PCs: Blast Off, Hot Rod, Whirl

Location: Acropolex

Date: 15 February 2015

Summary: Whirl snuck Blast Off in. HOT ROD IS SO DISAPPOINTED IN THEM.

It's not unusual for it to be frankly pretty chaotic down in the halls of the Acropolex. The group that Hot Rod has somehow managed to gather is rowdy at best, after all. For the moment, however, it's quiet -- or close to. There's a low drone of chatter from the large, empty room where a couch has been shoved up beneath a vid that no one's watching.

Hot Rod walks empty cubes out of the room and toward the mess hall to the north. No one told him rebellion included cleaning up after people who are all off doing way more exciting things, like stealing. This sucks. THIS IS THE WORST. He goes back for more.

Blast Off told himself- told Whirl- that their last encounter would be the last time. No more trysts with the Decepticon's Public Enemy Number One. No matter how *nice* those claws feel. He needs to stop, their relationship cannot last the likely upcoming war, and he's trying to focus on Starchamber. And yet somehow, he found himself back with Whirl again *for one more time- the last time-really-Ok-well, /maybe/ it will be- no really this time*. And when Whirl asked him to come with him back to his quarters inside the Acropolex, the shuttle agreed- and somehow with the addendum that Whirl should *sneak* him into the base. Because it's more exciting that way, right? It... it made sense at the time. They *were* drinking heavily, it should be noted. 

Somehow they made it in unnoticed, and now the Combaticon wakes up sprawled somewhere totally unfamiliar and wondering where the slag he is.

When you've been living a certain lifestyle for so long, it can be difficult to adapt when things change. For instance, Whirl had been living on the streets and sleeping in doorways for what felt like his entire life until Shiftlock introduced him to Hot Rod which in turn introduced him to luxuries like 'having a place to sleep and a roof over your head.' Having a safe place to come to isn't a bad thing, but it's kind of weird for Whirl and it takes some getting used to which is why he rarely comes back to the Acropolex.

Last night was a special exception.

Whirl awakes around the same time as Blast Off and as soon as he does his head is immediately filled with the throbbing pain of a hangover, no doubt a result of the over energizing done the night before. He groans and takes a moment to rub at the side of his head before taking in his surroundings. Wait.. this doesn't look like one of the hab suites, this looks like..

"Oh my god, we're in the common area. We didn't even make it into a private room."

There's a sudden clatter as Hot Rod startles with the lift of Whirl's voice, drawing attention to a portion of the room previously ignored. He drops a cube, which shatters on the stone floor. "/Are you kidding me right now/," he says at a volume designed to batter poor, hung-over heads.

Blast Off is wide awake at that statement from Whirl. Suddenly he knows WHO, and WHY, and maybe even a hint of WHERE.... and it doesn't sound good. "WHAT." Violet optics shine brightly to life as he immediately lifts himself up and looks around in some alarm. 

Just in time for Hot Rod to drop that cube with a audial-shattering noise. Or at least it *seems* that way. "OWWW!" A black hand comes up to cradle his head, "Do you MIND?!" Then he realizes he's lying on one of Whirl's claws, and immediately shoves it- and himself- away. Though the claw then gets caught in his heat shields and creates its *own* loud scratching noise as he pushes it away, which is like nails on a chalkboard- just adding to the unpleasant din. He winces and shields his head again.

Whirl winces at the sound of breaking glass and an unamused, flame-wearing punk. "Are /you/ kidding me?!" he snaps, turning his head to glare at Hot Rod like he's the one causing problems. "I'm trying to deal with a killer hangover and you're over there smashing glasses. Try to have some consideration for other people, geez!"

Then Blast Off manages to get himself tangled in Whirl's claws which just makes everything worse. "Aaaagh, Blast Off! No! What the hell!?" He throws his claws up to cradle his head and groans in pain again. "Just.. just stay still and don't make any more noise."

Hot Rod throws the other empty he is carrying /at them/. Have some more breaking glass. "I don't even know where to start!" With hands now free, he sets his hands on his hips and frowns at them -- above them -- in clear-eyed virtue. "There better not be any ... cables or ... cords ... or -- you two better be decent!" His gaze remains fixed above. He's not checking.

