Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-28920015-20171123004142/@comment-27344811-20171123191316

MEanwhile, during all this crazy crap, two particularlly small Cybertronians are making their way through downtown. As in small, human-sized.

One is a pinkish-purple with one wheel used for locomotion, and three-fingered claws. The other floats, ha sthree fingers, and is blue.

"...Yeeep, not cybertrnian, not cybertronian, not cybetronian..."

The blue one-Jetstorm- slaps Thrust across teh face. "We've established this isn't Cybertron fifteen blocks ago! Give it a rest!"

Thrut scratches his face. "Sorry, sorry. Just really, really confused where we are. Like, we've been seeing pre-Grand Upgrade cybertronians, organics, freakin Techno-Organics..... the heck is their problem?" Thrust notes as he watches the crowd around teh bar.

"Nooo idea, but maybe these clowns could at least tell us where the slag we are! Excuuuse me, but if you tell us where we are, I might just spare you!"

King Bob-Omb ain't happy as he towers over them. "Excuse me?"

"Tell us where the slag we are, you fake moustached simpleton, or do I have to get through our primitive shell that we need directions?!"

"I'm giving you five seconds to run."

"Wha-"

King B takes out a Bob-Omb. "Five..."

Thrust and Jetstorm scurry off.