Blurr and Blast Off at the Olympics: Part Three- Star Struck

Blast Off walks through the Commerical District of the Cybertron Olympic Site, scanning vendor booths with a bored look. Is the Combaticon shuttle here to sightsee and shop, and simply enjoy the hectic and colorful sights and sounds of a major sporting event celebration? ...Not on your life. He'd much rather be somewhere quiet and cultured... but he is looking for someone. A certain someone who tends to make a killing in a place like this- someone he owes money to. His teammate, Swindle.

   Blast Off knows he's around here somewhere, and he hasn't had a chance yet to tell him that he expects to pay the businessmech what he owes him soon. So the shuttleformer walks along, looking for that familiar flash of yellow-tan and purple. He stops and idly observes some screeching alien kid scream that they want a toy from a nearby booth and they want it now!!! Slag, Blast Off will be happy when this Olympic event is over and he can go back to peace and quiet- well, except when he's blasting Autobots, of course. That kind of noise is acceptable.

        That child is whining pitifully. "But...but Blurr is my favorite! He's the coolest!"

"No darling, I already bought you that other guy. I told you we were only getting one. We're going home now."

         "NOOOOO! NOOO I WANT THE BLURR TOY!!" the kid screeches, and starts throwing a tantrum.

        The caretaker sighs and shakes her head, dragging the child into a hover taxi and shutting the door. It takes off down the expressway, taking the screaming youngling with it.

        While the Combaticon is perhaps watching the debacle, someone familiar pops up behind him. Someone with a particularly high-pitched vocal synth. "OH! Blast Off!" she squeaks. "I was just hoping to run into you!" Yep, it's that fembot from earlier. The one with the toys and merchandise...

Blast Off rolls his optics as he realizes, of course, the snot-nosed brat wants a Blurr toy. He sighs. Of COOOURSE. What *else* would it be? Primus, he's going to be quite happy when this never-ending test of his patience is over. He just starts to turn away when he realizes the test of his patience is actually just beginning- as a high-pitched voice pipes up. He freezes for an astrosecond. For a fleeting moment he wonders if the truce extends to everyone at the Olympics, not just Autobots... but no... if he started shooting these vendors that would probably make Gycony unhappy, which would mean Blast Off wouldn't be getting paid. *sigh* Eeever so slowly, he turns to face the femme. "Ah. And now you have. Good day!" He moves to head away and slip into the crowd.

"WAIT!" She cries, grabbing his arm and attempting to dart in front of him. "C'mon, Blasty, we need you for a short image capture session with Blurr! We'll give you HALF of the profit from every poster we sell, I promise! Yep, you heard right, half! And you know how excited the galaxy is about you two!"

Blast Off bristles and looks down imperiously. "My name is not BLASTY. It is Blast Off. Two words... not one!" He yanks his arm from her, wincing at the squeaky voice. "I do not care what "the galaxy" thinks of me. I know what I think of it, and that is enough." Which is not exactly true, but ehhh, details. Plus, more time with Blurr? Pffft, no thanks. He takes a long, purposeful step away... but then the rest of what she said sinks in and he stops to look back. "Half?"

         "Ohh, but what the galaxy thinks of you determines how much you get paid!" The fembot squeaks sweetly. "And yes, I did just say half!" she giggles and grabs his arm again. "Now come on, it won't take long, I promise!"

You say, "What?" Blast Off doesn't like the sound of that first sentence at all... it sounds like yet even more extreme tests of his patience. But if he can just get enough to pay off Swindle... the reluctant Combaticon allows the fembot to grab his arm and lead him... to his fate... and he simply has to hope that fate will be kind. He thinks glumly: odds are it won't be. "It had better not. I have things to do.""

         "Nope, it won't, don't you worry!" The fembot exclaims, and she leads him toward a conference center near the shopping strip. A crowd of photographers and other media workers have gathered in the atrium, and standing on a platform in front of them is Blurr, of course. He smiles and waves when he spots Blast Off.

         "Blast Off! Heeeey, pal! I knew you'd come!" he exclaims glibly. "You're just in time, we're about to get started!" Suddenly the rest of the media workers are aware that the Combaticon has arrived. They immediately turn and start pushing him up toward the platform where Blurr is standing.

Blast Off likes this less and less all the time, and the sight of Blurr smiling and waving at him is just so... so... wrong. The Combaticon is pushed up to the platform. Now Blast Off likes his space- including personal space, which he works diligently to maintain at all times. When he feels all those hands pushing and guiding him, he quickly reaches his limit and starts trying to brush them off, swatting at a few as he goes. "Back off... unhand me!" But in the crowd and chaos, no one notices and he's just edged in ever closer until he finds himself standing on the platform next to Blurr. There are way too many people milling about, and the flash of cameras is annoying. He glares at the Autobot and deadpans, "Lovely. I am positively beside myself with excitement."

Excitement, yes! In fact, everyone else seeems to be quite excited! All the photographers start taking pictures of them a million times an astrosecond, some of them even trying to get them to do specific poses, but it's hard to make out exactly what they're saying with all the clamor in the room. So Blurr is just sidles up next to the Combaticon and puts a hand on his shoulder as he waves to the cameras with his other hand. He's a natural at this, of course! It's something he's always been quite accustomed to. He nudges his 'partner'. "Hey, smile and wave, okay? Look natural, like you do when you're so proud of those medals you got!"

Blast Off continues glaring at Blurr, especially when the Autobot puts a hand on his shoulder. He really has to fight the urge to shoot him, as well as perhaps that photographer over there who keeps INSISTING on flashing a really large light in his face.... but no...no, he can't. Not if he wants to get paid. He stands there stiffly while Blurr gives him some advice. It's true- the Autobot is a natural and his ease in front of the media stands in stark contrast to the fish-out-of-water Combaticon, who looks like he'd just like to find a nice dark hole to dive into... claustrophobic or not.

