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2016-11-20 Pong Pressure

From Transformers: Lost and Found

Pong Pressure
Date 2016/11/20
Location Lost Light: Recreation -- Swerve's
Participants Blackstorm, Octane, Arcee, Cosmos
Summary Cosmos gets dragged into an unlikely situation.

Often referred to as the heart of the ship (by Swerve), the bar is rarely empty, rarely quiet. Central to the whole is the bar itself: just tall enough for a minibot to serve over the edge and lined with stools capable of accommodating bots of any height. Large, clear vessels stand behind the bar, containing the brews of the day. Behind the bar, an engex distillery assures there's always something new.

Round tables are scattered across the floor. Seats fold up from the floor beneath. Large booths along the sides of the room have room for a half-dozen or more, if they don't mind getting cozy, while monitors here and there find occasional use showing old vids.

A sign outside the door says:

                        No Guns, No Swords, No Bombs                         

Underneath is written: I MEAN IT!! LOCK YOUR WEAPON SYSTEMS DOWN AND DUMP EVERYTHING ELSE IN THE BIN BY THE DOOR. It is signed with a little frowning Swerve face.

On the other side of the door is a SHAME LIST. No, really, that's what it says. It has the number of days that various people are banned from Swerve's and counts down at the start of the morning shift.


<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Transportation: Success. (7 6 3 2 1 6 1 6 3 1 2 6)

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Reaction+reaction: Success. (1 4 2 3 7 1 5 2)

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Climbing: Great Success. (8 8 8 4 1 6 3 7)

Something's coming: something very loud and obnoxious. A loud engine revs in the hallway outside of Swerve's, twisting into the doorway a moment later. Blackstorm is nothing more than a black streak twisting around the tables. People scream in surprise as the minibot darts between and around their pedes. His voice calls out above the cacophony of his own engine, "Is that what you call cursing?! Put more fire into it!" he calls back at Cosmos.

Apparently this is what he meant by cursing lessons.... As the minibot approaches the rear of the bar, though, he suddenly reverts to root mode without slowing down. Making use of his momentum, he running-leaps onto a booth and flips onto the top of the table. He finally comes to a halt, lying on his side on the tabletop with Cosmos's stolen tool clenched in his intake. He gestures the baffled mecha forwards with a crooked finger.

Following the loud and obnoxious minibot is a just as loud- though for different reasons- shuttle skidding outside the doorway to Swerve's. "Blackstorm!! Give it back, I can't finish my job without it!" Why me? Why now? When will this guy stop making fun of me!? Running into the bar Cosmos quickly loses Blackstorm in the crowd... the very crowd which makes it easy to find him when they begin staring towards the back. Stomping forwards and shoving (politely of course) his way through the mechs, the UFO glares at the minibot lounging on the table- With his tool. "Give it back, Blackstorm!" The minibot has probably figured out by now that Cosmos isn't likely to actually hit or manhandle anyone over just anything that bothers him, the mech doesn't have it in him.

"Whoa!" As a motorcycle zips past leaving chaos and calamity in its wake, Octane has just enough time to lift his drink up and out of the way of danger. And not a moment too soon. The crowd backing up and away from impending disaster (or as some call him, Blackstorm) jostle Octane's table and nearly upturn it. He's safe, tall enough to lift his drink high above the crowd and away from wayward elbows and wing kibble. "That was a close one," he sighs, just seconds before Cosmos comes rushing after Blackstorm and accidentally knocks him in the back. "Ack!" And the glass he's tried so desperately to save is jerked as he waves his arms for balance, sending the contents sloshing over the lip and onto the floor (and some onto Octane himself).

"Okay, SOMEONE owes me a drink!" he calls in annoyance at Blackstorm and Cosmos.

In something of a childish gesture, Blackstorm's glossa snakes out to skate along the tool before he tosses it back in Cosmos's direction. "Your command, my pleasure," the minibot purrs. Wow, has he mentioned Cosmos is cute? Even when angry. It reminds him something of Ravenwing's temper, but less deadly. And cuter. With less gunfire. Okay, it's nothing at all like Ravenwing's temper.

Blackstorm rocks back to his pedes just in time to hear Octane's demands. At the sharp tone, he jumps back a little, but the playful fire continues to burn in his optics. "Don't look at me. I just spent the last of my paycheck buying drinks for this dream," he explains, gesturing towards Cosmos and then a table nearby. Of all things, it looks like it's set up for a game of beer pong, the whole reason he lured Cosmos all the way here. "We're moving on to lesson two, how to let loose. You're welcome to join us if you want, though." Blackstorm shrugs.

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Reaction+Reaction: Good Success. (6 7 2 7)

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Earth Savvy: Good Success. (6 4 8 7 6 5 7)

Cosmos looks grossed out when the licked tool is tossed back to him but manages to snap out of it in time to catch the object. He doesn't even bother to respond to Blackstorm's probably mocking 'dream' comment. Ok ew, why would he- The UFO’s attention snaps over to Octane, quickly realizing what happened. "Oh I'm sorry! Of course, I didn't mean to... uh..." Cosmos trails off, optical band narrowing in a squint at the table indicated by Blackstorm. What the... Wha? "Did.. did you steal my tool, interrupt my work, and lead me on a wild goose chase up here just to make me play... is that beer pong?" Cosmos is almost beginning to sound more incredulous than angry... though the anger is still there. I... I don't know if i should be applauding his determination or hitting him with this thing.

