2016 03-07 Accident in the Armory
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Accident in the Armory|
|Location||Lost Light - Docks and Storage - Armory|
|Participants||Quicksight, Blast Off|
|Summary||Blast Off and Quicksight don't like each other very much. They meet in a room full of weapons and explosives. What could go wrong?|
The ship's munitions storage contains all the weaponry that Whirl's heart could desire. Brainstorm's latest projects are given space of their own (and shielding sufficient to prevent disaster from blowing out the bottom of the ship). Everywhere there are cautions: no guns should be discharged in this room. Grab a gun, and take it somewhere else.
Quicksight never really minded his height. Sure, he may not look as intimidating as bigger mechs, but that's only played to his advantage. An opponent that underestimates and disregards him is one that winds up with a knife wedged in to his knee joint, or wing, as Fakestalker can attest. A smaller, lighter build is also good for reconnaisance. The smaller you are, the easier it is for someone to miss you.
What it's not good for, however, is reaching things. Standing before a multi-leveled shelf of maintinance equipment, the scout stares up at one above his head, or rather, at the sharpening tools on it. He's already tried standing on his toes, and even jumping, to no avail. The latest tactics of swearing at it and giving it hostile looks haven't yielded a lot of results either. He's begining to grow tempted to simply climb right up the shelf, though maybe he should try to find something to stand on first.
Blast Off, on the other hand, is a nice height for doing most of the activities he faces. Not particularly short, not particularly tall, he fits in well without facing the difficulties of one extreme or the other. Sure, as a shuttleformer he has a certain heft to him but when paired with an exceptionally tall and gangly mech like Whirl he can't quite qualify as towering. Except to someone like Quicksight, perhaps.
If he notices the other mech as he enters the armory he doesn't indicate it, save for the slightest pause and drawing in of air through his vents as if bracing himself. Then one purple rocket foot steps forward, then the other, and he very pointedly ignores Quicksight as he begins perusing through an assortment of flamethrowers.
At the sound of footsteps, Quicksight pauses his assesment of the best route up to his target to glance over his shoulder. Were it anyone else, he would have them simply turned back around and resumed his task, maybe even have tried to make idle chatter (he certianly wouldn't have asked for help. That would definitely make him look weak in their eyes!). Not this time. His optics narrow as Blast Off walks in, following him as he heads for the weapons before he calls out "Hey Shuttlemuffin! How many kisses did that organic give you for being a good little fire truck for him?"
Blast Off is pretty good at this whole *aloof* facade he generally puts on. It just makes things easier on so many levels- ignore people and they usually ignore you. And then there's no pesky socializing required. It also usually holds people who otherwise specifically want to be annoying at a distance- unless of course they are Quicksight and they say /that/. Blast Off's fingers fumble, nearly dropping the flamethrower he was studying, before catching it. Fingers tighten their grip and there's another intake of air as if again bracing himself, armor plates bristling a moment before he forces them smooth again.
He doesn't look at the other mech, still turning his back to him. Stiffly, he hefts the flamethrower back in its place and reaches for another. "I'm a *mercenary*, you slack-jawed jackanape. I do work for *hire*. I did that work for a monetary reward. I didn't see *you* demand compensation before you scurried off to do the organic's bidding."
If Blast Off was expecting a reaction to his insult, he will have to be disapointed, recieving only a raised brow ridge. Probably because Quicksight understood only half of it. He did understand the rest, however "Ah, so you never had any Decepticon pride to begin with! You just sell yourself to the highest bidder, be it Autobots, or organics who desicrate our dead. I'm a soldier. I did it because I had orders, not because I'd stoop so low as to obey GC assholes because they promised me a reward!" what part of his face is visible contorts in to a cocky grimace "And I got to stab some of those assholes in the process, while you were being a watering can or something."
Blast Off is going to be doing a lot of those deep breaths, apparently, as he cycles another slow and measured vent of air. Violet optics are flashing purple sparks as he tries /really hard/ to ignore this buffoon and not allow him to rile him up- but the attempt doesn't last long, as it turns out. Not after hearing Quicksight tell him he's selling himself to the highest bidder- something that strikes an unexpected sore spot. The Combaticon swings around heavily, lifting the flamethrower in his hands up and then letting it settle down again, hanging from his arms- and perhaps coincidentally, perhaps not, it is aimed right at Quicksight. A cold expression frosts his face, or what's visible of it.
