#broken-tactician

[echoesofmessatinemegatron]

@broken-tactician

This... is not a good day.

Megatron grasps the wall to keep himself upright, panting. He's not sure where he is, but it'd better be friendly, because he's not getting anywhere else anytime soon, and he's in no shape to fight right now. He pushes himself along the alley wall and catches a glimpse of a familiar form. Doorwings, chevron, unamused expression.

He lurches toward it. "Prowl. Thank Primus," he manages, and loses his balance, falling at the mech's pedes.

[allthatjczz]

@broken-tactician continued

Prowl’s expression flattened, slightly, and his doors twitched up and out. “I don’t recall needing your opinion.” the Praxian said, stiffly, his good optic narrowing at the energon dispenser. “I need to find some way to wire this into the building, find a power source. Or we’ll run out of energon.”

Jazz sighed, his own doorwings lowering. He crept closer, ever so slowly, but letting Prowl know where he was with intentionally-loud footsteps, to put his servo on Prowl’s.

“Ya don’ think ya need it, but I’m givin’ it anyway. Th’ Energon can wait, Prowler.  Ya need t’ sit down.” He lightly tugged at Prowl’s hand, trying to draw him away. “Jus’ come sit down. For me. Please?”

[gonnacounttothree]

@broken-tactician from here

“Have you verified their access codes and clearance levels recently?” Doors lift, slightly. Please. He’s so bored.

Oh, shit. 

“... How recently is recently?” In the back of his mind, he’s praying that Epps or someone remembered to update their clearance. 

[red-in-revolt]

@broken-tactician Redstrike could admit to himself that he might have fantasized about being caught by an enforcer back the days when he was a rebel assassin hiding in the stronghold of his enemy, killing right under their noses and dancing just out of their reach. It had felt like a game back them. It nearly still felt like a game even now that he had become a Prime. If only for the fact that revealing the truth of what he was might lead to some uncomfortable questions being asked. Questions he couldn’t answer if he wanted to see his plans come to fruition.  He hadn’t seen a pre-war Cybertron in so long that he had let his guard down and walked the streets as if he were a tourist, his mind in a haze. Which was, perhaps, how he had wound up in this situation...stumbling upon the scene of a robbery and foiling it. Keeping the perpetrator pinned until he realized the sirens approaching weren’t quite so far away and by that point it was too late...he was face to face with Prowl and although not caught breaking the law himself he wasn’t quite sure how to craft a lie believable enough to allow him to leave this situation without simply turning to run. 

[miimiicker]

She had a talent, some would say, for sticking her nose in places it really, really didn’t belong. Kayla had been warned, on more than one occasion, that her poking around would one day get her in trouble. 

Still, when she poked her head into the hole in the roof of the warehouse she’d thought to be abandoned- at least, it had been abandoned when she’d last popped over to this side of town- she was far from expecting to come face-to-face with a giant fucking robot. Sitting in a tree, of all things, like God’s heaviest bird. 

A gasp had escaped her, involuntary, when she caught sight of the robot, and she retreated away from the hole, hand over her mouth. 

Maybe it hadn’t noticed her. If she was quick enough, maybe she could still get the hell out of there. But fear had her frozen, staring at the damned hole in the roof. 

Shit.

@broken-tactician

[sanguiinx]

@broken-tactician and cadet prowl! starter

  Finding the right candidates for the new program wasn’t the assignment Meister was expecting, but it was one he accepted, nonetheless. If the higher-ups wanted the perfect mech to take part of testing, then that’s exactly who he was going to find. 

    Personally, he believed that his talents could be more profitable elsewhere, rather than searching for mecha who fit the criteria of being able to receive a tac-net. Scouting out potential mecha surely wouldn’t have been too difficult of a task for someone else. 

    Just find some poor bastard and bam, you got your guy… Okay, okay, it was much more complicated than that. However, Meister wasn’t going to lie that some bastard was going to have a tac-net shoved into their processor, their very systems, and he’d bet the door-wings on his back that it would be unpleasant. 

    Not that he knew about the specifics of the new plan, of course not, he’d never break protocol and bypass the compartmentalization that was oh so important to other spec ops agents.

    Either way, this was the perfect way to put one of his new aliases to use, Jazz. And since Jazz was a registered cultural investigator, he was bound to be welcomed into the enforcer’s space in hope he’d write favorably about them to his superiors. And with that access, he could then focus on meeting with cadets, to find any promising students who could possibly get their talents enhanced.

   What upstart cadet didn’t want a head start above the rest? 

   With a few changes of his frame, and to his distress, the removal of the door-wings, Jazz strolled around the barracks, merely observing, sometimes asking questions of mecha who he randomly decided to pull aside. 

  All in all, simple recon.

[curiosiccusarchived]

RP: There is no friend as loyal as a book

@broken-tactician​

The shuttle was use to traveling a lot and upon his travels, he came upon many treasures that while they may seem useless to others, they held special meaning to him. Some of the trinkets were of course very small and delicate, but he was very gentle and took great care when handling them. Upon these finds were some books he came across in an old, abandoned library. 

While he could not read them since they were very small, he still collected a few because if he really wished to, there was a way he could read them. He could use a magnifying glass or perhaps a projector of sorts. Either way he would find a way since he wanted to read these human books. They greatly differ then the Cybertronian stories he’d read and if he was honest, he actually preferred them over those.

As Skyfire made his way over the swooping, grassy hills on the remote area he had traveled to, he noticed in the distance a faint figure of what appeared to be another bot. His wings piped up in wonderment and even though he knew he should be wary of other bots, he couldn’t help making his way over towards them, his curiosity knowing no bounds.

[towards-peace-or-chaos]

@broken-tactician

This is humiliating. Five million years spent terrorizing the universe, building a name for himself as a terror, an unstoppable force, and this is how it ends? With him forced to kneel before the Prime in surrender. Betrayed by one of his own. Not that he should’ve been surprise. Starscream was always a traitor. He just...he’d always believed that Starscream would betray him by killing him. Not by joining forces with their enemy to set a trap for him.

The humiliation had been piled on by Prime’s insistence on sparing his life. The ever noble mech convinced he could be brought around to the good side. Stating that “Megatron can be changed,” “there’s still good inside him somewhere.” He’d simply scoffed in reply. As if he’d ever change. 

Now he finds himself locked inside a cell staring down Optimus’ third in command….the stoic Praxian...what was his name again? Prowl? Though he doesn’t seem one to emote much it’s clear something is bothering him. He’d all but stormed in here, as much as this mech seems capable of, and simply stood there, staring down at Megatron with an unreadable expression. They’d been here like this for what seems like hours, staring in silence. Eventually Megatron can’t hold back his curiosity anymore and with a soft, tired sigh he speaks.

“Come to gloat like the rest of your comrades? Or perhaps you’re here to finish what your coward of a Prime couldn’t?” What other reasons could this mech have for being here?