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Kick Back And Relax

Who: Blueshift, Fulcrum, Pitchfork, Soundwave, Rodimus Prime, Arcee, Hoist
IC Year: 2029
Location: Cybertron
TP: Non-TP

Whilst at one of Shockwave's towers doing some data entry and filing, a group of Decepticons are ambushed by an Autobot elite strike team!



Residential Zone

The wide city streets are clear, and while not pristine, they are in perfect condition. Nearer the street are the sturdy smaller residences of the rank and file, their lines still rather plain and utilitarian. The wreckage of the more distant mansions has been cleared away and recycled into building materials for the replacement structures, but while large, these are no longer mansions. Nor are there any decorative additions to replace the elaborate statues and fountains. The stark, blue steel cubes rise several levels over the smaller residences, but outside of that, seem very much like them. Classic, elegant simplicity for some, prosaic economy to others.


Blueshift is sitting in Shockwave's tower, inside a little glass room, throwing stones at the wall. "Blah blah blah blah!" he whines as he smashes the glass. "I'm the best, no-one is better!"


Fulcrum, meanwhile, is wondering who made this clubhouse, and why it has his name on it. Did he get so overenergized one night that he made this? And if so, what's it doing in this tower? How long has Shockwave HAD a tower anyway?


What is that? Coming up the elevator in Shockwave's tower is Pitchfork. There is an elevator, that is undisputed. "Uh, Energon Laserwave, I have your double-Kremzeek-frappe grande sized," says Pitchfork. He frowns when it's just Blueshift, and throws the hot drink on him. "What the hell. Where is that one eyed one handed purple S.P.E.R.M.-Protocol Eater?"


Blueshift stares at Pitchfork for a while, as he stops throwing the stones. "He uh... he left me in charge. Yeah. Don't open the cupboard or anything though, its full of rotting vegetables"


Pitchfork says, "It just so happens, Blue Redshift,t hat I don't recognize Radioshack Astro Magnum's authority, I only brought him that drink to get a good tip. Listen, my subscription to Archeville Monthly doesn't pay for itself," Pitchfork says, opening cabinets and frowning as hard as any robot has ever frowned."


"I don't understand" Fulcrum says to no-one in particular. "It appears to be made of a substance of human manufacture. It's not even large enough for a standard sized Decepticon, or even a Constructicon!" He turns to frown at whoever it is that's just walked in. Upfork? Probably Upfork. "Did you say you had a Double-Kremzeek-frappe grande?"


Blueshift starts scratching his head as he walks over to a supply cupboard. "Well, let me just stamp your little booklet and we can pay for your new subscription, I've got important data en- STRATEGIC PLANNING to do." As Fulcrum steps in, he glares at the seeker: "PRIMUS FULCRUM, stop it. Its not that I hate you, I just don't like you and never want to see you about, stop harassing me!"


"No, BlaqueSmithe, I /had/ one until I threw it on Blue Redshift for existing," Pitchfork says, finding a cupboard full of Kickback Clones. They are small and hop around the tower, electrocuting things with matrix rays. "Hmmm, I'm not sure about these grasshoppers. Insecto-Quarterly gave them 4 stars, but Con-Jounral only gave them 2. Who's telling the truth?" One of them sits on Pitchfork's shoulder and is his new friend.


"Hey hey!" Blueshift shouts as Pitchfork lets out the little insects. "Don't let those guys, out, Shackwave will have a fit! His eye will flash and stuff and he'll sulk. It took weeks to get them back in their box last time!" He reaches down and picks one up. "Honestly, I wouldn't even give them one star, they're rubbish!" The insecticon shoots out a laser, disintegrating his brain. Blueshift staggers, then stands up again. "See, no effect!"


Fulcrum hnns. "I told some low ranking seeker to fetch me one" Fulcrum says, stroking his manly robotic beard as he idly crushes a couple of the kickback clones underfoot. "Blueshift.. I am not harrassing you. But by your own admission you are in charge, which means that I don't have to make any particular decisions. So what do we do? I assume Shockwave left us here in this isolated tower for some vitally important reason."


