Ep. 2 - Refuge in Audacity ( open)

[Deleted]

Between Bumblebee admitting he had never been on a date, and Carbine making the most thinly veiled sexual innuendos towards Arcee, Thundercloud didn't know whether to laugh or cringe from second hand embarrassment. He decided to do a bit of both, his optics squeezing shut as he shook his head and chuckled. God, what a group of rejects they had assembled here - it was a wonder they somehow managed to form a somewhat decent army, despite their small numbers. Sure, they didn't always get along, and things tended to go pear shaped on a regular basis, but at the end of the day they were still a group of mecha who liked each other well enough to kick back and share a few drinks and dumb stories.

It was times like these that Thundercloud felt a little more sure that he had made the right call, taking that deal and joining up with the Autobots. It was a good feeling, a sometimes rare feeling. He appreciated it whenever it came.

"Snoopy here's got a point, how bout we stick to slag that ain't happened pre-war, else we won't get to see what this little slag's like hammered."

Thundercloud, likewise, did not take a drink from his cube. Getting stuck in vehicle mode was never a problem for him, if only because before the war he really didn't fly all that much. He was stuck on the ground, more often than not, usually waiting at doors or paroling buildings for shady looking characters who weren't the shady looking characters that were actually supposed to be there.

[Deleted]

Carbines off colored remarks sent a wave of embarrassment from the femme – but after her initial shock and flusteredness? She was soon shaking her helm at the black and yellow mech. “Horrible, truly horrible.” She mentioned in a teasing tone, a smile wide and bright on her face plate as she took a small sip of her new drink. Her attention did flick towards the younger mech as he protested he did not need a date, she flashed him a gentler smile. “Are you sure? I heard that the neutral base has a lovely bar with music and dancing.” She mentioned. “Could be a nice way to spend a…what is it? An afternoon.”

Really, she couldn’t see anyone in a romantic fashion at this point in time so her ‘date’ proposal was more of as friends and to not be on the base. Besides, she still had plenty of unresolved feelings for Cipher – war was not the best for romance (both new and old), especially when the other half was killed.

As for Arcee’s question, her helm tilted and she was soon shaking it ‘no’. She had never been stranded pre-war, and she could not even think of a time she had been stranded during it. She had nearly forgotten about Bumblebee being the youngest of the bunch, and being warborn, until he piped up to inform Arcee that he wasn’t even around for pre-war hijinx. It was sad in a way, it meant that he did not get to experience some of the better things about Cybertron, or see it when it wasn’t wartorned and desolated.

What Thundercloud had to say, made sense to her and she bobbed her helm in agreement. “I agree, it really isn’t fair to Bumblebee.” She mentioned lightly before a whirr of a hum left her.

“Thankfully, I think my own question will be fitting for both pre-war and during…” She mused out loud.

“Never have I ever been in prison.” She mentioned, thinking while it could be a loaded question – it can also be made fun in it’s own way. “And this is longer than a joor, so a few breem’s or a day does not count.”

(Note: when she says a day, just pretend it’s in transformer speak cause I couldn’t find what they call a day in the glossary XD)

[Carbine]

O-oh... well this was a question that while not completely unexpected, seemed like it could cause a bit of conflict, or maybe it was completely normal and expected in these games. All in good humor for someone who just got in jail for a minor violation and immediately set free, seeing prison as a joke, an inconvenience, more than a shattering experience. For the clean cut towerlings and polished individuals, prison was being put into a holding cell for a couple hours until their payment cleared and the police would utter apologies and a weak wrist slap on the hand to meekly look like they were doing their job, in hopes they wouldn't get fired by the rich individual paying their bosses out.

There was a huge difference.

Carbine's gaze flicked up then to Thunder, making eye contact as if they could have an entire conversation within a fraction of a klik. It was just a cursory glance, a worried look, wondering if Thunder planned to hide it, or be open about things. Thunder seemed far more inclined to hide what happened, like it was all a heinous stain smeared upon his life that he didn't want others to witness. When it did come out he didn't shy away from the truth, but it appeared like he had been playing nice around the Outpost to mask over it all. Alas, Carbine finally spoke.

His entire tone shifted then, spine straightening up all the way, and thumb swinging up to prod at his chest in a boastful manor. Confidence and pride spewed forth out of his field in a tidal wave, and a half lidded gaze further accented his arrogance over what he was about to say. He made sure to reset his voice before starting, planning to talk a LOT.

"You are in the prese̷n̴cę o͏f a f̛uļly͞ fl̢edged convicted murderer!"

He declared this as fact, while Bolo finally lost his grapple with his Carrier's shoulders and slid off of him. There was a hard thwack and clatter as the dog hit the ground, his long legs barely having the coordination to properly plant underneath him during the fall. This left the dog sitting there confused, limbs sticking straight out with toes flared, and optic plates over bright in alarm and confusion.

"The thrill of the ch͞a͡s̕e, the sport of a g-good hunt, I am not a pursuit officer b͞y̛ ņame alone; I am coded to run down others that are t-t-rying to evade the law. But... In my case they run for their lives, and s̢e̸ldo̷m̡ got away."

Rolling the high grade glass again to stir up the weird chunks and particles that had settled on the bottom, he held the glass down to the inebriated dog. Bolo's confusion was set on the side burner then, as he started to happily drink with obnoxiously loud laps.

"People t-trust you when you have this paint job, and peopl͜e͠ wil͘l̸ f͏ol̷ĺow you if you deem it necessary with only a few thinly v-v-eiled laws that are just vague enough to confuse the͝m.̡ ̵O͞n̛l̡y once in a secluded area, I would hand them a thumb drive with all of the data needed to convict me of my crimes... then I tell them the rules."

Lifting the glass that was emptied of its contents, Carbine peered at Bumblebee and Rota through the hazy container's surface, the little yellow mech and green Femme distorted through the cube.

