(no subject)

[cliffjumper]

Cliffjumper: This whole situation was demeaning and insulting, really. He could take care of himself, he's not a protoform. And yet. Cliffjumper scowled, arms crossed, as he stared down the street, glowering at anyone else on the street in suspicion. No one came close, but whether that was due to the angry minibot or...

"Primus help me, if ya get the idea to pick me up an' run if somethin' happens, I don't care what they paid, I'm shootin' ya in that mask with the glass gas an then punchin' you," Cliffjumper growled, suprememly unhappy he had neither managed to convince anyone to allow him a normal gun in addition to the 'proper protection' glass gas gun, nor managed to swipe said normal gun himself.

Optimus: "...If it is required to save your life, then it will be done. Despite that risk." The bodyguard was well trained enough to keep his optics on their surroundings, gun at the ready, rather than the irate client. 'Client' being a loose term, as he clearly wasn't wanted.

...Not that it mattered. In this case, he wasn't getting paid to make himself wanted. He wasn't getting paid by the little red mini at all, even if he was the current recipient of his skills.

Which gave him a little leeway to snark, even as he scanned for the supposed threats.

"In fact, I believe fees for repairs to injuries caused by you were specifically mentioned in the contract. ...I can see why, now."

CJ: "Yeah, whatever. At least the other ones get guards they don't need to wear out their neck cables to talk to." Cliffjumper shifted his glare from the surroundings up at his Primus-damned bodyguard, the mech more than half again as tall as he was.

He wondered, briefly, if they amused themselves with finding the largest mechs they could, just to annoy him. Cliffjumper liked his size, thank you very much, but when someone took pleasure in matching you against the biggest they could find, it... got to you.

"The afts had it comin' to 'em. 'Sides, I don't see the reason for this... ah, slag it. This is stupid." With that decision, Cliffjumper marched out from the doorway they'd been standing in, heedless of any potential trouble... perhaps even aggressively not caring about it. Maybe not even considering that there would be trouble, and that was why his bodyguard was there. Among other things.

This had, also, been mentioned and included with an extra fee in the contract, since Cliffjumper tended to leap before he looked.

O: "I'm afraid my height is something I cannot alter much, while still being of any use." As a guard, anyway.

He followed without any visible signs of exasperation, only increased vigilance as they stepped into the open. Another issue he'd been warned about, indeed. It was enough to make him wonder if the mech was suicidally brave or just suicidal.

"Clearly they have reason enough, if they chose to hire me. Do you not fear the threats?"

CJ: Cliffjumper snorted, but didn't dispute it; if you weren't formatted for it, you weren't formatted for it. His bodyguard's height wasn't anything he really was annoyed at the truck-alt mech for.

It probably wasn't that he was either of those as simply... reckless. Of course, in this situation, that 'reckless' should probably be read as the other two possibilities.

"If I did, I'd slaggin' well have to stay inside a high-security room or whatever. I ain't gonna agree to that," Cliffjumper scoffed, once again, though, wish for a proper gun... or even a cannon. Why he wasn't 'allowed' any of those besides a potentially non-lethal weapon he just couldn't understand.

"What, if it were you, would you just have stayed put like a well-behaved protoform?" Cliffjumper frowned, eyeing the large gun his bodyguard was carrying with envy. It was all 'blah blah ransom this, blah valuable that, too precious blah blah blah' and slag that scrap.

O: "Hn. I supposed that would depend on why I was under threat in the first place." The guard shrugged, optics on the rooftops as his systems scanned the area for anyone taking an undue interest in his client.

He only knows the barest bit of info about the little mech, and why he needs protection. 'Need to know' basis and all that. He's curious, but he wont' ask.

CJ: "Uh. Bein' in the wrong place at the wrong time..." Cliffjumper shrugged, but in his opinion it hadn't been 'wrong place, wrong time' but right place and right time. Of course, being the protegé of a high ranking senator had given him access to said place and time, but even so, most others wouldn't have gone snooping.

But he hadn't liked the look of that 'Con senator. And he'd been right. And they called him paranoid.

"Callin' me 'badly diciplined', hah. Glitches. If I wasn't we wouldn't even know 'bout that---" he cuts himself off, almost apologetically. Firstly, out in public. Secondly, the boduguard may have to hang around like he's attached to Cliffjumper's plating for... however long this will take, but he's not supposed to know.

Some stupid slag about bribery risk and whatelse.

Cliffjumper, while usually attentive and somewhat used to being a target, still wasn't paying attention where he wandered along the edge of the pavement to the road, and thus wasn't seeing the approaching sports car. Which was driving way too close to said pavement.

O: He merely blinks at the sudden silence, before nodding mostly to himself in quiet understanding.

He doesn't want to know, more than likely. Or then he'd need a bodyguard, and well...

Senators didn't usually pay for expensive bodyguards to protect those of such...diverse skill-sets, like himself. Expensive or not, he was considered expendable.

So he doesn't ask. And instead focuses on all movement and motion nearby, which definitely includes traffic. Hmm... Choosing to be safe, he deftly slips in on Cliffjumper's side closest to the road.

CJ: There's an annoyed noise when the guard slips between him and the road, but Cliffjumper has had enough bodyguards (especially lately) to do no more than cast a glare up at the mech... and thus catch sight of the sports car who only veers away from the pavement-edge side of the road at the last possible second, maybe hoping for the large mech to just move out of the way.

Cliffjumper stares, glaring after whoever-it-was, and then vents a sigh. Okay, maybe he should be more careful. But the area's not too bad it's in the middle of the slagging day... he didn't really think anyone would try anything, even something as 'subtle' as attempting to run him over a bit, and/or snatch him.

"Rrr... Okay. Whatever," Cliffjumper mutters, and moves in closer to the building-side of the pavement. "So, since ya might be stuck with me for a while... What's your designation? An' what do ya do when you don't get stuck followin' overly tempramental mechs around?" the grin accompanying those last words are sharp; Cliffjumper knows what people think of his attitude, but while he's... almost apologizing here, that's all.

O: Optimus watches the car-mech speed off, noting the colors and frame type for record. It could have been a bad driver. It was in the middle of the day, yes. But he hadn't worked the bodyguard detail for so long without catching on to the fact that 'could haves' and 'maybes' generally weren't worth the risk.

It wasn't paranoia when someone actually was out to get his clients, after all.

He turned back to the other mech, lifting an optic ridge at the comment. At least the grumpy little mini was beginning to get amusing.

"...Optimus. And I just tend to follow less temperamental mechs around, that's all."

No reason to mention the other, varied details of his services.

CJ: Well, even grumpy little mechs deprived of the weapons they want to use and in need of protection could be somewhat personable, right? Cliffjumper still, despite the maybe-obvious attempt of some sort doesn't like or want to have to be all careful. It just isn't in him to think of things like that, or take them into consideration.

"Huh. That gotta suck, or is the pay really that good to make up for it?" This sort of gig really must be frustrating, but then again... Optimus had kind of chosen the job in general, right? At least he could carry any slagging weapons he wished without getting censured and told "no, that's not proper" or what-the-slag-ever.

He may be eyeing his bodyguard's brandished weapon with some envy as he grumbles about the unfairness of it, even though what he actually wants is to try out one of those large cannons.

O: "Hn. It can. The pay makes up for a lot, though." It has to. 'Escorts' can only hold so many certain jobs, after all. There are certainly worse things to be doing.

He does note the gun-envy with some amusement, though, and moves the weapon closer pointedly.

"Ion blaster. It should be sufficient, should things get...messy."

CJ: It's probably a testament to Cliffjumper's relative naivéte that he assumes there's more choice in Optimus' position than it is... But then, since what he remembers is being picked up off the street by the same senator that is, and has been since then, his patron, and he's never noticed any strange reactions around this, one could, perhaps, forgive the innocense.

"... that was three vorns ago," Cliffjumper's mutter is quiet enough it's obvious it's not meant to be heard, but since they're walking as close to each other as they are... But that little incident was quite (in)famous, of Cliffjumper just ripping the gun out of his bodyguard's hands to take a few shots of his own (that was when he was given the glass gas gun).

"What else do ya got?" Shrugging off his earlier mood, Cliffjumper grins lopsidedly up at Optimus, clearly curious and eager to know... and the heightened glow of his optics could be taken for a less innocent interest, considering his words.

O: "What was?" He wonders, shrugging and tilting his head. He gestures to his own forearms before giving the area another visual sweep. Well, why not. If the client wants to know what his capabilities are, there's certainly no reason no to say.

