| abstract
| - Its a good day for competition! But before competition comes clearance. For the safety of the spectators, theyll have to go through security. Nothing grueling, the Galactic Olympic staff assures, but it will be thorough. Not as thorough as Air Raid, however! Who has taken it upon himself to assist in needlessly harassing folk, because thats a /skill/ in his !profile, see. "Okay listen up everybody!" Air Raid stands before a lengthy row of covered turnstiles of all sizes, and several tables for both giant robots and tiny organics. Theres a giant holographic sign, and Raid points to every bullet point on it. "No baseball bats, no pool cues, no realistic replicas of firearms (shoddy replicas are fine), no toothpaste, though I dont know why youd want to be brushing your teeth here! No pets unless your pet is a human, and most of all, no weaponry! Everyone that has access to subspace, please empty your pockets onto the tables." The ACTUAL security director doesnt seem to notice Raid, as hes caught up with someone trying to sell exotic hot dogs. Theres a few other security mechs that eye everyone suspiciously. Air Raid adds, "And if you turn into a gun, sucks to be you!" Freezeout is not far from Air Raid. Part of her helmet looks like the paint's been scraped off, and there's a mild dent at that spot's center. Ask Wheeljack. SOME TIME AGO "Freezeout," Red Alert says over video face-chat, "make sure Air Raid doesn't get himself arrested." NOW So there Freezeout is, watching Air Raid with arms folded. She doesn't comment on his tactics yet, but then again he hasn't started patting anyone down yet. "I DON'T KNOW WHY I'M HERE." announces Bonecrusher, who is sitting at a table directly in front of Air Raid. His trumpet case sitting on the table in front of him, the Constructicon crosses his arms across his chest and sits back in his chair. "I thought that this was auditions for opening ceremony performances, yeeeeeeah, I did- I really did, you know? I thought that." Swerve shuffles up to the counter to get one of those plastic baskets. As he sets about turning out his pocket dimension into the basket he sees an opportunity to strike up a conversation with a sexy jet Decepticon, even though she's about three times his size. "Hey, so... you go through a lot of security checkpoints? Cuz I do. Lemme know if you want any of the inside scoop. The lowdown. Low down dirty... rascal scoop." Swerve's basket is mainly full of the kind of things you buy at gift shops. At least he's not Tailgate, then it would be the kind of things you buy at yard sales. "I'm Swerve," he adds. Fusillade glances askance as she sidles up to the lines. "You've got to be kidding me," she utters under her intake as she spies Air Raid parading around like a puffed-up shrikebat. She begins tapping her foot anxiously, complaining to the folks in line adjacent to her, "This is gonna take all night!" She raises her voice in Air Raid's general direction, "I'll just wind up holding the line up! Your turnstyle count is gonna be GLITCHED! Isn't there an exemption clause for contestants? I just FLEW in last year!!" Well well, looks like they really stepped up security this year with the Galactic Council all being up in arms. Not really a surprise. But is Swindle worried? Not at all. It's going to take more than just some crazy Aerialbot on a power trip to keep him from all the potential profits he can make now that he's gotten Six Lasers and Monacus cooperating for the year. Sort of. Enough for him to take advantage of, at least. But the Combaticon is being a good sport about the matter, waiting in proper line, taking a moment to adjust his bolo-tie and try not to feel too figuratively naked without his scatterblaster on his arm. Then cringes a little at the shout, only to reach over and pat Fusillade on the arm. "There there my dear, let the Autobots have their little show. Save the aggression for the actual compatitions." Blast Off stands in the line, looking like he can't believe he has to waste his precious time with this nonsense. Which... is true. And he can't believe the sheer gall of the fact that an Autobot... one of those flying turbo-turkeys who call themselves Aerialbots, no less, thinks he's going to give Blast Off orders? Hardly.... the shuttleformer stands in line, arms crossed, but makes no move to bring out his weapons. "Who put this Autofool in charge here, anyway?" Fusillade glances down. To approximately chest level. "Umm... hello Swerve? Are you a drink