Emirate Xaaron-3
Rookie
Ate you alive since you were a child/That's when the monster first appeared in you
Posts: 162
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Post by Emirate Xaaron-3 on May 11, 2008 14:41:00 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron does actually take his Swerve's hand, after a moment of contemplation. For one, it would be horribly rude to refuse someone who has been so kind to him who clearly just wishes to be of help. For two, his sensors have been dulled so he'll barely even be able to feel the touch. It won't be so bad.
He's quite reassured to see his Swerve, who is... what is he wearing? Emirate Xaaron stares at Swerve for far longer than is polite, quite baffled. Then he apologises profusely, "I'm sorry, I... uhm... it looks nice? Very... official."
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Post by Long Range on May 11, 2008 16:18:43 GMT -5
And Long Range is now behind the bar. It will forever puzzle scientists how he managed to somehow beat faster mechs to the bar. It shall forever remain a mystery.
They can't see it, but he's placed his sword under the bar surface in case anyone becomes belligerent or violently drunk. Until then, he'll be happy to serve drinks to anybody who asks politely.
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Swerve-3
Rookie
Maintain the Light
Posts: 169
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Post by Swerve-3 on May 11, 2008 16:25:25 GMT -5
Colour Swerve most pleasantly surprised, then, at this turn of events. With that modest smile of his and a light grip on the golden hand resting in his just in case, he slowly stands to help Emirate Xaaron back up. He can't fault the staring, either; he's just about as baffled by his new, decorative cover. But no-one seems to be under immediate duress, it isn't exactly harming him (yet, though it's a bit on the warm side), and for all that there's something of a preponderance of Decepticons present, things seem calm.
"No apologies needed, sir," he reassures Emirate Xaaron while shifting to help the gold and silver Autobot back into his seat. "I'm not really sure what to make of it myself." But it looks nice, apparently. That's a bonus, since it's… supposed to be some sort of awards ceremony?
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Holi
Major
Captain Can-Do
Posts: 672
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Post by Holi on May 11, 2008 16:43:02 GMT -5
There's an officer asleep on the job. Wait, no, it's Holi… who's been stuffed into a Japanese traffic officer's uniform. Those who can recognise the insignias will note he's apparently assigned to Saitama Prefecture. Otherwise, he's just dressed in a uniform that rather conspicuously seems to coordinate with his robot mode paint job.
He wakes, sitting up in his seat and stretching, covering his mouth when he yawns. Yes, he's even wearing gloves and a uniform cap. He only notices the former when he moves to scrub sleepily at his optic band with his knuckles and feels fabric instead of bare metal. Then he stares at his hand for a second or two before the Junkions' introduction on the stage grabs his attention. He hasn't seen Screwdriver in what seems like ages! He tries to wave, he does, but maybe she can't see him for all the lights between him in the darkened house and herself up there on the stage.
"Awards?" he wonders to himself, looking around. "Datasticks?" Just to be on the safe side, he checks his cupholder. It seems he has one of these datasticks! He picks it up and he fiddles with it a little, at least until Perceptor is announced. Starting already! The young captain tries to make his seat-bouncing as inconspicuous as he can, but this whole thing just seems so very exciting.
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Post by Perceptor on May 11, 2008 16:44:34 GMT -5
Ah, the spotlight. It flares into brightness amidst the assembled - Adminimus only knows how they've been assembled - mechs like a lance, illuminating a rather... colorful mechanism. Perceptor gives himself a little shake of surprise as he suddenly finds himself the center of attention - and of light. It blinds him for a brief moment as the spotlight flares up from the... from the gold... lame... thong? Well, now. This is an interesting turn of events, now isn't it? And there is a datastick in his cup-holder. Hn. He is apparently required on the stage, post haste. Fortunately, the walk up to the stage will give him that moment he needs to access the data stick to perhaps discover just exactly what it is that he is being hijackedasked to do. Awards? Nominations? Best Thread? How intriguing! Fortunately for the optic sensors of everyone assembled and watching in his direction, the glare of that spotlight against his dashing wee little gold lame thong is abruptly covered as he stands, hidden behind his dapper and spiffy tie-dyed lab coat in cheerful rainbow technicolor. For some odd reason, this utterly fails to phase the scientist as he strolls jauntily up to the stage. "Greetings, Salutations, and Permutations, everyone," Perceptor pronounces as he finally reaches the stage. "And good cycle. It is my honor and privilege today to present to you the nominations for the Best Thread." "The competition for this award has been quite stiff," and there is a brief and totally unintentional pause here for any to insert their snickers or chuckles, a quirk of the ventilation in the theater swishing that colorful lab coat enough that Perceptor's golden accoutrement glints briefly in the bright lights. "As we have been quite fortunate to attract quite a collection of truly skilled and talented mechanisms to our private little sojourn. Perhaps the trials and tribulations that have been faced are not always pleasant, but they have certainly been entertaining." Of course, those familiar with Perceptor know that he can also make a three hour tale of a limerick; a certain amount of crowd restlessness is likely building by this point, resulting in a polite, if embarrassed, cough of apology from the technicolored one on the stage. "And without further ado, the Nominations for Best Thread!" With pauses between each nomination - for dramatic purposes, of course - Perceptor begins listing off the nominees. "Autobot Interim: Setting the Record Straight. Autobots: The Lost and the Forgotten. Radio: Pee-Dee to Nightbeat. Last, but not least, Spy Games." Another suitably dramatic pause, and one that probably runs just a little too long, accounting to Perceptor's lack of practiced social graces...