"Small-round, low burst cannons. ...Energon blades for close range combat, if I must."

CJ:"There was a... situation." Cliffjumper waves one hand vaguely as he speaks, not really paying attention to the slowly growing crowds. It is, however, the wrong time of day for a natural congestion of people to be happening in this part of the city, as they have, by now, turned onto the large multi-levelled avenue leading up to Iacon's High Council Pavilions and the Forum of Enlightment... Which usually didn't have a large collection of 'regular' people moving slowly but determindedly closer.

"An' I kinda plucked th' gun the bodyguard had," Cliffjumper finally admits with a shrug, not really sounding sorry about it. It may also have been this incident that led to all bodyguards he's had since be taller and stronger than he is. The two of them have now been forced into single file by the growing amount of people, some of them who are doing rather obvious... and muttering, double-takes of the minibot.

"Huh... Well-armed. Ya always carry that much, or this a special occasion?" Cliffjumper merely sounds amused, not as if he's arrogantly expecting that he should be the cause of all those armaments.

O: "...ah. Well. Don't do that. Really." He almost laughs - he might have if it wasn't for the growing crowd. He quickly shifts gears, pressing closer to Cliffjumper, resting a hand on his backstrut to guide him.

"...Stay close." His gun rose to a ready position.

CJ: At least his new bodyguard sees the humour in that situation; most others had been summarily unimpressed, stonily silent or saying something about badly integrated defense/offense routines (where they thought he couldn't hear). He'd always ignored that.

"Yeah, well, why do ya think you're---huh?" Cliffjumper's amusement is derailed first into brief confusion, and then a scowl as that hand comes to rest at the bottom swell of his back-kibble and the backstrut just under it. He is not incompentent and can walk alone thank you very much. But Cliffjumper's used to such behavious by now, and doesn't protest more than by an irritable rev of his engine.

"... Shouldn't be this many people 'round here at this time," Cliffjumper mutters, Optimus' actions actually having had him look around and pay attention. Somewhere far to the front of the crowd, a chant starts up, and by now it's not just the closest passing people that's sending narrow stares at the minibot, though his bodyguard garners slide-over nervous looks.

No one is, yet, antsy enough to do anything... rash.

O: "...We need to move. Come, quickly," he mutters quietly, keeping his optics on those protesters closest to them as he looks for the thinnest part of the crowd. They need to get out of there. Discontentment with the council and elite being what it was, a discontent crowd could easily become a mob.

CJ: "Where, though?" Cliffjumper frowns, tilting his head up and back to cast a glance at Optimus, gesturing slightly at the crowd; where there might have been open spots and slightly less mechs before, seemingly in answer to Optimus' need for the crowd thinning out, there's no longer any such spots.

"Ya wouldn't even be able to transform right now... Me either, for that matter, unless ya want to crush someone," he points out, and then jerks as someone just off to the side glares at him, before turning away and echoes said threat of crushing... but what they're referring to, is harder to tell.

Especially as a wave of muttered unease flows through the crowd around them; there's been reports of the protestors having set up their own encrypted channels, but comminucations haven't been shut down. It's as much a show of faith as it's an attempt to keep tensions low, really.

O: He only pauses for a moment, before tightening his grip on Cliffjumper's back. There is no way he will allow the crowd - or Cliffjumper himself - to separate them in this mess.

"This way. Stay close."

He's going for the thinnest part of the crowd to their left, with the as-of-yet unblocked alleys behind the growing mob. And he's going to shoulder his way through them whether they like it or not.

CJ: Cliffjumper would probably, by dint of being smaller and having good reflexes, along with an optic for opportunities, managed to separate them the moment Optimus pointed out where he wanted to go (Cliffjumper had been keeping a rather awkwardly tilted look back at his bodyguard for this). The grip then serves its purpose of both keeping them together and allowing the bodyguard to guide his client where he wants him to go.

To Cliffjumper's displeasure.

"Stayin' close ain't a problem... specially not with that grip," the last part is muttered, almost sullenly, even if he understands the reason for it, and doesn't do anything to even attempt to dislodge it. At the same time, the crowd is more than displeased at being pushed aside roughly, elbow or shoulder going in various places.

Some just glare, other protest loudly, but each, by now obviously a protestor, being pushed aside leads to notice of what Optimus is pushing in front of him.

"Hey, you!" Someone who just got pushed aside calls out, righted by one of their fellow protestors. "Y'don't need t'guard one of them y'know? Could just---" Whoever they were disappears further into the crowd, but by now Optimus' and Cliffjumper's progress is halted, not far at all from the alleys, as the slowly firing-up mob heaves and there's a roar of rage from somewhere further up front.

"Uh... this ain't good, huh..." Cliffjumper trails off with a frown before he's jerked and only Optimus' grip keeps him from being pulled into the crowd. This apparently doesn't dissuade whoever has his wrist from pointing a gun at his helm, grinning.

O: As soon as the gun comes up - as soon as he even registers the fact that the other mech is carrying a weapon, Optimus is in motion, hardened bodyguard programming snapping online so fast he doesn't even have time to berate himself for not paying closer attention.

In a flurry of movement, he jerks hard at Cliffjumper's backstrut, twisting his charge to angle him away from the barrel even as he swiftly moves to shove his own bulk between the minibot and the stranger. The shot intended for Cliffjumper's processor burns instead through the upper level of plating on his arm and continues on into the crowd, and someone screams, but he doesn't even feel it yet. His gun arm comes up in the same motion, and for a nanoclick it looks as though he might fire - but that would only cause a frenzy in the crowd, the protector of the noble 'firing on innocents', and so instead he uses it as a lever, jamming it against the attacker's shoulder joint, twisting his own arm just so...

There is a pop, and a scream, and suddenly the mech's elbow joint is turned completely the wrong direction, his grip on Cliffjumper's arm is gone, and his the pistol is clattering to the ground.

"Run!" He bellows into Cliffjumper's audials, not even waiting for an answer before he jerks the smaller mech off his feet, hauling him through a crowd already reaching for them both.


CJ: It's obvious who of them is both used to acting quickly, and has combat programming, besides the fact that for a glass gas gun to be useful, you at least got to have both hands free (or the leverage) to follow through with a punch or something. Cliffjumper's barely registered the gun before he's pulled away, the arm (however briefly) still gripped by his would-be assailant stretched out rather uncomfortably.

But there's no time to think about that as he kicks after a few others in the crowd, but they don't have the time to grip onto a flailing pede to attempt to pull him away; Optimus bellows, leaving his audials ringing before they readjust, and then sets off into the crowd.

"Slaggin'--- This ain't gonna work!" Cliffjumper shouts as he does his best to stay on his feet, not so much because his bodyguard is faster than he is on his feet (which he obviously would be), but because he's barreling forward through the now very angry crowd, the closest all fully aware of what's happened, with all the - heh - subtelty and force of a truck.

Now, the mob isn't interested in being careful around the large bodyguard and his shorter charge, or avoiding them; several attempt to trip Optimus, or use more blunt weapons, but there's, by now, a few more guns flashing in the streetlights, and while they're getting closer to the alleys, it's hard to say if getting there will help.

"Hey-- Let go!" Cliffjumper snarls, pulling the trigger once of his gun before it's ripped away, and even as he kicks out and meet metal more brittle than it was just a few astroseconds earlier, someone takes the opportunity as Optimus charges past to slam down the butt of a gun against the minibot's helm, causing him to stumble, momentarily stunned.

O: Optimus snarls, dodging blows when he can, stomping down with heavy, grated pedes on joints and delicate servos when he can't, and all the while barreling down with all his weight to keep breaking through the crowd despite the raining blows.

But even he can be blindsided, and the hit to Cliffjumper's helm is noticed a moment too late. Snarling, he spins on a heel, slamming the barrel of his gun into the attacker's face, and hauling the stunned minibot up and under his arm, tucking him protectively against his chest.

Then he hunches down, and charges, engine roaring as he plows through the crowd like the truck he is. He aims for the lighter, weaker mechs all the same, bodily tossing them out of the way when he can. Often, blows meant for him land on those flying over his shoulders, which makes it worth it.

CJ: In all probability it's possibly both better and easier for them with Cliffjumper being where he is, now, but when the brief disorientation of a recalibrating processor is over, he's rather... well, not so much unhappy, as feeling awkward, even if there's not much time for that.