vendor? Okay, tell me about space vuvuzelas -- are they confiscating those?" She snorts at Swindle, clapping her palms to her helmet. "No, NO! You seriously DON'T understand! This will LITERALLY take all night!! They're making us empty out subspace!! I'm gonna have to call my ground crew!" Air Raid doesn't rightly know he's being babysat. He figures Freezeout is just there to show off her sexy legs. He surveys the piles critically, and by critically I mean he puts his hand in them and just moves stuff around. "Okay, that looks safe... safe... also safe. WAIT!" He stops at Swerve's junk and takes... a snowglobe. Just the snowglobe. "I've got my optics on you, Swerve." Bonecrusher's trumpet is swiped up too, "Bonecrusher, do you even have a license for this!?" Fusillade's griping earns more shrikebat puffery. "No exemptions! Let me see all your bombs!" "ANY SLANDER WILL GET YOU TACKLED BY THE GUARDS," he barks at Blast Off, oblivious to Swindle for the moment. Fusillade retorts, "PERVERT!" "Yeah, I got a concession license!" exclaims Swerve. "How'd you guess? I just look like the kinda guy you can open up to, right? Talk about your problems, help you out with some homespun wisdom." Swerve beams. "Yep, that's me. Everbody's pal Swerve. Gonna make it real big this year, everybody's gonna know my name. Or maybe the other way around. No, both. I'll know them and they'll know me." He takes out the concession license and waves it around cheerfully. "I bought it from that guy right there." He points at Swindle. Bonecrusher looks completely panicked when Raid takes his trumpet. "A LICENSE?!" Musical instruments required a license? And Crystal City Decepticons were getting a bad rap for tyranny? "I uh..." Bonecrusher just sort of blanks, not sure what to do when he's not allowed to just punch things to death. "Yes. Yes, I have a license." He nods really slowly. "I do." Freezeout discreetly moves closer, right around when Air Raid barks at Blast Off. This may be a coincidence. It also might not be. She is accessing file Happy_Place_v2033.07.31_b.exe, preparing herself for the moment when Air Raid will get shot in the chest and she will have to heroically scold and chide whoever did it, especially if it's someone on their own side. "Really if they expect compliance to such measures they should be providing such services themselves." Swindle makes a tsking sound at that. Then pulls out and flips open a comm-device he's had specifically stylized to resemble a terran smartphone and holds it up to his audial. "But if it will make you feel better my dear, I'll call Deadweight to bring the bomb hoist." There's just the faintest of twitchs when Swerve so eagerly points him out, but it fades quickly. "I'll have you know it is entirely legit, I have full authority from both operating parties of this grand event to help manage the economic boons it will bring." Really that isn't too farfetched, considering 'Kremzeek' seemed like a bit of a fanboy of his merchantism, and Gryconi has worked with the Decepticons before... Blast Off huffs at Air Raid's comments. He points to Fusillade, explaining, "She is right. This will take all night! What are you planning to do with all these weapons? Confiscate them? Store them? And how do we know that you won't just use your newfound knowledge of our personal weapons and belongings against us later on the battlefield? ....It's hardly slander to point out that your credentials-and motivation- for this job are...potentially questionable. It's my right to know, as a.... contestant!" "See? See? I'm a totally legitimate businessman!" Swerve grins with pride and strolls through the scanner to go pick up his plastic basket, which has already arrived on the other side. The scanner immediately goes off, buzzing and flashing. "Welp, guess that answers the question about the space vuvuzela, sort of," Fusillade remarks about the drama with Bonecrusher's trumpet. A bit more brightly, she airily dismisses Swindle's offer. "Oh, I think I have a plan, you're such a gentlemech, helping with small businesses and such," she makes a 'short' gesture in Swerve's direction as she says the word 'small'. THEN, she turns her attention back to the Aerialbot. With sullen defiance, she complies with Air Raid, pacing up to him, gaze locked with his. She produces from one of two bilateral chest hatches, a single Mk. 82 bomb, and sets it on its fins on the table. Relatively small, at only 500 pounds. She doesn't budge, still staring. Fusillade reaches into