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Slipstream Goa Nitrogear

Slipstream is standing just outside of Polyhex, hands on her hips. She's looking for Goa, trying to spot him coming off of his patrol route.

Goa is no subtle operator ... his dust and exhaust trail is visible the better part of a kilometer off. He honks as he approaches and recognizes Slipstream, but seems to be on his way in.

Slipstream moves to get in his way, "Hello Gooey, how was the patrol?" she asks, "I thought maybe we should put in some practice, that is if you want to?"

Goa coasts ... coasts ... right up to Slipstream ... no braking. Still no braking. His timing is such, though, that he bumps the seeker's shins at negligible velocity with a little chuckling noise from some inconspicuous fan or mechanism. "Tingly," is Goa's reply. His last posting was out in the rad zone, though the car's thick shielding looks barely the worse for wear. He stays silent afterward ... his thoughts reflect a playful curiosity.

Slipstream peers down at the bump against her shins, then leans over slightly to peer down into his wind shield. "How does wing walking sound Gooey? I figure it’s time to work on it some more. See if you can hold on or at least stand there."

Goa waits a while longer, chuckles a while more, and then finally transforms into his robot mode, seemingly in the middle of the motion of wiping soot from his arm guards. "I thought you hated that," he remarks, giving his arms and chest another vain look-over before looking up at the femme.

Slipstream slips her hands off her hips and replies, "I'll cope Goa by taking the sensor network in my wings down just enough that I won't feel you tromping around on them."

Nitrogear is seen flying above the Shadow of Polyhex, and notices Goa and Slipstream. He decides to land and say hello. Nitrogear's twin turban engines roar as he flies low, coming in to transform into Robot mode.

Goa slowly turns around to see just which pair of jets is buzzing him. His reservation and sluggishness dissipate to some degree when he recognizes the grey Comrade, and he waves ... slowly. "Hey, Nitrogear." Goa glances back at Slipstream, tentative grimace snapped straight back to his dry smirk. "Why didn't you do that before? Sure. Sure, we'll fly."

Slipstream looks over to Nitrogear, "Good cycle." offered to the fellow flier, then a smile at Goa, "I wanted to test my pain threshold, that's why I didn't do it before."

"Good cycle, Comrades. What are you up to?" Nitrogear asks, just out of curiosity.

Goa shakes his head, snickering ... something's still amusing to the mech about this situation. Or maybe not. It could be a leftover buzz from the radiation. It could be nothing at all. Only Primus can say with him, really ... Whatever it is, it doesn't seem to be deterring him from hopping up and around Slipstream's shoulders in a maneuver he seems familiar with. "Just some practice. Care to join us, in case I fall? ... Comrade?"

Nitrogear grins, "Sure, why not. I have some time now. What is it you need for me to do?"

Slipstream smiles a bit at that snickering from Goa, then she turns toward Nitrogear. "Goa is going to be walking on my wings, it’s sort of like jet judo but meant more for use against the enemy." she says, then peers at the grounder who has hopped up on her shoulders. "So care to come with?"

Nitrogear nods again. "Gladly, Comrade Slipstream. I might learn something too." Nitrogear says eagerly, waiting to get going.

Goa bounces his tires in alternation against the sides of Slipstream's chest, staring off into the sky vacantly. At least he's stopped laughing.

Slipstream tolerates the tire bouncing to a degree as she hovers up into the air just far enough to transform.

Goa barely moves during the whole transformation sequence under him, save to avoid getting crushed in the rising nosecone and grip his hands into his thighs. The latter have shifted aside slightly to hook the femme's wings instead of her intakes. "You might, Nitro'. Sorry in advance if I crash you or somethin'." Goa angles forward with his roof drawn over his helmet, waiting to accelerate ...

Nitrogear isn't sure where he's even supposed to be standing or flying. "Then i'd better be out of the way. Should I take to the air along with you two?"

