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| - Blades strides through the blast doors, "This better be good Hot Spot." he crosses his arms and looks about the room, "You know how I feel about COMMAND centers..." he trails off, scowling. Arcee slips in, cleaned up from the night before, steps light. She has no idea what this is about, but... ah well. The doors to the Command Center FWWWSHHHH open. Riding in Slammer, whose hatch is open to expose the man's upper body to the air, is a man dressed in a white futurofascist space jumpsuit with various emblems signifying freedom sewn to the shoulders and chest. He has a grey beard and generally looks like a withered, unpleasant man. "Inspector McLusky!" Hot Spot says, all but kowtowing to the man riding a little white tank. He surreptitiously elbows Blades in the stomach as he bows. "Welcome to Autobot City. I'm Hot Spot, Autobot Operations Commander, and this is--" "I DON'T CARE," snaps Inspector McLusky. "You're all MACHINES anyway, so why bother pretending you have NAMES. Let's just stop pretending we LIKE each other and get this OVER WITH." He takes out a small datapad and begins to wave it around the room, getting some kind of reading. Noticing Arcee, McLusky stops. "My god..." he mutters. "You things BREED now?" Rodimus Prime has tried his best to assemble the rag-tag group of Autobots he could find in Autobot City who were not otherwise committed to field assignments. Unfortunately, this includes some of the recovering Autobots from the medbay -- himself included. He tries to disguise his energon deficiency with a puffed out chest, which has been freshly polished courtesy of Hot Spot's built-in buffer systems. "AutoBOTS," Rodimus barks. "Aaaaatten-SHUN." He takes out a tiny golden whistle with the Autobot emblem on it, blowing a high-pitched two-note whistle. Blades turns to Hot Spot, "Who the hec-- **oomphf*", the protectobot "bows". Arcee snaps straight, and hopefully it isn't obvious that the femme is trying very hard not to say something snide or make a /very/ nasty face at the silly little man who apparently has no concept of tact. She keeps her eyes off Rodimus and just nods her head forward very slightly. "And you," the cranky old man says, pointing at Blades. "What are you, all in red and white, the medic? The oxygen in here is too rich -- you could get a grown man /loaded/ with this air! FIX IT!" When Rodimus Prime enters, the whistle causes McLusky to wince. "RODIMUS PRIME," he growls. "I see you're still running as tight a ship as ever." Assault Beast had returned to Autobot City on important business. Now, paws soundless as he arrives in the Command Center, two things happen. His feral optics light up as his neural net is assaulted by thundering hatred (at the sight of a human, that is)--his jaws open wide in a seething hiss--and--shock, bafflement--his vocorder emits static, a small, crackling tone as he transforms upwards into his enormous robot mode, "..Blades..?" Blades?! "--Blades.." His emerald optics grow wide, his head shakes. The human's grading words buffet him and his jaw twists. Quickswitch springs up into his massive robot mode. Foxfire is sitting in the corner, back straight. As he hears the inspector, he lowers his ears, a quiet, nearly inaudible snarl escaping him. He blinks at Rodimus and the whistle. "Where'd you get that...?" He straightens himself again, lifting a front paw to salute as best as a quadruped can. There is a brief delay as Kup attempts to master his features. It is difficult not to laugh, but the old soldier keeps it down and creakily hauls himself up to attention. His face twitches as he attempts to keep the laughter out of his voice and demeanour. Rodimus Prime lowers the synthesizer whistle, moving to approach McLusky. "Thank you, Inspector. We Autobots pride ourselves on our dedication to procedure and formality." He produces a copy of the Autobot handbook. "Each one of us has to memorize all 932 pages of the Autobot Handbook. Our rules are our strength -- keeping Autobot City running like clockwork." He looks around, smirking to himself. Hey, the Command Center /does/ actually look clean today. Blades's optics boggle, "But. I'm-- er, that is..." the normally cocky Protectobot finds himself at a loss for words. He ends up trailing off and muttering something about "First Aid" before Rodimus' whistle catching him off guard and he snaps to attention. Not a banner evening for our resident ruffian. TWO HOURS AGO Hot Spot is on his hands and knees, scrubbing furiously. NOW Hot Spot stands proud and tall. "Rodimus Prime is correct, sir. The Autobot Handbook has formed the core of Autobot ph--" "If I wanted the guided tour, I'd have come on the weekend," McLusky snaps at Hot Spot, again cutting the Protectobot leader off. "And you, nurse boy! This air hasn't gotten any less overoxygenated! What, does the Autobot Handbook just train you all to stand around gibbering like simps?" Smokescreen enters from the Main Lobby - First Floor