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Post by Swerve on Feb 10, 2009 0:45:09 GMT -5
Day 4.
Swerve made a pretty speedy recovery once Wedge's team returned to base and the racer had access to the entirety of the tools he'd managed to accumulate since his arrival. He's still scraped up and could use some paint and polish touch-ups, but all that's cosmetic. The damage to his midsection is repaired and the various dings and dents have been hammered out. Someone else may have noticed, but it isn't like he's tried to hide it, either. He's just kept himself busy; there are plenty of mechs needing repairs and Swerve's already sick of dealing with them. By his estimation, no-one should pay him much attention when the wounded are getting less wounded as the days pass.
Not that he's doing any of this by the goodness of his spark. He's just tired of seeing so many banged-up, half-armoured Autobots limping around. It's irritating.
Everything is irritating. There's no base, just tunnels. Not even decent tunnels. Swerve growls and curses as he makes his way through them, not so much walking as storming his way toward repair so he can occupy himself without shooting things and getting yelled at for it until he shoots someone. The air is close and heavy; it doesn't circulate well down here. He's planning on a long drive to get the stale stuff out of his systems once he's done.
"Arright," he barks on his way through the 'door' into repair, loudly enough that if anyone here was unconscious, they might not be now, "which one o' you walkin' scrapheaps is next?" Belatedly, he adds an echo on the radio in case some shamble of a mech has gone walkabout.
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Post by Springer on Feb 10, 2009 8:43:21 GMT -5
Springer, still bedridden, but lacking the acid burns on his side now looks up. His flight engines are still kaput, and the part of his leg still needs to be rebuilt. However, he's been waving off the medics to fix other people first. Long as he's stable, he's fine.
Then some 'bot he'd never seen before comes in, and is quite the Grumpy Gus...and given that Springer isn't aware of how Swerve is, and with what took place just a few days ago, he's automatically on the defensive.
"...who the scrap are you, and what do you want?"
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Post by Swerve on Feb 10, 2009 11:34:35 GMT -5
And the big green bruiser speaks up. Swerve eyes him critically for a second when it hits him that he's never seen this guy before. Dull surprise there.
Guess that's as good as volunteering. "Swerve," he snaps back by way of introduction as he approaches the larger Autobot. He doesn't care what the sorry fragger's name is and his question should've explained what he's here for, so if this hunk of metal doesn't get it, that's his problem. The racer doesn't immediately pull out his tools; he looks over the wounds first, sizing up the job and comparing it against what supplies he has that are 'his'. He can't even begin to guess what this guy transforms to. What is he, related to Xaaron or something?
Abruptly, Swerve sets down the tool kit that appears in his hand and looks from the intact leg to where the missing one should be. He hasn't had to rebuild a limb in a while. Even longer since he did it without a machine press to shape the plating.
"I've got this." He gives the other Autobot a wary look, scowling, expecting to be challenged and ready to argue.
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Post by Springer on Feb 10, 2009 21:22:25 GMT -5
Springer holds up a hand at the red racer, optics narrowed. "Whoa, whoa, buddy. Hold up. Not meaning to doubt your ability or anything, but I've never met you. Can't just have a stranger coming up and doing stuff to me without gettin' to know him and his credentials, y'know?"
Springer totally means repairs.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 10, 2009 21:37:42 GMT -5
Swerve's scowl turns into a narrow-opticked glare and he points a spanner at Springer.
"I've never met you, either, so what's your fraggin' point?" he demands. "I don't know you from a hole in the ground, but you're in here givin' me work to do. How's about you shut your big, noisy trap and take your smeltin' repairs?" Then he catches something and bristles. "And I ain't your buddy, you lame slag-sucker!" Big, green, and dumb. It's Crumplezone all over again.
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Post by Springer on Feb 10, 2009 23:00:29 GMT -5
Springer boggles, then peers at the racer, with an optic ridge raised.
Huh. He wants to help, but is crankier than Thunderwing.
"Suit yourself, I suppose, but I'm watching you."
Hopefully, this Kup isn't going to be wrong about this little red robot.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 10, 2009 23:50:58 GMT -5
"Whatever turns you over," Swerve mutters before setting down the spanner and taking a quick measure of the larger Autobot's intact leg. He isn't about to make some rookie mistake like screwing up the dimensions. Once he has the numbers filed away, he rounds the table to get a better look at what he's guessing he needs to duplicate. He'd just disassemble the whole mess so he isn't estimating so much, but this guy gripes enough as it is. The slagger'd probably never stop glitching.
Too many whingeing Autobots.
"Schematics," he rumbles absently. "If you don't have 'em, then you'll just smeltin' have to deal with it. And if you wanna feel it while you watch, that's fine by me." He pauses, then fixes the other Autobot with a puzzled glower. "…What the frag's your name, anyway?"