Gripping what he can just to feel a bit more active as Optimus charges through the last rows close to the alley, Cliffjumper has to admit to some admiration of the heavy-duty engine working beneath the chassis he's held against... Casting a glance over his shoulder - mostly to see when he could demand to be let down - the minibot sort of sputters static when they're through, the last congestion of the mob, even if the nearest mechs are intent on following them into the alley anyway.

A bit into the alley stands about another ten or twenty mechs and femmes, much more heavily armed than anyone in the mob, whispering. Cliffjumper has time to wonder if the mob was as random as it seemed, what with this group---

"Get rid of th' slaggin' noble an' the sellout!" Someone bellows from behind Optimus and Cliffjumper, a piece of broken metal going flying past the bodyguard's audial fin.

O: "...Scrap."

The swear is muttered, not meant for Cliffjumper's audials, but he doesn't pause or hesitate. Mob to their back, armed forces to the front...they have no choice but to go through. The others haven't fired on them yet, they might have a chance - and the second floor windows of the alley's buildings are just by them.

If they can just get to them...

Keeping his path irregular to prevent anyone from getting a good line of sight on them, he charges on into the alley, hunched over to keep as much of Cliffjumper's frame protected.

CJ: Weapons are cocked, and some of the group do attempt a few shots, but with Optimus' irregular path and a number of people spilling into the alley from the mob on the avenue, most don't chance shooting what is probably some of their own people. One or two, however, take to riddling the ground with laserfire, attempting to both impede and slow the bodyguard down, so he'll be easier to hit.

This is such slag. The mutter, even if not meant for him, has Cliffjumper both tensing and almost attempting to squirm out of the protective grip and go for the gun still clutched in Optimus' hand, just so he could do something. But moving may mess up Optimus' balance, so with a few muttered swears, Cliffjumper stills even as they're closing in on the group.

"Going the wrong way, escort. Shoulda kept to the other part of your profession!" One of the larger ones shout before they launch themselves bodily at the bodyguard, a smaller, handheld weapon in one hand... not a gun, exactly, and it has four fuel cells instead of the usual one or two.

O: Oh.

Oh but now he's getting slagged off.

And the situation has gotten far too dangerous to restrain himself any further. One look at that overpowered weapon is all he needs - finally raising his gun, he targets the other weapon and fires.

If the other mech ends up loosing a hand or arm, well...he shouldn't have been trying to kill them.

As soon as he fires, he doesn't bother to confirm the hit, just dodging to the side from the inevitable explosion, and leaping for the second floor windows.

CJ: The group on the ground are all yelling and either flinging themselves away, or crouching down, depending on how close they are to the mech Optimus shot at.

There's a static-laced shriek which is cut off and swallowed as the fuel cells explode and the mech slams into the ground, tumbles, and then finally skids to a stop; the arm is completely gone, several other plates have been warped, cracked or partly-melted, and the side of his helm on the same side as he'd held the weapon in is kind of a mess.

He'll survive, though.

Cliffjumper's not sure if he should wish to be in a spot where he can see more, but would be less protected, even as his bodyguard leaps and there's a jerk as he grips onto the windowsill of a window, and then a rather gentle crunch as they meet the wall of the building.

"Can ya even climb with me in this position?" Cliffjumper hisses and despite the fact that there's scattered shots being aimed at them, he's already on the way to squirm out from between Optimus and the wall, to climb himself.

O: "Only if you hold on," he growls back. That explosion won't distract them for long, and his back is completely exposed.

Swinging his gun arm, he smashes the barrel of the weapon through the window, sending glass raining down on them and their attackers both. The gun is tossed through the now open space, and Optimus grabs hold of Cliffjumper to keep himself between the minibot and the mob. There is a muffled clang as a heavy piece of still-hot shrapnel hits his shoulder armor and bounces away. It hurts, but he's more worried about the guns. With a grunt, he heaves himself and his charge up through the window as shots begin to ring out.

CJ: ... Well, that was probably true, so Cliffjumper freezes in place right before Optimus actually grabs onto him again to make sure he's between him and the people on the ground. He supposes he's way too impatient for these sort of things, but he hates just kinda... hanging there. Literally, in the case of his current bodyguard hauling him around. Not that Optimus couldn't haul around most other frame-types, but still.

So despite the fact that he wants to do something, Cliffjumper - kind of - accepts that trying to 'help' will just make Optimus' work harder, and he kind of... likes this bodyguard.

When they're inside, Cliffjumper stays where he should be, actually waiting for Optimus to decide what to do next. At least the building, in the area they're in is empty.

"So, uh... what'd we do now?"

O: He rolls inside with an overclocked engine rumble, away from the window, and gestures for Cliffjumper to stay back as well as he scans the building they ended up inside. Office building. Empty. Good.

"...We get back. Make sure no one else gets up here. And find a way out."

He hisses quietly as he moves to sit up. Despite the dark of the room, the glow of spilt energon is slowly lighting the place up.

He's obviously been shot.

CJ: Cliffjumper frowns up at the broken window they came through and while no one seems to be immediately following, he doesn't trust that at all, but his question gets quietly requeued as he looks back to the bodyguard and catches the slowly growing line of dripping, glowing pinkish-purple.

"Uh... slag. You got anythin' for this? I have have something, otherwise, but it probably ain't gonna be enough." Shuffling around to the side the wound is, it takes about a few seconds of waffling before he gently pokes it, then wipes away the energon to get a better look; he's been clinging to the mech for a bit now, and it's not as he hasn't ended up body checked or otherwise manhandled by bodyguards before, but usually... he'd never actually been alone with one of them like this, injured.

Usually they could, and did, go to get the injuries fixed and he'd never have to think about it.

"What's the chance they're gonna come crawlin' through that window, or followin' us at all?" This isn't an orchestrated assassination or kidnapping attempt, after all, 'just' an anrgy mob, and Cliffjumper doesn't really have any experience with those.

O: He shifts over, craning his neck to get a look at the blast wound on the outer side of his thigh. The location is awkward - it figures he'd finally get hit while climbing in the damn window.

The poke makes him twitch, leg servos firing in pain, but he avoids crying out. At least he should still be able to walk.

"...If they don't come up through the window, they'll come up through the building. Or try to burn us out. We need to move." Growling, he digs through his own subspace, before tossing a small field path kit at Cliffjumper.

"Just stop the leakage. We don't have time for anything else." He'd do it himself, but can barely see it at that angle... and he has to pick up his rifle as the sounds from outside pick up again. The mob is getting over the confusion from the explosion, and someone's flailing fist peeks over the edge of the window ledge.

He shoots it off.

CJ: He catches it, then kneels down, briefly distracted, however, when Optimus shoots the fist off the window ledge. Bossy, isn't he?

"Uh-huh..." While bodyguards obviously have the jursidiction, so to speak, to make or demand their clients... or charges, do what they say when they're doing their job in an active situation, it's still kind of a strange experience. Not that he's going to go off on the mech; he's doing his job, and even Cliffjumper can see the location of the wound is in a bad place (though he is acquintained with one or two mechs and femmes who wouldn't care to help their guards like this).

"They're really gonna do that? I mean... you've already kinda shown this's more trouble than it ought to be worth, right? I ain't that special," Cliffjumper scoffs as he patches the wound up, his expression as annoyed as it's disbelieveing; despite the reason for Optimus' precense, Cliffjumper doesn't really consider himself important... naïveity or an accurate opinion?

He gives the patch-job a frown and then shrugs, but in his opinion the metal mesh bandage doesn't really look enough, or sturdy enough... though anything else would probably break and open with any greater acrobatics or whatever. There is, however, besides the scrabbling attempt to get into the window, the distant noise of rage and heavy footspets.

"Slag. I think you're right."

O: "...I hate it when I'm right." He groans, forcing himself back up to his feet. The wound is small, and with his size he won't bleed out any time soon, but the patch doesn't change that it hurts and it's going to effect his movement. As the newest oncoming mech clears the window, he grabs at the nearest bit off office furniture - a heavy chair - and sends it flying at the attacker. It hits with a crunch, and sends the mech flying back down the way he came.

"Because we've made them angry. Mobs are never rational. Come on," he turns to Cliffjumper, gesturing him toward the door as he turns on his nightvision. "We need to move before they get up here. Up the stairs, to the top floor!"

CJ: "What? Up the stairs? The roof? Last time I checked, neither of us're any sort of flyers, less ya hidin' some flight mods somewhere!" Cliffjumper protests, gesturing in emphasis, even as he gives Optimus another look. He can't see any proof of tucked away flight mods at all, though; his bodyguard's all... truck, and while it's a nice sight, that doesn't refute the fact that neither of them can fly.

