#ionised air gun

[advancetech05]

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[boywivlove]

| A Little Party Never Killed Nobody | Pairing ; Kim Seokjin x Reader Genre:  | Mafia AU | Drabble

Summary: Being the wife to one of the Seoul cartels best business men definitely had its perks. The glitz and the glamour was custom now, the dancing, the champagne and the money was your daily life. But sometimes business and pleasure has a way of mixing. And although sometimes your husbands hands are stained with the blood of a wasted investment, there really was nothing better than your husband in a suit.

| Warnings | brief descriptions of blood and violence | brief descriptions of drug use | slight descriptions of sexual content | blood |

| Word Count | 1K Words.

The smell of cigarette smoke and white jasmine hung heavy in the Cypher lounge, the deep amber tone of the lights made the gold leaf detailing of the flooring, bar and staircases shine with an ethereal glow. You sat perched your usual seat at the cocktail bar, your dry martini practically untouched as your fingers drummed against the black marble bar top, you mind caught deep in recollection. Recently you often caught yourself reminiscing on how different your life was only 3 years ago. It wasn’t that you missed it. oh no, you were happily settled into your new life.The lavish suite, the countless shopping trips, the parties never make you bat an eye. It was how you landed in this lap of luxury, your husband, and what was about to take place that drags you deep into thought. 

You had heard the rumours about the hotel Cypher and its owners, Kim Namjoon was known as quite the entrepreneur, his `business associates` that he surrounded himself with, it was almost a taboo topic in your social circle. 

`Dont let anyone hear you bad mouthin` em ducklin, it may be the last thing you eva` say` 

Your father had said to you once when you caught a glimpse of the gang at one of the many social gatherings you attended, the way the crowd dispersed for them as they walked, like Moses, parting the red sea. But it wasn’t the kingpin that caught your eye, no. It was the man to his left, Mr tall, dark, and god damn was he handsome. Broad shoulders and a sharp jawline like his face was carved by angels themselves. The corners of his dark eyes crinkling slightly in amusement, catching yours as your face flushed having being caught staring at him.

Safe to say you were smitten.

The two of you connected instantly, and conversed for the majority of that night, you shared a dance, a drink, he walked you home with his jacket draped over your bare shoulders. Within weeks you were meeting each other every chance you got, and within the space of 2 and a half months,,, you eloped. It was quite the scandal in your social circle, given the line of work your new husband was in, the whispers of what went on inside that hotel, but you loved him, and he loved you, he made it his personal mission to let everyone know you were his. Maybe it was your love for each other that made you turn a blind eye to the things hes done.

You took a sip of your drink, the alcohol burned your throat as it went down, on your left was Taehyung, another singer in the Cypher Lounge, currently in conversation with Jimin on your right about the set list for the next couple of weeks. It always amused you that two of the most powerful group in Seoul, who could snap your neck just for looking at them wrong, acted almost like children and sang like angels. The same can be said for all of the gang of seven, Jungkook, the youngest, and Yoongi, who seemed to have a constant frown in public, smiled and laughed with their boss and always greeted you in passing. You never quite got over your first introduction to Namjoon either, the big boss, a guy who controls almost all of Seoul’s crime operations, kissed you on the cheek and made a point to embarrass Jin in front of his new lady friend, and when you got married, he walked you down the isle and wished you well in his wedding toast.

You look to the main table in the lounge, You saw Namjoon, his white dress shirt was immaculate as always and his blonde hair was slicked back as he smoked his cigar while conversing with your husband. Your husbands face was stony as he nodded with his boss, Yoongi and Jungkook sat across from them nursing their drinks and listening intently to their boss. You knew that look, you’d seen it many times since being married, they were waiting for some of their business assets to arrive, and from what Jin had told you, Namjoon was not happy with them. Not happy at all. And when the boss isn’t happy, an example needed to be made. 

You saw them enter, escorted by a bellboy as he showed them to the table, you watched Namjoon as he smiled and motioned for drinks to be brought over, which Taehyung obliged without hesitation. You saw the look of nervousness in the main mans eyes as he spoke to Namjoon. Poor fool. They hadn’t even noticed Yoongi had locked the main door to the lobby.

the only exit, that they know of.

