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Maccadam's Old Oil House:
Tracks: -standing behind Glyph- "Hello." -sees the datapadd- "Are you lost?"
*****************
Medbay:
Minerva: -following the Clones in- "You guys realize Grimmy'll probably eat you when he catches up with you, don't you?" -running a medscanner over the two of them- "All right. Get on the tables. This is gonna take a while."
[Original RPG] Shadow War: Heaven is Falling (Iacon)
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Skidmark
- Posts: 954
- Joined: Thu Apr 19, 2007 10:49 pm
- Location: In your base, stealing your flag
- Contact:
Medbay:
Fastlane:"I don't think Grimlock will even notice.He was locked in battle when we last saw him.
Cloudraker:"We'll probably head back to Valvolux once we're both repaired."
Fastlane:"Not me.I'm heading to Maccadam's for change once we're done.
Cloudraker:"No Fastlane.We're going to Valvolux.
Fastlane:"Can we at least get a quick drink?"
The clones get on the table
Cloudraker:"NO!How long is this going to take Minerva?"
Fastlane:"I don't think Grimlock will even notice.He was locked in battle when we last saw him.
Cloudraker:"We'll probably head back to Valvolux once we're both repaired."
Fastlane:"Not me.I'm heading to Maccadam's for change once we're done.
Cloudraker:"No Fastlane.We're going to Valvolux.
Fastlane:"Can we at least get a quick drink?"
The clones get on the table
Cloudraker:"NO!How long is this going to take Minerva?"
"Some people are like slinkies, not really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to your face when you push them down a flight of stairs."
Movies I've seen recently:
Red
Johnny Got His Gun
A Clockwork Orange
Fight Club
Toy Story 3
Zombieland
Tenacious D The Pick of destiny
Watchmen
Movies I've seen recently:
Red
Johnny Got His Gun
A Clockwork Orange
Fight Club
Toy Story 3
Zombieland
Tenacious D The Pick of destiny
Watchmen
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Aero Blade
- Posts: 2582
- Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 2:16 am
- Location: Somewhere in subspace
- Contact:
A couple doors down from Wheeljack's Lab...
It had finally be a long time coming, but everything was finally how he liked it. It wasn't too particularly hard to get the space, but getting all the equipment had been the challange these past years, and all the preparation was done. Aero Blade finally had his own workshop.
Aero Blade hadn't been much of one to go about requisitioning equipment, so the majority of his time had been spent manufacturing it al himself, especially since most of it wasn't readily availaible and at least half of it was things most people hadn't even seen before - custom tools and machines built for specific purposes. Aero preferred it that way, since it meant he knew exactly what the tools would do and to what degree, not having to figure out a new machine. He could just get right into working without the experimentation period that oculd take too long.
With just a few final adjustements and arranging to be done, Aero Blade looked up briefly at his other companions. The only ones that had been allowed in during the set-up time had been his partner Stratus and the con-former Dirge. Aero Blade still was having a time adjusting to Dirge's new form, even though having seen it for a while. After the last major war, Dirge had needed some serious reconstruction, and the medics had gone about updating all his equipment.
But he was still the same bot as before, that's what mattered to Aero, even if he had to get used to the new appearance. All that time in the medbay had also given him time to adjust to the medics and get over his nervousness around them. If only Aero Blade could do the same....
Pushing thoughts of self-pity out of his mind, Aero Blade continued to finish up the final adjustments for his workshop. He had to get ready to work if need be.
It had finally be a long time coming, but everything was finally how he liked it. It wasn't too particularly hard to get the space, but getting all the equipment had been the challange these past years, and all the preparation was done. Aero Blade finally had his own workshop.
Aero Blade hadn't been much of one to go about requisitioning equipment, so the majority of his time had been spent manufacturing it al himself, especially since most of it wasn't readily availaible and at least half of it was things most people hadn't even seen before - custom tools and machines built for specific purposes. Aero preferred it that way, since it meant he knew exactly what the tools would do and to what degree, not having to figure out a new machine. He could just get right into working without the experimentation period that oculd take too long.
With just a few final adjustements and arranging to be done, Aero Blade looked up briefly at his other companions. The only ones that had been allowed in during the set-up time had been his partner Stratus and the con-former Dirge. Aero Blade still was having a time adjusting to Dirge's new form, even though having seen it for a while. After the last major war, Dirge had needed some serious reconstruction, and the medics had gone about updating all his equipment.
But he was still the same bot as before, that's what mattered to Aero, even if he had to get used to the new appearance. All that time in the medbay had also given him time to adjust to the medics and get over his nervousness around them. If only Aero Blade could do the same....
Pushing thoughts of self-pity out of his mind, Aero Blade continued to finish up the final adjustments for his workshop. He had to get ready to work if need be.
Iacon Medical and Research
The view from the 12th floor of IMR building, located near the center of Autobase, is indeed a breathtaking sight. Considering who the mechanoid might be, from this height, the city below might resemble the inner-workings of a complex organism as the thin streams of neon lights rush along the highways and roads below in all directions, eventually meeting with some structure or other. Not unlike circuitry connected to vital components, serving its own predetermined purpose, keeping the system as a whole functional.
Alive.
It wasn’t too terribly long ago when the city itself didn’t bustle with so much life. The Quintesson occupation was over and, naturally, at a tremendous cost; a battle that ended by legitimizing the victor’s position as the one and only elite. The alpha. Self preservation on a nationalistic scale, plain and simple. Now, the great cities of old thrive once again, while the mechanoids below began to forget and resume their lives. Of course, Ratchet knew that he was just as much of an accomplice in the scheme of things, considering that the very life he preserves, and even being an active participant in the age old conflict, perpetuate this hegemonic drive for supremacy.
