2016-11-03 Drama Dies at the End
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-11-03 Drama Dies at the End|
|NPCs||Drama, The Kennel Keeper|
|Plot||The Cosmic Carnival|
|Summary||Read at your own risk. Death, gore, violence, creepy bugs, and all manner of sensitive topics.|
Rung had come to the carnival, just as he told Tailgate he intended to, with a group of other crew members. it.. is definitely something? it is just as gloomy as others have said, despite the obnoxiously bright face of a flame headed femme looking down at them from a sign. If anything such an image just calls to attention the multitude of images of those missing. Its unnerving. While he is slowly becoming more unsure of his decision to come, his current company seems perfectly content and excited. Perhaps the therapist is just being paranoid...
As the group of mecha passes, one of the carnival rides creaks to life. The lights of the ferris wheel flicker on to greet the morning, and a tired looking attendant staggers into the booth. With an almost bored look, he glances at the passing crowd and begins to call, "Come one, come all! Delight yourselves with the tallest ferris wheel in this sector of space!" he says, locking optics with the gaggle of Cybertronians. "You! You look like you've traveled far to experience these wonders. Would your group like to the be the first to ride for the day? First ticket of the day is on the house," he offers.
Any good carni knows that having a crowd draws people in, and at the moment the line for the ride is a little too lacking for his tastes. One of the Lost Lighters begins to divert their course, interest quiped. "Well, he did say free," Blackstorm chirps.
Rung looks over as the mechs around him, who all seem interested in the ride. They all walk closer and soon are piling into the ride only to be told some can't bring their things on with them. The attendant saying something about 'safety concerns'. After a moment Rung walks up, not wanting anyone to lose their opportunity to have fun, "If you wish to go on the ride I could hold your things for you." and Rung has officially been demoted to the mom holding everyones stuff.
As the last of the mecha climbs into the cab of the ferris wheel, the attendent's expression sags. His little display did garner a little attention, a few groups of stragglers breaking off to join the line for the ride, but that just means another long day at work for him. With an annoyed huff, he waves the waiting mecha out of the way. "If you're not going to get on the ride, you have to wait over there," he explains, gesturing towards a small alley bordering the ticket booth. It seems safe enough, still well within sight of the ferris wheel itself. It appears to be empty of carnivalgoers. "I've got to get the others their tickets."
Rung's current position puts him directly in the path of the line and the ticket booth.
Rung, now with arms laden with everyone else's things, glances over at the alley then back at the others going way way up on the Ferris Wheel. "Oh- Of course." He makes his way to where indicated, nervous but not overly worried since it is still within sight. Once in the alley, he lets out another vent as he leans against the wall. His day hasn't been quite as exciting as the others. He just finds it hard to have fun in such settings.
That far wall of the alley is formed by a red, striped tent. Unlike the other places in the carnival, this tent's colors have not yet faded with age. The support pole for the tent, made to bear great weight, proves to be a suitable place to rest as the mecha waits for his group to finish. Once the fair attendant finishes catering to the rest in line, directing the carnivalgoers into the ride, he onlines the ride with a press of a button. It groans to life in protest, beginning its steady circuit to a merry tune. The alleyway remains quiet for a time.
After a few minutes tick by, though, Rung may notice a strange itch around his ankle. Before he has much time to do anything about it, something wraps around it and gives a sharp yank, trying to pull the unfortunate mecha down and underneath the fabric of the tent.
Rung was not expecting to be suddenly pulled down and lets out a loud yelp as his leg is pulled from under him. Crashing to the ground, practically face first, As the things in his arms go flying, Rung's first reaction is to kick at whatever is holding his ankle to make it let go. He just hopes whatever it is either doesn't have a good grip or the therapist has enough strength to fight it off. Whatever creature has a hold of him, it gives a quiet screech when the therapist's flailing slams into its limbs. There is a quiet crack as its carapace is broken, but the injury only seems to have made the thing more determined. The grip around Rung's leg tightens to painful, and the yank that follows is so forceful as to pull the therapist inside the dim tent within a matter of seconds.
Rung will not have much time to glimpse his attacker as it begins to curl around him, but he might spot the movement of a thousand skittering legs. Its long body continues to coil and squeeze tighter, tighter, tighter. It hisses, "Shut up. You'll need that fight for later."
Rung tries to fight against it, he really does, but he is no battle frame. Its probably all too easy for the.. whatever it is- Rung can't see just what it is- to drag him under the fabric. He attempts to keep fighting, determined to get loose, but lets out a gasp as the creature coils around him and drives any air in his systems from his vents. Fight for later? Primus what is happening!? His first instinct is to say something biting but with how he is being crushed all he can get out is a rather pathetic scowl at the other in the darkness. "What- what do you want from me?"
