Change Of Pace

A different pace for a different race is what Hot Rod's adopting right now. Jets of flame vent from his exposed engine, the roar of noise is only matched in impressivness by the cloud of dust he's kicking up in his wake. Finally. Freedom. Something they can't take from him and give to it. He can drive. Faster and better than anybody. Up to now he's had his radio off. However with the gates of Retoris coming into view he reactivates his comms to transmit "<< Retoris! I'm coming up fast. Faster than you think! Dust off the winners enclosure as I'll be there before you know it! >>"

As soon as Arcee picks up the comm signal, she radios Rod, "<< Why are you doing this?? You want leadership and you want respect, but you're acting like you're completely insane! If you were in my position, would *you* give Hot Rod any responsibility as he went tearing around like a wildmech through different polities, forcing his friends to chase him around?? Think about it. >>"

Hot Rod brakes hard. So much so he's lost in his own dustcloud. Once it clears enough it can be seen he's transformed and transmitting "<< I don't want leadership. I don't want respect. I don't get a choice in the matter! The Matrix needs me so it can do what it wants to do and all of you can hit a sleep cycle more soundly knowing it's got all the answers. Fine. I'm just sore that I was dumb enough to believe for a microsecond that I added up somewhere!" >>"

Dusting himself off and trying, but failing, to stay the thoughts in his head Hot Rod adds, "<< How do you think that feels... huh? All the time knowing that and having the constant reminder of who you killed in your chest! And I still do it! Because it's the right thing to do. So I won't let anyone down. Even him. But a whole tick passes without my Matrix bearing and everyone couldn't care less anymore. >>"

A sigh breaks up what he's saying and also signals the motor of his anger's burned out. He adds, head looking floorward, tone severely softened "<< So, yeah, all that hit hard and I failed at biting down on it. Also thought, at least, doing a few more shifts where I was actually helping might help clear some of this mess up... >>" The call goes silent as Hot Rod runs out of things to say.

Arcee's in the vicinity somewhere. Rod's extra burst of speed early-on has her still trailing a bit behind. In a softer tone, she radios, "<< I don't pretend to understand how you feel right now, but you're very wrong about no one caring. The truth is exactly the opposite. I want you to be reunited with the Matrix for more than one reason...you understand that, right? You fell from orbit, and landed on your processor. And we have //no experienced medics// available in Iacon to determine the extent of the interior damage you took. None. We have drones to do the simple stuff, but there could be some serious internal injuries. Far as I know, there's two recourses: hope to Vector Sigma that we find First Aid one of these cycles, OR, have the Matrix check you out. Does that sound unreasonable? >>"

"<< What about... >>" Hot Rod stops transmitting as he glances up and decides his voice'll carry far enough, "What about the scans I took? The repairs I already made? The recalibrations I gave the drones so they're working better? I'm no First Aid but I studied and got my qualifications all the same. I've done a residency."

Hot Rod goes back to looking at the floor, defeated, "I'm not the best at it but I'm a trained medic. Might be a little rusty but, since it was all before the Matrix, no one knows, or cares about that." Odd really. It's like racing. Things make sense for a change. Not another thing to screw up like... these days? Take your pick.

When Arcee gets close enough and is finally convinced that Rod is calm enough not to take off again, she transforms and walks over to him. "You do great repair work, why do you think when we got back to Iacon I said it was a great decision that you were headed down to Iacon Medical to help out? ...You do remember that, right? I don't know where you get this idea that no one cares. If I didn't care, I wouldn't have gone looking for you in the first place, Rod. Please...give me the benefit of the doubt, here. I'm doing the very best I can with what we have. It's very stressful. I apologize if I hurt your feelings, it's not at all what I was trying to do."

It's lucky Hot Rod's still looking at the floor. As it's the only way he can hide his facial expression. That twitchy trying to be a frown and smile at the same time which, if it could speak for itself, would say that Rod knows Arcee's right but he's not quite ready to admit it. That not being said he half says half mumbles, "Isn't like I wasn't going to load it anyway. Soon as Punch gets it safely back. Just, not great to wake up and find out you come in second place to yourself."

