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America's Best Store

Who: Raindance, Powerglide, Americon, Blaster, Arachnae
IC Year: 2029
Location: San Francisco
TP: Human Nature

None


Summary: A group of Autobots go shopping in America's Best Store. What could possibly go wrong?


Uptown San Francisco

This part of San Francisco is one of the few areas left mostly untouched by the weather of the last decade. The steep, curving roads are still lined with beautiful old houses, some of them almost a century old. Flower pots grace the roadsides and are cultivated meticulously. Some of the streets even show the old brick roads underneath. Occasionally, you see one of the famous cable cars pass you down the streets, and people hop on and off of them at random. Fisherman's Wharf is visible in the distance, and people will give you directions to Lombard Street if you ask. The scent of the flowers mingles with the smell of fresh-baked sourdough and the slight fish scent from the Wharf. A weathered old man passes you with a fruit cart. It's covered with fresh strawberries, oranges, bananas, and other tasty items.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance glares at Powerglide, holding up her magic EDC credit card. "Look Minibot, I need to get a chronometer for my arm, and some sort of human radio, as well as more suitable human armour." She pats down her oversized police uniform. "Also people keep walking up to me and asking if I can help them out, I don't like it"


Powell Glyde tilts his head foreward, fingers pinched tight upon his STILL bleeding nose, "Maybe we should hit a bar afterwards. Or a doctor.."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance glowers at Powerglide. "I dunno, I can jump onto a jet at 100 feet, fight against a Decepticon agent and then parachute to safety and be fine. You walk down the street and get covered in blood. You are not good at being a human"


Powell Glyde growls under his breath, "You're not very good at being...a not bitchy human." He tilts his head back and swallows any blood that still lingered in his nose before dropping his hand back down, "Whatever, look, are you gunna' do your shoppin' or what?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance ponders this. "Maybe. But I want to be able to show off in front of Grand Slam and his rubbish human body, and he's nowhere about"


Powell Glyde scoffs at that. "Oh no, what a shame," he deadpans.


Vincent Ortex comments to himself. "So lemme get this straight. They pay humans to push other humans out of airplanes. And to jump off buildings wearing a cord."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance clicks her fingers at Vortex. "Hey you, fellow human. Come with us and carry my things"


Vincent Ortex smiles. "Hello fellow squish. Sure. You're gonna have to pay me though.." He says with a bright smile.


Trah Xiang rides in on his cool Japanese motorcycle.


Powell Glyde looks down at his bare feet and wiggles his toes, "Hey, can we get some new shoes, too?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance shakes her head. "No I will not pay you, the EDC will." She holds up the credit card. "Okay. I am uh, Rhiannon and you just have to stand there in amazement at the control I have over my limbs." She turns to Powerglide. "Well I can I guess"


Sam Waverly looks around the sidewalk, peering cautiously out to see who's around.


Vincent Ortex smiles "Even better." He pauses, taking Rhiannon's bags. "They're nice. Have you found any new things you can do with them? Mine are all sorts of flexible." He doesn't give a name unless asked. His voice is almost feminine. Either he's an effeminite guy or a really ugly girl.


Powell Glyde turns his head to glare at Tracks, "Oh God, it's THAT guy who looks like a girl." He shoves Rhiannon in the back, "Hurry, let's go before he tries to talk to us!"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance yelps and turns to slap Powerglide. "Stop it Powerglide, its obviously just Hound. Hi Hound!" she waves, happily. Hound owes her money.


Sam Waverly freezes, spying Powell and Rhiannon. He starts to slink back into the alley.


Yamaha ZR-2 Motorcycle pulls up to a stop next to Rhiannan. Tracks obviously still a little bit wobbly on his bike. But that doesn't stop him from driving at reckless speeds without a helmet (the better to let his long lustrous hair stream in the wind. "Hound? Where?" He looks around.


Powell Glyde yelps at the assault upon his amazing face. He mumbles an obscenity but that's about all he does about it. "Oh God, great, he's talking to us. Thanks a lot, jerk. Hey, is that Huffer?"


