There's a man with a gun over there...

[uknowuwantmebaby]

WHO: Crow and YOU
WHERE: Out in the glorious junkpile
WHEN: Couple days after his talk with Tarn
WHAT: This town needs some law and Crow T Robot of the DJD is the one to give it to them...as soon as he finds a gun.
WARNINGS: Excessive snark.

Let it be known that Crow can handle things exceedingly well on his own. Take Cybertron, for example. He did pretty good! It was barely his third day and already he made friends with Jean Claude Van Darn, who while creepy enough had a smooth silky voice and made him a cop on his totally cool and unscrupulous task force. Just one problem...he needed to get a gun. Simple enough until you realize nearly everyone is a walking gun! Oi vey, where's a welder when you need one?

Crow wasn't about to lose hope yet. Nope, like many before him, he ventured out to the junkpile with a plastic bag in hand. Maybe here he'd find a gun--something, anything!

"It was after the apocalypse..." Crow intoned in mock seriousness, "No one was prepared for the...robot holocaust. But no seriously, what a dump."

A long day was ahead of the bot. It would be a day of toil and pain, of crawling and falling over. But mostly of unnecessary whining. Would he survive? More importantly, would Cybertron survive his whining?

Comments

[notyourblueangel]

Thundercracker visits the Junkpile often, if only for something to do, to feel productive in between stints bouncing at the bar and his patrols as an enforcer on the police force.

He's gotten used to keeping very mindful of beings much smaller than he is. After all, one of his best friends charges is a living doll barely six inches in height who has a tendency to search the Junkpile as well. At some twenty feet tall, the Decepticon Seeker keeps his sensors and scanners at max sensitivity.

So when he picks up movement, he goes to investigate.

[uknowuwantmebaby]

Crow, now buried in a pile of scrap metal, sticks his head above the wreckage as he sees the enforcer coming over.

"Wow," he says, mostly to himself, "It's my own angel. Or is he looking for George Bailey? I think he's in another junkpile."

[notyourblueangel]

Thundercracker's optics flicker in mild surprise, caught off-guard by the comments as he crouches to get a closer look at the little, golden-ish . . . mechanical . . . being. "I don’t' know what a jiorj baylee is – or…who – but I'm not an angel." He had an inkling of what that was supposed to be, at least by human standards. "I'm Cybertronian, a Seeker. You?"

Not Cybertronian, that much was clear.