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Title: Prelude to a Hangover

PCs: Thundercracker, Deadlock, Zephyr

Location: ++ Repair Bay <Forge> ++

Date: 06 March 2015

Summary: Thundercracker didn't like the drink, but Deadlock sure did!


-Thundercracker is on a repair berth looking impatiant as repair techs finally come in with the parts needed to finish the repair on his leg that got shot in a random act of stupid mech named Whirl. The Indigo Seeker hasnt been doing much since hes been here, mainly sleeping cause they keep giving him stuff that puts him off line. That annoys him too. So the Seeker lays here looking put out and annoyed. what else is new?


-Well, perhaps the arrival another patient? Except this mech looks to be the exactly opposite of Thundercracker. The medics are trying to make him lie down on a berth--his upper chassis is wounded--but he won't have it. 

"I'm fine! What the hell makes you think I need a patch job for this tiny dent?? Dammit.." he grumbles.


-The next being to enter is a small butterfly. Usually Zephyr is in her 'root' mode, which is small enough as it is, but as an insect she's even smaller. The dainty being takes in the scene then perches on six slender legs on top of the struggling mech. "The sooner you settle down and let them fix you," she says softly, "the sooner you will be up and about and able to create more mayhem."

Momentarily her antennae flicker towards Thundercracker, wings fluttering in a sort of greeting.


-"Yea yea," Thundercracker says in greeting back at Zephyr -- he just Mr Sunshine today isnt he?. He looks at the mech being loud and annoying. "Lay down and take it like a mech, groundpounder."


-"I don't need repairs," he growls at Thundercracker, "unlike you, pretty flyboy." The medics manage to make him lie down, but then a slagging butterfly is landing on his helm?! "What the--!? Hey!" He tries to bat her off of him, perhaps knocking her wing in the process.


-Zephyr is generally pretty nimble, but perhaps she just wasn't expecting to be swatted like a common bug. People generally like butterflies. Then again, there are a lot among the Decepticon ranks that wouldn't appreciate the intricate patterns of her wings. "How rude," she says, her voice startled, and thus much less smooth. "I hope you haven't damaged my wings," she adds, a slight hiss in her tone. Carefully she relands, on the ground this time, to inspect her wing.

"Groundpounder makes little sense to me; most seem to roll along the ground rather than strike against it. How odd." Surface speak still confounds her at times.


-"Ha, maybe you should go be a model instead of a Decepticon then!" Deadlock says harshly, with a smirk. Then he laughs. "Well, damn, maybe the two of you should go a date. Just make sure you go somewhere with lots of mirrors." He winks derisively, and climbs off the berth, despite the pleas of the medics.


-"Why not call them rollers? Or wheeled-ones? Or spinnies?" Zephyr asks. "I'm not sure where the 'pounding' part comes in."

Having assessed the damage as 'minimal' the fluttercon transforms to a slightly more equitable height. "I'm here to learn, not to go on...dates..." she says. Do Insecticons even date? It's unlikely either of the mechs know much about Insecticon society. "And what do you mean by model? A model of what?" Staring at Deadlock she twitches her antennae backwards. "What aversion do you have to being in the best possible shape?"


-Thundercracker bristles, "You dont think I can hold my own on the battlefield? Think again. I can and better then you," he looks at Zephyr at the mechs comment about the date, "Not my type -- ground pounder is slang, Zephyr, like - fume sniffer." he chuckles, "Thats a good one for none fliers."


-"Yeah, I mean what else do fliers besides hover out of reach and while everyone else is getting slagged?" Deadlock antagonizes, swaggering over to Thundercracker's berth. "Oh come on, she's pretty... enough," he teases. 

"I'm already in the best possible shape," he says. Clearly, a lie, but he's not about admit that. "I'm thirsty, dammit, isn't there at least engex around here?"


-Zephyr tilts her head to the side as she regards Thundercracker. "What is your type?" she asks, sounding curious rather than offended. And if it has occured to her that the question is awkward or inappropriate, there is no indication of it.

"I am," she says to Deadlock, pressumably about being pretty enough. "And that dent says otherwise. But if you are thirsty, I'm sure there is something around to fix that."


-Thundercracker looks at the damage on the mechs chest, "Best shape? Ok." he chuckles a bit then looks at Zephyr, "My type? I...I... it's not you." How's he suppoe to answer that question anyway?