The kickback clones join together into a kickback clone recliner, which Pitchfork sits in. "Get me a Nucleon Lite, Blue Redshift, I am parched from not giving a crap about either you or your green friend Fannypack."


Blueshift takes a Nucleon Lite out of Shockwave's private coolbox and hands it to Pitchfork, taking one for himself. "Yes Fulcrum, Shockwave needs us to do all of this important 'filing' and 'data entry'. It is very important"


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Hoist says, "Here we are. On approach, sir. If I'm right, we should catch the Decepticons on duty here off-guard."

From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Hoist says, "If I'm wrong, I guess I owe you an energon goodie!"


"No, it is Super-Kitsch Sunday. There will be no data entry, Blue Redshift," Pitchfork says, cracking his Nucleon-Lite. "Kickback-pals... assume rocking chair formation!" The Kickback clones bust out of the tower, swarm and form three robot rocking chairs on the tower's front porch. Pitchfork grabs a shotgun and follows them. The one Kickback on Pitchfork's shoulder chirps like a Sweep, "These Kickbacks are awesome. I'm naming this one Shrapnel."


The doors whoosh open and another seeker enters, his seafoam green armor freshly waxed. "Here's your double-Kremzeek-frappe grande" it says, handing a cup to Fulcrum. "Well done, Fannypack" the blacksmith replies, shooting a dirty look at Pitchfork for insulting the poor low-ranked Decepticon. "Filing.. Data Entry.. Hn.. that's not codenames for weapon testing at all, is it?"


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, "If you're wrong, we're going to need more than an energon goodie to get out of here alive," Rodimus says with his trademark sardonicism. "Take us down behind that alley. Should be enough cover to obscure the shuttle with camo-nets."


Blueshift looks up at Fulcrum from a big stack of personel files. "Uh maybe, if 'weapons' is a codework for "files" I guess. He smashes a glass cabinet and takes a shotgun out too, following Pitchfork. "I guess we can shoot at the shuttles taking off, I'm sure Shockwave won't mind... Should I put on my Shockwave costume?"


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Arcee leans over slightly, looking ready to get up and get to work once they arrive. Her hands rest on her knees, her optics dimming slightly. "I suppose it's time to get this party started, then." She stretches, looking like she's cracking her knuckles. "Let's hope you're right, Hoist."


"So what you are saying..." Fulcrum says slowly, as if working something out, "...is that we are supposed to test the weapons.. ON the files?" He nods sagely, bending to pick up a stack of datasheets before heading out onto the tower's balcony and its surprisingly comfortable Kickback Chairs."


"Ahhh, this is the life! Kickbacks, assume squirrel formation!" Pitchfork says. Several Kickbacks swarm together and form a squirrel, which Pitchfork shoots with his shotgun. "Red Blueshift, please cook that for dinner. We're feastin' on varmint tonight. Just like in that one episode of Falcon Frank's Lemon Venus Party. You know, in season 2... that was the only good season. That's when Rodney Dangerfield's Cyborg Ghost was the head writer."


Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age> , running silent, gracefully dips behind and into the alley that Rodimus indicated. Landing gear deploys and electrical netting pops out of various hatches, shrouding the Autobot shuttle with a cloak that helps it blend in with the shadows.


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Hoist says, "... landing complete, nets deployed. Your show now, Prime!"


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Rodimus Prime pops his safety harness when the shuttle dusts down, reaching out to pat Hoist on the shoulder. "Good work, Hoist," he says, standing up. "You coming out with us? I know combat isn't your specialty, but I won't force you to babysit the shuttle if you'd rather be out in the thick of it." He taps the door control, causing the shuttle's side to split open and extend a ramp to the rusted cyberturf below. Rodimus lifts one wrist, checking his blasters before glancing back to Hoist.