"What the smelt is Decepticon pride supposed to even *be*? Do you even know?" He takes a step towards the other mech, the weapon still pointed his way. "I sell myself to *no one*. No Combaticon does. We do what the slag *we* want to do, and anyone who gets in our way is going to get /burned/." He rolls his shoulders at that, which also might just happen to flash light across the surface of that flamethrower. "I am also a shuttle, you ignorant dolt, with heat shields, and striding into a fire to shut off a valve is hardly even an effort for me." Never mind that it didn't really gain him any reward beyond what everyone else got, but... he'll leave that out.
Someone of fainter spark, or better sense, might have chosen this moment to get out of the way and leave the flamethrower weilding Combaticon alone. Quicksight doesn't, his cocky expression growing only more pronounced as he gets a reaction. While he doesn't make a move, he does roll on to his toes, ready to spring in to motion at a moment's notice. His optics remain trained on Blast Off, watching for any indication of an impending attack.
"Of course you wouldn't know, cause you ain't got any! Not Decepticon, not even Cybertronian! You just said that you did it because the organic promised you a reward!" he cocks his head to the side "I heard that you sure burned the DJD. I toldja they'd come eventually!" there's a slight waver in his voice as he says that, but his expression doesn't change, red optics flashing mockingly.
Blast Off watches in silence during Quicksight's claims against him, the purple shade steadily growing in optics already iced and distant. By the time the other Decepticon has gotten to the part about the DJD, that color shift stops and reverses. Intense and pale in color, it's the only clue. Blast Off stares at the flier, then draws yet another cycle of air before turning around. His voice is deadly quiet when he speaks.
"I'm so glad you are here to tell me what I do and do not have pride in, Quicksight. You might want to run along, though. You never know when accidents could happen in a place like this." There's a click as the flamethrower is powered on. Ok, make that two clues. In the next instant, the Combaticon is whirling back around, and when the flamethrower is pointed right at Quicksight there's no mistaking it as an accident as Blast Off throws the switch to send a stream of fire Quicksight's way.
FS3 Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Reaction Vs Quicksight=Reaction
Blast_Off: Good Success (5 7 7 8) Quicksight: Failure (3 4 1 5)
Net Result: Blast_Off wins - Solid Victory
Fighting is like driving. Taking your attention off your opponent's gun for just one moment can spell disaster. Getting so caught up in watching Blast Off get pissed off at his mocking, the scout lets that little rule escape him, and pays the price. By the time he notices that the weapon is active, he barely has time to move, and even when he does, it's in the wrong direction, the shelves he'd been insulting earlier blocking his escape route and leaving him right in the very litteral line of fire.
"Frag" is all he hisses through the pain, before springing in to motion. A little burn isn't enough to stop him if he can still stand, or fly afterwards, and fly he does. Another advantage of being small is that it's a lot easier to manuevur in a space designed to accomidate people more than twice your height. Shifting in to his winged mode, the scout charges at Blast Off but rather than going straight at him, he tries to arch up and around, aiming to flank the Combaticon, and close the distance until his shorter knives have the advantage.
FS3 Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Reaction+reaction Vs Quicksight=Transportation
Blast_Off: Amazing Success (8 7 8 8 7 4 6 8) Quicksight: Amazing Success (7 2 8 7 8 4 5 2 7 4 5 8 6 4 1 4)
Net Result: DRAW
FS3 Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Reaction+reaction Vs Quicksight=Transportation
Blast_Off: Good Success (5 2 3 8 1 3 4 8) Quicksight: Amazing Success (7 7 3 7 8 7 4 1 7 4 2 7 8 2 6 1)
Net Result: Quicksight wins - Crushing Victory
Blast Off likes to consider himself a civilized mech who is above it all- and everyone else- and not inclined to stoop down to taking bait and getting riled up like this. But he and Whirl suffered- extraordinarily so- at the hands of the DJD, and that was the final straw for him. He's ignored Quicksight's steady stream of jabs and insults over numerous encounters but.... no. Not this time. There's a certain point the Combaticon's training and mercenary roots flares up and he's had enough. And somehow, he muses to himself, it's oddly easier to do this to another Decepticon. He knows if he did this to an Autobot that Rodimus would be on him for it in an instant- but hey, brawling like this is just how the Decepticons roll, right? He certainly is used to needing to back himself up with a rifle blast every now and then.