It took only 20 minuets of idle chatter before Jin sent a signal to Jimin, it was his task to take you get you out of the way when things went topside, Jimin set his set lists aside and ushered you away, your martini left almost untouched taking you into the back room of the bar, and through the door hidden behind the shelves of various alcohol, going through the kitchens before leaving you in the lobby to make your way to your suite. Just as you made it to the lobby you hear the distant shouts and protests of the men, and faint gunshots muffled by the thick concrete walls.

You never really got used to the actual killings the gang committed, but it was as if you were eased into it with the clues you picked up from your husband, the times you lay together in the afterglow of your tumbles in the sheets and you spotted fresh bruises on top of older ones, his knuckles underneath the leather gloves he wore to cover the cuts and bruises that flushed his hands. The shirts you’d find stuffed at the bottom of the laundry basket, sometimes ripped in areas and sometimes covered in dark brown specks, the metallic, coppery smell hung on the fabric.The guns, the drugs and the copious amounts of money were also clues that you caught onto pretty quickly. 

As you lounged in your king bed, your silk nightgown slick on your skin and your robe threw on halfheartedly, you mind was brought back again to how much your life has changed since you met your husband, he was so sweet on you, he treated you like you were a princess, you never wanted for anything and if you did it wouldn’t be long until you had it. You didn’t care about the material things, for you, just having your man was enough for you. 

It wasn’t long before a key was turned in the door, the light from the lobby illuminated the room, your husbands figure silhouetted in the golden hue. You switched the bedside lamp on and cast your eyes on him, his jacket was held over his shoulder, his hair was tousled slightly. His dress shirt sleeves rolled up in a hasty looking action, and his hands. Oh god his hands, the tips of his fingers and knuckled were stained with the wet glossy crimson colour you’ve become so used to seeing. The ionised tinge hit the air as you inhaled, it had become something of an addicting smell to you over the years, And Jin knew this, he draped his jacket over the chair as he moves to the bed, you close your eyes in bliss as his bloody fingers trailing down your neck and slipping the straps of your nightgown off your shoulders, your skin now smeared with crimson. You shuddered an exhale as you hear the familiar unbuckling of his belt.

You admit, you’ve never really gotten fully used to the violent underbelly of your loving husbands line of work. But there was no denying, he looked dam fine in a suite.

and red was a very attractive colour on him.

[tfomegaquest]

Even More Things I Know For Semi-Certain #4

- Hound’s voiceclaim is David Tennant

- Hound’s ‘terrarium’ escaped in the four million years between the Ark crash and the Autobots’ reawakening, so his quarters with Mirage are a little overgrown with crystal plants

- A few brave plants also escaped out of the broken window in their quarters, so there has been an unusual formation of what is possibly beryl (actually a non-fuel grade kind of Energon) being studied by the university even before it was founded.

- Optimus Prime and Ultra Magnus are spark siblings, though they are not aware of it

- If a member of a spark bond has a spark sibling, the other members of the bond may feel their sibling like they do their bondmate.

- If he isn’t thinking about it, Ratchet will write in the Kaonite script since that’s what he was raised on.

- So will Wheeljack, come to think of it

- Jetfire likes to lie on top of Skyfire, which is something he’s done since they were young. He finds the sounds and sensations of his big brother’s mechanics soothing.

- Skyfire has always been pretty ambivalent about Jetfire’s habit of lying on top of him. It was fine when Jet’ was noticeably younger and smaller, but since he’s caught up and they’re now the same size and weight, it can be a bit uncomfortable depending on where and how Jet’ positions himself.

- Jetfire is about five hundred years younger than Skyfire, just over six vorns. Sky was just about to go into his first frame when Jet was sparked.

- How fast Cybertronians grow is dependent on their eventual adult size and the strength of their spark. Bots who will be 60ft+ typically take longer than 20 vorns to reach their final frames, while bots who will be minibot sized, 20ft or under, don’t usually take much longer than eight vorns to reach their final frames.

