Victory Lane

Maccadam's Old Oil House Inside, Maccadam's Old Oil House is a chaotic shambles, most of the time. Its main attraction - beyond the fuel itself - is that the proprietors make no distinction between Autobots, Neutralists, and Decepticons. If you can pay, you can stay.

However, while the bar will serve anyone, Rocky, the doorman and bouncer, who looks a bit like he might turn into an ape, doesn't seem overly concerned about breaking up fights, unless the bar is seriously imperiled. There is an upper level ringing the main floor, with seating and tables, for patrons who prefer to look down on the rest of the bar from behind the handrails - handrails that would do nothing to stop a determined patron from chucking another patron to the floor.

There is a framed pictured on one of the walls of a rather nondescript robot, but aside from that, the bar is fairly sparse in decoration, lacking the kitsch that some bars affect, its purpose clear. There are a number of bartenders, from a burly female in an apron, to protect her from some of the more caustic blends, to a bartender straight out of an old time Western, with a jolly metal moustache. There is an unassuming brown player piano in the corner. Maccadam, the manager himself, is a mysterious figure, rumoured to have been built by Primus himself. Of course, that rumour is probably just nonsense brought on by the exceptionally pure fuel in the drinks.

Maccadam's is usually a pretty raunchy affair, ruffians from all over Cybertron come to get their DRINK ON! Well, times that by ten. Tonight is a race night, all the television sets in the establishment are displaying the annual 'Race Around Cybertron in Eighty Cycles' event.. with the volumes maxed on each reciever. Likewise, bookies are combing the crowds.. looking for suckers to entice with lofty promises of easy credits.

Even the heart of the Autobot empire has it's dark side.

Bustling from the bar, with pitchers in hand, Blaster thumps down in his seat across from Jazz and deposits the enerhol on the table. "Drink up, daddyio. I got my money on Blurr, fo sho!" the tape commander laughs, pausing to hit a button on his chest.

In a Soundwave impersonation, he intones "Foxfire, eject. Operation: Consumption!" and then laughs himself silly.

What is Slugfest doing here without a babysitt-err, I mean, Soundwave? The little stegotape goes for a flying leap at a bar stool. He grabs the edge of the stool with his front feets, kicking his back feets furiously for momentum. Finally he scrambles onto the stool and puts his front feets on the counter. He stomps one forefoot on the counter loudly. "Me want energons!" he demands.

Foxfire does indeed eject, flying out of Blaster's chest compartment and transforming in midair to land on his paws on the floor. He peers up at Blaster with a slight frown on his muzzle. "Consumption?" he repeats. "Aw, Blaster...you know I don't hold my high-grade well..." At least he's able to admit it!

Back in a dimly lit corner sits Windshear. Hes been here for awhile, just relaxing with that odd blue enerhol he drinks, smoking enercigs and watching the race, and the mechs watching the race. He blends into the lack of light around his table comfortably thankful he is back in his deathly shaded build colors again.

Ever heard that expression, 'to darken the doorway'? It seems apt, for some reason, as the front door of the establishment swings wide and the looming shadow of a very large, well-armored mech falls across the entrance. He stands there for some moments, cataloguing every dimension of the interior for future reference, and then, with a methodical stride better suited to an MP patrol, clanks purposefully toward the bar. A few of the smaller gumbies eye him uneasily as he passes.

Leo selects a stool at the far end of the bar, away from the general rabble, and unfolds one hamhock hand to let a credit chit fall to the countertop. He doesn't vocalise his order; just catches the optics of the bartender, then flicks his own toward the tap of high-grade.

"Come on little man, Jazz has been talkin' a mean game.. and we intend to win, you dig?" Blaster replies to Foxfire, pouring himself a cup and partaking in it's glory. Glancing at a nearby screen, the Autobot Rock-a-holic catches a glimpse of the tiny Stego-Tape.

