| abstract | - Summary: Agnorax, a planet discovered during the Matrix Quest, is a steampunk-themed planet populated by dinosaur-like natives who don't like transformers. Will the Autobots be able to correct that? (doubtful)========================[ The Orion Pax ]=========================
External ship broadcasts for this room are ON Type +shiphelp for help This is a ship entrance/exit room. Use the AIRLOCK command to leave the ship for it's current location: Alpha Centauri System Contents: Autobot Shuttle Autobot Shuttle Auxillary Shuttle Hangar Obvious exits: leads to Orion Pax - Corridor - Aft. Swift has arrived. Red Alert has arrived. Clutch grins at his fellow Autobots, although his gaze lingers on Red Alert. "Red Alert, weren't you there when the Autobots went to Agnorax? I read the reports of what happened there, and that planet was close to the top of my list..." Solstice arrives from the Orion Pax - Corridor - Aft. Solstice has arrived. Fire Chief's Car wanders in just in time to catch Clutch's question, at which point he nods his head. "I was. It's a planet ruled by clothes wearing dinosaurs who seem to focus on death ray building and other unusual scientific persuits. They also hate Transformers there, but consider us more likely to be sapient than mammals." The small, cassettebot Swift hopped into the area as well, looking around at the ships and Autobots some. "Really? Dinosuars? Like the Dinobots?" He asked, a bit curious now. Solstice bounces in, doors swinging about behind her with all the enthusiasm of a youthful bot that's behaved herself rather well, but it's beginning to wear. "Road trip!" she calls out, then slides to a halt, trying to settle herself down, "Or space trip in this case..." Optics bright, smile on her face. Clutch looks between the shuttles that are ready to go. They're both suitable for a sentimental like Clutch, but he finally heads for the Alpha Trion for that extra bit of Autobot connection. As he goes he calls back over his shoulder at Red. "Hate transformers, huh? Sounds like the perfect place to start." You enter the Autobot Shuttle . Red Alert has arrived. Solstice has arrived. Swift has arrived. "Something like the Dinobots," Red Alert explains as he climbs onto the Alpha Trion, "Except organic. And wearing clothes." He finds himself a seat - for once, /not/ the pilot's seat, and settles in. "Hate Transformers though? Sounds a bit rough. I mean, Decepticons yeah, but Autobots? What did we do to them?" Swift said, following onto the Alpha Trion. "A rogue Autobot scientist betrayed their head scientist and wrecked his lab," Red Alert explains. He doesn't strap himself down. Like most good sci-fi shuttles, the seat-belts are only for limited usage. How else are you supposed to get thrown around while being fired on! Solstice drops into a seat, leans back and kicks her feet (to the best of her ability). "Sooo, talking dinos in pants or skirts?" Merry smile, "Do they have any decent roads?" "Cobblestone, unfortunately," Red Alert answers. Clutch goes through a quick pre-flight check and then activates the engines, reversing the shuttle out of the Orion's shuttlebay doors and then zooming away. He glances over at Swift and Solstice. "I'm Clutch, by the way." He hasn't met half the Autobots yet, so even if the two are new he just assumes he's the one who should be introducing himself. Solstice's smile fades, "Awww... man... That's utter slag on suspensions..." "Forget suspensions... my feet will be hurting..." Swift said with a pout. He does hop up and into Solstice's lap for the flight. "Oh, I'm Swift!" Outside, You accelerate to FTL speeds to Deep Space - Galactic Plane. Solstice waves a hand at Clutch, "I'm Solst-ACK!" Up out of the seat comes the orange femme as the other bot lands in her lap, waving hands about, doors shimmying behind her, "Watch the paint!" Red Alert watches Swift's antics and Solstice's reaction with some amusement. "You may want to consider asking before just climbing into someone's lap. Doing it without warning is a good way to get dumped," he observed. To Swift (since the others know who he is), he introduces, "I am Red Alert, Security Director and head of Operations." You say, "Solst...Solstice?" he may have guessed at the rest, or maybe he's just heard the name. "Pleasure to meet you both. Well, I think we're almost there." He eases back on the throttle, which he's had at close to maximum speed all this time. Then he turns to glance at Red Alert, the closest thing to an expert the Autobots have on this planet. "Do you think we should announce ourselves or just go down and meet them in person? I've been dying to try that 'universal greeting' I keep hearing about..." Red Alert mutters, "Try it at the wrong time, and 'dying' would be the right word." Then, louder, he says, "They have a space-port. You'll want to negotiate landing on it the same as you would any other. They may not like Transformers, but they haven't yet barred us from landing. Solstice dusts at her lap, inspecting her legs for scratches before she peers at Swift, "Dude, warn a body before you go leaping all nimbly pimbly in a lap." She shakes her head and settles back down, "You alright? You just startled me." Attention shifting at Clutches question, "Better