Post by waylay on May 25, 2013 14:34:16 GMT -5
Rper: BerserkFuhrer86
Character Type: Permanent
Name: Waylay
Nicknames: Black Death
Gender Identity: Female
Approx age: 27 (Mental Age) / Pre-War (Actual Age)
Alliance: Decepticon
Function/Job: Assassin / Spy
Height: 13ft
Approx mass: 29,500 pounds
Cybertronian type: Normal Cybertronian
Personality:
Having never had her memories restored, Waylay is a rather simple bot. Somewhat.
She’s fiercely intelligent, mostly due to her keen observance of others, rather than from digital scrolls and the such. Her watch sessions also gave her a slight ability to predict the actions of others, based off of their personalities and actions. This makes her an even more formidable assassin, or spy, depending on the mission. During combat, this intuition of sorts gives her the edge on evasion and counter attempts, though the success rate isn’t perfect. Outside of battle, her intelligence is rarely bared; she’d rather have others believe in her being naive than let them on to her dangerous processor.
In the company of others, she’s normally quiet, choosing to listen rather than speak. But if inquired upon, she’ll give a precise response, getting right to the point- dragging on explanations is a waste of time in her opinion. This leads others to believe that she’s a ‘cold’ bot, but she considers herself to be more ‘observant.’ Socially, Waylay is a bit awkward, having never truly had a friend before, only associates and brothers-in-arms. If given the chance, and the right bot, she probably would be able to adapt and get along. Probably.
Concerning the war effort, nothing shines brighter than Waylay’s loyalty. She would fight tooth-and-nail to the last spark in her core for Megatron, and the Decepticon cause.
She’s also quite patient.
Appearance:
Being a unit designed for delicate missions, Waylay has a small, slender frame, enabling more flexible mobility, a greater burst of speed when necessary, and the ability to avoid enemy fire with fluent grace.
Her legs are long, with powerful (thus slightly thicker) thighs, colored a deep metallic silver, while the armor to her pointed kneecaps are black. Waylay‘s feet are shaped into a high-heel design, as seen on female humans, with the back piece being particularly pointed. The same hue design is replicated by her arms, though the point of her elbow is elongated into a short, but still useful, blade. Each finger has a sharp, thin blade for the nails, useful for both slashing and penetration.
Waylay’s torso has a busty appearance, with the black metal wrapping around the bosom, whose center has a slab of thicker armor in a diamond shape, which acts as her Altmode’s ‘nose.’ Beside this portion are the vehicle’s blacked-out windows. The rest of her abdomen is smooth, and dark silver. Her shoulders bare black armor slabs, which are round at the base, and stretch out into a point. Each pad has a single spike protruding from the middle.
From her shoulder blades, her vehicle mode’s wings are draped, forming usable appendages.
As for her face, it is quite feminine and graceful. The dark silver of its base is surrounded by a thin black band of armor. Her red eyes are slender, nearly almond-shaped, and constantly glow with a darker shade of menace. Sprouting from her scalp are countless tendrils of metal, each one highly flexible, which replicate the appearance of hair.
Altmode:
Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk
Weapons:
- Energized Claws. Each one of her nails is capable of charging with a laser-type energy. Useful on slicing through light armor, but due to the fragility of the fingers, they have the tendency to be damaged or even completely broken on thicker hides.
-Tri-Barreled Gattling Gun. Forged to her left wrist, it fires rounds of energy at a high rate of fire. The rounds themselves are fairly small, but deadly if enough strike the same spot repeatedly. While in her vehicle mode, this can be extended from her undercarriage.
- Long-Range Sniper Rifle. Located from her right shoulder down to her wrist, this weapon is concealed within the appendage. When engaged, it requires her limb to remain straight. While it can be fired during movement, its accuracy is extremely limited. The rounds consist of armor-piercing bullets.
Abilities:
- Sniping Scope. This scope enables the use of infrared, night vision, and heat sensors. It’s located in her right optic
- High-Velocity Boosters. Upon her back, between her ‘wings,’ is a pair of boosters. These enable her to take flight for short periods of time, or give her an additional speed boost on the ground.
- Stealth Cloak. Able to surround herself in a cloak, rendering her invisible while not moving, and mostly unseen during movement.