Slipstream rockets up into the air, pulling a 45 degree angle ascent. She's at a slow, for her anyway, 200 mph - the bare minimum she can do without falling out of the sky entirely. She keys her internal radio, <Doing all right up there?> to Goa, then to Nitrogear, <Fly underneath us Nitrogear, just in case clumsy here takes a fall.>

Goa peeks backward at the ... rapidly? Maybe not so much, after his rides with Firestorm ... retreating ground, checking the course Nitrogear has taken. <Of course I'm doing alright.> He says this, but his hands have shifted to clinging at Slipstream's back armor in a bordering-on-not-okay, fearful way nonetheless. <i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Nitrogear's twin turban engines ignite and fire up as he takes off, transforming into Flat-Profiled Swift jet mode. He keeps his accelerator slow as well, keeping at Slipstreams pace and flying directly underneath her.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream powers up the speed once she levels off, going 400 mph now. <Ready for maneuvers when you are Goa. Nitrogear you are just about perfect, keep to that alignment.> she internal radios the duo.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Nitrogear responds with radio transmission. "Roger, Comrade. I am in position, matching speed at 400 mph." Nitrogear flies underneath Slipstream, with minimal effort.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.><I've been ready. Slag, seekers'll be standing around, and I don't know if they're going to up and start doing synchronized pirouettes out of nowhere.> Goa's confident chatter fills the airwaves, sure, but less audibly, he took the warning and immediately shifted to lean down, clinging under Slipstream's fuselage. <Our friend the communist doesn't seem too bothered by this.> He peeks down ... just enough to get Nitrogear into his line of sight. Hoooogh, down ... <This sort of thing common in glorious wherever-you're-from?>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream banks toward the right, doing an elegant swoop that direction as she listens to Goa chatter in what could pass for an annoyed tone. Still increasing speed as she makes the turn, then doing a hard bank the other direction as if she were being pursued. <I'm good Goa, but not that good.> comes her response to the pirouettes. A pause at his question, <Shouldn't you be trying to walk on the wings grounder?>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa's grip around Slipstream's frame only becomes tighter, inciting a metallic creak here and there in the grounder's servos. He becomes particularly creaky, so to speak, in the terrifying pause between turns. <... I am walking. Walking by sitting.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>A laugh comes over the airways, "Shouldn't you be trying this on the ground first, Comrade?" Nitrogear keeps up with the paces of Slipstream, while not performing any of the elegant maneuvers she is. He has a mission in his mind: Protect and catch Goa, and keep him from winding up on the ground - the hard way.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream does a snap roll that would make the Blue Angels envious.. that is if we were on Earth in the 21st century. Briefly Goa is upside down, then right side up again as she completes the roll. Then she dives down a bit, <Not supposed to be sitting on my Goa.> she states. Then to Nitrogear, <We done closer to the ground already. We need this advantage against the Autobots, which means grounders riding on seekers.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Paradoxically, Goa seems less freaked after Slipstream's last maneuver ... perhaps in the belief that he's survived the worst she has to offer. Without moving his torso, he slides his legs around and out, over her wings and under himself, getting a grip in on the jet's back with his tires. The mech becomes a ball of green plates, carefully, slowly shifting his weight and pulling out one scythe to blunt-twist and hook over Slipstream's wing. <Bit early to talk about advantages.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>"We need all the advantages we can get. The Autobots need to learn their .. place." Nitrogear says place with almost a sinister tone. Changing back to normal tone, "You doing alright up there, Comrade Goa?" Nitrogear radios in to check to see how things are going.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream dully feels the shifting legs of Goa as he moves to get into position. She keeps a level path as he gains all the height he is comfortable with and she does a slow bank to the left, to see how he handles it. It's a shallow bank.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.><... not dead yet,> Goa replies over radio, terse as he's concentrating on leaning into Slipstream's direction changes without pulling too hard on the aerofoil. All things considered, he's handling it pretty well. He's not even shaking that much. As she completes the bank, he tentatively tries standing under his feet's own grip...

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream banks to the other side, just 5 degrees steeper than the last bank. Seeing how Goa handles this, it would be important to know what he could take if things got ugly in the air with a rare flying Autobot or even having to avoid ground to air attacks.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Nitrogear maintains trajectory below Slipstream, ready just in case Goa falls or anything.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa is nowhere near attuned enough to the air to recognize the change in angle, recognizing -- and handling -- it as identical to the last. His wide roof would instantly blow him clear off the jet if he stood up, so he's forced to fold forward, but with his twiggy legs, he's quite capable of staying risen on his feet, even in the turn ... He blinks a tic as he notices he's much more able to see Nitrogear cruising below ... and gets a bit of a grin on. <Alright, I get it. Try something sharper.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream clicks her radio, <Acknowledged.> then the dips that bank further, seeing just how far of a dip of her wings he can manage and not fall off of her. She can dully feel the blunt edge of his blades along with the contact of his feet or tires, depending on what he is relying upon at the moment.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Nitrogear says, "And are you doing alright, Comrade Slipstream? Did you need to switch?" Nitrogear clicks his radio, checking on Slipstream as well. He continues to cruise below, waiting and expecting to spring into action. He isn't letting himself get complacent."