"I best̶-̷be-gift upon you a challenge. If you can̡ g̀et̨ ͏thi͠s̕ d̷ri͟ve to the police, th-than you will be a hero that took down the most corrupt cop of the fleet. You will be renowned and celebr̶a̵te͏d fo͏r ͞sąvi̸ng lives... but if you can't, and I catch you..."

He trailed off, his words heavy with grim overtones. The mirth was gone, a far more steely edge for a moment, before he sat the cube down upon the table with a soft clink.

"There is a certain thrill, a dr͡ug ̕l̴i̕k̕e hi͠gh ̷wh̵en you finally wrench a helm off ones shoulders. The creak of p-plating pulling apart, the po͟p͞ ͢o̕f c͢ab͘les and wires tearing and their plastic cas͝in̢g̷s̨ crac̵king. To hold a helm in your hands, free from its mounting... Ever-y-thing they ever were and evęr͠yt̛hin͝g̷ t͠hey ever could have become... cradled between you-your two hands..."

Carbine didn't seem to be looking at the others now, holding his hands out in front of himself. Fingers were delicately spread, and his gaze was unfocused, imagining a helm being held right there, looking back at him with grey optics.

"Dispos͝inǵ ̶o̢f t̴h͞e bo̕dies was always t-tricky, but that is a different story. I eventuál̸ly coul̀dn͡'t̛ ou͠trun a little trike fragger... I mean he was a t-trike, and he was a fragger, not that he was going around fra͠gging ͏t̴rikes... but for all I know he's into that. ANYWAY, He manage̴d ̸to ̵h͡i̷t́ me̡ b͏e̵f́òre ̵h͞e ran, gave me th̷is̨.͜.. g͘litch̸.͜.̀.̶ and ͞Ì ̸ended up in Garrus-1, wh-ere I suffered."

He took in a long ventilation, trying to actually wrangle back his glitch. When he spoke a lot, the chances of him deadlining out for a bit became higher. He didn’t want to be muted before he could finish what he had to say. After this pause he continued.

"This world͟ ̵i̡s͢ ev͠il, an͟d ͘I̷ ͏ám but a symptom of the corrupti̸on̵.̧ But̷ ͞I thi͏nk̶ ͝the most amazing bit about all of this th-though... the thing͘ I ̧ha͟ve ͝t́h͠e͠ h̕a̢rdest time grasping... is the fact that you even bought this st͢o͝r̡y for ̶a͟ ́m͘òm͢ent."

A loud bark of a laugh snapped out after, the sound startling Bolo who's helm popped up above the table line like a carnival game. His ears were upright, and eyes bright, looking around to see what was so exciting. After Carbine's obnoxious little laugh, he spoke with mirth, reaching forward to grab a new drink from the center.

"Nah but ̀act́u͞ally, I did go t-to Garrus-1."

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee would glance up from his drink as Rotary spoke. His optics whirring audibly as he looked at her, the aperture lenses adjusting slightly. Did he hear her right?

Was she asking him out on a date? In-front of everyone?!

--I ah.. Uh.. I don't know how to.. Um. Dance. Yeah. Uh. Thanks though!--

He beeped quietly, something akin to a mumble. Gaze back onto his drink, avoiding optic contact. He couldn't really stammer while speaking basic, but he sure did a good job of making an embarrassment of himself with the awkward way he umm'd and ahh'd through that sentence as he thought of how to reply. He had no interest in dating, even if she didn't mean it as a date date and was just being nice and trying to make him feel less awkward. This evening was the worst, and he regretted joining this party.

He perked up briefly at hearing that her question would be fitting for during the war, maybe he'd finally get to drink now, not that there wasn't anything really stopping him from sneaking in a shot or making up some lame story for one of the questions, but that wasn't how to play the game!

The question that was asked made his optics widen. He could drink to this!! But it wasn't his turn, and his attention would shift to Carbine as he spoke. Of course Carbine had been to prison. Of course.

A murderer?!

That had to be a lie. There was no way Optimus would let a murderer join his ranks. Would he? Carbine sure sounded confident with the way he spoke, and why would he have a reason to make up something like that? His posture shifted, too, as if enforcing the fact it was true. That he was a murderer.

And Bumblebee was sitting next to him. Awesome.

As Carbine continued with his story, Bumblebee could only stare in horror. He spoke with such sincerity that poor naive Bumblebee believed every damn word. As he went into detail about wrenching helms off shoulders, Bee's jaw dropped. Noo way. No. Nope. Why did it sound like Carbine enjoyed it?

Why was he on their team!?

Bumblebee would not-so-subtly inch his chair further from the helicopter as Carbine CONTINUED on. Sure there were petty criminals. Sure people had done their time for things like beating the slag out of someone, or stealing. Bumblebee himself had been through the system! He knew first hand! But a MURDERER?

...Then Carbine revealed the truth, and laughed. There was some sort of relief in Bumblebee's field, but he wasn't quite sure what to believe anymore. He hadn't gotten far with his awkward chair-shifting, but he'd given himself away that he believed the dumb story.

He'd laugh awkwardly, before reaching forward and picking up his cube, slamming down a rather generous shot of the high-grade, feeling he deserved it after having missed out on so many rounds due to stupid questions. He wanted to ask why Carbine had really gone to prison, given that he was a cop. It must've been something really bad.

Like murder.

Maybe he wasn't joking.

He could dwell on that later, maybe even get the courage to ask Carbine what he'd really done. But for now? Bumblebee had taken a shot, which meant it was his turn to finally tell a story.

--I was in prison once.-- He started. --The uh. Kaon Prison Complex in Decagon, infact.--

Aah so maybe innocent, awkward little Bumblebee had a dark side after all! The Kaon Prison Complex in Decagon was a big deal! Maybe he too was a murderer! ...No. Far from, but he had been to prison. By choice. It counted.