to treat it like a diplomatic mission and not a drop in and say hi since you said they didnt like us already." "Don't worry, I won't scratch up your paint job." Swift said. Smiling, he looked at Red Alert for a bit. "Well, I hope we'll get along then Red Alert!" He then looked back up at Solstice, nodding. "Sorry for that, but most seats aren't really suited for me to sit in. I'll try to be careful though." Clutch nods thoughtfully, then activates a control that causes the shuttle's computer to request automated landing coordinates. He also checks to make sure the Alpha Trion's weapons systems are turned off and the craft otherwise looks as harmless and friendly as possible for an Autobot shuttle to look before heading planetside. Autobot shuttles are pretty pathetic. They should have no trouble looking harmless. Clutch brings the shuttle down for a landing...he seems to be going a little too fast at first but then at the last second he fires retro-rockets and slows for a hard descent to the ground that's not quite a crash but is the spacecraft equivalent of skidding into a parking spot. "All right...everybody ready?" Solstice glances at Red Alert, then stands back up, "About as ready as I could be.." Staring at the screen, "Ooooh, bronze...." Red Alert mutters faintly, "Really, is /now/ the time for stunt-shuttle flying?" Then, louder, he says, "I'm ready." He stands, and nods. "Their technology works, but it... seems to have followed a different path. And we're not always entirely certain how or why it does, from what I've heard. Of course, I'm no scientist myself." These people want to build working steam spacecraft? Fine! Have at! With that, Red Alert heads down the ramp, sniffing at the air and studying the area around him. Red Alert has left. Outside, Red Alert has arrived. Swift tries to avoid being too freaked out by the landing, breathing lightly when the shuttle does land. "Yeah, I'm ready. Come on, lets get out there and see what all there is!" Hopping around a bit, Swift quickly headed towards the shuttle's exit, eager to explore the planet, even if the Autobots had already been there. He was a scout, and while they weren't expecting trouble, he still would do his job. Swift has left. Outside, Swift has arrived. Solstice has left. Outside, Solstice has arrived. You leave the Autobot Shuttle . Solstice steps off of the shuttle, and oooohs, "Just because we don't know how it works doesn't mean that it isn't pretty fraggin cool to look at. I mean, wow, lookit those FINS..." Clutch comes out last, after powering the shuttle down and setting it to lock itself to anyone except the Autobots (he still thinks the Autobot Shuttles should have remote key-fobs, but he hasn't been able to convince any techs yet...). He runs his optics over the finned shuttles Solstice is talking about, then glances around with interest at the rest of the ships. "You're right. These guys have got style. Feels...I don't know, old-fashioned. Reminds me of Earth somehow, too." He passes by a bat-winged ship. There's nothing like that flying in Earth's skies. "Or at least the movies and video games of Earth." He amends. "Oh, I'm not arguing /that/ point," Red Alert says as he walks around, optics narrowed. "I'm just pointing out-" He stops and takes a sniff, then continues, "just pointing out the differences." If he finds it /suspicious/, he keeps it to himself. One thing he's /not/ authorized to enforce is the laws of physics, after all! "I... guess it looks cool. But why fins? They serve some kind of speed boost or help or something?" Swift asked, looking at everything. He's not a scientist, so most of these physics defying ships just completely go over his head in how wrong they really should be. "Or are they just to help it look cool?" Solstice shrugs, "Not a scientist myself so.. I dunno." She bounces over to Red, "It is different, different isn't bad though." Clutch transforms into sportscar mode! Blue GT-R revs his engine, a deep rythmic growling sound. "If this is how their spaceport looks, I can't wait to see the rest of the city." He adds after a moment, "And uh...to meet the natives, of course." "Never said it was," Red Alert says as he falls into lambor mode. "But it's worth remarking on, none-the-less." Because different isn't always bad, but it /can/ be, and it's Red's job to look for the bad in everything. Solstice huhs, watching the others transform, "Should we drive or walk to be polite?" and to save suspensions. Blue GT-R sounds mystified. "Walk...?" "Well, if you guys are going to be driving around like that, then you might want to give me a lift. I doubt I can keep up with you three just by running." Swift said. He looked at Clutch, a smile of sorts on his rabbit like face. "You know, that thing you do with legs that gets you from place to place when you can't drive there." "They seemed all right with my driving last time," Red Alert reports. "They seemed to realize I was an Autobot. They, erm, weren't happy to see me, but didn't seem any more bothered by the fact that I was a car than they were by the fact that I was an Autobot." One of his doors flips open, just in case Swift wants to hop in. Solstice ohs, shrugs and transforms. Unfolding, reshaping and folding back, Solstice becomes