It was a good plan! Grab some weapons, let the weird, unbranded loner distract the slaver creeps while Deadlock made a break for the ship. Not that said unbranded loner knew about the last part, but his grossly shiny-white and red deco sort of screamed use me as a distraction! Deadlock sure found him distracting.
It would have been a great plan, except Deadlock miscalculated the strength of the slaver forces and the changing of guard shift on that ship.
He groans audibly, optics coming online to a small, darkened, space. Well, one optic anyway. Spiderweb cracks mar the other and his HUD flickers with static, a rash of red warnings reporting damage filling his view. He minimizes them with a flick of his head - rather wishing he hadn't as it sets his head swimming again - and his hands reach out to steady himself, easily meeting both sides of the tiny room he's in.
Deadlock ex-vents a frustrated growl. His joints feel stiff, like he's been in here a while, and his fuel is pinging low. His rations are gone as are his weapons. The damage to his frame is not extensive somehow, and he wonders just how the frag he ended up captured? All he remembers is pain an blacking out. He can hear muffled voices, the barking of orders and the sound of cargo being loaded.
"This one goes to base Red249 for parting out, load it last!"
Oh, slag. Deadlock tries to stand in a rush, getting his feet under him, but promptly slams his head into the ceiling of the room - no, the crate he's in - and curses vividly.
"Lemme ooout, fragggerszz!!!" His vocalizer breaks into static, obscuring half the words, and in the next moment his earlier question is answered. A hard jolt of energy courses though him then, and he howls in pain before passing out again.
/slides this bad son in here
Deadlock sure found him distracting.It would have been a great plan, except Deadlock miscalculated the strength of the slaver forces and the changing of guard shift on that ship.
He groans audibly, optics coming online to a small, darkened, space. Well, one optic anyway. Spiderweb cracks mar the other and his HUD flickers with static, a rash of red warnings reporting damage filling his view. He minimizes them with a flick of his head - rather wishing he hadn't as it sets his head swimming again - and his hands reach out to steady himself, easily meeting both sides of the tiny room he's in.
Deadlock ex-vents a frustrated growl. His joints feel stiff, like he's been in here a while, and his fuel is pinging low. His rations are gone as are his weapons. The damage to his frame is not extensive somehow, and he wonders just how the frag he ended up captured? All he remembers is pain an blacking out. He can hear muffled voices, the barking of orders and the sound of cargo being loaded.
"This one goes to base Red249 for parting out, load it last!"
Oh, slag. Deadlock tries to stand in a rush, getting his feet under him, but promptly slams his head into the ceiling of the room - no, the crate he's in - and curses vividly.
"Lemme ooout, fragggerszz!!!" His vocalizer breaks into static, obscuring half the words, and in the next moment his earlier question is answered. A hard jolt of energy courses though him then, and he howls in pain before passing out again.