Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Sept 2, 2011 11:02:53 GMT -5
OOC: Month 2, Week 2, Day 3. Open!
The last time he was on Earth, Slugslinger had business to attend to, so there was little time for personal fun. Well, he amends, tilting his head in a sort of shrug at his own internal monologue, fun that didn't involve kicking the Omnicons around just because. But lacking any directives from command that don't involve not going on shooting sprees or other stuff like that, Slugslinger has taken this as tacit permission that he can troll the local yokels to his spark's content.
Which is how he wound up at a county fair somewhere in the Midwest, making a spectacle of himself. The humans ask him if he eats "normal" food and he says yes every time; he has a tray almost as long as his thumb piled with the most bizarre examples of "normal" food he's ever seen, like deep-fried candy bars and things covered in sprinkles that were never meant for it. Somewhere in the heap is a bowl of battered and fried gravy covered in more gravy. He thinks, considering how lethal some of the concoctions look, that he can't really blame the humans for hating their weak, soft little bodies so much they shovel this garbage down their throats in hopes of dying sooner.
He keeps that part to himself, at least, while crouching down at yet another food vendor's booth.
"Whatcha got here?" he wonders. The funnel cake booth next door is full of people who eye him like he stinks and he plays it up, giving them a confused and hurt look. It isn't like he disrupted their queue or scared off too many customers!
"Uh," says the vendor he addressed, a moustachioed man with a receding hairline and an ample midsection. "You… you eat normal food?"
"I'm giving it a try!" Slugslinger answers far too cheerfully. If he had a cube of energon for every time he's heard that question today….
"Well," the vendor continues, somewhat dubious, "I normally have chili dogs, but I thought I'd try somethin' new this year." He waves at his kitchen. "Poutine on a stick." Slugslinger tilts his head in feigned curiosity while tapping the Internet for context. How these people eat this stuff is beyond him.
"What's that?" he asks anyway. "Poutine, I mean. I got plenty of stuff on sticks," he adds, lifting his tray a little. The vendor still looks dubious, but at least now he can talk about his product with an audience of more than a stupid giant alien space robot.
"Fries," he says, holding up a stick, "and cheese curds with gravy. I batter the fries and cheese curds on a stick, then fry 'em. You can dip it in the gravy yourself." Slugslinger takes his turn to dubiously eye the dipping cup barely the proportionate size of a thimble, to which the vendor frowns. "I, uh. I can pour it on, if you wanna try."
"Sounds good!" Slugslinger replies. He does wonder if anybody else on Ship will take up the invitation he left on the activities board.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Sept 4, 2011 19:43:08 GMT -5
Trucks aren't a rare sight at country fairs. Something has to haul all the food around! But nobody probably expected to see a missile truck pulling in. People dive out of the way when the truck shows no care whatsoever about their well being, one chef forced to drop his cake to dive out of the way in time, the delicious creamy goodness splattered underneath it's tires. Then, it pulls to a stop and transforms, arms forming out of the side of the truck and pushing itself up into a towering bipedal robot, a bright orange optic band looking at the other Decepticon.
"Slugslinger! I never took you for one to appreciate Earthen 'delicacies'." He keeps an eye on the flier through the corner of his band, but he idly wanders to one of the stands, shooing the humans out of the way before bending over and picking up what must be a record winning, massive cake. He even has to take care to fit it in one hand and not let it crash down to the dirty ground below. Onslaught studies the intricate patterns, ignoring the pleas of a human to be careful with it. "I must ask, did you find anything that has not clogged up your fuel filters?"
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Sept 9, 2011 10:25:18 GMT -5
Slugslinger, trying to look dumber than somebody who makes sure to watch his own back, simply turns to look when he hears the fuss Onslaught kicks up with his arrival. He does have to wonder what the big truck is up to with that cake. It's sort of a random thing to grab, thinks Slugslinger, and considering the disagreement they had when Onslaught was still running around tarted up as a jet, it'd be downright stupid to completely ignore him. And many things is Slugslinger, but stupid? Only on the surface.
"A few things!" Slugslinger lies with effusive good cheer. "You should try the fried ice cream a few aisles over," and he points the way with his free hand while the poutine vendor searches for a stable place on the loaded-down tray to set the two sticks he's prepared for the robot. "Goes down pretty smooth!" He did actually try it himself, too; the scoops were so small and the stuff melted so quickly on intake that he doesn't think it'll have too big an impact on his systems overall.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Sept 12, 2011 7:16:25 GMT -5
It is not a random act! Have you seen how gorgeous this thing is? He idly listens to Slugslinger, back still half turned towards the jet, placing the cake down on one of the few real buildings here. "Really? Unfortunately, my fuel converter does not allow me to partake in such 'delicacies'."
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Sept 14, 2011 20:35:52 GMT -5
"Sucks for you!" Slugslinger says in nauseatingly bubbly fashion as he stands and ambles off with his food. The poutine vendor bellows after him about paying, but gives up when Slugslinger is far enough that he doesn't think his voice will carry all the way up to the giant robot's head some two stories in the air.
