A Plee for Freedom: Part 3
With a tough phsycial battle won, the Maximals now engage in a most trying mental struggle. It is to the courts where the Maximals must now prove thier story true against all odds.
PART THREE
During the conversation, Cross had lessen the pain to nothing and stopped the mechfluid that threaten to flow out. After he finished his little process, he looked into Phyphen's eyes as she started to say something.
"I-I've got a qu-question for you," the child bot stammered," C-Can I stay with you? I was with Querion but he left with the lady wolf."
Cross smiled at Phyphen, understanding her need for a companion. Leaning off from the wall, he winced a bit as he placed pressure on his leg.
"Sure, I don't mind the company." Cross said, keeping his smile on his face, "They do say loneliness is not healthy for you."
"Uh, sir..."
"-So then I says, I says, hey Mac, that ain't my wife, that's my sister! And then he says to me, he says to me, what's the fragging difference? They're both hot! And so I says-"
"Sir!"
"Eh, hold it! So then I says, I says-"
"SIR!!!"
The Metal Mug's proprietor frowned and turned around.
"What?"
"We got a problem."
He looked and saw the fight, and blinked.
"AGAIN??!! Dammit, every other day in this place...hey, is that Buckshot? YO BUCKO!!! Where the hell you been?!"
Buckshot glanced over at him from a far end of the bar and waved. The bar owner was confused that he wasn't charging into the fight like usual, then he saw the fine feline femme leading him onto the dance floor. That made it clear.
"Eh, okay, get Scrunch, Kiloton, and Milton in here."
As if by magic, three massive bouncers waded into the battle and began forcibly taking down the disruptive Bots.
The bar proprieter turned back to the guy he was talking to.
"Fragging bar fights, right? Ain't even a good bar fight, ain't even good, they're pullin' weapons. So I says, I says, you're right, she is just as hot, and that's how I got this fragging cease and desist order..."
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Even as Trance wandered around trying to figure out which bar Buckshot was in, the rotweiler fought to break loose with a goofy smile as he allowed himself to be led onto the dance floor by one of the hotter femmes on the team.
He remembered feeling broken up when Eternity had disappeared without a trace. He'd liked her. And it felt kinda obvious that they were both kinda buzzed and she was kinda using him for physical gratification. But in the words of his generation: SO???
Mimi thrust herself against Buckshot and slung her arms around his neck, and he took her into his arms and began dancing lasciviously with her.
"Mmm, a kitty dancing with a doggie. Who'd have thought?" Mimi flirted.
Querion put the tankard to his lips and took a sip. It was bitter, and watered. Hardly worth a kick. The wolf-bot gulped it down as though it were nothing but water, and placed the mug back on the table. He looked at the dull grey device that the bar took its name from. It was simple, nondescript, and chipped at the edges. He stared at it for a while, and contemplated ordering a stronger brew. Maybe not.
He was in a generally decent corner of the bar, rather quiet, but with enough noise from the dancefloor as background sound. It was dark, the flashing neon lamps hardly brushing cross the spot. Querion steepled his fingers, and lost himself in contemplation.
The Maximal turned his gaze to Timber, who was enjoying herself, losing herself to the rhythmic beat of the bass and drums. He drank in the sight of her, cavorting to the hynoptic beat, her silver hair flailing about her. She had tried to get him to join her, but he was not the dancing type. Querion smiled slightly. If he were to just sit there and watch, he would be happy for the rest of his life.
He quickly averted his gaze as Timber turned to look at him, winking at his star-struck eyes. He stared at his feet, his mind drifting to the young bot Phyphen. He had been harsh and unsensitive he knew, while she was kind and caring, and he could not help but feel a tugging of guilt in his spark-strings. Maybe he could get something for her on his way back...
Querion stared blankly at the ceiling, drumming his fingers against the table. It was a habit, and it seemed to bring some semblance of peace and order into his chaotic life. So much had happened lately: fighting, escaping, running, fighting, escaping, getting chased, fighting... Heck, he had even gotten his sabre shattered. The sabre! What was he going to do about it? The wolf-bto remembered a smithy nearby. Maybe he could...