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Post by Springer on Feb 10, 2009 23:57:34 GMT -5
At the suggestion of feeling it as well, Springer kills his sensors. Hopefully, this guy isn't stowing a laser buzzsaw or something for operating with.
Schematics, eh? Guess he's intent on doing a good job, so that's a good sign. However, the Secrets of What Makes a Wreckers Leader™ cannot be just handed out all willy-nilly...so Springer copies the file, trims out the part about his damaged bits, and erases what's left. Then he transfers it into the data-pad he was working on. Then after locking the reports he was writing, hands it off to Swerve.
"Name's Springer."
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Post by Swerve on Feb 11, 2009 22:47:55 GMT -5
Swerve glances up just long enough to take the datapad with only a grunt for an answer and he's looking through the schematics as he rounds the table again. The build looks convoluted, full of extra parts and construction that wouldn't make sense on a racer. Doesn't make much sense in general. Nothing he can't handle, but… different.
"Hn." Some name this guy has. "This'll take a bit, but it'll get done," he tells Springer with a flatly serious look. Then he gets to work on the core sections.
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Post by Springer on Feb 12, 2009 20:39:03 GMT -5
Springer isn't built for speed, racer boy. Springer's built to kick ass and chew bubblegum. And he's erased his bubblegum-chewing subroutines from his brain module.
"Alright, take your time." And please, do it right.
Might be some trust issues here, but Springer will deal.
Somewhat. He's still ready to quick-draw a gun from subspace if he has to.
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Post by Swerve on Feb 12, 2009 23:30:19 GMT -5
Swerve's only answer is the low whir of ventilation fans spinning while he hauls out a cutter, a torch, a hammer, and something that looks like several frame struts and rods cobbled together into a bundle. It'll take a few of them to match the specs, but that's easy. Almost too easy, really. He peels out the likeliest choices, stashes the rest, and sets to heating them to a workable state.
If he hasn't woken any other patients or attracted any other attention just arguing with Springer, the racket of hammering out a new rod for Springer's leg might. Not Swerve's problem; he's busy with his work. It's cathartic, the focus and the swing and the dull red-orange flash with every strike, pausing to reheat and roll the metal. If he wasn't so wary of the big Autobot lying there staring holes in him – he trusts this sludge-mouthed gearhead about as far as he figures he can throw him – or someone barging in with a gun or any other number of things that could go wrong, he could even get lost in it.
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Post by Springer on Feb 14, 2009 17:46:22 GMT -5
Over time Springer relaxes, albeit slowly. Even enough that he finally stops keeping a hand ready to reach in subpace to go for his gun.
Even enough that he wishes he had his datapad back to fiddle with while he waits. D'oh.
--
After a time, most of the core work is done, and Springer smirks. "Huh. I'm impressed."
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Post by Swerve on Feb 14, 2009 20:52:14 GMT -5
"I ain't here to impress you," Swerve fires back scornfully, glancing briefly up from the wiring he's fixing into place so he can give Springer a withering glare. Then he turns back to his work, grabbing his soldering iron and some clips to secure the wires away from the extra gears and joints. "Just making sure you walk outta here and quit takin' up space."
At least Springer's kept quiet. Swerve isn't afraid to haul out his heaviest spanner and crack the big Autobot right in the mouth with it if need be.
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Post by Springer on Feb 16, 2009 1:01:43 GMT -5
...yeah, Springer's gonna keep quiet for now, lest Swerve rip his head off. Then he'd be in here even longer while it's put back on. So... Awkward silence time!
...
Doot-do-do-doooo...
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Wedge
Minor
NOT a reckless teen-bot
Posts: 413
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Post by Wedge on Feb 16, 2009 1:44:33 GMT -5
Springer isn't the only one looking for a bit repair, though Wedge knows that his repairs can wait if there's any sort of line for attention. "Hey, anyone in?" Wedge pokes his head into repair, a bright smile across his face as he looks, expecting Perceptor or Botanica. His smile vanishes for a split second when the microscope or plant-lady is no where to be seen, but it quickly returns at the sight of Swerve. "Swerve!" To anyone who's familiar with Wedge, that call-out is like a 'Hello there!', 'Nice to see you!', and 'How are you doing?' all rolled up into one.
Alright, there's Swerve, but this green guy doesn't look familiar at all--
"Whoa, what happened to you?" Wedge trots closer to take a look at the unfamiliar mech's leg before glancing up at the stranger with a grin. "Oh yeah, the name's Wedge. I don't think we've met." He extends a hand before looking curiously at Swerve's work. Man, Swerve's definitely got a good hand for repairs.
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