Living that cryptid life

The armour on Blast Off's arm released the tension once the flames went out, ensuring that nothing got between the seams on his wrist or elbow joints. He sends a ping to Vortex, asking for his whereabouts so he doesn't have to endure staying in the filthy mech's presence any longer than he has to. Despite the short and non-verbal interaction, the shuttle had everything he needed to understand why Vortex was so fixated on this mech, unlike any other victim his teammate had in the past.

Blast Off tightens his grip around Blaze's arm, feeling him squirm, and sighs, turning his helm to him. "Stop." He grumbles, as though he were speaking to a young troublemaker, yet he also knew it wasn't going to do anything, not until –

Something bursts out of the forest at full speed and doesn't show any signs of stopping until it crashes into Blaze, forcing Blast Off to release him.

It was Vortex, who was madly giggling about the whole thing and completely ignoring the damages displaying on his HUD. His claws dig into Blaze's chassis to pull him up and lick the energon seeping through some cracks on his faceplate. "We should make this moment even more special than the last, don't you think?"

Blaze doesn't know how or what to feel. Repulsion? Disgust? Utter disbelief Vortex just isn't taking a hint? All these turbulent emotions have him standing rigidly still, even after having energon licked clean off his face. Those words are spoken in language he understands and yet he doesn't seem to grasp the context.

Why Vortex? Why Blaze?

Why, why, why?

These are answers he will never get in his lifetime.

As if running a system reboot, Blaze finally shows some signs of life, trying to pull away from those perverted servos. Vortex remains attached like some parasite and just like that — Blaze resorts to the most drastic measure.

Out from his forearm, a shortgun style weapon emerges. Without a second to process the sound of metal armor shielding away, Blaze fires right at Vortex's pede, the bullets shredding through the internal parts.

You break my leg, I shoot yours.

Pushing and kicking Vortex away for that much needed space, Blaze is bound to reset the chase. With a crippled hunter this time, he could make it. But those hopes seem to only get crushed when a sharp, stinging pain hits his shoulder and the new impact sends him stumbling for balance.

At the end of the smoking barrel is the other pursuer Blaze nearly forgot about.

"... Why are you getting involved?!" He seethes through his dentae, optics darting between the two. There has to be some opening, some gap for him to slip through—

Besides, he was interested in where the conversation would go with this mech.

"I've had my fair share of people like that before. Not exactly a fan of the possessive types. It's like a magnet you can't get off." Octane hummed, leaning away from the datapad to place his arm on the bar counter. He didn't want to completely stare at the mech, so he peered at the other customers at the bar table to see if they needed a refill as he tried to piece together if he'd seen him at some other pub, or even on the streets.

Maybe he simply liked how the mech looked.

It really was fun to get his fellow 'copter engraving deep ridges with how hard he would clutch whatever he had his servos on, all thanks to Blaze simply looking at someone else for a second too long.

He glances at the bottle, looking it up and down. It is a minty, refreshing drink, packing just enough zesty not to be too overwhelming. It almost feels like Octane has read him like a book: Blaze does enjoy such drinks that are not on the overwhelmingly sweet side.

"Sure." He gives a subtle nod. When the new glass is presented, Blaze wastes no time taking a small sip to get a picture of its taste profile.

It's exactly what he likes.

Vortex was determined to keep going while Blast Off was too amused to intervene, but he knew he was going to have to.

Unlike Vortex, Blast Off wasn't about to drain most of his energy waiting for two hyperactive helicopters to burn through theirs.

He lowered, finding a spot where he could land and transform out of sight, ignoring Vortex's protests about joining in. The teal mech wasn't far behind, and Blast Off got in front of where he last saw Blaze heading, so it was only a matter of time before the mech had nowhere to go.

What the Combaticon didn't anticipate was Blaze appearing around the corner and colliding into him at full speed, and with enough force to knock Blast Off onto his back. He grunts and glances down at the culprit lying on his frame.

Pesky little thing, causing so much drama.

:: I got your toy. :: Blast Off sends a message to Vortex as he grabs Blaze by the arm before he can bolt again and gets off the ground. He holds the mech out and slants his helm while studying him. :: Good, now don't do anything to him until I get there. ::

Blaze just didn't think think it would happen on this day, by slamming into an impassable wall of metal that is Blast Off. His fate is sealed, yet he protests. In no way is Blaze going down that easily.

He pulls and writhes, twisting and yanking to dislodge the vice grip Blast Off has on him. His free arm slashes and punches the offending servo, but even when leaving deep marks, the shuttle doesn't budge at all.

It's looking hopeless.

With the sound of someone way too eager to finally see him after so long reaches them, Blaze's attempt only grow more desperate. He is a trapped animal, fighting the inevitable.

And yet, he might have one final trick up his sleeve.

Fire — he burns and he burns, a ball of flame quite literally erupting and engulfing his frame. He lets himself burn for far longer than normal to the point he can feel the unbearable heat. He would be impressed, had he there been different circumstances.

However, he doesn't get the result he was aiming for.

Blast Off's servo remains firmly attached to him; the shuttle himself barely taking notice Blaze has just self-combusted. His surprise deterrent rendered inefficient by Blast Off's own heat resistance.

