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Log Title: A Web of Confusion
Characters: Slingshot, Air Raid, Cuffs, Lifeline (Cameo), Stormwind, Ironhide, Trojan
Perspective: Trojan
Location: Nevada Desert, then to Autobot City
Date: 12/19/09
TP: Non-TP
Summary: Slingshot gets to ride the spider, Cuffs knocks Air Raid on his aft, Lifeline does a drive by, Air Raid hits on Trojan, Stormwind cements herself as the peanut gallery, and Ironhide causes a record number of spit-takes.



California/Nevada - North America


Beautiful and warm, California and Nevada are the western most states. California is known as the entertainment center of the United States, as most movies, television programs, and record albums are recorded there. It's also known for some of the worst traffic, smog, and riots in the world, especially in Los Angelos. Nevada, on the other hand, could be considered the Sin capital of the world. Home of Las Vegas, it's the land of casinos and gambling, where people lose their fortunes in the blink of an eye. Incidently, it's also one of the only states with legalized prostitution.


Since she's not yet been cleared for Autobot City, that leaves the... monolithic... monster who introduced herself as Trojan to wander the wastes like some Lovecraftian nightmare.

Slingshot is out and about for some reason. Mostly because it's the holiday season and he's bored, and looking at Christmas lights is kind of cool.

Trojan... is kind of hard to miss. Even amid the black desert wastes, a mech that stands roughly 119' tall is certainly a landmark worth noticing. Hey, maybe she'd be less creepy if she were strung with Christmas lights! Ahem. At any rate, eventually Slingshot will come upon this ancient mech, and she, with her enhanced senses, will likely detect him, too.

Slingshot indeed comes across Trojan. "Whoa," he says, "Don't think I've seen you around before."

Dr. Edwin Steen comes in from Southwest United States - North America.

Yes, she is certainly not the usual suspect. No Autobot sigil. Six legs. Four arms. Built like a nightmare. The good thing is Trojan certainly doesn't appear to be inclined toward violence. The giant mech leans down and eyes Slingshot speculatively. Her voice is a cacophony of different modulators, both male and femme, but predominantly latter. Her tongue is strange, too - like the grammatical difference between a modern American and a 1700s colonist. It is sussurant, hissed, and... hollow. "Yesssss," the voices toll, as toxic green eyes leer down at Slingshot. "I am ... Tro-JAHN, isss... pleaSHUR to make your ak-qaun-tance."

It would be an understatement to say that Slingshot was nervous. "Uhh, pleased to meet you, too. Whatcha doing all the way out here?"

A car approaches northward on the nearest road. If there is no nearest road, said car just keeps... right on trucking.

"Am not a-LLOW'd in Ssscity, yet," the mech hisses, as her heat turns beneath the plates to regard the oncoming - and off going - Jeep. "...These humansss... are fassscinAT-ing."

"Oh yeah, Humans are interesting, sorta," Slingshot says, "So why won't they let ya in the city yet?"

<OOC> Dr. Edwin Steen vrooms. 8)
Dr. Edwin Steen goes to Southwest United States - North America.

"Issss undersssTAHND-able Ssssecurity meassssure..." Trojan replies, as she rights herself. Slingshot has been thoroughly examined to has satisfaction. "Have been... missssssING for... millionssss of yearssss. Sssince the dessstruction of Crysss-TAHL Csssity."

"Ahhh. So what do you do in your spare time?" Slingshot asks.

"Thhhat issss... good quesssst-SHUN." As Slingshot poses this inquiry, it causes the giant mech to give pause. "Have not thought about hobby ...in a very long time..."

Slingshot strokes his tangerine chin. "Have you seen any Decepticons around lately?"

"Regrettably," wheezes Trojan, whose optics turn a very dark shade of irradiated green. "I have not. I would relisssssh the chancssse to ...infliCT a little jussssticsssse."

"Oh yeah, you look like you could give Megatron a run for his money," Slingshot says.

"It isssss my inten...sshun to deliver MegaTRAHN to Oblivion," the grave, disharmonious voice hisses. Almost gleefully. "And all of the dessstructiconssss..."

