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| - The Grease pits. Not a pleasant place to be if you have no intention to be part of the combat that goes on down here. Bouts are usually scheduled every few solar cycles, allowing gladiators time to rest and recuperate from battles. Slipstream is here with Goa during the lull between bouts, hoping to find a particular gladiator. "You'll learn a lot from him Goa." she explains to the grounder. "Oh yeah?" Goa straddles his chair backwards, antennae folded away to stay comfortably oblivious to the chatter in the lobby. There were places he could suppress his programming to sniff out a place before entering it; this was one he'd rather not investigate every detail of. Not this cycle, anyway. He'd rather be a smidge overcharged first. "Alright. But I still think coming down here is bad luck. Mechs might get ideas." He half-lids his optics. Slipstream smiles a bit at Goa, "Ideas about who?" she asks, reaching over to pat his tire with a hand, "Come on, you know that there's only so much I can teach you. Besides he's one of the best of the gladiators here. Hopefully he'll show soon." Goa shrugs. He rests his chin on the back of the seat, abnormally sullen. Something must be on his mind. "If he doesn't, can we go up and bet?" Kick-Off was busy instructing a few other Gladiators to one side of the arena, his arms folded as he stood. Hearing footsteps and noticing a gesture from another he turns to focus on the two who had arrived. Moments later he was at Slipstream and Goa's location, his faceplate hidden behind the mask. Slipstream nods, "If you like, sure. Or we can just go back to Polyhex and try to sneak past Megatron." Really the whole getting out of Polyhex idea was to avoid the Emperor as long as was possible. She looks up and smiles to the gladiator, "Good cycle." she offers to the mech. Goa shudders. "Yeah, yeah, alright. Point made." Well wasn't he just a book today. He tries to hide the face palm by looking down. Overhearing Slipstream greet someone, he looks up. "... Kick-Off?" As he double-checks his recognition database, he gets a wry grin. Troublemaking grin, that is. "Sir?" Kick-Off nods at Slipstream politely, and then turns to stare at Goa "... Yes, that is me." he states, almost glowering at the mech in his usual surly fashion "I was told you required my expertise, and thus I was rescheduled from a fight practice for it." he said, almost making it sound like an inconvenience. Slipstream smiles to Kick-Off, "That was on my bequest, Kick-Off. I figured Goa could learn from you what I cannot teach him." she states. Goa isn't particularly good at reading masked mechs. Always had a hard time trusting them -- but he's reasonably sure he knows where Kick-Off's buttons are, especially if he just got the ex-'Bot to ignore him, so it doesn't bother him so much. Carrying his smirk along, he hops over the back of the chair, straight to standing. "Why didn't you tell me it was Kick-Off?" He tilts his head at Slipstream, then turns his nose to the gladiator. "Better shape than last time." He studies him for another few moments, mulling over that tone in his processor. "Alright." The plates of his back straighten out and eliminate his hunch. "My practice's against creatures, not mechs. What can you show me? Blade, otherwise?" "Ahh. So you want some training. I see." notes Kick Off, relaxing a little bit as though now enjoying this idea. "Come onto the sands of the arena, where there is room. No sense damaging the wall. " he turns to stride away "Blades, fisticuffs if you wish.... I use a spear myself." he explains "But I am proficient in all bladed weaponry if that is your choice Slipstream smiles a bit to Goa's question, "Would ruin the surprise." she states with a little shrug and smile. "Now get out there and learn something." Goa picks up on Kick Off's improved ease and raises one optic ridge an inch or two. What was he /expecting/? Maybe he doesn't want to know. The blades at his shoulders transform out, and he gives Slipstream a somewhat menacing look before rolling on his heels into the arena bounds. Maybe he really is incensed about the timing of this little trip ... but hey, an opportunity's an opportunity. He stoops somewhere halfway into an attack stance, like he doesn't trust Kick-Off to not just start attacking him, but hasn't lost all faith in whatever alternative, either. "Useful to parry a spear in case Shred goes ballistic on me again," he mutters. "Excellent... " Kick Off's spear appears in his hand as he continues walking "Because you will need it." Without another warning he whirls, the spear twirling out and in a single motion jabbing towards Goa's chest plate!" Slipstream isn't at all bothered by that look that Goa gives her, she sits back a bit in her chair and waits to see how this goes. Alright. So now he knows how this is going to work. Goa already had his afterburners primed, and he makes quick use of them to hop several meters backward, bringing one of his scythes to hand in mid-air. Incidentally, taking his memory back to the particular cycle he first met Kick-Off leaves a couple of other things on Goa's mind ... specifically, that spears can be thrown. He ducks. "Well, you are good at dodging at least." Admits Kick Off as his spear finds only sand. He lifts it, turning to focus at the flying Decepticon - unable to use boosters in here himself as he twirled the spear, waiting for the mech to come down. Slipstream hms, "Not bad." Kick-Off then lunges forwards to meet Goa again, and as he ducks, the spear swings... butt end first to try and trip up the other