a sunset orange Koenigsegg. Red Alert moves west to Waterfall City. Red Alert has left. Swift does take the offer and chance to hop into Red Alert. He gets comfy in one of the seats, making sure not to cause any kind of damage there. "Say... doesn't it feel odd to have someone in you while you're driving around?" Swift asked curiously. Swift moves west to Waterfall City. Swift has left. Blue GT-R starts to inch forward. "Well...yeah, of course. I just mean...well...why would we walk when we can roll?" He doesn't sound uspet, just surprised, as if someone suggested he keep one of his optics deactivated - it's possible, but he just can't imagine why. When Solstice transforms, he sounds much more at ease. "That's the spirit!" You move west to Waterfall City. Solstice arrives from Agnorax Aerospaceport to the east. Solstice has arrived. Solstice revs her engine with amusement, pulling behind Red in order to follow. "Walkin's not bad, though. Wheels are good but not the end all be all of transportation." Weaving just a bit, "Just the one we're more predisposed to use is all." The ride's a bit bumpy. It /is/ cobblestone, after all. "On land, usually the fastest," Red Alert notes, "though I recommend being careful in really tall grass." He pauses a moment, then continues, "Or cobblestone." "Yeah, but some of us can't drive around, but that's fine with me. Honestly, I'd rather be me than something that isn't me." Swift said. While bumpy, it wasn't enough to really cause Swift to complain. There is only so much that can be done and all. Blue GT-R cruises along with the other Autobots. He keeps getting ahead of them and then having to force himself to slow down again to stay with the rest of the group. Clearly he's not used to driving at anything less than recklessly fast speeds. "I take back what I said about this planet reminding me of Earth...I haven't seen anything like this before!" He muses as the city comes into view. On the outskirts of the city, almost directly in the path of the approaching Autobots, a carnival-like event is underway, tents and booths and what seems like temporary structures set up. Tophat-wearing beings resembling theropod dinosaurs wander around, along with a few aliens of other species here and there. Fire Chief's Car slows down as he pulls up to the circus-like event, and set his radar running. "Be on the alert," he warns the others." Red Alert sweeps the area. Solstice keeps her speed slow, drifting back and forth to avoid the bumpier looking potholes. "Sssss-s-s--s-s--o-o-o--o-o-o-o--ooo....wha-a-a-a-ttt aaa-a---re.." a giggle, "Whoah, got to remember to filter out the vibrations there. OOOoh! Red can I have a tophat?!" "As long as it's properly inspected before worn," Red Alert answers. Then he adds, "Dee-Kal once almost killed me with a hat, you see." Swift looks at what's going on outside of Red Alert, amazed at the sights and sounds. "Can I have cotton candy Red? Can I? Please please can I?" Swift asked. Never mind the fact that he's a robot. Or a rabbit. Or potentially able to cause a mess with the stuff. "Swift," Red Alert reminds tiredly, "You're a robot. Can you even /eat/ cotton candy?" That, and Red has no intention of letting /anyone/ inside him with cotton candy. Solstice huhs, death by hat, that's worth investigating later. "Cool. Ooh, what about goggles? Those are bitchin!" "Just make sure they're not trapped before you put them on, Solstice." That Red Alert expects goggles to be trapped says either strange things about his background, strange things about his paranoia, or both. Solstice chuckles softly, "Too many shiny things. Not usually this distracted but it's all so.. new." Blue GT-R slows down with the others, then transforms, looking around carefully in robot mode. "This city certainly seems to have a lot of parties..." he says slowly. He's watching a trio of Agnoraxians standing near the entrance. After a while, it becomes clear that one of the dinosaur-like aliens tries to greet people as they come and go from the carnival, while the other two remain silent but watch closely. He points them out to the other Autobots. "Those two might be security. And the third one is...what, security? The organizer of this carnival?" He turns and looks at the others. "I say we go talk to him. See if he'll let us in." He seems just as eager as Swift and Solstice to see more of this place, although he's careful to appear casual about it. His gaze fixes on Red Alert. "Maybe if we're lucky we can get an audience with the High Scientist you guys dealt with before." Clutch transforms into robot mode! "Yeah... what kind of rides and games do you think they might have here actually?" Swift said, hopping out of Red Alert as soon as he could. "And High Scientist? That sounds like it would be... uh... um... well not really exciting much to me." He said. "The High Scientist does /not/ like Autobots," Red Alert remminds as he transforms. "We're better off dealing with her daughter, if we can find her." Then he looks aground, nodding politely towards the approaching natives before admitting, "But I'm not sure why we're here, exactly, beyind 'to do good.'" Solstice slows then pulls over, parking for a moment, "Probably better not to go say hi to the direct one someone