[Locked FROM Skids.]

[Whirl is in his quarters, which you might at first think is an armory. Pretty damn close. Thankfully, Megatronus doesn't make him clean his room or keep pins in his grenades or other annoying things. ]

[Behold Whirl arming up. He likes options, okay? ]

So.  Hear we got us some undead problems.

['Scuse him while he racks a shotgun.]

You see Skids, you let me know.  Or the usual: slavering, tentacles, undead sounds like GRARGGFSF, that sorta thing. 

[Because Skids is a pal, and Whirl will gladly shoot him in the head.  For, uh, for the greater good?]

[Locked to Skids]

Hey, Mr. Conveniently Lost Memory.  Just a little trivia.  

I hear I have a positively scrumptious spark.

Ding ding ding, that's the dinnerbell.

[Oh, Haven, have you missed Whirl?  That's because you don't have AWESOME O VISION so you couldn't even see the vast gobs of awesome he has been racking up. Scads of the stuff. He's rolling in awesomeness. ]

[And he feels generous so he'll share some.]

[The video feed comes on to...Whirl's awesome face. And then he steps back to reveal two of the weird little disklike probes Shockwave's sent out.  Only they're each covered in a luchador mask. Because Whirl makes the best use of the Junk Pile, ever.  They're currently circling each other, warily.  Each has a small, primitive, remote control box making a bump under the mask..]

Hey. Whoever keeps sending these things into my room.

A) Fraggin' pervert.  Jetfire if it's you I swear to Primus I'm gonna start wondering about you.

B) Thanks. Because these are the best toy ever.  

Everyone else: I'd like you to meet El Poopo del Toro and Chilly con Carnage. 

[Of course those names rock. He thought them up himself.]

They're here to fight to the death for your amusement.  [He holds up two controllers, obviously for the drones.]

So. Who's in? [Because this is totes boring by himself. ]

[Whirl has decided to give you lowly creatures a demonstration, since Megatronus's quadrant is currently sprouting a healthy crop of Multipedes of Squickiness. It is high time you all got to see a real Wrecker at work. So he's set up a camera, his face popping in to check the angle, before he jumps down to what he has dubbed Carnage Central. He's ready for his close up--wearing that awesome clock-necklace he got for that stupid human holiday. It looks, obviously, AWESOME.  ]

Awright. Pay attention, pansies.   Whirl's gonna show you losers how a real Wrecker gets it done.

[How it's done looks pretty much like a blur of violence and mayhem. Critter heads flying everywhere, gouts of disgusting bodily fluids, slimy organs everywhere. It's a  gore party and Whirl's making the confetti.]

[What's worse is probably his terrible David Attenborough impersonation narration.]

We see, in its native habitat, a creature of superlative unworthiness.   Uh that's not me, wussbuckets, for the record.

You'll note how, in their short but violent existence, they have the cerebral functioning of a coprolite.  Cuz look at this. [He holds up a metallic chunk of something between his claws.]  Brain the size of a graphing calculator. 

The creatures are mindless, hapless victims of slaughter when they wander against a superior being. That IS meeeeeeeee---!!!

[Unfortunately, Whirl's super-unvincibility is put to the test, as the terrorpede he's trying to kill, in super slo mo 300 style, suddenly catches the chain of his super awesome clocklace in its mandible. Whirl now finds himself unawesomely being flung around by the rearing, snapping creature. ]

CUT! CUUUUUUT!!!!!

((ooc: you can help or mock and if you're NPCing his mauling, HIS BODY IS READY))

[The location behind everyone's least favorite helicopter looks almost like a workshop. And body parts. Seems Whirl's found himself Ironfist's impromptu workshop and yeah there's probably valuable SCIENCE in here, but whatever.]

[He's got dollies.]

[He'll hold one Acolyte helm up to the lens.]

Whirl! Whirl is the best Autobot!  

[The other helm.]

                                                                       He is a hundred million times cooler than Cyclonus!

