Ep. 1 - A Comedy of Errors - [Oneshot/Combo]
Aug 6, 2014 21:01:39 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on Aug 6, 2014 21:01:39 GMT -5
This post is brought to you by both Toggs and Zercon writing together to make crazy
Location: Space to Russian Mountain Range
Week: Four
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From one Prison to another.
The escape shuttle that the two had... "borrowed" was not really anything of any real value, even when it was in its prime. It was currently in rather poor condition, ragged welded plates strewn about from Thunder's plastered together repairs. While the repairs worked? While it kept them from ripping apart in atmosphere or having something explode? Or... Primus forbid... getting STRANDED? It left the ship looking even more battered. Its white and silver paint that had once made it look so nice was worn away, leaving the bare metal with a few streaks of the lighter hues to grace its battered frame. The controls were stiff, and the actual navigation? Well, it was a miracle they would ever reach Earth and not just overshoot it by oh... maybe five solar systems? But it served its purpose. Somehow.
They duo (trio?) had managed to stock it with plenty of Energon to fuel the vessel, as well as themselves for the trip. But what fun would it be to only bring the essentials? In addition to what was needed, there was some poor quality 'junk food' fuel that tasted great despite its poor function, plenty of high grade, and even... well... Neither would admit it to others if asked, but they squirreled some not so legal things as well, to try to take the edge off of what would be a long, monotonous period of travel.
There was only one living area the shuttle had to offer, which to others might have been uncomfortable. Living in the same cage as another mech, trapped in a box, having to share almost every waking moment with them.... but alas, this was something Carbine had done before; it was something he had to suffer through in Prison. Suffer? That was perhaps a bit mean to say, it was troublesome at times, but he coped, and the two were just fine in such a predicament. They could easily have spent double the amount of time stuck in a cage. Though... who would WANT to? Not Carbine that's who.
The ex-cop himself was leaning back into a corner of the ships primary room. His long legs were sprawled out ahead of him, one slightly crooked up to rest upon the locked spoke-less wheel of his other foot. His arms? Were gently folded over his abdomen, caging the interlocking armor beneath the forearm panels. Old habits die hard, and while he trusted Thunder to not truly harm him? How he trusted the other Mech to never backstab him? There was an ingrained NEED, a DESIRE to sleep with something hard and solid like a wall directly behind him. He would find getting rest to be exceptionally difficult if he didn't have it, but with this security and protection? He was pushed into a deep recharge.
Across the small enclosure, Bolo was laying down as well. The canine was sprawled out onto its side, long spindly legs tangled amongst themselves to peek out from beneath the dash area of the ship's front. This overhang where a driver's legs typically would go created a perfect 'den' for him, and he was plenty happy here, optics offline and frame still. He appeared to be mirroring his master in recharge, but that was not the case. The dog was not truly asleep, but was in a sort of transitional phase between it and consciousness, small spike ears alert.
Thundercloud, meanwhile, was loafing about in the pilot's seat, staring out into the emptiness of space with his arms crossed and his feet propped up on the control console. Technically, he was supposed to be piloting the ship, but it did that job just fine on its own. Input coordinates, and autopilot took care of the rest. All he had to do was stay up and keep watch for any unexpected obstacles in their path, from asteroids to other ships. Not that he really needed to look out for other ships in this godawful end of the universe. It seemed every other species but the one that inhabited it knew to stay away from the dead-end galaxy, and for good reason. There were no other inhabited planets for light-years, no rest stops at which to refuel and repair spacecrafts or weapons, and no roving trade ships to barter goods with. If not for the Prime's presence, there would simply be nothing out there worth making the long, tedious trip for, as far as he was concerned.
He felt he was being generous, calling the trip just long and tedious. It had been fun at first, a welcomed relief from being barked at by commanding officers and shot at by enemy soldiers. Who wouldn't want a vacation away from such things? But of course, their little reprieve from the war soon lost its charm, as there was only so long one could sit around in a tiny one-room ship hurtling through empty space before things became monotonous.
Sighing in frustration, Thunder dropped his head back against the head-rest of his seat once he grew bored of staring out into the sea of stars before him, and turned his gaze instead to the ceiling, his optics tracing the vulgar glyphs he had carved up there for reasons he couldn't quite remember. Probably because it seemed funny at the time. That was usually the reasoning behind half the slag he did while overcharged.
Primus, did he wish he were overcharged right then. Being drunk out of his mind would've made the tail of this (too long) trip so much more bearable. As it was, the closest thing they had to high-grade on the ship were the empty cubes strewn about the shelves and floor that once, but (sadly) no longer, contained the coveted tank-rusting fuel. A stack of said cubes decorated the ship's control panel, standing as a proud monument to their complete and utter disregard for the dangers of flying a spacecraft while under the influence of mind-altering substances.
Thundercloud turned his attention to the tower-of-bad-decisions once he grew tired of admiring his own sloppy handwriting decrying Carbine as a "slag-sucking scraplet kissing glitchface", and cocked his head to the side, idly wondering whether he ought to try cleaning up a bit, seeing as he was torturously bored and had nothing else to occupy his time with. He quickly dismissed this thought, deciding that there was a much better use for both his time, and those cubes. Reaching out, he plucked the topmost cube and eyed it for a moment, before glancing at Carbine over his shoulder. Without so much as a second thought, he tossed the cube over his head, watching as it arched behind him and soared through the air towards the ex-cop. He honestly had absolutely no reason to try to wake the mech up, other than because the cube was there and he COULD, which was really all the reason he needed.
He was unsurprised when the cube struck the mech, and he hardly even stirred. Carbine was a notoriously deep sleeper, a fact he was well aware of by now. When Carbine's frame finally fell down into recharge? He went DOWN. There was very little that could wake him. Loud noises? Fell upon deaf audios. Bright lights? Even if they were warning lights? Were never noticed. Heck, Thunder could have probably picked him up and simply walked off with him under an arm like a football and the Mech would be oblivious to it all. For all the ex-cop knew, it had already happened before. Despite all this, there were a few things that could rouse him, and one of those things was pain.
The cube had clunked unceremoniously against the bridge between shoulder and chest, the sharp corner of the container hitting hard, jarring him a bit. What would have normally roused one instantly into a whirlwind of confused arm-thrashing instead simply made the mech begin to stir a bit. His propped up leg idly unhooked its locking mechanism, the wheel going from a docked state into an active state, which caused the limb to slide and list forward. His arms uncrossed and slid down to drape at his sides, making soft clicks as they did so. His helm remained dipped low, and he made no further movements.
Bolo, by contrast, was not as thick skulled. The canine instantly raised his head, sporting a look of confusion and alarm. The sudden "attack" caused the cassette's small, pointy ear-like antennae to flick up and rotate forward, as he looked at the cube that had hit his master, before peering at Thunder. He thought a moment, or... as much as the toddler-level capability of processor could permit, before rolling up from his side to rest on his sternum plates. Long legs reached forward, the rubber capped white paws scraping on the ground to drag his frame out from his hiding area a bit, before he stared up at Thunder, confused.
Ignoring Bolo's questioning stare, Thundercloud tossed a second cube, which smacked right into the side of Carbine's head. The impact was not particularly strong, as even if Thunder had hurled it hard instead of just lazily tossing it, it would have shattered rather than cause any dents or scuffs to Carbine's plates. However, the impact still hurt a bit, which caused Carbine's optics to instantly online, his frame lurching as his body became active before his mind did. His arm instinctively swept up to try to swat the object away, despite the fact that the blow had already landed.
(...Hey, it made sense to his auto-response systems. Don't question it)
Once his possessor booted fully, it was not hard to put one and one together to equal Thunder being a douche. The ex-cop slumped back into his corner with a clank, optics narrowing as his hand reached up to rub across his helm. He spat out some words in reply, but calling them words? Was kind of... being generous. It was a mix of static and disjointed sounds that stammered from his rebooting vocals.
"KZZT!? Thaut w-as zztt whaaa-a-auutt for!?"
Carbine then pushed his hands down upon the floor paneling, while simultaneously rolling his heels back to prop them under his frame. With a thrust forward, he threw his weight upon the wheels and twisted upright a moment later. The action was still a bit sluggish, as he was still shaking off the recharge, but there had to be something right? Something of note he had to look at, or some question... or Primus only knows what. Thunder would not wake him up for no good reason right!?
Oh, who the frag was he kidding…
Carbine walked towards his partner, his optics falling from alarmed to groggy, the heel of his hand pressing to the side of his head where the cube had impacted moments prior. There were no visible markings from the strike, but hey, it stung! The hand shifted though, falling down to rub at his neck cables, which were sore from his head being crooked at a weird angle during recharge.
Without so much as a word in explanation, Thunder stood from his chair, nodding towards the window as he swept his arm out towards Carbine, gesturing for him to come over and take a look. He had been watching the little blue and green dot gradually grow larger and larger for a few hours, but only now was it beginning to come into focus, taking on a more easily visible presence in the sea of star-freckled blackness it resided in. It wasn't at all the reason he had woken Carbine up--he did that just for kicks--but it was a convenient excuse to use to keep the other mech from getting annoyed with him. Or, well, more annoyed than he already was at having been so rudely woken.
"I swear to Primus, if it is nothing but the 'Majestic vastness of space' AGAIN-"
Carbine began, his optics rolling in an over-exaggerated motion as his hands raised on either side of him, palms flat, jittering in a 'jazz hands' sort of gesture to pair humorously with the venomous sarcasm and ire in his tone. It would not be the first time he was woken as such. He would never forget the earliest time Thunder made that joke, and that... slag eating grin he wore as if he just did the greatest thing in the universe. To see him standing now? Like he was displaying something majestic? Just made Carbine's tank roll in dread, expecting it to be a part of the galaxy where not even the stars were visible by some interference.
"-Then I going -kztt- am shove..."
His words cut off.
He eased forward a bit as he approached the window, optics narrowing while the rotational rings within them spun around, trying desperately to focus on the oh so tiny spec. But once he did? Once he saw what it was? His optics widened and a surge of excitement shot up and through him so fast he suffered an emotional whiplash from the sudden departure from annoyance he felt before.
Freedom!?
It was so close! So near! This burst of emotion reached Bolo, causing an instant response. The canine stood up violently quick underneath his hiding area, causing his helm and back to clunk upon the ledge. But he didn't seem deterred from this minor pain, scrambling out to look around. Despite not being able to talk? One could almost FEEL the way he wanted to know what was going on. 'What happening?', 'Why happy?', 'Yay happy!', 'EXCITEMENT!', 'NO IDEA WHY HAPPY BUT HAPPY TOO!' It ramped up until the dog was almost bouncing in place, ears upright and maw parted. Carbine, in contrast, was not bouncing, but lunging forward.
The Cybertronian hover car launched with his notable speed, slamming the knee of his left leg into Thunder's back. The cap of the knee armor, found purchase upon a lip of plating on the Jet, permitting him to clutch on while his hands clapped up and over his wings to snatch the shoulder armor. With this firm grip, he heaved up and leaned forward. The protruding bit of his chest armor pushed at the back of Thundercloud 's helm, while his right arm disengaged off of his shoulder to point at the spec.
"KZZTT! ZZKuuurrrZUTTKK!"
Of course, not even Thunder would know what was said, though the idea was there. It was hard to miss in the way he pointed and was climbing over Thunder like some jungle gym to get a better view on it. Soon. So soon they would be free! Free from this cage! FREE from the suffocating BOREDOM!
Thundercloud, in the midst of all this, was the odd mech out in the little echo-chamber of joy Carbine and Bolo seemed to be trapped in. He was considerably less enthused than his companions, though that was less because he wasn't as excited about finally getting out of the bloody ship as they were--he was--he just didn't appreciate being climbed upon as if he were a particularly surly set of monkey-bars. He grunted in a mixture of annoyance and protest as the mech he generously called his friend climbed on top of him in a fit of exuberance, his helm ducking and his shoulders hunching as the mech pressed down upon him. He tolerated this for all of four seconds before he finally had enough of the weight pressing down on him, and he abruptly rolled his shoulders, jerking roughly to the side as he tilted sideways at the waist in an attempt to buck the smaller mech off and drop him to the floor.
This method of removing the obnoxious ex-cop proved to be rather efficient. Carbine's weight was tilted off center, and at the new angle? His knee lost its grip on the surface of the armor's ledge. With this, his weight slumped down with a clunk against Thunder's shoulder, though... ended up mostly falling onto the wing itself. Long arms clapped over it, clutching the wing, though the panel stooped down further with the weight and turn of the larger Mech's frame. With a squeak akin to hands smearing down a panel of glass, Carbine slid down the wing's length, before plopping off with a heavy thud avoiding the sharp upturn at its end.
