Blitzwing- Bounty Hunter

The Steel Balloon - Tyger Pax

A grand establishment of questionable repute, this facility is a rectangular-shaped building rising a few Transformer-sized stories into the heavens, with large metallic steps leading up to the door. Lights, music and voices emit from the place at all hours of the night, as people come here to enjoy themselves and their friends, or to forget their miserable lives for a brief period.

Within is a truly massive circular bar and large-screen holoviewers suspended on every wall. A honeycomb-tiled dance floor takes up most of the floor space on the east side, and tables surround it, all built for mechs from cassette-sized to Dinobot-sized.

This pub is strictly neutral, or as neutral as the bouncers can manage to enforce against drunk, brazen Decepticons. The owner has an agreement with both factions, as most of their revenue comes from the soldiers on either side, so there is incentive to avoid trashing the place via brawling.

Contents: Rumble WANTED poster

Counterpunch has arrived.

The doors to the Steel Balloon fly open and faciliate a floating Counterpunch's entrance. He's in a seated position and singing. Badly. "Aaaaaaaaaaaand something else I can't remember the words to eeeeeeeeeiiieieieieieieeeether!" Having his finished his opening number mainly elsewhere until people told him to leave he decides to take five and gets off his invisible stool. Looking left and right, quickly counting on his fingers as he does so, he tries to take all the incoming orders. The whole choir's thirsty though so he gives up. To the staff rapidly trying not to be his server for the evening, or even the moment, he says, "Too much to deal with. I'll have the lot and work it out from there. Put it on my tab." Counterpunch doesn't have a tab. Maybe he knows this, maybe not. In any case he does the trick with the two cigs and puffs away happily.

Rumble steps inside -- oddly, he doesn't arrive by the *front* door, he shows up from the loading dock entrance. He looks like he's been in a fight, and he's grinning widely. "Kiiick aaaaaft!!" he bellows happily as he flies over to join Counterpunch. "'Sup!"

< Decepticon > Rumble says, "Those shotholes make GREAT punchin' bags!"

Blast Off looks up from his customary seat in the corner, where he is currently nursing a glass of wine and perusing a datapad. As always, there are a number of things on his mind. One GOOD thing, at least, is that Vortex is functional again- after Onslaught had to endure a meeting with Galvatron that included a knee in the face. Ouch. The shuttle shakes his head at the memory, then tries to get back to his reading. Again interrupted by Rumble. He glances up, annoyed at the noise, then it's back to his datapad.

Scooping up the massive plate with various beers, wines, sprirts and possible cleaning products Counterpunch walks over to the table. To the retreating staff he says after some chain laughter with some sunny spells, "Straws, I'm going to need a lot of straws. Bring 'em over kids." his progress to the table's halted by getting there. He sees through his forest of glasses, bottles and other containers someone but, in this foliage, they could be anyone. Speaking through the beer thicket he says, "Room for one more? Better be as I can't carry this further." as he moves to sit anyway Counterpunch spies Rumble and says, "Kid! Just in time! I might need reinforcements here, you game?"

"Sure, no big deal." Rumble supports the plate effortlessly, despite it being far larger and heavier than himself. "True fact: did you know that shotholes have a purpose? They are just the right size to get beaten up. I beat them all up an' laid them out on the back dock. Hah! ...Hey, there's Blast Off over there, did you get him somethin'??"

Blast Off glances back up at Counterpunch and sighs. Apparently no one's going to leave him alone. *siiigh* He glances around briefly, then shrugs and gestures to the seat just as Counterpunch sits anyway. He tilts his head. "Are you planning on drinking ALL of that?" Then he looks to Rumble. "Shotholes? You mean those Kickback clones? Surely they have better purposes than for getting beaten up?" Then pauses and considers. "Well, then again... perhaps not."

Watching Rumble rest the plate on the table with enough enerhol to kill everone several times over Counterpunch says, "Dig in kid! before they melt . . . whatever's underneath here! So give me the bodycount! spare no gory details . . . they're the best ones!" Another downpour of laughter ensues cancelling some sporting events and shutting down public transportation in rural areas. As he takes another draw Counterpunch finally sees Blast Off and says "Kiddo! Good to see ya! You remember the controls right . . . On and . . . . wait . . . I know this one . . . that's it! Deactivate! Just say it though. Don't spray it." Technical discussion concluded a rare clear and simple statment escapes from his vocaliser to Blast Off, "Seriously, Commander, I'm just here to make sure that things as the script says. I don't need to say more . . . do I?"

"I think they were made to beat up, kinda like a trainin' drone, far as I can tell," Rumble remarks to Blast Off, then grins at Counterpunch. "An' to me, that makes them great. Cause I feel like doin' that a LOT whenever I see them!" He joins Blast Off at his table, despite not being invited. BO is his buddy!

Blast Off stares in confusion for most of that, but as Counterpunch mentions why he's here Blast Off gives him a sudden knowing look. "I... see." His optical ridges furrow down, and he suddenly glances towards the door. "Yes, well..." his voice trails off, then he suddenly reaches over and grabs some random drink, giving it a quick swallow. "We'll just see how things go." Rumble gets another glance, but the Combaticon doesn't even really mind. He's suddenly feeling like some company might be nice. Don't know how much longer he'll get to have it. "Just try not to break them- at least not permenantly."

Counterpunch laughs cancelling the rest of todays sports and any replacement bus services set up for stranded rural commuters. "Rumble, kiddo, it must've been easy for ya! Who can stay 'a' standin' when you decide to shake things up?" Taking the servers offering of straws he stars writing the names of the voices that requested the ones he can remember. Seventeen's trying to show off again. . . his is the Drain Cleaner and, no. that's not the name of a cocktail. Just checking Blast Off's read his lines ahead of the big show he pulls a duplicate chip from an empty glass. He waves it at Blast Off to hopefully jog his memory. If it doesn't Counterpunch can put it on an intensive training course. Six has always wanted to be a Drill Instructor. Oh no, wait, he actually want's to teach things to drills. Instead of saying anything else he just whistles casually at the Aerospace Commander and hopes there's no subtlety left to break through. Rumble rubs the back of his neck, and his hand comes back with a coin. "Hang on, I'm in the mood for some tunes." He strolls over to the jukebox, probably putting in a request for some horrible, profane, death-metal band...

...But no. Suddenly 'Call Me Maybe' starts playing. And apparently, nobody had DARE complain.

Rumble rejoins Blast Off & Counterpunch at the table. "So Blast Off. I was thinkin' about a cultural exchange. Would you be interested?"

Blast Off glares at the chip and swats at it... though not actually touching it- like PUT THAT AWAY. He glances over at Rumble, who he's afraid will start askign questions now. So he tries subterfuge. "Yes, I received that data already..." He holds up his datapad like that's the data he's looking at right now. Then he takes another drink.

Rumble gets another look, then. "Yes, I believe you already mentioned that. Something about me showing you a Kaon Opera and you showing me... a cage fight? I ... don't know about the latter, but I'd be happy to do the former. IF you promise to behave."

"Well, how's it an exchange if we only do the opera?" Rumble asks -- thankfully, he doesn't seem to notice the chip. "Cause if it's an exchange I do somethin' I don't wanna do, an' then you gotta do it."

With some real subspace sleight of 'hand' Counterpunch makes it look as if his hand was vapourized by the slap. "No! I'll never play the piano again! Wait? Could I before? Lets find out." Abandonning his current trick the two handed Counterpunch sits at his invisible stool once more and plays an invisible piano. Really he's making the tonal sounds and throwing his voice to make the sound appear as if coming from elsewhere. Good timing as his finger hit the 'keys' does the rest. "So, what do you prefer then, Jazz, Classical, Showtunes?" Counterpunch asks over his 'playing' "I do requests . . ."

