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Ollie Ollie Oxen Free; Open For Perceptor
Topic Started: 20 Apr 2016, 12:36 PM (216 Views)
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Brainstorm sighed, tapping at his data pad. The connection to the receiver satellite was patchy at best. He winced as he clodded through the still soppy grass, the rain from yesterday emanating from the ground. For how much he disliked organic matter he sure was finding himself surrounded by it often.

And... the connection to the ground satellite was gone. Brainstorm subspaced his data pad, taking a look around the area with a frown.

Brainstorm cocked his helm to the side when a bright color caught his eye. Well, that was a shade of red he hadn't expected to see all the way out here. What was anybot doing all the way out here? The terrain was uneven and the grass was tall enough to make walking awkward.

Brainstorm approached, tentatively poking out his em field. He'd learned the hard way when he surprised an unsuspecting Riptide who fell out of a tree above him.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Brainstorm was whispering, for some reason. He really hadn't expected to find Perceptor out in the middle of nowhere.
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Perceptor
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Perceptor looked up, bullet held between his teeth, rifle in pieces.

"Eh, 's it loo' li'e?", he said flatly before removing the bullet with scuffed digits, "I'm practicing."

He hunched back down, rifle making no noise as it was slotted together and loaded. He looked it over with a practiced eye before pulling a small, circular case from his subspace pocket.

"Can't let my skills go rusty, you know. Never can tell when I'll have to put a bad one down.", he said airily, flipping the reticule piece up and... swiping a servo over his optic. The pale-blue lens came away easily, revealing a cluster of microlenses beneath it. He continued speaking as he placed it in the tiny contact-esque case and clicked it shut, "And its... relaxing. Being out and about with my comms set to do not disturb, you know? No Magnus whining about the engines, or Rodimus pestering me about whatever he thinks happens in the lab."

He looked up, lens cluster whirring as it focused sharply before the reticule cover was flipped back down, "What brings you out here, hm?"
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"Mh." Brainstorm acknowledged the explanation with a small sound, watching Perceptor reassemble his weapon in sure movements.

Brainstorm has never been much for precision rifles, he wasnt a very good shot, and he'd never had a steady hand. Not to mention how meticulous and time consuming they were to maintain- let alone build. Ah, the price of precision was a dear one. There was a certain amount of envy that came hand in hand with the respect he had for such a skill.

Not that he'd admit it.

"The weather." Brainstorm tried not to sound too put out, first the radar gun, and now the satellite?

"I had a satellite set up out here. That storm from yesterday must've knocked it over. I can't seem to find a solid signal." Brainstorm lowered himself to the ground, looking out in the direction Perceptor was facing. What was he shooting at?

"Relaxing though? Out here?" Relaxing wasn't really the first word that came to mind when organic matter was thrown into the mix.
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"Indeed.", was Perceptor's reply with a half smile, "Relaxing."

He looked around again, as though checking that the coast was clear before hefting the rifle and settling again, "Nothing more relaxing than terrifying the local flora and fauna. What can I say? Deep down I'm insufferably rude."

The sound of a gunshot in close proximity, without any form of silencer, can be a disturbingly terrifying sound. This was brutally illustrated by the chorus of squawks, screes, howls and frantic tweeting noises that sounded from around them as grass hissed and creatures of many shapes and sizes darted every which way to escape the echoing sound.

Perceptor's target, a good distance away, popped into nonexistence with a flash of sparks, and he squinted to check.

"...Damn it. Off by six centimeters. Pathetic."
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"I think you've got me beat there, I only terrorize my own species." Still, insufferably rude seemed like a term that belonged to the best at being rude, and Brainstorm could name a few that'd better fit the title.

Still without a clue of what the intended target was, Brainstorm squinted in the direction Perceptor had shot at. The sensors on his wings were only mildly inconvenienced by the sharp sound of a gunshot. It really only offset his balance, which he was quick to steady. Getting covered in dirt really wasn't something he wanted to experience twice on the same shore leave.

"You do realize that-" Brainstorm flopped his wrist forward as he searched for a fitting word. "-that most mechs- normal ones, well not normal but... non-wrecker mechs?" He- really wasn't getting anywhere with this. "Six centimeters really isn't a lot to miss by." Haha, okay maybe it was to a microscope. Point not withstanding though, missing by several centimeters wouldn't make the shot non lethal had it been intended.
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"When you are aiming for an optic, it can be.", said Perceptor, "Thankfully, there's a backup to aim for if all else fails. Bless evolution for that, honestly."

Another reload, aim, and fire.

"And I do have a sharpshooter's reputation to uphold. No need for me to get sloppy.", the scientist mused thoughtfully, "Yes, it may be a weak excuse; but I must admit, 'keeping up to speed' sounds much better for a shore-leave excuse than 'the lack of wartime disasters is boring me to tears'."

Perceptor shifted his shoulders, letting his back pop and he sighed contentedly. He looked to Brainstorm with a lazy gaze, "So, what's this you've said about a satellite?"
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"Ah, just something I've been dabbling in. Outer space doesn't offer much in the way of weather."