"Yo, your uncharismatic beatbox know your out here.. I hear it's about curfew, YAOW!!" he chuckles, taking another haughty drink from the tankard.

A sigh escapes Foxfire. "Fine, fine...I'll do it. For you." He hops up into a seat and sits up on his haunches to put his front paws on the table. His ears twitch and he casts a glance toward Slugfest. "Aw, leave 'im alone," he tells Blaster. "He's not bothering anyone."

It had been a while since Jazz got together with Blaster. The last time the pair had partied, half of Cybertron's power grid had gone down from the hellacious sound and light show that had ensued. Tonight was different though. It was more about just hanging and watching the race. And drinking some enerhol too.

"Thanks for the splash of gas homie! Ya know I was gonna say that....." Suddenly Jazz stops talking. His blue visor swings over to the bar and a large figure that's just walked on. Keeping his gaze fixed on the familiar mech, the Intelligence Director leans in as he takes a swig from his tankard.

"Yo Blast. Did you slip one of those electro-pills in my drink dude?! Unless my visor is on the fritz, I think it's him over there man! Check it out!" Jazz motions towards Leo, trying to keep his excitement down to a whisper under the roar of the race fans around.

Slugfest is busy happily slurping at the bowl of energons that the bartender placed in front of him. His little stubby tail wags back and forth.

Hinder has been here the whole time, honest. Just... snoozing. She wakes up, realizes where she is, and taps on the inside of the dead-looking Seeker's jet mode canopy. "Let me out, please?"

Slugfest pokes his nose out of his bowl when he hears Hinder. "EEE! Hindy!" he exclaims, jumping off his stool and running towards Windshear.

"Ahahaha, just keepin' him on his little stego-toes Foxman.. that's all." Blaster laughs, clasping a hand as gently as possible on Foxfire's back. When Jazz makes a tiff about the bar's newest occupant, he leans forward to continue the husted conversation.

"Nah Jazz, I think that's the real deal.." Blaster mutters to Jazz, optics afixed on Victory Leo. "Either that, or an imposter with the biggest set of ball bearings ever.. OW!!"

Windshear feels the tap inside his chest and then notices the Stegosaw heading his way. With a click the canopy opens to let the cassettecon out. "Be on your guard, Hinder." Windshear says quietly, "Bots are everywhere -- and its crowded."

Foxfire has never actually met Victory Leo! So he's not paying him any attention, really.

Victory Leo's enhanced sensory apparatus are... fortunately only installed in his leonine form, and so it is only Jazz's body language, and not his excited whispering that draws a flick from the large warrior's optics. His lip twitches faintly, as if reflexively wanting to snarl, but he almost instantly resumes a deadpan expression as the bartender nervously slides a glass of the Best before him. He lifts it to his mouth with a low grunt of approval.

An unfortunate neutral walking out of the little bots' room clips the edge of one of Leo's wings in passing, jostling the rogue Autobot's drinking arm and causing a few drops of the precious liquid to spill onto the bar. "Hey, watch it laserbr..." the neutral starts to complain, his voice trailing off into a terrified squeak as Leo turns, slowly, to look him up and down. "I mean... uh -- sorry! I'm sorry sir! Put his next drink on my tab!" he squawks in alarm at the bartender.

Jazz leans across the table to give Foxfire a fist bump, "Hey hey hey Foxy! Nice to have you aboard for our operation tonight! Here's the low-down. We've got about 40 liters of enerhol to down before the bar closes down tonight. Why don't you get busy with your first right now dude?!" The Autobot slides over a half-spilling tankard that's probably about the size of Foxfire.

Turning back to Blaster, Jazz takes another gulp as he hears the Autobots' DJ confirm his suspicion. "Man, this is weird! It's like we're in an episode of the Twilight Zone or something, ya know what mean?! I can't remember the last time that dude showed his face around here. Probably need to get a hold of Rewind to fill us in. Think I should go over there and see what the big guy's up to these days?"

