One Last Time

It has been a Very Bad Day (tm) for Blast Off. In a long line of very bad days- this has been one of the worst on record for the shuttle. A key issue for the Combaticon has always been the matter of trust- which basically? He almost doesn't have. He had built so many walls between himself and the outside world that very few people ever got in. In fact, in recent times, only two got in close enough for Blast Off to share an interface with: Whirl and Starchamber. His relationship with Whirl was a rocky one and doomed to certain failure from the start. Right? It came along completely unexpected and yet, somehow, it just /worked/. But Whirl and a Decepticon- together? It could never last. And so each time they saw each other, it was always the "last time" they'd get close. They agreed each time. That was it, and then they'd stop this doomed relationship- and yet somehow that never /was/ the end. They said it was... and yet....
And then Starchamber came along- a gun to Blast Off's sniper, a Combaticon space alt just like him. Forged in destiny! She came on to him hot, and eventually Blast Off's cold spark started to melt- he eventually trusted her enough to reveal /everything/ to as a fellow Combatronian: all his trauma and scars as she helped him heal from torture by Feint. And then, like that, she suddenly dropped him cold. The parting was not a pretty thing- in fact it was brutal.
Blast Off is hurt, furious, and confused- and determined that trust is /obviously/ only for idiots. And yet somehow he finds himself heading towards Nyon.... where Whirl is. Slag it all, slag the Decepticons- he doesn't care. He wants to see Whirl. Why? At the moment, he's not even sure. He just knows Whirl is the only person he wants to see right now. The only person he /can/ see, in the state he's in.
<< Whirl, where are you? >> His voice has a flat tone, even for him.
Although Blast Off may have him beat, Whirl is also having a pretty bad day. He came out of recharge to find he'd gambled what little money he had left in some backalley dice game after a night of excessive drinking, leaving him no choice but to shake down junkies for cash or drugs because Whirl is incapable of having a legit job. During this quest for funds, he was approached by a Decepticon. A certain /space-faring/ Decepticon. Who turns into a gun.
It was Starchamber, okay? He talked to Starchamber.
The conversation the two of them was.. revealing, to say the least; the things they talked about haven't left Whirl's mind since. Currently he sits on a bench in the totally awesome (not really) city of Nyon, just staring idly at everyone who passes by until the familiar voice of Blast Off crackles over his personal frequency. << I'm hanging out on a bench near that crappy bar in Nyon. You know, the one with the big, ugly neon sign?>>
Blast Off soon arrives. He knew exactly which bar Whirl was speaking of. That fact alone ought to scare him, but he's too far gone for that to concern him right now. Spotting Whirl, he strides over quickly, soon facing the other mech... and then he stops. And stares. It's like the only thing on his mind was "get to Whirl" but his cerebro-circuitry is too muddled to know what to do once he did.
And so he stands there, looking oddly disoriented, until he finally manages a quiet, "Whirl. It... it's been awhile." It sure /seems/ like it somehow, anyway.
Blast Off appears in record time and just stares, which Whirl can only respond to with even more staring. The two of them just /stare/ at eachother for what feels like hours before Blast Off breaks the silence. Whirl already knows about what happened so the Combaticon's unusual demeanor isn't at all surprising to him.
"It feels like it, doesn't it?" Whirl leans back in his seat and casts a glance at the empty space beside him before looking back at Blast Off. "I think you should take a seat. Is there something you want to talk about?"
Blast Off blinks at Whirl, still just sort of standing there like he hardly heard the other mech... but eventually he does just that, sitting not too far from the cyclops. His optic ridges are slightly furrowed and Whirl might sense a spazzy sort of energy coming from the shuttleformer. He's been under a great deal of stress, apparently... and there's the occasional twitch of a finger that hints at a fury lurking just underneath. After a moment, he speaks up, "Starchamber's gone. I will never see her again... if I can /help it/, at least." His voice starts flat but the anger builds slightly by the end.
Not even five minutes into this conversation and Whirl already knows that it is going to end badly for everyone involved. He's extremely fortunate that some time had passed between his talk with Starchamber and this meeting with Blast Off so he could have some time to cool down and think about it, otherwise he would be toeing the line of unrestrained rage like the Combaticon appears to be doing. "Uh.." Whirl struggles to find the right way to approach this. "Yeah I.. heard about what happened. From Starchamber." Welp, bluntness never steered him wrong before, right? "She spoke to me earlier this cycle, wanted to apologize." A short pause. "For breaking us up."