-"Yeah," Deadlock says, flicking at Zephyr's wings absently, "so why don't you be the one to fix it?" Did he just tell her to fetch him a drink? Yes, he did. 

Deadlock laughs at Thundercracker. "Oh yeah, and how the hell would you even know? I bet you've never even gone on a date."


-Zephyr shrugs her shoulders easily at Thundercracker's answer. "I'm just not sure by what measure surface folk decide what is, or isn't, their 'type'. The aesthetics which govern attraction between you." Yes, she's being serious.

As for Deadlock he gets a long look, her antennae pressing back almost flat against her head before returning to an upright position. "Just a moment then." And she turns to walk out of the room.


-Thundercracker is getting really annoyed now, "You're a real afthole, you know that?" he rumbles and is seriously considering coming off his berth to kick some groundpounder head in. "My dates are none of your business either, chump."


-"Oh, and who's the one calling me a ground pounder?" Deadlocks snaps at Thundercracker. "Pft." 

He watches Zephyr leave, then his attention goes back to the seeker. "Yeah, well don't ask me," he says, "I don't really know what the hell it is that gets my attention, except that I know it when I see it."


-Thundercracker looks at Deadlock difiantly, "I called you a ground pounder, wanna make something of it?"


-Deadlock jumps forward, getting in Thundercracker's personal space. "Only if you want to," he growls.


-It is at this point that the flutterfemme returns. In each hand she is carrying a 'glass' of something that has a rich, golden glow to it. Her optic ridges go up. "Exactly /what/ are you fighting about?" she inquires, peering at them with curiosity.


-Thundercracker sits up and leans forward a bit. He doesnt like his personal space invaded. "Get out of my face, before I knock you out of my space." he threatens and seems very serious.


-"Thanks," Deadlock says, quickly leaving the seeker's side and snatching the glass Zephyr is carrying and downing it without even looking at the drink.


-It might be just as well she DIDN'T land on Thundercracker then, for all that he seemed decent before. "Why do so many hate to be in repair bay? I would imagine that it is better to be at full strength rather than otherwise," Zephyr says, just shaking her head. Moving over to Thundercracker, she offers him a drink as well.

Deadlock will find the drink to be a little on the sweet side, but it's a mellow sort of sweet. It's pleasant, somewhat potent, though not enough to take out a full sized mech. Probably not the most 'tough mech' of drinks, but it's also not low end garbage.


-Thundercracker snatches the drink offered him and he takes a swig as he glares at the other mech, "Yea just keep walking out of my space and don't come back."


-"Damn," Deadlock says, "that's good, there more where that came from?" he says, having drank the entire glass already. 

He gives Thundercracker a sharp look. "Yeah, and you can keep running your mouth, but I'm not listening."


-"A war can hardly be won if soldiers from the same side fight with each other," Zephyr observes to the two mechs.

She looks over to Deadlock and smiles faintly. "It's made from the ener-honeydew that we make," she says. "One of the many things that makes my kind useful. And one of the many reasons your government is foolish to discard us the way it has."


-Thundercracker stops in mid swallow, "I'm drinking bug stuff?" and he glares at Deadlock, "Yea so don't listen to me that will be your undoing too."


-"Well whatever the hell it is, I want more," Deadlock demands of Zephyr. He glances down at the wound on his chassis and winces a little. Drinking seems to alleviate the pain, so that's what he's endeavoring to do.


-Zephyr hmphs softly to Thundercracker. "You probably have before, and probably will again. Not all energon comes from the planet itself; a great deal of it has passed through our hands, been refined." She narrows her optics a triffle. "Tell me, how useful are you when you are not fighting something? What great need do you fill?"

She looks over at Deadlock. "So far the stores of it have been in my care, since it is myself and my drones that produce it." Her optics narrow, not in anger, but as if with intense focus. "How did you 'scratch' yourself?"


-Thundercracker looks at the butterfly and for a brief moment get a very tragic look on his face. "I am a Seeker, that is my purpose in being." he say finally but now hs all bummed.


-Deadlock laughs. "SEE! All the flyboys think they're all that, but they're really not." He waves Zephyr's comment off. "None of your slagging business! Where's my drink?" he says, tapping the glass in his hand impatiently.


-"Fighting is all well and good; it's something I'm terrible at, but it isn't the answer to everything. Or else there would be no one left. Some of us have to produce and organize. Clean and repair," Zephyr says to Thundercracker. "While those who fight can destroy, or protect. Likely some of both."

