2017-11-01 Stick Handling
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|Location||Lost Light Recreation- Practice Rooms|
|Summary||Breakdown demonstrates his stick handling for Wheeljack. It could be better.|
After making the bomb to try and destroy the Abyssal monolith, Wheeljack's been... a little bit quiet. As much as Unicron has felt like an emergency, without direct contact with the enemy, Wheeljack's been able to ignore just how much dealing with the Harbinger fleet feels like the war is beginning all over again. It feels like being a source of explosive R&D again, and it doesn't sit well with him. In fact, it's dimmed some of his enthusiasm for his current projects, including the artifacts.
When Wheeljack walks into the practice rooms, device in hand, he isn't paying much attention to the occupants. His fins are dim as he mutters to himself, and walks to the middle of the room, where he sets down the device and kneels to start poking at it.
Breakdown is in here, shield up on one arm, staff thwacking from the grip of his other hand, and he has been repeatedly smashing the crap out of some dummies to practice with the balance and effort of his new foot. Some of his enthusiasm has gone a little awry, more than once. He is a large, lumbering crank of a bot, and although he has largely managed to learn to compensate for the way his vision works now that he is functioning with one optic rather than two good ones, there are still occasional miscalculations that he pretends have nothing to do with that.
The upshot of which is that Wheeljack has barely had a chance to kneel before there is a crash test dummy that has been rent in half, flying through the air towards him, and Breakdown yells, "Whoops! Incoming!"
<FS3> Wheeljack rolls Reaction+Reaction: Success. (4 4 4 3 2 7)
It's a good thing Breakdown shouts that warning. Wheeljack was focused on his work, so when he hears that, he looks up, fins flashing in surprise. "Wh-- ack!" Alarmed at the dummy flying practically at his face, Wheeljack ducks, barely avoiding getting a helm fin clipped as he puts his body over his doodad. At least the broken remains bounce over him, instead of landing on his back. As soon as that particular danger has passed, Wheeljack lifts himself up again, glancing from the dummy toward Breakdown. "How long have you been there?"
Breakdown starts to answer and then stops and looks confused. He plants the staff against the floor of the practice room, angling it against himself, and scratches along the broad bulk of his jutting chest as he squints his narrowed cyclopean eye at Wheeljack. "Dunno," he says. "Seven, eight dummies' worth? It's been... somethin'. What the frag is that?" He jerks his chin towards Wheeljack's project. "Or izzat one of those things it's better security not ask about til after yer done?"
"Oh." Wheeljack glances around the practice room now the way he didn't when he first came in, checking for any other destroyed crash dummy pieces that he missed because they weren't being hurled at him. "Guess I didn't notice," he says, fins lighting up sheepishly. Apparently they were both a bit lost in thought there.
Breakdown's question has Wheeljack setting a hand back on the little device. "What, this? I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean, but it's not dangerous," he says. "No more than anything else on this ship, anyway!" That is probably supposed to be reassuring. "I was just going to test it somewhere that there was nothing delicate, but I can..." Wheeljack pauses, then looks at Breakdown thoughtfully. "Actually, do you want to help?"
Breakdown considers for a moment. He glances down the length of himself at the shiny new foot on which he has anchored his weight. Then he looks up at Wheeljack. His frown is a faint etching in his brow, perhaps echoes of long enmity and legend, perhaps a certain wariness. Except that the moment of decision comes and it comes with a slight shake of himself, rippling down the broad bulk of his frame with a clear, deliberate shrug. He dumps the baggage to the wayside and says, "Sure, why not? Whatcha want me to do?"
Baggage, what baggage? Wheeljack turns back toward his device, cheerfully lighting up as he starts to fiddle with it further. "Ah, well! For now you won't have to do too much, let me just..." he leaves the device where it is and moves toward the side of the practice room, nudging aside that half of a dummy as he does so. "Are there any in here that haven't been destroyed?" he asks out loud, an apparently rhetorical question, as he immediately picks up one from the sidelines whose only affliction is an impressive dent right at the top of its helm.
"This will do! Now, I've been working on force fields for a while, of course, and entirely repellant force fields are very useful-- we've already seen them deflect force at a fantastic rate, from both the inside and the outside. The only problem there is it's not particularly mobile, unless you like the hamster ball method. Like Blackstorm," Wheeljack begins to explain as he moves the dummy back over to the device, and begins to set it up. "I've been working on reducing the radius of the sphere and instead molding it to the shape of the user's frame, and so... this!"
