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Homemade Science; Closed; with Rodimus
Topic Started: 7 May 2016, 03:22 PM (381 Views)
Perceptor
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Perceptor sat at his desk, venting a grand sigh before leaning to the side and unlatching the side paneling. He tugged, and the interior glided part of the way out to show...

A still system. Compact, yet effective, and with a tiny tap included- scientists are rather thorough.

A drawer was opened to reveal a set of four glasses, made of heat-sliced beakers from his schooling days, and one was taken to be filled with the ominous beverage of choice.

He sank back in his seat with a grumble, sipping carefully and musing on his bribe deal with Rodimus. It was annoying to have to do once again, but it was by no means the worst he's done. After all, he DID get away with almost offlining Springer with his home concoctions. Another sip, and a hum of enjoyment. Vaguely, he wondered if he had locked the door, forgoing the thought almost immediately. Not many bothered him in his far corner of the hab-suite sector aside from Drift, perhaps the occasional Whirl antics- his nerves ceased to be a problem as he hummed aimlessly to himself, enjoying the fruits of his (decidedly mildly illegal) labor.
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Rodimus
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Rodimus needed a drink and he needed a strong one. The last few days were everything stressful that he did not need and even he couldn't just grin, shrug it off, and act like nothing had happened. He wouldn't admit it to just anyone, but being a captain/co-captain of a ship full of mechs that kept getting dragged into one weird or dangerous thing after another was actually beginning to take a toll on him. Something was inevitably going to make him snap and his reputation was going to be thrown out the airlock along with some choice stowaways on his ship.

He only had a couple swigs left of the Nightmare Fuel he'd been keeping in his quarters and he knew that would not be enough. Swerve, though he tried to have the best choices in his bar, didn't have anything strong enough to knock Rodimus into next week; Ultra Magnus was careful to make sure Swerve's selection remained legal. If he wanted something outside the tight regulations Magnus put on the alcohol on board, Rodimus' choices were limited to going to a bar on the next planet they came across or -

- or he could swing by Perceptor's and remind him of the deal they'd made about the homebrew that Ultra Magnus did not know about.

Yeah, that sounded like a plan. So Rodimus left his quarters and went down to the hab-suites, following the hall down to where Perceptor's room was tucked away. He pressed the call button outside with one finger, two quick taps, before trying the door without waiting for answer from the other mech. It slid open with one tap of the button. Unlocked. Good. Rodimus walked right in and spotted Perceptor at his desk, glass in hand.

"Oh, good, just what I wanted to talk to you about," he said as a greeting. "Got enough for your favorite captain to indulge?"
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Perceptor
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Perceptor had detached the reticule, setting it aside for the evening- taking a sip from his glass, he turned when he heard the door whisper open.

In the time between the door opening and Rodimus waltzing in, asking for a drink, Perceptor had a pistol loaded and ready to fire and aimed at the doorway.

"Got enough for your favorite Captain to indulge?"

Perceptor stared. And stared some more. He vented in exasperation, setting the pistol upon the desk and fishing in a drawer for another glass as he spoke, "Nearly blasted my 'favorite Captain's' damned helm off but I suppose I can share the wealth a bit."

A snicker.

"You look like you need it almost as badly as I do. Take a seat."

Perceptor set his own half-empty glass beside the discarded firearm as he filled one for Rodimus, holding it out with a grin.

"Getting tired of the top of the command chain, then?"
Edited by Perceptor, 7 May 2016, 04:27 PM.
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Rodimus
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"You aren't the first on this ship to point a gun at me and you won't be the last," Rodimus pointed out, giving a shrug. He still waited for Perceptor to put the gun down before stepping forward again to join the other mech at his desk, grabbing the other chair in the room and slumping down in it as Perceptor poured him a glass. "Though your trigger finger's calmed down a little. A year ago, you would have shot me."

He didn't say anything about how much he needed the drink. It was already clear he needed it, why explain what was already written all over his face? He leaned forward and took the offered glass with a thanks that sounded flat and completely unlike his own voice. "Haven't you heard, Perceptor? I haven't been the top of the command chain since Cybertron."

He took a swig of the drink and nearly coughed it back up. Only his apparent determination to melt his systems had him swallowing it. "P-Primus, that's - wow - powerful!"
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Perceptor
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Perceptor's grin bordered on devious.

"I don't thin it out is part of the reason.", he said simply. He retrieved his own glass, musing quietly, "And it's well known that the higher-ups on Cybertron RARELY know what they're doing, Rodimus. I wouldn't take their demands to heart."

He shrugged, downing what remained in his glass before refilling it from the now humming mini-still, "We never did."

We, of course, meaning the Wreckers. His glass now full, he leaned back easily, settling into his seat with legs crossed as he took a swallow of the abomination he brewed nightly. He watched the Captain before speaking again, "So spill it, Rodimus. What's been picking at your processor, hm? One doesn't just casually seek me out for absolutely no reason unless they're at the end of their rope or in the urge for a bullet lodged somewhere exceptionally uncomfortable."
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Rodimus
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Rodimus gave a couple extra coughs to clear his intake before taking another drink, prepared for the strength and taste of the brew this time. It went down much easier and he took a third drink. "Yeah, but that's the higher-ups on Cybertron. I've got deal with one on my own ship."

