The junkion walked in and looked for a chamber that had yet to be cracked open by anyone else.
Zepar sends Motherboard a request to ground bridge into the Conflux from his current location, providing her a picture of the door to show the keyholes.
Pipebomb would happen upon Thrift just as the merchand finished affixing an explosive charge to an unopened door.
A ground bridge portal opens beside Zepar.
Zepar steps through it.
“I think you’d best leave the explosives to the expert!”
Pipebomb laughed.
“Don’t wanna risk hurting yourself.”
The portal takes Zepar back to the Conflux, where both keys rested in their respective slots- Shockwave had evidently returned the Blue Key after his need for it had expired.
Thrift back away from the bomb and stands up straight, looking almost offened.
“I am an expert in explosive devices, thank you very much!” he assures Pipebomb. “And in many other fields and disciplines, as well! For example, I’m versed in intergalactic economics, haggling, tax fraud, weapon design, evading Allied Species authorities, Allied Species linguistics, arcane lore, fashion sense…”
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Zepar takes them through the portal, looking at the security cameras and letting Motherboard know that he’ll return them promptly when he was done with them. Bringing them back through the portal, Zeapr inserted the Blue Key into the left hole and the Green Key into the right hole and tries turning them very carefully.
Pipebomb laughed to himself.
“Alright then Mr. Talent. Let’s see what your little firecracker can do.”
He said in a mildly mocking, yet still friendly tone.
The keys each click into place as Zepar turns them, and the door’s edges retract into the walls. The rest of the structure glides backward, sinking into the far wall of a short hall beyond, which held four small canisters containing red combination sparks, like the ones Corona’s pilgrims had given to Gronius and Wildsong on OL-0.
“Yes indeed-y!” Thrift agrees, pulling up the detonator on a holo-projector in his wrist. The merchant backs away down the hall, advising Pipebomb to do the same. When both parties were far enough away for his liking, Thrift taps the hologram, and the bomb emits a flashing red light…
…following it up with a pitiful sizzling sound as the device falls off the door and onto the torn-up catwalk.
“What?!” Thrift cries in disbelief. “Oh, that five-faced jackaft! He-…they-?.. it lied to me, the spawn of a glitch!”
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Zepar gingerly handles the combination sparks and empties the chamber of all other artifacts before returning to the hauler with them and the Keys. “Handle these carefully.” He said, referring to the Combination Sparks.
“Ahem, watch and learn from a professional.”
Pipebomb reached behind his back and pulled out three pressure mines. He throws them at the door, each one sticking to the target. They each give a loud and quick beep-beep, accompanied by the blink of a red light.
A red detonator button then shifts out of the palm of Pipebom’s good hand. He jams down on it with his thumb, and the three mines go off with a deep Krak-boom!, as well as a brief yet dense cloud of smoke.
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The technicians take the canisters and peer curiously at their contents. Red sparks weren’t common, and none of them were aware of their true function.
The resulting explosion blows the door wide-open, and Thrift stands up, wafting the smoke away from himself as he did so.
“So that’s what it feels like to get ripped off, is it…” he muses. "Almost makes me not want to do the same to future customers so as break the viscious cycle of hoodwinking and unethical business practices…
“…Almost, anyway! Come, my professional pyrotechnic pal, let us see what treasures waits beyond the entry that you have provided!”
“You my friend are my kind of junker!”
Pipebomb said eagerly as he walked into the vault.
“I got a feeling we’re gonna get along real nice.”
“I make it my business to get along with everybody,” Thrift remarks as he follows behind Pipebomb.
The room beyond was small, with a pedestal on which hovered a strange-looking weapon: a dual-headed axe with toothy chain belts wrapped around the edges of the blades, with a tangle of cables hooked up to a missile launcher extending from the helve of the chainsaw-axe.
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“Dibs!”
Pipebomb shouted, running to the weapon, picking it up, and giving it a closer examination.
“Primus above, these old timers had one hell of a taste in weaponry!”
The junkion said, admiring the sheer absurdity of the weapon he held. He’d be salivating if he had a mouth… Or a face.
Thrift, too, beholds the weapon in awe.
“Ho-ly slag,” he says. “And here I thought those knights were all a bunch of stuffy crusaders. Somebody in their R&D knew how to have fun, clearly!”
"Never before have I ever needed something so bad all my life, and only know when I lay my gaze upon it.’
Pipebomb said in complete awe. He mounted the missile launcher to his left shoulder (the same side as his good hand) and stoed the chain-axe on his back.
“Buuuut, if I know my ancient weapon caches as much as I think I do, the best stuff is always hidden. Usually behind different walls!”
Pipebomb said eagerly. He threw out three consecutive preasure mines, sticking one to each wall save for the one with the door. He then deployed the detonator button, but quickly stopped himself when he remembered he had company.
“We uh, might want to clear the room first.”
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“A… machine? But you’re just as living as me, or the next 'bot.” SideStep replied, confused. “You seem perfectly Cybertronian, to me.”
“It’s for the best,” Thrift nonchalantly agrees, backing out of the room.
“Outwardly, yes. I have a spark, as everyone else dose. But my body is no creation of Primus.”
Pipebomb follows him. Once the two are at a safe distance, he detonates the pressure mines.