1183/Dirty Work for a Clean Ending

Cast of Characters: | Blast Off, Deadlock, Goth, 135

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off could \*really\* go for a nice, luxurious hot oil bath about now. The shuttleformer misses his once-daily pampering back in Altihex. While he's gone a long time without any such luxury, his squeaking joints are reminding him that that luxury is not only a nice way to spend some time, it's also essential to keeping gears and springs well-oiled and ready to work- and fight.

So, one afternoon when Blast Off has found himself without much to do and at the Decepticon Barracks, an idea forms in his head that a nice oil bath would be great- and if one isn't provided he begins to wonder if he could just set a makeshift one up somehow. Hmm. The Combaticon steps out of his quarters, holding a bottle of bath solvent, and looks around. HMMM. He walks down the corridor, peeking into what appears to be a storeroom, looking for anything useful in there. Ah. Blast Off reaches over and picks up a hose with a nozzle on the end, then heads back out the corridor to continue looking, mostly ignoring any other Cons he encounters. Sorry, too busy.

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
Sixshot is grabbing some fuel from the bar after a few rounds of sparring. He checks the news feeds before looking around. Catching sight of Blast Off he raises a optic ridge as he watches the shuttle move about. For the moment he doesn't comment but does wonder what the mech is up to.

**Deadlock has posed:**
    Deadlock notices Blast Off walking around with some solvent and a nozzle. He smirks, figuring it was probably something stupid. He 'accidentally on purpose' walks into him, and maybe possibly also shoves him in the process. Accidentally, though.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth was doing.. Well, Goth things, he needed to get out of the medbay once-in-a-while, and today was one of those days as he say across one of the chairs, reading whatever it was on his datapad. His ear twitched every time he caught even the tiniest of sounds, and would glance up over his datapad, before looking back down.

      He'd then note that something had caught Sixshot's attention, he'd then tilt his head and looked over, quirking a ridge. "....I would ask, but given he is Vortex's brother, I slightly fear the awnser." He'd state to Sixshot in the most dead-pan tone he could muster. He'd frown though, noticing Deadlock and huffed, reading himself for the arguing that was surely to follow.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off is just \*innocently\* walking down the corridor when Deadlock pushes into him, knocking the solvent from his grip. The shuttle \*hufffs\* loudly as he attempts to catch the solvent in time, but no, it thunks down onto the floor, rolling away. "Excuse YOU," he huffs at the other mech while striding forward and bending down to catch the runaway bottle. He hasn't really noticed the other mechs yet. "If you're going to be a clumsy oaf, go be a clumsy oaf somewhere \*else\*!" Violet optics flash.

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
Sixshot rolls his optics as Deadlock gets in the shuttles way before looking to Goth, "Like any of us are what any consider normal." He downs part of his drink before looking back at the other mechs as the spacer lets out a huff.

**Deadlock has posed:**
    Deadlock tries to grab the bottle before Blast Off does, but it's far too precious to the shuttle for that! He smirks at the Combaticon. "Is that -solvent-? What are you doing, trying to prank someone with a surprise polishing?" he scoffs.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would glance up at Sixshot form his lounging spot with a quirked ridge, and would remain silent for only a moment. "...A fair counter argument, and assessment." He'd chirp, he really didn't have room to speak on the subject, given what he was. He'd then move to be on his chassis a cross the chair and called out to Blast Off in an idle tone.

      "And what, pray tell, are you doing Blast Off?"

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off huffs as he sees Deadlock going for the bottle- oh no you don't! He grabs it and straightens, violet optics narrowing, nose in the air. Then Goth speaks and he glances over, finally noticing Goth and Sixshot over there. "if you all \*must\* know, I am trying to take a bath!" HMPH. He clutches the bottle close to his chassis as he eyes Deadlock. "I don't \*prank\*, anyway, you're mistaking me for Vortex. What I DO, however, is notice there's hardly anything around here that gives much more than a quick rinse-off."

He looks at the other two, "Now what kind of life is that? You fight in the grime and muck and bring it home with you to share? PLEASE. There ought to be a better option... a proper bath, with oils and solvents. I..." He glances down the corridor again, "I was looking to see if I could ...make one somehow."

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
Sixshot shrugs as he listens to Blast Off, "The basics are fine by me. No need to get fancy when just going to be out fighting again." He gets a refill as he watches the others, "That stuff seems more for those that live in places like Translucentia Heights."