nerfed over." Transforming up, resting a hand on her hip, "Maybe just doing the tourist thing'd do a bit in the relations department if we can come in, play around and leave without breaking something..." The Koenigsegg splits, unfolds and reshapes upwards into Solstice. Clutch answers in a low voice, "I'm not sure yet either. I figured we could start by seeing what state things are in here. Sounds like your last visit ended kind of abruptly." He lowers his voice as they get within hearing range of the Agnoraxians. "And after that, well...I'm sure we'll think of something." As soon as the two groups are close enough, the Agnoraxian greeter eyes them sourly, but then speaks up in a voice tinged slightly with authority - the authority of a politician. "Welcome, welcome! My, we seem to be getting quite popular with the robots." One of the security guards behind him can't keep himself from snorting, but he quickly turns the sound into a cough. The greeter keeps a very straight face. "Are you here for the Carnival of Science? Excellent! Enjoy yourselves, and remember to vote Voslo for High Scientist!" Red Alert hmmms softly. "So they're having an election of sorts?" He returns the greeter's smile with a nod, a wave, and a 'thank you.' Then he turns back to Clutch. "Oh, no, not really. We got the daughter's project back to her, and she and Marissa had tea. It wasn't really very abrupt at all." "This is an election? Wow! And anyone can vote, even outsiders? That... seems actually kind of risky." Swift said, starting to wander around a bit, looking at things. Clutch looks a little surprised at Red Alert, then shrugs it off and follows after Swift. He nods in agreement with the smaller Autobot. "Yeah, it does seem a little unusual. We don't know anything about --" He glances over his shoulder to make sure they're out of earshot from the Agnoraxian who greeted them, and then drops his voice anyway just in case. "About the candidates here. I don't think we can make any kind of informed decision. Even if they do let us vote, I say we just skip it." He slows to a stop as they pass by what looks like an old fashioned boxing ring, just a cleared square at ground level, the ropes made of actual ropes. Solstice smiles, and spends time just looking around at the city prts she can see. A small crowd of Agnoraxians - and a few other aliens - are forming around the Boxing ring. Drawn by the gathering, vendors begin approaching the area, selling trinkets, snacks (including something that might be cotton candy...except it's colored algae green), and jewelry. After a few moments, a tall Agnoraxian, missing the normal tophat but with an upper body thicker and more solid than average. He holds a device in each hand, it looks like a handle with a long metal wire pointing out from each end, angled down to point in the direction of his hand. The wires are made of some kind of brass material and occasionally electricity crackles between them - like the inner workings of a light bulb. Solstice huhs, carefully walking closer to Clutch, "Soooooo....... we shop?" Grin. Clutch smirks at Solstice, although he answers a bit absently. "Sure...we've just got to figure out how to pay for it. We've got plenty of energon these days, but who knows what the conversion rate would be on this planet." He glances around. "What were you thinking of buying, anyway?" he asks in curiousity. At that moment, another Agnoraxian enters the 'ring', also equiped with a pair of the strange lightbulb-swords. He activates the weapons, the occasional crackle of electricity turning into a rushing torent of power between the tines, enough to form a veritable blade of energy. The burly Agnoraxian already in the ring activates his own blades and the two begin sparring. The crowd oohs and ahhs as they trade blows. Solstice pffs, "Clutch, Clutch, Clutch, Most spacefaring species will accept galactic standard credit transfers." Bigger grin, "Tophat and goggles. Might be useful later and for a present." Clutch returns the grin. "Goggles and tophats, huh? I like your style." He looks like he's about to say something else, but the crowd around the ring begins cheering wildly. Clutch turns to see what's going on - looks like the large Agnoraxian has defeated his opponent, who's being helped out of the ring. The loser doesn't seem to be seriously injured, just dazed. There's not a mark on him, although he stumbles slightly and shakes his head repeatedly to clear it. An Agnoraxian in a particularly ornate looking tophat emerges from the crowd, and speaks into a megaphones. "A worthy try!" he booms, "But looks like Ortho the Mighty wins again! Who's next? What brave Agnoraxian -- or alien," he winks at the Autobots, "Is willing to take a shot at the champ? Remember, winner gets his own set of death-knuckles, autographed by Ortho himself! Courtesy of the Rolo for High Scientist campaign!!" Solstice smirks, holding her hands up and "I'm just a kid." playing the newly created card/ Finding himself presented with a task that requires limbs Smokescreen transforms into his brightly painted robot mode. Clutch can't tell if Solstice is talking to him or the Agnoraxians, but he seems eager to enter the ring so he nods easily. "I'll try!" he shouts out loud, and then