"That'll be a good day," Slingshot says, "Maybe we should lure him out here. Or maybe you could set up camp by an oil refinery or a power plant? You're bound to run into him then."

"...I could ssssimply let them caRRY me into basssse..." Trojan speculates, as she leans back over to eye Slingshot.

"Cool," Slingshot says, "So, they wouldn't recognize you if they saw you, then?"

Trojan Transforms: Much like watching the accelerated ruin of an eldrich edifice, Trojan falls to pieces, quite literally: Several containers, boxes and crates, Cybertronian sepulchers and vaults, collapse into a pile and topple over in no discernable pattern...

Trojan ...literally falls to pieces. Components, parts, boxes and crates, containers, cybertronian coffins, and other metal cartons. They all drop into an incongruous pile, and then those begin to alter their exteriors... to become uniform military-type wooden crates.

Slingshot ooooohs. "Very inconspicuous," he says.

Trojan Transforms again: Like the rising of some ancient, monolithic horror, strewn metal containers shift and dissimilate, twist and reconfigure, building one upon the other in a cacophony of grating screams. Cybertronian-corpse components and steel boxes give rise and form, finally, to the terrifying, hexapedial, quadra-armed femme-mech, Trojan.

And then, she reassembles. The fascade drops, and thus reconstructs the monolith of ancient, eldrich Autobot. "...It issss. I am ssscertain it will be of sssssome usssse..."

"That's a very ...interesting transformation," Slingshot says, "It's not too often you can see someone transform into so many objects."

"..." Trojan seems retiscent on exactly how that happened. Instead, she simply agrees, "It isssss.... a unique ability."

"So what happens if someone runs off with only half the objects?" Slingshot wonders.

"It ssss sssomething thAT I ne-VER conssssidered..." muses the giant mech, who postulates this carefully over in whatever comprises the brain in this multi-voiced mech. "...My ssssyssstemssss do.. reGEN-er...ate damage... by collectING maTERialssss from ssssuroundingsss... they may... harVEST until I am whole..."

"That's interesting," Slingshot says, "I wish I could do that." He looks around at the landscape. "So, you get energon anywhere closeby?"

"When I resssst, I collect cossssmic energy. It trickle-chargesssss me. Isss not asss fasssst as energon ssssource, but it keepsssss me alive when there issss none available." In short, she could survive come hell or high water, so long as she's exposed to the open surface. Speaking of Energon, though, this mention of it causes a slight change beneath those protetive metal slats that shield her visage. "Come to thhhink of it, I do hunger." For souls. For brains.

Cuffs comes in from Nevada Desert - North America.

"Seems like a great survival mechanism," Slingshot says. "I wish I could do that."

Slingshot and Trojan are out in the desert, having a casual conversation. Since she's not allowed in the city yet, she's taken to exploring in all of her monsterous glory. "...Issss how I ssssuvived millionssss of yeaRS in ssstasssiss. I may have to lay down a web..."

"Can the web catch Decepticons?" Slingshot wonders.

"It... can catch any MEch thhhhat sssstumblessss into it... and sssslowly drain away their energy..." Mm. Slingshot sure looks tasty right about now. At least, that's the impression she gives as she leeeeeeans over to eye the Autobot. Those lower arachnidan manibles upon he fore of her thorax... click.

A bit of dust is seen towards Metroplex, soon turning into Cuffs as he steadily approaches in his black and red form, headlights blinking out towards the two.

Slingshot looks a little more nervous as he gets the distinct feeling he's being looked at as a tasty meal.
The laugh is simply horrible. It's a darkling thing, born of the modulators of deceased autobots from ancient Cybertron. The giant, creepy Trojan rights herself, as many a disconcerting creaks and moans of ancient alien metal reverberate through her frame and into the night. "...I only devour deSsssceptiCAHNs...." she assures, at length.