--It was during the war. A bunch of Autobots had been captured and taken to the prison. My job? Was to get 'em out before they were killed. We needed the reinforcements, as it was right before Optimus Prime announced Project Generation One, with the Ark!--

He cleared his throat, continuing.

--So yeah uh. I had to get put in prison, which.. Well.. Bein' an Autobot in Decagon? Aint hard! It didn't take long to be taken in, where I was told that I was to be recycled. Yeah. At that point I wondered if I'd made a huge mistake, I mean who goes and gets themselves put in jail! Me! What if there were no other prisoners left! Slag man it was a stupid idea! I'd already almost been offlined once 'cos of Megatron, and here I was again, 'bout to be recycled for trying to be a stupid dumb hero!--

He was getting excited now as he spoke, glad he could finally tell a story. It was all the truth, too, even if it sounded far-fetched. The others could ask Optimus or Ratchet about it if they didn't believe him!

--It was a really bad idea. I mean. I made my way through the prison system with no knowledge of the prison itself! I kept to myself. Kept my helm down as best I could! Which is hard when ya bright yellow!-- He managed a chuckle. --I was in there for... I forget. A while. More than an Orn. Eventually I was lined up against a wall ready to be 'recycled'-- A nice way of saying he was put up against a wall ready to be executed.

He took another shot. Just because.

--Aaaanyway. I had help. Air Raid. Yeah.-- His tone went quiet then as he spoke of the other Mech, knowing that the one he spoke of had been captured by MECH and damaged severely, he hadn't gotten a chance to help Air Raid in return, and he wished he could. It'd be a nice way to pay him back for what he did back then. --Air Raid caused a scene and actually killed some of the guards so myself and a few others could escape to free the rest of the prisoners. I owe him so much. I owe him my life.--

This was quickly turning into a sad-fest and a long winded story that the others were probably bored of, so he gently cleared his throat.

--But yeah! Uh! I made my way through the prison and kicked some Decepticon aft, and eventually opened the hard locks of the prison! They'd sent a lot of their guards to fight in the war at this point so I mean it was pretty easy, Air Raid and I got the prisoners out, and well here I am! Yay!--

And with that? He'd sit back in his chair, thinking. Man he'd been through a lot.

[Deleted]

When Rotary spoke up, uttering that seemingly innocuous prompt, Thundercloud immediately stilled, his optics cutting over towards Carbine. He shared a look with the other mech, a silent conversation taking place between the two of them as they confirmed, without words, that they were thinking the same thing: We're screwed.

Shifting awkwardly in his seat, Thundercloud leaned back, then forward, then back again, suddenly unable to find a comfortable way to sit. He found himself rubbing absently at the back of his neck, his hand dipping beneath his collar armor as he waited to see what Carbine would do. He wasn't about to tell the truth and out them if Carbine wasn't planning to do the same - as far as he was concerned, their time in Garrus was their business. They didn't need to share it with anybody, for any reason, especially not for some stupid game.

Mecha looked at you differently, when they knew you had done time. It didn't matter where you went or who you were dealing with - as soon as you let it slip that you had gone to prison, especially a big-name place with a reputation like Garrus-1 - you signed yourself up for a great big pile of trouble. That's just the way it was. That's how things had always worked, at least in Thundercloud's experience, and he wasn't about to hold his metaphorical breath in the hope that this time things would be different.

For Primus' sake, they were sitting with a Brightplate and a boyscout - they only way the odds could have possibly been stacked more against them is if there was a cop in the room. Well, a cop other than Carbine, who didn't count for obvious reasons.

Thundercloud watched the mech in question carefully, waiting to hear what he had to say, wanting to know what their game plan was going to be. Were they going to tell the truth, deny everything, or tell a lie of omission and just mention one of the times they were in a Con prison, to avoid having to mention anything about Garrus.

Carbine took a third option, and Thundercloud was not disappointed.

As the other mech went on, his story becoming more and more audacious and difficult to believe, it was all Thundercloud could do to keep from grinning too widely. He didn't want to give the other mech away, reveal his story for the ridiculous fabrication that it was by laughing like a jackass. Instead, he simply sat there, doing his best to look like he had heard this story a thousand times, and was no longer phased by it. He sneaked a drink from his cube while the others were distracted by the tale, their attention on Carbine rather than him.

It wasn't until Carbine broke his own immersion and revealed he was simply playing everyone for fools that Thundercloud allowed himself to snicker, his field warming with good humor. His amusement was short lived, however, as all too soon Carbine spoke up once more, this time speaking the truth. Thundercloud blinked at him in surprised, having not expected the other mech to be so truthful about things after making up such an elaborate ruse.

Shrugging, Thundercloud decided he may as well be honest as well. He wasn't about to let his buddy hanging - if they were gonna catch slag for being ex-cons, they damn well were going to do it together.

"Ditto." He said simply, not feeling the need to elaborate.

He took a full drink from his cube then, his Optics turning towards Bumblebee as the little mech shared his own story.

[Deleted]

Oh she so had not meant to get poor Bumblebee all flustered! Her offer was made in kindness – wanting to genuinely let the more warborn mech know what t was like to have a little fun with drink, song, and dance! There was nothing wrong in sad little actions, at least when they were done in moderation, and she thought that out of anyone? He could certainly use a little harmless fun!

As for her question, the pale green femme thought it could be a good one to ask. It granted a way to get to know the three mech’s around her, though she doubt the youngest of them had been in such a place (he was too sweet for it!), she was curious about the other pair, and judging by Thundercloud’s reaction? It was a question she quietly regretted asking. She was about to say that if any of them felt uncomfortable answering? Then they could just drink and call it day.

After all, she did not mean any harm by it!

Of course, that was when Carbine started talking and her helm tilted in curiosity. She could feel Bumblebee’s anxiety build as the black and yellow mech continued on with his tale. A part of her, did not believe it – or at least she didn’t at first. As he continued on, her optics widened some at how…Calm he was as he talked.

