#chapter 3.2

Chapter 3.2

Really, requesting an audience was the easy part. Getting an answer was more difficult.

    “I’m sorry, sweet thing, but you’re going to have to wait like everybot else.”

   Optimus didn’t remember Ultra Magnus’s aide ever being such a belle, or concealing the fact that she would rather work devoid of interruptions caused by unsolicited visitors beneath the occasionally muttered drawling ad hominem remark: a thin façade, which betrayed her country-bot origins. The previous aide, on the other hand, wore his heart on his sleeve. Maximus was maddeningly stoic and had a threatening presence. He never smiled and he never seemed to tolerate any disorder. Everything was always maintained and kept picture perfect with Maximus on the job, not only for Ultra Magnus, but also for Powered Convoy Magnus before him.

    The fact was Sentinel Prime hadn’t liked Maximus from the start. Ever since assuming the role as interim Magnus, Sentinel had demanded a more visually pleasing and adept substitute for the aged file clerk, and none were more visually pleasing than the fembot that sat behind the desk now.

    In behavior, the new secretary was comparable to Maximus. Her mouth was a miniscule tight line. She had been looking through a tablet of digital documents when Optimus entered the foyer. Her two pebble-like dark cyan eyes visually frisked him. At the sight of her, Optimus thought he was in the wrong room and almost turned around and walked out, but her frightening optics stuck on him like a tractor beam and pulled him to the front desk.

   “Hello,” He was in a hurry, but tried to mind his manners, “Maybe you can help me. My name is Optimus Prime,” he flicked out a metallic maintenance district credential card, “and I would like a word with the interim Magnus at his next availability.”

    Her visual sensors were frigidly locked on to his. “Do you have an appointment?” She asked indifferently in a nonetheless attractive farm girl voice.

    “Uh, no,” he stumbled. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be there without an invitation. “But I think that Sentinel Prime would appreciate the information I’ve come to talk about. You see, I’ve just come from speaking with the prisoner Megatron in Trypticon. All through our conversation he behaved strangely – he was making threats that I have reason to believe he has full intention and means of carrying out.”

    The file clerk looked doubtful, “Sentinel Magnushas asked to not be disturbed at this time. If you are willing to make an appointment you can come back – “ the secretary absently tapped on a monitor screen, “in two deca-cycles.”

   Optimus was floored. “You don’t understand; by then it could be too late – “

    The aide rolled her optics. It became apparent that she had already turned away plenty of would-be visitors in her time. She flopped her elbows on the desk and rested her chin in her intertwined fingers, “That’s what they all say sugar-gears. Now do you want the appointment or not? Sentinel Magnusis very busy with preparations for this evening.”

   Optimus was confused. Sentinel Magnus? Why did she keep calling him that?

    But even more curious, “I don’t understand. Ultra Magnus always made time for emergency visits. If he wasn’t in emergency care – wait. What’s going on this evening?

    The secretary’s squinting, beady optics popped open in slow motion. “Don’t you know?”

   Optimus stood as stiff as a board, noticing her change in demeanor, “No. What is it? What’s wrong?”

    For the first time in their conversation, Sentinel’s secretary displayed some degree of warmth as she dropped her arms to her side and furrowed her brow. Sympathy spread onto her face.

Now Recharging chapter 3 page 42 by Maiji/Mary Huang

Morio: Excuse me, Felipe. Felipe: Eh? —What’s up? Morio: When you meet a dog who seems friendly, what do you do? Felipe: Well, uh, I stay still, and I reach my hand out like this, with fingers closed, and let ‘em sniff my hand. —That's kinda like getting an introduction. If that goes OK, most of ‘em like it when you scratch behind their ears. —Not sure how much that helps you though... (Since you got no arms...) Morio: That is very helpful. Thank you.

So kind of like a security guard, but not quite?

If your presence offended or worried the tourists, they would step up to scare you off.  If someone shoplifted or panhandled in the Boardwalk, they ran the risk that one or two enforcers would drag them behind one of the shops and teach them a lesson.

They don’t sound entirely lawful, though, do they.

Anything more serious than shoplifting or panhandling, well, there was always someone on duty in the floating base of the Protectorate Headquarters.  Any of the store owners or employees could call the likes of Miss Militia, Armsmaster or Triumph in, given a minute.

I suppose there’s time for that kind of thing in between the superpowered villain antics, especially with so many heroes on duty.

We’ve got some new names here - Miss Militia and Triumph.

Miss Militia sounds like she’d have a military background. Maybe her power is summoning/creating soldiers, or something like that? Or maybe she’s a weapons Tinker?