Yes, it is hard not to have such thoughts when one has such a magnificent view, as Ratchet sat in his revolving chair facing the large window of his high-rise office. Hard to stay humble sometimes, and yet, equally difficult not to resent the lofty privileges that he has.
__________________________________________________
Ratchet rotated his chair back towards his desk, reached over to one corner and slowly slid over a thin and transparent datapad. As Ratchet absentmindedly fidgeted with it, data-streams, reports, and various itineraries scrolled along its screen.
“Hmm, busy week.” He muttered to himself.
As Ratchet continued to skim over reports, a cheery, tinkery tune chimed from the holo-emitter sitting at the other corner of his desk. Before Ratchet could answer, a projection of Inferno’s upper half appeared before him.
“Ratchet, just where I'd thought you'd be. Pourin’ over medical reports,” the search and rescue officer jeered, “Wouldn’t have pegged you an office stiff. Not hands on, yah know.”
“Hello, Inferno,” Ratchet cordially replied, “So, what can I do for you? Or did you just call to heckle me?”
“Heh, heh, you know me," he smiled. "Seriously, you need to get out. Y’ all gonna bust gasket if you don’t ease up. Where’s the Ratchet of the old? You know, the one that was always up to no good?”
“He has more pressing obligations since he became of he heads of this institute, that’s what.” He smiled back. “And “gasket”? Seriously, Inferno, you need to catch up on your Cybertronian physiology.”
“Sure thing, doc.” Inferno rolled his optics.
At that moment, the door to Ratchet’s office slid open and First Aid sauntered in, stopping in front of the former war medic’s desk.
“Uh, could you hold on for a klik, Inferno?” Ratchet said. “Hello, First Aid….oh, Inferno you know First Aid, right? He’s my apprentice.”
“Pff, of course ah know him. Age must be catchin’ up with you, Ratchet.”
“Hush...Anyhow, what do you got for me, First Aid?”
“Well, I have the usual,” First Aid handed Ratchet a datapad, “There’s a few reports requiring your review, and, umm, oh, oh, and also you have a meeting with the heads of the Research department, in regards to funding the CNM project.”
“Great,” Ratchet unenthusiastically replied. “I just LOVE reverting to a pandering sub-routine.”
“Now, now, Ratchet.” First Aid conciliated. “You know how important this is. We both put far too much work into-”
“Aw, geeez!!!!” Inferno interrupted. “You both are borin’ the blazes out of me. Well, that settles it, you guys are comin’ out of tonight - kickin’ an’ screamin’ if need be. Now, shut yer traps, close down everythang yer doin’. I’ll be downstairs waitin’.”
Since Inferno wasn’t allowing any room for debate, Ratchet responded in a suiting manner. “Where did you have in mind?” he said
“Ah, that’s the spirit!!” Inferno cheered, “Where else would we go? Maccadam's! Now get movin”!”
The view from the 12th floor of IMR building, located near the center of Autobase, is indeed a breathtaking sight. Considering who the mechanoid might be, from this height, the city below might resemble the inner-workings of a complex organism as the thin streams of neon lights rush along the highways and roads below in all directions, eventually meeting with some structure or other. Not unlike circuitry connected to vital components, serving its own predetermined purpose, keeping the system as a whole functional.
Alive.
It wasn’t too terribly long ago when the city itself didn’t bustle with so much life. The Quintesson occupation was over and, naturally, at a tremendous cost; a battle that ended by legitimizing the victor’s position as the one and only elite. The alpha. Self preservation on a nationalistic scale, plain and simple. Now, the great cities of old thrive once again, while the mechanoids below began to forget and resume their lives. Of course, Ratchet knew that he was just as much of an accomplice in the scheme of things, considering that the very life he preserves, and even being an active participant in the age old conflict, perpetuate this hegemonic drive for supremacy.
Yes, it is hard not to have such thoughts when one has such a magnificent view, as Ratchet sat in his revolving chair facing the large window of his high-rise office. Hard to stay humble sometimes, and yet, equally difficult not to resent the lofty privileges that he has.
__________________________________________________
Ratchet rotated his chair back towards his desk, reached over to one corner and slowly slid over a thin and transparent datapad. As Ratchet absentmindedly fidgeted with it, data-streams, reports, and various itineraries scrolled along its screen.
“Hmm, busy week.” He muttered to himself.
As Ratchet continued to skim over reports, a cheery, tinkery tune chimed from the holo-emitter sitting at the other corner of his desk. Before Ratchet could answer, a projection of Inferno’s upper half appeared before him.
“Ratchet, just where I'd thought you'd be. Pourin’ over medical reports,” the search and rescue officer jeered, “Wouldn’t have pegged you an office stiff. Not hands on, yah know.”
“Hello, Inferno,” Ratchet cordially replied, “So, what can I do for you? Or did you just call to heckle me?”
“Heh, heh, you know me," he smiled. "Seriously, you need to get out. Y’ all gonna bust gasket if you don’t ease up. Where’s the Ratchet of the old? You know, the one that was always up to no good?”
“He has more pressing obligations since he became of he heads of this institute, that’s what.” He smiled back. “And “gasket”? Seriously, Inferno, you need to catch up on your Cybertronian physiology.”
“Sure thing, doc.” Inferno rolled his optics.
At that moment, the door to Ratchet’s office slid open and First Aid sauntered in, stopping in front of the former war medic’s desk.
“Uh, could you hold on for a klik, Inferno?” Ratchet said. “Hello, First Aid….oh, Inferno you know First Aid, right? He’s my apprentice.”
“Pff, of course ah know him. Age must be catchin’ up with you, Ratchet.”
“Hush...Anyhow, what do you got for me, First Aid?”
“Well, I have the usual,” First Aid handed Ratchet a datapad, “There’s a few reports requiring your review, and, umm, oh, oh, and also you have a meeting with the heads of the Research department, in regards to funding the CNM project.”
