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2018-08-22 Everything In Hand

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Everything In Hand
Date 2018/08/22
Location Tarantulas' Citadel - Noisemaze
Participants Prowl, Minimus Ambus, Rodimus
NPCs Tarantulas
Scene GM Tez
Summary Prowl and Minimus try to break free of their captor! It's all very gross.

Prowl has been magnetized to a table to dry off. Turns out, the Chimeracon process is very wet and the congealing solution left over is easier to peel off than wipe off. He's looking... Well. Different. Spider-y but alive! Alive is probably good.

Meanwhile, in the corner of the room is Minimus. Not much can be seen of him. Tarantulas seemed to get the idea that a Minimus that can move is a dangerous Minimus indeed. Because he's wrapped him uptightly- from toe to nose. Seems he wanted to seal off that mouth Mini's too. The only thing truly exposed is one of Minimus's punching hands. It's seen... Better days. The armor around his fingers has been stripped to the skeleton and there's something different- something weird- with the metal skeleton fingers. Oh, and there seems to be a few quills springing from the back of the hand. Yeah, better days.

Captives secure, Tarantulas is quietly tapping at a computer, entering in data and prepping materials to finalize the Chimeracon process on Prowl. Just a few spark modifications to go...

Here's the problem with tying up a tiny, discount phase sixer: he's still a phase sixer, and one powered by a point one percenter's spark. The silk of Tarantulas's wrap is extraordinarily strong, well behind the usual limitations of metal or cuffs -- but still, it's not ununtrium. Bit by bit, Minimus is able to seethe his way free as Tarantulas works. It seems as though the removal of the armor may actually be helping him here, as he brings the bare bones forward, the binding forces no longer spread across his armor but forced to a sheering break.

Prowl doesn't want to know. He doesn't want to think. But he eventually pulls himself from his intense denial to arch his spine up off the table, only to have it smack back down from the magnetism. It splatters whatever the hell is coating his frame. Unable to turn his helm, he promptly begins to resume the yelling and cursing he had begun before Tarantulas knocked him out. His insults aren't terribly colorful or creative, but boy is he pipin' mad.

Beginning with his skeletal hand, then, Minimus slithers free of the bindings. But he does so with extreme care to being quiet, this time, because /this/ escape is clearly unauthorized. Powered attention to stealth rather than spite, he carefully, carefully worms his way out, and begins a steady creep across the floor. Skeletally flexing, he grinds his teeth as Prowl immediately begins yelling and swearing, but at least it gives him an extremely audible focus for his direction. Also, being small, maybe he'll be less noticeable. You never know.

"Prowl, this really isn't the time," Tarantulas gently admonishes as he finishes typing. Now he inserts a datadrive as he compiles and compresses his research. He watches it all with a sense of nostalgic sadness- the Chimeracon Process was a labor of love after all. "Best not to tempt any of that solution to go down your throat. You don't want to know what happens there, Prowlie. And we have guests coming. Don't be rude."

<FS3> Minimus_Ambus rolls Reaction + Reaction: Success. (8 4 4 2 6 1 1 6 4 1)

Prowl falls quiet, for all of three seconds. "You think this is going to end how you want it to? You think you're going to walk away with everything you want? I thought you were brilliant once, but it's clear you've faded. You're a fool! Where's Minimus? Minimus!" He tries to clench his fists, and his fingers do manage to curl, but there's a there's a muted cracking beneath the goop, and it makes him freeze.

While not precisely inclined to stealth, Minimus ... does not trip. With Prowl swearing up an absolute storm, it might take Tarantulas a moment or two to hear him. Of course -- then there's Prowl. Drawing attention to Minimus.

Minimus Ambus freezes for a heartbeat's amount of time at the sound of his name and stares towards Prowl's table in aggravation. He looks back where he was supposed to be and then looks towards the table. Right. RIGHT. Carefully not looking at his skeletal hand, he picks up speed across the room to reach the said goopy table as quickly as he can so that he can perform an AMBUSCADE upon it before he can be captured again.

"You're reaching now, Prowl. Not after all the nice things you said on our- what." Tarantulas twists around, optics darting to Minimus's cocoon. His empty cocoon. "WHAT!" he snarls, supremely annoyed as he sweeps the room, spotting- "You! Stop breaking things." He makes a few web shots at Minimus to stop him in his tracks.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Tarantulas=8 Vs Minimus=reaction+reaction

< Tarantulas: Good Success (3 4 7 7 6 6 4 4) Minimus: Good Success (7 2 8 8 1 3 1 2 6 5)

< Net Result: Minimus wins - Marginal Victory

The webbed shots are good -- but Minimus is better, and he slides under and past them, not even slowed as he moves to free Prowl from his jello jail.

Prowl is largely unhelpful, but obviously happy to spot the small green from from the corner of his optic. He tries to wriggle free again, but everything feels... slick and creaky. Whatever, THE SCIENTISTS WILL REVERSE IT. "Cut something off if you have to!" The long black arachnid appendages on his shoulder twitch and spread and poke through the grossness, all shiny black.

