We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Right, Hot Rod could remember those types of things alright- and honestly, it was usually everyone else enjoying that sort of thing at his expense. There were no such things as what Bee was talking about, at least not that he experienced. He only offered a scoff, then lowered his gaze to the floor as they continued on. Bumblebee must have been the popular kid in school if he knew how to experience any or all of those three things.
Hot Rod didn't find being set up by the others in his class as a memory he would really want to look back on and smile- unless they were all dead and buried at this point, and he was still here and alive. THEN he would smile, cause the joke would be on those assholes.
The more Bee went on, the more he reminded him of some of those more condescending ones and he flinched some. His annoyance level was rising, and from the tone the other mech was using? So was his. The talk of brooms and janitors seemed to just drive that point home. The more that the days went on, the less he found himself really feeling like this was a place to call home, and no one here was really giving him that 'friendo' or 'family' vibe. Again, he was just the outcast, but there was nothing atypical about that.
Hands folded together behind his head.
"I thought you were bored and wanted to spar? If you're just gonna turn this into a 'how to sweep a corner' show and tell, I'll happily return to my little corner and continue picking out paint colors."
Keeping his gaze straight ahead, the flinch from the other mech went unnoticed. He couldn’t tell that Hot Rod was getting annoyed, though the lack of responses to what he was saying was evident that something was wrong.
He wasn’t really sure what to do. Knowing that Hot Rod didn’t really help much around the base had weirdly hit a nerve with him - and he wondered if Optimus or Ratchet was aware of it.
Not that he’d snitch, but… everyone had to contribute. Especially here on Earth where their numbers were so few and every single one of them mattered.
Opting not to go into one of the mentioned storage rooms to try and be helpful and show Hot Rod where a broom was, he instead started heading toward one of the training rooms.
A gentle huff escaped him as Hot Rod spoke, and it was then he would turn to look over his shoulder once more as he made his way into the empty room.
--Nah, nah, you ain’t going back to your corner.--
This guy really was something, and while Bee had initially given him the benefit of the doubt since he was a newer arrival to the base, his attitude had only gotten worse since they’d started talking.
--Please tell me you’ve sparred before…--
How to sweep a corner show and tell he would not do, smacking some sense into Hot Rod? Well, maybe…
The air around the little yellow bug-themed mech had changed, that was for sure. Tension ran rampart and thickened up enough to cut with a knife. He knew that he'd said something that had shook his plating and crawled in nice and deep where it found a place to root in and settle. He stared at the back of his head for a while, not saying anything as the two of them just carried on to wherever it was he was taking him.
He had half expected for him to go through with his threat of showing him where and what a broom was, as well as to have him scrub the deck or whatever it was they called it here. There was a bit of relief when he didn't, but the day was still young.
Optics shifted and a blink came to him as he reacted to Bee looking at him again and addressed him directly. Okay, so at least he wasn't being sent to a corner- his, or time out.
"I mean, I have... yeah."
If you could call what he'd been through sparring, exactly, but he had a feeling Bee didn't really care about the details about it, just as long as Hot Rod was at least somewhat aware of whatever it was he was about to put him through.
Bee was trying to sound a bit more chipper with his reply. He didn’t really know Hot Rod too well, and the tension had become pretty awkward to the point he wasn’t quite sure how to rectify it. Some people liked random jokes, others were more content to bask in the uncomfortable air.
Bee liked to talk. Try to push through the awkward with conversation, even if it felt a little forced at times. He didn’t want this to be looked back upon as a ‘bad memory’ for Hot Rod, the other mech seemed to be a little aloof and… well, everyone needed friends here at base!
--Basic rules tho, just in case it’s been a while - obviously we ain’t in this to kill or hurt one another legit. No weapons either, juuuuust fists. I’ll try to hold back my punches a bit, but just in case, you are okay with taking a hit, right?--
While he normally tried to taper his movements some in a sparring environment, he knew that sometimes it was hard to do so. It didn’t feel natural, and if not done properly? Could actually cause harm.
--Or I mean, we can totally just not hold back. Up to you though!--
Shaking his arms out, he made his way further into the room - one servo smacking the wall by the door to activate the light that blinked a few times before powering on in full, illuminating the spacious area with yellow lighting and the annoying, gentle hum that came with fluorescent bulbs.
The dark room was awkward for him, considering he wasn't exactly one to go unnoticed- and it wasn't cause of his good looks. The thin spaces in his plates and the odd glow lamp effect going on at his abdomen lit him up like a poorly decorated Christmas tree. Good thing heat sensors weren't a thing here.
They weren't, right?