Blast Off almost starts flailing again, but that would take too much effort- and mean more noise, and that would just be unbearable right now. He winces again and stops, then reaches over to slowly try unhooking those claws off him. Then MORE NOISE. Hot Rod yells at them, and the shuttleformer winces and looks up, staring at the racer like a deer caught in headlights. There's a moment that's all he does, *staaare* guiltily... then the words register- and so too does the alarm on his face. Those black hands are instantly trying to cover anything that, uh, needs covering... before he *does* look down. Fortunately for him everything is... uh... decent, if you will. 

"It's... it's not like it seems, Hot Rod!" His voice sounds a bit scratchy and hoarse itself- not quite the usual cultured drawl.

Whirl gets smacked in the no-face with an empty glass which immediately shatters into a million little pieces. "AUGH! What the hell was THAT for!?" It also takes him a moment to fully register Hot Rod's words and it finally clicks into place when he looks over and sees Blast Off frantically checking himself for any indecent exposures. Whirl turns his gaze onto himself and realizes that not only is his interface panel still open for everyone to see, but he's also managed to get his cable caught up in some shoulder kibble. He makes no effort to fix either of these issues.

"Yeah, it's not what it seems at all. It's actually much much worse. Or better. Depends on who you're talking to."

Hot Rod has run out of things to throw. A temporary ceasefire takes hold. His hands remain firmly fisted on his hips. His shoulders and spoiler square high in indignant tension. "/Primus/." His gaze drifts down to about ... Whirl's shoulders, at which point he jerks his gaze /right/ back up with a slight increase in tension through his shoulders.

"You know -- I've really got to hear this." Hot Rod glances back down -- carefully! -- to meet Blast Off's gaze. "Blast Off, why don't you go first, then Whirl."

Blast Off freezes for a moment, still staring up at Hot Rod, his processor trying to compute all this and come up with a convincing story and not an entirely cockamamy one. "Uh.... yes. Certainly." His optics scan the room, but keep coming back to Hot Rod's piercing blue optics. "Well, you see... it's simple. I..." He keeps throwing words at the flame-bedecked mech while he stalls for time. "I... " The shuttleformer glances over at Whirl. "I... well, Whirl.. wanted to... wanted to... uh..." Glance back at the base. "Wanted to learn how to defend your base against possible infiltration!" Yeah, that sounds good.

Since it seems like they are going to be here for a while, Whirl takes a moment to get comfy; sprawling out and foldings his claws behind his head. He briefly considers getting up and finding a drink as the best way to get over a hangover is to get drunk all over again but he's afraid if he gets up he's just going to feel sick and wind up on the floor again.

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened. Your base is really easy to infiltrate, by the way," Whirl adds, giving Hot Rod a long stare. "You should probably get that sorted out."

"Doesn't look like it was the /base/ that either of you were /infiltrating/." Hot Rod waves vaguely in the direction of Whirl's ... everything.

Provoked by Whirl's words, Hot Rod manages to meet his gaze direct, and without the awkward of the vague wave. "It's /our/ base, Whirl. You live here too! Sometimes. When you show up," he tacks on, dry and drier yet.

Blast Off cringes a little at Hot Rod's comment, looking a bit awkward and guilty again. The shuttleformer sort of deflates and glances away as he brings a hand to scratch at the back of his helmet. "Well... you see..." He seems to falter a moment, then suddenly straightens with a *ahem*, pushing himself up to properly sit and face Hot Rod. 

"WELL. Appearances can be deceiving, you should know that! As a Combaticon warrior and former Primal Vanguard, Whirl knew that I could show him good...." he glances at Whirl, ".../techniques/ for combating enemy infiltration. So i pretended to... infiltrate, and Whirl countered my ... moves. I showed him the... weaknesses in his armor, if you will, and he showed excellent ... battle manuevers."

"Your base, my base, our base, whatever! My point still stands," Whirl says, finally making an effort to untangle his cable and shove it back to where it came from. He was starting to feel just a little awkward talking to Hot Rod with all his stuff hanging out like that.

"Oh yes, we did some 'role-playing' last night." Whirl looks at Blast Off, a mischevious flicker in his optic. "He was the big bad Decepticon breaking into the base and I was the heroic rebel that went to stop him. Ohh, it was an epic battle, Blast Off really gave it to me. Hard. Near the end though, I was the one doing the 'infiltrating,' if you know what I mean. And I think you do. Wink." Yes, he says wink because he can't actually wink, give him a break.

Hot Rod stares at Blast Off in disbelief. Good /techniques/. /Infiltration/. Combating and countering and moves. /EXCELLENT BATTLE MANEUVERS/. He covers his face with his hands. Somewhat muffled, he goes, "Blast Off, stoooop.

