phase6kindofbot (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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robothell2015-04-04 12:59 am
phase6kindofbot) wrote in robothell2015-04-04 12:59 am
Entry tags:
(no subject)
Who: Sixshot and YOU.
Where: Somewhere in the city!
When: Some… time.
What: Talk to doggy! Pet the doggy! Annoy the living heck out of the doggy!
Warnings: Standard potential violence warning because Phase Sixer.
Sixshot never stayed in one place for too long. There were places he would visit often, like the Decepticon base and the Autobot clinic, but he never lingered for longer than a day.
Sometimes he dug; there were various Sixer-sized holes around the barren city now. His olfactory sensors helped with homing in on various useful equipment and he left them where either Spinister, Tarn or First Aid would find them.
More often than not, he wandered. There were massive spaces underground, caverns left by destroyed metros, the dead roots of collapsed skyscrapers. Unstable death traps to most other mechs, but quiet places for one who could withstand half a world falling upon him.
There was a hole over this particular section of what appeared to have once been an underground mall. The sound of running water echoed through the darkness and Sixshot could see the sparkling spray as he got closer to the shaft of light.
A waterfall? A very small one, but it certainly looked like a waterfall.
Sixshot slows to a stop under the collapsed ceiling. The water disappeared into a pile of rubble for the most part and plants were scattered here and there and up around the edges of the hole.
Stepping up onto the pile, the Sixer sticks his massive head out of the hole in the ground. Where does this pop up into?
Where: Somewhere in the city!
When: Some… time.
What: Talk to doggy! Pet the doggy! Annoy the living heck out of the doggy!
Warnings: Standard potential violence warning because Phase Sixer.
Sixshot never stayed in one place for too long. There were places he would visit often, like the Decepticon base and the Autobot clinic, but he never lingered for longer than a day.
Sometimes he dug; there were various Sixer-sized holes around the barren city now. His olfactory sensors helped with homing in on various useful equipment and he left them where either Spinister, Tarn or First Aid would find them.
More often than not, he wandered. There were massive spaces underground, caverns left by destroyed metros, the dead roots of collapsed skyscrapers. Unstable death traps to most other mechs, but quiet places for one who could withstand half a world falling upon him.
There was a hole over this particular section of what appeared to have once been an underground mall. The sound of running water echoed through the darkness and Sixshot could see the sparkling spray as he got closer to the shaft of light.
A waterfall? A very small one, but it certainly looked like a waterfall.
Sixshot slows to a stop under the collapsed ceiling. The water disappeared into a pile of rubble for the most part and plants were scattered here and there and up around the edges of the hole.
Stepping up onto the pile, the Sixer sticks his massive head out of the hole in the ground. Where does this pop up into?
no subject
Sixshot's landing leaves a pretty decent crater in the ground, rusted metal and concrete buckling under the impact. Turning a baleful glare at the red and purple mech, he steps out of the hole and strides after him.
"You're going down, Rampage," the Sixer growls, and there might just be the barest hint of amusement in his voice.
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He draws no weapons. This isn't a battle, after all, it's just a play-fight. And not one he really expects to win. He's strong, but Sixshot is simply on another level. It hardly matters, however, when no matter how many times you're put you just keep getting back up.
no subject
Then again, typically, Sixshot didn't usually be caught up in a melee fight; you didn't walk around with a world destroying arsenal with the intent of getting into fisticuffs. It was sort of the opposite of this particular exercise.
So, Sixshot kicks off and gleefully charges Rampage head-on, fully intent on tackling the now taller mech around his waist.
no subject
He's got other things to think about. Bracing his feet, Rampage leans all of his weight forward to meet Sixshot's tackle, trying to turn it into a grapple rather than be bowled over.
All the while, he laughs wildly.
no subject
He also has a lower center of gravity now.
Which means the moment he gets his arms around Rampage's middle, he's suplexing the crab straight through the ground and into the mall underneath.
no subject
He hardly notices when he breaks through the rusting roof of the mall, but the crater-making impact with the floor has a bit more of an effect. He's just sitting up to glare at Sixshot through the hole he body made when a large portion of the ceiling promptly collapses on him.