her chest, pulls out a second. Continues to glare. Bonecrusher turns around when he hears Fusillade, optics wide. "I can't bring my vuvuzela either? Scrapper is going to KILL ME." Air Raid lingers on Bonecrusher. After a long pause, he nods curtly and hands the trumpet to Freezeout. "Freezeout! Inspect this for explosives." Swerve's concession license draws his attention and finally notices Swindle. "Swindle! Empty your subspace! This isn't an ice cream social!" Whatever those are. Blast Off continues to shovel logic into things and Raid is not having it. "Blast Off, I'd say you're acting a little SUSPICIOUS with all that talking." Fusillade's pointed glaring and unloading of bombs somewhat disarms Raid. He just... looks at the bombs. And turns his fans up a little. "Hnn, o-okay you can take your bombs and head in." Now he's all flustered. Fusillade glances over her shoulder at Bonecrusher, and shrugs dramatically as she sets down a third. Returns to staring daggers at Air Raid. "I can faster if you'd like." She begins plucking out the bombs like a burlesque dancer peeling off gloves, and double-fists them. "Oh no, no, we're NOT done here. Five down, seventy-nine to go. We wouldn't want security to be LAX, now would we, Air Raid?" Swerve stands on the other side of the scanner watching Fusillade do her sultry bomb-tease. "Put 'em on the glass!" he encourages. Bonecrusher raises his hand next to Air Raid once Fusi finishes stripping. "Do you need to see my bombs, too?" Freezeout gives Air Raid a look like he just told her to go moisten a lake. It includes a blink, with those freaky mechanical eyelids that must look just /so/ unnatural to robots. She picks up the trumpet, looks it over. Then Swerve shouts his comment, and she turns the trumpet toward him and blows a single loud note on it in his direction. "Well," Freezeout says, setting the trumpet back into its case, "we appear not to have exploded. Yet." Bonecrusher takes his trumpet from Freezeout. "That's because I haven't started jamming on any hot solos yet, no I haven't, no. But trust me, when I start riffing I'm gonna blow the place up, yeah, I'm gonna BOMB PUNCH EVERYONE IN THE FACE with THE POWER OF SONG, DIG IT!" Swerve takes the hint and starts putting his gewgaws and totchkes back in his subspace pocket. When Air Raid calls at him directly Swindle just rolls his optics a bit, then folds his arms across his faux windshield chestplate. "First *I* need to see your authentication to actually perform these security searchs my good mech." Blast Off continues to stand, arms crossed. He'll let the others act like sheep, but he's not one to blindly follow the flock! "Well, *I* am suspicicous of *you*. That should not be a surprise, not for one with as much *training and expertise* as you would have us believe you possess.... " He calls to Bonecrusher. "Be careful what you let this Autofool see... he'll probably just defuse your bombs when you're not looking, anyway." Freezeout acks quietly as the trumpet is grabbed out of her hand. She gives Bonecrusher a long, quiet stare for a moment, as if perplexed by his statement completely. All she can muster as a reponse: "If your goal was to bomb punch people in the face with a power of song, why a trumpet?" Air Raid wears a very :| expression throughout all of this. "Okay that's all that's required, /thank-you-Fusillade/." He grimaces when Bonecrusher offers to show his bombs, they are probably hairy or moldly or both. "No need, take your dang trumpet! I don't want to hear about this on Yelp or something!" The scanners go off but Raid does not notice. Security guards come out of nowhere to tackle Swerve. "LOOK BUDDY!" Raid begins way too loudly, obviously deeply offended by Swindle. "I'm an AUTOBOT. I know what I'm DOING." Fusillade trimuphantly hoists numbers 6 and 7 overhead like workout weights. "Whoooo!" in reply to Bonecrusher and possibly Swerve -- and perhaps to incite the crowd a bit while Swindle stalls. She sets them down on the table, hovers into the air, and with an absolutely nasty chortle, tips one of the domino-lined up row over with the tip of her toe as she zooms through the scanner. Is anyone good at catching? You will no longer hear messages on channel . Swindle doesn't budge when Air Raid screams at close proximity, other than lift one hand to wipe some ener-spittle from his face. You learn to deal with loud voices when you work with someone like Brawl. "The Galactic Council certainly doesn't think so. Now, unless you