Slingshot phews. Well, that's a relief. He chuckles nervously. "Oh yeah, of course."
Cuffs flashes his headlights as he spots the two, slowing down as he finally makes it to their side "Hey guys." he greets
We hope. Red Alert still seems to have some issues with her, see. Ahem. Cuff is noticed, given by the fact that the mech pivots her middle body toward the road, to observe whatever vehicle may be upon the lane. Those toxic green optics trace the car all the way up to their location. "Hhhhello, Cuff," she hisses in what may constitute a warm welcome. Who knows?

"Hey, Cuffs," Slingshot says, "Yeah, here's our wayward guest."

"Hello again, Trojan. It seems I'm to be your ah, escort into the city while Red Alert does more background checks," the mech notes as he slows to a stop

"I ssssseee," notes the giant, whose inflection renders the idea that she expected such precautions, and isn't in the least bothered. "That issss apprecsssssiATED." Trojan lowers herself down to the earth, the arachnidan legs forming towering spires along the sides of her thorax. "Perhapssss I may offer the... two OF you transsssport back to the Cssssity?" Hey, when was the last time either of the other bots got to ride on a giant dryder?

"Sure, I don't mind," Slingshot says.

<OOC> Trojan says, "No, I am not an epic mount. No, you may not ride me into battle."

Cuffs pauses "I'll pass. Been cooped up for over a week doing paperwork. I need to stretch my wheels." he declines

"...Paper-werk?" The Cybertronian is unfamiliar with the earth term. On Cybertron, they didn't use paper! Hee. One of the dryder's lower arms extends, providing an adequate ramp so Slingshot can ascend onto the long, peculiar torso.

Slingshot scrambles up and perches atop the torso. Too bad that horses didn't come big enough on earth for a bot to ride.

Cuffs revs up his engine and turns to make his way back to Autobot City, accelerating slowly to keep pace with the spider womech

Main Entrance - Autobot City

As you enter the main entrance of Autobot City, a few Autobot guards stop you and check your entrance pass, after they see you have the correct credentials, they wave you on. The inside of Metroplex is ENORMOUS, it seems as if it could go on forever. The walls are completely made of steel and there are computer terminals and intercoms located at strategic places along the way. Straight ahead is a corridor leading towards the heart of the city, and the exit lies opposite of it. Leading off to the side is a long tunnel that rises upwards towards the Landing Pad where aircraft of all types land and take off as visitors and military personal alike arrive and depart from the city.


Slingshot's weight does not even cause the ancient Femmebot to flinch. One can imagine that whatever engine drives her locomotion is sufficient to support her girth without batting an eyelash; she maintains a swift pace, without pause, falter, or hint of strain. She follows Cuffs up the ramp and into the foyer of Autobot City, with Slingshot standing - or sitting - like a general aboard a fantasy mount.

Cuffs rolls about along the way, leading towards the city as he sends his codes no ahead to open the doors for the three of them.

Slingshot gets ready to slide off his unusual mount the minute that Trojan comes to a halt. What a tale he'll have to tell Silverbolt and Air Raid!

Oh, just wait until the quadrachanger goes into her *big* mode. Hee. At any rate, Trojan stoops and lowers one of the arms to form an adequate ramp so Slingshot can dismount, and once he has does so, she waits patiently on the doors to open. With anticipation!

Slingshot slides down the ramp! "Whee, that was fun," he says.

Cuffs slows as well, then accelerates as the doors open, allowing them in "Welcome to Metroplex!"

Those first few hesitant steps are taken across the threshold. Trojan looks upward and around, and those protective slats that cover her visage slide back into the hulking shoulder guards, revealing the femme's almost-pleasant - if bone-pallored metal - visage. "Issss... very nicssse..." The lower two arms snap up, fold atop one another, and swing backward over her thorax, neatly tucking the weapon-appendages out of the way. This is done with a rather disturbing series of unpleasant metal grating. "Issss... home?"

"Home away from home," Cuffs admits, sounding a little annoyed at something as he transforms.

"Yeah, it's pretty sweet," Slingshot says.

Air Raid has arrived.

It goes somewhat unnoticed - or unheeded - as Trojan follows Cuffs and Slingshot within the depths of Metroplex. She is simply enthralled, that is for certain. Everything is worth a glance, even if it is something subtle and quick. It isn't Crystal City, but displaced transplants can't be choosy.