The ex-cop ended up planted down upon his back, optics half lidded in a look of disapproval. Bolo on the other hand, was all kinds of keyed up, having a lot of pent up energy. He hadn't been able to run or truly play in... years now? How long were they cooped up?... it was a painfully long trip whatever it was. Besides, to a dog's brain? It might as well been eternity. As such, the canine bounced and bobbed a bit, dipping his head down with chest touching the ground and hips high, only to bounce and spin in a circle before planting his rump down with a thud. A hind leg stretched out, paw pads flaring a moment, before he realized he wanted the leg and pulled it back to return to standing and hopping. A single bark popped out, the sound mechanical and loud in the confines.
Carbine likely didn't know this, what with not having wings of his own and all, but having someone drag their hand down them as they fell to the floor in a heap, purposely creating a grating, squeaking sound as they did so, was not exactly a pleasant feeling. Thunder's optic twitched, his offended wing flicking up and out, fluttering unhappily for a brief moment before settling against his back. He frowned down at Carbine, one eyebrow rising questioningly as he wondered whether the mech was done being ridiculous, or if he was going to keep on being an over-enthusiastic nutball.
"ETA's about a breem." He said, prodding the mech with his boot. "You plan on spendin' the rest of the trip on the floor?"
"Nahhh..."
Carbine replied drolly, not moving much as he was prodded, his forearms merely rising to lace his fingertips together. He had a smug look across the remaining half of his features, a look that had a mischievous edge to it that Thunder knew well by now.
"I just should I - kztt- thought test out your bed."
He mused this nonsensical statement while easing upright, rolling his shoulder some to ease out the kinks cause by being dumped to the floor so unceremoniously. While Carbine didn't have wings, and couldn't understand the sensitivity they had and how he had annoyed Thunder, he did have his own things to be mindful of. Falling down upon his back? Had landed him square on the two rolling pipelines that curled from his collarbone, up and back behind him, framing either side of where Bolo would dock. For his current Cybertronian Alt-Mode? This would become part of the hover capabilities, each housing sensors and thrusters to stabilize himself. Using a light push from these, he eased up atop his heels without the use of his hands to stand fully upright, brushing his hands down his front as if swiping off some invisible dust.
The statement about testing out Thunder's bed didn't particularly make any sense in the context of things. That was, until he moved back to Thunder's side and threw a suckerpunch intending to down him to the floor. Normally? If fighting a friend? You would pull your punches to not actually, you know, hurt them. Carbine? Knew Thunder could take a hit and keep trucking, so the swing was quite nearly a full force hook. As he threw the punch, a broad grin peeled back across what was left of his face, while his systems booted up combat protocols for one of their infamous (...if they were around people long enough to get a rep) fights.
He was going to get Thunder to hit the ground one way or another.
Or at least, he was going to try to. He was right about Thundercloud being able to take a hit. The mech had a hard head, both physically and metaphorically, and so that cheap shot to the jaw didn't do much to damage him. It just surprised him, then caused him a bit of soreness, then pissed him off, in that order. Tit for tat, he was quick to throw a punch of his own, though unlike Carbine, he took care to hold back, because his companion wasn't nearly as durable as he was and he didn't want their first order of business upon landing to be to search the ship for Carbine's missing teeth.
Unfortunately, while Thundercloud had superior strength, Carbine had superior agility. The former officer hunched his shoulders up and dipped his head down, knees buckling slightly as he dodged out of the counter-punch's path. Carbine in turn, let out a delighted cackle as Thundercloud's fist whistled harmlessly through the air, missing its target.
"Always WAS faster than yo- KURGH!"
His words were cut off when a follow-up punch came, and he was smacked hard in the upper arm. His thinner frame was launched to the side, nearly airborne. Thoughts came slowly through those moments, a sensation of being aware of what was coming, seeing it, processing it, but hey... surprise! Being unable to do anything. There was the ground; it was coming up fast annnddd…
THWUMP
The hover car skid on his chest a moment, momentum kicking up one leg into the air to nearly fold against him, but once he finally stopped sliding? And came to a complete halt? This crooked limb unfolded and plopped down to the ground below, the unlocked wheel gradually spinning in a leisurely pace. He spoke, though his face was pressed against the metal, so his voice was muffled.
"..F-ff-a-fr-agger..."
Thundercloud merely smirked in victory, while beside him Bolo was bounding a bit, head throwing down and up as if he was trying to buck some invisible rider off of his back. He was excited, having long ago translated Thunder and his Master's bantering and physical brawling as being some kind of game. If he had really thought Thunder was trying to hurt Carbine?... Well the little rage hound would have turned on him and made sure Thunder would have plenty of reason to be glad his arms couldn't feel pain.
"Glitch." Thundercloud replied in a tauntingly sweet tone, cocky-grin firmly in place as he sauntered over to the fallen mech and paused before him.
He looked him over a bit, taking a few moments to appreciate his own handywork, before finally kicking Carbine off his front and onto his back, only to offer him a hand up immediately after. Carbine didn't need to do his puppy eyes to get this offered hand, which was good, as that likely would have tipped the other mech off to his plans. Carbine happily took Thunder's outstretched palm, with one hand while the other placed itself over the larger mech wrist for a more secure grip. It looked as if he were simply trying to get up and make sure Thunder didn't drop him. But nope. Nope…
Bring it.
Carbine got about half way up before he threw himself backwards while drawing his right leg up to plant a knee against his chest. This motion landed him with his foot squared up with Thunder's abdomen. The pede pushed forth to slam in place, using his backwards thrust that was pulling the larger Mech forward, in tandem with the foot on him, and his back and hips as a pivot on the floor. All of these small details added up together in an attempt to throw the jet up and over him. If he was lucky? He would manage to careen him straight into the wall of the shuttle. (See how he likes that hit!) but no no... no...
Stuff went wrong…
...as always.
Carbine's plan might have succeeded, had he been pulling that move on a mech that didn't weigh quite as much as Thundercloud. As it was, he managed to lift the larger mech off the ground, but he simply lacked the strength to fully toss him over his head, let alone into the wall behind him. Instead, Thundercloud landed prematurely and unceremoniously directly on top of him- which, as it turned out, was just fine by him, as it meant he could inconvenience the other mech by keeping him pinned to the floor, just by laying on top of him like the lazy oaf he was.
Naturally, Carbine was not pleased by this in the slightest. When Thunder landed down atop him? It forced his leg to snap back so that his knee planted down to the ground at his side just beside his 'ribcage'. Carbine was not exceptionally flexible, so this prompted him to let out a squawking squeal and barks of static as he clawed at the larger mech's frame, his hip roaring in protest to being forced into an angle reserved for considerably flexible dancers.
"F-FaAUrAG KZTT!"
He twisted in place, trying to think how he could get the larger mech off himself. He could use his taser to get him to reel back in pain, but this was not that kind of fight; Carbine did not wish to ACTUALLY harm Thunder, and the taser? He knew how AUFUL that felt from having experienced it himself in training. It is with this logic his right hand raised, fingers flexing out before snapping up to grapple at the Jet's face, trying to get a grip to push his head back and away. Maybe if he forced him to crane his head hard enough, he would have to back off?
...Or maybe not. After all, the mech he chose to call his friend was not particularly fond of reacting to situations like a normal person. Instead of backing off, or withdrawing his head away from the hand pushing at his face, Thundercloud chose to retaliate in what was perhaps the most childish fashion possible: he licked Carbine's hand. This prompted an immediate visceral response of utter disgust from the ex-cop. The look on his features mirrored this feeling perfectly, half lip plate curled back, jaw hung slack, and slightly trembling as if he just had to witness someone get disemboweled. But no no... it was just Thunder being the gross jerk he was. Carbine's hands flexed, having pulled back, his optic looking over to see the wet smear on his palm.
"Oh! Ran-r-a-nci-foul! I don't kn-no-k-aware where that's been! No wait... I DO! And that makes it WORSE!"
After he squealed this out, his sullied hand was thrust up, trying to scrape the liquid off of his palm onto the other mech's face.
"I could say the same thing about that hand." Thunder shot back, before seizing the mech's wrist and attempting to turn Carbine's saliva-smeared hand on his own face, just to cause him further disgust.
This prompted the exact sort of reply one would expect from the stressed out mech below. To see the hand covered in THUNDER'S saliva coming down towards his own face? To know that it could get smeared on his faceplate panels? or.. or or... Primus FORBID it end up on the side with an open hole into his own mouth and tanks! The thought alone caused him to gag, turning his head to try to hide his injury.
"Oh don-d-don-no you fragger! Don't you!"
Carbine's arm rattled from the amount of force he was trying to use to pull his arm away, fighting against Thunder's far superior strength. The Ex-cop hissed a moment before he rolled his tanks and twisted his maw, an ungodly sound gurgling up at the back of his throat. It was paired with almost a snorting sound, taking full advantage of his facial injury. While his left optic was functional, and didn't have any major damage to it save for some discoloration and the crack in the 'tear duct'? The drainage on it? Was not 100% and as such with the snort? He mixed some collected Energon from his tank with saliva and then the optic drainage, before spit-launching the nauseating concoction at Thunder's face at full velocity.
It was at this point their audience seemed to lose interest in all the shenanigans. Bolo, the once bouncing excited puppy, grew bored of watching them squabble and instead moved over to the side of the room the two weren't... fighting?... sparing?... scrabbling?... whatevering? And came up to the front window. He lifted up onto his back feet, planting his forepaws upon the control panel, sliding over a few buttons unknowingly, before finally planting himself down on a button free place to peer out into space from.
Behind him, Thundercloud let out a cry of disgust and swore something about how his "mouth was open you nasty fragger", prompting the pup to glance briefly over his shoulder, just long enough to see the larger mech jerked back, lurching off of and away from Carbine as he continued to curse up a storm.
While Thunder was reeling around in psychological pain, Carbine had launched up to his feet, aided by the thrusters on his back once more. The attack may have been overkill, but his leg had been in pain, his hip aching and protesting now that it was finally permitted to pull back into reasonable angles. Once upright, he swung and kicked back off of the ground ignoring this ache, to put some distance between himself and the massive Jet. This motion, was paired with his shins transforming. A whir and click rang out, as the single sharp toed ped of his feet, folded up and into the shin paneling, leaving him completely upon the Cybertronian spokeless wheel.
Once on his wheels, Carbines stance had changed entirely. His legs were planted wide apart for balance, while his head and general upper torso were dipped low in preparation. His shoulders in contrast, were pulled back, causing the large ridges of armor on either side of Bolo's dock to flare panels open with the propulsion systems. His hands were spread, ready to grapple, or clench into a fist to punch, or just about anything really. Point was, he was prepped, and he would be damned if he got hit now. The last thing he needed was Thunder getting a suitable revenge for THAT stunt.
"Revenge! delig-de-d-dd-kZZT! You coming it -kzt- heard!"
He broke a bit, unable to say the word 'delightful', and his attempt to relay that Thunder had heard him prepping via the snort gurgle was disjointed, but the phrase was still kind of present. He didn't try to fix it or substitute a word; merely grinning madly as some residual concoction ran from the gaping hole in his cheek to his jaw line. He didn't care though, far too focused on his fighting stance and where he was in their cage of a shuttle. As of current? He was standing between Thunder and the front controls where Bolo was, the back thrusters on the ridges making a loud whir as they were ready to aid him.
Bolo, meanwhile, shifted his weight upon his hind legs, waddling a bit closer to the dash while white paws plunked down atop the slab of buttons and toggles. He was looking straight ahead at something, head tilting a bit to the side while his toddler like processors struggled to cope with what he was looking at. A moment later his head turned the other direction, ears perpetually locked forward with intent focus. 'What that?'
Paying no mind to the pup at the controls, Thundercloud spit repeatedly upon the floor (which surprisingly made its dirt-stained surface cleaner), wiping his mouth viciously with the back of his hand while snarling something incomprehensible. Probably a death threat or twelve. He made an exaggerated noise of disgust, expression twisted in a comical caricature of revolution, before turning his attention back to the source of his discontent. His optics flashed as he shot a glare at the other mech, his field crackling with the silent promise that he would murder the other mech until he died to death. That was the only warning Carbine would receive before being bumrushed by 61,000 lbs of pissed off jet, which was really all the warning he needed. Once more, speed would be Carbine's friend, and he had learned well through the years how to use it to his advantage. Thunder could easily kill him if he got hold of him, or heck... even just a shoulder tackle if done with enough force could send him flying. Carbine? Was less than a quarter of Thunder's weight. This could make it seem like Carbine was scrawny and light, but no... Thunder was just a fataft (or so he liked to call him.)