want me to report you for unnecessary harassment due to bias of being a Decepticon, you will lower you vocalizer unit and conduct this operation in a proper, professional manner. Seriously, I've seen Sleazoids with better manners." Swerve crashes to the ground. He was hoping no one would notice! "Hey, ow! It's nothing, it's just... hang on, lemme..." He's having a hard time producing whatever was setting off the alarm from under the guards. "Here! See, it's just a toy!" He pulls out a gun the size of his own leg, with rows of lights running across the top. It does LOOK like a toy. "It's got the orange cap on the end, see? Perfectly fine!" Bonecrusher leans into Freezeout, looking around, clearly about to tell her an important secret. "Have you ever heard 'Diz And Bird At Carnegie Hall?' Space-google it." He nods intensely. This is clearly the most important thing he's ever told anyone. "We used to just be some lameduck construction crew. And then Scrapper found a Golden Disc, yeeeah. Turned out to be a record, a gold musical treasure right there in the spot that X marked. Once we figured out vinyl playback engineering and listened to it, completely changed our lives. Rest is history, yes it is, yeah. Did a completely 180, then a 360 and another 180, dig?" This is like Freezeout's nightmares. She has to dive away from Bonecrusher to catch a falling bomb in both arms, landing on the knees of newly-installed legs. Meanwhile, as she avoids getting blown up, Air Raid is getting maneuvered into some kind of rage spasm by Swindle (or so Freezeout predicts, after Air Raid's fine show of diplomacy with Blitzwing). After a moment on the ground, Freezeout finally exhales (so to speak), "I'll space-Google it. Please help me up. But carefully. I'm not exactly fondling another femme's bombs for the thrill of it, here." Bonecrusher transforms into a bulldozer and scoops Freezeout and the bomb up into his dozer blade. "While I've got you here, I've got a list of things, one lined up after another in no particular order, as they say, the TOP FORTY FIVE THINGS I like about playing the trumpet and I'd like to tell you all of 'em, yeah. I'd like take your musical preconceptions and PULL OF THEIR LEGS with perspective, too." BONECRUSHER transforms into his Komatsu D575A Superdozer mode! Bludgeon has arrived. Doop doop thank goodness for Freezeout because damned if Raid is paying attention. The guards that tackle Swerve eye the strange gun closely. "Well I mean it's got an orange cap on the end - it can't possibly hurt anything," reasons one guard. "Yeah you're right. Go on through little guy, don't get lost!" the other guard says in babytalk, mockingly. Raid puffs his chest out at Swindle, but he knows better than to start a fight here. "-shove that bolo tie down your throat," he mutters to himself, then lifts his voice. "/Please/ empty your subspace pocket onto the table," he says through his dental plates. Repugnus has arrived. Blast Off continues to await an answer from Air Raid. Fusillade is gone and and Bonecrusher is too... busy with reminiscing AND manhandling Freezeout... to hear him, so the sniper just becomes silent, standing there, arms still crossed. Fusillade vanishes out of reality. Fusillade has left. "Thaaaanks," Swerve replies, with a big grin. "Maybe someday I can grow up to be big and tough like you guys." He puts away his obviously plastic blaster with the orange muzzle. It plays a muffled song of some kind from inside his subspace pocket as he does so, which he ignores as he gathers up his other things. Apeface has arrived. As Swindle empties his subspace (HOPEFULLY), Air Raid moves over to Blast Off. He doesn't even try to get near him and holds his hand out. In his palm - circuit speeders. "Blast Off! Sweet Primus! /Drugs/? I can't believe this! I thought you were an upstanding mech! Aside from being on the wrong team. GUARDS!" Freezeout is now seated in Bonecrusher, her legs kind of hanging as if she was riding a hammock at an angle. She's still holding a big bomb. "Er," she says, about to make a comment before frowning at Bonecrusher's legs-pulled-off crack. "Air Raid? Swerve? A little help getting down, please? ...Swindle? Anyone?" "That's better." Swindle is keeping his own professional manner about this. It's hardly the first security check he's had to go through. "But all I've got to say is its your own fault what happens." Swindle grabs the grille that makes up his abdomen and pulls it out like a drawer, then reachs in with his