Sam Waverly is totally not Huffer.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance points at Track's head. "No, you're Hound." She peers. Or are you Elita One. You look a bit femmy..." At the sound of Powerglide's voice, she turns around. "Oh Primus no, Huffer is still lurking? Be prepared to defend yourself!"


Powell Glyde glances over Tracks' new ride, a look of disgust on his face, "Uuuugh, dude, Elita-Hound! That could be an Autobot..or a Decepticon! Oh God, are you fraternizing with the enemy!?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance sucks on a finger in worry. "Ugh I hope not." She peers closer at Tracks. "You're not a horrible Decepticon are you. Maybe its Fusillade? I hope not!"


Vincent Ortex starts to look in Rhiannon's bags. "Oh nice human armor." He pauses. "I so have to save for some of my own unless you'll let me borrow your shiny government card." he says without changing facial expressions. "Anyone else hungry?"


Trah Xiang says, "What in the name of Primus are you two...oh, excuse me, I must remember to stay in character." He pauses and turns his throughts inward, taking his mind to that special place known to all models and actors. "What the hell are you two morons talking about? I'm Tracks!"


Inside Rhiannon's bag is the contents of Cliffjumper's glove compartment. Rhiannon is about to attack Vincent for daring to touch her stuff when Tracks speacks. "OH PRIMUS WHAT?" She shrieks, leaping behind Powerglide for protection. This isn't because the thinks Powerglide can protect her, but because he is a useful shield


Keith Howard appears out of nowhere, smirking and holding a bag. "If it is FOOD that you need..." He pulls a hamburger out of the bag. "I have all the beef products you need... IN AMERICA!" Then, he looks skeptically at the burger. "Well, it's a little cold. I had to refrigerate it, because that is Americans do with their food after they heat it!"


Powell Glyde grins, "Heheheh, I hope so. Fusillade is hot. One time she was droppin' bombs on me, and- Oh God, it IS Tracks! Ugh!" He flails around for a moment, "Shouldn't you be marching in a festival or something!?"


Trah Xiang waves off Powell. "That's not until Tuesday."


In San Fran, a special musical play that was in Paris is being set up!


Vincent Ortex hears Keith Howard offering a hamburger. "Excuse me." He puts the bags down for a moment. "Im going to go grab that man's meat." of course, he has no idea how bad that sounded. "Hey you. American. I don't mind if your meat is cold. I'd still put it in my mouth thing."


A crowd of people are singing in front of the theatre, "Willies! Willies! I like Willies!"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance snatches back her bag and throws it at Powerglide to hold. "Look, there's some huge department store over there, I'm going to ignore that creepy man and his plate of meat, and go in there. Come Powerglide, let us hope Tracks does not follow!" Shielding her face from Tracks with one hand, she marches towards the store


Keith Howard looks at Vincent sympathetically. "I am very sorry! Let me heat it back up for you!" He shoves a burger into his armpit and holds it there for a few moments. "Here you go!" he says, handing it to Vincent. Well, at least the burger was still (sorta) in its paper wrapping. "What's this about Willies? That sounds un-American!"


Trah Xiang mutters after them, "Jerks."


Powell Glyde grunts as the wind is knocked out of him from being assaulted by a shopping bag, "God, I'll do anything if it means getting away from Tracks. I think he has a crush on me or something." He hurridly follows after Rhiannon.


Tracks raises up in the seat and stomps down on the Yamaha ZR-2 Motorcycle's starter. The engine comes to life with a deafening roar and revs loudly as Tracks guns it several times.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance runs towards the doors of America's Best Shop as Tracks gives chase, leaping through the automatic doors and starting to throw shopping baskets in the way. "Quick Powerglide, quick or he will get in and talk to us!"


Vincent Ortex takes the pitburger and nibbles on it, wrapping and all. "I don't know. If you want to go see about someone's Willie, be my guest. Me? Im going to try to milk those fleshy-bots out of their government cards. Or at least out of a pair of pants."


Tracks drops the Yamaha ZR-2 Motorcycle into neutral and the engine drops from a loud roar to a softly purring idle.


