Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
Posts: 730
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Post by Fleetwind on Feb 26, 2011 18:54:07 GMT -5
OOC: Week 3, Day 3. Ship. Open to Decepticons, Predicons, Vehicons, etc.
Someone has to do the drudge work, and as often as not, that someone is Fleetwind. The Seeker doesn't really mind. Best to be viewed as useful to have around, after all.
At the moment, he's cleaning out the inside of the hanger bay. Because Ship was uninvolved in the big fight, there was no actual damage to the vessel, but since the hanger is the in-and-out location, it's where most of the grunge tends to be. Soot from thrusters firing off, particles from whatever planet they were last on (in this case, Pz-Zazz, and Pz-Zazz is dirty). One would think it wouldn't get that bad in a vessel that never enters atmosphere, but one would be surprised. One would also be surprised where in the hanger that grunge can crop up.
The pastel Seeker is using his antigravs to hover near the ceiling and against the wall as he scrubs out one of the odder corners of the room. He frowns faintly as he works - even he wonders how the stuff got up here! But still he keeps working.
That is, until he drops accidentally drops the rag he'd been using. This could be rather inconvenient, since he's hovering directly over the door, but surely he wouldn't be so unlucky that someone would walk in right at this moment, would he?
Would he?
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Tarantulas
Minor
The not-so-friendly neighborhood spider-man
Posts: 398
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Post by Tarantulas on Feb 27, 2011 0:15:20 GMT -5
Tarantulas, fortunately, is not right under the door, and Fleetwind does not drop anything on him. There is a contingent of his little spider drones dragging a case of replacement filters for the hangar's atmosphere scrubbers entering the room, however, and the rag lands on them.
The spider shoots Fleetwind a nine-eyed glare from his perch on the ceiling, then descends toward the floor on a glowing blue line. He transforms to robot mode and stalks over to the bit of cloth, which is now squirming about like a confused amoeba experiencing gastric distress. He yanks the (to him) tablecloth-sized rag off his minions and holds it up for the Seeker.
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Mistwind
Major
Licensed flight addict, deepsea diving fan, mech-pilot rookie - Accepts food and play for services.
Posts: 531
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Post by Mistwind on Feb 27, 2011 4:59:51 GMT -5
Whenever there's cleaning or dragging or scrubbing or the like to do, you can bet Mistwind is one of the mechs doing it.
He's working the points where walls meet floors with a bleach-like substance, fans whirring furious to keep the fumes out. His face is twisted in utter disgust, nose held up high from the horrid smell.
Were they organics, more than one health regulation is being breached right there. But the good thing about being here is that he can glance at Fleetwind once in a while, ....if the seeker isn't looking at him that is.
That makes working here right now a whole lot better.
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Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
Posts: 730
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Post by Fleetwind on Feb 27, 2011 10:38:25 GMT -5
Fleetwind winces as he sees that the rag did, indeed, land on something. Tarantulas may be amused to see the larger Decepticon wince at having inconvenienced Tarantulas. Or maybe not. He dives towards the floor, then stops suddenly, hovering upside down over the floor, where he accepts the rag back up from the Predacon.
"My apologies," he says sheepishly. "The, erm, cleanser is making the thing harder to hold onto."
Once he has the rag back, he pulls his legs in towards his chest and flips himself back upright before again straightening once more. He glances over to where Mistwind works with the fans and tilts his head. "Do you need help, Mistwind?"
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Tarantulas
Minor
The not-so-friendly neighborhood spider-man
Posts: 398
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Post by Tarantulas on Feb 27, 2011 18:12:01 GMT -5
Tarantulas is indeed amused by Fleetwind's wincing, and lets out a low chuckle.
"Think nothing of it. No trouble at all," Tarantulas says, in a tone that manages to convey the exact opposite. He takes the case of filters and stows it in his subspace, and the drones disperse, scuttling off on whatever other errands the spider has for them.
Then he transforms back to beast mode and starts climbing his thread back to the ceiling.
