2016-11-02 What Is Mine
From Transformers: Lost and Found
|2016-11-02 What Is Mine|
|Location||Vortex and Windrose's Habsuite|
|Participants||Air Raid, Blast Off, Vortex|
|Summary||Blast Off is scary.|
It’s time to take care of business, and it’s amazing what having no inhibitions does to piddling little things like doubt, or conscience, or temperance. Blast Off is on a hunt- a turbo-turkey hunt. With a side dish of rotary. It’s time to roast both of them for what they did to Whirl. It’s funny, Blast off ping-pongs back and forth so much lately from loyalty to Vortex and the other Combaticons and loyalty to Whirl. It’s a balancing act so much of the time. But now? Now there’s no conflict at all. Vortex and Raid went too far, Blast Off has had enough, and it’s time to put a stop to this nonsense.
All may or may not be quiet at Vortex’s habsuite. It’s definitely gonna get louder in a second.
The door to Vortex’s habsuite is shot off. No door knocks or pings or polite little radio messages of << Vortex, we need to speak. >> No, the door is shot off with the sniper’s rifle, then he peers inside, violet optics scanning the room, body still outside in the hallway. “Knock knock, anyone home?”
Vortex is hanging out with Air Raid, looking just moderately cleaner than when he left Whirl. Not all his injuries are repaired though, mostly because any attempts to take him to the medbay was met with a child-like tantrums and possible shankings. But he seems happy enough, making all sorts of shameful pet noises while coddling and taking care of Fifi.
"Ain't she so kyoooot?" Vortex croons to Air Raid, scratching a claw under her little chin while polishing her back. He's only asked Raid this many, many times already. "I can polish you up next~" he offers to the Aerialbot with a flick of his three rotors. And that's when the door came flying in.
Vortex tucks up, bringing Fifi in close to protectively wrap himself around her as he stares at the door. Hopefully that didn't ruin any of those rocks his roommate is so fond of. He glances over to put a finger to his lips. Hold on, there's still hope, Air Raid. He uncurls a little. "The mech you're trying to get ahold of isn't home right now! Please leave a name and message after the beep!"
"... BEEP!" Fool proof plan.
Air Raid has been largely quiet, gazing up at the ceiling while precariously balanced on Vortex's desk chair. He doesn't like Fifi. He caught her just for Brainstorm to experiment on, not as a pet! But she makes Vortex happy, so. "Eh, would it make me easier to look at?" he asks, mustering a wry smile.
The door blasting off it's hinges starts Air Raid right off his chair, less than gracefully. He joins Vortex on the floor, optics wide. So much for laying low. But Blast Off wouldn't hurt Vortex, would he?
Air Raid drags a palm over his face when Vortex offers up a joke. It /has/ to be a joke. "/Tex/," he hisses, pushing to his feet. "Now hang on Blast Off, maybe you should put your rifle away... and we'll just all... talk, yeah?"
You have GOT to be kidding, Vortex. Blast Off’s optics flash as Vortex offers up THAT stupid ploy. “Do you think I’m Brawl or something, Vortex? Do you think this is all a game? You’re more out of it than I thought….” The sniper’s attention snaps back to Air Raid very quickly, however, and he watches the Aerialbot intently as Raid tries talking his way out of this situation. “Talk? Oh, you mean like you talked to Whirl? From what I heard, that didn’t work too well… for him, at least.” His stare is still intense, wide-opticked, rather blank in a way. He tilts his head slightly to the right.
“But you’re probably right. I /should/ put my rifle away.” The sniper subspaces his weapon even as he takes a step inside the habsuite, his other hand swinging from behind his back to reveal a bow. Raid's bow. Vortex may also notice his missing rotor attached across Blast Off’s back. “After all, where are my manners? You dropped this. I’m here to return your bow to you. Here you go.” The arm with the bow begins to hand it forward as he takes another step closer to Air Raid, that cold stare still on his face. However, the arm then rotates to hold the bow up in front of him… and then his other, now-free hand grabs the string. The sniper pulls it back to shoot at Air Raid with his own energy bow at point blank range. “I wouldn’t want to be rude, after all.”
"Uh... A bit, yeah!" Vortex doesn't take all that much seriously, really. He does shoot Air Raid a look however, shifting to set Fifi down. "Raider, what're you- ugh." Stupid Aerialbot. He nudges his lil drone pet back as he pops up to his feet. He gives his teammate a wary look as he moves closer to Air Raid.
His rotors perk and wiggle as he gets a peak of his missing fourth. "Ah, you brought Brawl back with you!" He named his rotors after his teammates. "Do I get it next? Do I- oh." His optics shutter as Blast Off takes to bow and makes to fire. "Blast Off! NO! You can't shoot him!! Shoot me!"