**Deadlock has posed:**
    Deadlock laughs derivisely. That sounded about right. "Awww, poor Blast Off, missing the days when he spent all his time self-indulging instead of doing anything -meaningful-. Missing his beauty naps and pampering." he mocks.

    He glances at Sixshot when the mech mentions Translucentia. "Speaking of that place, I heard Blurr actually broke into the Rodion outpost and -you- failed to catch him. When will you stop feeling sorry for yourself and actually do something -productive- in your spare time?"

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would raise a ridge looking rather confused for a number of kliks, which showed, as his mouth moved with no sound coming out as he mentally tried to figure out just what this place would use for a bath as this planet was rather lacking in H20, also they /had/ Baths here?

      There was a moment of pause where he debated voicing his confusion aloud, however given Deadlocks current behavior, he may figure that would prove a disastrous question... Ahh, hell to the wind.

      He'd tilt his helm. "There is something on this planet other than the sanitation showers?" he'd squint. "This planet is rather lacking in H20, so I.... Well I figured such was not a thing here... My mind is also partly at a stop as to what would be used for a substitute." He'd explain, spinning his claw as he talked to Blast Off.

      He'd then raised a ridge at Deadlock, and looked at Sixshot, just wondering how /this/ was about to play out.

**Blast Off has posed:**
"Well, yes," Blast Off replies to Sixshot, not seeing anything wrong with sounding like someone from Translucentia Heights. "What's wrong with that? Wanting a little \*civilization\* amongst all the wear and tear is hardly a \*bad\* thing." His optics narrow as Deadlock starts hassling him some more. "I've done \*plenty\* of productive things with my spare time, shows how little you know me. Tsk. And as for Blurr- I AM the only one who managed to shoot him." Pause. Glance at Sixshot. "Well, one of \*two\* who managed to shoot him. He just didn't show us the courtesy of offlining for us, the cad." He huffs softly. "And fine- if I get a bath going here I'll be sure NOT to invite you, since you disdain them so much."

He then looks over at Goth. "We don't need as much H20 as we need oil, and there \*are\* some sources. Never \*enough\*, if you ask me, but there should be some. Surely you, as a medic, can see the value in making sure we keep ourselves well oiled. Just listen to this," He moves his arm and there is a faint squeaking, "That will \*not\* do. We need maintenence, and a good oil bath makes an \*excellent\* bit of maintenence, if you ask me."

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
"That blue pest will be taken care of sooner or later. If the Iacon defenses were not intact would slag his home if it wouldn't be a waste. Need to find some infiltrators of our own.", Sixshot says as he looks to Deadlock then to Blast Off, "Go ahead and try but maybe you should see Scrapper or one of the constructicons if really want to build something."

**Deadlock has posed:**
    "Oh, woohoo, you managed to shoot him. For all the good that would do if you didn't actually manage to either kill him or capture him." Deadlock hurls back. "I mean for Primus' sake Blast Off, he was -caught- on our territory and STILL managed to get away, AND you, supposedly one of our -best- marksmechs, were there?" he shakes his head. "Maybe if you didn't spend so much time looking for ways to pamper yourself, he'd be 'taken care of' already."

    Sixshot's comment gains a another look from Deadlock. "Yeah, infiltrators of our own. Aren't you both cloakers?" he points out, looking between Goth and the sixchanger. "Why don't one of -you- try sneaking into Iacon?" he suggests dryly.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth was about to correct Blast Off that he was not a medic, but being Dustoff's PA and handling the medical bay when he wasn't around.. he might as well at this point, which just causes him to huff. Though, Blast Off did answer his question, however it was... one that left him pondering, and looked down at his Faux fur, that would be such a pain to get out of it.

      He'd then look back to Blast Off, Goth's ears twitching as he picks up on the squeaking. "I suppose... It does take out the unnecessary procedures of someone such as Dustoff or I to oil such manually, being submerged would get everything." He'd muse, rubbing at his chin, then glancing to Deadlock, raising a ridge.