Minimus Ambus does not stop! There's a resounding crack from the first table leg as he uses his inordinate strength to break it, and then he tosses it to the off hand so that he can use the raw power of his skeletal fingers to break off the other leg and send the table and its contents spilling messily and without dignity onto the floor. "If you would just shut up I would've gotten you out already!" he growls at Prowl despite all evidence to the contrary.

"NO!" Tarantulas shouts as Minimus goes and breaks something. What did he just tell him?! The legs along his back lifts, the ends opening so he can just unleash a volley of blaster fire. Apparently his qualms about shooting Minimus have vanished. "You're going right out into the Noisemaze," he growls a threat at Minimus.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Tarantulas=8 Vs Minimus=reaction+reaction

< Tarantulas: Good Success (5 5 8 2 7 8 2 2) Minimus: Good Success (8 3 4 1 7 3 6 1 6 6)

< Net Result: Tarantulas wins - Marginal Victory

The blaster fire scorches Minimus's frame, but does little real damage. He is stunningly resilient, after all, and this is when it truly begins to show. Unrestrained and unafraid, Minimus is a disruptive terror in the middle of Tarantulas's nice neat web -- while Prowl seems to be getting his feet (all of them) under himself.

Prowl slides off as Minimus demolishes the poor table, and collapses in a sticky goopy heap on the ground, his thick coat of mess splattering everywhere. He tries to stand, and slips back to a knee, palms flat on the ground. "You can yell at me later!" he barks, and heaves himself upright, unbalanced and wobbly, with one hand planted firmly atop Minimus' head.

Splattered wetly with a rain of disgusting goo, Minimus Ambus hisses in annoyance. "Come on, Prowl," he snaps. "I'm not tall enough right now to help you walk effectively!" That's right, you randomly have extra legs and you're covered in Tarantulas's sloppy mess but he still is going to yell at you to get it together.

Tarantulas twists into spidermode, legs shuffling before his eight legs throw him forward so he can tackle Minimus. "You're just delaying the inevitable. You can't win this- you're just being difficult," he snaps, in both words and his MASSIVE FANGS. Snap, snap.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Tarantulas=10 Vs Minimus=unarmed

< Tarantulas: Great Success (8 2 8 1 7 4 8 2 3 8) Minimus: Great Success (8 5 5 3 1 3 1 4 8 1 7 8)

< Net Result: Tarantulas wins - Marginal Victory

On eight legs and moving, Tarantulas is a powerful force. He slams into Minimus, who has the approximate weight and density of the compacted subatomic matter of a collapsed star. So -- you know. Pretty serious immovable object. Despite that, Tarantulas rocks Minimus on his feet, and the fangs bite deep into his armor, peeling it back to expose more of the metal spars that run beneath. This is what happens when you ignore the threat to argue!

Prowl pushes away, just as Tarantulas tackles Minimus. He staggers backwards and stumbles over the debris of the hapless table, back on his aft. But at least now he has table legs to try and hurl. He lobs one at Tarantulas' head!

Minimus is caught off guard by Tarantulas's launch primarily because he is busy bickering with Prowl, but that does not mean he is without a threat to the enormous spider mech. As skin peels away from his reinforced frame with a splatter of energon and a spark of metal on metal, he scrabbles as he attempts to twist and strike through the grapple, prizing at Tarantulas with his newly quilled -- Primus, what, no, worry about that later -- and skeletal hand. Like he's going to return the favor and peel him right back. It's pretty brutal.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Prowl=50 Vs Tarantulas=8

< Prowl: Great Success (8 2 7 1 3 5 2 7 3 2 6 4 8 4 4 3 4 2 4 7) Tarantulas: Good Success (3 8 2 2 2 1 8 2)

< Net Result: Prowl wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Tarantulas=10 Vs Minimus=unarmed

< Tarantulas: Failure (4 1 4 1 2 5 1 5 6 3) Minimus: Great Success (8 6 3 8 1 8 4 7 3 8 2 3)

< Net Result: Minimus wins - Crushing Victory

Maybe it's the table to Tarantulas's face that distracts him -- nice aim, Prowl! -- but Minimus not only gets a good grip on him, but begins to peel with terrifyingly gruesome strength. Tarantulas's carapace cracks and shatters in a wet, organic splatters as Minimus peels it away

Tarantulas works his fangs in deeper, mandibles continuing to just jam them on down Minimus, when the table hits him. He hisses. "Prowl, I do not have time for-" His voice crackles and fizzles when Minimus gets a grip. And then, "AAIEEE!" Tarantulas shrieks in pain, releasing Minimus to push away and scuttle backwards. Meaty, energon-like mush trails after him after quite a bit of it slops against Minimus's feet.

