05-08-2018, 06:32 PM
Crouching in the crawl space behind the displaced shelf, his bald head dripping with sweat, Gizmo heaved an exhale as Dexter and Baxla exited the hangar. Anger quickly displaced his fear of discovery. He clenched one small hand and punched the rough stone wall of the secret tunnel, pulling it back to observe his scraped, bleeding knuckles. If the pint-sized Prime felt any pain, his deceptively cherubic face showed no indication.
“Traitors,” he growled. “Snot-eating, crud-munching traitors.” Curled into a ball surrounding Gizmo to allow him to squeeze into the cramped space, one of the four huge, mechanical spider legs shot forward, shoving the shelf back into the room. Spare parts cascaded onto the floor with a crash, but Gizmo knew no one was nearby to hear it.
The four legs exited the tunnel first, finding purchase on the walls surrounding the opening, and Gizmo soon followed. A second spider leg roughly pushed the shelf back into place as more parts and tools hit the floor. Gizmo ran a hand over his bald head, wiping away the sheen of perspiration.
“Idiots. Jerks. Morons. Losers,” he cursed under his breath. Gizmo knew bringing the fledgling Prime here was a mistake on Baxla’s part, but he had underestimated the extent to which Dexter’s presence threatened to throw a wrench in his carefully laid plans. And now he learned Baxla, perhaps the most trusted member of his organization, conspired against him? How many more obstacles would he have to overcome in his hunt for the schematics? How many more weaklings would stand in his path, only to fall to his cunning and prowess. At least two more, Gizmo reasoned, because he couldn’t allow anything to stop him now, not when he was so close to the end.
A characteristically wide grin spread across Gizmo’s face then. The element of surprise, indeed, he thought, rubbing his diminutive hands together. The element of surprise, indeed.
“Traitors,” he growled. “Snot-eating, crud-munching traitors.” Curled into a ball surrounding Gizmo to allow him to squeeze into the cramped space, one of the four huge, mechanical spider legs shot forward, shoving the shelf back into the room. Spare parts cascaded onto the floor with a crash, but Gizmo knew no one was nearby to hear it.
The four legs exited the tunnel first, finding purchase on the walls surrounding the opening, and Gizmo soon followed. A second spider leg roughly pushed the shelf back into place as more parts and tools hit the floor. Gizmo ran a hand over his bald head, wiping away the sheen of perspiration.
“Idiots. Jerks. Morons. Losers,” he cursed under his breath. Gizmo knew bringing the fledgling Prime here was a mistake on Baxla’s part, but he had underestimated the extent to which Dexter’s presence threatened to throw a wrench in his carefully laid plans. And now he learned Baxla, perhaps the most trusted member of his organization, conspired against him? How many more obstacles would he have to overcome in his hunt for the schematics? How many more weaklings would stand in his path, only to fall to his cunning and prowess. At least two more, Gizmo reasoned, because he couldn’t allow anything to stop him now, not when he was so close to the end.
A characteristically wide grin spread across Gizmo’s face then. The element of surprise, indeed, he thought, rubbing his diminutive hands together. The element of surprise, indeed.