re_alignment_logs | Get a Move On

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Get a Move On

WHO: Hot Rod (

young_upstart) and OPEN!
WHERE: Around central Haven
WHEN NOW
WHAT: No matter what they say, can't keep the madness at bay
WARNINGS: Potential violence?

     It had been subtle at first, the agitation that surfaced not seeming to be anything more than appropriate for the building frustration of this place and what the Autobot had learned not too long ago. He'd told Ultra Magnus he would let him know if he felt 'off' in any way, but so far, nothing had happened that made him feel the need to bring it up. After all, if there wasn't any trouble, why make some?

     And yet, it was because of that nothing that it only served as a further irritant for his dwindling mood. Hot Rod felt even more restless of late, and no one seemed to have any answers. The last time he'd gotten answers hadn't been very satisfying though, and clearly none of those that held rank in this weird place was willing to help. No one wanted to help. No one knew how to help, and even though he knew that probably couldn't be helped, it just made him so. Angry.

     In order to try venting some steam, he decided to do some target practice around the Junkpile. Blasting random things to bits had never felt so good. There was something definitely satisfying about seeing smoking debris scattering after your photon charges slammed and burned clean into your target, sending them into oblivion-

     The thought startled him. That wasn't like him. That wasn't like him at all.

     "What...was that?" His imagination? He hoped it was, but the smoldering remains in front of him certainly couldn't be lying. It scared him. Something was happening, and he couldn't let it.

     Turning, he started to move. He wanted to run, to get away, somewhere. No, you're not thinking clearly! You need to tell Magnus! -but what can he do? Or any of the others for that matter? What if you slip like that again?

     He couldn't allow that, and he didn't want to take any chances either. Within seconds he had collapsed and twisted into his vehicle mode, and wheels peeled away the moment they hit the ground, the bright magenta sports car emblazoned with orange flames speeding off. Somewhere. Anywhere.

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It's not that Whirl was a creeper. Everyone knew that, for Primus' sake. It's just that there was something really uncanny about this 'Hot Rod' that set Whirl's mischief sense tingling.

Sort of like an injury or something. He wants to poke it.

Especially at the sudden mysterious departure. Someone was going somewhere moving like he had a purpose, a fancy dessert of mystery wrapped in enigma.

Like Whirl could ever resist temptation. He switches to his alt, rotors thupping through the dark sky, in low, fast pursuit.

He's not exactly thrilled to have the company. It doesn't take him long to realize that someone's tailing him, and for a moment he thinks it might be Springer, which could have been worse given how flippantly the other Autobot tended to be about things, even when matters were serious. And Hot Rod considered his current situation quite serious.

It isn't something he wants to deal with. He doesn't know who's following him, but he's definitely going to try and lose him. His engine growls as he shifts gears and speeds up.

No one is thrilled for Whirl's company. Feeling was generally mutual.

But wow that is the wrong way to lose Whirl: the non-Rodimus would have been much better off trying to be boring. But trying to evade Whirl's masterful pursuit?

He's on Hot Rod like Wreckers on high grade.

...well, that isn't how it's supposed to go. It's a little annoying to find that he's still being followed, a small spark that instantly rekindles that earlier upset.

His peddle is to the metal, but it's become obvious that this guy isn't wanting to let up on this pointless chase. "Hey pal, you want something or what?"

Little annoying? Whirl will have to try harder.

Whirl overflies the vehicle, dropping down in front of him in his robot mode.

"Just, you know, bein' all welcome wagon." Well-armed welcome wagon, who still remembers how to do the annoying cop voice. "Where were you going in such a hurry, citizen."

     Oh, that's rich. Hot Rod isn't buying it. He also doesn't show any signs of slowing down.

     "Yeah, well your wagon isn't welcome. Outta the way!"

     Not feeling it necessary to have to explain himself, the Autobot intends to barrel right through Whirl if he has to.

Yyyyyyyeah that whole cop thing worked about as well as it had in Rodion. At least Whirl tried. A for Effort and all that.

