[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Leading the Way [Closed]

[Carbine]

Modifications?

"Nothin' like that. I d-don't really know ͘hów ͝to d͟o͟ ̵aņything, and it wasn't s-som-ething I could go down to the store to get."

It was also not something he would want to trust someone else with.

Carbine already felt issues enough when Bolo got hurt and needed medical care. It was stressful for them both, a level of worry profoundly high for someone he cared about, compounded with a real fear that things could go bad given just about no doctor seemed to know how to deal with an animal any longer. A dog couldn't be reasoned with, and when something hurt they often wanted to lash and bite at whatever hurt him which was a real concern. Muzzling or sedating was often a consideration, and in the worst cases restraint needed to be put into play so that he didn’t hurt himself or others. It was borderline traumatic, and the fear and anxiety felt bled over and even made Carbine want to retaliate and punch the poor doctor who was only trying to help. Thankfully Bolo hadn't needed intensive care yet on Earth, at least not anything that a little minor repair and rest couldn't fix.

Alas, it was not a discussion he would go into, especially as a new topic slammed front and center.

"Oof..."

He had expected there to be something, ANYTHING, that he could work with in regard to Bumblebee’s project. Perhaps a more apparent rough outline of the track with only a few rocks that strayed away, maybe a real cobbled-together mash of a shape to create the target practice dummies, however, it looked as though someone had driven across it all numerous times, and had kicked down the targets into a brambled mess of bits and pieces. Nope. He didn't even get that, it as though Bumblebee had opened a new plot of land and wanted them to start from scratch, which he didn't even know how to do given how daunting it seemed.

"Is th-there, uhh, something to help ind̛i̷cat̷e ̧th͝e path? I don't even know h-how to app͝ro̕ach this..."

A sort of awkward flick of the hand was cast out, the inner edges of Carbine's optical projections seeming to scrunch as a sort of concerned look of confusion.

"I guess I c-̢c-̸t̕c̛h-͟c̕an see where the b-bramble and cacti have b̶ee͘n c̡lear͏e͢d..."

Oh, that was something! The more he looked the more such a clue somewhat jumped out. While some dry grasses and the start of new sage clusters sporadically popped up, their small size in contrast to their full-size counterparts created an odd little path. With this new perspective, he started to get a bead on how big the turns were, though some parts just seemed to vanish into nothingness.

Nestled beneath the confusion of it all, there was a little envy and frustration felt that he would be unable to even try the course if they did clean it up and make something of interest. He missed his original Altmode so badly that it was almost painful. The ability to coast over all the useless stones and brush so long as they weren’t too tall... The whirling kick of the thrusters striking the earth to pull off sharp turns that could be difficult to those who relied upon wheels to guide them...

He missed what he was.

He couldn't be himself.

He was being forced into a mold in more ways than one.

Carbine continued to eye the land, certainly feeling the weight of the job in front of them as his rotors sagged, while Bolo simply leaned into the scratches, happy and ignorant.

[Bumblebee]

"-and it wasn't s-som-ething I could go down to the store to get."

--That’s fair! I guess I don’t really understand how it all works. Or, uh, worked.--

He’d been sparked during the war, and so wasn’t really privy to how or what things were like before everything went to absolute slag. Since Carbine had been a cop, he kind of assumed - or maybe it was just his overactive imagination after watching too many cartoons - that it was something simple, like putting in an order somewhere, and boom! Parts were delivered for upgrades.

It’d be cool if stuff had worked like that, though of course, it’d have the downside of things possibly falling into the hands of those who would use the upgrades for bad things - a black market kind of thing.

Though there probably was something like that out there at one point, he realized.

Maybe it would’ve been useful in working with what currently lay before them, which was to say… absolutely nothing. How great it’d be to put in an order somewhere to have training dummies that could withstand Cybertronian attacks brought in, or things to help with actual races on the beaten up track.

But instead, there was nothing - he had to build them out of scrap wood, leaving any metals for the actual dummies back at base.

The quiet ‘Oof’ from Carbine pulled him back into reality and the fact that no, he couldn’t just cheat by ordering a million cool things online. Shifting his weight, a gentle whir sounded as his optics refocused some. The more he looked, the more embarrassed he felt about this entire thing - though, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He knew the place was barren, he knew he had to put some effort into making it into what he imagined it to be.

He did expect something to be left, though, to show that at one point he had cared about this place. He still did, but… with everything going on it wasn’t a priority.

Venting out a beepy, rumbled sigh, he’d shrug.

--Uhh, I mean, the rocks around the edge there are sort of… where the track was. Part of it. I never did finish laying them out.-- a servo would move to rub the back of his neck as he glanced up at Carbine, other servo still affectionately petting Bolo as the canine leaned into his touch. He didn’t notice the other mech’s rotors sag, though probably wouldn’t have drawn attention to it, even if he did.

--Go figure, right? We live basically in the middle of nowhere, but decent rocks are super hard to find. Maybe I overestimated myself here a little bit. But hey! One day. One day I’ll have a cool place to hang out, and even though you’re not exactly a grounder and can’t race, you can totally hang out here too! Uh, if you want to, anyway.--

Carbine was probably a little above him in the coolness factor, and he knew in the eyes of most he was seen as a child. A capable one, of course, but it was these moments of downtime when he could probably seem immature to the majority.