- Regardless of size, all Cybertronians have about the same lifespan of about 45 million years, with minicons being the exception and having very long lifespans.

- Sparkplug Witwicky has a bizarre amount of knowledge about cryptids and conspiracy theories. This likely stems from Hillary only receiving three TV channels in the eighties, one of them being inexplicably in Dutch and only airing reruns of shows with some vague connection to David Hasselhoff, and the library having a large collection of ‘modern mythology’ books.

- The Ark’s ‘engine rooms’ were sealed chambers that used a combination of space/groundbridge technology and nuclear fission to power the ship and move it through space. No one was meant to enter them because radiation, but there were access ports, one in the hold, the other in the medbay.

- Any radiation that escaped as a result of the Ark’s crash has most likely dissipated and decayed to the point of safety. Hillary does have very slightly elevated levels of background radiation, but it’s nothing of concern and is mostly non-ionising.

- As perfectly as they combine, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe’s combined form Spinout doesn’t stay together very well. This is probably due to the damage to their sparks.

- Ironhide’s official title is Head Armourer and his specialism is with guns and with anything else you can point and shoot at someone.

- Chromia used to be (and still kind of is) a weaponsmith and she can mostly produce or modify any weapon she’s ever held in her hands.

- That’s not to say she actually has any of her kit around except for cutting tools, welding tools and a few sanders. In fact she hasn’t had much more than that since before she was in prison that time.

- Chrome and Hide basically swapped their skills, Hide teaching her how to make and modify projectile weapons and Chrome teaching him how to maintain other weapons.

- Chromia’s voiceclaim is inconsistently Cate Blanchett, with a touch of Geordie in places. So Cate Blanchett trying to be Northern English?

- Propagation by a Metrotitan seeds a colony planet with Cybertronian alloys, which partially cyberforms it and makes it possible for emergent Cybertronians to be born. These mechanisms are literally the offspring of the Metrotitan, but they are not legally considered so.

- If a Metrotitan dies or leaves the planet it has propagated, the planet will eventually recover from cyberforming as the alloys break down and compound with other elements in contact.

- A Metrotitan’s root mode is their propagating form. Their alternate mode is a ‘transport’ or mobile form where they can move under their own power or can be transported. Some also have a bipedal or ‘robot’ form, but not all of them do.

- Metroplex has a ‘robot’ form that looks Cybertronian, but Hydrax does not

- Hydrax’s ‘robot’ form looks more like a Cybercat

- Double Dealer’s voice claim is Idris Elba

- Double Dealer is Optimus sized, but when in his trailer he looks a lot smaller.

[journal-of-a-gamer]

Who Am I

Chapter 11 : Nothing to Worry About

I opened my eyes, a red light of the purification room filled my cornea. Six to six ran between my legs into the room ahead of me. My pupils dilated and my heart began to beat like a mouse’s must when it knows a cat is eyeing it.

My right hand slipped down to my gun, my left rose to my communicator. I turned sharply; six to six could wait. “I’ve found Valentine, I repeat, I’ve found Valentine,” I blurted out while pressing down on the communicator. I turned the barrel of my gun and flicked on the flash light, there she was. Standing not even five feet infant of me, clearly surprised that I knew she was there, the clothes she had been wearing were in taters, cuts, gashes and black burn marks were all over her. She straightened herself upright, the beam of the flashlight bounced over her pale body glistening where blood was present.

Her arms were longer and more like a feral beast than that of a human being, the legs had become concave like a dogs, the nails on both her arms and legs had grown substantially. Her once red flowing hair had also continued to grow much like her claws but now it looked wispy and dead dangling down her entire body towards her knees.