Hot Rod looked up just in time to see the lights flicker on and raised an arm up to shield his optics so he could see what was going on overhead. The glow was nice, which oddly caught onto his various own biolights to make them glow brighter, almost as if absorbing them into his own frame. He was so used the drab colors around the base that this space just seemed to blend in with the regular. Still...
"Well, that's annoying," he said in regards to the hum that his audials picked up. Slowly he lowered his arm and looke at Bee, trying to figure out what the other mech was doing.
"I mean, I guess punches are okay? Not that we have much of a choice, since I don't think anyone would be happy about us blasting holes through walls. I don't want to think of that repair bill... or the thought of either of us having to be the ones doing said patch work." Not that he really knew that much hand-to-hand to begin with. "-Also, just as long as you don't mess up my faceplate. I doubt your medics have the tools here to repair it to it's current level of perfection."
Turning to look at Hot Rod as he spoke, Bumblebee could only tilt his helm in confusion at the comment. Annoying? Huh? It took him a second to realize just what was annoying, and his gaze would shift upwards at the offending lights.
--Oh! The lights? I mean, yeah - I guess. These ones hum a little louder than the rest I think, probably because we don’t use this room much. All the lights in the base do it, though, ya just probably tuned all the other ones out.--
When he was laying on his berth in the quiet of his quarters, he could hear it - but only if he tried to hear it. It was just one of those noises that blended into the background now, to the point he never really noticed it.
It’d probably be super noticeable if it wasn’t there, though.
--I’m sure you’ll tune these ones out before long, too!-- he added, helpfully. Once they were sparring, the gentle hum of fluorescent bulbs probably wouldn’t be able to be heard, to the point he wasn’t sure why the mech had even commented on them to begin with.
Stalling, perhaps, because he didn’t want to spar?
Moving toward the middle of the room - so they could utilize the space itself - he would listen as Hot Rod spoke, nodding occasionally to show that he was indeed listening, even if he wasn’t facing the other mech.
--Patching the walls ain't so bad. I put some holes in the walls upstairs, uh- they’re all fixed now. Wouldn’t even know they’d been damaged!-- he wasn’t sure why he was oversharing, especially something he’d rather forget even happened to begin with, but ah well.
--As for messing up your faceplate, fine, as long as you don’t mess up mine!--
He wasn’t vain like Hot Rod, but if there were certain rules for him, then the other mech should abide by those same rules. It was only fair, right?
--Now get over here so we can start!-- a gentle, beepy tease.
Hot Rod just stared at those lights, momentarily fixated on them. He recalled the lights in the room that greeted him when he onlined all that time ago, fresh optics trying to adjust to the new brightness around him.
And the buzzing from that room, specifically those lights.
Nyon...
The distraction was long enough to miss the initial bit of Bee's words. He came back at the tail end of something being damaged, but he didn't really know what he was talking about. Was Bee threatening to damage his face afterall? But then he countered with the new statement and so it threw Hot Rod for a whole loop he didn't really want to circle again.
"Uh.. okay?" Hot Rod wasn't so sure about what 'start' meant to be honest. He made his way over and just stood there, lookig about as awkward as he felt. Was he supposed to throw a punch? He'd already been told they weren't supposed to use weapons, so his usual option of distance shooting and fleeing was pretty much out the window. Made sense, probably wouldn't be very good to install an skylight in a secret base.
He casually held up his hands and closed his digits together so they were two balled fists, but looked at them like they were completely foreign entities to him. Here was to hoping he didn't end up on his back on the floor.
Not that it really mattered. As long as he got the gist of what was going on - in that this was a friendly spar - it was probably all good. Should he start to play dirty, though, Bumblebee knew he could probably put him in his place - and so he wasn’t too worried, all things considered.
As Hot Rod lifted his arms and curled his servos, Bee would do the same. The movement felt natural, and his demeanor showed as such - there was no tension in his frame, nor did he look at his servos. Instead, his attention was on the other mech, optics whirring softly as they took in the minute details of his opponent, namely his stance, how he seemed unsure, almost.
Had he ever actually been in a fight before?
By the looks of how awkward he looked, probably not - even though he’d said he had - so it was probably a good thing that they were sparring today, if only to give him some experience.
--Okay, we’ll start with some light hits I guess. If you feel like I’m kicking your aft, say Onion and we’ll stop to re-evaluate, okay?--
He didn’t want to spook the other mech, and giving him an ‘out’ was probably wise. While he wasn’t about to go crazy on Hot Rod, he did seem like a bit of a nervous opponent.
--Lets do this!--
That was all the warning that Hot Rod would be given before Bumblebee moved forwards quickly - keeping his right arm held up, he would jab out at the other mechs chassis with his left, aiming to catch him unawares and smack him despite the fact both his arms were up in some sort of attempt at defense.