--It’d be cool if you did. But no pressure! Obviously I need to… y’know, build something first. But… one step at a time, yeah?--

Now he knew what he was actually working with here - which was to say, wasn’t much at all - he realized he had his work cut out for him.

[Carbine]

"-and even though you’re not exactly a grounder and can’t race, you can totally hang out here too!"

Behind his visor, Carbine's upper lip flicked some. He wasn't angry at the sentiment... no... Bumblebee was trying to be kind with an effort made to include him in things, yet at the end of the day it was another strike against an already raw wound. The theme of his personal hatred had shown up a couple of times already during their interactions, the most notable being when he ripped his own rotor earlier this very day in a borderline panic and rage-riddled protest. He could note the lopsided light feeling in the post, the small bracket where the plate had been flicking ever so slightly. The action could be easy to miss given its lack of being attached to the larger piece, but it was there, moving in tandem with an angered expression that was thankfully hidden.

Trying to reign his flash of frustration in and channel it into action, Carbine wove his thumbs together and pushed his arms up and back, the plating on his spine flaring slightly as he stretched out the mechanics of it and his shoulder joints. A slight crackle sounded that was sourced from his voice rather than his frame before his arms dropped back down towards his sides.

He needed to try to keep it under control, as Bumblebee didn't deserve backlash because he was in a bad emotional place. While he wasn't a 'kid', the yellow mech was novice and stupid enough still that he probably wasn't thinking about how his words may hit even with their earlier discussions around the matter. After all, he was thinking this place could be awesome, or had once been awesome, which spoke much right then and there.

Bolo did not move away from the scratches, though he let out a low grumble when Carbine moved.

"Yeahhh... one step at a t̨i̴me͘ ̕a͘lright."

What could he say? This was an absolute mess. He had hoped it would be simple enough. Kick some bramble and clear some shrubs. Perhaps trench out some dirt at spots to nestle rocks into so they didn't get displaced in one of the monsoons that cut through desert landscapes. This was not the case. While such things still needed to be accomplished, it was then paired with the actual mapping of the course itself, a task that he didn't even know how Bumblebee did the first time. It was one thing to walk a path, it was another to race, and a turn that may seem good could be far too abrupt in actual play.

Not his problem.

Since he couldn't fucking drive anyway.

"Hoẁ d͜i̴d... you start b-b-efore? Like..."

Carbine's hand tossed out and gestured with a flicking motion, panning horizontally in a vague gesture to indicate the entire open area as a collective. This acted as the closure to his previous question, as how could he truly articulate it without possibly being insulting? He was trying to be good, rather than write it off as a loss to find somewhere better. That said, starting over from scratch itself may just be the best idea, though everything was brown, brown, brown, some dusted green, and browner. They needed an area with grasses or who knows what that could help create definition. Maybe taller plants or trees that would act as a track frame so someone couldn't go outside the lines without crashing.

Then a thought hit him.

"Don't hu̵ma̕ńś hav͟e these sorts of things?"

Bumblebee knew far more about this world than he did, so he wasn’t sure if there was a place people could go to on a weekend to race, or if it was something else altogether. Maybe it was illegal, not that he knew, because once more... he couldn't participate.

[Bumblebee]

Unaware that he’d unintentionally hurt Carbine’s feelings, Bumblebee’s attention shifted once more to the sad remains of the racetrack. Being able to turn this into somewhere that Autobots could hang out outside of the base would be really cool. He’d raced here exactly once with Jazz, only for that to be derailed by a cat - and even if it’d only been super short lived, it showed just what could be done here.

It’d probably have to be something low key, though. With MECH being a thing and the Decepticons an ever-present threat, with Omega One being so close they’d have to be super careful.

Only at the sound of a gentle crackle did Bee’s attention shift back to Carbine, and he’d offer the other mech a gentle bob of his helm in lieu of a smile.

--I guess you’re right, yeah. No point in getting a hundred steps ahead of myself when uh, things look like this…-- a half gesture was given to the space in front of them both.

Shifting his weight at the sort of question, a beepy hum left him.

--Well, when I started… it was just the five of us. Six if you count Cliffjumper. I wasn’t involved in a lot of the human talks with Fowler, since…-- a squared digit would raise to his throat, not that it was probably needed. --So I had time to kill. We didn’t really have the training room set up back then, the space was there of course but I thought it’d be used as nothing but storage - and even then it’s not like we could drive around in there. So I came out here. It was hard work!-- he beepily laughed, shaking his helm as his gaze shifted back to the track.

--I cobbled together stuff out of wood and tape. Drove around the track probably three hundred times to try and imprint it into the dirt. I’d probably do it differently next time, the sun here is merciless, and obviously with the desert storms and the sand its a little rough.--

He liked the challenge, and it’d been a good way to spend the time when everyone else had been in meetings. Arriving on Earth hadn’t been as simple as crash landing and calling it good - Optimus had talks with Fowler and the military, and while he wasn’t aware of a lot of what went on, it sounded pretty in-depth. They were technically aliens after all, and humans weren’t exactly ready to admit that.

--Humans do have these kinds of things, yeah - race tracks and stuff like that. But keeping a low profile means it’s probably better not to visit them, y’know? Especially with our altmodes!-- he chirped. 

--All it takes is someone getting a little too interested in one of us and it’s game over for everyone.--

Venting out a gentle sigh, he shook his helm.