Nonetheless, Carbine dropped all of his weight like a stone, his lower legs which were in the wheeled format, slipping back to fold nearly flush with the back of his thighs. This left him almost in a limbo state of posture, his arms, hooked up and over his shoulders in order to grip onto the control panel of the front dash. With this grip, he pushed off, and draped his head back, moving with the force of this push, with added momentum from a rev of the motors in his shins, to roll himself under Thunder's legs and behind him before he could change course or reach down to grab him.
This ended with him thrusting the propulsion flares on his back again, throwing himself upright to spin about upon the wheels. The motion was smooth, practiced, having a lot of muscle memory behind it, as at just the right moment during the turn? His left leg twisted to rotate the wheel sideways and halt the rotation right when he was angled to square off against Thunder once more.
Thundercloud, having been denied the opportunity to wring Carbine's scrawny little neck, growled in frustration as the smaller (and unfortunately faster) mech slid out of his way. He slammed his hands down on the console, the sound snapping Bolo from his trance. Instantly, the canine started to bark, the sound not excited or angry, but born of confusion and stress. Ignoring the cassettes distress, Thundercould prepared to whip around to face Bolo's master once more, before something caught his optic. A glimpse out the window revealed that the little blue and green dot from before was...not so little anymore. Well. That wasn't right. His anger cooling somewhat as confusion settled in, Thunder glanced down at the control panel, wondering why they were already so close to the planet.
"...What the hell." He muttered to himself, as he looked over the speed-gauge and discovered they were hurtling through space at over... five---what the frag, five times the speed they were supposed to?
Upon noticing Thundercloud's distraction, Carbine's first thought was 'trap!' - that the Jet was trying to lure him into a false sense of security, like he had done to him earlier. But no... when he finally did look up past the larger mech's frame, he could see the planet they were heading towards was so close that seeing the edge of the world was difficult, the panel of the front shield almost filled in swirls of green, blue, and white. With this, the spar was disengaged, and he rolled forward at a leisurely pace, slickly moving up beside Thunder, doing his best to sooth Bolo through their link, wishing he could explain why the 'ball got huge' which seemed to have spooked the dog.
"So... that is where we are going to be living?... Is... is that water?"
He legitimately sounded surprised. Cybertron didn't really have much water at all, and as such? To see such a huge amount of it on a planet? Was somewhat alarming. It was the equivalent of a human looking upon a planet that had magma covering the majority of it. Granted, magma was dangerous while water was not so bad to Cybertronian, but whatever. The point was there that it was odd, and had the hover car's gaze transfixed.
"Looks like it." Thundercloud replied flatly, his anger towards the other mech vanishing as he addressed their newfound concern.
He fiddled with the controls, attempting to slow their junker of a ship down before it pushed itself too hard. There had been a reason they had been traveling so slowly all this time - said reason being their ship was a piece of slag held together by string and prayers, and it just wasn't capable of holding itself together under duress. Thundercloud was honestly surprised a chunk of the outer plating hadn't fallen off during their little squabble, when it had decided to speed up, for reasons that most certainly had nothing to do with the fact that they had been too busy squabbling to notice the dog pawing at the control panel.
He frowned down at the status-window on the control-monitor when the commands he inputted were not recognized, before letting out a frustrated sigh and typing in a lower, more suitable speed once again. For a second time, the command wasn't recognized.
"Oh, not this slag again---" He groused as he made a third attempt, his fingers stabbing at the buttons a harder than was strictly necessary.
After the third try proved no more successful than the other two, Thundercloud threw his hands up with a growl of frustration, before turning his attention to the yoke instead, muttering "Fine, be that way." under his breath. Grabbing the yoke, he attempted to steer the ship away from the giant patch of blue and white they were careening towards. The least he could do was turn them towards a land-mass, while they waited for the ship to get its slag together and let him input new commands.
Or at least, he had thought that was the least he could do. Turns out the least he could do was NOTHING, because that's exactly what happened when he tried to turn the yoke and steer them in a new direction. Naturally, more cursing ensued.
"Hah hah... funny..." Carbine sarcastically replied, as Thundercloud continued to vent his frustrations.
The ex-cop was not really picking up on things. True, Thunder's field seemed to radiate the proper emotions, but it could all be lies and trickery. As such, Carbine simply lifted up one foot after the other, his pede unfolding from its housing to permit the gripping surface to click back down upon the flooring below, stabilizing him. With this new grip, he eased forward to lean upon the dash, forearms raised to rest his chin in an open palm.
"I know I can't read the controls, but I am no fo-f-fo-idiot."
He seemed so calm, so at ease, rather oblivious. It wasn't like he had the capability to read the dash himself; he couldn't tell just HOW fast they were coming in. However, though he had no numbers to reference, he could see the way the atmosphere was starting to part, and how fast the thin layers were flicking past them, the hull starting to grow warm.
"What's funny is you think I'm joking." Thunder replied without an ounce of humor, as he tried the controls once more.
He pulled back on the yolk, his mouth turning downward slightly in concern as the ship began to whine in protest. He eased his hands backward, pulling the yoke back slowly despite the unpleasant grinding sound that began to rattle from somewhere deep within the ship as he did so. Gradually, the ship began to turn bit by bit, turning away from the blue and towards a massive patch of green, flecked with white.
"...Ehhehh... you know..."
Carbine started to speak, the lighthearted amusement drifting away and out from his vocals. He was getting a bit more antsy, though he reeled the emotion back to the best of his abilities. But the more he spoke? The more he tried to play it off as an elaborate prank? The more his anxiety started showing.
"You really should slow d-do-ow-d-d-lower or we are going to burn up on entry..."
"--What's it look like I'm trying to do?" Thundercloud snapped in reply, giving the yoke a hard jerk to emphasize his lack of control over the situation.
This lack of control was only further exacerbated when the yoke creaked under the stress of Thundercloud's manhandling and snapped right off of its mount, breaking off in his hands.
The jet immediately tensed, his optics slowly trailing away from Carbine down towards the broken yoke as the realization of what he had just done dawned upon him. There was a moment of quiet as Thundercloud simply stared down at his hands, as if wondering how the yoke got there, before he offlined his optics, threw his head back and let out a stream of curses too vulgar to be reprinted.
Thunder's outburst was not without accompaniment. Bolo, the tattletale of Carbine's emotions that he was, instantly fed off of the terror surging from his master, going into full panic mode without second prompting. Screaming barks yelped out in immense distress, his head throwing down and lurching back in thrashes. Carbine in contrast was weirdly silent, trying to process it all as he stared at the broken steering. But while he was not yelling? His internal warfare was there, optics wide as a multitude of thoughts snapped across his mind. After what felt like an eternity, he was jostled from this roundabout of fear by a sudden lurch of the ship.
"KZTTK TkkuZZT! KUUZCH!"
Nothing of recognizable value spouted out as he shrieked, trying to scream for Thunder to do SOMETHING. His eyes were perfectly round, hands bared in a motion trying to say 'what' while pointing at the fast approaching planet with a shaking hand. Thundercloud only needed to catch a fleeting glance at the other mech in his peripheral vision to see his distress.
"Okay, okay, ah--" Thundercloud's mind raced as he tried, unsuccessfully, to figure out what the hell to do to remedy the situation.
The ship was apparently stuck on auto-pilot, they were traveling at a dangerous speed that they couldn't change, and he had just broken the yoke off of the damn control console. Wonderful. After performing a thorough review of their (limited) options, Thundercloud dropped the useless yoke he was holding and turned to look at Carbine. Somehow, he managed to look (and sound) remarkably calm, despite the circumstances.
"Don't get pissed---" He began hesitantly, knowing his attempt at reassurance would probably only give the other mech greater cause for concern. "---but we're probably gonna have to abandon ship."
This prompted an immediate response of horror and disapproval from Carbine. The first thing was a sudden flash of his Bio-Lights, the red and blue strobing in tandem with a shrill pop of a siren. This was paired with a burst of static that was almost piercing, laced with anger and just a general feeling of 'NO' that could be relayed even without verbal communication. The ex-cop pointed back at the control panel, spouting more gibberish out in his fear, trying to convey that they had to stay, they had to make it work! Thunder knew how to do things with technology! He had patched the ship up thus far! He could do this!
"--Don't freak out either! Don't freak, and don't get pissed. Just---frag, just calm down okay? This isn't as bad as it looks." Thunder promised, raising his hands in hopes of placating the other mech.
No sooner did those words leave his mouth, did the universe decide to make a liar out of him. The ship abruptly lurched, groaning loudly as it shook and rattled while breaking into the planet's exosphere. Swearing, Thunder grabbed hold of the pilot's seat to keep himself steady, then reached out with his other hand to take hold of Carbine's arm, lest the other mech topple over as the ship threw its fit. Carbine, in turn, clutched Thunder's limb with a death grip for stability. Bolo meanwhile, continued to let out shrill squeals, the dog scrambling from one side of the death cage to another, his ears back in fear.
"We've just gotta fly out before we get too close to the ground." The larger mech continued, as if he hadn't be interrupted by the ship jerking violently. "Nothin' to it. We'll be fine." Somehow, he managed to sound confident about that, a confidence Carbine didn't share.
The hover car barked out another burst of static, unable to speak. He could understand Thunder, but his vocals were all kinds of glitched out in his stress. Because of this, his right hand pulled off of Thunder's and he laced his fingers with the Jet, starting to sign in their shared Chriolanguage. The language spoke mostly in concepts and feelings, not really 'words' per say, making it disjointed but easy to get points across.
::Plan okay under condition flight capable. Not notice? I CAN NOT FLY FOR REAL::
The last words were emphasized strongly, Carbine putting immense pressure into forming each word, the pulses of electricity that shot from his palm almost threatening to sear into Thunder's own in his panicked rage. Luckily for Thundercloud, his hands weren't capable of registering pain; the roughness with which Carbine delivered his message caused no discomfort, but it sure as hell gave him a good idea of just how distressed the other mech was.
::But I can:: Thundercloud signed back, his own movements firm but not nearly as rough as Carbine's had been.
"You think I'm just gonna leave your gangly aft to fend for yourself?" He asked aloud, directing the question more to himself than the other mech.
Before Carbine could reply, the ship lurched again, the sound of metal rending ringing out through the small interior. Something somewhere was bending, breaking off, possibly melting. What exactly, they could only guess--though the fact that the entire shuttle began gradually tilting to one side gave the impression that it was prooobably important. The tilting forced Carbine to clutch Thunder's wrist with his free hand for stability, before continuing to sign back in anger, his eyes flashing with distress.
::What do!? Clutch onto back!?::
The roll of his optics showed how stupid this plan was in his eyes. Really? If they were both to plummet to the earth, there was no way to link them. Thunder's hand would vanish when he went into his Alt-mode, meaning Carbine would get dropped. In contrast? If Carbine was the one holding on? Well... alot of plates shifted and clapped into new positions during a transformation. If he was lucky? His hand would simply slip off. If we were not? They would get trapped and broken off between the mechanics, which was a painful experience the ex-cop did NOT wish to endure.
A spat of static sounded as he broke away from Thunder, starting away from him while he waited for a reply. Thundercloud made a futile grab at Carbine, his fingers catching nothing but air as the mech stormed off out of his reach. The tilt of the floor made it so that Carbine's pedes were threatening to slide across its surface, wanting to dump him on the lowest point where all of the empty High-Grade cubes were starting to collect. The angle was so severe, his one arm nearest the ground actually planted upon the tilt, to support himself that much more. Eventually he made his way across the room in a hurried stride, left hand swiping up to violently rip his helmet off of the hook on the wall. The helm had been undisturbed for years, designed slick, with a riot visor across its front. With an act of defiance, he slammed it down over his head, a hissing pop noting its docking.
The motion was a simple one, stating he was going to stay and fight. Whether or not Thunder recognized it? Remained to be seen. The motion of docking the helmet though, seemed to pull Bolo from his panicked trance. The Canine had slid towards the back corner from the angle of the ship, and was barking and thrashing in distress. Seeing his owner put on 'job' gear? Enacted a hard coded reply. Instantly, metal paws scrambled on the flooring, trying to get over to Carbine, the gears in his shoulders whirring loudly as he fought against the angle of the floor.
Sighing in frustration, Thundercloud released his hold on the pilot's seat and stormed over to the other mech, stumbling a bit as the ship shook them about, making the ground unstable to walk upon. Reaching a hand out to the wall for balance, he set his jaw and made his (wobbly) way over to the ex-cop.
