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
First Aid takes Sixshot's exposed belly as an opportunity to rub it, but he doesn't linger with it and gives a parting pat.
"He has the right to prejudice. I've had a privileged life compared to most in the war."
no subject
The hand on his belly makes Sixshot half sit up with a start and a surprised 'whuff!'. The petting ends before he could really figure out how he felt about it though and the Sixer stares blankly at First Aid, stunned into silence.
"I- well-" he manages after a few seconds, trying to recover. "Doesn't mean you're... bad."
no subject
and a bit of envyat the casual closeness between the other two. Even if Sixshot does seem surprised by it.He misses having friends. A friend. His only friend. Life sucks.
"I don't think he's bad. I'm going to judge him for being pathetic enough to feel bad about hurting someone who deserved it."
So there! He is so very mature and not a youth at all.
no subject
"If valuing life makes me pathetic then I will gladly own it."
He settles and starts cramming the candy into his face. These mechs would never really understand; they were all strength and size. He didn't fault them for it, but they obviously didn't see his own strength.
"It's because I was angry. It's not Pharma. I shouldn't have made that decision in anger."
no subject
It wasn't a concept Sixshot entirely understood himself, however. He was built to be loyal, to hunt, kill and destroy. But while the joy of carrying out his function had faded eons ago, they had still been an everyday part of his life until very recently.
Why wouldn't you kill someone who committed injustice? Why wouldn't they deserve it? Gruesome and often public executions were such an ingrained and normalized part of Decepticon justice that hardly anyone batted an eye at it, much less questioned it.
The lack of violence was foreign to him, something he understood in theory but not applied to himself. It was like speaking about some peculiar aspect of an alien culture, a practice or behavior explained but not something an outsider would ever entirely get.
But, well, Sixshot felt more like contradicting Rampage today than admitting that.
no subject
"I'm aware of that, mutt," he drawls. "I just don't see the point in indiscriminately valuing life. Not every living thing has value, and some of them don't deserve life."
And some who deserve life don't have it. He states gloomily at the ground, mood darkening as he thinks about Transmutate.