Race for...Second place?

Ibex Cup Racetrack - Ibex

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============[ Welcome to the Racetrack ]========================= Your average everyday oval-shaped race track, with the accompanying grandstand. Bookies wander around offering shady deals to the multitudes of myriad aliens flocking to watch the competition.

- [ Race Conditions ]-- POSITIONS PER LAP:  20                 LAPS PER RACE:      4 ENERGON PER TURN:   1                  MAX BASE VELOCITY:  110 - -

Type !racehelp for a list of commands

Type !placements for current standings

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Contents: Contrail Motormaster Scorn Arcee Imager Zipline Blurr

Swindle has arrived. Swindle strides into the room looking to make a deal.

So the big day has come. The one upon which the neutral Streamline is to face the Cybertronian racing legend Blurr in a 1v1 race at Ibex...not necessarily to see if he'd actually beat Blurr (which of course the Ibexians are convinced he can't unless the speedster simply -lets- him), but more of as a reward for winning the celebratory 5th millenium anniversary race that had taken place several megacycles ago.

Little do the neutrals of Ibex know, however, that this 'Streamline' who is supposedly Blurr's #1 Fan, is actually Blast Off, Blurr's #1 Archnemesis. Who knew the Combaticon had an alter-ego who loves his worst enemy? Rather ironic, isn't it. Unfortunately for Blast Off, it seems his own team have become rather disgruntled by his strange behavior as he attempted to keep his secret identity from them...and you know what happens when Decepticons become disgruntled. You know, they order the source of annoyance to be assassinated or executed. That is until they figure out that Streamline is actually one of their own.

Or do they already know...?

At any rate, the crows are roaring and screeching their enthusiasm as the contestants make their way down to the track, waving banners and noisemakers and whatnot. Holographic animations dance across the stands, idolizing speed and Ibex's most beloved sport of terrestrial racing. High above the track the commentators sit on their platform, and their voices boom out over the stadium announcing the start of the initial countdown. Giant numbers replace the dancing holograms, and many of the fans begin to shout out the numbers at the top of their vocal synths as they decrease toward 0 by 1 astrosecond with every tick!

"FIVE!"

"FOUR!"

"THREE!"

""TWO!"

"ONE...."

At the end of the countdown, a large red flare goes off to signal the beginning of the race! In a flurry of moving parts, Blurr folds down into a pale blue-colored supersonic hovercar.

Race: Cybertronian Hovercar  joins the race. Combat: Cybertronian Hovercar  sets his defense level to Protected.

Imager has volunteered time at Ibex before, when the war goes cold for a bit. The large Femme obviously puts her refueling talents in motion when able, and she enjoys the crashes, so it all works out. Imager has her arms crossed, lazily as she watches the race. "Ugh, why'd I pay money to see this, it'll be over in like three poses." She straightens up suddenly, alarmed, "laps, I mean laps!" The refueler winces, looking around for retribution, but eventually settles back down.

She nudges some Streamline fan to her side, "You know, I was gonna be in this race, but it turns out noone here ever heard of me." The diminuitive alien looks up at Imager, without a word to say. Imager continues, "I hear ya, I hear ya, their loss....well that and I can't outrun the tide let alone these guys..."

She coughs quietly.

Space Shuttle  is ready. In fact, more than ready. There could be those that might say he's in way over his head- but they'd be wrong, /of course./ The fact that this little plan of his has gotten far more complicated than he was expecting is just one of those things that might unsettle a lesser mech, but not HIM. No. The original plan was disguise himself, win the first race, then beat Blurr in a one-on-one test of velocity. He would then cleverly use the close proximity to destroy the Autofool /after/ proving for all to see just who is the superior mech. Afterwards, he would most likely reveal his identity and revel in his triumph.... well, probably get outta town quick first, lest he be shot down by thousands of irate Blurr fans, THEN revel in his victory. Mwahahaha!