Blueshift wanders onto the balcony, wearing a Shockwave chest on his torso, holding a shockwave laser-hand. "Guys, really, where does this go? It... looks a bit embarressing. But there's a ton of these back there! Like, in every colour too!" He takes a swig of his energon beer, shotgun over his other shoulder


"Oh, what the hell. Pass me a Shockwave arm, I am up for slumming it tonight, Shift Redblue," says Pitchfork. He finishes his Nucleon Lite, throws the can in the air and shoots it with his shotgun. "You see, Green Blueshift," he says to Fulcrum, "You have to shoot a lot, basically, or you'll get bored very easily. Guns are the ultimate non-fashion-blog-anti-boredom-tool."


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Arcee checks her weapon systems carefully as she slides to her feet, falling in behind Rodimus, glancing over at Hoist as the Autobot commander speaks to the maintenance mech, waiting for his response as she checks her rifle and makes sure some of her other weapons are in perfect condition. Can't be going into this unprepared, now, can she?


Blueshift throws Pitchfork a Shockwave arm, placing the head on his head like a hat, and cocks his gun. There is an explosion and he screams like a little girl. "OH PRIMUS I JUST SHOT MY OWN GUN!" he yells, dropping his beer and letting it fall on a pile of files.


From Autobot Shuttle <Golden Age>, Hoist gets up from the pilot's station and stretches. "Nonesense, sir, my speciality is making sure that everyone *survives* combat! Wouldn't miss a fray like this for all of Cybertron!" He holds one up his hands, which transforms from a hand into his ion blaster. "Shall we dance?"


"Blueshift.. Upfork. There is no time for such tomfoolery. We have vital weapons testing to undertake." Fulcrum frowns as he reclines in his chair, casually frisbeeing a dataslate skywards before taking aim with a short-barreled pump-action laser weapon he found in one of the closets. "Slag" the blacksmith curses as his shot goes wild. "Okay, now it's someone else's turn."


Within a few seconds, Pitchfork's miracle brain and googling capabilities have merged the shotgun and Shockwave arm into one weapon. A Shock-Shot-Wave-Gun, if you will and of course you will. He throws a data-disc into the air and frowns as he doesn't even shoot. "Hmmm, these seems like it's not very cool, I mean, I've never seen anyone do it before and there are no reviews on the internet... here, let me write one."

Pitchfork writes a review on 'Shotgunz.org' - Shooting data-discs in Kickback clone rocking chairs, 6 stars out of 5'.

Pitchfork shoots a data-disc.


Rodimus Prime only spends another nanosecond tossing Hoist a nod at the top of the shuttle's egress ramp. "Alright, Autobots. Let's do this," he says, breaking into a brisk military trot as he pounds down the ramp and into a puddle of rust-sludge. "Home sweet home," he mutters sarcastically, before pressing up to a wall of the alley. He holds his wrist guns at the ready, peering around the corner. He glances back to Arcee and Hoist, nodding and waving them forward silently, commando-style.


Blueshift picks up a pile of folders and throws them into the wind, as the paper flutters away, slowly loading up his shotgun to shoot at a few pages, that twist and tatter in the wind. "Yeah, take THAT credit reports! Take THAT medical records!" he shouts, hollering, collapsing backwards into his own Kickback chair. "Ah, this is the life!" he mutters, scratching his face with the barrel of the shotgun


Arcee ducks low and slips right along behind him, which really doesn't do her much good, considering she's glaringly pink and that sort of stands out. But one has to give her credit for trying, right? She's particularly careful about how she steps about, doing a pretty good job of not stepping in any rust-sludge herself. It's too keep from splashing, naturally.


"Shrapnel, King of the Kickbacks, go get me another Nucleon Lite!" Shrapnel, the Kickback, flutters away like a little grasshopper messiah, miraculously revived on this one day, and comes back down to Pitchfork with a fresh can. "Yes, Bluestreak, this is perhaps as good as it gets... on /this/ planet, anyway. Did I tell you about the Horse Head Nebula Bubble Fest last night? Oh man, everyone there totally knew me."