Strengths:
- Highly flexible body, enabling for acrobatics, a higher grade of evasion, and the ability to fit into places other bots might not be able to.
- Smaller size grants her greater speed than most of her class.
-Sound suppressors in her legs make her move much quieter than would be expected
Weaknesses:
- Light Armor. Quite susceptible to damage from most attacks.
- Sniping rifle requires her right arm to be immobile, making it an easier target. Accuracy is also extremely low unless she’s immobile.
- Poor against opponents with thicker armor, unless her rifle is used.
- Fairly weak in terms of strength. Relies on precision strikes at weak-points.
Family: None Known
History:
Memories are a funny thing. Well, they could be, if remembered.
Waylay awoke one evening in a laboratory. How long she had been there was a complete mystery, as was why. There were several figures around her, none of whom she could recognize, nor understand. For what felt like stellar cycles, all of her senses were impaired, leaving her to choke against the unknown.
Then, for no good reason, Waylay found herself released by one of the strange automatons. She scrambled to her feet and fumbled, much to the delight of her captors, whom found her unease to be entertaining. Her body didn’t feel right, nor did her processor. It was as if her entire being had been disturbed.
Terrified and still puzzled, Waylay asked the group of bots where she was, but all they told her was that such information was ‘classified.’ Then, a more frantic question escaped her lips: Who was she? All of her memories had been wiped clean. But she knew, somehow, that her spark was much older than several minutes- thus she did have a life before waking up on the table. Their answer meant the beginning of a very cruel, difficult life. She was their tool for earning credits.
In an undisclosed building, nestled deeply within Kaon, Waylay was forced to live amongst her captors. Her main function became combat. Each day, she was taught a new method of warfare, be it via melee strikes, or by utilizing long-ranged weaponry. She was forged into a fighter, though for what purpose, she was uncertain. While teaching such techniques to a possible hostile unit seemed risky, they managed to keep her at bay with the promise of restoring her memories. While Waylay had a feeling that they wouldn’t hold up to their end of the agreement, she had no choice. Her former life was nullified, thus leaving her with nowhere to go, or anything better to do.
It became apparent before too long that she had a specialization in long-raged precision strikes. After mastering some lesser forged technology, something bizarre occurred. From her upper shoulder down to her wrist, a rifle formed from her very metal flesh, having somehow been concealed within the appendage. At its very top was a specialized scope, clearly used for accuracy, but also contained several visual modes (ie night vision, infrared, heat vision). Unfortunately, it’s pure size limited its ability to fire while she was moving, making it relatively useless in her training sessions. Thus, she familiarized herself with the unique weapon during her downtime, when no optics were around to scrutinize her.
One cycle, Waylay was moved from the building that had homed her for quite some time, to one occupied by a number of Cybertronians. They all seemed rather rusted and gritty, their optics hard, bodies riddled with scratches and scuffs. Each of them wielded powerful weapons, some more visible than others. She was left with them, and they explained that she was officially registered as a warrior for gladiatorial combat. Strangely, she was neither shocked nor enraged by the revelation. Rather, she was up for the challenge.
Her first match was the most difficult, but not because of her inexperience. It was the crowd that really damaged her spark; they were all so bloodthirsty, savage, disrespectful. They screamed slanders, cheered for those whom they valued higher, such as her opponent. Waylay couldn’t understand where all their aggression materialized from, having never truly been introduced to society since her awakening. Even as she fought, she couldn’t help but wonder why these battles existed for the first place. Was it for monetary means? A form of entertainment? Or..something much deeper? Though her focus was limited, she managed to flawlessly evade every blow, her body being highly slender and flexible, and counter with precision strikes of her own.
At first, the fights were exciting. She made sure to never use her internal gun, knowing it was a vital part of herself, and therefore too useful to have damaged. Plus, who knew? It could save her spark one day. But as the numbers increased, her enthusiasm became slacked, while her curiosity for the outside world grew.
One evening, Waylay decided that she had had enough. Her memories were clearly never going to be returned, and she loathed feeling so vulnerable. It was time to move on and out. Her passion for the escape was so great, that it activated another hidden feature in her anatomy. Right before her optics, her body disappeared beneath a cool sensation, blending her in with her surroundings. It was a stealth cloak. Quite convenient for a quick escape. Also, it was yet another modification she never knew about prior to its activation. How odd.
