Over the next century or two, Blast Off would see Swindle from time to time at the gun shop. The weapons dealer seemed to know his stuff, and the shuttle would occasionally buy new weapons, upgrades, or battery packs from him. As Blast Off practiced in the shooting range, his aim quickly improved over his already favorable beginnings. Soon, both store personnel and customers were stopping what they were doing just to watch him shoot. During those times Swindle happened to be there, the other mech would watch and whistle as if quite impressed. "Yep, I knew you had a natural talent…." Blast Off would say nothing, looking as aloof as ever, but he was secretly just a little bit pleased at the admiration.
It was good that he was learning to defend himself, too. Times were getting more chaotic. There was increasing political strife, and tensions were rising all around. Gladiatorial fights had become established in secret locations around Kaon. It bothered Blast Off a little that the city he lived in, the city that he enjoyed because of its elite district and cultural highlights such as the Kaon Opera House, was getting associated in the public's mind with something else entirely. Something far more… brutish. He tried to simply stay in the elite district while he was planetside and avoid that seedy underbelly, but the shadows began to seep into even his life.
The Cybertronian Exploration Council, his professional pride and joy, became more beaurocratic and inefficient as politics became more fractured and Cybertron's goals less unified. For someone as perfectionistic as he, it was truly disconcerting to experience. Especially when Blast Off's first… and perhaps only… love was exploring space. He was getting grounded more often, which only meant having to deal even more frequently with the strife on Cybertron.
It got worse… the streets of Kaon became less safe, and the shuttleformer was actually threatened a few times while walking about alone. His quick reflexes saved him one time, and he was simply able to dart out of harm's way. Another time, however, some thugs who looked like they might have just come from the gladiatorial fights tried to advance in on him on an isolated street overpass.
Unfortunately for Blast Off, the overpass was enclosed at that particular location so he couldn't just transform and fly away. It appeared the thugs had specifically picked that spot for a victim to happen by so they could jump them while they couldn't escape easily. They were drunk and spoiling for a fight, leering at the shuttleformer as they advanced in on him. Blast Off, not used to being threatened and trapped like this on his own planet, stepped back, wondering what to do. It was… alarming, but more than that- it was insulting. How *dare* such common criminals threaten a sophisticated space shuttle? Is this what Cyberton was coming to?
That's when he remembered his blaster. Just as one of the mechs lunged at him, Blast Off pulled his weapon from subspace and pointed it at his attacker as he dodged to the side. "What ARE you doing?" Disdain creeped into his voice, "Go home and sleep it off…" The big drunk mech did not head his advice, instead lunging at him again with an uppercut… which Blast Off again avoided. Always naturally quick on his feet, he kept one step ahead as the other mech kept swinging at him and his buddies watched "Do not make me use this…" He warned, but slowed for just a fraction too long as he talked.
One of the big mech's uppercuts finally connected, and it sent Blast Off flying. Landing with a thud, he quickly pushed himself back up, a little unsteady. Being a space shuttle, he had intricate, sophisticated and admittedly rather delicate circuitry and … that hurt. He wasn't built with the endurance for close-quarter fighting… but that was Ok, since he didn't generally fight anyway. Then the other mech lunged at him again. Blast Off's optics widened a little as his gun swung back up around- and he fired.
The mech fell immediately, his landing impact creating a hollow metallic echo through the walls of the walkway. The sound seemed to break his buddies of their aggressive stalking… and after a confused look, they backed away. Blast Off stood there, vents cycling a bit faster than usual, weapon in hand and looking down at his attacker for a long moment. The other mech twitched and groaned and Blast Off took a step back. Sounding calm and unflappable again, he stated, "You should have listened to me…" Then he turned and walked away.
Blast Off never reported the incident. The whole thing had been disconcerting. He was also concerned the CEC might frown upon his actions or try to penalize him in some way. In addition, the shuttleformer was simply a very private individual and he figured it was none of their business, anyway.
Lastly… there was something else. He realized he probably should have been more negatively affected by having to shoot someone, but…. he felt very little in that regard. He still didn't actively *want* to shoot anyone and would have been much happier simply being left alone to enjoy a nice, quiet evening. But the big, drunk mech had asked for it by attacking him. And at that moment he stood and looked down upon the crumpled form…. he felt just a bit of triumph. Of… power.