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| - Summary: (October 2028) In neutral territories, with different bodies, it's easy not to ask your drinking buddy who they really are - until their teammates blurt out their names. Sometimes, you just can't plan out things like getting Autobots to murder each other... Situated at the bar proper, likely several days after the action on Mars, Fusillade nurses a glowing white glass with a shot of jet fuel running down the middle. She admires the caramel-hued ripple, resting one elbow on the counter. A large mech walks into the bar. He has silverish white armor along blueish gray. He had an gold optical visor over his face, and clawed finger tips like that of a Sweep. By form of parts, he looked to be a tripple-changer between aircraft and tank. "No, I /GUESS/ it wasn't that bad, Slammer. I have had worse said to me." There's a quirk of the tender's optic ridge, but he refrains from pointing out that it shouldn't matter to a Decepticon. Fusillade continues to mull things over a bit, swirling her fingertip on the surface of the beverage. At the sound of another patron entering, she looks up, but knowing well that Crystal City is a crossroads for those coming and going, she doesn't really expect to recognize the figure. She makes a mental note that the slim, faceted, gold visor was fetching, but seems otherwise determined to continue moping. The mech notices Fusilade, oh he indeed knows who she is-- but, here in Crystal City what does it matter. He takes a seat, a few seats away from Fusillade, looking over at her. He could pull the same stunt he did on Perceptor. Modify his vocalizer so he does not sound like himself, himself being Sky Lynx. It was tempting-- very tempting.. perhaps the decepticon femme would treate him differently. So, he does so. Alter it out of the british like accent, or at least knocking it down, adding a different sound to his vocalizer to match the mech he had become, and keeping himself far different from himself in away. It was then did he speak up to her, "You look down in the dumps, bad day?" He asked, not really looking over at her. Fusillade claps her hands down on the counter, shoulders immediately straightening even as she coolly glances over in the stranger's direction. "The demands of my line of work are rigorous. It's... been long." she deflects. She's gone through her fair share of cheesy pick up lines and random encounters here in Crystal City and even in the Steel Balloon of the Koriolis Desert. She mentally begins stacking up a few prime shoot-downs, should they become necessary. "You were on Earth when the device activated," she concludes, as she knocks back the rest of the drink. The mech nods, "Yes I was, and I gather from that-- so were you." He states resting his elbow on the bar, and the side of his helm in the palm of his hand. Looking rather relaxed. "Or, is that just your normal clad-- which I highly doubt." he shrugs gently, "..May I ask what that is your drinking?" He says pointing a clawed finger over to the cup she downed. Such a question and by motion would start to make one wonder if this guy had even seen a drink in his life-- which for his case, he really hasn't. "As delightful as the silverplating may be, it hardly holds a candle to my former alt-mode," Fusillade murmurs into the empty glass. "Oh this? A burly mech like yourself would laugh at it. Not the most effete thing out there, but nothing that'd put steel wool on your chestplate. It's white high-grade with jet fuel shot through it. I... think one of the guys at the Steel Balloon called it a Torqulon Twist. Heh, and I thought I was being original when I made it up on my own the first time. How're you adjusting, anyway?" She waves Slammer over for what is her fourth serving. "What'll ya have?" he rumbles in Sky Lynx's direction. The mech nods to Fussilade, "Not bad I suppose, still getting use to the-- slowness of things." He said with a shrug, however as Slammer asked Sky Lynx what he have, he hrmed and motioned gently in Fusillade's direction with his thumb. "The same she is, since it-- sounds interesting." Seriously-- he never has had a drink in his life of such things, so it will.. be interesting, but he couldn't let this disguise be known-- not yet. There's a sharp nod from the 'tender, and he claps down two middle-sized glasses, letting the warm yellow-white glow of the high-grade energon warm his face as he pours the liquid. And then, turning back around, he gives an expert flick of the AvGas canister, two shots in the middle of each glass. The differences in liquid densities cause the amber jet fuel to twist slightly in the middle of the drink, not mixing with the white energon, even when they're clapped down before them on the counter. "Thank you," Fusillade states smoothly, before raising