As it is.... Things did indeed get more complicated. There was that whole embarrassing "Grapple incident", which he'd rather just forget... and the fact that Contrail placed a bounty on his head. Well, Streamline's head, which just so happens to be his own. He DID finally get that little "misunderstanding" cleared up, and at least *supposedly* there shouldn't be any Decepticons trying to collect that bounty on him now. Hopefully. Oh, and he now owes Contrail a "favor". But with that, and with Buzzsaw making threats about his "involvement" with neutrals on another, separate matter... things have gotten more complicated. PLUS there's the fact that he's learned that the Autofools might not actually be such fools, after all... They may actually know who "Streamline" really is. Which is... disconcerting, to say the least. And the final insult.... and maybe the /worst/? Having to pretend he is "Blurr's #1 fan". THAT... /that/ is simply cruel and unusual punishment, is what that is.

But he's come this far, and isn't entirely sure if the 'Bots are onto him, so... he's got to keep trying. After all the trouble he's been through, he's determined to make this worth his while. And after all, he's a superior mech....there's very little he can't handle, right? So the sleek-looking "Streamline" is here in all his (apparent) black and yellow-striped hovercar glory... and awaiting the opportunity to finally show his "arch-rival" Blurr, and everyone else, just WHO is the superior mech.

"Souveniers! Get your souvenier cheering flags and giant foam fingers here!" Naturally, Swindle is here to root for his teammate-in-disguise.

Of course, he's also here to make big bucks shelling out cheap memoriabilia. Not that anyone cares if its cheap, with how much Ibex loves Blurr and loves races and has taken 'Streamline' in as one of their own rabid fandom. "And don't forget your Blurr Vs Streamline Raceday Two-Pack Action Figures!"

Those Streamline figures look like someone just quickly repainted a bunch of leftover Blast Offs from the Olympics and removed the larger wings.... Imager squints, "This is like...the battle of the egos er somethin."

Hijack has arrived. Race: Space Shuttle  joins the race.

"COME ON BLURR!" It'd be hard to actually see who's shouting at first, because the voice is coming from between two large mechs, but neither of them seem to be saying anything. "KICK HIS SKIDPLATE! YEAH! ROCK IT!"

Zipline only becomes visible when she leaps out from between the two mechs to throw her paws in the air. "Show him who's boss of the track!"

Motormaster moves into the stands and smirks as his bulk, a threatening low rumble from his voice box and his purple 'Con insignia cause several neutrals to quickly scramble out of his way so he can sit in a comfortable spot and watch the action. Right now, he doesn't seem to be rooting for either side.

Arcee is sitting quietly up in the nosebleed section with some guy who looks like he was left there from the qualifier. This mech looks a little bit...off. He's also drinking. A lot. He tips slightly in his seat and grins at Arcee. "Wan' be my friend?"

Arcee sighs, and peers down toward the track.

"Yo, mecha, back up! Wait ya' turn, foo'!" Hijack is off in the corner of all this shenanigans with a pretty sweet set up. There's a crowd of bots around him and he's collecting shanix and pretty much pullin' all sorts of illegal income right now. It's what he does, after all. "Naw naw, you can't bet on both! Yo, come on, mech. What you talkin' 'bout I'm tryin' play you? Mecha, you tryin' play me!" The funny part is that this ain't even an argument. "Aight, aight. Pump ya' brakes. I'll cover that bet but the spreads gotta' be a li'l bit better than dis. Come on, mech, you tryin' to make me blow a gasket..." Shanix exchange. "Thank you! I swear, mechas these days. Aight, who's next?! Who you got 'Nix on? Fast or Faster?"

Imager says, "comments as she raises her head, "Did anyone else hear Mr. Model-T suddenly?" She adds to that little Streamline fan, "He was big, back twenty vorns ago.""

Imager comments as she raises her head, "Did anyone else hear Mr. Model-T suddenly?" She adds to that little Streamline fan, "He was big, back twenty vorns ago."

Did someone say race? Too bad it isn't a turbo-horse race or Scorn would be wearing the fanciest derby hat in the stadium. She'll just have to settle on watching mechs, however, which is fine by her. And instead of being holed up in some box seats, she's instead amongst the rabble today, gladly mingling with them and greasing palms with credits to bet on the racers. "This Streamline's been quite the up and comer as of late. If he beats Blurr, why, I think that'd be a miracle! Ha!"

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 12 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - Cybertronian Hovercar  8   0   PROTECTED      -- - >Space Shuttle      12  0   NEUTRAL        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Motormaster leans forward a little and puts his elbows on his knees, then rests his chin on his fists, his purple eyes watching everything intently. But its not so much the race he's watching as watching the mechs in the stands.

