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2015-03-22 Mandatory Showing Off

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Mandatory Showing Off
Date 2015/03/22
Location Lost Light: Recreation -- Practice Rooms
Participants Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, Starshine, Knock Out, Breakdown, Chromia
NPCs Drift, Jackpot, Smokescreen
Summary Rodimus requires everyone to show off, but nobody shows off like Rodimus shows off.

Lost Light: Recreation -- Practice Rooms

These multi-purpose rooms are capable of being put to any one of a number of uses, including training, exercise, and plain ol' fun. It's a good place for sparring or for sports. The walls have been reinforced and soundproofed so that live weapons can be fired within, serving as a shooting range. This also means that noise does not carry far, no matter how boisterous the game.


Rodimus goes running through the ship, hitting the habsuites and the recreation decks, yelling about how there are totally, "MANDATORY FIREARMS EVALUATION FOR EVERYONE WHO CAN HEAR ME. Unless you're actually doing something. I guess," and then makes his way to one of the practice rooms which is set up as a shooting range. Because this is official ship business, he sends a notice to Ultra Magnus and to Drift ... once he's already at the range, talking to Brainstorm who is setting up the targets. He has a relaxed, confident air about him as various members of the crew trickle in and try to figure out how serious he is about 'mandatory'.

Starshine wanders in, "Whats all the yelling about...doesn't this ship have an intercom system or something?"

To Ultra Magnus, the word 'mandatory' has only one definition. When he arrives at the range, he seems mildly alarmed by the fact that he was not at the top of the roster arriving here. Of course, he was actually doing something and it might even have been important.

He clanks into the room with a deep frown graven in his plates, a little as though he is not certain whether to congratulate Rodimus on being responsible enough to have a drill or to take him to task for his ideas about scheduling things. So he just kind of looks confused.

"Who actually /runs/ this ship," Knock Out is saying as he drags himself into the practice rooms, entirely baffled. "And before someone says Rodimus, /this/ is not running a ship."

Breakdown blocks the entrance for a few passing seconds, his arms weighted across his massive chest with his pauldron leaning heavily against the frame of the door. It's not until someone comes up behind him to try to follow orders and get in. He eases loose of the door and then says, "So what am I shooting? Besides not autobots." He's funny, see!

Starshine says, “We're shooting things?...ah goodie goodie...some fun and games....”

"Oh, probably, but intercoms are boring," Rodimus says, waving Brainstorm on to go get the target set up and then turning to the latest batch of arrivals. He gives Ultra Magnus a brilliant grin and waits just a moment for congratulations. Then Knock Out spoils it, and he gives the other red speedster a dirty look. "/Targets/," he tells Breakdown. "Non-living ones. I hope you're familiar with the concept." He looks briefly uncertain. One never knows with Cons.

"That is a remarkably insubordinate attitude towards your commanding officer," Ultra Magnus states in a rumble, with a narrow-eyed look in Knock Out's direction. "Our vessel is operating within normal parameters. I'm sure that if your duties required you to be elsewhere, you would be at your station." His glance at Rodimus is a little inscrutable, in its wake.

Breakdown straightens almost imperceptibly and makes a great show of cracking the knuckles of his overlarge hands, smile pulling across his red plated face with a sardonic edge. "Sounds awful complicated," he says. "Might be too much for me."

Starshine hmms, and looks back and forth a moment. "You guys need to chillax..."

"I'm sure I wasn't suggesting any insubordinate attitudes at all," Knock Out purrs back at Ultra Magnus. Because if he claims to be behaving, he totally is. "Just seems rather last minute. Unplanned. I'd just assumed that something as important as evaluations would require a mess of scheduling."

"I'll use smaller words." Rodimus pivots to stand next to Breakdown. He looks down range to where Brainstorm is finishing a few last adjustments. "When I say go, hit that with your gun." There. One syllable. He looks so pleased with himself.

Glancing around Breakdown and at Knock Out, Rodimus says, "Since we're diverting to a frankly kind of dangerous looking planet, I figured it's a good idea to have as up-to-date information on firearms proficiency as possible to keep in mind when making landing parties. Good idea, right?" He can't quite help but glance in Ultra Magnus's direction, although he keeps it to a brief flicker of his gaze before grinning at the other Autobots assembled. "Okay! Line up, and if you're putting bets with Jackpot, make sure to put them on me."