"Play 'Call Me Maybe'! Do the dance, too. An' if you don't know it, I'll teach it to ya!" Rumble tells Counterpunch with an amused chuckle. He just did that to irk people, of course, he's quite good at it.

Blast Off sighs and just stares at Rumble a moment, then his hand comes up to his face. "...Very well. IF I have time sometime. And don;t expect ME to actually engage in any of those... cage fights." Then Counterpunch gets a startled look before the sleight of hand is revealed, and Blast Off finds himself staring at the other Con now. "Uh...." He glances to Rumble, like, do you see this guy?, then replies, "Okaaaay... how about something... classical?" Ought to at least keep him busy, right?

Rumble chuckles in amusement at Blast Off's reaction, and he tones down his trollish/bratty behavior just a little bit, kind of curious to see how far BO *would* be willing to go in a cultural exchange. "Welp...naw, you wouldn't need to fight," Rumble laughs. "It's fun, but it ain't necessary. You can also bet on them an' win BIG, an' I'll teach you how to do that. It's easy!"

A challenge! Finishing his current number Counterpunch says, "Teach me the moves later kid, just now it's music time!" In a mashup Counterpunch mix the mech who knew too little because of the average caused by his voices switches to a full synthesized rendition of Call Me Maybe with appropriate change ups and change downs into Vivaldi's Winter and back! Just like the G1 packaging! Spinning on his 'stool' he knocks the now numbered straws into the air, splices them together with a shot from his pistol, and watches them land in an assortment of yet untouched drinks. Standing now and taking a bow, irregardless of applause, he then rather inappropriately toasts "We who are about to die salute you!" complete with slaute to Blast Off, takes a sip from the straw now sitting in many drinks, and with a second salute, passes out.

Rumble stares at Counterpunch for a long moment, then he carefully balances an enerbeer can on the mech's faceplate.

Blast Off looks over at Rumble. "Just as long as you don't expect me to act like Swindle. HE's the gambling mech, not I. Though I suppose he's not even that... he just likes to rig the gambling for everyone else..." he shakes his head again. Then stares some more at Counterpunch. He quietly asides to Rumble, "I... think some of his... wires are crossed... know what I mean?"

"Nah! This ain't a scam. If it was a scam I wouldn't even go. It's a *system*," Rumble explains to Blast Off earnestly. "I go there with my whole paycheck -- an' I don't get officer pay, remember! -- an' each time, I make back about...oh, 2 to 4 times of it back. An' that's on an AVERAGE night. On a good night? One time I won about 50 times the shanix that my paycheck is. I been doin' this for millions of vorns."

Blast Off blinks at Rumble. "...Really?" Suddenly Blast off is a lot more interested in this hobby of Rumble's. "You sound like you have a feel for this sort of thing. Which... somehow, doesn't quite surprise me." Blast Off sure wouldn't mind getting some spare shanix. "...If you make all this money, then... where does it go, if I may ask?"

"Uhh. Well...tuition," Rumble admits -- apparently he paid for his schooling at the Kaon Academy, although this doesn't prove he didn't extort the instructor to give him good grades. "Also I got, uh...wait, you ain't gonna tell Swindle any of this, are you?? He screwed up the shop, I don't want him knowin' about my stuff," he says, looking slightly paranoid.

Counterpunch awakens. The first thing he notices is the enerbeer on his face. It is noticable. When his first plan of willing the drink through the solid matter that is the bottom of the glass fails he goes for plan B. Still lying flat on the floor he withdraws his pistol from subspace, punches in a few commands to make the laser setting as tight focussed as it allows, aims it carefully at his own face. . . and fires. most of the enerbeer vaporises from the shot but the hole drilled into the bottom of the glass and, admittedly, his faceplate trickles down to be gratefully drank. Standing and letting the glass smash on the floor he says, "Wow-ee. That's a good one! That'll win a contest for sure!" Causing further infrastuctral problems to the metaphorical place aforementioned previously with another sudden storm of laughter he then says to his fellow Cons "So . . . I miss the fireworks?"

Defcon arrives from the New Maintenance Center to the west. Defcon has arrived.

Blast Off gives Rumble a slightly insulted look. Of course I wouldn't. My... lip plates are sealed." Not that anyone would be able to tell under that faceplate. "Swindle doesn't need to know of any of this. But good- education is a fine thing to spend one's shanix on. You are simply bettering yourself, and that is worth any price." Then Counterpunch awakens and.... shoots himself? And... this is the guy he's trusting for help later? Hmm. Blast off starts wondering how wise that was.....

"Thanks, Blast Off!" Rumble says with a grin. "So anyhow, I got a few...businesses. One a'them's in San Francisco Spaceport. I got another one in New York City. Just...transport-for-hire. I ain't the driver, I got one hired," he says proudly. He keeps an optic on Counterpunch. Now, he's beginning to understand why Galvatron likes him so much.

Blast Off looks at Rumble and idly swishes his drink. "Businesses? ...What kind of... businesses? Or do I want to know?" Then he just has to ask, "And who did you pay to be the transport? Or... are you simply driving something inanimate?"

After his self repair systems fixed the small hole to his faceplate Counterpunch loads two more cigs and waits. When they don't traditionally burst into self ignition he stares at them. Oh yeah. He spent his Counterpunch Cool Points (TM) on the piano trick instead of laser vision. He stands by that decision. Nineteen is still sulking though. Giving the stare a bit more time to work then getting bored Counterpunch snaps his fingers and gets the desired result. Puffing the life out of them he says as he sits and slowly reaches for the straw again, "Funny you were both talkin' 'bout those cage fights before. Everyone doesn't realise the best time to bet on a fight's when they lock eyes for the first time. You can tell if the fight's been fixed then and who's going down. You can tell after the match's started but it's too late to place a bet by then. Y'see if, for the sake of argument, I'm gonna take a dive against you" Counterpunch's hand moves away from the straw to point at Blast Off but slowly starts making its way back "It's gonna look like a fix if I didn't go all out, nearly get the upper hand on ya. You'd be the favourite in that matchup so the guy diving really has to give it a show so people either don't believe it or don't care when he goes down. Love the fights but I love the backroom dealings more. . ." Counterpunch finishes his musing with another plume of smoke and his hand nearly upon the straw. ..

Defcon has arrived. Shiftlock has arrived.

"Sometimes, you make pretty good sense," Rumble admits. "This is how you 'read' a cage match, for sure." Considering Blast Off's question, he ponders for a moment. "My transporter's a human. Pretty reliable. It's my ship but he drives an' he's paid a cut of...uh...mover's income," he says shadily. "For each 'delivery'." Blast Off takes another swallow of his drink, then returns his gaze to Counterpunch. "You sound as if you spend a lot of time watching these fights." He glances to Rumble. "Maybe you should take HIM instead. Then you can just come with me to the Opera later. "But I digress... I'm sure there's some psychology involved in these matches. It's that way with any fight. Each battle is almost as much mental as it is physical."

Rumble gets a slightly surprised look, followed by some distaste. "You... work with a... *fleshling*?

"Uh...yeah. Cause...he works out of a Terran spaceport," Rumble explains. "If he was a robot or a Skuxxoid or some other race, he'd attract more attention, an'...I don't need my...*ahem* drivers gettin' too much attention."

Shiftlock walks into a bar. If only there were a rabbi and a priest to go with that joke.