Air Raid grimaces at Blast Off's response, flexing his fingers anxiously. Brawl? What's Tex going on about? "Blast Off," he begins, seeking reason. He didn't want this to end up in yet another scrap if he could help it. But Blast Off is clearly seeing red. "It was an accident! One thing led to another-" With his own bow extended before him, Air Raid eyes it uneasily, but reaches to take it, only to end up with a crackling energy arrow solidly through his shoulder.
So that's what it feels like. Air Raid had always wondered. He staggers backwards, onto a knee, as that painful singing voltage lights up his circuitry and promptly disables his arm. "Sunnuvaglitch," he grates.
"Oops, I guess that was another accident, turboturkey!"
Air Raid taken care of, Blast Off’s attention focuses onto Vortex. “Oh, don’t worry, dear brother, I haven’t forgotten you. It’s all a game, eh? Then let’s see how I am at knife throwing, shall we? I do apologize if I’m just a bit rusty…” With that, the sniper reaches behind himself to pull out “Brawl”, Tex’s missing rotor. He glides his fingers along the edge, not caring if they get slightly sliced, and then jerks it back up in preparation to throwing it. Aim and…. FLING. Blast Off throws it straight at Vortex, seeking to slice off an arm or hand, or at least hear a satisfying schlunk of something slicing and tearing. In the meantime, his ionic blaster rematerializes into his spare hand.
<FS3> Vortex rolls Pain Tolerance: Success. (3 3 1 3 3 8 4 1)
Vortex's rotors flare, looking lopsided without the fourth. "Air Raid!" He curries closer to the Aerialbot but stops, head jerking to look at Blast Off. Ah. So that's how he's doing this. He freezes into place, visor dimming. "You've always had excellent aim. I could get tips from you," he muses quietly, not flinching as his blade is thrown at him.
Vortex doesn't loose a limb, unfortunately, but that schlunk sure does resound as his rotor sinks in like a machete. It carves a path from between his shoulder and neck down to about the middle of his torso, curving inward. The rotary stumbles and falls back with a blink of the optics as energon runs. "... Ow." He looks back up at Blast Off, rotors shuffling uncertainly.
Air Raid was all set to kumbaya this problem away, but now he's glaring darkly from beneath the short brim of his helm, trying to ignore the hot flow of energon trickling from his fingers. His working hand hovers next to the arrow until it inevitably dissipates. "Blast Off-" he begins, tone warning as the shuttle draws Vortex's missing rotor. He's not really going to- Yes, yes he is.
"BLAST OFF!" Air Raid shouts when Vortex is carved into. A flicker of rage flashes through to his core, not unlike what happened with Whirl. But the jet holds himself back. Fighting would make things far worse. "Please," he says, watching the rifle materialize. "For fuck's sake, he's your teammate - your brother! He thought it would impress Onslaught. It's not... his fault."
Blast Off watches as the rotor slices through his brother, and if it bothers him at all, it doesn’t show on the surface. He just stands there, expression dispassionate, aloof, cold. Slowly his attention comes back to Air Raid. The gun in his hand is brought up, ready, but not yet pointed at anyone. “Thought it would impress Onslaught, hmm? That’s right, make a mockery of Whirl, make him look weak and pathetic to further your own gain. It's not like he really matters, right? How typical. He trusted you.” His gaze shoots icicles back at Vortex. “The same damn thing I was so furious about HIM for doing, you’ve now done to him. Betrayed him.” His icy stare snaps back to Raid. “And there's you. So, is this how Autobots really treat one another, hmm? It’s certainly the same nauseous story I’ve heard time and time again from your side. Whirl tries to be one of you, tries to be loyal and gives it his all despite the fact that you all despise him, don’t you? … but it’s never good enough, is it? No, just knock him down, or watch him fall, and laugh, ha ha, there’s that stupid Whirl again doing stupid things. Making sacrifices for you, risking his own life for you. Taking bullets for you all, taking the fall for you all. Same story ever since he was mutilated… and before. Ha ha, what an idiot, right?” He does not sound mirthful.
“Now, what were /you/ saying, Vortex? This is a game?” The sniper’s gun lifts, but it’s not at Vortex. Or even Air Raid. It points straight at Fifi. “Ahh, you know, speaking of games, that thing looks like it would make some great target practice to me. Can you get it to move fast, Vortex? That would make it more sporting, after all, more fun to blast away. I bet I can make it shatter all across your room. I bet that would be hilarious, right?”
"You didn't even know I was gonna do it," he snaps at Air Raid. Of course its his fault! Whirl would most definitly not have claws right now if it weren't for the Aerialbot. Vortex ducks his helm, as Blast Off lambasts him savagely. His brother was downright vicious when he wasn't stumbling over his words to remain so erudite.