American? Sam starts walking over toward Keith.


Keith Howard nods with savage determination. "I WILL! I will be right back! And I will teach those Frenchies a lesson they won't forget... in America!" He stomps over towards where he heard the term "Willie". This also gives his player to opportunity to idle for a bit while he threatens Frenchmen.


Powell Glyde runs into the store only to be hit by flying shopping baskets, "Oh, geez, wait till I'm inside, damnit!" He throws the bag he was carrying onto the floor and aids Rhiannon in her efforts by blockading the door with a shelving unit.


Tracks kicks the Yamaha ZR-2 Motorcycle into gear and tears off with a squeal of rubber.


Yamaha ZR-2 Motorcycle roars off after Rhiannon and Powell, headed straight for the store...before Tracks nearly loses control and races off in the other direction. "Which one was the braaaaaaaake...?"


Vincent Ortex watches Kieth stomp off. "There goes a human odder then me." He says, watching the Autobots go inside. He tries to catch up to them, almost running smack into Sam. "Woah fleshy. Watch out. Incomming me!"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance wipes her forehead in relief. "Whew, we got rid of him! Good news Powerglide, I was about to use you as some sort of ramp. Now!" she claps her hands again. "Find me some foot armour"


Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan finds himself walking down a sidewalk, ignoring the occasional odd stare due to his current outfit du jour. He stops to look at a window, studying items displayed therin with a thoughtful smirk.


Powell Glyde lets out a content sigh as Tracks goes careening off in another direction, no doubt to cripple other humans with his motorcycle. "Foot armor! Right!" He starts digging through the shelf he used as a blockade, pulling all sorts of things off the pegs and shelves. "I'm just seeing a whole lot of crap, man." Taking an item up, he begins to read the label "Flavored Condoms. What the hell is a condom?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance is currently standing inside the doorway of a big department store with Powerglide, having just escaped from Tracks. She is dressed in an oversized policeman's uniform, and is clutching a 'borrowed' EDC credit card. She slaps Powerglide hard. "Don't you know anything? They are like balloons, okay? And you can't put balloons on your feet. Look harder!"


Powell Glyde rubs his head, "Hey, what did I say about bein' a bitch?" He tosses the package aside and moves to another shelf, this time stacked with small boxes. "Oh, yo, check it out, I think I found something." Opening the box reveals..a smaller box inside? No, sneakers! Yes, the boxes have shoes in them! Fantastic!


Sam Waverly stops and stares at Vincent. His hands move in sign language, and a hidden speaker emits in a Stephen Hawking voice: "Fleshy?"


From deep within the bowels of the department store emerges a man whose looks..and clothing...look eerily like a young Buddy Holly. He seems to be arguing with a harried-looking clerk about the store's need for an electronics department.


Vincent Ortex blinks. "I love that. How did you mechanise your voice?" He says, looking around to see how this human did that. "Well yeah. You are. Nothing to be ashamed of though.."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance is currently examining a safe, which when she opens has a smaller safe inside. She peers in and opens that safe, to find an even smaller safe. "How curious..." she mutters, before taking her head out to stare at Powerglide. "Primus Powerglide, not those wimpy things, look!" She points at a ski display, which has gigantic plastic bulky ski boots. "Look, those are the sort of things you can put on your feet and people will be all "ooooh feet!"


Sam Waverly taps his throat and moves his hands again. "No voice. Glove talks." He holds up the glove on his right hand.


Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan walks down another block to stop at the front of a department store, peering in the windows with another smile.


Vincent Ortex frowns and looks at the glove. "Wow. That sounds better then a normal human voice anyways. So you wanna come with me? There's some weirdos in there with a credit card. I think I can talk them into buying stuff for us with it. Just gotta look small and ever so innocent."


Sam Waverly shakes his head, hands weaving. "No. Idiots."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance's face suddenly looms out of the window, staring straight into Ahmeds, as she looks out of the store. "Huh, its got windows" she says, pushing aside a dummy, which tumbles over in the direction of Blaster, and she hops about, trying to pull on a skiboot. "Look at me Powerglide, look how awesome my feet are!"