She makes her way to the counter and places an order, hopping up on one of the stools, a reasonable distance from the Cons.

Counterpunch nods to Rumble and smiles a faceless smile, "From a pro at that stuff that means a lot Rumble. Thanks kid. Next time I'm rigging something I'll give ya a heads up." He takes another draw of his cig, hand on the straw, then says "Mech I am thirsty. Your health!" After draining everything dry he almost crackles with overcharge "Yeah! perfect temperature too!" Counterpunch says a full three octaves above his normal. "Who's for another round?"

Blast Off raises an optical ridge at Rumble... then relents. "Well... that does make sense, actually. I suppose I can't criticise too much, since we Combaticons have had to work with fleshlings as well from time to time... especially in that abysmal place known as Carbombya." He shakes his head, then looks to Counterpunch. "I... am still good, thanks. And again... how many of those are you planning on drinking?"

Then Shiftlock walks in and Blast off freezes for a moment. He stares, then a hand subconsiously comes to rest briefly on his chestplate. IT IS finally fixed, at least. There's another long pause, then he determinedly looks away. AND grabs one of Counterpunch's drinks, downing the whole thing quite rapidly. So much for moderation, after all.

Rumble looks over at Shiftlock cautiously. He remembers the first time he saw her in this place. Back when the bar was in its old location. What's going to happen here? He glances at Blast Off's reaction to her arrival, and he boggles in confusion. Counterpunch's zeal for imbibing makes him grin. "You're in the right place to get  up," he notes.

Shiftlock just raises a glass of engex to the Cons, smiling, acknowledging them with a silent toast, before she goes back to her drink. No comments, no flirting, no nothing. She's just... keeping to herself.

Blitzwing has arrived.

Counterpunch looks genuinely confused. He had to work that out in advance? Twenty-six does the math for him and he might be dead from overcharge poisoning. When Blast Off takes a drink Counterpunch bypasses logic, decides Blast Off said 'yes' and Rumble's ready to go again. "I shall return. If not the drinks still will." Standing causes a few random discharges of excess power. Counterpunch's mistake was when he tried to fly, not walk, across to the bar once more. The burst of sudden acceleration nearly catapults him into a few walls, out the door and into a few staff a few times. Eventually he lands by the bar. Even he thinks walking's the way to go on the way back. Everone agrees. Five was sick. He orders "The same again, but bigger!" to the staff, nods to the figure at the bar drinking quietly and, very carefully, walks back to the table. Crackling as he goes.

Battletrap arrives from the New Maintenance Center to the west. Battletrap has arrived. Sixshot has arrived. Repugnus has arrived.

Blast Off huffs slightly at Rumble's salty dialog. Then the Combaticon notes aerily, "PLEASE Rumble. Some manners! Watch your language. You've been enlightened with higher education recently... education concerning culture and class! Now you need to... well, *exude* a more... *urbane* air to go with it!"

Counterpunch then.... well, Blast Off isn't even quite sure WHAT Counterpunch does. Or is. He's... confusing. The Combaticon simply stares, then goes back to his drink. Shiftlock gets a glance, and he feels a small surge of anger... like he COULD go over there and start snarking at her... or something. BUt.... no, on second thought, he's staying right here and getting drunk, thank you very much.

Shiftlock can't resist. She smiles widely and calls over to Blast Off. "Next time it'll be your aft." She pours herself another drink.

"Urban air? But...Blast Off, If you go to a city, that's how they talk," Rumble says, looking confused.

Battletrap slips one of the bouncers a few shanix so they don't kick the Duocon out before tromping through the doors. "Finally, some time to unwind, stuff my face with horrible bar snacks and booze, watch some idiotic intergalactic sports I probably don't understand, and not give a drek!" He strolls over to a corner booth and flashes a barmaiden one of his smiles... which makes her just shy away and shove someone else in his direction. That guy is creepy the way he keeps grinning like that.

This goes through two more femmes before they finally manage to get one of the bulkier barkeepers to take his order for a pitcher of enerbooze. And then he kicks back and puts his big truck-feet up on the table like a total classless slob.

Blitzwing makes a raucous entrance into the Steel Balloon, putting his hand on some poor femme's face and shoving her aside and into a wall and flexing menacingly at her boyfriend who cowers away after making a feeble attempt at trying to stand up to him for her. As the triple-changer stampedes through the double doors, a poster nailed to the wall catches his optic. He looks it over with a studious eye, quickly realizing who the sketch is supposed to represent. Blitzwing snatches the poster off the wall, then waves it around to the patrons as he proceeds on towards the bar. "Blast Off! I'm here to kill you!"

Counterpunch sits back down with the overload, for the most part, dissipated. Shaking his head a little Two and Three fall over. Looks like the fun's about to begin. He casually rests his hand on the table. A small camera appears under his palm, not that anyone can see it, but it can certainly see everything. Counterpunch just wishes he'd remembered to order some snacks. Staying silent he just looks at the who and where of the crowded bar.

"So, what can I get for you fine gents today?" says a bartender robot as he approaches the Decepticons' table. He has a mustache, and appears to be wearing a beige apron. "A bit of moonshine for everyone? Very good, sirs!" And the robot proceeds to pour some moonshine-- which he illegally made in his own room--into the Decepticons' cups, unless of course they save them in time!

Waaait a minute, that's Repugnus in a terrible disguise! And wait a minute, that's Blitzwing with a terrible attitude! "Oh, dear me!" he says, backing away from the table.

Halo has arrived.

".. What?" Battletrap looks confused. Why would a Decepticon want to kill a Decepticon. The Duocons are kind of like bastard stepbrothers to the Triplechangers (Shockwave's fault) so he takes a bit of interest in this, getting to his feet and trodding over to Blitzwing. "Lemme see that." Looks at the poster. Looks over at Blast Off. Looks at poster again.

You can almost hear the gears sloooooowly turning in his head.

"Uh, Blitzwing. You sure?" He waves a hand in the Combaticon's direction. "He ain't got no poncho on. This picture clearly has a poncho and is like ten times better looking."

Blast Off flinches back slightly as Shiftlock speaks, and gives her a startled look that quickly boils over to huffy indignation. He evn puffs up a little. "I... you... I oughta...." He has the sudden urge to use some salty language all his own, but right after chastising Rumble for that, well.... he simply takes out his anger on his drink instead, chugging that concoction back and then slamming the glass down. "NEXT time... you'll never GET that close. I'll show you just what a sniper does.... and you'll never see it COMING!" There's another glare, then Rumble speaks. Blast off stares at him next, then facepalms. "URBANE, not... urban. One is ...oh, just look it up sometime." Battletrap comes in and gets a glance from the Combaticon, which turns to annoyance as the mech puts his feet up so classlessly.

And then Blitzwing shows up. The already tense Combaticon freezes again. Until he mentions something about killing. This just makes Blast off's optics narrow. "That is NOT funny, Blitzwing." Then...Repugnus shows up and starts pouring slag knows what in his drink? "STOP that!" The Combaticon swats that away and proceeds to grab something still pristine, which he then begins chugging down. Hard. Battletrap's comment is ignored- for now.

Through a cloud of smoke Counterpunch says, "You gonna take that Kid? Get up there and show him who's boss! Drinks'll be waiting for ya."

Shiftlock grabs her drink and her bottle, and moves far, far away from the bar. She is not going to be a part of any of this. She goes to the back, muttering, "All of my nope right now. Allll of my nope."