Not paying is only half the reason Slugslinger walked off. He wants some distance in case Onslaught does something stupid, like try to tackle him.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Sept 15, 2011 17:34:50 GMT -5
"Yet I do not miss it!" Having a face was just terribly unpleasant. Losing it was one of the biggest perks of being transplanted into a form more suited to his persona.
Onslaught watches Slugslinger move away from the corner of his visorband, but does not move to intercept. But he does quickly subspace that cake before following, keeping a good distance, and idly glancing down at the various stalls. Or rather the terrified humans that look up at the giant metal robots. "How do the humans even survive gorging themselves on all that hazardous material?"
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Sept 19, 2011 6:34:08 GMT -5
At least Slugslinger isn't alone in wondering about the food. He gives Onslaught an elaborate shrug – elaborate because he has to avoid jostling his tray too much. He doesn't want to dump his acquisitions all over the heads of nearby humans. Yet.
"Like I understand how humans work," he says derisively. Though it would be a handy thing to know, he supposes. He can picture what it'd be like knowing just where and how to break that little snot Kicker's limbs, and it's an ineffably sublime image. His shoulder vanes quiver in delight and he smiles at nobody in particular, pleased with the idea. Maybe he should study human anatomy after all.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Sept 30, 2011 4:19:49 GMT -5
What is that blasted fool up to now? Onslaught is still behind him, so he doesn't see that all too pleased smile, but he does notice that little quiver of delight.
And realizes that this is the perfect opening.
Quickly, he pulls the cake from subspace, lifts it in his hand and throws it at the other Decepticon. The humans may find it silly, but that's okay, he will probably kill them all later anyways.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Oct 13, 2011 8:31:14 GMT -5
It turns out there are plenty of humans who think hitting somebody in the head with a pie is hilarious, and this staple of cheap comedy seems to extend even to giant alien robots from space. Gasps of surprise fill the air when those who notice catch Onslaught whipping a cake from thin air. Shock turns to amusement when Slugslinger is the recipient of an unexpected buttercream white repaint.
He doesn't scream or shout when the cake hits him; he doesn't flail dramatically and narrowly miss kicking humans in the throes of his histrionics. He just freezes. And up-ends his loaded tray all over the heads of a picturesque little family. The daughter in particular looks upset that her dress is now ruined. Slugslinger stands there, frosting and bits of cake slowly, slowly falling off him. He hates the way some of the stuff seems to slide across his fuselage before finally disengaging. Onslaught can't see it, being behind him and all, but there's a blank, gobsmacked look on his face that makes his right optic seem even rounder than usual.
Then, however, he breaks out laughing, complete with clutching his midsection. The tremors it sends through his shoulder vanes fling off still more cake debris into the surrounding crowd.
"Nice one!" he says indulgently as he turns, pointing at Onslaught with his index finger and thumb extended. And it looks as though their taste-testing has garnered a little more attention than just the attendees of the fair, unless those trucks emblazoned with news channel callsigns and logos rushing in with all speed are showing up late to the annual pie-eating contest.
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Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
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Post by Flame on Oct 13, 2011 13:40:52 GMT -5
Flame, at the far end of the fairgrounds, mills about wondering just why he had to follow Onslaught here. And then lose him. His mind is already haring off in five different directions wondering just why he's been allowed out by himself. Spinister can't possibly trust him; Spinister is good enough to tolerate him, but there will never be any trust. Not for Flame. So why? Why, he wonders, worrying his fingers nearly into knots. Perhaps another sort of test. A test to see if he can carry himself properly in public. Or to see if he'll remain loyal. As if he could possibly go back to the Autobots now, when it's the Decepticons who have offered him a place. No Autobot would do any such thing. And even if he did for some insane reason entertain the thought, Spinister would know. Somehow, Spinister would know. And so Flame, erring on the side of caution, eagerly tracked after Onslaught when he saw the Combaticon rolling along.
Yet here he is, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of noise and colours, with Onslaught having gone missing amid the tumult. There are so many tiny Nebulans running around – so they're called humans on this planet, he still considers them Nebulans – none of them are wearing armour as they should be, and too many of them stare at him. The multicoloured lights bother him, many of them spinning and wheeling with the machines to which they're attached; and what horrifying contraptions some of those are, whirling on gimbals and pivots while the Nebulans trapped inside them shriek in their tiny, high-pitched voices. Flame watches one in particular as a queue is herded aboard while he sees none leave, exiting as they do from the other side.
"They… torture their own?" he squeaks to himself in horror. No wonder the Decepticons in Spinister and Needlenose's reality decided to weaponise them! He hurries away from the carnival rides with their music and lights and howling victims, the beginnings of a violent headache throbbing behind his optics. That's when he spies a burst of white in the air; he turns toward it, somewhere between panic and hope, only to see Slugslinger covered in some sort of viscous substance and pointing at Onslaught.
Now he has to worry about an attack on the air commander as well as straying too far from friendly faces. Flame steps over a large van with NEWS 4 painted on the side and hurries across the grounds.
"Are you all right?" he calls frantically.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Oct 16, 2011 10:02:38 GMT -5
Oh, if only Onslaught could see that face! It would have made this entire experience worth it! He will have to scour the Internet later, maybe one of these humans with their hand held multi functional communication devices managed to get half decent footage of it.
