Post by Blackout on Jun 30, 2009 22:58:02 GMT -6
Whup whup whup whup whup
The MH-53's rotor blades whirled around in their rhythmic manner, the chopping noise of their rotations the only noise available in the sky at the moment. The huge helicopter moved slowly, high above the small chopping figures of the ocean's waves. More importantly, it flew high and far out of the United States' naval force over the Laurentian abyss, who were nothing but glimmering specks of grey on the horizon from this vantage point. The small cluster of boats moved slowly, seemingly unaware of the subtle changes that had taken place beneath their very noses. It had been nothing so grand as a wild whirl of Decepticons rising from their watery graves to wreak havoc upon the humans. Nothing like that.
Well... not exactly.
Whup whup whup whup whup whup
The thrumming of the blades increased, the helicopter turning to maneuver away from the already distant navy. To take a close look at the chopper would raise questions amongst those who could see it: How did the helicopter get to be as battered as it was? Surely it would not have cleared for duty in it's present condition. Was that kelp clinging to the plating,t here and there? And that identification number on the tail... 4500 X... hadn't that vehicle been shot down over Afghanistan two years prior?
Had the helicopter been in proper range of the humans, there would certainly be far more commotion than the normal bout of routine going on far below and away. How the helicopter had become operational, much less flying out here, in the ocean, was a mystery, but it surely brought bad news across the globe.
Blackout was alive and free.
How it came to be, even he could not say. He did not care at the moment, and the question was shoved in the back of his processor for mulling over at a later date. Right now... now he was alive, and he needed to establish contact with Decepticon allies... if there were any remaining to establish contact with. He was too damaged to operate independently for more than a short span of time... a day, maybe two. He needed repairs, and for that, he needed allies.
"This is Blackout," He hummed in his native Cybertronian tongue over what had long been a safe frequency for Decepticon communications. "Requesting status and location of Decepticon forces. Over. All hail Megatron."
The last statement was added out of reflex, a firmly-entrenched belief that only one such as Blackout could state with such deadpan conviction. Hopefully there would be someone to respond... hopefully. If the others had fared as poorly as he did against these wretched organics and Autobot compatriots, he was certainly going to be in something of a bind...
The MH-53's rotor blades whirled around in their rhythmic manner, the chopping noise of their rotations the only noise available in the sky at the moment. The huge helicopter moved slowly, high above the small chopping figures of the ocean's waves. More importantly, it flew high and far out of the United States' naval force over the Laurentian abyss, who were nothing but glimmering specks of grey on the horizon from this vantage point. The small cluster of boats moved slowly, seemingly unaware of the subtle changes that had taken place beneath their very noses. It had been nothing so grand as a wild whirl of Decepticons rising from their watery graves to wreak havoc upon the humans. Nothing like that.
Well... not exactly.
Whup whup whup whup whup whup
The thrumming of the blades increased, the helicopter turning to maneuver away from the already distant navy. To take a close look at the chopper would raise questions amongst those who could see it: How did the helicopter get to be as battered as it was? Surely it would not have cleared for duty in it's present condition. Was that kelp clinging to the plating,t here and there? And that identification number on the tail... 4500 X... hadn't that vehicle been shot down over Afghanistan two years prior?
Had the helicopter been in proper range of the humans, there would certainly be far more commotion than the normal bout of routine going on far below and away. How the helicopter had become operational, much less flying out here, in the ocean, was a mystery, but it surely brought bad news across the globe.
Blackout was alive and free.
How it came to be, even he could not say. He did not care at the moment, and the question was shoved in the back of his processor for mulling over at a later date. Right now... now he was alive, and he needed to establish contact with Decepticon allies... if there were any remaining to establish contact with. He was too damaged to operate independently for more than a short span of time... a day, maybe two. He needed repairs, and for that, he needed allies.
"This is Blackout," He hummed in his native Cybertronian tongue over what had long been a safe frequency for Decepticon communications. "Requesting status and location of Decepticon forces. Over. All hail Megatron."
The last statement was added out of reflex, a firmly-entrenched belief that only one such as Blackout could state with such deadpan conviction. Hopefully there would be someone to respond... hopefully. If the others had fared as poorly as he did against these wretched organics and Autobot compatriots, he was certainly going to be in something of a bind...