There is the slightest head twitch from said Combaticon at that revelation. Then he slumps back a bit.
And stares.
"..../What/?"
Whirl just STARES right on back at Blast Off. If he thinks he's going to beat Whirl at a staring match, he's so very wrong. "Yeah, can you believe that? She actually came to me to apologize for being the reason why you broke things off with us. Honestly, I was just surprised because I wasn't aware that was the case." He leans in, breaching the shuttleformer's precious personal space. "But you know what really bothered me? She said you attacked her after she rejected you. So tell me, Blast Off, is it true?"
Blast Off feels his fuel lines run cold, and is the room starting to swim? Yeah, it might be. But he anchors himself by staring at Whirl- though as the other mech leans in he leans away- though not by much. He feels frozen to the spot anyway. One optic ridge raises high as the other remains level.
"...What?" It's a question at so many, many things. But he forces his mind to at least /attempt/ a coherant thought, realizing very quickly he's going to need them.
"I... well... yes." He sits there a moment before continuing. "She not only rejected me, Whirl... she mocked everything about me. Everything I ...I shared with her during interface. She /mocked/ everything I am, then she told me she /only/ has respect for mechs who can HURT her. Who can /dominate/ her, and she said I would never be one who could. She then said she LIKED to be hurt, and that I never could hurt her. So... yes, at that point... I did. I transformed and rammed right into her in shuttle mode. She seemed to be /asking/ me to."
Whirl's optic seems to flicker ever so slightly as he listens to Blast Off's side of the story. There is a lot more to this story than he thought and definitely WAY more drama than he is able to deal with. When the Combaticon finishes, the cyclops leans back and rubs at his not-face with a pair of claws; an exasperated sigh escaping him.
"Blast Off.. was that your first time being rejected?" It's a simple yes or no question but it would explain a lot about this mess.
Blast Off's optic ridges furrow down at the question, and his immediate instinct is (GROUND CONTROL TO) MAJOR DENIAL..... and yet somehow- he really knows this is not the time for denial. His gaze darts uncomfortably to the side, then back to Whirl.
"....Yes?" It's the truth, though it also sort of demonstrates he probably hasn't had the most amazing social life, either, which is why he hates admitting so.
Yeup, that's exactly the answer Whirl was expecting. Blast Off does not seem like the kind of guy who would pursue romantic interests enough (or at all) to ever be rejected before, and considering how massive the guy's ego is, it's no surprise the he went kind of crazy and tried to crush someone with his alternate mode. If Whirl had to be absolutely honest though? Starchamber didn't really seem like his type, their brief yet telling conversation was enough to prove that. She says 'glorious battle' unironically for Primus' sake, does that seem like something that would ever slip out of Blast Off's mouth in a non-sarcastic manner?
"Ugh, okay, listen.. getting rejected sucks, alright? Trust me, I know that. It sucks and it hurts and you feel like your life is over and that you can never try again because the fear of another rejection and all the pain it brings is too much that it's not worth it." He looks away for a moment, private memories hidden from even Blast Off flashing across his mind. "But it's not the end of the world and you're not the only one who's ever had to go through it before. It's just something that happens and you have to suck it up and deal with it, and if you can't do that you just pretend to until enough time passes that you stop caring."
Whirl looks back at Blast Off. "Starchamber is your team-mate and your kin. You need to swallow your pride and make things right between the two of you."
The shuttleformer's optic ridges continue to dig down into a fearsome furrow, but as Whirl speaks it seems to subtly change from expecting Whirl to verbally attack him, too.... to the realization that this is kind of what he /really/ needed to hear. His frame sways a little unsteadily at first but slowly comes to a halt, and for the first time since he arrived the spazzy energy he's been giving off seems to settle some. "It... does," he admits, "I... shared... /everything/ with her, and she...I... I felt /betrayed/ by her."
Blast Off's head turns, optics dimming. "She didn't think I was /mech/ enough." He casts a thousand-yard stare somewhere in the distance before turning to face Whirl again at the other mech's insistance that he swallow his pride (ha ha) and make things right. His tone is sharp with the pain he still feels. "NO. Not when she mocked everything I am. I /shared/ the trauma I experienced in /prison/ Whirl, and she MOCKED IT. How would you feel if I mocked what you went through, losing as much as /you/ did? NO. I want nothing to do with her."
It's a tragedy, it's foolish pride, it's many things... but in this Combaticon's mind it's also intractable. "Never. Besides..." Time to admit yet another thing... sort of a BIG thing potentially. He's not quite sure the ramifications yet, if any, given that there are only a handful of Combatronian survivors anyway. He almost sounds a bit sheepish here. /Almost/.