The barkeep sent slug after slug in the agents' direction, but here were far too many of them. A small frog leapt onto the counter and recieved a hard shot from Nocticia's nailgun. The barkeep reached for his bazooka below the bar. That's when the two met their visitor. He had been standing so quietly they had yet to notice him though he'd probably slithered in while the fighting was just starting. It was a Rattlesnake in robot mode and it was holding the bazooka to the barkeep's head.
A loud boom and crash resounded throughout the bar as the head was blown clear off of the body. Silverfox put up his hand and all of the agents ceased their firing. "May we introduce you to the next line of Maximal. The first fully automated, military drone. He is everything that you could never be. He is a nameless, coldblooded killer which only responds to one master and will never question an order. Come with us Nocticia and you could be...this!" The creature let out a mighty, inarticulate roar. Silverfox's men rushed Nocticia, grabbed her. She struggled, but they forced her into the rage cage in the corner of the bar. She felt as her weapons all lost power inside the cage. The snake went to beast mode and slithered in. "I wish we didn't have to do this, my pet. I wish so much that you could be a good little girl like the others. But if I must, I must. Beat 725 and you will be allowed to walk away from this establishment. If you do not, well..." The snake drooled as his master trailed off.
"Well, Requiem, any bright ideas?" the vampire asked.
Penji found the Metal Slug, noted the fight going on, sat at the bar in robot mode, and ordered a mixed drink. He noted the Resistance members scattered around the bar, and figured he might try and be social with them, after a drink or two.
The crowd around the rage cage was in a fervor. Several more drunken spectators started throwing bottles, fries, and other random objects at the combatants, trying to anger them enough to start fighting instead of sizing each other up. Nocticia caught one such object just before it would have hit her head. She was about to throw it down, but then noted what it was- a grenade, without the pin pulled, and a small note attached to it reading "SNAKE FOOD".
Trapper had severally underestimated the true skill of military crusiers, he had been shot down, had to hide his ship, and now is damaged and almost broke....he walks into the bar, sees the fight.....notices that the members of the resistance were present, he decided to tag along without them as long as they didn't notice him....he could still easily transport his ship without anyone noticing and drop it into the Xavior's cargo bay........but getting on the ship unnoticed would be hard........he would be set for a few months until repairs where complete....
Mimi and Buckshot had been drinking for sometime and dancing completely ignoring the bar scyffle which was difficult for Buckshot but Mimi was enough to keep his attention. "COme on." SHe said pulling on his arm and out the door. Destination: Hotel.
Dusty had quickly retreated from her spot at the bar as soon as the fighting had broken out. Normally, the dingo femme would have dived right into the brawl, but she wasn't in the mood for a rumble at the moment, and it didn't look like the kind of fight she'd want to get involved in anyway.
The slim copper and white femme settled down at an empty table near Querion's, ignoring the loud boom that was the barkeep losing his head, and only paying enough attention to the ensuing chaos around the rage cage to make sure it wouldn't be heading in her direction any time soon. Tilting her chair back, she leant against the wall and put her feet up on the table, then let her mind go walkabout.
The snake raced toward Nocticia. A thought raced to Nocticia's head. It wasn't an especially good thought. It was actually sort of dumb. But at moments when you are holding a grenade in one hand with no pin in it and a note that says Snake Food and a giant snake running at you, well bad ideas seem sort of good. But despite the badness of her good idea, she slammed the grenade into the snake's mouth just as it exploded. Her arm was instantly bitten off and then blown up. As for the snake, it died...alot. Silverfox raised a hand and suddenly energy bolts slammed into Nocticia from all sides. That's when she heard the rumbling of two dinosaurs charging through the bar. They had thick skulls like helmets and stood on their hind legs. One charged the cage and slammed through the door releasing Nocticia. The other butted its head into Silverfox and threw him outside. The rest of the agents, smelling defeat on their hands slid outside the doors quickly.
