notlewis: (Red9)
Luis Sera ([personal profile] notlewis) wrote in [community profile] trans_92010-10-05 06:26 pm

Panacea (Operation Shoot 'Em in the Chest and Lower Extremities) [OPEN]

Bleary-eyed toil brought results, and there was a cure for ROM-199A. Now the problem came with administering it.

Down in the city, the makeshift strike team wielded modified tranquilizer rifles and each of them had 12 cure rounds to use. The infected needed to be struck solidly in order for the cure to be injected-- they were instructed to aim for the chest, though a shot in the arm or leg that hit and stuck would work as well.

It's like paintball, except with deadly pathogens!


Meanwhile, up in Quarantine, those who didn't feel comfortable with shooting their crewmates in the face chest and lower extremities were charged with curing those who had already been subdued and contained.

That was more like tag than paintball, except with deadly pathogens, of course.


(ooc: If you signed up here or here, fire away. If you want to participate but didn't sign up, fire away. If you're infected, tag in to your victim of choice and tear those jerks apart before they shoot you in the face chest and lower extremities! THROW-DOWN! Remember, give the newbs and less plot-fortunate first shot. HAVE FUN.)

Re: DOWN IN THE CITY

[identity profile] talks2stoplight.livejournal.com 2010-10-06 02:43 am (UTC)(link)
It might not be terribly impressive to put a gun in the hands of a doctor or a scientist, but when those doctors and scientists are over six feet tall and constructed of armor plating, the situation changes.

Ratchet's come down to the city streets with Wheeljack to put darts into crazy sick people. Who's first in line for their shot?
Edited 2010-10-06 02:44 (UTC)

Re: DOWN IN THE CITY

[identity profile] derpjack-ftw.livejournal.com 2010-10-06 03:30 am (UTC)(link)
It helps, too, that this "dynamic duo" has been around since before even the most distant racial ancestors of probably just about anyone else on board, and has been involved in an ages-long war for essentially all of their considerably long lives.

Modified rifle in hand, Wheeljack trails close by his buddy. This is his first sight of the City, and . . . it's . . . quite a sight. But no, he can explore another time. Now's the time for business.

He suppressed a shudder, reminded of some of the missions back on Cybertron, heading into unknown territory, a seemingly-deserted town or pile of ruins, and knowing it wasn't. Oh, well, at least whoever came leaping out to attack wouldn't have Decepticon firepower and even heavier plating than he and Ratchet had. This should be easy by comparison.

Right?