Cuffs leads the way into the main corridor and guestures "That's the repair bay, parking garage... the usual," he explains.

Air Raid strolls on over, led by the BLINDING BEACON that was Slingshot's bright orange head! He promptly shoves his brother aside. "Why hello there miss! These two fella's boring the slag outta' yah?" Well... she was femme alright... but also rather terrifying when it came down to it. Good thing Raid is without fear!

Slingshot is even MORE without fear as he stands proudly next to the spiderlike Trojan.

Alright. Those keen, toxic-bleeding optics turn down toward Cuffs, hissing in that disharmonious, multi-voiced cacophony of modulators, "...Parking... GarAGE?" Trojan cants her head now, and... is suddenly drawn to pause to look down at Air Raid. "....Greetingsssss."

Cuffs chuckles softly "Most Autobots are vehicles, so sometimes we like to sit in there. It's also for visitor parking for the natives," he explains with a smile.

"Only groundpounde- cars hang out there. Come to the landing pad if you really wanna' party, miss...?" Raid jabs Cuffs' in the side, "Gimme' a name."

>> Cuffs succeeds with his generic combat roll on Air Raid. <<
<OOC> Air Raid goes DOWN!

As the elbow jabs Cuffs, he jerks away quickly, a hand snapping out to grasp the arm and lift it backwards a little bit, before the mech freezes "... Primus, Air Raid! Don't DO that to a police mech!" he puffs, releasing the aerialbot quickly

Air Raid gets his aft somewhat handed to him in front of a 'femme'. "Ah-ah-ah!" he yelps before he gets released, dusting himself off in a flustered manner. "Well SAW-REE! Don't you owe me like, five favors now?" He still hasn't gotten it right.

Trojan observes this interaction with some introspective, reticent manner, and only when the two are finished roughhousing does she hiss, "Tassssinia, Trojan," to Air Raid. "....Issss Pleassssure..."

Cuffs pats Air RAids' shoulder, chuckling softly "Actually you owe me two now." he jokes softly, glancing to Trojan then the other Aerialbots present "This white one is Air Raid. The redhead is Slingshot,a nd that one is Skydive. Some of the few flighted Aubobots we have, and definitely some of the bravest." he notes to Trojan

Air Raid sheepishly holds out a hand to shake, though it seems Trojan's may very well crush his. Still, he tries to appear gentlemechly, and smiles. "S'right! Seekers have nightmares about us, yanno'." An optic ridge quirks at Cuffs. "Slag, I owe /you/? ... Hnn." Odd that the /white/ Aerialbot turns into a black jet. "Trojan is a new recruit - ?"

"Sssomething like that.," Trojan confirms, as one of her very large hands comes down and ... well, prods the Aerilbot in greeting. Shaking hands would be a very bad idea.

Stormwind comes in from Repair Bay - Medical Wing - Autobot City.

Air Raid gets... prodded. Oh yeah, this femme's all over him. "Well, welcome aboard! So I heard you like... uh... energon..." Primus what an awful pick-up line. Well, she might not even like that! What do spiders eat? But Raid must win this bet! "We've got a nice lounge, better than any /parking garage/..." he tries.

Oh, if she only knew. "...You are a veRY pecULiar Auto-baht, Air Raid," Trojan notes, as the femme leans down a little closer to examine 'Mr. Smooth'. Right! "Doessss not every one of SssCybertro-nian dessscent enjoy Ener-JON?"

Cuffs smirks at Air Raid, simply stepping back and falling silent as he watches.

Stormwind walks out from the repair bay to look around, wandering into, well, this. She blinks a little at the response, looking upward towards Trojan, then towards Air Raid, and to Cuffs. "Do I even want to know what's going on?"

"W-well... yeah but..." Raid clears his throat, a human trait he'd picked up. He finds himself leaning away. Cuffs is no help at all! "Oh hello Stormwind! Meet Trojan! And tell her we have good energon!"