Okay, at least they had a safe word. Safe words were good. This close combat stuff though? That was for the birds and the mechs built for it. Hot Rod, however, was neither of those things, which was made clearly evident when the first hit came from the advancing mech. Which hand was he supposed to be focused on? The right one? No, that one didn't seem to be doing anything that would even come close to him with any real danger.
Maybe it was actually meant to be a distraction?
The thunk to his chassis proved that to be true, but a little too late for him to see it, let alone do anything about it. The impact wasn't a hard one anyway, yet the sound was still odd for him to hear. It wasn't your typical metal-on-metal one, more like metal hitting something far more solid and heavy like concrete. He flinched, not from it actually hurting but from the fact a simple jab like that had actually made contact with so little effort. He was a shoot from a distance kind of mech- shots fired, run, disable from a distance- that kind of stuff.
This hand-to-hand stuff was definitely for the birds.
Hot Rod uncoiled his fingers and held them up in surrender. Was that the end of round one? Or had Bee just outright won their little sparring match? He wasn't sure how that worked.
"Uh, you win? Is the match done, or... actually, what do we do now?" Was it safe to lower his servos?
Last Edit: Jul 20, 2023 10:57:01 GMT -5 by Hot Rod: Ren wouldn't let me keep Hot Rod's name as Hot Ro. :(
The thunk of servo hitting chassis was… a little unexpected.
Wow, okay… Hot Rod didn’t even try to dodge, block, or do much of, uh, well… anything. How had this guy survived for as long as he had? To be fair, he didn’t know much about Hot Rod’s history - but surely he had some sort of fighting experience to the point he could handle a basic spar.
He’d made it this far, after all. Though, that could’ve all been luck - or maybe he had powerful friends or something. Ones who did all the fighting or acted as bodyguards.
Rolling his shoulders, Bee wouldn’t take his gaze off Hot Rod - optics whirring gently as he took a gentle step back away, arms held up in front of himself.
It was probably a good thing he hadn’t put his entire weight behind that punch, though if he had, maybe the other mech would realize that this was a spar and meant to be taken seriously.
Hence the ‘random’ word, should things go too far.
Tilting his helm in mild confusion as Hot Rod held up both servos, fingers splayed - he would vent out a sigh.
--Huh? What? No! No way! C’mon, try and hit me!--
He wouldn’t lower his guard, just on the off chance this passive display was a distraction in itself - it certainly wouldn’t be the first time someone had played dumb.
Usually when someone got a punch in that was the end of the fight, the victor would be named and the loser got shamed. He wasn't used to this being different from that, so hearing that it was supposed to continue threw him off for a moment. The fact that Bee was still standing there ready to go only made it that much more clear that that was exactly what they were going to be doing.
"Alright."
Shake it out.
Okay, he had this. All he had to do was copy what Bee had done and maybe he'd be able to score a hit the same way the fellow flashy bot had. He clenched his digits into a closed fist and copied the stance that Bee had taken the best he could. Both servos up, one by his face and the other slightly out front and pedes planted firmly to the ground much the same way. He waited for a moment, took a deep breath, then just...
... went for it.
He twisted his upper chassis to throw the punch from the fist that was closest to his face and stepped forward towards him, going for the same general area Bee had. Then, just as he was within range for either a hit or a block, Hot Rod pulled that punch and stopped the forward momentum to twist himself the opposite direction than he'd been just a moment ago, the opposite pede bringing him closer as he jerked the fist previously angled down with the motion of the first punch and jerked it upwards in a sideways uppercut aimed right for Bee's jaw.
Post by Bumblebee on Sept 13, 2023 23:20:47 GMT -5
It seemed as if Hot Rod was still unsure about this whole sparring thing, though at least he didn’t seem like he was about to give up and walk away after getting hit once. Bumblebee had patience for days, and was willing to try and help the other mech get more comfortable with the idea of sparring for fun - even if it would take a while.
Keeping his arms held up, with servos curled into loose fists, he watched the other mech. He wasn’t sure just how Hot Rod fought, nor what style of fighting he preferred. His own style relied mostly on his fists, in jabbing, fast punches akin to a boxer - quick on his feet, with an almost hyper-awareness should it be a true combat scenario.
This, however, was way more lax - and while he was focused on Hot Rod, he wasn’t too concerned about getting hurt.
As the other mech twisted and moved in, Bumblebee could tell in an instant which servo was going to be used to throw the punch - okay, Hot Rod had to work on his technique, any Decepticon worth their salt could see that coming from a mile away-
Wait!