I was looking into her eyes and her into mine, there was a confusion subtly painted on her face, how did you know I was here, I don’t know what happened but I didn’t want what happened last time to repeat itself again. I pressed my thumb down on the safety turning it off and engaging the laser guide to show where I was aiming. The green lasers danced over her body as dust specs flew in and out of the path of the light. Her body tensed the muscles in her legs looked ready to propel her body forwards like a rocket. I pulled the trigger, it provided a lot of resistance, the gas chamber ejected its contents down the ionising tube towards the ignition and out through the separator to eject the excess that the frame couldn’t handle and finally the ionised superheated gas was propelled out the tungsten barrel towards Valentine. The fire ball that exited the barrel was a dark blue, it gun kicked back and I could feel all the excess heated gas from the gun as it pushed back into my gut like an uppercut from a burly business man who you’d spilt coffee over his laundered suit. It hurt a lot, the air exited my lungs as fast as the projectile had left the gun, tears welled in my eyes and my teeth watered from the pain. Sliding back slightly with the recoil I doubled over forwards.

A split second passed and the fireball connected with Valentine. It’s dark blue hue illuminating her entire body blending her contours with the blue light. The ball burst over figure covering her body with the sticky dark blue flame, it’s tendrils whisking up over her body setting her long red hair alight.

In the passing moments everything blurred, Valentine let out a screech and hoped out of the corridor into the ducts to her side, the flames and smoke flowing her writhing form into the wall, the smell of burning skin, hair and clothes assaulting my nose as I readied myself to take he follow up shot. It was too late she had already made her way into the ducts of the ship where I couldn’t follow her and fire again.

After a while of looking up and down the corridor for any sign of a crispy Valentine I relented and made my way into the red light of the purification room. My footsteps clinked on the metal, I reached the console and reset the purification sequence. The machinery hissed and whirled and buzzed, the impurities in the air system were being removed along with the smell of burnt Valentine being replaced with the faint scent of lavender, I still don’t know why but Evana had insisted on the installation of a lavender unit, you could barely notice it until it was removing another smell much like the smell of Ewan’s many crock pot dinners. If anything it made it a little harder to tell what time it was all the way out here. I sighed and made my way towards the signal of Ewan’s rig.

The corridors felt longer than usual each clanking footstep over metal floor sent shivers down my spine, I hadn’t finished her off, realistically she could be anywhere; I spun around sharply with paranoia clutching my gun the whole time ready to blast away but instead of a monster all I seen was the dim grey steel corridor. With a heavy sigh that I turned back around, raised a holographic projection map with crew locators on and headed towards Ewan, the lonesomeness was getting to me more here than it even had before, it mostly just made me uneasy.

Ewan was in the hydroponics room, it wasn’t a huge room, probably about the same size as a single bedroom, but even than that was spacious for what it was, the machines in the room took up hardly any space. The idea was to use small durable filters at higher pressures, so in order to build more pressure a lot of the machines were smaller, still we could process one-hundred litres every twenty hours if we needed to; we never really needed to process that amount of water as the water tank on the ship could only hold 50L at any moment in time, but it was good to know we could if needed.

I placed my hand on the button for the door, my finger tips pressing onto the cold plastic. As I pushed the button down the skin on my finger tips pressed white with pressure, click, the slight resistance from the button gave way. With a flash the door slid open smoothly, the pulsating pale blue light pulsed out of the doorway into the steely corridor. Inside the machines purred away softly, the humidity of the room flowed out towards me, leaving my nose feeling clammy but dry to the touch. I removed my fingers from the button, it bouncing up to where it once sat, I took my first few steps into the room, my eyes scanned across the room as I slowly moved in, the shadows of the machine’s winding piping cast a wreath of shadow over the left most side of the room. The small blonde hairs rising all across my body sending a shiver down my spine as my first look into the room left me fruitless; he’s meant to be in here it says he’s in here.

I paced further into the small, humid room, a fine wetness developing on nose much like grease. I raised my arm to wipe the sensation away but not long after the removal of the damp it returned once again to irritate the surface of my nose, I sighed and continued to look for a trace of Ewan.

Click.

“Huh? what was that? Are you in here Ewan?” I stammered out in confusion, clutching at my gun. I looked around the room, my pulse began to ring in my ears, my eyes darted around the room. I ducked my head down under the tables and pipes trying to get a better look around the room; nothing, there was nothing to be found, he simply wasn't here. I had looked, the room wasn't big and there isn't anything to hide behind in there. I turned back towards the door and stamped my way towards it, sighing worriedly I raised my hand to the button and extended a singular finger.

