Sparkplug
May 1, 2017 13:50:57 GMT -5
Post by Sparkplug on May 1, 2017 13:50:57 GMT -5
PLAYER INFO
Name/Alias: Misty
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Sparkplug
Age: 25 (equivalent)
Gender: Femme
Species: Cybertronian
Faction: Decepticon
Original Occupation: Chassis research scientist
Occupation/Specialization: Weapon designer/chassis surgeon
Appearance: Sparkplug is a relatively small bot, somewhere between the height of Arcee and Airacnid, but slightly less slender than either (body type 11). Her armour is minimal, designed more for speed than to standing up to heavy punishment. Her design is dominated by six large wheels, which dictate several aspects of her frame, and a bizarre, elongated left arm.
Her peds are built around the first pair of wheels, which slot vertically into the frame of her ankle and calf, while her upper thighs are shaped around the second pair, which pierce front to back, tread exposed on both sides. Above a slim waist, her chestplate swells outwards in twin rises necessitated by partially housing the third pair of wheels in her slim chassis, which are recessed into her back parallel with her spine. Twin rectangular headlights sit on the front of her shoulders, each main light bolstered by a pair of smaller spotlights beneath.
Her chassis is predominantly clean white, with forest green accents, though a small, inset Decepticon insignia in deep purple marks the upper centre of her chestplate. A prominent exception to her colour scheme is her left arm, however, which is simply the silver of bare metal. Reaching as low as her knee when standing straight, the arm has two sets of elbows, giving it an unnatural way of moving. Her hands match, however, her fingers slender and fine tuned for detail work. In weapon mode, her left arm forms her main offensive capability as an elongated energy cannon, whose tip glows in a hollow triangular arrangement with a larger circular emitter at the centre.
Her helm is predominantly white, with a pale grey face plate. Her helm plating forms an upward 'v' above her eyes, which glow bright green. Clear oval lenses, octagonally cut, slide out to cover her eyes for safety, giving her the appearance of wearing spectacles at such times. Circular roundels mark the sides of her helm, glowing green around the inner rim, housing her audio receptors.
Altmode: Crash landing on Earth, in the greatest tradition of arriving Decepticons, Sparkplug impacted a region of the desert in Morocco, near the 1980s route of the Paris-Dakaar rally. With few options to choose from, she scanned an abandoned back-up copy of the Jules Proto 6x4. Rather than bear a spare tyre upon the flattened aft ventral surface, her primary cannon is concealed beneath it, and can be deployed as a turret if required.
History: Sparkplug was forged in the early days of the caste system, and while the last space bridges were still active at the point of her coming online, their final shutdown came soon after. She was initially assigned to the service class, based on her vehicular alt mode, but found herself longing for more intellectual stimulation.
Swayed by the romance of the dying age of exploration, she spent considerable time reading about the spacebridges, emblematic of travel and outward vision, and nursed fond hopes that she could one day work on them. She applied for reassessment, hoping to earn an education in the sciences. To her surprise and delight, her untrained intellectual ability and raw processing capacity earned her a temporary transfer of duty. Provisionally assigned as a research assistant, Sparkplug was initially used as an unskilled helper while she underwent part-time training in the field of full-frame chassis construction, gradually growing able to truly contribute to the work at hand.
In her new field, her talent for technological design and innovation blossomed. Facing discrimination over her alt mode and provisional status, credit for her work was taken by her superiors for a considerable period. Eventually, she was given a full alt mode exemption, promoting her to a member of the scientific class.
Her role as chassis designer exposed her to many of the prejudices amongst the higher classes regarding the lower caste, her own initial classification and experience of prejudice encouraging her sympathy for those that overtly disagreed with the caste system. While she was somewhat aware of Megatronus, it was Orion Pax's anonymous calls to protest that stirred her spark to take part in a peaceful protest.
Left adrift from the anti-caste movement by the split following Orion Pax's elevation, she stepped back from active involvement. This period of withdrawal came to an end with the Tower Bombings; Sparkplug was near enough to see the eruption of smoke and flame into the sky and hear the concussion of detonation. The violence and death of that act eventually persuaded her to join Orion Pax's defensive faction, in a strictly non-combat capacity.
For much of the war on Cybertron, Sparkplug was kept away from the front lines, working within research enclaves to help her faction keep abreast of developments within the war. Her inherent pacifism was strained to breaking point as her research group evolved to focus on war-capable chassis construction, finding herself increasingly isolated amidst the work of weapon system development and integration. While her own research output always had the possibility for civilian application, she grew wearily accustomed to seeing it rolled into the subsequent rounds of weapon development.
