re_alignment_logs | stupid handcuff shenanigans

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stupid handcuff shenanigans

WHO: Ultra Magnus, FoC!Perceptor, Wheeljack
WHERE: Perceptor's lab.
WHEN Thursday
WHAT: While trying to proactively attempt to initiate a good start on the construction of the Jackhammer and get Wheeljack and Perceptor to meet up and talk about it, Ultra Magnus makes do with his environment as promised with Perceptor and gets trashed. The results are horrible.
WARNINGS: Stupidity and probably one depressed Ultra Sadness.

On his third cube, he broods a bit more. Not real surprising, considering circumstances. It's not typical for him to, ah, grieve in this manner. Really, he tends to be more silent, more withdrawn, and detached; he doesn't let anything show if it upsets him. It's impossible to do this time for several reasons and it shows.

Hence the strange stages of mourning. It's been unusual to deal with. Magnus is so used to being the unshakeable, unchanging enforcer, because that is what the universe requires. That is what everyone requires, in order to be safe. He thinks little of it, typically, but he finds lately he wishes more and more that he could feel less.

It's positively miserable.

So he's here, drinking, and has gently given Justice off to Smokescreen for the night. He won't be able to manage the turbofox's peppy energy and Smokescreen will tire out the critter.

On the fourth, he comes up with a brilliant idea. He's in Perceptor's lab. Perceptor needs to talk to Wheeljack. Perceptor is already here. He could even mediate.

Perfect. He'll just call up Wheeljack.

Arranging a private message, he writes to the unruly Wrecker.

Wheeljack,
At Perceptor's lab. Need you here. Come ASAP. Need to talk.
-- Ultra Magnus

Flawless.

Onward to the fifth cube. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

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Everything is slower. Number, in a lot of ways. Easier. Might be why he's doing this. Maybe this is why Fortress Maximus refuels like this so frequently. Really, who is he to blame him.

Max. Another person he knows he's failed. He turned his back on Garrus 9 in order to let the Wreckers do as they needed. Ultra Magnus could have gone, could have done something. Instead, he went back to Earth.

Damn.

At the question, he sullenly looks up towards Perceptor, then slowly looks back down at his cube.

"I made a huge mistake." Not really answering Perceptor's question, but it might suggest that he's somewhere. Ultra Magnus sighs and rests his chin on the counter. "...Handcuffs?"

"That hardly answers my question."

Of course he's going to point that out. He wouldn't be himself if he didn't. Although, the not-an-answer does provide its own insight. Maybe Magnus is too far gone to form a response.

Charming. Maybe he plotted a variable incorrectly.

There is a sudden urge to prod at the chin currently resting on his tabletop. That's sterile for a reason, faces aren't meant to sit there for Primus' sake. He refrains, of course, since he had offered this space... for whatever capacity it was needed. He sets his tool aside, scowling at the offending cuffs.

"Yes. Still a work in progress. Don't worry overmuch. I've everything well in hand."

...

For now.

Getting a text from Ultra Magnus could mean one of two things. One, he really wants a conversation, or two, he was in trouble. And let's face it. Ultra Magnus never wanted conversation with Wheeljack UNLESS he was in trouble. So...he was a little hesitant to even come. Really, he could be back lobbing with Bulkhead.

But...well, he may have slight respect for the guy who was considered leader of the Wreckers in other universes. So...he heads his way over to the Alpha Trion quadrant, striding into the temple. It really wasn't a bad looking place, and he may have had to dodge a Dead End or two to get to where he needed, but Perceptor's lab was just around the corner.

And he's got his comm opened up on his arm, as if rereading the message as he enters. And I'm sure it's just at perfect timing.

"Okay, Sparky, I'm here. Whatever I did, yeah, I'll admit to it."

Great start!

Slowly, Ultra Magnus nurses that final and fifth drink. He peers at the cuffs. Yes, that makes sense; they needed handcuffs. For justice. The turbofox? ...No, no. Justice. The law. Yes.

Sadly, a cube ago he was in a good spot for basic communication.

Not so much now.

He lifts his head at the sound of Wheeljack's voice, finishing his cube all the while. Somehow, Ultra Magnus manages to get to his feet, and he scowls in Wheeljack's general direction.

"I see. We do this my way, or the hard way," he calls back.

He has no idea what the hell he's talking about, but Wheeljack definitely sounds like a criminal, admitting to something!

Everything was perfectly well in hand... until the door opens. Perceptor has a moment of stunned silence, a moment in which he perfectly pictures the rapid decay of the situation, as it it were plotted points on a graph in his head.

For Primus' sake...