She decided that the further from the compound she went, the better. Waylay found herself stalking the streets of some unnamed city, observing the inhabitants, learning what she could about the social network through them. As her intellect was gathered, the world grew grim with each bit of data added. Apparently, Cybertron, as their planet was called, was falling apart. The people were being subjected to unjust laws, forced to toil against their will with tedious jobs. It was no wonder that the arena became a place of release for them- all their pent-up aggression had to go somewhere.
Disgusted with the system, Waylay found light with a bot that was making a name for himself. He spoke of the subjection of the people, how unfair and despicable it all was. He spoke with such confidence and wisdom, that she immediately became infatuated. Megatron was just the type of individual she could respect and follow. So she did.
War broke out across the planet. Countless lives were lost, victories won. Branded a Decepticon, Waylay fought against the masses to obliterate the hierarchy that had damned their planet so, believing her cause to be righteous. Her method of combat was remarkable, considering the fine-tuning to her technique she achieved via the gladiator battles. Her actions didn’t go unnoticed- her abilities were to be both admired and feared, especially concerning how accurate and fatal they were. However, little did anyone know that they hadn’t seen her true capabilities yet.
She was presented before their proud and virtuous leader, Lord Megatron. Normally, he wouldn’t spare such a low-ranked fodder a moment of his time, but something about her was intriguing. When he looked into her optics, he saw the experience of hundreds of his soldiers combined, but not because of the war. No, this knowledge extended from far beyond those stellar cycles. He decided to give the fetching bot a chance, and offered her a private meeting, much to her delight.
His first impression of her physique was less than thrilling. Sure, she was an attractive automaton, but her stature didn’t scream warrior. She was thin, lightly armored- one good shot would surely send her offline. Knowing well of his unspoken opinion, Waylay decided to give him a demonstration of her physical abilities. Boldly, she established a challenge to any one soldier of his choosing for a one-on-one sparring match. Finding the brashness to be entertaining, Megatron agreed, and called for one of his higher-ranked cohorts.
He admired her bravery; very few would have the circuits to stand up for themselves in his overwhelming presence, let alone face a soldier he tempered himself. The match took place in an abandoned plot, surrounded by buildings that were rusted and in shambles. A small audience of Megatron’s underlings was permitted to witness the event, which bolstered Waylay’s confidence. If he was willing to not only give her the opportunity to prove herself worthy to him, but those he kept closest to him, then perhaps there was a nice promotion in store for her. Thus, she faced her opponent with a head held high and chassis humming with excitement.
Waylay’s foe was a large fellow, with armor that looked like it could withstand a ballistic blast. He wielded a heavy hammer with practice and pride, and stood nearly twice her height. Surely, he would crush her in an instant. That is..if he ever managed to touch her. She showed her grace with every dodge and duck, proved her superior agility by managing to strike at the bot’s weak points while he was still recovering from his own momentum. While her blows weren’t the strongest, enough of them, and in the right areas, proved to do her opponent’s undoing. She managed to disarm him (literally) after several rapid-strike jabs with her nails, leaving him defenseless. Since she found no honor or joy in destroying a helpless victim, she let him limp off with little dignity.
Shocked, but still delighted with the show, Megatron decided to have a second personal chat with her. This time, he picked her processor, inquiring about her past and just how she came to be such a skilled fighter. Waylay saddened slightly, having been reminded of her lack of a full past, but pushed the inferior emotion aside, and instead boasted about her time in the arena as a gladiator. This revelation was enough to make him see her in an even higher light. She shared a fragment of his past, though he never had the pleasure of meeting her in the ring. Discovering a whole new respect, he decided to promote her into a leadership role..but she declined.
Waylay explained that, while she worked well with other bots, there was more to her than what she had revealed. Trusting her Lord with every ounce of her spark, she revealed to him her hidden rifle, as well as the stealth technology her systems bared. She stated that her aim was impeccable, her processor specialized for striking at the most vulnerable points of others, and making every bullet count. Furthermore, she suggested utilizing her skills in a more specific manner. Rather than to have her lead a group of Decepticons into battle, have her focus on more important targets, and bring them down. Waylay also believed that she could, if instructed, get close to her opponents and deceive them into believing that she was on their side. Her flattering appearance made her less threatening overall, and she had the talent for adapting to the desires of others.
