Flareshot hands Halfrunner his flask.
“Welp. It’s been fun Halfrunner, but there’s one more thing I need to take care of before the Salvation departs in the morning.”
Flareshot exits the building the balcony was on and attempts to transform.
“Gaaaaahhh”
Flareshot falls to his knees and coughs up energon.
cough “Darn T-cog” Flareshot mutters, still lying on the ground in pain.
“Crab claws. That’s also interesting.” she joked, smiling.
She nodded.
This pub just so happened to be Maccadam’s Old Oil House, the oldest of its kind to be found on any Cybertronian world. Lore would have it that Maccadam’s and its owner had been in operation since the beginning of the Golden Age. Of course, that would make Maccadam himself impossibly old, but very few gave much thought to this. The guy had the best engex money could buy, and that was enough for most.
Halfrunner takes a swig.
“Primus, you alright?” asks the concerned Antillian.
Xi Repressor’s eyes shot open. With a guttural roar he alerted all the Autobots and Decepticons directly around him that he was awake, but he was pinioned so effectively he couldn’t move a mechanical muscle. Nobody paid any great attention to him; they had not yet received orders to interrogate.
Sendoff quietly stood with a scowl on his face, wishing some of the younger Autobots and Decepticons would kindly shut up. Under his irritated composure he was incredibly nervous. He had been somewhat close to Megatron before; if the Decepticon leader identified him he could be in for some serious trouble.
“Yeah well I wasn’t exactly born with them.”
He admitted.
“You wanna drink?” Techwarp asked
“Oh yeah, we should go to Maccadam’s I’ve worked there before, so we all would get a discount since, ya ma friends.” Sidewire cheered.
Blight stumbled in, approaching the bartender. “Good evening!”
“That sounds splendid!”
Torchwing said.
Ironsight, somewhat apprehensive for tomorrow morning, left the building without a word. He began meandering around the streets of Iacon, somewhat aimlessly, somewhat not. Though he recognized how war affected everything negatively, he still missed the time his everyday business was to eliminate tango’s on whatever fields his superiors sent him to. The truce had left him feeling alone, a soldier without an army. Becoming a crew member of the Salvation would give him a new purpose in life, or at least he hoped.
“You modded them?” asked Song, now a little curious.
Driftburn ponders, before saying,
“I guess there’s only so much time before any shipmate finds out…I’ll be right back…”
Driftburn looks for a seclusive corner to transform into Scrapshot. (@Chromeharpoon)
Angelicons were hard at work across the planet, making funeral arrangements and comforting the families of the fallen, repairing cities all over and helping those in need. Some, given special permission from the Fathers, were in the Core, taking care to try and keep Primus alive as long as possible.
Zepar was on his way to MacAadam’s with his things, Sol said it would do him well to meet his shipmates before they raised ship.
“Yeah. Well no… See I was drafted for this ‘living weapon’ program during the war. I actually used to look completely different. I was just a normal bot. But then Shockwave experimented on me in the name of science and the war effort. Resulting in what I am now.”
“Well what are we waiting for let’s roll.” Sidewire said, his teammates nodded and started to follow Sidewire.
Torchwing followed.
“I. . I’m fine. Old war injury. Hard to find a bot without one nowadays.”
Flareshot attempts to transform once again. The sound of his half-broken T-cog attempting the conversion was quite unpleasant.
“Gahk!” Flareshot fell to the ground once again. (This time his side was leaking energon) “Maybe. . . Maybe I’ll just walk.”
Flareshot began to walk down the streets of Iacon, using his rifle as a crutch
Zepar landed outside the bar and transformed into robot mode, stowing his wings so they weren’t sticking out so much and wouldn’t accidentally hit anyone as he walked inside.
“Oh… I am sorry for you. Why did you let that tyrant turn you into this?”
Zepar walked to the bar and politely called for MacAadam as he took his seat.
“I didn’t exactly have a choice.”