Vincent Ortex shakes his head. "I wish there was no idiots, but you know? If no idiots, we couldn't take advantage of them right?" he takes the mute man's hand. "Come on let's go see what we can do. You're disabled and weird. I can so use you for free stuff."


Sam Waverly reaches up to slap Vincent, backhand, for calling him disabled. And for talking to him. And being within slapping range. And just cos.

Soundwave succeeds in grasping Vincent Ortex, throwing him off-balance.


Vincent Ortex gets smacked backwards. "Hey.. OW!" he grabs his face, rubbing a red spot. "You could have just said no, Protectobot." He uses the worst insult in his vocabulary as he turns from Soundwave, rubbing his face.


Powell Glyde found a pair of sweet sandals in one of the boxes and immediately stole them for his own use. He'll try not to lose these ones this time. "Wow Raindance, those are really cool. I'm, like, jealous and stuff," he said as unsincere as possible. He moves over to a hat rack and amuses himself by trying on all sorts of weird and fashionable hats!


Sam Waverly scowls at Vincent, turning away from him.


Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan steps back as a woman comes to the window hopping about attempting to put on some footware while disturbing the display. A shake of his head, "Heathens.." Merry smirk and he heads towards the entryway.


Keith Howard returns, his fists somewhat bloody. "I'm not sure if those guys were actually French, but they screamed like Frenchmen!" He looks around for Vincent Ortex, and find him standing next to some strange thin person. "Hey! Why did you slap that American!? Or you French, too? Because my fists are full of righteous American fury, mister, and there's plenty to go around!" He approaches Sam, shaking his fists threateningly, having no idea who he really is.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance manages to get both the pairs of skiboots on. Of course, skiboots are designed with clips to attach skis, and not walk on flat ground, so she staggers about and collapses nosily onto the floor. "Powerglide!" she shouts. "These are Unicron boots, help get them off me!" She starts to drag herself across the floor towards the minibot. "And you are not cool enough for head armour, give me some!"


Vincent Ortex heads away from Sam still rubbing his face. "OF course, I'm an American." whatever that is. "Kick him in the midsection for me."


Sam Waverly covers his nose and face with a hand, approximating a mask, reaching up to grab Keith and pull him nearer so as to glare at him more directly.

Soundwave succeeds in grasping Keith Howard, throwing him off-balance.


Powell Glyde turns to Rhiannon, his new 'Booty Hunter' cap snug upon his head. "Here, you can have this one!" He tosses her a pink baseball cap that says 'Sperm Dumpster' on it. "Leave those boots on, woman! They look fabulous!"


J.P. Richardson III manages to catch the falling dummy, which he immediately passes off to the very confused perfume counter salesman who's been bearing the brunt of Blaster's beratings for the past half hour. "Hold this." The Buddy Holly lookalike has seen something that interests him..namely, two humans acting like rejects from the Surreal Life. He wasn't placed in charge of Intel for /not/ being able to put two and two together..


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance sits up as much as she can with the restrictive boots on, and pulls the cap over her head, pulling a face. "This head thing fits awfully!" she shouts, throwing it across the store. "But hey..."

She leans over, pulling herself to a shelf that has a line of hats, all of which follow the theme of a picture of Powerglide with a cross through it. "Hey Powerglide, its that line of products all designed to mock you!"


Keith Howard urks as he is grabbed! "I cannot kick him in the midsection, he is too close! And what was that strange hand gesture just now!? Are you trying to insinuate something!? I know! That must've been French for "You suck and are stupid!"" He tries to shake off Soundwave's grasp and gets into a boxing stance. "Prepare to d-d-d-d-d-duel, Frenchie!"

Americon misses Sam Waverly with his grasp attack.

Keith Howard's boxing stance looks really awkward, since he didn't shake Sam off.


Sam Waverly rolls his eyes again, something he does more and more by the hour. He pushes away from Keith, and waves a hand dismissively.


