randomplaces | For Ducky-mun

Necron Dance

The huge battleship otherwise known as the Emperor's Shield (or just Shield to those who couldn't be bothered to say his full name) watched the carnage below. He knew Imperator told him that it was best to stay out of the human's fight as much as possible, but this time he just couldn't idly stand by. Though the necrons were in a weird way kin they were slaughtering those whom he considered his allies. And even some of his family (Only those who grew up in his corridors or attached themselves willingly to his systems in order to fight alongside him were considered his family. The troops he occasionally escorted (or in some rare occasions carried) were merely allies. Though that young tank Thunderhawk had taken under his wing could be considered somewhat a friend; the Baneblade was a dangerous fighter with a sense of cheerful innocence that Shield couldn't help but admire).

The carnage below was simply killing him; humans he knew and in some cases loved were on planet being slaughtered by the merciless killing machines that had dared to try to become what he had been born to be. Trading in their souls and flesh for metal and servitude; the creatures truly sickened him.

Finally having enough of this stupid farce Shield sent a warning through his body to those on board letting them know what was on his mind. Those lacking an uplink found out via the communications devices all were required to wear. The message was simple "Sit down, hold on and buckle up. I'm ending this." Immediately a flurry of activity occurred as the human crew, thousands upon thousands of them, scurried to find safe places to wait out the storm.

Shield transformed. A Cybertronian; a robot larger than any others that were currently known floated in space and frowned before a large and slightly feral grin split his features.

Below, the soldiers fought for their very lives against the relentless onslaught until suddenly blaring music erupted in the air, heralding the appearance of a huge foot which stomped down on the necron forces.

"What the?" A voice spoke up over the din; speaking the mind of the masses. Those who knew who the foot belonged to face palmed, laughed or generally looked embarrassed.

"Typical Shield" one officer chuckled, to the shock of the commissar.

"You know that... that THING?!" he asked, outraged.

"Of course. Shield is the battleship I've grown up and worked on. He carries a permit signed by the emperor's own hand"

"Preposterous!"

"'Fraid not commissar. You ask the admiral himself if you want"

"Be assured that I will, and pray that the emperor will guard your soul!"

Meanwhile Shield had migrated from stomping to Cossack dancing over the now decimated necron forces, mindful of those still on-board him. He was perfectly in time to the music that thundered across the battle field with all the force of his massive audio system behind it.

The admiral just face palmed. "Typical. I can't leave him alone for five minutes!"