other hand and rummages around. Then finally pulls out a knockout boxed set of Aerialbot action figures, all in horrible G2 colors. "Oh what is this doing in here, this is suppose to be for your target practice excersizes Blast Off. Here, hold this." Swindle shoves the box into Air Raid's hands, then grabs the subspace 'shelf' with both hands, pulls it out, and turns it upside down over the table. A literal avalanche of assorted knock off toys and other merchandise falls out of the seemingly small drawer, piling up on the table. And over the table. And spilling over the sides. And then the entire thing of toys, flags, foam hands and other sporting event paraphanilia sits there, wobbling, looming over Air Raid while he moves onto Blast Off. "I think that is all of i.. oh wait, what's this. That's not merchandise." Swindle grabs a booklet and yanks it out of the pile. "Brawl would kill me if I lost one of his coloring books." He puts it back in the drawer and puts it in his stomach again. But with that one piece out of the pile, it abruptly topples over right towards Air Raid... Combat: Swindle strikes Air Raid with his You could say it was an.... economic collapse. (Grab) attack! Suddenly, a random guy in the line is thrown to the ground. And then another, and another, until a majority of those waiting to be groped (or whatever it is security guards do) scatter lest they also get thrown to the ground. Some crazy stuff is happening and it's all thanks to APEFACE who comes pushing and shoving his way to the front of the line. "Out of my way, punk!" the Horrorcon snaps as he knees a minibot in the face, sending him flying. Swerve makes his way into the Olympic area and disappears quickly into the crowd, only muttering "thanks a lot, short-arms, see if I give you free drinks," once he's safely out of the guards' earshot. They are a good eight feet taller than he is, after all. "AAaaaaand it's REPUGNUS! Yeah!" says the Monsterbot himself as he shuffles in. He borrows some bowling pins from a vendor and juggles them gleefully as he dances his way around the other Transformers present. "o/~ And I'm so happy I could meet all of you a-holes, maybe some day I will kill you all, but til then you can shop at Kohl's!" He continues juggling the vendor and staying ahead of the angry shopowner chasing after him. "Eh..." He frowns. "I'm working on the lyrics, folks! Honest." Apeface transforms into a big burly robot! Komatsu D575A Superdozer starts to chug along, carting Freezeout along. "Number 45, I love that trumpets don't require lips." They drive over a few tables. "Also, remove the main access plate and flick the switch to disarmed. "Number 44, and since you're heading up opening ceremony auditions, I think you'll appreciate this yeah, artist to artist and paper to pen. It's a discipline, yeah. It really is. And I'm the most discipled- you better believe it, yeah." Blast Off stands there, continuing to look smug- until suddenly Air Raid yells something about circuit speeders and GUARRRDS! "Wait, what? What are you even TALKING about? Did Triggerhapp- WHAT?" He jumps back, looking less smug now, as guards approach. "Of course I'm an upstanding mech!" He points at Raid. " You- you FRAMED me!!!" Then Swindle pulls off his own move, and Blast Off uses his reflexes to jump easily out of the way of the toppling pile. "Ah, yes! Right, Swindle.... Primus forbid anything happen to one of Brawl's coloring books.... we couldn't have that...." Security guards never come to harass Blast Off about his terrible drug habit, as they're just ignoring Air Raid now. By the time Raid hears Freezeout, Bonecrusher is already toting her off. Eh, she'll be fine. She's Swedish. When Apeface crashes through the line, the Aerialbot tries to intercept, but Swindle's massive pile of STUFF topples over on him. "Sir, you can't knee people in the face here," chides the real security director mech, wagging his finger at Apeface. "Let them through, let them all through!" exclaims Raid when he resurfaces. He seems quite occupied with all of the crazy cool things that Swindle has stored away, and has found himself a giant bow. Not a frilly bow. "I could be /just/ like my archer bunny! OKAY Swindle, move along!" He puts the weapon on his back and begins to stuff all of Swindle's crap back in his chest. "Go go go, scram!" When Bonecrusher casually tells Freezeout how to disarm the bomb, she does as told, while listening to him rattle off his list. She only has a 50 Tech skill, though, so