6638/A New Friend, a New Contract

A New Friend, a New Contract
Date of Scene:	24 February 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Blurr, Star-Lord, Lobo

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Blurr has posed:
    Last time, on our little Transformers-Guardians of the Galaxy crossover, Star-Lord and Angela stumbled upon the ultimate honey trap--a derelict Cybertronian ship. And Peter Quill being Peter Quill, could not resist the opportunity to grab something extremely valuable. Then of course Lobo had to show up, and get in a fight with Angela. Then they were all attacked by a bunch of fighter drones, which they barely managed to work together to take down before getting annihiliated.

    Sounds like a typical day in the life of the Guardians of the Galaxy, right?

    Now, Blurr is just sort of slumped up against the broken shipwreck, exhausted from the fight and having tanked most of the damage, even though he really isn't designed to be a tank.

Star-Lord has posed:
A typical day for the Guardians, except for the CYBERTRONIAN WAR MACHINE. That's going to be a while to explain to the rest of the crew, eventually.

Still... it didn't turn and run. It actually tried to /help/ against those things. The fighters themselves might even be worthwhile salvage. Something that at this point Star-Lord is considering, even with Lobo still out there, as he sat in the cockpit and brought the Milano around slightly to tractor Blurr into the Milano's cargo hold.

Better than being exposed in space, right?

Blurr has posed:
    Blurr is tractored into the Milano, and juuust barely fits in the cargo hold. Now, most people in this big, big galaxy would probably look at Quill like he's crazy for doing what he's doing. It's one thing to deliberately go -exploring- anything to do with Cybertronians...

    And it's an entirely -new- level of daring and stupid to actually -bring- one aboard one's own ship.

    Anyway, he is sprawled across the floor of the hold, a pinkish-purple looking liquid he'd seen in that tank on the other ship spewing out all over the floor. Is it possibly the same stuff that was in that tank on the other ship? Could be.

Star-Lord has posed:
Say what you will about Star-Lord, he trusts Angela to be able to handle the war machine if things go wrong.

Plus, he can eject the thing and point blank it with blasters. It's already half dead, by the looks of it.

By the time Star-Lord is face to face with the Cybertronian, watching the liquid spill out of it, he's making all sorts of calculations. Then, after a few more seconds of thought, Star-Lord turns on the transmitter on the Milano's comm system, "Lobo. We need to talk."

Understatement, much?

Lobo has posed:
    It's a good thing sound doesn't travel through a vacuum, because otherwise Star-Lord, the presumed silent Angela and even the goo-covered robot would be able to hear clattering and smashing on board the ship Blurr was just on. As it was, they'd likely be able to more and more debris flying from the wrecked bit of scrapheap.

    Only after a few moments would the last Czarnian fly out of there, looking none the worse for wear(his face had already grown back, which meant he had half of a handlebar mustache, though that was also growing, albeit a bit slower than the flesh and muscle.). He sped right through the debris of the space battle they were just in, until he was right up next to the Milano where he could bang on the bottom hatch in an obnoxious knock that was probably felt throughout the entire machine. Moments later, he'd even add through the comm systems,

    "Yeah yer fraggin' A right we need ta talk. Lemme on up, Skipper, I need ta use tha can anyway! Haw haw haw!"

    Was that funny? Did that warrant him guffawing at his own joke? The worlds may never know.

Blurr has posed:
    Lobo's obnoxiously loud banging jars Blurr back online once again, the lights flickering to life as the whirring of gears and servos can be heard. He tries to scramble to his feet, but just knocks his head on the ceiling of the cargo bay with a CLANK, denting it significantly.

    Ouch. He sits back down, staring about the room until he finally lays optics on Peter. Wait, why was he on the organic's ship?? "...w-whatwhoareyouwhydidyoubringmeherewhydidn'tyoujustrun?!" he suddenly demands of the Terran.

Star-Lord has posed:
Looking up, he squints at the dent.

Ok, that was a lot quicker of a 'reboot' than he thought. Blurr is /tough/.
Then, Peter looks back to Blurr directly in it's optics, "You saved our lives against those fighters. The least I could do is try to repair you." A mercenary with a heart of gold, it seems.

Then, Lobo's banging has him sighing slightly. The panel in the cargo bay is slammed into with a fist, and the airlock cycles for Lobo. He was going to try to tear through the ship if he tried to stop him anyway, and while he was sure Angela could take him... he was not in any sort of mood to have the Milano trashed anymore than it already was.

