barbed wire (closed)
The bar's been busy and loud like it normally should. On lower, more gutter-like levels of the cybertronian city structures the bars never slept. They were always noisy, always smelling of oil and low-quality highgrade. Also always full of pleasurebots, small fry "bounty hunters", gang members, workers on their breaks and lonely warframes snuggled up in the dark corner, drinking simple coolant and trying to catch some recharge.
At least he still haven't seen any kind of alternate of his on this planet still in tight grasp of Funtionists and the senate. Heck, the manufacture he remembered onlining close to was not even there.
Finishing his cube of coolant, he put it away and stretched a little. The blasters on his hips worked for enough the protection and "Do not disturb" sign at the same time. The rifle on his back was just for killing. He dimmed his optics and thought of napping for a moment. Few kliks would be enough. Just to shut some of the systems and let the battle CPU run and scan the surroundings for mechs wanting to get touchy towards his weapons.
The bar door opened though and a sound of loud laughter was brought into the bar, same with few more mechs. It was already busy and he'd rather keep his table only to himself. Groaning, he shifted against the wall and his optics turned to the loud group while the growl rose from his frame, same with very sharp EM field, wrapping around him like a wall of barbed wire and marking his territory.
The sight was nothing that he expected to see though. Not here. Not now. Not ever. The familiar dull-green coloured mech was in the group. And he remembered few mechs around him as well. Where was "he" though? There was no "Drift" anywhere close. There was no "Drift" in the bar either. Maybe there was no "Drift" here at all?