Click.

I spun around, nothing. What the actual fuck is going on in here I thought to myself. I raised the locator map and narrowed in the search for just Ewan’s location blip; it was right beside me, I looked through the projection in the room, was I going mad? Flicking my eyes from the projection to the room it was evident he wasn't in here. I zoomed the map in closer, Ewan’s blip wasn’t exactly where you'd think it should be, it was actually moving up and down very slightly as if it wasn't sure if he was on the floor or not…

Slowly I raised my gaze up towards the feeling of the room, I felt my heart miss a beat. I felt sick, my stomach lurched and my teeth watered.

I found Ewan, or what the map said was him.

I clutched the side of my head, made my way into the darkest corner of the room and put myself between my raised knees while I sat on the floor, tears welled from both my eyes and as I began to sob Jenny pitched in on the radio, “Ewan, Clarke, how you two doin’ in there?”

Click.

I opened my coms, “It’s in here with us Jenny, it’s got Ewan I just found him…it’s horrible, please help me.” My voiced cracked and my body racked with sobbing.

“Fuck, okay, you need to open the lockdown and we’ll hunt this piece of shit down, okay, we’ll make it through this.” I couldn't tell if she was trying to reassure me or herself at this point.

“Okay, I’ll see you soon.” I got up from the floor, took a last look at ‘Ewan’ and made my way out of the room punching the button and breaking into a jog down the corridor as tears streamed out of my wide eyes.

[australianservices1]

Maintaining and Restoring Acrylic Sheet

Acrylic is a transparent plastic used on a wide scale due to its ability to replace glass. It is usually available as acrylic cut to size that is converted into useful products such as sales displays, lenses, protective screens, roofing, windows, TV screen protectors, and many others.

But what makes products such as clear Perspex sheet cut to size the favourite of manufacturing businesses all over the world? The secret lies in the unique properties of this thermoplastic:

- Excellent optical clarity;

- Light transmission that is superior to the one of glass;

- Rigidity and good impact strength; if it breaks, acrylic forms dull pieces unlike glass which shatters into hundreds of sharp and dangerous little shards;

- Being easy to process and model due to excellent dimensional stability and low mould shrinkage;

- Can be sawed and cut using tools similar to those used for wood;

- Has a greater transparency than that of glass and will not present a greenish tint when moulded into thick sheets.

These properties make acrylic and its derived products, like Perspex sheet cut to size, suitable for a variety of uses and applications, such as:

- Furniture such as cabinets and coffee tables;

- Sporting equipment;

-  Aquariums;

-  Artistic sculpting;

-  Protection screens used in sports;

-  Sneeze screens that have become increasingly widely used since the Covid-19 pandemic to reduce the spread of the virus.

How to protect and prevent damage

Products and objects made from acrylic can last for years, even decades if you follow some simple protection rules in order to prevent damage, especially when working with acrylic in the creation of other products:

- When storing products such as acrylic sheet cut to size, it is recommended to protect them with polyethylene film overwrap to keep dirt and moisture away. Sheets must be stored vertically or in special racks leaning at an angle of approximately 10º. Plywood panels should be used to provide full support to the material. When acrylic sheets are stored horizontally, they must not be allowed to sag.

- Perspex sheets cut to size are usually delivered with sheet masking; this protection layer should be left on the product to protect the sheet surface. However, if you need to remove masking for detail work, bending, or thermoforming, store the unmasked sheets in the original shipping cartons and avoid unnecessary handling of unmasked sheet;

- Wear rubber gloves when handling acrylic and manipulate it by its edges;

- Neutralise static electricity which can form especially on new Perspex sheet cut to size; static electricity will attract dust, chips, and other small particles floating in the air and will ultimately contaminate the surface. Use an ionising air gun to temporarily eliminate static charges before any operations such as bending, painting, or thermoforming.