“Great,” Ratchet unenthusiastically replied. “I just LOVE reverting to a pandering sub-routine.”
“Now, now, Ratchet.” First Aid conciliated. “You know how important this is. We both put far too much work into-”
“Aw, geeez!!!!” Inferno interrupted. “You both are borin’ the blazes out of me. Well, that settles it, you guys are comin’ out of tonight - kickin’ an’ screamin’ if need be. Now, shut yer traps, close down everythang yer doin’. I’ll be downstairs waitin’.”
Since Inferno wasn’t allowing any room for debate, Ratchet responded in a suiting manner. “Where did you have in mind?” he said
“Ah, that’s the spirit!!” Inferno cheered, “Where else would we go? Maccadam's! Now get movin”!”
Maccadam's Old Oil House
Jazz kicked his feet up and watched the game, tilting his head slightly to answer Hot Rod.
"Yep, that's it. I always had a soft spot for Arsenal, but ya can't go wrong cheerin' on Manchester United. They're the guys in the white 'n' black."
Jazz smiled at the wait-bot when his drink came, and he tipped handsomely. He took a good long swig, keeping the canister to one side of his face so he could watch a penalty kick.
"So what's crackin', bro?" he nodded toward Hot Rod. "Ain't seen you round in a while. Guess guys like us don't get much time off."
Jazz kicked his feet up and watched the game, tilting his head slightly to answer Hot Rod.
"Yep, that's it. I always had a soft spot for Arsenal, but ya can't go wrong cheerin' on Manchester United. They're the guys in the white 'n' black."
Jazz smiled at the wait-bot when his drink came, and he tipped handsomely. He took a good long swig, keeping the canister to one side of his face so he could watch a penalty kick.
"So what's crackin', bro?" he nodded toward Hot Rod. "Ain't seen you round in a while. Guess guys like us don't get much time off."
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optimusskids
- Protoform
- Posts: 6981
- Joined: Mon Dec 27, 2004 11:24 am
- Location: UK
Target Range , Debris
Scoop shook his head
"I've got an in with Quickmix he does me bespoke parts in a special alloy although i think Ricochet's done some deals with him for that garden he's got going isn't that right Holepunch?"
Holepunch looked up from his perch on Scoop's shoulder
"That's right he's been getting stuff in from Hubcap, Doublecross and he's got some kind of thing going with Sky Lynx."
Scoop shook his head
"I've got an in with Quickmix he does me bespoke parts in a special alloy although i think Ricochet's done some deals with him for that garden he's got going isn't that right Holepunch?"
Holepunch looked up from his perch on Scoop's shoulder
"That's right he's been getting stuff in from Hubcap, Doublecross and he's got some kind of thing going with Sky Lynx."
Maccadam's Old Oil House
The green triple-changer could not believe how much the place had changed since he last saw it. What had it been, two or three years now, maybe more? He still wasn't sure if coming here was a good idea, but after having recently met up with his old friend Blurr - quite by accident - as he passed through Altihex, he thought maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to catch up with the other Autobots, now that he was here.
If they are still around, he hoped.
"Come on, Blurr, I don't think Maccadam's old Oil House will harbour too much trouble."
"I hope your right Springer, I really do, I wouldn't want to meet up with another group of 'Cons the same way we did at Altihex," Blurr replied, standing by his friend's side.
"We'll keep an eye out, but for now it looks safe enough." Springer walked towards the entrance of the Oil House, and opened the door. It had only taken him an astro-second to gauge the general inclination and mood of the popular hangout as he surveyed the room.
Then, stepping quietly but confidently towards the front bar, Springer made his entrance. Blurr, Cybertron's fastest land-based Transformer, followed closely behind.
The green triple-changer could not believe how much the place had changed since he last saw it. What had it been, two or three years now, maybe more? He still wasn't sure if coming here was a good idea, but after having recently met up with his old friend Blurr - quite by accident - as he passed through Altihex, he thought maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to catch up with the other Autobots, now that he was here.
If they are still around, he hoped.
"Come on, Blurr, I don't think Maccadam's old Oil House will harbour too much trouble."
"I hope your right Springer, I really do, I wouldn't want to meet up with another group of 'Cons the same way we did at Altihex," Blurr replied, standing by his friend's side.
"We'll keep an eye out, but for now it looks safe enough." Springer walked towards the entrance of the Oil House, and opened the door. It had only taken him an astro-second to gauge the general inclination and mood of the popular hangout as he surveyed the room.
Then, stepping quietly but confidently towards the front bar, Springer made his entrance. Blurr, Cybertron's fastest land-based Transformer, followed closely behind.
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Aero Blade
- Posts: 2582
- Joined: Sun Feb 16, 2003 2:16 am
- Location: Somewhere in subspace
- Contact:
Aero Blade's Workshop
While the finishing touches were all being worked out in Aero's new work space, one of the entrance doors slid open as a new form poked its head in to look around. "What? The doors are actually open today?"
"Hello Hound," Aero Blade called in an almost tired tone. Though Dirge had been the only one allowed in, the scout and his target master Spike had managed to sneak in a few times, much to Aero Blade's puzzlement. He suspected Dirge had let them in, but seeing as how he had no evidence to this he couldn't call the seeker on it. Maybe he should set up some security cameras...
While Aero remained occupied aside from the initial greeting, Dirge headed over to give the scout a better greeting. "I think he's finally just about done in here, though he'll still find reasons to keep at it for a while," Dirge started. "Where's Spike gotten to?"
"Off visiting relatives for a bit," Hound answered. "Said something about a reunion, but he's due to be back later today..." Hound trailed off, watching Aero Blade as he continued going about his tasks in the workshop, in what might almost be a zombie-like state. "How long has it been since he was last out of here for anything?"