slips between the ropes. The burly Agnoraxian sizes him up while the announcer goes into his pitch again, trying to get another contender. But the crowd seems interested in this matchup, so finally Clutch gets a pair of the energy weapons and activates them, waving them around experimentally. "Okay, I think I'm ready to--" DING! A bell sounds from somewhere. Clutch barely has time to turn back to the ring when his Agnoraxian opponent leaps at Clutch, blades flying. ZAPP! ZAPP! BZZZARK! Every time the electric swords touch Clutch, they send arcs of electricity and cause the limb to stiffen up. And they touch him a lot. Smokescreen has been wandering around this Science Fair of the Bizarre(and the Bazaar of the Science Fair) for quite sometime as all around him beings both inorganic and organic ply him with offers to look at what they're selling or trying to build to sell to someone else. Smokescreen, however, pays all of these no mind until he reaches a small gambling parlor where a gaily clad huckster is entreating everyone passing to try their luck. Coincidentally Smokescreen makes this discovery just as the DING sounds near Clutch. Solstice shakes her head with a grin, watching Clutch head into the ring. They're in an apparent carnival on this planet of steampunkish tech, and from the smiles, having a decent time. Aside from Clutch getting zapped. "BEtter start learning to dane better there CLutch or your finish is gonna get ruined!" As Clutch is battered back by the high powered swords of his opponent Smokescreen is engaged in another battle of wills, less immediatetly dangerous then Clutch's, but perhaps just as ruinous in the end. The Autobot flicks his optics up toward the mottled black and green shape hulking opposite him before Smokescreen slowly pushes a pile of silver colored circles forward. "I see your 30 and raise you ten." Behind him comes another defeaning crash from the arena as Clutch's fight continues and Smokescreen turns around briefly to shout out a word of encouragement to the battling bot before turning to focus on his game. "Your move, scaly." DING! The bell sounds again, and the burly Agnoraxian finally relents, stalking back to a corner and drinking some glowing orange liquid from a metal cylinder covered in layers of tape. "My, MY!" announces the ringmaster on his megaphone. "That's the first time all day that someone has laster more than one round against Ortho the Mighty! Impressive, robot!" Clutch nods casually, standing tall for a moment before turning and heading for the corner opposite from Ortho. The instant he turns away his confident look melts away. "I'm trying," he complains to Solstice. "Believe me, I'm trying! This guys must be reading my processor! It feels like he knows every move I'm going to make, practically before I do!" He flexes a stiff arm. "And I don't know if he turned the power up for me or what, but those things really hurt!" Solstice grins and waves at Clutch, "Fighting's not about making moves and looking good doing it, it's about dealing out a hurt as well. of *course* they're going to hurt." The alien opposite Smokescreen throws down his cards with a feral sound before standing up and looming over the Autobot scout opposite him. "I saw you cheat, metal man, and I'm gonna tear the cheating chip outta you." Suddenly, as always happens in these situations, three other aliens of similiar type to the first appear and surround the table. "We don't take cheating strangers here, ya dandy." Smokescreen stands up, raising his hands in a placating gesture, as he slowly moves backward before bumping against one of the edges of the ring. "Hey, guys, no need for a ruckus. I mean it's all about having fun...I don't think the rules say anything about beating each other up." Clutch nods slowly, distracted by the commotion from the direction he last saw Smokescreen. Then he glances back at Solstice. Right, dish out some hurt. That makes sense. How hard could it -- DING! Clutch grimaces, then wearily turns and drags himself back into the ring, prepared for more punishment but hopefully to inflict some for himself. Ortho the Mighty never hesitates...he leaps at Clutch and immediately launches flurry after flurry of blows, his crackling electric weapons moving so fast they're almost a continuous blur. Ortho seems to be feeling impatient for some reason, eager to finish this match quickly. Clutch manages to block a few, gets struck by most of the barrage, then finally gets one shot of his own in, lightly tapping a crackling blade on Ortho's leg. The Agnoraxian hisses and backs off, limping just a bit. Clutch stumbles back in relief. DING! Not bothering to pretend this time, he limps back to his corner. Fusillade has arrived. Solstice shakes her head, trotting over to Clutches corner of the ring and pulling out an energon treat box. "Need a bite?" She asks. Smokescreen is still trying to talk his way out of the commotion he has got himself into (even though it's not his fault) as the other aliens gather around him. He glances up above him at the ring Clutch is fighting in as the bell rings but then looks back at the four toughs gathered around him as he slowly reaches up to rest his arms on the ropes before starting to slowly pull them apart. "Look, couldn't