2015-12-01 Blue Skidoo
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Participants||Brainstorm, Cyclonus, Gearstrip, Rodimus, Tailgate|
|Summary||A party goes to investigate a mysterious signal and runs in to a gang of kidnappers with blue bandanas|
A lone asteroid travels in its orbit around an ordinary star, but the signals emanating from it merit investigation. They are Cybertronian in nature, albeit encrypted. There is no known base of operations of any sort in the system, so there's a small chance it could be a lost or splinter colony.
The Lost Light has matched velocity with the asteroid, and the away team has just set down near some random structures on the surface. They look like garages and repair bays, mostly. There is no sign of activity, but it also does not look like the buildings are deserted; random consoles and devices seem to be on and functioning.
Several bots have joined the team. Ammo has tagged along; the reason why is unclear but probably not on the up-and-up. Animus certainly has his reason although you wouldn't get the truth out of him about it. Fencer has made clear his reason is to spend time away from Pipes. Slapdash is present as well, although he actually can't remember how he got there.
The signals seem to originate from an alley between some of the larger structures. Their walls rise up high over the team, partially obscuring the starscape above. Innocent-looking equipment is blinking here and there in the darkened spaces behind the open garage doors.
"Okay, but what's any of it do?" Rodimus pivots as he strides ahead of the others, turning to cast a glance over the buildings and the stars above before looking back at his team. He waits. He clearly expects an actual answer from someone -- possibly the nerds. Nerds always have answers. He's abandoned the ship to the care of Ultra Magnus and Drift. Let it be another bonding experience for them. Meanwhile, he's gonna go do the fun stuff. "The signals were Cybertronian. What about the systems? Any indication of whether it is Autobot, Decepticon, other?"
Cyclonus is not the bot to answer Rodimus's answer. His gaze is sharp and wary as it travels the structures around them with a dispassionate expression. He does slide a glance in the direction of Brainstorm and Gearstrip, the nerds currently present who might be able to extrapolate -- something.
Gearstrip has somehow managed to mute her general excitement at being tapped to go out in the field -- ???!!! -- to a brightness in her eyes and an alert, active intensity to her movements. She moves now, gamboling in Rodimus's wake to look for the nearest of the consoles that's still active so that she can poke at it. Her goggles are stuck on the top of her head. "Right, sir! Let's find out, sir!" she says. "I wonder where everybody is...?"
That the idea of 'fun stuff' includes investigating mysterious compounds probably says a lot about them, doesn't it? Tailgate, of course, wouldn't miss it. "I don't see any badges on anything yet, either." He's not far behind Rodimus, stepping alongside Gearstrip with the faint impression of ducklings. "It's like everyone just... left?"
"I'd have to get a closer look" is Brainstorm's response to Rodimus' question. From the looks of it, he'll be quite happy to get that look too, considering that he's already moving towards the machienery "Maybe they're all hiding and waiting for us to walk in to a trap" he surmises along the way "Would be just our luck too."
The purpose of those darkened garage spaces is not clear, but they do obscure large rectangular hatches in the floor. They slide open now, and through them, in answer to Gearstrip's question - and confirming Brainstorm's guess - elevators lift up many unsavory-looking mechs. Some have swords, knives, or axes; others just their bare hands. All are sporting ragged blue headbands, their frayed ends hanging to one side. In total, at least fifty of them have emerged from below. At least.
One of them, perhaps a smidge taller than the others, holds some sort of scanning device. Wordlessly, he sweeps the away team and settles the instrument directed at Animus, Fencer and Slapdash, who have unwisely strayed some from the core group. The scanning bot points, and a handful of his comrades leap upon the hapless bots, restraining them and starting to drag them back to the shadows!
Others move to protect them, to ensure the attempted kidnapping succeeds.
"Totally hiding. Trying to figure out if they should shoot." Rodimus lifts his hands to the imagined watchers and waves. "Hello! We're friendly!" He pauses, very pointedly glances at Cyclonus, and then adds, "Mostly!"
When the locals emerge, Rodimus gives them a long look and says, "Well, /we're/ friendly. Not sure about-- Hey!" When they move to drag off his crew, Rodimus leaps forward to intercept with guns hot shouting, "Doesn't anyone know what friendly means?" You know, like a friendly person! He fires a warning shot into the dirt at the feet of the bots who move forward to stand between him and the strays. "Let go of my crew!"