"And what purpose do /you/ serve?" she asks Deadlock, optic ridges going up. "Besides denying the medics their work."


-Thundercracker glares at Deadlock, "Shut up."


-"I'm gonna murder every one of those stupid slaggers working for the government," Deadlock says, his optics narrowing. "And after that's done, hopefully I'll have the ranking of someone like Starscream or Soundwave," he says. He points to his glass again, looking annoyed. 

He just smirks at Thundercracker. "Well it's not my fault you can't find your place in this world."


-"Ah, you are interested in rank then?" Zephyr asks, her optic ridges going up. She fans her wings for a few moments. "Very well, I will bring you another drink." Glancing sideways at Thundercracker she says, "I assume you're not interested. Would you rather I hunt you up something a little more...standard?"


-Thundercracker huffs, "No Im going to sleep. Resetting and defragging is better than the company in here right now."


-Deadlock laughs loudly. "Ha! What a lazy aft loser," he says, with a smirk. "Of course. Those with ambition will succeed. Those who don't will be crushed by those who do." He waits impatiently for her to fetch him a drink.


-Zephyr shakes her head at Thundercracker. "I still don't know what the issue is," she says. "One of you has wheels, the other has wings. We Insecticons don't make a distinction between ones with wings and ones without; we all find a purpose." But Thundercracker is being cranky and elects to go to sleep.

So Zephyr leaves and returns a few minutes later; this time with a bottle of the stuff instead of just a glass. Opening the lid, she motions that she will pour him a glass if he holds it still for her. "And what is it you wish to do with such a rank?" she inquires.


-Deadlock winces again, but doesn't comment right away. Instead, he snatches the entire bottle and drinks half of it in a single swig. He stumbles, clearly a little inebriated. "I just don't like being ordered around--I only tolerate it if I'm the one doing all the bossing."


-Maybe the medics will be lucky and he'll pass out in the medbay. Zephyr isn't trained enough to deal with him herself. "I'm a Queen; I could have stayed in charge of my small hive and been subservient to no one. But I chose to come up here to fight for a better place for my people," she says. "Sometimes it smarts, but in the long run, I hope for great things to happen." She looks at the drunk mech for a few moments. "I wish you luck in your rise through the hierarchy."


-Deadlock drains the rest of the bottle, and then his expression turns nauseous. "...yeah. You.. too." He looks like he's on the verge of also passing out. He frowns. "Have.. we.. met... before.."


-Zephyr shakes her head. "Not formaly. I think the only time I saw you before was during a raid. But you were out front making a distraction while I went into the building." She surpresses a smile. "Why not sit down for a moment; I'm sure it will come to you."


-Deadlock kind of sits.. on her. His judgement is clearly impaired. He might have had more to drink before this. His knees give out and he will faceplant onto a berth, if Zephyr doesn't intervene. "...really? I don't recall ..."


-Zephyr is pretty sure her stuff isn't THAT potent, so it's easy to conclude that either a) he had more to drink before this or b) he's far more injured than he appears. Perhaps even a combination of both. Gently she sort of tries to nudge him in a positive direction, hoping to get him lying properly on a berth so the poor, abused medics can take care of him. After all, they are on the same side, yes? At least he appreciated the drink, unlike Thundercracker, who seemed nice enough before, but is apparently quite a bit of a snob.


-Deadlock grabs onto her for support, his legs clearly not functioning. "I feel like I've seen you before," he mumbles, clinging to her with a death grip. "Do you have more.. of that ... drink.."


-"Maybe you've seen one of my drones around, but I'm pretty sure I'd remember if we had properly met before," Zephyr says. She's not very strong, so she can't do much with the guy, but she does what she can. "If you want more to drink, I'd have to go get it," she notes. And she can't very well do that while she's in a death grip.


-Deadlock clearly doesn't understand the part about having to let go of her in order for her to get him another drink. "Why do you remind me so much of a insect..." he mumbles.


-"Because I am one," Zephyr says, shaking her head a little. "And there's nothing /wrong/ with me being an insect, it simply is what I am," she adds in almost a soothing tone. Unless the 'hollows', Insecticons have multiple stages of growth, with the early stages needing a lot of care and attention. Thus a Queen often will have a nurturing side. "Just remember that the government you hate wants you to believe bad things about my people, so obviously the best thing to do is the opposite."