"Hello, Sssstormwind," Trojan greets in that disharmonic, disembodied kind of voice. "...Air Raid wassss jusssst talking abOUT the Qual-ity of Ener-JON..." Or something. Note the slight lift of the femme's risen shoulders.

"Its quite good energon. THe lounge has a dispenser. ITs a bit odd tasting at first till you get used to it though." Cuffs admits, waving to Stormwind

"No it's not!" Raid grates through dental plates, glaring daggers at Cuffs.

Stormwind ehms... and blinks just a little at Air Raid. She smiles up at Trojan and nods just a little bit. "Hi there. Er.... right." She glances towards Air Raid and really tilts her head at the situation. "Considering what I heard on the radio before this, that really makes me wonder, y'realize..."

Cuffs lifts both hands "For someone not USED to it, it tastes odd. But not in a bad way." he states soothingly

That's the problem with particularly ancient mechs with 0 earth culture lore. They tend to be as much fun as, oh, Omega Supreme. Trojan is no different, although the antics has certainly caused her much veiled amusement. And then Stormwind catches her attention yet again. "...What wassss heard..."

Ironhide has arrived.

Air Raid looks ready to punch Cuffs, who continues to cramp his style /and/ chances at a date, most likely on purpose. "It's GOOD energon," he assures to Trojan, then gives a pleading look to Stormwind, shaking his head slightly.

<OOC> Air Raid laughs.
<Bot-OOC> Cuffs says, "dirty mind moment: We have Cuffs, a Trojan, all we need is Snow Job now... ;P"
<Bot-OOC> Air Raid says, "Ahahaha"
<Bot-OOC> Slingshot says, "back"
<Bot-OOC> Ironhide laughs.

Slingshot rolls his optics and chuckles.

"Very good. " agrees Cuffs.

Stormwind snickers just a little bit as she glances to Raid, and back up, shaking her head slightly. "Just some of the standard reaction to hearing that a new femme is around, and some related discussion." She snickers a little at Air Raid, looking up to Trojan. "Some bots are just a little on the nutty side. Heard a new girl was here and suddenly got all excited at the prospects of it." She grins a little bit and looks to Raid. "So, remembering to be proper and acknowledge her as a lady, rather than as the 'new babe'?"

Color her perplexed. Trojan scans between Air Raid, Stormwind, and Cuffs. Does she have anything to say? Apparently not: Her silence is broken only by a metallic grating as the metal plates reassert themselves in covering her visage. "...Babe?" Poor Air Raid: Being sabotaged at every turn!

<OOC> Air Raid sadfaces!

Ironhide is entering Autobot City. He's carrying a manila folder under one arm and walking with purpose. He stops to see what's going on, looking upon the scene with incredulity on top of his characteristic grumpiness. "Good cycle," he says, his voice drenched in sarcasm, "What's going on here?"

Slingshot elbows Ironhide, then leans in to whisper, "Air Raid's crashing and burning, looks like."

Air Raid winces as Stormwind lays everything out. He settles a fierce, forced grin on her. "Thank you Stormwindddd," he seethes through his metallic teeth again. Snapping to face Trojan, he reaches for a finger instead of a hand, and does a small bow. "No babes! If you'll grace me with your presence, my /lady/, I'd be glad to take you for a drink - ?" And damnit, Ironhide ruins the 'mood'! Raid stiffly salutes, hating the world.

Cuffs salutes Ironhide as well "Nothing important sir. Air Raid is just offering to give Trojan here a tour of the base." he notes with a smile "I'm supposed to guard her but I have to recharge sometime right?"

Ironhide salutes, allowing his subordinates to stand at ease. Then he turns to Trojan and looks her over. Crashing and burning, huh? He doesn't suppose that this is meant literally, although Raid does plenty of that as well. "Trojan," he says, "Security clearance?"

Air Raid is a BRILLIANT flier!

Stormwind gets that seething response from Air Raid and just cracks up laughing, shaking her head and grinning just a little. "Good boy." She looks up at Trojan and grins then, shaking her head. "Sorry about Air Raid, he doesn't get out very often." She grins a little again.

