Deleted
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Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2020 15:46:48 GMT
Characters: Strafe, Open Location: Death Valley, Eastern California Content Warnings: Not at the moment Plot Summary: A long journey after a narrow escape brings a friendly yet dangerous new individual to Earth...
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Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
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Post by Deleted on Feb 9, 2020 16:05:10 GMT
Strafe tried to yank on the controls, trying to get her ship under control in its descent through Earth’s atmosphere. The interior was flooded with red from the flashing lights, warning of imminent danger if she didn’t do something now. Her ship was coming in way too hot from the last warp jump she had gone through, the entire hull overheating and beginning to break apart. ‘Warning: hull integrity severely compromised, engines failing, all main systems at 60% and dropping.” “You don’t say you hunk of junk!” Strafe snarled, slamming her hand on the console.
There was no slowing this death trap down. ‘What a piece of engineering.’ She thought bitterly, growling as she tore out the controls with a final show of frustration. What use was it when the slagging thing wasn’t responded anyway? The ship’s systems were fried, the hull was falling apart, and she was pretty sure half the ship was on fire by now as she broke through the lower layers of the Earth.
When would her string of bad luck end?
Sighing, the Camien strapped herself into her chair, hitting the eject button while she still could as her ship soared in a fiery blaze across the Mojave desert and launched her from the cockpit. Pulled from the blazing ship and safely cleared via the parachute deploying moments later, she watched as the ship crashed in a shallow valley below, wincing as it blew and likely would be heard and visible from several miles around. “One way to get someone’s attention.” Strafe muttered, snarling as she painfully transformed to her Dinobot mode, tearing free of her chair and dropping the last several feet to land at the lip of the valley, her heavy frame sending up a cloud of dust and claws leaving small gauge marks in the stone.
At least this gave her a brief moment to take in her surroundings, her two misshapen heads glancing back and forth to scan the scenery. “An organic planet? Interesting, even if this area is a waste land. No life for miles around...hopefully.” She told herself, voice having a monstrous echo to it as she circled on the spot for a moment, continuing to leave small scratches from her claws. Nevertheless, the spot would do, she could set up a temporary spot to wait if there was any intelligent life here.
Turning the left head, Strafe opened a subspace to remove a beacon of Camien origin, stabbing it into the sandstone so it wouldn’t move before pressing button in the middle that started to blink and send out a signal. With all the noise her entry had made and the beacon in place, someone was bound to notice and the femme retreated behind some cover close by, having one head just barely peeking around to watch.
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First Aid
Autobot
Cute Medic
Posts: 13
Alias: Iacon
Preferred Pronouns: Him/He/His
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Post by First Aid on Apr 4, 2020 20:06:10 GMT
One nice thing about the base on Each was that, unless there was a major throwdown recently, things stayed pretty quiet. It wasn't like he was out on patrol or anything, he wasn't a soldier after all, but he was often assigned monitor duty. Usually, this time was spent arranging files and reviewing reports. Or working on the ever on-going issue of Energon efficiency that had boggled the processors of doctors and scientists for millennia. That was honestly more of a busywork thing that he got to when he wasn't doing more pressing work.
First Aid stood at the control center, optics scanning over data as it came in. Scanners indicated a wide range of things of interest and projected findings on the screens in graphs and charts. On the tabletop to the side, a number of datapads laid. These were full of various items of medical and scientific interest, one among them serving as a personal journal that included everything from professional observations to gushing commentary on recent Wrecker activity. An empty Energon cube, shoved to the side to make room for the pads, told of how long he had been on shift, its contents consumed in his morning fueling.
The monotonous task of monitor duty was broken when the sensors triggered an atmosphere alert, indicating that something from space had entered. His faceplates shifted, betraying his interest. The whole crash took a relatively short time. By the time it was over, he'd gathered the necessary materials for a possible excursion and alerted someone to a necessary shift change. If no beacon went out, or it was obviously not a Decepticon, he would bridge to the location. If it was the 'Cons, it would be up to one of the fighters on base.
Fortunately, the signal wasn't of Decepticon origin. That didn't mean he wouldn't be careful, but it did mean that he would likely be able to fulfil his function. His replacement entered the coordinates into the ground bridge and, within only a handful of Earth's minutes, he stepped through the tunnel and to the site of a crash. Or rather, near the site of a crash. The valley below contained the guttering remains of a ship that had very recently blown apart.
A wince was hidden behind his mask as he observed the wreckage, holding a scanner in one servo. The other was empty, ready to dive into his subspace for either medical supplies or his weapon. We'll, whoever had set the beacon obviously had gotten clear before the ship turned into a fireball, which meant they were nearby.
"Hello? Is anyone there? We received your signal. I'm here to help"
He hoped that the obvious medic's cross on his playing would keep him from getting shot by whoever was in the vicinity. Usually, people were less likely to shoot doctors. He hoped.
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Deleted
Deleted Member
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Post by Deleted on Apr 7, 2020 7:15:58 GMT
The sound of the ground bridge activating made Strafe more attentive. Surprisingly, someone had reacted far more quickly to the beacon than the Camien had expected, but it also meant there were others here who could either be helpful to her or more enemies. She already had enough of those...
Optics narrowing as First Aid emerged from the vortex, Strafe closely observed the mech from afar. He seemed young and not exactly intimidating, and the red crosses upon his shoulders suggested he was a medic. But her more recent experiences still made her wary to completely trust the word of the medic. "You should probably be far more on your guard little medic when you come through a ground bridge." Strafe spoke up from her spot, emerging from her cover after a little time of observing First Aid. To most her two-headed creature form tended to be the stuff of nightmares, eyeing the medic as she approached until she was a few feet away.
Growling deeply, the yellow and black femme painfully reverted back to her robot mode to come off as far less intimidating than she truly was. Most times anyway. "I suppose you're one of those Autobots the Decepticon scrap heaps kept going on about then?" She inquired as she turned off the beacon.
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