[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Cactus Picking [ Closed | Avalanche ]

[Hot Rod]

Timeline - Week 1 Day 4- Late Evening. During the events of Essential Foundations

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     Hot Rod had peeked into see what all the commotion had been about. Everything seemed to gather whenever Optimus Prime was involved, but he wanted to see just what it had been all about. Apparently there was some sort of muscle flexing happening, and though he would have shown up, there were just too many involved there. He didn’t have the skills to go against any of them- unless, of course, he wanted to set everyone on fire, and that probably wouldn’t have gone over too well if he had burned the base to the ground.

     Now he was off to wander, huffing a little to himself in irritation. Everyone had a skill they could do, something that made them essential to the team. What did he have other than his good looks? Sure, speed was one but what good was a kamikaze attack against someone who could hit harder or stand their ground against it? Which, considering the size of some of the new arrivals, it was perfectly probable that was the case for the Decepticons as well since they often showed off their ball bearings against one another with their infighting.

     Someone was in the control room tinkering with someone in the corner. He didn’t know the mech, and he didn’t want to draw attention to himself so he just moved on down another corridor. Being left to wander the halls like a caged animal seemed to be how he was spending his days since coming to base. When he had first arrived on Earth he’d had the freedom to roam, and that itch was starting to hit again. If he was just going to be uselessly sitting around and feeding off the resources they had here, wouldn’t it be best if he were just gone? He’d probably have better chances out there on his own and he wouldn’t be such a burden to everyone. Ratchet had told him to open up and give the others a chance, but he’d yet to take that advice. If anything, the run in with Kup had only closed him up more and reminded him that no one could be counted on.

     He was on his own. Like usual.

     Frustrated, Hot Rod let out a loud holler and threw his servos out, not paying attention to what was around him. He expected to hit a wall, but the fact that there was something more… alive… under his fist made him snap to attention and he right away jumped back to look up. And up. And up some more. Right away he frowned and stared at the femme that stood in his way, blocking the corridor that he had been traveling down. Grumbling and letting out a grow of irritation, his frame right away bristled and his shoulder vents opened as if trying to make himself look intimidating.

     “What in the Pit is up with you? Can’t ya tell there are people walking here? Don’t just STAND in the way. Move over.” Hot Rod spoke with a snap in his voice, servos firmly on his hips and pedes planted firmly on the ground as he attempted to size up the femme before him and challenge his stubbornness against her to see who come out victorious.

[Avalanche]

CLANG.

If there was one thing Avalanche hadn't expected as she came around the corner, it was to find a garishly orange and yellow mech punching her in the torso. If there was anything to salvage from the moment, it was that he seemed just as surprised as she was. He jerked backwards, fast and light on his pedes.

That would have been the time for an apology. Instead, he bristled, straightening up as far as he was able and growling at her.

"What in the Pit is up with you? Can’t ya tell there are people walking here? Don’t just STAND in the way. Move over."

Avalanche narrowed her optics, a grin curving her black lips. Under other circumstances, she would have been immediately pissed off by the blatant show of disrespect, but there was something about the mech that betrayed a sense of youth, even of inexperience. The way he fluffed his shoulder vents to look intimidating was almost cute.

"Oh, you're walking, huh? Most mecha don't punch the air as they walk, but guess you're special. And I'm in your way. Tch. Sounds like you've got a raw deal." Her huskily feminine voice thrummed in her chest as she spoke, a note of amusement to it.

Stepping into the centre of the corridor to more efficiently block his path, she took a step back, and raised a blunt finger beckoningly. "Tell you what; let's see if you've got the bearings to back up your mouth. Land a clean hit on me, and I'll let you head on right past."

Arms relaxed by her sides, she added casually, "Or you could always pick another corridor. Your call."

He'd be fast. If he came in fast and controlled and nailed her before she could react, then that'd be more than fair. She'd made the challenge, after all. But if he got excitable, like she expected, and lunged swinging...