it takes her a few moments to find the right panel, and then... "Wait, there are two switches," she says, in her Swedish accent that Air Raid just noted. Then Freezeout looks over at Bonecrusher's empty driver's seat, since it's not like he has a face. Or maybe his face is in his dozer blade and lugging her about like this technically counts as him motorboating her robot ass cheeks. We'll never know. "Er, where are we going?" she then queries. "My, ah, audition station is back by the security gate." IE, please let Air Raid still be alive when she returns. "... archer bunny?" Swindle remarks with a raised brow. Then eyes the bow. "Huh, I forgot that was in there." Dismissively waves it off. "No loss, it's not like anyone here actually uses archery skills anymore." He pulls the drawer open, only to grunt as Air Raid gets heavy handed with stuffing. "Hey, be careful! I may be a shyster but I do not deal in damaged merchandise!" Pauses, rolls optics to the side. "Usually." Security guards immediately surround Repugnus and try to take his bowling pins. "You have no business with bowling pins here sir!" "I can do whatever I want, I'm bigger than all of y'all!" Apeface beats his chest with a fist and erupts into a goofy but still intimidating bellow of a laugh. "Haw haw haw haw GRUNK!" He hocks up a roboloogie and spits it on the real security guard's foot. Really, what's that guy gonna do about it? Apeface then catches sight of Blast Off, immediately turning all his attention to him and rushing over to say hi, complete with shoulder checking everyone in his path. "Hey, space shuttle guy! You still got those scraplets? I need my fix." Swerve vanishes out of reality. Swerve has left. Komatsu D575A Superdozer slows down. "The stage is BACK THAT WAY?!" The dozer starts a wide turn, bringing down a large chunk of bleachers. A few people fall. "The second switch just says 'fire/acid.' It lets you select payload output. The options are fire and acid. The other switch says 'on/off.' Pick the one you want, yeah." When Freezeout stares at his driver's seat, the bulldozer coughs. "Can we keep this casual? I want this gig based on artistic merit." Ok, maybe there weren't guards, then....it was just the crowd closing in. Or he could have sworn it was. Blast Off shakes himself off. Welp, mission accomplished- Air Raid has stopped this nonsense about "security" and Blast Off can continue carrying dru-I mean the assorted complicated and highly sophisticated means he uses to keep his systems at their peak. He looks at Swindle with an appreciative nod, then looks thoughtful and slightly vengeful. "I'd... like those targets, Swindle. Especially the Air Raid- shaped one." Suddenly Apeface comes charging in and the shuttleformer jumps back again. "I DO NOT HAVE..." He drops his voice. "Shutttup, I don't have that....condition.... anymore. Do you mind NOT spreading the news to EVERYONE in this entire stadium?" Repugnus dances in place as he's surrounded, continuing to juggle. "Did I say bowling pins? I meant BOMBS OH PRIMUS WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!" He throws the pins into the air, and casually steps around security as they (probably) panic over the pins. "Sup guys? Why's Bonecrusher bulldozing the weakling around? Who let Apeface in here? Why's Swindle dumping his merchandise everywhere? Why--" He stoops over to pick up a knockoff, squints at it, frowns, then exclaims, "This is ME!!! Except I have Ninja Turtle arms, what the hell! You can't transform me like this!" Air Raid eyedart. WELP so long as Swindle doesn't care! "Yeah sure buddy," he murmurs. "Just pick up your slag and go inside!" The security director stares at the roboloogie on his foot, then back up to Apeface. With a heavy sigh, he steps aside. "EVERYONE IS ALLOWED IN!" Raid suddenly shouts. "Hey, you were just supposed to help unjam the turnstile if it got jammed!" snaps the security director as the guards surrounding Repugnus scramble to catch all of the "bombs". Swindle finally gets the stuff put away. "Eh?" Shrugs at Blast Off, pulls out another boxed set of knockoff Aerialbots, these ones painted in the Stunticons' colors, and hands it to his teammate. "Here, I have plenty. No one ever buys these." He shoves the drawer shut in his abdomend and dusts his hands off. Then turns and leans over towards Air Raid with a smarmy smirk on his face. "By the way, now that you have the rare yet useless alien bow... good luck finding the arrows for it." Swindle turns and starts