“that’s fairly difficult to imagine.”
“Oh very nice.” Sidestrike said as he sat down on a chair and started to search through the database.
“I wonder if we can play that old wrecker gameball Paradox used to play.” Sidewire said.
“Maybe one day.” Paradox said.
Lightshift nods.
"Understood. " he turns and the Splitter brothers left the bridge.
“I have been suffering in this husk of a body longer than you can imagine. Most of that time I wasn’t even in control! Just a fragent of consciousness that looks out a little window while your body slaughters thousands of autobots and more than my fair share of decepticons. Only now that the war is over do I have the chance to actually make something positive of myself. Every time I meet someone new they run away streaming and if I could do the same I would. I don’t want any of your ‘maybes’ or ‘probablys’ or patronizing ‘no offense’ slag. I just want to be normal again.”
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“It’s true, I’m tellin’ ya…”
Sprocket gets to work unpacking his equipment, setting instruments and ancient machines out on various tables or storing them in cabinets.
“Lucky for me…” he says as he works, “My partner doesn’t seem to’ve gotten here yet. So I get to nab the best side of the room before he can…”
“Touching- real touching,” Facelift quickly says. “Look, if there’s anybody out there who can put you right other than Primus himself, it’s me, alright?”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
Broadwing said, continuing past Face Lift. Torchwing hastily followed.
“oh?” He said, whilst helping
“See ya 'round,” Facelift waves the two off as he continues to set up his shop.
“Oh, and do try not to let the more morally-upstanding among the crew know I’m here, okay?” he calls after them. “Technically I’m not supposed to be here. Like, at all…”
“Well… you snooze, you loose, right?” Sprocket chuckles as he finishes up. He grabs the datacard which held the Omega Lock map and sets in on an antigrav display pedestal.
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“what’s that?”
“What, you haven’t been watching the news these past three years, mister-weapons-engineer?” Sprocket asks. “This’s the map!” he says, tapping the datacard. “Or, more specifically, the datacard that has the map on it. Eh, you get the idea…”
“You hear that Torchwing? You didn’t see anything.”
He said more than clear enough for Face Lift to hear, returning to his more sarcastic and jovial personality he had earlier.
“Hey, what was all that back there?”
Torchwing asked as they continued through the passages.
“It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
Broadwing said dismissively.
“That didn’t sound fine. I wonder if there’s a therapist on this ship.”
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“I’ve been busy, a ceasefire is the perfect time to keep up with my work.”
“Eh, I hear that,” Sprocket concedes. “Hey, you wanna see how it works?”
He simply nods
The Splitter brothers entered the bar. They looked around for a spot to sit.
Sendoff stopped dead in his tracks, looking around with a casual air, and eventually falling with great disappointment upon the Junkion in the middle of the worst decor he had ever witnessed. With a groan, he stalked over, his pointed feet clicking against the floor.
“Can I assist you?” He said, looking down at him out of the bottoms of his eyelids.
Torchwing and Broadwing continue through the passages looking for Torchwing’s room.
Flareshot arrives at the loading bay in truck mode. He attempts to transform.
“Gahk!”
He feels a sharp pain in his side, and his mouth begins to leak energon. He wipes it away with his hand.
“Darn bootleg T-cog”
Flareshot walks toward the Salvation, and boards the mighty vessel.
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“Well, there’s not much to it,” Sprocket says, picking up the datacard. “You just grab the handle-”
He does so.
“-Give it a little yank-”
He tugs sharply, and the handle extends outward slightly with a click.
“-Twist, and there ya go!”
Sprocket twists the handle 90 degrees clockwise, and it clicks sharply into place. Gradually the map fades into view; hundreds of tiny, photo-realistic planets materialize and take up much of the empty space in the lab. Some were labelled with strings of cyberglyphics, and Revus might recognize some worlds like Cybertron, the nine colonies, and Earth. Other worlds, though, were completely unfamiliar.
The bar they entered happened to be the Antillian Sunrise, owned by a bot named Halfrunner. One wall was taken up by a holo-painting of a vibrant sunrise over the desert dunes of the colony of Antilla, and other trinkets throughout the bar aided in decorating the place. There was plenty of available seating.
“Well, I sure hope so!” the junkion, Thrift, says. “Y’see, I lost a cryo-condor of mine recently, and I can’t find her. She’s somewhere aboard, I know that, but I could use some help tracking her down.”
Flareshot is accompanied by a tide of Autobots and Decepticons.
Lightshift slid into a booth, followed by his brothers. “Lets get a drink, survey the place…” Lightshift said.