Prowl shouts in his momentary triumph. Then Minimus begins to unpeel Tarantulas, and Prowl is forced to look away. Wait. There's Obtenteum here, somewhere... He looks around for a green glow, cautiously climbing back to his feet with the help of his extra limbs. He's not quite aware that he's moving them.

Well, that's disgusting, and Minimus is pretty unhappy, in his private soul, about just how filthy he is right now. But in the midst of combat, he can't -- he /can't/ -- focus on that. He staggers a little on the slickness of blood and mushy ... other stuff ... and then goes, "rrf," and calls, "Prowl, do you have /any/ idea what I should be doing besides /wrecking/?" while he... actively pursues the scuttling Tarantulas in retreat.

It's at this point that there's a disturbance in the lab: one that Tarantulas will recognize as someone attempting to gain entrance. Actually -- no, not attempting. They gained entrance. They are entering. They are here. It's the Lost Light rescue squad, with Rodimus right in the lead, ready to unload a shot but--. "Oh. I see you've got it in hand. And -- foot. And arm. And basically I'm trying to say you got him everywhere."

The rest of the rescue team are more focused on trying to come up and reinforce Prowl and Minimus rather than getting off a quip, but. You know. Priorities.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Minimus=reaction+reaction Vs Tarantulas=8

< Minimus: Good Success (5 5 1 5 4 8 6 7 4 4) Tarantulas: Success (7 3 3 3 3 1 6 6)

< Net Result: Minimus wins - Marginal Victory

Minimus, being little and quick on his feet, catches that spider before he can skitter. It's unfair, really.

"I..." Prowl trails off, watching as Minimus chases down his tormentor. There's a sick thrill that runs through his frames. His extra limbs quiver. He shakes himself. Ahem.

"Rodimus!" And company. Prowl slumps in relief. "Spared me having to come up with an actual escape. Minimus has that lunatic handled. Help me look for something glowing and green."

Tarantulas is bolting for an exit- enything to get him up and away- but he's just not fast enough. Maybe its because he's dragging some psuedo-organic slush from his thorax. His back legs are grabbed. "No, no..." The rest of his legs scramble to try and pull himself forward, trying so hard to get away.

Minimus Ambus yanks Tarantulas by main force, hauling him down to the ground to return an earlier favor by twisting in a martial sweep to slam his head into the floor, fang first. If it breaks a tooth with the impact, eh. There's a moment, just the flash of an instant, where his teeth flash in a grin. "You have the right to remain silent," he practically carols. "/Rodimus/, you have /unbelievable/ timing." And now that all of that rescue team is storming in to see him exultant, what he demands is: "Did anyone bring four pairs of enercuffs?"

No, Minimus. No one brought that.

Rodimus hesitates just slightly before saying, "Pr--owl?" His gaze sweeps past Prowl to those quivering extra limbs. A convulsive shiver twitches over his frame, up to the tips of his spoiler.

The rest of the team is no less grossed out -- one of them even greets Prowl with a 'Ew, gross' -- but they are WAY more helpful when it comes to hunting through the lab.

"Ah, no, I didn't bring four pairs of enercuffs. Wow, you certainly have this handled. And him." Rodimus stops (stops what? stops nothing!) to admire.

<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Tarantulas=8 Vs Minimus=unarmed

< Tarantulas: Success (3 4 8 2 4 4 4 4) Minimus: Good Success (7 4 4 8 5 7 3 2 6 3 4 5)

< Net Result: Minimus wins - Solid Victory

Tarantulas does, in fact, break a tooth.

Prowl also stops to admire, at least for another few seconds. Upon being called gross, he glares, and barks a redundant order at the crewmate. "Tarantulas is working with the Quintessons," he informs Rodimus, dryly. "Do we have time to thoroughly comb this lab, or..."

The impact does, indeed, break a tooth. A tooth longer than Minimus's arm, and sharp enough to be used as a bigass dagger. Its skitters and spins off as Tarantulas is pinned beneath Minimus. His legs all twitch and then give out. Give up.

He gives up. "You don't, not really..." Tarantulas mutters into the ground to answer Prowl, totally ignoring his right to remain silent. Eff you in particular, Minimus.

Slick, filthy, bleeding, and lifting a quilled and skeletal hand away from his grapple of Tarantulas only when larger mechs swarm to help him contain the defeated but brilliant scientist, he says, "We really need Ratchet. I have no idea what he did to Prowl, but there's ... organic ... stuff ... coming out of me."

"I guess we'll find out," Rodimus says instead, waving off Tarantulas's warning to dispatch medics and support where appropriate. He's -- done what he needs to do, which is like show up and quip, so now he sits back on his heels and looks pleased with himself. "Come on, let them wrap him up in a bow and we'll get the two of you back to the ship. Can't wait to hear this one."

Prowl reaches to pick up the fang. Tarantulas shouldn't be a prisoner, HE SHOULD BE DEAD. But he's not about to start bickering with his saviors again, so he pockets the fang and tries not to look too creepy as he aids in the search for that precious power source.

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