A Little Chaos in Kaon

Searching for Blurr, Feint tries to shake off the lingering fear of coming into contact with Shockwave. He wasn't anything like she had been told, nothing like she remembered, and if she can avoid being indentured to him, she will.

Nevertheless, if such temporary slavery and suffering means mental wellness for Blurr... so be it. She wants the best for him. She loves him.

At last she picks up on Blurr's particular spark frequency, and homes in on it, coming down to his location in aerodrone form.

Currently, Blurr is with Hot Rod. And in a place like Kaon, that paintjob ought to stand out enough that Feint probably wouldn't even need to use her super-sensors to find them. Also, he keeps asking Hot Rod questions.

<< Wow, this place is a dump, why would anyone live here? >>

<< How did this place get so dilapidated? >>

<< Why would Senator Shockwave be here? >>

He stops suddenly in front of graffiti of a Decepticon sigil, staring at it in abject horror. << Isn't that a terrorist symbol?? >> The racer is really starting to -not- like this place, at all...

It's a minor sort of miracle that Blurr, Drift, and Hot Rod have made it to Kaon without any murder or mayhem. Everyone is alive and, now that they are here to get the help that Blurr needs, everything is going to be fine.

Buoyed by this cloud of unwarranted optimism, Hot Rod takes Kaon in with greedy eagerness. Where Blurr sees horror, he sees ... an opportunity, perhaps. "No one /wants/ to live in a place like this," he says, his tone distant and thoughtful as he studies the same broken-down buildings as Blurr. "It's the Senate's fault." Of course. "They just suck energon right out of the mines and the miners without leaving any shanix for the people who live here. I don't know why Senator Shockwave would be here, but I believe Feint that he is." Facing the Decepticon symbol, he pauses a moment, then says, "I think it's a little more complicated than that." That answer will change before long.

"This was my home."

Feint's voice drifts down from above along with the little aerodrone, now familiar in shape and color to Hot Rod at the very least. Once at chest level she transforms, landing gently on her feet, her mass expanding to the size of a regular Cybertronian.

"I found him." She seems pensive about that. "Senator Shockwave is in the gladiator pits."

<< If it's the Senate's fault, why are we going to a Senator for help? What do you mean it's more complicated than that, didn't they try to kill Nominus Prime? >> Blurr prods further. Hot Rod is being incredibly patient. Especially being Hot Rod.

And then Feint arrives. Blurr is immediately at her side and drawing her into an embrace. Hopefully it isn't too awkward for Hot Rod.

"Some Senators are good Senators. Shockwave's one," Hot Rod says. (Right? ...right?) He's awful silent on didn't-they-try-to-kill-Nominus-Prime. Oh look! There's Feint. Can't answer. Turning his gaze to her with welcome instead of suspicion now that he knows what to look for, Hot Rod smiles and greets her with an easy, "Hey, Feint." He doesn't even roll his eyes at the couple-cuddles, and he seems even more oblivious to her pensive reservation. His smile widens into a grin with enthusiasm spilling over: "Oh, great! And he'll help?"

Feint really needed that hug. As rattled as she's been, it's reassuring to be around Blurr. It does her quite a bit of good.

Lingering a little she reluctantly lets him go (if he'll allow it!) and steps just a little back to address Hot Rod and Blurr both. "He's.... not the same mech he was. Cold. No emotion. He's nothing but logic and science now. All the passion in him died," she explains sadly. "He's agreed to help Blurr regain all his memories, but it will come at a price; I must be his servant for awhile so that he can study my abilities."

After the initial embrace is over and Feint lets go of him, Blurr frowns. Something is concerning him. And it isn't just the idea of her having to indenture herself to this cold, emotionless mech. First off there's a databurst to both of them regarding Shockwave. << 'Awhile'? How long is 'awhile'? No, I can't let that happen to you, what if he's like the mech who tried to take your spark?? >>

And then, only to Feint: << Did you kill Axle? Why did you do it... >>

Hot Rod's face falls with his hopes. "But." Outrage rises to fill the empty places left by the loss of hope. "What happened to him? How could anyone do that, just cut away all that passion?" Particularly egregious to someone who is 110 passion. "He was just about the only one of them worth anything. Now what? What's this servant scrap? You don't exactly seems real eager, and I've kind of had enough of friends being blackmailed into doing things that they don't want to do."

Feint looks at Hot Rod. "I don't know what happened. They say that when the Senate arrested him, they took him away, and then he... they took his head and hands, Hot Rod. Empurata."

<< I don't know how long, I didn't ask. I just wanted to know if it were possible, because I wanted you to be whole. I didn't mean for Axle to die, I just wanted to stop him from hurting you anymore; you were in such terrible pain and I tried to get him to stop, to tell me what was wrong, so that maybe I could help -both- of you. He shot me. He tried to kill me. He said he was going to erase me from your mind.... I just wanted him to stop, and he wouldn't listen.... he wasn't supposed to die."

Blurr shakes his head. << No, I can't let that that happen to you, Feint. I'll be fine. >> He stares at the ground. << I'm sorry, this isn't even your fault. I should have told you what was going on. I wasn't supposed to, but-- >> The transmission cuts short there.

It's subtle, but there: Hot Rod flinches. His fingers curl into protective fists lest the Senate run up RIGHT NOW and chop off his hands. You never know! He takes a very obvious moment to control himself, but it's no good: "They took more than his head and hands! They took everything! Cutting out his passion just like they keep cutting up Blurr's memories. Just like they cut out your spark. That's not right -- there's nothing right about that, about that place." He fumes but since he doesn't immediately transform to tear off and go find something to burn down, he's behaving.

Rumble drives up the main street away from the tenement where he lives, probably looking for trouble. But it's possible he's also looking for a good time. Unfortunately, by his estimation, those two things are very closely related.

<< I'm so sorry Blurr. I saw what was in your mind, and you kept forgetting everything I told you. I just wanted to help. I never meant for it to go as far as it did. >>

Feint sighs and nods to Hot Rod. "I think that the place I was taken is the same place that destroyed Senator Shockwave's soul."

Feint steps back from Blurr and gestures to Kaon with one hand. "This is where I came from, Blurr. This was my home for five hundred thousand years. I only saw the sky a few times before I was taken into the mines, to work with very little rest, until I was eventually sold and brought to the Circle, where you were. Do you remember any of that? Do you remember meeting me?"

Blurr nods at Feint. << I do...we met at the Circle. Solvent was toting you around like a piece of property. >> And he probably still thinks Solvent was behind everything, so he gives Hot Rod a puzzled look when he seems to be convinced that the government was doing it. << The Senate never did anything to me, Axle did everything. >> He transmits to both of them. Well at least that's what -he- thinks.

The racer notices Rumble approaching, but he probably doesn't look too out of the ordinary so not much attention is drawn .

He then turns back to Feint, his optics wide and pleading. << Feint, please don't do this to yourself. It's not worth it, you can't trust him. >>

Rumble overhears 'mines'. In fact, that's about all he hears, and now he wants to know what these 'kids' are talking about. Looks like some kind of drama, from what he can surmise. Since he really has nothing better to do, he makes a turn down a nearby alleyway, then transforms and listens in.

Hot Rod throws his hands wide in a frustrated gesture. "Yeah. I just want to pull every single last one of those places down." Pointing at Blurr, he asks, "Where do you think Axle learned it, huh? Where do you think he got the equipment? The training? The space? The money? The parts?" His voice rises in volume, until it is very near an accusation. "You really think wiping your memories has anything to do with races? Why would it?" At least he gives Rumble something to listen to.