A particular blow was the news of Optimus Prime's decision to cast away the All-Spark lest it fall into Decepticon hands, and while she continued working, she became withdrawn and uncommunicative.
This period of her life came to a close when an unexpected Decepticon offensive rolled through a weakened Autobot defensive line, punching a corridor into areas previously considered secure. Without warning from the disrupted communications network, her lab was overrun, and the research team taken prisoner. After an extended period of captivity and forced aptitude testing, during which her high processing capacity and technical knowledge was laid bare, she was selected for conversion therapy.
Following application of mnemosurgery, her pacifistic tendencies were inverted, and her horror at the casting away of the All-Spark amplified into a hatred directed at Optimus Prime for sacrificing the future of their race. She set to work as a weapons designer for the Decepticons, seizing upon all she knew of her research group's work, in experimental enclaves not dissimilar to those she had occupied with the Autobots. Over the subsequent years, she frequently experimented upon her own frame, gradually altering and rebalancing her systems for ever-increasing firepower.
News of Optimus Prime's broadcast, and his invitation to Earth, finally reached her most recent enclave after many retransmissions, together with the more sketchy information of a Decepticon presence marshalling to oppose him. Galvanised into action, Sparkplug disentangled herself from her active work, and bought passage on a disreputable freighter run by an organic species, to be jettisoned in a disposable drop-pod over the planet.
Personality: Sparkplug is a cheerful, garrulous femme, with a love for weapons design and experimentation that verges on obsession. Nothing can cause a big enough boom to satisfy her, and each triumph of her research prompts a fresh attempt to install the fruits of her one-track mind on a 'volunteer' so it can be properly made use of.
Her brightness is reminiscent of her pre-war persona, which gradually abraded with time, loss, and the trampling of her convictions to make her a muted, restrained femme. Following personality editing, she became convinced that the loss of the All-Spark all-but guaranteed the extinction of the Transformer race and giddily ceased to care about lesser things, perfectly happy to indulge her new destructive passions in punishing the one responsible and all who follow him. In direct and physical danger, she is giggly and nervous, and finds it almost impossible to stop talking.
Accusations that she has been a victim of personality surgery are met with sincere denial, the very concept blocked to her. Insistence upon the point can destabilise her however, with unpredictable results that are most likely to manifest by lashing out.
She has no personal desire for power, wanting only the space, resources and subjects to keep experimenting on new technologies, and has survived several labyrinthine power struggles simply by being willing to work for anyone and too useful to casually discard.
Likes:
Weapons: she really, really likes weapons, the more advanced and destructive, the better.
Conversation: Sparkplug is a chatty femme, and likes to have other bots around to talk to.
Music: Sparkplug is fond of music, and often hums or sings as she works.
Dislikes:
Bad manners: she addresses other bots in a friendly fashion, and doesn't take well to rudeness. She often encounters rudeness.
Military discipline: accustomed to a more-or-less civilian way of managing her research, she finds excess rules annoying.
Repetitive work: she is a creative type, and rapidly becomes bored and frustrated with assembly-line repetition.
Strengths/Weapons: Sparkplug's main offensive capacity consists of the elongated energy cannon which lies in her left arm. The pinnacle of her weapons expertise, it is fully capable of blasting an armoured limb off its host upon a direct hit, though the recoil of the cannon has to be counterbalanced by an explosive venting of opposing energy from the rear of her shoulder.
Her secondary weapons systems consist of two grids of small-scale missiles that lie beneath her shoulder mounted rectangular headlights, and a pair of small rotary pulse cannons that lurk beneath her abdominal plating. Each individual hit from these systems is relatively small, chewing at armour rather than penetrating, and requiring several hits to punch medium plating.
Weaknesses: Sparkplug is equipped with light armour, more appropriate to rapid movement than turning away significant damage. Her inexperience with direct combat is telling, leaving her clumsy in a real fight, and with no real grasp of tactics.
Her secondary weapon systems are tuned for short-range, the mini-missiles having a maximum range of one hundred yards, and are built to lay down a barrage rather than target with pinpoint accuracy. This means that while she is usually capable of producing a lot of exciting explosions and beams, they are unlikely to deal a fatal blow.