<FS3> Rodimus rolls Body+unarmed: Good Success. (3 3 4 8 4 7 3) The Lost Light has no shortage of heroes who would leap to their captured comrades' rescue. It would hardly do for Brainstorm to steal their glory! He'll be right over there, behind one of the consoles. Not getting in the way. Where it's safe. "Called it!"
The Great Sword on Cyclonus's back is in his hands in an instant. He doesn't fire warning shots; he leaps into the fray -- expression focused, sword flashing -- to try and carve a rescue for their teammates.
<FS3> Cyclonus rolls Body+Melee Weapons: Good Success. (6 1 3 7 7 4 1 5 2 6 4 4 8 6)
"Hey!" Gearstrip draws back in alarm and dismay. "Solus Prime, how many of them /are/ there?" She cups her hands by her mouth and shouts: "Put them down!" She is about as intimidating as you might expect a small blue freckled minibot without visible onboard weaponry to be. "--And what's with the head thingies?"
"It could always be a surprise party. You never know." Tailgate gets cheeky at Brainstorm, because sometimes he does have his moments. As it turns out, he's completely wrong as is not uncommon. Oops.
Tailgate takes a too long look at the locals when they rise up into sight and into action, confusion clear on his frame before they leap in to try and drag away some of their crew. Tailgate's energy slingshot is in his hand when some of the others step in and he backs up to stand with Gearstrip. He's no bodyguard, but he'll do, right? The minibot fires a similar warning shot that sparks and sizzles.
Rodimus' and Tailgate's warning shots cause some of the crew to step back a little, but they were expecting resistance so they don't break rank just for them. The punches the captain throws, though, knock two of them on their afts, and out. Meanwhile, Cyclonus' swift attack earns him three heads, lopped off of three of the gang members in one stroke. The ferocity here has the most effect, and some of the crew start to look concerned and back away. This leaves an opening to try to rescue Fencer, at least, whose apprehenders have had the least success dragging him far away. Slapdash and Animus are still helpless, though.
The tallish one, who still holds the scanning device, starts murmuring into a comm on his forearm.
Despite Tailgate's heroic attempts to protect her, Gearstrip flips rapidly into her vehicle mode and blasts into the fray, zipping forward at speed on a hard burst from her antigrav thrusters as she zooms in toward Fencer, darting and weaving through the mess of bots. "Quick, hop on!" she yells with the kind of gleeful recklessness that would seriously appall certain other Camien crew members.
<FS3> Gearstrip rolls Transportation: Good Success. (1 7 2 6 3 1 3 7)
With Gearstrip on the Fencer problem, Rodimus focuses on mowing his way through the crowd to Slapdash and Animus. He steps over the two he's knocked out to look for two more. Maybe more! Let's get greedy! "Where's Ammo?" he calls over to Cyclonus, who he might grudgingly acknowledge has a better view of the fracas than he does. "Brainstorm?" That's right, Brainstorm. It's his favorite. Rodimus is asking him to scout again.
<FS3> Rodimus rolls Unarmed+body: Success. (6 6 2 3 8 4 5)
Go? Go. Tailgate takes a cue from Gearstrip in this next step; while he doesn't shift into his alt mode and blast forward after her, he does move boldly forward to pull back his slingshot and fire an orb at the tallest of the blue-tassled mechs; the one who is currently on his comm. Oh, you're busy? Sorry about that.
"I can't see him," Cyclonus says, his voice only raised to cover distance and din. He tries to cover Gearstrip's rescue with more hack and slash before attempting to make his way through the fray towards Slapdash and Animus.
<FS3> Cyclonus rolls Body+Melee Weapons: Great Success. (8 1 7 1 2 7 7 6 1 8 6 3 4 2)
Nope, Brainstorm still has no intention to play the daring hero. Way too dangerous. He'll just remain back there, hiding, watching. His position outside the fight does let him notice things beyond potential targets, however, especially if he's airborn, which, for once, is something he's happy to do, if the eager "Right!" says anything, since it gives him a great excuse to be even further away from all the fighting. From up there, he can see other things too, like tall, dark and kidnappy over there talking to his arm "Looks like our friends are up to something over there. Maybe be calling for backup?" he calls down.