How to maintain and clean

The quality of a product comes out as high or low once you start using it.  High-quality Perspex cut to size will require little maintenance, but when you need to clean your acrylic products, it is important that you follow some simple rules to keep the surface intact and increase the lifespan:

- Start cleaning acrylic by dusting; this operation will remove particles that can scratch the acrylic if you start washing the material right away.  Use a soft, damp cloth to remove dust and avoid dry or gritty cloths that can create static electric charge and cause scratches.

- Wash acrylic sheets with a solution of mild soap or detergent and lukewarm water. Apply light pressure using a clean, soft cloth.

- If you need to remove oil, grease, or tar, use solutions such as kerosene, hexane, or aliphatic naphtha;

- Never use the following solutions on your acrylic objects: window cleaning sprays, acetone, gasoline, benzene, lacquer thinner, alcohol, benzene, or carbon tetrachloride. These can damage the surface of the acrylic sheet or weaken the sheet by causing small surface cracks.

How to repair or restore damaged/scratched acrylic

If your Perspex or acrylic surfaces are looking a little worn make sure you are paying attention. Follow these 4 simple points to learn how to improve the look of your acrylic surfaces, acrylic sheets��or other acrylic products (also commonly known as Plexiglass or Perspex):

1. Make sure the plastic really is acrylic

A clear plastic may not always be made from acrylic; instead it might be a polycarbonate. If the plastic is polycarbonate, it is will no longer possible to remove the scratches.

2. Remove light scratches from acrylic

You will need acrylic polish, preferably specialist acrylic scratch remover that is designed for industrial use, and grit sandpaper, 800 and 1200 grit. Wet the 800-grit sandpaper and run it over the scratch in a circular motion. Repeat with dry grit paper, and alternate between wet and dry sandpaper. It is normal for your acrylic at this stage to look frosty and to display little scratch marks on it.  Next move onto 1200 grit sandpaper and keep rubbing until all scratches have been removed. Finally, dry the area with a soft, dry cotton cloth and apply acrylic polish. The acrylic will look as if it has never been scratched.

3. Remove deeper scratches

Deeper scratches can require a little more effort to remove, but you can still restore your acrylic sheet to an optimal condition. The method is similar to the previous one, with the difference that you need to start with 600 grit sandpaper and afterwards continue with the same process as described above.

4. Polish acrylic to restore its glossy look

Flame polishing is a great way of obtaining the smooth, glossy edges that we all like to see in acrylic cut to size. In order to complete this process, you will need a hydrogen-oxygen torch with a number 4 or 5 tip. Guide the flame over the acrylic edges, but do this very carefully as moving too slowly or too closely to the acrylic will damage it and bubbles will begin to appear in the plastic sheet. Overheating the acrylic can also make it melt, and going too fast can produce a matte aspect from the edges.

Looking for high quality acrylic cut to size? Contact Plastic Online today for a full turn-key service from design to manufacture.

Plastic Online is more than just your average plastic fabrication company – what makes us different is that we produce your plastic from scratch right here on the Gold Coast. We are a privately-owned business operating from our state-of-the-art facilities on the Gold Coast. Plastic Online started in 1991 and we now operate two manufacturing plants and retail sales facilities, one in Burleigh and one in Ashmore.

What makes us different from other plastic fabrication companies?

High-quality products

Reliable customer service

Taking pride in workmanship

Our local Gold Coast business success story (winner of GC Bus Excellence Awards)

A family-owned business that is passionate about everything we do

20+ years’ experience in fabrication and vacuum forming of plastics

Innovative manufacturing facilities

Our advanced cutting technologies to cut, engrave, and form many different materials into various shapes and component products

Wide range of product applications, such as signage, bus and automotive components -to name but just a few.