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Ironfire
Cadet
Baron von Troperton
Posts: 68
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Post by Ironfire on May 11, 2008 16:52:55 GMT -5
Ironfire can be found browsing the room for a suitable female when Perceptor starts talking. She temporarily ceases her search to listen to the red robot. What exactly is it that he's wearing? Some sort of... lame thing? Ooh, but the coat's interesting.
She sips her drink. Dramatic pause. She is unsuprised; there are always dramatic pauses. Later, somebody will get up thinking the award's for them, but it won't be.
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Mixmaster
Minor
The chemlab on crack...I mean wheels.
Posts: 272
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Post by Mixmaster on May 11, 2008 17:15:45 GMT -5
Mixmaster stops at the bar and grins at Long Range. He would have tried to speak with him if Percep-*moment to snicker at lab coat*-tor...hadn't started talking.
Dramatic pause, Mixmaster glances at Long Range again and beams, always a dramatic pause.
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Sideburn
Rookie
Must not chase Swerve, must not chase Swerve...
Posts: 211
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Post by Sideburn on May 11, 2008 17:39:35 GMT -5
"Hey Gizmo!" Sideburn doesn't get to say much more to the other blue Viper before Perceptor's starting his speach. He listens politely, but at Perceptor's pause he leans in and whispers to Gizmo, "What does he mean by 'thread'?"
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Grimlock
Major
There's no crying in Basebrawl!
Posts: 637
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Post by Grimlock on May 11, 2008 18:53:22 GMT -5
Grimlock doesn't pay attention to Perceptor's speech. He's too busy poking the piano keys and making noises.
"Stupid computer! Me Grimlock no want noises, me Grimlock want to play Solitare!"
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Duskwing
Major
"What the slag happened?"
Posts: 848
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Post by Duskwing on May 11, 2008 19:09:34 GMT -5
"HEY! GET ON WIT' IT, WILL YA?" yells Duskwing.
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Post by Perceptor on May 11, 2008 19:25:03 GMT -5
"Ah... yes. Of course."
"And the winners are Autobot Interim: Setting the Record Straight & Spy Games," he pronounces with very little fanfare.
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on May 11, 2008 19:31:51 GMT -5
This is Rattrap. This is Rattrap sulking at the end of a row, his back to the wall. He's been awake a while, watching the room. The room that's got a bunch of 'Cons lurking around. And one behind the bar! And he can't leave.
Oh, he checked. Screwdriver said there was no leaving, so Rattrap checked to be sure because he isn't the sort of bot who just takes crazy little robot girls at their word. There aren't even any doors outta this joint. Just box access and a bar he won't go near, some tables at the back, and rows of seats auditorium-style up front. So Rattrap is really not a happy camper, as one might imagine. Who cares if they're supposed to get awards? For what, their threads? Well, some folks are pretty trussed up, but Rattrap wouldn't give anyone an award. He just wants out of here before he starts a fight he won't win. Junkion-ness or not.
Whatever that's supposed to mean. He doesn't exactly have the urge to quote random vids.
He cups his hands around his mouth to holler at Perceptor to get a move-on… and then some half-cocked, under-clocked slagheap 'Con in a cheap suit two rows over steals his line. Rattrap scowls and settles for pitching a conspicuous yellow hardhat at the Seeker instead. Hey, if he doesn't have it, he's that much harder to spot.
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Counterpunch
Minor
The Overlord, His Peerless Highness, Arch Duke Counterpunch. The Salient Vanquisher of His Own Mind
What're you looking at?
Posts: 419
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Post by Counterpunch on May 11, 2008 20:05:12 GMT -5
What's this? Heroic Autobot Punch is here?
Wait, who's Punch? Has anyone even seen this guy before? And yet, four spotlights shine down on the particpants of the winning threads, and one of them shines down on this mostly unfamiliar Autobot. He's not wearing any clothing beyond his coats of paint, and he looks up suspiciously at the spotlight for a moment before he puts on a winning smile.
He's here, and he's got a part to play, and one thing to be said about Punch: he's one heck of an actor.
He walks to the base of the steps leading up to the stage and looks around the theater, waiting for the other thread-particpants.
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Boondocker
Rookie
General Contractor at Large and Sanitation Engineer Second-Class
Pickup Man
Posts: 216
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Post by Boondocker on May 11, 2008 20:35:26 GMT -5
Boondocker boggles at this. Then he pipes up again.
"Dagnabbit, Percy! Them ain't the lyrics to "Free Bird"! That ain't even a song!"
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Post by Swerve on May 11, 2008 20:47:15 GMT -5
That spotlight couldn't possibly have fallen on an unhappier mech. There Swerve is, scowling fit to kill things on sight, with shredded bits of shimmery yellow-gold fabric in either hand. There's still a scrap caught in the gap of one shoulder, as well, and he snatches that off to throw it to the floor. Then he turns his murderous glare up at the spotlight, bronze-coated lenses flashing in the illumination, then on the scientist manning the stage and on the Autobot he doesn't recognise moreso than the usual standing at the foot of the stairs.
"…What?!" he barks, not budging from his spot. Clearly, he's been a little distracted.
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