Not On Your Life

Log Title:Not On Your Life

Characters: Spike (WW), Marissa Faireborn (WW), Sgt. Sideswipe (WW) 

Location: Portland

Date: 2019

TP: Witwicky World (What-If Universe)

'''Summary: Marissa Faireborn continues to mentor Joe-in-training Sgt. Sideswipe. The two stop in a microbrewery where they meet one of the first humans to have met the Autobots. Spike thinks that's kind of a big deal. Marissa thinks that's cute and proceeds to humor the unremarkable middle-aged man. '''

As logged by Spikewitwicky

WW-World - In this exact year as the IC year of 2019. Sgt. Sideswipe and Marissa are taking some time off from a mission. Sgt. Sideswipe is still on his way to becoming both a doctor and a Joe. His fitness freakishness has led him to select the most local brew with the LEAST amount of alcohol. And only one. With like 2 waters to chase it. He laughs, sharing a story to Marissa. "So...yeah. I like...start messaging, and saying ALL this crap to Dusty. But I FORGET, I had the wrong channel, so OUR Dusty was getting my pissed-off rantings I was meaning to send to DUST DEVIL - the Autobot!"

Spike is sitting at the bar. On his third drink. It's a Saturday, so he doesn't have to be at work until Monday. Witwicky Auto is still doing great. They still win awards. They still are highly recommended. But as Spike's wife pretty much said in 2 years, they will likely separate when their youngest goes off to college, and now their youngest has not only proudly come out as gay, but has started to wear black fingernail polish, well, Spike has been spending more and more time here.

Spike looks over at the very fit Sgt. Sideswipe, and Marissa. Unlike the IC-EDC Spik e, who gets up religiously at 4:45 a.m. to run 45 minutes a day, and watches what he eats, this one may have that Spike's good looks, but it is a bit hidden behind some face puffiness, and general 'beat down' disposition, thanks to a full-time-plus job of fixing cars for a living while his brother's literary stock continues to rise. Spike may still make a lot more money than his brother, but in terms of notoriety, Buster is the one getting the interviews.

Marissa is wearing a bomber jacket over her flight suit, not even bothering to try to blend in with the crowd. Taking advantage of the local brewery, she's enjoying some mead while she cackles loudly at Sideswipe's story. "So, does that mean sometimes you get mail intended for our Sideswipe ?" she laughs. "I can picture you getting drowned in selfies from his brother Sunstreaker ," she chortles. While she clearly stands out in the bar, she's taken no notice of the elder, puffy Witwicky.

Spike looks over and chuckles he's close to Marissa and leans over. "Heyah...heyah...heyah you two...you talking about the Autobots?"

Sgt. Sideswipe chuckles. Damn, those arms could double as pile-drivers if he didn't spend so much time doing triathlons. He gives a polite smile to the civilian. "Oh...uh...yeah. You know...just talkin'"

The bartender rolls his eyes. Great. Another excuse for Spike to talk about the Autobots. Last week, he had to hear the ENTIRE story - it took nearly 2 hours, but fortunately, Spike left a $20 tip.

Marissa looks over, and down, at Spike. "Hey, yeah. I'm Marissa Faireborn of the EDC. We're the folk that keep you safe at night. If you want to buy us a drink, I'll take another mead, and Dr. Mamby-Pants here'll have water." She glances towards the bartender. "Make that a Scotch with a mead chaser," she amends her order, with the assumption that Spike will pay for it. "You an Autobot fan?" she asks, as unseen the bartender makes an 'oh no!' expression. She just HAD to open the floodgates.... The bartender shakes his head quickly.

Sgt. Sideswipe shakes his head. "No...no...no. I'm..." he thinks carefully. "Okay...I'll have another porter." He adds quickly "But can I also have two glasses of water?"

Spike waves his hand and pulls out a $20. "Sure..." He extends his hand.

"Spike...Spike Witwicky. Witwicky Auto. That's the place I run." He gestures to give Marissa and Sgt. Sideswipe what they want. He gives a reddish smile. "You know...like when they first reactivated...like in 1984 ." He points to his chest. "I...I was ON that oil rig. I was...I was working there...with my dad. I was there when they attacked us for the first time."

The bartender says "That's $18, Spike."

Spike nods and pulls out another $5 for an extra tip and waves a hand. "Don't worry...you deserve it." He goes back to looking at Marissa, giving her a big smile. She REALLY knows her alcohol. And she's adventurous!