Rumble is fairly calm, eyeing all the patrons curiously -- up until Blitzwing enters and announces he's cashing in on Blast Off's bounty. "No offense, but...I'm gonna change seats now. For obvious reasons. Good luck." With that, he gets the hell out of Blast Off's general vicinity, and flies over to sit on the edge of the bar counter. "Alla my YUP," he says with a cheeky grin at Shiftlock.

Blitzwing puts a hand on Battletrap's face and lifts the poster up higher so that the Duocon can't see. "Yes I'm sure!" Blitzwing shouts, shoving Battletrap away as he crumples up the poster in both hands and throws the freshly-crafted paper wad at Blast Off's face. "Y'know, for once... I ain't joking around. Time to put up or shut up, fly boy." Blitzwing meanwhile grabs someone else's beer off the bar and downs it.

A dark silhouette appears at the doorway to the bar, stopping for no other reason than dramatic effect. Its hands, down at its sides, slowly flex and close into fists, and even amidst the noise of the bar, you can hear every servo in all ten of his digits audibly crack. The figure gives a nonchallant nod to the bouncers and then steps into view, blue and gray armor covered in millenia of scratches and nicks. Defcon.

He casts a sideways glance at everyone in the bar, though his face remains expressionless. He doesn't care. You probably aren't worth his time and if you are, he's clearly far too sober to care or deal with you right now. The bounty hunter walks slowly to the bar, finding an empty stool to sit on, and orders himself a drink.

Battletrap gwahs as Blitzwing grabs his face so he can't see, and then pushes him aside. He lands on the table some mechs are playing space-poker at, knocking it on the side and scattering cards and ener-chips everywhere. And a beer pitcher on his head.

As he sits up at the mechs glare at him Battletrap licks some of the energon booze dribbling down his face off, and then picks up a bunch of the cards, holding them in both his hands. And then thrusts both hands over his head. "SIX ACES! I WIN!"

On of the mechs, realizing the other was cheating (or that he'd be caught for cheating first) quickly turns and punches one of the other players in the face, then points and blames him before he gets caught himself. Repugnus drats as Blast Off just gets a different mug. Buuut, then he eyes Blitzwing brazenly grabbing mugs off the bar. Sooo, he takes a couple empty mugs, and proceeds to pour moonshine into them. Next guy to just grab a mug off of there is going to get more than he bargained for!

"Hey, who are you?" says an actual barkeep behind the bar.

"Oh, my, sir! I'm new! Don't mind a humble mechanism like myself!" Repugnus proclaims. "But nevermind that, things got really interesting!" The Monsterbot stifles an evil cackle as none other than Defcon steps in. "This is gonna be good!" he mutters! Cybertronian Starfighter  transforms into his Defcon mode.

From her position in the back now, Shift can see the new arrival in good detail. She doesn't recognize Defcon, but she recognizes someone who isn't to be crossed. She takes note of the badge as well. She hopes he won't be anything like Blitzwing, who has already ruined her quiet evening of Blast Off harassment.

"If you wanna get the slag beaten out of you, Rumble, then I guess it would be all of your yes," she calls back to the casetticon. Blast Off watches as Shiftlock- and then RUMBLE TOO- back off. Rumble gets an incredulous stare. Why that no good punk.... suddenly Blast off feels like he's surrounded by turbo-rats fleeing a sinking ship. And HE's the ship. This does not ease his nerves at all. Nor does getting clobbered in the face with a crumpled up poster. Or nearly so, since Blast off ducks in time.

He glares at Blitzwing. "You would actually have the temerity to come in here and DEMAND a fight with your superior officer just so that you can collect a bounty -on your own FACTION? Pathetic, Blitzwing. Simply PATHETIC. If this wasn't the right time or place, I'd be GLAD to take you up on your... "offer". I'd beat you- AGAIN." The arrival of the Bounty Hunter doesn't get much notice from Blast Off- mainly because Blast Off doesn't realize he's a bounty hunter. Counterpunch looks at Blitzwing as he approaches and says, "Hey! All-star? Once this is done . . . . can I get a signed photo? Those things go for a bundle online!" He then releases some more laughter destroying the metaphorical planescapes' relief efforts to recover from the last series of laughter attacks that day. His left arm swings freely as he sits and waits to watch the fun. "C'mon Kid . . . " he says to Blast Off " . . . You can't disappoint the crowd here . . . you'd never live it down!" Battletrap gets up from the floor. Takes the pitcher off his head, and leaves the arguing poker players behind him to offer it to one of the waiters with a grin. "Hey, fill this up for me." Nods his head at the arguers. "It's theirs but they're a bit busy to care right now."

Then he turns to look at Blast Off while he rants. Looks to Blitwing.. who is busy. Some guy he doesn't know over there with the Combaticon. Who's spouting off a bunch of fancy words.

For lack of options he looks to Rumble instead. "What the frag does 'temerity' mean?" One of the actual waiters had been about to grant Battletrap's request when Repugnus suddenly cuts in to fill the pitcher with his moonshine. "There you go sir, it's on the house!" he says, and shuffles away. The waiter stares at the Monsterbot, befuddled.

Once he's finally been handed a drink, and after he's taken a nice long swig, Defcon leans one elbow up on the bar and slowly turns to see what else is going on. There's some noise, but there's always noise in a good bar. That's how you know it's a good bar. The old bounty hunter notices the Decepticons, taking a moment to scan each one of them carefully. He'll go over the data later. Right now, having just returned from a recent deepspace mission, he just wants to relax. Get a drink. Maybe punch a few people. Wake up in an alley somewhere. Nothing special.

Blitzwing settles down into a chair grabbed from another table while the patron it belongs to is at the bar ordering a drink. Blitzwing swings the piece of furniture around, back of it towards the table as he sits, folding his arms over it. He peers at Blast Off, a predatory grin on his face. "Yes. Yes, I would. And no... not pathetic at all. Unless I lose - which I won't. Look, kid, you can't count the trainer simulations. When I walked in you were practically crying. I let you wail on me a bit just to get your confidence back up. There's no way in the Pit you could ever stand toe-to-toe with me. I'm going to give you the opportunity to prove otherwise, right now. Unless of course... you're scared?" Blitzwing cackles, standing up from the chair then and idly passing Counterpunch a signed autograph. See, Blast Off? You're not the only one that has admirers.

Before the waiter has a chance to do anything about it Battletrap grabs the pitcher. "About time!" The Duocon slugs it back like it was just an oversized mug, about as much of it running down his chin and neck as is actually getting in his mouth. Once it's all gone he lowers the pitcher, thumps his other fist to his chest and belchs loudly. "Holy slag that's got some kick to it! Gonna feel it in the morning though."

At which he just smiles all the more broadly. Yet it really isn't a very comforting, pleasant smile.... The bar's door opens...A large shadow is cast with two VERY distinctive vertical wings sticking out the back. Everybody heard the stories or knows about the notorious Decepticon Sixchanger. Sixshot scans the bar..."So much for quiet..." He spots Defcon...Interesting. He decides to stick around just a bit more. He walks over to the bar and orders a pitcher of enerbrew with a glass of used mech-fluid...eeewwww...

Rumble strolls down the counter to go see what Battletrap's doing. He figured this fight between Blitzwing and Blast Off is going to head outside very shortly, if the bar's rules are any indication.

Shiftlock pours herself another drink from the bottle, kicking back in her seat, optics fixed on the newcomer she hasn't seen before. << Fair warning if you want a quiet evening. The two chuckleheads at the bar have a long standing grudge. The calm isn't going to last, >> she radios to Defcon. Sixshot catches attention next... she eyes her bottle. Almost empty. She's gonna have to wade through a sea of testosroline to get any more booze.