He held the glass in his hands for a moment, leaning forward with his arms propped on his thighs, glass settled between his spread knees. A quiet snort escaped him. "Perceptive, Perceptor." He tapped his fingers against the glass in his hand. "Have you been outside your lab or here the last few days? Something really messed up is happening. There's mechs on board who weren't when we left Cybertron with Megatron, we somehow ended up with a few extra Decepticons, and a mech I know is supposed to be dead is on board and attacked First Aid. Tell me you wouldn't want to drink illegal homebrew if you had to deal with all that."
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Perceptor
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"Why do you think I'm drinking? Or armed for that matter?", snorted Perceptor, "I've been resisting the urge to pick up the rifle for a bit now; luckily I get to hide in my lab and swear until I'm blue in the face."

Another swallow of liqour, and a frown, "Best I can think of is... well, shenanigans of a scientific variety. Possibly some kind of engine malfunction. Perhaps Brainstorm is experimenting again, but I certainly hope he isn't."

Perceptor's eyebrow twitched, "Murder is SUCH a pain to work into a schedule, and I would DEFINITELY be tempted."

He waved a hand, "Dark humor aside, I feel I can safely say we can handle whatever this week's cosmic disaster is going to be. We've handled everything thus far.", he waggled his glass, "And at least there's lubrication available for when life is threatening to stick in without a date or a kiss first, hm?"

And with that, he drained his glass; the worst habit Perceptor had from the Wreckers. Well, one of them at least. Only Drift would ever know the full extent of that list.
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Rodimus
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"Yeah, okay. Fair." Rodimus managed a half-grin before sitting back and taking another drink. Primus, the stuff was powerful; a few sips and he was already feeling the beginning of a buzz. "Difference is you're not the captain who has to make decisions on who stays and who gets locked in the brig. Lottie's already forced my hand to let her save Vos." He knew he couldn't really stop her from saving a wounded mech because it went against medical codes and it would be morally bankrupting if Rodimus refused to let a medic do their job, no matter who the patient was. "Almost wish I had a lab to hide out in from all this."

He eyed Perceptor with a skeptical arch of his brow. "Really, that's the best you can come up with? Some ship's genius." He shrugged. "Might have you and Brainstorm check out the engines for anything screwy. I don't think it's him messing around again."

Rodimus had some concerns about just what they could handle at the moment, but he could still appreciate the euphemism. It drew a laugh out of him and he raised his glass in a salute to Perceptor's sense of humor. "There's one way to put it. Though I'm gonna need a refill to deal with this. One night of reckless over-drinking before I act like I'm actually responsible."
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Perceptor
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Perceptor nodded in agreement, plucking Rodimus's glass from his grip after setting his own aside. He leaned, refilling it from the setup and checking that the color was luridly bright before handing it back to Rodimus.

"Reckless overdrinking, hm? If you want reckless, I have previous batches I have been aging for a bit in the closet that are twice as strong. Recklessness is an art form, Rodimus, remember that."

After handing Rodimus's drink back Perceptor went about refilling his own.

"In all honesty, I probably have batches from back in the day, when I first joined up with Springer and his lot. But those might offline you, and Magnus would use my helm as a paperweight; and I'm far to sweet and gentle to die in such a way."

The sarcasm was palpable; Perceptor was, however, curious as to just how "reckless" Rodimus was feeling and whether or not the Captain would push for a rougher dose of the fruits of Perceptor's behind-the-scenes labor.
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Rodimus
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"An art form that I've pretty much mastered, if you believe Megatron and Magnus," Rodimus pointed out. He took back the glass and took another drink, giving a frown. "Even Optimus thinks I've perfected being reckless. Not to mention half the crew. Might as well prove 'em right for once."

Rodimus looked at the glass in his hand for a moment, considering his options before giving a shrug. "Get the stronger stuff out. The stronger the better, Perceptor. I don't want to be able to think tonight or remember anything tomorrow." He gave a snort at Perceptor claiming to be sweet and gentle. "Not to me, you're not."
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Perceptor
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Perceptor's grin was downright conspiratorial at this point.

"Very well, Captain.", he said quietly, "Finish what you have while I fetch the cream of the crop."

And with that Perceptor set aside his own glass and rose from his seat, quiet steps taking him to the aforementioned closet. He pushed the door open, given its slow slide, and knelt to shove a few boxes aside.

"Most of this I had been keeping for just such an emergency. However, I had not expected to have company when said emergency came about.", rambled the scientist, "It goes without saying, of course, that I cannot be held responsible for any unfavorable outcomes in regards to your decisions."