After a couple of moments to consider the question, Dirge gave an akward frown. "I can't remeber."
"Alright, that does it, you're both on a manditory break time," Hound declared.
"We'll never get him out of here, I've already tried it," Dirge answered. "He's very good at evasion..."
"Oh don't worry, I think I know what we can do..."
Aero Blade had moved onto putting away a few items into the storage area and one of the times he exited the smaller room and looked up to take stock of things he realize his friends had dissapeared on him. Even Stratus was missing, leaving Aero Blade wondering what had happened and with no-one to ask about it. Aero Blade considered it only momentarily, then shrugged to himself as he went to go retrieve another box from one of the larger piles. They'd likely be back soon enough, he could ask about it then.
Aero Blade paused at the pile of boxes, his processor briefly considering that the pile didn't look the same as before. Dirge might've moved them around when he wasn't looking - he'd just have to sort it out in the storage room. Giving the matter no more thought, Aero Blade reached for the next box to carry off.
It was when his hands passed through it that he realized something was wrong, and though he jerked back immediately, he found himself pulled forward instead as something seized him. As he passed through it, the holographic boxes dissapeared as Dirge and Hound's grins became visible, as well as the two of them holding him firmly by the arms, preventing escape.
"You've been working too hard Aero! It's time for a little vacation, and I know just the place," Hound told the tech, he and Dirge starting to lead him out the door, despite his resistance.
"Come on guys! I've still got work to do, lay off!!" Aero protested.
"You've had years to work, time to use up all those untouched days off," Dirge answered.
While the finishing touches were all being worked out in Aero's new work space, one of the entrance doors slid open as a new form poked its head in to look around. "What? The doors are actually open today?"
"Hello Hound," Aero Blade called in an almost tired tone. Though Dirge had been the only one allowed in, the scout and his target master Spike had managed to sneak in a few times, much to Aero Blade's puzzlement. He suspected Dirge had let them in, but seeing as how he had no evidence to this he couldn't call the seeker on it. Maybe he should set up some security cameras...
While Aero remained occupied aside from the initial greeting, Dirge headed over to give the scout a better greeting. "I think he's finally just about done in here, though he'll still find reasons to keep at it for a while," Dirge started. "Where's Spike gotten to?"
"Off visiting relatives for a bit," Hound answered. "Said something about a reunion, but he's due to be back later today..." Hound trailed off, watching Aero Blade as he continued going about his tasks in the workshop, in what might almost be a zombie-like state. "How long has it been since he was last out of here for anything?"
After a couple of moments to consider the question, Dirge gave an akward frown. "I can't remeber."
"Alright, that does it, you're both on a manditory break time," Hound declared.
"We'll never get him out of here, I've already tried it," Dirge answered. "He's very good at evasion..."
"Oh don't worry, I think I know what we can do..."
Aero Blade had moved onto putting away a few items into the storage area and one of the times he exited the smaller room and looked up to take stock of things he realize his friends had dissapeared on him. Even Stratus was missing, leaving Aero Blade wondering what had happened and with no-one to ask about it. Aero Blade considered it only momentarily, then shrugged to himself as he went to go retrieve another box from one of the larger piles. They'd likely be back soon enough, he could ask about it then.
Aero Blade paused at the pile of boxes, his processor briefly considering that the pile didn't look the same as before. Dirge might've moved them around when he wasn't looking - he'd just have to sort it out in the storage room. Giving the matter no more thought, Aero Blade reached for the next box to carry off.
It was when his hands passed through it that he realized something was wrong, and though he jerked back immediately, he found himself pulled forward instead as something seized him. As he passed through it, the holographic boxes dissapeared as Dirge and Hound's grins became visible, as well as the two of them holding him firmly by the arms, preventing escape.
"You've been working too hard Aero! It's time for a little vacation, and I know just the place," Hound told the tech, he and Dirge starting to lead him out the door, despite his resistance.
"Come on guys! I've still got work to do, lay off!!" Aero protested.
"You've had years to work, time to use up all those untouched days off," Dirge answered.
Maccadam's Old Oil House
Cosmos sent a friendly nod in Springer's direction, not bothered by the fact that the former Wrecker hadn't been seen in almost five years.
Bluestreak was indifferent to the triplechanger's appearance, but was quite pleased to see Blurr. The fast-talking Autobot was one of only a handful of comrades who could out-do the gunner in a chatterbox contest.
"Good to see you guys," he said, raising his voice so he could be heard over the general din of the bar.
___________________________________
Target Range, Debris
"I buy weapons components from him all the time," Whirl told Roadbuster with a shrug. "Some of the more...arcane toys we've got stashed around here are a tad difficult to find spare parts for. Like that Pathblaster, for instance..."
The Wrecker tapped his claw against the wall a few times, thinking. "You know, this'd all be a lot easier for us if we had our own unit quartermaster..."
Cosmos sent a friendly nod in Springer's direction, not bothered by the fact that the former Wrecker hadn't been seen in almost five years.
Bluestreak was indifferent to the triplechanger's appearance, but was quite pleased to see Blurr. The fast-talking Autobot was one of only a handful of comrades who could out-do the gunner in a chatterbox contest.
"Good to see you guys," he said, raising his voice so he could be heard over the general din of the bar.
___________________________________
Target Range, Debris
"I buy weapons components from him all the time," Whirl told Roadbuster with a shrug. "Some of the more...arcane toys we've got stashed around here are a tad difficult to find spare parts for. Like that Pathblaster, for instance..."
The Wrecker tapped his claw against the wall a few times, thinking. "You know, this'd all be a lot easier for us if we had our own unit quartermaster..."
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optimusskids
- Protoform
- Posts: 6981
- Joined: Mon Dec 27, 2004 11:24 am
- Location: UK
-
Warit00
- Protoform
- Posts: 392
- Joined: Wed Dec 08, 2004 9:52 am
- Location: Thailand(Sorry about my grammar.)