<< If you don't want me to, I won't. I just wanted to give you back everything you'd forgotten, >> Feint radios to Blurr. << I was willing to do whatever it took to make you well and whole again. What's a few years time as a servant to see to it you're whole? I already spent five hundred thousand underground digging crystals out of ore. >>

"He said it was about money, Blurr. He said he had to control your every thought and feeling so that you'd be perfect and everyone would love you, which would bring in more shanix," Feint adds quietly.

Blurr watches Hot Rod's tirade and listens to his accusing tone. He's silent for a while, not really sure how to respond to that. He hadn't really thought about that...but he still isn't fully convinced it was all bad.

He looks relieved that Feint isn't stubborn on this. << Oh, good, please don't. It isn't worth it, you don't know what he could do to you. The IAA will replace Axle, they'll find someone who can do what he did, and they'll fix everything, don't worry. >> Because they best, right?

Rumble is lurking in some alleyway near where all the flashy-looking mechs are having some loud, drama-filled discussion. He was wondering now about the femme, and her connection to the 'mines'...he KNOWS she mentioned mines! He might need to look into that. And that blue one, wasn't he...? Maybe they had some shanix on them. The possibility to get some quick money begins percolating in his processor.

"Ugh. Doesn't sound like much of a loss," Hot Rod says of Blurr's dear friend Axle. Sorry. "Really, though -- tell me. If we go find that place, go right back to where she found you, what else do you think we'd find?" he continues.

"Maybe there's someone else that can uncompress your memories," Feint suggests to Blurr. "You need those. You need to remember everything you've experienced, because if you have no memory, you have no -you-."

Blurr puts his hands on Feint's shoulders. << Look, if this is because you feel guilty about what happened, just stop worrying. I'm not blaming you...I remember enough. I mean, some things are better off not remembered anyway, don't you think? >>

He turns to Hot Rod again, and this time the transmission is received by both of them. << What place where she found me, the IAA? Don't worry, they will replace Axle and then whoever takes his place will fix everything, they always do. There's no need for anyone to become anyone's servant, or slave, or whatever. >>

Rumble comes strolling out of the alley with a greasy grin, toward the trio.

(Cue this song: http://youtu.be/bezE6GHtJ5w)

He's rather short, although in this original root mode, he's only about as small as...perhaps a minibot, no smaller than that. Still, a little shorter than the mechs he's facing down. But something about him seems...a bit sinister.

"Scuuuuuse me, folks. You look like maybe you're lost."

Clang. That's the sound of Hot Rod's hands hitting his face in a high-velocity facepalm. "No," he says. "We're not going to let them /fix everything/. Feint! You've got to help me get it through his head. Blurr, why do you think we need to get help for you in the first place? If not Shockwave, we find someone else, but you can't go back to--." Then Rumble comes /sauntering/ over and Hot Rod breaks off. He eyes him with obvious suspicion. "Not that lost."

"This is my home," Feint says politely to Rumble. "I am familiar with it." She dare not say anything else in front of Rumble, but she agrees with Hot Rod. << I have tried to make him see, >> she radios to the red speeder, << But he's so young and so naive he simply cannot grasp what's going on around him. >>

Blurr just stares at Hot Rod. << You're the one who said I was injured here. >> he says, pointing to his head the way Rod had before. And then Rumble shows up. He glances at the smaller Cybertronian, then just shrugs at Feint, because obviously she's from here. No need for a tour guide!

"Hmm, I see. Cause you don't LOOK like you're from around here," Rumble says, casting a sidelong glance of suspicion at Hot Rod. "Or YOU, for that matter," he tells Blurr, also. "But you live here, hm?" He looks up toward Feint, optics glittering curious. "What you know about the mines??"

<< Can I shake him? >> Hot Rod asks Feint while he studies Blurr in a way that suggests he is thinking REALLY HARD about it.

"Yeah! You're injured there, and they are they ones who did it, so why would you ever think they'd fix it?" Hot Rod gestures widely again, all wound up and expressive. "They'll just frag your head up even worse!" His hands fall (as does his gaze) to Rumble, who he studies with a thinner sort of skepticism. "What are you, the welcoming committee?"

"They're two levels below the surface past the main refinery to the south of here. The rust storms come seasonally with the second moonrise and everything's choked, which means the fans run harder and the cleaning crews must be careful at the ventilation shafts. Seventeen workers lost their hands to the fans last year, and Exor was responsible for the accidents, because he pushed the safety standards under orders. There was a cave-in at tunnel 56-X-70 a vorn ago, but the miners were all rescued, because an outlier could see them in all the rubble, and dug them out herself," Feint explains to Rumble. "I was sparked in Blaster City before it was detonated. I've been working here for the last five hundred-thousand years, until Foreman Cuprix sold me one of the Guild Assessor's descendants."

Rumble laughs loudly at Hot Rod's verbal barb. "I might be the Grand Chancellor of this dump, mech, or even the Chief of Police!" he jokes. "Seriously, though, you crazy strollin' around out here with that kinda custom? It's like you're yellin' to the whole block, 'HEY, come an' strip off my parts!' Cause the mechs around here'll DO that, y'know. They do it all the time." He nods at Feint's assessment of the mines, looking impressed. "I see. Huh. Surprised I ain't never met you down there, then. Or maybe I did an'...you know how it gets down there, gets a little hard to see the work crews sometimes with all the mess."

"I'm small and easily forgotten. When I transform I've less mass than you, sir--" Feint addresses even Rumble with respect. "--so I was classified as a mining tool rather than laborer. I am a disposable."

Unlike the little guy Sixshot watches the group from out of sight. Though he hasn't met he least recognizes Hot Rod and Blurr. The first because no can miss the flashy paintjob belonging to the self proclaimed hero of Nyon and only someone living under a rock for all their lives wouldn't know about the blue speedster. Not really a pair of Autobot supporters but not your typical kind of tourist especially with the femme that they are with. Least for the moment none seem to be trouble even the little punk.

Rumble stares at Feint. He can't remember the last time he was called 'sir' -- probably one of those times when he was a little short on shanix, and mugged a few high-rollers. Was he intimidating her? Or...ohh. He nods slowly. She's an empty; no wonder. Now he's really wondering what's going on here. This kind of situation, with the two racing-type mechs actually having a discussion with Feint...it was one of the stranger things he'd seen in this town. There had to be some reason why THEY were here with her.

<< Because they always did. >> Blurr transmits to Hot Rod in reply, shrugging. << They always took care of me, one way or another. They kind of have to. >> He watches Rumble, looking repulsed when he mentions mechs stripping them for parts, and he takes a step away from the smaller mech. << So why are we here again, anyway??? >> Is asked of both Feint and Hot Rod.

"I'd like to see them try," Hot Rod scoffs at Rumble with unwarranted confidence. He squares his shoulders: flames out, spoiler high, and all of it shiny in a non-verbal 'come at me, bro'. The pose lingers through a long, frustrated look at Blurr. Hot Rod glances back at Feint. "If we can't get help here, we need to find out where we can get it. Who we can trust. Because it's not the IAA."

<< I wanted to see if you wanted Shockwave to restore your memories, Blurr, but I also wanted you to see the reality of what life is like for a large population of the planet, >> Feint radios to Blurr and Hot Rod both. << Life isn't video games and races and parties. People are suffering. >>

She nods to Hot Rod in agreement with that statement. "I'm certain there are IAA members that do care for you and want the best for you, Blurr, but not all of them do. To some of them, you are just a fast chassis to make them rich, and they will do whatever they want to you to keep you producing. Because of what I've done... they may try to make you forget me. Or worse, simply kill me outright. I'm now a barrier to their wealth."