"I sort of... renounced Combatron and my fellow Combatronians." Yeah, fits of anger suit the shuttle very well.
Whirl's empurata conceals his growing concern as Blast Off continues, revealing more and more about what actually conspired between the two Combatronians. When Blast Off mentioned his 'involvement' with the femme, Whirl had no idea that he would later end up in the center of all this drama. Between Starchamber seeking him out and feeling the need to warn him about Blast Off's behavior, even going as far to suggest he defrags the memories of the mech out of his head, and Blast Off himself pouring his spark out to him about betrayal.. it's all a bit too much for Whirl. He lets out an exasperated sigh rubs at the side of his head.
Wait, did Blast Off just say what he thought he did?
"You what!?" Whirl bolts upright and STARES at the shuttleformer. "You're kidding, right? Don't you think that's a /little/ overdramatic?"
Blast Off's quasi-sheepish demeanor continues as he stiffens and sort of glances at Whirl from the corner of his optics before looking away again. The way Whirl says that makes it sound so.. so... /bad/ or something. (It was. And he knows it, he just doesn't want to admit it right now.)
"We-elll..." His voice falters with a whirlwind of doubt, hurt pride, regret and impudent /I DUN WANNA think about that right now/! "....Ye-esss, I guess..." Another glance from side to side. "Ok, I... well, maybe that was... just a /little/ bit." His expression turns more grim. "It's too late anyway, and it's not like there are many of us left to /care/."
Whirl just gives a little half-shrug at that. "We'll see how you feel after some time passes. I think you would really benefit from just cooling down for a while and doing some serious thinking about the whole thing." He decides that's enough advice giving for one cycle and without the slightest warning he lashes out at Blast Off, taking him in his arms and pulls him close against his body. Blast Off didn't seriously think he was going to walk away from this without having his personal space violated, did he?
"You're a hot mess, aren't you Blast Off? I had no idea you were capable of stirring up so much trouble." He leans in and presses his not-face against the side of Blast Off's neck. "I really should be angry at you, you know. You toss me to the curb to persue someone else and then come to me bemoaning about betrayal?" His grip tightens, claws scraping roughly over the shuttleformer's armor.
The shuttleformer lets out a small but characteristic *huff*. "I... suppose. I just... don't know." But Whirl is right- Blast Off needs time. His nerves are still raw, and sometimes only time heals certain wounds or at least makes them bearable. His shoulders sag as he looks away again. "It's just... *Gah*!" Suddenly he's swept into Whirl's arms. As always, his first instinct is bracing against the invasion of personal space. His hands come up to grip at Whirl's arms and shoulders. But as Whirl draws him deeper into a hug, his resistance melts away surprisingly fast and he actually relaxes. His spastic tension fades in the face of some much needed comfort.
Whirl is certainly right. Blast Off IS a hot mess, or at least a mess. And those claws scraping so roughly against his armor plates, even knicking off a ceramic tile from a heat shield, causes the shuttleformer to gasp. His hand's grip only tightens- but what Whirl says brings him pause. Optic ridges furrowing down, he braces against Whirl enough to shove him slightly away. Just enough that they are staring each other face-to-face, arms still wrapped around each other. He frowns under the faceplate, expression uncertain.
"Whirl... Starchamber talked of me "dropping you"... now YOU talk of me dropping you...." He hesitates a moment- asking this while this close might not be the wisest thing... but he needs to know. He decides there's been enough confusion. Enough prolonged pain. Enough misunderstandings. It's time to mech up and find out something very important. It's time to face a question he hasn't been willing to face before. "What /are/ we, Whirl? I... I really like being around you. I am getting to where I /want/ to be around you far more than I /should/. I've tried to STOP. And everytime we meet, we agree this should be the last time. And it /should/. There's no way this will ever work out between us. I thought we were trying to END this. Both of us were? So... what /is/ it, Whirl? Are we ending this like we /should/? Ending it like the only /sane/ option really is. Or..." He pauses, and brings a hand up to grasp one of Whirl's claws, still staring the mech in his one optic. "Or do we say to the PIT with the rest of the world and its rules, and just do what we /want/?"
From the moment Blast Off sat down, the only thing Whirl has wanted to do is to get in close, to feel Blast Off's frame pressed against his. He feels hurt that Blast Off apparently didn't trust him enough to share his entire self with him like he had Starchamber, and he knows he should be more upset by the revelation that whatever was going on between the two of them had apparently ended.. yet here he is, arms wrapped tight around the Combaticon, his entire being aching to feel the mech's touch, to hear his engines rumbling against him once more. Blast Off had become like a drug to Whirl, wanting him so badly when he's near and constantly thinking about him when he's not.
