Okay, for the record?

Nothing happened a couple weeks ago. Nothing. No one saw anything. You got that? All of you?

[Sunstreaker, that was almost a month ago, no one even remembers you being turned into a cheerleader for Halloween. Except now they probably do. Good going, buddy.]

[He waits a moment or two, like he's expecting a response...] ( Read more... )

[The camera comes on at a very low angle, and starts moving forward at a somewhat steady pace. It would seem that Bob has gotten hold of the communicator. Raised voices can be heard. One is Sunstreaker's -- the other is unidentifiable.]

[They seem to be arguing about rent. Unpaid rent ( Read more... )

[Ladies and gentlebots, the interior of Sunstreaker's room. Yes, there is in fact a mirror on his ceiling. A big one. But that's not what we're here to see. Today, we're here to look at a large Insecticon -- still wearing a jaunty little collar that reads "BOB" -- engaged in brutal combat with something brightly colored ( Read more... )

You know... I don't get why you people keep going on about how awful this place is. It just keeps getting better and better!

[Sunstreaker is sprawled on a couch as he says this, casually examining his own hand. There's a vid-screen on in the background, playing some random entertainment network ( Read more... )

[Here's Sunstreaker. Lounging. He's sprawled out in a chair, with his feet propped up on some table. Hopefully it's not Drift or Perceptor's. Hopefully.]

So... Giant mechanical snakes and bugs turning up out of nowhere?

[As if on cue, Bob the Insecticon shuffles past the camera, carrying some kind of polish on its head. Sunstreaker nonchalantly ( Read more... )

All right. I get that some of you like keeping pets and annoying little things like that. But me? No way.

That said...

[Sunstreaker jerks the camera downward. He's standing out in front of what appears to be an alleyway. Probably on his way back to the hotel he's camping out in. Sitting at his feet, however, is what appears to be a big, ( Read more... )

Well, it's about time.

[So says a familiar yellow 'Bot, as he abruptly saunters his way onscreen. Yes, that's right. Saunters. On his own two feet.]

Took long enough, but I am back, and I am ready take on all comers. Give me ten minutes, and the arena star's on the rise again.

I am out of this clinic. Yesterday. I think you all know where ( Read more... )

[The feed opens up on a couch. Next to the couch is a rather high-tech looking sort of... chair. A chair hovering over the floor. Apparently a robotic wheelchair. Its owner is sprawled on the couch, judging from the bits of yellow armor visible from over the arm of the couch. On its own, the communicator seems to peer over the arm of the couch ( Read more... )

[Following this particular arena match, the feed clicks on to show... well. It's a scrap pile. There's arms and legs and whatnot. Just sort of piled in a heap. And the camera is sitting on it ( Read more... )

[Oh hey! Look! It's a video feed! And it has an ID tag for the first time in months. Unfortunately, the star of the video looks less than pleased by this development. In fact, he looks a little... worse for wear. Which is unsurprising, considering he's been arrested, detained, and has had a new ID bolt forcibly placed back on his plating ( Read more... )