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2016-12-28 Drinks and Daring

From Transformers: Lost and Found

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2016-12-28 Drinks and Daring
Date 2016/12/28
Location Lost Light: Recreation -- Swerve's
Participants Brigade, Imager
Summary Just two mecha sharing a drink.

Imager stares at her drink in contemplation. Its just her out here at the moment, so the bar is pretty empty, and that means she gets to cycle the Media Repository to something of her own choice...which in this case happens to be something pre-war, something akin to an electric organ plays over the room as she sits, her elbow on the bar, head resting on the hand. All in all, she's just bored and tired. She says aloud to the room of emptiness, "You know, I thought being all 'war weary' that after the war'd end I'd be less weary......." Silence reigns for a few moments. Imager picks up her glass, "NOPE!" She snarks sardonically then finishes the drink.

Brigade shuffles into the bar just in time to hear a solitary voice shout into the emptiness. The tank quirks an optic ridge and pauses to scan around for who they might be speaking with. No one immediately jumps out at him. "Were you talking to someone?" he calls out. "Because I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I think they left you hanging."

With a sniff, Brigade begins to make his way towards his usual booth. Tonight seems to be a good night for mecha who want to feel sorry for themselves, because the tank is here to drink himself silly until he forgets his little slip in the hallway earlier. As he passes by Imager, he gestures towards the server. "Just have another and you'll completely forget your bar pal bailed. It works like a charm."

<FS3> Imager rolls Engex Tolerance: Good Success. (3 2 5 5 8 2 7 4)

Imager doesn't even turn, "Heh, no. I'm just being a hitch." She slumps back in her stool. The brawny Femme is quite large, and...well, all things considered, probably shouldn't be on a stool, but hey if Ultra Magnus can do it, so can she. All grey and without much adornment, Imager exhausts and shakes her head, obviously moping. She repeats herself, "Just being a hitch. You know, talking shift about stuff that ain't changing...like...'first gear' ya know?" Well, that analogy doesn't really fit for her as her altmode is immobile, but the thought is there. "Who's you? Come on over, gimme yer name, I'll buy you one so I'm not drinkin alone."

Brigade pauses and turns on his heel, heading for the stool next to this mecha. What? A free drink is a free drink. He could use someone to talk his audial off anyways. "For a free drink I'll listen to you all night. Can't promise I'll be sober enough to understand most of it come 'ere long, though," he remarks.

The massive mecha settles in with a loud thunk, stretching out his bad leg in front of him at an odd angle and leaning his cane against the bar. He hails the bartender with a shout. "Hey you!" That done, he leans back towards Imager. "What's what you were saying? War weary something or other?"

Imager rolls her optics in her own self-lament, "First off, I ain't promising I'll be sober enough to make sense anyway...and that was a stupid thing to say." She snorts, "War weary....Smelt, we're all war-weary. I'm just glad the Primus-damned thing is over..." She tweaks her hand from side to side, "-ish?" The femme shrugs her massive pauldrons, "Anyhoo, live sucks then you get reformated, cry me a river. That sort of smelt...that's me today."

She just scowls to herself silently for a few moments, and right when things get awkward she just breaks the silence, "I used to be somebody before the war...ya know? And then that tick thing happened. Those inhibition ticks, which I still need to stomp Brainfart for...and I just get up here and I play, I just trucking play again, right here in this bar....and I don't do that anymore."

As she begins on her lament, Brigade is busy talking with the bartender. Occasionally he glances over and gives an encouraging nod or hum, for appearances sake, before he keeps listing an impressive array of drinks for the bartender to bring. Once he's done he cracks a smile and snorts. "Don't worry. You only have to pay for one of those. And, uh, designation's Brigade. It's a pleasure."

"Anyways, you were saying something there about before the war? Can't say I know anything about it. War-built and born." He pauses to thump at his chest, as if that's something to proud of.

Imager gives Brigade a flat look. "Dunno why I'm talkin then, you don't know. Look...pre-war..yeah, I mean we actually did things...we built, and we..." She fumbled for the words as she blames Brigade for a six eon war, "bettered ourselves....then boom, strife, uaaaghhh 'I'm on fire', and 'Megatron must be stopped', and all that." She succinctly wraps up the entire war in a few phrases. "Meh...I'm either too drunk or not drunk enough, and I don't know which anymore." She sags and puts her hands in her head, "well..okay..lemme splain like this. So, now that its over, and you're forged during war...so...you know, now what? Now whatcha wanting to do?"