--It’s gonna take a lot of work. Like a lot, but… we have all this space, might as well use some of it y’know? Ain’t like anyone ever comes up this way, and it’s nice to have somewhere that's not in the base to hang out.--

He loved the base. He did. It was their home away from home, somewhere safe - but it was just so… boring, and while it didn’t feel claustrophobic even with all the newer arrivals to Earth, there were times that it just felt too loud and he needed to get away for just a little bit.

--In saying that, after everything that went on with uh, y’know, you being put in the brig and stuff, if you ever wanna just chill here you can. It’s pretty nice, especially at night - even if it doesn’t look like much!--

[Carbine]

What... What was Bumblebee going on about?

As the Scout started to detail what it was like on this world at the onset of their arrival, Carbine slowly turned his helm from the area they had to work with in order to stare down at the other mech. He didn't understand where this story was coming from, since he felt the question that he had asked was more than obvious and didn't warrant a tangent. It made him second guess if he had said it right, or if his glitch had gotten bad enough a moment that what noise had been made was translated wrong. This caused the inner corners of his optical projections to furrow down, a moderately displeased look as he didn't really ask for a history lesson, his patience already thinned simply by the nature of this excursion. It could only go so far after he had been unintentionally jabbed about his Alt more than a couple of times, making him rather sensitive to things going wrong.

Even though it was merely a statement or three, it felt like an eternity to his antsy mind.

Carbine's gaze lifted and looked forward once again, letting out a lower sound as Bumblebee continued his rambled thoughts to show that he was actually paying attention, though a sort of crackled 'tsk' flicked when his idea about the race track was challenged. He didn't find the excuse at all valid, though he didn't know how any of that really panned out. Perhaps on Earth there were a lot more hoops than Cybertron to actually get onto a closed course to cut free. He couldn't look into it himself due to being no longer able to read, and even if he could? Well... it was of no interest, because... you know...

No fucking Hovercar mode.

"Wouldn't s-some fan͠cy muscle car b-͞be ĘX̴PE͘C̕T͘ED there?"

This question popped out almost with a spat, expressing his disbelief that Bumblebee's altmode was seemingly being used as an excuse for it.

"It'd stand o͟u̕t if̛ you were some minivan w͠a̢nt̵-ti̷ng to rock the course."

THAT was where it may get weird, he thought, as those who wanted to flex tended to be those who could do so enough to compare to one another in order to bloat egos. Those who simply were unable to get to speed would likely not want to put themselves under such a spotlight, lest they embarrass themselves in front of others. Bumblebee had no reason to be self-conscious about what his alt could do, and it just added to his confusion on that factor. If he wasn't even a super unique model, he could always bridge to some other part of the world to have a 'sprint' at some point or another.

When the topic shift occurred, Carbine was starting to compile what he thought would be a potentially clever idea, only for his incarceration to be brought up, and it rubbed his raw nerves wrong to a point he couldn't continue to swallow it.

"Can we st-stop ment͜iòn̴ing me b-being locked up and my da̧m̕n ̧ąlt?"

This was almost hissed, Carbine fed up. While none of it had been a profoundly front-and-center discussion once things were going, he was feeling really sensitive and he thought he had done quite well not getting hostile sooner than he had. Truly, the environment going forward could be a minefield in a way due to the nature of what it was meant to be, and the fact they were legitimatly dancing around a sensitive topic. After this was thrown out there, he didn't wait around for anything to be said back, quickly following through with the idea he had with the hope that Bumblebee wouldn't make any deal about it. The last thing he wanted was a pitiful 'I'm sorry' or other passive childish crap that would only irritate him.

"To m-m-ark the path, you probab̢l̀y ̛wa͠nt ̢to̴ drag a chain. Tie some-thing chunky to rip up ev͟e̛r̨ything."

He didn't exactly know WHAT would be the best thing to serve this role, maybe some bent up and bound together rebar into a spike ball shape could work. Perhaps something just heavy like scrap metals themselves. Sure the runt couldn’t really bank corners or map out a path at speed, but at least it would only need to be a couple of passes other than the 'three hundred times' that had been declared earlier.

"I'm su̢re ͏Ome͞ga has c̢rap̢ that'd leave s-some t-trenches behind."

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee, unfortunately, hadn’t noticed Carbine staring him down as he began speaking, and if he did? He didn’t take it as any sort of hint to shut up and stop talking. It felt kind of nice to explain things a little bit - even just for himself - to get his own thoughts in order and realize just how far he’d come with this whole thing, even if right now it didn’t look like much of anything at all.

At one point though it had, and just because it’d fallen by the wayside with everything going on around Omega One lately? Didn’t mean it had to stay this way.

The noise the other mech made indicated he was at least listening, hence why he didn’t stop - though at the crackled ‘tsk’ he did cast a more attentive look in Carbine’s direction.

--Well yeah, I mean… yes. Technically. But we aren’t exactly allowed to race - not even somewhere like that, probably. Been there done that, got in trouble…--

That’d only been because Knock Out had happened to rock up at the same time and recognize him to the point a random human had been put in danger, and while the chance of that happening again was probably slim? He didn’t want to bring any sort of bad luck to the Autobots - not with Ratchet the way he was.

Glancing out over the track, a quiet, venty sigh escaped him - before the hissed words that sounded more annoyed than anything else caught his attention. Optics whirring quietly as he frowned, he nodded as his gaze shifted back to Carbine.