What a time to discover this.

One of Octane's hoses detaches from its task of grabbing a pre-made drink, still fresh and at the perfect temperature, and slides it down the counter to Blaze before returning to its work. Twitching at the minor inconvenience as if annoyed by the task throwing it off course.

"You missed a Junxies celebration a few hours ago. The place was packed, but they decided to leave after draining this place of nearly every bottle. Anyone still here was either too drunk to follow them out, or they were regulars here for their late fix before the place closed."

He gestures over to the rooms on the other side of the bar, with the word "occupied" glowing in neon on one and "come in" on the other. "Some are in there for, you know, swapping cables and private stuff, if you're interested."

What was he doing again? Oh, yes, the show on the data pad. Frag, he needs to rewind back to where he left off. Those horns distracted him from properly pausing the show when he first spotted them; in fact, they were starting to look familiar for some odd reason he couldn't place.

Now Blaze isn't opposed to them at all, in reasonable belief that every place serves its purpose for the sought out target audience. What surprises him is its location; he would expect a bar like that to be in a more appropriate area.

Perhaps, there's already too much competition.

Besides...

"My partner would be too jealous knowing I mingled with someone at the bar." Hell, just having someone oogle Blaze is sometimes enough for his fellow copter to get irked. He swirls the drink and tastes it. Just as he expected, there isn't anything special about it, being a regular classic.

He stops midway through drinking, setting the glass down and finally taking a proper scan of Octane. Blaze isn't a stranger to people asking him the very same question; with his horns, he stands out from the crowd quite a lot. Yet, there are still many possibilities of others having a similar colour scheme or looks just as him.

Like Prowl. He has a red chevron.

no matter how big or small, anon or not, send it and see if it gets stamped with the 'approved' stamp

And maybe he didn't want to. Maybe he wanted to drag this out for as long as he could, knowing what the outcome would be once he caught Blaze.

Blast Off was observing above, keeping an optic on Blaze's whereabouts in case Vortex lost him, but given how close his teammate was, he didn't think that was possible. Honestly, the shuttle was here for a different reason, and it was to watch and observe the climax.

"Stop running! It only just riles me up even more!" Vortex cackles through the forest. His claws slash through any flora in his path as he inches closer and closer to Blaze, yet each time he thinks the chase will end, Blaze puts more distance between them. Whether it was a branch clipping his helm or nearly tripping on the plant life because he was far too focused on grabbing the target than the obstacles around him.

:: This reminds me of a cartoon. :: Blast Off replies over the comm, making Vortex growl back a response.

Is this what being hunted by persistent predators feels like? Never allowed a chance to rest, never allowed to slow down but keep going until fatigued?

There is perhaps one final glimmer of some chance of getting away. The forest is dense, the terrain rugged; this all can be used against his relentless pursuer. And Blaze, even under all this growing stress, plays those cards masterfully.

He guides Vortex through the thickest growth of the forest with the tree trunks twisting themselves in serpentine paths, with no way of telling where one trails and the other weaves. Blaze practically phases through them, not at all hindered by having to clamber over this labyrinth. He knows these will slow down Vortex long enough for him to maybe find a way to hide.

And it seems it has worked — Vortex's taunts grow distant and Blaze swears he even heard a swear or two, no doubt forced to find an easier path.

He continues running, unaware of the second pursuer high in the sky tracking his every move. Eventually Blaze stumbles upon a large rocky terrain in the way and decides to run around it — it would be faster that way than trying to climb it and have Vortex simply fly after him.

Take a gamble and swipe right. Jk I'm the handsome one.

Octane. Triple Changer. IDW / G1 mix with a city speaker AU.

[Rules] [About] [Verses/ AU] [History]

Not accepting Magic Anons

Ns//fw tag to block is The Naughty Club.

Vortex feels his olfactory sensor is dented and leaking, and his visor is broken, displaying unreadable warnings. He laughs as he licks off some of the blood when his claws find a few cracks in his plating. "I'm not done with you yet." He pulls away from the wall, knowing that Blaze was not paying attention when he turns to see the mech moving away.

Emotions were swirling around his processor in such a way it felt as though it was playing a game of spin the wheel to see what the winner would be.

"Do you hear me?!" He nearly stumbles as he stands in the middle of the alley, his laughter getting louder. Ignoring the pink slightly obscuring his vision, or perhaps he was just seeing blood, he stares down the path Blaze went down before throwing his helm back, laughing maniacally into the night.

Fear.

A cold shiver runs down his spine, his back plates flaring to their highest point without much prompting from his consciousness. All what Vortex sees is Blaze briefly offering him a passing glance over the shoulder; the glint in his optic barely revealing his bubbling anxiety beneath the surface.

Just what has he attracted?

And why?

Blaze doesn't chance it anymore. Dazed as he may appear, Vortex can and will try to go after him. So Blaze goes where only a few dare to go — down into the sewers. So much for spending all that time trying to get his frame looking polished for once. His safety matters more.

Out of Vortex's sight, he finds the nearest sewer entrance big enough for him to fit through and off Blaze disappears into the night.