----------Maccadam's Old Oil House----------
It's been couple years since reclaimation. The red tank minibot
did not change much still talkative, suicidal, eager to fight and ofcourse care for his chest gun as his life. Coming back at his homeworld is what he wishes best. Even better now Cons become his enemies again like the life he used to live several millions years ago.
Warpath then joined Cosmos's table
as the waiter walked pass him he said. "Pure oil no more no less." He pulled off his mouth plate and turned to Jazz
"Am I the only one here who cheerin AC Milan?" Suddenly a person that just joined the table caught his attention. ""Aye! Springer! Never thought I would se you again."
It's been couple years since reclaimation. The red tank minibot
did not change much still talkative, suicidal, eager to fight and ofcourse care for his chest gun as his life. Coming back at his homeworld is what he wishes best. Even better now Cons become his enemies again like the life he used to live several millions years ago.
Warpath then joined Cosmos's table
as the waiter walked pass him he said. "Pure oil no more no less." He pulled off his mouth plate and turned to Jazz
"Am I the only one here who cheerin AC Milan?" Suddenly a person that just joined the table caught his attention. ""Aye! Springer! Never thought I would se you again."
Maccadam's Old Oil House
Blurr noticed Bluestreak across the room, even before the mech had yelled out his greeting. Blurr could not even recall the last time he had spoken to the gunner, but looking at him now, it seemed like they had never really parted.
Blurr rushed toward him before anyone else noticed he was here.
"Blue, my good friend, I can't tell you what a pleasant surprise it is to see you here - I really thought I would never see you again after all that's happened on Cybertron! First Springer, and now you - oh and look there's Jazz over there with Hot Rod. Oh I must say hello to them all, I really must. I wonder if Perceptor is here too, oh and Ultra Magnus and Blaster!"
Springer meanwhile, simply smiled at the data courier's excitement; Blurr was a great friend. He noticed that the minibot Cosmos had given him a nod, as if to say, fancy seeing you here. Well he couldn't blame him; just suddenly showing up like this would be a bit of a surprise, to say the least.
The former Wrecker heard his name being called, and realized it had come from none other than the eager and highly strung red minibot, Warpath, who had just joined Cosmos. He walked over to their table.
"Well I'm glad you still remember me, Warpath," he replied with a grin, while acknowledging Cosmos with a nod.
Then Springer focused his attention on two of his long time friends near the bar, and decided to surprise them.
Pulling up a chair, he quietly took a seat near Jazz and Hot Rod, and waited to see what their reaction would be when they noticed his presence.
Blurr noticed Bluestreak across the room, even before the mech had yelled out his greeting. Blurr could not even recall the last time he had spoken to the gunner, but looking at him now, it seemed like they had never really parted.
Blurr rushed toward him before anyone else noticed he was here.
"Blue, my good friend, I can't tell you what a pleasant surprise it is to see you here - I really thought I would never see you again after all that's happened on Cybertron! First Springer, and now you - oh and look there's Jazz over there with Hot Rod. Oh I must say hello to them all, I really must. I wonder if Perceptor is here too, oh and Ultra Magnus and Blaster!"
Springer meanwhile, simply smiled at the data courier's excitement; Blurr was a great friend. He noticed that the minibot Cosmos had given him a nod, as if to say, fancy seeing you here. Well he couldn't blame him; just suddenly showing up like this would be a bit of a surprise, to say the least.
The former Wrecker heard his name being called, and realized it had come from none other than the eager and highly strung red minibot, Warpath, who had just joined Cosmos. He walked over to their table.
"Well I'm glad you still remember me, Warpath," he replied with a grin, while acknowledging Cosmos with a nod.
Then Springer focused his attention on two of his long time friends near the bar, and decided to surprise them.
Pulling up a chair, he quietly took a seat near Jazz and Hot Rod, and waited to see what their reaction would be when they noticed his presence.
Maccadam's Old Oil House
Jazz shot a wave across to Warpath.
"Hey, 'Bot! I never knew you follow football! See the World Cup semi-finals last year? Germany kicked some can..."
Jazz trailed off when he spotted Springer himself approaching. He took another swig on his slider, using the can to hide a grin.
"Hey Rod, you know this guy?" he thumbed jokingly at Springer, trying his best and failing to stifle a playful snicker.
Jazz shot a wave across to Warpath.
"Hey, 'Bot! I never knew you follow football! See the World Cup semi-finals last year? Germany kicked some can..."
Jazz trailed off when he spotted Springer himself approaching. He took another swig on his slider, using the can to hide a grin.
"Hey Rod, you know this guy?" he thumbed jokingly at Springer, trying his best and failing to stifle a playful snicker.
-
Heinrad
- Posts: 6282
- Joined: Sun Dec 23, 2001 5:00 am
- Location: Riskin' it all on my Russian Roulette!
Maccaddam's Old Oil House:
Hot Rod: "I hear you there, Jazz. If it's not Ironhide tearing up the floors looking for Prime, it's Magnus running us hither, thither, and yon to keep the peace." -looking over at Springer with a smirk- "What do you think, Springer? Prime's missing, Magnus and Grimlock are likely to be locked in mortal combat at any moment, and Ironhide's anxiety levels over Prime's disapearance are reaching the Red Alert zone. And you wander in after Primus knows how long. Where'd you go, anyway?"
Tracks: -sighs theatrically- "I knew I should have hired a better publicist. I'm Tracks. And, as I have nothing else to do right now, what say we find what you've lost?" -smiling at Glyph-
*********************
Medbay:
Minerva: -working on Cloudraker- "If you two will be quiet, it shouldn't take long at all."
*********************
Aerospace Design Lab:
Jetfire: -working on the helmet- "There. I think it's fixed."