A hesitant beep started as he went to reply to the irritated words - the beginning of a word that didn’t quite form into anything before Carbine continued.

He did want to say sorry. He hadn’t even realized he’d hit a nerve, though thinking back the constant reminders, even if they weren’t malicious jabs, probably got real old real fast - and a mental note was made to try and catch himself before mentioning either thing again.

He wanted Carbine to have a place to escape to as well - and other fliers of course - and that was really hard, given they couldn’t exactly race around the track like a grounder could. Bolo loved to run, so maybe he could work toward some sort of path for races on foot. Seeing the cassette run around had been great, and having an open area that was safe would be beneficial indeed.

Primus knew they all needed it sometimes. Omega One was oppressively dull at times - and this place was close enough that they could get back fast should they ever be needed in an instant.

Awkwardly humming to trail off the beep before Carbine could catch on that he was going to apologize, he nodded again at the other mech’s words.

--A chain? That’s a pretty smart idea. I just drove around in circles before until there was some sort of obvious track.-- a servo moved to rub at the back of his neck as he beepily laughed. --It’s probably why there’s no real trace of it now aside from a few rocks.--

Lowering his arm, he would again resume idly scratching the top of Bolo’s helm - humming quietly in thought.

--Gives me stuff to think about at least. Sorry I brought you somewhere so lame - Did you wanna do anything else while we’re out here?-- he chirped. --Walk around, run again? Talk ‘bout stuff? I don’t think anyone needs us back at Omega One but I know we’ve been out here for a while now.--

The last thing he wanted to do was get on Carbine’s nerves - he already felt awkward enough for making them detour to this spot for a whole lot of nothing - and so if the other mech wanted to head back inside, it was totally cool with him.

[Carbine]

--Been there done that, got in trouble…--

The Golden Child? In trouble? This caught Carbine's attention more than the previous discussions combined, the top of one optical projection hooking high as he eyed the other mech. It was hard to imagine just how the runt could get heat for just racing unless he was too good or pulled some maneuver a human car was incapable of. Maybe something weird went down with his Holoform? That would be a really large taboo to never break, one that he didn't really have to look out for. If someone happened to have a camera with good zoom capabilities and a steady hand ready to go in the one time that he flew over humanity with the lighting point perfect to permit sight inside and he didn’t have the holo running?... Props to them. They earned that shot and could plaster it on whatever little conspiracy theory cryptid website they felt in his opinion.

Not that it ever mattered.

Carbine honestly couldn't recall if he had remembered to use the Holoform at that moment, as he was too occupied having a panic attack over the incident as a whole. Nothing negative came of it, nobody ever yelled at him, so he assumed something was done right or that he was lucky. But... Bumblebee? Maybe the runt had messed up. Or maybe he tried to speak and that went as well as to be expected. Then again, maybe the Holoform ran off something else since it wasn’t coming from his literal voice box?... No... his own voice was butchered in his Holoform still... though his issues were sourced through processor damages not hardware in the throat...

Blanking out a moment, Carbine got stuck trying to figure out the logic and functions of a system he had zero to no experience in understanding to the point that he somewhat lost track of the topic at hand. After a handful of beats, he snapped back, looking over at the Scout and Bolo, the latter of which, while having enjoyed the pets a great deal, was starting to look bored as the top of his helm was scratched again, one ear crooking.

Wanting something different, Bolo shifted the way he was sitting to lean hard against Bulblebee's side so much that it was almost as though he were trying to push him over, knowing it would get him attention. With this tactic used, his head would raise up to point his snout to the sky with a grumble, silently demanding the flares of his jaw or cables on his neck be scratched instead.

A faint snort of a partial laugh escaped Carbine at this, followed by a crackling sound that buzzed as he chewed over his words on just what to say next. While he could address Bolo, or the race track, and the advice that the next time Bee comes out, he should bring the chain or something else productive... but his thoughts were simply too consumed over gossip. He felt he had to know what happened, though he kept telling himself that it'd be something boring and stupid and he was setting himself up for disappointment.

--Sorry I brought you somewhere so lame--

"Kk͞tchh̨ ̴th͘ ̕j͘-j͞us͠t nothing out h-here."

This was tossed back, as there really wasn't anything left, before he quickly added on.

"What I w-want is̀ d͜o̴ tc̵h͝h̕ ́t́o to͟l̕d what th-the Golden Child did to get in t-trouble."

Carbine had raised his hand to point at Bumblebee, while the other was almost hooked into a claw shape with its palm facing towards himself, his words nearly hissed with a malicious sort of grin heard within it. It was like the focus of a shark that just smelt blood, everything else irrelevant in favor of a far more appetizing direction.

[Bumblebee]

With his attention mostly on the sparsity of the area in front of them, and just what he was going to do with the place, Bumblebee’s focus on the petting-Bolo-situation was unfortunately not really all there. Oh, he was scratching the top of the cassette's helm with plenty of love and care, but it was more of an afterthought without too much effort put into it.

It was only when the canine seemed to grow bored of this treatment and leaned into him that Bumblebee’s attention would shift down, if only to catch his balance before being toppled - and to wonder just what Bolo wanted.

Ah. Well, that explained much - and as the canine grumbled and shifted to address just where on his helm he wanted scratched, the yellow Scout would comply with a gentle, beepy laugh. Dutifully, his servo would move to the flaring on Bolo’s jaw, scritching it with far more effort than had been put in moments earlier.