[And now a puppet show!] And hotter than Rodimus!

                                                                        And soberer than Fortress Psychomus!

And smarter than Drift--Okay really, that's not so hard.

[Enough fun. Onto the srs bsns.]

Right. So, who all was that purple goon after again?  [Anyone he should actually give a scrap about?]

[Those from Earth might be familiar with the old movie cliche of the prisoner rattling his cup back and forth over the bars of his cell.  Whirl somehow also knows this cliche.  And is doing it.]

[Except he's doing it with his face. ]

Nnnnnnngh. So fraggin' bored!!

Someone come kill me or something.

[JUST the non-face you wanted to see today, right?  GUTEN TAG, Haven. It is Whirl.]

( Locked to everyone except Prism who can suck it.  )


( Locked to Prism who can still suck it.  )

**attached to both are coordinates to an area in Megatronus's quadrant, a lovely little fatal funnel/box canyon set up.**

[How do you make black more 'vivid'? Frag you and your rules of color theory.  This is Whirl.]

[And Whirl is showing off his SWEET TAT, his Megatronus glyph, to the camera.  It is now so black it is faintly glowing. Yeah, you read that right. Glowing. Black. Deal with it. ]

Cool.

Guess this means I'm even more badaft than I thought.

[Is that even possible?!]

Wonder when Splat's gonna get his.

[The video feed pops on to this:
( cut bc image ) Around the kitten, you can see the rippling silver folds of...is that a cape? You've seen that before, recently, normally dangling from the spindly shoulders of Haven's favorite helicopter. (Since his competition for that title is basically Airachnid? Whirl wins. By a tiny, tiny bit.) The kitten moves forward, bumping the camera with its nose and then, a voice, familiar enough.]

Graaah This sucks.

((ooc: refers to this ))

[Behold, lowly denizens of Haven. It is Whirl, the Superhero you never knew you wanted, and probably still don't. But he is here to change that. He is going to win hearts and minds if he has to punch something's face off.]

[Yeah, sooner or later he'll get over his face-hate.]

[Whirl is broadcasting from his latest super-important heroic task. He's hovering in his robot mode, velos on his shoulders spinning up, keeping him airborne and ruffling a silver cape that is now down to his waist. Over his shoulder, you can dimly make out, on the ground below, an Acolyte, robed, hands clutched together in gratitude as Whirl goes about the MIGHTY DEED of....

[...rescuing kittens from a tree. The camera is attached to his wrist just above the basket where he's collecting the kittens, so the feed is periodically interrupted by little 'mew's. And as you watch, here's a tender sight: Whirl's massive, lethal claws holding a kitten. In one simple scissor, he could have two half-kittens *snip* but he does not, depositing the fuzzy grey blob in the basket.  This might be your first clue that something is seriously wrong here. Well....wrong being a relative term.]

This feat is INSUFFICIENTLY MIGHTY, citizens. [This is a heroic voice indeed, deep and studly. Just ask Ambulon.]   *mew*

Seriously. who the frag is launching entire colonies of kittens into trees? What is wrong with you people?

And why didn't you invite me?

[He blinks and his voice takes the deeper timbre.]

Citizens. I am more aware than most of the injustices rife amongst our midst.

Frag. Fraggin' First Aid probably shoved a thesaurus program into my aft. Creepy thought. Knew something was a little off about him. [What? Internalize his thoughts? It's canon: Whirl can't do that.]   *mew*

Maybe that Vandal , fraggin' human all...warm and gross and shifty. Or...Prism.

PRISM.   [Seethe.  Finally something Whirl can agree on. With himself. ]

Assorted miscreants, varlets, scoundrels and other indeterminate criminal types. I am putting you on notice. JUSTICE is HERE. And Justice has his optic on you.

[Justice however does not have a face.]

*mew*

[ Hello Cybertron, guess who's back?