And naturally he broke out in a bark of a laugh and Rota let out a groan as he did so. “You are horrible.” She mentioned lightly before he told what was a grain of truth. Thundercloud spoke with a ‘ditto’. While the black and blue mech had been hesitant in sharing a little about their past because of both her and Bumblebee being far…cleaner individuals – the femme did not seem to judge either of them for their stint in Garrus-1.

“Well, whatever lead you two to end up there…I am still glad you’re here with us.” She spoke with a small smile gracing her face. “The past can make a mecha, but the mecha chooses their own path too.” It was a view she was slowly working on thanks to that talk she had with Jazz. “You both seem to have decent sparks in the end…Even if one of you had to go abduct me for this party and the other of you is a hopeless flirt.” Rota remarked with a joking, lighthearted tone to her voice before her attention fell onto Bee.

Now that was interesting to hear that and she had been listening to him closely as he spoke. “That was very brave of you.” She commented, it was the only thing she could think of to say to him in response, finding the whole story a touch awe-inspiring. Sipping at her energon cube she let out a little whirring hum. “Honestly, I’m just glad I was able to figure out a somewhat decent question – because I surely would not have been able to ask a more potentially fun one of ‘never have I ever been arrested’ because well, I had been once upon a time.” Though given the other three stories, tall tale and lack of, she imagined that was a question no one would have been able to ask. Shame, considering there could have been hilarious stories versus more serious ones!

[Carbine]

Carbine looked back up at Thunder, knowing what he had done had thrown his friend in front of the firing range as well... but... this was known right? The fact they had marks on their records had to have been known by at least the upper management. That meant given time, it would trickle down in the ranks, and it would all be betrayed and they would be doomed anyway. They had an opportunity here to play it off, to make it something not as serious as it was. They had a chance to paint themselves how they wanted to be instead of rumors leading rumors.

While Garrus-1 had a LOT of very bad individuals, there were others there that just got a bad deal in life, or had numerous repeat petty instances that landed them there. It didn’t mean they HAD to have done a heinous murder, or stole countless credits, or robbed someone, or let illegal activities go unnoticed because you get a good payout by traffickers looking to keep the cops aw- ANYWAY Point was they could play it off while retaining some feigned look of innocence and honesty.

Tipping his new full glass in Thunder's direction, Carbine nodded his helm down at the wordless little toast between them, and in silent thanks that he had decided to join in. It was best for Thunder anyway to just admit... if Carbine was going down he was going to take Thunder down with him. Because what kind of friend would he be if he let his best buddy feign ignorance and get to live as a normal individual with an unstained past while he was the convict? Nahhhh nahh... You going down with me fragger.

When Rota spoke first, one of Carbine's optics squinted down a bit, eyeing her at how she was trying to spin the situation as if they were good hearted people. That was... funny... but he didn't really laugh at it or anything, just making a noncommittal shrug, falling back to his typical attitude when dealing with a slender femme.

"But a SEXY hopeles̡s͝ f͞l͞i̛r̛t̴,͟ a͜m I right?"

He asked, before Bumblebee started a story, and oh boy was that something Carbine didn’t anticipate. The little runt was too young, to innocent, to pure, he seemed like a child whose greatest trials in life was the horrible realization they would someday be an 'adult' and have to mature. No... no... this little KID had been in prison, but not any prison, a Decepticon one.

The little mech seems to have gone through a great deal, and didn't end up corrupted by the experience. It made Carbine wonder what Bumblebee was like before this adventure, and the implied incident with Megatron that was a bit of a curiosity. Was he dampened at all emotionally? Or unaffected? Did he see it all like a game and never faced reality? What made him bounce out of all that slag.

Carbine saw it all too often as a cop, someone seeing something heinously barbaric and gruesome, an individual that was saved from a chop shop before being pulled apart, or a person that survived the clutches of a maniac that was going to offline them in a creative means for 'science'. Events left their mark in some way, and those that endured it ended up showing it in their own ways. Some hidden, buried... but more often than not you could see it in their eyes. The issue was... with the war... what were the eyes of one untouched by trauma? They were all broken... it just came down to how much.

"Aww look at you littl̶e m͜an͡! ̵Wę ͟got ourselves a qu-qualified wan̶ǹa̸be b̕a͟d͞aft ov̛er here."

Joked out, said in mirth, Carbine leaned over to nudge his elbow at Bumblebee. He wasn't in range to make contact, he couldn't quite touch the yellow scout, but the motion was there before he eased up a bit and thought.

"I know this̸ ̢is͘ ą ͢t͏arg̨et͏ed q̀uestion, but squ-̵s͏q͡u͝-̴s-́q̨-͡ueaky here needs to ̴c̵a͡t̨c̴h ͢u̵p̨!"

Declaring this plain as day, so the others knew it was basically a cheating round, Carbine spoke again. Hey... maybe when it's his turn again he would target someone else! Strategic fuckery! Besides, there had to be a story here that was good.

"Neve͡r hav̡ę I ev͡er faced M-megatron."

Carbine was ignorant to the fact this is where Bumblebee lost his voice.

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee glanced up from his drink to nod at Rotary as she commented that he was brave. He didn't see himself as brave, nor would he ever call himself brave for this particular tale - and now he thought back on it and retold the story? It was a risky and stupid move. One that just happened to pay off. If it wasn't for Air Raid, who knows what would've happened. Maybe Bumblebee wouldn't be sitting here today.

He heard the mumbled 'Ditto' from Thunder and peered at him just briefly. What was with this guy and not telling stories..? He was curious now about both Carbine and Thunder's past. They'd both been to Garrus-1, but wouldn't say why. Was it really that bad? Obviously they'd redeemed themselves for whatever it was, given that they were now with the Autobots. Bumblebee wouldn't judge them for whatever it was they'd done, as obviously they'd righted their wrongs. Plus he'd been in jail, too, so he couldn't exactly hold that above either of them. Sure the circumstances of getting incarcerated were different, but he'd done his time too.