Breakdown says, "Right," like he's following this, even though by the deep groove growing deeper in the line of his faceplate, he isn't. He scratches the points of his nails back over the curve of his helm, lumbering over towards Wheeljack and the device with his staff whirled up into his grip so that he can slant it over his shoulder at a jaunty angle. "...What's a hamster?"
"Oh, an Earth mammal. It's not important." Wheeljack kneels down to pick up the device, then picks it up. Using the straps attached to it, he slings it around the dummy's shoulders, fastening it in place. "None of it is, really, it's just the reason I made this thing! And if I just start it up now..." Wheeljack steps back away from the dummy, pulling out a remote control, which he presses a button on.
<FS3> Wheeljack rolls Engineering: Good Success. (4 1 5 5 2 1 7 7 8 1 2 6 3 4 1 3)
Around the dummy, an odd glow, and a little distortion appear, almost as though light is bouncing off of its flimsy armor. Wheeljack takes about five steps back and looks to Breakdown with fins flashing eagerly. "Right! Now you need to hit it."
"Oh." Breakdown brightens slightly, because hitting things is something he understands. Hoisting his heavy shield on one arm, he spins up the quarterstaff in his hand, backs a pace or two, and then advances on the dummy with a habitual snarling "Rragh!" as he swings the staff at it.
<FS3> Breakdown rolls Melee Weapons: Failure. (1 2 3 2 6 5 1)
Unfortunately, he fails to strike his stationary target. The staff plonks against the floor of the practice room. He turns his single eye upon his audience and says, "Shaddup," before Wheeljack can even offer much commentary on the subject.
Wheeljack doesn't say anything, though his fins are glowing fun colors that may or may not be a mouthless equivalent of trying to suppress a smile. "It won't explode," he promises, and whoops, he definitely sounds amused. He may also have taken another step back.
Breakdown seems very dissastisfied with his own performance, and he ruffs and grumps as he gives the /stationary target/ a wider berth, circling out around it and charging it with an even louder yell.
<FS3> Breakdown rolls Melee Weapons: Great Success. (1 7 6 2 7 7 8)
The yell was critical. WHACK! goes the full blow of the quarterstaff against the glowing dummy.
The yell is intimidating to Wheeljack, even, off to the sidelines. He has a brief flash of a moment, a year or so ago, of repairing Bulkhead's injuries after an encounter with Breakdown, and can't hide a wince, but he shakes it off. That hasn't been happening now, and there are more important things to do here, like science.
Speaking of which, there's a flash of light when the staff hits its target, as though the glow over the dummy was concentrated into one spot. Breakdown might feel some resistance to the strike, before the dummy is sent flying, much like the last one. This one, however, has no new dents-- not even a scuff. "Perfect!" Wheeljack cheers, stepping closer to it.
Breakdown spins the staff in the air -- whff, whff, whff! -- and then slams it in a more satisfied way against the floor, this time on purpose. Leaning slightly as he plants both of his feet (yay!) wide, he watches the sailing dummy with an attitude of mild, thoughtful consternation. "So kines... kinetic propulsion but no ... whatever. Bashing inside." (Bulkhead was always the smart one.)
"Yes, exactly!" Wheeljack apparently isn't concerned with the lack of technical terminology as he pokes at the still-glowing dummy, yanking his hand back as it sparks ever so slightly at him. He briefly deactivates the device, to set it up again. "I mean, ideally it wouldn't go flying, but... this thing isn't exactly very sturdy," he says with a shrug. "Mind going at it again? I'd like to test the battery life on this thing."
Breakdown shrugs his shoulders amiably enough. "Hittin' stuff," he says, "is kinda my thing. I can do this all day if you want." Never mind the fact that he literally missed hitting it five seconds ago. Once Wheeljack has set it up, he backs up so that he can charge once more and knock it down! Raaah!
<FS3> Breakdown rolls Melee Weapons: Failure. (4 2 4 2 5 4 6)
Wheeljack's fins are doing the weird flashing again. He steps back carefully, his voice carefully neutral as he watches Breakdown whiff. Needs more shouting next time. Hopefully they'll get at least a couple more strikes before that battery runs out.