[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Double Dose [Knockout, Open] Mar 2, 2020 21:35:10 GMT -5
Post by The Twins on Mar 2, 2020 21:35:10 GMT -5
Ep. 3 | Week 1 | Day 7
There is nothing like being stuck in a car with an overly cheery person when the other is in the foulest of moods. Well, almost nothing. You could be stuck to them. Forever. To make matters worse, they were lost. In Swansong’s departure from their exciteful encounter with Soundwave, they neglected to ask directions to the medical bay.
And neither were going to ask for help navigating Blackridge.
So this left a walking abomination wandering the dirt packed halls, anger building for one and boredom for the other. ‘So why are we going to see the doctor? We’re perfectly fine. You saw to that.’ Swansong stopped abruptly, optic cycling to a much smaller diameter. “Wait. We’ve been this way before. That’s our track there!”
’We are going because Soundwave ordered it. I cannot fix my vocoder. I do not have the servos for it. As for the order, medical skill exists between us- therefore we report to the doctor.’ Switchfoot was not prepared for the sudden stop, as a result their helm was jarred and they spat static. While irritated, they could not rage against Swan. It would not be justifiable to argue physics. ”Sin-- when -id you learn to -cknowle--ge tracking?”
‘Orders. Ugh- I’ll have to listen to more people than just you.’ At the poorly vocalized question, Swan merely exvented. “On TV. Where else would I learn it? I streamed the entirety of Man Tracker a few weeks back during flight.” The joint frame crouched as best they could with their awkward legs, Swan peered about, affecting their best hunter persona. “Following the more heavily treaded path should lead us there.”
Switchfoot fought against the crouch after a few vent cycles, not much caring for the gesture unless it was to examine a newly found corpse. The following result was an odd jump between lowering and standing, the upright only being achieved when Swan saw fit to cooperate. ’Orders, yes. You will have to start listening. None of that scrap with Soundwave. We will not have an out next time.’ With Swansong’s earlier suggestion, Switch saw no issue in letting them feel useful for a while longer. ”Th-t -oes expl--n your s-lence. It -as peacf-- -hen. -ead on.”
‘What?! I thought I did great! He let us stay!’ There was no further response. Switch would not entertain another argument lest they become too irritable.
Switchfoot became too irritable. Swan’s idea of navigation was just as poor as their tracking. A near quarter of an hour later and sparks jumped more frequently from the joint frame- a bad thing given they were burning through their energon stores quickly. Hunger on road trips did not fare well. By the time they actually encountered the door to the medical bay, both were not on speaking terms with one another. Their movements lurched heavily, giving them truly robotic animations. Switch went to knock, getting a hard rap in before Swansong simply whisked the door open on its tracks.
Switch turned to Swan then, audial fins set in decline. ”You h-ve forg--ten your man--rs.” It was very easy to be blunt with such a monotonous voice, and it was perfect for this type of scolding. After a sufficient enough expression of apology, Switchfoot turned their attention to the room before them.
Jumbled berths, mismatched or even outdated equipment, and just literal dirt walls. Switchfoot made an audible sound that got mutilated by their vocoder. The chaos of it all was almost enough for further outbursts. ‘Problem? I think it adds character.’ A small chuckle fell from Swan before they addressed the room. “Hello? Anyone home?”