nexus_crossings | one mech's trash is another man's...

one mech's trash is another man's...

Misfire is, what some may call, a hoarder. He would like to consider himself a collector of fine treasures. However his room back home is just overflowing with crap. The air hanger at the edge of the wilds he's found here in the Nexus is starting to look similar. He doesn't care of course. Buuuut a certain superior officer of his back home did and ordered he clean his quarters out or his quarters would be moved from his quarters to the brig.

Keen on not getting tossed behind bars like some kind of... of common CRIMINAL, he decides to do the equivalent of just shoving it all into his closet. The closet in this case being the Nexus.

And it's all here now. There's... a lot... at least a little bit of pretty much anything you can imagine. His 'home' after all is a giant ship with quantum engines able to jump into new universes. You pick up a lot of stuff when you're on a never ending adventure across the multiverse. And that's before you even get to the Nexus!

Yeah there's boxes and crates and just random piles of stuff all over... is that an arm? That's an arm. Misfire hurries over to scoop it up. Looks like it belongs to a friend of his. Riptide maybe? He has vague memories of winning it off him in a drunken card game a little bit ago. Maybe he should give it back...

Either way the junk had to be dealt with. Even he could see the necessity. So what better way to get rid of a ton of junk then with a yard sale? He could just throw it out but... he just can't stand the thought!

So he's posted signs all around the Nexus advertising a sale with vague directions to his hanger.

"Hey! Thanks for coming! You looking for anything in particular? Bet I got something somewhere around here that's perfect for you!" he grins and waves at anyone curious enough to come out here. Possibly with the aforementioned severed arm.

(( ooc: Feel free to make up anything for the assorted junk laying around. Literally anything is fair game, the weirder and more obscure the better. He's defaulted to his giant robot form for this thread but if you'd prefer to interact with his human holographic avatar just let me know. ))

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The newest visitor to come check out Misfire's wares just... appears, when he turns around; an alien about eight or nine feet tall (he hunches, it's hard to gauge) wearing light armor of silver metal and blue cloth. Hard to guess what he looks like under his mask, but definitely not human: aside from the height, he's got four arms. It's a giveaway. He stares up at Misfire with an optic band shimmering with brilliant, crystalline white light.

"This is all... for trade?" he asks, voice guttural and accompanied with a faint hiss. A lower hand sweeps out to gesture at the mountains of potential treasure around them.

Scavenging for ancient Golden Age tech has long been a part of a Guardian's job, though obviously protecting civilians and existing infrastructure tends to come first. Aegis-9 has used more than one Nexus trip already to keep an eye out for useful bits and bobs, though weapons tend to be somewhat scarce here in comparison to things like food and knickknacks. Even so, the pile of junk draws her attention long before she notices that the thirty-foot bot isn't just an idle machine of some kind.

Her head jerks upward to seek out his face once he speaks, though, her optics lighting up cyan in fascinated delight. "Got any guns?"

What kind of hellish building collapse is this? There were signs and honest-to-God billboards in the Nexus advertising a yard sale but upon arrival Dr. Octavius is fairly certain she's spying a fully furnished mobile home, a fighter jet, an entire shipping crate as well as piles of more human sized objects strewn in little rows up and down the spacious lawns as far as she can see.

That's before one even stops to pay attention to the Giant Freaking Sentient Robot booming out a welcome to all those who get anywhere near. Frankly, it's amazing he's collected so many comparatively microscopic items suitable for human use.

"Color me interested." A pity there's so many people about or she'd definitely be using her extra prosthetic limbs to climb to eye level with Misfire. As is she wanders up and down the little rows giving the giant robot as much berth as possible. Getting stepped on is a real threat so far as she's concerned.

"Excuse me." She has to cup both hands when she calls out to Misfire. "You wouldn't happen to have any super magnets just lying around, would you?"

Where there's salvage, there are War Boys. It's practically a universal consistency. For all that the Citadel's reputation was built upon ruthless conquest of the road, their real strength has always been in repurposing the bits and pieces that remained of the Old World. Today, Furiosa's entourage (two War Boys and a skinny, dark-skinned woman on crutches) has arrived before her, and while they're obviously in awe of the looming giant mech, they're not too shy to start picking up nuts and bolts and other small pieces that would be hard to machine with what they have at home.

Furiosa herself shows up wearing what looks like a loaded backpack (trade, as usual), but she's just as quick to get distracted as her companions. "Hey, you," she calls up to Misfire with a wry smile, recognizing him. "Looks like you've settled in. If you have anything like a lithium-ion battery around..."

She trails off as something entirely different catches her eye, from where it lies on the ground behind a few empty oil drums. "...is that a kangaroo?"

If Misfire's surprised at the just random out of no where entrance by some mysterious alien he doesn't show it. Because he's not surprised. He's seen weirder. Pit he probably OWNS weirder.

"You got it! 'Cept the slag in the actual hanger. That's mostly like my bed and stuff and I kinda need those," he glances at the detached limb he's still holding and waves, "And this arm of course. I should... probably return it to it's rightful owner."