Fulcrum nods. "That's the spirit. This is vital work we are undertaking here. Surely, our names will be etched in the records of all Cybertron." Fulcrum picks up a disk marked "The records of all Cybertron" and hurls it away, this time nailing it with a brutal shot from his laser shotgun thing WHILE ALSO drinking from the cup that the gumbie got him earlier. Because he is that good.


"Horsehead?" Blueshift stares at Pitchfork before snapping out of it and swigging another drink. "Aah, sorry, that just reminded me of that time we had that horse-like gorilla thing living in the basement of Trypticon messing with the water supplies. That was really horrid."


Fulcrum says, "The Girradfe-Flane? I heard about that."


Blueshift shudders


Hoist follows right behind Rodimus and Arcee. He seems eager for a fight. Almost.


Arcee is still slinking along. She listens carefully as they approach, every step placed as carefully as it can be. She glances back at Hoist, shifting one hand to keep him from moving too quickly and, hopefully, signaling for him to step lightly. She's light of foot, and she knows Rodimus can move quietly when need be, but she hasn't had much experience in working with Hoist... and being careful is what's important right now.


Rodimus Prime crosses over from one alley to the next, his motley squad of Autobot head-busters with him. He kneels down, scowling at Shockwave's Spire. "Shockwave's Spire... but where's Shockwave?" His targetting visor flips down over his optics and he zooms in on the balcony. "There he is -- wait, no... what?" Rodimus wipes some acid rain off of his green-tinted visor, squinting. "It's like... Someone wearing a Shockwave costume. Bizarre. They look... Over-energized." He flips his visor up, turning to face Arcee and Hoist. "This should be like shooting turbofish in a barrel. Arcee, any thoughts on where to proceed?" Rodimus seems to be quizzing Arcee, picking her brain, rather than legitimately craving advice. Oh the condescention of leadership.


"I wonder why Shockwave never bothers to come here any more" Fulcrum muses, rifling around for another record disk. "On another note, does the Shockwave Chest Plate help in aiming, Blueshift? Should we all be wearing them? It is possible that there's a direct relationship between chestplate size and accuracy."


Blueshift takes another swig, standing up, leaning against the balcony railing. "Hey Pitchfork, Fulcrum, I bet you I can shoot at that empty alleyway better than you guys can! I bet there's nothing there but like, turbo cats anyway!" With that, he lifts his shotgun and pumps a few shots in the direction of the alley below.

You strike Rodimus Prime with Shotgun (Both Barrels).


"I'm getting strange readings, too." adds Hoist, tapping the side of the sensor array over his head. "The energy is keeping me from getting a solid reading on their stats."


"You're on, Bluemangroup," says Pitchfork. He cocks his Shockwave Shotgun arm and points down the alley. Shrapnel, King of the Kickbacks, flutters happily on his shoulder. "I will take the third shot, of course. To send shooting at alleys to its funeral in style."


"To be perfectly honest, they all look... ah... a bit buzzed. Using that in a strictly technical way, of course," Arcee points out quietly, letting her own visor slide down over her optics as she surveys the scene. Is he /testing/ her? Ah well... she won't focus too much on that. Then she slips to the side quickly, a few sudden blasts /barely/ missing scoring her shoulder struts. Letting out a soft hiss, careful not to be too loud. "In light of the situation, However, I think it's in our favor to keep moving... try to get closer. However, as these guys are liable to shoot at anything that moves, so we need to be as discrete as possible. Stick to the shadows as much as we can." She lets her gaze to shift back to Rodimus after that, almost gaging his reaction.


"HAH!" Fulcrum barks. "I'll have you know I am a prize-winning alley-shooter. I was awarded a gold participation medal in last year's Universal Alleyway Shooting competition!" And with that he carefully puts on a Shockwave chest and fires blindly at the shadowy alley below.

Fulcrum misses Rodimus Prime with his High Energy Shotgunning attack.


