2031 Olympics - Arm Wrestling Competition

Six Lasers - Bar Moon

That's no moon. It's a Bar Moon.

Roughly a quarter the size of Earth's moon, Bar Moon is one of three Nepsan Lunar Satellites. The Moon has no breathable atmosphere, but a massive indoor city covers the entire surface. The city is one bar after another, ranging from safe, nearly family oriented pub and grills to sports bars to raunchy strip bars. There isn't a liquor for any alien species that one can't find on this moon. The one combining factor is that every bar has televisions set up to watch the Olympic games. Advertisements and tourism info booths are set up for those seeking transport to other attractions. Bar Moon is a major transportation hub, second only to Grand Central Station, with shuttles and cruise liners often leaving for most of the attractions. Artificial gravity wells keep the gravity close to Earth's, though after chugging too many back you might not notice.

Regular scheduled programs cut out, as an announcement is sent througout the bars of the BAR MOON collective. A short stout mech, appears on the screens. Even though shorter in stature, his huge gorilla like arms make up for the lack of size. "Listen up mechs! This is Hawkbot, ARM WRASSLIN' CHAMPION of the universe!! While it'd be easy for me to SMASH all the competition this year, I'm gonna be hosting instead! So if you think your rough, buff, and got the stuff? Show up to Mechbody's Muscle Bar in about ten minutes. Winner gets to face me in an exhibition match, my title on the line!!" The semi altmoded Cybertronian flexes in front of the camera, before the regularly scheduled broadcast goes back on.

Inside Mechbody's Muscle Bar, Hawkbot taps his foot impatiently as he waits for the competition to show. "Ha, they're probably all scared to even stand next to me!"

Fortress Maximus is standing amongst the gathered crowd when he hears Barkida's comments, before approaching the Transformer-sized woman, "When you're at war for millions of years, you tend to jump at an opportunity to do something beyond shooting each other whenever it comes." He then raises his right hand over to his neck and his head suddenly transforms into Galen.

Galen performs a traditional Nebulan greeting at Barkida, "Although there are biological living beings entering this competition, in a way. It's not everyday I see another alien race that's the same size as an average Cybertronian though. My name is Galen, my partner here is Fortress Maximus. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Sandstorm huhs, looking up at the announcement. "Shoot, guess I got here later than I thought. Ah well... bottoms up!" He chugs down the rest of the drink he had and saunters off to get in line with the rest of the competators.

Dreadwind sighs and slumps as he hears the announcement, "I'm in the muscle bar aren't i... of course i am... always in the wrong place at the right time... typical." Finally managing to right his head he looks at Windshear "The question is why wouldn't you? It's not like everything else that we put into our systems won't destroy us anyway."

Barkida gives Galen a Femaxian greeting in return, which looks like the international sign language for clubbing something. "Hello, Galen. Thank you for your kind words. Barkida, Fourth to Die. I am of Planet Femax. What are you, if I may ask?"

Windshear shrugs, "So you are, why dont you join the competition then? I think I will..

"Well, I'm POW, ready when you guys are," Warpath chortles, "We'll see who's got the best arm!" He flexes his own, which looks pretty buff. He headscratches at Barkida's greeting to Galen. "Fourth to die? You look pretty ZAP, alive to me."

Clutch says, "Arm Wrestling? Sure, maybe it'll help me prepare. I don't know if I understand this whole 'gladiator' thing fully." He walks up towards the front of thr bar and then examines others to see who else is going to compete. His optics linger on Fortress Maximus. "Or the weight classes."

Sludge munches on his energon popcorn as he keeps his watchful eye on Windshear. Or maybe he's just daydreaming. He comes out of it and says, "Me Sludge have arms...hmm..." he contemplates very deeply.

Sandstorm ahahas, and gives Clutch a friendly swat on the back. "It just means ya can't shoot the other guy. That's about it." Then rests his other arm on Warpath's shoulder as well. "The three of us will show these guys how it's really done, eh?"

Dreadwind sighs heavily, "Put effort into taking part in something only to win a shiny piece of metal that eventually tarnishes, rusts and crumbles into nothing? It's as pointless as our continued war with the Autobots, the only difference being that the war creates far more and longer lasting suffering amongst those taking part."

Galen unconsciously takes a step back in response to the Femaxian's greetings for safety purposes before replying, "I'm from Nebulos, it's a fairly remote planet in the corner of the galaxy. There's only a few of us from our planet that's travelled beyond our home planet." He turns around to Fortress Maximus after hearing the announcement by Hawkbot and gives the headless Headmaster leader an affirmative hand gesture before transforming into his partner's head once more. *Glomp* Galen is attached to Fortress Maximus once more. Freaky, no?

Fortress Maximus continues off where Galen had ended, although the vocal differences is there the tone suggests it's still Galen at the "helm", "It looks like we'll both be participating in the competition. We better get going before we're late."

Windshear was half out of his chair when Dreadwind replies. He pauses and looks back at him careful not to cuff him into the wall with the facing wind as he turns around, "And its pointless to dwell on it... though it does have its moments..." he turns back around and joins the rest for this arm wrestling contest. He has no clue how he will do, hes never been in one. He does raise an optic ridge at Hawkbots comments though but doesnt reply.

Hawkbot marches down the line at the competitors, pissed off sneer on his face. "If this ain't the worst bunch of arm wrasslers I've ever seen, I bet there's not even a decent one amongst all of you! Haha, that's besides the point. Now, whoever you are Miss Barbaric.." he points to Barkida, then continues on down the line. "And you, tank guy thinking his flexing is impressing ANYONE! Onto the center, double time!"

"Now, get all locked up in the middle of the table.." Hawkbot orders them, pointing to one of the official arm wrestling tables set up in the middle of the bar. Padded oversized elbow rests and pegs to hold onto with the other hand. "Your whole body is the engine, your arm.." he pauses to flex some rediculous sized biceps. "Is the sparkplug! Now light 'em up!!"

Warpath double-times it into the lockup in the table. "ZAM, Yes, sir!" Warpath says, "I hear these ZOW, Femaxians, are tougher than Grimlock's hide!" He gets settled and props his dominant arm on his elbow, waiting for his competitor to also get set.

Barkida looks pleased at being picked, if a little disturbed at Galen uniting with Fortress Maximus. She accompanies Warpath down to the table and gets herself situated, mail jingling as she cracks her knuckles and settles in, taking Warpath's hand. "Fourth in line. It's a rank," she asides to him. "May we grow through our trials!"

"Uhh, yeah. On your mark, get set.." Hawkbot instructs them, lifting a revolver. "GO!!" he shouts, shooting off the gun and making a hole in the ceiling.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Warpath rolled a 675 ROLL: Barkida rolled a 189

Sludge scratches his head in confusion, looking down at Warpath as he wrestles the woman, "Grimlock's hide tough," he reminds him.

Clutch watches the first 'match' with great interest, trying to figure out if there are any special tricks to this sort of competition.

Warpath grasps Barkida's hand in turn, ahhhs as she explains the whacky title, and begins grunting as he tries to force the Femaxian's wrist to the tabletop.

Combat: Warpath compares his Strength to Barkida's Strength: Success!

Fortress Maximus follows the rest of the enthusiastic arm wrestlers into the Mechbody's Muscle Bar before noticing Clutch, Sandstorm and Sludge amongst the crowd. The large Headmaster leader approaches the three, "Hey, nice seeing the three of you here. I trust you're all here to prove to the galaxy what the Autobots are made of?"

"Darn right," Sandstorm comments over his shoulder to Maximus. Then hoots as the match starts. "Com'n Warpath! Don't take it easy on her cuz she's a femme, their race takes offense at that!"

Dreadwind sighs and slumps down into his seat, finally alone, but even that isn't any relief, he picks up his dark drink and downs half of it in one go. He complains in a low voice so as not to draw attention unless someone is really interested in his philisophical standpoint of how the universe works, "I don't dwell on it through choice, existence won't let me go." Unsurprisingly with the spectacle of strength beginning no one will, still this is just more proof to him that even in a crowded room he is utterly alone...

Sludge seems confused yet again at Fortress Maximus' question, "Made of...?" he repeats, "Made of metal...and..." he trails off, rubbing his chin as he contemplates this question deeply. Too much thinking at this competition.

Windshear watches the match actually not that interested in who wins this one but he does hear Dreadwind. Hi right wing twitches a bit but he says nothing.