Megatron agreed that she would make a fine agent. He always believed that the skills of one could outmatch the might of hundreds, and hers were fit for the challenge. From that day on, Waylay would become his personal assassin. She would strike at his greatest targets from both the outside..and within.
As the war raged on, it seemed that all of her efforts were futile. While she managed to target and eliminate several key Autobots, more rushed in to fill the ranks and keep order. Supplies on Cybertron were depleting, and fast. While many fled the dying planet, Waylay remained at her Lord’s side, ever faithful. And it is there she would always remain.
Custom Title: Now you see me.. Oh, wait..you don’t..
Extra Info:
Though it may seem she completely gave up on learning about her past, Covert does indeed plan on getting her memories back. Her position in the Decepticon army has been a great distraction from it, but also opens new doors for accomplishing this task.
Sample RP:
Normally, a downpour would be welcomed by Waylay. It dampened the sound of her movement, obscured the vision of her targets. Rain provided the necessary cover of darkness that an assassin relished. And yet..she found herself despising every drop that clanked off from her armor.
It wasn’t the clinks or the clanks that made her circuits buzz with irritation, nor did the moisture running along her sleek metal hide as miniature rivers. It was what formed when the droplets landed on the once dried and cracked ground; mud. The substance was obnoxious in both appearance and stench. It was simply offensive. It marred what was beautiful silver skin, mucked up her equally stunning black armor, and threatened to short circuit her wiring by invading her internal systems.
While it was completely intolerable, Wayward remained calm and focused. She needed her full attention on the target ahead, whom knelt beside a large boulder, head bowed in silent prayer. The Autobot’s body shivered with the automaton equivalent of sobs, rocking his hefty hide with every shudder. Clearly, he was mourning at the gravesite of a fallen comrade. How could she tell? Not just by his actions, but by the fact that she was the one that created the corpse.
Her spark felt no remorse. That ability had been extinguished long ago, when several of her comrades had been stripped of their life before her optics. The Autobots were just as ruthless and uncaring as her Decepticon brethren, even if they claimed to preach nothing but peace. Their lies were so spectacular that they managed to convince themselves of them being truths.
This one before her was hurting. Even more importantly, he was making himself very vulnerable.
She extended her right arm to its fullest, locked the joint of her elbow in place. Optics narrowing, their red glow became twin beams of determination, while her lips thinned into a menacing smirk. Segments of her arm’s armor lifted suddenly and shifted, sliding apart, making way for a contraption to lift and piece together. The process was swift, fluent, and resulted with a massive rifle forming from her upper arm down to her wrist. Despite its size, and probable weight, Waylay was able to lift the appendage and weapon up to become perpendicular with the ground, and brought her optics down to its specialized scope.
At first, all she could see was the blurred shape of the Autobot, whom remained blissfully unaware of her presence. With a mere thought, the scope shifted its spectrum into infrared, then changed once more to display the bot’s heat signature. She wanted to target the hottest point- it would indicate where his spark resided. One bullet would be more than enough to end his life, allowing the grief to extinguish, and his essence to join his friend’s in the afterlife.
An armor-piercing round was loaded and locked. She stilled herself, forsaking the rain that continued to saturate her hide, seeing nothing of he wasteland but her prey. Her index finger coiled around the trigger, the two metals ran smoothly against one another as the appendage started to fold in.
”Not yet.”
Wayward’s finger fell from the trigger. She brought her left hand up to her auditory receiver. It was Lord Megatron, shockingly enough.
”I want him to suffer longer.”
The automaton scowled, utterly confused. But ever loyal, she collapsed her rifle and had it sealed beneath her armor as commanded. She asked no question, simply nodded into the rain and turned her back on the Autobot. You got lucky. So very lucky.
While she was curious as to the turn of events, Wayward kicked off from the mucky ground, splashing up a decent puddle as her boosters kicked into action. The sudden explosion of their white flames caused a booming echo to sound off, catching the Autobot’s attention. But by the time he was able to turn around to investigate, she had taken the form of a B-2 Spirit and disappeared within the clouds. He was left dumbfounded and startled, and ignorant to the demise that had been seconds away..