The gasp that his claws elicit from the shuttleformer only eggs the cyclops on, Whirl pressing hard against a seam in the mech's armor plating; the tips of his claws hooking underneath a panel and threatening to peel it right off. There's a lust building inside of him now, Whirl's mind going straight to thoughts of interfacing the mech again, but the shove and the emotional questions posed to him jolt him back into reality like a rock to the head.
"I... uh.." There's a sharp vent of air when Blast Off clutches his claw. "I don't know, Blast Off. I thought this was going to be a one time thing too. Then I thought it was just a two-time thing. Then after the third time I thought 'okay, this really it now' and I thought I was okay with that but I'm really not." He leans in, bonking his forehead (or whatever counts as his forehead) against Blast Off's. "I want to be with you for as long as I can. I want you to trust me, and I want to trust you. With everything."
Whirl pulls back, looking at Blast Off with a flickering optic. "Blast Off... I'm joining the Autobots."
Blast Off is feeling the same desires and pull as the cyclops, and Primus those claws digging into the seams of his armor hurts so good.~ His cooling fans are already at work, and the shuttle's engine is beginning to rev up... but he works to maintain control. He /needs/ to know this. He listens to the other mech, then presses his forehead to Whirl's as he moves in. And they are like that for a time, arms wrapped around each other, face to face.... until that last line. Blast Off jerks his head back to stare at Whirl in horror.
"/WHAT/??!!"
That's about the reaction Whirl was expecting when he broke the news. "I already talked to Hot Rod about it but I didn't really tell him everything." He looks away for a moment and sighs before returning his gaze to Blast Off. "But I feel like I can trust you more. I KNOW I can trust you more. I got into some trouble-" As if that's surprising. "-and things were looking pretty bad until /he/ showed up. He helped me out and afterwards he made me an offer that I.. I just can't refuse it, okay!?"
Whirl grabs hold of Blast Off's shoulders, claws sinking in deep like he was afraid the Combaticon is just going to fly away in an angry huff. "I hate the Autobots! I hate everything about them! They're terrible people who do terrible things for terrible reasons! But.. /Starscream./" Finally, the name comes out for the first time. "He said he could get my face back. My hands back. My LIFE back. I could be a regular person again! No longer a social pariah forced to walk this planet as a mutilated freak! If joining the Autobots means a chance at this, I can't let the opportunity pass me by."
Blast Off remains as he is, staring at Whirl in a horror that eventually shifts into disbelief. His head slowly starts shaking from side to side, though it slows as Whirl speaks of trust. /TRUST./ That thing Starchamber shattered to pieces. He just... he just doesn't know. He doesn't sense any deception from Whirl, but.... anything the Autobots get involved with becomes /tainted/ eventually. "You... you /can't/..." Whirl digs in his claws, and while the thought of just breaking away and flying off flashes briefly in his mind he has no urge to follow through. He winces at the pain and continues.
The head shaking stops at the mention of... Starscream? This causes him to blink. "Why is /Starscream/ of all people telling you to join the *Autobots*? He's..." Blast Off's optics flicker as he debates even saying this... but he's suddenly concerned for Whirl's safety. Whirl needs to know. "He's a Decepticon, Whirl. He /can't possibly/ have your best interests in mind." Then Whirl speaks of getting his hands and face back, and... and then Blast Off begins to at least get a glimmer of understanding as to /why/ this might appeal to the empurata survivor. But... " It's a /trick/, Whirl! You KNOW the Autobots! They'll just lure you into a trap. You'll become mind-controlled like Shiftlock or Blurr! You'll never escape!"
"You don't understand, Blast Off!" Whirl's voice cracks slightly as he blurts the out, the cyclops looking away and taking a moment to compose himself before he continues. "You.. you don't understand. You don't know what it's like to be empurata. You don't know the discrimination I face on a daily basis. You don't know the shame that follows you around everywhere you go. Everyone sees me as a criminal, someone not to be trusted, someone to be jeered at and shamed. Some places wont even let me inside! I've been turned away from businesses based on my looks alone! You remember Quickswitch, right? He was just one of many who have openly disrespected me like that."
Whirl releases his grip on Blast Off to stare at his claws, arms shaking ever so slightly. "I know he's a Decepticon. I know that I'm risking everything by doing this, even my own mental freedom. But.. it's a risk I'm willing to take. I just.. I just want my hands back."