Wheeljack: "And I've got the drive units finished. Want to give it a test run?"
Jetfire: -putting the helmet on, clipping the plasma cannons onto his forearms, Wheeljack helping him into the FAST-pack, , chuckling as all of the weapons systems synch to the helmet interface, turns to Wheeljack- "How do I look?"
Wheeljack: "Like a hood ornament."
Hot Rod: "I hear you there, Jazz. If it's not Ironhide tearing up the floors looking for Prime, it's Magnus running us hither, thither, and yon to keep the peace." -looking over at Springer with a smirk- "What do you think, Springer? Prime's missing, Magnus and Grimlock are likely to be locked in mortal combat at any moment, and Ironhide's anxiety levels over Prime's disapearance are reaching the Red Alert zone. And you wander in after Primus knows how long. Where'd you go, anyway?"
Tracks: -sighs theatrically- "I knew I should have hired a better publicist. I'm Tracks. And, as I have nothing else to do right now, what say we find what you've lost?" -smiling at Glyph-
*********************
Medbay:
Minerva: -working on Cloudraker- "If you two will be quiet, it shouldn't take long at all."
*********************
Aerospace Design Lab:
Jetfire: -working on the helmet- "There. I think it's fixed."
Wheeljack: "And I've got the drive units finished. Want to give it a test run?"
Jetfire: -putting the helmet on, clipping the plasma cannons onto his forearms, Wheeljack helping him into the FAST-pack, , chuckling as all of the weapons systems synch to the helmet interface, turns to Wheeljack- "How do I look?"
Wheeljack: "Like a hood ornament."
As a professional tanuki (I'm a Japanese mythological animal, and a good luck charm), I have an alarm clock built into me somewhere. I also look like a stuffed animal. And you thought your life was tough......
3DS Friend Code: 1092-1274-7642
3DS Friend Code: 1092-1274-7642
Maccadam's Old Oil House
Cosmos sat back and listened to the conversation; he wasn't much of a football fan, despite all the broadcasts he's picked up in the years he'd spent in Earth orbit. He'd always preferred slower-paced games like baseball.
The spacefaring Autobot nodded at Warpath and raised his glass in his friend's direction.
Bluestreak gave Blurr a grin and shrugged. "Magnus is probably too bogged down with paperwork these days to come out and play with us guys, but I'd really be surprised if Blaster isn't hiding in here somewhere."
The talkative Autobot walked over to Jazz and leaned casually on the table he shared with Hot Rod. "Hey there, boss guys. Either of you seen our friendly neighbourhood tapedeck around? This place could use some tunes!"
_______________________________
Target Range, Debris
Whirl turned to look at Overdrive. "Not really. All the best weapons officers and acquisitions guys are too important for us to just steal these days. Crosshairs is a line officer, Doublecross is running the Quartermaster's office here in the city, and on and on."
The gangly Autobot shrugged. "We could always offer the job to Hubcap, I suppose. He wouldn't be much good in a fight, but he'd get us the supplies we needed. And we could be fairly sure that he's not going to steal from us if he's a part of the team."
_______________________________
Quintesson War Memorial
It had taken him years to complete, a private masterpiece that he had worked on only in his spare time, when more important construction work, repair projects and combat deployments weren't calling for him. But despite the piecemeal work schedule, Fortress Maximus had finally finished it.
The Quintesson War Memorial was a simple steel slab, planted square in the middle of a pad of smooth, fresh concrete wide enough to land a starship on. It was plain silver for the most part, but decorated with black edging at the top, the bottom and the sides.
Despite its simplicity, it was huge, over four times the size of the massive Autobot and twice as wide as it was tall. It had to be; etched into its surface were the names of every single Autobot, Decepticon and neutral who had died during the Quintessons' invasion, their occupation, and the war that had ousted them from Cybertron. And although building the Memorial had in and of itself been a significant task, collecting that list had been even more trying. Simply knowing that so many of his brethren were gone, their sparks extinguished forevermore, would have driven the Headmaster to tears had he been equipped for it. Thankfully he wasn't, though, so he was able to maintain a certain level of respectful decorum as he looked upon his work.
"Rest in peace, my friends."
Cosmos sat back and listened to the conversation; he wasn't much of a football fan, despite all the broadcasts he's picked up in the years he'd spent in Earth orbit. He'd always preferred slower-paced games like baseball.
The spacefaring Autobot nodded at Warpath and raised his glass in his friend's direction.
Bluestreak gave Blurr a grin and shrugged. "Magnus is probably too bogged down with paperwork these days to come out and play with us guys, but I'd really be surprised if Blaster isn't hiding in here somewhere."
The talkative Autobot walked over to Jazz and leaned casually on the table he shared with Hot Rod. "Hey there, boss guys. Either of you seen our friendly neighbourhood tapedeck around? This place could use some tunes!"
_______________________________
Target Range, Debris
Whirl turned to look at Overdrive. "Not really. All the best weapons officers and acquisitions guys are too important for us to just steal these days. Crosshairs is a line officer, Doublecross is running the Quartermaster's office here in the city, and on and on."
The gangly Autobot shrugged. "We could always offer the job to Hubcap, I suppose. He wouldn't be much good in a fight, but he'd get us the supplies we needed. And we could be fairly sure that he's not going to steal from us if he's a part of the team."
_______________________________
Quintesson War Memorial
It had taken him years to complete, a private masterpiece that he had worked on only in his spare time, when more important construction work, repair projects and combat deployments weren't calling for him. But despite the piecemeal work schedule, Fortress Maximus had finally finished it.
The Quintesson War Memorial was a simple steel slab, planted square in the middle of a pad of smooth, fresh concrete wide enough to land a starship on. It was plain silver for the most part, but decorated with black edging at the top, the bottom and the sides.
