Own Transformers? Me? My only chance of that is if Hasbro decides to sell, and I doubt that will happen. They own Transformers, the associated characters and all the money it all makes. 'Kiss This' is the property of Aaron Tippin. Both are used without permission and with no intent to make money off of them.
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'
Maccadam's Oil House, the last bit of real neutral territory on Cybertron. The biggest rule is that the war stays outside. Brawls are permitted, even expected, but any attempts to bring the war inside are dealt with harshly. Most of the Autobots and Decepticons mind their own business, have for all the time I've worked here. No, it's the Autobot/Autobot and Con/Con fights that usually end up being the problem, like this last one... Second the door opened, I knew it was going to be trouble, I could tell she was a femme on a mission. Not an Autobot mission, but a female's mission, she was there to drown a man for good, so I set her up her order and watched as she started to wash him down. After a few rounds she had just about succeded, then that... what she had called a 'low-down, no-good cheating, good-for-nothing' came struting through the bar and leaned on the counter. Any bartender can tell you that listening to the customers exaggerate is part of the job, but he was laying it on so thick, professing his never-ending love... You don't get to be my age by not paying attention. I never will forget when she slammed her drink down and stood up.
"I guess you think we're just gonna kiss and make up, don't you?" she said, flexing a fist, "Why don't you kiss this?"
Everything went silent when her fist connected with the green mech's jawplate, staggering him into the crowd that rapidly parted as she walked towards him.
"Me and you, we're through," she informed him, drawing back her other fist, "And the only thing left for you to do is pucker up and close your eyes..."
The second blow left him against the wall, where she began tearing into him like a cybermastiff into a retrorat. She was putting him in his place, and I mean right up in his face, dragging him down a list of done-me-wrongs. It was just about now that the crowd gathered around, they'd come to watch him pay for his every sin. She called him everything under the sun and when we thought that she was done, she reared back and let him have it again. When she turned to walk away, he tried to follow her, leading to the third punch that left him unconscious on the floor.
"Goodbye," the pink and white femme scoffed.