Nocticia turned to her accomplices, "Thanks, Compromise, Compensate, you two are awesome."
"Any time, little lady," Compromise said to her.
"Aw, shut up, you old wind-bag! Now, Naughty-girl, it's time for a drink and a dance," Compensate said in a rasp.
Nocticia responded, "Oooh, how about we dance first?" With that she led the dinosaur to the dance floor and the two began to grind sexually.
Burnout sat at the bar, nursing his beer.
It was about five minutes since he sat down, and already he was on his fourth or fifth beer, he couldn’t remember the exact count. As he pounded down the rest of his foamy glass sweet nectar, the winged cat couldn’t help but see in his mind that poor Pred die by the hands of her own people.
Burnout signaled for another.
This whole situation was getting far out of hand. They fight for Endport, and turn into criminals for fighting the Predacons in an attempt to save Cybertron. He only hoped this hearing would help clear that up.
The group of Predacons that attacked them in the hotel, he guessed, were the ones that set them up. Because they attacked outright, he sincerely hoped it meant they were out of ideas. And now that their last-ditch effort failed, Burnout HOPED it was over.
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” The Bartender asked, noting Burn’s severely inebriated state.
The only reply the cat gave was the slapping sound of his hand hitting the bar with several more credits, immediately sending the bartender to work filling up another cold one.
“Lets hope this is the end.” He mumbled.
Weede stumbled through the hallways of the hotel in a psychedelic haze. Strangely, though he had a compulsive affinity for mind-expanding drugs, Weede never touched alcohol.
"Uh huh huh uh huh, I'm a dude, he's a dude, she's a dude, we're all dudes, hey, I'm a dude, he's a dude, she's a dude, we're all dudes...huh?"
He stopped short at hearing his ditty echoed. He blinked and slowly looked around.
"Dude...?"
"You lost the tune, friend! I remember that song, very short-lived, but not a bad melody!"
Weede looked up to see Rubmur, Lord of the Dance, smiling down at him. Weede blinked, scratched his head.
"Uh...what's up, headband dude?"
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In another area of the hotel, Buckshot and Mimi stumbled semi-drunkenly down the corridor. Mimi cuddled up to Buckshot as they walked, his muscular arm over her shoulder.
"So where's your room?" she asked, slurring slightly.
"Uh...it's uh...um...somewhere. Ah, f**k it, let's just go in this one, it's empty."
Mimi nodded and took Buckshot's hand in hers as they unwittingly entered Burnout's room. Flicking on the lamp by the bed, Buckshot turned and looked down at Mimi with a smile. He held her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, inserting his long canine tongue into her mouth.
Mimi took the kiss, slinging her arms around him, then disengaged from him and stepped back a few paces. Buckshot blinked at her...
...and Mimi took two running steps and tackled her new man onto the bed.
The two began wildly making out, and thumped to the side, causing the lit lamp to fall off the nightstand and crash to the floor, sending their lovemaking into darkness.
Hallway
Rubmur had left his room. From his window he had heard a kicking club and he was going to investigate. Stopped by the sloth, due to an intriguing tune, Rubmur conversed.
“Chillin’, about to go dance.” Rubmur answered the ‘bot.
“Same, chillin’.” the other said, transforming to ‘bot mode, standing eye to eye with Rubmur.
“Well, as I was saying, I am about to head over The Metal Mug. Care to join me? I find dancing relieves great frustrations after a hard day’s work. Or during a hard day’s work. Actually, anytime is dance time. So, what do you say? Care to get your groove on?
Weede blinked.
"Uh...I'm flattened...but you're a dude and I'm a dude-"
"Hey, there we go! I'm a dude, he's a dude, she's a dude, we're all dudes, HEY, I'm a dude, he's a dude, come on friend!"
With a kick-step-turn-kick dance move, Rubmur grabbed Weede's arm and pulled him out of the hotel and towards the Metal Mug.
Graphics Provided by Riboflavin