<FS3> Tailgate rolls Firearms+Deadeye: Good Success. (5 3 6 7 7)
Cyclonus' slashes and/or hacks do a nice job of illustrating various ways bots can be cut into pieces. Five of them fall before him. Those holding Fencer have seen plenty; they release him and run for it. This makes it quite easy for Fencer to hop on the Gearstrip Express to safety. "Nice sword work," he calls out to Cyclonus as they zoom away.
Rodimus caves in the face of one more gang member, but this doesn't make much headway toward the other captive crew members. They seem to be waiting for something...
The probable gang leader takes a solid hit to the forehead from Tailgate's slingshot, and his communique is interrupted as he keels over. Several of his lackeys have to pick him up and retreat with him, while another snags the scanning device he had been using.
From his vantage point, Brainstorm can probably locate Ammo. He's isolated and backed against some crates. True to his name, though, he hasn't held back and is taking shots at anyone who would come near him. Hope he doesn't get overwhelmed!
There is a flash of light high above, throwing stark shadows into the alley. There's barely any atmosphere here, yet a rumbling can be heard shortly thereafter. Those still on the ground looking up can see a trio of bots descending from the sky, as if being lowered by some invisible wire. They land, one at a time, between the blue-headband crew and the away team.
The first is a dull brown, seemingly bulky and strong; a short but fat gun barrel is mounted on the outside of each shoulder. The second is sleeker-looking and blue, and a long sword hangs at his side. The third, of a medium build, is black with a brilliant silver frontplate. All three are wearing very broad-rimmed, saucer-shaped hats which obscure their faces, and each one performs a precise, expert series of body and hand poses before stopping and glaring at the newcomers.
Without missing a beat, in unison they each produce a short, broad, bent blade, hold it up, perform a front flip, and throw them at Rodimus, Cyclonus, and Tailgate!
<FS3> Tailgate rolls Reaction+reaction: Failure. (3 4 2 6 5 1)
Body poses. Hand poses. That's just weird enough to distract Rodimus from looking for his next guy to punch. "Okay, what?" He holds his current victim by the collar, fist pulled back for a punch has yet to land. When the trio start throwing blades and flipping, he's a little late to respond, but he drops his buddy and throws himself to the side in time. He rolls, and comes up shooting.
<FS3> Rodimus rolls Firearms: Great Success. (7 7 3 7 8 6 2 3 4 1 3)
"I see Ammo" Brainstorm calls down from his vantage point "Looks like he could use some -- what the?" As interetsting as thunder and lighning on a tiny asteroid are, the engineer makes no move to get anywhere near them. For one, he'd rather avoid being hit by said lightning. The fact that the flash of light also seems to produce a trio of mechs with the same gettups as the fellows who tried to kidnap their crewmates is also not helping. He's not really in a hurry to land either, however, preffering to circle above the group. Maybe these guys didn't bring any guns either.
Gearstrip zooms and wheels back out of the fray for long enough to set down and permit Fencer to dismount. Once he's off, she launches into the air again, hurtling back into the fray. "Hey!" She zooms past the head of the one of the weapon-throwers nearest her trajectory, and, in the process of zipping by his face, attempts the most mosquito-annoying thing she can think of to do: she tries to knock off his hat by whacking against its brim with the edge of her scooter's platform.
Tailgate seems more confused by the appearance of the newcomers than anything; his jubilation at smacking the tall mech in the face pales slightly when the sky rumbles and the new ones drop down into the fray. For a moment he wonders //who// they are here for, and before he knows it the trio is flipping into action and throwing those bent blades. Despite Tailgate's wholehearted effort to pivot and dodge out of the way, the one thrown at him catches on the wide flare of his hip, cutting in and spinning him into the dirt. Scrap.
<FS3> Gearstrip rolls Body+aerobatics: Success. (5 4 7 4 3)
Cyclonus is never impassive, but he's often patient: he watches this display of arrival and flourishes with a calculating patience that never takes an eye off of the three new bots. The bent blade slices towards his face, and he jerks his hand to send it clattering aside with the edge of his sword. He is about to move forward to counter when he catches sight of Tailgate falling out of the corner of his optics and his gaze snaps to his roommate in the dirt. "Tailgate!" he growls, almost like he's frustrated that the minibot is /worrying/ him. His optics flash and he leaps forward, not for the bot that attached him, but the bot that attacked /Tailgate/.