"WHIRL. STOP." It got worse. Hot Rod looks vaguely ill. "I don't -- I /really/ don't care what you two are doing or who is doing it to who or--. I'm not thinking about that." He closes his eyes and draws a long breath to clear his vents and settles his systems. "Have at. Really. But there's a /reason/ we aren't bringing people back here." Except when he decides it's okay. Uh.

Blast Off stares at Whirl and his optics just grow wider with every word until he's practically blushing with embarrassment, stealing glances at Hot Rod every now and then to see HIS reaction ...but almost afraid to look. "It was... very mechly and... and not what you think. At all." His voice seems to get smaller with every word. 

Another awkward look at Hot Rod. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me! I am simply here in a ... professional capacity, and given that I do transport work for you, I... I am *practically one of you anyway*, right?" RIGHT? *Stare*.

This is actually all very exciting to Whirl as he thrives off the attention of an audience and both Hot Rod and Blast Off's reactions to his comments only encourages him to keep going, perhaps in even more detail. That doesn't happen though because Hot Rod has to go and ruin the moment with his yelling and what-have-you.

"Oh yeah, real secret and exclusive. Except when it's not. If I recall correctly, you let me in here pretty damn fast despite the fact you knew nothing about me." He looks at Blast Off. "I mean, it's kind of messed up that you have Blast Off on delivery duty for you but you wont even let him inside the base."

Rather reluctantly, Hot Rod says, "Yes." He nods to Blast Off and admits, "I do trust you. You've been helping us since very nearly the first day. And I wouldn't have objected. If he had /asked/--." Here his gaze snaps back to Whirl. "That's because I trusted you, too. And Nautica, Rewind -- your sparks are all in the right place. But there's still a /reason/. It's not just trusting someone's spark, but making sure that the Senate's not tracking them, or that they aren't a spy, or just -- it's complicated, okay? You guys know that."

Blast Off gets ready to defend himself again, when Whirl speaks up for him. The shuttleformer tilts his head at the cyclops, pleased at that, then looks over at Hot Rod. He gets ready to counterargue whatever Hot Rod is about to say- andf then Hot Rod says he *trusts* him. The Combaticon's head tilts again, also surprised... and pleased. It's... sort of nice to hear that, actually. "I... uh, yes. Yes, I understand your recalcitrance... a secret base doesn't stay secret if everyone knows where it is...." 

He straightens and looks at the two. "I am a mech of my word, and I have no intention of revealing your secret location." There's a brief frown under his faceplate. "And... I am not *aware* of any spying devices on my person..." He hopes there aren't, though these days who knows?

Whirl is pretty sure Hot Rod wouldn't have trusted him if he knew that just a few cycles before they met he had not only interfaced with Shiftlock in a dingy alley (after she stopped him robbing a junkie) but also ruined her entire life (his own words) by trying to murder her mentor and getting her kicked out of the Decepticons. Unless he DID know that, in which case Hot Rod's standards for who is or isn't trustworthy is totally messed up.

"Come on, Blast Off's a decent guy. If he wanted to screw us over, he would've done it already; he already knew way more than he should have even before I snuck him in here." Another look at Blast Off and a slight flicker of his optic. "I didn't see any, and I was /very/ thorough in my examination."

Hot Rod's standards of trust are totally messed up, it's true. Even if he didn't know all that, the fact remains. "Oh, come on, Whirl!" He throws his hands up in the air. "No examination-talk! I know he's okay. I'm just saying it sets a bad example. Maybe Spiral decides to bring home someone and they're some kind of creepy Senate spy, or Rewind brings home some weirdo out of the Institute." But that would never happen, right? "I mean, Decepticons are probably pretty okay, but you never know who might be an Autobot or a sympathizer." And that's bad. Can't trust those Autobots.

Blast Off looks over at Whirl and raises an optic ridge. Though by this point his initial embarrassment is fading, and the odds are he's smirking a little under the faceplate. "Indeed. Whirl possesses many... skills..." 

  • AHEM*. Looking back to Hot Rod, he nods. "Yes. What with all the mind control and spying and everything..." He glances at Hot Rod. "I... talked to Shiftlock again. She *seems* better, but I am still not sure she doesn't have some program stuck there, influencing her thoughts."

