Walkabout [Open]
WHO: Wheeljack and whoever wants to harass him say HI =3
WHAT: A restless engineer starts learning his way around the city.
WHERE: Mostly between Levels 3-5, but he's coming from the bank initially, plus he'll want to see the sun and all so . . . possible to encounter him up there too. Or . . . below - he could have gotten turned around and lost. ( Read more... )
WHAT: A restless engineer starts learning his way around the city.
WHERE: Mostly between Levels 3-5, but he's coming from the bank initially, plus he'll want to see the sun and all so . . . possible to encounter him up there too. Or . . . below - he could have gotten turned around and lost. ( Read more... )
Comments 17
Like now.
The TransTech bureaucracy hasn't yet caught on that Beakyfais and the POTTSINATOR (she of the Evil Pantsuit) have been deported, and thus, Verity technically has no real job. Which means, Verity's made it her job to kick ass at every video game this slagpile has to offer. And she does NOT appreciate being ripped off ( ... )
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Oops, Minibot with an attitude. And a weapon. Never a good combination. Unless they were fighting 'Cons, then it could only help. Well . . . most of the time. There was a reason Cliffjumper, for one, was one of those most often in the med-bay out of all of the Ark crew.
Driving in alt-mode, Wheeljack braked to a stop while still a ways down the street, uncertain about interrupting the scene before him. Only belatedly did he get a good look at the faceplate of the diminutive femme. ...not a femme! Or not a mechanoid one, anyway - that was a human face behind the transparent shield. Some kind of heavy, robotic protective casing, then? The engineer in him itched for a closer look - he'd never seen or even heard of human powered armor before - but the Autobot in him . . . was insisting he step in and try to find a peaceful resolution to the situation.
The Autobot won. As was only right. Plus he might still get a take a peek at the thing after.Cycling a ( ... )
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"Depends if you've got a weapon."
And...having no principles whatsoever would help, too.
"Jerkball in there ripped me off. NO ONE rips me off! And I even actually PAID for that game. With REAL MONEY!!!"
Next time? She's totally pirating it. Yarrrr.
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Paying money for goods? Even after the year-and-a-half or so that he'd been on Earth - and conscious - that's almost a foreign concept to him. It'd just been SO. LONG. He mentally shakes the thought from his mind.
"Well, yeah, I hear ya. If I was them, though, not sure I'd be wantin' ta come out either, even with a legit copy, not with a weapon pointed at me by an upset, snarly customer. How 'bout goin' in an' gettin' the game, an' have 'em demonstrate right there that it's a good copy. I'll go in with ya if that'd help."
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Thundercracker's latest shift at work, where he was a guard at a rather questionable manufacturing facility in Zone 4, had just ended. He was on his way out now, on foot for once as he made his way to a place where he could safely transform and fly out without being obstructed by traffic. He wasn't the only worker coming off his shift.
Months ago he'd discovered a way to circumvent some of the most congested areas. Now he turned down a narrow alley and emerged in a lesser-used street on the other side, where the buildings were still high enough and close enough on either side that he knew better than to risk takeoff right now. The Seeker started walking, not expecting any interruptions or meeting anyone he knew - it was a relatively quiet area of the zone, and he'd never been delayed before.
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Relatively quiet, fewer people on the street . . . still some mechs about and passing through in one direction or another, though. Just as Thundercracker was passing another narrow alley, a sound across the street caught his attention and he turned his head to look...
Wheeljack was out and about trying to scavenge scrap metal and any other throw-aways he could find, working or not. Hey, whatever raw materials he could start with that he'd not had to pay for meant more capital remaining for him to get himself going with! And it wasn't like he was stealing it - this stuff had already been discarded by whoever owned it before. That didn't stop someone from yelling at him, though, when they opened a back door to find someone digging in their dumpster. Jack had darted off before they can ID him or call authorities. He was making for the nearest main street, seeking to lose himself in the crowd. He was distracted downward to stow his findings in subspace at just the wrong ( ... )
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An Autobot. One from, more than likely, his dimension, if this was the same as the one he'd seen on the network recently. The inventor.
This was the last individual he expected, or wanted, to encounter right now.
Thundercracker had grown used to encountering him in battle, to seeing him on the network before he'd apparently been deported the last time. But somehow running into the Autobot so unexpectedly, when Thundercracker's guard was down, had him tensing, calling up memories he didn't ever particularly want to think about.
"Autobot," he managed as some semblance of greeting, his voice perfectly controlled and cold, not betraying his scattered thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to show weakness in front of the other.
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He had neither now, and he was far too keenly aware of his vulnerable position. He wanted nothing more than to transform and race away at top speed, keeping to narrow alleys where the larger jet couldn't follow, but darkness and agony and the cold slither of chains filled his mind and immobilized him with terror. It was all he could do to press back into the corner he was caught in.
"I-I'm sorry . . . I'm sorry . . . "
~Please . . . Primus, please, don't hurt me!~
Give him a moment and he'd find his backstrut and his defiance again if needed, but he'd been caught too badly off-guard, walls knocked down before he could hope to get them up.
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