Content with this for the moment, his gaze turned to Carbine at the crackled noise which indicated that he was probably about to speak, and despite this shift of his attention as he listened to the other mech, he would keep up his efforts on Bolo, making sure to occasionally angle his servo to scratch at the neck cabling as well.

Ah, scrap - he shouldn’t have said he got into trouble. Because it was really… anything but. A gentle reprimand, stern words not to do it again, and nothing more. He’d hardly been punished for it, and had probably beat himself up over the whole thing more than anyone else had.

Man, Carbine was going to think he was the lamest bot on the planet.

--Uh, well…--

He couldn’t even exactly lie either and make up some crazy story about running from the cops or being put in some sort of jail. Carbine could ask Jack if he was curious enough for further details, or any other Autobot who’d been there at the time.

--Trouble is probably a stretch...-- the servo that wasn’t scratching Bolo would raise to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. --I mean, it coulda been pretty bad! I got pulled into an illegal street race, right here in Jasper actually, and Knock Out - uh, the Decepticon CMO - was there. He kidnapped some random human thinking it was Jack.--

His beeps would taper off then, wanting to gauge Carbine’s reaction to the whole thing before he either ended the story with the lame truth about how nothing had happened, or spiced things up just a little with some elaborate but totally believable lie. He didn’t want the other mech to think he was a ‘golden child’ or a goodie-goodie, yet he wasn’t exactly making a good case for himself.

[Carbine]

While the push could be seen as either amusing or annoying, it had succeeded in its purpose of getting Bumblebee's attention, and for that, Bolo was quite happy indeed! Though... he would be much more if his wants were communicated right and resulted in a change of tactics. For a brief second, there was a worry that maybe it wouldn't work, a slender ear flicking slightly, though, that fear was quickly squashed as what had once been lazy absent-minded petting had started up again in earnest. The moment that the bottom edges of the canine's jaw and the cabling of his upper neck were rubbed and scratched at, a garbled sound almost croaked from deep in his throat into some odd song, it acting as a background noise to the discussion that was going on at the same time.

A discussion that didn't go according to plan.

Carbine had expected the story to be lame, even if he truly wished and quietly willed it to be something big! Yet this wasn't some awesome event or a lame-ass incident, it was a pathetic tale, one that was so sad it turned annoyingly unfair.

"Oh, that’s d̀um͜b."

Blunt as blunt could be, Carbine really couldn't believe Bumblebee got in trouble for something so idiotic.

"Just b-because some assho͜le plu͝ćked a human off the st-̧r̕eet, you got f̛u̧n banned?"

What would stop some Decepticon from grabbing a rando and saying it was Fowler that they had kidnapped? Would whoever picked up that transmission be blamed and in trouble for delivering the unfortunate news? It sounded like it was a bad place bad time sort of thing, which the higher-ups then needed someone to make into a punching bag so that they could make it look as though they were being proactive on the matter. It was a typical shitty leadership trait, and it was annoying, to say the least, to see that it permeated so far that even the innocent runt before him was slapped for pathetically small things.

Or... Bumblebee was too childish and thought a warning was a ban.

"You need to g-g-et back out there. If Knock ̢Òut̛ s͠how̢s? Just beat him b-bad enough̀ thát h̴e will be too embarrassed to appear again."

This was said boldly with a level of profound confidence that only Carbine, or those as rebellious, could hold on the matter, it paired with a flick of the hand through the air and a scoff. He didn't care if High Command was unhappy about the Scout having a little bit of fun. A small mistake on the part of someone else shouldn't be folded over onto the victim in equal parts. If anything, Bumblebee should go back out there to bait the CMO into a confrontation and then stick a bullet between his eyes. Problem solved on two levels then! Get to have a little bit of fun, and get to remove a card from the Decepticon's deck of soldiers.

[Bumblebee]

Glancing down at Bolo as the garbled noise was heard, Bee was happy to see that the canine was loving every second of the pets that were being given. He wasn’t exactly a pro at the whole petting thing, Bolo being the first Cybertronian animal he’d ever really encountered and gotten to interact with like this, but was glad he was doing things right.

It was Carbine’s words that drew his attention away, and for a second there he frowned - thinking that he was being called dumb, or even lame for telling such a craptastic story. It wasn’t exactly filled with any thrilling heroics - at least not from Bee. Optimus had been the one to rescue the kid and actually inflict some damage on Knock Out, and while the whole thing had ended well with no real harm done, it was still awkward to think about.

But as the other mech continued and Bee realized he was saying that the punishment was dumb, he found himself agreeing - bobbing his helm.

--Yeah, uh- basically. I think it’s because I was there, y’know? If I hadn’t been, I don’t think Knock Out would’ve tried anything with the humans. Of course that was early days though, by now I’m sure they know exactly what the kids look like.--

They’d run into Soundwave after all, and while he wasn’t sure that the Decepticons had enough data such as their names or where they lived - a scary thought - they knew damn well what they looked like to be able to pick them out of a crowd.

All the more reason to keep them safe.

He found himself at odds with Carbine’s words, though - and a beepy hum escaped him as he mulled things over. The cons certainly outweighed the pros, though… he had had fun racing, and if things had worked out a little differently? He probably would’ve won.