"Aaaand they're off!" The commentators announce. "Heh, well looks like Blurr's going easy on the guy--well ain't that sweet of him!" The crowd is a mixture of disapointment and approval, it's kind of hard to tell whether they're happy or sad or angry. They're just going crazy either way. And lots of people are buying Swindle's merchandise. Oh and there definitely bets to be had for Hijack and Scorn.

As for Blurr, he doesn't look concerned at all, letting 'Streamline' take the lead at least for now. Though he tries not to make it too obvious...

Combat: Cybertronian Hovercar  sets his defense level to Guarded.

Space Shuttle  notices Scorn, and would love to at least acknowledge the femme.... but right now he doesn't know anyone, and they don't know him. ...At least hopefully. Swindle is here, selling...wait a MINUTE... are THOSE... he supresses an indignant-sounding huff over the repainted Blast Off figures and decides to have a little talk with his teammate later. Then the countdown commences- and they're OFF!

Blast Off shoots out ahead with ease. He smirks inwardly to himself.... though he then has to wonder. Hmmm... he's seen enough of Blurr's racing ability to know when he's really trying... and when he's holding back. And Blurr's definitely holding back some. Is that a good thing or bad thing? He's not sure. He wants Blurr's defeat to be *definitive*. The shuttle responds by easing back just a bit himself. Not only because he wants his victory to be absolute... but he's also still slightly worried Blurr's planning something, if he DOES know the Combaticon's true identity. He may need the extra energy to deal with it, you never know.

Combat: Space Shuttle  sets his defense level to Guarded. Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 11 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - - >Space Shuttle      3   1   GUARDED        -- Cybertronian Hovercar  18  0   GUARDED        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Imager lets out a whistle in Swindle's direction, raising a hand to flag him down. "Yo, issat toy Sky Lynxses you're sellin there? I never did find an original MIB Lynx."

Yes, Blurr is indeeded holding back. But Blast Off probably hasn't thought of the actual reason for it. As far as Ibex is concerned, Streamline is just a neutral aspiring to begin a great racing career, perhaps one as great as Blurr's, now that Cybertron has been revitalized. Granted, it's not the Golden Age, but it's better than before.

He chuckles inwardly. Wow, Blast Off is sure determined to win there, with shooting ahead like that. So he pushes it a little, at least for now, just to catch up with him and give the fans something to ooh and aah over.

Combat: Cybertronian Hovercar  sets his defense level to Aggressive.

"Y'know wha?? I uss...uss'ta win thees things. I was a winner," The overenergized mech seated next to Arcee in the nosebleed section mutters."I had it ALL. Femmes, money, f...fame..."

"...Everyone's your friend until you're no longer a winner," Arcee observes. "Then you're left with yourself. And you have to deal with that." In all honesty, Arcee really wishes this drunk would go away so she can watch the race in peace, but she can already tell that isn't going to happen.

Space Shuttle  is still ahead, though Blurr is catching up slightly. And no, he hasn't thought of the real reason Blurr's holding back. The Combaticon does at least take the time to enjoy the fact that the Autobot is eating his engine exhaust- HA! It's a good feeling. But then Blurr seems to tire of doing that, and starts pulling up into faster speeds. Ah, now here we go. Blast Off responds in kind, revving his engines and picking up speed as well. He intends to keep the lead, after all- all the way through to the end. And then never let Blurr forget it.... well, as long as the Autobot lives, at least. Which... may not be long.

Combat: Space Shuttle  sets his defense level to Aggressive.

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 12 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - Cybertronian Hovercar  10  1   AGGRESSIVE     -- - >Space Shuttle      15  1   AGGRESSIVE     --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Motormaster turns slightly as he watches the two race around the track. His eyes scan the crowd and light on Arcee, watching in amusement as the overcharged Mech continues to blather at her. He smirks. He could easily 'save' her by scaring off the drunk, but why bother. It wouldn't be appreciated.

Oh, come on Blast Off. Blurr has to at least make this good! He speeds up again, trying to at least get within ramming distance. Gotta give the fans something to talk about and such. He glances up into the stands, and notices Arcee, Zipline, and a few others he recognizes.

