Transformers Prime: Convergence is a plot and character-development driven roleplay forum based upon canon material of TFP and RiD, but incorporates characters, elements, and plotlines from various other continuities to craft a unique story. Our community is welcoming, laid back, and dedicated to making each roleplay experience a good one.
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Sixshot was dreaming of little turbosheep, in the past, while his unit was being viciously slaughtered by Araxians.
Yes, that's much more descriptive.
"OH GOD THEY'RE EVERYWHERE!"
"Burnout, on your left!"
"GEE, I NEVER WOULD'A FIGURED!"
"I'M JUST TRYING TO HELP, COME ON!"
"THAT'S FINE, I-AAAAGGHHUUGHH..."
Tap. Tap Tap.
The sound and feeling of a pincer tapping against his torso was enough to rouse Sixshot from his exhausted slumber, oddly enough. The pained death-cries of his comrades just didn't seem to do it for him; anymore, at least. Just like they wouldn't be doing anything anymore, too. Nexus Squad had just stopped for what qualified as night on Arax. The entire planet was tidally locked, one side scorched to oblivion, the other frozen solid. The Araxians, and subsequently the things the Araxians coveted, were all along the equator, a thin strip of habitable land running round the planet. They'd been pretty surprised when their invaders could survive on both halves of the planet.
Despite their early advances, the Vanguard soon learned that Araxians were especially deadly in the dark, and in groups. The arachnid-like lifeforms had made short work of Nexus while they rested from a day of burning out a few cave towns. Ol' Sixshot, Nexus's designated aft-kicker, had been just a little tuckered out from all the murder, and had taken to resting a bit harder than his squadmates, who had all been torn limb from limb as his optics powered back on.
From what he was able to quickly gather, Nexus couldn't pull their own weight without him (he knew that already), and the Araxians must've figured he was already dead if the sounds of combat and terrified screaming hadn't woken him.
The joke was on them; he was just really tired.
They, speaking of them, were extremely surprised as Sixshot snapped back to life and punched the thorax clean off the abdomen of the Araxian who'd interrupted his nap.
The Araxians sung out in panicked and surprised screeches, their weapons drawn on the corpse-turned-killer. To their credit (Sixshot had to give them that), they opened fire immediately, without waiting to deliver some stupid ultimatum to surrender or else. Because that was just embarrassing for all parties involved. Still partly horizontal, Sixshot slid one of his magnums out of its holster, lasers dotting his armor, and aimed it dead center at the first Araxian he saw.
The first shot obliterated its target, sending them whirling backward as they dissolved into a superheated heap of matter. Sixshot continued to unload into the patrol, who'd since broken out of their makeshift firing line, continuing to scuttle about in a panic. Once he had one leg on the ground again, the second magnum came into play. Araxians continued to fall, one by one. The sound of glorious weapons fire echoed in Sixer's audials, blinding him to the fact that one of the Araxians was leveling an anti-tank weapon at him whilst perched underneath a rocky outcropping.
Slice wasn't particularly fond of being on this planet. When one side didn't mean freezing your skid plate off or meaning being scorched to a crisp, the only area that was remotely tolerable was the single habitable strip of land that the locals seemed so intent on protecting. Then again, having several of their own murdered probably played a factor in that.
But, she also wasn't one to complain when a mission was in progress.
While assigned to serve as cover for the Vanguard group, Slice had kept her distance to be a greater asset to the group. She was a sniper, so distance was where she thrived the most. So, she had kept to the rocks, trees, any high points she could find to handle her targets and keeping an optic on the Nexus group from afar, finding herself lucky enough to have only some issues here and there with the Araxians. She was beginning to really dislike these insect beings...
Settled on a rocky ledge, the two wheeler leaned back against the steep rock side, letting her rifle rest against her knee. The group she was aiding from a distance had decided to rest for the night, allowing her a chance to relax for the moment, having closed her optics for a few hours. However she was jolted awake by the horrid cries in the distance, causing the femme to sit up suddenly, grabbing her rifle in hand the moment she started to move. Raising her weapon to peer through her scope, the sniper frowned as she saw the carnage before her already. The arachnid natives had gotten the drop on the unsuspecting group and were already tearing them apart before her optics. "Well...that is unfortunate." She muttered as she lowered her scope, contemplating to herself what to do from there. What would high command say?
A new sound though made Slice raise an optic ridge, immediately raising her scope to peer where the group had been before. Someone setting off shots had captured her attention, and much to her surprise someone was still alive, somehow. He appeared to be hardly affected by what was happening around him, making Slice somewhat relieved this mission wouldn't be a total waste. So, she kept herself ready, adjusting her aim and getting her weapon ready.
Though movement off towards her left pulled Slice from the present situation, zooming in with her left optic towards a rocky outcrop. An anti-tank weapon, that would do some damage to Sixshot. 'That could be a problem.' She thought as she adjusted her position to face the anti-tank weapon, lining it her shot carefully. Once confident with her shot, Slice fired on the weapon, raising a hand to cover her optics as it exploding seconds later before lowering it down again. That did the trick.
"::Hey you big lug, you should probably watch your back.::" Slice finally spoke over comms towards Sixshot.
He switched it on, still holding the last Araxian a few dozen feet in the air by its torso.
Watch my back?
Appropriately, Sixshot turned to see the melted muzzle of an AT rifle sitting in a pile of melted Araxian. Huh.
With one capably violent yet relatively gentle squeeze, Sixshot popped the helpless Araxian with one flex of his hand, smearing his arm with various shades of green fluid and detritus. He turned to face the faint glint of a rifle scope from the distance. He gave his little savior a brief, but polite two fingered salute.
"Well thank you for doing me this great service, ma'am. You supposed to be our overwatch from Onyx or somethin'?"