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Mistwind
Major
Licensed flight addict, deepsea diving fan, mech-pilot rookie - Accepts food and play for services.
Posts: 531
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Post by Mistwind on Feb 28, 2011 6:16:06 GMT -5
...The ventilation in his own helmet. Retcon: Mistwind's now working with fans to do the cleaning/polish work a lot quicker.
Mistwind winches slightly at the tone of Tarantulas' voice. He blanches when Fleetwind asks him whether he needs help! "AH! er, I, uhm, help, mister Fleetwind sir?!" Is he not doing a good enough job? Is he not working fast enough? He is, isn't he? "I-I'll work faster Mister Fleetwind Sir!" The small Con practically scrambles to get to the heart of the nasal-scorching liquid, accidentally bumping into one of the fans. It falls to the ground with a loud clank, the sudden change in air current causing an unusual whirring sound.
Mistwind looks very freaked out as his processors now have to deal with two actions, both wanting to be executed first. That doesn't happen often.
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Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
Posts: 730
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Post by Fleetwind on Feb 28, 2011 13:11:01 GMT -5
Fleetwind gives Tarantulas a wary look, pondering if he should be on the alert for some sort of 'payback.'
Eh. He will, anyway. Best to be prepared, just in case! Then he looks up, startled, as Mistwind reacts so strongly to his offer for help. He zips towards where the diminuative Decepticon works and reaches down to try and right the fan, if allowed.
"I wasn't trying to imply you were going too slowly," he explains calmly.
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Tarantulas
Minor
The not-so-friendly neighborhood spider-man
Posts: 398
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Post by Tarantulas on Feb 28, 2011 18:19:01 GMT -5
It's highly unlikely that Tarantulas is actually petty enough to seek revenge against Fleetwind for such a minor inconvenience. He's just used to being creepy when he talks.
The spider arrives back on the ceiling and pulls the case of filters from his subspace, holding it in a pair of legs. He then uses another pair to open up a grate on the ceiling that conceals an atmosphere scrubber, pull out the old filter, and replace it. The old filter ends up in the box next to the new ones. Tarantulas tuts quietly at how dirty it is. "These guzzlers put out so much exhaust."
Looking down at the two robots on the floor, he privately wonders if he's the only one here with any back support struts.
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Mistwind
Major
Licensed flight addict, deepsea diving fan, mech-pilot rookie - Accepts food and play for services.
Posts: 531
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Post by Mistwind on Mar 1, 2011 23:15:57 GMT -5
There's a slight panicky look on Mistwind's face as Fleetwind puts the fan back right. He'll never get used to fighters helping out on chores.
"...Oh..." Mistwind replies, "Apologies for assuming, Mister Fleetwind Sir" Shuffling a foot, he answers, "I can handle the rest, really" 'Don't be useless, keep working, don't be useless, keep working, don't be-'
If only between Tarantulas and Mistwind? Totally! Mistwind failed to hear the spider on the ceiling.
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Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
Posts: 730
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Post by Fleetwind on Mar 4, 2011 18:40:16 GMT -5
Quite possibly, Tarantulas. Quite possibly.
The Seeker considers Mistwind's behavior for only a moment then, as though coming to a decision, gives a faint nod of his head. Unlike Mistwind, however, Fleetwind does hear Tarantulas's comments. He takes up a rag and leaps into the air, heading towards the upper edge of the hanger bay that he'd been working on. "Mmmm, perhaps, though it's more the spacers that make use of this room these days. If your scientists have developed means for even space travelers to burn minimal fuels, I salute you." He starts to clean, then hesitates.
"Ah. I mean... if Maximal scientists have done so. They were the ones who designed and dictated your... upgrades, as I understand it?"