Combat: Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> sets his defense level to Fearless.

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> notes that Blurr has hit top speed, and so, afraid of losing his lead he does the same. Well... not *afraid*... that's the wrong word, the outcome of this match is a foregone conclusion, after all. It's... simply the *pragmatic* thing to do. Because Blast Off is nothing if not pragmatic! At this point, he might briefly notice a few mechs he recognizes in the stands... but right now, they're not that important. He's focused on his job, and his job is- beat Blurr. And no one will ever accuse the Combaticon shuttle of lacking focus, or determination!

Imager shrugs, looking back to the race. She shifts uncomfortably for a bit, "Frackin tiny seats...ugh, I gotta get up and move." She departs from her low seat near the finish line, (being a refueler has its advantages), she starts to hoof it up the stairs a bit, intent on stretching her pistons.

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 12 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> 4   2   FEARLESS       -- - >Space Shuttle <Blast Off>     7   2   FEARLESS       --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Closer, closer...Oh, he is definitely planning on making some comments to 'Streamline', during and after the race. Comments that will certainly shove a piston rod up Blast Off's tailpipes. He is very much looking forward to this, more so than winning anything.

Besides, he's already won so many times. One more or lack thereof is really of little consquence to him.

"MAN, lookitem move. I used t'do that," The overenergized mech seated beside Arcee says, taking another swig of his drink.

Arcee's focus is now more intently on the track, looking curious as to how this is going to go down.

"Then that blue guy beat me, Primus these fans are fickle," mumbles the drunk.

Imager yawns, stretching a little as she trudges up the stairs, "Oh, hey Arcee." She gives a small wave, "Came down here to watch the race too eh?" The big Femme puts a hand on her hips, looking out over the track, "Maybe we can talk em into giving us a run on there afterwards, I know a guy. Whatcha think?"

Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> sets his defense level to Guarded.

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> is still ahead, but... unfortunately he *is* starting to feel a bit tired. The Combaticon is forced to pull back to save on energon. In the meantime, he decides it's time to radio Blurr, just the two of them. The bad news is... last race, in order to NOT sound like himself and thus give himself away, he established that he sounds like (what he considers to be) an idiot. In other words .... Brawl.

<<Nice day fer a race, eh Blurr? So nice of ya to... uh, "give back t' the fans"! I can't wait to get up clos... I mean get to talk t' ya more uh, personally after the race!>>

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> feels his IQ dropping just saying that.

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 11 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - +Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> 16  2   FEARLESS       -- - >Space Shuttle <Blast Off>     18  2   GUARDED        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Swindle idly wonders if he'd be able to sell any copies of that 'How To Sound Like An Idiot' vidbook he gave Blast Off to help with his coverup. Probably not. Who wants to go around sounding like Brawl?

Arcee says, "Hey, Imager, come have a seat here," Arcee calls over, totally relieved not to have a drunk as her sole company. Even if the drunk is apparently a former Ibex Champion. "That sounds like fun, if it's allowed, I'm up for it. Oh, look, it's getting really close now!""

Several Sharkticons in the audience raise their heads, as if hearing Swindle's thoughts.

<<Sure thing, Streamline! We'll have a talk afterward. I hope you're enjoying yourself! I know you need this win to help boost you into the kind of career you've always wanted.>> Blurr replies to the tightbeam, as he starts to catch up.

Once he's within audio receptor range, he chuckles. "And don't feel guilty, you know I've already won the Ibex Cup more times than even Computron could possibly count--I don't need to prove myself to anyone. As much as I love racing, I'm not really a racer by trade any more." No, he has gone on to bigger things. "But don't let that stop you from shooting for your dreams!"

And with that, he cuts back on the throttle and lets 'Streamline' pull ahead again.

Combat: Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> sets his defense level to Neutral.

Imager shrugs, "Yep, ole whatsitz is sure giving him a run for his money. And why dontya come down to my spot, I think there's room still. Lot closer to the track too, sometimes tires fly off and hit people there." Motormaster turns his head back to look at the race. He hears one of the racers cut back on the throttle. Hmmmm...interesting.

"Oh, fun." Arcee chuckles, and gets up to follow Imager. "I'm sold, let's go."