Rumble isn't going to steal Hot Rod's flaming parts. But he sure has friends who would. He smirks beneath his faceplate -- which does nothing at all to make his irritating little voice any more bearable. "They ain't gonna come out an' try to clean you out long as \*this\* guy's here," he says honestly -- gesturing over toward Blurr. "Cause they're just gonna assume you're prolly fast like he is. But if they ever catch you out here alone? All I gotta say is, you talk a big talk, but around here, you better be able to back it up." He regards Feint again, and he's kind of surprised these better-classed mechs are treating her like an equal. "I dunno what kinda problems you're havin', but the good news is, you're in a place where most problems can get solved! ...For a price."

Sixshot moves closer but doesn't make any move as the trio haven't done anything foolish except wander around. No doubt by now his unique spark is being picked up by anyone keeping track. Yet that won't matter anymore as he finally walks out of the shadows saying, "Up to business as usual I see."

Unless its been widely spread the multi-changer shouldn't be that well known cept to Rumble for being down in the gladiator pits. Though there may be a few that heard of him working under Sentinel here in Kaon before disappearing.

<< No, no. >> Blurr shakes his head vigorously, again transmitting to both of them. << I don't want you to have to let him experiment on you. >> He shrugs. << Why shouldn't I trust them, they've been taking care of me all my life. Why are you so convinced that they're the enemy here, anyway?? After all, I'm technically part of them, too! >>

A sigh, and he sits down, rubbing his head. << Feint, just don't tell anyone else about this, all right? They won't bother you as long as you don't threaten their business. I mean, that sounds reasonable enough, doesn't it? Everyone has to make a livelihood somehow.>>

Rumble grins widely as Sixshot makes his way over. "What now?? They run outta losers to pit against you in the cage matches??" he laughs loudly, then adds with an obvious grin, "I made some shanix offa you this week! Bookie's cut, too. It was \*sweet\*. Good work, mech, keep it up an' I'll open a tab for you at the Joint."

"Too bad for you I'm dirt poor," Hot Rod shoots at Rumble with an obscure sort of pride. Yeah, wow. He's a poor nobody who probably spent everything he has just on the paint job. /Way to go/.

Hot Rod glances up at Sixshot with a quick glance to Blurr and back. He shifts his weight a step toward Blurr and directs silent words to Feint and Blurr: << You don't want Shockwave experimenting on Feint? Okay, we don't want them experimenting on you. Friends look out for each other. They've already taken away some of your memories. Who knows what else. You don't have to let me help. But I want to. Let me try to find someone else before you go back to them. >>

Feint glances over at Sixshot and then -immediately- gets behind Blurr. "Green!" is all she can manage to spit out.

Sixhot chuckles a bit at Rumble as he says, "Can't always be fighting, though some would want that." He glances back up and locks optics with the group, raising an optic ridge as Feint yells out.

Blurr is quiet for a while, then finally agrees. << Fine. >> He shrugs, and glances up at Sixshot when Feint suddenly darts behind him. Seriously, though. She should have gone behind Hot Rod instead, he probably would have enjoyed it a -lot- more. << Green? Who is that? >>

<< Thank you. >> Now ... Hot Rod ... just has to find someone to fix Blurr's head. NO PROBLEM, RIGHT? With body language like /that/, Hot Rod makes his weight-shift a little more pointed to set himself between Blurr and Feint and the others. There, see? Feint doesn't have to hide behind him: he'll do it for her. And puff up about it. "Green?" he puzzles over his shoulder.

"Scuse me, but he's only part-green," Rumble corrects Feint. "He is also purple, as well." Pronounced 'poiple', apparently.

"... his spark," Feint says cautiously, peeking out from behind Blurr.

Sixshots optics narrow for a moment as the femme seems to know what he is, least part of him. But he doesn't make any aggressive moves as he says, "Theres a reaction I haven't gotten in a long time. Though whether that means trouble for any of us is undetermined."

Rumble just stands there, looking confused. "That mean somethin' to you?" he asks Sixshot. Because green sparks aren't his level of expertise.

Blurr is confused, too. A green spark? Whatever does that mean? He just stares blankly at Sixshot. Overhead, a trio of flyers are approaching. At the lead is a bot named Quantum...if Blast Off were here, he'd recognize the mech in a flash. But he's not. Too bad!

"/Him/?" could be kind of insulting from a certain point of view as Hot Rod looks between Sixshot and Feint. (No offense, right?) "Thought you said they were rare."

"They are!" Feint exclaims, still cowering out of the way of Sixshot.

"Six is a rare kinda mech," Rumble exclaims. "Takes a rare mech to win as many pit matches as he has, that's for sure." He's still completely baffled by Feint's sudden fear of Sixshot and his 'green spark'.

"Do you have a problem with that possible fact?", Sixshot says as he takes a few steps towards Hot Rod. He doesn't immediately answer Rumble as he seems focused on the groups protector. In fact he doesn't give a straight answer as he says, "Yeah very rare to some."

"Nah," Hot Rod says, flippant as he faces off against Sixshot. "Don't really care what color your spark is, what color your paint is, whatever. Don't even care how many matches you've won." He makes a grand show of carelessness, not backing down as he adds, "As long as you're not causing trouble for Feint." Is he a hero yet.

Blurr watches the conversation between the others, then looks skyward as Quantum approaches. Well, it seems Hot Rod might be too late. He glances back at Feint, transmitting privately to her. << Feint, I need you to promise never to tell anyone what you saw. Okay? >>

It's not long before Quantum and his team arrive. They look like security. They're not Autobots, but they don't look like they're from around here, either. Probably private military of some sort. The three of them land just a few steps away, transforming and striding deliberately over to the group, though the leader's focus is on the racer. "-There- you are." he grumbles. "The slag are you doing out here in -Kaon-?" Quantum glances angrily at the others. "And who are -these- losers?"

"Losers?? Who you callin' losers?" Rumble prattles at Quantum belligerently. "You shut your noise hole!"

"Please," Feint begs Rumble, "Just leave them be. Please don't make trouble, sir." << I promise, Blurr, >> she radios ahead to the speeder. Standing behind Blurr, she attempts to take one of his hands in her own, peering around him at Quantum and the others.

"Your either foolish or brave, but I'd be careful with that attitude," Sixshot replies to Hot Rod. He rolls his optics as he turns his attention towards Quantum, "Just what we need wandering around, mercs." The multi-changer steps back as he studies the newcomers.

Foolish or brave: why not both? Hot Rod keeps an eye on Sixshot right up until Quantum and his friends drop in. Then he has new people to posture at! Please don't make trouble sure sounds like a request for him to make trouble. "Who're you?"

The newcomers scoff at Rumble. Because, he's tiny. "Hah, big talk for a mini-tool like you." Quantum sneers, then nods at Feint. "See, she's got the right idea. No need for trouble." He grins, and nods toward Blurr. "We're just here to take Blurr home, is all."

Blurr takes Feint's hand and squeezes it. << Thank you. >> Then he stands up and moves to leave with them. Time to go home.

"Yeah, whatever!! Cause..." Rumble's about to spout some more less savory things at Quantum, but he glances over toward Feint, and curiosity's still got the better of him -- even his notoriously short temper -- for the moment. "Cause it takes one to know one. Yeah." He kind of simmers down, standing next to Sixshot like he's every bit as badaft.

"Shouldn't I come with you, Blurr?" Feint asks, not wanting to let him out of her sight. Bad things tend to happen when he goes wandering off with IAA officials.

"No." Hot Rod slaps his hand on Blurr's arm. "Blurr doesn't want to go," he says despite the /obvious evidence/ of Blurr /standing up to leave/. "He's not going with you."

"Oh this may be turning into something interesting," Sixshot says as he crosses his arms. For the moment he doesn't get involved as these guys are just mercenaries and not Autobots. This time its not his fight unless someone makes it his.