Structural weaknesses in robot mode include heavy physical impact to her thighs, which are slightly more fragile due to being constructed around the tyres which pierce them.
Special Skills: Sparkplug is an expert researcher of weapon systems, fully versed in the science behind the arsenals of both factions, together with the anatomical knowledge necessary to construct or modify bot chassis. She is capable of a certain degree of medical work, but inexperienced in battlefield repairs or life-saving procedures. Submitting to her tender care for medical reasons is certainly a last-resort option, as she is likely to become distracted or enthused by the possibilities for improvements while she's working.
Her left arm is the repository for an unusually wide variety of tools, giving her access to everything needed to strip a bot down, rebuild it and polish its finish afterwards. These consist of a buzzsaw, an angle grinder, cutting torch, welding torch, drill, clamp jaws, microprobe for delicate circuitry work, socket wrench, variable screwdriver, soldering iron, sealant gun, paint sprayer and buffer.
Extra Info: Having picked up some of her initial English from regional radio broadcasts, she has something of a Southern accent.
Sample RP: There was something dreadfully incongruous about the high-pitched shriek of an angle grinder at work overlaid by cheerful humming, but to Sparkplug, these disparate sounds were the music of progress. She stood over a long, tilting table, currently horizontal to the deck plates, prominently lit by several diffuse spotlights that cast no shadows. A thicket of machinery spread around the room in every direction from it, cocoon-like, blinking monitors and indicators flashing obscure readings at her. Benches were covered in half-dismantled and semi-constructed machinery, impossible to tell apart at a glance, though the profusion of barrels and dully glowing emitters gave the entirely accurate impression that much of it was intended to - in some manner or other - terminally interrupt someone's day.
If her laboratory gave a faint impression of a medical bay, it was dispelled by the blast range at the far end of the room, whose blackened, twisted armour plates gave mute witness to a delightfully exciting range of exotic death.
The femme herself was of relatively slender construction, her legs dominated by two sets of oversized wheels, leading up to a tapering waist that flared out again into a curved breastplate, a third pair of wheels flat against her back. Her left arm, however, was considerably longer than the right, jointed twice, and a glistening silver that gave the impression that it didn't quite fit with the rest of her white and green colouration. At that moment, it ended in a spinning blade, throwing up a continuous spray of sparks as it bit into the partially disassembled vehicon laid out on her work table.
Bright green optics gleamed cheerfully as she patted the vehicon's head. Its red visor flickered soundlessly at her.
A voice interrupted her humming, almost indecipherable over the din. "-doing?"
Sparkplug glanced around. A vehicon stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the side of its helm in what might have been disbelief. It was always so hard to tell, with vehicons.
"What?" she shouted over the shriek of her angle grinder, then lifted the spinning blade from the metal. There was an abrupt quiet, the blade spinning down to a stop, and the vehicon in the doorway spoke too loudly, compensating for a noise that was no longer there.
"What are you doing to him? He should be guarding the door!"
"Oh, him?" she asked, gesturing to the prone vehicon with her angle grinder. "I was giving him an upgrade! He's going to be fantastic, you know that? I've got these gorgeous little missile racks just begging for a home, and wouldn't he look great with them? He volunteered!"
"Volunteered," echoed the vehicon flatly.
Well, it wasn't the vehicon's fault that they had such a limited vocal range. Sparkplug stepped away from the table, her left hand clicking and rotating as the blade folded out of view and a slim hand took its place. "You know, sugar, I could help you out. I've got these delicious rotary pulse cannons," she coaxed, laying her slim fingers on his chestplate, "and I could put them right in here. You could be a big bot around the place. Big guns, custom chassis mods... you could really stand out. Doesn't that sound fun?"
Just for a moment, she felt his field waver with indecision. Then the vehicon's head turned towards the table. "That is not required," it replied, a little too quickly.
"Aw, come on. I'd only have to shift your head a little bit to the left to make room for the mount..." she tantalised.
For some reason, this didn't seem to have the desired effect. "-I will leave you to your work. I will guard the door. From the outside," the vehicon added, and backed out. The armoured door slid closed, hiding him from view.
Sparkplug sighed, glancing forlornly at a set of multi-barrel cannons sitting dismounted on one workbench. "Some bots have no imagination," she complained to the air, then gave a lopsided shrug. Turning back to the table, she added more cheerfully, "Not like you, huh? Sorry I abandoned you in the middle of the fun. Let's get back to it."