His attention shifted to Carbine and he couldn't help but chuckle at the helicopters reaction to his story, glancing back down to his cube. He was starting to feel a little less lame. For some reason he found that he wanted to impress Carbine and Thunder, and so Carbine's reaction made him feel good. While he hadn't done anything silly like get stood up on a date, or been stranded anywhere.. He had done some pretty amazing things. Things that were worthy of stories. Things that the others hadn't done, despite their many years of being around before Bumblebee was even sparked. Things that if he told the others, they might take him at more than face value in future.

Things that still affected him to this day. Things that he kept mostly hidden under his childlike persona and his overconfident, and sometimes arrogant attitude. He didn't want to be seen as weak. He didn't want others to have to pick him up. He didn't want others to think he was less than capable of things just because he was younger and smaller. He didn't want pity.

But sometimes it was needed. Even if Bumblebee would never admit it to himself. He'd been through so much, and still dwelled on things. Even if he pretended he didn't.

As Carbine spoke again, saying it was a targeted question, and that the target in question was him? He'd glance up from his cube. He knew it was coming before Carbine even spoke the words. Megatron. The name alone scared him. Nearly everyone knew about how Bumblebee was almost offlined at Megatron's hand. They all knew it was why he had no voice, or at least that was the rumor that swirled around. Why he was reduced to mere beeps. Basic talk. Why he had to occasionally shake out his arms because well, having them both ripped off and reattached had done some lasting damage. People knew that he'd faced Megatron, but the story of what exactly happened was one that Bumblebee rarely told. He wanted to forget about it. He knew this question was coming, and he kind of hoped it wouldn't.

And now here he was.

His field briefly flooded with anger. Stress. Panic. There was a wave of muddled negative emotions that vanished as quickly as it came – he reached out for his cube and drinking the rest of the contents, not even flinching or shuddering as he downed the high-grade. He'd then move to grab another cube from the middle of the table and just stared at it. Eventually, he would speak.

--I wasn't always a scout. When I was first sparked during the war? My sole purpose was to be a message courier.-- He started, speaking slowly, purposefully; like he was trying to get this all right. The high-grade in his system wasn't helping. His tone wasn't excited like it was when he talked about his time in jail. There was no boasting here.

--I think it was my.. Second? Mission.. Yeah.. Second. I was assigned the task of delivering some valuable documents to Optimus Prime. Nobody else wanted to do it. It was risky. It was suicide. It was when communications were downed, so things couldn't be relayed easily. Ya probably all remember... Anyway, that's where we, the message couriers came in. The message I had was where soldiers would be located in the coming days. Important information. It was a risk trusting it to a courier, but they had no choice. So I went.--

He took another sip of his drink.

--The couriers were usually easy targets. There weren't many of us. They were real good at picking us off. Usually they'd take us out from a distance, take whatever message we were carrying, and use it to gain an upper-hand in the war. Even if we had backup, or bodyguards? We lost so many. It's why the Decepticons seemed to always be one step ahead at times. Even encoding the messages didn't work. I lost so many friends... Anyway, I decided to keep the information in my processor, rather than on a datapad. That way if I was offlined? They couldn't take it from me without going to the effort of looking into my processor. I could remember it all. I didn't want them to gain an upper-hand because I'd failed to do my task.--

He'd gently tap his helm, before glaring at the cube infront of him. He paused for a moment, but would continue on with the story. He didn't care at this point if he was ruining the party with this major downer of a story. Carbine had asked. They all needed to know that Bumblebee wasn't just some kid that goofed off and watched cartoons and read comics. That he'd done so much more than any of them.

--I was so close to where Optimus was located, and for a while? I stupidly thought I might get to him safely. I crossed into Tiger Pax, when I was taken by two Decepticons. They ambushed me. They didn't offline me outright, and I still don't know why. When they couldn't find the information I was carrying? They.. Well. Ahah. They beat the slag out of me, trying to get me to talk.--

He glanced up then, looking at Carbine. This was his question, so he would continue to stare at the helicopter as he told the worst part of his story.

--I didn't talk. I wouldn't. I.. I couldn't. So they decided to put me in my place, and lucky me... Megatron himself decided to try his hand at breaking the stubborn message courier who refused to speak. I endured.. Days of torture. Days of him trying to force the information from me. He pulled off both my arms. Shattered and bent my door wings. I wasn't allowed to slip into recharge. They'd stun me awake the moment I tried. They'd fill my processor with lies. How I was alone. How nobody was coming for me. Still? I wouldn't talk. I refused. So he made it so I would never talk again. At least not like you.--

A servo would gingerly reach up to touch at his throat.

--He tore out my voice capacitor, furious that I wouldn't tell him the information. Furious that he couldn't get it from me no matter what he did. I knew that if he got the information? There was a good chance the war would be lost.--

The faintest of smirks spread onto his rarely seen mouth, and he'd take another sip of his drink, shaking his helm. His gaze shifting from Carbine to stare down at the cube once more.

--Then? He left me for dead. He had an army to command and a war to fight, and couldn't waste any more time on me when it was so evident I wouldn't give him what he wanted. I almost gave up on myself. I was so, so very close to giving up and just... Slipping away. When Ratchet found me. Optimus found me. While my arms could be reattached, and my door wings repaired... My voice was forever lost.--

Bumblebee didn't know it, he was too humble to even think about it; but his actions back then probably changed a lot in the outcome of the war. If he'd given over the information? Who knew if they'd even be sitting here today having this party.