Character Type: Permanent
Name: Waylay
Nicknames: Black Death
Gender Identity: Female
Approx age: 27 (Mental Age) / Pre-War (Actual Age)
Alliance: Decepticon
Function/Job: Assassin / Spy
Height: 13ft
Approx mass: 29,500 pounds
Cybertronian type: Normal Cybertronian
Personality:
Having never had her memories restored, Waylay is a rather simple bot. Somewhat.
She’s fiercely intelligent, mostly due to her keen observance of others, rather than from digital scrolls and the such. Her watch sessions also gave her a slight ability to predict the actions of others, based off of their personalities and actions. This makes her an even more formidable assassin, or spy, depending on the mission. During combat, this intuition of sorts gives her the edge on evasion and counter attempts, though the success rate isn’t perfect. Outside of battle, her intelligence is rarely bared; she’d rather have others believe in her being naive than let them on to her dangerous processor.
In the company of others, she’s normally quiet, choosing to listen rather than speak. But if inquired upon, she’ll give a precise response, getting right to the point- dragging on explanations is a waste of time in her opinion. This leads others to believe that she’s a ‘cold’ bot, but she considers herself to be more ‘observant.’ Socially, Waylay is a bit awkward, having never truly had a friend before, only associates and brothers-in-arms. If given the chance, and the right bot, she probably would be able to adapt and get along. Probably.
Concerning the war effort, nothing shines brighter than Waylay’s loyalty. She would fight tooth-and-nail to the last spark in her core for Megatron, and the Decepticon cause.
She’s also quite patient.
Appearance:
Being a unit designed for delicate missions, Waylay has a small, slender frame, enabling more flexible mobility, a greater burst of speed when necessary, and the ability to avoid enemy fire with fluent grace.
Her legs are long, with powerful (thus slightly thicker) thighs, colored a deep metallic silver, while the armor to her pointed kneecaps are black. Waylay‘s feet are shaped into a high-heel design, as seen on female humans, with the back piece being particularly pointed. The same hue design is replicated by her arms, though the point of her elbow is elongated into a short, but still useful, blade. Each finger has a sharp, thin blade for the nails, useful for both slashing and penetration.
Waylay’s torso has a busty appearance, with the black metal wrapping around the bosom, whose center has a slab of thicker armor in a diamond shape, which acts as her Altmode’s ‘nose.’ Beside this portion are the vehicle’s blacked-out windows. The rest of her abdomen is smooth, and dark silver. Her shoulders bare black armor slabs, which are round at the base, and stretch out into a point. Each pad has a single spike protruding from the middle.
From her shoulder blades, her vehicle mode’s wings are draped, forming usable appendages.
As for her face, it is quite feminine and graceful. The dark silver of its base is surrounded by a thin black band of armor. Her red eyes are slender, nearly almond-shaped, and constantly glow with a darker shade of menace. Sprouting from her scalp are countless tendrils of metal, each one highly flexible, which replicate the appearance of hair.
Altmode:
Lockheed F-117 Nighthawk
Weapons:
- Energized Claws. Each one of her nails is capable of charging with a laser-type energy. Useful on slicing through light armor, but due to the fragility of the fingers, they have the tendency to be damaged or even completely broken on thicker hides.
-Tri-Barreled Gattling Gun. Forged to her left wrist, it fires rounds of energy at a high rate of fire. The rounds themselves are fairly small, but deadly if enough strike the same spot repeatedly. While in her vehicle mode, this can be extended from her undercarriage.
- Long-Range Sniper Rifle. Located from her right shoulder down to her wrist, this weapon is concealed within the appendage. When engaged, it requires her limb to remain straight. While it can be fired during movement, its accuracy is extremely limited. The rounds consist of armor-piercing bullets.
Abilities:
- Sniping Scope. This scope enables the use of infrared, night vision, and heat sensors. It’s located in her right optic
- High-Velocity Boosters. Upon her back, between her ‘wings,’ is a pair of boosters. These enable her to take flight for short periods of time, or give her an additional speed boost on the ground.
- Stealth Cloak. Able to surround herself in a cloak, rendering her invisible while not moving, and mostly unseen during movement.