He turns back to Blurr, then. "So you're a Cybertronian, huh." He states as he looks Blurr over up close.

It was his first time seeing one of them up close, sue him.

Lobo has posed:
    Lobo climbs aboard, after hooking and chaining his Hog to the side of the Milano. Immediately the bounty hunter tosses his jacket to one side then his hat to the other, snorting and sniffling while he holds up a ring of beers and starts tossing them out to everyone on board. There aren't that many on board, so it's an easy job for the Main Man.

    "Cyberwhat? A robot's a robot, right? Man yer one big bastiche. This confirms my theory, all roboticists is compensatin' for somethin'. Course nobody in this room would know nothin' 'bout THAT, right? HAW!"

    In good humor, Lobo gave Blurr a 'friendly' clap on the shoulder, or mid-back, whatever was easier to reach. A clap that had the impact of a gunshot, but a clap nonetheless.

Blurr has posed:
    "B-but--" Blurr stares at Peter. Just stares as if none of this computed at all. Wasn't this guy some kind of a bounty hunter or scavenger? After all why else would he have been trying to loot the ship? So...why did he -care-? Especially about someone like -him-? Most organics he's seen had a high level of disdain for anyone not made of carbon. Especially ones of the Cybertronian variety.

    He crouches down then, as far as he comfortably can, to have a look close-up look at Peter, too. This is really the first time he's seen a Terran up close like this, too. The other one he saw up close before had been a green female thing. "--whyyou'reabountyhunteraren'tyouand you'reafleshlingImeanthat'swhyouwerelootingmyshipsowhythescrapdoyoucaretheyneverccaretheyneverwantanythingtodowithus??" He has been talking so fast all his words seem to run together.

    Then Lobo makes his usual loud entrance, and he pulls back to stare at the other organic. Hmm, he looked familiar. When beer is offered, he just stares down at it, bewildered as to what it is. It seems to be made out of carbon-based plants.

Star-Lord has posed:
Luckily for Blurr, Peter was fairly good at keeping up with current events... and with the blended together speech, "I thought your ship was abandoned. It obviously wasn't." Peter points out, "Salvage rights don't apply if the ship is occupied."

Then, he looks to Lobo, and stares as he slaps the Cybertronian, "You're a galactic bounty hunter, and you've never heard of Cybertronians before? These things are war machines of the highest caliber, and one of them just got blasted to pieces making sure we could survive." Then, he turns to Blurr, "my name is Star-Lord, but my friends call me Peter, or Quill, usually." He gives a side nod to Lobo, "That's Lobo. He's pretty hardcore. Angela is around here somewhere."

Lobo has posed:
    In ruffled and ragged clothes, in black leathers and a thin cotton t-shirt, Lobo still managed to come across as somewhat imposing, even when he was just leaned against a far wall chugging his brew, and belching some alien species' alphabet. Probably. The black markings around his blood-red eyes meant that no matter where he was looking, they had an edge of maliciousness to them. So when he glanced at Peter to answer his question, it was impossible to tell whether he was considering violence or not.

    "Buddy, The Main Man don't know nothin' 'less he wants ta knows it! All I know is, lotsa blowhards out there got all kindsa reputations. Most of it's bark, and the bite ain't half as bad as the bark. An' I know I killed me plenty o'robots before, ain't nothin' special to 'em. Speakin' of which!"

    At this, he turned his attention to Blurr. "'Ey, Clyde, them yellow ships out there who wanted ta tickle us ta death. Were those them Cyber-Troughians? Were those the big scary robo-boogeymen?"

Blurr has posed:
    Well, it seems we have a merc with a sense or honor, here. Blurr peers pensively down at him, then looks toward Lobo again as he is introduced. Though the question of why he cared hadn't quite been answered. "w-well--wellum..." he stammers. "thanksI--I mean, thanks." he finally says, trying to get control of his...often annoying speech patterns.

    "You say that, but you haven't seen the planets we've devastated, and the civilizations we've razed. Bad reputations might be exaggerated for other races, but it's not for us, trust me..." He stares at the floor as air cycles through his vent systems in a noise that sounds quite like a sigh. It doesn't seem like he's bragging about this at all. Just admitting to the ugly truth of it.