If you guessed everyone's favorite floating creepersphere, you'd be right. And probably also horrified. The video feed shows Prism, in his proper body and most definitely not confined to his room, floating happily somewhere near the junk pile. ]

Hello! I suppose I must commend you for quarantining me for so long, but I'm afraid your containment measures could not withstand superior technology.

[ Something moves in the background, sliding slowly into view. It's the Gatherer, and it's... not alone. ]

...this is what I get for trying to be helpful. Tentacle rape. Can't even be fraggin' original.

[ Prism turns slightly, sighing in a rather bored manner. ]

If I was attempting to violate you, I would be much more thorough. I would suggest cooperating, it would make this entire endeavor much easier on you.

Yeah I'll keep that in mind. [ Whirl struggles against the tentacles, which seem quite determined to get friendly with him. ] This where I'm supposed to like beg for mercy or something?"

[ Whoops. Hope you like being upside down, Whirl. ]

If you had a mouth I would gag you. I don't suppose you have any companions who will be coming to your attempted rescue?

[Not really a fan, no. ] Fraggin shame I don't have one, then, isn't it? [Whirl refuses to answer the second part. Because no. ]

What a shame. I suppose I will have to find something else to do with you. [ Mouth or no, a tentacle winds itself around Whirl's face and head before Prism turns his attention back to the feed. ]

All that aside, I'm very excited to get back to work. There are so many of you now! I look forward to cataloguing each and every one of you in great detail.

[You can muzzle him but you can't muffle justice! Or....something. Whirl starts shooting at...something. It's hopefully at least noisy and ruining that whole sinister ambiance thing you're going for. Jerk.]

Really-- [ Prism's exasperated response is cut off as he ends the feed, presumably to deal with Whirl who is proving to be more trouble than he's worth. Just before the feed disappears the tentacles constrict and there's a sudden crunch.

That. Didn't sound too good. ]

[Oh look, it's Whirl, Jetstream, Primus, whoever he told you his name was. The elusive, and yet handsome, helicopter. ]

[He only bothers you when he has something important to say, like, cakes to mutilate, so he's not going to waste your valuable time.]

[Right. Like anyone here's got anything but time.]

Gonna make this quick.  Hear a lot of you running charge on your vocalizers about rules and laws and all that slag.

I've had more police experience than most [scary but true] so here's my two shanix.

This guy.  [He flashes a picture of IDW Perceptor, snagged from the recent network post.]  Serial menace to society.  

Yeah, yeah, I mean, sure, he shot me, a fellow Autobot  [He splays one claw over his chassis.] And apparently the alleged self-appointed sheriff in town figures that's okay. [Yeah, Blurr, didn't think that would come back to haunt you? Hope you put that in YOUR application for your lawdog society.]

Might want to reconsider voting for the mech who's all for blue on blue crime, just sayin'.

But now, this mech's gone and nearly killed one of those blood pinata organics. 

Anyone else think it's time we at least take his toys away? 

 [You know what Whirl doesn't like?  Okay, everything. You got him there, smarty bolts. But more topically, Whirl is not fond of waking up in strange places and being fed ridiculous stories about blah blah the First Forged blah. And the fraggin' Acolyte would not shut up. 

[At least, until Whirl had punched him in the face.  Just a little friendly feedback to stop being so damn boring.  So he's doing some information gathering, the old fashioned way--flying around looking for trouble. ]

So. Stupid mech was telling me something about a fresh start. 

I dunno. Maybe it wasn't 'fresh start.'. Maybe he meant like, fresh tar or  freeze tarts or something. Kinda hard to enunciate after some editorial knuckles. 

[Which are Whirl's favorite flavor of knuckles.]

Thing is ['scuse him while he shoots something.  Because...uh...reasons. It needed shooting. Damn piece of scrap metal ]   I've heard that before. And let me tell you:  there's always a price. 

Anyone figure out what it is yet?  

And don't give me any boo hoo slag about never going home again.