Misfire is usually a lot more animated. He's the sort who usually can't stay still, even for a moment. But with all the shorties milling about he's being EXTRA careful. Stepping on someone is the last thing he wants.

"Guns... That's probably one of the few things I don't collect many of. After being in a four million year war you kind of get tired of shooting people, you know?" he shrugs. He spent a good chunk of that war making a name for himself as a TERRIBLE shot too. He literally changed his name to reflect it.

"The few I have would be too big for you anyways. Although..." he trails off as he ponders, "I do have one that was originally made for a minibot. But I gotta ask... you have a sense of humor?"

The fighter jet is also painted to look like Starscream, the former second in command of the faction Misfire belongs to. Screamer is notoriously unpleasant and is disliked by pretty much everyone. Misfire took a lot of pleasure in taking dumb pictures of that juet with even dumber captions to post on social media.

Until Starscream sent him a cease in desist. What a no fun loser.

"You don't have to yell! I got my audial sensors tuned to pick up voices from tiny mouths," He explains though he still crouches down to make this conversation a little easier.

"Super magnets? Eh probably not. Those things make my dermal mesh break out something fierce," he winces at the memory, rubbing his cheek, "I think I have a couple quantum magnets though. Interested?"

Oh hey! Look it's one of his favorite crews. They always look up at him all impressed. It's a great ego booster and he flares his wings in pride.

He's about to ask what a kangaroo is, but his optics follow where she's looking and his eyes alight on... on that thing. He frowns a bit and moves the drums out of the way.

"Oh that's a one sixth scale model of this guy Jungaroo," his eyes narrow a little, "I honestly don't even remember where I picked it up. Or why I got it. Or why is even exists that matter."

The alien gives a pleased-sounding hiss, then growls something low and sprinkled with clicking sounds over his shoulder. Apparently he brought shopping assistants. Four smaller, more human-size critters clamber out from another pile of junk; they're the same species, by the look of them, though instead of lower arms they just have cloth-swaddled stumps. Each of them has a bristly, blue-dyed mohawk sticking up through the top of their masks- just about standing on end as they stare up at the big robot. One of them mumbles to another and gets elbowed for the smart remark.

They scatter off when the big one gives them an order, hurrying to go look through all the wondrous array of... stuff on offer. The big one, meanwhile, tilts his head at Misfire and the arm he's holding.

"Why give it back? Did you not win it as trophy?"

"Guy I know, Thundercracker, makes Earth movies. Maybe I'll try to find one of his..." He frowns then, reconsidering, "...Actually all his are pretty terrible I'll just find you Titanic instead."

Thundercracker's movies are just... hilariously bad. Misfire's seen a few of them and.. .well Misfire isn't an expert on Earth culture but Thunders isn't really either.

"Ya? You want me to carry it over for you or are you going to do the whole-" he waves his hands dramatically, "-Wizard thing?"

Anemone arrives in her Nirvash, TheEnd. A robot.

She leaves the Nirvash very close to the hoard and comes up closer to Misfire just by herself. She's grinning like crazy, happier than anyone's ever seen her in Nexus. Unlike any previous of her times in Nexus, she doesn't look sick and ailing.

No, she looks like she's on drugs. Some very euphoric kind of drugs.

"You've got anything interesting?" she asks. "Because I'm here alone, with no morons who can work on stuff, I might need some stuff to keep TheEnd going smoothly."

It's not crazy, in her eyes, to be talking to a robot, even though she's never talked to one that wasn't her nirvash, before.

Edited 2020-09-09 14:20 (UTC)

Wow... lot's of little scampery guys. Convenient too. Man if Misfire just had a bunch of cool little minions... well it probably wouldn't end well he makes a terrible leader. He files a mental note away to be extra careful walking around though.

"I mean... If you want to call my vague memories of winning it in the most drunk game of cards ever played anywhere ever as winning it as a trophy..." he laughs awkwardly, "Under those circumstances I feel like kind of an afthole if I don't give it back. 'Sides just keeping someone's arm around makes me look kinda serial-killery."

"Thundercracker. Right, then, I won't see any of his movies if they're so bad. You have some interesting friends" Ben looks quizzical. "You know, I don't think I've ever seen Titanic. Is that the one about the ship, and the diamond?"

Ben gives a snorting laugh when he hears Misfire describe use of the Force as a "wizard thing". This isn't the first time.

"So you've heard about what I am. Well, I was thinking a delivery - don't want to draw too much attention to myself and it takes more out of me to move heavier objects, if that makes sense."

It's not crazy to talk to a mech like Misfire. He's about as friendly and open as they come! In fact he's the type that'll come up to you and talk to you whether you want him to or not. That's gotten him into trouble more often then he'd care to admit.

"Something interesting? You gotta be a little more specific then that, mate. Cause I pretty much consider EVERYTHING here interesting," he laughs a little, crouching down to make conversation easier. He might have a lot of junk around here but he has fond memories associated with a lot of it.