Even when the creature finally settles in, its constant movement never ceases. The coils of its long body squirm and move over each other, and its thousand legs twitch with impatience. Its head rears up to address its new acquisition. There are no eyes along the underside of the milipede-like creature's body, but a mouth like vertical gash cuts along the underside of its body. Just like the rest of the millipede, this too is constant movement. A dozen tongues flick out to taste the air, and as the millipede leans forwards one of them rasps along the side of the therapist's faceplates, skewing his glasses from his faceplates.
"I want you to last me longer than the snake did. You Cybertronians break so easily," he hisses.
Rung grits his teeth and leans away as the disgusting creatures tongue slides along his face, heavily resisting the urge to headbutt the creature as one of his optics is exposed. What is the millipede going on about, what snake? He can feel the thing constantly moving against him in thousands of repeated taps along almost every inch of his plating with how tightly he is caught. He is at this beings mercy and has no idea if his crewmates are even aware of where he is. For all the therapist knows he has to get himself out of this. Aware he has a multitool- with a knife attachment- in his hip compartment (having moved it after his chat with Tailgate) he has to figure out a way to get to it without making his captor privy to his plan. "I don't know what you mean. If it is shanix you are looking for I am willing to surrender what I have to you."
Whatever the creature tastes on Rung, he gives a quiet purr of approval. The tongue retreats back into the millipede's body with a quiet clack of its lips. Instead of answering Rung's remarks, though, it begins to skitter along the floor. The back half of its body is tied around the therapist, but that does not stop it from being able to drag itself with surprising speed over to the far corner. The inside of this particular tent seems to be nothing more than storage, huge crates piled on on top of the other, but the millipede stops in front of one that seems just like any other.
Bracing itself against the crate, it begins to push. With a grunt of exertion it manages to half-reveal a burrow hidden underneath it. Twisting down into the earth, the millipede drags its prey down with it. The enterance to the burrow is pitch-black, and as the millipede's body scrapes against the side there is the quiet ping of rocks and dirt dislodging to pelt along Rung's frame. There is barely enough room for him to twist around his prey to pull the box back into place: hiding his burrow once more.
Now away from the scene of the crime, he allows himself the luxury of talking. "All you need to do is run. Our clients expect a challenging Hunt, after all," he hisses.
Still glaring daggers, Rung doesn't let the chill that goes down his spinal struts show at the thing's purr. That doesn't bode well for the therapist. As he is distracted moving the box, Rung tries to get his hands through the tight folds of the being's body to his hip. He can't.. quite.. make it... When they dive into the hole Rung blatantly refuses to give this creature the pleasure of knowing he is in pain as rocks and dirt hit him. The being twists around to seal them in and Rung's already skewed glasses come off as his head scrapes across the floor. He puts what energy he can spare in his careful attempts to get the multitool into glaring daggers at the insect, a rarely seen anger in his features. "Run? Hunt? What the frag are you going on about!?" Primus Rung just cursed. The world is probably about to implode, but all rung can think is How dare this.. this thing kidnap him then have the gall to speak vague riddles! Anger is the best way for him to hide the rising fear. He is utterly determined not to give his kidnapper the satisfaction of seeing him scared.
"You'll see," the millipede says as way of answer. The millipede resumes his descent deeper into the ground, and as the pair move along it will quickly become apparent that the burrow enterance is deceptive. The walls of the tunnels broaden the deeper they travel, and a faint light glows from deep below the earth. The farther they travel the first thing of note is the fetid stench of rot clawing at their nasal sensors. The broadening tunnel branches out to the left, and if Rung turns his helm he'll see a horrible sight. Corpses, both organic and mecha alike, lay in twisted heaps in the makeshift morgue, lit only by a handful of lights buzzing in the walls. Their faces are twisted into looks of horror even in death. Each one seems to have suffered a unique and gruesome death. One bloated organic still has a makeshift noose dangling from its neck. Another, a mecha, is flayed open at the torso and appears to have all but the most necessary organs painstakingly removed piece by piece. Even if he does not look, the horrible sucking sound of the scavengers the Kennel Keeper employs to dispose of the corpses is disturbing enough.
The distant sounds of screams echoes up from deeper within the tunnels. The millipede twists and delves towards the noise. The gruesome sight of the morgue is soon enough left behind.
Rung freezes in his attempts to get the weapon as he takes in the sight that greets him. Primus that.. thats.. Rung is so dumbstruck he can't even think of a proper way to describe it. It is utterly monstrous, especially when he spots a familiar face in the pile. He looks back up at his captor with newly wide optics as screams emanate from down the tunnels. He needs to get word back to the ship. Activating his thumb mic, Rung abandons his attempts for the multitool in favor of getting a warning back to the crew. They have to leave, immediately. "What is happening, those... those bodies... they are the missing persons..." At least one of them is, he can only assume the others are as well. But he needs more information before he can send the audio to someone on the ship.. maybe Soundwave or Ultra Magnus.