Despite its simplicity, it was huge, over four times the size of the massive Autobot and twice as wide as it was tall. It had to be; etched into its surface were the names of every single Autobot, Decepticon and neutral who had died during the Quintessons' invasion, their occupation, and the war that had ousted them from Cybertron. And although building the Memorial had in and of itself been a significant task, collecting that list had been even more trying. Simply knowing that so many of his brethren were gone, their sparks extinguished forevermore, would have driven the Headmaster to tears had he been equipped for it. Thankfully he wasn't, though, so he was able to maintain a certain level of respectful decorum as he looked upon his work.
"Rest in peace, my friends."
Iacon Security Services HQ - Outside Red Alert’s office
~About One Year Ago~
Groove, Streetwise, and Blades sat in the reception room outside Red Alert's office; the room was thick with the apprehension. Periodically, each would would look up from their own private thoughts and glance towards the closed door of security director’s office.
“They sure have been in there for awhile,” Groove spoke up, finally breaking the unsettling silence.
“Sigh, great. Now we have internal affairs venting down our necks,” Streetwise moaned. “I haven’t seen Red Alert this furious in quite some time. I don’t think any of our testimonies satisfied him...Hrn, I can’t believe this,” he threw an icy glare in Blades' direction. “Hmph. Then again, yes I can.”
“Pfft, whatever,” Blades venomously spat back. “We were so within in reason. Hot Spot will come through. He’ll get it dismissed.”
“Blades,” Streetwise countered. “All this goes against sting procedure. Plus, we were hardly subtle. I mean, damn it, the suspect killed himself upon our arrival! And why the hell did you do that to the bartender?”
Groove looked down at his lap. “I knew this was a bad idea..."
“Seriously, Blades,” Streetwise interrupted, his tone rising to an angrier octave. “This gross dereliction of duty, this fraggin’ vigilantism nonsense that you seem to subscribe to is getting real old, you know that? We face several counts of misconduct all because...”
“Oh, come off it!” Blades snapped in retort. “No one said you had to come along.”
“What?! It was mine and Groove’s assignment to track Bunko, then report back. The case was entrusted to US! But you decided to stick your olfactory sensors where they were not needed.”
“Streetwise, Blades, please,” Groove calmly intervened. “This isn’t helping our case any further. It’s in Hot Spot hands now. Hopefully Red Alert will be lenient.”
---
Red Alert’s office
Meanwhile, behind the closed door of the security director’s office, the Protectobot field commander Hot Spot, now a high ranking captain at the ISS, argues his case to a very displeased Red Alert.
The room is dimly lit, only the two Autobots, standing underneath a hanging overhead lamp are visible to the naked optic.
“Oh, do indulge me, Hot Spot. You’re doing a rather poor job supporting your request for dismissing the investigation of you subordinates," Red Alert rapped his fingers on his desk. "The ISS spent several cycles on this operation alone – vorns and millions of credits. Here, we finally have a connection, after meticulous planning and stealth, and, in only a breem, we lost it ALL, because a few unsupervised members of your unit decided to break protocol," the security director slammed his hand down. "Explain to me why I don’t shutdown your unit all together, since you continue to sanction the conduct of one its members - other than the alibis you and three officers in question have been giving to me?”
“There's no excuse, Red, and I take full responsibility of their actions,” Hot Spot answered.
“Altruistic as always. You truly do make a fine officer," Red Alert smirked. "But please, Hot Spot, I know this is not a reflection of your leadership, but the rest of the department heads may not see it that way. This isn't the first time this has happened. I can't turn a blind optic to it any longer."
"Yes, I know."
"...I may have no choice but to shut down your department. I’d prefer it not come to that. The Protectobot unit in particular has been essential to the city-state's security - we all know this - but I have to consider the interests of others as well. The security department a whole could lose additional funding. Try to look at the larger picture."
“Sigh, I understand," Hot Spot ruefully shook his head. "But, I’d like to request that the charges against officers Streetwise and Groove be dismissed. Their records speak for themselves.”
“Of course. I’ll see what I can do," the security director nodded. "And Blades?"
“I'll take care of it, Red. Don't worry.”
“Good, then it is settled.”
~About One Year Ago~
Groove, Streetwise, and Blades sat in the reception room outside Red Alert's office; the room was thick with the apprehension. Periodically, each would would look up from their own private thoughts and glance towards the closed door of security director’s office.
“They sure have been in there for awhile,” Groove spoke up, finally breaking the unsettling silence.
“Sigh, great. Now we have internal affairs venting down our necks,” Streetwise moaned. “I haven’t seen Red Alert this furious in quite some time. I don’t think any of our testimonies satisfied him...Hrn, I can’t believe this,” he threw an icy glare in Blades' direction. “Hmph. Then again, yes I can.”
“Pfft, whatever,” Blades venomously spat back. “We were so within in reason. Hot Spot will come through. He’ll get it dismissed.”
“Blades,” Streetwise countered. “All this goes against sting procedure. Plus, we were hardly subtle. I mean, damn it, the suspect killed himself upon our arrival! And why the hell did you do that to the bartender?”
Groove looked down at his lap. “I knew this was a bad idea..."
“Seriously, Blades,” Streetwise interrupted, his tone rising to an angrier octave. “This gross dereliction of duty, this fraggin’ vigilantism nonsense that you seem to subscribe to is getting real old, you know that? We face several counts of misconduct all because...”
“Oh, come off it!” Blades snapped in retort. “No one said you had to come along.”
“What?! It was mine and Groove’s assignment to track Bunko, then report back. The case was entrusted to US! But you decided to stick your olfactory sensors where they were not needed.”
“Streetwise, Blades, please,” Groove calmly intervened. “This isn’t helping our case any further. It’s in Hot Spot hands now. Hopefully Red Alert will be lenient.”
