wouldn't deny flat-out that experience built character. Plus, depending on the scar and its placement on a human bearer, the ultimate effect could be kind of sexy. In that department, yes. Ironhide got gypped.

Lilith's experience taught her that she was incapable of speech when she had no vocal cords in the normal sense. At least having not fully shifted, his already-grating mechanical voice wouldn't come in all slow.

So she tried showing off and did not comprehend why there was no gigantic nova shockwave giving him another battle scar. Lilith stood there, trying again and again; meanwhile, it looked like she was hovering with her proverbial thumbs up her ass.

"................"

[heavyweaponsbot]

He tilted his head, watching her silently. Was that all? Some color change? And here, this female had been bragging to him over the network. At least he, damaged or no, could back up his claims... to an extent. Shifting his weight again, he folded his arms with the usual accompaniment of complaining joints. Had he possessed eyebrows, he would have raised them.

"Problem now?" he asked, unable to resist taunting her right back.

[phasebitchin]

Oh my god no, she raged. No no no NO!

Her upper lip curled back into a snarl. Working up into a panicked fit, she made a point of completing the Phasewalk. To an outside observer Lilith wouldn't even exist anymore, not to any high-tech optic sensors or heat vision and certainly not to the naked eye. In this form her feet ate up ground rapidly. Lilith flattened her palm over the closest she could reach of Ironhide, and strained...

Not even a spark on the metal.

What the FUCK?

[heavyweaponsbot]

Well, that wasn't normal.

She vanished. Out of reflex, he crouched, shutting down and bypassing pain receptors that informed him such a position was a terrible one to be in. But it was a defensive position, and one he felt necessary, given a human antagonist had just disappeared off his scans.

There was a low growl in his engine, and he swung up an arm to shield the hole in his chest armor. A step back, putting his back nearer the wall.

"I tire of your little act," he snarled, covering the unease with anger. "Get back here."