Redstrike snarls, for what little good it does him, remaining defiant and rebellious even as the sedative is introduced to his system. It was undoubtedly a pathetic sight, considering the circumstances of his capture, but it felt better than laying back and letting shame wash over him as the world faded to black. If that smiling bastard thought this was going to be the end of it however, he had another thing coming. Redstrike swore on it with the last bit of cohesive thought he had left before his processors became completely useless and his optical feed shut down.
Reality came back to him slowly and the temptation to ignore it for a bit longer was almost too good to pass up. His helm hurt, his entire frame throbbed with the dull ache that originated out of his spark; The whole process of being alive and carrying was so stupid and inconvenient that he just wanted to tune out of existence for a little while longer and avoid having to function yet again. His surroundings would give him no such break, however, despite his best efforts. They were uncomfortable, they were wrong, and after these annoying facts began to settle in Redstrike remembered what had happened.
He bolted up right, optics wide and battle protocols coming online as he assessed the area around him. Three walls surrounded him and where the fourth could have laid was a series of metal bars, spaced apart far enough for a a mech of his size to get an arm through but little less. Redstrike sneered as he strode up to them, gauging at their width and strength a moment, then checking what was waiting for him on the other side.
Directly across from him was another cell, sporting a different set of bars that were spaced tightly enough to trap a minicon. Next to it was another cell, though it lacked the old fashioned metal bars his and the other had, and instead sported a wide open space which Redstrike assumed could be filled in by a force field of some kind; Likely a cell for larger, more durable mecha - like Tormentor. And although he couldnât actually see it, Redstrike assumed there was a cell neighboring his, probably built differently like all the others to hold who knows what. He didnât really care to find out, having more pressing matters at hand.
A single push against the bars of his cell tell him right away that there is no way he can bend or pull them apart enough for him to slip out easily, which lifts an irritated growl from his throat. Smelting the bars with his thrusters was always an option, but he wasnât sure how much time he had to go through the process. Then again, did it really matter? If he waited too long to get a full assessment of the situation he could wind up dead, and he would be dead anyway if he was caught trying to break out.
Better to die trying than to die not trying at all.
Turning on his heel, Redstrike angles a pede to rest against the bottom of a bar and ignites his thruster. A small flame bursts to life at his heel and burns lightly against the metal, warming it but not changing the color of it. Not hot enough. He narrows his optics, channeling more fuel to his thruster while narrowing the width of it to create a more concentrated flame. The bar soon began to turn color, and Redstrike smiled with satisfaction.
Now all he needed to do was burn his way through the bars, and find the bastard who thought it was a brilliant idea to throw him in this primitive cage.
As Bailâs recently captured mech came back online and started moving around, it wasnât left without the bounty hunterâs notice as he received a ping from his cell. Not only that, he had the feeling that his current captive might have thought he had any chance at escaping - except he always loved demolishing their hopes as they have realized that his cells are more durable than they thought. That there is more to them that one could quickly pick up on. That itâs his home turf - and he is prepared for almost all scenarios to occur.
Getting up from his seat and leaving his ship to run on autopilot, he headed back to the back of his ship. Noticing a faint orange glow coming from the direction he headed to, his assumptions were confirmed. It didnât take alot to figure out that the red jet would attempt burning his way out of the cage with the help of his thrusters. Bail really should have placed an inhibitor claw on him hm?
Too bad for Red, no such escape opportunity will be given.
âNot so fast with your plans.â
He snapped his claws as a forcefield immediately dropped down behind the bars. As the bounty hunter finally showed up, his captive could finally get a glamorous look at him.
âAs fiery as you are, you would have to be foolish to attempt breaking out. I am quite used to your kind: Attempts to break out, then forget this is not their home turf.â