to the west. Smokescreen has arrived. Arcee keeps her expression /very/ carefully schooled, though she hasn't said a word. A lesser femme would've been sputtering by now, but she is very good at controlling her temper. .............most of the time, anyway. Quickswitch is locked between the enormous implausibility of what his sensors are telling him, the shock at seeing Blades-- He was decapitated, Quickswitch saw the whole horrible thing with his own optics--! And that irritable, shouting human. His enormous fists work, tightening and losening, and his face is grimly set against the overpowering irritation thundering like mad through his systems, face threatening to jump as the human continued his tirade. Quickswitch's very jaws quivered with barely constrained emotion... Blades looks at Hot Spot. Blades looks at Inspector McLusky. Blades looks at Hot Spot. Blades... silently makes his way towards the control panel. His optics are wide open, it looks like it is taking all of his energy to keep from exploding on someone. So, instead he focuses ALL of his anger on VERY ACCURATELY resetting the oxygen control levels, "First Aid is the medic..." he mumbles under his breath. Hot Spot, seeing Blades go the panel and not punt the human, silently thanks Alpha Trion. Standing next to the control panel, Kup just gives Blades a /look/. His optics are dancing with barely-restrained mirth. "Now don't forget to lower the N2 ratio when you're remixing the oxygen, Medic!" he says, in a shockingly steady military voice. Blades has very very detailed simulations of him punting the human running through his neuro-processors, currently. For the record. "Not at all, Inspector," Rodimus replies professionally, folding his hands behind his back and striding alongside Slammer. "It has been thoroughly calculated and formatted to enable us the highest victory margin during an exhaustive interstellar war while maintaining the principles of Galactic Peace. I highly recommend reading the English translation sometime, Inspector. Now, what can I show you today?" He gestures, indicating the whole of Metroplex. "Tell me why these LOAFERS don't seem to be DOING ANYTHING despite this being the COMMAND CENTER," McLusky says, glare turning back to Arcee for some reason. Then, his little Tri-Mobile UN Future Sidecorder beep beep beeps. "What th-- YOU! MEDIC! FIX THOSE OXYGEN LEVELS! Rodimus Prime, your soldier is trying to KILL ME!" Quickswitch took a heavy step forward, one that shook the ground. That creature would /dare/ insult us, the superior lifeforms?! His optics were bleary and it was all he could do to tear his optics from the human and follow the image of Blades. Wait.. A confused shudder ran through Quickswitch, showing up mostly in his optics. Stuffing down all the enormousness of the rage he could, Quickswitch nervously, ventures over to where Blades is standing at the controls, the behemoth towering over him. It would have gotten ugly if he'd remained where he was. "Actually, Inspector-" so comes Smokescreen's voice as he hurries into the comman room. "...We're adjusting the Oxygen levels for your comfort...as, in actuality, we keep the oxygen levels a LITTLE bit higher than earth-normal, as it assists on our fuel efficiency. We're just modifying things so your brain systems don't get, ah...over-loaded, so to speak." The diversionary tactician grins- the way he does with his best lies, of course. He's got more tricks up his sleeve than electro-scrambler rockets! Arcee tips her chin up /just/ slightly, but the shift looks more like she's just readjusting when really, it's a very quiet show of defiance. Rodimus Prime mouths 'Thank you' to Smokescreen before stepping up ahead of Slammer to get into the Inspector's point of view. "Exactly, Inspector. There's nothing to be worried about." He grins, extending an index finger point in the air. "And we can always crack a window if you get a little stuffy!" He winks an optic. Quickswitch whispers, his vocalizer barely steady, heavy with doubt, It mutters to Blades, "... Are you--how are you..." "You didn't answer my FIRST QUESTION," McLusky says, annoyed. Meanwhile, Hot Spot attempts to unsubtly move himself between Blades and any important consoles. Bitbucket enters from the Main Lobby - First Floor to the west. Bitbucket has arrived. Quickswitch reaches out with a heavy, huge digit, and gives Blades an experiemntal nudge. "Oh, well," Rodimus looks over his shoulder at the Big Screen. "Most of our functions are automated by our supercomputer, Teletran. Of course, we have officers on monitor duty -- but, err, they're all busy. Greeting you." He gestures to the Autobots in the room. Blades shakes himself back to life, "YOW!" he says as the computer chimes, ">> TARGET BLADES REACTIVATED <<" Blades rubs the back of his head, "Jeez. I didn't know it could DO that!" Quickswitch draws his finger back immediately! He didn't mean to cause THAT! McLusky glowers. "I see. So if a TSUNAMI hit, your reaction time would be