Vortex stares at the floor while Blast Off changes gears to shame Air Raid. But it doesn't keep his words from lashing at him as well. It was his idea, really. He always does this and gets so many people wrapped up in his mistakes. He can't even blame the ticks for this one, not really... His optics refocus, head lifting to look at his teammate at his name. He freezes once more as that gun is pointed at- "NO!"
Vortex shoves himself forward and lands on his face on account as one of his arms is dead in the water, so to speak. He scrambles desperately. "No, no, no, nonononono! Blast Off- Blast Off, please! She hasn't done anything, she's innocent! I'm sorry, okay? It wasn't funny, none of this is!" Is that what he wants to hear? He'll sing his praises! All of them! "Don't shoot her, pleasepleaseplease don't hurt her." His rotors tremble, optics pale. "I told Whirl 'sorry' too! What else? What do you want- I'll do that! Just don't... Please don't!"
Air Raid didn't know, no. But it doesn't seem to matter to him now. His glower intensifies at first, then eventually softens as Blast Off speaks. Or lectures. He stares at the ground, barely balanced in his kneeling, gnawing his lip. His wings sink further and further. His optics avert and dim. This is a rough description of the faction he so dearly loves. And he helped shape that image, one way or another. Ticks or not. The verbal razing leaves him positively despondent. There's really no apology for this.
The jet doesn't budge when Vortex seemingly falls to pieces over that damn drone thing. His spark aches over the rare pleading, but he only glances away. This is between the two of them. And what good what it do to intervene. What good is anything!
Vortex’s reaction gains a pair of upraised optic ridges from Blast Off. “Oh?” His voice is harsh, still coldly mocking. “I thought this was all just a silly game Vortex! Don’t worry, if I blast it to smithereens you can surely replace it with something else, can’t you? It’s all part of the game. You can find another toy to play with easily. It’s a big universe out there. And I think some target practice would be fun, so… why shouldn’t I just do what I want?” He pauses to give Air Raid a cold glare, but the Aerialbot seems sufficiently chastised, so after a contemptuous huff his attention returns to Tex. “You’re implying something, but… but what could it be?” The shuttle thoughtfully taps at his chin with his spare hand, glancing upwards in the show of deep thinking. “Like, I don’t know, implying that I should respect you and the things most dear to you. Act like they actually /matter/, or something.”
His gaze drops down, as does the chin-tapping hand, and he takes another step towards Fifi, still aiming square on her, standing at point blank range. A shot from a sharpshooter from this close wouldn’t miss, and it wouldn’t be pretty. “But why the slag would I ever do that? It would spoil my fun!” He manages to add a petulant-sounding little whine to the last few words. "Why wouldn't I just do whatever is the most fun to me at the time? It's all just fun and games, after all."
Vortex looks at Blast Off desperately, distraught. "Its... Its not a game," he murmurs, swallowing thickly. "It's not a game!" This time, he says it louder. He nods, shuffling closer. "Y-Yes. That's all important! All of it- I'll do that!" He whines loudly, looking at that gun. He's afraid and unsure what to do.
"Blast Off, please! Don't shoot her! It won't be fun, really! Please, please, please don't- shoot me instead! You can shoot me! I just- Primus, quit acting like me! Don't hurt her!" Vortex's tank feels all knotted up, knowing that look in Blast Off's optics. Its the 'on the job' look. Just, don't do this job, please.
Air Raid's optics finally swim up to briefly look between Blast Off and Vortex. He absently wishes Blast Off would just shoot the thing and get it over with. "It's just a stupid drone, Tex! Why would you want to get shot over it," he finally mutters, before dragging his dejected gaze to Blast Off. Cold, scary Blast Off. "What do you want from us? Can't... can't you see he's sorry?"
Blast Off keeps his gun pointed at Fifi, finger hovering over the trigger. He still hasn’t shot yet, though, instead pausing to listen to Vortex’s pleas. Every single last one of them. When the rotary is done, the shuttleformer moves the gun closer until it finally clinks on the drone. He remains standing still like that for a moment before he speaks. “Quit acting like you, hmm?” Now for the first time, his gaze breaks away to catch Vortex’s. “So what are you saying? That you act selfishly, that you haven’t cared how what you do affects even your own brother? His hopes, his plans, his life?” The sniper’s optics narrow. “And yet now you ask me to show you that courtesy. To spare this… drone you care so much for. To not have my fun, but do something else because you’re my brother and I actually give a flying flip what happens to you. Because I actually care whether you’re happy or not.” He blinks. “What a novel concept.”
The gun drops just slightly, still aimed towards Fifi but not quite as directly. For now Blast Off’s main attention is focused on Vortex. He leans in. “You owe me BIG, Vortex. What do I want? I want you to start acting like you give a frag about MY life, too. My life which includes Whirl. And the favor? It’s probably going to include him, because you owe HIM much, MUCH more than you owe me.” The sniper’s weapon then points to the floor, and he steps away entirely from the drone. “Because I am NOT you, and I will not destroy something you care about just because I can.”