"I dunno, mech, this is like some kinda friggin' drama for Kaon," Rumble asides to Sixshot. "I mean...racer mechs? Empties? Racin' officials? ...Maybe you're right, this kinda beats 2-4-1 energex shot night at the Joint. It's different is what it is. Specially for this town."

Quantum just ignores Rumble, because the disposable clearly isn't worth his time. He sighs at Feint's question. "Oh, fine. I guess you'll have to come with, too. Well what are you waiting for, get moving then." After all that way they can keep an optic on her, make sure she doesn't cause any trouble. It's a good thing they aren't quite aware she was the one responsible for Axle's death yet--the medics who had witnessed it are on her side.

But then Hot Rod goes asking for trouble, grabbing Blurr's arm. Blurr looks exasperated, though some real trepidation is starting to build. If Hot Rod angers them enough... << Hot Rod, please. Don't make trouble with them. >>

Quantum glares at the flame-painted mech. "Oh yeah?" he says threateningly, taking a step toward him. "And who are you to make decisions for him, huh? Are you gonna stop us?"

"Oohhh..." Rumble grins brightly, looking up at Sixshot then looking back toward Quantum and Hot Rod. "You know what those words are...riiiight? Say it with me...those...are...\*fightin' words\*." He rubs his hands together excitedly.

"Please Hot Rod, don't." Feint pleads with him now. "You have to let him make his own decisions too - he has to have the freedom to choose right and wrong on his own." She makes a solid argument for FREEDOM AND INDEPENDENCE. Even if it means a bad end. She hurries along after Blurr, praying she won't have to use her powers again to settle this.

"I'm his friend," Hot Rod says. He plants himself firmly on Kaon's streets. His hold on Blurr remains an unwavering clasp. It's like he didn't even HEAR Blurr. Message contains the words 'don't make trouble'? Delete unread. "You're not giving him a real choice. Feint -- come on!" He breaks his gaze from Quantum just long enough to give her a betrayed stare.

"Yeah they are, Rumble, especially in this town. But this doesn't look like our fight, unless they do something stupid," Sixshot replies to other mech, though he isn't really itching for a fight. Especially as he glances at the femme as she seems to be arguing for Quantum to take Blurr.

"Well yeah, but I'm sayin', sometimes it's just fun to watch this kinda stuff. Brings a little excitement to the masses," Rumble admits. He's just trying to justify his eagerness for this to become an off-the-chain brawl. But Sixshot's cautious delivery does seem to calm him down a bit.

Well, with the way Hot Rod is being so incredibly -stubborn-, Rumble's wishes might just come true. Quantum laughs derisively at Hot Rod. "Not giving him a choice? Sure looks like -you're- the one grabbing him and keeping him from leaving with us." He points out, as Blurr twists in Hot Rod's grasp, attempting to get free. Unfortunately for him, being fast requires you to be very light and thus give up other things like being strong. "What kind of friend does -that-? But I shouldn't be the judge of friendship quality, so whatever."

At this, he raises an arm as a plasma cannon emerges from it, and the other two level assault rifles in his direction. "Now let go of him, or I'll -make- you by shooting your arm off."

Rumble bounces cheerfully in place, as Quantum brings out the plasma cannon. "Ooh, here we go, it's so on!"

<< Hot Rod, /please/! >> Feint begs. << I'll look after Blurr, don't get yourself hurt in a place like this! As long as I stay with him he'll have someone watching out for him. You need to help others who can't protect themselves first -- and if you don't think about your own safety right now I will use my abilities to make us \*invisible\* to you so that you CAN'T get hurt. >> Whoa. Stern Feint is Stern.

Well, that's a terrible bit of persuasion. So close! Between Blurr's twisting squirm and Quantum's sharp words, Hot Rod looks almost a bit ... guilty. But then it moves to threats, and Hot Rod now looks (impossibly!) even more stubborn. Fingers which had begun to release only tighten. He sure ought to be a lot more threatened by someone pointing a plasma cannon (and two assault rifles) at him, but all he does is look at Blurr. Like it's impossible for Hot Rod to imagine anyone harming him. He glances from Blurr to Feint and back. << Who's going to watch out for /you/? Blurr thinks they are all on his side, >> he tells her. But. He lifts a finger. One finger at a time, right? He does not look happy. He looks monumentally UNhappy. "Blurr, is this really what you want?"

"Maybe... maybe not," Sixshot says as he watches. From the looks of things HR may actually be giving up. He glances from Hot Rod to Quantum, remaining where he is.

"If this mech's got any cogs, he'll handle this like a boss," Rumble comments, his rapt attention on the escalating situation between the trio and the armed racing official.

Blurr nods as Hot Rod starts to lift his hand one finger at a time, but Rod is just too slow! These race people, they aren't exactly patient mechs. And Quantum, well...let's just say he is a -very- angry bot with an -extremely- short fuse. He opens fire on Hot Rod, aiming for the lower arm joint. "I warned you!" he shouts. If Hot Rod doesn't moves fast, he just might end up losing part of his arm. The other mechs don't shoot just yet, but remain on guard in case any of them try to jump to Hot Rod's defense.

Rumble watches gleefully. "Ooh, shots fired," he exclaims

Sixshot nods to Rumble but says nothing else, already moving far enough to not get caught in the shots. Right now he doesn't make any hostile actions though he does thumb the hilt of one of the swords at his waist. Optics shifting towards the two mechs with Quantum to see what they do.

One finger at a time means that Hot Rod is still holding on -- on his way to letting go, but still holding on -- when Quantum shouts. It's a helpful warning. Hot Rod is fast, but he's not quite faster than a gunshot. He drops Blurr's arm and dodges to the side, but the best he manages it to keep the arm at the cost of a messy hit. Metal burnt, paint peeling, energon leaking, his fingers lock into place as delicate components melt in the heat of the blast -- but they lock into a fist. A fist which he swings right at Quantum's face. It follows as naturally as A to B or 1 to 2. Logic doesn't really have a place in his response. Obviously.

<< I can take care of myself. >>

The blows begin and Feint makes good on her promise. She is getting more and more practice using her abilities, and with greater control, she narrows the invasion of sensors to just Hot Rod and Quantum. She pushes a suggestion into their processors, trying to trick them into seeing what she wants them to see: A blinding flash of light and a sudden roar that blocks out all other sounds. It's as if - just for Hot Rod and Quantum - a flash bang grenade has gone off right in front of them. Feint reasons that if they cannot see or hear each other, they cannot harm each other.

The punch flies, and the fist connects with Quantum's face. He grunts, and the sound of metal buckling can be heard. "Is that all you got, -rookie-?" He taunts, and is about to fire another round of hot plasma when there is apparently a flashbang grenade. "Aghh! What the slag!" he stumbles backward, shielding his face from the hallucination.

Unfortunately, Quantum has backup, so when he seems to become temporarily stunned for no apparent reason, the other two open fire, and Hot Rod is stunned but also still being shot at with two assault rifles. This...probably isn't going to end well for him.

"Whh...waitaminnit, what just happened?? Why'd the flamin' mech flinch like that??" Rumble peers intently toward Quantum, trying to see if there was something used (like an electrical disruptor) that might have been missed, but, apparently there isn't.

"That I don't know," Sixshot says as he looks from the mercs vs Hotrod to Blurr and Feint then back. Did one of them have something to do with this. Especially since other than a plasma discharge and the assault round the multi-changer didn't notice any other weapons used.

Nope. It's totally getting filed under 'bad day' for Hot Rod. Possibly even '/really/ bad day'. He manages to get off a quickly spat, "Scrap," at the burst of light and sound, but it's about all he's saying. He falls back, and the movement is the only thing that keeps him from getting flat out ... flattened. As it is, he takes a couple of hits to armoring better suited for racing than combat -- see: light; see also: not exactly very good protection -- which forces him a few more steps back, to the side, and then to his knees. It wouldn't be that hard to assume from the way he is moving that he thinks everyone got flashbanged and if he just /moves/ he can get clear, then maybe find cover, THEN GO PUNCH SOMEONE AGAIN. Too bad they can see him. Too bad everyone can see him. /Too bad/.

