Log Title: A Friend Indeed
Location: Berger Building, New York City
Date: 23 June 2014
As logged by Axegrinder
(Radio) Shawn Berger sends Axegrinder a radio transmission, 'Axegrinder. My name is Shawn Berger. I have a proposition for you.'
(Radio) Axegrinder transmits, "I heard o'you, Mr Shawn Berger. Heard you like giant alien robots as much as I do." to Shawn Berger.
(Radio) Shawn Berger sends Axegrinder a radio transmission, 'Yes, indeed. We have much in common, and I believe I can help you.'
(Radio) Axegrinder transmits, "Oh yeah? Hey, you're made o'money, ain't'cha? You help me keep my jet airborne, I'll take apart more alien robots'n you c'n count!" to Shawn Berger.
(Radio) Shawn Berger sends Axegrinder a radio transmission, 'That sounds like an excellent arrangement. Would you like to meet? I'm not certain how secure this radio band is.'
(Radio) Axegrinder transmits, "Probably not very. Sure. Where'll we meet up?" to Shawn Berger.
(Radio) Shawn Berger sends Axegrinder a radio transmission, 'We can meet at one of my offices. Name a major city.'
(Radio) Axegrinder transmits, "What is this, Jeopardy? Okay, New York City. I ain't been there in a while." to Shawn Berger.
(Radio) Shawn Berger sends Axegrinder a radio transmission, 'Meet me at the Berger building on Fifth Avenue.'
Shawn Berger waits in his office in the penthouse of the Berger building. He is dressed in expensive slacks and $1000 shoes, as well as a crisp polo shirt.
This woman stands about five and a half feet tall and is of average build. She wears a black flight suit, the helmet of which is tucked under her arm. Her green eyes gaze out from a thin, fine-boned face, framed with brown hair which is tied into a ponytail in the back. Those eyes occasionally dart about, and give the impression that their owner may be about to go for someone's throat.
Axegrinder makes her way to the Berger Building and bullies her way past the reception and into the elevator, which she takes to the penthouse. She carries her pilot's helmet under one arm, allowing her to glare with open hostility at most everything she comes across. Her brown ponytail flicks back and forth slightly as she lifts her chin toward Berger in what might in some places pass as a greeting.
Shawn Berger says, "Ah. You must be Axegrinder. It's so nice to meet you." He steps forward and holds out a hand.
Axegrinder grins toothily, reaching out to clasp Berger's hand with a strong grip. "Always nice t'meet somebody else who understands, who ain't drinkin' th' Kool-Aid, y'know?"
Shawn Berger nods. "Definitely. I'll not forget what the Autobots did to my father. I'm not fooled by their PR machine."
Axegrinder snorts. "They c'n say all they like about how they're th'heroes an' whatnot... they still go around knockin' buildings over an' breakin' things. They got no right t'have their stinkin' war on our planet."
Shawn Berger nods. "I represent a consortium of individuals who agree with just that, and we are growing by the day. We financed Damon Ward's efforts a decade ago... I feel it's time you took up his mantle.
Axegrinder's expression sobers for a moment at the mention of Ward's name, then the angry sneer returns. She clenches a gloved fist in front of her. "Megatron's the one that killed Damon," she growls. "I'll have 'is head fer a trophy!" She makes a two-fingered pointing gesture toward Berger. "I been wantin' t'finish what Damon started fer years. Didn't have his contacts, or his money. But there's no time like th'present, eh?"
Shawn Berger smiles confidently. "Indeed. I have the money, and some contacts of my own. Whatever you need, you'll have.'
Axegrinder grins, shaking her fist. "Best news I've heard in ages, Mr Berger. When d'we get started?"
Shawn Berger says, "Immediately. Do you have a bank account into which we can funnel resources, or would you rather request equipment directly and we'll provide it? We have some of the best scientific minds on the planet on our side -- you'd be surprised."
"If they c'n hold a candle t'Damon's genius, we'll be golden," Axegrinder enthuses. She pauses to consider her options. "Fer now probably best t'just ask ya fer what I need. I'm a pilot, not a technician. I know my plane, but it'll be so much better to have a proper crew t'look after 'im."
Shawn Berger nods. "I'll make it happen. What's your current airbase?"
Axegrinder chuckles. "Wherever I c'n set down long 'nough t'get fueled up an' get out, usually. You got a place we c'n call a more permanent home?"
Shawn Berger says, "I'll make a place. Do you have a preference from where you'd like to operate?"
Axegrinder says, "Someplace safe, where the law won't get all up my nose. Someplace comfortable, not in the middle of a swamp or the frozen tundra. Someplace with good pizza places."
Shawn Berger smiles. "I'm sure we can work within those parameters," he grins.
Axegrinder gives Berger a double thumbs-up as only an exuberant Australian can. "Can't wait."
Shawn Berger smiles. "Shall we celebrate?" He goes over to his bar to fix them drinks. "What's your poison?"
Axegrinder's eyes light up at the offer of booze. "Ooh, haven't had a good rum 'n' coke in months." She follows Berger eagerly to the bar.
Shawn Berger grins. "I have the best rum in Manhattan. I'll fix you a drink."
Axegrinder claps her gloved hands and rubs them together enthusiastically. "I'm hopin' the quality o'yer jet fuel's th'same... my jet's been drinkin' the bloody dregs last few months."
Shawn Berger , "I have contacts that can get you fuel lightyears ahead of anything you've seen."
Axegrinder says, "Fantastic. He'll be so happy."
Shawn Berger says confidently, "'He'll'? Your jet?"
Axegrinder nods. "Yeah. The Prometheus. We've been through a lot together."
Shawn Berger nods, not looking like he finds that odd at all.
Axegrinder says, "Glad you looked me up, Mr Berger. Me an' you, we'll teach those damned robots a lesson, eh?"
Shawn Berger grins. "Yes, we will." His eyes glint dangerously, and he seems very pleased to have made a friend.