to walk off, snickering softly to himself. Apeface just stares at Blast Off for a while, as if struggling to process what he just heard. "Huhhhh?! What do you mean you don't have SCRAPLETS-" He makes sure to yell that word out as loudly as he can, even looking around to see if he's caught any attention. "-anymore? Just a few stellar cycles ago you were CRAWLING WITH SCRAPLETS!" The Horrorcon gets uncomfortably close to the Combaticon, looming over him like some kind of.. looming figure that could rip you in half. "I know you have more SCRAPLETS in there! Let me at 'em!" With a roar of moving parts, he transforms into his ape mode and grabs ahold of Blast Off's arm with his big ol' robomonkey paw, pulling him close. He uses his other hand to jab a few fingers into the seams of Blast Off's armour, digging around without a care of how much it hurts. Apeface transforms into a giant robot gorilla. GRUNK!
* click* "Uuhhh we got a wild animal at customs, someone brought in a gorilla. Bring some tranqs and a catch pole. *click* As Air Raid slips into the shadows to avoid getting arrested, everyone crowds in to watch Apeface lose his shit and manhandle Blast Off. In other words, he's going apeshit Blast Off accepts the toys with a gleam in his optics. These will be fun to destroy. He subspaces the set, wondering if he should paint little looks of terror on the tiny toy faces for extra enjoyment when he pulls the trigger. It would serve tiny toy Air Raid right. Then Apeface makes it clear that he not only has no clue of subtley, but no clue of personal space either. Blast Off's shuttle vents hiss in frustration- and then there's a hiss of surprise as the huge Con grabs him and starts rather painfully poking and digging around his armor. He kicks and punches as best he can, yelling "Release me AT ONCE you buffoon!!! I will SHOOT YOU if you DON'T!!!!" He wants to bring out his ionic blaster right now, but the security guards might have a problem with that.... so he hesitates, but he's close to his breaking point- in more than one way.... "Sorry!" Freezeout calls to the people toppled by Bonecrusher's bleacher-smash. She sighs quietly, and flicks the on/off switch -- to 'off,' it should be noted. No longer having to worry about a bomb going off should she hop too hard with it, she clambers out of the dozer-seat and to the ground. Sunstreaker happens to be right there. "Please turn this in to the lost and found," Freezeout says in a chipper tone, handing the yellow Autobot the bomb. "Pff. /Whatever/," Sunstreaker sneers, and goes to stuff it into a recycling bin or Terrorcon. "Anyway, Bonecrusher, I assure you I will make by decision on talent and talent alone. But talent-wise... what makes you stand out among the Constructicons? If you all were so influenced by the style of one record," Freezeout asks, hands on her hips, paint scraped off her butt, "why not choose, say, Mixmaster? Or Scrapper -- is he not the artistic one, with his... er... sculptures of twisted gore and viscera?" Freezeout pauses again, seeing Air Raid slip off and a giant gorilla kill a space shuttle. "...oh no." Repugnus grins as he watches the situation detoriate. But wait, isn't Apeface one of the nastiest Transformers around? "Time to take advantage of the distraction!" he mutters quietly, sneaking up on Apeface, and rubbing up against him, trying to get as much filth on himself as possible. "Yeah, that's the stuff!" he says. The crowd begins to chant in favor of Apeface (for some reason) as animal control piles in to fire tranq darts. Naturally they are useless against metal, so someone tries to get the loop of a catch pole around Apeface's head.There's a lot of filth for Repugnus to rub up on, it's been a couple hundred years since Apeface last took a shower that didn't involve intestines or grungey oil. It literally smears off on the Monsterbot, big globs of some unknown funk dripping down his body. Oh yeah, it also stinks like something Blot ate, farted out, and then ate again. "Hmmmmmmmmmmm??" Apeface looks over his shoulder at Repugnus, a stupid looking toothy grin spreading across his face. "Oh, you like? Here, have more!" Apeface reaches around, dragging his fingers across what would be his butt if robots had butts, amassing a handful of chunky gunk before slapping Repugnus in the face with it. He rubs it in, cackling like retard the whole time. Komatsu D575A Superdozer transforms back into a robot, setting Freezeout down. "Well, it's like this. I'm a left arm. That's