The saw folded out of her arm once again, and descended.
Name/Alias: Misty
CHARACTER INFO
Name: Sparkplug
Age: 25 (equivalent)
Gender: Femme
Species: Cybertronian
Faction: Decepticon
Original Occupation: Chassis research scientist
Occupation/Specialization: Weapon designer/chassis surgeon
Appearance: Sparkplug is a relatively small bot, somewhere between the height of Arcee and Airacnid, but slightly less slender than either (body type 11). Her armour is minimal, designed more for speed than to standing up to heavy punishment. Her design is dominated by six large wheels, which dictate several aspects of her frame, and a bizarre, elongated left arm.
Her peds are built around the first pair of wheels, which slot vertically into the frame of her ankle and calf, while her upper thighs are shaped around the second pair, which pierce front to back, tread exposed on both sides. Above a slim waist, her chestplate swells outwards in twin rises necessitated by partially housing the third pair of wheels in her slim chassis, which are recessed into her back parallel with her spine. Twin rectangular headlights sit on the front of her shoulders, each main light bolstered by a pair of smaller spotlights beneath.
Her chassis is predominantly clean white, with forest green accents, though a small, inset Decepticon insignia in deep purple marks the upper centre of her chestplate. A prominent exception to her colour scheme is her left arm, however, which is simply the silver of bare metal. Reaching as low as her knee when standing straight, the arm has two sets of elbows, giving it an unnatural way of moving. Her hands match, however, her fingers slender and fine tuned for detail work. In weapon mode, her left arm forms her main offensive capability as an elongated energy cannon, whose tip glows in a hollow triangular arrangement with a larger circular emitter at the centre.
Her helm is predominantly white, with a pale grey face plate. Her helm plating forms an upward 'v' above her eyes, which glow bright green. Clear oval lenses, octagonally cut, slide out to cover her eyes for safety, giving her the appearance of wearing spectacles at such times. Circular roundels mark the sides of her helm, glowing green around the inner rim, housing her audio receptors.
Altmode: Crash landing on Earth, in the greatest tradition of arriving Decepticons, Sparkplug impacted a region of the desert in Morocco, near the 1980s route of the Paris-Dakaar rally. With few options to choose from, she scanned an abandoned back-up copy of the Jules Proto 6x4. Rather than bear a spare tyre upon the flattened aft ventral surface, her primary cannon is concealed beneath it, and can be deployed as a turret if required.
History: Sparkplug was forged in the early days of the caste system, and while the last space bridges were still active at the point of her coming online, their final shutdown came soon after. She was initially assigned to the service class, based on her vehicular alt mode, but found herself longing for more intellectual stimulation.
Swayed by the romance of the dying age of exploration, she spent considerable time reading about the spacebridges, emblematic of travel and outward vision, and nursed fond hopes that she could one day work on them. She applied for reassessment, hoping to earn an education in the sciences. To her surprise and delight, her untrained intellectual ability and raw processing capacity earned her a temporary transfer of duty. Provisionally assigned as a research assistant, Sparkplug was initially used as an unskilled helper while she underwent part-time training in the field of full-frame chassis construction, gradually growing able to truly contribute to the work at hand.
In her new field, her talent for technological design and innovation blossomed. Facing discrimination over her alt mode and provisional status, credit for her work was taken by her superiors for a considerable period. Eventually, she was given a full alt mode exemption, promoting her to a member of the scientific class.
Her role as chassis designer exposed her to many of the prejudices amongst the higher classes regarding the lower caste, her own initial classification and experience of prejudice encouraging her sympathy for those that overtly disagreed with the caste system. While she was somewhat aware of Megatronus, it was Orion Pax's anonymous calls to protest that stirred her spark to take part in a peaceful protest.
Left adrift from the anti-caste movement by the split following Orion Pax's elevation, she stepped back from active involvement. This period of withdrawal came to an end with the Tower Bombings; Sparkplug was near enough to see the eruption of smoke and flame into the sky and hear the concussion of detonation. The violence and death of that act eventually persuaded her to join Orion Pax's defensive faction, in a strictly non-combat capacity.
For much of the war on Cybertron, Sparkplug was kept away from the front lines, working within research enclaves to help her faction keep abreast of developments within the war. Her inherent pacifism was strained to breaking point as her research group evolved to focus on war-capable chassis construction, finding herself increasingly isolated amidst the work of weapon system development and integration. While her own research output always had the possibility for civilian application, she grew wearily accustomed to seeing it rolled into the subsequent rounds of weapon development.