But suddenly, the wretched cur starts laughing. That sucks all the enjoyment out of it! Never the less, Onslaught obliges Slugslinger with a dry chuckle as he steps forward, ready to pat a shoulder. "Sometimes, the simple things work best!" But Onslaught is distracted by the sound of screeching tires, turning around to see the media come in with full force. After that he hears footsteps, and when he turns around, he sees that it is Flame.
Then, Onslaught gets an idea.
Onslaught throws his arms wide open in a grand, welcoming gesture and walks towards the newest addition to the party, ready to take him in a big bear hug, putting up a grand show for the cameras. "Flame, my good Autobot friend, you got my invitation! It is jolly good to see you, old chap!"
//Play along, you two, or I will make certain that command finds out that you are responsible for botching up the perfect opportunity to sow confusion amidst the humans.//
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Oct 18, 2011 17:21:43 GMT -5
Slugslinger manages to make his save on giving Onslaught a hurt look – the truck has no need to know that Slugslinger hardly needs or appreciates prompting to play along with a grand prank! – but his attempt at sullen, grudging compliance comes out looking more curious than anything else, made worse by the cocked-upward pitch of his shoulder vanes. Just what, other than trolling the squishies, is Onslaught's angle? Because in Slugslinger's experience, there's always some angle. The absence of another motive is an almost blasphemous notion!
"Hey!" Slugslinger greets their new fair buddy all the same, giving Flame a lopsided grin and a one-handed wave. A few more bits of shattered cake scatter into the crowd with his abrupt gesture and he stifles a snicker for the shouts of protest. He adds jauntily, wondering just what dragged the walking neurosis from his cave, "Yeah, I'm fine. It takes a whole lot more than some sticky… bready… stuff… to get the best of me!" He jabs one thumb to his thrust-out chest, smirking all the while. It actually sort of hurt his processors a little to say that. "Sure didn't expect to see you here!" he goes on in a dense manner. Now, did Onslaught really invite him? If so, much as the thought chafes, Slugslinger might have to shake the uppity little bootleg's hand for coming up with such a beautiful piece of deception.
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Flame
Rookie
Causam ago dementia
Posts: 198
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Post by Flame on Oct 23, 2011 9:38:44 GMT -5
Though the injunction is heard, Flame slows his stride and stops well short of Onslaught. He understands the reason behind it, but the show of camaraderie is nevertheless daunting and puzzling.
"Y… yes," he says awkwardly, worrying his fingers together just below the bright yellow burst on his chest. He turns to Slugslinger and adds with unfeigned sincerity though he sidles away from the flying bits of – by Slugslinger's own admission – adhesive material, "That's a relief. I – I came to meet Onslaught," not entirely a lie, "but when I saw the spray pattern…." He trails off then, stunned into silence by the small horde of camera-wielding little people pouring from those numbered trucks. A still smaller pack, unarmed but moving with purpose, seems to be headed their way.
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Post by Onslaught/Octavian Comstock on Oct 24, 2011 14:53:15 GMT -5
Of course there is an angle. Onslaught never 'just' does things!
That's right, humans, point your cameras at the tall group of robots. Pay special attention to the big, bright one that stands out from the two blue Decepticons. If only Flame still had his Autobot symbol, then this would have been even simpler! With a rumbling chuckle he crosses his arms and lock his orange optic band on Flame, the glow uncharacteristically warm, like a cozy, pleasant fire. "Ah, do not fret, Flame! You heard our comrade's boast! Never the less, it made quite a fantastic impact, so I have to give my compliments to the chef!" With that he turns around and waves in the general direction of the stand he stole it from. Really, he barely even remembers who that human was. If the press really wants to know, they can find out for themselves!
//Alright, gentlemen, here is my plan. We pretend that Flame is still an Autobot. Now, we will not do the traditional approach of making them believe we are on the same side while exterminating the lot of them. Oh no! That would merely make it a cake walk for the Autobots to deny that Flame is with them. We shall attempt something a bit different. We are going to play nice, as they say. We shall inflict no harm on the humans themselves or their property. This way, we spread greater confusion than we would with the other tactic, and it will be difficult for the Autobots to prove that they have been telling the truth and are not our allies. Deception, gentlemen! That is our weapon in this mission!//
In other words: It's time to get their troll faces on.
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Slugslinger
Minor
And if it weren't for this blasted coin…
Posts: 388
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Post by Slugslinger on Oct 27, 2011 9:19:37 GMT -5
//…He isn't still an Autobot?// Slugslinger asks thickly. Of course he isn't, or Spinister would've murdered him already. But he rests both hands on his hips and laughs.
"Yeah," he says aloud, "Onslaught was just joking around. Kinda nice to know he doesn't have that I-beam lodged in his reactor linkage all the time, huh?" He grins, and it might even look warm and friendly if not for the eerie, crooked pull on the right side. That makes it look just enough off that the humans might find it unsettling. What is their take on non-standard features? Would his face be considered deformed? He should find out. He can probably blame it on the Autobots and at least some of these pea-brained fleshies will eat it up.
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