Clutch nods in agreement with Sandstorm at first, then his expression turns quizzical, as if he doesn't quite believe him. Finally he shrugs and turns to look up at Fortress Maximus. "Guess you could say that's the point of the whole Olympics..."

Barkida's knuckles ALMOST kiss the table, Warpath's early advantage unexpected. Her eyes widen in surprise. "But you are so small! I underestimated you, little red machine-man. But not anymore!" Her muscles strain as she forces his arm back in the opposite direction.

Combat: Barkida compares her Strength to Warpath's Strength: Success!

"AUTOBOTS are made of naught but whatever rusted scraps their own kind can recycle," Galvatron snarls as he enters Mechbody's Muscle Bar. "I would know, having opened enough of them up for -inspection-. Heh! Now, who amongst my warriors is taking part in this ridiculous spectacle..." He looks around the bar, but sees only Dreadwind and Windshear. "Oh, for..." he mutters, facepalming.

Warpath chuckles. "Hey now, I'm not POW, that small," he says. He strains as the Femaxian pushes back. "Go easy?" he says to Sandstorm, "I CLANG, wouldn't hear of it!" He exerts as much effort as he can, as much to give the Femaxian all the challenge she craves as to try for the win.

Combat: Warpath compares his Strength to Barkida's Strength: Success!

Windshear mutters as he watches the match, "You could always poke her eye out with your chest... barrel, Autobot." he still cant fathom how whoever built this Autobot actually thought putting the turret there was a good thing. He hears Galvatrons remark then about opening up enough Autobots to see what inside, "You cant dispute the facts." he says in general to the bots then.

Fortress Maximus smiles painfully at Sludge as he realizes he's just made him even more confused, and saves for attempts to engage the Dinobot in conversation for later. He nods with a genuine grin at Sandstorm, "Glad to hear it!" then looks over to Clutch, a finger point across the room, "Indeed, and yet here we are. There's only five Autobots here to do exactly that." The large Headmaster leader gives the two a pat on the back, "Win us some gold medals and the next night in the bar is on me."

Barkida's superior leverage is overcome by Warpath's superior torque, the back of her hand forced to the table. She shakes it out as she stands up and smiles broadly, showing a wide mouth full of a lot of fine white teeth. "I am impressed. You've bested me. I hope that you do well, and make me proud to be defeated by a champion!"

Sandstorm says, "Now there's a guy who knows how to motivate someone!"

Hawkbot walks to the center of the pit, still looking pissed off. "Alright, that's the stuff! The tank dude moves on, Miss Barbaric loses." he shouts through the muscle bar, looking for the next set of competitors.

"Hey, you." Hawkbot points at Sandstorm. "You look like you're itching for a fight, now double time to the center! Annnnnnnd, you! Femme Seeker with a goatee, you're up against him." he points at Windshear, making the same mistake many have before.

Sludge just stands there at Fortress Maximus talks to Clutch and Sandstorm, but smiles slightly as he listens to the conversation, "Medals good....." he intones with great expertise.

Galvatron's complete and utter lack of concern as Hawkbot unwittingly insults one of his troops should be apparent as he just casually yawns. No skin off his back.

Warpath nods at Barkida. "You weren't ZOOM, half bad yourself," he says. He steps out of the lock-table to let another competitor come in. "Now BOOM, go get 'em, Sandstorm!"

Dreadwind's gaze is fixed some place far in the distance, the arm wrestling of no importance to him what so ever, though the strong voice that suddenly speaks up can mean only one thing trouble and all most likely aimed at him. Dreadwind does however summon up the energy to reply, "I wouldn't concern yourself Galvatron, i'm not taking part, what would be the point? A fleeting moment of success in an endless sea of failure, gaining a trinket that has no value."

Why.. why...Windshear opens his mouth so say something to Hawkbot then just closes it. Whats the use. He steps forward to the table and smirks at Sandstorm, "Well now imagine that..." he says as he takes his seat.

Sandstorm has to do his damnedest to keep from snickering too much when Windshear gets called a femme. He strolls over to the table and sits, propping his elbow on the top and curling his fingers a few times to stretch, smirking the entire time even if he does keep the laughter at bay. "Com'n jetboy, let's see what ya got."

"Okay, wow. Your pretty built for a lady? What are you doing after this?" Hawkbot looks at Windshear, before noticing Sandstorm taking his place. "Alright, you know how it's done. Being number one is -everything-!! There is no second place, second sucks!" he shouts, raising the revolver again.

"Three, two, GO!" he shouts, pulling the trigger and making another small hole in the bar's ceiling.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Sandstorm rolled a 603 ROLL: Windshear rolled a 235

Sludge looks up at the ceiling and frowns in a confused manner, "What he shoot at...?" he wonders aloud.

Windshear puts his right elbow on the table, flexes his hand and shifts his arm a bit to get a good stance. And he mentally keys in the lock to the panel for his arm blade. Sadly slicing through the wreckers face in the middle of this whether on purpose or not would nto be a good thing during the truce. Its then that he hears Hawkbot and he looses his concentration and snaps a look over to him. "Get your optics fixed!" he rasps.

Sandstorm squeezes his grip tight, and as soon as the gun goes off he grits down and tries to get some leaverage over the Seeker off the bat. He's dealt with Windshear enough times to know he's not a physical putz like some jetcons.

Combat: Sandstorm compares his Strength to Windshear's Strength: Success!

Galvatron utterly despises Dreadwind and everything he stands for, but since he hates him less than he hates Autobots, that will have to do for company in this place. He sits at the depressed air warrior's table with an annoyed grunt. "Yes, of course, Dreadwind. Why bother trying when the Autobots would simply defeat you anyway? And then they'd all be laughing at you, and taking pictures of you after your defeat, and oh, gosh, may as well spare yourself the trouble. Of course, you should consider that maybe there are worse things out there than not taking part in this contest, Dreadwind!"

Windshear was caught off guard of course by Hawkbots comment and next thing he knows his arm is halfway to the table. His attention is back on the Wrecker ASAP and he fights against the Autobot trying to make this an easy win.

Combat: Windshear compares his Strength to Sandstorm's Strength: Failure :(

Barkida goes to stand by Fortress Maximus, who seems to be the only organic being in the room. Well, cyborg at least. "Are you controlling that robot body? Are these machine-men actually vehicles for more people like you?"

Sandstorm grins as Windshear gets his head back into the game. They wobble back and forth a little when he starts fighting back, but it would seem the Wrecker has gotten too much of an upperhand, and after a few tense minutes of straining drives the seeker's arm down to the side.

"Damn, was looking for a beefy chick to catch a flick with. Guess I'm back to dealing with Strika." Hawkbot unhappily replies, shooing away the competitors. "Fine job lad, I'm sure your boss is real proud."

"Okay, that's it for the first round of the middle-weight division. Heavy weights are up now.." Hawkbot announces, looking down the line. "You, dino guy! You're up against, let's see.." he muses to himself, optic wander on through the crowd. "Hey, purple dude! Yeah, you with the big 'crown' and nasty attitude. You're up against the Dino."

Dreadwind new it, no matter how bad things are existence can always make things worse and hence Galvatron decides to come and keep him company. Well aware of Galvatron's feelings towards him, he doesn't flinch or look worried in the slightest after all there's nothing he can do about it, he'll just have to endure the suffering... as always. "Laughing would make a change from the insults and attacks, but it's all the same Galvatron, it all causes more suffering. There are always worse things to come this is just a slight pause before the destruction to come, the lull before the coming dark storm, this... all this is less than nothing..."

Windshear realizes its over as he feels his hand hit the table. Not much he can do. He stands and with a slight nod at Sandstorm turns a glare from hades at Hawkbot, "Be fortunate there is a truce right now." he rasps and then clears away from the table for the next round.

Warpath has a seat back where he left his empty can of 10-30W. He orders up a fresh one, even though there's still a small amount left on the bottom. Never know if some yokel bar patron would try to slip him the Transformer equivalent of a roofie.

"Oooooo, kinky. I -like- that." Hawkbot smiles at Windshear, tapping his foot while waiting on Sludge and Galvatron to meet in the middle.

Sludge seems even more confused as the night progresses and looks behind him for the Dinoguy, which might be embarrassing were he aware of it, "Dino...?" he wonders as he walks over to the Hawkguy and seems not to know where to sit.

Windshear heads back to his seat at Dreadwind's table with a side glance at hawkbot but nothing more. As he sits down he realizes Galvatron is seated there as well, "My Lord." he says as he takes his drink, "I do not think the Decepticons will do well in this..." and he knows he certainly tried but you can only do so much with the servos you were built with, "If I may suggest; perhaps you could step and show them just how strong the Decepticons really are, My Lord."

