Hey, welcome to the Lost Light! Glad to have you aboard! We're on a quest to find the Knights of Cybertron and you're welcome to join us. The more the merrier! Guests are limited, but if you sign up, you'll be able to access our member-only sectors.

Look, finding Cyberutopia and the Knights isn't going to be easy. The universe is full of danger and we've all got our share of issues, but with all of us working together to find the Knights, we can do it! We will find them and show the universe there's more to us than meets the eye! So, what are you waiting for?

Join the crew!

Username:   Password:
Add Reply
Almost Responsible; Open, primary players: Perceptor; Cyclonus
Topic Started: 20 Apr 2016, 11:08 AM (109 Views)
Perceptor
Member Avatar
Confirmed Gay Disaster
Loud.

Perceptor winced.

"Bloody LOUD.", he growled to himself, retreating to the farthest corner he could and settling in. A copy of an old favorite on a datapad, contraband in his subspace pockets, and no tab to speak of. Perfectly normal; looked squeaky clean and incapable of any kind of illicit activities.

He sat heavily with a sigh, feeling his backstrut setup creak and whine at him. He already had drink in hand, and glanced around to be sure no one was paying attention to the corner he had relegated himself to- before reaching into subspace pocket number one and pulling out a faded looking flask, flicking the top off with a thumb, and proceeding to ignore the optic-sizzling scent before pouring half into his glass.

The soft glow immediately dimmed to something more suited for a Decepticon warflag; or a toxicity warning.

Muttering to himself in bitter syllables, he settled with his datapad and his newly strengthened beverage... and began to read.

Assuming all went well, he'd drink until he saw sparkles in his vision and toddle off to fall asleep in his habsuite. Hopefully, he wouldn't wake up on the floor by the door.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

Cyclonus had spent the better part of the day aimlessly wandering the halls. Swerve's had been rather loud and rowdy earlier, and while a once-familiar environment for him, he didn't need the helm-ache. So instead, he'd moved from room to room, idly chatting with his fellow crewmembers here and there. He wasn't sure exactly where Tailgate had gone off to, but he was sure his friend was fine. All he remembered was being just barely conscious as they'd left their shared hab quietly that morning, humming softly to themself.

After a few hours, Swerve's did settle down, as some of the more silly patrons were escorted to their suites by similarly drunk friends. Cyclonus kept well out of their way as they stumbled along. He removed his sword, presenting it to Ten with a nod before entering the bar. He scanned the room for an empty seat, preferably a booth, but a table would do. There were mechs already seated at his usual table, so he opted to sit not far from it, in case they left some time soon. Cyclonus, more or less, began to tune out the noise, instead focussing on the drink he'd ordered, idly swirling the straw in it.

He wasn't there for long before Perceptor walked in, the red mech settling down with a datapad and growling softly to himself about the noise. He made no move to start a conversation, knowing they both preferred to sit in silence and do their own thing anyways. And he was not about to disturb Perceptor when a mech was trying to read. His attention was soon roused by an argument on the other side of the bar, causing him to turn his head and size up the possible troublemakers. He came to the conclusion that if it were to become a problem, Ten could handle it. If not, Cyclonus was more than willing to lend a servo.

But for now, he turned his attention to his lane, his whole lane, and nothing but his lane, nursing his drink.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Perceptor
Member Avatar
Confirmed Gay Disaster
Things were going perfectly fine, oddly enough. But it was the moment Perceptor flipped to page 394 that it happened.

THUNK.

He froze, helm jerked down after a glass thudded into the back of it, and he swore he could spit fire; however, externally, he simply swore vehemently before reigning in his suddenly vocalizations as the thud of the resident bouncer sounded and the issue was... resolved. Once again, he reached discreetly for the flask, thumb-digit flicking the top and the burning and vicious scent curling momentarily into the air as he emptied it into the small amount left in his glass.

The contents of said glass went black, and he gave a nod to himself, sighing heavily and stashing the empty container.

And, in a move definitely not considered wise, he threw back the remainder of his drink, swallowing quickly before his intake probably burst into flames. He shivered, setting back down and resuming his reading-

Or he would've, if he didn't realize that a sudden vice-like grip from the hit to his helm has cracked the datapad holding his novel. It beeped, dimmed, and clicked off.