It has him incredulous enough that he turns towards the door on the other side of the room that'd probably lead down instead of up, but the faint noise of footsteps have become slightly louder, and he growls. They can't go down, unless they find elevators...

"Okay, okay, whatever. Hope ya have some sorta plan, though," he snaps before turning towards the door Optimus wanted them to go through and actually starts running towards it, turning on his own nightvision with another growl. He isn't exactly afraid of heights; he even has a jetpack, but he doesn't have it with him, which means it's useless, so why the slag are they going up?

They'll be just as trapped, if not more, on the roof.

Comments

[cliffjumper]

O: "There is always a plan. And a backup plan." He glares down the stairs at the sounds of the mob breaking in. The alarms have probably already been tripped because of them, which should work in their favor. But they don't have time to wait, and he jerks his helm up, motioning Cliffjumper on.

"Go, as quietly as you can. I will keep you alive." Then he overrides the pain sensors in his leg, and trudges on up after the red minibot, managing a fairly respectable pace despite the wound.

All the way to the top.

CJ: Quietly is always a problem when you want to go fast and is made of metal. But since two of Cliffjumper's wheels are situated on the outer edges of his pedes, he manages to actually be kind of quiet by putting down the wheels first. And he really kind of hopes there's a plan, as well as a backup plan.

Cliffjumper doesn't question Optimus' pledge of keeping him alive; firstly, that was what the bodyguard had been hired for, even if the point had been to protect Cliffjumper from Decepticon assassins and not an angry, anti-government protest mob.

Secondly, he is, after all, used to being told that, and doesn't think anything of it, so he moves as quickly as possible, until they come out on the roof, even if Optimus has to shoot out the controls to the door-pad, since the tripped alarm had locked down any such controls, no matter if the door had been locked before or not.

"... Great, what the slag now!?" Cliffjumper runs further out on the roof, then turns around to face Optimus, arms wide as he gestures around them. "Ya really can't mean we're gonna climb down the buildin' from the outside, right?" Cliffjumper scowls, walking over to the edge and carefully looking over; but at least there's no one on that---

"Augh!" Tossing himself backwards and skidding to a stop on his behind, he'd barely avoided getting shot in the helm (again) as someone had apparently been keeping an optic on the upper floors of the building. But whether that person was part of the mob or not...

[cliffjumper]

O: "Scrap!" He swore again, hobbling over to Cliffjumper to haul him back further. "Don't do that. You're lucky you've got such fast reflexes, or you'd have gotten yourself killed vorns ago." He shakes his head. So many of the reports from previous guards make so much sense now.

"Come on, away from that side." He gestures to the far side of the roof, opposite the road with the mob.

"If they didn't already know we were up here, they know now. We don't have much time. You're going across even if I have to toss you." ...The next building's roof is a floor lower, and only an alleyway's length jump away.

CJ: The reports where the kindest descriptions had included variations of 'recklessly impulsive' or 'impulsively reckless' and 'especially in potentially/definitely hostile situations'? Yes, they probably do, at that.

The only reaction to Optimus' admonishment about what he should, or shouldn't do and that he's only survived this far due to fast reflexes gets a huff, but nothing else. It's true, after all. Cliffjumper's just lucky his leap-first personality comes with fine-tuned, hair-trigger reflexes, really.

"... What?!" Cliffjumper looks over the new edge, towards the roof Optimus wants them to get to, and up at his bodyguard. "Are you absolutely glitched? What 'bout your leg, huh?" The distance isn't so bad, really... maybe. Cliffjumper scowls, judging it. He'll... probably be able to take it, but even 'just' the width of an alley is kinda large, when you're short.

The threat of being tossed across has the minibot giving his bodyguard a suspicious glare, arms crossed, as he edges away slightly. There'll be no tossing anywhere, even if Optimus could probably toss him easier than he could jump.

[cliffjumper]

O: "I can manage the jump. But can you?" And he was sure he could, if he took the force of it with his good leg. Glancing back toward the stairs, and the side that the shot came from, Optimus shook his head and stepped up right behind Cliffjumper, preparing to grab him. He could hear the crowds in the street from here, and knew the others had to have noticed they weren't in the room any more.

"...We don't have the time for this."

CJ:"I don't care if we ain't got time or not! You're not tossin' me anywhere, slag it." Cliffjumper ducked and skittered away from those way-too-grabby hands, giving another glare over at the roof on the other side of the alley; what he didn't like was - more than the distance between this roof and the next - was that any other building was either further away or taller than the building that was their current destination.

Which meant... Heavy footsteps echoing up from the still-open access door to the roof drove home that they really didn't have any time, and Cliffjumper decided that no matter what happened after they crossed this alley, he'd take this one by himself, thank you very much.

"I'll handle this one myself." Cliffjumper tossed the bodyguard a suspicious stare, as if he suspected Optimus to come pick him up and toss him over just because he could, before he judged the distance he already had from where he was to the edge of the roof. Deeming it far enough Cliffjumper set off running, taking the leap over the alley with surprising grace and ease, considering that he was kinda... stumpy, and also hardly expected to perform any physical feats, considering his station (as some of the more rounded lines, the lesser armour and definitely the paint would show).

"Hnng---" While he did land... 'safely' right on the edge of the roof on the building across the alley, he flailed a bit before straightening; one could hardly expect a completely flawless miracle of performace. Cliffjumper took another few steps further in, and then turned around, stalling.

"Jump! Now!" There were--- Cliffjumper wasn't sure if that group was part of the mob that was still clamouring up the stairs or not; they had been very quiet and the two seemed a lot more well-armed and armoured than even the armed protestors and-- merely the fact that he had fine-tuned audio-receptors allowed Cliffjumper to skip mostly out of the way of the stasis-gun shot (lesser cousin of the more rare and versatile null-ray), which instead grazed his lower leg and caused the minibot to crumple to the ground, leg paralyzed though otherwise aware.

The black, white and red femme that dropped her electro-disruptor shield grinned. The target may not be stunned, but with one leg out, he'd be even easier to take care of, and the bodyguard was on the other roof, and should be busy as well.

[cliffjumper]

O: The jump surprised him. He'd almost expected to have to jump down after the mini after he enviably fell and broke both of his legs or blew out a joint.

Thankfully, he succeeded, but worrying about the pampered bot's jumping ability quickly became the least of his worries. One attacker on Cliffjumper's side, two on his. He could stay and have a firefight and try to protect his charge from a distance or...

Yeah, no. Firing a quick salvo behind him at the stairs, causing the pair to dive back toward the safety of the doorway, he charged to the edge and leapt, turning his blasts on the femme as he was vulnerable in the air.

With the damaged leg, it almost wasn't enough running-room. His feet hit the edge of the other roof and he tumbled onto it, ducking down into a roll to take the edge off the fall.

The rifle was the first part of him to come back up.

CJ: Swearing, Cliffjumper gave up on trying to override the paralyzation, and just tried to stand up to be able to get away with some dignity but his leg really didn't want to cooperate. Stasis-guns were imprecise and rude things compared to a null-ray, but at least he was still online...

Having been busy scooting backwards and feeling really angry over the fact that he'd only been allowed one lousy glass-gas gun, Cliffjumper almost missed what happened next. Optimus jumping over to this roof, blasts aimed at the femme, had her first tossing herself backwards, away from the spray of shots from the rifle, and then with a leap and somersault in the air, to the side...

Which had her skidding to a graceful stop right behind Cliffjumper, one gun up and pointing at the bodyguard as he landed, rifle up, the other - the stasis gun - wedged between Cliffjumper's helm-edge and shoulder, digging into his neckcables, her arm partly keeping him in place.

"Game over, yes?" She smirked and there was the faint hum of an electro disruptor powering up with a whine, but it was clear it was one of the cheaper, less complicated versions, the sorts that could only be active for short bursts and needed time to activate, so for now both femme and minibot were visible.

Cliffjumper snarled and locked a hand around the hand that held the gun that could very easily stop him from doing anything to defend himself, but it wouldn't budge. He'd been about to elbow her in the nearest knee-servo or something when she kicked her leg out and then down, trapping that hand against the roof under her pede.

[cliffjumper]

O: "No."

He was firing even before he said it, ignoring the others as they scrambled to get back up and take him out; instead targeting the femme with skilled, lethal intent with the rifle.

The first blast sheered through her gun-arm at the shoulder joint, taking out the main threat to his charge; the second and third hit in her midsection. Her armor was tough, and so it didn't blast straight through her, but it was enough to throw her backward with a screech, arcing out through damaged plating.