--So yeah. I faced Megatron. It's a long story and I'm sorry if I killed the mood of the party, but.. There ya go. You asked. There's the other time I faced him, too.. Where we installed a Cortical Psychic Patch to save Optimus' spark, and Megatron ended up invading my processor and taking over my frame, which was real fun. But... That's another story for another time!--

He didn't want to get into that story, too. It was bad enough having to tell the tale about how he was almost offlined at Megatron's hand, without the more recent event which still troubled him to this day.

All in all though? Despite what Bumblebee thought of himself? He wasn't so lame after all.

[Deleted]

When Rota said her piece, Thundercloud felt himself relax just a bit. Out of everyone in the room, it was the Brightplate he was most worried about judging them for their history. Those rich, hoity-toity types tended to be the worst of them when it came to things like this, when it came to looking down on folks. Maybe this femme wasn't so bad after all. She could still have stood to have some of her polish rubbed off, as far as Thundercloud was concerned, but other than that he supposed she wasn't all bad. You know, for a princess.

He settled back into his seat, feeling comfortable once again - only to immediately shutter his optics and drop his helm back against his shoulders as Carbine asked that incredibly loaded question. His wings drooped at his sides, their tips scraping against the ground as he slumped dramatically in his chair in order to let his frustration and second-hand embarrassment be known.

"Aw, come on Patches, quit pickin' on Fluffy. Actually, don't, just be less obvious about it, will ya?"

Thundercloud took a quick, reluctant drink of his cube before he could forget to. As much as he'd like to say he ever went up against Megatron and survived to talk about it, he couldn't do so honestly. He was just a grunt, after all - nobodies like him never got close to any of the big-name players, not unless they were being slaughtered wholesale like the canon fodder they were.

That probably said a lot about what he thought of Bumblebee, considering the story the young mech was telling. Then again, it also said a lot about what he thought of himself.

When the little scout finished his tale - and damn, what a story it was - Thundercloud found himself smirking a little. Surprisingly, the expression wasn't a mocking one - nor was it skeptical, or condescending, or any of the other less than kind things it could have been, or was expected to be. It was just a regular, crooked smile - a sign that Thundercloud had gotten a real kick out of what he had just heard.

"Damn, Cujo." He leaned forward, holding his fist out towards Bumblebee for a bump. "Looks like you got bearings after all."

[Deleted]

Rota noted the squint of Carbine's optics, and she honestly thought that for a pair of convicts? They really did have sparks in the right places. After all if they didn't? And they were truly cruel murderers? Well, they would not be here with the Autobots, right? Either way, things were settling back down again and Carbine's remark made a soft little laugh leave the femme. “Well, I don't know about sexy...” She teased him with a playful little smile.

Thundercloud also seemed a bit more relaxed by her words and really? She did speak the truth and really? She couldn't look down on others for their history. Especially considering her own past, which by many means was so squeaky clean compared to the others, still had a little bit of 'dirt' on those memories. Because good little snobby Brightplates did not want to run off and bond with a mech who was beneath them, it wasn't right to mingle with such lowly souls.

Primus, she still hated thinking of those views some of her cohort held. She adored them, but she at least realized early on their views were simply...Wrong.

As for Carbine's next question, her helm tilted in curiosity before the the question (that seriously was far more loaded than her own) was asked. The flood of emotions from Bumblebee made the femme visibly grimace, she even reached up to the sensors on her helm for a brief moment, before she reached out to the young scout, giving him a gentle pat on his leg. She was ready to tell him it was alright, that he shouldn't feel forced to tell such an obviously painful story just for the sake of some game.

But no, the scout started to speak with a purpose, and Rota was silent as she listened. She would move closer to him though, offering him a quiet showing of physical support as he continued to talk about this dark day in his life. Sipping at her high-grade, she didn't have a story to tell but she felt the need to do something, to busy herself in small ways outside of having scooter her chair closer to the yellow and black mech.

When the story finished, it was a relief that shown in how she slightly slumped in her chair. Her bright optics watched Thundercloud compliment Bumblebee, and she quietly nodded her helm in agreement. Him having bearings was the understatement of the century, because that story? It had honestly left her a touch speechless.

[Carbine]

Whelp.

That was a fuckup.

Carbine thought this was going to be an epic tale, a story of another wartime adventure. He thought that this confrontation with Megatron, would have been the small mech shipping away from danger like the squirrelly little guy he was. He was fast, Megatron, from what Carbine knew, was immense, huge. Their size difference alone had to mean Bee would be faster and could have outsmarted! Except no. Oh boy he did he not if Bumblebee's field change said anything about it.

"Hey! I am͘ n͢ot͡ ̛p͟-pi̢cking! He allu-u-u-k͞z̴z̷̧̧ţ-hinted to a cool story and side͏st̷ép̧p͞ed it!"

He tried to defend himself, tried to play it off, but the full brunt of the situation started to come to life, and Carbine felt himself slinking down in his chair a bit more and more as Bumblebee began to talk about a very grim day.

Carbine was conflicted. On one hand he had enough social awareness to know he should show shame and embarrassment for doing what he had done, but on the other he knew they all have their own terrors. Carbine could counter with his own stories, but the fact of the matter was... he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to speak of what exactly happened to him in Garrus, and hadn't even fully spoke to Thunder about it either. This alone made Bumblebee stronger than him on such levels, speaking so freely about the agony he endured at the Warlords hands, and offering it out to be public knowledge even if it could get him pity.

How could he just... risk having to deal with people looking sadly down upon him?

How could he throw this out there when it could completely change dynamics?

By the time Bumblebee was staring him down at the worst parts, Carbine finally had the sense of mind to incline his helm down some, to show a nod of approval or respect, or a pacified motion... Carbine himself wasn't even sure what the action meant to entail, but he was trying to not look completely socially detached or heartless, letting the others choose to decipher the motion how they saw fit.

When the story was finally wrapping up, Bumblebee started to divulge a second tale that sounded really interesting and like a crazy adventure as well. For a fleeting moment, Carbine wanted to pry, he wanted to raise a finger and ask about that, but he held off, instead drumming his wedge shaped fingertips down against the backrest of his chair in a mildly anxious motion.