      "Hmph, bold of you to assume I've not thought about such already, why do you think I keep my blasted Root-mode?." He'd as with a smirk, and tilted his hel, and brought his hands together. "And you Know.. for someone so /opinionated/ on the subject, I rarely ever see you attempting to aid in such affairs, I mean.. i'd /love/ to see if you could do a better job, Show us all how it's done, as they say?" He'd quirk a ridge, grinning.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off nods to Sixshot. "I do wonder if Scrapper or Scavenger are around, hmm..." He taps a finger on his chin in thought, then looks back up at Deadlock. "PLEASE. If it's so easy, why don't you go do it yourself, hmm?" He croons sarcasticly. He glances to Goth as he says pretty much the same and nods. "Yes, show us how it's done. Since it's /Oh so very easy/ and all." The shuttle then chuckle-huffs and adds, "Also- what I do in my spare time has absolutely nothing to do with my performance as a sniper. I was on the job at that time. Do you \*really\* think Onslaught would tolerate any of his Combaticons goofing off on the job?" ...With a possible exception of Vortex, maybe. But even then, only a little!

He looks to the bat, "Exactly. Having a cycle of maintenence helps prevent more urgent procedures later. It's simply common sense! I don't expect Altihex's best here, but surely we could spiff things up a \*little\* bit? All work and no play makes for a dull mech." He glances over at Deadlock, thumbing at him. "Like him."

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
Sixshot finishes his drink and places the glass down before saying, "If it wasn't suicide I would. If command orders it I will but until then I will continue to lay siege where needed or act as the Generals security detail." The sixchanger is unphased by Deadlock, letting the others send verbal jabs back at the mech.

**Deadlock has posed:**
    "-You're- the one saying it's easy." Deadlock shoots back. "I never said it was easy. I just said you two are cloakers, so if anyone should be sneaking into Iacon it should be someone like -you-, since I don't have any cloaking tech. You know? 'It's just common sense', don't you think?" he sneers.

    "Oh," He gets a mock look of realization on his face. "Wait, I forgot some mechs only prefer to do -easy- things. Especially this one." he says, pointing at Blast Off. "Never mind!"

**Goth has posed:**
     "Yes, Dull, depressed, and ineffective, long as one does not allow such leisure to overload or interfere with their work it is more a benefit then a distraction." He'd add, pushing himself up to sit on propper on the seat. He'd then nod at Sixshot's words.

      "Agreed, As much as I'd enjoy the thought of my skills being acknowledged, there is No point in attempting something half-cocked and without commands orders, don't need another instance of something like Darkstar's little incident with the prison happening again." He'd sigh, shaking his helm, and looking at Deadlock as if that explained everything to his fellow cons retort to them. He'd then let out a hem and leaned over the armrest of the seat.

      "...Hmm, that smells like an attempt at redirection, and changing of the subject." He'd clock his jaw as he said that, squinting at Deadlock.

**Blast Off has posed:**
At being called essentially \*lazy\*, Blast Off pshaws, scoffing at Deadlock and waving a black hand at him dismissively. "No mech gets to be a \*Combaticon\* by being lazy, you uncultured petro-swine! I am /proud/ of my work as a sniper and shuttle and stand by it. I'm sure Goth and Sixshot would agree," he adds, looking at the two. "I always pull my weight in a mission- and then some." Surely no one can truly deny his work ethic! HUFF.

"Indeed," Blast Off agrees with Goth. "It does, does it not? He's afraid to do it himself." Tsk. He goes on to nod, "Exactly right. One must maintain oneself in good working order and a dirty, tired, and miserable mech does not a good soldier make."

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
"Heh you act like I wouldn't if I wanted but Megatron himself would not act so recklessly. Unlike you I am using my process till a plan is given.", Sixshot replies to Deadlock as he pulls a blaster from subspace and starts a maintenance check, "You call things easy and yet you have been absent from the battlefield. So why bother verbally sparring with you. Keep pushing buttons all you want but will lead you nowhere with me."

 His optics shift down to his weapon before pulling its twin to check as well. Not even glancing at the others as he works.

**Deadlock has posed:**
    Deadlock scoffs at all of them. "I wasn't even serious, good Primus. I'm not -that- stupid. It's just that apparently some people are going around looking for ways to pamper themselves when the entire planet is at war. And again, I never said it was easy. -You- suggested it was easy. Everyone with half a processor -knows- nothing worth anything is -ever- easy."

    He groans. "I don't even know why I'm even wasting time with mechs like you anyway." Then he storms off.

**Goth has posed:**
     Goth would let out a exhausted hem. "Indeed you do when you are on the field.. Though, I do admit I would of enjoyed your aid on the last three sieges Sixshot and I lead, have been exhausted greatly from those, the handling of the aftermath, and whatever projects that have been brought to me by others seeking to improve their weaponry, like Darkstar, mech has a list longer then my lab of things." He'd sigh, rubbing at his nose ridge, the bags under his optics showing.