Octane glances between Blackstorm and the game of beer pong. If it's a way to get sloshed he'll take it.

"I humbly accept your invitation," he says with a mock-bow, less aggressive now that he's been offered both a drink and a way to get more drinks. He claps a friendly hand on Cosmos's shoulder as he sidles up to the scene, optics already scanning the layout for ways to cheat. "I'll take that drink now and then we'll get to the game, eh? Be a sport Cosmic--it was Cosmic, right?--the guy's just trying to bring you a good time. You Autobots could stand to unwind a little from time to time, yeah? What have you got to lose?"

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Climbing: Good Success. (6 8 5 8 1 5 7 5)

"You got it!" Blackstorm announces, sounding a little too pleased with himself. He really did go through all that trouble for you, Cosmos. Charming, isn't it? The minibot clambers down from the table and begins to move towards the one arrayed for their next adventure. "Seems like you needed it. It was my solemn duty to assist you."

Once he gets to the foot of the beer pong table, he rocks back on his heels and glances at the pair. "Well, do you both know how to play this? Or do I need to give the 411?"

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Sass: Success. (1 1 6 6 4 7 6 6 2)

Cosmos lets out a huff as he glances at Octane from the side of his visor, "Its Cosmos." Walking up to the bar, the UFO orders a drink for mech, determined to replace it then leave. As its prepared he wanders back to the other two, crossing his arm over his ample chestplates. "I don't need it though. You probably just wasted all your shanix..." Why would he waste his shanix on me?? I already told him I didn't really drink the last time. A dull look is sent Octane's way for his comments, annoyance pricking at his thoughts, "What do I have to lose? I don't know. My free time, the little respect my peers give me... my sanity." Of course, this show of sass is likely easily ignored coming from the spacer.

<FS3> Octane rolls Presence+presence: Good Success. (1 4 6 6 4 4 8 7)

"Cosmos! That's the one!" Octane snaps his fingers. "Now c'mon, the mech set all this up just for you, didn't he? Wouldn't it be cruel to leave him like this? A whole paycheck blown just to get to do something fun with you, and you can't even give him a chance? That's just cold. It makes my spark ache in sympathy." He clutches at his chest. And, okay, maybe he's laying it on a bit thick, but Autobots are famous for their guilty consciences right? Well, this side of Prowl at least. Surely Cosmos will succumb to a bit of peer pressure.

Blackstorm excpects a little resistance, but he's not giving up yet! Trotting over, the minibot stops at Cosmos's pedes and braces himself against one. He starts to push, hoping to move the shuttle in the direction of the table. His attempts are pathetic. The minibot's tiny engine revs with effort as he pushes. But it's the display that counts! He's rather hoping it will sway the ill-tempered Cosmos.

"Yeah, what he said!" Blackstorm chirps in response. "Just give it a chance. You'll not soon forget it! And having respect is for suckers and dorks."

The rarely-seen pink femme of death strolls into Swerve's placidly, glancing around before taking a solitary seat up at the bar. She notices the mini-congregation nearby, and as she's putting in her order she snoops a listen in their direction.

Cosmos grimaces as the two prey on one of his weaknesses, peer pressure. The shuttle is in no way good at standing up for himself. It pretty to see his resolve break, as he glances towards the door before deflating. I... he did spend a paycheck... this is a pretty long way to go for some sick joke. Cosmos also wonders if back handedly calling him a sucker/dork was meant by Blackstorm or not... probably. "I... but I-..." I am so getting in trouble for this... "I.... I'm not drinking." Almost sounds like a childish attempt at remaining stubborn but he didn't say he was leaving.

It’s probably pretty clear to anyone listening in this is a situation Cosmos doesn't really want to be in but is being guilted into. Well, it's a start. "Talk about unfair advantage though. Getting tipsy and losing your aim is what makes the game interestin'!" But Octane doesn't pressure any further. If Cosmos has good aim, that's more drinks for the rest of them, and he can't complain about that too hard. "So I think we all know how this works, right? Then let's get started already!"

Arcee leans back as her Toraxxis Flame drink is set set in front of her, and her gaze turns back toward the minis and Octane. "So what are you getting yourselves into?" she asks with a slight smirk.

Blackstorm perks up instantly, giving a happy chirp when Cosmos finally concedes. "One step at a time, mecha," he assures him, patting his pede. "We'll work you up to the drinkin' bit eventually. If not today, there's always tomorrow." Or the day after that, or the one after that one. Poor, poor Cosmos. This will never end for him.

Skipping over to the table set out for the game, the minibot scrambles up and picks up one of the small, plastic balls set aside for the game. With a flick of his wrist he tosses it in Cosmos's direction. "Guest of honor first, eh? I'm on his team. I'll down his drinks for him," he adds, grinning wolfishly.