Whirl is really tempted to whip out the 'Hot Rod saved Blurr and still considers him a friend even though he is responsible for Shiftlock's current situation' card (it is long titled card) but he decides to save that for another time, when Hot Rod is REALLY angry at him for something. It's bound to happen, just give it time. "Look Hot Rod, no one else needs to know about.." He gestures between him and Blast Off. "..this. It can be our little secret. I sneak him in sometimes, we have our fun, you look the other way.. no one knows, no one can use it as an excuse to do the same, everyone's happy!"

He's (un)surprisingly quiet when the subject of Shiftlock comes up, opting to just like Blast Off do all the talking.

"Yeah." Hot Rod grimaces at Blast Off and looks off to the side. "We might not ever really know, I guess. What to trust." His hands curl to form tight fists at his sides. Metal creaks. "All because of /them/." He points a finger at Whirl. "That's why we tell people. This isn't a secret. We put Blast Off on a list of people who are allowed to come and go. That way no one /shoots him/."

Blast Off winces just slightly as Whirl basically admits to his and Whirl's little... relationship. He debates trying to deny it all. But... the evidence might be a bit... hard to totally ignore. Or distract Hot Rod from. Then Hot Rod speaks again and the shuttleformer gives him a polite nod- after another slight look of surprise. Trust is always a little surprising, especially when you yourself tend to have so little of it. But he appreciates the gesture. "That... would be very thoughtful of you." His optics narrow at the mention of the Autobots. "Yes... /them/. The day is coming that /they/ will find the people have risen up against them, and /they/ will be the ones who suddenly find themselves on the run."

Blast Off adds quietly, finding he is also going to have to trust Hot Rod here a bit now, "NO ONE can know about this. The Decepticons don't exactly *like* Whirl, and... it would be better for all involved they never know."

Whirl HUFFS at Hot Rod at the finger he so rudely points at him. What a jerk, showing off the fact he has /hands/ and /fingers/ and can /point/ at things. "What!? That's a really stupid idea, Hot Rod, offense intended. People are going to ask questions about why a Decepticon is suddenly allowed to wander in and out of our SECRET and EXCLUSIVE base, and what are you going to tell them? Hm?"

Blast Off's comment just reaffirms the idea that this whole thing is dumb for him. "Think about it, Hot Rod. You go flappin' your lips and both of us could wind up dead. You really want that on your shoulders?"

"We tell them he's here for deliveries, and we leave out what he's delivering to who," Hot Rod tells Whirl with more than a trace of annoyance. "It'd probably be for the best, anyway, since deliveries elsewhere have a higher risk of being discovered. But if you pull something like this with anyone else -- and I mean /anyone/, I don't care if they /are/ a Decepticon -- and it's not going to be this simple, Whirl. Because it's not just me, and it's not just you. It's everyone else who thinks they are safe here."

That sounds reasonable. Blast Off nods, "Very well. Deliveries it is, then." He looks around, finding himself wondering just who and what is here... but then realizes it's probably not something he should ask. That whole /secret/ thing and all. He'll just take what he can get, and this arrangement is certainly acceptible. He looks over at Whirl, "I think he knows that." (Hopefully.) "He just made a... special case for me." There's another smirk under that faceplate as he says that. 

The smirk fades a bit, though, and his expression sombers. "It won't last anyway. We both know that if... /when/ things escalate, it's going to be harder for me as a Decepticon to see him. It won't be" His gaze falls down at the cube Hot Rod threw on the floor. "This might be the last time, I don't know."

Remember that whole 'old habits die hard' thing that Whirl is struggling with? Giving a damn about other people is one of those things. He often forgets (probably because he's never around) that there are other involved in this little ragtag team of misfits, that it's not just him and his needs but everyone else's too. And their safety. Whirl huffs and looks away, unable to help feeling just a little bad for the stunt he pulled. "Whatever.."

Blast Off also gets an annoyed huff as Whirl isn't too appreciative of being talked about like he wasn't sitting right there. "Oh yeah, that makes a lot of sense. Take something awesome and exciting and fun and satisfying and cut it short because, hey, it won't last so why bother, right?" This is kind of a weird conversation to be having in front of Hot Rod, isn't it? Feels like it.

Hot Rod makes a /loud scoffing noise/. It is not a huff. He isn't the one that's been 'facing Blast Off so much he's picking up his traits, here. This is more of a snort. "Oh, wait, were you serious?" His tone is lightly incredulous. "'Last time'? Yeah, sure. Drag out as many last times as you want," he says with happy antagonism. "You two have fun with that, if that's what you need to tell yourself. Just--." He breaks off and gestures around the space. "Get a room."