And once again, the "calm, collected, frigid scientist" swore viciously under his breath; it was a wonder the air didn't turn blue around him.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

Cyclonus had noticed the glass hitting Perceptor in the head, causing Perceptor's reflexes to break the datapad screen, and he found himself shooting a warning look at the mech who'd been a bit too rambunctious and caused the accident. A single, silent gaze proved to be enough, as they shrunk back in their seat, and after a few moments, continued their conversation with the mechs beside them in a much more peaceful manner. Cyclonus took pride in being able to unnerve most of the crew with a single well-placed glance, but he supposed it came with murdering so many of their own under Galvatron's command.

He grimaced at the memory, tapping his talons on the glass between his hands.

He didn't miss Perceptor slipping a little extra into his drink this time, watching the engex turn a slightly... alarming shade of black, before Perceptor tipped the entire contents of the glass back, his own intake burning from watching him. He kept the quickest rout to the medibay in the back of his mind, because while Perceptor had been a wrecker, anything solid black was likely bad news for anyones systems.

He turned his head back to his own glass, taking a rather long sip through the straw, before hearing more swearing from the scientist. Taking pity on the poor spark, Cyclonus decided it was time to do a little damage control, before Perceptor decided being locked up in the brig for murder was better than this.

"Rough day?" He asked, pointing at the datapad. He kept his tone conversational as it could be in a loud, rowdy bar.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Perceptor
Member Avatar
Confirmed Gay Disaster
"Pleasant way to put it.", said Perceptor flatly, tapping the bar for the attention of the tender. He turned his helm to glance at Cyclonus, a crack over the reticule of his optic scope and what looked like a fuel smear over a small burn along his jaw, "Another way to put it is I was elbow deep in the bowels of hell itself, because the resident Enforcer is a paranoid mess."

Another drink seemed to materialize as he scoffed, "Good to know THAT hasn't changed. I've had worse days, but this is one of the worst I've had without being shot."

The sound of rummaging in subspace; yet another measured flask of something most definitely illegal, "But at least back then I could threaten to blast someone's legs off if they didn't pipe down."

Another addition to his drink, a darkening of the engex.

"From what I understand, Rodimus and Magnus don't exactly appreciate death threats aimed at their crewmembers. Makes my job a touch more difficult than I'm used to. A shame really."

Half the glass down his intake; anything at all could be considered a shot, when you've had enough practice.

"I have several incredibly useful lessons I could teach this crew; the main one being 'stop trying to call me Percy'."
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

"Pleasant way to put it. Another way to put it is I was elbow deep in the bowels of hell itself, because the resident Enforcer is a paranoid mess."

Not surprising. Ultra Magnus had been much more meticulous about rules as of late, which had proved to be rather interesting, given that he hadn't granted the crew much leeway in the first place, if any.

"Good to know THAT hasn't changed. I've had worse days, but this is one of the worst I've had without being shot."

Cyclonus wasn’t about to say anything regarding Perceptor clearly strengthening his drinks, he had the inkling of a suspicion that what might be stored in that flask was likely illegal. It wasn’t anything he didn’t expect, either. He was sure a nice few of the crew were spiking their own drinks, given how Swerve was known for diluting the engex.

"But at least back then I could threaten to blast someone's legs off if they didn't pipe down. From what I understand, Rodimus and Magnus don't exactly appreciate death threats aimed at their crewmembers. Makes my job a touch more difficult than I'm used to. A shame really."

“I suppose they wouldn’t.” Crew members were well. Sort of needed, one would assume. He resisted the urge to rub at his throat, only imagining how that might feel going down.

"I have several incredibly useful lessons I could teach this crew; the main one being 'stop trying to call me Percy'."

Cyclonus twisted in his seat so he could face the other mech, expression slightly sympathetic. ‘Percy’ was certainly less of a mouthful, but he could understand why one would rather not prefer pet names on a ship of mechs that were as rambunctious as the Lost Light.

The jet fiddled with the straw in his drink thoughtfully, stirring the engex around before raising the straw to his lip plates once more and taking a sip.

“I don’t think there’s much else you can do, aside from threatening them,” Many didn’t seem to take to the idea that there are certain… names and phrases that others did not wish to be called. Cyclonus certainly had experience with that. “And while cathartic, perhaps not the best way to deal with being called such.”

Especially if it could end in Ultra Magnus at one’s door.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Perceptor
Member Avatar
Confirmed Gay Disaster
Perceptor scoffed in annoyance, muttering annoyances under his breath so to speak before swirling the remainder of his drink and sighing.

"Life was easier on the Trion."

