The grinding and whirring of servos and hiss hydraulics gives way to a dull tangle of clanking, as with Quint's final burst of strength, his endoskeleton gives way. He crumples to the floor, the keen tip of the spear wet at his throat. Quint and Sakugarne looming over him. Stoic. Incorruptible.
Quint was master of his own fate. He was unique. Beautiful
What now? The Maverick ponders. Maybe he did love killing. Maybe he did ache for battle. And as a result, he laid here, broken, toothless motors revving in place to move arms that could no longer respond beyond a strained limp.
He'd stopped killing and fighting by choice once before. Staring into the eyes of Optimus and seeing something there like himself, yet greater. His position now mirrored that. The spear nicking his skin reminds him that his only other option now is to die. Quint had once again offered him a chance at life he didn't deserve.
A fitting end it would be too. Deserved. Honourable. But what a waste of a life that he shouldn't even have. He could be so much more too.
He stares up at Quint, his eyes still smouldering red, but the grin is gone. He looks... sad. Humble. Ashamed even. He spoke softly, his usual manic tones drained of weight, his voice almost a whisper
"...Ok... ...I give."
He struggles to sit, sliding backwards on his thigh. Grinding his abdominals to manage a crunch. Arms limp at his sides unable to push himself up. Auto-repair systems were kicking in now, the adrenaline high fading into the ache of his damaged components.
"Just... ...please give me this. I want to walk to medical under my own steam. My legs are fine, but my torso... just... doesn't have anything to give. Please, help me stand."
no subject
Quint was master of his own fate. He was unique. Beautiful
What now? The Maverick ponders. Maybe he did love killing. Maybe he did ache for battle. And as a result, he laid here, broken, toothless motors revving in place to move arms that could no longer respond beyond a strained limp.
He'd stopped killing and fighting by choice once before. Staring into the eyes of Optimus and seeing something there like himself, yet greater. His position now mirrored that. The spear nicking his skin reminds him that his only other option now is to die. Quint had once again offered him a chance at life he didn't deserve.
A fitting end it would be too. Deserved. Honourable. But what a waste of a life that he shouldn't even have. He could be so much more too.
He stares up at Quint, his eyes still smouldering red, but the grin is gone. He looks... sad. Humble. Ashamed even. He spoke softly, his usual manic tones drained of weight, his voice almost a whisper
"...Ok... ...I give."
He struggles to sit, sliding backwards on his thigh. Grinding his abdominals to manage a crunch. Arms limp at his sides unable to push himself up. Auto-repair systems were kicking in now, the adrenaline high fading into the ache of his damaged components.
"Just... ...please give me this. I want to walk to medical under my own steam. My legs are fine, but my torso... just... doesn't have anything to give. Please, help me stand."