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Post by Springer on Jun 16, 2010 16:32:54 GMT -5
OOC: Takes place on Day 9. Semi-private.
The Pit Stop - the spaceport's mechanoid-friendly bar - is moderately abuzz with customers. They have the occasional fight from day to day, but they have a bouncer to take care of them. Gol'drak, a big 'bot with black armor plating, a chunky red V-shape on his chest, and four curved yellow horns on his head. You make trouble for the bar, and Gol'drak will throw you out without a second thought.
Springer stands outside the bar for now - in retrospect, he should've asked what Guzzle looked like, but if the 'bot knows Springer, then Guzzle should have no trouble finding Springer.
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 16, 2010 16:53:00 GMT -5
The place isn't that hard to find, what with the neon signs pointing at it and all. It's not something that Guzzle is thrilled with. Chances are that the bar is filled to the brim with drunk patrons that will be all too eager to start a fight, or more shadowy types that might be interested in what they have to say. Still, Springer named a time and place, and and Guzzle isn't someone who believes in being 'fashionably late'. Tends to get good bots killed.
Robots of various makes and sizes keep entering and exiting the bar, sometimes with groups, sometimes alone, and sometimes with an arm around the waist of a fembot. But then, exactly on time, a somewhat small and bulky robot steps out of the line and walks up to Springer, the salute he gives as he looks up to the green bot making it clear who he is, along with the red symbol on his waist. "Guzzle reporting in, sir."
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Post by Springer on Jun 16, 2010 17:15:22 GMT -5
Springer appreciates the punctuality, for the same reasons that Guzzle -is- punctual. Springer glances down at Guzzle, noting the smaller 'bot's cannon.
"...well, on first glance, I'd certainly believe you're a Wrecker." He grins a bit. "No need to be so formal, though - this is more of social call." He then looks a bit more somber. "We don't have much of a Wreckers group here in this place, so I don't really have a group to lead." Then he hooks his thumb at the door. "Let's go in," he says, turning around and heading inside, finding an empty table.
Springer sits down, leaning on his elbows. "Tell me about your Wreckers."
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 16, 2010 18:13:27 GMT -5
OOC: The talk from here on out might have spoilers for Last Stand of the Wreckers. You have been warned.
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As soon as Springer tells him that he can be a bit less formal, Guzzle's stance relaxes almost immediately. "Heh, good. Being formal in civilian situations never felt right." Huh, somber Springer. That's something he hasn't seen yet. It's a little jarring, actually. "Eh, that'll change." Maybe. Hopefully.
Guzzle is quick to follow Springer, but surprise: he does not like how crowded this place is. Hard to move around, no safe spots, unpredictable drunks...No fights, though. Maybe that bouncer's presence is enough to keep them in check. When they reach that table Guzzle sits down in the chair that is closest to the wall, his optics scanning the bar one last time before facing the other Wrecker.
He gives Springer an odd look at the 'your Wreckers' bit before shrugging it off, leaning back into his chair as he thinks. "Well...I'm one of the rooks, along with Pyro, Rotorstorm and Ironfist. Don't ask me how they got in, they each have a screw loose...Especially ol' 'Fisitron'. Bot knows how to make a weapon, though. Of course, you're still the leader, Perceptor was with us as well as Topspin and Twin Twist, unlucky fragger. Oh, and Kup." Guzzle's tone becomes a bit flat as he says that name, but he had a good reason for that. Whether he will reveal the cause of that, will remain to be seen.
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Post by Springer on Jun 17, 2010 0:16:15 GMT -5
The patrons are a little rowdy, but not too much. Gol'drak's presence is quite the peacekeeper.
Springer notes Guzzle's apparent uneasiness - "I know you just arrived recently, but I've been on that ship more than I'd like to be. And I don't care for the planet below much, either. Too hung up in bureaucracy. We'll probably have to get you a permit just for that big turret on your back just so you can walk around." Springer's tone is one of disgust. "Probably can't get an oil change without one either."
As Guzzle goes on about his team of Wreckers, Springer's expression changes to one of pensive hope. "Fistitron? The blogger? And Kup..." Springer ponders a moment. "What was your timestamp before you came here? And..." The tone Guzzle had catches up with him for a moment. "...your Kup, do you know any of his history?"
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 17, 2010 5:38:32 GMT -5
His face may be mostly hidden, but his eyes are more then enough to show what he thinks about a situation. And right now, they are bright with anger."A permit? OVER MY RUSTING FRAME!" His fist slams hard on the table, drawing a few looks from the crowd around them, but Guzzle just gives them a glare and snaps "What!?" at them before settling back into his chair. He is far from calmed down, though. "Ha, they can damn well try! They want my guns? They'll have to pry them out of my hands!"
Guzzle continues his angry muttering for a few seconds more until finally he calms down, his posture relaxing again. But then Springer has the tank feeling uneasy again with that question about Kup. Why is everyone so obsessed with that old rustbucket? "Hrmn....<timestamp>, or there abouts. And the same as everyone else. Old war hero that trained a bunch of big shots. And then....Well, that's classified, isn't it." Guzzle sounds positively bitter by now, his optics narrowing a little as he gives Springer the 'You know what I'm talking about' look.
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Post by Springer on Jun 17, 2010 17:02:43 GMT -5
First, Springer puts on his Serious Commander face. "Whoa, whoa, cool it there - we've had enough trouble on this planet because of their permits - now that we know what to do, we just gotta roll with it. They're not gonna take it from you, you just gotta jump through their paperwork hoops." Springer shrugs a bit. "Stupid, I know, but it's gotta be done."
A pause, then something else hits Springer. "If you run into any 'Cons, don't shoot them unless they attack you first. We've had trouble with that here, too. This planet will be all over your aft if you start it."
