Most, if not all Autobots passing by the lounge that evening would perform the exact same action, unintentionally. They would walk by the door, freeze in their tracks, lean back to peer in the door to see if they'd seen what they thought they saw, do a double take, then hurry on to wherever they were originally going, wondering if their visual sensors were malfunctioning in some way.
Inferno was in the room, a line of shot glasses full of high-grade lined up in front of him, a couple empty ones scattered around on the table. That was nothing new.
That Red Alert was with him, WAS.
Especially the fact that he was also downing shots of energon.
All Autobots came to one of four conclusions.
1) The Apocalypse was occurring, for Red to be drinking high grade. 2) Inferno must have REALLY sweet-talked Red in some way, or promised something really worthwhile, to get the security officer to drink. 3) Red had had ONE too many stressful days of work, and had finally caved to peer pressure. 4) An alien force had taken over their security chief, and it really wasn't Red who was drinking.
Whatever conclusion they came to, however, no one wanted to tempt fate and actually step into the room to watch. A drunk Red Alert was one of the rarest things in the universe; no one quite knew what to expect. And all were - even if they didn't admit it - a little afraid to find out.
So the two mechs were left in absolute peace, to drink their energon in private.
Inferno chuckled roughly as another Autobot stopped, peered into the room, then scurried off as soon as he realized the search-and-rescue mech was watching him.
"Heh... there goesh anoth'r. Never knew th' concep' o' you drinkin' 'd scare th' others s' bad," he said, his accent far worse than usual, obviously already three sheets to the wind.
"I can hear all the conversations from here," Red muttered, staring at the shot glasses full of energon. "I c'n just predict all the rumors that 're gonna start t' be thrown about... HOW did I let you talk me into this again?"
The large mech merely grinned audio-to-audio, lifting up one shot glass. "Promised ya two months of no trouble from me, an' anyone else I could convince t'quit buggin' ya. IF y'could drink me unner th' table. Whelp... pick up yer shot, Red. We ain't done, yet."
Red Alert sighed, and nodded, and picked up another full shot. "...bottoms up," he said with a shrug, and downed it in time with his friend. Red winced a little, shaking his head, his engine revving for a second as the high-grade flowed through his system.
Inferno laughed, leaning over and setting the empty shot glass down with large, exaggerated motions. "Y've... never touched th' high grade 's long as I've known ya... Y'may be cocky now, but... I'm'a gonna win this. Yer goin' down, Red..."
Red Alert sat back, his engine purring a little, the faintest of smirks forming and playing about his lips as he felt the energon work through his system, and watched his friend. "We'll see..." he said softly. "The night's still young."
Inferno let out a belly-laugh, reaching over to clap his friend roughly on the shoulder. "TOO right! TOO RIGHT it is!! S' bottoms up!" he crowed, reaching for another shot.
Having been nearly knocked out of his chair, Red Alert gripped the edge of the table, waiting for it to stop spinning for a second before picking up another shot and sighing. "Bottoms up..."
and Drinking Energon Red :3 (part 1)
Inferno was in the room, a line of shot glasses full of high-grade lined up in front of him, a couple empty ones scattered around on the table. That was nothing new.
That Red Alert was with him, WAS.
Especially the fact that he was also downing shots of energon.
All Autobots came to one of four conclusions.
1) The Apocalypse was occurring, for Red to be drinking high grade.
2) Inferno must have REALLY sweet-talked Red in some way, or promised something really worthwhile, to get the security officer to drink.
3) Red had had ONE too many stressful days of work, and had finally caved to peer pressure.
4) An alien force had taken over their security chief, and it really wasn't Red who was drinking.
Whatever conclusion they came to, however, no one wanted to tempt fate and actually step into the room to watch. A drunk Red Alert was one of the rarest things in the universe; no one quite knew what to expect. And all were - even if they didn't admit it - a little afraid to find out.
So the two mechs were left in absolute peace, to drink their energon in private.
Inferno chuckled roughly as another Autobot stopped, peered into the room, then scurried off as soon as he realized the search-and-rescue mech was watching him.
"Heh... there goesh anoth'r. Never knew th' concep' o' you drinkin' 'd scare th' others s' bad," he said, his accent far worse than usual, obviously already three sheets to the wind.
"I can hear all the conversations from here," Red muttered, staring at the shot glasses full of energon. "I c'n just predict all the rumors that 're gonna start t' be thrown about... HOW did I let you talk me into this again?"
The large mech merely grinned audio-to-audio, lifting up one shot glass. "Promised ya two months of no trouble from me, an' anyone else I could convince t'quit buggin' ya. IF y'could drink me unner th' table. Whelp... pick up yer shot, Red. We ain't done, yet."
Red Alert sighed, and nodded, and picked up another full shot. "...bottoms up," he said with a shrug, and downed it in time with his friend. Red winced a little, shaking his head, his engine revving for a second as the high-grade flowed through his system.
Inferno laughed, leaning over and setting the empty shot glass down with large, exaggerated motions. "Y've... never touched th' high grade 's long as I've known ya... Y'may be cocky now, but... I'm'a gonna win this. Yer goin' down, Red..."
Red Alert sat back, his engine purring a little, the faintest of smirks forming and playing about his lips as he felt the energon work through his system, and watched his friend. "We'll see..." he said softly. "The night's still young."
Inferno let out a belly-laugh, reaching over to clap his friend roughly on the shoulder. "TOO right! TOO RIGHT it is!! S' bottoms up!" he crowed, reaching for another shot.
Having been nearly knocked out of his chair, Red Alert gripped the edge of the table, waiting for it to stop spinning for a second before picking up another shot and sighing. "Bottoms up..."