nexus_crossings | 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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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 War Boys may not be aware of how adoring they look from 30 feet up, but they're happy to pause and stare at the wing-flare. Shiny and chrome! The woman on crutches blinks up at Misfire, too, although there's something more analytical in her expression, and she's not too shy to give him a smile.

"Jungaroo." Furiosa repeats, puzzled, and bends a little, hooking her metal fingers around the model to straighten it. "That's a kangaroo head if I ever saw---well, I never saw one alive, but we have a taxidermy one back home. Tail looks right, too. So, what, he's part mechanical, part animal?"

That's weird, but hey, welcome to the multiverse.

He smiles back and fingerguns before turning his attention back to Furiosa.

"Beastformer. Same race as me just turns into an animal instead of a jet.
Never met him personally but he's definitely all mech don't be fooled," he takes a knee to make the conversation go a little easier, "Some beastformers have the fuzzy bits, some don't. Don't really know the rules."

Weird is certainly the rule of the multiverse.

"So? You fixing to give him a new home?"

"All mech...but fuzzy." There's no reason that shouldn't be possible, but it seems to perplex her a little, nonetheless. "Shiny, I'm gonna need you to tell me some more about the universe you come from."

"There used to be animals in my world called Kangaroos," she explains. "I've seen pictures and bones and skins. They used their back legs to kick the hell out of whoever crossed 'em, moved fast as hell, and some of them were as big as a man. There's a lot of old stories about them. Pretty sure the bits about them eating human flesh was an exaggeration, but I guess I don't know for sure."

"...I kinda want to put him outside my quarters to scare people. What do you want for him?"

If there was ever a Transformer ready and raring to dive into more world exposition then one could possibly want... It's Misfire. Give him an inch to talk and he'll take an entire marathon.

"What do I want..." he hums. He's trying to get rid of stuff so as tempting as it is to ask her what she's got for trade that kind of defeats the purpose of what he's doing. His optics light up as an idea hits.

"Hey I notice you and your friend there happen to appreciate fine mechs such as myself," it's at least a small part of why he likes the lot so much, "A friend of mine, Fulcrum, he got forcibly reformatted into a bomb and kind of lacks a lot of self confidence and stuff. I'm thinking I let you have Jungaroo, and some day I take my mate around your place and maybe you and the boys there can give him a little boost."

Probably for the best that he's not looking for items in trade. The Citadel has plenty of stuff, but the scrap they collect may not be that valuable by his standards. If he ever wants anything knitted of camelhair, though...

When he starts to construct his proposal, her brows quirk, but then she smiles. "As long as he's not going to hurt anyone, he's more than welcome. So are you. Not sure our ceilings are tell enough for you outside the garage area, but maybe that's enough."

She clears her throat and adds, "Uh, and the Blackthumbs would be happy to give either of you a polish. Crux was rambling about it after we met you the first time. I told him best to double-check that wasn't too personal a thing to offer."

"Nah, he's a wimp. Though he is freaked out by pores and sweat... might wanna wait to bring him around when it gets colder," he muses. Can't do the self confidence upgrades if you're too busy being squicked by some perspiration.

He listens intently to her offer, and as she speaks his optics glow brighter and he smiles enormously.

"Are you kidding? I don't know bout my mate, but I'd love that. I'm a flier! It's a big cultural thing among fliers to polish each others wings up since they're hard to reach. The ship I'm on right now though? Barely a wing in sight," he sighs dramatically. One of the one and only thing he misses from the war is bunking in a full air barracks where there's always someone available to give your wings a little love, "And most grounders are way too rough on the equipment."

TINY HUMAN HANDS THOUGH...

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

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