Blast Off gives Whirl an annoyed little huff back, though it's not as loud and annoyed as it could be. "No, it's not THAT. Well... it's just that it's /true/ that it won't last... /can't/ last.... and there's... well, YOU KNOW..." He's been trying to focus back on Starchamber, who is a fellow Combaticon and will always be there and will obviously /always/ be into him totally. "The one I was telling you about." Whirl, on the other hand... in another time and place, he would consider Whirl for a long-term relationship, maybe even /more/. They really do have a connection. But that's never going to happen, right? Not in the world they live in. It makes more sense to focus back at home, away from the doomed romance and back with the hot Combaticon femme who keeps telling him she /wants/ him, and who shared something very special with him just a few cycles ago. So he keeps trying to break this off. And failing, a testimony to that connection he has with the helicopter. 

The shuttleformer blinks up at Hot Rod at the *scoff*. Wait, what? "YES." He fidgets a little, "IT COULD BE. It's just..." His optics flicker a little, then cast down. "Uh... yes. A room." His hand starts scratching his helmet again. "I... I think I had a *tiny* bit too much to drink last night. I'll.. be more careful." Pause. "/IF/ there is a next time, that is." Because he's going to keep insisting that.

"Hey! In my defense, I was GOING to bring him to a room, but-" Whirl sighs and rubs the side of his head with a claw. "..that wine got me messed up. Honestly, I don't even remember how we got in here." He vaguely remembers trying to shove Blast Off through a window that was much too small to accomodate him.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter. You heard Blast Off, this /thing/ is doomed to fail anyway. Might as well end it on this extremely awkward note, right?" He stands up but takes a moment to steady himself as his hangover continues to wreak havoc on his body. Ugh, this is a gross feeling. "So YOU'RE WELCOME for getting you membership into this EXCLUSIVE SECRET base, Blast Off. I hope you ENJOYED yourself."

"Oooh-kay," says Hot Rod. He draws the word out with a long roll of sound and then slowly pivots on his heel to face the outer door. "You guys work out your little -- thing. And I'll go ... I don't know, somewhere else. And let the rest know that it's okay if we see Blast Off around. For deliveries. Of things. Let's not have any more more awkward mornings like this, okay?"

Blast Off looks up at Whirl as he gets up. "What? No, that's not..." His voice trails off as he tries to think what to say. Actually, he *ought* to let this be it. He really should. Even though he finds he doesn't *want* to. "Well... I'm just telling the truth, that's all! The hard cold FACTS!" The shuttleformer glances over at Hot Rod, "Uh... understood. And... thank you." 

Then he's back to Whirl. "Don't get all HUFFY on ME!" So says the master of Huff.

Whirl really should let this be the end of this sordid little affair too. There are already weird side-effects that he's started noticing, like looking back on a memory fondly only to realize the memory isn't even his, nor does it involve anyone he's ever met. There's also this weird tingly feeling he gets in his head when he's seperated from Blast Off for an extended amount of time, but that's probably just the cocktail of drugs he's constantly on, right?

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll see what I can do," he says ever-so-eloquently to Hot Rod. "But I can't make any promises."

Then he looks at Blast Off and HUFFS right in his face. "WHAT YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT, EH?"

Hot Rod can't leave fast enough. He shouts one last thing over his shoulder: "GET. A. ROOM."



Blast Off GASPS as Whirl dares to HUFF IN HIS FACE!!! OMP. There's a brief back-and-forth between Whirl and Hot Rod (who quickly leaves- why's he in such a hurry?) the shuttleformer puffs up with indignation and stands up to face Whirl. Then he stares right back. And staaares. This is one of those odd little quirks that the Combaticon has picked up FROM WHO I WONDER? Once that's done, he leans in, bringing a hand to *poke* at the helicopter's chest. 

"I MIGHT have to get VIOLENT, THAT'S what."

Whirl meets Blast Off's stare with a stare of his own. Come on, Whirl is like some kind of professional starer, this is a battle the Combaticon can't win, though the finger roughly jabbed against his chest makes him break off his impromptu staring contest. "Is that a threat?"

Whirl lunges for Blast Off and tackles him hard onto the floor. Yeah, it's probably a good thing Hot Rod left already.

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