Somewhere on the table, Jazz had a ticket receipt for Lightspeed to win the race, but that would need to be put on hold in light of this new development. Cybertron Weekly was sure missing out on a good front-page story here. Hinder clambers out of Windshear's jet passenger compartment and looks down at Slugfest. "Hello, Sluggy." She then looks around the room to get an assessment of what's going on -- Windshear's warning seemed serious. She notes the presence of Foxfire and Jazz and ... is that Blaster? And then there's that really angry looking mech over there not talking to anyone. She tilts her head, curiosity now at full speed.

Foxfire fist-bumps with Jazz, as best he can when he, you know, doesn't have hands. Hooray for paws. "Sure thing. I'll give it a shot...but I'll be blaming you and Blaster if I get totally wasted." He smirks. Then, ears perked forward, he shoots his gaze toward Leo, and stares for a moment. Rather than comment, however, he shifts his attention back to the tankard that Jazz slid over to him, and proceeds to down it as best he can. Which mostly involves the use of his metallic tongue. He holds the tankard between his front paws as he does this.

"Look, it are foxtape!" Slugfest exclaims. "No can fight now. Want energons? Me have bowl over there!" He turns and points with a little foot over at the bar.

Smiling when Foxfire is offered a healthy portion of booze, Blaster leans back in his stool and -tries- not to glance behind him every astrosecond to get a glimpse of Victory Leo. "Play it cool, hotshot.." the Autobot mutters in another hushed tone, "You act like you've never been on a date before, you lugnut. Gotta show some class."

But a plan, Blaster has.

Seizing the one pitcher, Blaster stands and raises it to the air. "Let's get this party started!" the rhymin' fool decrees, throwing the container back and attempting to drain it all in one chug. As gracious as he is, Blaster isn't perfect. Some enerhol runs out the side of the pitcher, trickling down onto his chest compartment. But down it, he does! "Hoooooooooooooooooooooooo-Rah, check it!"

Slumping down in the seat, Blaster blinks his optics a couple times. "Okay, there's the.. hard part." he gasps, taking a breath. "Now, you've got a reason to go make chit-chat." he informs Jazz, pushing the empty pitcher across the table.

Victory Leo surprisingly enough does NOT start a brawl, and merely turns back to his drink with nary a gesture of acknowledgement to the clumsy neutral. He does indicate to the bartender, however, with a casual flick of one finger, that he'll take the other mech up on his offer of a drink. Another of the same, expensive stuff he has now.

Hinder looks down at Slugfest again, and with a less than graceful hop she lands on the floor. Shaking herself off, she shuffles toward the bar but seems to be heading for the glowery mech instead of Slugfest's bowl of energon.

It doesn't take long for Jazz to catch on to Blaster's plan. "That's right Blaster! Let's boogie like it's 2006 ya dig?!" The Intelligence Director bolts out of his seat and does a little break dancing, before he rises up to his full tankard.

Well it was full.

Jazz grabs the metal gauntlet of sorts and starts gulping down the remainder of his enerhol, finishing with a wipe of the metallic face, and a belch. "Wow! That's some good stuff man! Got a little exhaust on it, but it's all good as long as it ain't comin' out of my tail pipe, ya dig?!" The Autobot lets out a chuckle as he looks from the empty tankards to Victory Leo. With a few more ounces of liquid courage in his systems, Jazz picks the tankards up and scoots over to the bar. "Maybe you can get a little music rockin' Blast my man?!"

Carefully making his way through the crowd of race fans, the smooth Autobot finally approaches his destination, right next to the larger mech standing at the bar. Looking up he calmly asks, "Hey man! What's shakin' Victory Leo?! Been a while. You're a sight for sore optics dude! Can I buy ya a drink?!" If nothing else, Jazz was hoping the big lug wouldn't hit a guy with a visor.
 * obliges, transforming into altmode for two reasons. One, it's easier for him

to belt tunes at high volumes from this mode. Two, it's less obvious how drunk he is.