Rodimus takes both barrels of laser-shot right in the Autobot emblem, the blast slamming the Autobot leader onto his back with a whisp of smoke curling from his chest. "Nngh," Rodimus grunts, keeping his pain to himself for the most part as it sits up. "Not too buzzed to shoot at us," he retorts, clutching his smoking chest. "You two keep moving in closer. I'll make a distraction." Rodimus glances around the alley as Pitchfork's laser buckshot ricochets around. "Distraction, distraction..." He crabwalks over to a dumpster, rummaging around in it for a few seconds before giving up. "This'll have to do!" Using his messianic strength, Rodimus hoists the entire dumpster of his head, conveniently shielding him from Fulcrum's blast. "HEY! DECEPTICREEPS!" Rodimus calls out, his voice booming and echoing across the hellish cyberscape. "HAPPY EASTER!" He then lobs the dumpster with all of his might up at the balcony, following through gracefully with both hands swinging down in front of him and one foot pivoting out behind.


"All awards will be null and void, Fusillade," Pitchfork says to Fulcrum, "Because this is the last time shooting at an alley will ever be cool." Before he notices Prime and his dumpster, Pitchfork takes a daring shot from his Shockwave Shotgun Arm at the alley, Shrapnel chriping like only a happy little robot grasshoper can. The Kickback chairs sway in the background.

Pitchfork misses Rodimus Prime with his Shotgun that Inexplicably Stuns Rodimus attack.


"Primus guys!" Blueshift remarks, as he blows smoke off the end of his laser shotgun, inserting two more laser cartridges. "You suck at shooting at alleyways, look, I..." he pauses, as Prime reveals himself and shouts. "Oh my..." he mutters. "It... it's EASTER?" Aiming his gun at Rodimus, he carefully lines up the sight and squeezes the trigger.

You strike Rodimus Prime with Shotgun (One Barrel).


Soundwave suddenly appears "from out of nowhere" behind the drunken troublemakers. "IMBECILES!" he booms. "That is Rodimus Prime! You must capture him at all costs!" He draws out his concussion rifle and tries to line up the Autobot leader for a shot, but the other Decepticons are kinda/sorta blocking his way, and he isn't annoyed at them enough to the point where he'd shoot through them just to hit his target. "Hrngh!"


"WHAT?" roars Fulcrum, ducking to avoid the dumpster that is suddenly hurled in his direction. "No it isn't!" He scowls again. Easter is one week later, surely! "Is that.. Inferno down there?" he squints. "GET OUT OF THE WAY, AUTOBOT! YOU'RE BLOCKING THE ALLEYWAY!"

Fulcrum misses Rodimus Prime with his Thrown Record Disk attack.


Still moving quickly ahead, Arcee narrows her optics as she takes out her rifle, flicking her fingers over the barrel and the sides, her optics brightening behind the visor covering them. Good job, Rodimus... buy some time! They just need to get closer... her optics dim slightly as she sinks down slightly. Were they... using record discs like clay pidgeons? "These guys really /are/ over-energized..." she mutters to herself. Giving her head a shake, she looks back over to Hoist. "There's too many of them to take at once," she points out, "but we need to /try/ to get close enough to look at those records they're blasting... I'll take point. Follow me." With the Decepticons so busy blasting away at Rodimus, she begins to quietly tip up behind them, occasionally stealing a glance at the commander to be sure he has everything under control.


"Right-o! Lead the way, lass!" Hoist shoots a glance at Rodimus's "distraction". He's sure the Autobot leader can handle his own, but did he HAVE to be SUCH a large target? Hoist sighs out his vocalizer and stays at Arcee's heels.


Oh no, Arcee! That dumpster moved because Rodimus threw it! That means... Pitchfork is seeing pink and white! He sighs and crosses his arms, looking disinterested. "Ugh? A femmebot? /Really/? They are so out of season. Shrapnel, buddy, go show her what we do to 'so-last-years' around these parts." Making happy Grasshopper noises, the Kickback clone known as Shrapnel flies off of Pitchfork's shoulder and darts toward Arcee, shooting Mandible Lasers at her!

