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. Sky Lynx succeeds in grasping Spectrum, throwing him off-balance. SUBJECT: Oh Crud! * end* --End--