"But you haven't seen what I've got in the welcome wagon~." Hint: it's high explosive.

The flaming loser is simply going to have to cope with the fact that air superiority is a thing. A thing that Whirl has.

Or will have, as soon as he gets up. Because Hot Rod managed to run over his foot. His dainty, beautiful foot!

"That's assault!" he says, launching into the air after the zipping car. By the tone of his voice, Hot Rod just made his day.

     He would have felt a lot better if Whirl had been sent flying over his hood. As it is, he's not pleased to find that he's still being pursued in spite of things.

     Worse yet, the other seems to be enjoying himself!

     If anything happened to this guy, that's his own fault. Since it's become obvious that Whirl isn't letting up, Hot Rod doesn't see any point in playing nicely. After leading him along a short distance more, the sports car spins about in a neatly executed drift, transforming as he rolls forward, intending to get under Whirl considering how closely the guy's managed to follow. "You want assault, I'll give you assault-"

     Arms raised, he fires.

Yeah, well, why should Hot Rod get what he wants when Whirl never does? Boo hoo, life's unfair.

He would admit that that was a pretty slick move, there, Snot Rod, but that would involve saying something nice, and that's against the Whirl Code.

Also it's hard to say something nice when someone shoots your fuselage. His return shots might slew a little wide because, you know, he just got shot. But the spirit is all there!

Since Whirl's shooting back, Hot Rod doesn't see any reason why he shouldn't continue returning fire. He backs up once he's on his feet again, sidestepping to avoid being too close within range of Whirl's shots, off as they might be.

Blast him, tear him apart. He's asking for it. Out to take you down, just like the others...

Hey, Hot Rod started the party. Whirl was just bringing the snacks.

Admit it. Everyone likes snacks.

"Yeah, because, you know, this isn't suspicious at all."

He's going to try to aim a little more precisely this time. Professional pride. That first shot? Totally just, uh, testing you. Yeah. That's it.

     No deal if they aren't energon goodies.

     By the glare Hot Rod shot Whirl's way, it seems like he doesn't care too much about how things look right now. He doubts that anyone would complain much if he tried to get rid of this guy either. As far as he sees it, Whirl's practically volunteering to be a punching bag, or in this case, more appropriately, target practice.

     "Know what, no one asked you. You could've just minded your own business."

     Since Whirl's putting a little more effort into his attacks now, Hot Rod does likewise in his evasion.

Oh is Hot Rod kidding? If he killed Whirl he'd get a tickertape parade. And maybe even happy tears from Ultra Magnus.

Whirl would be willing to die just to see that.

"What's the fun of minding my business? Your business is much more...mind-y." Hey they can't all be awesome repartee. Not when he's dodging shots.

It is time to get a little up close and personal. Whirl's going to try that divebomb thing he does. Hope you're ready for your close up, Hot Rod.

Is this guy for real? Hot Rod's beginning to think the guy wants to get shot down. -which he's quite happy to oblige.

And then Whirl makes a dive at him, narrowly missing the blasts sent his way. Maybe Hot Rod would have had a better advantage if he used both his photon charges. Regardless, he's for the moment caught off guard by the kamikaze maneuver. "Wha-"

Never try to figure out what Whirl's thinking. It can only end in a headache.

Crazy has its own element of surprise. Such as Copter to the Face. "Stop resisting arrest."

Sometimes being an ex-cop is fun.

Whirl's persistent police chatter has been grating enough, but having a copter up in your face made it a little difficult to use your power blasts. His feet skidding on the ground beneath him, all Hot Rod wants is to get this guy out of his space.

"You just don't know when to shut up, do you?" Time to switch things up. Since Whirl's decided to get up close and personal, it's only fair to return the favor, right? Fingers of one hand curling into a fist, Hot Rod swaps it out for his heavy-duty buzzsaw. The circular blade whining at high speed, he swings it down at his copter-buddy.

Only a delinquent would be irked by Whirl's cop-itude. Clearly, 'Hot' Rod was a delinquent.

"I know. I just ignore it." Whirl's philosophy in a nutshell.