A particular blow was the news of Optimus Prime's decision to cast away the All-Spark lest it fall into Decepticon hands, and while she continued working, she became withdrawn and uncommunicative.
This period of her life came to a close when an unexpected Decepticon offensive rolled through a weakened Autobot defensive line, punching a corridor into areas previously considered secure. Without warning from the disrupted communications network, her lab was overrun, and the research team taken prisoner. After an extended period of captivity and forced aptitude testing, during which her high processing capacity and technical knowledge was laid bare, she was selected for conversion therapy.
Following application of mnemosurgery, her pacifistic tendencies were inverted, and her horror at the casting away of the All-Spark amplified into a hatred directed at Optimus Prime for sacrificing the future of their race. She set to work as a weapons designer for the Decepticons, seizing upon all she knew of her research group's work, in experimental enclaves not dissimilar to those she had occupied with the Autobots. Over the subsequent years, she frequently experimented upon her own frame, gradually altering and rebalancing her systems for ever-increasing firepower.
News of Optimus Prime's broadcast, and his invitation to Earth, finally reached her most recent enclave after many retransmissions, together with the more sketchy information of a Decepticon presence marshalling to oppose him. Galvanised into action, Sparkplug disentangled herself from her active work, and bought passage on a disreputable freighter run by an organic species, to be jettisoned in a disposable drop-pod over the planet.
Personality: Sparkplug is a cheerful, garrulous femme, with a love for weapons design and experimentation that verges on obsession. Nothing can cause a big enough boom to satisfy her, and each triumph of her research prompts a fresh attempt to install the fruits of her one-track mind on a 'volunteer' so it can be properly made use of.
Her brightness is reminiscent of her pre-war persona, which gradually abraded with time, loss, and the trampling of her convictions to make her a muted, restrained femme. Following personality editing, she became convinced that the loss of the All-Spark all-but guaranteed the extinction of the Transformer race and giddily ceased to care about lesser things, perfectly happy to indulge her new destructive passions in punishing the one responsible and all who follow him. In direct and physical danger, she is giggly and nervous, and finds it almost impossible to stop talking.
Accusations that she has been a victim of personality surgery are met with sincere denial, the very concept blocked to her. Insistence upon the point can destabilise her however, with unpredictable results that are most likely to manifest by lashing out.
She has no personal desire for power, wanting only the space, resources and subjects to keep experimenting on new technologies, and has survived several labyrinthine power struggles simply by being willing to work for anyone and too useful to casually discard.
Likes:
Weapons: she really, really likes weapons, the more advanced and destructive, the better.
Conversation: Sparkplug is a chatty femme, and likes to have other bots around to talk to.
Music: Sparkplug is fond of music, and often hums or sings as she works.
Dislikes:
Bad manners: she addresses other bots in a friendly fashion, and doesn't take well to rudeness. She often encounters rudeness.
Military discipline: accustomed to a more-or-less civilian way of managing her research, she finds excess rules annoying.
Repetitive work: she is a creative type, and rapidly becomes bored and frustrated with assembly-line repetition.
Strengths/Weapons: Sparkplug's main offensive capacity consists of the elongated energy cannon which lies in her left arm. The pinnacle of her weapons expertise, it is fully capable of blasting an armoured limb off its host upon a direct hit, though the recoil of the cannon has to be counterbalanced by an explosive venting of opposing energy from the rear of her shoulder.
Her secondary weapons systems consist of two grids of small-scale missiles that lie beneath her shoulder mounted rectangular headlights, and a pair of small rotary pulse cannons that lurk beneath her abdominal plating. Each individual hit from these systems is relatively small, chewing at armour rather than penetrating, and requiring several hits to punch medium plating.
Weaknesses: Sparkplug is equipped with light armour, more appropriate to rapid movement than turning away significant damage. Her inexperience with direct combat is telling, leaving her clumsy in a real fight, and with no real grasp of tactics.
Her secondary weapon systems are tuned for short-range, the mini-missiles having a maximum range of one hundred yards, and are built to lay down a barrage rather than target with pinpoint accuracy. This means that while she is usually capable of producing a lot of exciting explosions and beams, they are unlikely to deal a fatal blow.
Structural weaknesses in robot mode include heavy physical impact to her thighs, which are slightly more fragile due to being constructed around the tyres which pierce them.
