[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Into Darkness [Closed]
Jan 23, 2024 4:10:00 GMT -5
Post by Thundercloud on Jan 23, 2024 4:10:00 GMT -5
The kid didn't sound especially confident, but Thundercloud wasn't gonna hold that against him. Grounders weren't built for falling, not in the same way Flyers were. He knew they tended to freak out when the ground got pulled out from under them, the same way Flyers tended to get cagey in enclosed spaces – which, yeah, bit late for him to remember that little quirk of biology, but whatever. He wasn't in love with the idea of being trapped in a tin can at the bottom of the ocean, but his time in Garrus had worn his natural claustrophobia down into something he could more or less ignore. It still made him a little tetchy, sure, but he wasn't about to start freaking out about being trapped and unable to fly -
Even when Bumblebee jumped down and the ship made a noise like it was trying to decide whether or not to split in half and crush them all with an incalculable amount of water pressure.
Yeah, wow, okay. He needed to not think about how flimsy the ship's hull sounded and focus on the mission, which presumably involved violence in some capacity - because otherwise why the hell would they even bring him along? That was the only thing anybody ever needed him for, the only thing anybody wanted him for. Optimus had already deviated from the norm by asking him to try his wings at scouting – he couldn't imagine the Prime was continuing the trend by expecting him to be anything other than muscle or cannon fodder for this little journey into the unknown.
He wondered which it was, muscle or cannon fodder, but Optimus was keeping tight lipped about what they were doing and what they were to expect going forward, so there wasn't really anything to build a case on in either direction.
Before he could get too lost in the world of hypotheticals, Bumblebee called his attention, offering him the spare lantern. It was a sweet gesture from a sweet kid, one that had Thundercloud fighting a half-smile. He shook his head, both to turn down the lantern and to express his incredulity. It was hard to believe mecha like Bumblebee still existed. He would've thought all the good, genuine, decent folks had all died off or become cynical assholes by now.
“Nah. I got dead hands. Might break it.”
He lifted his hands in demonstration, though there really wasn't anything to show. It wasn't as if Bumblebee had x-ray vision and could see the creative butchering of his neural net from the shoulders down.
He had other reasons for not wanting to carry the lantern, of course, but there was no polite way to say he needed to keep his hands free in the likely(?) event he had to fight for their lives, so he refrained from explaining himself further. Not that he had the time to do so in the first place, since Optimus seemed eager to get a move on – to what end, Thundercloud still had no idea, but the mention of the med-bay opened up some possibilities.
He looked from Optimus to Bumblebee, his brows raising in silent question as he wondered how the hell the little guy would know where the medbay was. Infiltrating enemy bases was more of a spy thing than a scout thing, and he couldn't imagine anybody allowing the kid -in good conscience- to risk his life to gather intel in the very heart of enemy territory. Not even for medical supplies, which were practically invaluable in their scarcity.
“...We're packin' pretty light for a supply raid.” He said slowly, noting how neither he, nor Optimus, nor Bumblebee had brought any means of carrying a sizable haul with them – no crates or carts or dollies.
If this were a simple smash and grab, they'd only come away with what little they could carry – hardly worth all the effort Optimus had put in to finding the place. Unless of course they opened a bridge in the middle of the medbay and just started shoveling shit through the gate, but somehow he doubted Optimus would be so unrefined. That meant – well, Thundercloud wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but he had his suspicions.
He risked a look in Optimus's direction, unable to shake off the irrational feeling that the other mech somehow knew he was thinking with the Sketchy part of his brain. He didn't imagine the Prime would appreciate people thinking like a criminal right in front of him.
“I'm guessin' we're not after a haul.” He added, the implication unspoken but obvious: they were after something specific. Quality over quantity.
Even when Bumblebee jumped down and the ship made a noise like it was trying to decide whether or not to split in half and crush them all with an incalculable amount of water pressure.
Yeah, wow, okay. He needed to not think about how flimsy the ship's hull sounded and focus on the mission, which presumably involved violence in some capacity - because otherwise why the hell would they even bring him along? That was the only thing anybody ever needed him for, the only thing anybody wanted him for. Optimus had already deviated from the norm by asking him to try his wings at scouting – he couldn't imagine the Prime was continuing the trend by expecting him to be anything other than muscle or cannon fodder for this little journey into the unknown.
He wondered which it was, muscle or cannon fodder, but Optimus was keeping tight lipped about what they were doing and what they were to expect going forward, so there wasn't really anything to build a case on in either direction.
Before he could get too lost in the world of hypotheticals, Bumblebee called his attention, offering him the spare lantern. It was a sweet gesture from a sweet kid, one that had Thundercloud fighting a half-smile. He shook his head, both to turn down the lantern and to express his incredulity. It was hard to believe mecha like Bumblebee still existed. He would've thought all the good, genuine, decent folks had all died off or become cynical assholes by now.
“Nah. I got dead hands. Might break it.”
He lifted his hands in demonstration, though there really wasn't anything to show. It wasn't as if Bumblebee had x-ray vision and could see the creative butchering of his neural net from the shoulders down.
He had other reasons for not wanting to carry the lantern, of course, but there was no polite way to say he needed to keep his hands free in the likely(?) event he had to fight for their lives, so he refrained from explaining himself further. Not that he had the time to do so in the first place, since Optimus seemed eager to get a move on – to what end, Thundercloud still had no idea, but the mention of the med-bay opened up some possibilities.
He looked from Optimus to Bumblebee, his brows raising in silent question as he wondered how the hell the little guy would know where the medbay was. Infiltrating enemy bases was more of a spy thing than a scout thing, and he couldn't imagine anybody allowing the kid -in good conscience- to risk his life to gather intel in the very heart of enemy territory. Not even for medical supplies, which were practically invaluable in their scarcity.
“...We're packin' pretty light for a supply raid.” He said slowly, noting how neither he, nor Optimus, nor Bumblebee had brought any means of carrying a sizable haul with them – no crates or carts or dollies.
If this were a simple smash and grab, they'd only come away with what little they could carry – hardly worth all the effort Optimus had put in to finding the place. Unless of course they opened a bridge in the middle of the medbay and just started shoveling shit through the gate, but somehow he doubted Optimus would be so unrefined. That meant – well, Thundercloud wasn't exactly sure what it meant, but he had his suspicions.
He risked a look in Optimus's direction, unable to shake off the irrational feeling that the other mech somehow knew he was thinking with the Sketchy part of his brain. He didn't imagine the Prime would appreciate people thinking like a criminal right in front of him.
“I'm guessin' we're not after a haul.” He added, the implication unspoken but obvious: they were after something specific. Quality over quantity.