"By 'TheEnd' you talking about Mr. Pointy over there?"

"Yup, that's Nirvash TheEnd! Can only talk to me, though, not sure, seeing as you are a robot... can all robots talk with each other?"

She seems giddy. And really happy right now.

"Everything here's interesting? That sounds like a challenge for me to find something boring and complain!"

She makes a face.

"And trust me, I can."

"A boat, a blue rock, and an old broad! That's Titanic," he nods. There's... probably a little more to the movie then that. He can't remember though. He does remember that it's sappy and romantic and tragic though!

"Guess that makes sense though. Everyone's got a physical limit to what they can lift," he nods, though personally he thinks there should be no limit on MAGIC but he clearly doesn't write those rules, "So what do figure is the biggest thing you can lift without.. uh... what's the organic phrase? Breaking a sweet?"

Sweat. The phrase he's looking for is 'Breaking a sweat'.

"Depends on how often the other side is shooting you back," she quips back, and though she doesn't say a word about the combat bow on her back and the sidearm at the back of her waist, it's clear just from looking at her and her armor that she's not just speaking theoretically. Four million years of war sounds pretty awful though; Guardians have only been around a few centuries, and Aegis herself much less than that.

She chuckles at the question and spreads her hands. "Too much for my own good sometimes."

He gets it, he's not judging. He's a warframe himself with integrated weaponry and a few sidearms in his subspace. It's a necessity sometimes.

"Just the answer I wanted to hear!" He grins and straitens up to gaze upon his vast collection, hands on his hips, "Let's see if I can remember where I put it..."

He rifles through a few things, muttering under his breath about how everything was easier to find BEFORE he tried to organize. Finally from a box of what appears to be mostly old data pads he AHA!s and pulls out a blaster that looks like a toy.

"What do ya think?"

"You're an organic life form can you talk to all organic life forms?" he asks, though his voice is kind. A lot of his species have very bad kneejerk reactions to questions like that, but he likes organics well enough and knows that sometimes explanations need to be had, "A lot of mechanical life forms like me don't like being called robots because it all just kind of groups us together. I'm Cybertronian, or a transformer. Don't know what your friend is but I can tell he's not from Cybertron."

There are plenty of other mechanical species out there in the universe. More then a lot of organics even realize.

"And I'm sure you'll find something to complain about," he grins suddenly and points to a heavy machine up against the side of his hanger, "If you do and it's not like something super valuable, I'll let you toss it in the Squisher."

"Naahh, and I wouldn't want to. You're right."

Talking to all organic life? No, thanks.

"Nope, not from Cybertron. Where's that?"

She looks through the stuff. She said she'd complain, but for now, she's trying to find anything useful or funny.

"Is that your photo when you were a toddler?"

Or maybe it's just a picture of some smaller robot. She likes to tease.

Edited 2020-09-09 17:00 (UTC)

"Where's Cybertron? In relation to here?" he actually considers the question for a moment, "Far."

...Look it's the best answer he can come up with and it's technically not completely inaccurate.

He glances over at what she's looking at and laughs, picking up the old scuffed up datapad and brushing some dust off. Some of the shifting boxes must have turned it on. Amazing that it still had a charge to it!

"Haven't seen that in a while!" he puts it back down so she can see if she wants, "That's me, shortly after I was forged. We all kinda look like weird lumpy metal beans with squishy faces before our protoforms take on more mass and settle into something more solid."

Anemone ponders this, then mutters, "I've gotta see other worlds someday. If they're that weird."

"Someday?" he looks down at her with a wry smile, "Why not today? They always say there's no time like the present. You got yourself a PINpoint, yeah?"

This place really does remind her of some of the Golden Age cities she's explored, crumbled and ruined and sometimes packed full of absolutely useless junk. Fascinating junk, though. So much was lost in the Collapse, you never know what might prove to be invaluable data of a time long past, or a piece of technology whose secrets were forgotten in the cataclysm.

Aegis peers around while she waits for the bigger 'bot to find what he's looking for, not a hint of impatience in her body language. But once that cry of success reaches her aural sensors, her attention is fully on him.

At first, she's not certain what she's looking at. It's a hefty machine, about the size of a light machine gun, but what are those words etched into the side? "'My first blaster?'" she reads out loud, sounding mildly puzzled, and the aperture of her optics narrow a little to focus on the smaller text below. "'Big grip for little hands.' Is this a real gun?" It wouldn't be the first time she's seen a toy made to look like one, so you never know.

"Is it a real gun?" he barks a laugh and takes a knee to he can hold it out to her, "Mate, a good friend of mine made this. Brainstorm. I know the name doesn't mean much to you but where I'm from he might just be the greatest weapon designer who ever lived."

A good friend with a BIZARRE sense of humor. The original was made for his other friend Swerve but Brainstorm handed these out as 'presents' to anyone he thought had shit aim.

"Just try it out! You can, hmmm..." he glances around and then points at what looks like a stack of several empty beer cans the size of oil drums, and with no one else particularly close... "That there! You can take a shot at those."

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