2017-02-14 Baby Fight

From Transformers: Lost and Found

2017-02-14 Baby Fight
Date 2017/02/14
Location Lost Light Recreation- Practice Rooms
Participants Brigade, Swoop
Summary A young toddler and an old toddler meet. Predictably, they clash.

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.

<FS3> Swoop rolls Bombing: Good Success. (7 5 1 5 8 5 5 6 5 5 4)

Swoop has yet to find an origami project for his challenge with Quicksight; he'd been cheating a bit, seeing as he got to choose, by trying to find something that would be easiest for him to learn considering his talons, but everything he'd looked through had more steps and was clearly going to be more difficult than the paper stars had been. He'd come to a stall, too frustrated and angry to keep looking, for the moment, and instead had come to one of his favorite places on the ship outside of the observation deck: the practice rooms.

In one of the side rooms, Swoop has set loose several of the practice drones, all armed with practice blasters put on the highest setting, which is a laser that will barely sting if it hits him (he'd rather them have the real thing, make it more rewarding, but apparently that was 'too dangerous'). Hovering above them in the air, wings fully extended and flapping to keep him aloft, Swoop does a midair twist as he drops another of his self-made bombs on one of the drones aiming for him, cackling as it explodes with a loud boom, sending pieces of drone flying. Brainstorm can always build more, he likes doing that sort of thing, right? Swoop meets the other end of the room, pushes off from the wall with his pedes, and shoots back out toward the middle as he bombs a second drone. He's making quite the ruckus, between the explosions and his pleased laughter. Anyone in the practice rooms or entering them will be hard-pressed to ignore the distraction.

Brigade is a great proponent of realistic training. Still, he has his limits. The mecha spends days and days programming some of the practice rooms automated training drones, and so hearing them blown to pieces puts him in something of a grouchy mood. Stumbling to his pedes after the deafening boom, aubible even through the soundproofed walls, Brigade picks up his cane and shuffles off towards the side room.

The tank gives a heavy-handed knock on the door. Clang, clang, clang, clang. The sound echoes in Brigade's audials like a scream. "Open up!" he barks. "What's going on in there?"

<FS3> Swoop rolls Bombing: Great Success. (7 7 4 7 1 3 1 5 8 8 3)

<FS3> Swoop rolls Little Shit: Good Success. (4 8 6 1 4 5 8 1)

Swoop is moving in on a third drone when the loud knocking - no, it can't even be called knocking, it's banging - happens, hard enough for Swoop to hear even over his own cackles. Faceplates dropping into a scowl, he sends a ping to the door for it to open while he remains hovering near the left side of the room, casually shifting this way and that as the drones continue shooting at him so he can avoid their fire. "I'm practicing, the frag you think I'm doing?" Swoop snaps at...whoever that is. "You mind? You kinda interrupted me." A sudden idea occurs, and Swoop smirks before he takes the bomb he'd meant to throw before this mech showed up in claw. One of the drones is kind of near the opened door...

Without seeming to aim at all, Swoop chucks the bomb, the drone in question bursting apart as it explodes. Not close enough for debris to really hit Brigade, but maybe a few screws or bolts might pepper against his armor. "Woops," Swoop says in a sickly-sweet way. "Butterfingers."

<FS3> Brigade rolls Shouting: Success. (4 3 4 7 1 5 6)

Brigade is, above all, a soldier. Whether he's in the range of the bomb or not, he is going to brace for cover. Not out of cowardice, but out of mere practicality. The tank hunches down, curling in on himself so that his thick armor deflects any pieces of debris that may come his way. The deafening boom leaves the tank's audials ringing, and he has to scream in order to hear himself speak. "ARE YOU DONE YET?!" he snaps.

Without the least hesitation, Brigade stumbles over to a panel on the wall and punches several buttons. Not long after the remaining drones begin to zoom away, out of this mecha's range. It's nice having the override codes and all. "If you wanted to destroy something, you could have arranged for it," he snaps. "I had some older drones I was planning to recycle anyways, and the targets in the shooting range are designed for it!"

"Not even close!" Swoop yells back, grinning broadly. He's absolutely ready to screw with the mech even further, flying forward so the drones will follow and move close to the entrance again and he can drop another bomb when - "Hey, the frag did you do! I wasn't done!" Swoop is back to hovering, looking indignant and irritated as he watches the drones leave. He was using those! "That's what they're for, afthole - they're practice drones, they're built to get fragged up!" He lands now, though his wings remain held high above him, claws fisted at his sides.

Brigade gives his helm a good shake in order to clear it of the ringing. It doesn't go very well. Once more, the tank finds himself shouting over the noise in his helm. "I think I'd know what they're used for! I program the dang things, and arrange to have them maintained and constructed," he growls. "Now, are you gonna help me clean this up?!"

The tank straightens up from his crouch, his joints screaming in protest. Hunching down to protect himself from wildly thrown explosives is gonna cost him for the rest of the day. He's not gonna let on about that, though.

<FS3> Swoop rolls Little Shit: Failure. (4 3 6 4 6 2 4 3)

Swoop crosses his arms over his chassis, keeping his wings raised and grimacing at all the shouting. "Pit, it wasn't that bad, your systems must be really glitched if you have to keep screaming at me." He would've kept playfully ribbing the mech but now he's settled firmly on 'really fucking annoyed'. "No, why would I? We have janitors for that." He watches Brigade stand, raising an optic ridge at how difficult it seems to be for him. You don't have to say anything, bud, he's been at this for milennia, he notices. "What, got a crick in your frame?" he asks. "I guess I don't even need to ask, with that cane you've got."