She tensed herself inwardly. The corridor was a little confined, but there was just enough room to trip the little hothead and make sure he got acquainted with the floor. Her grin curved a little wider. This could be fun.

[Hot Rod]

     "Most mecha would know to get outta the way of a swinging fist, smart aft." 

     As far as getting out of the way of a hit? That was the extent of what he assumed to be true. If he had seen a fist coming in his direction he would have certainly dodged out of the way or at least attempted to block it. From his point of view she was either too busy staring off into space and not paying attention, or she had just let him hit her in order to rile up a possible argument. Either way, he had it wrapped up in his processor that it was her fault and with that believe firmly cemented there, it would take a chisel to make him assume otherwise. So no apology came nor would it probably ever would, especially after it was pointed out and now she was challenging him to try it again. Plus the idea of admitting that he was wrong was just... no. He may have not meant to hit her, but admitting that would force him to admit he was wrong, and he would have much rather been dead and buried before ever having those words come out of his mouth.

     Oh, that smug look on her face really pissed him off. He was already upset and annoyed before the encounter started, and now that he was being given an opportunity to let out his anger on someone who seemed willing to have it turned on her? He would not turn that down. Never. If she tried to cry about it later, he would just point out that all she needed to do was get out of his way and all of this would have been able to be avoided. He didn't know what he was doing, but he had managed one blow and he would be one to remind her of it whenever he was given the chance, no matter the circumstance behind how he'd been able to land it.

     "In case you missed it, I ALREADY hit you!" There was the loud and proud. He moved his arms up from his hips and held them up in fists in front of him, as though he were getting ready to box with her. "But hey, if you want me to show you how it's done and remind you of what it feels like, I'll be glad to. Just don't whine about it later like a crybaby." 

     Hot Rod wasn't far from her, so it didn't take long for him to reach her. The lunge was easy, made in a couple simple steps which was followed through with a swing with his left fist towards her face. He figured that this would be as simple as the first time, though he still predicted that she would at least bring an arm up to defend herself from hitting her directly. Hell, he wouldn't want a fist on HIS face, either. He'd prepared for that, though, and would have followed through with his other fist. Countering would have been expected. What wasn't expected was what actually came out of his blind swing.

     Figuring that she would just focus on his fists within the confined space was a gross miscalculation, humorous really for anyone on the outside looking in. He'd missed her when she twisted sideways out of the way instead of just blocking, which forced him to follow through with the movement he was already in the middle of because of the lunge to punch at the now empty space. He carried through, trying to plant a step forward so he could catch himself, but that proved to just not be possible. His pedes were large and broad and he hadn't expected them to ever fail him since he'd proven to be rather sure-footed time and time again, but this time they didn't hold up. With one trapped behind her leg, the other wasn't able to lift up and get past it so he could catch himself as his body leaned forward. With both pedes behind his center point of gravity was way off and his top heavy frame started down. With arms flying out in front of him to catch himself on whatever he could to keep himself from actually hitting his face on the floor, he was left completely exposed and his downward fall was only assisted with a follow through of her hand shoving into his back.

     SCREEEEEEEECH THUD. 

     Those were the sounds he heard as one of the points of his yellow spoiler dragged along the wall briefly, leaving behind a scratch in the metal there, before his decent was halted by the thud of him hitting the floor. He'd landed on his hands, at least, so his face had been spared. His pride was an entirely different story, and he'd lay there staring at the floor for a few moments to collect himself before he would even try to face her again. 

[Avalanche]

A short bark of laughter escaped Avalanche as the smaller mech actually threatened her, wanted to teach her what being punched felt like. He was going to show her. Sure, it wasn't the first time she'd been treated like that, and usually it merited a short, hard lesson in what she was capable of, but she just couldn't quite make herself take the gaudy flame-painted mech seriously.

She'd misread mecha before, of course. This could have been one of those times.

He squared up to her in the classic pose best known as 'the boxer's stance for those who don't know what they're doing', then rushed her. One fist leading, the other pulled back, telegraphing the follow-up blow he obviously anticipated. Shooting way too high, too; trying for the faceplate. Not a good idea.