-"Of course there's something wrong with looking like an insect, if you look like a bug well then why shouldn't people treat you like one," Deadlocks says grumpily, still quite drunk. "...." He stares at her. "D-Damn!! You're beautiful...."


-"And if you're a car, why shouldn't someone treat you like a car?" Zephyr returns. Her antennae twitch forward at the compliment, though she's not sure whether it's worth more, or less, because of the mech's inebriation. She'll have to look into that. "But I'm glad you appreciated the drink."


-"... what? What's wrong with being treated like a car..." Clearly the mech has no idea what he's saying, he's far too inebriated. "Wait, aren't you going to get me.. more..?" Deadlock asks, half conscious.


-"Well, I /was/ but you have to let me go first; I don't teleport," Zephyr says, still more soothing than amused or angry. "And there's nothing wrong with being treated like a car. You are one, aren't you?"


-"Take me with you.." he drawls, his crimson gaze fixed on her. For some reason Deadlock seems unwilling to let go of her. "....what? Car? What are you ... talking about.."


-What /is/ Zephyr talking about? Confusion is catching and now the fluttercon is trying to backtrack to how she got here. "Oh, alright," she says softly. "The bottles are in the back room." Some of them at any rate. Zephyr tries not to have too much on hand in the Forge; she keeps most of her produce in her brooding chambers. Too bad she doesn't know how much a bottle of that stuff would be worth. On the other hand, if she knew, she might just get into the marketing business instead of the 'fighting for her people' business.


-Deadlock keeps clinging to her, his arms wrapped childishly around her waist. He's hoping she'll make good on her word to get him a drink, as his injury is starting to sting even more. But stubborn pride won't let him admit to be being attended to by the medics at the repair bay. "How... fff--ffarr is iiiit..."


-"Not too far, just in the back room." This will probably look pretty amusing though, since Zephyr is somewhat shorter than the average mech. Still, at least she can use her wings to keep her somewhat balanced. She really doesn't get the whole thing with mechs and medics. It's a good thing she isn't prone to fits of anger, or else she would be getting trained for the wrong function. As it is, she's probably going to get a talking to from the medics on duty for getting Deadlock wasted. Speaking of which, "What's your name?" she finally asks. "I'm Zephyr."


-"....Uhhh." He apparently can't remember his own name. "Drift..." He mumbles. Deadlock stumbles after her, and once they arrive in the back room, he peers around drunkenly. "We here yet...?"


-Drift, Deadlock, it doesn't matter to Zephyr. Though she'll probably be confused later when she calls him Drift and he demands to be called Deadlock. Oh well, if he doesn't like it, he shouldn't get drunk next time. Reaching up on her tippy-toes, she puts her hands behind a bin. From out of there, she pulls another bottle. Settling back on the flats of her feet, she holds it towards him. "You sure you're ready for another bottle? Try savoring it this time instead of bolting it back as though it's about to disappear."


-But he's not going to take her advice. As soon as the bottle is presented to him, he snatches it and downs the entire bottle faster than Zephyr can tell him not to. 

Deadlock tries to stand straight, but is unsuccessful and instead crashes into a shelf. 

He manages to recover though, and grabbing one of her arms drunkenly, steadies himself. "Hey, wanna... wanna hear a s-s-sonng...?" he drawls. 

He doesn't even wait for her to say yes. He starts belting out, "Oh, my love, my darling / I've hungered, for your touch / A long, lonely time / Time goes by so slowly / And time can do so much / Are you still mine? / I need your love / I need your love / God speed your love to me...." It's... pretty terrible, considering he's drunk out of his mind. And there are high notes. That he can't reach.


-Well, if the whole 'Decepticon' thing doesn't pan out, maybe Zephyr will have a go at bar tending. Of course, she's not sure if he's singing to her or the alcohol, and at this point, it probably doesn't matter. "Come on; let's get you someplace comfortable," she says with a little sigh. "Where do you usually take your rest?" she asks the singing mech.


-And then he just passes out on her, crashing into her arms if she is willing to catch him when he falls. Apparently singing was too much effort for Deadlock. Next megacycle he's going to wake up with a horrible hangover and absolutely no recollection of his horrible serenading and ill placed compliments.


-Zephyr isn't likely to remind him on purpose, though if the name slip comes up, there will probably be questions. For the moment, however, she's just going to try to get some help getting him to a med table. He might wake up with a hangover, but he'll probably wake up 'mysteriously' repaired. That stuff in the bottle must be magic, right?

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