Spike fishes out another $5er "I think I'll have 'nother bourbon and the rocks. I always need that when I'm tellin' this story!" he grins, hoping Marissa will eat this stuff up. She should. It's history!

"1984?" Marissa marvels. "Wow! Two years before I was born! That must have been pretty exciting for you! You were there with your dad?" Marissa gives Sideswipe an amused glance before turning back long enough to shoot her Scotch. She shakes her head quickly and sips her mead. "Did you meet Bumblebee?" she asks in the condescending manner of someone listening to a story told by a small child.

Spike shakes his head and says dead serious "No! No! BUT..." he points to Marissa, almost touching her bomber jacket. "BUT...I met Optimush Prime. He like...dad and me...we were PINNED under this scaffolding ...and water was coming up to our heads!" He adds "Jazz threw a line...Optimussss caught it...and pulled us to safety..." He shrugs "aaandd..." gives a 'ta dah' gesture. "I'm standin' right here today because of him!"

Sgt. Sideswipe tenses his fist. If this drunk miscreant lays a HAND on Marissa, then he's just going to have to quietly, but effectively disarm him - but not humiliate him. But still - no one deserves to be hit on in such a pathetic fashion.

Spike waves his hand dramatically. "There was like a fire too. You couldn't SEE through all the smoke!"

Marissa looks over at Sideswipe with eyebrows raised. "Wow! Did you hear that? That's really something!" She turns back to Spike. "Last week Prime and I worked together to take down Dreadwing - you heard of him? He's, like, two Decepticons merged together. I nulled 'im, and Prime finished him off. Now THAT was cool." She looks back at Sideswipe. "Ess-Wipe here saved a dozen civilians threatened by the Decepticons before we took them down. This is what we do, old man. It's pretty rad," she grins, taking another swallow of mead.

Spike nods, nods, and nods again. "Seriously?! That's awesome!" He then gives a dirty look at Sideswipe, hearing of his heroics. That sort of broke his good mood. "I'ma take a piss" he points to Marissa "To be continued...."

Sgt. Sideswipe gives a polite smile as Spike goes to the bathroom. When the door closes, he leans close to Marissa and whispers "Okay, finish your drink, and let's get the hell outta here. I don't like this. I think he's going to try to make a move on you."

Marissa's look of disbelief is almost comical. "That sad sack? Huh. Let 'im. Maybe I should pretend to consider it, so he can fantasize for the next twenty years about what he ALMOST had." She snorts. "Heh. Maybe I can get my bike looked at out of it. Hoist's been so busy lately I can't get it in. Maybe I need to woo some greasy monkey and put him under my spell," she laughs, taking another drink.

Spike does his business, and looks at himself in the mirror. He still has it. No, he's not an alcoholic. He's still a dedicated family guy. And when his business is open, he's all about putting every ounce of himself into Witwicky Auto. But as his kids get older and require less attention, more downtime is starting to emerge, and thus, more of these instances where he’s spending more time at the bar on weekends than with his wife or older kids. Spike smiles proudly at himself, thinking 'you still got it.'

Spike walks back and goes back to the bar stool. He studies Marissa. "Wow...that's like...awesome!" He shakes his head. "You guys...so...you two...you're...wait, don't tell me...you're like...EDC."

Sgt. Sideswipe says very clearly and directly. "No, actually, I'm in TRAINING still, to be a Joe. And a doctor." He nods to Marissa. "She's my field commander." Spike nods, and nods, and nods at Marissa. "Right on...right on..."

Marissa points to the EDC patch on her bomber jacket. "Good call there, Sherlock. I'm EDC - Sideswipe here says he's in training, but trust me - he's the real deal. You said you run an auto repair business? Ever work on bikes?" She shoots a smirk at Sideswipe. Turning back to Spike, she says, "It's a real doozy. Autobot technology. Think you can handle it, cowboy?" GAME: Spike PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Immense difficulty.

