Ep 2 - Highway Trinkets (Closed)
May 19, 2015 0:09:47 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on May 19, 2015 0:09:47 GMT -5
Carbine was a lying, conniving, sneaky, selfish little glitch who always did whatever was in his own best interest, while gleefully damning the consequences and flipping off conventional morality with both hands.
As his best and arguably only friend, (save for Bolo who did not count) Thundercloud was fully aware of this.
And yet, somehow, the former thug-for-hire still gave the mech the benefit of the doubt from time to time, instead of immediately assuming he was being played for a fool. This was one such occasion, as even though he knew full well that Carbine was the sort to run a wounded gazelle gambit in order to get one up on him, he just didn’t have the spark to be skeptical of the mech when he made such convincing sounds of pain. Particularly because he was already injured, and the likelihood of those sounds being genuine was actually quite high.
Unfortunately for them both, there really wasn’t much Thundercloud could do with his concern while he was struggling like a drunk on ice to find his balance.
After unintentionally swinging Bolo around in an arc and dragging the poor dog through the garbage, Thundercloud found himself staggering backwards, frantically attempting to halt Bolo’s momentum and keep from swinging him further while simultaneously trying not to fall flat on his aft.
He might have succeeded at both, had he not taken a step backwards into a particularly soft patch of garbage.
Before he had the slightest chance to realize what was going on Thundercloud found himself losing six feet in height as his burdensome weight proved too much for the trash mound to bear, and he violently sank down to his knee in the filth and grime. A startled cry escaped him, followed by a single loud curse, which was then followed by a string of short, rapid-fire curses as he lost his battle with gravity and fell backwards.
He crashed to the muck-covered ground with all the grace and majesty of a cat falling into a full bathtub, his wings splayed awkwardly as he landed hard on his back. He cringed as he landed, his optics shut tight - out of disgust more so than discomfort or pain - before cracking open a single optic and risking a glance over at his arm, to see if Bolo was alright. To his surprise, he saw not only the dog, but his master, who lied just beyond his wing’s reach. Had he been just a few more inches to the right, the ex-cop would have been blanketed by the thing.
In the ensuing silence following his noisy crash and stream of swearing, Thundercloud blinked once, twice, then said in an oddly calm voice:
“...None of this ever happened. Agreed?”
For the sake of their joined dignities, what happened in the trash dump would have to STAY in the trash dump.