CJ: She really ought to have pulled the minibot up against her if she'd have wanted to avoid that happening, and she was certainly out of the running as a threat now. That didn't do anything about the other two, however, who by now were flying across the alley to land at the roof with easy rolls.

One of them - a neon green and electric blue race-alt mech - was aiming shots at Optimus as he crossed the alley and then squeezed off a few shots again and for some reason tossed himself right at the bodyguard. The intricate, wire-mesh device he had wrapped around one hand and attempted to punch Optimus with might have revealed why he went in close. The second had aimed at the stretch of roof between bodyguard and charge, to, if Optimus had had time to even start on getting closer, keep the two separate.

Engine revving in frustration, Cliffjumper was pulling the now-severed arm off the stasis-gun. It wasn't any better a weapon than a glass gas gun, but it'd be something as the third mech approached, smirking.

[cliffjumper]

O: Two of their shots hit despite his attempt at rolling back to dodge; his armor took most of the blow, but he held back his cry with will alone.

Unfortunately for the mech throwing himself at him, while he was a good shot, hand-to-hand was his specialty.

Lashing out with the butt of his rifle, he smacked the arm with the suspicious weapon away - he had no intentions of learning about it the hard way. Throwing his weight behind the punch, he cracked the mech in the face, sending him down into a heap, and immediately re-targeting the rifle on the next mech.

CJ: Who had just pulled out another gun, clearly of the same sort as the stasis gun the femme had been holding, and while Cliffjumper had just managed to pry the hand away from the gun, the mech had noticed Optimus was making short work of his attacker.

Tossing himself in an attempt to avoid the shot that was sure to come from the rifle, he squeezed off a stasis shot from the gun, which should hit the mini right in the chest-plates. If Cliffjumper hadn't tossed himself to the side, that was. On the other hand, he'd forgotten one of his legs were temporarily motion-control deprived and fell down hard, catching himself with his hands, the leg not practically immobile being tossed up in the air...

"Fragger! Mis-matched scrap-heap!" Cliffjumper fairly howled as the flailing leg was hit with the stunning shot, jerked once, and slammed like a lead weight into the roof.

[cliffjumper]

O: Snarling, Optimus opened fire on them both, rushing forward as fast as he could manage on his damaged leg. The situation was deteriorating too fast, Cliffjumper wouldn't be able to walk on his own now - he had to take care of these two now before more showed up.

Ignoring the return shots peppering his frame, he blasted the gun out of the second mech's hands, decking him down as he raced past.

One more.

CJ: The last one, though hit once or twice in the plating along his lower leg and the wheels housed there, as well as a lacing shot to a shoulder, was doing an acceptable job of avoiding the majority of the heavy-duty blasts from Optimus' rifle. Clearly of a thought that if he could just get into the same position the femme had been - though, keeping Cliffjumper higher up to protect himself from having holes blasted through his midsection - his safety would be secured.

"I'm slaggin' tired of every single fragger thinkin' I'm harmless," Cliffjumper snarled, mostly to himself, levelling the stasis gun even as last attacker barreled past, but due to Optimus being too close, didn't manage more than sending Cliffjumper sprawling, tugging the minibot with him a mechanometer or two before Cliffjumper got a shot off from the stasis gun, rendering one of the would-be attacker's arms useless.

"If'n ya were harmless, we'd not be here, sweetspark." The mech laughed, dodging the larger bodyguard by keeping crouched and on the other side of Cliffjumper from Optimus.

"So why don't ya jus---what!?" It would have been a bellow, if his vocals hadn't glitched and spat stastic; Cliffjumper had only ever heard that word applied to one sort of mechs and femmes... The sort that wasn't as versatile as full Escorts, but in the same caste, if a rung lower.

If he could have, the shocked and pissed off minibot would surely have flung himself bodily at the other mech, in an attempt to reduce that smirk into twisted metal, and tear off as much armourplating as he could.

[cliffjumper]

O: Oh, but that was a word Optimus knew all too well.

As if he needed another reason to beat down the remaining attacker...who really should have been smart enough to use the gun on him instead of the already downed minibot.

Ignoring his pained leg, he charged gun-up, ready to blast any part of the mech that decided to try and peek out from his living shield and ended up giving the would-be kidnapper no choice - he was going to be taken down, be it by shot or fist. The first time he tried to stick the gun out to hit him with the stasis gun, it got blasted to bits. Smirking at the panicked look on the mech's face, who was apparently torn between throwing Cliffjumper out as a shield or bolting - he slammed into the smaller mech with the force of a truck before he could scramble more than a few feet away.

CJ: While Optimus took care of the last would-be kidnapper, Cliffjumper was - repeatedly, even - trying to stand up, swearing sub-sonically as the paralyzation from the stasis-gun shots held, his systems unable to circumvent and/or repair the problem as quickly as he'd want.

Maybe he was just that sheltered, but he had certainly never been called something like that... Though he was aware of certain attitudes and words describing minibots in particular, too, so he wasn't sure why he felt so... unsettled by the mech having used that word towards him.

Maybe it was just the way he'd said it, which didn't just imply personal opinion, but some sort of knowledge, but what the slag... Then the last mech went clattering across the roof, clearly out for the count, and Cliffjumper looked around.

"... Slag. Uh... The other two're gone." But they were at least gone gone, and considering the conditions Optimus had left them in... Cliffjumper attempted to stand again, but all he got for his trouble was over-balancing as his legs weren't where he wanted them to be.

[cliffjumper]

O Another few swings and the mech was down and in status lock for the time being, not that Optimus was without his own damage. His leg was leaking again, the patch pried off by all the exertions, and one shoulder was beginning to spark from the shots he had taken. But at least he was able to stagger back to his feet, unlike his small charge.

"...Good, though they will probably bring reinforcements if we linger. Are you alright?"

CJ: "No, I ain't alright," Cliffjumper spat, traces of the earlier glitch caused by the outrage still present as faint static briefly wormed itself between some words. "You're a lot worse off, though..." Looking around, Cliffjumper frowned; they needed off the roof, but with how his bodyguard looked...

"What's the chance any comm. call for pick-up's not gonna be intercepted, or overheard?" He may be reckless, but he wasn't stupid, and it was obviously time to attempt to get back somewhere safer than he was, currently, especially with how Optimus looked.

He tried to stand again, but nothing responded to his frsutration, and there was a faint stuttering of his engine as several facts caught up with him; had his bodyguard been someone of a size of him, they wouldn't have gotten in the second story window. Had he not had a bodyguard at all, no matter if he'd walked into that mob, the group that had caught up with them on the roof would have gotten him.

The minibot wasn't sure why they hadn't gone for killing him, and that made Cliffjumper twitchy.

[cliffjumper]

O "The chances of that are slim at best. I opened a channel earlier and there was some interference. Someone has probably tapped the area." He ducked down despite the sputter of objection from the hydraulics in his damaged leg, looking Cliffjumper's frame over, oblivious to his internal revelations.

"...We're lucky the second group of mechs wanted you alive. Come on. We need to leave while we can." He reached down, offering Cliffjumper a hand.

CJ: "... So it wasn't just me." He did have a high-secure comm. channel, but there'd been a tell-tale fizz of ghosting on that channel, so he hadn't dared do more than open and then close it, and that was back when his bodyguard had started to pull him through the angry crowd.

He'd kind of hoped that Optimus, logically having access to a few more specialized channels than him, would have had better look, but clearly not.

Cliffjumper stared at the offered hand, and while he took it, there was clear grumbling.

"I didn't just fall down, ya know. How's this gonna help me stand?" Despite this, CLiffjumper did try to stand up again, since he had some sort of support--- But no. His legs were quite unresponsive, even if there now, at least, was a status message on his HUD about the paralyzation wearing off in an estimated breem.

[cliffjumper]

O: "No, it wasn't. We're on our own out here. And I saw you get hit with the status gun, which is a slagging lot better than them deciding you didn't need your legs - or your life - at all."

Gripping Cliffjumper's hand and forearm, he ignored his attempts to force himself up on unresponsive feet, and tugged, pulling the minibot up with enough force to pull him around and up against his back.

"Which is why you are going to need to hold on. I'll need both hands to get us out of here."

CJ: "Don't get why, though---Hey! What the slag!" There's not much to do in protest against being hauled around if your legs aren't working (can't flail properly) and he wasn't not going to grab on when Optimus got him around and up on his back.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear ya." Cliffjumper might be grumbling, but he got as good a grip as he could, considering he wasn't able to hook his feet around Optimus' waist, and held on. He was, however, in a good position to see the shoulder wound and the sparking coming from torn wires and while part of his body was now in the way for him to be able to see the leg wound...