She twisted, slipping out of the way of the amateurish lunge, and slammed her leg into his, just as he was pushing off it. That in itself would have probably been enough, but she chose to be certain, the flat of her hand shoving down on his back to accelerate his meeting with the floor. A beautiful screech of metal as his spoiler lost a little paint against the wall, terminated with a flat thud as he impacted the ground.

Of course, now he was down, it was up to her to make sure he stayed down long enough to listen. Planting one broad foot on his back with a clang, she let just enough of her massive weight bear down on him to pin the smaller mech to the deck. "So that was your first shot," she said conversationally. "You telegraph your punches pretty hard. You're gonna have to work on that. You throw yourself off-balance when you lunge. If a blow misses, it should never leave you that over-extended. And another thing."

She grinned down at him. "You got ambitious. Thought you could smack me right in the mouth, huh? Not gonna happen from a standing start. Do not try to punch higher than your helm; leaves your whole body exposed. What you do is, you go after what you can reach, go for where it's hard for me to block, make me come down to a level where you can go for the faceplate if that's what you're after."

Removing her foot, Avalanche straightened, moving to stand in front of the fallen mech. "Come on. Up on your pedes. Try again. Hit me clean, and I'll let you by. But if you can't, then you're gonna do something for me."

Beckoning him up, she moved into a guard position, her heavy hands curled into loose fists. All the better to sucker him in with; she intended to catch his fists in her open hands when he came at her, and clamp down hard. He'd be wary, after being taken off-guard that badly; slower, and more cautious. That'd make him a lot easier to intercept, lighter and faster though he was.

She struck her densely armoured chestplate with one fist, the thick metal dented and scarred. "Commander Avalanche. What's your name, hot shot?"

[Hot Rod]

     Hot Rod was livid.

     The femme had embarrassed him, which was already the first issue. Now she was talking down to him and on his back- quite literally standing on him- in some instructional belittling fashion that he could have very well done without. The worse part about all of this? The paint on the sharp edge and tip of his spoiler were scuffed from being run against the cement wall of the silo. 

     He was barely listening to her, busying himself with pressing his servos to the floor and squirming around trying to get himself just a bit of leeway so he could get up from his spot. The femme was heavy and had plenty of heft behind her that supported the height she had, enough to keep even a bulky mech like himself down. Even being able to gain an inch of ground would have done him some good and could have allowed him an edge to get his servos under his center point to hoist himself up and shake her up, but he couldn't even have that much. He was stuck where he lay, forced to listen to her talking to him as if she had some sort of permission to do so.

     "Get off me you ten-ton junk heap," he muttered under his breath through gritted denta. Hot Rod didn't know if she had heard him or not, but right after that she took her foot off him and he pushed himself to sit up on his knees. He ignored her trying to taunt him for now and instead glanced at his spoiler to see the damage that had been done. While it was his own misstep that had led to the damage, Hot Rod still blamed her for it since it was clearly her fault in some twisted roundabout way that made since in his head but probably wouldn't to anyone else. 

     Her introduction almost fell on deaf audials. At the moment he was focused on other things, and giving his designation definitely wasn't one of them. While she probably expected that he would go for another lunge, especially when he started to stand up, he instead dropped low and swung his leg out to try and catch her on the back of the knee with his foreleg to at least throw her off balance. If he could get her to tip to the side even a bit, he could use a stumble to his advantage and force her down the rest of the way. 

[Avalanche]

Avalanche grinned to herself as the young mech struggled to push back against the weight bearing down on him, entirely without success. Ten-ton junk heap, huh? She wasn't too offended by the young idiot - he'd actually underestimated her fifteen ton weight - but 'junk heap' deserved a little more scuffing of his pride before she took pity on him.

What he did next would tell her a lot. He'd been massively over-confident the first time, and it had earned him a mouthful of floor. She expected - hoped - he'd come at her a bit more cautiously the next time. What she didn't expect was for him to totally ignore her and fuss with his scratched spoiler.