<FS3> Cyclonus rolls Melee Weapons: Amazing Success. (7 1 4 8 5 7 7 8 6 3 3 8 4 7)
Only one of the other two knives hurled by the newcomers hits a target. The one thrown at Rodimus does not; it sails past and lands with a clang. The one thrown at Cyclonus not only bounces off his sword but then sticks into the midsection of a nearby gang member, who promptly doubles over and falls.
Gearstrip's aerial attack succeeds! In knocking off the hat of the black and silver general. His white optics glow brightly in irritation. He stomps and summons electrical charges from his hands, which he flings at the scooter.
The general whose knife struck Tailgate, the second to arrive, only still functions after Cyclonus' vicious assault because he wields a sword of his own; if not for his last-second defense, the gash across his torso would have resulted in a complete bisection. He staggers with a shocked expression on his face, then collapses in a splash of sparks.
The final stocky general is pelted by Rodimus' fusillade, which likewise cause him to stagger back. He looks at his fallen associate with distress; they are not accustomed to such foes! "Syncons, attack!" he shouts hoarsely. To defend himself and the sword carrier, he fires shockwaves from his shoulder cannons at Cyclonus to knock him away while he retrieves the other and attempts to retreat.
His command to the gang, surprisingly, is effective. They must be scared of him more than the Lost Lighters. Their numbers are lessened, but those who remain attack Rodimus and Cyclonus. Meanwhile, Ammo is holding out, and Animus and Slapdash? Remember those two? Well, they are almost gone.
<FS3> Gearstrip rolls Reaction+reaction: Success. (6 3 5 5 8 2 5 3) <FS3> Cyclonus rolls Fortitude: Failure. (5 4 5 5 2 4 3 5)
[BigScene] Pipes says, "finally, Rodimus and Cyclonus each roll body+unarmed to see how well you fend off the cannon fodder jumping on you"
<FS3> Rodimus rolls Body+transportation: Good Success. (8 2 3 6 8 7 5) Ouch, ouch, ouch. Tailgate can hear his name being called as he tries to roll over, leaking from the hip where the blade has lodged itself. The most that he manages to do is shift onto his good leg on the ground and reach down to find the end of the weapon sticking out of his frame. It gets a little too real when he touches it, and the pulse of his visor in a moment of panic preludes an attempt to dislodge it. First rule of first aid, you probably shouldn't do that.
Cyclonus lets his attention stray for the briefest moment, just starting to look back to Tailgate to make sure he's okay, when stocky general fires those shockwaves right in his direction. He turns into the blast, trying to steel himself, but the force knocks him to the ground with a crushing blow. He shifts, his grip barely hanging onto his sword, and then scrambles to rise up as quickly as he can to face the oncoming horde.
"Hate to get in the way of all your fun, but Ammo's still pinned down, and the other two look like they're in trouble" Brainstorm remarks from the saftey of his altitude, making no move to correct any of these issues himself. After all, it would be a huge loss if /he/, the ship's genius, were to be captured! Plus, it looks like Rodimus is already on it, and Rodimus hates when people get in the way of his heroics! Best stay out of the way and keep an eye on things. Ouch, that looked like it hurt!
"Yipe!" Gearstrip narrowly avoids the lightning bolts coming from the general's hands. Her antigrav sputters in midair and she drops most of the way to the ground before firing the thrusters again and hurtling in a weaving airborne dodge after Rodimus toward more potential rescuees badly in need of an assist. "If I were Flyby this would be a lot more glamorous--"
<FS3> Cyclonus rolls Melee Weapons-1: Good Success. (2 3 7 8 6 6 3 1 2 6 4 2 5) <FS3> Gearstrip rolls Transportation: Success. (1 6 3 6 8 6 4 2)
Rodimus muscles his way through the Syncons quite admirably, with three of them hurled up and out of the way. They don't even come close to knocking into Gearstrip as she bobs and weaves her way alongside; she even clips one in the cranium for good measure. Slapdash is almost within reach; only a few more Syncons stand in the way!
