2017-02-25 Sandbag Shenanigans
From Transformers: Lost and Found
(Redirected from 2017/02/25 Sandbag Shenanigans)
|25/02/2017 Sandbag Shenanigans|
|Location||Lost Light Recreation- Practice Rooms|
|Summary||A meeting and training mishaps.|
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.
Gotta keep those skills sharp, as the next colony could be right around the corner, so Pipes is once again in the practice rooms. He's hauled out some large standing punching bags, each a bit taller than the average bot (so, about one Rodimus) but towering over the minibot. Regardless, Pipes works one of the bags with jabs and crosses, rotating around the bag with little evasive hops. Between the thuds of the punches landing, one can hear the whirr of his exhaust fans working harder.
It has been a while since Clearcut has had the chance to train thoroughly. Or at least, felt compelled to do so, aboard this strange ship. He fears he might become rusty, not that his ability in servo to servo combat was ever specially great, but becoming mediocre is simply unnacceptable. Thus did the earwig alter find himself in the practice room, his trusty sword safely stored away for another time. He notices immediately upon entering, though, that he is not alone. There's a small variety of sandbags strewn around the place, and for a moment he almost thinks somebody left training equipment there. At least until he hears and sees movement, only noticing the minibot when he is perhaps a little too close. "Oh- pardon me!"
Pipes is in the groove, and he turns with his hands close and ready for another punch to see who's here. "Oh! Hi! Didn't hear you come in." He lowers his hands and begins to swing his arms lightly, the better to keep the cooling going. "Sorry, I don't think we've met before! I'm Pipes, combat division and general helper-arounder."
Clearcut instinctively raises a forearm (of multiple) to shield himself from the minibot's punch, when he whirled for another punch. Thankfully it never comes, the minibot quickly catching on to his presence. More cautiously he takes a small step back in order to free up space, giving a small lopsided smile- or attempt at one. Sometimes his faceplates just feel stiff. "My apologies. I did not see you when entering the room. One would think I should know now to be more thorough, alas..." And this minibot was chirpy. Very chirpy. He finds himself tilting his helm. "We haven't. I am Clearcut, also combat. Not so much helper." He chances a servo shake.
Pipes says, "Combat too! Hey, good to meet you, Clearcut!" Pipes takes up the offered hand for a vigorous shake, perhaps a little warm for most bots' liking. Clearcut's flinch goes unnoticed. "No worries, I'm used to being missed on account of size. Maybe I'm just being stealthy, heh heh." Pipes belately notices the Decepticon symbol on his new buddy, but that sort of thing doesn't truly bother him anymore; he's got friends like Starstruck now, so he's adjusted to the whole cross-factional thing. Besides, he's got something in common with Clearcut, which is super. "So what's your specialty, er, combat-wise?""
The little guy might be short, but he has some thick arm hydraulics, this Clearcut can experience first hand. The mech doesn't need to look at Pipes to realize he's dealing with an Autobot. The personality is enough of a tell; Decepticons tend to run the gamut between having an existential crisis and psychopathy, in any case too gloomy for the minibot. Or maybe he's just generalizing. Either or. "Fair enough. Stealth is always a good thing. Ah- I don't have it with me at the time being, but I am a swordsmech... I assume you're a hand to hand fighter?"
Pipes appears impressed. "Swords! I could never really get the hang of them, although I guess I can do well enough with a knife or two. I do like hand-to-hand better, although I usually use these beauties." His hands move to his hips, and out jump a pair of pistols into his waiting palms. He rotates one and offers it, grip first, to Clearcut to inspect if he so wishes. "Brainstorm made them for me custom. Good for shooting or for clubbing. He's ... he's a pretty smart bot."
He nods, the insectoid mech steepling the digits of his secondary pair of arms and seeming to momentarily preen on Pipes' favorable expression towards his choice of weapon. Why yes, he is proud of his swordfighting, okay. That said, though, he is self aware enough to hide it. He accepts the gun from Pipes, inspecting it in his servo and turning it over here and there. He did not like firearms, albeit he could make them work and could appreciate the craftsmanship of one. "They seem quite interesting. High quality. So... Brainstorm?" Noticing the minibot's hesitance, he squints, a little. The bug has yet to have a run in with the bot. "The autobot scientist?"
"The same. Resident weapons designer. I don't know how he does it, but I can't complain about his work." In fact, Pipes does need to get these pistols serviced, but there was a bit of an issue between he and Brainstorm, owing to some troublesome parasites a while back. Pipes remains eager to patch things up. "We really do have an amazing crew on board. I'm so happy I joined up for the adventure, even with the occasional, you know, limb loss or skewering. All part of being combat division, amirite?"
Clearcut purses his lip-plates at the choice of wording. "When you put it that way it sounds -slighty- unnerving." In a 'come join the gladiatorial arenas, fun guaranteed, free shelter and lifetime medical service, (staying alive not guaranteed)' type of way. "Then again, it is par for the course for soldiers, isn't it? War or not. I'm rather new to the crew, Pipes. All I know from the crew is second hand. Tell me, what should I expect?" As he asks, the mech is walking around and poking at the punching bags, seemingly curious. Or fiddling with them.