    "Look," he starts, turning his optics back toward the flesh creatures in response to Lobo's question. "If you knew what was best for you, you'd jettison me right now and get as far away from here as you can. Those fighters..." he shakes his head. "They were interceptor-class Legislators. They attacked because you touched the ununtrium on my ship, and that's against the Tyrest Accord. Guess they took that as me giving you technology...ugh."

Star-Lord has posed:
"I've heard of all of that. I can believe it, too, after seeing you in action out there." Peter gives a nod to the bay doors that are closed, "but I give everyone a fair shake. You've had plenty of time to attack us and would have had backup out there, yet you took most of the damage." Then, he points to the panel next to him. "I press a button, and the hatch opens for you to leave. You want to go back home right now? Just say yes, and I'll be happy to wash my hands of this whole thing if you're not interested. I have no idea what Legislators are, but I'd love to learn so I know what to look for next time."

Next time, as if Star-Lord was planning to go into Cybertronian space.

"Pretty sure Lobo here isn't scared of them either." Peter nods in the Main Mans direction. "Plenty of factions amongst us humanoids too. I'm willing to believe it's the same for your people."

Lobo has posed:
    "Yeah, when you put it that way, these Cybertubers sound like a couple'a cool cats, like they's knows what is best in life. Sheeit, I can name a couple'a dozen of 'organics' that party the same way. Thanagarians, Skrull, some'a the more old school Kree, I even heard about a couple'a guys somewhere who take peoples' skulls an' where 'em as necklaces. I cares too much about hygiene ta do somethin' like that, but to each their own, I says!"

    He says, as he pulls something horrendous out of his ear, then balls it up and flicks it off in the corner somewhere. Moments later he downs the last of his booze, belches, crushes the can then takes another, while looking around at Peter and Blurr.

    "Ey ey, what's this, you dweebs ain't even touched yer beers. Trust me, chrome dome, that stuff comes from Warworld, it'll put some real hair on yer chest."

Blurr has posed:
    "Yeah, there used to be a lot of factions, but now only the militant ones are left, because the rest of them are mostly -dead-."

    Blurr stares at Peter again, he can barely believe his audials. It had been...a while since any organic had given him a 'fair shake'. "I mean--of course I want to go home, but I -can't-. I--they'll come back, and they'll kill me before I'll get a chance to get repaired. I just--didn't want you to get caught up in it..." he admits.

    "The Legislators, that is. They're the enforcers of the Accord. They come after anyone who breaks it. Which apparently I just did by letting you touch the ununtrium." Then his optics suddenly brighten at the thought. "Wait, is it still out there? I -need- to secure it, we can't let it fall into the wrong hands! I--we--you -have- to go back!"

    At the mention of the beer, he just stares blankly at Lobo. "My name is Blurr. Chromedome is..." he shrugs. "I don't know, I haven't seen him for at least two vorns. Last I heard he was on some operations assignment in the Kol System." He frowns at the hair comment. What in bolts was he talking about? "Why would I want hair on my chassis, hair is gross. Uh--" he glances at Peter. "no offense."

Star-Lord has posed:
It's around the point that he says 'back' that Peter hits the switch for the cargo bay door, and it opens without much fuss... right into space, and right in front of Blurr's ship. "It's right there. Go ahead and do what you need to do." Peter offers. There's a small force shield keeping atmosphere inside, at least. "The shield keeps atmo in, but anything complex can move through it, just crawl on out." Peter explains.

"All of that sounds to me like you're just a very lonely... whatever you are, trying to survive. A misfit without a home. That about right?" Peter inquires. Then, he looks to Lobo, "Normally I'd be happy to partake, but not while I'm on the job."

Lobo has posed:
    "Job means credits. So what's gettin' done, an' how do we split it?"

    At this point Lobo has found one of the many chairs and has made himself at home, just as soon as he pulls the double-barreled scatterblaster that was around his waist. He was twirling it across his finger, dangerously and idly, even as he glances again at Blurr.

    "Hey, suit yerself, scrote. But man, you is wound way too tight. I almost wish one of these metal lame-os show up, just so we can put their heads up their butts an' show you they ain't no...hey, wait a minute. Do robots got butts?"

Blurr has posed:
    "Oh--" Blurr looks up when the doors open. So they hadn't even left? Wow. "Thanks. I guess...yeah, I guess you're right. I guess that is what I am."

    The Autobot scoffs at Lobo's comment. "Yeah, you could -try-, and get yourself killed or worse. Be careful what you wish for." He sighs and jets out the door to get back to the derelict ship, relieved to find the ununtrium still on the floor of the cargo hold. But he hesitates to make his way back.