mech. The idea of using his boosters again apparently misses Goa -- he pulls off a rather clumsy maneuver, hopping with one leg, then the other as Kick-Off's attack passes under him. Then, with a snap of speed, he lunges with his scythe ... sideways, meaning to hook the spear away from his opponent. Slipstream watches on quietly, taking in each mechs techniques, though paying more attention to what Goa is doing. Wouldn't hurt to give him pointers after this lesson. Kick-Off lifts the spears' end, allowing the scythe to slide past it. Then he jabs the pointy end towards Goa's side this time "Move FASTER. Use your inbred Decepticon abilities to escape"! he rasps, almost sounding angry. Slipstream claps for Goa, "That's my mech." she murmurs." Goa hisses as he knocks the spear away with the guard of his arm and whirls about. He starts to erratically circle, moving quickly here, slowly there ... inbred Decepticon? He growls -- he's familiar with Kick-Off's disdain, sure, but Goa wasn't -- oh... right. Dropping the thought, he hunkers down, then rushes forward at the gladiator as soon as he thinks he sees an angle. The mech moved one way, then another, but the dodging got the best at him as he was slammed into by Goa. He grunted, armor giving a little and he uses this position to simply reach up and grab Goa's head, to try and TWIST it. Goa actually pauses just a nanosec in confusion. He hadn't expected a straight-on shoulder butt to work, but he takes advantage of it nonetheless to try to wrestle Kick-Off to the ground. He holds his blade at its center with the objective of putting it dully to the mech's throat, figuring it'd end a fight outside the ring just as validly. The Gladiator goes down, grunting. He lays there with the blade humming near his throat. He puffs a few times and states "You got lucky. VERY lucky." Slipstream stands as the two finish, coming out of the stands toward them. "Not bad at all Goa, I approve." she smiles to him, then nods to Kick-Off, "Perhaps I wasted your time Kick-Off. But thank you." Goa grins, but not a victorious grin. More like a sympathetic one. But Kick-Off wasn't talking like he'd been going easy on the green 'Con, so Goa has to wonder. Releasing his grip, he stands up, shakes off the dust, and holsters his scythe. Both occasionally twitch forward and back at his shoulders. Finally, he offers a hand to the fighter. "I'll just hope it sticks then." He glances at Slipstream curiously, then back to Kick-Off. Kick-Off does not take the hand, climbing to his feet on his own "Keep at the dodging. As a Decepticon, the air is your best defense." he states simply. He turns to nod curtly to Slipstream before turning to walk off, picking up his spear on the way. Slipstream nods back to the gladiator, then looks to Goa, "So perhaps a drink on me for the mighty warrior?" she asks, giving him a smile. Goa smirks at the mech's back as he walks off. He'd been expecting that, but it was still fun ... perhaps more interesting than he'd admit ... to watch. Though now he was itching for a fight in the field -- he WAS lucky, with so little practice invested since he'd landed. Hands on his hips, he turns back to Slipstream. "The mighty warrior accepts your offering," he says, with a crushingly sarcastic air. Ah yes. What he'd been trying to snag all cycle, between patrol spying (maybe he had more practice dodging than he realized) and suddenly 'Hey, Goa, let's go down to the grease pits!' He licks his lips, then passes by Slip, eager to get back out to the Dead End. Goa drives with ... well, it's remarkable coordination CONSIDERING how much charge his circuits are carrying. It'd been a while since he kicked back an enervodka. Or so. His engine sputters angrily at the ground like he'd rather be climbing the steep roadway than rolling on it. "Ssssslip." He enunciates quite carefully -- he wasn't /completely/ fritzed on motor control. It just took a ... bit of effort. "Last time we sparred, who won?" The stuffy glow that huddles around Cubicron is behind them, as are its worst slums, leaving them in that boring but navigationally convoluted road space between Cubicron and Polyhex. Slipstream probably should not be riding the grounder out of Cubricon, but she wasn't in the mood to fly let alone walk or run, so this was the only option. She's clutching with hands and legs as he powers into the tunnels. "I think it was me.. why are you asking.. and would you slow down.. you are skidding all over the place." Goa feathers his brakes, slowing to a crawl. Some cycles, he wonders if his vehicle mode should've been a motorcycle. A jet riding a motorcycle. That would be pretty... something. "Am not." Well, he isn't now. In fact, he barely idles along. "Just curious." He sluggishly turns along a side tunnel. This one might go out to the factories, but he wasn't totally sure... he just remembered being down here when he was hunting Psykeout. Landmarks were... memorable... "Can you stand up for a second? I wanna try somethin'." Slipstream is glad that Goa finally slowed down. She chuckles a bit at the denial then knocks on top of his cab, "Didn't answer my question." she states as she curls up, still clutching onto him with her legs as she stretches, "Full stand or this okay?" she asks. Goa feels a shift and doesn't bother waiting to transform. His chest folds forward, along with his head, arms out to the side, all fine ... but when it gets to kicking his legs out from under himself, he just sort of splats on the road with an 'oof'. "Said I was curious." He resorts to flapping his arms on the road, then dragging himself out from under the