Powell Glyde runs over to the offensive hats and gapes, "What the hell is all this about!?" He digs around in his shorts pockets for a few seconds before pulling out a red lighter he found on the street the day before. "I knew this would come in handy!" he exclaims, now setting each hat ablaze.


Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan comes to a halt as three dudes are blocking the entry to the store. "Many apologies," lilting tenor tone as he sketches a bow, "But you are blocking the entrypoint." Eyes widenng at the flailing at one gentleman. "Excuse me sirrah, are you in need of assistance from these.." Eying 'Keith', "Hooligans?"


"Good evening, Gentlemen," Quickswitch folds his arms across his chest as he steps out, observing the...show.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance flails as she pulls herself away from the hat display. "I think its from that court case you lost after that heiresses family sued you, remember?" she grins, as she tries to pull off the bulky skiboots before she is caught in the flames. One of the boots pops off and flies towards Powerglide's face

Raindance succeeds in grasping Powell Glyde, throwing it off-balance.


Vincent Ortex isn't really blocking the way. He's wandering off to the side. He watches Ahmed a bit. "No, I think I got them under control now." He isn't sure if its he that is being talked to. "Oh, mr. No name is back. Hey nameless." he rubs his head a bit. "Does anyone have a chronometer? I have to be 'uptown' at '48th' street before 4pm."


J.P. Richardson III is now close enough to get a grip on what's going on, and runs towards Powerglide. From what he thinks is the right distance, he sets off into a leap, hoping to cross-body tackle Powerglide away from the flaming apparel.

Blaster succeeds in grasping Powell Glyde, throwing it off-balance.


Keith Howard stares at Sam for a moment, scowling. "So, that is how it is, is it?" When Ahmed speaks to him, Keith replies, "Yes, hold that man down so that I can punch him repeatedly! He is French and therefore, an abomination against all life!"


Powell Glyde shakes a fist at Rhiannon, "HEY! Rule number one for hangin' around me: Never mention anything about that! Also, rule numbe-" His angry rant was cut off, because a massive f-in' ski boot was thrown at his face; breaking his nose. "OH FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY! I'M GOING TO BREAK YOU, YOU BITCH!" Blood was rushing down his face at this point, and his pain was only worsened when he was tackled onto the ground. Hopefully he didn't break anything from THAT too.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance gets to her feet, her spare boot in her hand, now with only socks protecting her feet. "Hey Powerglide" she says as human Blaster tackles him to the ground. "I think I've seen the sweeps do that, he's expressing dominance or something."


Vincent Ortex doesn't get an answer about hte time and heads into the store. He finds a clock on the wall, not paying attention to the fight breaking out. "Oh man.. I have to find transportation."


Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan shakes his head, "I am afraid that no, I will not be aiding you in performing violence upon another." Eyes narrowing, smile crooking to one side, "But mayhaps a call to the authorities would sort this matter out."


J.P. Richardson III stands back up from the ground, dusting his hands off on his pants. "Uh...I guess I should've announced myself." He looks down at the bloodied Powerglide, over to Rhiannon, and back down. "Yeah...dominance. You could call it that. Unless I'm quite mistaken, I'm in charge of at least one of you jack fools." He points down. "Powerglide. Check. Now, if you'd be so kind.../please/ stop lighting the humans stores aflame. It just ain't cool, brah." He looks around, and then something clicks in his mind. "Oh, right. I'm Blaster."


Sam Waverly glowers and wanders off to stand by himself, staring into the storefront where the Autobots wreak havoc.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance puts her hands over her face as if she's just been caught by her dad. In the company of Powerglide, which is pretty much recipie for being outcast in itself. "Look Grand Slam is off being weird, he's the only person I could find to hang out with, I'm SORRY!" she says, standing there, skiboot in hand and insulting Powerglide hat on her head, as the display behind her burns


Quickswitch stands by, watching curiously and shaking his head.


Powell Glyde is writhing in pain on the floor, "Oh God..Oh sweet baby Jesus..Oh lawdez..Why? Why does this keep happening to me!?" He rolls over onto his back and looks up at Rhiannon and...Buddy Holly? No, no, Blaster. "Ohh..Raindance, you bitch.." He sputters a bit as he chokes on the blood rushing down his throat.


