Try to keep up, will ya?

Find your robot spark! - ShindanMaker (en)

…

Her vision was clear, but that was it. The rest of her helm felt like someone had smashed it against a wall until creating a dent with its shape. She wished to be able to take her helmet off, rub her temples and, probably, get some fresh air (although she doubted the sunlight would be well-received…. assuming it was day outside), but with Tailgunner in there, such plan was off the table.

"Think you can drive and don’t crash against anything now?" she went on, her legs finally moving the edge of the berth. Her eyes focused on the energon cabinet and, Frag! was really the precious fuel so far from her?

Attempting to recompose himself through the haze of throbbing pain, he quirked a single optic open to regard Blackarachnia.

...She didn't exactly look good either, but mustering the thought to make a witty comeback about it didn't particularly seem viable considering the amount of utter hurt flowing through his systems.

“Throwing me out so soon? Pff, y'know what, I'm gonna find out one way or another. But a few slips of the tire aren't gonna make me stop if that's what you're askin'.”

He wasn't particularly certain that he would be able to sustain his momentum on the road, but adaptability and chance were his lifeblood.

...Plus, a new obstacle always accounted for something fun. Even if said obstacle was making him feel as though thirty seekers had landed on top of his frame and promptly left.

“Oh yeah, BA?” Tailgunner had begun to make his way out of the room, steadying a servo against one of the walls for support as he moved.

“Thanks.”

Without the lace of wit or sarcasm, the word felt incredibly foreign to enunciate after seldom using it for some time, but it felt correct to bring to the surface. A distraction was provided(albeit not being coherent enough to remember it in its entirety in present time), and he was humored by having his offer accepted, much to his pleasant surprise. That was enough to warrant it...right?

LADIES and GENTLEMECHS, we have a special treat for you tonight! Despite her busy, busy schedule,…

When the duo finally reached the dingy looking warehouse, Sari nodded. “Yup.” She didn’t have much energy to do (or say) anything other then that. Now that they were safe(ish, the warehouse kinda looked like it was going to fall down on them) Sari could finally go to sleep. 

Matters were left unfinished, and he had to see them through. Tired or not.

He'd watch over the warehouse for as long as his attention span and small sense of rekindled compassion would allow. There was empathy to be shared within the expanse that was only elaborated upon further upon observing how utterly quiet and desolate it was within the warehouse, moreso in what sentiments were brought on upon excessive exposure to that.

But Sari would not be alone. No, he would make certain of that.

[text]: stay strong

Tailgunner left the message attached to the frequency the peculiar little organic somehow managed to leave imparted on his databanks before taking his leave, a small testament to Sari's will, and perhaps even that as his own in the coming cycles.

Things were likely going to get even more rough, and with the ping of a frequency that was attached to a certain member of his ship as his tires swayed back upon the road, matters only continued to allude to such.

"What the—-!?" was as far as her angry shouting went before a piercing pain went through her helm. She lowered her head and covered herself with her blanket as if that would stop the pain…

Trying to think —because, right now, it seemed nearly impossible— Blackarachnia managed to remember three quarters of their conversation (the part that mattered, anyway). Only then she decided to take her helm out of the blanket, muttering a very low ‘Morning’.

"Won whaaaat? A fan-fraggin'-tastic hangover? Congratulations!" Tailgunner brought forth a low chuckle under his vents, nonchalantly brushing aside any indication that he might have lost anything through ignorance before his streak halted and he let forth a groan of pain.

Livewire wasn’t the only one tripping out of her mind in that thread.

What? She hated to lose. Plus, there was no way she was going to keep on drinking, not with the processor-ache that was crepting over her. 

It wasn’t like she did much, anyway, the floor was moving and it was getting difficult to pick the right cube —the other two kept on vanishing—. With great difficulty, she managed to reach her berth and…

Moreso, it was racing and crashing into everything that was located within a few klik radius.

Perhaps the most distinguishing feature of this all, however, is that it did not feel fun.

Tailgunner rolled around upon the floor which he had apparently decided was adequate for a stasis nap, briefly wondering what the frag happened to land him there, and simultaniously not trying to wonder what happened as wondering apparently hurt. Squinting at the empty cubes around him, his databanks plucked over the fact that he had been drinking before parsing the line that he had been drinking with someone.

Someone that had a base of opera--

...Blackarachnia, right.

“No fraggin'—ow—way.” He squinted at the pile of cubes that were adjacent from the ones surrounding him in disapproval – cubes that looked emptier than those around him. Tailgunner wobbled to his pedes, muttering a curse below his vents at the throbbing pain that was being transmitted to him from his processing unit.

Reality told him that he had been outmatched, and yet, stubbornness still attempted to override this and tell him no. Above all, however, the end result of this debacle told him that either conclusion hurt like slag.

Bracing herself for the pain, Sari reached out and grabbed onto Tailgunners alt-mode, keeping her grip as tight as possible. Shakily dragging herself to her feet, Sari clambered onto his seat and collapsed onto it. 

She was just…going to sit here for a while. Maybe sleep. Sleeping felt like a good idea. 

Sleeping on a moving motorcycle was smart, right? 

No, wait. She still had to tell Tailgunner where to drive. Slaggit. 

And with the surge of energy that encompassed setting himself forth on a moving path, it didn't particularly take long for the negative feedback to present itself.

Four profanities screamed from vehicles he had illegally expertly passed, two police bots outsped, and one uncertain status of a certain Sari Sumdac who was aboard as this all transpired atop of following the directions he had received, they arrived before a warehouse of some variety by the docks.

"Ha!" she couldn’t help but blurt at the mention of the team thing. "I had to endure 6,000 stellar cycles at the services of a mech that couldn’t get his helm out of his aft, a triple changer, and an idiot who couldn’t stop shipping the ground Megatron stepped."

She finished the third cube in one big shot, drinking with a smile at the memory of the bunch of idiots she was no longer bound to. Probably because she was on her way to drunk village, she could no longer care about keeping a facade about her attitude.

Yup. She is that kind of drunk.

"So~," she dragged off the word as her arm sloppily moved towards where Tailgunner had left some of the cubes. Her cabinet didn’t look close to her at all right now (in fact, there were three cabinets now, wow).

It was all incredibly cyclic to deal with; and he didn't like cyclic things.

And...had Blackarachnia mentioned something about a triple-changer? His processor fumbled around to find the designation of the only mecha he had known of that he had spoken to in a previous exchange. Blizzing? Bleszang?

...Whatever the answer was, it disappeared as he finished the remainder of the cube he was holding as he started garbling incoherencies below his vents, looking upward towards Blackarachnia lazily as he sought to respond to her inquiry.

“Shtupid shtuff! Autobosh threw me innu...consh-ruct-shun when I wash fresh outta the mold. Then they arres--”

His plating shuffled lightly, processor fully numbed to the extent where he could not fight off anything unpleasant received that may have parsed it.

And such information arrived in droves to exploit the area of opportunity it had been given.

Tailgunner's expression morphed into a default slate of lifelessness as his vents heaved, muttering something near indiscernible under his vents that may have been a mixture between “snake” and “butterscotch” to the barely discerning audial receptor before his frame fumbled backwards under the stress that was being received from all sources, promptly passing out onto the floor.

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