"It's that, or get tossed around inside this fraggin' tin coffin when it crashes into the ground." He growled, gripping Carbine's shoulder tight before roughly turning the glaring mech around to face him.
"You wanna stay inside? It's your funeral." He added coldly, before turning on his heel to stomp over towards the exit hatch without so much as a parting glance in the other mech's direction.
Carbine snapped some static back as he was released, Bolo finally making his way to his master. Upon the dog getting in range, the hover car dipped down a bit, and pushed his back out. Bolo launched up at him, his frame starting to transform mid air. The foreleg paws rammed down into the sockets in Carbine's back, enclosing instantly, while Bolo's head swung back on a hinge to slam between a horrendous split that had formed in his torso. In just a matter of moments? The canine formed Cassette, now looked nothing like he once did, docked fully onto his master as a sort of backpack, the armor flowing into the rest of his body.
"KTTch-ch-kkZZH!"
Carbine barked this nonsense at Thunder, flipping a hand up in an obscene gesture. There was no way Thunder would abandon him, they had been through so much! Thunder had to know something! He could fix this ship! Unlock it! But no... he was moving to the hatch again and Carbine's plates puffed up with anger. What, did he want to just dump the ship? He hated repairing it so much he fabricated this just to be rid of it!? Instantly, he started to move again, the angle of the flooring growing more and more severe. He had to nearly clutch the seams of the floor itself to not get pulled down, thrusting the propulsion vents on his back to help alleviate the weight of his frame trying to take him down.
After a bit of struggle, he got to the pilot's seat and settled down in it. He had only been able to sit here when he was looking out for dangers during their trip. He never really got to pilot because well... he could not read any of the instruments. Nonetheless, he was determined, and he peered out at the array before him intently. So many buttons... so many dials and switches... so many glyphs and icons he couldn't recognize. It looked in his mind like some child had scribbled etchings above every toggle, and it was frustrating. He saw one he thought may be beneficial, trying to engage an emergency override. With this dial in sight, he focused on the writing above it, trying as hard as he could to read. But try as he might? Nothing connected, and it just started a buzzing in the back of his helm. Stopping before he went into a seizure, he grabbed it and twisted it violently.
Only for the interior lights to turn on.
"FF-RKKAAGZZGG!"
Thundercloud was not a patient mech, on a good day. Seeing how this was quite far from anything even remotely resembling a good day, he was quick to reach his wits' end. Once he realized Carbine was not, in fact, following after him, he stopped dead in his tracks and spun back around, growling in frustration as he stomped over to the other mech. He had hoped that by walking away and making his decision sound so final, Carbine would just give in and follow after him without bothering to argue. But no, of course that's not what happened. Because why would anything ever go as planned?
Without a word, he advanced upon the other mech and reached down to seize hold of his torso, scooping him up out of his seat with one arm before turning and making his way back to the exit hatch, carrying Carbine at his side like a sack of potatoes. Flailing, incoherently cursing, several-thousand pound potatoes. Of course, Carbine was having absolutely none of this, his first response being to clutch onto the backrest of the chair. His arms rattled under the strain, before his grip lost purchase and he popped free to be manhandled towards the hatch.
Spokeless wheels slammed down onto the ground in protest, the rubber edging scraping and squealing, leaving black smears in the wake. Whenever a foot lifted? The wheels spun at full velocity, revving with immense power behind it before ramming down to try to transfer that force to fight Thunder. It only served to make a rancid stench of burning rubber, though... that smell could also be the actual you know... ship that was melting on its exterior.
When the hatch slid open? All hell broke loose.
There was a loud bang as the cabin-pressure rapidly decompressed, the temperature within the ship dropping just as quickly. Neither of them needed to breathe, so that wasn't much of a concern - what WAS a concern was avoiding being sucked out of the damn ship. Thankfully, Thundercloud had prepared for that, bracing himself flat against the wall next to the door, gripping a bit of piping jutting from the metal paneling to keep himself (and by proxy, Carbine) anchored. Lucky for them both, he was a heavy fragger.
Through the now open hatch, a gale of wind swirled in, and small flickering embers could be seen dancing across the ship's outer plating as it streaked through the planet's troposphere. This was stressful enough by itself, but when Carbine was pulled near enough to actually see outside? To see how high off the ground they still were? Absolute panic clutched his systems.
"TH-TUUHN-KZT-DUUERR!!"
The scream of his partners name betrayed just how scared he was. Perhaps it wasn't defiance after all that kept him wanting to salvage the ship, but more a fear of just how HIGH they were. He was not a true grounder, but he was close enough, never flying higher than a few stories really. So to be so high with clouds shooting past? He was horrified. His vents stuttered and seized up between heaved exhausts, his left hand clutching onto Thunder's in his terror. His friend was a good flyer, he knew he would never intentionally let him hit the ground, but... that was the catch. There were accidents, there were miscalculations. Could he bank on this?
He didn't sign anything, he didn't say anything more. Instead the faceless mask of his helm turned to peer up at the Jet, optics round circles of distress. He had no choice but to have faith in Thunder, his grip tightening along with his rapidly fluctuating field to try to relay a feeling of giving up, a feeling of trust that was swarmed by terror.
Trust. Something Thundercloud was not used to having. In fact, it was something he preferred not to be responsible for living up to. There was a lot of pressure in being trusted by someone, being relied on by them. To betray that trust, to fall short in the end...well, it felt an awful lot like breaking a promise he never agreed to make, and that just didn't sit well with him. He would have preferred it if Carbine were looking up at him with an expression that promised him a bloody end if he screwed this up, not with too-bright optics that gave him far more credit than he felt he deserved.
Smirking in what he hoped to Primus was a reassuring manner, he adjusted his hold on Carbine's waist, tilting the other mech so he was back upon his feet. He kept his arm wrapped firmly around his middle, his fingers gripping tight to ensure his hold on the other mech was secure.
::Come on:: He signed, with his free hand. ::We're either gonna go out with a bang, or make one helluva dramatic entrance. Either way, we're gonna scare the slag out of some natives, so try to enjoy yourself::
Carbine let out a pop of static, the sound still stressed, but there was a bit of a laugh in there, the half panels of his face that permitted him to make emotion pulling back ever so slightly into an unseen smile behind his mask. His optics lessened from their perfectly circular shape, the ghostly glow of them through the riot visor shifting down to look at the Earth once again.
::Don't let me die like this, at least say I said something badass::
He mused this in a sort of last joke in the sign language, unable to come up with anything actually clever, before everything changed again. Before he knew what was happening, he was falling towards the earth freely, the shuttle roaring off in its own trajectory. Carbine's arms flared out on either side, and he instantly regretted everything about this. Thundercloud hadn't given him time to have second thoughts before launching them both out of the burning ship, nor did he give him a warning before he released his hold on the other mech and gave him a hard shove upward, so he could transform without banging him up on his own moving parts in the process. The ex-cop looked down as Thunder changed shape, the multiple chunks of armor and hinges snapping and curling into new positions before the Cybertronian jet took form.
This was his chance... this was his moment, he had to get this right!
Forcing his processor to lock into the target, he threw his hands down and forward, Thunder's newly formed wings giving enough drag to make his descent slower, so Carbine had no issues in 'catching up'. In fact? The difference in speed was somewhat... an issue, as there was a hard THWACK as his chest collided with the broad paneled wing. The impact knocked the air out of his vents, and he let out a ghastly wheeze to display how much it had hurt. But despite this, long slender fingers clutched and scrambled to try to find purchase, but the hit? Had disabled him just barely too long.
Clearly, neither of them had really thought this plan out very far. Granted, they hadn't had much time to think about it in the first place, but still, a little more forethought might have been able to save them an awful lot of grief in the long run. Or maybe it couldn't, there was no way of finding out so there was really no use in dwelling on should'ves and could'ves. The moment Carbine landed upon his wing with a hard thud and struggled to gain purchase, Thundercloud knew their plan was not going to work. Like Carbine, he felt himself instantly regretting the decision, and what's more he damned himself for making it in the first place. They were out of the burning shuttle, which was spiraling erratically towards the strangely white ground, so at the very least they wouldn't go up in flames when it inevitably crashed, but that still left them with the problem of trying to not crash themselves.
Carbine's fingertips snapped down shy of the wing's edge, which left him very little to actually grab. He didn't WANT to hurt Thunder, but in his panic and fear? He dug his hands down as hard as he could, and at one point the fingertips wrenched into a seam causing the edge of the wing's plate to buckle and the joint of his arms to almost rip out as the momentum of Thunder's speed suddenly was transferred to his frame. But while he seemed to be in the clear? The amount of G-forces involved on a jet was immense, and even if Thunder tried to go as slow as possible? It was just too much.
The ex-cop's frame broke off, sending him spiraling in the jet's wake. His arms flared out on either side, and his back thrusters activating with hard pulses, trying to find something to bounce its magnetic capabilities against to stabilize. But it was all pointless, as he was in an uncontrollable spiral down towards the ground; a ground that was growing exceptionally near.
Cursing himself, Primus, their situation, and his own inability to make sharp turns, Thundercloud took far longer than he wanted to in order to turn around and fly back towards his fallen companion, who at that point was letting out the most horrendous sounds of distress and fear. There was no time to try and coast beneath the other mech to give him the chance to grab hold of him once again, and even if there was, Thundercloud wouldn't want to take the risk - not when the first try went the way it did. Instead, he decided to make one final Bad Decision to finish off the long string of Bad Decisions he had made within the past ten kliks, because at that point, he figured he didn't really have much to lose. Things were as bad as they were going to get (or so he hoped) and he doubted his next action (which was, by his own admission, completely idiotic) could possibly make things worse.
But hey, he had been proven wrong before.
The Cybertronian Jet swooped down, angled at a lower elevation than Carbine, before hooking up sharply towards him at an incline, Transforming once more. He snatched the smaller mech out of the air, transferring the previous momentum to start to slow them. His field crackled with both apology and acknowledgement that this was quite possibly the stupidest idea he had ever had in his life, before wrapping his arms around the ex-enforcer, locking him down against his chest as he fired the thrusters in his heels on full blast. He was attempting to slow their rapid descent as much as possible before they inevitably crashed. He couldn't fly with those things, not in his root-mode, he couldn't even hover with them if he were standing flat on the ground, but they helped slow their plummet down to Earth to something less...well, mind-breakingly terrifying.
When Carbine was grabbed onto, and the flickering spiral of sky and earth that had been flip-booking in his optics halted, he let out a wheezed burst of static, wishing beyond all else he could actually communicate. Oh, the things he could say in this moment. Perhaps a question of what the frag was surging through Thunder's glitched out processor to think this was a good idea? Perhaps he would inquire what he was doing not being in a Jet form? Maybe he would have felt compelled to tell Thunder to frag off and kick him away so he COULD go into a jet form and save himself? Or maybe he would manage to spur his panic laced mind into gear enough to make one last cocky statement they both could crash to and die with a laugh. But no... no... all he did was let out squealing pops of unintelligible noises, fingertips clutching onto Thunder's chest as if he was a child seeking comfort. It was not his most dignified moment, and if they survived? He would pay for it.
There was no way Thundercloud would ever let him live it down.
...Assuming he ever got the chance.
Thundercloud could only hope their descent had been slowed enough to prevent them from becoming their own miniature scrap heap upon landing, and he knew all too well that hoping did jack-all towards making things actually happen. There just... wasn't much else he could do. Well, other than one thing. Something he was sure Carbine would never forgive him for.
It wasn't a hard decision to make, really. The thought of pissing off Carbine had never stopped him from doing anything before, and it sure as hell wasn't going to now. Knowing full well he was going to be met with protest, Thunder gripped Carbine more tightly, pinning the smaller mech's arms at his sides as he spun them both around, turning his back towards the rapidly-approaching ground.
Carbine realized what was happening immediately; the blunt helmed sonofaglitch was going to try to brace the fall, and take the brunt of the impact for him. This prompted another garble of nonsense, the word short, likely a 'NO' as optics were round in despair. Beneath the shielding visor? He truly looked broken, pure terror unhinged and unrestrained lacing through his remaining faceplate, optics locked onto Thunders, only to shift and peer over the jet's shoulder to see the rapidly approaching ground. His field pulled back flush against him, as energon lines ran cold, eyes widening as one final scream ripped out.
By contrast, Thundercloud was remarkably calm, expression unperturbed. He had accepted the terrifying circumstances they found themselves in, and chose not to be bothered by it. He was built to take hard hits. Carbine, not so much. If they were gonna hit the dirt, the least he could do was soften the blow, especially since (in his mind) this was all his fault anyway. Besides, it wasn't like he'd never fallen out of a ship before--granted, he'd never actually crashed into the ground before because, hello, flying, but still...