Cyclonus chalks up two more despite just having been knocked to the ground. The gang members give up on trying anything with him, and scatter away from his vicinity. In contrast, the electrified general identifies him as the most dangerous target and lets out another surge aimed at him.
The other two generals? They've turned tail and run, the heavier one having picked up the sword master and flown away with astonishing swiftness.
Ammo is, perhaps ironically, running out of ammo and is about to be taken. Or maybe just killed, it's hard to tell with these guys.
"So, is anyone gonna help Ammo, or are we gonna just leave him here?" Obviously, whoever this potential helper may be, it's not going to be Brainstorm, since he's still circling above the fight, making no move to come down "I'd help, but gotta keep an eye out on things up here, in case they try to spring something again" he adds, just in case anyone though he's up here because he's afraid. Because that's totally not it. What makes you think that he's scared? He's just making sure nothing blindsides you guys! Really!
Rodimus transforms back to his feet with a speedy tsch-chue that leaves his tires still spinning as they tuck in at his arms and legs. His guns are still hot, and he deals with the last couple of Syncons between them and Slapdash with a little close-quarters gunslinging that he aims over Gearstrip's bob and weave. "Kind of busy, Brainstorm! Don't you have some kind of crazy Brainstorm special you can drop to help him out?"
This time, Cyclonus has solid footing, and he meets the shockwaves head on. Pushing forward in the face of them isn't easy, but the old bot's gaze is fierce with fury and the promise of violence as he takes step after step towards the general until he can finally close in to attack.
<FS3> Cyclonus rolls Melee Weapons: Good Success. (3 3 1 2 8 3 5 3 4 3 7 3 1 4)
Tailgate can't get enough of a grip on the blade to get it out, and so instead decides to bot up and try to push himself up onto his good leg and mutter something pained into the coms. "Brainstorm-- help him--" You gosh darn coward. Meanwhile, despite worrying about someone else, Tailgate still has to figure out how not to fall over in a heap again. He finds a brace up against one of the compound buildings, limping heavily.
"If you cloned me I could be in both places at once!" Gearstrip pipes up over the com, the bright glow of her scooter lights blinking in and out in time to her words. She drops almost to the ground and darts forward to dive between a set of Syncon legs, trying to get the rest of the way through to Slapdash and Animus. "Hang in there, Ammo! We're gonna keep trying!"
"I'm not a bomber, sorry" Brainstorm points out before reiterating his previous point for Tailgate's sake "and if I go down now, it's practically guranteed that something will sneak up and knock everyone out or something" don't you guys watch movies? Only Gearstrip's comment earns a positive response, a thoughtful sort of "Hmmm", although it probably belongs more in his workshop than out here.
<FS3> Gearstrip rolls Transportation: Failure. (5 4 2 4 5 4 3 2)
"Yeah, help would be great!" Ammo yells distractedly over the comm. Too late: the Syncons overwhelm him and pull him around and behind the crates. It's not clear as to where.
Also, despite the team's best efforts, Animus is gone as well, vanished into the darkness of a nearby warehouse, his cries muffling as the floor hatches shut above him, and then fading away.
The outcome is much happier for Slapdash, however. Thanks to the combined efforts of Rodimus and Gearstrip, his remaining captors are either shot through or too intimidated to stick around. They release Slapdash, who stumbles forward from his sudden freedom and trips over Gearstrip. All of the Syncons scurry like retrorats back to the elevators or around nearby buildings.
The electric general takes a solid sword blow from Cyclonus. Electromagnetic shielding permeating his body prevents it from effecting more than a serious cut, but it nevertheless partially disables one of his arms. He looks around and sees that his gang is dispersing, so he quickly retrieves his hat and, in the blink of an optic, he soars backward, away from the fight, and disappears within one of the garages, also presumably underground.
An eerie quiet returns to the alleyway.
For a step, two steps, it looks like Cyclonus is going to chase after the general until his blade is sated; but something pulls him back. He turns from the chase with effort to square his focus on Tailgate instead. He strides forward, his sword rehoming on his back, and bends to grasp the minibot's arm. "You're injured," he says, the line of his mouth twitching the tiniest amount. It's almost like asking if he's okay.