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Mind+Mind: Good Success. (8 6 4 5 8 2)

Cosmos doesn't look entirely happy about the situation he is in... actually he doesn't look happy at all and is covering it up badly. "I guess..." He looks minutely hopeful for a second that maybe Arcee would save him only for his expression to go back to its prior state. Guess I'm stuck... The UFO takes the small ball solemnly before focusing on the cups. After a few quick approximations in his head, Cosmos tosses the ball and it sails into the cup with a plonk. It's not really an overly hard game, just one the Autobot doesn't really want to participate in.

<FS3> Octane rolls Reaction+reaction: Good Success. (8 6 8 8)

"That works," Octane laughs, and he glances over at the sound of another voice. Oh. He stops laughing instantly. If it isn't the demon in pink. He feels a chill prickle at the back of his neck, but he covers it with an easy smile. No sudden moves now.

"Hey there Arcee. We're just playing a friendly game of beer pong--or in this case engex pong. There's a spot open on my team if you want..." He doesn't really want, but he feels like he has to ask. Letting the offering hang in the air, he steps up to the table and readies a throw of his own. Maybe if he's really bad at it that'll discourage her... He winds up a throw and lets it loose, throwing it off the edge of the table-- "Whoops, my ba--" where it bounces off the tray of a passing serving drone and into one of the cups. Octane stares.

"Ah...ha! Haha! That's called the Tankor Trickshot! You have no idea who you're up against!" Fraggit all. Arcee suddenly grins, the lights glinting off her cyberfangs. It's not entirely clear what she's found amusing; maybe it's Blackstorm dragging Cosmos into a game he clearly doesn't want to play, or perhaps it's the offer to join Octane's team. Either way, something about the situation actually triggered the rare reaction. "...Heh. No thank you, I think I'll pass. You seem to be handling things quite well on your own," she tells Octane as she sips her drink.

<FS3> Blackstorm rolls Climbing: Good Success. (1 2 7 1 7 7 2 5)

After Cosmos takes his shot, Blackstorm gives a whoop of approval. "Nicely done! I joined the right team," he chirps. "You really know how to fit things in holes, don't you?"

As Cosmos has proved he will not throw him off, the minibot takes this opportunity to begin to clamber up Cosmos's frame. That shoulder looks like a really suitable perch. He's made it up to Cosmos's midsection when the stranger takes his own throw. "WHOA," Blackstorm adds, optics getting wide as saucers behind his visor. "THAT WAS AWESOME, TANKOR! Is it Tankor? Forgot to ask."

Twisting around, the minibot makes grabby hands towards the cup where the ball landed. He is a mecha of his word.

"What?" Cosmos looks over just in time to see Blackstorm start to climb up him again. Oh come on! Not this again! Blackstorm is indeed correct that the UFO has proven he won't shove him off though, as he stops moving the second the minibot starts climbing him.

Cosmos is about to say something else when that frankly amazing shot is landed by Octane. "That... that was awesome." How did he even... that had to be plain luck. When the mech balanced on him makes a motion to the cup, Cosmos lets out a sigh and hands the glass to his new passenger. This is going to be a trend with this guy, isn't it?

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

"Used to be Tankor! Turns out it's a pretty common name, so I mostly go by Octane nowadays. Saves on some confusion." He fetches up his cup too now that the first round is over and downs it. He can't even feel it in his tanks. Granted, he has deeper tanks than most. "So it looks like it's just me against the two of you, then? Ah, I think I can handle it." He already feels like not being on a team with a fabled Decepticon killer has given him renewed energy. "Your shot."

Arcee shakes her head slowly, still observing the pong game in progress. Her weary-of-the-world posture is belied by the fact that she's grinning ever-so-slightly. Perhaps she isn't into this socializing thing anymore, but...it does have its moments. This would be one of them.

Once settled on Cosmos's shoulder, Blackstorm takes the glass offered up to him with a wide grin. "Cheers to no-longer-Tankor! And our guest of honor, too," he says. As he lifts up the glass, some of the engex sloshes on the other's shoulder (and in Arcee's direction at that). Wasting no time after that, Blackstorm opens his intake and begins to swig the glass way too quickly for someone his size. He has a lot of practice with this!

He only pulls it away when the glass is nearly gone. "This is gonna be a good game, I can tell. I knew you had it in you." Blackstorm reaches out to pat the top of Cosmos's helm in approval.

<FS3> Cosmos rolls Mind+Mind: Good Success. (1 8 1 7 4 7)

Cosmos makes a- mostly unseen- face when Blackstorm drips engex on his shoulder. AH! Now I'm going to reek of engex when I go back on shift! ... No its ok Cosmos, this is fine. It'll be fine. Just keep lying to yourself. "Cheers. I guess..." His exasperation only grows when his shoulder companion pats his head. Really? Back to his turn, Cosmos does another quick calculation before tossing the ball. Again it bounces and again it lands in a cup. Sorry, likely no fancy tricks from the UFO.

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