[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Juvenile Delinquency [Bumblebee]
May 13, 2022 23:34:36 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on May 13, 2022 23:34:36 GMT -5
Flying was not a pleasant activity to Carbine in any way shape or form. He was used to his thrusters, an even distribution of downforce or a magnetized push against the metal surface from multiple points... it let him adjust and vary speed or angle within a balanced system, rather than relying on simply one pivot that handled everything with a miniscule matching blade. A pitiful fragile element that was the only thing keeping him from turning into a spinning top and falling.
Flying in motion was bad.
Flying stationary was so much worse.
When progressing, he could work with variance and try to tweak it as he went. The rotor's angles twitching their pivots or a slight slow or speed up dependent on what was needed, even if that wasn't how he was MEANT to work the systems. It may be incredibly incorrect and he was hurting himself flying the way he was. Yet, he never got trained in anything, there wasn't another rotary he could approach to ask, and even if there was? He wouldn’t have sought it out due to pride. Alas, in the end, moving was easier, and now that he was being expected to hover to produce light? Well, it was awful.
Every issue, every wobble or unpleasant feeling that may pop up... it was amplified since he wasn’t focused on going forward, it was also made even worse since he knew his issues could become more apparent than when he was in motion should he wobble. He started second guessing how much to react to something, wondering if he was doing it too much, or too little, not knowing until already being fully committed to his choice where he had to try to figure out the proper corrective motion to fix the corrective motion... One may expect him to get better as time progressed, simply able to hold steady in one spot during idle weather that was not turbulent at all.
Yet, Carbine got inside his own head and made issues.
Ragged ventilations shifted through his systems beneath the roar of his rotors, a fear laced action that was only held slightly steady because he had to hold the light steady in turn. While it likely only took a few moments for the Scout to make it to the pinnacle of the rather stumpy platform of a 'mesa', it felt like an eternity to the ex-cop, the ending of the adventure eagerly taken the very second he was able.
Flying forward, Carbine would cleanly pass over the other two high enough to not assault Rafael with an excessive amount of wind and dirt. Some was going to happen, that simply was the nature of what he was, but there was nothing he could do about it. Once cleanly over to the opposite side of the flat surface, Carbine would start to lower down.
Unlike when he landed previously, he did not try to gently touch onto his wheels. He had no need to try to land properly so the human could board, nor did he have a want to try to show he was capable with his alt mode. Instead, he chose an option that could be seen as him being 'awesome', when in reality it was a frantic grab to let his peds strike earth once more as soon as possible.
Transforming mid air once he was low enough, many panels along the helicopters frame would rupture out quickly, the pivoting rotors hard-stopping with a crashing bang of a noise as a pin shot up to halt it entirely. It hurt, but it was worth it, transforming just in time for his legs to take shape and strike down onto the ground and break his fall. At this point however he wasn’t completely formed, the ending parts of his change taking place as Bolo's mount swung around through a split frame to hook through him and underneath the now fissured rotor posts.
Only a fraction of a moment later, the all too familiar sounds halted, and the black and white mech would ease fully into a stand, his torso stretching some as his spine panels clicked and locked into place from the pull. The last small settling of plates finished up, including his shoulder shields that clunked down to cap the joint’s wheel.
He didn’t speak, the duffel bag of fireworks clutched in his right hand.
Flying in motion was bad.
Flying stationary was so much worse.
When progressing, he could work with variance and try to tweak it as he went. The rotor's angles twitching their pivots or a slight slow or speed up dependent on what was needed, even if that wasn't how he was MEANT to work the systems. It may be incredibly incorrect and he was hurting himself flying the way he was. Yet, he never got trained in anything, there wasn't another rotary he could approach to ask, and even if there was? He wouldn’t have sought it out due to pride. Alas, in the end, moving was easier, and now that he was being expected to hover to produce light? Well, it was awful.
Every issue, every wobble or unpleasant feeling that may pop up... it was amplified since he wasn’t focused on going forward, it was also made even worse since he knew his issues could become more apparent than when he was in motion should he wobble. He started second guessing how much to react to something, wondering if he was doing it too much, or too little, not knowing until already being fully committed to his choice where he had to try to figure out the proper corrective motion to fix the corrective motion... One may expect him to get better as time progressed, simply able to hold steady in one spot during idle weather that was not turbulent at all.
Yet, Carbine got inside his own head and made issues.
Ragged ventilations shifted through his systems beneath the roar of his rotors, a fear laced action that was only held slightly steady because he had to hold the light steady in turn. While it likely only took a few moments for the Scout to make it to the pinnacle of the rather stumpy platform of a 'mesa', it felt like an eternity to the ex-cop, the ending of the adventure eagerly taken the very second he was able.
Flying forward, Carbine would cleanly pass over the other two high enough to not assault Rafael with an excessive amount of wind and dirt. Some was going to happen, that simply was the nature of what he was, but there was nothing he could do about it. Once cleanly over to the opposite side of the flat surface, Carbine would start to lower down.
Unlike when he landed previously, he did not try to gently touch onto his wheels. He had no need to try to land properly so the human could board, nor did he have a want to try to show he was capable with his alt mode. Instead, he chose an option that could be seen as him being 'awesome', when in reality it was a frantic grab to let his peds strike earth once more as soon as possible.
Transforming mid air once he was low enough, many panels along the helicopters frame would rupture out quickly, the pivoting rotors hard-stopping with a crashing bang of a noise as a pin shot up to halt it entirely. It hurt, but it was worth it, transforming just in time for his legs to take shape and strike down onto the ground and break his fall. At this point however he wasn’t completely formed, the ending parts of his change taking place as Bolo's mount swung around through a split frame to hook through him and underneath the now fissured rotor posts.
Only a fraction of a moment later, the all too familiar sounds halted, and the black and white mech would ease fully into a stand, his torso stretching some as his spine panels clicked and locked into place from the pull. The last small settling of plates finished up, including his shoulder shields that clunked down to cap the joint’s wheel.
He didn’t speak, the duffel bag of fireworks clutched in his right hand.