"I'm certain that's not a word," is Ultra Magnus's contribution at this point. Put into a position of circumstance where he is forced to defend random acts of Rodimus, he frowns more deeply at Knock Out, and says, "Any crew who are not available can be evaluated at a later time. Any objections you may have to being /prepared/ will be noted and logged."

"Thanks," Breakdown growls. Highly cordially.

Starshine says, “Ok, the task is taking out targets....easy and fun. Am I right in assuming, you'd rather not have any holes in the side of the ship?..that kind of dictates what I'm going to do.."”

"Of course," Knock Out replies to Ultra Magnus in an entirely reasonable fashion. Look how reasonable they both are!

"Welcome." Rodimus meets Breakdown's sincerity in kind. He gives Starshine an amused glance and says, "This place is rated for Brainstorm's best. Just what do you think you're going to be doing that would put holes in the side of the ship? You get target practice, right? Hitting a thing?"

As he talks, others line up to start taking their shots. Drift faithfully records the data, because where Rodimus is having a bad idea, Drift is there to make it work. Atomizer is up first, and he's using a crossbow. Rodimus stares down at the crossbow with idle greed.

"Anyone who hits the walls instead of the targets will be derated from any field duty and subject to remedial training," Ultra Magnus says with a hint of weariness in his voice, a kind of weariness that has withstood the test of time across centuries.

"What do you think," Breakdown muses as he considers the target and the line and the Autobots. He tilts his head slightly. He asks Knock Out, "Cannon?"

Starshine shrugs, "if the shot hits the thing, goes through the thing, hits the thing behind it...and so on...you never know. But if you just want a basic shot..I can do that too." As she eyes the targets that have been set up

"Oh, definitely," Knock Out agrees. "Always the cannon!" He side eyes Starshine. "Don't -- shoot through the hull. Why is that even a question?"

"The walls are armored, anyway." Rodimus leans against the wall to watch as the others take their turn. After Atomizer's crossbow, the rest are much less flashy. There are few surprises: given the millions of years at war, there are precious few on this ship who aren't quite good with a gun. The only real surprise is that Brainstorm has rigged up the target so that it moves, dashing here and there, up and down, side to side. "Kind of surprised that hasn't exploded or shot back," he admits to Ultra Magnus in an aside.

Starshine hmmms, as she look around..."Armored you say...I'll have to remember that, it could be useful." As she watches a few of the people taking shots at the target.

Glancing away from a 'conversation' with Drift that was conducted entirely via facial expressions -- dour ones, on Magnus's part -- Ultra Magnus huffs in a soft hiss of escaping air, and braces, feet planted wide as he folds his massive hands behind his back. "Give it time," he prophesies. "I'd put little past him in that regard."

Breakdown strides up to take his place in the line, clanging 'accidentally' into one of the Autobots as he settles himself into place and very nearly causing a minor scrap. He grins an apology that isn't as he says, "Whoops," and then sets himself to await his turn.

Knock Out trails after Breakdown in a natural duckling kind of way, at one point reaching one long finger to spin one of the wheels on his partner's shoulder.

"Well, you know." Watching Breakdown wade in and nearly cause a fight, Rodimus frowns. "Kind of necessary around here. You won't find much that isn't rated to take a blast or two. Not that I suggest you try it. Probably regulations against that kind of thing, and Magnus already frowns enough."

Ahead of Breakdown, Smokescreen finishes up his turn and then goes to check how the bets are falling out with Jackpot, leaving Breakdown to go next.

<OOC> DICEWORD: OMGdice - Ultra Magnus rolls a D5 and gets 2.

Starshine hmmms, "Alright then..." as she eyes the target. "Hit the target, win a prize...hurry, hurry, hurry..." not even waiting, a tiny missile pops up from her shoulder, and goes shooting for the target.

<OOC> DICEWORD: OMGdice - Starshine rolls a D5 and gets 4.