As Quicksight transforms and arcs towards him, it's his turn to wish he had a little more room. If he dropped the flamethrower he might be better able to manuever, but he doesn't want to just yet. The Combaticon takes a few steps back, trying to keep some space, but the other Decepticon's aerial skills bring him in a little too close. Blast Off responds with another stream of fire even as he starts circling away from the shelves towards the more open room center. "Back off, you cretin, before more *accidents* happen."
Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Firearms Vs Quicksight=Transportation
Blast_Off: Great Success (3 1 3 7 2 6 6 5 1 1 2 2 5 8 7 8) Quicksight: Good Success (2 8 6 5 1 6 4 5 4 1 4 3 5 4 5 8)
Net Result: Blast_Off wins - Solid Victory
Quicksight is quite at home in the air, especially when his bigger opponent can't easily gain the same advantage in this confined space. Even so, Blast Off proves to be no pushover, not letting the scout get close enough to strike and forcing him to loop back again for another go. The greater range of his weapon also provides him an advantage, the stream of flame once again singing the smaller Decepticon, leaving him hissing in pain. He doesn't land or back off yet, but as he swoops down again, his turns are somewhat broader, and more slugish, every adjustment sending a new pang of pain through the side that took the worst of the heat.
Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Reaction+reaction Vs Quicksight=Transportation-1
Blast_Off: Great Success (1 8 1 7 1 8 8 5) Quicksight: Good Success (5 8 7 6 1 1 5 6 1 1 6 6 3 7 5)
Net Result: Blast_Off wins - Marginal Victory
Blast Off smirks just a little under his faceplate as the shot hits home, his optics remaining intently focused on the other Decepticon as he circles around for another go. He strives to keep Quicksight in view and face him at all times, even sending a few quick spurts of flame the other mech's way to fend him off again when he is about to get too close. Stepping back, he lets out an annoyed *hufff*. "You really *are* an idiot, aren't you? How long did you actually fight in this war? Did you ever even make it to the front lines, or did you just throw insults to Autobots the entire duration of the war from a safe ditch somewhere? I find it extremely hard to believe you didn't get yourself killed a long time ago...."
He ducks as Quicksight comes in for another attempt to get close, but nope, the standoffish shuttle manages to keep some distance with a little fancy footwork, a little wall o' flame, and a lot of determination. When he thinks Quicksight's backside is turned to him he lets loose with a large burst of flame once more, seeking to hit him with it. "I must say, though, you make excellent target practice. Is that why they let you in to the Decepticons?"
FS3 Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Firearms Vs Quicksight=Transportation-1
Blast_Off: Great Success (7 3 3 5 2 1 8 3 7 6 1 5 7 5 7 1) Quicksight: Great Success (6 4 1 8 7 6 6 7 2 4 4 5 3 7 3)
Net Result: Blast_Off wins - Marginal Victory
"I'm a scout! While you were selling yourself off to anyone with a couple shanix, I was going in to Autobot territory and dodging Autobots to bring back intelligence" Quicksight fires back as he dives in again, only to be forced to pull away once more, hissing another curse as he does so. He doesn't have much time for further profanities, however, as the heat at his aft alerts him to another shot, in time to avoid the worst of it, though not enough to avoid getting his tail singed. At least there's that small mercy. A few more of those previous shots, and he wouldn't be able to reamin airborne, let alone fight.
He's not out of the game yet though. He dives again, yelling back as he does "I was made a Decepticon" there's clear iritation in his voice as his own trick begins to work against him "And I'm proud of it too!"
FS3 Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Firearms Vs Quicksight=Transportation-1
Blast_Off: Success (1 2 6 5 8 3 2 1 1 4 4 4 2 6 5 5) Quicksight: Good Success (2 4 3 2 8 5 2 2 6 3 7 2 3 4 6) <Net Result: Quicksight wins - Marginal Victory
Quicksight rolls Melee Weapons: Failure. (6 6 1 1 3)
The Combaticon's optics narrow as Quicksight again accuses him of *selling himself*, and that probably doesn't help his aim any as the jab strikes home again and the smaller scout darts away minus major damage to show for it. Dentae gritting and fingers tightening on his weapon, he swings it with a grunt to try and keep up and line up for another shot. "There is nothing wrong with doing a job for some *pay*. It's how the universe works- nobody gets anything for *free*." His voice dripping ice, it catches once as he forces the rage he's beginning to feel back down again. He's a civilized gentlemech, after all, he'd hate to appear uncouth. Now if he could just murder this mech quickly so he can get back to his wine and firearm selections. Wait, alright, not outright murder, but surely a little maiming would be justified, right? Right?