"Stop this!" Feint shouts loudly at the mechs firing on Hot Rod. "You're not in Ibex, you're going to attract the wrong kind of attention!" The glowing lines that trace her body brighten significantly, the only blue that perhaps she's the one behind the strange behavior. She attempts to hack the sensors of the other IAA security guards, to shut down their capacity to see, but not hear. "Put down your weapons, -now-! We'll sort this out peacefully and everyone will go home -as they should-, but not until control yourselves and your tempers!"

"Wait...lookit, she's doin' something," Rumble comments to Sixshot. "I dunno how, but she's callin' the shots."

Sixshot focuses on Feint for a moment before stating the obvious, "She has to be an outlier, thats the only explanation." He glances back to Quantum and his men to see how they react. Also idly checking the skies to make sure nothing else is coming their way.

Quantum reels for another few seconds, then finally seems to regain his footing. He's confused for a moment when it seems the rest of his team hadn't been affected by whatever that was. But it's hardly a time to think about it. He jumps to his feet and attempts to grab Hot Rod and push him up against that half-crumbled wall with Decepticon graffiti on it. "You think you can mess with us, huh?" The mercenary hisses.

The rest of the team stops shooting, confused at the sudden blindness. "What the--" But then Feint is shouting, trying to make them stop. They figure out that something weird is going on. First with Quantum acting as if a stun grenade had gone off, and now this?? "Who the slag is doing that?" they demand, and just start firing randomly in the direction of Feint's voice.

You know, it's nice of Quantum to shove Hot Rod back against the crumbling wall. It really is. Do you know why? It means he knows where Quantum is.

Blinded, deafened, armoring dented, bleeding from multiple wounds, Hot Rod still takes the time to hit back. Cornered, what else is he going to do? Stop fighting? HA. He drives one knee straight up into Quantum's midsection. "Yeah," he says with a cockiness disproportionate to the beating he has already taken. It's weaker than it could be. "I think I can." From his undamaged arm he follows-up with a flame-wreathed punch in the direction of that hissing voice.

Rumble is trying to figure out just what it is Feint could be doing that isn't immediately obvious -- maybe creating illusions?? Only...he has a bit of ADHD when it comes to fighting. And in his estimation, fighting is way more important than illusions...or anything else for that matter. So when Hot Rod tries to land one on Quantum again, he hollers happily. "YEAH!! Punch that mech! Keep it violent!"

Sixshot looks back to the fight saying, "Here comes another mess for the scavengers whichever side wins. Course flames there is a outnumbered so not even putting a bet on who."

Feint drops to the ground, trying to avoid being shot. "Stop shooting! Don't make me hurt you! Hot Rod, -please- just -run-!" she both shouts and pleads one more time, transforming into a small aerodrone to hover above the fight silently and no longer get shot at. SHE'S LEARNING.

Quantum is socked in the midsection, and he stumbles backward, metal crunching once again. "Hrrgn. Is that so? Not exactly the brightest processor of the bunch, eh?" He charges forward again, plasma cannon raised once more. "I'm -almost- disappointed you won't be alive to regret this later!" With the poor condition Hot Rod is already in, he's not likely to survive another blast...

As for Blurr, he's just standing there, watching the fight get worse and worse with a panicked expression on his face. He would have jumped in front of Feint, if she hadn't taken her own evasive maneuvers.

Unfortunately for the expectant bystanders watching and hoping to collect the loser's scraps, an intervention program in the shape and form of Drift comes rushing onto the scene.

Guns blazing, he deftly leaps down from the roof of an abandoned building nearby, optics a raging crimson. As gravity carries him downwards, the barrel of the gun he's carrying in his right hand takes a hefty swing straight for the side of Quantum's helm. If it manages to connect, there will be a resounding crack.

"Ohhhh! Suddenly, the fight has become a tag team!" Rumble chatters excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

Sixshot moves his hand from the hilt of his sword saying, "Rumble I'd tell you to shut up, but thats too hard for you." He's just glad Frenzy isn't around to add to the noise. Though he does watch Drift as he moves in saying, "If these two live, the big guy might want to meet them."

Rumble sighs. "C'mon, Six, this is amazing!! Outliers, racin' mechs, brawlin' in the streets, I can't shut up!"

No. Definitely not the brightest processor. Hot Rod might be full of something, but whatever it is that he's full of, it isn't smarts. He glances from Quantum to Feint and then back with the helpless rage of some feral cornered animal. He braces, unable to evade the cannon and flat out refusing to die to a shot in the back.

AND THEN. It takes Hot Rod a moment to even register that it's Drift who has thrown himself into the scene, much less that Drift's arrival gives him the opening he lacked moments earlier. He throws himself forward -- but not at Quantum, rather past him. He's not running. He's ... repositioning. (He's running. (Limping. Uh. Moving, anyway.))

Feint hovers over near Blurr. "You need to get out of the line of fire, dear," she suggests helpfully. "Going home is the safest place for you, I would suggest you transform and make a fast break for it before you get hurt."

Quantum never could have seen that coming. The barrel of Drift's weapon connects with the side of his head with a resounding CRACK, sending him toppling to the ground. The others he was with seem to have gained their vision back now, and they stare at the newcomer. They seem to recognize him. Glancing at each other, they then turn and do exactly what Hot Rod's doing---run. Well they might be going a -bit- faster.

And, when Quantum regains his composure, he curses and does the same. Soon enough, the three of them are flying off as fast as their engines will carry them.

Once they're gone though, the group will find that Blurr is also gone, having followed Feint's advice. He'll be rendezvousing with Quantum and the others and returning to Ibex.

Drift fires a few rounds at the fleeing mercs before turning angrily to Hot Rod, his optics blazing angrily still. He stows his weapon. "Are you out of your damn mind?! Oh, hell, why do I even ask that? I already know the answer to that question!"

"Well looks like thats over with and as usual the Autobots nowhere in sight," Sixshot says as he decides to make his way back over to the trio, "But thats life in Kaon these days." No doubt some would probably complaining that he along with the smaller mech were just watching, yet some would also know better. Looking towards Hot Rod, "You certainly have a stubborn streak made of titanium with how you fought, least your 'friend' came in to time to save your chassis."

"Yeah, he definitely saved your aft in the end!" Rumble adds smarmily.

Feint lets Blurr go! She transforms back into root mode and buries her face in her hands. Shaking her head she tries to move out of the middle of the street, nearer to a wall. She lets everything go on around her as she tries to figure out what she's gonna do.

"Tha--." Hot Rod gets no further in his thanks as he faces Drift's anger. "They're just going to take him back and wipe him again! What was I supposed to do, wave goodbye?" He demonstrates with a wave with his spectacularly injured arm: hand locked in a fist, paint singed, metal peeling, components beneath melted, torn, bleeding. He looks to have been a breath from losing the limb. He gives Rumble and Sixshot paired, resentful glances. "Lot of help you were." For a moment, he doesn't quite notice Feint -- maybe assuming she went with. He's kind of focused on cataloging his injuries. Hint: lots.

"Well it was your fight, mech! Was you expectin' us to pick up your slack? An' you picked the fight with THEM. So...y'know, that's the way the cog turns," Rumble tells Hot Rod with a shrug.