Well, he'd just have to trust that his bodyguard could get them out of this. Nothing much else to do for him, currently. It wasn't as if he was a hacker to be able to secure a comm. channel for them to use.

[cliffjumper]

O: "Good. Hang on then, because I'm tired of getting snuck up on, so we're not stopping until we get out of here. Subspace these," he added, passing up both dropped weapons, holding on to his own.

He didn't mention that he wasn't entirely sure how many more times he could manage to get himself back up if he got shot again. Even reapplying the patch to his damaged leg wouldn't replace the energon he had already lost. The moment Cliffjumper's grip on him seemed secure, he took off at a loping jog. He passed up the stairwell, instead heading right for the opposite edge of this roof as well.

And it was a good thing they had finally moved again, because by the sounds coming from behind them, the original, noisy crowd from the first building had finally decided to try the stairs.

He didn't pause, and easily made the (thankfully shorter) leap with only the slightest stumble.

CJ: Doing as asked, though it was slightly tricky to subspace the weapons while hanging onto Optimus with one hand, but that done, he got a good grip again and wondered where Optimus was even going like this... Which was apparently for the edge of the roof and another leap.

"Aw, c'mon, ya can't mean---" Cliffjumper's token protest was cut off by the jarring landing, and he didn't bother to look back to see the part of the mob that had followed them spill out on that other roof; being two roofs away by now, they ought to be quite safe from the angry crowd, at least.

The bigger problem would be more potential assa---kidnappers. Cliffjumper was still completely baffled as to why it was apparently suddenly kidnapping and not killing him that was the order of the day.

"How far away do ya think we need to be to be sure we can call in for some transport?" He'd liked to have been able to claim to know this... anything, really, to be more useful than he was, but he couldn't. So he'd ask.

[cliffjumper]

O: "Their signal hack can't extend far, or they would have brought down law enforcement on their heads already. Maybe a block or two." Unless all the police force was already stuck dealing with the mob instead...which made too much sense, really.

He kept running as he talked, quickly making another leap to another building that forced him to catch himself with a palm on the rooftop, the other bracing Cliffjumper's limp legs against his back. The sudden numbness in his leg was not a good sign, but at least it made the pain of the wound dull. The gap between rooftops was still small, as they had yet to hit another road, though the end of the block was coming up.

"...When we get to the next road, if the area is clear we're going back down and driving the frag out of here."

CJ: Cliffjumper nodded, and then, realizing Optimus couldn't see that, grunted in acknowledgement. He hoped that was true, really. This had turned out a lot messier than he thought it would be when he left this morning. He'd managed to argue down the needed amount of bodyguards before the contract was even brought up to potential takers, but now?

He didn't even want to admit that he was kind of nervous.

"Right. Seems good. The stasis shot should've worn off by then, I think," Cliffjumper muttered, casting another glance at the estimated timer counting down; half a breem left, the time had been cut in nearly half, even if this was probably taking a bit longer than necessary since Optimus was injured in such a way to impede his speed.

But the end of the block came up, and while there was still a tell-tale fuzz of ghosting along the available channels, they still seemed to be alone, and the street below was calm. Further down, there were scattered riot control, but obviously the mob hadn't spread to this part.

[cliffjumper]

O: They seemed to have lost whatever crowd had reached the roof - or at least, were far enough ahead that they didn't have to worry about being spotted in the dark.

The final jump is successful, but sends Optimus to his knees, skidding several feet across the rooftop and striking up sparks, but he's up and running again with no more than a grunt and the heaving of his engine.

"...Good. You're...heavier than you look." His laugh is more static that amusement, but the humor is still there. Cliffjumper wouldn't be that heavy if it weren't for the damages, and the shot arm is putting out errors now. He veers toward the side of the roof, chancing a glance down with optics and scanners both. The area seems deserted, though the sounds of the chaos behind them is too close for his tastes.

He doesn't stop until they hit the end of the block, and the road. Then, with a final scan of the alley below, he starts climbing over the edge of the roof.

"...Hang on tight."

CJ: "Pfft, I think someone ought to upgrade his parameters, if a truck thinks a minibot's heavy." While it was a joke, and he did hear the humour, the fact that they had slid the amount they did across the roof, and that Optimus was expressing - however roundabout - concerns of Cliffjumper being heavy, indicated the injuries was getting to the bodyguard.

And besides Cliffjumper not liking the ncessecity of someone taking injuries for him (besides the fact that it was Optimus' job), he kind of needed it in situations like this, which meant that injuries bogging Optimus down had Cliffjumper more vulnerable. Even if he had a stasis-shot gun and a normal blaster tucked away in subspace right now.

Who knew how long he'd get to keep those?

"I'm hangin'. Gonna be able to..." Cliffjumper frowned, and as Optimus swung over the side, he did manage to twitch the leg hit first. "Huhn. Yeah, should be fine soon." Not exactly the moment they hit the street, obviously, but soon after that. So as long as they didn't get jumped when they hit the street, they'd be fine (though if they were, there was that riot control further down the street).

[cliffjumper]

O: Gripping the edge of the roof, he dangles down over the corner of the building. Then, digging hands into the moorings, ledges, and the two sides of the building itself, he basically slid right down the side.

The landing would be a bit bumpy, but it would keep them from being an easy target as they dropped down. He couldn't afford to keep Cliffjumper at his back for long, after all.

Too easy a shot to make.

CJ: No shot comes, however, even if Cliffjumper feels explosed like slag like this, though it's brief. But considering what the earlier group had been intending to do - unless there's more than one group, which is improbable - the 'worst' would probably have been another stasis shot, or maybe even a null-ray blast. Or something else incapacitating, but not injuring.

"Ya think there was only one group? I ain't pickin' up on anything." Cliffjumper frowned, looking around as best he could from his dangling perch against Optimus' back. The landing was jarring, but nothing either of them couldn't survive, and at least it served to tell Cliffjumper that he was getting some of the sensory net functionality back.

It seemed a bit strange, however, that there'd only be one small group, especially as that first group had - to great pains, though - whittled the bodyguard down until he should be rather easily taken out by anyone who attempted anything now.

[cliffjumper]

O: Another stagger when they hit, worse than the last, but again he regains his balance, even if he has to press a palm to the wall to do it. He's tenacious, to say the least.

"...I think so. I doubt anyone else had the time to organize against you. They must have been in the area, or watching for their chance. ...Here, get down, for a moment. I need to open my subspace." He reaches around, offering a hand.

CJ: That's a relief, no matter how much he'd like to go (but maybe not right now, considering the condition of his bodyguard) and show the slaggers what's what now that he has (for however long he gets to keep it) a proper blaster. Cliffjumper vented softly, but takes the hand; he doesn't really want to slide all uselessly to the ground and sit there until the stasis shot wore off, but it ought to be only a klik or so left.

His pride could handle that.

"Sure." With that, he let Optimus help him slide off the broad back and down onto the ground again, and he managed to stand for a few seconds, the leg that was first hit almost back to normal and able to compensate... but not enough, and not completely, and Cliffjumper collapsed on the ground again, looking frustrated, but not angry.

Just a klik. Not even that, now.

"What'd ya need from subspace anyway? ... New patch for your leg?" Cliffjumper frowned at the injured thigh, and then upwards again, to the arm and shoulder that's clearly spitting sparks.

[cliffjumper]

O: "No, though I should re-patch." It takes a moment, but quite suddenly there is the tell-tale muffled 'whumph' of displaced air as something very large is pulled back into normal space and...

Suddenly, a trailer.

He reaches down again to tug Cliffjumper back up as the trailer doors open.

"I'd rather not wait for your legs, honestly."

CJ: "Wh--wha..." Cliffjumper stared at the trailer (oh, he hated mass-shifting and sub-space together like that, though mass-shifting was annoying on its own), rather flabbergasted and thus offered no resistance when he was tugged up again; sure, Optimus was clearly a truck-alt mech, but trailers weren't necessary for that.

"Right, right, whatever you say," Cliffjumper muttered and didn't insist on them waiting around for his legs - especially as the timer had just skipped back to half a breem, even if he had most of his sensory net back up and running in the first leg. Still only one leg wasn't going to help much; trying to transform would be stupid when the other leg couldn't move.