Sandstorm gives Windshear a brief slap on the shoulder, since this -is- suppose to be play nicynice time. "Eh, just do better than that when we're back to tryin' to kick each other's skidplates. I don't like easy fights!" Well.. it's sort of a compliment, kind of. Before he wanders back to the other Bots. "Hey, make that two cans, I need to loosen up before the next round," He tags to the end of Warpath's order.

Galvatron shakes his head at Dreadwind. "Of course there will be more destruction, the point is to inflict it on SOMEONE ELSE! Honestly, you could learn from Darkwing, Dreadwind! His attitude's a LOT better!" However, he eventually notices Hawkbot calling for him, and stands. "Bah, whatever." As he passes Windshear, he replies, "Oh, I intend to, Windshear. I intend to succeed where YOU failed!" He approaches the middle table, then, pointing at Hawkbot. "The NAME is GALVATRON, fool, and remember it well, for one day I shall rule this galaxy and all who live in it! But for now, summon my challenger! Who dares face me!?" He slams his elbow down on the table as he sits, hand eagerly outstretched.

Fortress Maximus waves over a waitress who's offering patrons and spectators drinks, he places down a few credit chips and removes one of the organic-friendly drinks before handing it over to Barkida, "Courtesy of Nebulos and Cybertron. You've put up a strong fight in there, Barkida, Fourth to Die." The large Headmaster leader pauses for a moment after he is asked an all to often asked question and thinks for a moment to properly articulate an explanation to the Headmaster phenomenon, "It's more of a shared experience..." He pauses for a moment longer, realizing that things might get more complicated if he tried to explain further and wisely decides on simplifying things further, "...so no, sometimes I 'drive' my partner, and sometimes he drives it, but we mostly operate this body together as one."

Fortress Maximus then extends a hand across to the other Autobots, "But I'm an unique example. The rest of my Cybertronian friends here are all individuals with no biological partners."

Windshear would never deny that he bombed out just now. The point is he tried but he knows thats not good enough. He nods at Galvatron's insult and says, "Thank you, sir." and turns in his chair to watch this next round.

Sludge peers at Galvatron as he announces his name to everyone and glances at Hawkbot, "His name Galvatron," he reminds him, perhaps sarcastically. Then after some helpful instruction, Sludge slooooowly sits down across from the self-named Galvatron. "Ready? Me Sludge ready to arm tangle now," he tells him smartly, locking up with the renown Decepticon.

"Oh." Hawkbot exclaims, obviously not realizing who he picked a fight with. All vain musclehead bravado aside, he's taken back by Galvatron's presence and intimidation. "Dino guy, ready?" Hawkbot asks Sludge, taking a couple steps back from the arm wrestling table.

"Okay, first match of the Heavy weight division going down now! Don't look back, focus on your opponent, and good luck combatants!! Never, back, DOWN!" he shouts, pulling the trigger on the revolver again. Another hole is blown into the bar's ceiling, afterall.. it is his bar. He'll foot the repair bill.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Sludge rolled a 927 ROLL: Galvatron rolled a 915

Dreadwind welcomes Windshear back to his seat and into his sparkling company with a simple, "I told you it was pointless to try."

"You look very similar to them, apart from being... so much larger, and being a man as well," Barkida muses. "Are you of the same order? Do you lead a warband? Are you a lord of your kind?"

Sludge seems unemotional about the whole process, except for a small frown as his own arm strains against Galvatron's meaty appendage. He doesn't even say anything, merely shows his great determination in his face.

Combat: Sludge compares his Strength to Galvatron's Strength: Success!

Windshear doesnt look back at Dreadwind, rather still fixed on the present match up about to start. "Of course it wouldnt work. Come on, Seekers, even those somewhat stronger such as myself, just arent built for ... brute activities like this. You should know that... our strength is in the sky..." he finishes his drink and falls silent again as he watches.

"OOOOH, this'll be, WOW, interesting," Warpath says, "Go, Sludge! Git 'em and GITERDUN!" He'll be ever so proud if the Dinobot bests the Decepticon Leader!

For once Dreadwind's mind is actually in the now and watching the bout being decided between the Dinobot and Galvatron, the result isn't of interest, but he does wonder if his short conversation has dragged his Lord down. "I know a lot of things Windshear, more than most, they just never listen... never. But again i ask, why then do you try when it is so futile?"

Fortress Maximus smiles modestly, putting rubbing the back of his head with his right hand in embarassment, "Yes, you can say that I'm a part of their order. We call our order, Autobots. I assist in leading the Autobots, and oversee a few key areas of the order, yes, but I am no lord." He chuckles a bit as he conjures up an image of Rodimus Prime wearing the goofiest looking crown, sitting atop a throne, "but no, I'm not a lord. I don't think I'll ever wish to be one either."

Fortress Maximus looks back to Barkida with genuine interest, "What about your background? What's your planet like and where do you fit in your society?" Clearly Galen is becoming more enthusiastic in learning the cultures of other alien races, an opportunity he would never have thought possible a few years earlier and yet now he's taking it all in stride and loving every moment of it. It's a refreshing feeling that lifts Fortress Maximus' worn down spirit as well.

Galvatron gives a huff of contempt as he locks hands with the Dinobot. "Sludge!? Sludge of all Autobots? What a disappointment, I was at least expecting someone like Rod--hnnnghhh!" His optics go wide as Sludge's brute strength asserts itself, and though he strains mightily against the Dinobot's powerful arm, his own arm is edging closer and closer to the table. "--nnnnghh, no, I am GALVATRON the mighty, I am INVINCIBLE, I will NOT be beaten by some mindless simpleton LIKE YOU! I WILL NOT BE BEATEN! NYAAAHHHHHHH!!" Unleashing a piercing scream, he pushes back at Sludge with everything he's got, though it visibly taxes Galvatron to do so. His free arm is in the air, metal groaning as he clenches his fist tightly, and his face is one of incredible intensity--a mixture of his unique madness and his desperation to win.

Combat: Galvatron compares his Strength to Sludge's Strength: Success!

Barkida looks impressed. "Such intensity! His battle prowess must be superb."

"Eh, some days we wish it weren't so, WHACK, superb," Warpath mutters.

Sandstorm turns his head towards the conversing Decepticons and retorts, "Cuz the trip is too short and the stop too sudden at the end to not enjoy the trip along the way!" Then turns his attention back to the match as it's getting pretty intense, stifling a snicker at Warpath's remark and sipping at his drink.

Clutch watches in amazement as the latest match stretches on. Could Sludge actually do it? What a triumph for Dinobots everywhere! "You've got him right where you want him Sludge!" Clutch calls in encouragement. "One more big push!"

Fortress Maximus nods in agreement, albit nervously as he watches Sludge being overpowered before calling in words of encouragement, "Come on, Sludge! You can be just as intense as Galvatron, show Grimlock and the others your resolve!"

Combat: Fortress Maximus inspires Sludge with righteous and patriotic words!

Sludge seems to be more determined as the match progresses, pressing on the purple arm with so much might that he grimaces. He seems silently focused on what he is doing, perhaps realizing that it is not what you say, but what you do that makes the difference. Even as Galvatron taunts him, makes fun of him, and points out his obvious flaws, Sludge is not deterred, instead driven by a nagging intensity to prove himself even to the smart robots. His face glowers and twists with the ebb of the powerful arm of Galvatron.

Combat: Sludge compares his Strength to Galvatron's Strength: Failure :(

Windshear turns back around suddenly to face Dreadwind, "Actually I have to add that lighter frame or no, I do love physical combat -- what can I say...just wont get into another arm wrestling match again." he listens to what Dread says then, "It is my part in the grand scheme of things... a role you cant fight against. I gave up long a --" Galvatron's ragescream spins him back around (hopefully not smacking Dread across the face in a wingbuff) and looks at the match. He doesnt say anything. I mean whats the point? Galvatron seems to be doing a great job as his own cheering section so why disrupt that?

Galvatron grins across the table at Sludge. "You Dinobots. Heh. I have to admit," he hisses, voice strained, "Wheeljack outdid himself with you Dinobots. You've caused no end of trouble. Sadly, however, as big as you are, as strong as you are, it is STILL NOT ENOUGH..." He heaves back HARD at Sludge's arm, intending to slam the Dinobot's hand into the table with enough force to crush a smaller Autobot's head. "...NOT ENOUGH TO DEFEAT GALVATRON!!!"

