Day/Video/Not Deaging
[On the peak of Demonreach, an island off the coast of the City, there's a visible plume of smoke curling up from the even further decimated ruins of the lighthouse and the completely wrecked splinters of the hut. Just visible over the edge of the cliff, the crumbled form of a Decepticon is laying eerily still.
Harry's face swings into view.]
I... ( Read more... )
Harry's face swings into view.]
I... ( Read more... )
...an opportunity.]
Capable of assisting.
Request: coordinates? [Not that he's not working to get them if they aren't provided.]
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Only right now? Not so much.
The program's not attending to the mech. He's not even particularly focused on the wizard, despite the high threat level he'd already assigned to that opponent. All of his attention is on the slim, fast user trying to pin him to the ground. He doesn't know where the spike of panic comes from, why his code shivers with error, familiarity. This hasn't happened before. This can't happen.
A hand lights on his wrist. Grasp quick, strength unexpected as she twists it aside, forcing the disk down, away. NO. The ticking rattle sharpens, grinds out loud, uneven, erratic. He doesn't know how she's this fast-it's far past what users should be capable of. But she knows what she's doing, and if the motions aren't as forceful as others he's fought, she makes up for it with speed and skill. She's good. Very good ( ... )
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Or, well. A stick. But he's not willing to underestimate anyone right now, so he retracts his prod with a flick of his wrist and tucks the short staff up and away behind him. Still keeping his hands showing, he steps back over Soundwave's still form, away from the other two, and drops down into a wary crouch. No way he's going to sit, so he's hoping that this will be close enough.
He knows he should be examining Soundwave, but not yet. The other Decepticon might be unconscious, but Knock Out's not picking up any of the signs that would indicate imminent terminal systems failure; it seems safe enough to wait until this little situation has resolved itself before he turns his attention to the other mech ( ... )
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Rebecca's trained for this, though. Pain is shoved elsewhere, everything is action: make the threat stop being a threat so she can get a good look at what he's done to her. Electricity crackles over her fingers as she crouches, part of her arm pressed over her wound, keeping pressure on it even as she calls up Thundaga. Lightning flashes down from the sky in multiple, powerful bolts toward Rinzler, and damn anyone who gets in the way. ]
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He clicks the safety off an aims it right at Rinzler.]
I said sit the hell down! Rebecca, you okay?
[Then to Knock Out.]
Big guy a friend of yours?
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...She's-
He freezes, steps back as her arm crackles with bright energy, subroutines alert to move, evade. But that's not the source ( ... )
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And then the bolts fall, and it's unexpected enough that he jerks back with a startled cry, falling flat to his aft and not even caring about the dirt that's going to get into his seams.
It takes him a moment to shut down the errant panic routines that booted automatically in his processor and collect himself; when he does, he draws his feet back under his sprawled body and it's totally a coincidence that the maneuver ends with him crouching a bit further away than he was before. Totally. No, really.
He smiles, bright and brittle, showing incongruously human-like dentals, and forces his attention back to the skin job with the gun.]
Is he a friend of mine? [No way in the pit, not this creepy slagger.] Absolutely~.
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She has to pull her arm away to check on her wound, and she keeps her jaw set, trying not to let on that she's in pain to the two who are left standing. Instead of lightning, there's a green glow around her hands this time; a Cure spell to fix up the worst of it, if nothing else. ]
I'm fine. My shirt isn't. [ Her insides are still inside. There's a nod toward Rinzler. ] Don't think he's feeling so great, though.
[ She sounds more smug about this than anything. ]
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Still, Harry keeps the blasting rod, smouldering red along the runes in warning, trained on him and the gun trained on Rinzler twitching in apoplexy on the ground, ringed in the scorch marks Rebecca's spell left. A little bit of pride creeped into his smile at that.]
Good, if he moves again, keep him down.
[Then to Knock Out.]
Then take your friend and go. No reason for there to be more blows traded. Right?
[By "blows traded", he means "reducing your functions to that of a toaster". Capice?]
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Comprehension wasn't really an option right now.
Neither was hearing. Or sight. His circuitry was burning, sharp loops of energy crackling, buzzing quick and harsh through his code. Internal/external, functions and processing and sensory were a flood of junk data, cohesive lines split and broken by edged impulse, random firing responses aborted, restarted. Nothing was working. He needed to stop it, break it, discharge, but this wasn't the Grid-nothing to access, no flow to tap into.
He couldn't work. He couldn't think, awareness limited to bright agony, the sharp tang of electrical override, and a vague sense-memory?- of threat, danger, other. There were threats. He had to move-get away, get back-he had been trying. Sensation fluctuated with useless proximity and he seized at jerking limbs, tried to push up-his disks, he was holding them, that mattered-fell back again, ( ... )
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We'll be gone as soon as my ride arrives.
[His optics flick between the two humans before settling on the still-twitching form of Rinzler. He flicks long fingers at the program, and actually manages to conceal the less-than-altruistic intent in his voice when he speaks.]
What about him, hm?
[The transport-- a metal platform floating (Cybertronian) knee-height about the ground on anti-grav lifters-- arrives and nudges at him from behind. He dutifully maneuvers Soundwave's unresponsive form onto it, but keeps his motions slow and controlled and his attention on the unquantifiably dangerous little skin jobs while he does it.]
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At Knock Out's question, however, she looks up. ]
I'll deal with him.
[ She's earned that much, and if Knock Out wants to argue, there's more Thundaga where that first one came from. ]
Tell Soundwave that I want to talk to him once he's feeling better, would you?
[ She's not waiting for a no, so she looks at Harry instead. ]
Give me and our fried acquaintance a lift? I'll toss a Cure at him; if that doesn't work enough to get him back on his feet, I'll hand him over to someone, and then we're going back to your place.
[ No, you really don't get a say in this. ]
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Sure a trip like that wont make him short out?
[Cause, still magic, Rebecca, and taking a potential bomb with them through the Vortex is not Harry's idea of safe traveling. Definitely in violation of SOME...dimensional warping commission or something.]
I'd rather take a boat in that case, to be honest.
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Try something new.
The struggles to stand die away entirely, leaving only faint spasms of motion as electricity still sparks across the limp form. Rinzler internalizes. Starts with a branch, works upward, spreads out, sectioning off data. From elements to functions to process. Thought. He can't discharge, can't control the overload trying to burn him out. But he can compartmentalize. Somewhat ( ... )
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Mn, as you wish~. I'll tell him.
[A still, angular shoulder gets a pat, the kind of physical intimacy Knock Out wouldn't dare if Soundwave was conscious. Knock Out casts one last regretful glance at Rinzler, then turns his attention to maneuvering the clumsy transport out of there. Loathe though he is to pass up an opportunity this good to poke at the recalcitrant program, he is more than happy to put the two dangerous humans behind him.]
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I'll try giving him a shot of Cure now.
[ She looks back at Harry, eyes dark, half-lidded; she still has adrenaline running through her veins and no fight to take it out on. Harry's here, though, and she may still be mad at him, but that makes it even more tempting to try and pin him up against the wall of his apartment. ]
I would really rather not wait that long.
[ There's a slight lick of her lips, and Rebecca looks back at Rinzler, hands glowing green before she casts. She doesn't know if it will work, but maybe it will work better on a program than it even does on herself; she's not a healer, but she's a tech geek, and she has more knowledge of programs than she does of the human body (she certainly knows enough to injure and kill one or to provide first aid, but she's no doctor). ]
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