While he did this, he glanced over at Rotary, noticing the way she scooted closer to try to offer support. Wow. He really did mess things up with that question didn’t he? He hadn't thought it would end like this, and he had some damage control to do if he was going to try to repair it. Luckily, Bolo was sensitive enough to surroundings to notice when someone wasn't feeling well, and being that the canine was drunk beyond repair... the animal acted out on its own with no grace.

Plodding with a couple wobbled steps at Bumblebee, Bolo slid his way over to the scouts side, one of his back legs dragging a bit in the process as he couldn't remember how to lift it up fully. It took him a moment to get over to where he wanted to be, but he ended up sitting down beside the yellow mech's chair, and tried to offer condolences the best way his animal processor could. What he would have normally done was offer a tiny lick to a hand, or lay his helm down upon their knee to look up at the individual. Instead? The drunken hound licked the side of Bumblebee's knee with a long drag, leaving a smear of high grade in its wake, before he plunked his helm down atop the knee flaring with an audible noise, looking up at Bee curiously.

Thankfully, Thunder broke the verbal silence after the story, giving a springboard for Carbine to work off of.

"Right? I thơųgh͟t i͜t̴ was ͘g̀oin͏g to be s-s̷-͟śome scrabbly little escape story whe̸re͢ ̨h̛e̶ manąg̶ed to give a slip or somethin'!"

Amusement, mirth, he projected this to try to move seamlessly on from the honestly quite somber story. He had to do what Thunder did, and focus on Bee being a little badass instead of the fact he was a victim of heinous torture.

[Bumblebee]

Bumblebee was so naive. So completely innocent, and always expecting the best from people that he hadn't taken Carbine's question as one that was picking on him. A targeted question that probably broke the rules of the game, yes. But picking on him? No. He knew there were rumors about how he lost his voice, he just didn't know that people weren't aware that it was Megatron himself that was the one to inflict the damage. He didn't mind talking about it if asked, he really didn't! He just hated the pity that came from it. The sympathy. The sad glances. It was awkward! He didn't like being the center of attention unless he was showing off at something.. And he wasn't showing off by telling this story.

But it had to be told. Or he wouldn't be playing the drinking game properly. That, and, he hoped that both Carbine and Thunder would think more of him. Anything to seem cooler infront of those that Bee thought were also cool, right? Even telling heartbreaking stories that Bumblebee didn't like to think about. It'd happened. He'd survived it. He hoped the others would just raise their cubes as a show of respect and take a shot as solidarity, but no... Here came the dreaded sympathy.

He was glad he drank an entire cube and a few shots here and there, because due to the fact he hadn't drank before? It hit him fairly quick. It'd help numb the awkwardness and embarrassment he was currently feeling. Which was a lot.

--Ah, yeah...! Somethin' like that!--

He'd give Thunder a lopsided half-tipsy smile, reaching over to nudge his fist against the other mechs. Or at least, he managed it after the second attempt. The first would skim over the top of Thunder's servo awkwardly, although he'd quickly rectify it with a solid fistbump. Awyeah! Okay he was more than a little buzzed. Which was the point of the game, right?

He'd lean back in his chair so he didn't make an aft of himself by falling forwards onto the table, and would try to relax some, sprawling back and spacing out just a little while he tried to work out what to do with this new drunk feeling that made his processor buzz. It was pretty neat.

He didn't get to space out for long, his attention quickly drawn to the fact Rotary had moved closer. Another goofy smile was shot her way, before something nudged his leg and he'd flinch just slightly – before realizing what it was. Bolo!

--Heeeeey Bolo~--

His beeps were slightly drawn out, no doubt due to the high-grade in his system. A servo would move to scratch between the drunk canine's ears gently. Puppies made everything okay, even sitting here feeling horribly awkward at all the unwanted pity.

--It's uh.. My turn to ask a question right..? Yeeeah.. Uh. Slaaaaag... IIiiii.. GOT NOTHIN'! Can we play somethin' else? I mean I'm lovin' this, I really am! Just.. I think we've all gotten to know each other by now, yea? Yeeeeeah? Iiiif not. I got nothin' sooo.. Youur turn to ask a thingy.--

More drawn out, almost slurred beeps as he focused on talking. It was only fair. Thunder had given brief answers to nearly everything so this was payback for him not playing the game properly! Or something. He would briefly turn his attention from Bolo to glance across at Thunder, and give him a cheery thumbs up since this was his little shindig, before turning his attention back to scratching Bolo. Surely the host had more games in mind that they could play? It wasn't just going to be a night of awkward questions? Right? Please. No more questions. He didn't want to be the reason this party became a pity-party, so a new game would probably be most welcomed and could shift the mood some.

Hopefully a game would be suggested that didn't involve standing up, though. Bee wasn't sure if he could do that without wobbling and making it more obvious that the high-grade had gotten to him so fast. Not that it'd stop him from drinking more, however. He still wanted to fit in afterall!

[Deleted]

So Bumblebee didn't have any other ideas for prompts, huh?

Well, that was as good a sign as any that the game was winding down, as far as Thundercloud was concerned. Considering it was his turn to go next, and he was also the host of this little party, he decided to take it upon himself to change things up a bit, just to keep things interesting. Nothing killed a party's mood quite like realizing it was becoming repetitive as hell.

Leaning back in his seat, Thundercloud threw an arm over the backrest of his chair and kicked his legs out in front of him, crossing one ankle over the other as he made himself comfortable.

"I got a better idea. Since we're all nice and acquainted now, got a good feel for each other, we can play Most Likely. It's real easy - you just take turns sayin' slag like "who's the most likely to settle for a 4." and then everybody else points to who they think that guy is. You gotta take a drink for every finger that winds up pointed at you. Any questions? Nah? alright then, I'll start."

