by USDA Prime » Tue Apr 24, 2012 5:04 am
- Motto: "Delicious steaks are the right of all sentient beings."
- Weapon: Double Barrelled Shell Launcher
Garrus-9 North- The Greasepit
"You invited that slagger?!?", Hardfist exclaimed, "After he blamed you for his own glitch?"
"Look the kid apologized, okay?", Steelhand calmly exclaimed, "Give Streamlight a break already, he's new, he makes mistakes. I figured we make him feel like one of the bots, help him adjust better."
The other guards started to grumble as they made their way to their favorite energizing hole. They'd all served on Garrus-9 together for many vorns, and during that time they'd formed a strong bond much like any other unit that had held together. Everyday they had held together, trusting each other as they kept watch over the most dangerous criminals Cybertronian society had to offer. It was a bond that was hard-earned, and the idea of welcoming a newcomer into their circle was not well recieved by most of them.
"That kid ain't one of us, he don't get how things run here.", a shorter, stockier guard replied, "Have you heard some of the slag about him?"
"I heard he lets that freak Kronus run free in his cell block when no one's watching.", another much taller guard added.
"I heard the kid likes to remove Kronus' face mask and watch the sicko chew himself up.", said another.
"Well I heard that Streamlight is a neutral who's just acting as an Autobot, and he's gonna use Kronus to start a riot.", Hardfist said with conviction.
Steelhand shook his head as he listened, disappointed that the mechs he considered his friends would fall for such rumors.
"That's all a bunch of slag, and you know it.", Steelhand sternly answered, "It's just like that rumor about Whirl being a clone of Shockwave, a big pile of slag."
The other guards scoffed at Steelhand. He may have earned their trust and respect when it came to guarding the prisoners and watching each other's aft's, but as usual they refused to listen to common sense.
The dozen or so guards reached the seemingly rusty doors of the Greasepit and entered casually. It was then that Steelhand recieved the message from the bot they'd been talking about.
>>"Of course the invite is still good, Streamlight. I'm already here with some of the other guards, I'll be right at the bar waiting for ya'.<<
"Just try to be nice to the kid for once, huh guys?" Steelhand turned around and asked.
"Slag that.", "No fraggin way.", "Screw that glitch.", were some of the replieds that came his way as all the others walked away to one of the far tables.
Steelhand sighed as he stood alone for a moment, wondering if he really had anything in common with the others besides being a guard. Hopefully they would warm up to Streamlight soon, hopefully.
Getting over the other's rejection Steelhand made his way to the bar. Looking for a couple of empty stools, he noticed two familiar forms; the warden, Maximus, and the psychologist Rung. Steelhand couldn't help but think the sight a little comical, the massive Maximus right next to the diminuitive Rung. He tried as best he could not to chuckle as he walked by the two.
"Sir, doc.", Steelhand nodded as politely and respectfully as he could while containing his laughter.
Eventually he found two empty stools at the end of the bar. Sitting down he put his hand over his mouth as he finally let out the laugh he'd been holding, lasting several astroseconds. As he waited to be served, the smile on his face wore off as he noticed Goldrush.
Aw slag, don't let Goldrush come over here.
Steelhand remembered the last time he had spoke to the bar's owner. He had made a complete fool of himself, and he couldn't blame it on too much energon either. With any luck Goldrush had forgot all about it or didn't think it was worth any further mention. Or even better, maybe one of Goldrush's employees would tend to him. Either way, Steelhand didn't want to be reminded, and he didn't want anyone else to find out.