---
Red Alert’s office
Meanwhile, behind the closed door of the security director’s office, the Protectobot field commander Hot Spot, now a high ranking captain at the ISS, argues his case to a very displeased Red Alert.
The room is dimly lit, only the two Autobots, standing underneath a hanging overhead lamp are visible to the naked optic.
“Oh, do indulge me, Hot Spot. You’re doing a rather poor job supporting your request for dismissing the investigation of you subordinates," Red Alert rapped his fingers on his desk. "The ISS spent several cycles on this operation alone – vorns and millions of credits. Here, we finally have a connection, after meticulous planning and stealth, and, in only a breem, we lost it ALL, because a few unsupervised members of your unit decided to break protocol," the security director slammed his hand down. "Explain to me why I don’t shutdown your unit all together, since you continue to sanction the conduct of one its members - other than the alibis you and three officers in question have been giving to me?”
“There's no excuse, Red, and I take full responsibility of their actions,” Hot Spot answered.
“Altruistic as always. You truly do make a fine officer," Red Alert smirked. "But please, Hot Spot, I know this is not a reflection of your leadership, but the rest of the department heads may not see it that way. This isn't the first time this has happened. I can't turn a blind optic to it any longer."
"Yes, I know."
"...I may have no choice but to shut down your department. I’d prefer it not come to that. The Protectobot unit in particular has been essential to the city-state's security - we all know this - but I have to consider the interests of others as well. The security department a whole could lose additional funding. Try to look at the larger picture."
“Sigh, I understand," Hot Spot ruefully shook his head. "But, I’d like to request that the charges against officers Streetwise and Groove be dismissed. Their records speak for themselves.”
“Of course. I’ll see what I can do," the security director nodded. "And Blades?"
“I'll take care of it, Red. Don't worry.”
“Good, then it is settled.”
Maccaddam's Old Oil House
Springer laughed. "Man it's so good to see you again, Jazz! You haven't changed a bit, have you?" The good-natured triplechanger was genuinely pleased to see the saboteur. It felt just like old times.
He turned his attention to Hot Rod, and a more serious expression overtook him. He understood the former leader's reservations, but was glad to see him nonetheless.
"I needed to lay low, I guess. After what happened back on Earth, I just needed some time out, you know? Think things through... " Springer trailed off, not very comfortable with the topic of conversation. "But I heard what happened to Prime - and I thought you guys could do with a little extra help."
Blurr, meanwhile, had also joined the little get together.
"Jazz! Hot Rod!" He greeted them happily. "How long has it been? Too long, too long if you ask me."
Springer laughed. "Man it's so good to see you again, Jazz! You haven't changed a bit, have you?" The good-natured triplechanger was genuinely pleased to see the saboteur. It felt just like old times.
He turned his attention to Hot Rod, and a more serious expression overtook him. He understood the former leader's reservations, but was glad to see him nonetheless.
"I needed to lay low, I guess. After what happened back on Earth, I just needed some time out, you know? Think things through... " Springer trailed off, not very comfortable with the topic of conversation. "But I heard what happened to Prime - and I thought you guys could do with a little extra help."
Blurr, meanwhile, had also joined the little get together.
"Jazz! Hot Rod!" He greeted them happily. "How long has it been? Too long, too long if you ask me."
-
optimusskids
- Protoform
- Posts: 6981
- Joined: Mon Dec 27, 2004 11:24 am
- Location: UK
Target Range , Debris
Overdrive nodded,
" there is a shortage of supply types but i'm not sure about Hubcap i don't think Espirit de corps will outweigh the profit margin in his processors and i don't trust him as far as i could throw the poison dwarf."
There was a movement from Scoop's shoulders
Holepunch was waving
"me and Tracer could do the job we've been kicking our heels plus i'v e got the organisational skills and he's got the criminal mindset, give us the right equipment and we could go out there and get scrounging."
Overdrive nodded,
" there is a shortage of supply types but i'm not sure about Hubcap i don't think Espirit de corps will outweigh the profit margin in his processors and i don't trust him as far as i could throw the poison dwarf."
There was a movement from Scoop's shoulders
Holepunch was waving
"me and Tracer could do the job we've been kicking our heels plus i'v e got the organisational skills and he's got the criminal mindset, give us the right equipment and we could go out there and get scrounging."
Maccadam's Old Oil House
Jazz' smile never left him. The moment seemed to last forever as he reflected on the beauty of it - friends, drinks, and a minute away from the war. What more could an Autobot ask for?
"Blaster? Tunes?" Jazz scoffed. "Heck, Bluestreak, me 'n' him both know I got the better collection! I got everythin' from Miles Davis to Marilyn Manson. Whatcha in the mood for?"
Jazz extended the speakers flanking his hips and put on Motorhead's Born to Raise Hell. At least until somebody would complain... Before anyone could, Jazz spotted another old friend.
"Sup Blurr! Good ta see ya, buddy. Hey," he pointed around the table. "What's everybody drinkin'? I'll buy. Yo barkeep!" Jazz glanced at the bar and raised a hand high. "Round on me, cool?"
Jazz' smile never left him. The moment seemed to last forever as he reflected on the beauty of it - friends, drinks, and a minute away from the war. What more could an Autobot ask for?
"Blaster? Tunes?" Jazz scoffed. "Heck, Bluestreak, me 'n' him both know I got the better collection! I got everythin' from Miles Davis to Marilyn Manson. Whatcha in the mood for?"
Jazz extended the speakers flanking his hips and put on Motorhead's Born to Raise Hell. At least until somebody would complain... Before anyone could, Jazz spotted another old friend.
"Sup Blurr! Good ta see ya, buddy. Hey," he pointed around the table. "What's everybody drinkin'? I'll buy. Yo barkeep!" Jazz glanced at the bar and raised a hand high. "Round on me, cool?"