      "And yes, keeping one working, as opposed to mere replacement is much better in the long run, given the experience gained." He would state in a matter-of-factly tone, and watched as Deadlock stormed off.

      "You'd think the youths around here would know not to put their pedes in their mouths." He'd sigh and shake his helm. "I could sum that all up as 'Everything is awful, and thus no one shouldn't be happy or enjoy things they enjoy'" He'd roll his optics, before glancing to Blast Off. "....I suppose it isn't an /awful/ idea, though you would likely need to account for cost of maintaining, as I'm positive you wouldn't be the only one using it." Goth being the ever forward thinker.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off just listens with growing smugness as Sixshot counters Deadlock, especially as he brings up how absent the Con has been on the battlefield. He starts looking over his bottle of solvent, still listening, then glances up again at the continued complaints. "MmmHmmm..." he sort of drawls as the mech storms off, then looks to Goth. Hey wait? "Well, I was busy elsewhere or I would have been there." He sounds just a tiny bit petulant.

He's silent a moment as he looks back at his bottle, not really \*seeing\* it though. "But your assessment of Deadlock- spot on. You \*can't\* do nothing but fight, fight, fight at all times and for all situations. It's exhausting. One must repair and regenerate in order to maintain the sharpness and wit requiring to survive on the battlefield." He looks back where Deadlock went and shakes his head. "Does he have \*any\* teammates he can talk to, I wonder? Any... friends? Anything he enjoys at all?" Hmm.

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
"Alright enough harshing on him. He's still a LT for a reason. The mech just has a chip on his shoulder and probably for good reasons.", Sixshot says after Deadlock storms off, "Not gonna bother trying to learn why. But not going to let him get under my armor. Remember not all amongst us had a fair life before given reasons to join."

 He looks in the direction the mech left in, "That I do not know and unsure if risky to ask."

**Goth has posed:**
     "Hrm... a fair question, I do not see him often... Bah, stop reminding me I have sliver of such emotions, Blast Off, that job is reserved mainly for Dustoff." He'd scoff, half-joking, but having felt /some/ pity for Deadlock, and started having his hand at Blast Off in a bid to shoo away the thoughts.

      "...Hmph, Agreed,Sixshot, I of all bots know this myself." He'd vent, admitting Sixshot had a point.

**Blast Off has posed:**
Blast Off lifts an optic ridge at Sixshot but doesn't argue. "Well, it's certainly no paint off MY back," he quips, starting to look down the corridor again. He turns back to Goth, letting out a mild-mannered chuckle-huff at the bat's gestures. Then he looks contemplative once more. "Don't discount those of us who \*did\* have it good." He lets out a vent of air. "We know \*exactly\* what we lost." His grip tightens on the bottle as he adds in a much quieter tone, "...And we want it back."

He sighs, then straightens up, turning to the corridor. "Well, if you'll excuse me I still have supplies to search for. Maybe if I hook this hose to one of the faucets ...I think there's one down this corridor, isn't there? And then..." He looks around again, "If I cvan find an oil can and hook \*that\* up then I..." He looks back to his bottle. "Well, I'll figure out \*something\*. I run a wine shop, after all, I can surely do \*this\* trifling thing, right?"

**Sixshot (135) has posed:**
"I don't discount anyone no matter where they came from, never will. Unless given reason to but not here to question others histories.", Sixshot says before returning his guns to subspace, "Anyway not going to distract you from your task. Good luck on it."

**Goth has posed:**
     "If you require engineering help, you know where I am." He'd chuckle with a wave, and leaned back in his seat, picking up his datapad. "Oh.. Before I forget, Blast Off, Vortex should be....Better, when you see him, I finally cornered him and spoke with him, managed to even get him to recharge soundly for a change." He'd nod, as if this was no big-deal.

      He'd give Sixshot a nod, and then return to his reading.

**Blast Off has posed:**
"Well... uh, good then," Blast Off nods to Sixshot, starting to move forward and then stopping again and he reshuffles the items in his heat-shielded arms. He looks to Goth, tilting his head. "Oh?" His optics flicker as he considers that, then he seems to relax just a bit. "That is good to hear." He reshuffles the items yet again and starts heading down the corridor before turning to look at the other two. "And... uh. Thanks." He turns again and heads off in search of a little piece of paradise.