Battletrap slams the pitcher down on the bar. "Another one!" He grins at Rumble, but then Sixshot comes in. Look, a guy that has even more mode confusion issues than he does. And the sixchanger orders a drink. And a glass of mech-fluid. Whoa. "Now -that's- is smeggin' hardcore."

"'Sup, mech?? Need any assistance with the imbibing of the energex??" Rumble asks Battletrap with a hopeful grin.

Blast Off glares at Counterpunch, too. "My name is not KID." The talk of "not living it down" gets a glance at the triplechanger. "Well, it's not like I am AFRAID or anything. I am a Combaticon warrior!" Then he swings his arm, gesturing around the room. "But this is not the time or place. This bar has been wrecked already... and I LIKE coming here." He glances over at Shiftlock-and Rumble- with annoyance. "...Usually."

Then Blitzwing again brings up the whole "scared" thing, and the Combaticon slowly turns his head to glare at him. "Right. You can spin it all you like- the fact remains I beat you before, and I can do so again." He then sits there, and it's possible he's mustering courage. Optics glance about the room, then he downs the rest of his drink in one swallow. Placing it down again- calmly this time- he gazes at the huge triplechanger steadily. "..... Very well. A Combaticon is not one to back away from a fight, after all. But it is YOU who shall rue this day. I will see you scrubbing space clams off the hulls of space ships- with a TOOTHPICK- in short order. But only AFTER I have trounced you in combat." The Combaticon then stands up, and with one last glance at the engex still sitting on the table, he starts walking out the door.

Happily taking the picture Counterpunch is already up on the night now! Safely subspacing it he then says "People! Party outside! No participating in the main event! I am though taking bets! Any side fighting . . . cool?"

Blitzwing smiles then, as it appears his psychological attacks have generated the desired effect. Blitzwing moves out of Blast Off's way, holding the door open for him. "Ladies first."

"Help yourself!" Battletrap replies when the pitcher is returned, refilled. He grabs a couple of mugs as well, and offers the cassetticon his shoulder. "Hop on, don't wanna miss the real fun starting."

Repugnus shuffles into a corner of the bar so he can cackle evilly with a hand over his mouth. "Hm hm hm! Oh, poor Decepticon... little do you know... that's my special *rowdy* brew."

Quick flashback to Not-Blot Station, where Repugnus started a riot by giving everyone his amped up moonshine. "Stop it! Stop it right now or I'm calling Galvatron!" Shockwave said at the time. But everyone continued to carry on, ambling around and swinging from the beams in the ceiling. "Nnnnnh!" Shockwave grumps. >o.

He into gun mode and nukes everyone while Repugnus, disguised as Squeezeplay, cackles and runs out.*

Back in the modern day, Repugnus is disguised, badly, as a waiter. "But of course, sir!" he says joyfully as he pours Battletrap another drink.


 * That's not *quite* how it happened.

Blitzwing moves west to the New Maintenance Center. Blitzwing has left.

Waving his arms to somehow speed up events Counterpunch shouts "C'mon Kids, lets go here!" Then he leaves to get ahead of the rush.

Counterpunch moves west to the New Maintenance Center. Counterpunch has left. Rumble moves west to the New Maintenance Center. Rumble has left. Repugnus moves west to the New Maintenance Center. Repugnus has left.

The Steel Balloon - Tyger Pax

A grand establishment of questionable repute, this facility is a rectangular-shaped building rising a few Transformer-sized stories into the heavens, with large metallic steps leading up to the door. Lights, music and voices emit from the place at all hours of the night, as people come here to enjoy themselves and their friends, or to forget their miserable lives for a brief period.

Within is a truly massive circular bar and large-screen holoviewers suspended on every wall. A honeycomb-tiled dance floor takes up most of the floor space on the east side, and tables surround it, all built for mechs from cassette-sized to Dinobot-sized.

This pub is strictly neutral, or as neutral as the bouncers can manage to enforce against drunk, brazen Decepticons. The owner has an agreement with both factions, as most of their revenue comes from the soldiers on either side, so there is incentive to avoid trashing the place via brawling.

Contents: Halo Sixshot Battletrap Shiftlock Defcon WANTED poster

With Cybertron's rebirth, the New Maintenance Center has found life again. It serves as a partly-automated repair facility the size of a small city. Its buildings contain a wealth of continuously replenished supplies, the heavy duty equipment needed for major Cybertronian overhauls, and the delicate surgical equipment needed for proper maintenance.

While the facility can do limited repairs automatically, it requires medical knowledge to be fully utilized. Due to its ease of access and life-giving functions, the New Maintenance Center has become a popular destination for the Empties and Wrecks that roam the Cybertronian landscape. It is here that even the lowest of Transformers can get patched up, refueled, and--like the center itself--given a new lease on life.

Contents: Defcon Repugnus Rumble Counterpunch Blitzwing Keg

Battletrap arrives from the The Steel Balloon to the east. Battletrap has arrived. Halo arrives from the The Steel Balloon to the east. Halo has arrived. Sixshot arrives from the The Steel Balloon to the east. Sixshot has arrived. Defcon arrives from the The Steel Balloon to the east. Defcon has arrived. Shiftlock arrives from the The Steel Balloon to the east. Shiftlock has arrived.

Sixshot pours the mech-fluid into the pitcher of enerbrew and watches people stepping outside. He stands up with his pitcher and heads for the door. Some waiter intercepts him "Sorry sir you can't take that outside." The Decepticon looks at the waiter... "Really..." He simply strolls out...with the pitcher. (Repose for people outside)

Shiftlock, having either a complete lack of common sense or no fear whatsoever, exits the bar and decides to stand next to Sixshot. She looks over at his drink.

"How's it taste?"

Blast Off stops and glarrrres at Blitzwing, then reminds himself that he'll have his revenge soon enough. Slag, but he doesn't want to walk through the door now. He almost walks right back to his table -to get another drink, yeah, that's it- but other patrons following behind him sort of get in his way and push the admittedly short Combaticon through anyway.

There's a bit of HUFFF as he finds himself standing outside the bar (well, at least it shall remain standing this time!). He looks around at the gathering crowd, then proceeds to walk over to a more open area. Where he crosses his arms and stands looking haughtily up at the triplechanger. "...Very well then. Prepare to be defeated- AGAIN."

"Kick his aerialons Blitzwing," Battletrap hoots, then resumes chugging down one of the mugs he brought with him.

Sixshot does not even look at Shiftlock. He flatly awnsers "Like an Autobot's fuel line....Hence...the used mech-fluid. It adds authenticity to it."

Blitzwing laughs as Blast Off 'graciously' accepts the insult by walking out of the Steel Balloon first, assisted by the customers or not. The burly triple-changer walks out of the bar himself, and no sooner has he passed the double doors does he have both his electron sabre and gyro rifle ready in either hand. The triple-changer grins back at the Combaticon, who seems to be attempting some self-assurance by continuing to drone on and on about how good he is. Yeah, there's been enough of that for a few life-cycles. Blitzwing is beyond trash-talking, at this point. And to advertise as much, Blitzwing's sabre explodes into a lightning rod, and a purple-pink arc of deadly electricity spider-webs across the night sky as it search out for the Combaticon's most delicate parts.

Rumble lands on Battletrap's shoulder, using it as his VIP seat to this bout. He really thinks that if Blast Off puts his mind to it, he can do some serious damage. To him, battles are pretty important. Far more interesting than watching two mechs talk it out, that's for sure. Cycles such as these were made for fighting. Largely swamped by random people desperate to place bets Counterpunch cries over the growing crowd. "Closing bets as soon as the first shot or blow goes down. Hurry!"