Special Skills: Sparkplug is an expert researcher of weapon systems, fully versed in the science behind the arsenals of both factions, together with the anatomical knowledge necessary to construct or modify bot chassis. She is capable of a certain degree of medical work, but inexperienced in battlefield repairs or life-saving procedures. Submitting to her tender care for medical reasons is certainly a last-resort option, as she is likely to become distracted or enthused by the possibilities for improvements while she's working.
Her left arm is the repository for an unusually wide variety of tools, giving her access to everything needed to strip a bot down, rebuild it and polish its finish afterwards. These consist of a buzzsaw, an angle grinder, cutting torch, welding torch, drill, clamp jaws, microprobe for delicate circuitry work, socket wrench, variable screwdriver, soldering iron, sealant gun, paint sprayer and buffer.
Extra Info: Having picked up some of her initial English from regional radio broadcasts, she has something of a Southern accent.
Sample RP: There was something dreadfully incongruous about the high-pitched shriek of an angle grinder at work overlaid by cheerful humming, but to Sparkplug, these disparate sounds were the music of progress. She stood over a long, tilting table, currently horizontal to the deck plates, prominently lit by several diffuse spotlights that cast no shadows. A thicket of machinery spread around the room in every direction from it, cocoon-like, blinking monitors and indicators flashing obscure readings at her. Benches were covered in half-dismantled and semi-constructed machinery, impossible to tell apart at a glance, though the profusion of barrels and dully glowing emitters gave the entirely accurate impression that much of it was intended to - in some manner or other - terminally interrupt someone's day.
If her laboratory gave a faint impression of a medical bay, it was dispelled by the blast range at the far end of the room, whose blackened, twisted armour plates gave mute witness to a delightfully exciting range of exotic death.
The femme herself was of relatively slender construction, her legs dominated by two sets of oversized wheels, leading up to a tapering waist that flared out again into a curved breastplate, a third pair of wheels flat against her back. Her left arm, however, was considerably longer than the right, jointed twice, and a glistening silver that gave the impression that it didn't quite fit with the rest of her white and green colouration. At that moment, it ended in a spinning blade, throwing up a continuous spray of sparks as it bit into the partially disassembled vehicon laid out on her work table.
Bright green optics gleamed cheerfully as she patted the vehicon's head. Its red visor flickered soundlessly at her.
A voice interrupted her humming, almost indecipherable over the din. "-doing?"
Sparkplug glanced around. A vehicon stood in the doorway, one hand clutching the side of its helm in what might have been disbelief. It was always so hard to tell, with vehicons.
"What?" she shouted over the shriek of her angle grinder, then lifted the spinning blade from the metal. There was an abrupt quiet, the blade spinning down to a stop, and the vehicon in the doorway spoke too loudly, compensating for a noise that was no longer there.
"What are you doing to him? He should be guarding the door!"
"Oh, him?" she asked, gesturing to the prone vehicon with her angle grinder. "I was giving him an upgrade! He's going to be fantastic, you know that? I've got these gorgeous little missile racks just begging for a home, and wouldn't he look great with them? He volunteered!"
"Volunteered," echoed the vehicon flatly.
Well, it wasn't the vehicon's fault that they had such a limited vocal range. Sparkplug stepped away from the table, her left hand clicking and rotating as the blade folded out of view and a slim hand took its place. "You know, sugar, I could help you out. I've got these delicious rotary pulse cannons," she coaxed, laying her slim fingers on his chestplate, "and I could put them right in here. You could be a big bot around the place. Big guns, custom chassis mods... you could really stand out. Doesn't that sound fun?"
Just for a moment, she felt his field waver with indecision. Then the vehicon's head turned towards the table. "That is not required," it replied, a little too quickly.
"Aw, come on. I'd only have to shift your head a little bit to the left to make room for the mount..." she tantalised.
For some reason, this didn't seem to have the desired effect. "-I will leave you to your work. I will guard the door. From the outside," the vehicon added, and backed out. The armoured door slid closed, hiding him from view.
Sparkplug sighed, glancing forlornly at a set of multi-barrel cannons sitting dismounted on one workbench. "Some bots have no imagination," she complained to the air, then gave a lopsided shrug. Turning back to the table, she added more cheerfully, "Not like you, huh? Sorry I abandoned you in the middle of the fun. Let's get back to it."
The saw folded out of her arm once again, and descended.