Well, looks like leave him it is. Sorry, Ammo, and you too, Animus. There was nothing more Brainstorm could do to help you guys. With the welocming party gone, the engineer makes a few more circles above his crewmates' heads before finally dropping down to rejoin them on the ground "Looks like Ammo ran out on us, huh?"
"Animus? Animus! Brainstorm, where's Ammo? Ran where? Everyone, count off!" Rodimus gives Slapdash a quick once-over, reassuring himself that he's okay, then he's throwing open the doors of the warehouse nearby and trying to find where Animus went. He swears into the darkness -- it's really not very Autobotty language! -- in a short, fierce spit of static.
Fancy flying failing her, Gearstrip manages to trip one of them but only in terms of ending up crashing into the ground with the stuttering failure of her antigrav thrust. She reverts to root mode and sits there for a moment looking dazed. "We lost them?" she asks in a high, uncertain voice, her eyes wide. Pushing herself up onto one knee, it's so that she can rub at her aft and check for unfortunately placed dents.
Tailgate is buckled up against the side of his chosen building within reach of where Gearstrip had been when she stopped to check it out, so he's not far from the field when Cyclonus sheathes his sword and moves over. He looks up at the purple mech with a shake of his head, letting out a tiny sound of frustration. "I-I'll be okay." He's totally had worse, right guys? "I wasn't fast enough." An attempt at an excuse.
"Ah, no, that was a joke. Ammo? Ran out? Ran out of -- Never mind" Brainstorm waves his hand in dismisal "They got him too, both of them. Dragged them in to one of the buildings I think" he gestures in the direction he though he saw their friends carried off to "So, my money's on them being slavers"
The warehouse Rodimus searches is indeed empty of all mechanical beings, but the equipment remains innocently blinking and humming. By the faint light of them can be seen, not hidden in any way, elevator controls. They are exceedingly simple, likely so that the exceedingly simple Syncons can work them, and working perfectly; if used, the floor hatch nearby would open and an empty elevator would surface.
"Your sense of honor is truly inspiring," Cyclonus says -- /spits/, almost, his attention veering sharply to Brainstorm for his -- joke. His hand lingers on Tailgate's shoulder, briefly forgotten, but the tension of low-boiling fury has his plates shifting.
"Not now, Brainstorm." Rodimus's voice carries an edge to it, and it's quieter, not on the comm, that he repeats, "Not now." He turns to check on Gearstrip and Slapdash on his way out of the warehouse. "There's an elevator in here that goes underground, it looks like. We're going after them, obviously. I'm not letting any would-be slavers take my crew. Tailgate, you okay to keep moving?" And did anyone pack bandaids.
Tailgate, on the other hand, has a brief flicker of panic to contrast Cyclonus' irritation. "Slavers?!" Thankfully, Rodimus is there to bring his mind to more present things. "I need someone to help me get this out--" He doesn't touch the blade in his leg, but looks to it, voice a mite softer. "But I think so. I mean-- I can still feel everything." Bandaids? Hope so. Or at least a quick patching.
Gearstrip clambers back the rest of the way to her feet. She says a little doubtfully, "I can try. On Caminus I'm expressly not rated for people, but I'm pretty good? Or I could carry you. Or--" She cuts herself off, as the turn of her head allows her gaze to lift over Cyclonus and Tailgate.
Brainstorm flinches under Cyclonus gaze, backing away from the warrior. Okay, looks like tall dark and murderous does not have a sense of humor either. Noted for later. He enjoys living. Instead he moves more in Rodimus' direction, peering in to the warehouse he'd just come out of. Rodimus may have also disaproved, but Rodimus is Rodimus. He's fine. Sorry, Tailgate, but while, as an engineer, he might be able to offer some help, your roommate is kinda scary.
Cyclonus draws his hand from Tailgate's shoulder, straightening up /apparently/ so he can look down on Gearstrip. The cast of his expression is just the slightest bit skeptical underneath a lingering frustration. He doesn't offer an audible protest, however.
Having finally recovered from his near abduction, Slapdash finally approaches Rodimus and the rest of the crew. "Thank you, thank you," he blabbers. "I thought I was a goner. There were just so many of them, so fast. I don't know why they were trying to take me. They were mumbling something about their 'master' and some sort of 'ceremony'. It didn't make any sense to me." He looks over at Fencer, the other rescued crew member, who just shrugs.