It's true. Blast Off can't understand what it's like to be disfigured by empurata. That said, though, he can understand what it's like to have one's body taken from them, since it happened to him. And he has picked up snatches of what Whirl's day to day life has been like through their interface. He listens to this and he /could/ keep trying to fight Whirl on this. But he hears the convinction in Whirl's voice and.... it's very possible that after his altercation with Starchamber, the shuttleformer is /all fought out/ right now. He /tried/ to fight then- he thought it was the right and just thing to do- and look what happened.
The thought alone seems to deflate him a bit, and his shoulders sag after Whirl's releases him. He doesn't pull away. If anything, at this point he looks tired. His voice sounds as cultured as always, though subdued. "No. I don't. But I will tell you something, Whirl." Blast Off glances down at his hands and flexes his fingers. "I'm not sure what you picked up through our interfacing, but... see this hand?" He lifts it up. "It's not my original hand, either. In fact... my entire body isn't really /mine/. Not what I started with, at least. They took my original body away, Whirl. Extracted my spark and stuck me in a /box/ for millions of years. I only got out recently, put in this body recently." He sounds almost numb as he sifts through these memories.
"The same government that did that to me told me I could trust them- or at least, if I worked for them like they said to, that I could have my life back. And so I did work for them. And.... well, they lied. They're lying to you, Whirl." His hand drops down and he gazes at the cylops sadly. "I don't want you to fall into the same traps I did. That said, " He sighs and looks away, "It's your choice."
That part of Blast Off's history is something Whirl doesn't know a whole lot about. Sure, he picked up bits and pieces of it during their interfacing, but it was always really fuzzy and hard to comprehend like it was something the mech had tried to bury deep in his mind. Whirl also has memories like this, things that Blast Off had surely picked up on but didn't fully understand. They are both complicated people with issues so it shouldn't be too surprising that they share this in common.
"I don't want to make this choice. I want to just ignore it and go on with my life, pretend it was never even an option. But I can't. This opportunity.. this chance to get my hands back.. it may be the only one I ever get. I have to try."
Whirl's voice suddenly becomes very quiet. "Blast Off.. don't leave. Not over this."
Complicated is probably an /understatement/ with these two. Blast Off casts another glance to his hand. The "crude carcass" the Senate stuck him inside just recently, and he's been trying to get used to ever since. Going from a /forged/ body to this... this... Made to Order one. The shuttleformer sighs, then that hand goes to his side again and he looks Whirl in the optic. He /should/ leave. He really /should/. It's the only sane thing to do. He stands there staring at the other mech after his quiet plea.
Blast Off breaks the gaze to look at his hand- and then takes a step forward to Whirl and places his hand on the cyclop's claw. His other hand draws the mech's shoulder in, and again they stand forehead to forehead. Maybe it's because he's all fought out. Maybe it's because he's already lost someone close to him- he can't bear the thought of losing another so soon. "One last time, then?"
...Like every other time.
The Combaticon's hand takes it's place upon his claw and suddenly Whirl feels at ease again. Their forheads touch and the cyclops emits a sigh of contentedness. This is nice, it's hard to believe that the mech he is getting cozy with at the moment is the same guy who went nuts and tried to ram his shuttle mode up Starchamber's exhaust not that long ago.
"I don't want it to be our last time, but if that's how it's going to be.." The pair of claws not currently enjoying Blast Off's touch finds itself on the shuttleformer's back, their sharp edges digging deep into his armor and slooowwwllllyyyy trailing downwards; leaving prominent, though entirely aesthetic, damage in their wake. "I want to make something you'll never forget."
Blast Off has many issues, and being a Combaticon (whether he's "renounced" it or not...), he's got a fighting spirit. A sometimes violent one, only tempered by the side that craves to be sophisticated and gentlemechly. The warrior vs. the gentlemech is a war that rages within him at all times. Right now the warrior is exhausted, leaving the more thoughtful side room to act.
Is it the last time? Who knows, but now Blast Off has a new understanding of Whirl-and him. That there is something there, and it will take care. He's not sure he /can/ remain with Whirl if he becomes an Autobot.... but right now, and as for long as he can, he's going to stay. The shuttleformer gasps again as those claws dig down... down.... and his own engines rev up, bringing more life back to the mech than he's shown since he got here. A trace of a smile plays on his lips under the faceplate as he pulls Whirl in even closer and responds with a tight squeeze of Whirl's claw.