How bad could it be?
Location: Space to Russian Mountain Range
Week: Four
--------
From one Prison to another.
The escape shuttle that the two had... "borrowed" was not really anything of any real value, even when it was in its prime. It was currently in rather poor condition, ragged welded plates strewn about from Thunder's plastered together repairs. While the repairs worked? While it kept them from ripping apart in atmosphere or having something explode? Or... Primus forbid... getting STRANDED? It left the ship looking even more battered. Its white and silver paint that had once made it look so nice was worn away, leaving the bare metal with a few streaks of the lighter hues to grace its battered frame. The controls were stiff, and the actual navigation? Well, it was a miracle they would ever reach Earth and not just overshoot it by oh... maybe five solar systems? But it served its purpose. Somehow.
They duo (trio?) had managed to stock it with plenty of Energon to fuel the vessel, as well as themselves for the trip. But what fun would it be to only bring the essentials? In addition to what was needed, there was some poor quality 'junk food' fuel that tasted great despite its poor function, plenty of high grade, and even... well... Neither would admit it to others if asked, but they squirreled some not so legal things as well, to try to take the edge off of what would be a long, monotonous period of travel.
There was only one living area the shuttle had to offer, which to others might have been uncomfortable. Living in the same cage as another mech, trapped in a box, having to share almost every waking moment with them.... but alas, this was something Carbine had done before; it was something he had to suffer through in Prison. Suffer? That was perhaps a bit mean to say, it was troublesome at times, but he coped, and the two were just fine in such a predicament. They could easily have spent double the amount of time stuck in a cage. Though... who would WANT to? Not Carbine that's who.
The ex-cop himself was leaning back into a corner of the ships primary room. His long legs were sprawled out ahead of him, one slightly crooked up to rest upon the locked spoke-less wheel of his other foot. His arms? Were gently folded over his abdomen, caging the interlocking armor beneath the forearm panels. Old habits die hard, and while he trusted Thunder to not truly harm him? How he trusted the other Mech to never backstab him? There was an ingrained NEED, a DESIRE to sleep with something hard and solid like a wall directly behind him. He would find getting rest to be exceptionally difficult if he didn't have it, but with this security and protection? He was pushed into a deep recharge.
Across the small enclosure, Bolo was laying down as well. The canine was sprawled out onto its side, long spindly legs tangled amongst themselves to peek out from beneath the dash area of the ship's front. This overhang where a driver's legs typically would go created a perfect 'den' for him, and he was plenty happy here, optics offline and frame still. He appeared to be mirroring his master in recharge, but that was not the case. The dog was not truly asleep, but was in a sort of transitional phase between it and consciousness, small spike ears alert.
Thundercloud, meanwhile, was loafing about in the pilot's seat, staring out into the emptiness of space with his arms crossed and his feet propped up on the control console. Technically, he was supposed to be piloting the ship, but it did that job just fine on its own. Input coordinates, and autopilot took care of the rest. All he had to do was stay up and keep watch for any unexpected obstacles in their path, from asteroids to other ships. Not that he really needed to look out for other ships in this godawful end of the universe. It seemed every other species but the one that inhabited it knew to stay away from the dead-end galaxy, and for good reason. There were no other inhabited planets for light-years, no rest stops at which to refuel and repair spacecrafts or weapons, and no roving trade ships to barter goods with. If not for the Prime's presence, there would simply be nothing out there worth making the long, tedious trip for, as far as he was concerned.
He felt he was being generous, calling the trip just long and tedious. It had been fun at first, a welcomed relief from being barked at by commanding officers and shot at by enemy soldiers. Who wouldn't want a vacation away from such things? But of course, their little reprieve from the war soon lost its charm, as there was only so long one could sit around in a tiny one-room ship hurtling through empty space before things became monotonous.
Sighing in frustration, Thunder dropped his head back against the head-rest of his seat once he grew bored of staring out into the sea of stars before him, and turned his gaze instead to the ceiling, his optics tracing the vulgar glyphs he had carved up there for reasons he couldn't quite remember. Probably because it seemed funny at the time. That was usually the reasoning behind half the slag he did while overcharged.
Primus, did he wish he were overcharged right then. Being drunk out of his mind would've made the tail of this (too long) trip so much more bearable. As it was, the closest thing they had to high-grade on the ship were the empty cubes strewn about the shelves and floor that once, but (sadly) no longer, contained the coveted tank-rusting fuel. A stack of said cubes decorated the ship's control panel, standing as a proud monument to their complete and utter disregard for the dangers of flying a spacecraft while under the influence of mind-altering substances.
Thundercloud turned his attention to the tower-of-bad-decisions once he grew tired of admiring his own sloppy handwriting decrying Carbine as a "slag-sucking scraplet kissing glitchface", and cocked his head to the side, idly wondering whether he ought to try cleaning up a bit, seeing as he was torturously bored and had nothing else to occupy his time with. He quickly dismissed this thought, deciding that there was a much better use for both his time, and those cubes. Reaching out, he plucked the topmost cube and eyed it for a moment, before glancing at Carbine over his shoulder. Without so much as a second thought, he tossed the cube over his head, watching as it arched behind him and soared through the air towards the ex-cop. He honestly had absolutely no reason to try to wake the mech up, other than because the cube was there and he COULD, which was really all the reason he needed.
He was unsurprised when the cube struck the mech, and he hardly even stirred. Carbine was a notoriously deep sleeper, a fact he was well aware of by now. When Carbine's frame finally fell down into recharge? He went DOWN. There was very little that could wake him. Loud noises? Fell upon deaf audios. Bright lights? Even if they were warning lights? Were never noticed. Heck, Thunder could have probably picked him up and simply walked off with him under an arm like a football and the Mech would be oblivious to it all. For all the ex-cop knew, it had already happened before. Despite all this, there were a few things that could rouse him, and one of those things was pain.
The cube had clunked unceremoniously against the bridge between shoulder and chest, the sharp corner of the container hitting hard, jarring him a bit. What would have normally roused one instantly into a whirlwind of confused arm-thrashing instead simply made the mech begin to stir a bit. His propped up leg idly unhooked its locking mechanism, the wheel going from a docked state into an active state, which caused the limb to slide and list forward. His arms uncrossed and slid down to drape at his sides, making soft clicks as they did so. His helm remained dipped low, and he made no further movements.
Bolo, by contrast, was not as thick skulled. The canine instantly raised his head, sporting a look of confusion and alarm. The sudden "attack" caused the cassette's small, pointy ear-like antennae to flick up and rotate forward, as he looked at the cube that had hit his master, before peering at Thunder. He thought a moment, or... as much as the toddler-level capability of processor could permit, before rolling up from his side to rest on his sternum plates. Long legs reached forward, the rubber capped white paws scraping on the ground to drag his frame out from his hiding area a bit, before he stared up at Thunder, confused.
Ignoring Bolo's questioning stare, Thundercloud tossed a second cube, which smacked right into the side of Carbine's head. The impact was not particularly strong, as even if Thunder had hurled it hard instead of just lazily tossing it, it would have shattered rather than cause any dents or scuffs to Carbine's plates. However, the impact still hurt a bit, which caused Carbine's optics to instantly online, his frame lurching as his body became active before his mind did. His arm instinctively swept up to try to swat the object away, despite the fact that the blow had already landed.
(...Hey, it made sense to his auto-response systems. Don't question it)
Once his possessor booted fully, it was not hard to put one and one together to equal Thunder being a douche. The ex-cop slumped back into his corner with a clank, optics narrowing as his hand reached up to rub across his helm. He spat out some words in reply, but calling them words? Was kind of... being generous. It was a mix of static and disjointed sounds that stammered from his rebooting vocals.
"KZZT!? Thaut w-as zztt whaaa-a-auutt for!?"
Carbine then pushed his hands down upon the floor paneling, while simultaneously rolling his heels back to prop them under his frame. With a thrust forward, he threw his weight upon the wheels and twisted upright a moment later. The action was still a bit sluggish, as he was still shaking off the recharge, but there had to be something right? Something of note he had to look at, or some question... or Primus only knows what. Thunder would not wake him up for no good reason right!?
Oh, who the frag was he kidding…
Carbine walked towards his partner, his optics falling from alarmed to groggy, the heel of his hand pressing to the side of his head where the cube had impacted moments prior. There were no visible markings from the strike, but hey, it stung! The hand shifted though, falling down to rub at his neck cables, which were sore from his head being crooked at a weird angle during recharge.
Without so much as a word in explanation, Thunder stood from his chair, nodding towards the window as he swept his arm out towards Carbine, gesturing for him to come over and take a look. He had been watching the little blue and green dot gradually grow larger and larger for a few hours, but only now was it beginning to come into focus, taking on a more easily visible presence in the sea of star-freckled blackness it resided in. It wasn't at all the reason he had woken Carbine up--he did that just for kicks--but it was a convenient excuse to use to keep the other mech from getting annoyed with him. Or, well, more annoyed than he already was at having been so rudely woken.
"I swear to Primus, if it is nothing but the 'Majestic vastness of space' AGAIN-"
Carbine began, his optics rolling in an over-exaggerated motion as his hands raised on either side of him, palms flat, jittering in a 'jazz hands' sort of gesture to pair humorously with the venomous sarcasm and ire in his tone. It would not be the first time he was woken as such. He would never forget the earliest time Thunder made that joke, and that... slag eating grin he wore as if he just did the greatest thing in the universe. To see him standing now? Like he was displaying something majestic? Just made Carbine's tank roll in dread, expecting it to be a part of the galaxy where not even the stars were visible by some interference.
"-Then I going -kztt- am shove..."
His words cut off.
He eased forward a bit as he approached the window, optics narrowing while the rotational rings within them spun around, trying desperately to focus on the oh so tiny spec. But once he did? Once he saw what it was? His optics widened and a surge of excitement shot up and through him so fast he suffered an emotional whiplash from the sudden departure from annoyance he felt before.
Freedom!?
It was so close! So near! This burst of emotion reached Bolo, causing an instant response. The canine stood up violently quick underneath his hiding area, causing his helm and back to clunk upon the ledge. But he didn't seem deterred from this minor pain, scrambling out to look around. Despite not being able to talk? One could almost FEEL the way he wanted to know what was going on. 'What happening?', 'Why happy?', 'Yay happy!', 'EXCITEMENT!', 'NO IDEA WHY HAPPY BUT HAPPY TOO!' It ramped up until the dog was almost bouncing in place, ears upright and maw parted. Carbine, in contrast, was not bouncing, but lunging forward.
The Cybertronian hover car launched with his notable speed, slamming the knee of his left leg into Thunder's back. The cap of the knee armor, found purchase upon a lip of plating on the Jet, permitting him to clutch on while his hands clapped up and over his wings to snatch the shoulder armor. With this firm grip, he heaved up and leaned forward. The protruding bit of his chest armor pushed at the back of Thundercloud 's helm, while his right arm disengaged off of his shoulder to point at the spec.
"KZZTT! ZZKuuurrrZUTTKK!"
Of course, not even Thunder would know what was said, though the idea was there. It was hard to miss in the way he pointed and was climbing over Thunder like some jungle gym to get a better view on it. Soon. So soon they would be free! Free from this cage! FREE from the suffocating BOREDOM!
Thundercloud, in the midst of all this, was the odd mech out in the little echo-chamber of joy Carbine and Bolo seemed to be trapped in. He was considerably less enthused than his companions, though that was less because he wasn't as excited about finally getting out of the bloody ship as they were--he was--he just didn't appreciate being climbed upon as if he were a particularly surly set of monkey-bars. He grunted in a mixture of annoyance and protest as the mech he generously called his friend climbed on top of him in a fit of exuberance, his helm ducking and his shoulders hunching as the mech pressed down upon him. He tolerated this for all of four seconds before he finally had enough of the weight pressing down on him, and he abruptly rolled his shoulders, jerking roughly to the side as he tilted sideways at the waist in an attempt to buck the smaller mech off and drop him to the floor.
This method of removing the obnoxious ex-cop proved to be rather efficient. Carbine's weight was tilted off center, and at the new angle? His knee lost its grip on the surface of the armor's ledge. With this, his weight slumped down with a clunk against Thunder's shoulder, though... ended up mostly falling onto the wing itself. Long arms clapped over it, clutching the wing, though the panel stooped down further with the weight and turn of the larger Mech's frame. With a squeak akin to hands smearing down a panel of glass, Carbine slid down the wing's length, before plopping off with a heavy thud avoiding the sharp upturn at its end.