the tart beverage to her lips. "To life in the slow lane," she states wryly, before taking a draught. The tension in her frame begins to ease off a bit. The mech picks up the drink. "Agreed, for now." He says with a smirk, bringing the drink up to his own lips, his canine like teeth noticeable for amoment of timidation by the substance he could smell. He may look mech, but his laser-core was still that of a 'primative' and he still had keen senses. However for that moment of pause, then at last takes a drink from the glass. It had an odd taste, something he wasn't use too, and in truth-- it was.. enjoyable! Rolling the first half of the drink around her mouth, Fusillade smacks lips. There's an expectant, almost demanding expression on her features as she awaits him to announce his verdict, "Oh c'mon, chug it, you oversized pansy. I know a female Joint Strike Fighter that could have you under the table in a pump's beat." At that point, she pulls up her goggle-styled visor, and props it up on the brow of her helm, exposing her luminous orange-yellow optics. She fully intends to tease and goad this blue-grey and white fella into enjoying himself. The mech hrms, then looks over at her with his golden visor. He then looked at the drink and slammed it back. Perhaps he did so in his sheer pride, after all-- who was he to lose to a femme, for that fact, he was no Pansy! With finish it he placed the glass back on the bar with some force, however not enough to damage anything, just get some attention. "Is that so?" He remarks, tapping the counter with a claw hand, seeing this done as a sign of saying another round, while he stared right at Fusillade. Slammer seems to approve at the slamming, and saunters over, glancing back and forth between the two. He knew about Fusillade's changed form, but this other entity... the 'tender was probably perceptive, and may have already figured it out, but wisely keeps his peace. Fusillade flashes an easy grin, and says, "Ey, looks like you're getting the hang of that, whachasayyournameway? Midnight Borealis for me, and yes I already KNOW about the radium warnings, and yes I know that consuming raw or undercooked ingredients can be bad for my health." She puckers her face up in a moue as she awaits the beverage. She begins humming to herself, slightly disjointed, as she swings feet off the barstool. Slammer snaps on some nitrile gloves, plunks down the welder's mask over his optics, and turns. The think, glittering indigo blue liquid is poured out, before shimmering pink and green ripples are put in, Fusillade raptly watching the proceedings. "Yeah, that's so. Could beat any fool in a bare-knuckle fight, and I should know." "I gather that femme is you." He said, staring at her. "Or perhaps someone you knew." The mech replies watching what the bartender now does before he says his name. "Apex.." He says before looking back to her. "And yourself?" "Oh no no no not me," Fusillade insists, "I'm much more focused on ranged attacks.� She positively brightens up as the nighttime sky themed beverage is delivered to her in a tall sundae glass. "Oh, Apex, mmm? Any relation to Starscream, hah?" She flashes a wicked grin, before she takes a sip of the strong drink. There's a blissful shudder as she samples the aged, musky undertones, along with the radium zing. Nevermind that it's slightly narcotic. "My name? Oh. Volley." The mech could see this game they were both playing. Lets not give ourself away. So he asked for the same drink he had before, since he questioned the one she had, then took that glass, slammed it down again, doing the same motion as before as he spoke. "No, I have no relations with the Seeker." He said with a smirk, though in his processor he had to wonder just /how/ long he could keep this up. And another game... perhaps to get him going... "You're so uptight, I think the stick up your aft has a stick up ITS aft..." She breaks out into effusive, bubbling laughter. "Well, you look like at LEAST a triplechanger... and with a name like THAT..." She shrugs a bit, and draughts air over her vents, coyly swirling a finger on the surface on the counter surface. "Seriously, tilt your head back for a few seconds, then tilt it back up, oh that'll be a buzz. Unless you don't believe me." Oh, wicked taunt! Slammer just shakes his head and walks off to serve the other customers, before returning with their next round. Fusillade slows down her consumption, sipping a bit... Did she figure out who he was, or-- was he just toying with his mind. He hrmed, took the drink, looked at it for a moment and did what she suggested. Which indeed caused a slight effect which made him shake his head a little, perhaps even in that made it worse. "And what-- /is/ wrong with my name?" He remarks looking at her. "Apex-- Apex rising of the sun, and I can asure