He looked sullen, glaring at anyone who breezed to close to him until passerby in the bar gave him a wide berth. His comms pinged, and he ignored it, setting them to Do Not Disturb angrily.

"Bloody hell, can't I get a moment of PEACE?", he snarled to himself, optic scope whirring as though focusing on a target.

Continuing to grumble and bemoan his fate quietly, he downed the remainder in the glass. Another tap on the bar, and a nervous look his way when the refill arrived.

Looks like Perceptor was ignoring his usual promise to never be Drunk in Public.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

"Life was easier on the Trion."

"Perhaps so. But you are here now." Cyclonus replied simply, digging dirt and scuffed paint out from under his claws.

At the sound of Perceptor's snarl, he stood, silent. Cyclonus whisked his drink into his hand, claws tapping lightly against the cube, and he slipped into the seat across from the scientist.

When the refill came, he calmly asked for another as well, quirking a brow and slipping a few shanix the server's way. The jet had the creeping suspicion that if the night continued as it did, he might have to pull Perceptor off of some poor idiot.

The server returned not too long after, with another glass. Cyclonus simply nodded his thanks, removing the little pink straw before downing his previous drink easily, placing the cube on the opposite side of him, so it wouldn't get in the way. He dropped the straw into the full glass.

Cyclonus dipped into his subspace to retrieve his own datapad, finally looking up at Perceptor, an idea crossing his mind.

"How about a game of chess?"
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Perceptor
Member Avatar
Confirmed Gay Disaster
At the word chess, Perceptor looked suddenly interested.

"...I'm not saying I'll be a decent opponent at the moment, but a good game would be nice. It's been a while.", he said, his voice nearly sounding happy.

Nearly.

Spiking his drink with something a bit stronger yet again, Perceptor seemed to settle; an angry vulture come to roost. The little voice in the back of his processor, his conscience or what-have-you, was warning him against continuing to drink. The overwhelming majority of his internal thought processes, however, were screaming for him to get blasted like a cheap target in a warzone and he was much more inclined to listen to that.

That was probably a bad thing.

He had said once before he could get "rambunctious" when he drank: what he neglected to mention was that rambunctiousness usually ended in a fight.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

"...I'm not saying I'll be a decent opponent at the moment, but a good game would be nice. It's been a while."

Cyclonus's expression softened at the interest on the scientist's face (crisis nearly averted, it seemed). It brought him a sort of comfort, he supposed.

As Perceptor spiked his new drink, he swiped to the previously installed chess program, idly sipping from his own drink, minding his claws on the screen. Finding the program, he selected it, swirling the straw in his glass.

"Do you have any preference?" He moved to place the datapad on the table between them, looking up at Perceptor as he spoke. "Between white or black." Cyclonus continued.

Putting it down in its respective place, with their pieces on the right sides of the table, Cyclonus dipped into his subspace, taking out a nail file, inspecting his claws and gradually filing the claw on his thumb into optimal sharpness once more, testing it on his own plating, preening the seams on his arms.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
Perceptor
Member Avatar
Confirmed Gay Disaster
"Black.", said Perceptor, almost wistfully.

His processor drifted (no pun intended) over memories of himsefl and a white mech and various little strategy games they would play; holed up in Percy's quarters on a ship full of Wreckers. Of games that devolved into haphazrd jokes or were abandoned for whatever terrible B-Rated science fiction flick Perceptor had stashed on a datapad.

Of dozing off in a comfortable heap.

"I've always played the black pieces, I mean.", coughed Perceptor, covering his moment of zoning with another pull from his glass.
Offline Profile Quote Post Goto Top
 
Deleted User
Deleted User

"Black."

A faint nod, and he selected white between filing his thumb and testing it on the seams of his arm plating, soon moving on to his index finger once it was optimal sharpness, able to slice an energon line with a simple well-placed flick. Dangerous, if one wasn't careful.

Good thing he was. Careful, calculated, deliberate, with every movement he made.

"I've always played the black pieces, I mean."

Whatever that had been, it only elicited the barest of raised brows from Cyclonus, deciding it was best not to ask, and he had no true wish of knowing anyways. He was not one to pry, and expected the same attitude in kind. The old mech reached forward, selecting one of the pawns hugging the side of the board, prompting it to move two spaces, sipping from his drink idly.
Quote Post Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Fully Featured & Customizable Free Forums
« Previous Topic · Archived Threads · Next Topic »
Add Reply

Theme by Sith of tzb / Outline