"Expect? Expect." Pipes ponders. "Lots of drinking. But besides that, some pretty crazy situations. I guess you already know about the quest and all that. Most of the colonies we find have some sort of trouble brewing, so that's when combat types like us see the most action. There's the occasional space station or other random spot to find or visit, those are usually less, well, crazy. Oh, and we did meteor surfing once, which was pretty rad." He pauses. "That ... probably didn't answer your question, I guess. At any rate, it's an adventure."
"Yes... already know of the quest." Which while the idea itself is intriguing and he would be salivating fountains of oral lubricant if they actually DID find the Knights and Cyberutopia, currently, the Insecticon thinks the search itself is foolish. His choice to join was due to personal doubts, not faith or religion.The swordsmech shutters his red optics momentarily. "Sounds like you've found a very unfortunate string of forgotten colonies. Cybertronians can't have... fallen that far down away from Cybertron, right?" Right... he was going to cling to that. Clearcut rubbed his nasal ridge. "That brings more questions, but it is alright; after all, first hand knowledge is the best."
"Hmm, some were definitely unfortunate, or not even really colonies anymore. Some are doing OK though! Verander, Devisiun, even Velocitron. Caminus kind of too." Oh, Caminus. Pipes had a good time there. "I hope the next one is one of those kind. I've got a feeling." Well, that's never good.
Clearcut scratches the back of his helm, eventually walking into the circle of punching bags and resisting the inclination to tip one over, even if they are heavier than they look. "Voice of experience, I see." He rumbles. "For all it matters I -do- hope the next colony is friendly. Fighting is fun, but I like a bolt through my processor just as little as the next mech. That said... may I train with you here? Because I think I interrupted your work flow and I did come here to brush up on my hand to hand." Huh? (Type "help" for help.)
Ah, bolt through the processor. Pipes has lost count of the times. "Sure thing, pick a bag. Let me know if you want me to hold it steady for you." At least this time Pipes is putting something between him and an oncoming assault.
Clearcut nods, pleased. "It is alright, no need to do that for me. I think I disrupted your training far enough, yes? I should be able to handle this." Out of practicality, he chooses the first one he can find that he can punch without having to bend over. It's a little too hard, but he's certainly not about to be picky. They could train together, right? Belatedly, he realized that by turning around his kibble was taking up a lot of space and awkwardly pushed said kibble down.
"No, no disruption. Always happy to meet someone new!" There's that chipper Autobot personality again. Pipes assesses his own bag while watching Clearcut get started. Those extra limbs would certainly help in a tussle, but Clearcut does appear insectoid, so maybe they're a bit slender. But you never know. Pipes restrains himself from offering any tips - for now - and resumes slugging his own bag.
He offers one other of his lopsided smiles, before turning his attention back to the sack and slipping into a combat stance. "With that, I can agree. Always good to meet a friendly face." And not everyone aboard is one. While correct, it's clear that the bug is not very comfortable with getting up close and personal, his fists as his only weapon. It feels all a bit too stiff here, a little bit too lose here, taking a bit longer than necessary as he punches the bag. He does not take more than a few kliks to accidentally tip it over. "Oh dear-" he grabs it before it falls, and if there's a degree of flustering there, he doesn't show, but he clears his vocalizer quickly. "My mistake."
"Oh, why? Knocking it over means you're really giving it a good wallop!" Pipes has been warming back up with some shorter jabs, but now he hauls back and lets a solid cross punch loose, leaning fully into it. His bag rocks back and rotates a little to one side, and then swings vertical again, smacking Pipes in the face. The minibot stumbles back a few paces before tumbling down.
And then his own bag was forgotten. He pulls it upright, his golden feelers wilting like animal audials at the loud WHAM noise of a minibot accidentally slamming himself in the faceplate via punching bag. To a degree, it looks like a comical reenactment of somebody hammering a nail in a board, except clearly that had to have hurt. Clearcut pads over hesitantly. "...Oh -dear-. Er, are you alright, my... friend... ish?"
Pipes says, "Ha ha! Yeah, I'm fine, thanks. I've had worse for sure." Pipes gets himself up, perhaps a little wobbly, and shakes his head to clear out the arachnid webs. "Whoa. Yeah, maybe I'll just take a break. That was a good one." Far from upset, Pipes is clearly amused at being felled by a sack of sand. "Mind if I watch you for a few minutes before I get back into it?""
The Decepticon swordsmech seems uncertain, shifting weight from pede to pede. Ultimately, though, the smaller mech seems to have only received a stinging faceplate and apparently amusement at his predicament. Autobots are weird. He chooses not to voice this sentiment of his. Out loud, at least... "If you're certain... I see no problem with it, although let's all stand some distance away from any sacks being hit. Just in case."