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa is quite aware of his limits and ducks back down close to the jet's frame to mold into her profile as far as drag is concerned ... well, that's the way it works in his head, anyway. He has no programming for or understanding of flight, and the observation, the learning -- the experimental raising of his antennae to test the airflow -- taxes his CPU... but some of it is getting through his thick cranial shell.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.> Goa chuckles over the radio. Take one thing seriously and the rest in complete stride, perhaps ...

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream replies to Nitrogear, <I'm doing fine thank you for asking, Nitrogear.> She then pulls a rapid roll, going around and around at least twenty times. On purpose. Goa's limits have to be tested just as her own with a rider must be tested. <In other words he'll only switch if I unseat him.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>"I understand, Comrade. I just want to be of some help to your training regimen." Nitrogear lowers and raises altitude as needed as he flies underneath where you are performing your aerial maneuvers.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa's optics swim in their own fields of orange. He's forced to shut off his gyroscopic sensor before the disorientation alone upsets any other systems ... once that's managed, though, he has less difficulty, allowing Slipstream's pitch to be his definition of up and down for now. He is, however, forced to bring his other hook into play to keep from twisting her wings. Goa doesn't seem eager to speak or otherwise open his mouth for a while ... hoooorgh...

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream straightens out, noting the silence from the grounder riding her. She hmms softly, then asks, <Shall we stop?>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa's reply isn't verbal so much as it is a gentle tug at one wing, perhaps an attempt to change her course himself. The ground pounder has something to prove, or at least to overcome.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream feels the tug, figuring he wants her to go that way, she does. Nitrogear then drops out of sight. She hmms, >Guess he had to refuel.> she tells Goa. <So shall I have you experience my full potential?>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.><Refuel?> Goa is ensconced looking ahead, and not mentally present enough to really understand the femme's meaning... He dwells on the view of the gently-curved horizon for a moment, Cybertron's rubble, and its star systems. <Of course...> The mech mumbles, distracted in whatever he's contemplating. He folds back down flush to Slipstream's back to see what she'll do.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream replies, <He is off my radar entirely. I would have to presume he went back to refuel. Shall I turn back toward home?> she inquires, <Or shall we hole up somewhere private for awhile?>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Well ... that certainly wasn't what he was /expecting/. The mech sounds amused, maybe a bit alarmed, but just a dash disappointed. <I-- don't need a net, if that's what you mean. Unless you've got some kind of mach-1-million trick you haven't shown me...> Goa drifts off for a moment, taking in that pseudo-skyline again. <... Where's private to you?> It's not visible, sure, but it's more than clear in his tone that he's smirking, against the air lashing his faceplate.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream chuckles softly to that first comment, pouring on the speed.. taxing her engines to their upper limits. She keeps a straight and level path as she goes past sonic boom speed. <I'm not that fast.> then a pause to the privacy question, <Anywhere that doesn't have prying optics or audios.>

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Oh, Slipstream ... ever the literal femme. Though he should've been expecting both replies -- the acceleration and the verbal response, and he might've were he not as ... well, high. Goa shudders as the shockwave washes over his armor. He says nothing, but locks up as he realizes the concept, what's going on -- so /that's/ what it's like ... <... fast enough, Slippy.> Goa eases his legs up, allowing the air to flow under himself for a bit -- maybe even lift the flat frame a little.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream rockets along, having not dipped down or climbed up in some time. But then she points her nose down, plunging toward the ground at a 45 degree angle. Your tone does encourage her to keep it up. There's an idle thought of wondering what your top speed is on the ground as she pulls up some 20 feet off the ground, now winding her way between buildings. Her form in a constant state of banking and turning to keep her wings unharmed.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa doesn't seem bothered by the dive, but the twists and turns freeze him to the spot, slightly lifted such as he is ... he doesn't want to upset the seeker's maneuvering, but he doesn't have the utmost faith in his own control and grip, regardless of the physical reality of it being enough or not. Similar thoughts cross the mech's mind -- and a barely-aspirated squeak of amusement. He could just jump off ... if he liked tumbling and shattering half his chassis, anyway.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream slows down as we approach Polyhex, doing a circle around it, then another. Slowing down further until she nearly stalls out, then she warns you, <Transforming in 5 astroseconds.> then timing it out to 6 she transforms to robot mode, trusting you will be ready for it. She hovers down to the ground from the height of 20 feet, soon alighting upon her feet.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa isn't taken off-guard by the warning, but has no desire to get head butted again, so he decides it'd be best for his dignity to take a flying leap off of the hovering craft. His wedge-like profile almost supports him, sailing gracefully forward, for a nanosec... then he drops like a rock. Goa flaps his arms and legs, heel rockets blasting with no clear coordination -- well, enough coordination to change his landing vector from face-first to aft-first, at least.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream senses that panic as it rises up and is so clearly shown by the arm flapping motion. She shakes her head, trying to tell you to calm down but it is too late for that as you land aft first hard. She grimaces a bit, "Ouch." she states as she walks over to offer you a hand up. "Next time, wait until I land to get off."