Blaster obliges, transforming into altmode for two reasons. One, it's easier for him to belt tunes at high volumes from this mode. Two, it's less obvious how drunk he is.

~Back in 86 man, I was seein a shrink. But now I'm humble, and I can only think.. I'm gonna get you.. I see through you..~

Blaster plays some BEATS, folding down and shrinking incredibly in mass to become a boombox!

Foxfire can already feel the booze going to his head. He blinks a few times, the now empty tankard still between his paws. (He's up on the table now, by the way, since the tankard IS more or less his size.) The room spins a little, then stops, and he peers over toward Jazz, watching as he approaches Leo.

For all the outward indication he gives, Leo might well be completely oblivious to the goings-on in the bar, in favor of paying attention to his drink. He drains the glass in front of him so that he can get started on his "free" refill, pushing the empty across the bartop with a flick of his fingers. His optics trace a path idly upward, toward one of the viewscreens with bland non-interest until Jazz suddenly appears at his elbow.

"I doubt that," he rumbles sardonically, the first words he's spoken since arriving. "The last time I checked, Rodimus still had a warrant out for my arrest." He glances at his second serving of energon, shrugs and downs it with a casual flick of his wrist. "But yes, you can buy me a drink."

Slugfest is halfway to his energon when he notices Hinder isn't headed that way. He toddles after her. "Where going?" he wonders, catching up with her.

Hinder pauses in her beeline toward Victory Leo to look at Slugfest. "Curious. Don't have to follow." She then resumes shuffling across the room, watching the target of her curiosity talking (sort of) with Jazz.

Windshear can only watch as Hinder makes a beeline straight for the Autobot at the bar. He doesnt recognize that one and quietly runs through data file to get an ID on that one. In the meantime he just holds the enercig in his mouth via a fanplate and -- oh no now Slugfest is following her. Why? The dead colored seeker scans the room making note of where everyone is, bot, neutral, anything that functions but continues to just.. watch.

Maybe it was the music. Maybe it was the enerhol. But for some reason Victory Leo's rumbling voice didn't really make Jazz as fearful as he thought it might. The last time he remembered seeing the imposing figure in person was when the Autobots were busy trying to corral the disturbed mech. Although it was a sort of weird reunion, Jazz actually felt a little sympathetic for Victory Leo and his troubles. "Well if you're down then let's get the party started ol' buddy! Yo bar keep, hook up the Boss Man here with some of the best stuff ya got. Make it the ultra-grade and throw it on my tab," Jazz leans in with a whisper, "...actually throw it on that red dude's tab over there." Throwing a glance back to Foxfire and Blaster, the Autobot sends a thumbs-up signal as he pats Victory Leo on the back of his waist. "Look man. Times have changed and things have changed. If you ask me, what's done is done. I think the sooner we can all move on and get along, the sooner we'll have peace dude." Jazz takes the newly-filled tankards from the bar keep, sending the largest over to Victory Leo. "Why don't you come on over and hang with our crew man?"

~What happens next, is all a blurr. But you remember fist, can be a verb.~

Blaster cranks out some music, still trying to bring his sensors under control. The enerhol must be stronger than he imagined, but.. Blaster has tackled taller tankards and walked the line! From the outside perspective, the spilt drink sizzles inside the tapedeck.. an acrid smoke creeping slowly out the hatch. And then, it happens.

The volume steadily rising, the songs keep switching as soon as they start playing. Meanwhile, the red and yellow boombox thumps around in the bar stool.

~You mother get up. Come on, get down with the sickness! You Fu..~

~I am watching your eyes and follow my salvation. There's so much sh..~

~Seeing red again, seeing red again, seeing red..~

~Man, nearly killed me stepping where you fear to tread. Stop, drop and roll, you were dead from the get go. Big motherfu..~

Finally resting for a second, finally the volume blasts out as loud as possible.