The ringing has finally lessened enough that Brigade can hear himself talking. The tank grits his dentals but moves to begin the work of sweeping up the wreck of Swoop's 'training.' He'll do as much as he absolutely can before he resorts to calling maintenance. He knows they're happy to help and would understand, but there's something more satisfying about being able to complete the work himself. Even if only in part. "Your powers of observation are amazing," Brigade mutters.

As he begins to nudge the pieces into a pile, he gives a thoughtful hum. He's handled Swoop's files before, and knows enough from that to guess he can't elbow this mecha into helping out. He does come here fairly often, though. Putting the pieces together... "Don't want to do your part for the team? Whatever. But that means you don't get to enjoy the benefits of it," he snaps. "I'll be letting security know you're banned from the practice rooms for the next weeks. Guess that means you'll be missing the required training for the combat division tomorrow, though, and there's a good chance they'll take you off active duty until you make up for the meeting you missed. I do private training sessions. I'll be seeing you."

Swoop is totally fine with standing there and waiting for this mech to finish his cleaning so that he can get back to practicing. He doesn't care a whit that Brigade is pissed at him for what he'd been doing; as he'd said, the drones were built for the purpose of training, so what did it matter if he blew them up? They were just drones, and it was probably for the best anyway, considering that Swoop himself had dealt with one going haywire. He's hardly paying attention to Brigade, impatient while the tank sweeps, until part way through what Brigade is saying to him, the words finally filtering through his processor.

"Wait--what?!" Swoop's wings, which had begun to slide back into their casing, flare again, and his claws drop back into balled fists as he hisses. "Who the frag are you to tell me I can't use the practice rooms! As if Arcee wouldn't let me come for drills - you can't tell me where I can and can't go, slagger!"

<FS3> Brigade rolls Leadership: Success. (5 3 2 7)

"Who am I?" Brigade asks, a loud laugh echoing through the room. "Just the mecha who eversees the practice rooms and plans the training sessions. No one important."

Brigade straightens up, turning to glance around his shoulder armor at Swoop. His red optics flash with mischief behind his visor. While he's still a little pissy about his drones getting needlessly destroyed, he can smell victory on the horizon. "So why would security and command listen to me if I requested you be banned from my lessons and my practice rooms for a week? It's not like I work here every day and have to pick up your mess. It's not like all I asked for was a little teamwork and your response was to be belligerent about it."

Leaning down, Brigade picks up one half of a destroyed drone and turns it over in his hand. The tank sighs. There's hours of reconstruction in this single drone alone. "Act like you care about your crewmates or get out. It's simple. There's not room for your ego in an arm- in the combat division. It'll get you killed one day, or even worse one of your teammates."

Swoop remains scowling throughout this little speech, knowing he could get out of whatever this mech was planning to do. Arcee wouldn't give a frag about a few broken drones, he's almost completely certain of that, especially if it got in the way of drills. He opens his mouth to say just as much when -

Brigade strikes a chord. A bad one.

Swoop hisses like a snake, playfullness gone, plating shuffling in rage as he advances on the tank. It doesn't matter that Brigade is taller than him; he's taken down Sludge before, this is nothing. This mech is nothing. "Don't you ever," he snarls, wings at their full height, optics a blazing amber, "Ever act like I would do something so stupid as let a teammate die. Dinobots watch out for each other, then and now, and I won't let some fragger like you talk down to me like that. You don't know anything about me, or what I've done, or what I would do, so don't you dare patronize me like I'm some clueless MTO straight off the line!"

Lesson number one, it seems: don't remind Swoop of how he couldn't do anything to keep Skar alive.

Brigade really isn't the type to be cowed. He lets Swoop have his little fit, faceplates blank throughout the whole episode. Once Swoop is done, though, the tank quirks an optic ridge in a silent question. 'Are you done yet?' "Well, it looks like you do give a slag. Show it. Acting like you doesn't prove anything. This is the place and these are the tools we have to ensure your teammates don't die when they're out on the field. It may seem like good fun for you, but this is hours of work you made for your giggles, and I'll have to turn away the next trainee who wanted to use these drones."

He honestly doesn't care if Swoop hates him after this. In the military the goal isn't to be friends with those you work with. It's to make sure that the job gets done and that everyone is prepared. That is his only goal. "Help or get out. That's my last call. I'm not here to babysit you."

<FS3> Swoop rolls Self Control: Good Success. (3 2 6 8 3 5 8 6)

There's the initial instinct to settle this the Dinobot way, especially with how angry Swoop is that this little fuck could accuse him of not caring for his team. If this were Slag, or Snarl, Swoop would've been on him in an astro-klik, tackling him to the ground and clawing furiously at his frame. They would've settled this whole affair with a good brawl, both likely coming out with wounds but the anger and energy dissipated (for the moment). But this mech isn't a Dinobot, and surely if he's throwing such a temper tantrum - because that is surely what is happening, takes one to know one - over something as stupid and small as broken drones, he'd go crying to command and get Swoop in even more trouble. So Swoop hisses again, but doesn't continue arguing. Instead, he snorts.

"Fine, though I think I'm the one babysitting here; can't think of any other mech aboard who'd be such a sparkling over drones meant for practicing on getting destroyed." He moves to the other side of the room, picking up debris and parts that flew off over there. "And by the way? My unit's one of the most successful in Cybertronian history, just as good as the Wreckers, and has been for millions of years. So maybe get off your fragging high horse." He won't say anything else, during the rest of the cleanup, concentrating instead on the patterns he'd been researching for his contest with Quicksight. That, at least, was a worthy use of his time.

blog comments powered by Disqus