Brigade takes the first drink from the bartender with a thankful look when he finishes, slamming it back in one swift movement before he answers any of Imager's questions. The glass hits the countertop with a thwack as he sets it down. The tank gives a startled grunt. "Wait, we're talking about me now?" he asks, and then shrugs.

"I mean, I know about before the war. I just don't know about before the war. Not from personal experience anyways. Beside the point. To your question, I punch things. It's what I did before the war and it's what I still do now. I don't see any problem with it. I'm good at it."

He laughs loudly, a rude sound that makes the bartender look up in surprise. "I can show you sometime if you're interested. I'm the trainer down in the practice rooms."

Imager shrugs again, her voice mellow, "Yeah me too. punch and shoot and stuff. big deal." Her head on the table, she laments, "I'm just being dramatic, I guess. Just need to shake it off like a case of the scraplets." Imager shifts to sit upright and lean back again. She motions to her drink, sliding it forward with a finger. "Guess you're a lucky one then. You know what you do nowadays." She silently thinks for a moment, then suddenly laughs a little, "Oh mech...I dunno why I just thought of this. You ever been to Retoris...big honking wall there, sort of a 'gateway to Iacon' they called it. Anyway, mid-war, so Soundwave...you know those shiftheads he's running with...he shows up at the city with his army, and we're. you know, murdering each other. and he gets all dramatic, and uses this thingamajigger...and makes that Rumble and Frenzy grow to like, titan size, right? And he's just being dramatic, and Roadbuster shoots him down, like right in mid speech." She chuckles to herself, "and then of course then we got these big ole Cassettecons to have to deal with..."

Brigade pauses, drumming his digits against the counter. He's trying to remember if he read about that battle. The tank purses his lip components. "Nope, doesn't sound familiar," he finally admits. The tank leans forwards, rubbing at his bad leg with a hand thoughtlessly. The tank considers mentioning he's only a couple thousand years old, and so even mid war seems like ancient history to him, but it really doesn't help his credibility as a fighter. He tucks that fact away like a secret.

He leans forwards. "So what's a mecha do to deal with giant cassettes?" Pausing, he snorts. "Giant cassettes. Just saying it feels ridiculous. It must have been weirder to see it."

At just that moment the bartender delivers the rest of his drinks. Brigade's crimson optics alight with eagerness. "Oh, now the real fun begins."

Imager peers at Brigade's drinkset, "Mech, are you trying to throw as much as you can at your FIC to see if it glitches? I've tried that, it don't work." She continues her appraisal, "military-grade nucleon, reverse-distilled engex with oil, and...lighter fluid?" She raises her skeptical gaze to Brigade, "Are you trying to forget or is this Tuesday for you?"

Brigade looks impressed. "You can tell what a drink is at a glance?" he asks. "Wait, wait. I have to test this."

Brigade squints at his line of drinks, nudging one of the stranger ones towards the front of the pack. He gestures to it with a stubby, shivering digit. "What's this one? Guess right and I'll let you have it on the house." Who would ever guess an Afterburner with Mercury additives? "Also, I'm not sure you noticed but I'm a big mecha. I got to down a lot before it makes a dent."

<FS3> Imager rolls Engex Tolerance: Great Success. (8 7 1 1 5 5 7 7)

Imager manages a smirk to Brigade, "Now *that* is an old mech's tale. Unless you're like a...a Loadbearer or one percenter, your frame doesn't matter too much if your intake filter is a lightweight. Now you get a filter on full tolerance, with this?" She gestures to the drinkset with two fingers, "You're going to get an IO Report." (intake/outtake meaning BARF!), "Or wish you were."

She judges the offered drink, that smirk on her face, it was a good enough way to pass the time. "Lets see. Jet-grade energon, cycled for high-capacity turbines...filtered through propane, and the swirl says mercury, so yeah, Afterburner with merc. Should've gone with benzene instead of propane though." She manages a catsmile as she sets it down, then pushes it over towards you, "I'll let you keep it. Reminds me of the enershine I used to make myself out of the ole solar system on ...lets see..." She frowns for a moment, "I was mostly Cybertron side...Plotdevvica I think it was. Got stuck there for a bunch of sweeps, had to improvise."