Imager jerks her thumb down to the front row, "Imma go stretch my pistons a bit more first, go on down to the front row, big open spot next to me...guess they didn't sell all the front row ticks..weird. Anyhoo, little squirrelly guy down there, Streamline fan, can't miss him."

Arcee grins. "Got it."

Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> sets his defense level to Neutral.

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=================[ Defense Levels ]============================== Level                   +Attack     +Dodge - - PROTECTED                   -10        +10 GUARDED                       0          0 NEUTRAL                     +10        -10 AGGRESSIVE                  +20        -20 FEARLESS                    +30        -30

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[ Use !defend to change Defense Levels ]=============

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> hmmms. So... is Blurr planning on letting him win? That simply will not do. He needs Blurr to TRY. And FAIL. Hmmm. He maintains his current pace, but radios Blurr again. <<....How... uh, "kind" of you. But...>> He thinks for a moment, then adds with a plaintive note (or so he hopes it is, he's not used to sounding that way, after all), <<...I'm such a *HUGE* fan of yers, Blurr! I've worked SO HARD for SO LONG to get to this level. I've wanted t' test my "mettle" against yours fer sooo long... it's been such a DREAM. And- to see yer real speed, all... uh, amazin' an' up close and... to see it right here in front of me! But- but now... yer tellin' me I will never get t' really see what made ya so famous? Now I...I feel like yer not takin' this *seriously*.>>

He sounds /*so hurt*./ Really, he should win an Oscar for this. He deserves an Oscar. Actually he deserves an Oscar and a whole lot of other medals for this- all of this. Yes. <<C'mon, show me whatcha got! If I win, the fans might even think there's somethin' fishy 'bout it. I... I don't need to win... just racing with you..>> Oh slag this is so hard to spit out without losing it completely... <<... is all the reward I NEED!>> ....GAG. Oh gag gag gag gag ... gag. The shuttle can't suppress a slight shudder.

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 11 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - +Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> 8   3   NEUTRAL        -- - >Space Shuttle <Blast Off>     9   3   NEUTRAL        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

"It's okay, Streamline! And don't worry, I won't make it look -too- obvious!" Blurr calls out from behind. "Remember, you have your entire career ahead of you! Just focus on that, and maybe one day we can have a -real- race!" Hahaha. This has to be tearing Blast Off up inside. Which was the point, of course.

Primus, when will the mech figure out that Blurr's just trying to demoralize him with these things? And when will he stop falling into the traps? Heh.

Combat: Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> sets his defense level to Guarded.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - +Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> 8   3   GUARDED        -- - >Space Shuttle <Blast Off>     9   3   NEUTRAL        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

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============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> sets his defense level to Guarded.

Arcee smiles slightly as the racers zoom around the track. She can't help but think to herself what kind of radio conversation must be taking place. Because she's pretty sure there is one.

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> refrains from making an annoyed HUFFFF- that characteristic sound would give him away, after all. He sulks for a moment, thinking as he flies along. Blurr IS indeed driving him /up the wall/. And the Combaticon is tempted to just turn around and shoot the Autobot right now, just for spite. But no, then nothing would have been accomplished. He's worked too hard for this to all be for naught. There's /got/ to be something he can do. The fans are cheering as he zips around again, and he wishes they would just hush for a moment and let him think.

Then it hits him. THE FANS. If Blurr is determined to be obstinate, maybe he can use Blurr's OWN FANS against him. ...It's worth a shot, at least. The "hovercar"/shuttle broadcasts out to the crowd as he races by: "ISN'T THIS GREAT, GUYS?!? Ain't BLURR jus' the BEST? But... I think he's holdin' out on us.... how 'bout you'll give him a GREAT BIG CHEER and try to encourage him to GIVE IT /ALL/ FER HIS FANS!!!! WE DESERVE TH' BEST, DON'T WE??!! AIN'T THAT WHAT WE ALL CAME FOR??? C'mon guys, show me you AGREEEE!!!!" Oh PLEASE oh PLEASE fans/crowd.... give him a little support here. He's going to just die of embarrassment otherwise.

Actually, he's still going to die of embarrassment when this is all over... but it would be nice for it to have been for a reason, at least.