"That's the least of your worries! This isn't even about Blurr. This is about you. You're too damn afraid to let go of your own stupid pride and admit you were wrong. You'd rather go down in a fight than let your ego suffer a blow. Don't you get it? You can't slagging shelter that guy forever. He's wrapped up with the wrong crowd. You can fight, you can struggle, but it won't do a damn thing, he will run back to them like the naive fool he is or they will come back for him and beat you into a pulp. Again."

Drift holds a hand up at the other two mechs, disallowing them from drawing any nearer to Hot Rod. "Don't come any closer," he snarls, "this is Kaon. So stay back."

He kneels so that he's optic level with Hot Rod. "Primus.. this is bad. You're leaking everywhere--oh slag.. this is worse than I thought..." he says, examining Rod's wounds and sounding.. frightened? Well that's a first timer."

Blurr hasn't abandoned Feint, though. She would receive another private transmission from him. << I'll see you at my hab suite in Translucentia, okay? >>

"Heh, first a high caste mech and now a pair of rogues, why do I always run into those with attitudes," Sixshot still remains close as he locks optics with Drift saying, "Best to reel that in, cause unlike my smaller companion, I actually prefer not to see those with potential get stripped apart by the scavengers." Jabbing a finger in Hot Rods direction, "While it was 'your' fight, not mine. Especially since it seemed she didn't want anyone to get hurt yet you wanted to help that senate lovin' racer."

"Ya hear that, Six? 'Stay back, cause this is Kaon!' Whoah. Just...deep stuff, right there. Think I'm gonna use that. 'You takin' my parkin' space? -- No. STAY BACK. Cause this is Kaon.'" Rumble stares curiously at Drift, wondering why he decided to intervene.

"I wasn't slack!" Hot Rod exclaims with fierce outrage that disregards the reality of the wildly uneven fight. 'Fight'. His outrage turns on Sixshot: "He's being used, just like the rest of us. He just gets shoved back in a plush and cozy box."

Hot Rod jerks his gaze away from Rumble and Sixshot to focus on Drift. It's clear that he's listening. It's just as clear that he isn't /agreeing/. It isn't until Drift kneels that he looks away, glancing down and to the side. He doesn't say anything for a very long stretch before admitting in a quieter voice, carrying little farther than the two of them, "Yeah, it's pretty bad."

<< I'll be all right. I want you to stop and think about what you've seen when you get home, >> Feint radios to Blurr; it makes her :| inside. When did she go from being someone's conjunx endura to their protoform batch initiator? 'What a revoltin' development', the cartoon character might say.

"I can treat some of his injuries," Feint says aloud, moving away from the wall towards Drift and Hot Rod. "It's my fault anyways."

Blast Off steps into the scene. The shuttleformer's muted browns, grays and purples don't stand out against the dingy streets. Nor can they compete against flashy colors like, say, Hot Rod's. But he's not complaining. He likes it that way. Snipers shouldn't be "loud"... in presence or demeanor. No, he's very quiet as he makes his way carefully along the street. There's some freshly repaired patches on his side and chassis... and a scar along his back if one looks closely.

He intends to keep quiet and not be noticed, if possible. He's mostly healed up now, thanks to Shiftlock, and ...again thanks to the femme he finally has a place to stay. Ironic how that turned out. Almost enough to make one believe in karma. Almost. He makes his way up the street and... hears a voice. An angry one. The shuttle blinks, violet optics gazing out and... he recognizes several individuals... Sixshot, Hot Rod.... but one in particular gets his immediate attention.

/DRIFT./ The Combaticon freezes. Then slowly, quietly... he brings his ionic blaster out of subspace- and watches.

Blurr has received Feint's transmission, but doesn't really say anything in response. What is he supposed to think about what he saw? Hot Rod is an idiot? Mercs are violent and angry? Neither of those things had come as a surprise, really.

Rumble paces around restlessly. Things are beginning to suck again, and that's really ticking him off. Unless the flame-mech decides to punch Drift, he doesn't see this situation getting better anytime soon.

"No stay away!" Drift snaps, at Feint, his optics blazing red. "Everyone, just back off. I don't trust the slagging lot of you," he says, glaring at each of them in turn.

He shakes his helm. "Rod... this is bad. This is really bad...You probably don't realize this but your body hasn't even gone into shock yet..." He pulls out a couple rags from his subspace compartment and tries to stop Rod's wounds from leaking more, but they don't do much good. His optics widen with dismay. "... you're.. you're dying."

For a moment, he sits there, unsure of what to do, frantic. Then, he picks up a scrap piece of metal and slash his own arm open. "I've seen this done in the pits.. gladiators do this to their freshly dead or dying foes... except this time it will be in reverse.." Reaching into his own wound he pulls out a main energon vein and pulls it out, wincing. Then he carefully takes one of the smaller, broken energon vessels from one of Rod's open wounds and attaches it, binding the whole makeshift connection with a rag. He flexes his arm, making the energon from his own body pulse into Hot Rod's. His expression is pained, and it's clear that he is doing everything within his power to not cry out in agony...

Sixshot scowls behind his faceplate as Drift tries to enforce a perimeter but stays back. Looking to Hot Rod his anger lessens, which is revealed as his faceplate opens, "You don't think I know about being USED! Course many fools choose to accept that life, except around here."

Watching Drift perform the procedure he adds, "So willing to sacrifice part of your life for his. Your someone that seems to have some honor when it comes to your allies." Crossing his arms he glances around as he shouts out, "Any fools still around thinking there are spare parts around, get out of here! Anyone tries and they become molten slag!"

"No, it's not." Hot Rod looks past Drift to Feint, studying her for any sign of injuries. His voice is quieter, and his tone less strident. Possibly this is because he's bleeding all over. He seems even a little confused by her attempt to take the blame. (He seems confused by a lot of things.) "Why--?"

"Drift-- /Drift/!" Despite the injuries, Hot Rod lurches forward when Drift slashes his arm with a scrap of metal, tearing his attention away from Feint. He reaches to stop him. With only one good hand at the moment, and weak besides, he's spectacularly ineffective on that point. He stares at him, somewhere between anger and awe. "And you called /me/ stupid." His tone, however, tells a different story than his words.

Rumble shakes his head at all of the self-sacrificial histrionics. What happened to the \*fighting\*? He grumbles, turns, and begins to head back toward the Jump Joint when he sees something that makes him stop. Is that...a rooftop sniper? He peers quietly. Yes, indeed, that looks like a rooftop sniper. And where's that gun pointed? He visually tracks the path from the gunman to where he's pointed. Ah, yes. Looks like there might be SOMETHING worth sticking around here for, after all. He leans back up against the wall of a building, and just grins to himself, waiting for chaos to break out once again.

"I should have blinded the whole lot of you," Feint grumbles, watching Drift's attempt at a blood transfusion put both of them at risk. "That way Hot Rod wouldn't have been shot by those other soldiers." She's busy thinking of tactics. She rubs her visor in frustration. "I know first aid!" she shouts, trying to interrupt the budding bromance long enough to stop them from playing doctor all the way into a fatality. "If I wanted to harm either of you I'd have done it by now so unless you're both very keen on leaking out in the streets, maybe you might let me HELP."

Blast Off watches Drift... try to \*save\* Hot Rod? The shuttleformer's optics narrow with confusion... and suspicion. Are they... working together? Is Hot Rod an assassin? A Cold killer? A Hardened, Seasoned Merc? A..... Blast off stares at Hot Rod.

Naaah.

He's still considering the possibility they are somehow working together, though. No wonder Hot Rod wouldn't listen to reason that other time. He's... he's one of THEM. Slag... Blast Off never saw himself as a conspiracy theorist, but these days he's starting to see conspiracies \*everywhere\*. He glances about, confused, and spots Rumble looking back over at him. Blast Off freezes. But the smaller mech seems content to just watch, and after a long moment of mutual staring.... the Combaticon goes back to watching the scene before him.