Fun wasn’t something he got to have a lot of, born into a war well underway, it was all he knew - and while things on Earth were certainly more relaxed, they were probably in even more danger than ever. Dwindling numbers, and now human allies had been thrown into the mix. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he lost Raf, and the thought of something happening to him because of his own recklessness?

He’d never, ever forgive himself.

--I mean, maybe…-- he started, hesitantly almost. --I wouldn’t even know where to look for races, though. Jack was the one who found out about this one and I doubt he’d be up for doing it again. It’s not like I can ask him, either.-- his free servo would absentmindedly gesture to his throat.

If it were Miko, she’d absolutely want to get back out there if only to teach Knock Out a lesson, but Jack was far more subdued. He stuck to the rules, not wanting to disappoint. It was an admirable trait, though it certainly wouldn’t help Bee if he did want to find another race sometime in the future.

--Would be pretty cool getting to win, though!--

[Carbine]

As Bumblebee let out a beepy hum of thought over his encouraging words, an unseen smile spread further across Carbine's features, the bottom edges of his optics crooking up while being paired with a narrowing of the top into an almost mischievous grin. This borderline malicious look only grew ever more as the other mech tried to offer excuses on how he couldn't find such a thing as though that was even a slight deterrent that would negate it overall. If he wanted to try to present a legitimate reason why such a thing couldn’t be attempted once more? He would need to try significantly harder.

"Ah! Finding it is-įs-kt̨c͏h̴-͠is no issue! I c-can play trans͝l̴ator! - "

An odd thing to declare, given many had to serve such a role for him when his own vocal issues took offense to the idea of making coherent words. Carbine wasn't known for being able to communicate well at all, though in contrast to Bumblebee who couldn't say a single word in true Cybertronian or English? Well, he was a pro, and his personality paired with his ability to speak would make him just the thing that was needed to manufacture such an event.

" - Jack m-may be too chicke̴ns͟hit͘ to hȩlp a-gain... the goodi̛e g̡o͜odie... but Miko and I are c-close! And I am ce̷ŕtai͠n ͏s͟he w̧ould more than happily j-jump to call to assist!"

Close? Eh. Carbine wasn't sure if Miko was really 'close' with him, however, he did interact with her more than he did Jack or Raf, and so on that level, they were close. He wasn't opposed to approaching her for sketchier things like that bag of fireworks, and he had given her a ride as a helicopter, as well as offered cool cop stories that were perhaps a little too graphic for some kid. He wasn't going to filter things however, and as such he knew that she was likely well aware that he would answer any questions her lame best buddy Bulkhead could be too scared to address. Whatever the case, Carbine took a longer step to the side towards Bumblebee.

Closing the distance sharply, the black and white mech dipped just enough to account for their height distance, his left arm swinging out and looping around the Scout's shoulders in order to harshly pull him against his side so that they were both looking out upon the bland vista that was the desert before them.

"Pictur̨e this!"

Holding his right arm out, Carbine angled his palm to the imaginary scene he was painting, panning it slowly.

"Dramatic citýscap̛e, d-d͏ąrk ro͢ads and t-tight turns beneath overp̕ass̡es, avoiding other ve-ve-hicles that are your biting ch̶̢̀c̛h̷h at bumper wanting t-to find any fau̷lt͏ to p̶a̢ss, only for your skill to keep you in front. Th-th-ere is one com-pet̢-͟it̡or ahead of you, your n-neme̴sis ̵w̴ho gąve ̶ǵr̀ief at-at-tc̸̢͡h̴-at z͝t͢͜ţ͠ the k̡r̢͠z͏̧ sta͞ŕt͘i͝ng ̡li͞n͜e k͏̡t̴͜c͠h̕͞ tc͏h͜͏ ̧̧zz͘t̛c̨h̵́ -"

Carbine let out a crackled cough from speaking so much in once go, a churning sound heard that was more apparent due to their closer proximity. Electricity popped in his helm, and a gritting noise rang out from his unseen teeth crushing together painfully. His frame even twitched from the anomaly, a sort of involuntary shudder raking before he recovered and continued seamlessly into what he had been saying as though nothing had happened.

" - įntimid̡ated, ahead only d-due to luck... the finish line near, an̵ ͞op͟en͝i͢ng seen t-to pass as you shift into new gear to claw for a vic-vic-tory that is more enjoyabl͏e ̨d͟ue̵ to c̨r̵u̡s̀hing the momentary joy of your rival..."

Yellow optics shifted to look over at Bumblebee after he finished painting the image.

"And! I can ̕t-try t̴o ͟a͝ttend if I can! See what you c-can do! Make sur͏e y͜ou ͟d́on't w͢uss out!"

With the excited 'and', Carbine shook Bumblebee slightly while clapping his right hand upon his nearest shoulder as if trying to wake him up from some daydream he may have sent him down.

Meanwhile, Bolo was looking up, trying to understand what was being said, though it was more than apparent he certainly had no clue what was going on.

[Bumblebee]

While Carbine's smile was unseen, the mischievous crook of his optics certainly was - and Bumblebee could only wonder just what was going through the other mech's processor in that moment. It was a strange look, almost, yet it was one he had almost certainly seen before.

Thankfully, it wasn't as if the other mech could keep quiet - and he was quick to begin talking through his plan. The initial words about playing translator were met with a quizzical look, Bee's optics whirring gently as he settled his gaze on the other mech.