Combat: Galvatron compares his Strength to Sludge's Strength: Success!

"Wow, that was a pretty impressive match! Course, nothing compares to my PROWESS!" Hawkbot shouts, flexing his oversized arms. Visible scrape marks on his knuckles, as they literally drag on the floor when he walks. "Great job you two, now onto the next round in the Heavy weight division!"

Looking at the occupants, he easily spies Fortress Maximus' large frame out of the crowd. "Hey, you! Yeah, big dude with the green friend. You're up.." Hawkbot scans the crowd again, trying to discern any possible match for the big lug. "Oh, you! Race car mech, get up here. Remember, dynamite comes in small packages!!" he points at Clutch. "To the middle, double time!!"

Dreadwind looks at Sandstorm, "If only it was as short as you claim, my life however drags o..." Hoping doesn't save Dreadwind, it never does, somehow he was created to suffer and it seems to gather about him as if he was some sort of magnetic. He falls to the floor as he is swiped, knocking over his drink as well, the dark contents seeping slowly across the floor and a tiny twinkle in the mess slowly extinguishes.

Clutch double-takes. He looks at Fortress Maximus, having to tilt his head back to do so, then turns and looks at Hawkbot for confirmation. Finally he shrugs and heads to the area, holding up his hand. He tries to raise it higher and then holds it straight up so that Fortress Maximus can reach it.

Sludge looks beaten and disappointed after Galvatron slams his arm into the table and breaks it with his incredible arrogance. He sits back in his chair and looks hurt, though not physically. He frowns silently and walks off just as silently, too embarrassed to go over to any of his buddies.

Windshear watches as Galvatron wins, and with quite the show at that. He turns back around to comment to Dreadwind and sees hes not there. "Ok you never move that fast..." he mutters then notices the crumpled form on the floor and the drink trickling about the floor. His left wing twitches slightly. "Hey... did I do that?" of couese he did....

Barkida looks back up at Maximus after the match concludes. "I am a champion of my Queen's company, a captain of her high table. She is the First One to Die, the bravest of our order. As Fourth I have few responsibilities in peacetime besides training the Golden Guard to resist the incursions of the man-beasts. We live on a larger and heavier planet than this, full of danger and trial." She clearly misses it. "However, as Fourth it is also my duty and delight to represent the Golden Realm in ritual combat and tests of honor. Since we discovered these Great Games, I am her champion in them as well." She pauses, looking up at Maximus' face thoughtfully, trying to see the human expression in it. "Tell me of your homeworld."

Fortress Maximus raises an optical groove behind his visored optics, "Me?" He looks around beside him to see smaller aliens and Cybertronians around him. Yup, he's definitely being spoken to. The large Headmaster leader shrugs and stands up, accepting the challenge before proceeding towards the middle of the bar. On his way, he gives Sludge a pat on the shoulder, "You did great regardless, Sludge. The drinks are still on me, be sure to show up alright?"

Fortress Maximus takes a seat in front of Clutch, realizing his size is affecting his opponent, he leans back further, putting himself in more of a disadvantage to transfer his strength but giving the smaller Autobot an easier time to lock hands. And lock hands he does. "I wasn't expecting this, but may the best mech win, hmm?" Fortress Maximus says with a genuine smile at Clutch.

Galvatron rises from the table to make way for the next round of contestants, and returns to the Decepticons' table. "You see? Feats such as those are possible IF YOU TRY--" He looks around for Dreadwind, unable to see him under the table from his current point of view. "...Dreadwind?"

"Now, give us a show mechs! None of that sissy SNAD crap." Hawkbot sneers at them both, pacing around them locked up on the table. Raising the revolver, "Aut, Toe, BOTS!!" he roars, pulling the trigger on the gun and puts another hole in the ceiling. By now, a couple of strands of light are pouring in through the swiss cheesed roof.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Fortress Maximus rolled a 748 ROLL: Clutch rolled a 625

Sludge plops down at a table and even finds his energon popcorn gobbled up by some greedy passer-by. Could it get any more depressing?

Windshear leans back up in his seat as Galvatron sits back down. "I... your match, my wings..." he vents some air out of his intakes. "Hes on the floor." is all he says and then nods to the 'if you try'. "Yes, My Lord. But what happens if your try isnt good enough?"

Fortress Maximus gives Hawkbot a disappointed look, he LIKES the sissy SNAD crap though. Hater. However the large Headmaster leader goes straight into serious business mode as the revolver is fired and begins applying torsion power through his servo joints, transferring the power straight into his clutched hands. No pun intended. Much.

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Clutch's Strength: Failure :(

Dreadwind lies there on the floor his optics fixed on his wasted half a drink then a second pair of feet arrive at the table and given the loudness of the voice it's Galvatron and he managed to win, perhaps he was saved from defeat by Windshear knocking him from view at the critical moment. Eventually he drags himself back up into his seat, he doesn't mention Windshear's attack, what would be the point, he's had far worse in the past. "If you don't try you never lose, your alotted suffering remains the same and will greet you at the alotted time, why try for more than that?"

Clutch returns the Headmaster's friendly smile with a grin of his own, then strains against the sudden pressure Fort Max exerts through his grip. He manages to (somehow) hold his hand steady, joints and servos straining. Then he summons all his strength and applies force, trying to use mechanisms in his torso and back to add just a bit more.

Combat: Clutch compares his Strength to Fortress Maximus's Strength: Failure :(

Warpath sips at a fresh can of 10-30W...or at least he thinks it is. He spluts, tasting 10-40W. "Hey, Bartender! You got my order mixed up! I wanted 10-thirtyweight! This is 10-fortyweight!" The bartender sends a waitress who apologetically switches the errant can for the proper grade of oil.

Sandstorm walks over and pats Sludge on the massive shoulder. "Cheer up big guy! This is just a game, after all. It's not like you failed smashing 'cons in middle of a big imporant fight, after all." Then hands him one of the cans of high-grade oil. "Here, have a drink and feel better." Then wanders back over to wait for his second matchup.

Galvatron sneers as Dreadwind finally rejoins them. "That is a TERRIBLE answer, Dreadwind. If you don't try, then of course all you will know is suffering, because you'll never achieve anything! No, the REAL answer to that question, Windshear, is that you STOP COMPLAINING like some FEMALE and try harder! And if that fails, try even harder than that, until you succeed!" And then Galvatron unleashes his secret weapon against the Prozacons...

(Well, if they had a combiner team, that's probably what they would be called.)

Combat: Galvatron inspires Dreadwind and Windshear with moving and noble words!

Fortress Maximus realizes just how much amount of resistance that Clutch has surprisingly outputted, a strained grin emerges on his face as he comments, "Hrgg... you hide your strength well, Clutch!" The sound of Fortress Maximus' arm servo whining and metallic actuators clicking against the pressure can be heard in the room. His lowered stance becomes heavy, visually strained as well, as the Headmaster leader musters sufficient strength to mount another push.

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Clutch's Strength: Success!

Sludge takes the oil from Sandstorm appreciatively, "Just game," he repeats disappointedly and watches him make off, "Galvatron am mean and don't deserve to win..." he mutters, apparently to no one in particular. He gets distracted by looking at his glass.

Windshear frowns and starts to say something then pauses. Tries to again then pauses. Galvatron's words though do seem to inspire him somewhat but hes still at a loss over some of them. "Yes, My Lord." is all he says finally, the frown still across his face.

"Wooooooo boy, even -I- didn't see that one coming! Clutch gave that big dude a run for his money!! Fortress Maximus moves onto the final round of the Heavy weight division. Without further wait, Mechbody's Muscle Bar brings you the loser bracket of the Middle weight division. Two chicks with something to prove, Miss Barbaric and The Bearded Femme Seeker!!" Hawkbot cheers on, pointing at Barkida and Windshear.

"You know the drill, front and center on the double. Let's see who's got the sterner stuff to get bronze!!"

Sandstorm can't help but crack a bit of a cackle this time as Windshear is still called a femme.

Dreadwind looks Galvatron straight innthe optics, not so much a challenge more trying to gauge just when Galvatron is going to cannon him, though he does feel somewhat bouyed up to just a deep depression, "Only the dead, decaying chassis of people that know you and enemies that lie back along your path can truely tell whether you are succeeding or not and they whisper their wisdom so quietly."

Windshear hears hawkbot in the background and doesnt pay attention at first. then the 'bearded femme seeker' comment races back through his banks andhe looks back with a slight sneer. "Yea I will show you femme seeker..." he mutters and standing, heads back over to the table, takes his seat and puts his arm on the table, prepping as it did before.