Rude.
no subject
Right on top of the rubble covering the crab mech.
How's that for a giant Gary Stu bastard?
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Then, with a loud huff, he promptly sits down on a piece of rubble.
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Smothering the sound with the back of his hand, he watches as Rampage sulkily sits down on a rock, all but radiating smug superiority.
"You could use more training," the six-former remarks, tone carefully neutral. "Or. We could go exploring."
no subject
"It's not like they had anyone of my caliber to train me against," he says. And not that they really trained him at all so much as they tested how much pure punishment he could take and dish out. The answer to both was 'enough to kill most mechs'.
He doesn't say 'yes' to explore, but he does walk over to stand next to Sixshot and stare at him expectantly.
no subject
"Pity, that," Sixshot remarks, casting his new companion a look as the other mech comes to stand by him. "You'd have been worthy of becoming Warrior Elite with some polishing."
Not that really mattered now with the war having ended. What future did they have? Weapons for a war and no war to fight.
Suddenly feeling a bit gloomy, Sixshot starts leading them deeper into the bowels of the underground part of the city.
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Rampage's horns twitch awkwardly at the compliment, feeling oddly... flattered? He's never received and honest compliment before, and he's not entirely sure how to react to it. So he just scoffs and says, "Like I'd agree to be one of Megatron's pets! I'm a free mech, now and forever."
Free to make his own choices. His own... terrible choices. His own mood drops, falling to match the gloom trickling off of Sixshot. With a grunt, he catches up with Sixshot, then 'accidentally' shoves him with an elbow as he moves by to take the lead.
The look he flashes over his shoulder seems to be a challenge.
no subject
But in hindsight, that argument didn't hold much water. He'd been groomed since the day he came online, made to be an obedient and loyal weapon. He'd never disobeyed a single order willingly, questioned only to clarify his mission, existed only to serve and to destroy when told to. If he should ever have stepped out of line, Megatron could have uttered the kill code and that would have been that.
Sixshot didn't even think to exist beyond his function up until he woke up on this planet- only to find existing as empty as everything else in his life. Moreso now without any direction.
'Pet' was exactly what he was. Death Bringer was right-
The sudden shove snaps Sixshot out of his depressive spiral.
He blinks, offended and baffled, but doesn't immediately try and fight Rampage to take back the lead- at least not until the afthead that look.
"Do you even know where you're going?" the Sixer grumbles, casually digging his elbow into his companion's side and shoving.
no subject
It's something of a relief when other emotions pull to the fore of Sixshot's mind, overlaying the underlying depressive feelings. Hot anguish and acute emotional pain Rampage can handle. He enjoys that. But this creeping hopeless hurt... it tugs at the dark places in his own spark, and he doesn't like it.
Rampage's retaliation is a casual shoulder check.
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"One of the maps says there's an atrium down this way- Uff!"
RUDE.
Sixshot huffs indignantly as he picks himself out of the empty store front, roughly brushing dust off of his armor. He then strides over, back to Rampage's side, and kicks the back of the crab-former's ankle.
no subject
Rampage gives an indignant squawk as he topples to the ground, leg knocked thoroughly out from under him. He doesn't even bother to stand up, he just rolls around and kicks a foot straight up into Sixshot's crotch.
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"That," he declares, looking quite offended. "Would have been a very low blow."
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"Oh, I'm sorry," he says. "I didn't know we were being honorable about it!"
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"Keep laughing, you gear stripping bastard," he grumbles reaching out to grab two handfuls of the red mech's alt-mode legs and using them to drag his companion along.
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"What-!" he manages to sputter out as he squirms, trying to get his feet under him while being pulled along. "Let go!"
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Well.
At least he's inordinately entertained.
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Never mind that Sixshot's hide is probably tougher than his teeth.
Jerk.
Wrap up?
Sixshot is totally not smirking under his mask at his, uh, 'friend's' resignation, nope.
Okay!
...He clearly doesn't care too much, though, given that he hasn't bothered doing anything more drastic to get away like transforming or shooting.