The ex-cop ended up planted down upon his back, optics half lidded in a look of disapproval. Bolo on the other hand, was all kinds of keyed up, having a lot of pent up energy. He hadn't been able to run or truly play in... years now? How long were they cooped up?... it was a painfully long trip whatever it was. Besides, to a dog's brain? It might as well been eternity. As such, the canine bounced and bobbed a bit, dipping his head down with chest touching the ground and hips high, only to bounce and spin in a circle before planting his rump down with a thud. A hind leg stretched out, paw pads flaring a moment, before he realized he wanted the leg and pulled it back to return to standing and hopping. A single bark popped out, the sound mechanical and loud in the confines.
Carbine likely didn't know this, what with not having wings of his own and all, but having someone drag their hand down them as they fell to the floor in a heap, purposely creating a grating, squeaking sound as they did so, was not exactly a pleasant feeling. Thunder's optic twitched, his offended wing flicking up and out, fluttering unhappily for a brief moment before settling against his back. He frowned down at Carbine, one eyebrow rising questioningly as he wondered whether the mech was done being ridiculous, or if he was going to keep on being an over-enthusiastic nutball.
"ETA's about a breem." He said, prodding the mech with his boot. "You plan on spendin' the rest of the trip on the floor?"
"Nahhh..."
Carbine replied drolly, not moving much as he was prodded, his forearms merely rising to lace his fingertips together. He had a smug look across the remaining half of his features, a look that had a mischievous edge to it that Thunder knew well by now.
"I just should I - kztt- thought test out your bed."
He mused this nonsensical statement while easing upright, rolling his shoulder some to ease out the kinks cause by being dumped to the floor so unceremoniously. While Carbine didn't have wings, and couldn't understand the sensitivity they had and how he had annoyed Thunder, he did have his own things to be mindful of. Falling down upon his back? Had landed him square on the two rolling pipelines that curled from his collarbone, up and back behind him, framing either side of where Bolo would dock. For his current Cybertronian Alt-Mode? This would become part of the hover capabilities, each housing sensors and thrusters to stabilize himself. Using a light push from these, he eased up atop his heels without the use of his hands to stand fully upright, brushing his hands down his front as if swiping off some invisible dust.
The statement about testing out Thunder's bed didn't particularly make any sense in the context of things. That was, until he moved back to Thunder's side and threw a suckerpunch intending to down him to the floor. Normally? If fighting a friend? You would pull your punches to not actually, you know, hurt them. Carbine? Knew Thunder could take a hit and keep trucking, so the swing was quite nearly a full force hook. As he threw the punch, a broad grin peeled back across what was left of his face, while his systems booted up combat protocols for one of their infamous (...if they were around people long enough to get a rep) fights.
He was going to get Thunder to hit the ground one way or another.
Or at least, he was going to try to. He was right about Thundercloud being able to take a hit. The mech had a hard head, both physically and metaphorically, and so that cheap shot to the jaw didn't do much to damage him. It just surprised him, then caused him a bit of soreness, then pissed him off, in that order. Tit for tat, he was quick to throw a punch of his own, though unlike Carbine, he took care to hold back, because his companion wasn't nearly as durable as he was and he didn't want their first order of business upon landing to be to search the ship for Carbine's missing teeth.
Unfortunately, while Thundercloud had superior strength, Carbine had superior agility. The former officer hunched his shoulders up and dipped his head down, knees buckling slightly as he dodged out of the counter-punch's path. Carbine in turn, let out a delighted cackle as Thundercloud's fist whistled harmlessly through the air, missing its target.
"Always WAS faster than yo- KURGH!"
His words were cut off when a follow-up punch came, and he was smacked hard in the upper arm. His thinner frame was launched to the side, nearly airborne. Thoughts came slowly through those moments, a sensation of being aware of what was coming, seeing it, processing it, but hey... surprise! Being unable to do anything. There was the ground; it was coming up fast annnddd…
THWUMP
The hover car skid on his chest a moment, momentum kicking up one leg into the air to nearly fold against him, but once he finally stopped sliding? And came to a complete halt? This crooked limb unfolded and plopped down to the ground below, the unlocked wheel gradually spinning in a leisurely pace. He spoke, though his face was pressed against the metal, so his voice was muffled.
"..F-ff-a-fr-agger..."
Thundercloud merely smirked in victory, while beside him Bolo was bounding a bit, head throwing down and up as if he was trying to buck some invisible rider off of his back. He was excited, having long ago translated Thunder and his Master's bantering and physical brawling as being some kind of game. If he had really thought Thunder was trying to hurt Carbine?... Well the little rage hound would have turned on him and made sure Thunder would have plenty of reason to be glad his arms couldn't feel pain.
"Glitch." Thundercloud replied in a tauntingly sweet tone, cocky-grin firmly in place as he sauntered over to the fallen mech and paused before him.
He looked him over a bit, taking a few moments to appreciate his own handywork, before finally kicking Carbine off his front and onto his back, only to offer him a hand up immediately after. Carbine didn't need to do his puppy eyes to get this offered hand, which was good, as that likely would have tipped the other mech off to his plans. Carbine happily took Thunder's outstretched palm, with one hand while the other placed itself over the larger mech wrist for a more secure grip. It looked as if he were simply trying to get up and make sure Thunder didn't drop him. But nope. Nope…
Bring it.
Carbine got about half way up before he threw himself backwards while drawing his right leg up to plant a knee against his chest. This motion landed him with his foot squared up with Thunder's abdomen. The pede pushed forth to slam in place, using his backwards thrust that was pulling the larger Mech forward, in tandem with the foot on him, and his back and hips as a pivot on the floor. All of these small details added up together in an attempt to throw the jet up and over him. If he was lucky? He would manage to careen him straight into the wall of the shuttle. (See how he likes that hit!) but no no... no...
Stuff went wrong…
...as always.
Carbine's plan might have succeeded, had he been pulling that move on a mech that didn't weigh quite as much as Thundercloud. As it was, he managed to lift the larger mech off the ground, but he simply lacked the strength to fully toss him over his head, let alone into the wall behind him. Instead, Thundercloud landed prematurely and unceremoniously directly on top of him- which, as it turned out, was just fine by him, as it meant he could inconvenience the other mech by keeping him pinned to the floor, just by laying on top of him like the lazy oaf he was.
Naturally, Carbine was not pleased by this in the slightest. When Thunder landed down atop him? It forced his leg to snap back so that his knee planted down to the ground at his side just beside his 'ribcage'. Carbine was not exceptionally flexible, so this prompted him to let out a squawking squeal and barks of static as he clawed at the larger mech's frame, his hip roaring in protest to being forced into an angle reserved for considerably flexible dancers.
"F-FaAUrAG KZTT!"
He twisted in place, trying to think how he could get the larger mech off himself. He could use his taser to get him to reel back in pain, but this was not that kind of fight; Carbine did not wish to ACTUALLY harm Thunder, and the taser? He knew how AUFUL that felt from having experienced it himself in training. It is with this logic his right hand raised, fingers flexing out before snapping up to grapple at the Jet's face, trying to get a grip to push his head back and away. Maybe if he forced him to crane his head hard enough, he would have to back off?
...Or maybe not. After all, the mech he chose to call his friend was not particularly fond of reacting to situations like a normal person. Instead of backing off, or withdrawing his head away from the hand pushing at his face, Thundercloud chose to retaliate in what was perhaps the most childish fashion possible: he licked Carbine's hand. This prompted an immediate visceral response of utter disgust from the ex-cop. The look on his features mirrored this feeling perfectly, half lip plate curled back, jaw hung slack, and slightly trembling as if he just had to witness someone get disemboweled. But no no... it was just Thunder being the gross jerk he was. Carbine's hands flexed, having pulled back, his optic looking over to see the wet smear on his palm.
"Oh! Ran-r-a-nci-foul! I don't kn-no-k-aware where that's been! No wait... I DO! And that makes it WORSE!"
After he squealed this out, his sullied hand was thrust up, trying to scrape the liquid off of his palm onto the other mech's face.
"I could say the same thing about that hand." Thunder shot back, before seizing the mech's wrist and attempting to turn Carbine's saliva-smeared hand on his own face, just to cause him further disgust.
This prompted the exact sort of reply one would expect from the stressed out mech below. To see the hand covered in THUNDER'S saliva coming down towards his own face? To know that it could get smeared on his faceplate panels? or.. or or... Primus FORBID it end up on the side with an open hole into his own mouth and tanks! The thought alone caused him to gag, turning his head to try to hide his injury.
"Oh don-d-don-no you fragger! Don't you!"
Carbine's arm rattled from the amount of force he was trying to use to pull his arm away, fighting against Thunder's far superior strength. The Ex-cop hissed a moment before he rolled his tanks and twisted his maw, an ungodly sound gurgling up at the back of his throat. It was paired with almost a snorting sound, taking full advantage of his facial injury. While his left optic was functional, and didn't have any major damage to it save for some discoloration and the crack in the 'tear duct'? The drainage on it? Was not 100% and as such with the snort? He mixed some collected Energon from his tank with saliva and then the optic drainage, before spit-launching the nauseating concoction at Thunder's face at full velocity.
It was at this point their audience seemed to lose interest in all the shenanigans. Bolo, the once bouncing excited puppy, grew bored of watching them squabble and instead moved over to the side of the room the two weren't... fighting?... sparing?... scrabbling?... whatevering? And came up to the front window. He lifted up onto his back feet, planting his forepaws upon the control panel, sliding over a few buttons unknowingly, before finally planting himself down on a button free place to peer out into space from.
Behind him, Thundercloud let out a cry of disgust and swore something about how his "mouth was open you nasty fragger", prompting the pup to glance briefly over his shoulder, just long enough to see the larger mech jerked back, lurching off of and away from Carbine as he continued to curse up a storm.
While Thunder was reeling around in psychological pain, Carbine had launched up to his feet, aided by the thrusters on his back once more. The attack may have been overkill, but his leg had been in pain, his hip aching and protesting now that it was finally permitted to pull back into reasonable angles. Once upright, he swung and kicked back off of the ground ignoring this ache, to put some distance between himself and the massive Jet. This motion, was paired with his shins transforming. A whir and click rang out, as the single sharp toed ped of his feet, folded up and into the shin paneling, leaving him completely upon the Cybertronian spokeless wheel.
Once on his wheels, Carbines stance had changed entirely. His legs were planted wide apart for balance, while his head and general upper torso were dipped low in preparation. His shoulders in contrast, were pulled back, causing the large ridges of armor on either side of Bolo's dock to flare panels open with the propulsion systems. His hands were spread, ready to grapple, or clench into a fist to punch, or just about anything really. Point was, he was prepped, and he would be damned if he got hit now. The last thing he needed was Thunder getting a suitable revenge for THAT stunt.
"Revenge! delig-de-d-dd-kZZT! You coming it -kzt- heard!"
He broke a bit, unable to say the word 'delightful', and his attempt to relay that Thunder had heard him prepping via the snort gurgle was disjointed, but the phrase was still kind of present. He didn't try to fix it or substitute a word; merely grinning madly as some residual concoction ran from the gaping hole in his cheek to his jaw line. He didn't care though, far too focused on his fighting stance and where he was in their cage of a shuttle. As of current? He was standing between Thunder and the front controls where Bolo was, the back thrusters on the ridges making a loud whir as they were ready to aid him.
Bolo, meanwhile, shifted his weight upon his hind legs, waddling a bit closer to the dash while white paws plunked down atop the slab of buttons and toggles. He was looking straight ahead at something, head tilting a bit to the side while his toddler like processors struggled to cope with what he was looking at. A moment later his head turned the other direction, ears perpetually locked forward with intent focus. 'What that?'
Paying no mind to the pup at the controls, Thundercloud spit repeatedly upon the floor (which surprisingly made its dirt-stained surface cleaner), wiping his mouth viciously with the back of his hand while snarling something incomprehensible. Probably a death threat or twelve. He made an exaggerated noise of disgust, expression twisted in a comical caricature of revolution, before turning his attention back to the source of his discontent. His optics flashed as he shot a glare at the other mech, his field crackling with the silent promise that he would murder the other mech until he died to death. That was the only warning Carbine would receive before being bumrushed by 61,000 lbs of pissed off jet, which was really all the warning he needed. Once more, speed would be Carbine's friend, and he had learned well through the years how to use it to his advantage. Thunder could easily kill him if he got hold of him, or heck... even just a shoulder tackle if done with enough force could send him flying. Carbine? Was less than a quarter of Thunder's weight. This could make it seem like Carbine was scrawny and light, but no... Thunder was just a fataft (or so he liked to call him.)