impaired because you're too busy putting up BANNERS and bringing 'round the WELCOME WAGON?" He turns back to Arcee for the third time. "YOU! Do you DO ANYTHING around here, or is your function just to SIT HERE and look pretty?" Smokescreen holds up a finger to the Inspector. "Actually!" Smokescreen says, "Many of us -ARE- busy at work, including myself- we're just processing data through a local wireless network, putting our silicon-based computer-brains to good use. I, in fact, am currently translating a sonnet of Willam Shakespeare's into Cybertonian, for the benefit of cultural exchange." he pauses. "...Er, we don't see any impending Tsunamis, either." he notes. Quickswitch thunders back away from Blades, his form shifting spasmadically into one of its random six, the wings of the sub-orbital jet whipping out over the human's head. Accelerated, Quickswitch transforms into a sub-orbital jet. Sub-Orbital Fighter Jet felt the control of his cog slip, helpess to stop it, "Aaah!" Arcee draws in a soft breath through her intakes. "I am one of the division officers, sir," she answers cooly. "Military. I'm one of the warriors assigned here at Autobot City." Really, she's doing a surprisingly good job of not absolutely /seething/ fury. McLusky is about to yell at Arcee some more when Quickswitch soars overhead. "WHAT'S GOING ON IN HERE?!" he says, huddling down, as if he thinks Quickswitch is going to clip him. Smokescreen ers. "...Don't mind Quickswitch. He's just going through a personal Tsunami-response drill." Rodimus Prime tries his best to hide panic as Quickswitch screams across the ceiling. "It's just a traditional celebratory fly-by, Inspector!" He waves to Quickswitch, forcing a grin. "Wow, an airshow right in our OWN base!" McLusky stands up, smoothing his beard as the fly-by finishes. "I can't say I approve of your CELEBRATIONS, Rodimus Prime," he says, before giving Smokescreen a sour look. "And you, you in the red and blue, don't YANK my CHAIN, son. I've been inspecting this city for twenty damned years now and I know when someone's trying to pull a fast one on me" Bitbucket sneaks into the room quietly, perhaps to offer help with appeasing the human that's not nearly as cheerful as Andi. Smokescreen sputters- if just for a moment! "Ah, yes! Of course. Well...you've got me." he gives a little shrug, embarassed. "...Quickswitch ISN'T going through a personal Tsunami-response drill. Got me there. I should've known better than to try to fool such a smart man like you. Why, I hope you don't get to the terran-sustenance cafeteria before-" he claps his hands over his mouth, perhaps with just a LITTLE bit of melodrama. "-Nevermind!" The hawkish nose of the jet stares down at the human. Only twenty years? That idiot had no idea what it meant, what the ticking of nanoseconds and vorns and Quickswitch's cog rumbled irratically and he felt bristling irritation and champed down on it for the benefit of these ungrateful-- "I'm Quickswitch, Assault Warrior," his vocalizer is, by his amazed optics, steady, "Didn't mean to clip you there. That happens." Sub-Orbital Fighter Jet says, "Yes, we have a..--" "Smokescreen! The cafeteria isn't... isn't /ready/ yet!" Kup says melodramatically, hands fluttering to his fuel pump. "Oh no!" Kup dashes from the room. By 'dashes from the room,' of course, I mean limps slowly out of the room. He's old, get off his back. Quickswitch springs up into his massive robot mode. "Well, be CAREFUL, dammit," McLusky says to Quickswitch, obviously harboring no sympathy. Slammer does a wide arc and turns to face Smokescreen fully, as Kup runs out. "...what the devil are you robots doing to your cafeteria? We approved no building projects!" Foxfire has just been...sitting quietly and behaving himself. No one's talking to him! Hot Spot prays Kup's gambit works. Unfortunately, he's so occupied thinking about that that when he walks, he trips over Foxfire. His massive frame topples forward and into the table that Arcee is sitting at, upending it completely. WHOOPS. "Nothing!" Smokescreen says, "There's absolutely nothing noteworthy going on in the Cafeteria at this very moment, I can tell you that much!" Only this time, he makes his lying obvious. Which is ironic, given the fact that he's telling the truth. Sort of. Quickswitch looks from here to there, at Kup leaving the room, then back at the human, a the circuit-pathways in his cheek twitching, "..." Foxfire YELPS as Hot Spot trips over him. On instinct, he ducks to the side, staring at the larger mech. "Jeez, watch where yer goin'! You okay, 'Spot?" From the floor, Hot Spot moans, "I think I broke my pride." Foxfire says, "We can get that fixed..." Quickswitch visibly jumps, swerving to stare at Hot Spot and the small tape. Foxfire! Ouch. McLusky makes Slammer turn all the way back around to point at Foxfire. "You! Canine! Look at you, you're obviously a hazard to your tall comrades! You need some sort of flag, or cone!" Somehow, Arcee /barely/ manages to keep from