Translator? Yes, because that'd gone over so well when they'd met that random human that one time… Though that whole situation had been pretty hilarious, and thankfully ended well. However, it was the mention of Miko that made him pause, frowning ever so slightly - though it was more out of worry than any sort of annoyance.

--You wanna drag Miko into this?-- he beeped, almost as if in disbelief that Carbine was so quick and willing to pull a child into what was probably going to be something illegal, though… Well, if anyone was game… she certainly would be.

--You can deal with Bulkhead then if he finds out, that's all I'm saying…--

While Miko would no doubt be up for helping them out, her guardian most certainly would not be. Bulk had a hard enough time keeping her out of trouble to begin with, to know that another Autobot had actively been trying to get her to assist with something like this? Whew…

Though, he wouldn't tell - he certainly wasn't a snitch, nor did he want to get any of them into any sort of trouble. He liked Carbine, and didn't want the other mech to think he was lame.

He'd been keeping up with scratching Bolo, even if his attention on that task had waned somewhat due to the current conversation, though as Carbine suddenly moved and pulled him in with a swift movement, he couldn't reach - or use his arm well at all for that matter - and so was forced to stop.

--Uh…-- a beep of surprise escaped him, though no motions were made to pull away - figuring he probably didn't have a choice in the matter even if he wanted to. Instead, he listened as Carbine began explaining, trying to imagine just what he was talking about. A feat made hard, given the fact the landscape before them was so utterly boring and devoid of anything fun, but ah… the other mech had a way with words, and it didn't take much for Bee to picture things.

The crackled cough pulled him briefly from this, though he didn't cast the mech a wary glance to check he was okay. He knew Carbine well enough to know that was just a thing he did sometimes, and so knew better than to draw any sort of attention or coddle him, simply letting him continue without interruption.

It did sound pretty fun, though there was that deep-seated sort of… worry… about disappointing people. He certainly knew better than to rush off and do any sort of racing, and while he hadn't technically promised he wouldn't do it again, he didn't want to have Optimus think less of him for doing something so reckless.

The shake of his shoulder pulled him abruptly from these thoughts - could Carbine tell he was starting to doubt things? - and as the other mech's servo clapped down onto him, he turned his attention up to the other mech.

--Wuss out?-- A beepy sort of scoff rumbled in his throat, attempting to hide the fact he was starting to doubt things a little. --As if! Though uh… how would you attend, exactly? Fly over the race? That'd go over well, a police helicopter hovering above…--

Maybe Carbine hadn't thought this through very well, though maybe that was a good thing.

[Carbine]

Why wouldn't he want to drag Miko into this? She was a human who would understand these sorts of things and would be in a position where she could hop around whatever social media stuff was needed to find what they were looking after. Or, so he assumed. Whether or not she truly knew was irrelevant, given the fact she was their best guess, as it wasn't as though they could go to Fowler or one of his soldiers to give puppy eyes to make them help out. They wouldn't give them the time of day! But Miko? Ohh... Miko certainly would listen, so long as she could ride along with, or at LEAST watch from the sidelines with her phone recording or something as a kickback from her efforts if she couldn't experience the race itself.

Bulkhead being brought up as some sort of deterrent resulted in nothing but a snort, the sound paired with an active roll of the helm and raise of the top edge of his optical projections. While Carbine lacked the facial features to convey more subtle emotions, what he did know how to do was work with that little he had, and in this case, it was pretty damn apparent he couldn't roll his optics any harder if he wanted to.

"I'm n-not scare͞d of̨ ̴hi͘m. Run f-f-or one minute a̕n͘d ͞you go͜t ten to wait."

Clunky and slow. While Bulkhead had him undoubtedly beat with strength and overall mass, Carbine knew he could outpace that bowling ball any day of the week with a broken leg, and that gave plenty of time for him to cool down and realize he couldn't beat him up without making Miko upset. He was the fun uncle in that relationship, while Bulkhead was the protective parent who was too scared to cut loose. So long as he didn't royally fuck up? He got to drag the kid around into trouble, and then drop her at his feet to clean up all the mud and chaos.

"She will h͝e̕ĺp."

Had he asked her yet? No. Did he need to? No. He knew her well enough to know she would find a way even if she had to break into her school or a library to use one of those computers to track something down.

When the topic shifted to how he could attend, an almost deeply scared and overly worried gasp was formed.

"In m-my alt? Ẃhat ͟a̕re y̛o̶u̸, crazy?!"

A scoffed sound followed just after, continuing the overdramatic nature of his replies, a real level of amusement and fun coming into play. While he had been okay letting the younger mech show him his weirdly depressing play area, going so far as to maybe think on how to fix it, this topic shift was very much appreciated, and he was dedicated to turning the discussion into a reality. Due to this, his hand that had been resting on Bumblebee's shoulder then clunked down twice in an almost placating motion as though he were trying to soothe an animal that was confused and spinning in circles.

"Don't ẁo̴rry͝,́ I w̢ill forgive you f-f-or not remem-ber-ing we have H͡oloforms. Your secret is saf̸e ̧w̕iţh̨ me."

Carbine knew that it would still be a struggle however. They would need to find some spot where he could park slightly close to where the event was, and then he would need to hike in there to actually see what was happening and make sure Bumblebee followed through. He didn't even know the extent of his Holoform... which may be a deal breaker there in general as there would be nothing worse than a person being there with their 'kid' one second, only to vanish like a ghost abandoning said kid behind.