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa glances up at the hand offered. He's strongly resisting making any *noise*, sure, but he's been sitting here some time, and his dentals are sunk firmly into his lip. It hurt, obviously. Even with his teeth still biting it, his lips curl into a grin as he considers the other times Slipstream has offered him a hand up. He accepts, rising, wobbly, to his feet, without repeating any of those antics ... this time. "This is private?" He finally speaks.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream shakes her head a bit at you, "No, but you know what is now don't you." she murmurs, stepping close to whisper, "The pits. Race you." then she bolts for the underground!

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa watches Slipstream bolt off. He clicks his optics off, then on ... Time to give the character analysis subroutine a kick, he self-admonishes. She was stealing his job...! After his little moment trying to mentally parse that role reversal, he flares his heels and scrambles trying to catch up to the running seeker. A seeker ... running. Man, those wings have got to do a number on wind resistance.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream folded her wings back so she had less drag as she headed down into the pit, only stopping when she found his favorite overlook. She smiles triumphantly, having actually beat Goa here by seconds. She sits down and chuckles, "Didn't expect that did you Gooey?"

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa doesn't appear to be slowing down as he closes distance to the seated femme. In fact, he's repeating his flying leap -- given, with less altitude -- this time with much more skill. Lithe. It's like he's used to tackling bots or something.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream's optic grown wide as she sees you are leaping at her, her only option other than catching you is to lean back and hope for the best. CLANG! Well that wasn't fun. She grimaces a bit, glad she had dampened her sensors a bit earlier. "Was that fun for you?" she asks, a feeble attempt at a joke.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa nods enthusiastically, and immediately shifts himself into the femme's lap. He mentally reels slightly, not having intended any harm ... but otherwise, seems as typically beyond-smug as he would be about such a victory. "You give a surprise, you get a surprise,” he mutters, snickering under his breath, as he takes a scan of how badly he marred her wings by his gripping this time.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream's wings bear the typical scuffs from wing walking. Nothing too deep, but she'll probably need a touch up with paint if she was at all concerned about her appearance. He chest, though, did take the brunt of that leap and is dented in slightly from the impact. "So that's how you want to play it hm?" she asks, moving her hands up to idly caress his midsection.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa finds the dent and, guiltily, tries rather uselessly with his fingers to prod it back into shape ... he doesn't really notice Slipstream's advances until she finds the seam between his two primary flank plates. "Huh--" The mech's helmet snaps back up to look at her, and around. "... apparently so."

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream's metal flexes a little to the prods, but doesn't reshape back the way it was. It's just going to be stubborn. She hmms softly to the grunt as she strokes her fingertips into these flank seams. "Well lucky for you I have learned to take the punishment." she murmurs.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Under the token thick islands of orange shell, Goa's side armor is deceptively thin, the lesser components and tanks of his engine practically sitting on the surface. Normally, his roof and arms move around too much for it to be of design concern -- just another place to shear off weight. "Punishment," he chuckles, though the pattern of amusement seems to be less in his control and more in whatever Slipstream's hands are doing at the time. "Don't like to. I wish Firestorm was off-patrol more, thicker armor, but ..." Goa sighs, ignoring the tickling for a moment. "It's a war, right?" He grumbles, with a clarity that arrives as soon as it disappears in his next dialogue. "Flying feels ... right. With you, I mean."

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream knows the armor is thin there, exactly why she's messing with it. Trying to give you a bit of her special brand of punishment, which is deceptively more like pleasure the more she strokes. She nods to her sentiment, stating, "She does seem to be gone a lot these past cycles. Not even sure where she was during that whole fight at Megatron's Fury." she remarks, frowning a hint. "Yes, it is. But for now let's pretend there isn't one and just be together okay?" she then smiles, "I'm glad you feel that way."