For your acrylic cut to size needs, including clear Perspex sheet cut to size, contact us today through our website or call us on 0755357444 (Burleigh) / 0755646744 (Ashmore)

[justjantoquotes]

Owen moved to the right, leaving enough space for Ianto to slip into the room and move to the left. They separated, each one moving in a different direction around the gallery that encircled the walls. The creature wasn’t sure which one of them to go for, moving its ‘head’ uncertainly from one to the other and back again. … He and Ianto were about ninety degrees apart now, and the creature was still uncertain which of them to concentrate on. Perfect. From behind his back Owen pulled out the alien device that Toshiko had found in the Archive, the one that looked like a pumped-up clover leaf with a stalk hanging down, the one she said projected small electrical shocks along an ionised path, like a low-power ray gun. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘get ready to—’ With a sickening lurch in the pit of his stomach, Owen suddenly realised that he and Ianto had kept on moving past the ninety-degree point and were now almost in a straight line with the autopsy table in the middle. That would have been fine if the creature had had just the one head and had to still keep looking at both of them, but Paul effectively had two heads, one at each end. And with both Owen and Ianto now safely under observation, it attacked, flinging itself off the table and propelling itself through the air at fantastic speed using its insectile wings. At Ianto.

Slow Decay by Andy Lane (Torchwood Novels #3)

Oh no!

[aquilegiaformosa]

the air inside of the Lost Light

• Rodimus smells of ozone and hot metal – an electrical storm without the petrichor. It’s a little nerve-wracking to be so near to a mech that smells of burning and electricity, but those that know him best no longer feel the uneasiness that such a scent often brings. When explaining it to others, Drift says that Rodimus smells like lightning.

• Ambus smells like an old bookshelf, like dust and oxidation and tradition and late nights reading. It’s a rigid sort of smell, one that makes mechs solemn and polite if they are unused to it. It stopped working on Rodimus and Drift long ago. • Get too close, though, and a mech can catch the barest whiff of the scent of old, purpled energon that clings to the Magnus Armour. Not all joints and seams can be cleaned, try as Ambus might.

• Drift smells like the soil of distant planets, comet ice, and moondust – the scent of leaving and getting lost. Rodimus buries his face in Drift’s shoulder, smells the cold darkness between the stars and the radiating warmth of distant suns, and knows the scent of the void.

• Ratchet smells of a particular type of soldering wire; it’s a bitter and caustic scent. Sometimes, on the rare occasions when he is ‘off-duty’, the bitterness is mixed with the sweetness of high-grade. At those times, Drift sits next to him and wisely says nothing. • Ambulon smells of old paint. It’s a dusty, homey smell, the scent of gently creaking joints and a soft voice. First Aid will never admit that it’s a slightly comforting smell to taste in the clinical air of the Infirmary. • First Aid smells of cleaning solvent. It’s bright and fresh and sterile and masks most other smells most of the time – even the smell of uncertainty. • The medical team in general all smell of energon and coolant and antiseptic and regret.

• Red Alert smells overly warm, as if he is always running too hot – because he is. Manage to get close enough, and a mech can feel the heat radiating off of him. It overwhelms any other scents that might cling to his frame and burns off any lingering particles of matter. Red Alert smells of overheated circuitry and quiet distress at all times, though he may come out of Rung’s office a few degrees cooler than when he went in.

• Cyclonus is layers and layers of ancient and varied scents. He smells of fierce battles and late nights in shady clubs and early mornings in sacred temples and nights spent in the ditches of distant planets. The trace of an EM field belonging to an unnamed Cybertronian is burned into his plating. All he lacks is the bitter scent of regret. • Tailgate smells ancient and brand-new all at once. He smells like a time at the edge of other mechs’ memories: a smell generally buried under centuries of living, but on Tailgate still immaculate except for the scent of the Mitteous Plateau that has seeped into the very metal of his frame. • Someone sitting between Cyclonus’s messy vibrancy and Tailgate’s pristine disuse is in for a confusing experience.

• Whirl smells of death – hot, angry death that’s still fresh on his servos and lingering in the back of his processor. It’s a reliable sort of scent, familiar and friendly as four million years of War, and one that meshes with his words and movements. It is a promise of violence for the sake of violence and of the willingness to throw himself into any fight, often in service to the crew – if it suits his mood, which it generally does – and is no surprise to anyone; nevertheless, it still makes it difficult for most to be near him for very long. Rung and Cyclonus are among the few who seem not to mind it at all.