getting smashed in the face by a flying table, but deftly, the femme gets to her feet to catch the table quick as she can. Keep it from falling any further. Hot Spot gives a thumbs-up to Arcee before picking himself up and reaching to help her set the table down. Meanwhile, McLusky continues: "Maybe a collar, with some sort of bell..." Foxfire stares. "Canine? My name is FOXFIRE, thank you very much." At least he wasn't called a cat. "And *most* mechs don't trip over me. Pardon me for saying, *sir*, but you're trying my patience." He twitches. "I do not need a collar! I'm no one's pet!" Smokescreen, for once, has nothing to say about that. He pauses, and then peers down at Foxfire. "...We could paint him orange?" he offers. Foxfire facepaws. "Smokescreen, you're not helping..." Arcee quietly excuses herself once the table is righted, after making sure there's no other reason for her to be in here. McLusky seems indignant that Foxfire is talking back to him. In fact, he is indignant that Foxfire is talking back to him, and he makes this obvious. "Do you adopt this tone to EVERYONE whose planet you bring war to?!" the human demands, stroking his beard furiously. "Of course not," Foxfire replies. "Only those that PISS ME OFF." He points a paw accusingly at the man. "What right do YOU have to come into OUR base and tell us how to run it?! WE'RE the ones protecting you from Decepticons and other threats, so the least you can do is show a little gratitude!" And there, on the main screen, is the cafe. Woops! Now, it is a very respectable bar. Human-sized, at that. Bottles of liquor line the wall behind a low metallic bar, and it looks like some popular human draughts are on tap. Comfortable stools march along the plank, and behind the bar... Why, it's Kup. "Oh... oh no!" he cries, looking straight into the screen. "How did that security camera activate itself?!" In the bottom corner of the screen, Swerve's head is just visible, scampering out of the frame. Clearly he has just turned on the security camera. "Now my good old friend Inspector McLusky will know /all about/ my hobby of collecting, cataloguing and learning human alcoholic beverages." A sigh. "Whatever will I do." Smokescreen erks! He makes a grab at the scruff of Foxfire's neck, moving to pull the tape-bot away from the inspector. "Eheh. Don't mind Foxfire here. He's, ah...still adjusting to Earth life. Hasn't been here very long, you know." McLusky literally gets so mad that red splotches break out on his face as he /GLARES/ at Foxfire. Looks like SOME CITY's inspection is in danger of failing! "EXCUSE ME?! You mean like the GRATITUDE that you are FAILING to show to US for even ALLOWING you to set up a base near one of the most POPULATED areas of the most POWERFUL nation in the WORLD?!" Even as people try to dissuade him, he's still flipping out, fixed on Foxfire. Foxfire yelps again as he is grabbed, and lifted. He pouts a bit, and with a hmph looks away from McLusky, allowing an opportunity to arise for the man to hear Kup. Quickswitch had to leave. Had to leave now. /Now./ That ungrateful-- Fury welled up against the lines of his circuits, pounded the inside of his head, his thoughts, unified over the boorish human. His features boil, "Human," he spits out of his vocalizer, "Foxfire," he breathes, shaking, "Can it," it was all he could say, and he WAS in every agreement with the little tape, and the constant shouting of the human was getting to him. They all did. He brought his hand to his face, massaging the circuits beneath. He looked up again, "I'm leaving," and that is ALL he dares say. Smokescreen adds on, still holding Foxfire at arm's length. "...Really, Foxfire doesn't know what he's talking about. He really doesn't 'talk' so much as repeat stuff he heard on the TV. We'll make sure that we take MTV off of our channels so it doesn't happen again." On the screen, Kup despondently rattles a martini shaker and sighs melodramatically. "I'm /ruined/." "I'll SEE that it's taken off your CABLE PLAN," McLusky says to Smokescreen. He then sighs. "Dammit, this has made me thirsty. Slammer, take us to the cafeteria." The little tank boops in response and starts to turn. Quickswitch walks out. Quickswitch leaves to the Main Lobby - First Floor to the west. Quickswitch has left. Smokescreen whews, and sets Foxfire down. "So...ah...try to steer clear of the Inspector, would ya?" he asks- and then soon scoots off to get to some mischief of his own! Foxfire raises an optic ridge. "You don't even have to ask." "Gee, I'm thirsty, too!" Rodimus says with artificial chipperness, glaring around at the other Autobots and ushering the mini-tank out the door. The Inspector is escorted to the cafeteria. He drinks four beers while yelling at Kup, and passes the city despite a faulty security system in the Operations Commander's Office and a chair left in one of the elevators. The day -- and Autobot City's UN funding -- is saved! FIN EPILOGUE:
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