we just get a drink, forget about it? It was all for the future of the game after all." The lead tough, his green skin mottling further with anger, steps forward and seizes Smokescreen by the neck as two of the others grab him by other arm. "We will drink what' in -you-, metal man!" Clearly there is going to be no dignified discussion at all. Clutch takes a treat gratefully and wheezes, "Thanks. I think I'm getting the hang of this. If I can keep --" He turns and glances at renewed commotion from Smokescreen's direction again. "Uh...what's going on over there?" Behind him, Ortho and the ringmaster are having a hushed, urgent conversation. Ortho finally pushes the other Agnoraxian away, roughly. He takes a moment to set his tophat straight and then raises his microphone. "Well, folks!" he booms out. "This is certainly a first. An ameteur has now lasted -two- rounds against the champ! This is unprecedented! It's unbelievable! It's unheard of! It's...er, well you get the idea. Now the rules of the exhibition death-knuckling are, if a match lasts longer than three rounds, it ends in a tie. But I'm sure it won't come to THAT." The ringmaster shoots a venomous look at Ortho, who returns a glare of his own. Solstice glaces towards the ruckus, "Looks like.. a ruckus.." merry grin, "Thought we were trying to be nice here and not cause trouble, you know, be nice and make ourselves a bit less of the unliked robots from hell." Smokescreen is in a tight situation...quite literally. His arms are pinned and his neck is gradually being squeezes by a quite large and unfriendly situation. This perilious predicament is exacerbated when the lead alien gives Smokescreen and shake a bellows out. "I'm gonna show you what we do to cheating flashy robot types around here! I'm gonna take your money and make more money off what's left of you!" Despite the threatening talk Smokescreen doesn't try to move his hands away from the rope...in fact, he seems to grip them tighter. The appearance of Cybertronians on any planet can be cause for excitement and whispering, if the residents are not quite yet used to being galactic thoroughfares. After a few decidedly saurian panhandlers eagerly inform Fusillade of other decidedly mechanical beings. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. No sooner than those words leave Solstice's vocoder, Fusillade sidles up to peer speculatively at the ring and the most obvious of the present Transformers. She seems puzzled by the Autobot's identity, but doesn't quite announce her puzzlement yet. Another Autobot attending the ring, panels slick and glossy with a sheen more fitting of an aircraft. She purses her hematite lips, rocking back on her thruster heels before the swarm near the tables and bar splits to reveal a familiar red and turquoise figure. She immediately trounces toward Smokescreen and his assailants. Clutch frowns in concern. "Well that's the direction I last saw Smokescreen. You don't think he...I mean, he wouldn't." Clutch looks at Solstice. "I think he did." Clutch starts to duck under the ropes to leave the ring when... DING! Clutch freezes, halfway through the ropes. "Uh...well...why don't you see what's going on, I'll be there after this round!" Clutch forces his legs to move, withdrawing the one that was between the ropes and then moving back to the center of the ring. Ortho meets him, sneering in anger. Clutch drops one of his weapons and sticks out a hand as if to shake, saying carefully, "So, uh...no hard feelings, right? I'm just--" Ortho suddenly bellows and pumps his arms to unleash blow after blow. The first few sizzle into Clutch, he catches a few and turns them aside with his remaining blade, then finally he drops that one two and wraps Ortho in a bear hug, pinning the alien's hands to his sides. The crowd gasps, but Clutch holds him there, like that, until finally twenty seconds later the bell rings again. DING! Clutch releases Ortho and steps back wearily. Ortho glares at him in fury, then hears the cries of 'cheating robot'. This sets him off the edge, and he charges...not at Clutch, but at Smokescreen! Smokescreen hears the stamepede of feet heading towards him, whidh temporarily drown out Fusillade's tromping motions, and anyway Smokescreen is too busy to notice at the moment anyway. He does a silent count, hearing the heavy feet on the ring move closer and closer, before he quickly lifts up legs and kicks the alien holding him by the neck square in the chest who falls down rather heavily. His friends release Smokescreen's arms with the idea of using all of theirs to pummel him but again Smokescreen acts quickly. He yanks forward on the weakened ropes surrounding the rings, which tear, and send the stamepding Ortho hurtling into space and then down onto the three aliens previously hassling Smokescreen. The Autobot diversionary technique looks down at his handiwork, makes a relieved noise, and begins to head as discretely as possible toward the exit. Solstice uhohs at the commotion, "Alright, I'll go. Don't do anything terminally stupid, okay?" Bounce-turning on a heel, she moves around the outside of the ring towards the sullied massed that seem to be formed about Smokescreen. A sideways glance back at the ring as the DING goes off