you, Starscream had a bigger stick then I have, if /I/ even have one." Hrm-- processor having a hard time computing perhaps? With a light 'Oh ho ho' to herself, the silvery flier chuckles. "Isn't that fun? Just think, a few more, an' you'll be on top of th' world! Then you really CAN see what bein' an Apex is all about!" Fusillade is starting to clip her speech, as she leans back in her seat. "An' if you really want t' see all of Cybertron, jus' spin your chair. Oh, what a head rush, heh." She relaxes her wrist, sipping on her drink still. She mentally tallies up how many this mech has had... a bit uptight, but it was always fun to see someone go down the energon trail for the first time... "You're pretty fun, and I bet you'll be even MORE fun inna few minutes." She chuckles. "Whaddya do for trainin' an' fun?" Slowly, there is another mech that walks through the doorway of the bar. His dull grey form, not exactly being the most riveting and sleek in the place. His orange optics slowly looking around, after recieving the radio message from earlier. "Well, why not come down to the Rusty Angel?" He asks, trying to imitate Lynx's voice. "Yea, a bit hard when your alt mode doesn't move..." He shakes his head, and makes his way towards a booth. He then slumps down into the seat, and begins to look around for the mech. "Like he could even fit in here...that big blowhard..." The mech takes the next drink, slams it and places it down. "I am very aware of what I am all about, because-- i am what it is all about." Was that even right? He had to double think that for a moment, was he-- starting to lose it. He could keep himself together, just think logically-- which was draining down with each pop of that drink. It could even be questioned how long he could hold up hiding his voice. So, lets see if he could save himself. "I fly about, take some piece of mind on things, blow up stuff when I am highly bored, if I can find anything to /blow/ up, since everything seems to run from me after they face me. To many years I suppose of knowing what the slag I'm doing-- and let me tell you, those rookies.. they are all wet behind the ears!" He paused, watched the next drink, and then slammed that one before asking, "And.. yourself?" "Well, if ya couldn't guess from th' name Volley, ya got problems," Fusillade remarks, before she shivers a bit more in guilty pleasure as she sips into a particularly thick strip of green radium folded in the blue-black drink. "Oh, I blow things up too!" she agrees a bit too cheerily, leaning forward to rest both elbows on the counter. "An' how can buildin's run away?" she demands of Apex. Was that five, or six he had now... "Y' really should try experimentin' with patterns. I can do this GREAT ig-yak shape..." She sets down her potent potable to demonstrate with her hands, as if that would further clarify her sentiment. "An' yeah? Which rookies?" The mech was about to reply as he took note of another mech who entered, mimic his 'voice', or attempting a horrible try at it. He pointed his claw taloned at him. "Like him!" He stated, with a gruffness of his voice. "Or.. is that him?" pointing in some random direction-- whoa.. double vision. Thus Sky Lynx shook his head again, trying to correct for that. He took another drink and slammed that back as well. Yep, he was sliding into never-land sooner or later.. Spectrum turns his head, when the loud femme speaks up to the other tall mech. He then shakes his head, "Jeez, some of these Cybertronian's, no restraint on the energy they consume." Though, that larger mech looked familiar for some reason, he just...couldn't put his finger on it. However, he then returns his gaze back to the table. "Well, looks like Im gonna have to walk all the way back to base." This did not come out with an ethusiastic tone. Though, he did lean back, as the huge Sky Lynx may be just running late. His optics shut off for a moment. Though, he then shot a glare at the mech as his voice finally became recognizable. "Sky Lynx?" He asked curiously. Fusillade SMILES wickedly, and then leans in closer to click fingertalons on Apex's shoulder pauldron in an attempt to... what exactly? Tease, torment? "Yeah, what's 'is name?" She looks at Spectrum, before she freezes as he speaks. "Sky Lynx?" she rolls the name around in her mouth, before there's a yellow-white flare to her optics, and she straightens up, crossing legs as best she can. Aloofly, she sips on the drink, the feigned giddiness evaporating rather quickly. "I see." The large mech may be drunk, but he had a very good logical net running around in that head of his, after all, Perceptor constructed it-- long long ago. Even though it was highly overly energized, it was still clicking and it still knew the sign of trouble, even more so-- whom caused the trouble and whom would get pounded