Combat: Blitzwing misses Blast Off with his Electro-Scimitar attack!

If a bird cassettecon perchs on your shoulder, you're a leader. If Rumble or Frenzy sits on it, you're probably just some fight happy punk.

Battletrap would rather have the latter, needless to say.

Blast Off glances over at Battletrap, and sniffs disdainfully, "It's ELEVONS, you buffoon. I'm a SPACE SHUTTLE." Then Blitzwing doesn't waste any time, lunging at the Combaticon with his electro-scimitar! Fortunately, Blast off expected as much... wouldn't expect Blitzwing to fight FAIR, after all. So he darts to the side with ease, then brings out his ionic blaster as he chides the triplechanger.

"Tsk, Blitzwing... too slow. AGAIN. Why does this seem so familiar? OH yes... this is how last time went, as well. You /just can't keep up with me/. Which is why *I* shall win. And as for your size? Well, they do say the bigger they are, the harder they fall.... let's see if that's true for you as well?" And he jumps up in the air using his antigravs, gaining some elevation as he fires down at the triplechanger.

Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Guarded.

"Can't say I go around tasting Autobot fuel lines," Shiftlock smirks, drinking from a new bottle. "I think you're tryin' too hard, Sixers." She turns around and walks. "This boring. I'm outtie." Tranforming, she speeds off. Shiftlock crouches and tumbles forward, twisting in the middle as her body compacts rapidly into the form of a Cybertronian Speeder. Combat: Cybertronian Speeder  begins retreating, outrunning all pursuit. Shiftlock goes home. Shiftlock has left.

Combat: Blast Off misses Blitzwing with his Testing the truth in old sayings (Laser) attack!

Repugnus leans in to Sixshot to nudge him with an elbow. "Looks like you'll be having plenty of Decepticon mech fluid to try in a moment!" He waggles brows before moving away from him. Repugnus then adds, "Unless these two losers keep missing each other like a bunch of morons!" He adjusts his fake 'stache.

"Boring? *Boring*?!" Battletrap boggles for a moment as the femme transforms and speeds off, then resumes his drink. "Dame don't know what she's missin."

Blitzwing's sabre passes by Blast Off without removing a limb, but in a battle between two mechs who have as much hate/hate history together as these two - you can't go out there and win it all on the first shot. That wouldn't be fair to the crowd. You've gotta have build up. Suspense. A little back and forth. Most of all, it's gotta be painful - embarrassing even - when you're getting kicked down every rung on your way back down to the bottom. Blitzwing rolls with the momentum of his strike, using it both to avoid Blast Off's laser shot while simultaneously setting himself up for a second go at the Combaticon. The triple-changer throttles after Blast Off, giant foot-less thruster boot hefted up and sailing after his opponent's mouth-plate. "Blah blah blah."

Combat: Blitzwing misses Blast Off with his First Rung (Kick) attack!

After swatting and chasing the gamblers away Counterpunch pockets the cash. Amazing how much fun gambling is when you're the bookmaker. He hangs back and waits for the result. Maybe Counterpunch'll make a loss on this. You live and learn. Either way sit back and wait. So, using his antigrav as a hammock, he does just that.

Sky Lynx arrives from the Central Tyger Pax to the south. Sky Lynx has arrived.

Battletrap tosses one empty mug over his shoulder so he has a free hand to hold up to his mouth. "Com'n you two, stop fightin' like a couple of a sissy fembot newbs!"

"Yeah!" Rumble calls from his VIP seat on Battletrap's shoulder. "C'mon, Blast Off, this is your thing! Just get it done!" He is, actually, rooting for Blast Off, because he thinks that the shuttlformer holds back a lot of his best brawling moves just for 'appearences' sake.

Blast Off ...missed? He stares, mortified. Regaining composure, he glances around again. He is aware of the crowd watching them as well, and equally keen on looking good. In ALL ways. He brushes a speck of dirt off a heat shield on his arm, then looks up just as Blitzwing comes at him with a flying kick. The Combaticon has enough time to be extra *annoyingly smug* in the way he just dodges that one, almost looking as if it's hardly worth the effort. He flexes some fingers in front of his face, as if studying them for dust as well, as he continues hovering in the air. "...Too. Slow.... AGAIN."

Blast Off hears the jeers and suppresses a huff. "Yes... it is time to bring a swift end to Blitzwing's insolence..." He suddenly darts forward in mid-air, and he seems to come at the triplechanger- then lets himself fall suddenly, back to the ground, where he runs under the other Con and fires off more shots from his gun- hopefully at Blitzwing's backside. He casts a quick glance to Rumble and smirks under the faceplate.

Combat: Blast Off sets his defense level to Neutral. Combat: Blast Off strikes Blitzwing with his YAWWWWN attack! [Pulled -2]

Repugnus cheers! "Excellent hit, good sir! Quite unlike that triplechanger. Why, I would daresay his big, blocky shoulders are obscuring his vision, and making him ridiculously top-heavy! That must be why he's moving around like a space slug in comparison to his superior opponent! A shame Blitzwing doesn't have a bounty on him that we know of? Or... DOES he?" The Monsterbot scratches his fake stache again.

Exquisite Space Shuttle - Sky Lynx glides his way in. He heard there was some sort of a mess happening, and just had to see for himself... Lo and behold, it appears to be some kind of a...fight? Wait. Just who is fighting whom here? Because it certainly isn't something that's spilled over into the cross-factional warfare that is so prevalent. How...odd.

Well, not really.

Decepticons are prone to hitting themselves for no reason. The massive mech settles in to spectate. Mainly to make sure that there's no collateral damage that should best be avoided. Sky Lynx transforms into the wondrously phenomenal form of a Sky Lynx!

Blitzwing whiffs past Blast Off as the Combaticon manages to scoot off just enough to dodge the strike, but being speedy in his own right, the triple-changer manages to compensate appropriately so to regain his balance just as quickly. Unfortunately, the Combaticon has taken to the ground and is already lighting up Blitzwing's backside by the time he can figure out where his target whent. Oooooooh, Blitzwing sucks in a deep ventilation cycle. This is going to be good. Blitzwing is going to have to check himself from enjoying this /too/ much. Whipping around after the burn from the laser blasts subside, Blitzwing levels his own rifle back at the Combaticon. "Keep talkin'!"

Combat: Blitzwing misses Blast Off with his Gyro-Blaster Rifle attack! Sky Lynx chuckles softly and watches everything unfold, charging up his radio...

Don't ever let it be said that Lynx is not biased towards his fellow explorers. Ever. He powers down the radio as soon as the message is sent and settles in as though nothing happened AT ALL.

You receive a radio message from Sky Lynx: Come now, is this truly something you consider to be a challenge? I quite expect you to deal with this in short order. Blitzwing has nothing on us shuttles, after all. Combat: Sky Lynx inspires Blast Off with terrifying and righteous words! Combat: You feel more courageous!

Briefly looking up from his snooze Counterpunch says "C'mon big guy! I'm broke if you don't take the kid here!" Combat: Counterpunch inspires Blitzwing with righteous and menacing words!

Repugnus shuffles over to Sky Lynx. "Say, Sky Lynx, what do you want to bet Blast Off will collect the bounty that might be on Blitzwing, eh? I bet..." He moves to reach into his pockets, then looks down awkwardly as he realizes he doesn't have any. "...huh. Uh, well! I bet *my pride* that Blast Off will win. What say you, good sir?" It should be noted, again, he has a terrible disguise consisting of an apron and a magnetized mustache.