"Well, you're not dumb," the millipede answers. Soon enough they come upon the source of the screams: a bank of cells. Surprisingly enough, as they turn into this hallway, the place is postively bustling with activity. Groups of people bustle along, stopping to point into the various cells and murmur to each other in quiet voices. One of the patrons, as that is indeed what they prove to be, stops in front of a cell and gestures to an attendant that looks as bored as the one running the ferris wheel. A few words are passed, money exchanges hands, and the attendant produces a key to open the cell. Moments later, just as they pass, Rung will be able to catch a glimpse inside the cell. A poor creature is chained to the walls, an array of various torture devices laid out on a table before it. The patron is reaching out to grab what appears to be a flail. With or without the millipede's explanation, Rung might be able to put it together: torture for hire.
Rung looks absolutely sickened by every bit of this, sending an utterly disgusted look at the millipede. This is horrible, why would anyone do such a thing- Rung really answers his own question. He knows of many who would pay grandly to torture someone, especially from the opposite faction. Its an outcome of hatred and war. To actually see it in effect? Rung feels sick to his tanks. "You're running a torture market." He has to say it out loud for the mic, "You kidnap your carnival patrons then let others buy time to rip into them." Its not a claim or an accusation. Its a statement of fact, said in a slightly shaky but otherwise steady tone.
The millipede finally stops in front of one of the cells, shifting a moment to tilt his head in his prisoner's direction. This one is not dumb at all. "We're hardly unique in the universe. It's just a business," he explains, curling around Rung with a little more force. "The universe is full of so many petty wars and arguments. Someone must capitalize on the hatred, don't you think? You would be surprised what people are willing to pay to take out their frustrations discretely. Especially your kind." Actually, business with Cybertronians had tripled since the end of the war, as many no longer had the excuse of battle to act out their petty little fantasies.
A startled voice calls from within the cell at overhearing the conversation. "Kennel Keeper, is that you?" they ask. The millipede's head shifts. "Drama," he remarks. Nodding towards the bored attendant, they rush over and produce the key for the Kennel Keeper. Taking it in one of his thousands of legs, the millipede opens the door with a quiet click. On the inside waits a frightened fluffball and a corpse stretched out across the ground. A two-headed snake, curdled energon pooled on the ground around it. The millipede suddenly unfurls his body, sending Rung sprawling out onto the cell ground next to it.
"An example, Drama, of how you capture a Quarry without killing it. That's the last time I buy a domesticated Cybertronian. It broke too soon."
Rung goes sprawling across the ground, finally sliding to a stop at the pool of blood as several things click together. Snake. domesticated. The strange creature nearby. In one motion Rung sends the data packet containing the- probably static filled but hopefully discernible- audio to command with the text 'Leave the system.'. He needs to make sure someone sees it so sending it to them all will do. He just hopes it will make it back to the ship, he has no idea how far underground they are. He then gently touches the snake, trying to see if it is truly dead or merely dying. He might be able to help if it was merely unconscious but it appears to be very much dead. What about the other in the cell? Ignoring them for now he turns back to scowl at the 'kennel keeper' as he is revealed to be. "If you bring any harm to my crew members I- I'll-" probably do something very un-Rung like.
"Shut up!" the Kennel Keeper snaps, tail lashing out to snap at Rung's prone form. The millipede might be strong enough to send the Cybertronian flying back into the wall if he gets in a good hit. Still, it's quite possible he misses entirely. The Kennel Keeper's attention is now focused on his employee. The millipede rears up as far as he can, head nearly touching the ceiling.
"And that is not your only mistake. You drew attention to us. You let the Quarry escape in the first place. You know I do not abide mistakes, Drama," he hisses. The alpacca seems to know what is coming, as she cowers back against the cell wall with a whimpered, "Please. I'll do better..."
She never gets the chance to finish. The mouth along the millipede's underside opens, exposing the quivering flesh within. Dark brown organs twitch, exposed to the open air, and drool drips to the ground. The nigh-flattened bug lunges at Drama and wraps the whole of its mouth around her. Crunch.
Rung is hit like a ton of Cybertronian sized bricks, crashing into the back off of the cell and landing in a dazed heap. Head now leaking energon from a gash, ge tries to force himself up- to rush to the rescue of the organic- only to be sprayed with gore as the being is crunched in the alien's splitter jaws of a body. He dearly hopes the Lost Light receives his warning, before someone else can be taken. The Kennel Keeper twists back around to face Rung, body still bulging with the undigested 'snack.' Drool continues to drip from his partially closed mouth, and the occasional clump of fluff falls to the ground with a wet sploosh. "Now you," he mutters, circling his new acquisition.
The back half of his body moves to snag the mecha by his ankle again, dragging the dazed therapist towards the manacles embedded in the wall. He is not about to let his Quarry slip away a second time. The clients coming tomorrow for a Hunt are big business, and they will not be pleased if they come all this way and don't find what they paid for.
"Rest up. Tomorrow's your big day."