<Bot-OOC> Slingshot ROFL

And thus, the giant Trojan skitters half a turn to the side, with surprising quickness - and a lot of metal complaint from both her own ghastly frame and the metal floor beneath. Eerie green optics settle upon Ironhide, and... the folder. Cybertronians using paper. Who'da thought? "...Good Ssscycle," she responds in kind, voices a cacophony of modulators. "Unsssssure," she replies to the ranking Autobot. "Am to have essssCORT, wherE-var I go insssside the ssssscity..." And her dialect? It's difficult to catch the interpretation. Her attention returns to Stormwind, and then Cuffs. And then Air Raid. It's all very perplexing for the ancient Autobot.

<Bot-OOC> Slingshot DIES
<Bot-OOC> Slingshot says, "BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHA"

Cuffs drops his hand and guestures to Ironhide "This is Ironhide, Security mech. One of my superiors." he explains with a smile, looking back to Trojan "That's a good questino. I'm just supposed to keep tabs on you. I suppose I dont HAVE to be by your side all the time."

Slingshot sidles up to Air Raid. He casts his Aerial-wingsib a questioning glance, basically asking silently if Air Raid is sure Trojan is his type.

Air Raid frowns, "I get out plenty!" But it appears Trojan has rejected his offer, and Raid has lost the bet. He stares at Slingshot, somehow offended. "What. What! She's a /femme/! Bahh."

Ironhide is not at all comfortable with this new arrival. He has negative associations regarding individuals who seem to speak with a hiss. "I'd like that," he responds, eye on those green optics. His face is soft, neutral, as he sizes Trojan up. "Security concern - y'understand. No prejudice here. An no preferential treatment. How else ya gonna know how ta get around, anyway? Raid here can show you the base, if it's all the same ta you."

Stormwind grin just a little at Trojan and Air Raid, shaking her head just a little bit and laughing. She laughs just slightly and shakes her head, glancing over to Ironhide. Then she hears that, and starts laughing again.

Trojan hasn't rejected Air Raid outright - she's just trying to make sense of all the blended Earth Culture that's seeped its way into the Autobots. She continues to eye Ironhide in turn, and her head bobs once, slowly, as an acknowlegement. "I underssssTAHND," she affirms in words. "I would be conssscerned if there wasssss not some invessstigation." So now, Air Raid is her escort? Her gaze soon finds that particular Aerilbot, as if, suddenly, questioning the wisdom in the choice. Hee.

Slingshot nudges Air Raid. "Looks like you're in luck," he says.

Air Raid is, admittedly, a bad choice. It's then that he decides he's not too sure about showing a giant, scary spider femme around the base. "... Slingshot here would be GLAD to show you around." He takes his brother's shoulders and tries to push him out in front.

<OOC> Trojan dies.

Cuffs just watches all of this, shooting Air Raid a softer, more sympathetic lok

Slingshot is taken aback. "What, changed your mind already?" he whispers to Air Raid. "Oh, sure, yes, I'd be glad to show you around," he says to Trojan.

"...You are very peculiar, Air Raid," whispers the Femme in a sussurant hisss. "What issss thisss... 'babe'?" Now Slingshot has become the center of focus, and the big, scary mech directs the question, along with that toxic, bleeding gaze, to him.

Slingshot rubs the back of his head nervously. "Oh, 'babe' is an earth term for a female," he says.

"Hang on, now," Ironhide says, "Raid, this aint gonna make our guest feel comf'terble - you two fightin over who gets to escort her. This aint a social obligation, ya know. You SHOULD be able to show her around no problem." He looks the two Aerialbots over. "I don't care who does it as long as we don't have viz'ters wandering around AC without an escort." He turns to Trojan again. "'Babe' means he's sweet on ya. He's jus' hemmin' an hawin' 'bout how ta say it."

<Bot-OOC> Air Raid says, "Ironhide pages: Master Cock Blocker!"

"..." Ahh. That makes more sense. Trojan's attention turns to Ironhide, and she leans down, down, down to eye him - it's thoughtful, and introspective. "...Do you sssspeak the old Dia-LECT?"

<Bot-OOC> Trojan dies.