Those violet optics shift to Air Raid, narrow and darken. He takes a step towards the Aerialbot, his weapon lifting back up into a ready position, pointing towards the ceiling now. “And you. What do I want from you? An apology. TO WHIRL. For using him as the Autobot punching bag- as always.” His head tilts, studying the Autobot. “It’s funny… here we are. You say VORTEX is sorry. Yet Vortex and I are the “big bad” Decepticons, not supposed to care about anything. And yet… it’s YOU who doesn’t really seem to care about anything, don’t you? Even Vortex's stupid pet? Or am I wrong? Is there anything you actually care about besides yourself and what you desire at the time, like /him/?” He thumbs towards Vortex. "Do you feel a scrap of remorse about attacking Whirl? Who didn’t even really fight back, from what I can tell. Not like an ex-Wrecker could have. I almost feel sorry for you, turbo-turkey. You’re pathetic right now.”
Vortex shakes, watching the gun get so close to Fifi. He scooted her to the side and out of the way and implied to stay there. Now she's staying and she could die. And it'd be his fault! Again! "I'm saying that you'll regret it and you can't fix it and it'll just be a hole forever." That's what happens when you act like him. And Blast Off isn't a sadist so he doesn't even get that bit of moral padding.
He flinches at his brother's demands but nods vigorously. It sends further knots in his tanks. He hates owing someone, anyone, and now he owes Blast Off BIG and Whirl even BIGGER- three much's bigger. He visibly reacts, shoulders droop and frame sagging as Blast Off no longer threatens Fifi. Thank Primus, she's safe.
Before he calls over for the little drone to come to him and safety, the crashing anxiety and twisted tanks collide. Probably some energon loss thrown in there too. "I don't feel good..." His rotors all twitch before he purges. Ugggh...
Air Raid vents some slight relief when Blast Off steps away. No more heartbreaking pleas from Tex. Hopefully. Then Blast Off advances on him, and it's pretty embarrassing how much the jet flinches. "I just- I care about /him/ more than some dr- ..." He fails to find the will to finish that sentence as Blast Off presses on. It's hard not to imagine Silverbolt chewing him out. The implication that Air Raid just doesn't care seems to disturb him further. "Of course I feel bad," he answers in a quiet voice, back to staring at the ground. Mostly the spatter of his own energon. The words clearly mean something to him. To be pitied, to truly be pathetic. His spark feels like it's churning in his tank, and he just wants to melt into the ground. "I'll apologize to Whirl," he says slowly.
Then Vortex purges his tanks, right then and there, and Air Raid can't help but try and come to his aid. Which just means shuffling beside him and gently patting his back, beneath the assembly. At least the rifle isn't trained on either of them now.
Blast Off frowns a little under his faceplate, the righteous anger still there but faltering as he watches Vortex suffer. But maybe… /maybe/…. There’s a slight chance Vortex learned something. And if not, then, well…. Maybe it’ll at least buy him- and Whirl- some time to lick their wounds. Time for him to figure out what he’s going to do- with Whirl, with Onslaught, with everything. The shuttleformer winces in disgust as Tex purges, letting Air Raid go try and comfort him. Raid’s lack of a really convincing response isn’t a surprise. “…That’s what I thought, turbo-turkey.” He grumbles a bit, looking around the room for the first time in awhile before resting his gaze on the Autobot again. “I’ll be waiting for that apology, then. It had better be a good one.”
With a haughty huff, the sniper turns. Gun still in hand, he waves back towards the dropped bow. “Well, I would hate to be an ungracious guest and overstay my welcome. I’ve returned what is yours.” He glances back over his shoulder, violet optic glinting once. “Just don’t mess with what is mine.”
"Bwuh..." Vortex groans, shifting to lean against Air Raid some. As much as one can with a glorified machete stuck within their body. He can't feel that arm, it makes things all the worse. But he does pat a knee with his other hand and Fifi responds to the unspoken command to scuttle to him. He scoops her up and holds her close. He takes care of her, she's more than just a 'drone.'
Vortex doesn't say anything until he's sure Blast Off was out of ear shot. "... That was scary." Oh man, they were gonna have to go to medibay and clean all this up now... Which just pales into comparison of the solid chewing out they just got. Point made, Blast Off. Please don't do this again.
Air Raid is content lean his helm guard against Vortex's for a bit, all too weary. He keeps his optics on the bow as Blast Off finally departs. "No shit," he mumbles. "Every now and then I'm reminded that you guys are still mercenaries. Hnn. C'mon buddy. Medibay time. We'll have to just blame it on... reckless sparring. I'm not sure I can carry you with one arm." But it sure looks like he wants to, concern etched into his features. He doesn't see Vortex purge often. Tex usually has some solid nerve.