Help Unwanted

[universebeware]

Who: Brainstorm and You!
Where: Brainstorm's Workshop, which is in a slightly-quieter portion of the Cancer district.
Summary: Come Bother the Giant Robot: The Entry.
Warnings: Brainstorm is a jerk.

Unlike most of the inhabitants of Hinoto-Ri, Brainstorm is a touch too large for the given apartments. So he's acquired himself a space that looks more like a hangar than a house, but for someone like him, it works. Most of the time, the door is shut, but today, it is open. It's not that Brainstorm wants company - it's that he expects the other visitors to break their new toys at some point or another. Organics are clumsy things, and much as he loathes to interrupt his own work and research, well. Some things just have to be done, whether he likes it or not.

That, and with spring getting into swing, it's getting warmer, and some days it's easier to just keep the door open.

Those who approach would hear the sound of tools in use - and perhaps be unlucky enough to step up when he's welding, and get a eyeful of terribly bright light. Whatever he's doing when someone draws near, though, he's too busy to notice them.

At the side of the open hangar door is sign with an arrow pointing to a roughly human-scaled stairwell. It zigzags up to a platform that will put anyone who climbs it roughly at Brainstorm's chest level - high enough to not strain their necks, but low enough to still be looked down on. There's a panel on the safety railing with a large palm-sized button on it. A digital display above it displays "Press For Assistance" in multiple languages. It appears to be considerate, but it's mostly to cut down on what he considers annoyances.

--

OOC: Do come bother Brainstorm! Need something built, repaired, or if your character's curious/nosy, or whatever you wanna do!

Comments

[universebeware]

"Well, obviously," Brainstorm begins to answer, poking about a bit within the insides of the gun. "It's a logical conclusion - I'm not one of those leaky-fuel-pump types that's going to get my wires in a twist just because some organic that hardly knows me thinks I'm untrustworthy as a person."

He scoffs a bit at the war commentary. "I'm no Decepticon, but I feel I took to the situation better than a fair number of my comrades. As for what I am - some of both, but mostly scientist."

[screwattack]

"It sounds to me as though at least one of your sides isn't ready to make peace yet. I would hate to see the damage caused if one of your Decepticons arrived in the city... Though I feel as though it would fall to me to prevent it. I agree though, you certainly seem more like a scientist than a soldier... you don't come off to me as a fighter."

She leans over the railing a bit more to try and get a glance at her paralyzer. "How badly damaged is it?"

[universebeware]

"Well, no. Decepticons aren't exactly known for their ability to cooperate and be decent 'bots. Quite the stubborn lot, really. I mean sure, there's the odd one here and there that defects or generally is okay to talk to, but they're more the exception that proves the rule, really. Hopefully if any of them show up, it'll be the odd ones. Though I suppose I should work on having something on hand to deal with such a situation non-lethally... While I'm more at home in a lab, I can go in the field if necessary, though I don't particularly like to."

He pauses in his work, bringing up the holo-interface of his COMP to make that as a note on what appears to be a very long list of projects. Given the language they're listed in is Cybertronian, though, they can't be read.

"Not badly," Brainstorm answers once he closes the interface, and picks some bits out of the firing mechanism. "You weren't kidding about it being jammed."