Blast Off glances over at Repugnus in confusion, wondering why the Autobot is wearing a moustache. BUT ANYWAY. His attention again gets diverted as Sky Lynx appears, and Blast Off looks over to his fellow space shuttle. Normally he'd greet the Autobot, but their last encounter leaves him unsure what to even say, so he remains silent.

Then BLitzwing makes another go at it- and MISSES AGAIN. Pffft. This is getting rather pathetic. Blast Off's smugness level is reaching epic proportions now (watch out). He continues gazing idly at his arm this time, brushing another possibly non-existant piece of dust off, before looking at Blitz with a bored expression. "Well, really, if you're not even going to TRY...." Suddenly he recives a radio transmission- from Sky Lynx? The Combaticon pauses for a moment, then finally answers his fellow shuttle- followed by another laser blast Blitzwing's way.

Combat: Blast Off strikes Blitzwing with his Getting bored now...... (Laser) attack! Combat: Critical Hit!

You send a radio message to Sky Lynx:  Well... no, of course not! There is simply... something that must be done here. A... matter of pride. And... neccessity.

Battletrap sloshes energex around as he pumps his fists over his head. "That's more like it!" At this point he doesn't care who beats the slag out of who, as long as there's someone getting the slag beaten out of them while the rest of this mismash crew gets to watch the show.

Combat: The next attack against you will automatically hit.

Sky Lynx looks down at Repugnus. "Blast Off to beat Blitzwing? I don't think I'd bet against you. Rest assured, I am well aware of what both of them are capable of doing, and I should think that if Blast Off so wished it, this fight would be over already."

He pauses as his radio chirps a response, but simply nods curtly. Nothing to be said there.

Blitzwing grumbles as the gyroscopic round digs itself into the steely turf, boring a deep hole in front of the Steel Balloon amid a shower of sparks. Blitzwing lifts his rifle, glaring at it for a long moment with narrowed optics. "You slaggin' sonuva-" *BZZT!* The triple-changer's frame buzzes as energy washes over it from the Combaticon's laser blast, pulling Blitzwing's back into the fight instead of taking out his anger on the rifle in his hand. "You know what - you're right. Big guns time. Let's see you huff this, Babe Off." Blitzwing crashes onto the ground in tank mode, drawing a bead on the Combaticon, the sounds of precision machinery winding up within.

Combat: Leopard 2A6M  sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Leopard 2A6M  strikes Blast Off with his 125mm Cannon attack!

"Hey! All-Star!" says Counterpunch rising from his slumber again. "You not done yet? You're a tank. Spread the payload. Maximum radius. Let the shot burn between his heatshielding! I'm not walking home tonight. It's limo time for me!" Counterpunch tries to roll over and get back to sleep but Seven's drumming again. Rumble whoahs! Rumble isn't doing as much yelling as he was earlier. He's quieted way down and is now watching this bout between two powerful fighters with the completely undivided attention a child might give a pile of brightly-colored legos.

Airlift has arrived. Combat: Counterpunch analyzes Blast Off for weaknesses Blitzwing can exploit.

Repugnus winces. "Welp! Okay, then, betting AGAINST Blast Off in that case. And I'm betting... MY PRIDE. Again. By the way, Sky Lynx..." He holds up a mug full of a fluid that smells suspicious. "Care for some illegally brewed moonshine?..."

Blast Off gets smug... and pays the inevitable price as Blitzwing's shot finally connects. The triplechanger's attack just slams into the Combaticon, knocking him backwards quite a distance- nearly into the crowd itself, in fact. Fresh energon drips down from his torso and an arm, and he shakes his head groggily, then lifts it up to glare at Blitzwing. Flicking some of the energon away with the injured arm, he remarks, "Well.... you finally hit, at least. Shame it won't happen again- for YOU, at least." Anti-gravs kick in again and he launches himself up into the air for another burst of gunfire- but this time as a shuttle!!!

With a disdainful shrug, Blast Off transforms into a space shuttle.

Combat: Space Shuttle  strikes Leopard 2A6M  with his Dodge THIS-HA! attack! [Pulled -6]

"Boooo! Holding back the orbital nuke is for wusses!" Battletrap wants to see someone explode dammit A hefty portion of the tank mode's ablative armor boils and burns away under the Combaticon's sustained aerial assault - though when it finally passes, the triple-changer remains undaunted and as irritating as ever. The vehicle's outboard speakers crackle with static for a moment, followed by, "Yap. Yap. Yap." In a flurry of forms, Blitzwing rockets into the sky, chasing after the shuttle in his most agile mode. Combat: MiG-25PD Foxbat-E  takes extra time to steady himself. [Pass]

Sky Lynx chuckles. "No, no bets. It is not my style." He turns to watch the battle unfold, cringing involuntarily as Blitzwing blasts the everliving daylights out of Blast Off with that cannon. That...can not have felt good at all.

Repugnus throws up his hands. "Your loss, Lynxy! You could have had my pride! All of it! Oh, and the weird looking 'con's right. C'mon you two, let's see some PROPERTY DAMAGE! Yeah!"

Sky Lynx looks at Repugnus curiously. "You mean you actually have some?" His gaze returns to the combatants to instantly rebut his fellow Autobot's cry for damage. "NO! No property damage or I shall have to intervene!"

Counterpunch takes extra time to steady himself. . . He grabbed Seven and put him in The Box. Now, very steady indeed, he snoozes happily. If it picks up he's set the explosions to wake him up five minutes early. Repugnus grumps. "A little, Sky Lynx. Or should I call you NO FUN Lynx?"

Sky Lynx ughs. "Call me whatever you wish, but there shall be NO property damage."

Battletrap laughs way more at being called weird looking at the horrible jokes than he should, mostly due to being pretty much drunk at this point. Especially thanks to having several pitchers full of Repugnus' nasty illegal moonshine.

Space Shuttle  strikes again, and smirks internally as Blitzwing is forced to retreat a moment and collect himself- or what's left of himself after all those shots. Don't worry, Blitzwing, Blast off is just as irritating as you are when he's in full High Horse mode. And he is riding that High Horse indeed- in circling arcs around the sky as he looks down on everyone. But he's tired, as well, and energon still drips from his fuselage as he also takes a moment to rest. So for now, at least... repugnus shall have to be disappointed and Sky Lynx satisfied as there are no orbital bombardments- and thus no chance of property damage.

Combat: Space Shuttle  takes extra time to steady himself. [Pass] Combat: The next attack against you will automatically hit.

MiG-25PD Foxbat-E 's afterburners howl brightly with white-hot heat as he pursues the shuttle into the night sky, though it doesn't take the triple-changer long to realize that the escape-velocity-capable spacecraft is going to have no trouble keeping out of his reach. Settling into this resolution, Blitzwing shifts into his robot mode while watching the Combaticon entertain himself by looping around in haughty little circles. Sooo going to pay for that. Blitzwing begins to drift effortlessly to one side, banking on Blast Off to have lost interest in the fight and instead devoted to showing everyone below how completely awesome (annoying) he is. Blitzwing whistles casually, hiding the scimitar he has snaked out into the Combaticon's flight path...

Combat: Blitzwing sets his defense level to Neutral. Combat: Blitzwing strikes Space Shuttle  with his Electro-Scimitar attack! Combat: Critical Hit!

Combat: Blitzwing's attack has damaged your Agility! Combat: Blitzwing's STUCK attack leaves him unable to transform!

Space Shuttle  's arrogance costs him- again- as he fails to notice as Blitzwing pulls out that electro-scimitar and absolutely puts the fear of Primus into the Combaticon. Or the fear of that sword, at least, as it /shreds/ his fuselage. Then it continues slicing down and nearly severs a wing, too. "AAAIIIGH!!!!"