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Advanced 11 positions.

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - - >Space Shuttle <Blast Off>     0   4   GUARDED        -- Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> 19  3   GUARDED        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

=
============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> compares his Leadership to 60: Failure :( Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> compares his Leadership to 50: Failure :( Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> compares his Leadership to 50: Success!

The crowd is definitely energized by Streamline's shouting, and give a mixed response. Some of them want to relive the glory days of the Ibex Cup, while others just think Blurr is being a kind spark and allowing Streamline to take the win to help him start the career of his dreams! Still others didn't even hear him over the roar of the rest of the audience, and just keep on cheering.

As for Blurr, whether Blast Off had been able to sway the crowd or not wouldn't have made a difference. It doesn't help, of course, that he knows who 'Streamline' really is and is now even more aware of how much this is killing him on the inside. <<Go live your dreams, Streamline!>> As much as he is mocking the Combaticon inwardly, that bit -sounds- fairly genuine.

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=================[ Defense Levels ]============================== Level                   +Attack     +Dodge - - PROTECTED                   -10        +10 GUARDED                       0          0 NEUTRAL                     +10        -10 AGGRESSIVE                  +20        -20 FEARLESS                    +30        -30

=
[ Use !defend to change Defense Levels ]=============

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> is thinking a whole LOT of things right now, and they aren't about living his dreams. In fact.... they're mostly not printable. In FACT... Brawl MUST be rubbing off on him, because the curses running through his head are straight out of Brawl's mouth. Or faceplate, whatever. Not exactly becoming a sophisicate shuttle at all. He keeps them to himself, though, and breaks away from trying to influence the crowd.

He's probably going to win- and yet it doesn't feel like a triumph at all. He doesn't respond, having nothing to say, and again debates just stopping and orbital bombarding the 'Bot right then and there. But this is getting to ...somehow... be an embarrassing FIASCO... and he's feeling ready for the slaggin' thing t' be DONE WITH so he can go SMASH SOMETHIN'.

Oh slag, he's really starting to THINK like Brawl.

Race: The racers speed around the track, and the scoreboard lights up with the new race standings... Race: Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> crosses the finish line! Race: Advanced 10 positions. Race: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> crosses the finish line!

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===============[ Racetrack Attack! ]============================= Racer                         Pos Lap Defense-Level - - +Cybertronian Hovercar <Blurr> 10  4   GUARDED        -- - >Space Shuttle <Blast Off>     10  4   GUARDED        --

+ Racer within ramming distance - > You!

=
============[ Sorted by Track Position ]=========================

It seems Blast Off is going to win, but at the very last moment Blurr pulls up and--

"HOLY PROTOHATCH OF PRIMUS!" the commentators shout. "It's a TIE, and not even a single fraction of an astrosecond off!!!" The crowd is -definitely- going wild, now! "Wow! I mean, just WOW! I thought Blurr was going to let 'im win for a bit there, but I had NO idea---ha! We'll have to talk to him afterward on how exactly he pulled -that- one off so perfectly!" Of course, they think Blurr purposefully had them finish at -exactly- the same moment. Well, maybe he did. Maybe not.

Anyway, once both of them have passed the finish line, Blurr transforms, standing up and patting 'Streamline' on the back. "Well, congratulations, Streamline! You've proven that you can even give -me- a run for my shanix on the racetrack. All that work has definitely paid off!" he says with a grin as the fans, media, and commentators pour down from the stands to congratulate the pair, though especially congratule 'Streamline.' Already they're throwing more of those #1 Fan decals...

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> thinks he's going to win, too... and then suddenly there Blurr is- side by side. Slag it all. Then he suddenly wiahes he'd tried harder, and he'd have won for sure. But hindsight is 20/20... or it should be, and "Streamline" is still not sure WHAT to think of this. Of any of this. The whole "defeat Blurr, orbital bombard him, and get the slag outta town" idea is shot to Pit. ...

Now what? Not really having an idea after several of the previous ones have failed, he simply goes along with it. Perhaps he'll get a quiet enough moment to pull out his ionic blaster and shoot the annoying Autobot. Transforming, he flinches and glares a bit as Blurr pats him on the back, then remembers he's supposed to be a big fan.... ".... Yes... paid off...right." He sounds less than enthusiastic. Then the decals start coming again, and it takes everything he has not to start pulling those off like a madmech.