[cliffjumper]

O: Inside, running lights and various bits on the walls and back lit up, guilding them inside. It wasn't a plain metal hauler, it was made of Cybertronian parts, and part of Optimus himself.

He eased Cliffjumper down inside the trailer, leaving him to figure out the safety straps on the floor for himself; he climbed out and transformed. It was a bit painful with the shoulder injuries, but driving was easier on his leg, as expected.

::Get secure, we're about to roll out.::

He hooked up to his trailer, and they were on their way out of their with an engine roar.

CJ: It didn't take that long to figure out; while there was a few of them, they were logically arranged, and it wasn't as if he was completely incapacitated and needed to be completely strapped down, just something to aid in making it easier to keep the balance.

Sending a wordless confirmation pulse along the comm, Cliffjumper leaned, almost gingerly back against the side of the trailer; it was clear it wasn't just a practical add-on, but something part of the mech himself. That was both facinating and kind of... uncomfortable.

It still didn't stop Cliffjumper from trailing a hand over the floor or the wall briefly, however, as he opened a general channel and there was finally undisturbed silence on the comm. band. No ghosting. Cliffjumper wasted no time in sending a comm., nodding to himself.

::Mirage says the way is clear; there's apparently been riots spread that way too, but that's been... cleared up... or somethin'.:: Cliffjumper frowned. Mirage had used 'expected enthusiastic zealousness' when describing what the riot control had done about the protestors, which usually meant 'too much, to harshly, not good at all'.

[cliffjumper]

O: If Optimus feels the touch, he doesn't show it - he's too practiced to be startled by it. It was something most people did when inside him for the first time.

::...Hn. Good to hear." At least they had a route out, and while he didn't exacly approve of the overzealous methods that were sure to have been put to use, it was hard to worry too much when that same mob had nearly killed them both.

Engine rumbling, at least they were able to travel back to the Towers without running into any more mobs, and by the looks of things the damage hadn't even gotten close to the noble's territory.

This time.

CJ: Probably just as well, since Cliffjumper would have been rather embarrassed at having been caught or noticed... It's one thing to just nicely sit put in a trailer that's obviously part of someone, and another thing entirely to be (however briefly or shyly) feeling (up) said individual along walls and floor from the inside.

Getting out when they'd got to the sprawling court in front of their destination, Cliffjumper waited until Optimus had transformed back into root mode, rubbing the back of his helm, before he spoke.

"Yeah. Uhm. Sorry 'bout this." Cliffjumper was starting to feel bad, actually. He hadn't wanted to go to the detail shop to order the detailwork to be done later that cycle for the night, so he'd been recalcitrant about going back, too, and had decided to do it the long way, and by foot.

Which had led to the mob situation, and then... surprisingly, confusingly, a kidnapping attempt, instead of the expected assassination one. Cliffjumper did know better about being all flagrant about taking risks when threatened, but his personality as well as the shopping and the... geh, party, later that night had conspired to a very pissy little minibot.

[cliffjumper]

O: Well, it could have been much worse, really. Cliffjumper's touch was downright innocent. Some customers liked to get the trailer involved, since it was a direct extension of himself - and the trailer itself had suitable mods for exactly that.

...Those seatbelts aren't the only restraints in that trailer.

But the trailer is quickly forgotten and resubspaced once they arrive, and the limping mech gives the minibot a shrug and a somewhat wry smile.

"You're hardly the one that shot at us or arranged the attempt. The concern, however, is appreciated."

Honestly, he's more worried about what would happen once they got inside. The little red mech had nearly died, and they both took some damage.

CJ: And anything else from Cliffjumper probably would continue to be so, even if anything actually happened when(ever, or if) the minibot actually (bothered to) remembered what 'Escort' actually fully meant. Contrary to what his patron sometimes got in his processor, Cliffjumper did know the general layout and meanings of the various castes... even if he could be rather innocent in general.

"I know, still." Cliffjumper huffed, and then led the way into and up the giant spire they'd stopped in front of, interlinked with others of its kind on levels above groundlevel with wide walkways and balconies, some of finely wrought metal of various types, others of more rare, transulcent sorts.

From above, the Towers were a coherent, delicate artwork of a geometric figure, interspersed with gardens between them.

Optimus needn't have worried overly much; while Mirage was obviously displeased at seeing both his protegée and the bodyguard hurt and obviously having run into trouble, he had, frankly, seen worse. Even been involved in worse, with his protegée, so there was that.

There was, simply, a huff, a narrowed stare pinned to Cliffjumper, and two medics sent after as well as a demand for each to get ready; the gathering wasn't just important for standing and prestige, but there were hopes that the Senator Cliffjumper had accused would give away more to use when the trial actually rolled around.

Until then, the Senator walked around like a free mech, since before the trial begun, he wasn't technically accused or under suspicion for anything, no matter the proof that had been gathered. Which, when Mirage found out about the clear kidnapping instead of assassination attempts (besides the mob), didn't surprise the noble. Get his protegée out of the way, get the incriminating logged memories gone, and there was no case.

Also, a potential hostage situation, if that what was the Senator was after. Decepticons. So crude.

"This slaggin' well sucks. Why ain't it enough with just a nicer paintjob?" Cliffjumper growled and crossed his arms, glaring at his patron who just smiled slightly and shook his helm.

"You're not a protoform any longer, Cliffjumper. That means more responsibilities and more visibility. Therefore, you need to look the part. Don't dawdle, please." Mirage gave his protegée a warning stare and nodded to Optimus as he passed the mech on his way out, his white and blue paintjob highlighted by gold filigree.

Cliffjumper, on the other hand, had a complicated, snowflake-like fractal pattern along any egdes; the doors, around his wrists, along the spoiler and scrolling gracefully down along the edges of his main armourplates of his chassis and the kibble on his back.

[cliffjumper]

O: Optimus is grateful for the medics, even if the repairs were abrupt and somewhat painfully swift; he even manages to take the swarming servants in stride, far too used to taking orders at this point to argue. The complete cleaning and polish was thorough and rather relaxing after that panicked flight for their lives, and something his richer clients had often indulged upon him.

The addition of the decorative markings, however, was new and something he wasn't entirely sure about.

Flame outlines traced in copper and gold coloring across his plating seemed a bit much, especially for him, and he gave Cliffjumper a questioning glance the first chance he got.

CJ: Huffing at Mirage's back, arms crossed, but presenting no other protest, Cliffjumper turned to his bodyguard when he came out, shrugging at the glance before he even looked that much closer at the mech. When he actually paid attention, however, Cliffjumper wasn't sure about the flames either.

Sure, they added bold visibility and would catch light even where there was little, allowing for a striking silouhette with highlighted flames on a darker frame, but Cliffjumper wasn't sure Optimus needed that. The cleaning along with the polish had turned the red almost glowing, subtle but fitting the sort of attention he was meant to attract...

"Er..." Cliffjumper shrugged again, shaking his helm as he briefly looked away and tried to stop staring. Embarrassing, because while he knew well and good how imposing the mech was it was suddenly just... evident. Cliffjumper scowled at himself before turning back, resolutely ignoring queries about paying more attention to Optimus' chassis. The mech was his bodyguard, right now, nothing else, slag it.

And Cliffjumper coulod be stubborn, no matter what his patron had implied could be a safe option...

"Sorry, didn't know you'd get roped into that too." Cliffjumper grimaced as he lifted up one arm to stare at the silvery pattern, the frosted tone going well with the small, glowing points underlaying his own paint; Mirage had insisted, since apparently it added... whatever it was.

"Apparently this is 'cause it's a holiday as well as for the eight vorn anniversary of the Prime or whatever." Cliffjumper frowned at the door, and the next words were probably not exactly meant to be heard. "Ya know, I find it kinda... backwards it's got a charity element too when there were riots earlier..."

[cliffjumper]

O: "I assumed I would be there, and probably more polished then I have ever been in my life, though I didn't expect the deco. It looks nice?"

It's a poor attempt, and he shrugs, gently rubbing a finger over one of the new lines on his plating, careful not to scrape it off. Optimus generally doesn't like the attention he gets as it is, and this isn't exactly going to help.

Additionally, he doesn't make it obvious, but he thinks he caught a hint of the extra attention. It's probably just how ridiculous he looks with the added color, given Cliffjumper's attitude up until this point, but you never knew.

He'll just have to keep an optic on the little mech for more than one reason, now. If Cliffjumper was going to take 'advantage of the offered services', he needed to know ahead of time.

"Hn. Interesting timing. I doubt it will do much to help soothe the crumpled plating of the rioters, though."