Brainstorm's right wing twitched at the reverberating sounds of the second shot. He glanced to the direction he'd been heading in.

"How long have you been practicing?" Brainstorm inquired, he was pretty sure Perceptor had the whole sniper thing going on on Kimia, so, well practiced. It was easy to forget the battle hardened skills of others when they'd been couped up on the Lost Light for months at a time, with no need of weapons. It almost felt trivial, after such a long war.
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"Today? A few hours.", said Perceptor easily, "Had a little one person picnic and made various organic creatures terrified of this sector for the next few decades. Y'know, old fashioned fun."

Reaching beside him, he seemed to materialize ammunition out of nowhere and reloaded the old weapon before pausing. He looked up at Brainstorm, his half grin back on his face.

"I know you've made weapons... but have you ever fired a rifle before?"
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Brainstorm laughed a little, the memory was just as humiliating and repressed as it was funny. He'd only tried his hand at a rifle once, once was all it had taken to discover he really wasn't suited for heavier weapons. He was unbalanced and swift at the same time- really an awful mix for precision shooting. Not only that, but the kick had been so unexpected that he'd managed to miss the target and fall.

"I've tried." A fair summarization of his experience, there wasn't much to share. He didn't have to be any good at shooting weapons to build them.

"It was a while ago, but once was enough to know rifles really aren't my area of... expertise?" While he had a great love for building any number of creative weapons, he'd been applying his skill to an assortment of different inventions. He knew if he traced that line of thought it would only lead him to realize he was searching for another big project. It was unfulfilling to work on simple guns when he knew he could do more.
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"Recoil knocked you flat on your aft, didn't it.", said Perceptor with an almost fond snicker, "Aside from that, what happened with this satellite you placed previously? Do you know?"

Perceptor was currently deconstructing his rifle.

"And would you like some help in figuring out what happened? I've been on my aft for a good few hours; can't feel my left leg."

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Brainstorm narrowed his optics at the assumption, the correct assumption.

"Honestly? I have no idea. The weather might have blown it over? Also could have been organics. It's not where I set it up, wherever it is." Brainstorm settled closer to the ground, holding himself at a squat was getting uncomfortable. He set his chin on his knees, his optics trained on the sky.

"There's no harm in trying, I suppose. It might end up being a waste of time though." Brainstorm optics flicked back to Perceptor's servos as he took apart the rifle, watching with a careful curiosity. Brainstorm snorted a laugh at the mention of Perceptor's numb limbs.
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"Who knows, maybe it'll be a rousing adventure WITHOUT a casualty counter.", replied Perceptor. His rifle packed away and getting to his feet, he stretched until his backstruts crackled and he winced.

"...Good heavens I daresay I might be getting old.", he groaned, going on tip-pede as he stretched before slouching briefly. He exvented with a huff, looking to Brainstorm expectantly.

"Lead on, Brainstorm."
Edited by Perceptor, 1 May 2016, 01:52 PM.
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"Well, casualties weren't really what I was envisioning when I pictured it going horribly wrong." Something more along the lines of... treading dangerously thin ground, falling into a crevice, uh, quicksand too? If there were big enough pools of it for a cybertronian to fall in that is. It seemed like falling in general was a reoccurring theme? There wasn't much else that could hurt a mech their size on a planet this size.

Brainstorm sprung from his sitting position. Despite his overactive imagination he really would like to distance himself from the ground.

Oh, uh, right then.

Brainstorm poked around his subspace until he retrieved the data pad he'd previously used to track the signal. The signal was still wavering and still very, very unclear.

"It's in this general direction? I think? Well, it was- I don't- I have no idea where it is now." That was pretty unhelpful. But the little scanner was pointing in mostly the direction he'd been heading in previously. Brainstorm turned the data pad around to show Perceptor the twitchy signal.
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"Good enough to start with. Considering the flora and fauna I've seen just today, it's safe to say that perhaps an organic who-knows-what decided to gallivant off with insert-piece-here. Honestly. No respect for private property."

Perceptor shouldered his things, tucking a few of the sprawled boxes of ammunition he had brought into his subspace, and set off in the proposed direction, tossing a cheerily said, "You coming?" over his shoulder at Brainstorm. The day was clear, and nothing had tried to kill him yet, so one could almost say he was in a "good mood".

Or at least, he wasn't reigning in the desire to bodily fling a mech into space.
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Brainstorm feigned offence, narrowing his optics in a way that did little to hide the smile. "An organic? Pulling apart one of my carefully constructed and, might I add, very sturdy satellites?" Haha, probably, but the satellite was pretty slagging tough with its rounded plating and the absence of seams. It wouldn't be an easy feat to tug apart, shred apart maybe, but shredding was only done by big organics. Bigger big organics.

"Right, right." Brainstorm followed. It wasn't hard to match Perceptor's pace. With his longer legs it was actually a little easier. He wasn't really in a hurry to find his missing satellite, even if he did find it, he couldn't do much more than bring it back to the Lost Light and scrap it. Shore leave wasn't very long after all, and a satellite designed for terrestrial weather wasn't good for much in deep space.

What kind of organic is big enough and interested enough to hulk around a big metal ball anyway?
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