Runnin' Moonshine

[Cannonball]

OOC: Takes place on Day 6. Open thread.
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The Decepticons' ration storage area shows signs of being forced open, and a number of cubes are missing...

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And those missing cubes lay empty on the floor of a warehouse on the outskirts of the Decepticon base town. Like the other from his reality, Cannnonball values his alone time to pursue his personal interests.

Those interests include making some energon with a kick. That improvised stuff on the trip didn't quite cut it, and what's stock just isn't strong enough for the pirate.

Plus, he's still grumpy about that whole trip, and still no crewmates have arrived here, and still no good-looking ladies to spend some time with.

Cannonball is really, really, really starting to hate this place. At least he can come up with some good drink to make things a little better. So for now, with a makeshift still made of some stuff found in the warehouse and a shoddy laser weld-job, some local fuels added to the mix, and a little luck, he's making some bootleg high-grade, worthy of a pirate's palate.

[Runamuck]

Runamuck, on the other hand, rather likes this place. He doesn't have to hide his insignia and keep to local speeds, sneaking around like a rat. He gets real energon, or at least something closer to it than the derivatives his reality's been using for longer than he cares to remember. He even gets to shoot people!

And get shot back at. Hrm. Maybe it's not such a paradise after all.

In any event, the Battlecharger rolls back into town, returning from a routine patrol. A loose branch dangles from his side mirror, a remnant of an attempt to relieve boredom by bashing trees over. If anyone needs lumber, they should probably check his path.

Passing into the outskirts of the warehouse district, he sighs in boredom again, revs his engine, and peels down the road. He swings into a sharp turn, expecting to bounce off a door he's hit before and knows to be locked and sturdy.....

....and instead spills into the now-unlocked door, flipping over twice before hitting a stack of crates, which promptly topple on top of him. After a moment, the cracked crates are shoved aside as Runamuck climbs out of the pile.

And sees a black bot with a multicolored head and.....a still? Now he's interested. "Making something?"

[Cannonball]

For a time, Cannonball is at peace, carefully stirring and mixing the components of his concoction together, the glow of the fuel being one of the few light sources in the dim warehouse.

That peace becomes shattered when Runamuck blows the door off its hinges by crashing through it. Cannonball jerks, almost knocking the still and the contents off the crate he's using for a table. He scrambles to stabilize the container, and does, though the mixture does not take well to becoming unsettled, and seems to grow ill for a moment, until it stops sloshing.

Cannonball heaves a sigh of relief, turning to face the white mech. Not one he's seen before, must have shown up while he was gone. Cannonball raises his gun-arm, optic band brightening a bit. "Maybe. Might not have been much longer, no thanks t' ye. Either way, wot's it to ye?"

[Runamuck]

Some people would probably apologize if they realized they'd almost screwed something up like that. Runamuck would chuckle if he wasn't preoccupied with the gun arm being raised. His leg holster snaps open, revealing his own rifle, but he makes no move to draw it.

"Just curious," he replies in a more-or-less nonchalant tone. "Except for whatever that slag was those fake Autobots brewed up, this planet's drier than Shockwave's humor circuits. Not a decent drink anywhere, y'know?"

The Battlecharger peers at the pirate's skeleton deco. "Don't think we got one of you where I'm from. Nice paint job."

[Cannonball]

Cannonball relaxes just slightly, his gun-arm falling slightly slack, causing the barrel to point up a bit. "Hn. Jus' a lil' something that'll 'ave a bit more kick to it than the tapwater in the ration locker" he answers, turning his attention back to tuning the mixture a bit. "Somethin' befittin' a pirate like meself."

Than he gets complimented on the paintjob, and can't help but grin. "Glad someone in this blasted 'verse kin appreciate it. Name's Cannonball."

[Long Range]

And along trundles Long Range, in so far that something as big as him can trundle.

Having seen Runamuck, or someone who looks like him, go through that warehouse door which was followed by a loud crash, he walks up to the now wide open doors with mild interest to see exactly what Runamuck has crashed into and less importantly id he needs help.

Leaning over and slightly crouched to peer in under the doorway, Long Range is slightly disappointed it was just some boxs, and not, for instance, an ancient ceramic vase or perhaps a large drum of pink paint.
An annoyed look crosses his face though when he sees that someone has what looks like a weapon pointed at the battlecharger. Long Range draws his own rifle, and steps in through the door with it pointed at the unfamiliar mech.