He gets to his feet, reaching out to try and tug Magnus back down into his seat by one big shoulder. It helps they're nearly the same size. Or, it would, if one of them weren't already plastered out of their rational mind.

"What are you doing here?" he snaps, looking briefly to Wheeljack before returning his attention to Magnus. "And you, Commander, sit down. No one needs your 'hard way' right now."

Another pointed look toward Wheeljack. "Do they."

Okay, this was not the welcome he'd expected. Then again, he wasn't sure WHAT he was expecting, now that he thought of it. So really, this is the best he could guess for it. He stops dead cold in the doorway, slightly peering at Ultra Magnus suspiciously.

No way.

"What am I doin' here? I was called here. By Magnus himself."

He gestures towards...what he can only assume is Magnus, giving Perceptor a look as if to say 'What did you DO to him?' Because seriously.

"Yeah I'm not real sure I want to deal with a 'hard way', sparky."

He focused a glare on Perceptor. Don't get all snappy with him, tankbutt.

Perceptor is at least successful in forcing Ultra Magnus to sit down. His optics glance across the counter, sort of half-listening to Wheeljack and the scientist. No, all he really remembers to focus on is that Wheeljack is admitting to whatever. Obviously it must have been a crime.

And he doesn't want the hard way? Then they'll do it Magnus's way.

Great decisions by Ultra Magnus after five cubes of high-grade.

The enforcer takes the cuffs and springs to action with all of the grace of a tank attempting to do ballet; he makes his way over to Wheeljack, pointing at him. "Yes, I called you here and you admitted to... it. Whatever it is. You ruffian."

Scathing.

He snaps one cuff over Wheeljack's wrist, and the other to his own. "I'm taking you in! My way!"

"He called you--?"

Well, that does explain a few things. He gives Magnus' shoulders one more shove, hopefully to keep him in his seat. At Wheeljack's look, he raises his hands into the air -- "I've done absolutely nothing" -- and steps to one side, about to physically intervene between them. He's big. He can get away with it.

Except.

Except Ultra Magnus is apparently faster intoxicated than Perceptor is while perfectly sober. The cuffs snap on. He's left standing awkwardly, hands raised in an attempt to stop this, an attempt which, of course, is an utter failure.

There's a beat of silence on his part.

"Well." He frowns, glancing back and forth between the two. "I suppose it's a small comfort they aren't... fully charged. Isn't it?" He waits.

"If you feel a slight electrical discharge, don't worry. It shouldn't be enough to put you down."

Or, given how this entire endeavor was going, maybe it would be.

"Yeah, said he 'needed me here'. Figured I did somethin', and don't say you wouldn't think the same thing, cause I know ya would've." He's a bit thankful to see Perceptor holding him down at least, and he doesn't look ALL too believed that the scientist was 100% clean in...whatever is wrong with Magnus. SOMEONE had to get him drunk--he wasn't about to do it himself, and they both knew it.

He sees the large bot start to move, and instantly begins to move back. He wasn't intimidated by size, but he did NOT want to take on a drunk bot...especially one that could subdue Overlord. He needed space between each other, and fast.

But-

He felt something go around his wrist, his eyes snapping open and traveling down his arm, only to see one end of a handcuff locked onto it. What in the--oh for Primus's sake--

"Magnus!!"

At the blue bot's exclamation, he can feel himself being tugged around by that large arm, like a rag doll. And Wheeljack is none too happy about this. There's a glare at the scientist as he looks them over.

"I'm not findin' this very funny, Percy!!"

"Fff. Ffu-- Hilarity plays no part in this. No humorous hijinks around!" Even drunk, he can't bear to say anything remotely fun. Wow.

The intoxicated enforcer peers down at Wheeljack, then scowls more. Somehow. "Needed you here. What did I need you here for... oh yes. I wanted to talk about your ship. Jackhammer."

He pauses, then rubs his helm. "Hammer. Jack. That would be amusing to some, I suppose--"

Though the charge in the cuffs is low, bear in mind that Ultra Magnus has had (A) plenty of high-grade and (B) is extremely trashed. The low charge shocking him interrupts whatever train of thought he had and Magnus looks briefly distressed before he's abruptly tired.

"I feel terrible."

"Oh for... I should have taken his Link... Blocked the signal somehow."

That was the missing variable. Of course. He hadn't thought Magnus would call anyone, let alone Wheeljack. Well, that wouldn't be happening again. He shakes his head, making a shooing motion, as if to chase off the very idea of this being funny.

"You weren't meant to be involved, I... Now is not the time for that discussion, Commander."