Ah. One of those.

Rolling her optics, Avalanche shook her helm slightly. It was just a cosmetic mark; nothing worth making a fuss about. Though his paint, now she looked, was very shiny. Impetuous, vain, wildly over-estimating his chances... yeah, she had a handle on him now, nameless or not. She watched as he began pushing himself to his pedes, but there was an awkwardness there, pushing mostly with one leg as he shifted his balance to the side.

His intentions were plain. He was fast, and with the right skills he'd be a tough opponent close up, but to a veteran brawler like Avalanche, his body language was as good as a written postcard.

She twisted as he swing his free leg around, countering the sweep with the sheer, brutal efficiency of a direct kick to the shin. The hardest thing was pulling the blow enough that she wasn't likely to damage him; it was on her to ensure she didn't cause any noticeable dents. This was only a friendly lesson in the basics, after all.

Leg up, crouching on the floor; that was a lousy balance point to kick out from. Her left hand lashed out, opening as it came, to deliver a palm strike to the forehead of his flashy red and yellow helm. More than enough to knock him back onto his aft, as he richly deserved.

Avalanche looked down at him as he sprawled, taking a step back and out of range of any sudden kicks or lunges. Crossing her arms casually across her massive chest, she said mildly, "Don't listen much, do you. Guess I could tell you what a bad idea it is to try a move like that when you're in an awkward position to start with; way too easy to read. Not a lot of point if nothing is going into that gaudy helm of yours, though."

Stepping to the side, putting her back to the corridor wall, she gestured loosely past her. "You can go on your way if that's what you want; I'm done stopping you. But if one thing I say gets through to you, let it be this: you could be better. You're quick, and you're light on those big pedes of yours. Good stability from the weight distribution. I can show you some tricks, if you don't want to end up flat on your aft in front of a real enemy."

Vain, wounded pride, not listening to a word she said... yeah, the odds were that the mech was either gonna take another swing, regardless of her announcing their little test was at an end, or stomp past her with some nasty little epithet not quite under audible range. Still, he might surprise her. It'd happened before.

((Permission from Jazzzy given to manhandle Hot Shot))

[Hot Rod]

     "You can be better'. Yeah, that's what the last scrambled brain jerk said, and the one before that. That's what everyone says, like some sort of recruitment card. 'Join this team. You can be the best'. Doesn't look like I'm any better tho, huh?"

     He stood and brushed himself off with an unnecessary roughness to it. He was irritated with the situation, and more so irritated with the damage he had on his paint job. It wasn't bad enough that he'd had to get his insignia removed because it was 'too big of a calling card', but now he had some unsightly scoffs that made him look like he had actually done something, when really he had just been used as a doormat. 

     "For all the big bad talk you war vets do, there's a lot of you.... not alive. So it doesn't look like a lot of you even know what the scrap you're doing. You just get lucky like the rest of us, just in a different setting where you can call it 'experience' and learn from your mistakes."

     He scoffed some and finished brushing off at the invisible dirt that was on his arm. There wasn't anything physically there, but to Hot Rod it was like trying to get the side effects off him- cooties, as human children would call it. He could still feel her on him. It wasn't because the weight she had bore down on him had damaged anything internally and weird circuits were pinched or twisted at weird pressure points. It was more of the dramatic temperature difference between him and others, where his frame would freak out and pump the heated liquid flowing through him to those areas to acclimate them to normal readings again. That overcompensation always felt weird until everything was regulated again. 

     "Ya think you're any better? Try it. Maybe I'll learn a thing or two, or maybe you'll just get burned. It'd be nice to shove it in your face that you're not some great teach like all the rest of ya think you are." 

     Hot Rod stood there, arms crossed as he stared down the tall femme before him. He didn't have any confidence that she would be different than Kup or the rest of them. All talk, with their chests out, showing off their medals and telling their stories with hopes of carrying on their legacies to the younger generations to pass on long after they were gone. Teach the youth, live forever. But hey, it wasn't like he was doing anything else, and blowing off some steam would be better than burning the place down on accident.