Pitchfork strikes Arcee with Shrapnel, King of the Kickbacks!.


Rodimus Prime doesn't seem to be too worried about the various laser shotgun blasts chewing up the cyberturf around him. He flinches when Blueshift whings him in the shoulder, but he doesn't seem too worried about it -- he's probably seen far worse! "Distractions..." He plants his hands on his hips nonchalantly as the Decepticons continue to fire at him, staring around the courtyard for stuff to improvise with. "Oh, awesome!" He spots an ornate Galvatron water mountain in the middle of the courtyard and sprints up to it. Hopping into the fountain with a splash, Rodimus wraps his hands around fake-Galvatron's head and plucks it up with a tug. "If only it were that easy with the real thing!" He doubles back a few paces, squinting at the balcony. Drawing one boot back, he lifts Galvatron's head in the air, before drop-kicking it up at towards the spire! It whistles through the air, a veritable catapult missile with Rodimus' strength behind it!

Rodimus Prime strikes you with Galvatron Head for 9 points of damage.


Blueshift gives a cheer as Pitchfork shoots Arcee, turning only to see Soundwave. "Uuuh sir, no, Shockwave ordered us to do this and... do some filing... see..." He points to the pile of data records that they were using as clay pigeons. "Anyway, yeah, Autobot killin' time!" Flicking off a quick salute, he turns to the Autobots, looking for Prime again. But just as he squeezes the trigger, an ornate Galvatron head conks him, and he reels, his shot going wide towards Hoist. "Nooo, why do you forsake me!" he cries at the head

You strike Hoist with Misfired bullet!.


"They have defeated Galvatron!" Fulcrum gapes as a disembodied head smacks into Blueshift. "Soundwave, you are in charge now! Quickly, we must destroy all records of the previous administration!" Looking around wildly, he grabs the first thing that comes to hand, which happens to be a disk marked TOP SECRET DECEPTICON PLANS and hurls it.. into the alleyway. Of course, the contents of the disk are just one sentence that reads 'kill everyone', but there's no way Fulcrum knows that.

Fulcrum strikes Rodimus Prime with Take... THIS! Aaaaand THAT!.


Soundwave just BETS that was what they were up to. But once Rodimus beans Blueshift with that Galvatron head, it send the troublesome space warrior reeling into Soundwave, bumping into him and causing Soundwave to lose his grip on his concussion rifle, which clatters to the ground. Peering over the balcony, Soundwave grumbles for a moment, then looks behind himself at some spare shotguns propped up against the wall (you can never have enough shotguns!). After taking a moment to get over the indignity of using such a primitive weapon, he snatches one of the shotguns and levels it at Rodimus Prime.

"That is not actually Galvatron, you fools!" he emits, and fires a blast from one of the barrels at Rodimus. "Now focus on destroying Rodimus Prime!"

Soundwave strikes Rodimus Prime with KABLAM.


Hoist grunts as Blueshift's wild shot strikes him in the side. How did that bit go again, what Kup told him? The lifespan of a plan lasts an average of ten microseconds on the battlefield. Hoping to buy Arcee a shot at looking at the records, he decided to aid Rodimus's distraction. "FILE *THIS*, EVILDOERS!" as he fires a charged ionized shot back at Blueshift.

Hoist strikes you with a taste of his twin ion blasters for 7 points of damage.


Arcee shouts when she gets smacked by the flying metal grasshopper... a bit louder than she'd intended to. "Did you just seriously hit me with a grasshopper...?" Giving an irritated grumble, she spins her rifle in one hand before taking aim at Pitchfork. "Some mechs have all the nerve. Let's show you just how last-season I am..."

Arcee strikes Pitchfork with Back Atcha.