He raises an optic ridge at Blurr, then dares to scan the crowd. The Combaticon's done jobs where he slips in and out of crowds before- even sniped people while disguised within a crowd. But this is different, because everyone's looking at him and he can't slip away. It's..unnerving. And the noise, and the flashing cameras... ugh. He looks back to Blurr. "How do you stand all this?" He tries to take Blurr's advice... sort of, and raises one arm stiffly. Very- robotically. Then he looks back to the Autobot with a more ironic glare. "...And ...hmph... how exactly am I supposed to smile?" He points to his faceplate.

         "Tch, you're too stiff!" Blurr criticizes, and grabs his arms, trying to put it in a more fluid and natural position. Then he laughs at the questions. "D'awww...are you getting stage fright? It's understandable, for someone who's never been in front of people like this before." Hmm, oh, that's right, faceplate. "Oh, heh--well just smile with your optics, you know!"

<p class="MsoNormal">Blast Off flinches as Blurr tries to guide his arms and pulls them away fussily, "Just...just...I don't know, show me then! I'll do what... you're doing." Blast Off suddenly wishes someone would snipe HIM and just put him out of his misery. Please. But they don't, so he watches to see what Blurr will do. This is mortifying. Then he blinks. "Smile with my...optics?" It's an honest question- the ultra-serious shuttleformer has little practice with "smiling" of any kind. He hesitates, then tries to do so. Instead of looking like he's smiling, his optics flash an intense purple that is more "deadly killer about to shoot you" than it is "hey, kids! Buy my toy!".

<p class="MsoNormal">         Blurr laughs, finding Blast Off's plight quite amusing. Instead of looking happy, he seriously looks like he wants someone to shoot him right now. But at least he's doing better at imitating the speedster now. "That's better, at least." he chuckles, then leans in a little more and lowers his voice. So...you think about what I said last time? About companionship?" Something about that got to him, it seemed...

<p class="MsoNormal">Blast Off tries to follow Blurr's poses... and looks like a geek with two left feet attempting to imitate the state dancing champion. He shifts and waves, a *tad* less stiffly this time, and the optical flashing is kept to a minimum. He is still completely out of his element, however, and then Blurr's words make him even more uncomfortable. "What?" He stops and leans away from the Autobot. "That...this is NOT a good time... leave me alone and just... I am trying to concentrate here. This is challenging enough." The shuttleformer must be flustered to do something like admit he's having difficulty. "I thought you were going to show me how to pose, so we can get this over with." He tries to think of his Gold medals instead, like Blurr had mentioned earlier. Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. He thinks to hold a hand out and give a thumbs-up (though it's more like a thumbs-sideways) like he's seen some other individuals do after winning a medal. Again, quite robotically. ...Slag, this is awkward. But he needs the money.

<p class="MsoNormal">         "Whoa, Blast Off? Admitting he's having difficulty doing something? Huh! I never thought I'd see the mega-cycle." Blurr exclaims, optics widening. He can tell though...this companionship thing gets to him. But it kind of surprises Blurr, Blast Off always seemed like the distant, aloof type. Could he possibly be lonely?

<p class="MsoNormal">         "Heh." Finally, he pushes away from the Combaticon and waves to the crowd. Now if someone had been watching veeery closely from behind, they may have noticed that there was something in the courier's hand that he ever so subtly left on Blast Off's shoulder, near the joint. It's tiny, but if one looked closely...

<p class="MsoNormal">         "Okay, okay--that's enough guys! Next time!" The media workers snap a few more shots and slowly start to shuffle out of there. "Seeya Blast Off." he nods, and heads off behind the platform and holo-screen backdrop, where the fembot from earlier is standing. She looks...irritated? That ridiculously sweet smile is gone from her face.

<p class="MsoNormal">         "So?" she asks, watching Blurr expectantly with her hands on her hips.

<p class="MsoNormal">         "Yeah, yeah--here you go." The former racer hands her a thin card full of shanix.

<p class="MsoNormal">          "Hmph," she takes it indignantly. "Primus, the things I do for stupid money. Doing it for some vid is one thing, that stays in the studio, but acting like some overzealous fan-femme on circuit speeders in public? Ugh!"

<p class="MsoNormal">         Blurr chuckles and pats her on the shoulder. "Hey, it's all for the greater good, remember? And if it's any consolation, you did great."

<p class="MsoNormal">         "Whatever." She just looks exasperated and walks out in a huff.

<p class="MsoNormal">Blast Off shifts uncomfortably, then goes into his usual response: acting like that is beneath him anyway. He sniffs, "Don't make such a big deal of it. I am not familiar with this sort of thing because it is trivial and hardly matters in the scope of real issues- like an ongoing war. I prefer to spend my time with important things, Blurr, not trifles like posing for cameras!" He feels Blurr touch him on the shoulder again and pulls back, but doesn't notice the item that has just been placed there. He just wants his... space. Happily, it looks like things are finally wrapping up and he will soon see it again. Blurr bids a farewell but the Combaticon just huffs and watches him leave, glad to see him go. The stage opens up enough that he can navigate the crowd towards the opposite direction and he leaves in a hurry, ignoring the last few requests for pictures. His patience, already wearing thin, is at an end.

<p class="MsoNormal">   The Combaticon makes his way back through the crowd, but doesn't bother to look for Swindle anymore. No- he REALLY needs some space now...outer space. The shuttle transforms and blasts up into the sky for a short trip where he can be alone for awhile- just him and his thoughts. Space and distance all around, until he has to return to duty below. It's what he's used to. Except this time he's not quite alone- he carries a little device, courtesy of Blurr, and he may soon find he's not quite as alone as he thinks he is...

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