Vincent Ortex shrugs "Better start walkin then." With that he starts to head away. "If I don't then I'll never get there."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance stares down at Powerglide and drops the second ski boot onto his stomach. The ski boot is on fire a bit. "Yes. And you better remember that buddy"

Raindance succeeds in grasping Powell Glyde, throwing it off-balance.


Sam Waverly mumbles into his lapel.


J.P. Richardson III is now /staring/ at Rhiannon..not in /that/ way, but rather, in the way of incredulity. "Raindance? Dear Primus..that's....a look."


Powell Glyde yelps when the boot makes contact with his stomach. This movement stirs horrors inside his stomach, and all the food he's been eating out of trash cans and under benches begin to spew out of his mouth. Coincidently, the bile puts out the flame on the boot.


Keith Howard replies, "I have met many authorities, or police officers, as it were! They keep trying to put metal things on my wrists, but then I punch them a lot and they stop! I think I am "wanted" by them or something, which is flattering, but I do not desire their company!" Following Sam's gaze to the store, Keith smirks. "So, those other fleshlings think they can prevent me from accessing that shopping center! We will see about that!" He approaches a display window with various mannequins in it, and kicks in the glass. This of course sets off alarms. "Haha! In America!" Keith proclaims as he steps into the new entrance.


Vincent Ortex starts to walk away from the scene, humming to himself. HIs pace is quick, as if hes got to be somewhere in a hurry.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance glares at Powerglide again. "Powerglide!" she snaps. "Save your acid attack for when you need it!" She then looks at Blaster, waving her arms and legs and head about. "Yeah, what do you think! I'm like, a top tier human model apparently!"


The bell on the door rings as a slightly pasty-faced young man enters the shop, whistling to himself.. then stops as he surveys the scene and the odd collection of people inside. "Wait.. this isn't a gunstore" Graham (for that is his name) remarks to no-one in particular.


Ahmed Ibn Fahdlan shakes his head and backs away slowly as the wild human 'Keith' displays anarchist activities. "It's worse than youtube." he mutters, "I think I'll find another store." Eying Keith, "Idiot." Snort and turning to walk off, thumbs looped over the sash he's sporting.


J.P. Richardson III isn't looking anymore..his head has snapped around in every direction. "Someone here...knows us..." He is now peering out the front of the store, perhaps into the store where the Decepticons are currently shopping.


Powell Glyde has dragged himself over into a corner where he is currently dirtying the floor with a mixture of vomit and blood. "Uuguh..Blaster, sir, I don't see how they would, we-blargrgg" He continues his throwing up for a few seconds, "..we were being so inconspicuous.."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance starts to pull on a pair of wellington boots, which... don't really go with her oversized policeman uniform. "Yeah, you're being paranoid Blaster!"


Quickswitch says, "Why am I even with you people?"


Vincent Ortex Wanders off down the street to who knows where. He's not with the other Decepticons, just sort of on his own.


J.P. Richardson III isn't paying any attention to anything going on now, other than locating Soundwave. He is making his way, slowly, purposefully, to the entrance to the store, scanning around to see what humans might appear to be a little less than ordinary.


Keith Howard smirks as he appears in the America's Best Shop, and begins to rifle through the shirts and jeans sold there. "Excellent, surely I will find only the best American... what!?" He holds up a Hello Kitty shirt with disgust. "Made in Malaysia!? That is not America! This store lied to me!" Disgusted, he throws the shirt to the floor.


Sam Waverly stands watching the storefront, next to a bench.


As Keith tries to throw the shirt to the floor, it is intercepted by Rhiannon, who skids across the floor to catch it. "You MONSTER!" she shrieks. "Its like you take having a torso for granted!" She throws the shirt back at Americon's head

Raindance succeeds in grasping Keith Howard, throwing him off-balance.


Powell Glyde stands up with the help of a wall and tries his best to reset his nose (which will just end up healing crooked eventually anyway, so why bother?). "Blaster, man, you o.k? You don't look o.k, you look kinda' pissed.." He chases after Rhiannon, "Hey, get back here! I still need to beat your ass!"