Rodimus Prime winces as Fulcrum beans him with various bits of Decepticon "intelligence." "Huh," Rodimus mutters, honestly not expecting to have records thrown at him in retaliation. He takes a moment to show his disdain for his opponents to kneel down and examine one of the disks. "This is... just a plastic novelty toy," he states, in confusion, just in time to get shotgun'd by Soundwave. He frowns, raising his arm and firing off a shot from his photon blaster. "Soundwave! I was beginning to worry the Decepticons were manning Cybertron with only their most vapid and insipid troopers!"

Rodimus Prime strikes Soundwave with Single-Barrel Blast.


Blueshift cheers as it turns out Galvatron wasn't really a stone head. "Praise the dark Matrix Soundwave, we are saved!" he grins, before accidently placing his rifle the wrong way round, so when he fires it, the bullet stays in his hand, and the rest of the shotgun rockets out, butt-first towards Hoist's head. "AAARGH MY HAND!" Blueshift shouts, shaking his smoking hand as he grabs another shotgun.

You strike Hoist with Shotgun Butt.


"An.. there's... mrmgm..." Fulcrum mutters, slumping forward. Hrm, looks like he's a little TOO overenergized. Nighty Night Mr Fulcrum! Hope the Autobots don't storm the tower and kill you in your sleep like the evil barbarians they are!


"Ugh! Ow, you shot me!" Pitchfork says to Arcee. "I am not sure how it is you're still talking, because past mistakes of nature usually don't keep talking so much, it must be really embarrassing for you." Pitchfork keeps talking as he aims his Shockwave Shotgun at the femmebot. He has a laser hole in his arm, that is for sure. Shrapnel lands happily on his shoulder and chirps like a Militant XO from an alternate universe.

Pitchfork strikes Arcee with shot?gun..


Loading another shell into his shotgun, Soundwave coolly replies, "Vapid and insipid troopers such as these--" He gestures to Pitchfork, Blueshift, and Fulcrum. "--are at least ideal for manipulating into demeaning tasks." Then, he levels the shotgun at Rodimus and blasts off both barrels at the same time. "Now perhaps you would like to leave?"

Soundwave misses Rodimus Prime with his Both Barrels attack.


Cliffjumper, disguised as a Reflector, monitors the situation from afar.


Arcee puts away the rifle. "A mistake of nature. Right." Her tone is sharp, irritated, and bitter. She pulls out another weapon. Much larger than the first. "You know what I really hate? Mechs that run their mouths like they're full of the backfiring of a junker Hydraxian transport vehicle." Taking aim at Pitchfork, she lets her targetting visor focus... and then pulls the trigger. "Nighty night."

Arcee strikes Pitchfork with missile.


"Leave so soon?" Rodimus leaps to one side, leaving Soundwave's laser pellets to malign the already ugly-looking turf around Shockwave's spire. "We came all the way to Oz -- we'd better see the Wizard! Where's Shockwave?" Rodimus calls back to Soundwave, eyeing the Decepticon's concussion rifle as it conveniently clatters down the face of the spire and within reach. Rodimus dives and rolls, picking up the concussion rifle as he does and squeezing off a few blasts at Soundwave. "Or does he only send out unimportant toadies to deal with his guests?"

Rodimus Prime strikes Soundwave with Vintage G1 Soundwave Concussion Rifle.


Hoist's head snaps back as a shotgun slams into it with the force of a bullet's impact. He falls over backwards into a heap, twitching, small arcs of electricity sparking from the maintenance mech's forehead. A small clipped poem about a bridge falling in London somehow emits from his vocalizer.


Soundwave looks down at himself and realizes that Rodimus Prime shot him. Oddly enough, it barely scratched him. Hm. He'll repaint it later. Then again, that is rather odd. A shot from Rodimus should've blasted a hole straight through him!


The other three Reflectors walk up to Cliffjumper and usher him back into the group. "Come on, we gotta go take some vanity shots of Governor Airwolf for a huge tapestry they're putting up."


