[Action/Accidental Video] [Originating in Solian Temple]

[wheeljackofalltrades]

 [Now that the battle with the Sharkticons had ended, and he'd done a meet n' greet at the party, Wheeljack was on to bigger and better things. And what were these things you speak of? Well, that was his own business. He often took several trips to the junkpile and back, searching for new things that he could tinker with.  And for those that know Wheeljack a bit better than 'acquaintance', you should know what he's up to.

You guessed it. Grenades.


At least he was keeping himself busy! Hobbies were hard to come by on a planet that was just starting out.  When he wasn't scouting around or checking the communicator, he holed himself up in his room, with only the sounds of welding and creaking metal being heard.  You'd think this would be cause to worry, and...you're not far off from the truth. Anyone who knows any Wheeljack would understand. It wasn't anything he couldn't handle, he'd done this several times before...it's just he's always experimenting. And with this one? It's a much thinner casing. More compact and easy to carry. And it required more articulate handling.

His communicator is on, however, and it shows him putting the internal workings of the grenade inside it's casing. He seems almost undoubtedly careful on this, one eyebrow slightly perked as his hands smoothly try to deliver it inside. If he were a more aspiring mech, he'd try out to be a medic, but...well, no one wants to be a Ratchet now, do they.  To be honest, this was a Wheeljack's almost got the tube inside; a near perfect fit. The mechanic gives a smirk to himself as he starts to pull his hand out--

The next few moments were probably the largest span of expressions from him ever. His face went from smirk, to surprise, to fear, to 'oh scrap'. In a matter of four seconds. He'd tripped the pin, and before he could pull any other emotions out of himself, he was sent back from the explosion. Within two nanokliks, the room as charred black,  a smoking grenade (or what was left of it) in the center and a just-as-blackened Wheeljack in a pile of rubble.]

Ow.

[He sits up, rubbing his head and groaned. Scrap, man. That didn't go as planned. How that didn't outright kill him, not even he knows.

Those who didn't see it first hand on the comm link, you may have heard a BOOM! from Wheeljack's room. He's sorry guys. REALLY.]

Comments

1/? (backdated to v. soon after?)

[docbot]

[docbot]

[docbot]

[docbot]

I-

[docbot]

You -

[docbot]

You actually just did that.

[docbot]

You just-

[docbot]

... I can't even find words to express the slag-headed, utterly moronic stupidity required to make this decision.

done!

[docbot]

[ In a soft, awed tone of voice saved for moments where Ratchet is totally and exquisitely lost. ]

It's official. This must be what going mad feels like.

He knew you'd be proud of him

[wheeljackofalltrades]

[Wheeljack gives a slight cough as he starts dusting his armor off, shaking his head a bit.]

I'm fine, thanks.

If by proud, you mean stupefied by his idiocy, then yes. Proud.

[docbot]

Considering that your head must be solidly made of Cybertronium and fluff with not a processor circuit to be found, I'm not surprised.

[wheeljackofalltrades]

Bah, I've taken worse hits than this, Doc.

[He may have even caused a few of them.]

Don't get your bolts in a bundle.

[docbot]

Just because you've taken worse hits doesn't mean that it's appropriate to start inflicting them on yourself and my name. Is not. Doc.

[wheeljackofalltrades]

Can't really say I was plannin' on bein' this thing's test dummy. Guess that'll teach me ta use stuff from the Junkpile.

[He winces slightly as he brushes off some of that soot and ash.]

[docbot]

I'm sure.

[ Degeneration into monosyllabic words and short sentences is not a good thing. ]

[wheeljackofalltrades]

...WELL.

This mess won't clean itself up.

See ya Ratch-!