| abstract
| - Today, a temporary plasma anvil has been placed in the middle of the Munitions Bay. A series of dull green glows highlight each blow of Crosshairs' sonic hammer as he labours over what appears to be an ancient cybertronian styled claymore of some sort. There's a strange sound just outside the Munitions Bay. vrrroooooom Then it gets louder. VRRRRooooom Then it gets really louder. VRRRROOOOOOOOOMMMMMMM!! As the doors to the large bay open, in rolls a finely polished Porsche 935 Turbo, complete with racing stripes and large number '4' decals on its doors. For those who haven't figured it out by now, it's Jazz! The race car purrr's to a stop, <> With a quick transformation, Jazz withdraws a data stick from subspace and tosses it to Crosshairs, "I'll give ya skinny dude. I was snoopin' around on Decepticon Island when I came across a computer terminal and hacked into it! Got some info off it, including some research and development kinda stuff! I was checkin' it out in my office and think I found some schematics that were drawn up for Soundwave, but now that we got em' I think we should give it a try and see if they work on me and my sound system!" It says alot that by now, Crosshairs is as used to Jazz disturbing his peace as anything. He doesn't even look up from the rhythmic clanking of his hammer. "Be with you in just a minute. You can go 'head and fish out the data and call it up on my primary display over there." He indicates his desk in the back with the resonating weapon. "Just another fold or two."Delicately, he continues along with is work; folding the archaic alloy and using his hammer to flatten it. Then, the newly formed glowing weapon is placed in a pool of water to soak and cool.Then, the old armorer trundles over to where Jazz is."So, wha'd ya steal for me? Let's see." He says with interest. Never wanting to be outdone by the competition, Jazz had certainly found this datastick to be quite useful in finding a few new plans the Decepticons were working on. Unfortunately for the master spy, he hadn't been able to download more of the data because Blaster and Clutch were in need of assistance. "I wish I had more data on there that we could use Cross, but once those Deceptijerks started firin', I had to help out the rest of the team! You've heard the sayin' before -- Bots Before Data And What Nots -- I think that's how it goes anyway." Slipping the datastick into the appropriate slot on Crosshairs' computer, Jazz taps a few buttons on the console, calling up the file of interest. It reads, HARMONIC OVERLOAD CONVERTER. The gadget rotates around on the screen, revealing a simplistic box-looking frame. "From what I gather from this schematic, it looks like something that can really shake, rattle, and roll ya dig?! I was thinkin' of puttin' in some new sub-woofers. Maybe we could figure out a way to kill two robo-birds with one ball bearing?!" Crosshairs looks over the screen; tapping his chin with one hand while the hammer dangles from the other. He is a long time replying, not venturing any comment until he has actually viewed the specs in detail several times. In fact, it would not be an overestimation to say that the old armorer is actually quiet for a good five minutes. "Think yer right." He finally says. "Looks like..... hmm. Looks like a device that uses that scanner there t'analyze the right frequency to cause a harmonic overload an' fracture armor from the inside and cause all sorts of spallin' damage. Glad ya got that away from Soundwave, s'all we need to have an armor defeatin' tape player of attitude." He half turns away, and approaches his workbench. "Go amuse yerself fer an hour . . . somewhere else. Don't touch anythin' here -- I know what yer like with my grenades!" He seems only half kidding, as he immediatly sets to work -- punching in a command to Metroplex's automated factories first. He literally does not look up for at least forty five minutes, though he occasionally glances to the monitor. Finally, when completed, a relatively small device has been completed . . and a drone has delivered a brand new series of kickin' subs. Tick Tock. Tick Tock Tick Tock. Like sand through an hourglass, these are the days of their lives. Or minutes, whatever. Trying to keep himself occupied while Crosshairs goes to work, Jazz does almost the impossible himself, keeping fairly quiet to let the master weaponsmith work in relative peace. Sure there was that 10 minutes where the stylish Bot decided to pop up 'Jeapordy' on the viewscreen, but besides that things were quiet enough. As the drone enters with a pair of new sub-woofers, Jazz's blue visor lights up with delight, "Yo Cross! Looks like everything's comin' along just perfect! I feel like a kid in a candy store! Well if I knew what it was like to feel like a kid anyway!" Leaping into the air, the Autobot hits the floor in his alternate mode, popping his doors and trunk open a second later. <> Crosshairs is apparently still in thought when Jazz returns and reaches to tinker with the device a bit more. For that entire forty five plus minutes, he is quite busy with the scanning device but apparently feels like he's managed the job. "You should." He comments in a blithe tone. "Seems I'm gettin' more busy upgradin' you than anyone else. Gettin' to know yer connections pretty well." He's actually fairly cheerful, which says alot about how he feels about this particular job. He reaches down and opens the other's hood latch, making a few connections to install the sensing device behind the other's grill, tucked in behind the fan.Then he moves to the trunk, and the interior, and it is a longer time as he runs cabling and connects everything up. Finally then... he dissapears, and reappears with a steel cube on a cart. He gestures. "You want t'go 'head then an' try it?" He quickly slips on some ear protection. <> There's a reason that Jazz had decided to come to Crosshairs. Although the weapons specialist tended to be a bit difficult sometimes, there was no doubt he was one of the keenest minds when it came to installing new technology. If Crosshairs couldn't make it work, then there was little chance any other Autobot had a chance. <> Inside Jazz's interior, the 'volume' nob on the main console starts to roll clock-wise with an invisible force. As it rises, so does the rumbling from Jazz's speakers. Once the volume reaches an almost deafening level, THEN comes the 'sub-woofer' nob which moves up quickly. The resulting noise clangs off the reinforced walls of the Munitions Bay, dousing those inside with incredible vibrations. BOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWW BOOOOOOWWWWWWWW BOOOOOOOOMM BOOOOOM BOOOOOM BOOOOOM BOOOOOOOOOMM <> the Porsche emits although Crosshairs probably can't even hear him. Jazz may or may not have an inflated sense of Crosshairs' own capabilities, but nonetheless the armorer does the best he can at all times. He understands weapons technology, even if he is incredibly sick of it by this point. Indeed! He cannot hear Jazz at all, because he not only has audial protection on but he has his hands clapped over the sides of his head.He lets this go on for a moment or two before he kicks at Jazz's back tire and waves one hand, kicking lightly and waving until the other gets the idea to turn things down. Shaking his head to clear it, he mutters something about young 'uns and no taste in fraggin' music before crossing to the cube.It is revealed to have a hinge, and he opens the 'top' as a lid and grunts, indicating it to Jazz. "There ya go." Inside, massive spalling has happened -- fragments breaking off the inner layers and damaging the rest."Looks good t'me. Now git, I gotta finish what I started. Haven't any more time for you!" At first Jazz just figures Crosshairs is kicking him to go along with the beat, <> Then after some more kicking, the Autobot realizes its his cue to dial down the hellacious sound system, <> Carefully turning around inside the bay, the Porsche revs his engine up before starting to roll out past the sliding doors. In his trunk space now lie an extra set of sub-woofers complete with stylish Autobot symbols emblazed on them. If Crosshairs kept this up, he might have to open up his own 'Choppers' garage soon. <>
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)