Then Quicksight admits to being a MTO. Instantly, the shuttle's optic ridges shoot up with a *oh ho ho* expression. "You were... *made*?" He sneers, "I should have /known/ a common, vulgar plebian like you was a MTO!" Blast Off has some good qualities, he even overlooks the mutilation Whirl suffered, but he isn't without fault- and his high caste, forged-spark snobbery is never too far from the surface.
That snobbery can allow him to get a little too smug sometimes, however, and while he's busy throwing insults he's not busy enough gaurding against attack from this /mere/ MTO. It allows Quicksight in for a knife strike- and the only thing that saves Blast Off from any real damage is that it strikes the heat shielding on his arm instead. Ceramic tiles scatter to the ground but leave the Combaticon otherwise uninjured. His optics flash purple as he huffs indignantly and tries scrambling back, even as he swings the flamethrower to fire it at close range.
Blast_Off rolls Firearms: Great Success. (6 1 2 3 5 4 6 6 7 5 5 8 4 7 6 8) Quicksight rolls Courage: Good Success. (4 4 6 7 5 3 7 2 8 2 4)
His frustration making him more careless than usual, Quicksight misses the elbow joint he was aiming for. It also, along with his injuries, slow his reaction speed. Normally, he would jump away, and back in to the air, and that would be that. He doesn't get that chance this time. Oh, he certianly tries, but by the time he begins to move, he already finds himself staring down the nozzle of Blast Off's flamethrower. He doesn't even manage to get airborne before the flame hits him. With a short, sharp cry of pain, the scout falls to his knees. He doesn't stay there long, or, at least, he tries not to. He manages to get up, but his left leg is barely holding him up, and the mechanisms of his wings are badly singed. He's not going to be flying any time soon like this. His optics still blaze with a bright red fire, and his blades remain exposed "You ain't no fragging Decepticon! We exist because of such fraging classist attitudes!" kicking off with his good leg, he lunges at the Combaticon, knives reaching for the knee joint "Or did you forget Megatron was a miner!"
Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Reaction+Reaction Vs Quicksight=Melee Weapons-1 Blast_Off: Good Success (6 8 2 7 1 6 5 6) Quicksight: Failure (1 3 4 5) Net Result: Blast_Off wins - Solid Victory
That does it. Quicksight is a little too close and personal right now, and Blast Off hardly even cares. He just wants to wipe- no /burn/- that smug look off the other mech's face- to smoke the words right out of him. Optics flashing a deep purple, he snarls, "STOP telling me what I am, or who I am, or what I think!! THAT is what is outright un-Decepticon!!! I *CHOSE* to be a Decepticon. You were MADE one, what does that say about you? How does that make you anything besides a puppet merely barking the lines his master built INTO HIM?"
Quicksight takes a swing at him, but Blast Off manages to thrust the flamethrower he's holding to meet the blade and parry the blow with a clang of metal. Angry and facing someone at close range, he continues the motion of that swing and tries to smack the flamethrower up into the other mech and knock him backwards hard as he can. Of course, he's not the strongest individual, but maybe it'll *feel* satisfying to do, at least. "Go back to the ditch you came from, you jabbering pile of unrefined scrap!"
Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Melee Vs Quicksight=Reaction-1 Blast_Off: Failure (4 5 6) Quicksight: Success (8 4 2) Net Result: Quicksight wins - Marginal Victory
It's probably a good thing for Quicksight that Blast Off isn't a melee fighter. Hissing with ever mounting frustration, and helpless rage, he manages to stagger out of the way of the swinging flamethrower, but just barely."Ain't nothing wrong in telling the truth. You ain't more a Decepticon than you are a motorcycle!" His ventelation system whirs noisily as his battered body struggles to keep up with his spirit "I may have been built, but at least I still believe in Decepticon values!" he lunges again, optics flashing with anger, and determination "The frag do you believe in!?"
