Construction Exam

Who: Paradigm, Pipes
IC Year: 2029
Location: Autobot City
TP: Non-TP

Pipes gives Paradigm a construction exam

Lounge/Observation Room

Converted from an unused medical observation room, the lounge still offers a view of the Repair Bay through a one-way plexisteel mirror that encompasses almost half of the east wall. Sound, too, is transmitted from the Repair Bay, allowing the friends of the injured to see and hear what's going on without distracting the medics from their delicate work. More than that, it's also a place to rest and relax, furnished with comfortable chairs, various video feeds of both Terran and Cybertronian style entertainment, and an automated bar dispensing energon for those who want to relax with some refreshments.

Paradigm is sitting in the lounge in front of a table, legs crossed and arms folded as he waits, staring at the ceiling. "I have far, far better things to do today, you know. Watch paint dry, for example!" he says to no-one in particular. "I don't see why I need a certificate to do stuff we all know I can do"

Uh, hey. You're that guy... Paratrooper? Paragoomba? Well, whatever. My name is Pipes, former Party King, and Rodimus assigned me to, uh, like, test your construction skills. So if you'll fill out this... paperwork?" Pipes thrusts a stack of cardboard, posterboard and black light posters at Paradigm, along with Transformer sized crayons and paint markers. And he does it all without hands.

Paradigm simply stares at Pipes as the handless minibot hands him things. Taking a... crayon which he looks at like it was made of excrement, he starts to write his name on the paperwork. "Yes, quite..." he mutters. "Do you not have any proper writing implements?" he stares at Pipe's lack of hands ".... on Not seeming to notice, Pipes remains upbeat! "Well, uh, Dimestore, let's get on to what you're supposed to be doing," he says happily. He pulls another thing from behind his back, which is a proper datapad, but tie-dyed. "Rodimus wants you to build a watch-tower, mini-bot sized... but the only materials I could find for you were these, like, ceramic... water pipes? And I've thrown in some of my stuff, too. You know, toaster ovens, Verniers, stuff like that. Get to work, bro!" His smokestack arms exhale smoke and Pipes' optics at once turn more red and more dull. "Whoa."

Paradigm stands up and glares at the collection of junk. /Glares/ as if it would die and wither under his gaze. "A... watch... tower..." he mutters before kneeling down to stack up the ceramic pipes, taking out a small tool which he uses to weld pieces together and take parts of the toaster apart which hs fixes to the top. "There" he mutters, revealing a tall, slim tower with a large boxy device on top. "A watch tower. And I have converted the toaster oven into a microwave death ray. As such." He turns it on, and there is a thump as a bird falls dead outside the window.

"Cool, bro. I wouldn't have killed the bird, but you know, whatever. It takes all kinds to help the war effort, you know? Man, I wish you'd build something more /mellow/, how about..." Pipes looks around and drops the datapad. "Okay, man, bro, guy, dude, I need you to build me a drawbridge out of these chairs and that desk, you can also use today's, like, newspaper if you need glue."

"Mellow. Of course" Paradigm notes, as he stalks around the table. "From a... desk and chairs. Hmmp." Nevertheless he stands up and immediately hefts a chair, smashing it against the floor. Then he starts to disassemble the desk, using the chair fragments to build a portcullis, with the desk lid as the drawbridge. He straightens as he reveals a model of a castle drawbridge. There are little wooden men in front of it. "This" he states, pointing at the desk "is the drawbridge. And I have converted the newspaper into a vicious poison to drop on attackers, as so". He flicks a wooden switch and some ex-newspaper goo flows from the top and engulfs all the little men.

"Dude, you got some war crimes under your belt, huh Dimebag? I'm sorry about that, bro, guy, I won't tell Rodimus. I'd tell Ultra Magnus, though... if he was alive. I just miss him -so much-," Pipes wipes his bloodshot optics with his smokestack stumps, "Okay, bro, let's look at the datapad again," he says. "Okay, Rodimus wants you to build, uh, a working replica of what his trailer would look like if it was a /battle station/..."

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