Honestly, it's like he's talking to a newly sparked platform. Especially when Magnus cuts off mid-sentence. Perceptor pinches the bridge of his nose, cycling air slowly out of his vents.

"Both of you... sit down. Before you fall down."

Primus' rusted pistons this was a mess.

Wheeljack's lip curls into an annoyed expression, his arm half elevated merely because of the movement of Magnus's own arm. He completely looks enthralled by this, as you can tell, and those optics case a glance up when he's addressed.

"...Well, can't say I'll ever see the name of my own slaggin' ship the same way again..."

There's a slight wince as that shock takes effect, and his wings perk up slightly at it. Scrap, that hurt...

"Rrrright. How about we do the obvious thing and GET THIS OFF ME, PERCE."

Yelling is not exactly the best thing for the situation, is it? OH WELL.

It seems, at least, that Ultra Magnus is at the point of not being able to put up a fuss, because he sits down to the floor with a loud THMP. Fortunately, this means that his arm is low enough for Wheeljack.

He squints at the cuffs, as if he's not entirely sure how they got there. What did he just do? Was he arresting someone? No, it couldn't be, because it's Wheeljack. Who is... Wheeljack, but not a criminal. So what now?

The yelling earns a wider look, optics brightening.

"Ah. Not so loud," he requests, leaning his head back. "What were we doing?"

"I told you it was a foolish name."

When Magnus sits -- on the floor, astonishingly enough -- Perceptor sets his hands on the big Autobot's shoulders. Again. Hopefully it's enough pressure to keep him in place. Or at least convince him moving is a terrible idea.

Wheeljack's shout earns as close an approximation to a raised eyebrow as he can get. "They weren't designed to come off," he says, smoothly, as if he were commenting on the color of the sky. "That particular pair is a prototype meant to recharge themselves on their wearer's energy signature." He shrugs. "Until I devise a solution, they won't be going anywhere, unfortunately."

He looks down.

"You were sitting quietly on the floor, Commander," he says. One hand awkwardly pats blue armor. "Now hush. Sober Autobots are talking."

No one likes you and you're going to die alone.

"Mock my ship on your own time, Perce. Right now I'm strapped to a commanding officer, somethin' I can honestly say would never happen to me, let alone by the Commander himself."

He felt his arm go down when Magnus sits, now able to place it on his hip.

"What do ya mean 'They weren't designed to come off'? What kind of moron designs em like that?"

He looks down at Magnus, letting Perceptor do the talking.

"I can talk. You don't order me around. I am the Duly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord! Second in command of the Lost Light! Second in command of the enforcement team and member of the law committee and my hands are enormous have you ever noticed that?"

There's a moment of silence as the intoxicated mech peers at his own hands, as if investigating them.

Wait, Perceptor said something fairly important.

"They won't come off? That's terrible. That's a terrible way to design handcuffs. You're the worst enforcer ever, Perceptor."

"You're in my lab, disrupting my work. It's fair to say that you are on my time." He glances down. Then back up at Wheeljack. "And, it's also fair to say that it has happened."

Oh Primus, Magnus is off and rambling. He presses a hand to his face, willing something to end this moment. One of them to fall asleep. The handcuffs to spontaneously combust. Something.

But no. None of that happens. He's stuck with an alternate Ultra Magnus babbling drunkenly about the size of his blasted hands, and an upstart "Wrecker" -- to use the term loosely -- snapping at him.

Suddenly drinking sounded like a fantastic plan.

"They were designed," he says, a little heat in the words. "To contain the Glyphless when they began to go mad. I didn't occur to me we would want any of them freeing themselves, should they need restraints." And yes, he's aware of how well that ended. "I was making improvements for another problem, and..."

He just stares down at Magnus. "Fortunate then, I'm not an enforcer at all. I'm a scientist, and a pacifist."

Says the tank.

"Really. Ya don't say. What tipped it off? I honestly think I'm graspin' at air here." His eyes don't move from looking up at Perceptor, his eyebrows all but risen up to show his clear 'humor' about the situation.

See: none.

But a hand does rise up and smack the back of Magnus's head. Sorry Commander, he won't apologize for that because you'll thank him later. It wasn't hard enough to knock him out, but enough to be very noticeable.

"So you didn't make fail-safes." Granted, Wheeljack hardly did that on his grenades either, but this was a scientist. "Yannow, in case ya got handcuffed by mistake." He holds up his own wrist in explanation.

"Don't tell me we gotta...'stick together'."

At least weld em out of this Percy, please.

Edited 2012-12-28 09:20 (UTC)

"You'd be a terrible enforcer. I'd fire you before hiring you! I'd--"

CLANG happens after Wheeljack hits him in the back of the head. Fortunately, Ultra Magnus is far too dizzied to really throw a drunken fit about it or hit Wheeljack back.