elicits a peripheral sighting of Fusillade. Puzzled frown that goes back to a rather friendly smile, "Heeeey, what's all the fuss here?" . . . "Uh-oh... That.. was not diplomatic.." Watching Smokescreen go into fray making mode, "Cluuutch, I think we need to go home.. Now! It's uh.. past curfew and I got class in the morning.. Or something..." A bemused expression slithers across Fusillade's features as she unholsters a wingblade, half-furls it, and goes through the motions of idly fanning herself. She certainly looks entertained enough. "Way to not embarrass yourself with the lizards," she coos out. A few nearby natives, excited by the conflict, turn to glare at her, one taking an aggressive step forward. Fusillade's grip tightens on the grip of her weapon, multiple metal segments splitting apart to reveal the business portion of the wing with a musical chorus of 'clinkt!'s. Fusillade couples it with a quick glance over her shoulder and a violent spitting hiss that bares fangs. "Remember, unliked robots from hell," she seethes in their direction. Once suitably certain of her relative safety, she hmms a bit and adds, "I'm pretty certain that's an out of riung. Does that mean the champ is... disqualified?" Smokescreen nearly stumbles as he clears off from the fallen tangle of aliens and looks down to find he's almost stumbled over a square brown box that apparently one of the aliens was carrying. Quickly peeking inside he finds a pair of leather driving goggles and a more then presentable top hat which is a discovery that causes him to take a good long look at the aliens before shaking his head, picking up the box, and moving on. "I guess that'll do for a souvenir...don't know what I'm gonna do with.." A sudden serious of -clinkt's- draws his attention and not quite causes him to schlutz himself with surprise as he points at Fuillade in disbelief. "Hey, be careful with that thing! There's probably children around...somewhere...maybe." Clutch alternates between watching in admiration and wincing at each bang, clang, rrrip and CRASH as Smokescreen handles Ortho AND at least four other Agnoraxians. He shakes his head though at Solstice. "We can't just...just cut and run! We came here to improve relations with this planet, not set them back another--" he cuts off at Fusillade, staring at her - or more accurately at her Decepticon symbol? - in disbelief. "Uh..." All around, Agnoraxians in the crowd start muttering darkly, repeating the 'robots from hell' part as well as other even more colorful phrases of their own. "No!" Clutch shouts, holding up his hands, palms forward in a pacifying gesture. "No no, we're not with her!" As the unrest begins to churn around her, Fusillade ohs quietly. "The Decepticon Empire's reputation precedes itself here, I see." A wicked smile begins to spread over her features as she listens to Smokescreen's playful objection, and decides to play it off of Clutch's panic. She leans over, and boldly wraps an arm around Smokescreen's shoulders, making sure to enunciate her speech. "Oh YES YES, my good friend Smokescreen, I really should listen my co-workers more often! But you KNOW, I... don't think I see any eggs around here. Which is a /shame/..." She snaps the weapon shut to emphasize her words to the saurians, "Because when I turn them THIS way, they make GREAT spatulas!" Solstice facepalms, "This is..." slowly shaking her head she raises her hands up and out in front of her. Optics brighten and she smiles a moment before frowning, "We're not from hell. We're from Cybertron. Hells in another parsec. We're tourists. Dumb ones, but yeah." The last muttered more to herself, "So... WHo's voting for who?" Diversion.. no.. not that kind of diversion.. She turns, wide optic-d staring at Fusillade and Smokescreen, "Uh... Hi?" staring at the con emblem then the blade-fan. Smokescreen is also looking at the blade fan with what seems to be quite a keen interest before he then studies the arm wrapped around his shoulders and then up at Fusillade herself. "Did you fly through a Galactic Shopping Network beam transmission on the way? I think you're going to try and sell me encylopedias next." He then turns to look at the saurians before raising his right arm to get their attention. "I'm afraid there's been some confusion! We actually booked the next planet over for our theater rehearsels. Don't mind us, soon be sorted out." Clutch looks around at the half-demolished ring, moves his gaze to Ortho, still lying in a tangle with the other Agnoraxians, then finally turns to look at the Ringmaster, who's gaping at Smokescreen, Clutch and all the others with a look of complete shock. "So, uh..." Clutch begins. "That was three rounds, right? So that means I get the 'death-knucklers?'" He scoops up the weapons he'd dropped earlier. The Ringmaster snaps his mouth shut and frowns. "What? You...no, three rounds means a tie. You have to win the match to get the prize." Clutch frowns himself, looking down at the still-active knucklers in his hand. The Ringmaster blanches and quickly adds, "I mean, the most we could do for a -tie- would be to give you one, not the complete set. And you can forget having them autographed by Ortho!" Clutch brightens immediately. "Wellll, if that's all you can do