    He opens a commlink to the Milano. << You should go. I think I can get the comms array back online at least and call for backup. Hopefully they can get here before the Legislators come back. >> Or else he's dead.

Star-Lord has posed:
With Angela handling repairs as Star-Lord is dealing with the Cybertronian, Peter looks to Lobo. "So I was thinking we split the fighter scrap out there 50/50. Sell out on the market, and let the 'accord' be someone elses problem once he leaves. Sound good?" For all of Lobo's battering ram, Peter can turn on the charm when he needs to... or stand firm against people like Lobo.

But then Blurr speaks over the comm, and Peter hits transmit, "What're the chances of those bozos coming back before you get your backup?" He looks over to Lobo, finger off the button, "Way I figure it, either we might get lucky and get more out of this with backup from Mr. personality over theres backup, or we leave before things go south. What do you think?"

Lobo has posed:
    "C'mon, buckaroo bonzai, you really think the Assassin to Royalty and Scourge of the Cosmos cares about some fruity robot 'backup'? Brother I seen you in a fight, an' I know you gots a dangerous crew down there sleepin' very suspiciously peacefully in their quarters despite all this commotion. Way I figure it, alla' us can handle whatever he's worried about, an' walk away with a few dozen bone-drives worth of credits to worry about spendin'. Yeah, I'm likin' the deal of alla this. Puterthere, pardner?"

    The scatterblaster was slammed with authority against that table, Lobo peeling off his fingerless glove, so he can spit in his pale albino palm, before offering it for a shake. The whole time, looking right at Peter and grinning that inherently untrustworthy grin of his.

Blurr has posed:
    Blurr hesitates a moment before answering's Peter's transmission...he -knows- that it's not actually that likely his friends will get here before the Legislators come back--not all the way out here. But he is also worried that if he tells the human the truth, he might refuse to leave or something, because he feels some kind of obligation from the battle they just finished.

    << ...I--I don't know, exactly. It just depends on how lucky I am I guess. If another unit or scout or something happens to be within a few parsecs, then they should get here pretty fast. If not then I'm fragged. But that shouldn't be any of your concern. You--you shouldn't have tried to help me... >>

Star-Lord has posed:
"The rest of the crew is dealing with other matters, actually. It's me and Angela out here. Still, I'm pretty sure she'd like to try her luck with them. It just depends on how fast I can get repairs done on the outer hull before his friends arrive." Peter notes, before he looks down to the hand.

He's so going to regret this.

"Let's see what happens." Peter nods and takes the hand... and hopes to hell Lobo doesn't crush it.

Meanwhile, the other hand presses transmit, "if we're screwed either way, at least we'll have each others backs if they come back."

Hook, meet bait.

Lobo has posed:
    Lobo put just enough pressure for Peter to understand, that he could be doing damage if he wanted to. For the fiendish and inherently cruel Czarnian, if it wasn't about murder and violence, then it was about threats and power. And he needed the Star-Lord to understand, on some level, that he was sharing a fish tank with a shark.

    But then the moment was passed, and Lobo let go amicably, changing gears and pulling a rather large hunting knife from his belt. He leaned back in his seat and sneered as he turned the blade on himself, carefully and meticulously starting to shave along his throat, underjaw and chin. Clearly, facial hair that elaborate took care and consideration.

    "Yeaaah. Mi casa is...mi casa. I think that's how they say it. Friggin Skrullese, I can't never make heads nor tails of it."

    After a few moments of silence save for the sound of metal scraping against flesh and hair, he tried again.

    "Good to know you'll be watchin' out for my hide, Pete. And you can trust, I'll be watchin' out fer yers."

Blurr has posed:
    << It's not -if- they come back. It's -when-. And no, you're -not- screwed either way. It's -me- they're after, don't you understand? Get away from me and you'll be safe and sound. >> Ugh. This was exactly what Blurr had been afraid of. << You seem like the type that likes to play hero, and I get that, seriously. But this time, it's not a good plan, all right? You have -no- idea what you're dealing with. >>

    ....

    And the Terran ship still doesn't budge. Welp, looks like he's not convincing them. << ...fine, but at least let me help you with repairing your ship. I can interface with its systems and reroute power where needed or restore damaged firmware if there is any. >>

    Upon returning to the Milano, he plants the cylinder full of that strange yellow liquid near the rear. "Put this somewhere safe..."