Loot & Scoot

[Duskwing]

Duskwing left the ferocious blue Prime far behind, dodging and ducking down various corridors, turning randomly at intersections until he's pretty sure he's lost Sentinel Prime. Unfortunately, he's also just plain lost.

"Huh." Look around, where is he? Nothing distinctive; it's like Assault and the Kalis tunnels again. "Least there's no zombies."

Just featureless doors with numbers on them. He stares at the nearest one; there's something familiar about this...

"Oh, right. Berthing." He looks from side to side suspiciously. "Ain't no one here to share the loot with, or stop me. Too bad."

He raises his arm-gun and blasts the lock panel twice before it shorts out in a shower of sparks, then he grabs the door by the emergency grip and forcibly shoves it open, jamming it back against protesting gears. Then he darts inside, looking around quickly for shiny things and energon...

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

Heavy footstep and then two laser shots right at the door. Farlane looks up in time to see a huge blue seeker blocking up the room’s entrance.

He immediately throws his gun at the seeker.

“... Damnit!”

Of course, being a martial artist, he’d thrown the gun with enough force to embed it in the opposite wall, so Duskwing might want to duck.

[Duskwing]

Duskwing indeed ducks reflexively as someone throws an object at him. Could be a grenade, or a sharp pointy thing, after all. Farlane's gun sails over the gap where Duskwing's right air intake used to be, and clangs loudly against the far corridor wall behind him.

"Whaddya doin' here? Youse s'posed to be out fighting!" Duskwing snarls.

Slag! Room is occupied, he'll have to fight if he wants to loot. Duskwing has already had enough fighting for the day--one intake is smashed, his cockpit is cracked open, one arm hangs limply; still-oily lubricants crust the long cut slashing his wing from burned puncture to edge.

He glares, red optics narrowing, one arm-gun pointed in the pink Autobot's general direction. The very, very pink all over Autobot. "Youse is pink."

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Well I was gonna, but I was the idiot who left their gun in their room.” He didn’t, actually, but making himself seem like naive civvie was probably a good idea. He was still and idiot who’d left something important in the room, and he was still the idiot who’d reflexively thrown their gun at a ‘Con (and missed, Sigma slaggit), but he hadn’t forgotten his gun at least. Not... a terribly huge achievement after so much stupid though. Maybe he’d been neut for waaay too long.

“Honey, I’m very pink,” Farlane agrees with a friendly smile, eying the gun pointed his way. The seeker didn’t look too hot, but the pink car didn’t particularly trust that to mean the bastard would be easy to bring down. “I’m guessin’ you don’t like that too much, do ya?”

[Duskwing]

Duskwing regards Farlane suspiciously. "Pink's a Con color. Like Spinister. Why's an Autobot pink?"

He gets a cunning look. (Or in his case, a Not Utterly Mindless look). "Gimme your cash, energon chips and any small valuables, and maybe I'll forget I saw ya."

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Well, I dunno ‘bout which colors are ‘Con or not, t’ be sorta honest.” Although Arcee and Elita were pink and Farlane didn’t recall seeing a lot of pink Decepticons in his side of the universe. “I jus’ wear this cus s’ the part a’ my gig, you know?”

“Oh, uh,” Farlane raises his hands in a placating gesture when Duskwings started asking for his riches. “Okay, sure.” He checks his subspace inventory and idly wonders how he’s supposed to explain this mess to his roomies. Boy was that going to be awkward.

Ah, well, explanations later, dumping his subspace pockets now. “‘Fraid I don’t really carry cash or energon ‘round with me, but you said you take small valuables, right?” Farlane starts conversationally as he begins pulling stuff out of his subspace. By the end of the next minute, there was a growing pile of kinky and obscene things in his arms and on the floor.

“Ah, crud,” the pink car says, juggling an armful of a rather valuable looking solid steel box and what looked like a pile of fuzzy pink feather boas. He distractedly offers the latter to Duskwing after a moment, asking, “hold this fer a sec, will ya? I need to the find the keys.”

[Duskwing]

Duskwing absently takes the feather boas while eyeing the box suspiciously. It's a heavy steel box, and he's ready to block if His Pinkness tries to hit him with it.

"What about that stuff?" he asks, pointing a thumb at the pile on the floor. "Looks like special, rare tools. Bet they're worth somethin'."

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Special rare tools?” Farlane tries really, really hard not to laugh. He really, really didn’t want to get shot at. “Oh, yeah, they’re definitely worth sumthin’ but, it’s gonna be super awkward explainin’ t’ the pawn shop owner how you’d managed t’ get yer paws on this much... kinky stuff,” what is the cybertronian term for adult toys anyhow? Technically, they didn’t really have children or adults, so adult toys is kind of moot.

“Aaanyhow,” he says, straightening up. “I gotta go now. So, uh, cookies?” ‘Cookies’, of course, being the activation word for the feather boa restraints that promptly spring to life and try to wrap themselves around Duskwing.