<FS3> Brigade rolls Drinking: Success. (4 5 2 2 6 1 7)

Brigade isn't going to let her change her mind. Swooping in, the tank grabs the drink from the table and slams it down his intake with the same enthusiasm as the first. "Hey, hey, hey. I'm no amateur," the tank remarks. "I'll handle this all just fine." In the end, it doesn't really matter if he doesn't. Purging this all up is something to distract him from the ache in his leg. Sometimes it felt like one pain canceled out the other, at least for a brief moment. He knew he just imagined that, but who cares if it works?

He places the empty glass down next to the first and reaches for the next. "I was stationed off planet a lot. Lots of different places. Heraxia, Terax Space Station, Helos just to name a few. Not to brag, but in my heyday I was pretty in demand. I got called in a lot of places."

Imager tilts her head a little, then puts her head on her hand, there's this tiny smile on her face as Brigade talks. "Oh yeah? I bet....all that armor plating you're packing. Quad-layered elendium over hyaaah." (here) "So full blown combat eh? I saw more of it than I wanted. So..." She just takes one of the glasses of yours from the tray, "I did win one." Imager says as a reminder, though she doesn't drink from it yet. "You've got some sort of assault mode there, lucky mech...so whats the specialty? Hullbreaching Cannon? Melee? Sharpshooter? Heh, when I got started, I was put on hot drop evac crew." Evac Crew. Those merciful angels that were thrown into hell to provide cover for the wounded troops being dropshipped out of the fight. She suddenly squints and tilts her head at Brigade, "Wait. Did you run through first drills with Ironhide? You sound like another Ironhide'r, a 'roughneck' he'd call us."

"Tank, actually," Brigade answers, now a little too tipsy to notice that asking after his alt mode is a bit of a rude question. He gives a sloppy smile to his drinking partner and lifts his next drink into the air as a toast. Some of the drink slop over the edges, dripping onto his bad leg and landing on the floor with a quiet plop. "Something of a last resort frontliner. I was the one they sent in when there were no other options."

Brigade is lifting the glass to his lips when he hears the designation Ironhide, and suddenly the tank is doing the akin of a spit-take. "Wait, you know Ironhide?!" That mecha is a legend. Brigade leans forwards with excitement, nearly toppling from the stool. "Tell me about him!"

Imager is already complaining by the time you finish your spittake. "See, I told you that you were going to get an IO report. But no, like all mechs ya gotta impress the femme with t...oh." Her optics wink out for a moment as she blinks, "yeah, I had him for drill." She sort of sits up straighter, as if now the star of the show, almost haughty. "Well ya see, when I got brought in to the Bots, the war was already in full swing, and there were several camps goin on, an I already had been abducted once, and given I can do hyaaah..." A light winks on in her abdomen, her renowned Helios Array! It projects a small scene of a memory of Ironhide givin the ole speech from back in the day before it winks out. "and stuff, it was determined I had to jump into the fray first thing, so I got put into 'the smelter'. That's what he called it, and having been in an actual smelter, I think I'd prefer the hot one." She shakes her head, "But uh...really good mech, you know? Like..." She falls silent for a moment, "Like, 'great' kinda good." There was a reason that her casual, rough exterior had been patterned after him.... "He was the one that..." Her voice drops a bit, from the brash and sour tone of her everyday voice to something more somber, "made me realize I made a good choice...ya know?"

Brigade leans towards the scene, an excited light in his optics. That's Ironhide! Oh man, that's Ironhide! Brigade is so glad he came to Swerve's tonight. He has to make sure he'll be sober enough to remember everything that they're about to say. The tank suddenly pushes his passel of drinks to the side and leans on his hand as he waits to hear more. Brigade gives a quiet rev of excitement. "Good choice?! That's an understatement! Oh man, you've got to tell me everything! And I mean everything! What's he like? What sort of drills did he put you through? Did you ever fight with him?"

Imager tilts her head to the other side. "Well, I still got a tape of him in here somewhere, lemme find it..." She squints as if she's trying to think of a specific memory, and after a few moments there's staticy sound and a holographic display pops up of the old warhorse staring down at her...its in first person view. "Imager..." the old mech growls, "That was the saddest display I've seen since Swerve's driving. Now you get on up, and you do it again, and this time, you mean it, you get me?!" It wasn't much of a question. She considers the played memory, then adds, "Yeah, there was a lot of that. I mean, the thing is you knew he cared. He'd literally work you till your joints froze, because he had to see how far you could be pushed." She drains half of her drink as she kicks back a bit, remembering fond memories, "Why there was this one time, I remember, when we were all supposed to run, in full pack...."

And the camera slowly pulls away from the scene, as Imager starts to laugh at the story she's telling.

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