Breakdown steps up, sets himself and measures the line of his shot on the moving target. As it darts, he fires a full round of cannon right where it is about to be, centering his blast on it with a loud FOOM and a shower of sparks. He says, "Heh," as a thin trail of pale steam curls from the mouth of the energy cannon, and gives his particular smirk to the room. "Targets," he says. "/Quaint/."

Knock Out looks smug enough to suggest /he/ just successfully completed the greatest trick shot of all time. Did you see that? Did you see his boyfriend? "I /think/ you passed," he tells Breakdown, "but I guess we'll have to wait on our Captain to make sure."

When Starshine takes her turn, she hits the target -- technically. It's a pass, but when Breakdown follows, his is clearly better-targeted. A few of the Autobots mutter about it.


"Quaint?" Rodimus calls, a note of challenge in his voice. "You know, I was about to say nice work, but." NEVER MIND.

Breakdown gives Rodimus a big smile. It is a smile of a kind that Rodimus has probably seen before in his mirror, but you know. He says: "Have a go, Cap'n. Show us what we got," by way of lazy invitation, and bumps his pauldron lightly against Knock Out as he settles in on the plant of his feet beside him.

Ultra Magnus makes a noise in his throat, slanting a look across the general mutter of the Autobot crew. He stares at Breakdown and Knock Out for a moment with an expression gone distasteful in a way that he has not yet managed to shake for most of the Decepticon crew (which, to him, can include Drift and therefore it's a look on his face kind of a lot).

Knock Out snorfles a laugh into his hand, leaning back against Breakdown. "I'm sure he didn't mean any disrespect, Captain," he tells Rodimus solemnly. "It's just different from the infant Autobots and defenseless baby organics we used as target practice as Decepticons."

"Well, why not." Rodimus surveys the gathering and then squares his shoulders to flash Breakdown a smile. "Better set a good example, right? Come on, Magnus." He saunters -- SAUNTERS -- up to the front line to draw his guns. Settling back on his heels, he gives Knock Out a cool glance. "You're not helping like -- anything. At all. You know that, right?"

Ultra Magnus flanks Rodimus, pacing at his side and just behind like a particularly large mobile bulwark. He takes up station when he stops, checking his own sidearm as for signs of any imaginary dirt that might present the illusion of interfering with his efficiency during an exercise. He says to Rodimus, "Is this supposed to be humor?" like he's having trouble identifying it.

Breakdown snorts: "What's he supposed to help with, your shooting?"

Knock Out spreads the fingers of one hand in a helplessly innocent gesture. "I'm just responding in kind how you address me, Captain," he says. Is it his turn yet?

"Not really." Rodimus gives Knock Out another glance and then turns away. He is very obviously Taking The High Road, all capital letters and martyred air. "Okay, Brainstorm, let's go!" he calls unnecessarily just to make sure he has lots of attention turned his way.

<OOC> DICEWORD: OMGdice- Rodimus rolls a D5 and gets 0.

And then he is /amazing/. Oh thank goodness.

Ultra Magnus gives Rodimus a nod of approval for his amazing shooting. There are others among the crew whose approval is less restrained. It's highly likely that the timing -- in the midst of sass battle with resident Decepticons -- contributes directly to how pleased a number of the Autobots present are with Rodimus's performance.

Breakdown mutters something like, "Well, all right, then, I guess not," and frowns now, a little like now that the captain has had a turn he'd kind of like another go with his cannon.

<OOC> DICEWORD: OMGdice - Knock Out rolls a D5 and gets 4.

Knock Out looks more annoyed than anything else at Rodimus's particular success. Ugh. UGH. "Yes, really," he adds before stepping up himself. He shoots -- ! It is passable. He will not kill himself with a gun. Ugh stupid Rodimus.

Rodimus turns to greet-slash-coax cheers from his audience with hands held high in a victor's triumph. He refrains from taking a lap, but only /just barely/. "Just remember that /this/--" He thumbs at the flames emblazoned on his chest. "--is how Autobots do it." His words are pitched more at Knock Out than Breakdown and he looks particularly, insufferably pleased with himself.