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Tarantulas
Minor
The not-so-friendly neighborhood spider-man
Posts: 398
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Post by Tarantulas on Mar 5, 2011 14:46:28 GMT -5
Tarantulas shoots Fleetwind a dirty look out of the eyes on the side of his head facing the Seeker. "You understand incorrectly. The Great Upgrade came about due to energon scarcity, before the war was over. Both sides upgraded to smaller, more efficient bodies." This may or may not be true, either due to Tarantulas lying or to him not knowing the truth himself. The history of the Beast Era is a tangled and confusing thing.
"We don't actually have a lot of spacers. We use ships." Even Depth Charge, who was tracking Protoform X through the stars, used a one-bot starship rather than, for instance, upgrading to a space-capable alt-mode.
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Dreadwing
Cadet
Making "What hit me?" literal
Posts: 20
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Post by Dreadwing on Mar 7, 2011 1:18:22 GMT -5
Emerging into the hangar bay next is someone who is nearly as wide as he is tall…and he is quite tall. With his illin’ gatling gun over his right shoulder, he carries a scrubber broom over his left and scans the hangar noting the position and current activity on the occupants. Slowly he concocts a plan and eventually puts the broom down and scrubs a patch to the left of the doorway. He then picks up one foot, scrubs his sole clean and steps in to the clean patch, lifts other foot, scrubs, puts it down in the clean patch and proceeds to clean the floor by following a right hand circuit around the hangar.
Just seeing the before and after was enough to put a smile on his face. Oh the joy of the simple things in life. You knew where you stood with a clean floor.
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Mistwind
Major
Licensed flight addict, deepsea diving fan, mech-pilot rookie - Accepts food and play for services.
Posts: 531
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Post by Mistwind on Mar 8, 2011 1:30:47 GMT -5
Mistwind ignores Fleetwind's look and begins to fuss over the wall, scrubbing and waxing like there's no tomorrow.
There's only time to look up when the small mech has made some metres, and when he does, he pauses to stare at Dreadwing. Dreadwing, who's putting the clean back in cleaning.
Mistwind blinks, experimentally timing the sounds of his wall-scrubbing to be a bit behind the sounds of the floor being scrubbed. There's a playful grin on his face. There's nothing wrong with having fun -while- working, is there?
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Fleetwind
Major
The Chancellor, His Eminent Grandeur, Marquis Fleetwind. The Insurgent Subduer of A Non-Threatening Cute Little Furry Kitten
Twined Elf
Posts: 730
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Post by Fleetwind on Mar 8, 2011 13:03:47 GMT -5
Fleetwind frowns, tilting his head to consider matters.
"Wartime is an odd time to make a mass move to less powerful bodies, even in the face of energon scarcity, and... given that much of the reason we fought in the first place was due to the Autobots interferring in our harvesting of energon," usually from people who were already using it, or by means that would kill off the inhabitants of the planet it was on, but if they're not Cybertronians, why do they even matter? "If we didn't have the energon to maintain our more powerful bodies, that seems to suggest we were already failing."
He shrugs and returns to cleaning the edges along the ceiling. Not his problem. He had been destined to die in Unicron's attack. He does clarify, however, "The point I was making about the spacers, though, is that any place designed to dock ships in, whether they transform or not, is bound to get dirty. It's part of purpose."
He glances down at the new arrival - he hadn't had a chance to work with that one yet. "Er, excuse me, I hadn't caught your name yet? I'm Fleetwind."
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Tarantulas
Minor
The not-so-friendly neighborhood spider-man
Posts: 398
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Post by Tarantulas on Mar 10, 2011 21:49:53 GMT -5
Scuttle to the next atmosphere scrubber, replace the filter, put the old one in the box. Lather, rinse, repeat. This is such a waste of Tarantulas's talents. He could be building wonderful labor-saving devices with this time. Said devices could take all the drudgery out of doing horrible things to people.
The spider looks down to give Dreadwing the once over as he enters. "New arrival," he states, watching the jetformer's unusual but effective mopping technique.
"I'm exercising my Primus-given right to complain about menial labor," he grumps at the Seeker. "Just because it's bound to be dirty doesn't mean I have to like it."
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