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa is slowly catching on to this maneuver, but even without that realization, he's taken his own hands to tracing the seeker's fuselage, trying to find the seam where the entire assembly of the chest -- nose, intakes, the works -- meets the femme's waist. "Guess it wouldn't be the first time I forgot about it, huh? ..." The mech cracks after that final attempt at stoicism, giggling and scooting forward with feinted irritation. Goa twists occasionally, trying to get his sides out of reach.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream continues her stroking through the seams, being gentle but persistent. A nod given to that, "Probably won't be the last either, Gooey." she admits softly, smiling up at you as you twist in an effort to dissuade her. "Ticklish hmm?" she asks, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it from that smug mouth of his. "Maybe you should figure out a way to stop me." she states, shivering a little to where you are putting your fingers.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa was on the edge of collapsing into a cackling, contorted heap of green ... Cybertronian. Yes, without a war ... but he knows a challenge when he hears one. And even with Slipstream's fingers dug into his armor, his overwhelming drive to push peoples' buttons affords the mech a clarity of thought.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>"Dunno. Are you?" Goa digs his fingers up ... then considers a gentler touch, tracing the inside of a plate intersection. He can't read if she's ticklish or just sensitive like seekers seem to be all over the fragging frame.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream can sense that you are holding back the giggle fit, so backs her fingers off in preference to another location. Specifically going for that under the cape section of your back. She hmms softly to the question, "Ticklish? Me? Surely you jest." she mock teases, though it is obvious she is ticklish since she is pointedly blocking you from finding out where via the link. Another shiver as you try another portion of her intersecting plates. A smirk dawning upon her lips, "I cannot help it if I'm sensitive, silly grounder."

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa's optics dim a moment; he briefly consults his databank before drawing a line up the seeker's sides and spidering his hands into the motors of her underarms. "You did before," he murmurs, through a sigh of relief -- relieved as those flank sensors may be, Slipstream's embrace on his back manipulates him differently -- to shudder, lean forward and place his chin on her shoulder. It does not, however, break the pace of his search for a ticklish weak spot.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream hmms to the 'did before' comment, trying to hook that up with what she just said makes no logical sense. But then you have proven to be illogical at the oddest moments so she just let's it slide. She stops her movements, hands against your back under the back as she tugs you a bit closer. "How about we recharge.. just like this?" she asks in a suggestive tone. So far no indication you found the spot as of yet.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa's engine stutters subtly. He turns his face inward, meeting Slipstream's neck with his mouth. "Doesn't bother you?" he replies, vocals purring into a support cable, "I thought disappearing underground for cycles was my thing." His tone is quite sarcastic, though dipped in the softness of intent that such intimacy occasionally brings out of the mech. The mech's hands, on the other hand -- rimshot -- are no less determined. He sweeps them quickly down the femme's inner wings and tries probing her knee joints.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream mms softly as you murmur into her neck cabling, enjoying it. "Mmm no, not at all. I'm here with you, no one will bother us. It's just about perfect really." then when you hit the inner part of her knee joints, you elicit a giggle. You found the ticklish spot! She squirms a bit under you, giggling.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Goa strums his fingers inside the joint a couple of times, drawing his helmet up off her shoulder to observe the fit and express his pride ... but doesn't go overboard, soon stroking along her legs back upward. His arms rest in the femme's sides, guards wedged in between the fuselage and wing. The button is pushed -- this time, just knowing is enough for him.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>"Plenty of places not to be bothered where I'm from," Goa says. Her appreciation for the placid, organic vistas of his memory wasn't lost on him... quite the opposite, his thoughts echo respect for a new, less stained view of that world. Something he'd forgotten the possibility of before their bond, perhaps. His face buries back under her chin, and the mech's servos seem to be each relaxing in sequence, slumping forward onto the larger flier. He sneaks in a nip on one of her neck's underlying wires. "Would you like me to move?" Goa mocks, recalling their recharge in the bunks.

<i'm not going anywhere. Throttle up.>Slipstream giggles a bit more until those fingers move away to stroke up her legs, where she shivers gently. She mmms softly, feeling you reposition and settle down a bit. Smiling at the nip, she murmurs, "Not at all." she assures, "But I do intend to get a recharge in Gooey." her mind indicates she is tiring and would like to drift off with you in tow. Perhaps to share a vision of those organic vistas in a dream state...

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