into the ground for it! He was highly enjoying hiding behind this alter-ego named Apex. Perhaps it could be corrected, maybe perhaps-- hrm. He took a glass in his hands, still smirking as Fusillade backed away from her torment, teasing, whatever it was and rolled his true name, before he raised up a clawed finger toward Spectrum's direction, not even looking in his direction. "I believe you have /Me/, confused for someone else, little man." Hrm, playing with fire he was, but-- well, he didn't care. He would not have his fun ruined, and he was enjoying himself-- perhaps, to much. "Because I can tell you, that over-size dinosaur, dun have a thing, on me! I could blow him sky high! Whoosh! Outa there!" He chuckled and smirked over at Fusillade. "Like I'm sure Volley here could do even better, if she got the right kinda ammo for it.. maybe even blowing you sky high too." He took another drink and slammed it down. Spectrum slammed a hand to his helmet, rather hard too as a loud 'Clang!' can be heard. "Oh Primus..." He says, and shakes his head. His optics then turned to Fusillade for a moment, and scrutinized her. Though, he didn't recall this version of Fusillade, since he's hardly ever seen the femme before. Slowly walking over, he shakes his head. "Damnit, I knew you were up to no good." He sighed, and decided not to call him by his normal name. "Fine, whatever, you wanted me to come here? Now I have to sit here, and see you embaress yourself infront of this femme?" He then nodded towards Volley. "Im sorry for his behavior, he doesn't...get out much..." "UH huh," Fusillade hmms as she finishes up the rest of the drink rather quickly, nodding a bit and trying her best to fight back the genuine buzz that the last, most intoxicating beverage was starting to impart. "That's... okay guys." She casts a sharp glance at Apex, picking out several similarities. The visor, the designs on hands... the placement of blues and whites, even if the shade wasn't quite right. The mistaken identity is solidified in her mind, and there was no getting over it. "Tell Large, White, Obnoxious and Space-going Number One 'hi' for me, Number Two," she mumbles, as she squares up the tab. She gingerly slips off the barstool, and walks slowly, stiffly, as if to hide the buzz rattling about in her head. Sky Lynx succeeds in grasping Spectrum, throwing him off-balance. So, a normal Sky Lynx ment the worst you would have gotten was a snarl and being perhaps minorly insulted with a large word or two. However a drunken Sky Lynx, whom was trying to enjoy being a mech for little time he had, trying to actually /have/ a social life, and sadly, not clueing a fellow team-mate whom he didn't think would show up, whom did show up, just what he was trying to do, backfired in one big boom in his mind.. along with the over-energized state of being half sane, buzzed, or how ever you may call it. Caused to the large mech to stand up, stagger back, look at Spectrum and guards or not. Took ahold of Spectrum in a swift set of speed by the neck, growling with his canine fangs toward the somewhat smaller one, and with a hiss spoke, "..you..." Then before Spectrum could defend himself, or even object, Sky Lynx chucked him toward the wall, "Idiot!" That got the attention of perhaps bodyguards and the like. Fighting was a no no, under normal circumstances, Sky Lynx knew this-- however, at the moment he didn't care.. and when he did come back around to some form of normality-- oh he would regreat it, just to bad right now he didn't even realize what he was /doing/. Spectrum succeeds in grasping Sky Lynx, throwing it off-balance. Fusillade has almost made it back to the doorway when the barfight erupts. She turns around, and her mouth pops open in genuine shock at the ferocity of Sky Lynx's responses. Sheesh, give a Transformer a robot mode, and they go nuts. At rumble from Slammer and the stomp of bouncers going to the main bar, she kind of half-plops against the doorjamb, stunned. Spectrum slams against a wall, and slides down to the floor with loud crash. "Oh that's fraggin it!" He says, as he gets back to his feet, and looks around for a moment. "You know, I was gonna enjoy my time here, but, you made it obvious that you don't know how to control yourself, and if you're gonna be like that..." He turns towards a table, and walks to it, "Im gonna just have to beat some sense into you!" Grabbing one of the metallic chair's, Spectrum picks it up and turns towards the gigantic mech that is Sky Lynx. "You're looking a little whoozy, how about a seat!" With that, Spectrum slams the chair into the side of the gigantic robot mode of Sky Lynx. Even though Spectrum lacks size, that doesn't mean he is anything weak. Oh no, he's actually a very strong mech. His attack aimed to knock Sky Lynx over the bartop and to the other side. Sky Lynx succeeds in grasping Spectrum, throwing him off-balance. MAIL: You sent your message to Airwolf. SUBJECT: Oh Crud!