Strengths:
- Highly flexible body, enabling for acrobatics, a higher grade of evasion, and the ability to fit into places other bots might not be able to.
- Smaller size grants her greater speed than most of her class.
-Sound suppressors in her legs make her move much quieter than would be expected
Weaknesses:
- Light Armor. Quite susceptible to damage from most attacks.
- Sniping rifle requires her right arm to be immobile, making it an easier target. Accuracy is also extremely low unless she’s immobile.
- Poor against opponents with thicker armor, unless her rifle is used.
- Fairly weak in terms of strength. Relies on precision strikes at weak-points.
Family: None Known
History:
Memories are a funny thing. Well, they could be, if remembered.
Waylay awoke one evening in a laboratory. How long she had been there was a complete mystery, as was why. There were several figures around her, none of whom she could recognize, nor understand. For what felt like stellar cycles, all of her senses were impaired, leaving her to choke against the unknown.
Then, for no good reason, Waylay found herself released by one of the strange automatons. She scrambled to her feet and fumbled, much to the delight of her captors, whom found her unease to be entertaining. Her body didn’t feel right, nor did her processor. It was as if her entire being had been disturbed.
Terrified and still puzzled, Waylay asked the group of bots where she was, but all they told her was that such information was ‘classified.’ Then, a more frantic question escaped her lips: Who was she? All of her memories had been wiped clean. But she knew, somehow, that her spark was much older than several minutes- thus she did have a life before waking up on the table. Their answer meant the beginning of a very cruel, difficult life. She was their tool for earning credits.
In an undisclosed building, nestled deeply within Kaon, Waylay was forced to live amongst her captors. Her main function became combat. Each day, she was taught a new method of warfare, be it via melee strikes, or by utilizing long-ranged weaponry. She was forged into a fighter, though for what purpose, she was uncertain. While teaching such techniques to a possible hostile unit seemed risky, they managed to keep her at bay with the promise of restoring her memories. While Waylay had a feeling that they wouldn’t hold up to their end of the agreement, she had no choice. Her former life was nullified, thus leaving her with nowhere to go, or anything better to do.
It became apparent before too long that she had a specialization in long-raged precision strikes. After mastering some lesser forged technology, something bizarre occurred. From her upper shoulder down to her wrist, a rifle formed from her very metal flesh, having somehow been concealed within the appendage. At its very top was a specialized scope, clearly used for accuracy, but also contained several visual modes (ie night vision, infrared, heat vision). Unfortunately, it’s pure size limited its ability to fire while she was moving, making it relatively useless in her training sessions. Thus, she familiarized herself with the unique weapon during her downtime, when no optics were around to scrutinize her.
One cycle, Waylay was moved from the building that had homed her for quite some time, to one occupied by a number of Cybertronians. They all seemed rather rusted and gritty, their optics hard, bodies riddled with scratches and scuffs. Each of them wielded powerful weapons, some more visible than others. She was left with them, and they explained that she was officially registered as a warrior for gladiatorial combat. Strangely, she was neither shocked nor enraged by the revelation. Rather, she was up for the challenge.
Her first match was the most difficult, but not because of her inexperience. It was the crowd that really damaged her spark; they were all so bloodthirsty, savage, disrespectful. They screamed slanders, cheered for those whom they valued higher, such as her opponent. Waylay couldn’t understand where all their aggression materialized from, having never truly been introduced to society since her awakening. Even as she fought, she couldn’t help but wonder why these battles existed for the first place. Was it for monetary means? A form of entertainment? Or..something much deeper? Though her focus was limited, she managed to flawlessly evade every blow, her body being highly slender and flexible, and counter with precision strikes of her own.
At first, the fights were exciting. She made sure to never use her internal gun, knowing it was a vital part of herself, and therefore too useful to have damaged. Plus, who knew? It could save her spark one day. But as the numbers increased, her enthusiasm became slacked, while her curiosity for the outside world grew.
One evening, Waylay decided that she had had enough. Her memories were clearly never going to be returned, and she loathed feeling so vulnerable. It was time to move on and out. Her passion for the escape was so great, that it activated another hidden feature in her anatomy. Right before her optics, her body disappeared beneath a cool sensation, blending her in with her surroundings. It was a stealth cloak. Quite convenient for a quick escape. Also, it was yet another modification she never knew about prior to its activation. How odd.