Being hit pretty hard by Arcee, Pitchfork falls down to his knees. "Agggggh, Shrapnel! We will show her, won't we? We will show her that we are strong and women can't ruin our loves anymore and we are /not/ just selfish man children! Isn't that right, Shrapnel?" Frowning, Pitchfork gets to his feet. The tuning-fork on his head begins to vibrate, and sends colored circles (how sonic attacks actually look in real life) at Arcee. "Ugh, I swore I'd never use that thing in public again, but..." Shrapnel chirps happily in reply.

Pitchfork misses Arcee with his SONIC ATTACK!! attack.


Blueshift glares down at Hoist, and taking his limited edition Kickback kick-back relaxation chair, hoists it over his head to... throw it in the direction of Hoist. "Take this Autobot, that'll teach you to interrupt my drunken revelry!" he growls, before tipping a quick wink to Soundwave, hoping for brownie points

Hoist evades your Recliner attack.


Soundwave spoke too soon--Rodimus Prime blasts him with his own weapon, and it explodes against his chest in a flash of purple energy. "GRAAAAARRRRGH!" he yells as he crashes through the balcony window and back into the spire. More smashing sounds are heard from within, and when Blueshift winks at him, Soundwave isn't quite there anymore. "Urgh," comes his voice from inside.


"Sure thing, pack-brothers," Cliffjumper replies to the Reflectors, in Casey Kasem's voice.


Arcee dives and rolls to the side with a great amount of grace, grabbing her rifle and switching the setting on it. "Primus but you're irritating," she growls, leaning against a piece of rubble before aiming at Pitchfork again. "Let's deal with you right now. Decepticons are even more uncouth when they're over-charged..."

Arcee strikes Pitchfork with disruptor.


Rodimus Prime glances at the smoking concussion rifle in his hands as it blows Soundwave into next week. "Wow," he says, in amazement, turning the gun over in his hands. "Thing really packs a punch." He shrugs, tossing Soundwave's gun into the dessecrated Galvatron water fountain. Standing up, he scowls at the balcony, lifting his wristcom to his mouth. "Arcee, Hoist. Report in. What's your status?"


The recliner seems to have hit Hoist as he lays sprawled on the junkpile. For a second it would appear that he's done for, but suddenly he BURSTS through the recliner. He now holds Blueshift's shotgun over one shoulder, and his stance is totally different than before. His other hand is still withdrawn into his arm, replaced by his blaster. And his faceplace is torn off, revealing a cocky sneer. He aims the shotgun at Blueshift, which still has one bullet left... "Hail to the Tow, baby!" he says - his pseduo-britsh accent replaced with something entirely different - as he fires Blueshift's own shotgun back at Blueshift

Hoist strikes you with shotgun laced justice, baby. for 19 points of damage.


Shot again, Pitchfork falls. "Oh, my heart! She has trampled all over it!" Shrapnel chirps sympathetically. All of the other remaining Kickbacks form a Canopy Bed around Pitchfork, shielding him from further harm... but he is depressed and out of the fight. GOOD JOB, /ARCEE/ :(


Blueshift is struck by a bolt of the bitterest irony from Hoist, finding himself flung backwards across the balcony and landing hard in a pile of watercooler parts. He tries to rise, but then giddly collapses into a heap. A little Kickback clone that is still scurrying about sits on his head and falls asleep


Hoist nods as he sees Blueshift fall backwards, satisified. He tilts his head as orders come in from Rodimus, so he hoists the shotgun over his shoulder again and beats feet back in the direction of the shuttle.


Soundwave limps back out onto the balcony, firing a round at Rodimus Prime as he angrily growls. "Idiots! Destroy them! Do not let them escape!" He looks around in frustration as he troopers either collapse from drunkenness or... disappear into a canopy bed?!? "I would do better with an army of Cassetticons instead! At least you are--" That was to Blueshift, but he, too, feel asleep. "AAARRRRGH!" Soundwave booms as he hefts up TWO shotguns and aims them both straight at Rodimus. "MUST I DO EVERYTHING!?"

Soundwave misses Rodimus Prime with his Dual Akimbo Shotgunz attack.

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