[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Required Freedom [Closed]
Oct 7, 2023 0:16:48 GMT -5
Post by Carbine on Oct 7, 2023 0:16:48 GMT -5
Just because Carbine appeared to be unaffected by the heat didn't mean it was true. It was horrible, and he absolutely hated the environment they were in when it came to this sort of stuff. He had truly felt the repercussions of it when he had raced with Bumblebee, or more... when he practically flew from Omega with no competition in mind. A want to sprint, a clutch at FREEDOM. It was as therapeutic as it was liberating, though in the end the heat caught up to him, and it wasn't the most fun thing. Despite all this, the most important point right here in the now was the fact that he expected it, while Blurr certainly must have been left in the dark in the way he squinted and looked around, the aura of uncertainty visible enough it caused the bottom of his optical projections to crook up.
Perfect.
"-How far are we going?"
Carbine let out a low chuckle, one that crackled slightly on its deeper tones.
"Mhmm... I thi͞nk įt̴ w͘i̕l͘l ͞be obvious how f-far we nee͠d ̀to go."
If only Carbine knew.
After this smug declaration, the black and white mech would ease into motion once more, the hoops that created his heels clicking lightly upon the baked asphalt surface. It was almost a leisurely walk, a final pace behind his competitor before he took position at his side and eased down. While there weren't often times where Carbine had an opportunity to take a stance, more often his runs needed to be impulsive rather than planned to catch a criminal, it didn't mean he didn't know how to do so. Because of this, his white fingertips splayed out upon the ground plane on their points, though it was nearly a formality, the longer proportions of his lower limbs meaning that he could barely even touch to begin with without bending his knee too far where it would be difficult to kick off.
A sort of longing then took shape, Carbine's rotors flicking up some in an unconscious crook, before trying to hook back on their posts out of the way. He really wished he still had his original alt at his disposal, where the obnoxious plates that now plagued his back were instead thrusters that helped him stay aloft when transformed. He used them at the start of his runs, a good PUNCH of extra power to get him going. He didn't need it, he certainly didn't, though in moments such as this, he longed deeply for what they gifted him. What he lacked, however, it seemed Blur retained, and as the whirring sound started to form, yellow optics would slide over to actually get a better visual.
For the initial whirls Carbine paid no heed beyond his quiet envy, that is, until the noise continued, and the raw power that was starting to take shape became more than apparent. This wasn't a pulse thruster on Blurr's shoulders to try to get off the line faster than others for a head start, this was the beginning of an end, and it was only at this moment that there was the inkling of a whisper in the back of his mind that this perhaps wasn't the smartest of decisions.
He was in trouble.
As with before when there was a tangible shift, Bolo seemed to catch onto it, his helm whipping up from its downed angle to try to see what the other two mech were doing. Once more, he didn't really understand what was happening, though it didn't stop him from knowing that something was about to happen, especially with the rising sound of Blurr's engines. This resulted in the canine loping over, nose sniffing out at the air as he passed behind the two in order to get to the far side where his Carrier was.
Carbine ignored Bolo, his focus instead angling forward as he looked upon the flat track ahead of them. His emotional state could almost be felt then, amused confidence and arrogance, replaced with an almost hostile edge as his own systems started to kick up, the slats on his back flaring to start to let as much of the baked air go through it as possible. There was no time like the present... and as such his crackled words hissed out lowly.
"Th̶r̸ee... T-two..."
The cables in Carbine's limbs pulled taut, pressure put behind them that just needed their locks to be released to cause a snap of energy...
"ON̵͓E͏!"
Slamming his leg down, all of the reeled-in power that had been collected was permitted to cut loose, Carbine ripping off the starting line in what would possibly be considered impressive by those who didn't have a level of training. His triangular peds bit down into the ground hard, his pace rocketing up quickly due to the lack of hesitation and level of experience in play. With every long stride, his speed would increase, jumping the line from someone who happened to be fast, to someone who was built to be fast, which was a notable shift. While everything would undoubtedly not end well, for a brief moment there was a thrill of cutting loose, that ability to tap into that glimmer of what he was meant to be.