"What d̢ò y̛ou͠ sa̢y, hm? Not th-that you have a say... I'm gun͝n̢á' m̴ake t͏h̵iś happen."

[Bumblebee]

--Clearly you've never seen him mad! He's faster than he looks!--

A beepy laugh escaped him as he shook his helm. Bulkhead may look slow and clunky, something not helped by the fact he wasn't exactly the most graceful bot around Omega One, or uh… in general. But when he had to? He could really move. That'd be hilarious to see, though - Carbine thinking he could outrun the bigger mech only for him to find he'd completely underestimated him. Even if Bulk probably couldn't catch up to anyone fully, to those who hadn't seen him book it? Ah, they were in for a surprise.

--You sound pretty sure of yourself there! Then again, it is Miko…-- a thoughtful, beepy hum followed these words, his optics whirring some. 

--Any chance to do something possibly illegal, and she's probably there!--

As long as it was Carbine dragging her into things and not him, it would probably be okay, even if he'd be guilty by association - but knowing Miko, she would no doubt want to follow up her race-searching efforts with the reward of being brought along to the actual race… whiiiich may not be the best idea, but hey what did he know.

That was a problem for future them, though he did find himself wondering just what Carbine would do if she asked. It was a surefire way to annoy Bulkhead, that much was certain, though the helicopter mech certainly seemed the type to not care about that kind of thing.

The worried gasp drew his attention from these thoughts, and his gaze shifted upward to look at the other mech, optics narrowing at the following words, a beepy, rumbled scoff the only noise as his shoulder was pat.

--Oh shut up, pretty sure I use my holoform more than you do, Carbine!-- playfully, he attempted to jab the other mech with an elbow as he spoke. Even with his blacked-out windows, he opted to use his holoform when out and about the majority of the time. All it took was someone taking too close a look to realize nobody was actually driving, and, well… they didn't need that on top of everything else going on. It was bad enough that he appeared on all those weird conspiracy websites without adding fuel to the fire.

At the question, he'd lightly shrug. It did sound like fun, and having Carbine there could be pretty cool if they could somehow make it work. It wouldn't be like before where he got into it on his own, and should things go awry? At least he'd have some sort of backup by having another Autobot nearby.

Despite the fact he was probably going to agree to it, he'd hum quietly, like he was thinking it over and giving it considerable thought indeed.

--Weeeeellll, I mean… You said I don't have a say, so I probably don't have a say! Let's do it, I guess! Just uh, let me know the when and where and stuff.--

He didn't want anything to do with finding the race - though was fine being dragged into one.

[Carbine]

--He's faster than he looks!--

"Good to ͞know̨, I w-will be sure to take full step-s when I ̛w̧alk away then."

It was easy to roast Bulkhead when he wasn't around to defend himself, though, at the same time, Carbine felt like he wouldn't have issues saying such things directly to his face either. When he was in a good mood and was feeling more like himself, he could be abrasive like that expecting it to get thrown back in turn as a distorted bonding experience. It was just a way he thought and it was a big part that influenced his mannerisms. Yet... he also had messed up so much recently that he should try to tweak that mindset back to being less... mean...? Though this didn't feel mean so much as friendly banter, no?

While the idea of bringing a child in on potential street racing was the thing he should probably worry about more.

It didn't sound that dangerous to him. Even if he and Miko needed to stand on the sidelines and watch, what was the worst that could happen? Anyone who would harass her would get punched down before they knew what hit them given he would have zero fear of dishing out real damage and just as little fear about going to jail for assault. What were they going to do? Lock up a ghost? HAH. One noteworthy thing was pointed out, however, and that was the fact that Bumblebee for sure did use his holo far more than him.

"Which m-makes it a̢ll ͏the m̶ore em̢bar̢r̢as-́sing you forgot about them!"

A lighthearted 'tsk tsk' of a scold was cast out while he thought a little further about just what his max range even would be. He didn't know a safe way to even test it, as he wasn't aware of what it would feel like if the tether was hit or even neared. The one thing Carbine did know was that having it get hurt badly could cause some nasty recoil, so theoretically having its threshold struck could be like the cutting of a psychological thread. If he thought about it too hard maybe it would make the idea scary, so it was better to not think at all.

Something he was great at.

"The w-̕whe͟n an͟d ̛w-w̡h͜ere I ́will need to get back to you with, as̶ I̛ ne̶e͡d ͏t̨o s̵pe͢ak to your new manager."

Now THAT was a terrifying prospect. Miko, psycho incarnate, master of chaos, and known demon among the Autobots, being a manager to the little innocent golden child who was an easy pushover due to his general naivety in wanting to believe in the best with others. That was what landed him a friendship with Carbine, which could be viewed as a nice welcoming breath of fresh air, or the greatest mistake of the little Scout's career. Time would only tell there.

"I wond̷er ̕how̡ ͏ofte͜n ra͏çes even occur..."

This was muttered out almost as a sort of afterthought, Carbine easing back upright so he was no longer hooked down to Bumblebee's level with an arm over his shoulder, the stance rather uncomfortable to hold much longer.

"If it is a o-o͜nce or t-twíce t̨h͘in͝g a year we may have p-problems..."

It couldn't be a weekly thing, as the cops would no doubt find the pattern and crack down on it fast, while a year was really really too long out he felt... but where in-between was the big mystery.