~Alright STOP, collaborate and listen. Ice is back with a brand new invention.. SOMETHING grabs a hold of me tightly.. Flows like a harpoon daily and nightly. Will it ever stop? YO -- I don't know! Turn off the lights and I'll glow.. To the extreme, I rock a mic like a vandal.. Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle!~

It's important to note that Blaster isn't under control of his bodily functions right now. :(

"But me curious too!" Slugfest says, "Okay, you go look. Me go back to drink!" He turns and hightails it for his bar stool. Soon he's perched atop it again.
 * slurp slurp slurp*

Victory Leo lets out a low, guttural chuckle, as if he hasn't laughed in a very long time and has almost forgotten how. "I don't think I'm quite ready for that level of... socialization," he declines, casting a dubious glance toward the rockin' Blaster. "But I'll keep that in mind." An expression slightly reminiscent of regret shadows his features briefly before disappearing into the usual scowling contours of his face. For Leo, that's practically the equivalent of bursting into tears.

Hinder bobs her head at Slugfest and shuffles right on over to Vic Leo, stopping next to him opposite Jazz. Her hind end settles onto the floor as she looks up and up and up at the imposing mech. She doesn't say anything to him, just... stares.

While Jazz is a bit bummed out that Victory Leo isn't interested in hanging out with the rest of the group, there's certainly something here still to gain from this chance encounter. Information.

Lots of it.

"That's cool dude. We can just chill here for a minute and hang," Jazz takes a swig from his tankard sending a brief glare over at the gawking Decepticon tape. "So Vic, where ya been homie. Haven't seen you in a while and I don't think anyone else has either. It's like you dropped off the face of the galaxy or something." The Intelligence Director downs another few ounces of his enerhol as he tries to concentrate on Victory Leo's expressions. It takes superior concentration when he's fighting the effects of the liquid in his tin along with the incessant super-shuffle that Blaster happens to be going through. Jazz stands up as if he's not planning on sticking around that much longer. "Yo hold up dudes! I'll be right there!"

Coming in control of his.. actions, Blaster transforms back to robot mode and knocks his head a couple of times with his palm. "YAOW, must'a fried a circuit or somethin'.. that, or must be turnin' green again!" he laughs towards Jazz, uneasily.

Sitting back down in the seat, the Autobot gives Foxfire a gentle pat on the head. "How you holdin' up Foxman, gettin' to the bottom of your bottle?"

~From the top to the bottom, Bottom to top I stop. At the core I've forgotten, In the middle of my thoughts.~

Blaster BLASTS a bit of music, as the boombox transforms and drastically increases in size to his robot mode.

"Around," Leo replies succinctly, any hint of wistful nostalgia disappearing like an imagined fart on the wind as his optics detect a Decepticon ferret, of all things, :sitting on the floor staring up at him. He glares back balefully, but continues to address Jazz. "Tell Rodimus... well." A very slight smirk curves about his lips. "Tell him I'd have words with him, if he's prepared to listen."

The little stego-tape slurps for a little while. Then something appears to be wrong. "URK!" he exclaims, hopping off the bar stool and RUNNING with pelting little feets to the little bots' room! He charges in, pushing the door open. Retching sounds are heard momentarily. Hinder tilts her head at the mech's baleful glare, seemingly unperturbed. She takes a few more moments of staring at Vic Leo before offering a simple "Hello".

Victory Leo has no interest in consorting with Decepticons, and shows it by turning very deliberately to put his back to Hinder and bury his face in his drink, nursing it now as a convenient excuse not to have to converse further.

Just a few minutes ago, Jazz was ready to light up the Oil House like it was New Year's Eve back on Earth. But even the playful Autobot couldn't resist the temptation to stay and hear more from Victory Leo. Hanging on the mech's every word, Jazz decides to sit back down for the time being. He was torn. Blaster and Foxfire were back at the table waiting for some new enerhol drinks, but at the same time when would Jazz /ever/ get the chance to chat with Victory Leo?