Clutch steps back away from the Headmaster, holding his arm with his other hand. "Didn't know I had it in me," he admits. "But good luck against Galvatron." Clutch's voice drips with scorn at the name.

Galvatron would never admit it, but his match with Sludge may have thrown some of his servos out of alignment. He feels the desire to work the kinks out of his shoulder, but doing so openly might show weakness. "Their dead faces would be more than enough for me, Dreadwind. An audience of the dead cannot curse your name, after all! Hahaha!"

Barkida looks up from examining the jukebox and realizes she's being given another chance! She eagerly takes her place in the RING of HONOR.

Sludge seems busy peering at what's in his glass, rather than drinking it. He sloshes it back and forth, watching with wonder at the movements of the oil in the clear glass. He doesn't even see Fortress Maximus almost lose, though perks up as he says, "Fortress Maximum, when you battle Galvatron? Now?" he asks, "Good luck," he advises.

"Now now, you'll have your chance at an autograph later hon." Hawkbot smiles at Windshear, giving Barkida a small nod. "Okay, this is the last chance to take home some RESPECT for your factions! Go big or go home, no regrets!!"

"On your mark, get set, GO!!" Hawkbot shouts at the top of his vocal processor's volume limits, gunshot in the background and new beam of light from the ceiling.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Barkida rolled a 836 ROLL: Windshear rolled a 591

Barkida leans in and fixes her eyes on her opponent's, veins standing out on her arm as she lays the power on.

Combat: Barkida compares her Strength to Windshear's Strength: Success!

Fortress Maximus pats Clutch by the shoulder in encouragement, "Now you know, now we all know. You did great regardless." His voice also drops at the mention of his next opponent, nodding his head grimly for a moment, "Thanks." On his way back to his seat, Fortress Maximus sees Sludge again and the glass of oil in his hands. He nods an appreciative thanks to Sandstorm before giving the Dinobot a friendly squeeze on the shoulder in encouragement, "Soon Sludge, and thanks I'll need it. You did great a job by the way, there aren't many people who can hold out against Galvatron as long as you did." He then goes and takes a seat where he was, it is only then that he notices Barkida has also gone ahead to her next match. Pity.

Windshear is disgusted he has to touch an organic and is frankly not suprised when this female rakes his arm close to the touching the table. He meets her gaze steadily and icely and puts everything he has into his arm servos to hopefully wrench her arm over inot the impression Galvatron made with Sludge's hand earlier.

Combat: Windshear compares his Strength to Barkida's Strength: Failure :(

Dreadwind nods at Galvatron, yes people you were here and missed Dreadwind replying in the positive thanks to the arm wrestling distraction, "I doubt they would for they are the ones who are truely free, no more suffering for them in this existence, their fears are now concentrated on what is to come..."

Sludge seems encouraged by the Fortress' comments and nods with confidence as he says, "Me Sludge know Fortress Maximum beat Galvatron," he assures himself.

Barkida seems to flag a little at the very end, but her initial rush and consistency through the middle is sufficient for her to introduce Windshear's knuckles to the table. She throws up her arms in victory, turning away to face the referee. "I've done it!"

Galvatron huffs in contempt. "What lies beyond? Nothing lies beyond this world, Dreadwind. Only an infinity of blackness awaits those who meet their end," Galvatron says. "Surely that is bad enough without having to conjure imaginary demons assaulting the soul after death?"

Windshear gratefully retrives his hand and stands. With a curt nod he turns and walks away hoping theres a place he can wash his hands.

"And Miss Barbaric takes home the bronze medal, give her all a big round of applause folks! Sorry toots, better luck next time." Hawkbot shrugs at Windshear, tossing Barkida a dinky bronze medal that has 'Mechbody's Muscle Bar' imprinted in big letters on the top.

"Now we've got our main event in the Middle weights folks! Sandstormer versus Tank dude. Let's give them a big warm welcome to the center of the ring!!" Hawkbot roars, pointing at the Wrecker daredevil and the Minibot who packs a punch, aka Warpath.

"All-RIGHT!" Warpath says, getting back to the wrestling table to face the orange wrecker. "Put 'er there, pal," he says, propping his arm on his elbow in the proper position. "We're goona BANG, rock the house!"

Sandstorm smirks and returns the shake before getting down into the proper position with his elbow on the table and ready. "Let's give these people a real show of strength!"

Dreadwind sighs heavily, "Infinite darkness is the best we can hope for, we are more liekly to be reformatted and remade into something more hideous then we are now, some broken flesh/machine hybrid most likely. As if having to share your body with one isn't enough."

Barkida takes the medal and hangs it around her neck, in spite of its obvious low quality and cheap metal. "Thank you. I was glad of the challenge. This will be added to the treasures of my order."

"And rock the house, YOU WILL!" Hawkbot raises both gigantic arms up, swiveling around on his heels. "Are you ready to see who's the toughest Middle weight around these parts? Are you ready to be ROCKED?? Are you, uhh.. ready?"

"Go.. for the.. GOLD!!" Hawkbot shouts aloud, signaling the start of the match with the revolver again.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Sandstorm rolled a 626 ROLL: Warpath rolled a 404

Fortress Maximus claps alongside with the audience in response to Barkida's victory, "You've done your order proud, I'm sure!" and in regards to the announcement of Sandstorm and Warpath being called up, "Give 'em a show that'll never forget, Wreckers!"

Sandstorm tightens his grip on the minibot's hand, and as soon as the shot goes off, puts everything his servos and hydrolics can muster into it, because it's certainly going to be a grudgematch. "Nnnh... knew you were tough for a small guy... but this is gonna be a -good- challenge..."

Combat: Sandstorm compares his Strength to Warpath's Strength: Success!

Warpath strains as Sandstorm starts putting his hand towards the mat. "Ooooh, ZAM, you're tough! Well, let's see if you can, POW, Take this!"

Combat: Warpath compares his Strength to Sandstorm's Strength: Failure :(

Windshear cleans his hands and heads back to Dreadwinds table wiht a new glass of energon in tow. He sits down and takes a sip of his energon. "Flesh/machine hybrid, eh? Thats worse then infinate darkness if you ask me."

Galvatron snorts. "And who would even think to do such a thing?" Then he remembers Thunderwing. Woops. Well, let's hope Dreadwind's memory isn't as good.

Grimlock shows up! Oh dear. Yet even the dinocommander's bulk is easily lost amidst the din of the competition. He grunts, and muscles his way over towards the Autobot contingent- at which point he starts complaining. Really, you'd think they brought Gears. "Stupid shuttle get here late! Me Grimlock no get sign up, else me Grimlock be SUPER WINNER." he nods, and glances around. "...where am drinks?"

Sandstorm emits a grunt as Warpath pushes back, enough to make the Wrecker actually draw back again from the resistance. "Yeah, that's the stuff... a real fighter is made of!" It takes everything he's got to keep his grip and keep his pressure up as they go back and forth.

Combat: Sandstorm compares his Strength to Warpath's Strength: Success!

"My, that was quick! Sandstormer wins the gold, and Tank guy gets the silver. But all in all, they're both Autobots! Go good guys, I guess." Hawkbot announces happily and tosses them their respective medals, flexing his arms afterwards.

"Now, we've got the loser's bracket in the Heavy weight round! Dino guy.." he trails, noticing Grimlock's arrival. "Uhh, the fat Dino guy. Long neck, yeah. Him. Annnnnnnnnnd, Clutch! Come on down, let's see what you got." Hawkbot points at Sludge and Clutch.

Dreadwind says, "You have no idea Windshear." Dreadwind sighs and recalls the great unveiling of the Pretender experiment, no one listened to his warnings then either but he doesn't bring it up, "Few can face the true meaning of existence and remain sane Galvatron, i know of none that can think in the same twisted ways it does."

Warpath is beaten! His fist is slammed down by Sandstorm's in an echoing, slow-motion montage that is repeated over and over again on all the viewscreens in the bar. "YOW, that was a good one," Warpath remarks, "Good job, Sandy."

Sludge raises his glass to Grimlock as the big guy saunters in fashionably late, then sets it down carefully, as if concerned about it. He frowns and looks around for the fat guy, but then gets up once he realizes the call is for him, "Fat guy good fighter," he reminds them, sitting to engage the slim Clutch in arm battle.

