Some hits could be heard in the door for a few minutes, until they stopped. Then somebody knocked at the door.
“Guys?” asked the real Warya.
“Fine…” he grumbles.
Killstreak lies, unconscious, on the floor of the hangar. Her color has changed to lime green with a black color mixed in, and a purple glow flows from her spark. Her armor has become thinner and riddled with deadly prongs.
Epic Sax Dicius headed to Dicius’ room.
“Bar’s that way,” Zipline points.
“On any other day that would have been thrilling to hear.”
Maximus said, ultimately burnt out by the chaos.
“So, how’s my favorite predacon doing?”
Axis said. The words themselves were kind enough, but something about the tone was just a hair unnerving.
“Tired, confused, and honestly just waiting for this to end. Wait, where’s the other one? The posh slag-head one?”
Primal, having tried to find his way back to the bridge, was now utterly lost.
“I know a better place.”
He would bump in a female robot that seemed to be VERY panicked.
“Oh. Hello miss. What seems to be the problem?”
Primal said, quickly putting up a noble act.
Alt Hecate rolled around him. Extraordinary panicked. She couldn’t even talk.
“Oh, okay,” Zipline shrugs, and follows him.
He would enter in Dicius’ room, where the real Dicius was recharging. He opened a mini-bar from the room and took a bottle of Energex.
“Want some?”
“What’s the matter? I can’t exactly help if you don’t say anything.”
“I wonder what my friends are doing right now.”
Minimus pondered.
“Axis is probably worried. Torchwing is probably threatening someone thinking they took me. And Bluntforce… Well he’s probably trying to keep Torchwing from killing anyone…”
“We-we-we-we-we-we-we-we-
#we’RE IN SPACE! IN OUTER SPACE!”
She yelled, showing the space on a window.
"Why are we here! I am so afraid! I’ve never left Cybertron! I’VE NEVER LEFT MY HOUSE!
Zipline nods, still worried.
“I suppose that is a problem… Well worry not. I’m sure this will all work itself out in due time. Until then, I will be kind enough to protect you in these trying times.”
“Oh for Odin’s sake. I’ve gotten into a lot of slag before but this is ridiculous.”
Minimus sighed.
“Wait. What’s an Odin?”
Maximus asked.
“Oh. Odin is a good from Norse mythology. A human religion practiced by a lot of people a really long time ago.”
“What’s a human?”
“Humans are, as a friend of mine put it, tiny little flesh bots that are easy to scare, and easier to squish. They’re honestly pretty fascinating.”
“So what did this Odin guy do?”
Minimus’ eyes lit up with this question. What folowoed was a long discussion where Minimus taught Maximus everything he knew about Norse mythology. From the frost giants, to Valhalla. Jormungandr to Ragnorok. Maximus found all of it amazing.
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The two Bootlegs listen in with rapt attention.
Beta Maxx reclines in a chair on the bridge, dozing off as AU Iota continues her work.
The rest of the NPCs wander the ship.
Minimus went into great detail with some of his favorite stories. It wasn’t often he got a willing audience that would listen to him about this.
OOC: Some of the specific stories he would tell.
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Tax sits on Crate’s shoulder, chewing (he had a mouth large enough to resemble Pac-Man) on the stock of Zip’s gun. Crate sits between Hauler and Rotary. All four (five?) sit in a semi-circle, facing Cargo.
“And so, Axis wielded the mighty Star Saber against Nemesis, cleaving his arm straight off,” Cargo recites.
Tax wows, Crate shrugs, as if thinking, “Done that before…”, while Rotary looks distracted by something else. Hauler still seems confused.
“Never thought I’d actually say this, but I prefer when Zip tells the story,” smirks Crate.
“Oh, I’m not done,” Cargo says.
“Yeah, but we’d rather see who else is here,” Tax excuses.
“No offense,” Crate assures.
Coalburn looks for anyone he would know to get help.
“So, are you going to stare at me all day, or let me go?” the crazed Killstreak asks Absolution.
“I know who you are.”
“I’d suppose. I’m wanted in the entirety of the Commonwealth. Or, was. I got caught, as you can see.”
“You are me, aren’t you?”
Killstreak tilts her head. “You?”
“If I never had changed.”
“You’re… me?”
“I go by ‘Absolution.’”
“That’s a dumb name.”
“A sensical one.”
“Did you get soft?”
“I evolved.”
“So, what did you do to my- our body?”
“I have it to someone who deserved it.”
“Show me.”
Absolution tilts her head this time.
”Please, Killstreak.”
“Absolution.”
“Whatever.”
Killstreak wakes, confused. She remains to be paralyzed.
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Piston walked through the halls, when he bumped into a large figure with red and gold armor. The figure punched Piston, yelling. “GAh! Enemy! DIe!” Piston reeled back and pulled out his hammer. " What? Who might you be? "
Coalburn finds himself in the armory soon enough.
Crate and Tax study the Hall of Champions, seeing Cargo’s story in physicality.
Hauler, Rotary, and Cargo still sit in the commons.
“What universe are you from?” Cargo asks Hauler.
“This one, I think,” Hauler shrugs.
“That doesn’t make sense. Can you defuse?”
Hauler tries, as is evident in his straining, but doesn’t seperate. “Guess not.”
Rotary continues to sulk.
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Piston’s doppelganger grinned. “The names hydraulic.” He pulled out a large rifle. " who’re you? "
Piston moves the rifle away. “Piston. It would seem that we are clones.”
Whetstone talked animated with Anvil, who was almost word-for-word the same as Whetstone.
Myriad faces off against an over-friendly bright pink and white version of herself.
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