She decided that the further from the compound she went, the better. Waylay found herself stalking the streets of some unnamed city, observing the inhabitants, learning what she could about the social network through them. As her intellect was gathered, the world grew grim with each bit of data added. Apparently, Cybertron, as their planet was called, was falling apart. The people were being subjected to unjust laws, forced to toil against their will with tedious jobs. It was no wonder that the arena became a place of release for them- all their pent-up aggression had to go somewhere.
Disgusted with the system, Waylay found light with a bot that was making a name for himself. He spoke of the subjection of the people, how unfair and despicable it all was. He spoke with such confidence and wisdom, that she immediately became infatuated. Megatron was just the type of individual she could respect and follow. So she did.
War broke out across the planet. Countless lives were lost, victories won. Branded a Decepticon, Waylay fought against the masses to obliterate the hierarchy that had damned their planet so, believing her cause to be righteous. Her method of combat was remarkable, considering the fine-tuning to her technique she achieved via the gladiator battles. Her actions didn’t go unnoticed- her abilities were to be both admired and feared, especially concerning how accurate and fatal they were. However, little did anyone know that they hadn’t seen her true capabilities yet.
She was presented before their proud and virtuous leader, Lord Megatron. Normally, he wouldn’t spare such a low-ranked fodder a moment of his time, but something about her was intriguing. When he looked into her optics, he saw the experience of hundreds of his soldiers combined, but not because of the war. No, this knowledge extended from far beyond those stellar cycles. He decided to give the fetching bot a chance, and offered her a private meeting, much to her delight.
His first impression of her physique was less than thrilling. Sure, she was an attractive automaton, but her stature didn’t scream warrior. She was thin, lightly armored- one good shot would surely send her offline. Knowing well of his unspoken opinion, Waylay decided to give him a demonstration of her physical abilities. Boldly, she established a challenge to any one soldier of his choosing for a one-on-one sparring match. Finding the brashness to be entertaining, Megatron agreed, and called for one of his higher-ranked cohorts.
He admired her bravery; very few would have the circuits to stand up for themselves in his overwhelming presence, let alone face a soldier he tempered himself. The match took place in an abandoned plot, surrounded by buildings that were rusted and in shambles. A small audience of Megatron’s underlings was permitted to witness the event, which bolstered Waylay’s confidence. If he was willing to not only give her the opportunity to prove herself worthy to him, but those he kept closest to him, then perhaps there was a nice promotion in store for her. Thus, she faced her opponent with a head held high and chassis humming with excitement.
Waylay’s foe was a large fellow, with armor that looked like it could withstand a ballistic blast. He wielded a heavy hammer with practice and pride, and stood nearly twice her height. Surely, he would crush her in an instant. That is..if he ever managed to touch her. She showed her grace with every dodge and duck, proved her superior agility by managing to strike at the bot’s weak points while he was still recovering from his own momentum. While her blows weren’t the strongest, enough of them, and in the right areas, proved to do her opponent’s undoing. She managed to disarm him (literally) after several rapid-strike jabs with her nails, leaving him defenseless. Since she found no honor or joy in destroying a helpless victim, she let him limp off with little dignity.
Shocked, but still delighted with the show, Megatron decided to have a second personal chat with her. This time, he picked her processor, inquiring about her past and just how she came to be such a skilled fighter. Waylay saddened slightly, having been reminded of her lack of a full past, but pushed the inferior emotion aside, and instead boasted about her time in the arena as a gladiator. This revelation was enough to make him see her in an even higher light. She shared a fragment of his past, though he never had the pleasure of meeting her in the ring. Discovering a whole new respect, he decided to promote her into a leadership role..but she declined.
Waylay explained that, while she worked well with other bots, there was more to her than what she had revealed. Trusting her Lord with every ounce of her spark, she revealed to him her hidden rifle, as well as the stealth technology her systems bared. She stated that her aim was impeccable, her processor specialized for striking at the most vulnerable points of others, and making every bullet count. Furthermore, she suggested utilizing her skills in a more specific manner. Rather than to have her lead a group of Decepticons into battle, have her focus on more important targets, and bring them down. Waylay also believed that she could, if instructed, get close to her opponents and deceive them into believing that she was on their side. Her flattering appearance made her less threatening overall, and she had the talent for adapting to the desires of others.