Sandstorm withdraws his hand afterwards, shaking it a few times. "Don't give me all the credit, ya gave me a good fight!" He catchs the medal with one hand and loops it over his neck, and gives the Minibot a slap across the shoulders with the other arm. "Let's go have a couple more drinks and celebrate, eh?"

"You're on!" Warpath says, slapping Sandstorm on the back, "10-30W cocktails are on me!"

"Yeah yeah. So, you folks ready to see who's going to emerge from the loser's bracket victorious? Don't let the title fool you, these two are not losers. Well, except they are.. losing does -technically- mean they're losers. But one, after this match.. will only be a half loser, half winner! A loswinner? Yeah." Hawkbot shouts.

"Clutch, anyone seen him? He's got five minutes until we count it as a no-show."

Clutch scurries out from a back room. "Sorry...had to uh, get my fluids changed."

Grimlock hmms, and nods over at Sludge. "Me Grimlock say dinobots am STRONGEST! Hnn." he glances around. "Maybe whoever him Sludge have to wrestle SO SCARED that hims run away!" he nods, and then looks over at Sludge. "Rip him arm off if him get back!" he cheers- and then glances around. "Who him Sludge s'posed to wrestle 'gain?"

Sludge raises his brow at Clutch as he sits there and even seems concerned for him, "Clutch okay...?" he asks, "Me no fight hurt friend."

"FIGHT HIMS ANYWAY! That what medics am for!" Grimlock notes. Ever helpful.

Clutch moves to stand in front of Sludge. "Well, the medical tent's not far from here." He assures Sludge. "Still, think we can go left-handed this time?" He says weakly, eyeing the Dinobot's huge arms. Then he raises his left hand.

"LET'S GET IT ON!!" Hawkbot roars, pulling the trigger on the revolver and commencing the match.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Sludge rolled a 912 ROLL: Clutch rolled a 788

Windshear merely nods at Dreadwind's comment and stays silent as he waits for Galvatron's reply to Dreadwind.

Galvatron glowers at Dreadwind's words. "You'd be surprised, Dreadwind. *You'd be surprised.*" Then he turns to the current arm-wrestling match. "Hmph."

Sandstorm laughs as he follows Warpath to the bar until the exhibition matchs start. "Now that's the sort of spirit. Unlike those mopey cons over there." Then again, the one of them is -always- mopey so. Eh. Whatever. His own darn loss if he can't enjoy life for what it was.

Sludge narrows his eyes in a confused fashion, then notes, "Left hand...?" he wonders aloud, "Where you leave it?" he asks. He looks around for it helpfully.

"Uh no...left hand." Clutch explains. "You know, this one?" He reaches out with his right hand and takes hold of Sludge's left, then tries to pull it closer. It doesn't budge of course.

Sludge ohs and gives a nod to the intelligent Clutch, then grabs Clutch's hand. He gets that determined look in his eye once again and slams his weight behind his forceful arm.

Combat: Sludge compares his Strength to Clutch's Strength: Failure :(

Clutch's whole body sways slightly as he tries to keep his arm locked, but then he somehow manages to return to his original position. Next he flings his weight in the other direction, hoping that the clasped hands will follow.

Combat: Clutch compares his Strength to Sludge's Strength: Failure :(

Dreadwind says, "Surprised, unlikely, horribly mutilated and left alive, definitely, existance so loves to toy with me, drinking deeply of my suffering while others are let go..."

Sludge seems to be looking down at the floor for some reason and finally raises his chin as Clutch plants himself against Sludge's arm, having been just sitting there like a rock on the side of the road, "Oh...arm tackling..." he comments idly, as if discovering what he's doing for the first time.

Combat: Sludge compares his Strength to Clutch's Strength: Failure :(

Sandstorm sips his drink as he watchs. "Man, Sludge is like a boulder sitting there. I'm surprise anyone can move him, arm or otherwise." Windshear is drinking deeply of his glass of whatever energon concoction is in it. He doesnt really have anything to add to the conversation so he just sits and listens to Dread and Galvatron.

Clutch is pulled to the side again, one foot coming off of the ground this time before he regains his balance and presses with the other leg. He ends up having to flex that knee to compensate. He'd probably be better off just stopping while he's ahead, but Clutch throws himself into it, seemingly using every servo in his entire body.

Combat: Clutch compares his Strength to Sludge's Strength: Success!

"Annnnnd, the crowd goes WILD! The minibot racer squeeks out a victory, but Sludge deserves a hand too." Hawkbot announces excited, tossing Clutch a cheap bronze medal with his bar's logo imprinted on it.

"Mechbody's Muscle Bar is proud to showcase what you've all been waiting for, the HEAVY WEIGHT FINALE!! Fortress Maximus versus Galvatron, may the best mech win!" Hawkbot roars, lifting up his giant arms to get the crowd pumped. He points at the Headmaster commander and the Decepticon leader, waving them to the center arm wrestling table.

Sludge notes something on the floor once again, watching a small bug run across the floor. His arm creaks and groans with Clutch's never ending struggle. Sludge doesn't even seem to notice Clutch turning red at moving his arm and doesn't notice losing the match either. Afterward, Sludge frowns in a confused way and looks up, standing up to walk away.

Sandstorm says, "Oh now -this- should be interesting."

Sludge plops down onto a seat quietly and resumes being stupid.

Galvatron sighs warily. "Dreadwind, one day I'll find a reputable psychiatrist to deal with you. Failing that, a less-than-reputable one who WILL CARVE THE DEPRESSION right out of your laser core! For the time being, however, I go to defeat my next opponent." He sits down at the table, elbow slammed down once again, hand extended. "COME ON, Maximus! I'll show you that size DOESN'T matter... where GALVATRON is concerned! For all things, small and great, must yield to my might!"

Grimlock facepalms with a *clang!* as Sludge is distracted, and therfore loses. "Hnnn. Me Grimlock gonna have talk to him." and then, he looks over, and looks over at Galvatron and Maximus...and grunts. "Hmn. Am him Galvytron gonna wrestle little man who live in him Footlose Manchester's head too?"

Clutch grins fondly at Sludge, then assures the others at the Autobot side of the bar, "He was going easy on me."

It's a strange thing but those that don't erupt into violence usually end up adopting Dreadwind's sigh perhaps it's catching? "Another one to the slaughter... to join the others." Dreadwind notes the lack of conversation from Windshear and puts it down to his words finally sinking in on someone, that or he's just being completely ignored, it doesn't stop him talking at Windshear though, "This is going to go one of two ways, but both are going to be bad for us, i just know it..."

Warpath peers at his silver medal, right after Clutch somehow bests Sludge. He looks around the room momentarily, then stares at Dreadwind. "Hey, mind, ZIP, turning down the gloom? You're BOOM, harshing our mellow here."

Fortress Maximus can't help but sigh half heartedly, "Well that's Sludge for you. There's just no focus if there's no threat in sight." He claps regardless though at the two, "Nice going you two, well done!" The spectators sitting beside Fortress Maximus clears away as Hawkbot announces for him and Galvatron to step up, allowing the large Headmaster leader to stand up and traverse over to the middle of the arena. Fortress Maximus takes a seat, lowering his left elbow against the table and extends his hand, eyeing Galvatron with a calm expression on his face, "Well, that's coming from a guy who's tottling an oversized cannon on his arms all day..." The Headmaster leader forces a smile, "May the best mech win, hmm?"

"Now that the giant mechs have come ringside, let's see who's got what it takes.. to go for the GOLD! Autobot versus Decepticon, good versus evil, pacifism versus militarization, reason versus insanity.. FORTRESS MAXIMUS versus GALVATRON!!" Hawkbot twirls around, hooting and hollering as loud as possible.

"Red team ready.. Blue team ready. Let's.. Get it.. ON!!" the meathead roars, firing off the revolver.

GAME: Impactor rolls a (1000)-sided die: ROLL: Fortress Maximus rolled a 934 ROLL: Galvatron rolled a 556

Windshear glances back at the table to take note of Galvatron and Fort Max about to compete. Then he looks back at Dreadwind. "How can it end bad either way it ends? I mean if Galvatron loses, that a problem, but if he wins, whats the problem?"

Sandstorm glances up as the starting pistols go off again. ".. It's a good thing it's his bar, or he'd be in a load of trouble," he notes idly, before looking back to the big bots squaring off

Galvatron sneers, "Go to *hell,*" at Maximus's being a good sport, and immediately snaps, "And don't lecture on my weaponry, you're a blasted battlestation, you're made of nothing BUT guns, guns you don't use because your ideology makes you a useless TWIT!" Then he braces himself!

