The two Autotroopers did not comply, continuing to stare down Fury and the SUV.
“Alright everyone,” Lock says, “the bar is closed. I suggest you all go to your hab-suites and sleep this off. Let’s not go pointing fingers and making accusations until after Railfire’s report, okay?”
“You heard the barkeep; everyone please return to your quarters.” Alpha told the patrons.
Panels on Lock’s forearm begin to ■■■■■, giving enough of an incentive for the two Autotroopers to vacate the tavern.
As did Alpha, bringing out his hammer.
Several other patrons begin to depart, not wanting trouble.
Load was still in his hab-suite, reading a copy of Towards Peace, a political novel written by Megatron.
The SUV rolled his eyes and walked out
“Crisis: averted,” Lock states, relieved. He takes a seat at a now-empty table.
Alpha puts his hammer away. “Sorry about that, I should leave.” He said.
On his way to his room the SUV get whacked in the back of the head, completely out of veiw
“It worked, didn’t it?” Lock points out.
OOC: how does that not get spotted? He’s heading for a hab suite, I’m pretty sure routes to those are crawling with security.
IC: (@Chromeharpoon) “For now, I’m not sure how well it will work in the future.” He said.
OOC: less-crowded hallway? Lax security out of concern for privacy?
IC: Lock shrugs.
OOC: there are still witnesses. The doors and halls themselves would still be monitored somehow.
IC: Alpha sighs, “Our two factions may end up tearing each other apart before we can get any new supplies.” He said, worried.
OOC: look, I’m sure there’s a good explaination. That and you’ve just got to suspend your disbelief sometimes.
IC: “At the rate we’re going, that unfortunately seems plausible.”
OOC: I see your point; but I can only suspend it so far.
IC: Alpha nodded, “Regretfully, I am finding myself in agreement.” He told Lock.
OOC: to be fair, the whole concept of Transformers requires a fair amount of suspension of disbelief.
IC: Lock nods.
OOC: GTG
“Stay alert and stay safe.” Alpha says as he leaves and heads down the path with the most security and surveillance to his quarters.
Lock remains in the bar, for that was where he resided on the ship.
Alpha made it to his quarters and locked the door. “Not how I hoped this day would go.” He muttered.
Lock contacts his twin.
“Just wanted to hear how my favorite dumbaft is doing,” he jokingly says over the comm.
“I’m doing pretty well, all things considered,” Load informs the barkeep as he reads. “An angry mob hasn’t come to bust down my door and rip out my sparkchamber yet, and Haliaetus hasn’t put me in the brig or on Space Barnacle duty, so I guess Primus is done expressing his displeasure. For the time being, at least.”