Nonetheless, Carbine dropped all of his weight like a stone, his lower legs which were in the wheeled format, slipping back to fold nearly flush with the back of his thighs. This left him almost in a limbo state of posture, his arms, hooked up and over his shoulders in order to grip onto the control panel of the front dash. With this grip, he pushed off, and draped his head back, moving with the force of this push, with added momentum from a rev of the motors in his shins, to roll himself under Thunder's legs and behind him before he could change course or reach down to grab him.
This ended with him thrusting the propulsion flares on his back again, throwing himself upright to spin about upon the wheels. The motion was smooth, practiced, having a lot of muscle memory behind it, as at just the right moment during the turn? His left leg twisted to rotate the wheel sideways and halt the rotation right when he was angled to square off against Thunder once more.
Thundercloud, having been denied the opportunity to wring Carbine's scrawny little neck, growled in frustration as the smaller (and unfortunately faster) mech slid out of his way. He slammed his hands down on the console, the sound snapping Bolo from his trance. Instantly, the canine started to bark, the sound not excited or angry, but born of confusion and stress. Ignoring the cassettes distress, Thundercould prepared to whip around to face Bolo's master once more, before something caught his optic. A glimpse out the window revealed that the little blue and green dot from before was...not so little anymore. Well. That wasn't right. His anger cooling somewhat as confusion settled in, Thunder glanced down at the control panel, wondering why they were already so close to the planet.
"...What the hell." He muttered to himself, as he looked over the speed-gauge and discovered they were hurtling through space at over... five---what the frag, five times the speed they were supposed to?
Upon noticing Thundercloud's distraction, Carbine's first thought was 'trap!' - that the Jet was trying to lure him into a false sense of security, like he had done to him earlier. But no... when he finally did look up past the larger mech's frame, he could see the planet they were heading towards was so close that seeing the edge of the world was difficult, the panel of the front shield almost filled in swirls of green, blue, and white. With this, the spar was disengaged, and he rolled forward at a leisurely pace, slickly moving up beside Thunder, doing his best to sooth Bolo through their link, wishing he could explain why the 'ball got huge' which seemed to have spooked the dog.
"So... that is where we are going to be living?... Is... is that water?"
He legitimately sounded surprised. Cybertron didn't really have much water at all, and as such? To see such a huge amount of it on a planet? Was somewhat alarming. It was the equivalent of a human looking upon a planet that had magma covering the majority of it. Granted, magma was dangerous while water was not so bad to Cybertronian, but whatever. The point was there that it was odd, and had the hover car's gaze transfixed.
"Looks like it." Thundercloud replied flatly, his anger towards the other mech vanishing as he addressed their newfound concern.
He fiddled with the controls, attempting to slow their junker of a ship down before it pushed itself too hard. There had been a reason they had been traveling so slowly all this time - said reason being their ship was a piece of slag held together by string and prayers, and it just wasn't capable of holding itself together under duress. Thundercloud was honestly surprised a chunk of the outer plating hadn't fallen off during their little squabble, when it had decided to speed up, for reasons that most certainly had nothing to do with the fact that they had been too busy squabbling to notice the dog pawing at the control panel.
He frowned down at the status-window on the control-monitor when the commands he inputted were not recognized, before letting out a frustrated sigh and typing in a lower, more suitable speed once again. For a second time, the command wasn't recognized.
"Oh, not this slag again---" He groused as he made a third attempt, his fingers stabbing at the buttons a harder than was strictly necessary.
After the third try proved no more successful than the other two, Thundercloud threw his hands up with a growl of frustration, before turning his attention to the yoke instead, muttering "Fine, be that way." under his breath. Grabbing the yoke, he attempted to steer the ship away from the giant patch of blue and white they were careening towards. The least he could do was turn them towards a land-mass, while they waited for the ship to get its slag together and let him input new commands.
Or at least, he had thought that was the least he could do. Turns out the least he could do was NOTHING, because that's exactly what happened when he tried to turn the yoke and steer them in a new direction. Naturally, more cursing ensued.
"Hah hah... funny..." Carbine sarcastically replied, as Thundercloud continued to vent his frustrations.
The ex-cop was not really picking up on things. True, Thunder's field seemed to radiate the proper emotions, but it could all be lies and trickery. As such, Carbine simply lifted up one foot after the other, his pede unfolding from its housing to permit the gripping surface to click back down upon the flooring below, stabilizing him. With this new grip, he eased forward to lean upon the dash, forearms raised to rest his chin in an open palm.
"I know I can't read the controls, but I am no fo-f-fo-idiot."
He seemed so calm, so at ease, rather oblivious. It wasn't like he had the capability to read the dash himself; he couldn't tell just HOW fast they were coming in. However, though he had no numbers to reference, he could see the way the atmosphere was starting to part, and how fast the thin layers were flicking past them, the hull starting to grow warm.
"What's funny is you think I'm joking." Thunder replied without an ounce of humor, as he tried the controls once more.
He pulled back on the yolk, his mouth turning downward slightly in concern as the ship began to whine in protest. He eased his hands backward, pulling the yoke back slowly despite the unpleasant grinding sound that began to rattle from somewhere deep within the ship as he did so. Gradually, the ship began to turn bit by bit, turning away from the blue and towards a massive patch of green, flecked with white.
"...Ehhehh... you know..."
Carbine started to speak, the lighthearted amusement drifting away and out from his vocals. He was getting a bit more antsy, though he reeled the emotion back to the best of his abilities. But the more he spoke? The more he tried to play it off as an elaborate prank? The more his anxiety started showing.
"You really should slow d-do-ow-d-d-lower or we are going to burn up on entry..."
"--What's it look like I'm trying to do?" Thundercloud snapped in reply, giving the yoke a hard jerk to emphasize his lack of control over the situation.
This lack of control was only further exacerbated when the yoke creaked under the stress of Thundercloud's manhandling and snapped right off of its mount, breaking off in his hands.
The jet immediately tensed, his optics slowly trailing away from Carbine down towards the broken yoke as the realization of what he had just done dawned upon him. There was a moment of quiet as Thundercloud simply stared down at his hands, as if wondering how the yoke got there, before he offlined his optics, threw his head back and let out a stream of curses too vulgar to be reprinted.
Thunder's outburst was not without accompaniment. Bolo, the tattletale of Carbine's emotions that he was, instantly fed off of the terror surging from his master, going into full panic mode without second prompting. Screaming barks yelped out in immense distress, his head throwing down and lurching back in thrashes. Carbine in contrast was weirdly silent, trying to process it all as he stared at the broken steering. But while he was not yelling? His internal warfare was there, optics wide as a multitude of thoughts snapped across his mind. After what felt like an eternity, he was jostled from this roundabout of fear by a sudden lurch of the ship.
"KZTTK TkkuZZT! KUUZCH!"
Nothing of recognizable value spouted out as he shrieked, trying to scream for Thunder to do SOMETHING. His eyes were perfectly round, hands bared in a motion trying to say 'what' while pointing at the fast approaching planet with a shaking hand. Thundercloud only needed to catch a fleeting glance at the other mech in his peripheral vision to see his distress.
"Okay, okay, ah--" Thundercloud's mind raced as he tried, unsuccessfully, to figure out what the hell to do to remedy the situation.
The ship was apparently stuck on auto-pilot, they were traveling at a dangerous speed that they couldn't change, and he had just broken the yoke off of the damn control console. Wonderful. After performing a thorough review of their (limited) options, Thundercloud dropped the useless yoke he was holding and turned to look at Carbine. Somehow, he managed to look (and sound) remarkably calm, despite the circumstances.
"Don't get pissed---" He began hesitantly, knowing his attempt at reassurance would probably only give the other mech greater cause for concern. "---but we're probably gonna have to abandon ship."
This prompted an immediate response of horror and disapproval from Carbine. The first thing was a sudden flash of his Bio-Lights, the red and blue strobing in tandem with a shrill pop of a siren. This was paired with a burst of static that was almost piercing, laced with anger and just a general feeling of 'NO' that could be relayed even without verbal communication. The ex-cop pointed back at the control panel, spouting more gibberish out in his fear, trying to convey that they had to stay, they had to make it work! Thunder knew how to do things with technology! He had patched the ship up thus far! He could do this!
"--Don't freak out either! Don't freak, and don't get pissed. Just---frag, just calm down okay? This isn't as bad as it looks." Thunder promised, raising his hands in hopes of placating the other mech.
No sooner did those words leave his mouth, did the universe decide to make a liar out of him. The ship abruptly lurched, groaning loudly as it shook and rattled while breaking into the planet's exosphere. Swearing, Thunder grabbed hold of the pilot's seat to keep himself steady, then reached out with his other hand to take hold of Carbine's arm, lest the other mech topple over as the ship threw its fit. Carbine, in turn, clutched Thunder's limb with a death grip for stability. Bolo meanwhile, continued to let out shrill squeals, the dog scrambling from one side of the death cage to another, his ears back in fear.
"We've just gotta fly out before we get too close to the ground." The larger mech continued, as if he hadn't be interrupted by the ship jerking violently. "Nothin' to it. We'll be fine." Somehow, he managed to sound confident about that, a confidence Carbine didn't share.
The hover car barked out another burst of static, unable to speak. He could understand Thunder, but his vocals were all kinds of glitched out in his stress. Because of this, his right hand pulled off of Thunder's and he laced his fingers with the Jet, starting to sign in their shared Chriolanguage. The language spoke mostly in concepts and feelings, not really 'words' per say, making it disjointed but easy to get points across.
::Plan okay under condition flight capable. Not notice? I CAN NOT FLY FOR REAL::
The last words were emphasized strongly, Carbine putting immense pressure into forming each word, the pulses of electricity that shot from his palm almost threatening to sear into Thunder's own in his panicked rage. Luckily for Thundercloud, his hands weren't capable of registering pain; the roughness with which Carbine delivered his message caused no discomfort, but it sure as hell gave him a good idea of just how distressed the other mech was.
::But I can:: Thundercloud signed back, his own movements firm but not nearly as rough as Carbine's had been.
"You think I'm just gonna leave your gangly aft to fend for yourself?" He asked aloud, directing the question more to himself than the other mech.
Before Carbine could reply, the ship lurched again, the sound of metal rending ringing out through the small interior. Something somewhere was bending, breaking off, possibly melting. What exactly, they could only guess--though the fact that the entire shuttle began gradually tilting to one side gave the impression that it was prooobably important. The tilting forced Carbine to clutch Thunder's wrist with his free hand for stability, before continuing to sign back in anger, his eyes flashing with distress.
::What do!? Clutch onto back!?::
The roll of his optics showed how stupid this plan was in his eyes. Really? If they were both to plummet to the earth, there was no way to link them. Thunder's hand would vanish when he went into his Alt-mode, meaning Carbine would get dropped. In contrast? If Carbine was the one holding on? Well... alot of plates shifted and clapped into new positions during a transformation. If he was lucky? His hand would simply slip off. If we were not? They would get trapped and broken off between the mechanics, which was a painful experience the ex-cop did NOT wish to endure.
A spat of static sounded as he broke away from Thunder, starting away from him while he waited for a reply. Thundercloud made a futile grab at Carbine, his fingers catching nothing but air as the mech stormed off out of his reach. The tilt of the floor made it so that Carbine's pedes were threatening to slide across its surface, wanting to dump him on the lowest point where all of the empty High-Grade cubes were starting to collect. The angle was so severe, his one arm nearest the ground actually planted upon the tilt, to support himself that much more. Eventually he made his way across the room in a hurried stride, left hand swiping up to violently rip his helmet off of the hook on the wall. The helm had been undisturbed for years, designed slick, with a riot visor across its front. With an act of defiance, he slammed it down over his head, a hissing pop noting its docking.
The motion was a simple one, stating he was going to stay and fight. Whether or not Thunder recognized it? Remained to be seen. The motion of docking the helmet though, seemed to pull Bolo from his panicked trance. The Canine had slid towards the back corner from the angle of the ship, and was barking and thrashing in distress. Seeing his owner put on 'job' gear? Enacted a hard coded reply. Instantly, metal paws scrambled on the flooring, trying to get over to Carbine, the gears in his shoulders whirring loudly as he fought against the angle of the floor.
Sighing in frustration, Thundercloud released his hold on the pilot's seat and stormed over to the other mech, stumbling a bit as the ship shook them about, making the ground unstable to walk upon. Reaching a hand out to the wall for balance, he set his jaw and made his (wobbly) way over to the ex-cop.
"It's that, or get tossed around inside this fraggin' tin coffin when it crashes into the ground." He growled, gripping Carbine's shoulder tight before roughly turning the glaring mech around to face him.