Dreadwind nods at the hawk thing commentator who he really hadn't been paying any attention to, "He's right you'd have to be insane to want a fleshling as your head..." He turns back to Windshear, "If he wins, he'll be wanting us to take part in more of these pointless events."

Grimlock grumbles a bit, no doubt thinking HE should be in the finals round...but what can be done? He reaches over and pats Sludge on the shoulder. "Hnn. Me Grimlock think you Sludge no should be distracted. Is very imp- hey, energon!" and Grimlock leans over and grabs a cube from a passing waiterbot (who isn't Windshear, it's worth noting).

Windshear cant help but laugh then. An honestly humorous laugh, "Not me!!"

Sludge eyes Grimlock smirkingly as he begins to lecture him and then says, "Energon Popcorn goooood," he tells him, the reminder of his earlier treat a vivid memory. He then frowns quickly, "What am twit...?" he wonders, overhearing the very loud Galvatron.

*GASP* Galvatron comments actually bares a lot of truth in it. Ouch! The sound of actuators locking into place can be heard coming from Fortress Maximus' servos and is followed by an explosive piston action as the large Headmaster leader pulls in as much torque as he can into his hand in an attempt to pull a decisive victory, "Deterence is a perfectly valid philosophy!" Oooh pacifist hissy fit.

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Galvatron's Strength: Failure :(

Barkida looks on with great interest from the back of the room, but she doesn't actually cheer for anyone. The stronger of the two will win. She's just curious to see who it is.

Acting like a can of spinach, Galvatron's insanity begins to fuel his strength at that point as he manages to keep his arm perpendicular to the table. "Oh, I'm -sure- it is," Galvatron snarls savagely, his face twitching with rage and exertion. "But OBLITERATION is a BETTER ONE! Now taste defeat, Fortress Maximus, and know that even you are no match for the power of GALVATRON!" Then he REALLY pours on the power, the servos in his arm audibly straining as they apply incredible amounts of force to his opponent's arm.

Combat: Galvatron compares his Strength to Fortress Maximus's Strength: Success!

"Hn? Me Grimlock think twit am internet thing. Only one-hundreded-forty letters or somethings." and then, there's the matter of the match, at which point Grimlock narrows his optic visor. "Hmmm."

*Crrrrack* Small drips of lubricant and energon can be seen flowing out from underneath the armour casing around Fortress Maximus' wrist. It becomes clear that despite Fortress Maximus' earnest attempts to keep himself from simply being overpowered, it pales in comparison to the amount of raw strength that the Decepticon leader can output. At this very moment, Fortress Maximus is diverting as much power as he can into his servos and pistons, not even affording himself the power or the lapse in concentration in order to reply. Narrowing his visored optics, the Headmaster leader puts everything he can into one last push to pull himself from the brink of defeat!

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Galvatron's Strength: Success!

Sludge scratches his head at Grimlock's not so clear explanation, "Oh," he merely comments. He darts his glance at the battle as he hears some servos tear and metal wrench, "Me think someone hurt," he states concernedly.

"GOOD." Grimlock says as Sludge speaks up, "That how you know it worth watchings!"

Warpath looks up from sipping more oil as the armwrestling continues. "Now that's, ZOW, goona be a tough contest!" he remarks. A bar patron nearly bumps his head on Warpath's chest-cannon. "Oops, pardon me," Warpath says apologetically, "I should have a blinking light on this thing."

Galvatron came ever so close to putting Maximus down, but the Headmaster Commander appeared to have his own reserves of strength, and Galvatron hisses and snarls in frustration as his arm is slowly but steadily pulled in the wrong direction. "No, no, no... NO! You won't beat me, Maximus! You're just a second rate Autobot leader! Barely even third rate!" he spits, straining to push back. He feels that kink in his shoulder that he got after arm-wrestling Sludge starting up again, and it hurts enough to make Galvatron inhale sharply. "No!!! NOT TO YOU! I'd rather... lose... to Bumblebee!" he growls, and gives Maximus's arm another heave from his reserves of unnatural strength.

Combat: Galvatron compares his Strength to Fortress Maximus's Strength: Failure :(

Sludge frowns and can't argue with Grimlock's impenetrable logic, "Oh," he comments idly, "Me am give Fort Maximum pep talk," he tells Grimlock confidently.

Clutch leans forward eagerly, sensing history in the making.

"If he's second rate, what does that make you when he beats you?!" Sandstorm adds his own catcalling to the insults being tossed back and forth.

High pitched metallic whines, the troubling sort, can be heard screaming from the overstressed servos, actuators, and pistons that are working feverishly within the internal body frame of the large Headmaster leader. Sensing that his opponent's strength is buckling, for reasons unknown, Fortress Maximus summons the last of his strength and pushes onwards as he willingly sends his components pass its tolerance limits all for the sake of outputting the entirity of what the parts are capable of performing prior to breakdown. The large Headmaster leader's visored optics closes and his mouth clenched in grimace as he gives his all.

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Galvatron's Strength: Failure :(

Warpath sits on the edge of his seat, awaiting the final outcome! Three more aliens subsequently bonk their heads on his cannon.

Hawkbot taps his foot impatiently, "Wow, either of you sissybots going to -start-?"

Dreadwind slumps into silence, he can see the future coming and it's not good, just because there's a ceasefire on doesn't mean Galvatron can't shoot his own men and if he somehow manages to lose he's going to want to vent his anger, with luck it'll just be a headshot, a nice clean kill, but he's never lucky.

"Grr! If you Fortean Marsala no win match, me Grimlock gonna PUNCH YOU IN FACE." a pause. "Well, me Grimlock gonna do that anyways 'cuz of fightings match, BUT STILL."

Barkida fades away into the crowd, disappointed for Galen. But who can contend with the might of Galvatron?

Sandstorm says, "Careful Grim, his face might come off and kick you in the gearbox in return."

Galvatron manages to keep his arm hovering above the table, a little bit towards his own side of the table, but at least he's kept it from budging over any more than it already has. "Hnnnghn... hnnngh... HNNNNGH... hrnnngh... not going to lose... you won't best me, Maximus... I'm the mightiest super warrior the galaxy has ever known! And you are a coward who runs from his problems!" he spits, his arm making grinding noises as he pushes back against Maximus. Either Galvatron's arm is going to give out or Maximus's will!

Combat: Galvatron compares his Strength to Fortress Maximus's Strength: Failure :(

"Bah! Me Grimlock no 'fraid of tiny head-guy!" Grimlock says. "All thems head-masters do is tell Autobots what to do. Me Grimlock no need that!"

Windshear realizes his humor fell on deaf audios with Dreadwind and looks back over at the match to see...its still a toss up. But he can hear servos and gears grinding from both arms and thinks its just a matter of whos harware gives out first at this point.

What seems to be an eternity passes for Fortress Maximus as he exerts his strength against the titanic resistance from Galvatron, but he finds some encouragement to continue onwards as he opens his visored optics once more to find himself back to where things had first started between the two. The middle. "It was a tactical retreat!" Yeah, that's the ticket. ...right? Somewhere inside Fortress Maximus' mind, even Galen sighs and shakes his head. Yep...

Fortress Maximus musters out strength from his super SECRET fountain of strength and pours it into his servos, urging his arm to cooperate for one last push. This scene is quickly becoming a cliched shounen comic scenario.

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Galvatron's Strength: Success!

"BOUT TIME SOMETHING HAPPEN." Grimlock declares.

"That good," Sludge notes.

Sandstorm whooos. "And to anyone who said arm wrasslin' can't be dramatic, torque you!" Not that there's anyone here that said such a thing.

Clutch flings up his hands in victory. "Yes!" he shouts.

Galvatron's rage and hatred for Maximus supplies him with all the power he needs to fight back against Maximus, but the problem is that this doesn't necessarily mean that his systems can handle putting it out continuously. And as Maximus makes his last big push, something audibly SNAPS in Galvatron's arm, and his fist goes flying into the table. "NOOOO---"

Mmmm whatcha say, Mmm that you only meant well?

"--OOOOOOO--"

well of course you did

"--OOOOO!"

Mmmm whatcha say, Mmmm that it's all for the best? of course it is

THWAM. And as Galvatron's fist hits the table, the tyrant slumps over to the side, literally falling out of his chair, cycling air heavily as he lies on the ground in obvious pain.

"That better," Sludge notes.

"Oooh! Quick! Hit him Galvy-tron when him down!" Grimlock cheers. "Then you can be HERO!"