Air Raid would be blue in the face if he weren't a robot. "M'not HEMMIN' and HAWIN', SIR! But very well, SIR! I'd be GLAD to ESCORT miss TROJAN around the BASE, SIR!" And then, he shuts the hell up.

Stormwind coughs very softly at Ironhide saying that, and laughs even harder, just shaking her head. "Just giving Air Raid a hard time for being silly, mostly." She grins a little bit to Trojan. "I mean... with things like this going on... well, I'd like to reassure you that they aren't always like this, all the bots haven't gone insane since you've been gone. Completely anyway..." She glances to Raid mostly on the last trailed off bit.

<Bot-OOC> Stormwind hands Trojan granny glasses and a pointing stick, since she's gotten stuck with gradeschool mentalities ;)
<Bot-OOC> Slingshot says, "lol"
<Bot-OOC> Trojan Baps. Give her time to adapt, silly. :P What's the saying? There may be snow on the roof...?
<Bot-OOC> Stormwind figured you as the schoolteacher actually ;p
<Bot-OOC> Stormwind tickles
<Bot-OOC> Trojan says, "Ooh. Yes. You mean a Zweiger stick. <:"
<Bot-OOC> Stormwind says, "yes. :)"
<Bot-OOC> Stormwind winks
<Bot-OOC> Trojan puts on the coke-bottle glasses and may need to swat the Aerialbots is what you're saying. Hee.

Ironhide puts his hands on his hips. "I been around fer a bit," he replies, "I picked up bits of it. Why d'ya ask?"

<Bot-OOC> Slingshot says, "LOL"
<OOC> Air Raid >)

"Old dialect?" Raid turns his attention to Ironhide now, optics wide.

"Issss what I sssspeak more... eassssily," she explains, all of those disharmonic voices sounding disappointed, all at once. "And Quintessssssson. I came from Cryssss-TAHL Cssssity, before itsssss dessstruction." Which will give Ironhide an idea of exactly how old this particular Autobot is.

<Bot-OOC> Trojan gets out the building-sized paddle.
<Bot-OOC> Air Raid flees!

Ironhide nods. "We call it High Cybertronian now. Somethin you should learn, Raid. Coul stand to broaden yer horizons a little bit." Ironhide frowns as he tries a phrase in the old dialect. <"Where do you come from?">

"Oh, I'll just find a teacher that knows High Cybertronian, no problem," Raid mutters sarcastically, forgetting himself.

Trojan rights herself. It's 'High Cybertronian' now, eh? The digital stream isn't... even remotely like an Earth Language in its sonorous, even electronic phases. <"I was originally named Tasinia; I hailed from Crystal City, on Cybertron. This was before The Decepticons destroyed it.">

Ironhide gets about 85 of that. The names he can distinguish, but the transitive verbs fall by the wayside. He's always had trouble with those. <"Ah... Crystal City. Destroyed. That is where you are from, Tasinia? How come do you here in what ways?">

High Cybertronian is all greek to Slingshot. "Hey, maybe Babblefish can translate it on the net," he says to Air Raid.

Air Raid looks damn confused, but it's a very familiar look for him. He tries to mouth out some words. "Yeah, uh, go ahead and try to /type/ that, Slingshot." He suddenly looks very anxious, and claps Slingshot on the shoulder. "Oi, do the escorting for now, alright? The guild's raiding the Glokken Mountains, the loot is MASSIVE, I gotta' split."

Stormwind blinks as she hears Slingshot, laughing even harder at this point. Then she blinks at Air Raid, shaking her head. "Gah. You play /that/ game?" She shakes her head.

Ironhide may be in for a headache, because he's open the floodgate. Someone who can somewhat understand her! <"When Omega Supreme was lured away, the Decepticons attacked. Like so many others, I was one who escaped in whatever ship we could find. Cybertron was fully at war when Crystal City fell,"> prattles the ancient Mech, who shifts around to - keep all of those assembled in view. Trojan continues, pacing her speech pattern to try and compensate for Ironhide's sake. Backward translation is seldom easy. <"I borded a very old ship, called the CS-III. It was a decommissioned long range scout, not intended to be an exodus vessel. But we took what we could find.">

Air Raid frowns at Stormwind for umpteenth time tonight, "You got a /problem/ with World of Everquesting Starcraftwars? Eh, whatev's!" He salutes Ironhide hastily, hoping to sneak away while the old mech tries to decipher Trojan's words.