for me..." he smirks and tosses one of the weapons to the Ringmaster. Then he turns and rushes over to stand closer to Smokescreen, on the other side of the Autobot from Fusillade. He whispers in a low, urgent voice, "You can handle this, right? -Without- any more incidents? I'm heading back to the shuttle, I'll keep the engines warm." So much for restoring Autobot-Agnorax relations. Fusillade pauses for a beat as Solstice's voice reaches her audial. She cants the edge aside to get a better look at the Autobot. "HEYYYYYYYY. That's a nice coppery color you got there. But... with the way I'm egging the natives on, not gonna be able to stay for long to chat!" She mutters darkly to herself, saffron optics dim behind her amber goggles. "Last time -I- try catching an FTL slipstream off a trade freighter!" However, as Smokescreen begins to explain and pull away, she hooks fingertips into his shoulder. "You guys had trouble too? Or is that whole theatre thing a bluff?" Smokescreen glances at Clutch as the Autobot murmurs to him before turning his practiced poker face on Fusillade in answer. "Now, Fusillade, we've all been practicing very hard and it wouldn't be fair to everyone else if I let you in on what the play is about so early. Really, no matter how sharp your curves are I just can't tell." Clutch backs a few steps towards the exit, not quite turning away at first, then finally transforms. His engine roars, puffs of white smoke curl around his tires as they spin before catching and propelling him out of the Carnival, leaving parallel lines of black on the ground behind him. Clutch transforms into sportscar mode! Solstice chuffs air through systems to emit a sigh. The crowd is smiled at, her hands held in front of her and up. "Thanks, I like the color myself.. Uh, Sir, who's the wing'd dame?' "Well the denizens certainly don't seem like the theatre types," Fusillade says briskly, playing along with the vieled game as she clubs away one of the more enraged Agnoraxians that lunged at the duo. "But OTHER things... oh, the sights and wonders of it all! Wouldn't you agree?" An enraged bellow rips from a burly Giganotosaur-styled brawler rampages into the room. "Don't be too quick to believe anything you hear from THIS cheatin' liar, he was playing space poker, yannow!" She gives one last jaunty wave, before back pedalling and kicking away from Smokescreen, intent on making her exit. If she succeeds, she'll immediately proceed to the Spaceport in an attempt to locate her best chance for a ride home that's headed in the right direction -- the Autobot's shuttle. Smokescreen is pushed away from Fusillade, which causes him to drop the box he'd plucked up from the ground as a souvenir, before he regains his balance and reaches out to wrap his own arm around Fusillade and half turning toward her. "Yes, yes, you delivered the line perfectly! The stage fighting wasn't to be done till the next page but otherwise...!" He leans his head forward toward her apparently to make some quite expression of his esteem but in actual fact he does not do so. "Fusillade, if you are looking for a taxi cab, beating all the drivers up isn't going to do it for you. Well, unless you want to steal a cab..." He glances at her quickly and then starts speaking loudly again. "Yes, I see a starring role for you!" The box that Smokescreen dropped slides across the floor and neatly ends up in front of Solstice's feet. Somewhere it has collected a bow positioned squarely on top. No one owns up about where it came from. Gets yanked back briefly by Smokescreen's grip, and grunts a bit. "I'm planning on neither asking nor stealing," she snaps out a smaller hand blade and jabs at Smokescreen's wrist to wriggle away again before the Giganotosaur-based baby-daddy gets any closer to the ring. Fusillade succeeds in grasping Smokescreen, throwing it off-balance. Solstice doesn't get and answer to her whos the dame query and files the form away for later looking up. Box at feet is noticed and with all the youthful reactions of someone who's spent way too much time with Red Alert, she leaps backwards, optics wide and bright, "Uhh, bomb??! Who bombs their guests?!" Smokescreen takes several steps back as he feels that blade stick, but thankfully not to deeply, into his wrist before he plucks it out and studies it. "Getting all kinds of souvenirs this trip..." He raises his hands to his mouth and calls out after Fusillade. "Hey, send me a poscard when you get to where you're going! I know you'll want to be there for round two!" Turning away from Fusillade he stomps back over to Solstice and the box before stooping down at picking up the latter as he fixes the suddenly nervous Solstice with a curios look. "I don't know...who has been bombing around here?" Solstice shifts doors behind her twitchily, "Red Alert says that anything could be a bomb and that just *showed* up all of a sunned. What the slag else was I supposed to think?" Smokescreen shakes his head slowly and stretches out his left hand to rest it on Solstice's shoulder. "Red Alert once tried to interrogate a wedding cake. The only bombs on that were made of chocolate and cream: now, take this box, and let's go back to the shuttle."
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