Megatron agreed that she would make a fine agent. He always believed that the skills of one could outmatch the might of hundreds, and hers were fit for the challenge. From that day on, Waylay would become his personal assassin. She would strike at his greatest targets from both the outside..and within.
As the war raged on, it seemed that all of her efforts were futile. While she managed to target and eliminate several key Autobots, more rushed in to fill the ranks and keep order. Supplies on Cybertron were depleting, and fast. While many fled the dying planet, Waylay remained at her Lord’s side, ever faithful. And it is there she would always remain.
Custom Title: Now you see me.. Oh, wait..you don’t..
Extra Info:
Though it may seem she completely gave up on learning about her past, Covert does indeed plan on getting her memories back. Her position in the Decepticon army has been a great distraction from it, but also opens new doors for accomplishing this task.
Sample RP:
Normally, a downpour would be welcomed by Waylay. It dampened the sound of her movement, obscured the vision of her targets. Rain provided the necessary cover of darkness that an assassin relished. And yet..she found herself despising every drop that clanked off from her armor.
It wasn’t the clinks or the clanks that made her circuits buzz with irritation, nor did the moisture running along her sleek metal hide as miniature rivers. It was what formed when the droplets landed on the once dried and cracked ground; mud. The substance was obnoxious in both appearance and stench. It was simply offensive. It marred what was beautiful silver skin, mucked up her equally stunning black armor, and threatened to short circuit her wiring by invading her internal systems.
While it was completely intolerable, Wayward remained calm and focused. She needed her full attention on the target ahead, whom knelt beside a large boulder, head bowed in silent prayer. The Autobot’s body shivered with the automaton equivalent of sobs, rocking his hefty hide with every shudder. Clearly, he was mourning at the gravesite of a fallen comrade. How could she tell? Not just by his actions, but by the fact that she was the one that created the corpse.
Her spark felt no remorse. That ability had been extinguished long ago, when several of her comrades had been stripped of their life before her optics. The Autobots were just as ruthless and uncaring as her Decepticon brethren, even if they claimed to preach nothing but peace. Their lies were so spectacular that they managed to convince themselves of them being truths.
This one before her was hurting. Even more importantly, he was making himself very vulnerable.
She extended her right arm to its fullest, locked the joint of her elbow in place. Optics narrowing, their red glow became twin beams of determination, while her lips thinned into a menacing smirk. Segments of her arm’s armor lifted suddenly and shifted, sliding apart, making way for a contraption to lift and piece together. The process was swift, fluent, and resulted with a massive rifle forming from her upper arm down to her wrist. Despite its size, and probable weight, Waylay was able to lift the appendage and weapon up to become perpendicular with the ground, and brought her optics down to its specialized scope.
At first, all she could see was the blurred shape of the Autobot, whom remained blissfully unaware of her presence. With a mere thought, the scope shifted its spectrum into infrared, then changed once more to display the bot’s heat signature. She wanted to target the hottest point- it would indicate where his spark resided. One bullet would be more than enough to end his life, allowing the grief to extinguish, and his essence to join his friend’s in the afterlife.
An armor-piercing round was loaded and locked. She stilled herself, forsaking the rain that continued to saturate her hide, seeing nothing of he wasteland but her prey. Her index finger coiled around the trigger, the two metals ran smoothly against one another as the appendage started to fold in.
”Not yet.”
Wayward’s finger fell from the trigger. She brought her left hand up to her auditory receiver. It was Lord Megatron, shockingly enough.
”I want him to suffer longer.”
The automaton scowled, utterly confused. But ever loyal, she collapsed her rifle and had it sealed beneath her armor as commanded. She asked no question, simply nodded into the rain and turned her back on the Autobot. You got lucky. So very lucky.
While she was curious as to the turn of events, Wayward kicked off from the mucky ground, splashing up a decent puddle as her boosters kicked into action. The sudden explosion of their white flames caused a booming echo to sound off, catching the Autobot’s attention. But by the time he was able to turn around to investigate, she had taken the form of a B-2 Spirit and disappeared within the clouds. He was left dumbfounded and startled, and ignorant to the demise that had been seconds away..