• Fortress Maximus smells of metal shavings and friction and warm paint. It is the smell of joints that no longer align with each other, of metal that catches and refuses to glide smoothly in its tracks, of plating that broke and was soldered together just a few millimetres off. Fort Max smells of sharp corners and broken things and pain, and mechs look away when he passes them in the halls.

• Rung smells like rust sticks and a certain silicone compound that is no longer in production but was very common before the War. It lingers in the back of other mechs’ processors, old and familiar and often associated with comforting memories of household items. Skids feels the gentle prickle of remembering when he’s around Rung; it can even assuage Red Alert’s fear and calm Whirl’s impulsive nature, if only sometimes, and only for a little while.

• Skids smells like the dust in the vents of the Lost Light; like prayer books and hymnals; like old explosions and burning wires. He smells like forgotten things, and he smells like forgetting. Rung catches the tang of melted alloys on Skids’s hands and chest plating and wonders; Chromedome notices it too, and says nothing.

• Swerve smells of high-grade and desperation. Sometimes, though, the scent of the dust in the vents lingers on him; those days, he smells less like desperation and his smile is a little more genuine.

• Trailbreaker smells of ionized atmosphere – and the atmosphere of Swerve’s bar. The biting scent of burnt-out sparks and Red Alert’s overheated distress and excessive amounts of high-grade all combine into a hazy reek of inadequacy.

• Blaster bears the undetectable scent of radiowaves and the particular soft smell of memory tape, the same as Soundwave. He smells of the wear to plating brought about by constant exposure to steady bass beats, the same as Jazz. He smells like Soundwave and Jazz – no, he smells of Soundwave and Jazz, of their EM fields and of their company – and it ought to be a terrifying thing, but instead it’s a warm and friendly smell of music and caretaking and responsibility.

• Pipes smells almost exclusively of Cybertron and Cybertronians, of coolant and plating and lubricant and vented air and the closeness of living on transport shuttles and space stations. He smells of everyone and nothing, inconspicuous and forgettable and easily overlooked. Only recently has he picked up the sharp scent of rust and the cold; it’s foreign even to him and something he is both proud and afraid of. He tries to bury it in the company of the other minibots and steers clear of Drift’s white, space-burned armour.

• Chromedome smells of the sharp bite of processor fluid and the grime of back alleys and the grim starkness of a morgue. He smells of the stale air inside an Enforcer’s office and the cold streets of dead cities. • Rewind smells like the peculiar plastic warmth of an old camcorder and the ink of film reels and the dust of time. He smells of the aftermath of battles and of red Autobot paint. • The two of them both smell of regret and of each other.

• Perceptor smells of acid and copper oxide and gun oil. The scent of cooled supercomputers lingers on his armour and the places that he frequents; it’s not unlike the burningly cold scent of space, and it is often difficult to distinguish between the two. • Brainstorm smells like the recycled air of the laboratory and soot and clean instruments, but recently he carries on him the tang of ionisation and bad decisions and dogged determination. Rodimus accidentally stands too closely to Brainstorm and Chromedome; he looks between them, optics confused, and wrinkles his nasal ridge when he suddenly and inexplicably can’t tell one from the other. • Both members of the science team smell of sulphur and carbon and the heated air that comes from cranial vents.

...and:

• Megatron smells of spoiled energon, dirt, and ore. The scent of fear and death and despair encompasses his entire being, taints his words and his movements – it was weeks before the crewmembers stopped flinching every time he shifted slightly. Now Ambus can stand beside him without stiffening, and Megatron can clap Rodimus on the shoulder without the younger mech rearing back in sudden response to prolonged panic; still, the Lost Light comes upon sites of ancient Cybertronian battles, where the very air is filled with the scent of Megatron, and mechs look at each other and remember.

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Ionising Air Guns: Global Industry Market Analysis and Opportunity Assessment 2018-2023

Ionising Air Guns: Global Industry Market Analysis and Opportunity Assessment 2018-2023

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