As Guzzle goes on, though, Springer's back to wondering. That timestamp is about four years after his own.
The classified bit makes his oil run cold though, and he half-gawks at Guzzle. "...what about Impactor? Was there one in your universe?"
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 17, 2010 17:33:26 GMT -5
Well, at least Guzzle knows for certain now that he will hate this planet with a passion. Hopefully it will be relatively easy to get those permits, but chances are that chances of that being the case are slim, to say the least.
....Why is Springer gawking at him like that? It makes Guzzle feel a bit uneasy, but before he can ask the Wrecker what that look is for, he has to ask that. "Sure you want to know?" If Springer says 'no', Guzzle will just shrug and say 'your call'. But if Springer says 'yes'...
"Yeah. He was. We were en route to Garrus-9, standard 'Drive out the Cons' mission," -Insert mocking laugh here- "when we run across a Con shuttle. Turns out that Impactor used it to escape the planet. He told us what was going on, made things a whole lot worse for us, and then he went down with us for his expertise. Mech was pretty much pissed at you the whole time, though. Don't know what you did, but it must have been big, judging from how much he hates your guts."
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Post by Springer on Jun 17, 2010 22:43:55 GMT -5
Springer leans back in his chair, dumbstruck for a moment after Guzzle enlightens him.
"...so you are from my future. Fistitron, Impactor, it all adds up, even Ku--"
Then an earlier comment catches up with Springer, and he leans forward, across the table. "Waitaminute, Kup recovered?!"
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 18, 2010 6:26:59 GMT -5
Guzzle is getting increasingly uncomfortable, shifting a little, his fingers tapping on the table. He really wishes that they could stop talking about Kup already. "Yea, he did. Something Perceptor did, before the science boy got blown wide open and became a sniper once he was repaired, instead. Just don't ask me why they allowed him to keep soaking up resources even after his 'rescue'."
The Wrecker shifts a bit before leaning forward again, taping his fingers a bit faster now, one optic ridge raised a little. "Look, Springer. You're making me talk far more then I usually do. I don't really have a problem with that, but can we at least order some fuel, so I don't lock up on you?" Not to mention that being in a bar and not drinking anything is probably a crime here on Pz-Zazz.
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Post by Springer on Jun 18, 2010 12:17:05 GMT -5
"Oh, right..." Springer sheepishly moves back in his chair. "Sorry 'bout that. Got caught up in the moment." He grins a bit. "Just great to finally have someone from my universe here."
Springer waves down a waitress, a bubble-helmed robot colored red and yellow, A'flodai on her nametag. "What can I get you guys?" she asks, one hand on a hip.
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 18, 2010 12:22:45 GMT -5
"Wait, the only ones? Are you serious?" Guzzle isn't quite sure what to think about that. The thought that they are the only two from their home reality...There's just something unsettling about it.
When the robot woman walks up he can't help but frown a little a little at her appearance. "Racer, huh? Tell your manager to get you a proper aerodynamic form." Oh, right, fuel. "Springer, think we can afford a barrel of high performance oil?"
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Post by Springer on Jun 19, 2010 17:43:37 GMT -5
A'flodai gives Guzzle a Look™, though it's harder to tell when you only have optics to emote with. She otherwise ignores the comment, and looks at Springer after Guzzle addresses him. Springer nods. "Yeah, we can. Not like I'm gonna do much of anything else requiring money..." A'flodai nods, heading off to fetch the order.
Springer then turns his attention on Guzzle. "Yeah, just us. Sure, there's 'bots around here that look familiar to me - Perceptor, Kup, Optimus, and Skyfire; but they all look different and act different. Or have different names. The Skyfire here looks like the Jetfire back home, but we've got two Jetfires here that look and act nothing like the one I know." Springer rubs his helm a bit. "It's kind of processor-straining when I think about it still, and I've been here for months."
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Post by Gertrude Huldon/Guzzle on Jun 19, 2010 17:56:52 GMT -5
Good thing that Guzzle only has optics to emote with as well then. He gives her a Look right back, snapping "What!?" at her before focusing on Springer again. "Hey, like I said earlier, I still need new ammo."
Guzzle listens to what Springer has to say, but by the end of it he has his head tilted, and a look that pretty much says 'What'. "That's...Yeah, I'm gonna need some time to get used to that. But so the two Jetfires act nothing like the one from back home? What about the other Je- errr, Skyfire?"
The tank groans as he shakes his head, trying to make sense for it, before just giving up, sulking down in his seat. "Bah. This makes my processors hurt. Are there at least Cons that we can shoot up?"
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Ultra Magnus
Major
Disappointing Fellow Autobots Since the Age of Internment
Posts: 565
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Post by Ultra Magnus on Jun 20, 2010 21:44:05 GMT -5
Springer made the offer. Self-consciousness and a reluctance to gallivant about a scummy part of town on a scummy planet while wearing his brother's face kept Ultra Magnus from accepting at first; he finally boarded a shuttle from the station, all the while telling himself, "I must be out of my mind."
He's still telling himself that even as he tries to figure out how to explain why he doesn't look like the Ultra Magnus either Springer or Guzzle knows without needing enough tank-rotting drink to make it somehow not awkward when he pauses in the doorway of the bar Springer named. He takes in the atmosphere and nearly turns back around. This is no place Optimus Prime should be seen. But he isn't Optimus Prime. And he shouldn't need to uphold the Prime's reputation.
His stride as he enters is still circumspect, and he scans the room looking for either Wrecker among the sea of mechanical bodies before he gets more than a few steps in. Some place Springer picked. All Magnus can think of is how messy a brawl would be in here… and how quick Twin Twist would be to start one.
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