He lifts his weapon and watches Drift through the crosshairs. Hmm. It could be so easy just to take him out... right now. And last time he showed this mech mercy.... Rung died. The time for mercy is over. His finger starts sliding into place along the trigger... Should he? Or shouldn't he? There are witnesses... but who knows when he might get the chance again.....

There's energon leaking everywhere. "I don't care," he says sounding a little weak, "I'm allowed to. But you're not, not on my watch." Drift glances around as the bystanders slowly starting to either mosey off or take a spot in the background. Still, for some reason, he gets the feeling he's being watched...

The transfusion may be helping Hot Rod, but Drift is starting to not look so great. His optics are dimming and he looks pale, like he might stasis lock. He coughs. "No! Get away from me." He growls at Feint. "You're allied with Blurr. I don't think I need to say anymore."

He glances over at Hot Rod. "D-Dammit. You're losing energon faster than I can pump it in..." He stands, and picks Hot Rod up like a little child, bridal style. "We need to get out of here." And somehow, despite his damaged arm, he's up on his feet and running away. Yes, with Hot Rod in his arms.

"That fool is going to fall before he reaches wherever he's going," Sixshot shakes his head as Drift starts to run off. Looking to Rumble he doesn't even glance up to where the mech is looking instead turning towards the femme, "If you are willing to accept, I can know where you can take those two fools. If you can stop them without further damage."

Whistling while he works, Ironfist mouths a jolly tune while walking down the road. He's got another bundle of supposed Delta relics and this bunch looks absolutely glorious.

Rumble is most definitely a LOT quieter than he was. He isn't even complaining about the lack of fighting anymore, which is almost unheard of for him. He seems very content to stand and watch, for some reason. It's almost as if he's eagerly awaiting something...

"/That was you/?" Hot Rod seems to be building his way toward irate, but watching Feint second-guess herself and rub at her visor cuts him short. He still doesn't look happy, but he manages, "Well, next time," more or less flippantly.

Hot Rod looks back at Drift as she pushes the offer of help again and scoffs at him. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." It must be helping, because Hot Rod sounds snappy again. "How about no one is allowed to. Let her help or something, because I swear, if you just--."

Then he gets swept up. PICKED UP. LIKE A CHILD. Hot Rod's dignity bleeds out into the Kaon streets and dies. "If you collapse I'm leaving you!" No, he's not. "Put me down! Come on. She's okay!"

"Shut the hell up!" Drift says, as angrily as a half bled out mech can. "You can't even walk, or transform. You're dying, for Primus' sake. I don't take advice from dying people," he says. He almost runs into Ironfist, who's just minding his own business. Drift inadvertently drips bodily fluids all over Ironfist and his relics. "Hey, watch it!" he says irritably.

Startled, Ironfist has no recourse but to stumble forward and spill all his Delta Magnus merchandise all over the street. Fumbling, the only way the little guy can get to his feet is by grasping at Drift's ankles. Finally standing, "Sorry sir, someone dripped mech fluid all over and it." he stops mid sentence, realizing the fluid is blood.

Ironfist promptly faints.

Feint is taken aback by the anger in Drift towards her, and all because of her association with Blurr. She doesn't know why he's so mad, why he doesn't trust her. She just wanted to help and she had the means to do it. Being snarled at was the last thing on her mind.

<< Do you need me to stop him? >> she radios Hot Rod questioningly, backing away from Drift as he's asked. Her worry is cut off by the sound of a body collapsing, along with the noise of items falling to the ground. Ironfist has passed right out, and she immediately thinks of his well being. This isn't a good place to be.

She goes over him and kneels beside him, gathering up his dropped goods and looking right through him - literally, with those enhanced sensors - to see if anything might be malfunctioning, and the general condition of his spark.

Sixshot glances up towards the roof before walking out of the way saying, "Things are just falling deeper into the pit. This is going to turn real ugly."

Blast Off blinks as Drift mentions that the femme (isn't she slightly familiar?) is aligned with... BLURR? Wait, /what is this/ anyway?!? Some sort of compendium of all his worst enemies, come together?!? He glances suspiciously towards HER too before noting that Drift seems to be... drifting away. OH NO YOU DON'T. Blast Off has been many things lately... rather patient, actually. Even /merciful/, which was... not his usual style. First to Shiftlock, then Drift at Rung's insistence... even willing to wait first, try to talk \*Before\* shooting. But time after time recently, waiting has only meant missed opportunities- regrets. Getting shot and framed for things he didn't even do.

No regrets this time. He's a COMBATICON... time he /acted/ like one again.

He leans almost prostrate against his perch, chassis to the ground (eeew, he'll need a polish later) trying to get as steady and inconspicuous as possible.... Drift begins running off with Hot Rod, but gets interrupted and stopped by Ironfist. As the new mech faints, Blast Off takes his shot. And keep in mind... he's an awfully good shot. However- he DID just get repaired recently...

>> Blast Off rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 8.

Laid out, Ironfist's subconcious drifts to the unknown. Or the known, he's inside the office of Delta Magnus. Seated comfortably, the weapons engineer cracks his knuckles and prepares to open one of the classified sections of the filing cabinet.

"By the Primal Vanguard."

Ironfist is awake, and he was so very close to unlocking all the secrets too! He'll have to update his Autopedia Dream Journal later. "It's okay, this is just." he stops mid sentence again almost fainting.

"Blood."

"It's all right. Accidents and injuries happen." Feint gently tries to assuage Ironfist's worries, lest he pass out again. "Unfortunately this isn't a good place to lie around in the streets. There's been a fight, and it's not safe here."

"Put me down and I'll show you!" Hot Rod talks a good talk, but who knows if he can walk a good walk. Still, it's his arm that's taken the worst of it, not his legs. "I'm not dying--" At the moment. "--because /you're crazy/ and if you bleed out instead and think I'm going to be happy about it I'm going to shake you until your head snaps off." Friends? Friends.

<< Can you? >> Hot Rod answers Feint, a curtness which could read as pointed given recent circumstances, but his gaze suggests more aggravated concern than scorn at her abilities (or tactics).

Drift kicks the stasis locked Ironfist aside and carries onward until he's shot in the back? Well, slag his day just got better. "Argh!" he cries, as the shot grazes his side. He actually half expected that, he'd had a feeling earlier he was being watched. Somehow, he manages to swing Hot Rod to the side so that he isn't struck by the blast. Scowling, he turns to face Blast Off. "Not /you/ again," he snarls.

"Hang on," he says to Hot Rod as he slings him over his shoulder. "I have a mess to clean up.." He pulls out a long danger and leaps onto a garbage can, then up onto the roof, running straight for Blast Off. Oh, he knows now, that the Combaticon doesn't like hand to hand for a reason...

<< If I tried right now you'd get dropped like a sack of scrap. I'm going to try to get out of sight and help this poor mech, >> Feint radios to Hot Rod.

"Did you just--" Hot Rod breaks off as Drift flinches with the shot and leans to get a look at the injury -- or try, anyway. There may be little distance, but the angles and line of sight make it hard. Then -- what. "Drift. Stop!" Bad Drift! Hot Rod shouts after him, "I'm bleeding to death here!" like he wasn't just denying that seconds ago. Too late. There's a sniper to murder.

"Fight?" Ironfist repeats Feint's words as if they were synonymous with death, destruction, disaster, or Decepticon. Especially Decepticon.

"Are there Decepticons here?" he asks, cowering away from Drift's kick. He could reach into his compartment and grab some Magna-Lock he'd been working on. Weld Drift's leg to the ground. That'd require courage though, something Ironfist sorely lacks.