Really, though, it's like the world has some sort of grudge against Whirl's face as the saw blades slam into the side of his facial bell.

Copter buddy is ready for his turn. He doesn't have a fancy mod, but he does have some pretty impressively heavy claws, and he's aiming one at the delinquent's stupid head.

     Hey, not his fault Whirl's face just happens to be right there. And usually if you aim for someone's face, they have the sense to back off.

     ...but clearly that isn't happening here.

     Now Hot Rod reacts appropriately, jerking his head to the side as Whirl swings one of his claws at him. It's just difficult to really dodge effectively at this proximity, and while he might not get too badly scratched there, it still sets his head ringing. Pulling his buzzsaw back, Hot Rod tries to get some of that personal space of his back as he swings his foot out.

Usually, yes. But Whirl likes to defy expectations. It adds a little soupcon of whimsy.

Or something.

It's hard to think of witty repartee when someone's shoved a saw in your face, okay?

"Could have spared yourself all this fun, if you just answered civilly." But, you know, where's the fun in that? Certainly not here, where the mech's foot contacts with Whirl's knee, forcing the copter to drop his weight, which sets him up to rise up driving that sexy head of his under his opponent's chin.

Civility had kind of been lost on Hot Rod, boiled away with the spark Whirl had first set off when he'd given chase. The unnamed madness that had been burning through the Autobot's system seems to thin out, at least for the moment, but he has little time to puzzle out his confusion as quite painfully his head is rammed into, sending him crashing back. Not quite what he'd had in mind.

For a good moment or two he lies there, staring up at the gaping wound in the sky until his vision stabilized again. Even then, he could still feel his head ringing, his not-so-graceful landing certainly not having helped in that. Groaning, he's in the process of pushing himself to sit up, apparently having no mind to retaliate right then.

That's the problem with having a fancy plan: things go wrong. Whirl's more fast and loose, himself. Also, a good whack on his head does him good. Not because he has some sort of eldritch inner madness eating away at him, but because he's a jerk with a masochistic streak.

Now, however, (or as soon as his own head stops ringing), is the time to gloat. So he'll just straddle his downed opponent, plant his claws on his hips, and say. "Right. What's all this then."

Hot Rod wouldn't have called his plan all that fancy, if even a plan. He isn't even really sure what's just happened, but now he's got an extra weight on him. Obviously he isn't going anywhere right now.

"I don't-" Know? Oh yes he does. He realizes what he's been doing. That buzzsaw isn't default equipment there. "-you're okay, right? Agh, look- get off me, I can't- I shouldn't be here-"

No one with a paint job like Hot Rod's can blame someone else for applying 'fancy' to everything they do. Possibly even 'fancy schmancy'.

And not everyone gets the glory of being parked on by Whirl. You're a lucky mech, Hot Rod. So lucky.

...wut?

"Yeah I'm just great after all the shooting and slicing into my face and all. Pretty typical afternoon."

Sad but true?

"You know if you'd just fraggin' told me where you were goin' in the first place, you wouldn't be getting up close and personal with my crotchy bits." Which are kind of pointy, ngl.

He's at this point more frustrated and even a little concerned rather than flat out angry, but Hot Rod could feel that mood lingering and ready to pounce again, and he knew he didn't want that to happen.

"I don't know where I was going- I just had to get away from everyone! I'm not sure what's going on, but I don't think it'd be a good idea to stay. You already saw what happened!" Up close and personal, he might add.

"Yeah, well, zipping off into the Badlands kinda makes you either stupid or suicidal." Which are you? He'll let you decide.

"What? This?" Yeah, he noticed. He supposed to care? He does not see your point.

Get a Move On

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you can zip away from him if you want :)

Ooooor I can do this? Lemmee know if this is okay or not! :3

I just don't want to step on the toes of whatever you've got plotted. x_x

No worries there. I got nothing. >.>

Whirl's calendar is free if you want him to do....things?

....hmmm :]a

it's your call.

At this point he hasn't gone completely off the edge yet, so I'm up for anything short of killage :D

OK!!

xD

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