Sandstorm gives Grimlock a jab with his elbow. "The match is over, big Grim. Truce and all. Even if he is a big jerk."

Windshear watches, the look on his face expressionless as he watches his leader, lose and fall out of his chair. He stares for a long moment, the left corner of his mouth twitching desparately to curl up into a smirk but not.. quite. Then casually he looks back at Dreadwind, "... As you were saying?"

Grimlock hmphs at Sandstorm. "Yeah, yeah." a pause. "Maybe him Galvytron get so mad him kill some of his own guys! That almost as good as when me Grimlock do it!" and the dinobot looks meaningfully over at Windshear and Dreadwind. Waiting.

Dreadwind sighs heavily, "We can't win, we lose no matter what and then finally at the very end we lose our lives... like so many other before us." Dreadwind just stares back at Grimlock no malice nor fear in his optics just all encompassing depression.

Galvatron does, in fact, feel like blasting his own guys right now, and sits up a bit so he can see them better, but he finds he can't lift his arm to blast them with. Instead, he growls and just lies back on the floor for a moment.

For a while, Fortress Maximus also lays slumped against the table, his other arm being the only thing that kept him supported but his head remains hanging downwards as his systems vents heavily to remove the excess heat that were generated by his physical exertion. He's won. At least he thinks he's won. Fortress Maximus couldn't be too sure as the sound of something in Galvatron's arm snapping sounded way too convenient. However he eventually hears the spectators cheer, not to mention some of the various comments from the other Autobots present as well.

Slowly, the large Headmaster leader gets up on his feet and heads over to the ground where Galvatron is. Fortress Maximus is a pacifist at heart, so yes he a big sissy, that means he feels obligated to assist Galvatron. He extends a hand down towards the Decepticon leader, "Well played."

"In a match that will go down in the history logs, the peaceloving beatnik manages to fell the combat-cannon overlord! Who saw that one coming, really? I didn't. Not from the -eternity- it took to get there!" Hawkbot states, tossing each their respective cheap medals.

"And now, if I may have your attention. I shall attempt a feat never before attempted, an unbridled showcasing of daring courage, a display of raw POWER never before seen at these Galactic Olympic Games!" he announces, as a couple of attendants take away the regular arm wrestling table and offer Galvatron a hand up.

"Hawkbot, Galactic Arm Wrestling champion of the UNIVERSE shall arm wrestle both the gold medalists.." Hawkbot shouts, as the attendants bring out a special awesome custom built arm wrestling table, with two adjacent cushions and pegs. "AT THE SAME TIME!!"

Sandstorm raises an optic ridge. ".. At the same time? AWESOME!" Ethusiastically he makes his way to the center once the table is in place. "Now -this- is an event. Let's see if this guy can take both at once."

Eventually Dreadwind realises Galvatron's position and looks at Windshear, "You had probably better go assist our illustrious leader, it appears he spent a lot more energon than he had in reserves. I somehow doubt he'll accept any help from them."

Galvatron glares at the arm for a moment, then with a spiteful snarl he swats it away with his left hand, and just to be fair, does the same to the attendants. "The day I accept help from an Autobot," Galvatron sneers as he rolls over, props himself up into a kneeling position, and from there slowly staggers to his feet, "is the day I am truly dead!" His right arm limp and dangling from his shoulder, he lurches away from the Autobots, not even bothering to hide his anger and frustration at losing.

Windshear knows Dreadwind is right and deep down he really wants to go over there and assist his leader bit the his words earlier keep playing back in his mind and part of him really doenst want to help. Let his leader live by his own words and all that. But still. He looks back at Galvatron and slowly stands. Walking over toward Galvatron and putting himself between him and the rest in the room he looks back at the all the Autobots. "I think the funs over now..." and he stands there waiting almsot hoping one of them tries to break the truce.

"Oooh! Let's kill him Galvy-tron so us can help him!" Grimlock says, far too enthusiastically. An autobot-won gold medal isn't enough for him!

Fortress Maximus sighs as his hand is slapped away, so much for one small step towards peace, but then again if peace really happened then the story would end. Suddenly Hawkbot's announcement provokes an awkward silence from Fortress Maximus. He approaches Hawkbot with his other, FUNCTIONING, hand extended before whispering in a concerned tone to the Arm Wrestling champion, "Are you sure about this?"

Hawkbot approaches the custom table, slipping into each cushion with relative ease. "Such eagerness, it almost pains me to be the one to CRUSH it from your youthful core!" the meathead spits at Sandstorm, throwing his head back laughing like a maniac. "And you too, you're just an oversized turbo-turkey! I thought your ranks would bring HAWKBOT a worthy challenge. Pfft, all I got was some pathetic losers!"

And before either can verbally retalliate, Hawkbot shouts "GO!!" and strains his servos against their grips.

Combat: Hawkbot compares his Strength to Sandstorm's Strength: Failure :(

Combat: Hawkbot compares his Strength to Fortress Maximus's Strength: Failure :(

Sandstorm just griiiins all the more at Hawkbot's tough talk, and has a simple enough reply. "Shut up and put up." He's actually not watching the muscle-bot, but rather, watching his arm, and as soon as he sees it twitch to start and push he's pushing right back, grunting as his servos strain to match the Champ's strength!

Combat: Sandstorm compares his Strength to Hawkbot's Strength: Success!

Fortress Maximus frowns and applies power as Hawkbot had requested, although the expression of concern never leaves the Headmaster leader's visored face.

Combat: Fortress Maximus compares his Strength to Hawkbot's Strength: Success!

Dreadwind is always right, well eventually but no one listens most of the time and even when they do he gets no credit for the ideas he places, not that he complains about it at all. "If anyone dies today Dinobot it will be your friends, they are always the first to go." Dreadwind is an odd Con and if necessary he will fight to the death never flinching once as Dinobots tear him asunder and choke on his gloomy remains, but bother to get up and try to help someone? That's too much effort.

Fighting against their impressive strength, Hawkbot looks around wildly for his employees. Spotting one, "You there, fetch me my illegal Mech-Hormones! This isn't a sanctioned match, and I'm the judge.. I'll cheat all I can to win! There is no second place, only FIRST!!" he roars, pratically bouncing around in the cushions.

The obedient servbot nods eagerly, fetching the bottle of pills and pours them down Hawkbot's gullet. "AHAHA, I'm growing stronger by the second!! No one can rival my STRENGTH!! MORE, FEED ME MORE, MORE!" he shouts at his servbot, all the while wires and straps of metal are lacing around the bicep to increase it's mass to Grimlock-like proportions.

Obeying, the servbot pours the rest of the bottle into Hawkbot's mouth. "But uhh.. sir, you've exceeded your daily limit. You run the risk of.."

"NEVER TELL ME THE ODDS.. oh, or the warning label on the bottle either!!" Hawkbot rages, tugging furiosly at each of the Autobot's arms.

Combat: Hawkbot compares his Strength to Sandstorm's Strength: Failure :(

Combat: Hawkbot compares his Strength to Fortress Maximus's Strength: Failure :(

So hard in fact, Hawkbot's arms fall off. "Risk of limb detachment." his servbot finishes, as each limb falls useless to the ground. "OVER THE TOP, OVER THE TOP, OVERTHETOP.. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Hawkbot screams, falling to the ground and wriggling around like a fish on land.

Galvatron doesn't reply to anyone, or even look his Decepticons in the optics. He just lumbers out of the bar slowly, seething with rage.

Sandstorm stops as the guy's arm comes off. Blinks at it. Then turns to look at Maximus as he tosses the limb on the table. The guy's a robot, after all, he'll get better. "Well," starts the Wrecker, stifling a snicker and not really doing well at keeping it down in the end. "I guess we really -disarmed- him."

The sight of Hawkbot's limbs falling off causes Fortress Maximus to instinctively let go as well, contributing to yet another of Hawkbot's limb dropping to the floor. "Y-yeah, I guess we did." The Headmaster leader sighs, shaking his head and assisting the Wrecker with the unsightly task of placing away Hawkbot's limbs. He gives Sandstorm a quick nudge, "I'd say we better get out of here before we're stuck with filing paperwork to Ultra Magnus explaining how we managed to -disarm- a local here." That said, Fortress Maximus wisely walks away.

**MUCH LATER**

Collecting himself eventually, Hawkbot manages to get up on his feet and stumble over towards the bar. A servbot pours a shot of ener-brew down in his mouth.

"Hey there, so.. about that movie date?" the meathead asks Windshear, arm stumps flowing with a steady rate of energon.