<OOC> DICEWORD: OMGdice - Ultra Magnus rolls a D5 and gets 1.

"Indeed." Ultra Magnus steps forward and levels himself to shoot, raising his weapon across the steadying angle of his arm, and fires a short, sharp blast that strikes in the center of the target with as much neat precision as he applies in any other area of his work. Watching the results of the blast with an expression that denotes satisfaction even as he fails to smile, he straightens, lowering the gun as he says: "And how the crew of the Lost Light does it."

Ugh. Autobots are so annoying. To Rodimus's words, Knock Out replies blankly, "With flames on their chest?"

Breakdown claps Knock Out on the back, along the angled curve of his shoulder, and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, "Like to see either of those smug lugs try and operate."

"With flames on their chest, and their targets in sight." Rodimus slaps Ultra Magnus on the arm -- reconsidering a slap aimed at his shoulder, which is really just a little too high to be comfortable. "Nice shooting, Lost Lighters!" he calls across all, and if he mostly seems to mean Autobots and not Decepticons ... at least he's still diplomatic enough to choose Ultra Magnus's phrase, instead. He jogs over to go check out the payout of the bets with Jackpot, calling, "I hope the payout on me is terrible!" Because he's terrible.

"I wouldn't," Knock Out replies back to Breakdown in an undertone, glaring at Rodimus. "I hate to see precise artistry ruined."

Ultra Magnus watches Rodimus and Jackpot for a few beats that he struggles to control his general attitude, and finally exhales a little in a soft fft. "Keep up the good work," he says generally, and takes a step back.

"Heh," Breakdown says agreeably, "fair point." He lets his hand tighten a little on the glossy red curve and then lets it drop, instead, to his side.

"*This is what was mandatory?" That comes from behind as the lastest to arrival does so. Here Chromia thought it was something important so she rushed down as soon as she was able. Of all the places on the Lost Light, this is one that she is familiar enough with to locate on her own. She doesn't readily saddle up to the target shooting however, as instead she hangs back a bit at the sight of all the posturing before her.

"Ugh. I assume we can go," Knock Out says, not bothering to raise his voice much in case Rodimus says no, and starts swanning back out.

After Rodimus has reassured his ego that his crew had faith in his ability to hit a moving target, he eventually drifts back toward Ultra Magnus. Watching as the other Autobots go to update their qualifications with varying levels of spectacular-or-pass, he hums in a very self-satisfied kind of way. "This was a good idea. Even with the Cons." He twists at the sound of a new arrival and throws a grin toward Chromia. "Hey! Yeah, for all the crew. We need to know how well everyone can handle themselves in a firefight, you know? Especially since we're headed toward a space vampire planet." He's holding on to that one.

Chromia winces, though for what she doesn't say. She does look uncharacteristically nervous however. She attempts to deflect with a, "Oh yeah?" She pauses for a moment but has to ask, "What is a vampire?" Maybe they didn't have those on Caminus, or if they did they went by something else. Before Mia can ask more, her optics settlle on the red mech that's leaving and, well, she can't help herself. "Woah."

"To ensure up to date firearms expertise is a good idea," Ultra Magnus agrees with Rodimus without /directly/ agreeing that /this/ in particular was a good idea, possibly because it makes him feel better. He nods a greeting to Chromia, and says, "It is, at least, a planet of unknown hazards. Vigilance is rarely an error." He leaves Rodimus to explain his vampiric theory, for some reason.

Breakdown makes a low noise in the depths of his frame, a grindy-humored sort of "hrrf," as he starts clanking after Knock Out. He exchanges sneers with a couple of bots near the back of the room but does not actually go so far as to cause any more collisions for the moment.

Luckily for Knock Out, Rodimus is way too caught up in explaining his vampire theory to Chromia to even give him the slightest hard time: "Earth monsters! They have fangs for sucking blood out of organics and eat it like food. There are those two craters on the planet. They could be giant planet-eating vampire fang marks." He admits after a brief pause, "I haven't figured out what that makes the tunnel." Then, belatedly, her 'woah' seems to register. He glances between Chromia and Knock Out and looks So Offended.