Bolo meanwhile lurched in surprise the second that Carbine kicked off, a sort of popped jump that landed with all four of his paws crooked out away from one another. The stance was awkward, and his helm swung high with pointed ears matching, before the fact it was a chase clicked in his brain, and he quickly jumped and swung into his own running motion. Just like the mech he looked up to, the canine would rapidly take flight, rubber-soled paws slamming down in a rhythmic thrum as large swaths of ground were covered in every leap. In contrast to his Carrier, however, Bolo did not try to put his all into it, and instead simply kept pace with his owner, helm crooked over to watch while his mouth gaped open to let air pass through efficiently.
Perfect.
"-How far are we going?"
Carbine let out a low chuckle, one that crackled slightly on its deeper tones.
"Mhmm... I thi͞nk įt̴ w͘i̕l͘l ͞be obvious how f-far we nee͠d ̀to go."
If only Carbine knew.
After this smug declaration, the black and white mech would ease into motion once more, the hoops that created his heels clicking lightly upon the baked asphalt surface. It was almost a leisurely walk, a final pace behind his competitor before he took position at his side and eased down. While there weren't often times where Carbine had an opportunity to take a stance, more often his runs needed to be impulsive rather than planned to catch a criminal, it didn't mean he didn't know how to do so. Because of this, his white fingertips splayed out upon the ground plane on their points, though it was nearly a formality, the longer proportions of his lower limbs meaning that he could barely even touch to begin with without bending his knee too far where it would be difficult to kick off.
A sort of longing then took shape, Carbine's rotors flicking up some in an unconscious crook, before trying to hook back on their posts out of the way. He really wished he still had his original alt at his disposal, where the obnoxious plates that now plagued his back were instead thrusters that helped him stay aloft when transformed. He used them at the start of his runs, a good PUNCH of extra power to get him going. He didn't need it, he certainly didn't, though in moments such as this, he longed deeply for what they gifted him. What he lacked, however, it seemed Blur retained, and as the whirring sound started to form, yellow optics would slide over to actually get a better visual.
For the initial whirls Carbine paid no heed beyond his quiet envy, that is, until the noise continued, and the raw power that was starting to take shape became more than apparent. This wasn't a pulse thruster on Blurr's shoulders to try to get off the line faster than others for a head start, this was the beginning of an end, and it was only at this moment that there was the inkling of a whisper in the back of his mind that this perhaps wasn't the smartest of decisions.
He was in trouble.
As with before when there was a tangible shift, Bolo seemed to catch onto it, his helm whipping up from its downed angle to try to see what the other two mech were doing. Once more, he didn't really understand what was happening, though it didn't stop him from knowing that something was about to happen, especially with the rising sound of Blurr's engines. This resulted in the canine loping over, nose sniffing out at the air as he passed behind the two in order to get to the far side where his Carrier was.
Carbine ignored Bolo, his focus instead angling forward as he looked upon the flat track ahead of them. His emotional state could almost be felt then, amused confidence and arrogance, replaced with an almost hostile edge as his own systems started to kick up, the slats on his back flaring to start to let as much of the baked air go through it as possible. There was no time like the present... and as such his crackled words hissed out lowly.
"Th̶r̸ee... T-two..."
The cables in Carbine's limbs pulled taut, pressure put behind them that just needed their locks to be released to cause a snap of energy...
"ON̵͓E͏!"
Slamming his leg down, all of the reeled-in power that had been collected was permitted to cut loose, Carbine ripping off the starting line in what would possibly be considered impressive by those who didn't have a level of training. His triangular peds bit down into the ground hard, his pace rocketing up quickly due to the lack of hesitation and level of experience in play. With every long stride, his speed would increase, jumping the line from someone who happened to be fast, to someone who was built to be fast, which was a notable shift. While everything would undoubtedly not end well, for a brief moment there was a thrill of cutting loose, that ability to tap into that glimmer of what he was meant to be.
Bolo meanwhile lurched in surprise the second that Carbine kicked off, a sort of popped jump that landed with all four of his paws crooked out away from one another. The stance was awkward, and his helm swung high with pointed ears matching, before the fact it was a chase clicked in his brain, and he quickly jumped and swung into his own running motion. Just like the mech he looked up to, the canine would rapidly take flight, rubber-soled paws slamming down in a rhythmic thrum as large swaths of ground were covered in every leap. In contrast to his Carrier, however, Bolo did not try to put his all into it, and instead simply kept pace with his owner, helm crooked over to watch while his mouth gaped open to let air pass through efficiently.