Spike blinks and scoffs. "Uh...YEAH!" He laughs. "S'riously, bring your bike down!" He fishes into his jeans for his card. Nope. that's his phone. Nope. That's his wallet. Nope, that's his money. Nope, that's his phone. THERE! He pulls out a bent card and slyly slides it toward Marissa. He gives a meaningful nod to Marissa. "You know...our shop has won 'Best in Portland' for the last seven years in a row. Three of those under my watch." He shakes his head "I mean, it wouldn't be a big deal, I'd LOVE to go to Autobot City and like work on the stuff. Free of charge! 'cause you guys are like...well...just like you said, saving the world!" He adds innocently "And like, we're all in this together. Because...we can't let those bastards win!" he raises his hand. "Pardon my language, miss."

Sgt. Sideswipe gives a polite smile, but breathes HARD out of his nose, getting less and less patient with the civilian. Spike nods confidently "I mean, I'd LOVE to see Autobot City, but your bike, I can take a look at that no problem. I won't even charge you for labor, and the parts parts, I can give you a major discount, 'cause like...it's my place, right!" he gives a self-deprecating laugh.

He leans in and grins at Marissa. “You know, I have this saying, ‘If I can’t fix it, then it can be..wait, wait…” He smirks “I mean, if I can’t fix it, then it can’t be fixed!”

Marissa laughs. "Great! Thank you, Mister..." She squints at the bent card. "Witwicker." She smiles. "I'll definitely give you a call." She then picks up her mead and downs it in one long swallow. Setting down the bottle, she looks at Sideswipe. "You finished with yours? We should go. I'm visiting my brother at the Academy tomorrow." Turning back to Spike, she thrusts out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Witwicker. Good to know you're doing your part to keep America running."

Spike gives a 'hold up hold up' gesture. "Wait...you'll want my cell phone number." He scribbles it on the back of his card and gives it to Marissa. "Here...you're all set."

He pauses and says sheepishly "You're...uh...you're really pretty. I mean, I'm married, but...you know...it's just...I feel like when a lady is pretty - they should be told that. Even in the MeToo."

Sgt. Sideswipe breaths out in frustration, eager to have this situation go by the wayside. "Yes...we need to be going. Mr. Witwicky - a pleasure." He pauses and says

"Oh my god...Witw...Witwicky. Buster! You're Buster's brother!" He laughs and finally has some joviality. "Oh...god, please...PLEASE tell your brother that his series got me through junior high!"

Spike 's face darkens and he shoots Sgt. Sideswipe a look. "Sure..."

GAME: Marissa PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Average difficulty.

Marissa looks confused a moment, but then a light goes on over her head. "Oh, WitwickY. Like the writer! You're his brother?" She looks over Spike in a way that indicates she's obviously making some kind of comparative assessment and Spike isn't winning. "I think my brother's a fan. You think you can get me an autograph?"

Suddenly there's real interest from her as well - but not in Spike's direction.

Spike shrugs, getting more and more defensive as he's no longer the center of attention. "I dunno." He looks at the card that Marissa is holding.

"You gotta reach me, and you have my number, right?" Spike grouses.

Spike pulls out his cell phone and mumbles "Speaking of my brother ..”

Spike gets the feeling that he most likely shouldn’t be driving home, and Buster’s home is close by. But unfortunately, the call goes right into Buster's voice mailbox. "Heyah, Busser, sorry to bother you. I'm at Infusion - these guys gave me this huge lead on this new account, but they kept on ordering drinks. I can drive home, but I'd rather not. If you're in the area...I'd like spring for dinner for you and Jess. But I don't hear from you in an hour, I'll just get an Uber. No big deal."

Marissa gives Sideswipe a look that says both 'Should we offer him a ride?' and 'No, better not,' all at the same time. Instead, to Spike she says, "OK, well, Mr. WitwickY, I have your garage's number, and I'll be in touch, OK? You get home safe, now." She gives him a few hard pats on the shoulder in a brisk manner. Leaving the bartender a nice tip, she straightens up her bomber jacket and prepares to leave.

Spike looks at Marissa and says flatly "You know, he only made about $55,000 last year?" He nods, saying in a cocky tone "I made DOUBLE that, AFTER I paid taxes and my staff." That'll win him back in her graces.

Spike turns around and smiles "I'll be waitin' for that call!" After Marissa and Sgt. Sideswipe leave, the bartender smiles at the tip, and at Spike, for behaving himself...mostly. "Cool people. I feel safer knowing people like that are watching out for us."

Spike smiles "Did you see the way she was looking at me?"

The bartender, cleaning out Sgt. Sideswipe's array of glasses - mostly water, nods simply. "Yes I did."