Chromia headturns as she passes by Knock Out, him on his way out and her on her way in. Breakdown also gets a look, though that is much more common, where she can't help to dart a look back to Knock Out before he's gone. "Hrm? Organics, ick." If she had a nose she might wrinkle it. She does nod to Ultra Magnus. "For some of us, vigilance is a way of living. If it is unknown though, why venture close? Seems safer to stay away." She looks over to Rodimus and - oh yeah. That's how things work here. Right.

Ultra Magnus gives Rodimus a glance, tracking this particular shift of expression. He clears his throat a little, and resettles his hands behind his back. For all his needs in life for sanitation in all things, he also makes no comments about organics. Instead, he says: "While we should be duly cautious in our exploration, there is a real possibility that there may be people in trouble ashore."

It's cool, Breakdown never turns heads like Knock Out does.

"Because people could be in danger! And if there's really some kind of planet-eating whatever, we need to find out whatever we can about it and warn people," Rodimus justifies. The excuses come more and more easily each time that he repeats them until they almost sound reasonable, logical. Almost. It helps that he's got Ultra Magnus going to bat for him. That is like at least +5 logic points right there. "Anyway, you going to take a shot?"

Chromia would rather do ANYTHING than take a shot right now, especially right now. "Looks like somebot is looking to take a turn already. Maybe in a moment," she smiles. She would much rather focus on this OTHER thing. "Suppose it would also be wise to see what is out there. If it can do *that* to a planet, makes you wonder what it can do to a ship. Keeping folks safe, I can get behind that." Or rather, she'd want them to get behind her. "Assuming, of course, that it wasn't something that happened naturally. These vampires, they get to be that big? If so then they seem like a problem we should be able to see coming. We just need to be able to outrun it."

"While it could be a ... very large ... vampire, it isn't necessarily," Ultra Magnus says carefully, with a pause that suggests he is having some trouble saying the word. Even though it doesn't start with 'f' or end in 'un'. He is working very hard on following his own advice about speaking as one command deck, though, isn't he. "We don't know what caused it. But I understand from the science deck that we aren't aware of many natural causes that could create such an effect."

"Yeah! So we need to find out, so we can tell other ships if they are in danger." Absorbing Chromia's almost-protests to fold them into his points, Rodimus says, "It didn't look very natural from the scans. The whole planet is just -- dead. Classic vampire stuff." He shrugs, then very practically points out, "A planet-eating vampire would /have/ to be that big."

"If they don't normally get so large, unless they also change shape then I don't know if we have to worry about vampires." It's hard to make that kind of judgment call since she's never seen one. Chromia considers. "If not naturally occurring then maybe something the inhabitants did to themselves." She shrugs. she kind of assumes that space has all kinds, which is reason #124 to dislike it; it's full of so much unknown. That seems more logical that planet-sized organics.

Reluctantly drawn to supply additional information about the prospective mythical vampires, Ultra Magnus says: "Traditional Earth legends about ... such monsters ... do involve shape changing, although not by any mechanism that proper Cybertronian science would recognize." Moving on swiftly so that no one will have time to ask him why he knows this, he goes on, "That is entirely possible, but whatever theory turns out to be correct, we will not know until we investigate." He glances aside and down at Rodimus and reiterates firmly, "With as many precautions in place as we can take, of course."

Rodimus favors Ultra Magnus with a lingering smile. He meets the glance in his direction with the spread of his arms, encompassing the room in a gesture. "I'm precautioning right now, aren't I? Making sure everyone's up to the mark, so that we only take people who can take care of themselves. Naturally occurring, something they did to themselves, some kind of space monster -- any one of those things could be incredibly dangerous. So it's best to make sure we can shoot it." Because he can shoot all of his problems.

Well then! Maybe this theory has some creditability. If some of the criteria fits then possibly more does as well. Chromia nods to Magnus and finds comfort in his assurance that precaution will be exercised. "We should also determine that it is not headed towards anywhere precious." Like Caminus. Oh yeah, and that Cybertron place too.