Blast Off has put up with a lot of insolence from this mech for a long time, but he's had it and he wants a little good old fashioned revenge. Unfortunately, up close and personal combat isn't really the way to achieve that and Quicksight avoids the ringing clang of Combaticon justice. Said Combaticon grahhhs in annoyance, completing his swing by spinning himself around just as Quicksight lunges for him instead and uses the weight of his flamethrower to add power to his getaway- avoiding the blow.
"Denying reality doesn't make it any less real!" Because Blast Off is totally one to talk about denying things. "I *am* a Decepticon and I *chose* to be one. No one held a gun to my head- or programmed it into me!" Optics still flash as he hefts his weapon up for another round. "What do I believe in? I believe in /myself/! My own ability to stand on my own two feet and use my skill and intelligence to reach for the stars- or anything else I choose. I believe in my teammates, the ones who have proven themselves time and again to deserve success and agency in their lives far exceeding what those in power deigned to give them. I believe in the Decepticon cause, in the importance of being able to choose who you want to be and not have your life dictated to you by those that claim to know better. I believe the universe is a harsh place, but a magnificent one, and it demands an individual be willing to stand up for himself lest he get flattened and forgotten by those that would take advantage of him. I also believe that /you/ are a niave fool who has failed to notice that the Decepticons /lost the smelting war/ and can't get that pipe out of your aft long enough to update your program and realize it's time to adapt- or leave this ship if you hate Autobots so much!"
Starting to sound a little bit like Brawl or even Whirl there, the Combaticon tops that tirade off with another blast from his flamethrower, sweeping it around for good measure- and possibly igniting some of the other weapons on the shelves nearby. Like ...explosive ones. POSSIBLY. Opposed Roll -- Blast Off=Firearms Vs Quicksight=Reaction+Reaction-1 Blast_Off: Good Success (2 8 8 4 1 5 3 4 7 6 3 4 1 3 1 3) Quicksight: Good Success (8 1 7 3 2 3 6) Net Result: Blast_Off wins - Marginal Victory
Quicksight rolls Observation: Great Success. (7 7 2 4 4 1 7 4 7 3)
Quicksight tries to dodge, he honestly does, but while his spirit still burns strong, his body is giving way. His legs treacherously buck from underneath him as he tries to move away, forcing him to his knees again, and while that actually helps him escape the worst of the flame, it still singes him. His optics flash defiantly as he staggers to his feet once more "And yet you still fraging think it fraging matters where we fraging came from. You still think you're fraging better just because you were fraging born a --" he pauses, then snaps his head around to stare behind him, at the weapons that got caught up in the fire "Ah, frag. I'm outta here." Fighting Blast Off is one thing, getting blown to bits because someone set a bomb on fire is another. Turning around, he begins limping towards the door, flashing the Combaticon one last, cocky look "Have fun explaining why the place is in pieces, fragging elitest scum. And it ain't over till Megatron says its over!"
"Because it *does* matter, and because I AM superior!" Blast Off's usually cultured voice is tight with disdain and barely controlled rage. Civilized or not, he's still a Combaticon and every now and then that side gets the best of him. "Say it. SAY IT! Because I was born a /space shuttle/! It's not my fault that you *weren't*." He takes a step forward, still firing up the flamethrower, even as he finally notices Quicksight beginning to look distracted. "Oh no you don't, get back here you cowar-" Wait, what? Blast off blinks and turns his head to study the area Quicksight noticed moments before. Oh smelt.
Optics widening, he takes a stumbling sideways step away from the ...well, numerous things beginning to look rather disconcerting. It seems like something over there is beginning to spark and flare and oh yeah that shelf caught fire and... nope. Nope, this doesn't look good. At all. A few more steps back and he shoots a glance Quicksight's way. "No... no, you're right- this /isn't/ over!" With a hiss, he swings his head right and left, frantically trying to find a fire extinquisher. There's also a glance upwards as he suddenly thinks to wonder if there's a camera watching them. With his luck, yeah. His lips pucker up to one side in a lopsided grimace as he has the sinking feeling that maybe, possibly, just perhaps.... this wasn't such a great idea. He begins to walk towards the fire extinguisher when something explodes, and Blast Off decides he'll let someone else deal with this. After the exploding part is over. He hesitates a good long moment before hitting an alarm in the room and making a quick exit.