Blast Off shifts into his battle-ready robot mode.

Arcee can't help but laugh at the outcome. The FANS are going hysterical. The ANNOUNCER is going hysterical. Mass pandemonium.

The hovercar quickly unfolds upward and outward to reveal the fastest terrestrial Cybertronian in the galaxy, Blurr!

Buzzsaw has arrived.

And now the ICS people start bombarding them with questions. "Blurr!" they call out. "How did you do it? I mean how did you pull off a perfect tie, or was it just a crazy coincidence, you know as well as we do that that -rarely- ever happens, even back in the Golden Age when racing was in its prime!"

Blurr chuckles. "Yeah, I was going to let him win, but I figured that would just be too -obvious-." They laugh. "Oh, that's what we figured! Streamline! How do you feel?! You -tied- a race with Blurr. I mean, BLURR! And now you're gonna be on your way to a new racing career!!!"

Blast Off looks at the reporters, trying not to appear too annoyed. Though it is difficult. But he manages at least somewhat- for the sake of pride if nothing else. Not that his dignity has been spared much here. He scans the area, noting exits... just in case. "Uh...I... what?" Focus, Blast Off, focus. He nearly glaares at Blurr as he responds, "Oh, believe me, no one's more surprised than.... I... I mean.... I ...great, I feel great." He gives a little half-hearted fist pump.

"I... expected a bit of... I mean, I expected a lil' different... outcome, is all. Blurr, I had SO looked froward to seeing your top speed, aftr' all... I've done SO much research... you have no idea....."

"Well I think he was going top speed for a bit there, but maybe some day in the future when you've trained up enough, you'll get a chance to see that even more!" The reporters reassure him. Of course, this is all recorded and all that, and going to be broadcast on the news service.

Blurr nods. "Yep, that's what I told him. Well--back to my -real- job. And good luck on the tracks, Streamline. I'm sure you'll do -great-." Another 'friendly' slap on the back, and the courier speeds off back toward Iacon.

Buzzsaw glides his way in, because he's Buzzsaw and screw your silly reasons for being here. He needs none of them. Finding a spot to alight, he simply surveys the scene with a proper, glaring, and terribly unimpressed gaze as glowing crimson optics lock on a few keynote faces which he recognizes.

Blast Off nearly gets toppled over with that "friendly slap" on the back (the shuttle's got little strength, after all), and his glare turns to a look of concern as Blurr zips off. Wait... he can't go.... he 's got to SHOOT the Autofool! He tries to follow, but the crowd makes that impossible. Frustrated, he can only turn to look at the reporters. "Um..."

By now, Streamline/BO has the crowd surging all around him, cheering and probably driving him absolutely out of his mind. Among the throngs of well-wishers is a very amused-looking Arcee, who smacks 'Streamline' on the arm in congratulatory fashion -- a bit harder than usual, though. Kind of like a broslap. "You sure showed HIM! Wooooooow, you must be proooound of yourself," she says, laughing.

Blast Off almost misses Arcee in the maddening crowd... until the smack... which he definitely feels. In fact, that may have just dislodged a heat shield tile or two.... which are fortunately lost in the crushing mass of feet below. He recognizes the voice as well, and has to supress the urge to whip out his gun and start shooting... it's just such a natural response, after all.

His optics narrow, until he remembers himself and they widen again. Arcee may well know who he is... but maybe she doesn't. What she said earlier made it hard to tell. "Uh.... yeeeah.... Well... more like.... planning my future glories." Like destroying Autofools. Double meaning, much?

Race: Blast Off leaves the race.

Arcee smirks, then winks and waves off as she heads out to parts unknown. Arcee has left.

Buzzsaw glowers at all the things. Because he can.

Blast Off watches Arcee leave, then suddenly picks up on Buzzsaw's presence (he can feel that glowering) and decides it's time for /him/ to leave as well. *Without* revealing his identity, after all... because that would just be embarrassing. He answers a question or two to get the reporters distracted, then waves them away and says something about having things to do. Before they can pester him further, he gets outta there with what little shred of dignity he has left. He'll need a LOT of wine tonight.