Ironhide is still for a long moment while he cross-references all the unfamiliar words with his seldom used Old Cybertronian databank. His mouth works, forming the words as he translates them. When he is finally able to understand the gist of what Trojan is saying, he ventures a reply. <"Damage touch everything, Decepticons. Not a new arrival Trojan, henceforth. This must be confusing for you, see how humans Cybertronians intercourse."> He stumbles here, embarrassed. Is that the right word? He tries to correct himself. <"Interplay. Welcome. Slingshot shall be your escort.">

<Bot-OOC> Slingshot DIES
<Bot-OOC> Trojan says, "...My brain!"
<Bot-OOC> Stormwind sprays eggnog all over the computer screen. Thanks, Ironhide!
<Bot-OOC> Ironhide bows.

"Eh, Defense of the Last Hits is better," Slingshot says.

<Bot-OOC> Trojan nomnomnominates Ironhide for quote of the month.
<Bot-OOC> Air Raid ruffles Ironhide.
<Bot-OOC> Slingshot noogies XD
<Bot-OOC> Ironhide smiles. "Shucks!"

=================================== Humor ====================================
Message: 16/3                      Posted        Author
Quote of the Day                   Sat Dec 19    Stormwind
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Ironhide is still for a long moment while he cross-references all the unfamiliar words with his seldom used Old Cybertronian databank. His mouth works, forming the words as he translates them. When he is finally able to understand the gist of what Trojan is saying, he ventures a reply. <"Damage touch everything, Decepticons. Not a new arrival Trojan, henceforth. This must be confusing for you, see how humans Cybertronians intercourse."> He stumbles here, embarrassed. Is that the right word? He tries to correct himself. <"Interplay. Welcome. Slingshot shall be your escort.">

See how humans Cybertronians intercourse. Right. Painfully, mostly. ;)
==============================================================================

Air Raid downright glares at Slingshot. "Defense of the Last Hits is for SEEKERS! JEEZ!" He pulls Slingshot off to the side for an impromptu wrestling make, "I'll make you eat those words!" Of course, it's all in good fun as Raid aims a punch to Slingshot's side.

Slingshot looks indignant. "I have it on good authority that Thrust and Dirge positively SUCK at Defense of the Last Hits. Their ELO combined is like, 450.

It takes her a long moment. It really and truly does; Ironhide's translation is... rough; it's utterly a shame that the humor is lost on all parties: The younger Autobots, because they do not understand High Cybertronian; Ironhide, because his grasp of the language is tenuous; and Trojan, because she has no idea about Earth Culture. Thankfully, she has the capacity to cipher out the 'Me, Tarzan' kind of Ironhide-Speak, and finally ventures a nod.

Air Raid tells Slingshot to EAT IT and flees for his silly games!

Ironhide nods and smiles, pleased that he's been able to hold something of a conversation in a language he hasn't spoken in...how long? Vorns. "Right, miss Trojan. Pleased to make yer acquaint'nce. Slingshot?" He turns to the Aerialbot. "Front n center. This new bot's yer responsibility. Don't go wanderin, right? I can't things to do." He holds up the manilla folder.

"You got it," Slingshot says. "So, where shall I show ya off to first?" he asks Trojan

"...Assss you will lead, Ssssslingsssshot," resumes this hisssing sussurance woven from half a dozen voices. Trojan does add an addendum to this genial indifference of where they wander, (so long as they wander somewhere), "Although, I do wisssssh to learn about... Earth."

"Oh, well, I think there's an information terminal in the Lounge," Slingshot says, "You can learn a lot about Earth in a short period of time."

"...That sssssounds like a placsssse to sssstart." Anything to help her learn more about the language! Trojan whips about to settle in behind Slingshot, so he may lead wherever he wishes.
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