Keith Howard cries, "FWMMMMGHH!" as the gaudy pink and white shirt clings to his face. Keith stumbles through the store, knocking over mannequins and clothing racks as he wanders about, waving his arms around helplessly as he makes little muffled screams.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance leaps to her feet punching the air. "Yeah, go Autobots!" she shouts, looking back to Powerglide. "You're not getting anywhere near my ass!" she shouts. "I only just got it, you'll break it or something. Go beat Blaster's, he won't mind"


Powell Glyde growls under his breath, "I'll break something alright...your face...with my foot.." He calms down as he watches the overly American man join in the destruction of the store, "Hey! He's totally stealing our shtick!"


Keith Howard continues to make muffled screams as he wanders around the store and knocks things over.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance jerks her head round. "Yeah. Hey buddy!" she shouts at Keith. "Stop smashing things, you're showing us uOOOooOH!" Her attention is caught by a glove display. "Look Powerglide. Stuff to put on HANDS. Hands like the ones *I* now have!" From the display she picks a pair of boxing gloves. "These are biggest so they must be the best"


Powell Glyde completely loses interest in the destructive American and instead follows Raindance's lead towards the glove display. Since he's still dizzy from having lost to much blood (or maybe because he has a learning disorder) he leans in towards the boxing gloves, "Cool. What are they for?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance stares at Powell like he is stupid. "They are for showing off your hands, look!" She puts one on her hand. "See now it is really big, and everyone can see that I have hands"


Powell Glyde cocks his head to the side, "Well, duh, they're big. But, I mean, you can't really hold anything with them, can you?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance shakes her head at Powerglide. "Yes you can!" she states. "Look!" She reaches over to the store's display of jars of acid, and tries to pick one up with the glove. Of course, it fails, and the acid spills in the direction of Powerglide

Raindance succeeds in grasping Powell Glyde, throwing it off-balance.


Keith Howard marches back to the Autobots, looking really ticked. It seems he finally freed himself from the pink confines of the Hello Kitty shirt. "Foolish woman-y thing, now you will pay for laying your hands on a true American! I see you have boxing gloves, but true American boxers have no need of such things! And, now it is time to duel!" He brings his fists up. Can Rhiannon save herself from this patriotic monster?


Powell Glyde jumps back as the acid falls towards his feet, droplets of it falling onto his sandals and beginning to eat through them. "Argh, no! I just stole these and they're already ruined!" Quickly, he takes them off and throws them at Mr.America before they can do any real damage.

Powerglide succeeds in grasping Keith Howard, throwing him off-balance.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance glares at Americon. "Hey you, wait your turn! You try to fight me with two hands, I will fight you with a HUNDRED!" She leaps to the side, tipping the entire glove display at the Decepticon

Raindance succeeds in grasping Keith Howard, throwing him off-balance.


J.P. Richardson III is still walking dramatically towards where he thinks Soundwave might be. He's been doing this for a while.


Sam Waverly stands there dramatically. A light wind whips a tumbleweed down the street.


Keith Howard blinks behind his sunglasses as the sandals bounce off his head. "That did not hurt very much! Haha!" However, as the entire display plummets down towards him, Keith looks a bit more concerned. "I expect this to hurt more, however!" And it does. The boxing gloves don't hurt him too much, but the wooden shelving falls on him and Keith shouts out an "ARGH!" as he disappears under it. Is this the end of Bandit Keith!?


Powell Glyde jumps ontop of the shelving that is ontop of Keith and tries to high five Raindance, "Yes! Another victory for the Autobots!"


As Powell tries to high five her, Rhiannon moves to poke him in the eye. "NO Powerglide, no touching my hands!" she scolds

Raindance succeeds in grasping Powell Glyde, throwing it off-balance.


Powell Glyde yells in pain (although he's starting to get used to it, now) and grasps his face with a hand, "Argh, I hate you! Why do I keep following you around!?"