what I bring to the mix. You can't have a band with a drummer, and you can't devastate without a left arm. No, you can't." BONECRUSHER transforms into his ROBOT BRUISER mode! "You make a sound argument, Bonecrusher," Freezeout says. "Alas, it looks like one of my fellow judges has disappeared -- I need to catch up with him to discuss this. Perhaps you should go enjoy the, ah, fight that appears to be building between your comrades." Freezeout quickly hustles to one of the security stations, and tries to figure out how to break this to Red Alert. Blast Off has had it. This goes against everything he holds dear- personal space, dignity, being taken seriously... and personal hygiene. The shuttleformer *IS* the Combaticon team sniper, after all... and he has reached his breaking point. Again, in more ways than one- as parts of his armor and heat shields fall off from the Apeface's prying fingers. He brings his ionic blaster out and fires right at Apeface's face. "Maybe THIS will get this idea through that thick "skull" of yours- LET ME GO NOW." Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Protected.Combat: Blast Off strikes Robotic Ape with his Knock Knock Anybody Home (Laser) attack!While Apeface is busy having a good laugh at the horror he's inflicting on Repugnus, he has no idea that Blast Off is planning on shooting him until, well, he shoots him. "Haw haw haw! GRUNK! That tickled!" Blast Off gets his wish and Apeface lets him go.. only to heft a fist high over the Combaticon's head. "MY TURN!" Apeface roars, swinging downward with all his strength to pummel the hell out of his fellow bad guy.Combat: Freezeout begins retreating, leaving herself vulnerable to parting shots from Robotic Ape , Swindle, and Blast Off Combat: Robotic Ape misses Blast Off with his Slappo! (Punch) attack! Blast Off is FINALLY let go and the Combaticon (with some relief) darts away as quickly as possible- missing the big fist the gorilla sends his way as a "parting gift". "Ha! Mess with me again, fool, and I will do more than a "tickle"...." However, he keeps his distance from the huge Con, trying to evade him in the crowd- and trying to keep the plates of armor that are *just* hanging on his frame from falling off further.... Hopefully the big ape will find someone else to go all "grabby hands" on now. Bonecrusher holds his trumpet up in the sky as he walks away. "YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH!" Freezeframe. Blast Off heads away into the crowd. The shuttleformer, who now reeks of "Apeface Odeur", seeks only one thing- a bath. If he doesn't find a bath, a car wash will do. Yes, a space shuttle that makes its way through a car wash- several times, in fact. Repugnus had been stumbling around after getting all that goop in his face, enjoying the revolting sensations, yet also struggling to remain standing with all that revolting stuff screwing with his olfactory sensors. It's being high but it doesn't good--or maybe it does, if you're Repugnus. "Hnnngh good effing frek this is nasty!" He licks at the stuff on his face, and immediately begins to vomit. "That's the good stuff! Hurgh--" Robotic Ape just grunts as Blast Off gets away. Ah well, no doubt he'll bump into him again soon. Now it's just him and Repugnus having some kind of gross off. The Horrorcon grins, watching Repugnus spew vomit everywhere like some kind of vomiting fire hose. "Hey! Let me get in on that!" Apeface scoops up a handful of Monsterbot vomit and dabs it behind his 'ears' and under his pits like some kind of awesome perfume. Repugnus helpfully aims his vomit--he's been vomiting for a while, and some of it looks like it might have been living organic creatures at some point--at Apeface so he can get more of the stuff on him. Repugnus is being very helpful indeed. Apeface catches most of the vomit on his chest, rubbing it all over his body and face until it's impossible to see his paintjob underneath all the disgusting nastiness. "Awww yeah! Like being in a fancy spa up in here!" ================================== Autobot =================================== "The security personnel of the Olympics have asked me to inform the Autobots that we are not sanctioned or authorized to conduct searches of our fellow attendees." "Additionally, we have been asked to avoid the main gates, and enter through loading docks and other service entrances, away from the general population of spectators."
- Security measures are
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