[Duskwing]

"Huh." Duskwing stares blankly at Farlane. "So does that mean you're really a dame? Anywho, I figure Swindle can market 'em. Anything people want, he can sell it to 'em. So pony up."

Then Her Pinkness says "cookies".

Before he can so much as say "Huh?", the pink feather boas come to nightmarish life and twine around the dark blue Seeker's arm, pinning it to his side. One of them slithers around his lower body and legs, tangling his limbs.

Duskwing reacts, thrashing wildly--and promptly falls headlong, his feet tied neatly together.

[Farlane/Faye Fairlane]

“Actually,” Farlane shrugs a bit awkwardly as if he wasn’t watching Duskwing get tied up by fuzzy pinkness, “I’m really a dude.” And then the seeker topples over into a neat pile of seeker and feather boas.

“Sorry ‘bout that, sweety buns.” He subspaces the box and whatever else he had in his arms before quickly stepping around Duskwing’s prone form and pulling his gun out of the hallway wall. After that, Lady Farlane of Pinkness shall take his hasty leave to join the battle elsewhere on the ship.

---

OOC: Out of thread unless stopped!

[Duskwing]

"You grimy turbo-rat! Ima gonna get you for this!"

Duskwing thrashed and yanked at his fluffy pink bonds. They weren't really that strong--they were designed for amatory play, not restraining angry Decepticons--and quickly shredded under the Seeker's outrage, filling the compartment with a gently falling cloud of pink feathers. (Sorry, Hook, Perceptor; Duskwing broke the fluffy pink handcuffs).

By the time he clambered awkwardly to his feet, one arm still disabled, the exceedingly pink Autobot was long gone. Duskwing scowled, then stooped long enough to scoop up a handful of Farlane's erotic toys and stuff them in the cargo compartment aft (now above) his cockpit. They looked expensive, and Swindle would know someone on Pzz-Zazz that wanted them.

Pink might give warning; time to move and search elsewhere. Duskwing darted back out into the corridor, looking both ways, then continued down the hall and around a corner...

Just far enough out of sight of Pink's room and the obvious route to it to work undisturbed. He hoped. Once again, he blew the lock panel and heaved a door open, only to find....

[Breakaway]

. . . Only to find that he isn't as alone in the hall as he thought he was. A second, very different jetformer comes around the corner, deploying his rifle as he spots Duskwing.

"Didn't anyone ever teach you not to take things that aren't yours?" Breakaway asks as he draws a bead on the Seeker.

[Duskwing]

First impression: zombie-jet made of blades--like the new Starscream. Only different. Second impression: it's pointing a weapon straight at Duskwing.

"Slaggit, I'm outta here!" Duskwing dives through the door he's just yanked open like his thrusters are on fire. Don't stay in sight long enough for them to get target lock, that's the rule.

The room is dark, the only light coming from the lighted corridor behind Duskwing. Light that falls on something that gleams and glitters, broken up by mirrored shards that hang on the wall. The tantalizing glitter draws Duskwing's gaze and he steps across the room.

Two long swords composed of oddly curving wedge shapes linked to form a serrated nightmare rest in a rack. Right now they are quiescent, but there is a frozen restlessness to the blades, a hint of absolute deadliness should they begin to spin...

"Cool! I gotta have those!" Duskwing exclaims, and snatches the blades off the wall rack and tucking them in his stash. He turned back quickly to face the doorway--getting himself cornered in a room might have been a bad idea.

If all else failed, there were always explosives.

[Breakaway]

Breakaway couldn't agree more with Duskwing that cornering himself was a bad idea. However, being a tad smarter than Duskwing, he knows that rushing into a dark room after a cornered Decepticon is also a bad idea.

Instead, he taunts the Seeker, hoping to get him mad enough to come out and get headshotted. Even now his optics are zoomed in and synched with his rifle, trained on the doorway Duskwing ducked through. "Seriously, what kind of underclocked soldier are you? You're supposed to loot the battlefield after the battle, not during. What's the matter, your bosses don't want you on the front lines, screwing things up? If you're anything like the last 'Con I fragged, I don't blame them. How this war has lasted this long, I have no idea. Radio sounds like we're mopping the floor with your sorry skidplates," he comments nonchalantly.

[Duskwing]

Huh. Bot was still outside, waiting for him. Nice of him to keep talking like that.

"Yeah? Like Omega Supine did?" Duskwing retorted, keeping a close optic on that nice back-lighted doorway. Getting cornered in here was a bad idea. Still.

Carefully, silently, Duskwing extracted a brace of cluster bomblets from his magazine. Creeping to the door, half-hovering on his lifters to keep noisy metal feet from clanging against the floor, Duskwing tossed the bomblets blindly down the hall toward Breakaway with a quick snap of his functional arm.

"1.. 2.. 3---BOOM!" Simultaneous with the detonation, he dove through the door and skedaddled down the hallway away from the Autobot jet and around the nearest corner, boot thrusters at full burn to speed him along.