Oh you tricky bastard. It was his own fault, he should’ve seen that coming - and as he moved to dodge the initial punch, there was a satisfying clank as Hot Rod’s other servo met jaw, with the yellow Autobot stumbling back a couple of staggered steps, servo moving to rub at his chin where he'd been smacked.
Whew, okay, that kinda hurt - maybe he should’ve specified no uppercuts, but hey! He’d done it!
--Yeah! Like that!-- he laughed, --See, you do know how to fight!-- he may have been caught by surprise by the initial hit, but he sounded proud in the aftermath. Maybe he was just off his game, but normally it took folks a little longer to get in a hit like that.
Taking a step forward to close the gap once more, he was quick to throw another punch before Hot Rod could get too cocky. Keeping his right arm held high near his faceplate, his left arm would swing around in a rear hook - aiming to jab at the side of Hot Rod’s helm, pivoting with his left pede as he moved to add a little extra ‘oomph’ should it make contact, though the force behind it was nowhere near his full strength. The other mech had said not to mess up his faceplate, but ehhh - the side of the head totally didn’t count, right?
Okay, that had thrown him off enough that he didn't even know how to respond. Honestly, Hot Rod was surprised he had even landed a hit, having startled himself when he'd heard the clank of it connecting with Bee's jaw enough that if not for the other saying anything he probably would have still been suck in that dumstruck awe that 'hey, I achieved something!' self thought. There wasn't any time to celebrate his first hit, let alone bask in the praise, because Bee was moving again. Damn that little scout was fast to recover!
He spotted the left hook coming for the side of his helm, the close quarters prevented him from being able to outright avoid it so he had to block it somehow. He knew how he would normally block a smack, but would that work for a hit like that? It didn't hurt to try- certainly would to stand around with a thumb up his aft, though. His processor told him to avoid that punch first, so that was his first concern. Getting Bee back and away from him would be the next thing if he had time, which was something he was running out of...
With his own left fist still up from the uppercut he had delivered only seconds before, the right arm was at least free to swing since it had already been in mid motion from the fake punch before. The arm moved diagonally in front of his face to try and connect with the forearm of the approaching arm of the fist to block most, if not all, of the possible impact. Hoping that Bee would have been predisposed on that hook and not paying attention to what was literally right in front of him, Hot Rod attempted to use the momentum of the slight twist from the blocking arm to thrust his shoulder forward towards the other's face.
Not that it would be much of a hit considering that arm was still being held up and they were in close quarters, but it still probably wouldn't feel too great to be hit by one of those protruding shoulder panels.
For someone who’d been so hesitant to actually get into this, the fact Hot Rod had landed an actual decent hit had pretty much made Bee’s day, which was a little strange now that he thought about it, but he was so weirdly proud of the other mech.
Maybe he was just excited to have someone around his own size to actually spar with for once. Sure Hot Rod was a little taller, but it was manageable. He’d trained with Optimus before, but due to the Prime being so much bigger to the point he towered over him, it’d been awkward - even if he’d learned a lot.
Keeping his optics on the other mech as he threw the left hook his way, Bumblebee took in minute details, and while it couldn’t be heard over the whir of moving parts and metal, his optics whirred as they moved minutely, watching for a counter or some sort of quick attack.
He saw Hot Rod’s right arm move, and while it made contact with his own punch to deflect it, Bumblebee was quick to twist and avoid the ram attack from the other mech’s shoulder with a sidestep. As he moved, his right arm would jab out quickly - aiming for the underside of Hot Rod’s helm - namely his chin. The other mech had said not to hit his face, buuuuut after taking a hit himself to the jaw? That little condition was pretty much off the table.
It wasn’t like he was hitting him very hard, as even despite the speed behind his attacks, he remained in full control of his movements.
Hot Rod never thought he'd actually be praised for landing a hit on someone, much less one in the face. They'd made the rule that there weren't supposed to be face shots and he'd broken it, unintentionally since it'd been rather in-the-moment and he'd taken the opportunity as an opening without really thinking. Was that was sparring was all about? Or just, close-combat fighting in general? Swinging at open spaces and hoping for a hit?
He'd followed through with his next swing, clanking hard with the metal of the other mech, and was already in the midst of the twist of his shoulder panel when the yellow bot made his own strike. It was at too odd of an angle for him to avoid it entirely without either jerking himself in some weird direction. Not that he had much time to think of a counter anyway.
CLANK.
So was the way of close-combat. Be quick, be aware, or be smacked around like a pinata. He'd gotten his hit in, it was only fair that Bee got his as well. Good on him. Hot Rod's helm jerked at a diagonal due to the direction of the punch and took a step back to steady himself, rubbing the spot with his servo once he'd steadied himself and straightened up.
"Nice shot. Guess first rule of being up close and personal with fighting is to think fast, huh?"