Triumph... isn’t giving me a lot to go on. “The power to win” would be cheating, and also very abstract. I really don’t know.

The tourism revenue the Boardwalk picked up earned a lot of goodwill from the government and government sponsored capes.

Now Recharging chapter 3 page 39 by Maiji/Mary Huang

Felipe: You OK, Morio? Morio: Hello, Felipe. I am all right. Felipe: You 'fraid of dogs? Morio: I don’t think they like me. Felipe: They probably just don’t like all this construction. Morio: They do not bark at you. Felipe: Maybe they’re more used to human-shaped things. —Who wouldn’t love a cuddly, friendly giant like you? Morio: I have been chased by dogs. Felipe: Aw man, really?? Morio: It was scary. I didn’t want to squash them.

♥ support

Now Recharging chapter 3 page 40 by Maiji/Mary Huang

Coworker 1: *pops up* Hey! Don’t make fun of Morio! Coworker 2: *also pops up* Yeah! It’s thanks to him we’re ahead of schedule! Felipe: I’m not making fun of him! I’m honestly, genuinely surprised! —Aren’t you surprised that dogs would chase Morio? Coworker 3: My parents had three dogs. They all chased things. Cars, scooters, vacuum cleaners… Coworker 4: Are you comparing Morio to a vacuum cleaner?? (WHAT?! WHO SAID THAT??? I’LL FIGHT ANYONE WHO INSULTS MORIO!!) (ME TOO!!) (ME THREE!!) (GET BACK TO WORK!!) (Felipe: These people…) Felipe: Well, I had a dog when I was a kid, and he woulda loved you. They just gotta get to know you.

That’s not strictly formal training, is it? Still counts, though.

I moved on to other stuff on my own – Karate, Tae Kwon Do, Krav Maga – but nothing really held my interest.  I only took a few weeks or a month of classes for each.

A jack of all trades, but a master of none; better than a master of one.

I know enough and keep in shape, which is enough to hold my own against anyone who isn’t a black belt in whatever, which is the important thing, I think.  Keeping up with the more serious martial artists is a full time job, and you’re still going to run into people who are better than you, so I don’t see the point in stressing too much over it.”

Being a master is overrated.

I nodded.

We moved on to key areas to attack.

Such as the dick?

Brian pointed to the body parts in question as he explained, “Eyes, nose, temple, chin and throat are the areas above the shoulder.  Teeth or ears if you can hit hard enough.  I can, you can’t.”

Lots of weak spots on the head.

Taylor may not be strong enough to effectively hit the ear, but she sure as hell can kick it.

“Sure,” I said.  I wasn’t offended by his bluntness.  He was stronger than me, so he had more options.  Tip toeing around it didn’t do either of us any favors.

Yeah, the physical difference is just a fact.

“Below the shoulders, diaphragm, kidney, groin, knee, bridge of the foot, toes.  Elbow is a good one if you can do anything with it,” he took my wrist in his left hand and my shoulder in his right, extending my arm straight as he brought his knee up to gently tap the outside of my elbow.  I could see how he would have screwed up or broken my arm if he’d done it full strength.  He went on, “But in my experience, it doesn’t come up often enough to worry about.”

We all know how painful it is to accidentally hit something right on the elbow!

It was a little disquieting to hear Brian methodically describing how to break a human being.  I saw him as a nice guy, if I ignored his career choice.

Have you considered becoming a personal teacher, Brian?

When I failed for the fifth time to fend off his retaliatory jabs at my shoulders and ribs, he started talking about posture.

“Rest your weight on the balls of your feet.” 

So are we talking American or European foot balls here?

I tried it, then told him, “I feel like I’m going to tip over backwards if you hit me.”

American foot balls, got it.

He bent down to check, and I lifted my toes two or three inches off the ground to demonstrate how I had my weight balanced on my heels.

“No, Taylor.  The balls of your feet.  He raised his bare foot and pointed at the padded part between his toes and the bridge of his foot.

“How is that a ball?” I asked, raising my own foot to point at the vaguely spherical part of the foot where the ankle met the ground, “this is the only part that looks ball-like.”

Honestly, after watching Steven Universe for a few seasons, Taylor is rather refreshing. She actually asks the important questions. (Though Steven is improving on that front.)

Brian shrugged, “He asks us to do jobs, but most of the time it’s stuff we’d do anyways, and if we say no, he doesn’t make an issue of it.”

“What kind of jobs does he ask us to do?” I asked.

Lisa’s voice just behind me startled me, “This.  Pull up your socks, boys and girl, because we’re robbing a bank.”