seeker. Some determination there. Slipstream feels you shift and doesn't act quick enough, having drunk probably as much as you did, so she ends up flat on her back.. giggling softly. "Did that on purpose." she snickers. Then spots the arm flapping, and giggles some more, "That's so silly." Goa's scythes unfold as he ambles to his feet. "'Cause it's been a while since I br--" He looks comically indignant as he turns around and sees the femme flopped on the ground. "Give me a break, cantcha hold yer liquor? Come on, get to your feet, I gotta get this outta my system 'fore I start flying around trying to drop nukes on people or somethin'." Slipstream snickers as she lies there on the ground, then slowly sits up, "Since you what hm?" she asks, slowly getting to her feet and stumbling a bit, "I was trying to see what the attraction to how drunk you get was... so far.. not seeing the point." she smirks a bit. "How drunk I get? How drunk I get? Not drunk as I get 'til you're crashin' into lampposts and crashin' Autobots' hot dates," he stands and throws his arms into the air, "And bootin' up 'side an empty fuel keg and not rememberin'. Without even tryin', you know!" He glares at something non present in the Cybertronian sky and structure above. Then his arms flap to his sides and he stands up straight. "Yeah I don't see it either. So are we gonna brawl now?" His optics flicker. Slipstream frowns a bit at Goa, "When did I crash a Autobots hot date.. no wait.. that was YOU wasn't it?" she shakes her head a bit, "Figures." she sighs, staring at you a moment, "Brawl? Fine. I'll kick your sad little aft plating even if I am drunk." she says, then without warning she charges at him, meaning to slap him hard against the cheek. It'll do for starters eh? "Yeah. That was me. It helped though." Goa finds his face suddenly in the path of a high-velocity indigo hand. He reels to one side, flapping his arms for balance, optics seeming to bug out and flicker. "Hey!" Rubbing his cheek, he stares more with ... dumbfoundedness than confusion. "... that was my good cheek!" Goa lunges at Slipstream, hands clawing in front of him! To do ... something. Maybe to pick the seeker up. On the other hand, he'd been doing that for the last few kilometers. Or maybe he'd do that climb-on-shoulders thing that just ... confused everyone he'd ever used it on, to little effect. Yeah, that sounded good. Slipstream tries to block the fury of clawing Goa hands without much success, they are both drunk and besides it stung to slap him like she did. "Remember, you challenged me." she states. "Look," Goa manages to get his fingers hooked in around a helmet plate and under a shoulder, his feet stabilized on the taller femme's torso, "That doesn't mean uh... Uhhh..." He brings up the link to see if Slipstream might've caught and remembered what he was talking about. In the meantime, the mutualized center of gravity becomes ... interesting ... Slipstream somehow manages to keep her footing despite the way Goa is clutched to her. She snakes her arms around him, adding to the tentative stability of the grounder. "Doesn't mean?" she asks, apparently not quite understanding what he is sending over the link. After all drunk link is probably weak or even just useless due to the processes that are inhibited right now. "Doesn't mean that uh... Hey, look!" Goa points at ... the far tunnel wall, then blasts away from Slipstream, leaving a cloud of dust and exhaust. Whether he gets anywhere is another matter. Slipstream tries to keep her arms around him, but apparently his anti-grav is stronger than she is.. especially when she's drunk. She shakes her head and sighs, "We cannot go to Polyhex both drunk, need to be sober. Don't know what you'd say to Megatron blitzed." then she giggles a bit at that thought. Goa rockets away and ... clatters right onto his back plate. He does the usual routine with the flailing and rocking on the shell. Even if it'd be simple to hook something or just use his antigrav, where's the fun in /that/? "Noooooo..." This was not conducive to a brawl at all! Maybe he could play it off like he wasn't sparring now. Playing things off worked out for him before after all. "I mean, noooo. That's..." A thoughtful hand to the beard, "Actually pretty good. I'd say that." Slipstream staggers over to the flailing grounder and snickers, "Yes." she then kneels down next to him and smirks, "I'm always full of good ideas Goa, you should know that by now." she muses, then she sits and flops onto her back next to you. Goa snorts. That was his idea! He'd whined it fair and square. He thinks. Time stamping was undergoing some difficulty right now. Ah well, maybe it was hers. But what about the fight? His arms clatter to the ground, one awkwardly against a wing. "So do I win yet?" Slipstream hmms thoughtfully to that question, then offers a soft, "Yes, you win." she smiles a little as she looks over at you, "I'm sleepy, think we can catch a few before we got to go back." Goa holds a fist up. "Only in victory can we finally... uh... recharge." He glances over to you at his side and chews his lip. Then he resumes flailing, finally managing to flip himself over with a clever roll of the shoulder (though he might've kicked up less debris if he thought to spin only one tire at a time), and quickly drifts off half-draped over you, half over your wing. To the victor goes the ... spoils? And to the loser goes the duty of figuring out how they ended up passed out in a maintenance ditch by the roadway. 'Loser' being 'whoever wakes up first', that is.
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