Chromia then winces. A lot. Right, again with the reminder of why they are here. "Better get this over with," she frowns as she moves to step up to the mark. She draws her weapon, aims and... though so much is similar, still so much is different on the Lost Light. Like reading is something (more or less) universal, the manner in which it is done is different between cultures. It is like learning to read right-to-left and then being in a place where everything is left-to-right. Targets don't track in the same way that they always have, to her. Chromia has practiced for hours upon hours upon days upon years. On Caminus. ... and so she missed. Horribly.

Watching as Brainstorm's moving target darts cleanly away, Ultra Magnus stands there a moment, frown deep etched into his expression. He glances back at Chromia, stern and solid, and says: "If you are unable to hit a target at this range, you will not be cleared for field duty until you have completed a remedial shooting course." He's very factual, but as to tact, well. Is anyone on this command crew tactful? Drift?

"Ouch." Rodimus winces. Obviously. Visibly. "Uh, Chromia. Like he says, can't really let you go until you can do better than that," he says, kind enough to lower his voice to something gentler than a look-at-me yell. "But maybe you'll want to stick with Windblade anyway, yeah? You should still -- uhm. Work on. That." He nods in the direction of the target without actually glancing toward it. He seems /so embarrassed for her/.

"I know," she sighs, admitting her shame. It's not like she wants it to be known she's bad at *anything* especially when she's responsible* for Windblade (and Nautica). And even more especially in a room full of bots that can see. She returns her pistol to its holding place as she draws her axe, ignites it and throws it all in one fluid action. *That* one strikes the target viciously. She looks about, should anybot here have ideas. Still, Chromia hangs her head a little as she returns to Magnus and Rodimus. "I've... been working on it." A LOT. "Not that I can leave Windblade," really. "Still, I mean to be a fully functional member of this crew." So, she will keep at it.

Watching the axe lodge in the target, Ultra Magnus glances back between them with the mild consternation of his expression fading back to milder neutrality after a moment. "If you require training in firearms," he says, "there are a number of bots aboard who can help you."

"You look pretty functional with an axe in your hand," Rodimus agrees, glancing down range with a wide grin to watch as Brainstorm clucks over the blade embedded in his target. It has survived plenty of gunshots, though. It will survive that.


Stretching his arms overhead, Rodimus pivots to say, "I'm going to see if I can scare up any others and send them down." He lifts his voice slightly so that his words are directed to Drift as well as Ultra Magnus, then glances back to the latter. "Nice shooting earlier, though. That felt good." He settles back into the smugness of his own spectacular showing. It's a memory to keep him warm the long, cold night. "And Chromia, good work with the axe." One day -- one day /soon/ -- she'll have a Rodimus Star of her very own to recognize her axe throwing powers. For now, however, the Captain is /out/.

"I will have to get a list of those names from you then, Magnus. Is one of them, by chance, the red mech that left a little earlier?" Curious bots want to know! "We normally spare all the energon we can," Chromia explains. "Which is why the axe is more habit for me, I guess."

Nodding slightly to Rodimus before he heads off, Ultra Magnus returns his attention to the Camien once he's left, and then glances a little blankly toward the doors. He blinks when he figures out who Chromia means. "Ah," he says, "his would not be the first name on my list, no." He may be understating the case, but he does so without appending a rap sheet, in this particular case. "Knock Out's primary duties are in the medibay, and I am ... not personally familiar ... with the state of his weapons training."

"Ah, he just... reminds me of someone I knew. Know? a little paint and, nevermind," she handwaves. Chromia can't go with under representing Windblade for long. "The best you can suggest than, if you would. It's best to start with the top of the list and work down. I guess having a lifetime of war under your belt gives lots of motivation to have such skilled firearm familiarity." She does try not to sound too judgy.

"It does," Ultra Magnus murmurs with the slant of a look across the mostly-Autobots still in the room. "I'll prepare a list for you," he assures her mildly, "and make sure that I include my assessment of their schedules, as some potential trainers will have more available time than others." Taking half a step back, he adds, "Including myself."

"Well, if I had my pick, I know who I'd choose." Before Chromia explains who exactly she turns to retrieve her axe. Instead of returning to Magnus, she takes up a place at the shooting range line, gets out her pistol and works more on her shot.

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