"Who are you, what are you doing in here, why do you have gun pointed at him? You don't have to answer in those in that particular order."

[Runamuck]

As the pirate's gun goes up, Runamuck's holster clicks shut. He's not completely off-guard; he just isn't about to take shots in the direction of the booze, now that he's got confirmation of what it is. "You think that's bad, you should try some of that furmanite junk I found one time. Gave me the worst case of indigestion I ever had."

Somewhere, somebody is shooting at Runamuck's player. However, they miss. It never ends.

Ahem.

"Runamuck," he identifies himself....just as Long Range steps in with gun drawn.

"Easy, big shot," the white car says, holding up a hand in a placating gesture. No shooting the booze!

[Cannonball]

"Ne'er 'eard of furmanite where I come from, though I'll steer clear o' it if I ever find it."

And Cannonball's player will indeed take up that shooting part, with a nerf gun.

Then...a heavy mech with a heavy gun shows up, asking lots of questions. Hey, Cannonball was lowering his gun-arm! The pirate clenches his jaw, huffing slightly. So much for making things in private. "Well, if'n ye 'adn't shown up late, ye'd know me name is Cannonball, that I'm tryin' to brew up some booze, an' I were pointin' me gun at 'im because he crashed through the glitchin' door."

[Long Range]

Long Range's rifle is quickly stowed, some may say with undue haste, at the mention of booze.

"Well, why didn't you say you where making something actually worth drinking!" Long Range says as he awkwardly ducks under the entrance and moves inside.

"Sorry about the gun back there, didn't know who you were or what you were doing." He says, straightening up.

[Runamuck]

"Hey, I'm a front-liner, crashing through stuff is what I do. Be glad it was me and not a Mayhem or Ratbat or something." Does a scolding count as effective use of resources? More importantly, would pointing that out in mid-lecture be a bad idea? "I mean, I'm easily bribed into silence with a good drink."

Runamuck picks his way out of the crushed crates, finally getting around to pulling that branch out of his mirror. "The big guy with the gun is Long Range," he says to Cannonball. "He blows stuff up real good."

[Cannonball]

Cannonball is slightly disappointed that his mixture has drawn attention, but at least it's not the kind that gets him in trouble for nicking the energon he's using as a base.

"Well, I've been going since before that crazy stuff wit' the fakes started, so I musta missed ye guys' arrivals." He turns to Long Range at Runamuck's introduction, and nods. "Nice to meet'che. Now...I hadn't intended on sharin' wit anyone initially, but you blokes seem alright" Cannonball rambles, pulling a pair of extra cups out of subspace, letting the custom-grade energon cool a bit. "And yeah, better you'n one of them fruit-loop Mayhems, or ol' One-Eye, or Starscream." Cannonball grumbles a bit, taking a seat on a crate.

"Give it a bit t' cool off first."

[Long Range]

"Thanks." Long Range says as he accepts the cup of high grade, making sure not to jostle it too much.

"The one you'd really have to worry about is Ratbat. The others would shout at you and then forget it. Ratbat would shout at you, get somebody else to shout at you and never let anyone forget."

[Runamuck]

"You missed all the fun," Runamuck says as he accepts the cup. "We all got to go out and beat the slag out of Autobots. Er, the ones we weren't allied with. Until the end there." From Runamuck's tone, it sounds like mass engagements aren't too common where he comes from.

He kicks a solid-looking crate lightly, then settles on it, slouching with one arm across his knees and the other holding the cup. "Still weird dealing with a Ratbat that actually talks, much less in command. Mine doesn't say much."

[Cannonball]

Cannonball fills his own cup last, and relaxes on the crate, as much as he can sitting upright. "I think Ratbat was here before I left. Didn't seem all that intimidatin' t' me.

Cannonball then peers over at Runamuck, thinking a moment. "I may regret askin' this, but were there any fine wenches among th' "fake" Autobots?" Because if he missed a chance for company while he was dragged around the planet to gather some fancy information sticks...

Well, he'll dislike Shockwave even more.

[Long Range]

"There were, but they were either crazy or more likely to slit your fuel lines when you aren't watching than do anything else. If I knew what trouble they'd cause I'd dropped some shells on them when they first arrived." Long Range says, sounding annoyed at the whole ordeal.