"We can work together, Gearstrip." Tailgate can totally help patch his own leg! That's totally legitimate, and when they get back, Knock Out can yell about how awful of a job they did. He's not paying attention to Cyclonus' stages of leering at people-- perhaps he's just too used to it being a default state to notice. "We can at least close it up." Tailgate does send a brief look from Slapdash to Rodimus, when he hears the former.
Gearstrip hastens to Tailgate's side so that she can get a better look at the injury, and nods, biting at her lower lip. "You bet, Tailgate," she says. "I apologize in advance for the hurting this is gonna do, okay? It's gonna be better when we're done." She reaches out to give him a light squeeze on the shoulder, and then reaches up with both hands to determinedly pull her goggles down over her eyes like this is some complicated bit of repair work. It's all psyching.
<FS3> Gearstrip rolls Repair: Good Success. (4 7 7 2 8 5 2 4 2 6)
Rodimus looks from Slapdash to Brainstorm and then back. "Master," he repeats. "Ceremony." He groans, sweeping his hands up the points of his helm to pinch the ends and then throw his hands up in the air. "That is so much worse!" Rather than immediately dive down the elevator, however, he drifts over to join Tailgate and his fanclub.
"Or maybe they're cultists and they're gonna sacrifice their prisoners to their weird god" with the new information, Brainstorm appends his previous guess "Or we're gonna run in to yet another nutjob who likes pulling people appart for parts" Someone give Hot Shot a call!
Cyclonus crosses his arms tight over his chest, and the tension in his frame suggests a rather purposeful restraint. Like maybe what he is restraining from is murdering Gearstrip if she messes this up.
<FS3> Tailgate rolls Fortitude-1: Success. (5 3 1 7 1)
Tailgate purposefully ignores Brainstorm as he moves aside to settle down and give Gearstrip some space to work on his leg. With her help he manages to tug the curved blade out from where it's lodged, and while the wound doesn't start anything as untoward as squirt energon, it still comes out slick in Tailgate's hand. When he holds it up his visor goes dim, the blue narrowing in an effort not to go crosseyed. He's had worse-- but-- oogh. While Gearstrip works he does his best to zone out and away from any further pain on his leg; he manages well enough, thankfully.
Gearstrip works quickly and carefully with deft hands and a spot welder that she as a compartmental tool. Her focus is quite good, such that she manages to work under Cyclonus's glowering eye without flinching. The job she does is serviceable, though ... it won't suffice with permanence or to such a degree that medical will be astounded and amazed by her prowess. When she's done, she reverts her hand to its base configuration and then proffers it to offer him a hand up. "I hope you're okay now, Tailgate. Patch looks okay. How bad does it hurt? I have a candy in my pocket if it'll help!" (Why would that help.)
Cyclonus offers no thanks or congratulations to Gearstrip, but he also doesn't murder her. So there's that. His gaze lingers on Tailgate only long enough to assure himself that the bot will manage okay before he's turning away. Time to move on.
Rodimus glances toward Gearstrip's pockets with unmistakable interest. CANDY? --no, wait. He doesn't need candy. Instead, he turns to Brainstorm, nodding to the buildings beyond. "Show me where Ammo disappeared, would you? We need to start figuring out how we're going after them. Before whatever nutjob cultist whackadoodle thing they've got planned goes down."
Tailgate knows that Knock Out will sneer and frown and probably insult someone-- but as far as getting around goes, Gearstrip does well to get Tailgate on his feet again. She helps him up, and Tailgate tests out the patch. He'll favor one leg, but there's no open wound and he can put weight on it. "It hurts less than it did before. Thanks, 'Strip. I owe you. But hopefully not with a field patch!" Tailgate leans over to give her a brief, one-armed hug around the shoulder. No candy needed. "Now let's see how we can help."
That's why you go and see Mercy about these things, Tailgate. She'll at least be nice to you about it. Brainstorm knows from experience. But that's a worry for later. Right now, they need to get their missing crewmates back "Pretty sure I saw Animus taken over that way" he gestures at one of the buildings.
Gearstrip lights up altogether with a bright smile as her efforts are rewarded by a hug. "I'm happy I could do it," she says. "Don't worry about owing. Let's just go take care of our guys."