Clearing his throat unnecessarily, Thundercloud looked around the room and pretended to think very hard about what question he would ask. His gaze went from Carbine, to Bumblebee, to Rotary, before landing right back on the ex-enforcer. It was then that Thundercloud grinned, leveling his friend with a look he would recognize all too well.

"Who here's most likely to make a complete ass of themselves in public?"

[Deleted]

Rotary was quietly glad, and relieved, that the never have I ever game came to a close when Bee (who possibly did not need anymore drinks at this point) could not come up with a question to ask their little group.

She certainly perked up at the idea of this new game too. “Now this sounds like it could be fun!” She piped up with a cheerful note. The femme also felt like there would be several questions she would be able to ask too – and if she was lucky (or even not so lucky)? Some of the questions would lead her to having a drink or two.

As for the question Thundercloud brought up, she glanced at the three mech's. Bumblebee was a sweetspark, he couldn't make an aft of himself in her opinion. As for the two convicts...She grimaced a little. “Sorry, Carbine..” She apologized as she pointed a finger in his direction. Though given the look Thunder had sent his way? The black and yellow mech probably knew he was the one who was going to be (as the humans would say) thrown to the wolves. At least he seemed like an easy going sort, quick to laugh and make jokes.

The former dancer was already curious as to what the questions each mecha would pose though. She was also curious to how many more drinks Bumblebee could handle, as he was already looking just a tad inebriated

[Carbine]

Don't you fragging dare Thunder...

Carbine's eyes gradually narrowed after Thunder announced the new game, and already knew what was coming when he gave him that look. That look meant many a thing, but today it meant he was going to target him and make him, or in this case Bolo, get even more trashed. The asked question wasn't a surprise to Carbine, and his chest puffed up a bit in indignation at the affront. This only was paired with a mock gasp of insult when Rotary agreed and pointed at him. The ex-cops hand raised and placed its fingertips down upon his chest, rattling out the gasp, before he spoke loudly.

"Forget public, I wįl̸l͠ ͢d͘o it̢ r̨i͠ght now!"

Suddenly yelled, Carbine wrenched upright and out of his chair abruptly as if someone had electrocuted him up his spinal strut. It was the split moment after he was standing, that the front prong of his ped lurched forward, and hooked on the bottom support rods of the chair he had been sitting on. With this hooked grip, his powerful leg swung back and around, flinging the chair out from in front of him, and causing it to spin and rattle off to the side, nearly falling over. While the chair wobbled and settled into place, Carbine moved over and grabbed onto Bolo's harness, dragging him back towards him and off of Bumblebee.

Bolo was... shitfaced... for lack of a better term. His little tiny body had taken in a lot of high-grade that flooded his systems and made him immensely unstable, bordering on overdose. He was enjoying getting his ears scratched at, was enjoying the attention Bee was giving, and was having a blast just sitting there as the world spun. His optics were so dimmed they might as well have been off, which was a show of trust that was half earned from Bee being a teammate, and from being intoxicated. But this was interrupted when he was grabbed. Bolo's legs stretched out and kicked weakly while he was drug, a few scuffs of black paint scraping off of his rump onto the concrete flooring below while Carbine took him back to his now cleared seat at the table. The dog's tongue was lolling out of his mouth, where dribbles of the noxious high-grade slipped out to run over his white jaw.

"How about an interm͢i̷ssi͘o̡n͡ w͝her͢e ̡I ͏d́o͠ j̧u͏st what Flapjack deem͏s͘ ͞t͟r̴u͏th!"

In contrast to everyone else, Carbine was a hundred percent sober. He had not gotten any high-grade in his system at all this day, and had full control of his appendages. It was while he spoke as if he was the leader here, he held a final cube down to Bolo, whose face teetered forward and into the drink with a splash, half drowning in the cup. The dog tried to lick up the fuel, his greed and desire to fulfill a gluttonous addiction propelling him, but he wasn't getting too far. After a moment, Carbine pulled the cube away, and wrenched Bolo up and into the air.

With a hard swinging motion, and a straining whir of his arm mechanics, Carbine swung Bolo up and over his head to try to hatchet down at his back. Normally, Bolo instinctively would dock into place, his forelegs sliding into the sockets, and body transforming to integrate with his back. This time, the dog roughly slapped against his back with a loud bang, legs flopping about, and Bolo warbling out a whining grumble while fuel dribbled out of his mouth. Carbine pulled the dog back a bit more, trying to calculate and aim, before he rammed Bolo down again, this time the transformation sequence occurring.

Shifting armor, a clicking noise, the dog's frame vanishing to become a backpack of plating, it was only a moment before Carrier and Cassette were locked into place once more, only it was different this time.

When Bolo docks with Carbine, their fuel and other lifelines would integrate together, allowing the cop to work extensive hours without needing to worry about feeding Bolo, or making sure he was tended to properly. As long as he himself was in working levels, than Bolo would be as well. They muddled together as one. But the highway of lifeblood didn't go one way, and it cycled back into the larger Cybertronian to have him help process and filter anything that may be in their lines. Long story and anatomical nonsense later, it left all of the high-grade contaminated fuel flooding directly into Carbine, effectively giving him a huge injection of intoxicants in one pulse.

The effect was rather immediate, Carbine's right knee buckling a bit to accommodate for a shift in balance that wasn't needed, only to slide out and catch himself before he could fall. The experience was always a bit of a trip, going from completely sober to... not... and his hands snapped down to grasp the edge of the table to keep himself steady while the warmth and heat of the potent fuel crept across his frame from his spine, and crawled lazily through his processor.

He tried to stabilize a moment, before his right hand lifted up and off the table, only to hold up beside his helm with pointer and middle finger extended. He placed these on the side of his head as if he was speaking into a comm, but... he wasn't. Nothing came out, and instead he just stared across the table at Thunder as he held the pose. Unblinking.