Clinks and clanks sounded, and one lone hissed swear. Perceptor surfaced from the depths of said closet, tip of one servo in his mouth as he glared at some offended object before stepping back and hooking the door with a pede and nudging it to start closing. He returned to their little powwow, toting two heavy and dark bottles.

He set both upon the desk before dropping back into his seat and continuing to grin like the Chesire Cat.

"Let me know when you're ready to tempt fate and test your systems."
Edited by Perceptor, 8 May 2016, 04:04 PM.
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Rodimus
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That grin on Perceptor's face should have been a warning. Rodimus was sure that the last time he'd seen Perceptor grin like that, someone had died. A smart mech would take that grin as a sign of Bad Things to Come and settle for the brew they had in hand; Rodimus, though he was smarter than people often took him for, was not the "smart mech" that would settle. He wanted to drink recklessly and was all for blacking out for the next day or so. He drank from the cup he had while Perceptor retrieved the other batch.

"We all need company during the apocalypse, Perce," Rodimus pointed out. Surely having a group of Decepticons - two of which were DJD members - on the ship, albeit under close supervision, counted as the apocalypse. Damn close to it, at any rate. He took another long drink, nearly draining his glass. "When have you ever been responsible for my decisions? Just do me a favor and don't call Magnus or Megatron when I black out. Call Tailgate and they can drag my sorry aft back to my hab-suite."

Finishing off his glass, Rodimus set it down on Perceptor's desk. He took a moment, off-lining his optics and letting the engex settle in his systems. He could already feel the charge buzzing in his systems, the effects of the strong brew already playing havoc with him. Before he could even think about accepting an even stronger drink, he did one responsible thing and offlined the protocols for his heat-system; he was not going to let himself get killed by Perceptor for accidentally setting the sniper's room on fire while plastered.

"Alright, hit me with the best shot you've got."
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Perceptor
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As Rodimus spoke, Perceptor had been going about cracking the seal on bottle number one.

"Alright, hit me with the best shot you've got."

And then Perceptor snickered.

"Well, if you insist.", he said easily, that grin never fading as the crack of a busted bottle-seal sounded. His optics glinted as he cast aside the top, and the contents of the bottle he held... hissed. Like some ancient serpent of Eden, they hissed and he poured a sample of the contents into Rodimus's glass. A heavy and deep indigo, swirling like a black hole and with no scent to speak of. Filling the glass halfway, Perceptor stopped the bottle's flow and set it aside.

"Mind the burn, Rodimus. It's a wee bit strong, that.", he warned cheerily, swirling the remains of his own glass before downing it- and, in a small display of his own quiet recklessness, poured himself a dose of what was probably a war-crime in a bottle before corking the container with a bullet shell that rolled about amongst datapas and half scritched notes.

Scuffed servos took his glass, raising it in a mock-toast.

"To the end of the world, or something damn close to it."
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Rodimus
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Rodimus may have hesitated just a little bit when the hiss reached his audio receptors. He knew sometimes bottles did hiss out carbonation, but never like that. What was he getting himself into here? Probably nothing good and Perceptor had given him fair warning. No take backs, Rodimus. Never back down from a challenge, even if that challenge was a bottle of illegal homebrew that was probably going to kick his ass into next multiverse.

Bring it on.

He reached out and took the glass Perceptor filled for him, studying the contents for a moment, taking in the color - Primus, he didn't think he'd seen any kind of alcohol that color before. A smirk crossed his lips at the warning of the strength. "Fire can't kill a dragon, Perce," he retorted. "If I can handle catching myself on fire, I can handle this."

Famous last words, as the saying went. Rodimus met the mock-toast, raising his glass in return. "'Til all are one."

He hadn't said that in months. Had to be some kind of record. He'd stopped saying it after the incident with Overlord and now, the words didn't even feel right in his mouth, like someone else had said them and he was just the mouthpiece for it. Rodimus grimaced at the phrase and brought his glass to his lips, tossing back a good mouthful to burn the words right out of his mouth.

And burn them it did - the words and his insides. He refused to cough it up. He swallowed hard, curling in on himself a little at the fire in his systems. It lasted only briefly and his processor spun after the burn settled. Once he could do so, he sucked air in to relieve the burn, taking a moment to reset his optics, as they'd gone offline as soon as the drink had filled his mouth.

"P-Primus, you sure - you sure this stuff isn't poison?"
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Perceptor
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"Poison?", asked Perceptor cheekily, eyeing his own glass.

He raised it to his lips, and took a drink. Then two, then three, then the glass was empty and he licked his lipplates. And hiccuped softly.

"Probably not toxic. Maybe a wee bit stronger than I previously thought, but probably not toxic."

Perceptor set down his glass, uncorking the bottle for a refill. Once again, there was a soft hiss as he did so. He looked to Rodimus with that particular grin again once he finished pouring, the soft clunk of the bottle being set upon the desk sounding suddenly like a thrown gauntlet.

"If it's too much, I can always get you something a little... more gentle."

The challenge. How would Rodimus answer?
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