[Avalanche]

Arms folded, Avalanche watched the younger mech climb to his feet and dust himself off with unnecessary roughness; far more invested in a show of ridding himself of her touch than actually achieving anything. A lot of his mannerisms seemed to be like that.

Start with the obvious: Primus, but he was obnoxious. Hostile, mouthy, egotistical; yeah, she'd run into mecha like him before. But that was a shell, a quite brittle shell, over the fact that he'd clearly attempted to better himself before, and had failed. If anything, his big show left her convinced that of all the mecha in his life, he himself was the most disappointed with his lack of improvement.

She could work with that.

"There's a lot of everyone that's not alive," she observed, uncrossing her arms and beckoning with a wave of her hand. "Doesn't matter how good you are; sooner or later, you make a dumb mistake, or you get unlucky, or the galaxy just turns on you, and you end up in front of Primus, wondering what the slag happened. Everyone makes dumb mistakes. Knowing just a bit more than the other guy does help make some of those mistakes survivable, though."

She turned and headed off down the corridor, her heavy shield on her back shifting from side to side with each step. Somewhere down this way, she'd walked past a ramp leading downwards, and down there, she'd been told, were a bunch of storage rooms. Any half-empty space would do; even the corridor itself, if she was sure they wouldn't be disturbed. No sense making the kid feel self-conscious, or he'd close up, and that'd be that.

"I'm no combat instructor. I'm just good at hitting things until they stay down, or break. Still, there'll be something we can do with you, if you give it your best shot. Tell me a bit about your favoured fighting style. Close range? Long range? Blasters, blades? Do you step in and slug it out, or dart back and use cover to get your balance back? No point in honing a style you aren't gonna use."

She half-turned, glancing over her shoulder. "You still haven't told me your name."

[Hot Rod]

     Primus. Everyone seemed to use that name as if the deity gave them some sort of divine intervention that swayed their favor from one direction to the next. It was honestly just a hodge podge of nonsense to him. He decided his own actions, he lived his own life, and he didnt' answer to any higher power. As far as he was concerned, there wasn't any judgement waiting from him on the other side. Everyone just acted like he was going to save them all.

     "Yeah, well I'm alive and it's definitely not by any hand of Primus or whatever other nonsense you believe in. Seems like I'm doing a better job on my own than any of you who say that name like it's gonna actually save you from something." He never really bothered to look into the name, figuring that it was just some martyr like any other who lived way too long ago for anyone alive now to remember and stories were passed down to keep his story alive. "Guess 'Primus' didn't do very well for himself either, since he's... ya know. Dead. So much for that."

     Hot Rod followed her, keeping enough of a distance as not to be smacked in the face by that giant shield thing she had thumping on her back. He wondered to himself if it ever fell off and the thought of it made him snicker aloud to himself. He could just imagine her being engaged in a hardcore in depth conversation and there be a loud clanking noise as it disconnected from her back and sliced through the silence like a hot knife through butter.

     Her statements cut just the same, but he chose to bristle and be silent about it and answer about his name first.

     "I know I haven't," he replied. "We aren't friends so I don't see any reason why you have to have it." Hot Rod scoffed some. She didn't need it for a registration and she wasn't part of medical staff so he didn't find a need for her to have it. He'd withhold whatever he could from her if it meant being able to have something in his court. If she didn't have his name she couldn't report him for anything. Ignoring the fact that this was a tiny base with a handful of them around so he'd be able to be identified by someone else. It wasn't something that went over his head. He just opted to ignore the reasoning.

     Hot Rod made a small popping noise with his mouth, then clicked his tongue against the top of his mouth momentarily as he directed his attention elsewhere while she had her eyes on him. Well no point in lying about it, right? She'd find out the moment they started. 

     "I never  really learned how to use any type of weapons or fighting stuff. Got myself stranded on a neutral planet that kept me peace bound. But! I can drive really fast."