* a message hastily pounded out on the public access network, appearing to originate from the Rusty Angel* Um, Governor? I think that you get barfights sometimes in the Rusty Angel, but I... really think Sky Lynx wants to KILL this guy! I've never seen him like this! I'm running away now.
* end* Sky Lynx gets slammed by the chair and actually shatteres the visor due to the impact. Behind that visor actually was a pair of optics, or at least where it was shattered was an optic looking directly at Spectrum, what made it so wierd was, it was designed like other optics for normal transforms, but was very bright, however the main optical sensor was the true bright point, which seemed to in anger, shrink down into what was a like a slit. Shortly after that, He didn't go over the bar like Spectrum hoped, instead he took ahold of Spectrum, and with a sheer yellish roar, slammed the mech into the bar itself with every bit of strength he could muster, which, as Peacekeeper could say from the training room, was alot. Probably enough to break the bar itself. But oh yes, the bouncers were not forgotten, Sky Lynx turned his attention to them and sneered at them, lifting up talon fingered as he yelled at them, "Stay out of thisss.." The ending s's become part of the hiss itself. Spectrum misses Sky Lynx with his grasp attack. Spectrum goes right through the bar top, and basically cracks into the floor of the Rusty Angel. "Ugh...that hurt..." He said in an obvious sort of tone, his head wobbling for a moment before he regains his bearing. Though there was alot more life in Spectrum then what Sky Lynx may give credit for. The Projector bot tries to leap onto the back of the oversized mech, only to miss and slam right into another table. "Primus slaggin glitch!" Erupts Spec, as he induces his own type of punishment. Sky Lynx succeeds in grasping Spectrum, throwing him off-balance. Sky Lynx's off-balance perhaps saved him as Spectrum missed him. The bouncer's were not stopping and neither was Sky Lynx. He crouched down, and nearly running like some Sweep across the ground, he Slammed right into Spectrum, Digging his claws into the fellow Autobot's armor. "You..cause me more trouble.." Slowly lifts him up, "even when.. I try to befriend you-- you.. glitch within the milita..." He tossed Spectrum right for the Bouncers as he yells, "I hope you burn in the pits of Unicron!" With that said and the momentary distraction, he stormed toward the door, heading out, growling lowly and as he passed Fusillade, he nearly stopped, however didn't. Cover was blown, so why did it matter. Autobots and Decepticons-- never mixed, even more so when you were the terror of the skies yourself and brought the Decepticons more trouble. So much for a 'social' chance. As he made it out, his body had a chance to catch up to him and go, 'um, excuse me dear sir-- but do you realize what you just made me do?', which brought him down to his knees holding his head... ow-- headache..and world spinning.. gah... Spectrum succeeds in grasping Sky Lynx, throwing it off-balance. Spectrum found himself in the midst of the bouncers, as he was tossed into them. Thank Primus, as they somewhat cushioned his fall. Though, it wasn't long before Spectrum stood back up, and glared towards the departing Sky Lynx. However, he shifted his weight and began to run towards the mech. "Where do you think you're going so quickly!?" He asked, and like that, literally rammed into the back of the mechanized Dinobird. Using his shoulder to ram into the lower back of Lynx. Sky Lynx let out an ouf as this was now in the street. He actually this time didn't fight back, he just-- laid there. Apparently the world spinning, a monster head-ache, and hurting, that and being tackled enough was to well, Keep Sky Lynx down for the count. He growled softly, but that as much has the former large beast could do. Ah-- great and if his abilities lead correct... things would get heated in Crystal City now soon.. he needed to get away, and make the bloody world stop spinning, so with some strength he could muster, he shoved Spectrum off him, and forcing himself up, and attempted to run, nearly falling over as he did so. Oh yes-- this would indeed come to haunt him, how badly though.. he would calculate being heavily bad, most likely. He was Lieutenant commander for Primus' sake.. this isn't something he was suppose to do! ..Primus' forgive... Spectrum 'Bahs' at Sky Lynx, and hobbles lightly away. He's actually safe, as no one even knows who he is with his new form. "That's what I thought, Sky!" He says, and somewhat makes his way towards the outside passage to the city. --End--
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