It's a good thing, the spy bot had activated his radio at the bar so his drinking buddies could listen in.

"So you're tellin' me big guy that you'd actually sit down to smoke the peace pipe with Rodimus if he was down with it?!" With another drink of his tankard, Jazz's visor lights up with excitement, "That would be epic Vic! Maybe after all this time RP would be up for something like that. I'll be happy to pass the word along homie. You got any other words you want me to pass along?"

Getting up from the table, Blaster saunter/stumbles over to the bar with some respect of elegance.. but not much. "Not to overhear.." he pauses, sizing up the clone in a moment.

It was just like yesterday, the trial. Blaster was one of the deliberating jurors.. who had to decide Doubleback's ultimate fate. It looked like physical dismemberment and statis lock for the core, indefinately. But one thing changed all that, one person changed the outcome for better.. or worse.

"Victory Leo." Blaster finishes, a tiny fake smirk on his face. "But I think you've had it wrong the whole time, cat." The next part is spoken without the 'Blaster' rigamole or persona, not an inkling of 'The Voice' in his next sentence. "He's been prepared to listen, waiting for you to start talking."

Hinder cranes her neck a bit when Vic Leo turns his back on her, but she gets the hint and turns to shuffle back over to where Windshear is sitting. "Not very friendly," she comments idly. She still doesn't seem upset about it, though.

"Nothing else," Leo murmurs around his glass, having withdrawn into his carefully constructed, implacable facade once more. He pointedly does NOT flick a glance toward Blaster, though a nearly imperceptible twitch of his cheek might betray the impulse. "I'll let Rodimus tell me himself whether I'm right or wrong. We have a... unique understanding, after all."

Windshear watches Hinder come back to him and he smirks, "I could of told that, Hinder, hes an Autobot..."

Jazz nods as Victory Leo speaks, casting an I-think-he's-done-talking glance over at Blaster. "Alright Vic. We gotcha man. I hope we can settle this drama soon enough and move on down the yellow brick road, ya dig? These freakin' Decepticlowns haven't given up yet and we could always use another helpin' hand to join the A-Team. Hopefully we'll see ya sooner than later dude."

Giving the imposing robot another pat on the back, Jazz turns to Blaster and calls out to Foxfire too, "Yo guys. I think I'm gonna head back to my pad and crash for a little re-charge time. Thanks for the invites! Let's definitely do it again in the future!"

Flipping over a few credits to the bar keep, the Intelligence Director finishes the last of his tankard and heads for the exit. It had certainly been a bizarre night with Victory Leo showing up and maybe Jazz just needed a little time to synthesize everything.

Hinder bobs her head at Windshear's words, then stands up meerkat-like in a silent request to be picked up off of the floor. "At least did not try to kick."

Slowly nodding, Blaster eases off a bit and grabs one of the refilled pitchers. He begins to speak, mouth agape.. but nothing comes out. The Autobot who's talking a mile a minute, is left speechless. Afterall, if anyone 'knows' Rodimus.. it's the person who thought he was Rodimus.

After the brief pause and shock, Blaster plops himself back down in the seat and asides to Foxfire. "Hey Foxman, still with us? Who's racing into the victory lane??" he motions to the vid-screen.

Windshear leans over and scoops her up with the obvious ease of much practice. He sets her on the table. "Well you got that at least to appreciate." he rumbles in reply.

Foxfire stares drunkenly at Blaster. "I'unno," he mutters. "Tol...tol'ja...I can't...hold..." He sways on the table, then flops onto his side. "...my high-grade," he adds.

A gentle hand whips out, patting the half-passed out Foxfire on the head.. right before snatching up his lithe form and tucking him safely under an arm. He could forcefully transform the tape-fox, but for now.. the Blast-Man will let him rest.

It'll be much funnier when he wakes up in Arcee's personal quarters, reeking like booze.

Ah, the life of a prankster. Gotta love it! And out the door Blaster goes, nefarious schemes afoot no doubt.