The frame of the shuttle harbors a couple of explosions as sparks and smoke billow out, and there's no way he's remaining airborne now. The shuttle screams downward and- sorry Sky Lynx- is probably going to crash into something in a ball of fire. But before he does so- he's gonna do his best to make Blitzwing PAY. A power surge builds up under his nosecone, and a blue light emits, indicating a full power bombardment burst- aimed straight towards the triplechanger!

Combat: Space Shuttle  sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Space Shuttle  strikes Blitzwing with his Last shot at glory attack!

Repugnus nudges Sky Lynx, grinning. "Looks like I'm going to win all your pride, Sky Lynx! Just like we bet on!" Nevermind what Sky Lynx actually said. "And maybe we'll see some cool fireworks at the end, too!" What's that burning smell! Oh flax it. Counterpunch aint goin' home broke! Too much riding on this. Counterpunch transmits to Blitzwing <> whilst pretending to still be asleep.

Combat: Counterpunch analyzes Blast Off for weaknesses Blitzwing can exploit.

Sky Lynx shakes his head slowly as he watches the fight unfold, a glance going to Counterpunch... hmm. His attention returns to Repugnus. "Believe me when I say that you could not, for a moment, handle something you've no grasp of. Not that the wager of such intangible things is...laughable at best." He looks back at Blast Off.

Blitzwing cackles as his scheme pays off with dividends, the electric blade gutting the shuttlecon nearly from stem to stern. The triplechanger hovers back to admire the carnage, whistling merrily as he is bathed in the horrific light of explosive force. "That's going to be one heckuva repair bill. Ha ha ha." But Blast Off isn't dead yet! The Combaticon erupts with another orbital beam, catching Blitzwing completely off guard! The triple-changer is entirely engulfed in the blast, most of his armor on the side exposed to the laser beam boiling and melting away and leaving a scary cut away of the triple-changer, like something out of a DK book. Smoking, bleeding, burned, and loving it. Blitzwing jets over to where Blast Off crash site, alighting some distance off. Blitzwing stalks after the downed Combaticon, dragging the burning sword along the ground as the electricity it crackles with cuts a small trench in the turf. Blitzwing steps over Blast Off, casting an ominous shadow over his as he lifts the blade again. "Hey, high society. How's reality taste? Like a fine win, I bet. Ha ha ha. Don't worry, though. Your nightmare will be over soon." Blitzwing stabs the sickly-lit edge down into Blast Off's throat.

Combat: Blitzwing sets his defense level to Fearless. Combat: Blitzwing strikes Space Shuttle <Blast Off> with his Electro-Scimitar attack!

Combat: You are very aware that your life is in danger! Combat: Blitzwing's attack has damaged your Accuracy! Combat: Space Shuttle <Blast Off> falls to the ground, unconscious.

Rumble sighs.

Finally! Counterpunch runs over to the fallen figure and says, "And we have a winner! Tonights victorious combatant and retaining his intergalactic heavyweight championship belt is the the mech of many modes . . . . Blitzwing! Now, since I didn't take bets on the pancake kid here, Cash is mine. Drinks are at the bar and the rest of you have been a wonderful audience!" Nodding over to the winner of the fight Counterpunch says, "Suppose you're taking your trophy home with you? It is your right under the circumstances."

Battletrap ooooohs. "Now that's how you -- aaahehehehe -- CUT someone down to size." The Duocon clutches his sides as he rocks with laughter at his own horrible pun. "Aaahahahahahaha!"

Blitzwing saws through shuttle parts until he finds a throat

Repugnus hms as Blast Off is brought down. "Well. You say that now... but I can *feel* all that pride being transferred right to me! Thanks, Lynxy! Eh, too bad about Blast Off, though. You aren't gonna miss the guy, are ya? Because I will always miss Blast Off for the way he liked to wear a hat made of fruit while using the hula-hoop..." A smile crosses his face as he recalls something that he knows didn't happen.

Sky Lynx sighs. "Well...so much for that." He shakes his head slowly, turning to regard Counterpunch before checking to ensure there's no untoward collateral damage to the area... And there's not. Good. "Pity all the same." There is a pause as a glance goes to Repugnus. Particularly at mention of the hula-hoop and fruit hat... "You are a strange little mech..."

"Thanks for the shoulder-seat, mech," Rumble says to Battletrap, as he leaps and flies off into the sky on his foot jets. Rumble moves south to the Central Tyger Pax. Rumble has left.

Space Shuttle <Blast Off> 's last gambit does hit the triplechanger- but it doesn't pay off as he had hoped. The other Con is still standing- unlike the shuttle- who crashes into the ground, exploding a few of those refueling kegs. Now there's TWICE as much smoke. Eventually- a figure emerges from it... stumbling, grasping at debris as he bleeds out all over the entrance of the Steel Balloon. He's barely standing, though, just holding a piece of slag for support when Blitzwing comes up.

The COmbaticon looks up, and starts trying to stagger backwards, but the triplechanger has him at sword's edge all too soon. Optics widen, then blaze in anger. "You...*zkkkt* are still....*Crackle* PATHETIC... and your feckless pursuit of...*zkt* shanix *cccrrk* at all costzzzzz remains...." He leans in, which might be defiance or might be that he's losing the ability to stand, "PATHETIC." Then Blitzwing rams the sword down and the Combaticon is silenced- perhaps for the final time.

Nooooo all that booze! ... oh wait, he's still got this keg here. Nevermind.

Rumble has vacated it so Battletrap hoists the keg up onto his shoulder instead. "Welp, I guess that's it. Good thing I didn't waste any cash on bets. I'll just have to finish the rest of this li'l beaut in private." Considering he's already a few sheets to the wind... and that he both drives -and- flies. At the same time... yeah, you might want to not be traveling while he's on his way back to Darkmount.

Halo has left. Halo heads back to OOC-Land.

Blitzwing HUFFs at Blast Off as his words bubble out on energon. "/FINALLY/. I thought that guy would never shut up." Blitzwing stands up, looks at the gathered crowd, and flashes a smile. Pulling his scimitar from the Combaticon, Blitzwing wipes the energon away on a thigh before sheathing it to picking up Blast Off by the head, palming the shuttlecon's cranium with one over-sized hand and tossing Blast Off over his shoulder. "Time to collect." The triple-changer rockets off to who knows where. OH SNAP! He HUFFED THE HUFFER!

Combat: Blitzwing begins retreating, leaving himself vulnerable to parting shots from Sky Lynx and Battletrap

Blitzwing No doubt one could easily imagine Blitzwing's personal quarters to be pridefully decorated with gaudy articles of conquest earned by this unstoppable robot commando over the span of countless eons of warfare. While this is technically correct, in fact Blitzwing is not at all avaricious and as a result actually owns very little. His quarters are downright spartan as a matter of fact, containing little beyond replacements for his weapons, some basic medical supplies, drums of fuel, and stores of ammunition. The only noteworthy exception to this rule is an ornate case constructed from polished planks cut from Cybertron's petrified forest, which stands adjacent to a large slab that must serve as a bed. This cabinet contains an array of medals struck from various alloys that gleam in even the faintest of light. Reflective blass placards annotate each item, engraved with inscriptions such as '2028 Olympics - Free For All Combat', '2034 Olympics - Gladiatorial Heavyweight Combat', 'Olympic Boxing Champion', and 'Triplechangers Town Defense Captain'.

Contents: Blitzwing's Playmech Deck Aerialbots Blitzwing took you. Blitzwing drops you.