Continuing to look down he holds up his right arm and says, "After I'd scanned myself but before the drones got to work on my internal repairs I had to fix the endostructure to this. I took it of and repaired it..." There's no noise. No one's trying not to laugh "... single..." Okay. Maybe a faint sound that could be muffled laughter "... handedly!" Now Hot Rod's looking at the floor in the vain hope it's not giving away his giggling.

Arcee smirks, placing her hands on her hips. "Ha-ha," she exclaims. "...Horrible joke, but honestly, not bad work. Look, please just try and talk to me next time? I don't want to torque you off so badly that you run away, especially at a time like this. All I was trying to do at the time was 'triage' the situation. It probably came across as bossy, but it's only been Punch and myself for a while, with Smokescreen mostly on Earth. That's more than a little stretched thin."

Trying to look up whilst keeping his neck bent is a tricky feat. Like small earth creatures that will try to eat something they've been told they're not allowed to have whilst simultaneously walking away from said forbidden food to minimise the amount of irritation their owners display. Hot Rod manages reasonably well and says, very quietly, "I'm sorry. I let talk of it just push too many buttons. I did that to myself. It's not anyone else's fault. Especially not yours." Looking up properly Hot Rod has the startings of a smile. "I'll talk to you. So there won't be a next time. Not apologising to Imager though." Hot Rod adds with the little defiance he can command at the end of speaking.

Arcee chuckles. "Imager is how Imager is," she says. "I don't prompt her to say anything she says; all of her opinions are strictly her own. But speaking for myself, I'm very glad that we can talk openly about these things. Leader-wise...we've all been 'in charge', because there's only been one objective: to find out where everyone's gone. That's just how it's operated. As you might have heard, we're currently on a cease-fire with the Decepticons. And we're /supposed/ to be sharing information with them. I'm not at all sure if they're going to hold their word on that, but so far, we've managed to keep a truce at least. We'll never get answers if we revert back to territorial wars when our own mechs are out there needing rescue."

Hot Rod shrugs, "They're Decepticons. All we can do is deal with it when they break the agreement." Stopping the Decepticons. Not like it's the first time that's on the agenda and certainly not the last that they'll have to do it with their hands tied in some way either. Hot Rod then brightens and says, "Yeah. Sharing information. Punch told me as he got me caught up. He tell you the plan he's got for that?" At this point he's grinning. "Yeah. I'll have to be there for that."

Arcee nods slowly. "I've heard it...what's that Earth saying, 'Be careful what you ask for because you just might get it?'" She stares up toward the sky, as if looking for answers. "I suppose Tarn can wait another day. Looks like you managed to outrun both Smokescreen and Imager! ...But not me."

"Yeah. I can out-race and outrun just about anybody. You though... another few megamiles and you'd have had me. Not that I'm ever gonna admit that I said it. Like ever." Hot Rod admits. After a pause he curiously asks, "How'd you manage to keep gaining ground on me? I had a good start on you and everything. Really cool."

"Because I /know/ you, Rod, I mean...I've known you for a really long time. You have predictable patterns," Arcee admits. "Sometimes I can just sense what you're going to do. It isn't about mind-reading, it's just knowing how you are." She pauses, then adds, "...Look, I'm going to head back to my hab. Maybe next cycle we can tackle Tarn, together. What do you think?"

"Predictable? Me? No way." Hot Rod practically squeaks. He usually doesn't know what he's going to do next until he's doing it. The idea that some else knows what he's thinking when he doesn't think it himself... that's too much to try and work out. Instead he says, "I think... Tarn, yeah, we should look around when we get a chance. So next cycle. You got it. I also think..." then Hot Rod mumbles something incomprehensible before saying "... Ha! Didn't predict that one!" Grinning proudly has says, as he motions towards the gates and takes a half step to indicate finishing the journey on foot insetad of on four wheels... "C'mon. Let's get back."