CJ: "It, uh, yeah. I don't think ya need it, though." He managed not to throw another look over at Optimus this time, and was rather stubbornly facing the door as he spoke, but after having done so he wondered if that was as telling as actually having looked and... ugh.

Growling quietly, Cliffjumper stalked up to the doubledoors, which slid open as he came close and despite the fact that the area outside still belonged to the half-floor Mirage claimed as his... 'apartment' Cliffjumper gave the open, court-like reception area with its colour fountain and graceful pillars a suspicious glare before he continued out into it.

"Wouldn't think so, no. 'Course I can't see that sort of thing bein' planned since half the Towers would go spare if they didn't know it was supposed to be a charity too ahead of time... Unless they---" Cliffjumper cut himself off, frowning. Unless the riot had been knowingly instigated. Impossible to know, since they hadn't been where it started, only caught up in it and stirred further angry reactions.

The lift arrived promptly, but despite having a bodyguard, and despite the regular guards/reception mechs at the lift and the desk, Cliffjumper gave another frown at it before getting in. Not just because he was suspicious since the happenings earlier in the cycle, but because he also didn't want to go to this stupid gathering.

[cliffjumper]

O: It really was just as telling, if not more so, and Optimus is glad yet again for his mask, as it hides his amused smile as he follows the mini to the elevator.

"Thank you. The white at least looks good with your coloring. I don't see how these colors go together at all."

Shy, unsure clients were his favorite. It always felt more real and less like a job, and comforting another mech emotionally was just simply more fulfilling. Who knew such a rough and tumble little mech had it in him?

He frowns once they get in the lift, though, rubbing his chin. "...Possible, but doubtful. We probably shouldn't even speculate, of course."

Of course. Who knew who had audials where, especially in a place as politically cutthroat as the Towers. Subject change time.

"So. Any tips on how to survive this party?"

CJ: Well, in Cliffjumper's opinion the copper and gold works well enough and doesn't really clash; it just makes him more visually impressive, really.

"Uh... I'd think it's cause the gold an' the copper's on the same spectrum as your red, and all those three go well with the blue," Cliffjumper broke off with a huff, frowning at the elevator doors as they close, extremely displeased; sure, he's supposed to know scrap like that because of their station blah blah blah, but he doesn't like it. Felt unnecessary, and all these things sometimes made him feel quite inadequate; Mirage probably shouldn't have picked up a random protoform for whatever reason but taken someone from a caste that would fit better.

Optimus comment that they should 'of course' not even speculate gets a sharp, narrow grin and a shrug. Indeed they shouldn't. Especially not in the elevator.

"Well, you ain't an official guest, so even if someone starts talkin' to ya, if you don't like 'em, you could just glare an' then ignore them. In fact, you're welcome to," Cliffjumper said with a grin; it wasn't something he could do, but it was often something he'd like to do, especially concerning some senators and nobles because frag they could sometimes be not just annoying, but... creepy.

Cliffjumper frowned at that thought and then shrugged.

"I think that's it. If any of them actually knows ya from other places, you probably should at least acknowledge 'em an' then just claim you're workin'."

[cliffjumper]

O: "...Hm. I'm glad it looks alright. I wouldn't want to embarrass either of you as well as myself." He nods his head in a slightly joking bow, trying to put the little mech back at ease. Making a mech comfortable is what he's supposed to do after all, not just guard.

"And thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Oh, he'll do more than that. His client has just given him permission to turn down the 'offers' and 'suggestions' of the other mechs at the party.

His own tension about the gathering fades rapidly, and he has to fight the urge to chuckle. Optimus might manage to actually enjoy himself, for once.

CJ: The bow gets a grin and a brief, equally joking hand waving it off; the tone as well as the bow does its work to distract Cliffjumper from earlier embarrassment as well as moody thoughts about creepy mechs.

"Pfft, if you could embarrass someone even if ya tried, Mirage wouldn't have hired you. I think he knows I need someone to balance my.. er... 'rough edges' out or whatever." Cliffjumper shrugged, snorting just as the elevator arrived. The minibot huffed and gave the doors a glare as they opened, and then his expression, amazingly, smoothed out some.

It wasn't the elegant non-expression of a senator well-used to hiding their opinions and be as encouraging of their conversation partner to express their own. It wasn't, either, the non-descript smile of a noble of whatever suitable caste listening 'attentively' to someone of like or higher stationm feigning interest.

It was more like a neutral, slightly diaspproving stare, and it was probably as good as it was going to become in Cliffjumper's case.

The elevator let them out on a walkway and balcony suspended between two Towers spires, the walkway having transparent metal set in squares along it, the balcony a spiral pattern of the same, affording a rather dizzying view of a crystal-tree garden beneath them and between the two spires.

Every single mech and femme slowly milling about the open area, or sitting at the couches and the lounging seats available sported the same sort of (though of varying design, obviously) detail work that Cliffjumper, Mirage and Optimus did. Some also wore overly-expensive organic cloth strips, mostly as scarves.

There were a few senators, however, who were carrying full cloaks of the same. Cliffjumper sneered at the sight of them, shaking his helm.

"Ya see those? The ones in the cloaks? All but one of 'em are Decepticon senators. You'd think with their attitude to other species, they wouldn't be wearing cloaks of cloth derived organically," Cliffjumper muttered, tilting his helm up briefly at his bodyguard before his expression smoothed out again, and he wandered out onto the balcony, surprinsgly gracefully picking up one of the offered open-traingle, curved drinking 'glasses'.

He was, however, unable to not cast a glare at the single 'Con senator not in an organic cloth cloak.

[cliffjumper]

O: "Oh, you might be surprised - I have my ways," he whispered before the doors opened, before assuming a calm, protective stance just a step behind and to the side of the small mech, as though the sly comment had never been.

Mask firmly in place, he followed after Cliffjumper, careful to keep his inner curiosity hidden while tactically evaluating the room. Exits, windows, safe places to duck and hide, and areas that might cause panicked guests to bottleneck are silently noted. If they need to leave quickly, he has a dozen routes planned out within the first few klicks after entering.

Then he can focus on the guests and their pretentious accessories...and whether or not it looks like they are hiding weaponry. Cliffjumper's heated glare doesn't go unnoticed either, and he shifts the focus of his attention on the uncloaked senator.

"...Hn. 'Hypocrisy' seems to be lost on them in the name of expensive fashion."

CJ: The comment surprised Cliffjumper, but he didn't have much time to react to it, and just sent Optimus an as much startled as questioning glance before he just didn't have the time (or freedom, really) to indulge in being attentive... Though there were comms., too, of course.

"Rrr... I suppose. Slaggers, the lot of 'em," Cliffjumper hissed, then, to not be too obvious with his dislike, took a sip from the glass, frowning down into the near-transulscent energon, additives giving it a rainbow shift as the glass was tilted.

The only Decepticon senator without a cloak had obviously felt... either Cliffjumper's earlier glare, or now Optimus', as he tilted his strangely-shaped helm, its front casting a shadow over his upper faceplates and making the red optics fairly burn. His smirk as he first let a very obvious glance travel over Optimus wasn't... or at least shouldn't be fitting for a gathering of this caliber, but he didn't seem to care.

His gaze then dropped to Cliffjumper, and he waited until the mini wasn't actually glaring surreptitiously at him, but didn't seem to care that Optimus was still looking (indeed, he seemed to make it a point to make sure the bodyguard was seeing it). While he didn't smirk in the same way as he'd done when he'd looked over Optimus, his expression courteously smooth, the intense, burning stare, and the way it exceedingly slowly followed the minibot from his feet up to the sensory horns topping his helm and then looked back at Optimus, helm tilting with a tiny smirk before he turned away, was, perhaps, worse in a way.

Cliffjumper, oblivious (presently, anyway), huffed and looked up as a graceful white and pink femme approached, two mechs close behind her; one obviously a triple-changer, pleasantly green, the other a race-car alt in red and orange.

"Couldn't hide any longer, could you? And Mirage outdid himself this time, I think!" The last part was quite obviously not about any detailing, but rather apparently in Mirage's choice of bodyguard for his protegée as she looked Optimus over. Though it was a rather impersonally appreciative look rather than the flat-out creepiness of the 'Con senator.

"Arcee." Cliffjumper looked away briefly, and then back, a tiny smile on his faceplates.

//Nevermind her, okay? No matter what she says, she's not gonna give those two up.// Cliffjumper somehow managed to keep his face straight while making this rather insightful comment while talking with the noble femme.