On the other hand, he completely collapses to the floor. Not unconscious, but he's that far gone and in combination with the hit?

Yeah, have fun tumbling down, Wheeljack.

"Of course I did! I simply left them on the..."

And then Ultra Magnus is on the floor. Perceptor doesn't have to have the intellect he does to see where this is going. So he steps back, allowing them room to... get comfortable, arms folded over his chest.

He can wait.

"... prototypes," he finishes, at length. "I left them on the prototypes."

Wheeljack was listening intently to what the tank had to say, and actually started to lighten up at the idea of HAVING fail-safes. Great! Unlock them and they'll be good to go!

That is...until Magnus decided to just flop on the floor like a dog who just gave up on life. That being said, Wheeljack was soon to follow, landing crudely on the larger bot, torso flopped over the opposite arm. His wings twice in minor annoyance, and if that wasn't obvious, it certainly showed on his face.

"...Kay. Where are the prototypes."

They're probably talking about something fairly important, his mind determines. Yet, the longer that he's here on the floor, the harder it is to be able to pay attention. He's vaguely aware of the partial weight on him, but it doesn't really bother him.

It seems, instinctively, pretty damn great to have someone else nearby.

Yeah, sorry Wheeljack, but he's throwing an arm around you and looks pretty ready to doze off.

"That's the trouble..."

And that was also the moment Magnus picked to begin getting comfy. Perceptor stopped once more, pausing long enough to regard what was certain to become an unhappy pile of Autobot in a few moments, before taking a measured step back.

Out of grabbing range, with any luck. He had no intention of becoming the top section of that mess, no thank you.

"I scrapped the prototypes ages ago. One working model seemed enough to go off of, not to mention hard copies of the design templates..."

In short? There are no prototypes.

"I'm afraid you'll ah... need to assume and maintain the position until I can determine the best way to remove them. Safely."

Wheeljack's rolls on his back, his arms going up, as if to say 'WELL OF COURSE'. Of course the prototypes would be gone. They fall back down as he stares up at Perceptor from the floor, only to--oh hey, that certainly is Magnus's arm around him.

"Sparky! Down! Get ahold of yourself!"

There's some struggling, but not even Wheeljack can get through the wall of arm and fist. Magnus has a pretty tight hold on him. Not that he could really go anywhere anyway, but...

"I got a grenade."

"I am down," is muttered tiredly, in very much of a duh, Wheeljack, we're both down here tone of voice. If you could get that from him, in any case.

The enforcer doesn't budge, the Wrecker's struggle all but meaningless. He hears grenade and his optics light back up and he gives him a serious scowl.

"No grenades." Ultra Magnus, despite his state, sounds very stern about that. "Not allowed."

Anyone else may have considered the scene at their feet to be... cute. Or endearing, in a way. Perceptor couldn't help but regard it as a terrible nuisance. Of all the places, Magnus had to lie on the floor.

"No grenades," he echoes. "You're not blowing up my lab after all the blasted work I put in."

He lifts a foot, prodding pointedly at Wheeljack's shoulder with his toe.

"Is it so much to ask that you simply sit tight until I can rework the system?"

Right, Perceptor. Your life is just SO ROUGH right now. Let Wheeljack play the invisible violin to truly reinforce the turmoil you're feeling. The Wrecker's optics cast to the side, looking at Magnus as he babbles on, pretty unphased by the 'no grenades' speech.

Like he really hasn't gotten that one before.

"Well unless you goons got a better idea--"

When the scientist touches that shoulder, he looks down at it, then travels up to his face, a scowl firmly marked on his lips.

"Sit tight. Funny."

Meanwhile, in the drunken land of enforcers, Ultra Magnus seems fine with getting cozy where he is. He's fine and dandy with holding onto Wheeljack, welcoming his presence silently.

There isn't anything wrong with this, not according to him.

"Stop fighting," he mutters at both of them. "Tired of fighting. I'm tired."

Hope you don't mind being a teddy bear right at the moment, Wheeljack.

"I'm going to work on the problem. Rest assured. I've little desire to play sitter to the pair of you, and Smokescreen, thank you."

That said, he wastes little time in returning to his workbench. Though he does shoot the pair a... look as Magnus proceeds to use the more unruly Autobot as a pillow. Or cuddle opportunity. Something like that.

"Give me a day at least. Three at most. In the meantime, do try and relax. There's plenty of fuel and places to recharge in the lab. You needn't leave until we've resolved the issue."

That way no one has to know what happened here today.

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stupid handcuff shenanigans

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