Standing, Ironfist pulls out his standard issue pistol and attempts to put his back to a wall. He's only seen one Decepticon before, it was so terrifying he signed up with the Autobots the next day for protection.

"As a dulllly sworn occifer of the Autobotts, lay down your weaponss and surrenderrrr." Ironfist mumbles out.

Blast Off takes the shot, but one of his recently repaired servos isn't quite up to par yet, and Drift jerks a little to the left at the last second... throwing his aim off just enough to hurt, but not truly cripple or kill. Slaaag. He crouches down, flattening and trying to blend in and escape notice. But too late. The shuttleformer's optics widen as Drift spots him and comes racing right for him. Slaaaaag. Again. Ok, maybe this wasn't such a great idea. No... no, he HAD to take the shot. For Rung. For Arcee. For HIMSELF.

And now... he's a Combaticon, he can handle this! He pushes himself up quickly... and slag again... another recently repaired circuit ruptures. Something in here, probably, about how he should have rested a bit before engaging in strenuous exercise, perhaps? No matter, too late now. He starts launching himself skywards, taking aim with another shot as he flies up... trying to get away before Drift can get too close. Because they BOTH know he's not as good at that.

>> Blast Off rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 8.

Sixshot glares at Ironfist as he turns towards the mech saying, "Right now do the smart thing and lower your weapon before you get shot, idiot." At the moment it isn't obvious that he's a decepticon since he's currently not wearing his badge. Though he does shake his head as Ironfist announces he's an autobot.

"Slaggit, he's going to kill both of us if I don't stop him!" he shouts at Hot Rod. "Stop stating the obvious, I KNOW you're bleeding to death."

If looks could kill, Ironfist would be dead right now, as Drift sends him a burning glare. "Hell, you heard him, I'm carrying a DYING mech and you're going to shoot me? Slag, you really do belong here in Kaon.."

Somehow Drift manages to jump up and slash at Blast Off as he flies up, in an attempt to stab the Combaticon...

>> Drift rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 2.

Rumble records the bout between Drift and Blast Off, keenly focused on the fight and pretty oblivious to anything else.

Sixshot does look nicer than the Decepticon he'd seen previously. And he wasn't wearing a Decepticon badge or anything, it's safe to trust him right? Furthermore, he was leaps and bounds nicer than that Drift guy. "Okay, good call sir." Ironfist replies to him, dropping the pistol. It accidentally goes off, ricocheting off a nearby building and heads straight towards Sixshot.

Cringing, the Autobot recruit tries to tip-toe over towards his box of Delta Magnus items. "Sorry!"

>> Ironfist rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 4.

"Make sure to get at least one good shot of Hot Rod for Knock Out, bet he'll pay you some good shanix for that," Sixshot mentions to Rumble. As the other mech is focused on the fight he looks towards Ironfist, nodding as the mech does the right thing. Course then he also does the dumb thing as the weapon goes off as it hits the ground. Quickly moving as the shot barely grazes him, "If that wasn't an accident, I'd say you'd have a death wish."

"Ooh! Good call," Rumble tells Sixshot with a nod, briefly getting a few shots of Hot Rod laying there suffering pathetically before turning his attention -- and the camera -- back toward the bout.

Blast Off tries to make his escape, but unfortunately he's finding that he really, really \*really\* should have waited to properly heal before engaging in life and death combat with a mortal foe. Sigh. And he's usually the thoughtful, careful one. The sniper needs to get to safety soon, because hand to hand combat is NOT his forte. He's deadly accurate, fast.... and fragile.

"Aiiiigh!" The shuttleformer cries out in pain as Drift nimbly darts up and towards him and halts his passage to the safety of the sky with one slicing stroke of a dagger. And it does some /massive/ damage to the recently-repaired sniper. Drift succeeds in stopping the shuttleformer. In fact, he crumples from the blow, rolling around in pain before somehow focusing again. Slaaag it hurts.. Well, he started this... he's going to finish it. Actually, no... DRIFT started this. But BLAST OFF will FINISH it. ...Somehow.

Trying to stagger back unsteadily to his feet with a roll and a push, he aims and shoots his blaster, shooting from the hip. He doesn't have time to aim- but Drift is VERY close. TOO close.

>> Blast Off rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 7.

Well, Knock Out's day is gonna be /made/, because Hot Rod is in pretty sad shape, and all he can do is fume. And watch. And worry.

At seemingly impossible odds, Drift is holding up. He leaps to one side as Blast Off shoots at him, but the shot nails him in the leg, causing him to stumble. He doesn't drop Hot Rod, though.

Somehow, he manages to get up again and charge Blast Off, stowing his dagger and reaching forwards to grab and twist the wrist of Blast Off's armed hand.

>> Drift rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 10.

Turning away from Ironfish, Sixshot watches the fight nearby. No matter the outcome, he'll have to bring Rumbles recording to the big guy below.

Finally, Blast Off has some luck. When Drift lunges for him (is he still carrying Hot Rod?!) and tries to wrench the gun out of his head... Oh SLAG no. Whole lotta #NOPE going on there. The sniper HAS to have his weapon... and he can't get caught.... he's lost the fight without his gun. He doesn't have the strength to win... he relies on his firepower. And it's massive, let me tell you!

As Drift lunges forward, he lunges back, desperate to avoid getting snagged... and pulls away in time. And he goes with the flow, proceeding to continue back, stepping away quickly and attempting to get airborne again as he fires off another round.

He finds the time to softly snarl at the bounty hunter, "You think I'll let you get away with murdering Rung? Trying to blow up Arcee? And getting ME blamed for it? I'll send you to the pit... and Rung's mercy won't save you /this/ time..."

>> Blast Off rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 1.

While Hot Rod might not get dropped, he does get jostled with the stumble. His tone is distant and conversational as he says, "I think that just reopened something." His voice is getting a little thin. He presses his hand to his side, where once-clamped lines spill a fresh flow beneath his fingers. He is distracting dead-weight and BAD LUCK.

"AGH!" The blast chafes the side of his helm, ripping off half of his faceplates and scarring some of his shoulder armor. So it's safe to say that Drift kinda has worries of his own at the moment. Blinded in one optic and leaking energon all over an already blood-soaked Hot Rod, Drift stumbles back.

He frowns, touching the part of his face that's half missing. He lets out a sigh, suddenly only thinking of Hot Rod's well being. Turning around, he sees a public transport about to leave the platform nearby. He takes out the long dagger from before and throws it at Blast Off before heading straight for the transport and jumping onto the back of it as it flies off, away from Kaon.

>> Drift rolls one ten-sided die and gets: 5.

Ironfist had left the pistol where it was dropped, backing away from the Neutrals and Sixshot until he was sure he was safe. Then and only then did he transform and hightail it back to base.

Sixshot watches as Drift runs off saying, "Well thats done. Hooks going to have more work for him tonight." He makes a note to bring Rumble along when he makes the report to Megatron. But unless Blast Off needs to be carried out he starts to make his way out.

Blast Off's shot tears into his enemy's face at point blank range... and does massive damage. Something in the Combaticon's usually civilized manner seems to fade for just a second... there's a cold gleam in his optics as he takes a step towards his hated foe. That becomes a mistake, however, as his foe leaps away- leaving a souvenir behind... in the form of a dagger that lands right at the joint of shoulder and neck, missing a critical fuel line by inches. The shuttleformer huffs in surprise, staggering backwards at the blow, and as damaged as he is now he doesn't do much besides watch the Bounty Hunter race away. Slag. Drift escaped... again. But at least not without something to remember him by...

Blast Off stands there, unsteadily, wincing at his reopened wounds- and brand new, gaping ones... and realizes he'd better start making the slow, stiff walk back to Shiftlock's hiding pace. At least he has somewhere to recover now.... somewhere almost safe.