"You wanna stay inside? It's your funeral." He added coldly, before turning on his heel to stomp over towards the exit hatch without so much as a parting glance in the other mech's direction.
Carbine snapped some static back as he was released, Bolo finally making his way to his master. Upon the dog getting in range, the hover car dipped down a bit, and pushed his back out. Bolo launched up at him, his frame starting to transform mid air. The foreleg paws rammed down into the sockets in Carbine's back, enclosing instantly, while Bolo's head swung back on a hinge to slam between a horrendous split that had formed in his torso. In just a matter of moments? The canine formed Cassette, now looked nothing like he once did, docked fully onto his master as a sort of backpack, the armor flowing into the rest of his body.
"KTTch-ch-kkZZH!"
Carbine barked this nonsense at Thunder, flipping a hand up in an obscene gesture. There was no way Thunder would abandon him, they had been through so much! Thunder had to know something! He could fix this ship! Unlock it! But no... he was moving to the hatch again and Carbine's plates puffed up with anger. What, did he want to just dump the ship? He hated repairing it so much he fabricated this just to be rid of it!? Instantly, he started to move again, the angle of the flooring growing more and more severe. He had to nearly clutch the seams of the floor itself to not get pulled down, thrusting the propulsion vents on his back to help alleviate the weight of his frame trying to take him down.
After a bit of struggle, he got to the pilot's seat and settled down in it. He had only been able to sit here when he was looking out for dangers during their trip. He never really got to pilot because well... he could not read any of the instruments. Nonetheless, he was determined, and he peered out at the array before him intently. So many buttons... so many dials and switches... so many glyphs and icons he couldn't recognize. It looked in his mind like some child had scribbled etchings above every toggle, and it was frustrating. He saw one he thought may be beneficial, trying to engage an emergency override. With this dial in sight, he focused on the writing above it, trying as hard as he could to read. But try as he might? Nothing connected, and it just started a buzzing in the back of his helm. Stopping before he went into a seizure, he grabbed it and twisted it violently.
Only for the interior lights to turn on.
"FF-RKKAAGZZGG!"
Thundercloud was not a patient mech, on a good day. Seeing how this was quite far from anything even remotely resembling a good day, he was quick to reach his wits' end. Once he realized Carbine was not, in fact, following after him, he stopped dead in his tracks and spun back around, growling in frustration as he stomped over to the other mech. He had hoped that by walking away and making his decision sound so final, Carbine would just give in and follow after him without bothering to argue. But no, of course that's not what happened. Because why would anything ever go as planned?
Without a word, he advanced upon the other mech and reached down to seize hold of his torso, scooping him up out of his seat with one arm before turning and making his way back to the exit hatch, carrying Carbine at his side like a sack of potatoes. Flailing, incoherently cursing, several-thousand pound potatoes. Of course, Carbine was having absolutely none of this, his first response being to clutch onto the backrest of the chair. His arms rattled under the strain, before his grip lost purchase and he popped free to be manhandled towards the hatch.
Spokeless wheels slammed down onto the ground in protest, the rubber edging scraping and squealing, leaving black smears in the wake. Whenever a foot lifted? The wheels spun at full velocity, revving with immense power behind it before ramming down to try to transfer that force to fight Thunder. It only served to make a rancid stench of burning rubber, though... that smell could also be the actual you know... ship that was melting on its exterior.
When the hatch slid open? All hell broke loose.
There was a loud bang as the cabin-pressure rapidly decompressed, the temperature within the ship dropping just as quickly. Neither of them needed to breathe, so that wasn't much of a concern - what WAS a concern was avoiding being sucked out of the damn ship. Thankfully, Thundercloud had prepared for that, bracing himself flat against the wall next to the door, gripping a bit of piping jutting from the metal paneling to keep himself (and by proxy, Carbine) anchored. Lucky for them both, he was a heavy fragger.
Through the now open hatch, a gale of wind swirled in, and small flickering embers could be seen dancing across the ship's outer plating as it streaked through the planet's troposphere. This was stressful enough by itself, but when Carbine was pulled near enough to actually see outside? To see how high off the ground they still were? Absolute panic clutched his systems.
"TH-TUUHN-KZT-DUUERR!!"
The scream of his partners name betrayed just how scared he was. Perhaps it wasn't defiance after all that kept him wanting to salvage the ship, but more a fear of just how HIGH they were. He was not a true grounder, but he was close enough, never flying higher than a few stories really. So to be so high with clouds shooting past? He was horrified. His vents stuttered and seized up between heaved exhausts, his left hand clutching onto Thunder's in his terror. His friend was a good flyer, he knew he would never intentionally let him hit the ground, but... that was the catch. There were accidents, there were miscalculations. Could he bank on this?
He didn't sign anything, he didn't say anything more. Instead the faceless mask of his helm turned to peer up at the Jet, optics round circles of distress. He had no choice but to have faith in Thunder, his grip tightening along with his rapidly fluctuating field to try to relay a feeling of giving up, a feeling of trust that was swarmed by terror.
Trust. Something Thundercloud was not used to having. In fact, it was something he preferred not to be responsible for living up to. There was a lot of pressure in being trusted by someone, being relied on by them. To betray that trust, to fall short in the end...well, it felt an awful lot like breaking a promise he never agreed to make, and that just didn't sit well with him. He would have preferred it if Carbine were looking up at him with an expression that promised him a bloody end if he screwed this up, not with too-bright optics that gave him far more credit than he felt he deserved.
Smirking in what he hoped to Primus was a reassuring manner, he adjusted his hold on Carbine's waist, tilting the other mech so he was back upon his feet. He kept his arm wrapped firmly around his middle, his fingers gripping tight to ensure his hold on the other mech was secure.
::Come on:: He signed, with his free hand. ::We're either gonna go out with a bang, or make one helluva dramatic entrance. Either way, we're gonna scare the slag out of some natives, so try to enjoy yourself::
Carbine let out a pop of static, the sound still stressed, but there was a bit of a laugh in there, the half panels of his face that permitted him to make emotion pulling back ever so slightly into an unseen smile behind his mask. His optics lessened from their perfectly circular shape, the ghostly glow of them through the riot visor shifting down to look at the Earth once again.
::Don't let me die like this, at least say I said something badass::
He mused this in a sort of last joke in the sign language, unable to come up with anything actually clever, before everything changed again. Before he knew what was happening, he was falling towards the earth freely, the shuttle roaring off in its own trajectory. Carbine's arms flared out on either side, and he instantly regretted everything about this. Thundercloud hadn't given him time to have second thoughts before launching them both out of the burning ship, nor did he give him a warning before he released his hold on the other mech and gave him a hard shove upward, so he could transform without banging him up on his own moving parts in the process. The ex-cop looked down as Thunder changed shape, the multiple chunks of armor and hinges snapping and curling into new positions before the Cybertronian jet took form.
This was his chance... this was his moment, he had to get this right!
Forcing his processor to lock into the target, he threw his hands down and forward, Thunder's newly formed wings giving enough drag to make his descent slower, so Carbine had no issues in 'catching up'. In fact? The difference in speed was somewhat... an issue, as there was a hard THWACK as his chest collided with the broad paneled wing. The impact knocked the air out of his vents, and he let out a ghastly wheeze to display how much it had hurt. But despite this, long slender fingers clutched and scrambled to try to find purchase, but the hit? Had disabled him just barely too long.
Clearly, neither of them had really thought this plan out very far. Granted, they hadn't had much time to think about it in the first place, but still, a little more forethought might have been able to save them an awful lot of grief in the long run. Or maybe it couldn't, there was no way of finding out so there was really no use in dwelling on should'ves and could'ves. The moment Carbine landed upon his wing with a hard thud and struggled to gain purchase, Thundercloud knew their plan was not going to work. Like Carbine, he felt himself instantly regretting the decision, and what's more he damned himself for making it in the first place. They were out of the burning shuttle, which was spiraling erratically towards the strangely white ground, so at the very least they wouldn't go up in flames when it inevitably crashed, but that still left them with the problem of trying to not crash themselves.
Carbine's fingertips snapped down shy of the wing's edge, which left him very little to actually grab. He didn't WANT to hurt Thunder, but in his panic and fear? He dug his hands down as hard as he could, and at one point the fingertips wrenched into a seam causing the edge of the wing's plate to buckle and the joint of his arms to almost rip out as the momentum of Thunder's speed suddenly was transferred to his frame. But while he seemed to be in the clear? The amount of G-forces involved on a jet was immense, and even if Thunder tried to go as slow as possible? It was just too much.
The ex-cop's frame broke off, sending him spiraling in the jet's wake. His arms flared out on either side, and his back thrusters activating with hard pulses, trying to find something to bounce its magnetic capabilities against to stabilize. But it was all pointless, as he was in an uncontrollable spiral down towards the ground; a ground that was growing exceptionally near.
Cursing himself, Primus, their situation, and his own inability to make sharp turns, Thundercloud took far longer than he wanted to in order to turn around and fly back towards his fallen companion, who at that point was letting out the most horrendous sounds of distress and fear. There was no time to try and coast beneath the other mech to give him the chance to grab hold of him once again, and even if there was, Thundercloud wouldn't want to take the risk - not when the first try went the way it did. Instead, he decided to make one final Bad Decision to finish off the long string of Bad Decisions he had made within the past ten kliks, because at that point, he figured he didn't really have much to lose. Things were as bad as they were going to get (or so he hoped) and he doubted his next action (which was, by his own admission, completely idiotic) could possibly make things worse.
But hey, he had been proven wrong before.
The Cybertronian Jet swooped down, angled at a lower elevation than Carbine, before hooking up sharply towards him at an incline, Transforming once more. He snatched the smaller mech out of the air, transferring the previous momentum to start to slow them. His field crackled with both apology and acknowledgement that this was quite possibly the stupidest idea he had ever had in his life, before wrapping his arms around the ex-enforcer, locking him down against his chest as he fired the thrusters in his heels on full blast. He was attempting to slow their rapid descent as much as possible before they inevitably crashed. He couldn't fly with those things, not in his root-mode, he couldn't even hover with them if he were standing flat on the ground, but they helped slow their plummet down to Earth to something less...well, mind-breakingly terrifying.
When Carbine was grabbed onto, and the flickering spiral of sky and earth that had been flip-booking in his optics halted, he let out a wheezed burst of static, wishing beyond all else he could actually communicate. Oh, the things he could say in this moment. Perhaps a question of what the frag was surging through Thunder's glitched out processor to think this was a good idea? Perhaps he would inquire what he was doing not being in a Jet form? Maybe he would have felt compelled to tell Thunder to frag off and kick him away so he COULD go into a jet form and save himself? Or maybe he would manage to spur his panic laced mind into gear enough to make one last cocky statement they both could crash to and die with a laugh. But no... no... all he did was let out squealing pops of unintelligible noises, fingertips clutching onto Thunder's chest as if he was a child seeking comfort. It was not his most dignified moment, and if they survived? He would pay for it.
There was no way Thundercloud would ever let him live it down.
...Assuming he ever got the chance.
Thundercloud could only hope their descent had been slowed enough to prevent them from becoming their own miniature scrap heap upon landing, and he knew all too well that hoping did jack-all towards making things actually happen. There just... wasn't much else he could do. Well, other than one thing. Something he was sure Carbine would never forgive him for.
It wasn't a hard decision to make, really. The thought of pissing off Carbine had never stopped him from doing anything before, and it sure as hell wasn't going to now. Knowing full well he was going to be met with protest, Thunder gripped Carbine more tightly, pinning the smaller mech's arms at his sides as he spun them both around, turning his back towards the rapidly-approaching ground.
Carbine realized what was happening immediately; the blunt helmed sonofaglitch was going to try to brace the fall, and take the brunt of the impact for him. This prompted another garble of nonsense, the word short, likely a 'NO' as optics were round in despair. Beneath the shielding visor? He truly looked broken, pure terror unhinged and unrestrained lacing through his remaining faceplate, optics locked onto Thunders, only to shift and peer over the jet's shoulder to see the rapidly approaching ground. His field pulled back flush against him, as energon lines ran cold, eyes widening as one final scream ripped out.
By contrast, Thundercloud was remarkably calm, expression unperturbed. He had accepted the terrifying circumstances they found themselves in, and chose not to be bothered by it. He was built to take hard hits. Carbine, not so much. If they were gonna hit the dirt, the least he could do was soften the blow, especially since (in his mind) this was all his fault anyway. Besides, it wasn't like he'd never fallen out of a ship before--granted, he'd never actually crashed into the ground before because, hello, flying, but still...
How bad could it be?