The dramatic walking and waiting continues at least until Soundwave's player has to go, leaving Soundwave to vanish after a bus passes. No wait, there he is, walking down an alley, out of sight.


Keith Howard lies still under the shelving, presumably either unconscious or in great pain.


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance shakes her head at Powell. "It is because you realise my innate awesomeness Powerglide. I mean what else would you do, hang about with /Gears/?"


Powell Glyde jumps off the shelving, growing bored with it, "So, what you're saying is that you're the lesser of two evils? By the way, after all this crap you're putting me through, I expect to have a place to sleep tonight."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance nods to Powerglide, kicking the fallen shelves to make sure Americon has stopped moving. She doesn't know he's an evil Decepticon, but that's just rhe sort of thing you do. "Sure you will Powerglide, sure. You've got that cardboard box under that bridge remember"


Powell Glyde sits on the shelving now, "Screw that. YOU can sleep there. I'm calling dibs on your hotel room. Also, I'm kicking Grand Slam out if he's there."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance shakes her head. "No Powerglide, reverse psychology won't work. Its okay, I'll be thinking about you in your amazing cardboard box, while I have to put up with my awful luxurious hotel room." She stares at the shelving. "I mean, *I'VE* tried to kick Grand Slam out, but he just hides in cupboards shouting "beep beep beep beep" all the time"


A police officer enter the store out this point, looking around quizzically. Upon entering, he sees what looks like a squat homeless bum and a fellow cop... wearing ski boots and boxing gloves?! "Uh..." he begins. "Have... either of you seen a man with an American flag bandana on his head? He's... kinda tall, muscular? Smirks a lot?"


"No officer!" lies Rhiannon. "I've not seen him at all. Also he is /mine/ now"


Powell Glyde crosses his arms and huffs, "Fine, I'll just move my cardboard box outside your hotel room and scream at you while you're trying to sleep." He looks at the officer with a very neutral expresion, "No. Why?"


The officer looks at the two like they're insane. "Ok, so you didn't see him, but he's yours?" He frowns skeptically.


Powell Glyde deadpans, "Yes."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance nods too "Yes. Fellow officer of the law" she adds


The officer scowls. "Right, fellow officer of the law. So, why are you wearing boxing gloves and ski boots, if you don't mind my asking?"

"MFFMFF!" Keith mumbles under the shelving.

"And... what was that?" the officer says.


Powell Glyde lifts himself up a few inches and then throws himself back onto the shelving, "What?"


"More to the question" Rhiannon retorts, looking suspiciously at the officer. "Why AREN'T YOU wearing boxing gloves and ski boots, eh? That's mighty suspicious my friend..."


"BWMMMMGH!" Keith grunts from under the shelving as Glyde drops himself onto it.

"Because police officers don't wear them!" the actual officer says, glaring. "And what was that? Is he *under* there? Are you people protecting him or something?"


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance shakes her head sadly. "No no, my fri-COLLEAGUE here has this neurological condition in his head which makes him want to throw his voice. Now please leave me so that I may claim my prize"


Powell Glyde coughs loudly, "Yeah, what she said." He gives a stony stare at the officer, "Also, gas."


Keith Howard tries to push the shelving off, but it's just too heavy, especially with Glyde on it. Instead, it wobbles around a lot.


"Ok," the officer says, sounding sarcastic. "That makes perfect sense! And I guess the shelf is moving around, how, a ghost? Magic? Gremlins? Do tell!"


Powell Glyde waves his arms around a bit, "No! I just told you! It's because I have gas! You're a human, you should understand!"


Keith Howard grunts as he somehow manages to wiggle out from under the shelving. He immediately darts off for safety. "Haha, you'll never catch me alive, coppers... in AMERICA!"

That doesn't stop the officer from trying, though, and he hustles after him. "WAIT! YOU! Stop!"


Powell Glyde watches Keith and the officer run off and sighs happily, "Another job well done."


Rhiannon Slim-Dhance nods. "Yeah. We'll get him one day Powerglide. And I've changed my mind. You can put your box in the hotel's janitor closet if you want"


Powell Glyde pumps his fist in the air, "Yes!"

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