Throttle ran his hands over the black chrome of his bike, inspecting it after Charley had done some repairs. Their latest fight with Limburger had left everyone banged up, but Lady had suffered the worst of it.
"She looks good. Thanks, babe," Throttle said, his husky voice sounding a little distracted as he gently rubbed out a speck of dirt.
"Anytime." The human wiped off her hands, then turned to look at Throttle crouched on the floor. "Hey, Terminator 2's gonna be on tonight. Do ya wanna stay over and watch?"
"I think I've had enough excitement for one night," Throttle replied, straightening. "I'll just go home and sleep."
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Lady, Throttle said worriedly in his native dialect. His hands gripped the black bike's handlebars tightly as they drove home. Are you sure you're alright?
I'm fine, she replied amusedly. I've been through worse scrapes before. How about you?
My heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest. That was terrifying.
He turned into the Quigley Field's parking lot, headed into the field itself and paused by the elevator door. Carefully detaching his right hand from its grip on the handlebar, he examined it, flexing his fingers carefully.
I think that break healed, he said, pushing the up button on the elevator. At least, I can move my fingers now.
You're lucky Modo got preoccupied while he was trying to treat you, Lady said, her voice slightly scolding. Don't be so stupid next time.
Sorry, Throttle mumbled guiltily. He got off Lady as the elevator doors opened, and walked behind her into the elevator, pushed the button and waited.
Once we're alone, I need to scan you again, Lady said. Your firewalls were down for a whole minute while we were in Limburger's Tower. There's no telling what you could have caught.
Do you have to be so technical? Throttle asked as they got off the elevator, him first since he needed to unlock the door. He lifted his glasses and peered in what seemed to be a black peephole.
After a moment, there was a small beep and the door swung inwards slightly. Throttle pushed it in and gestured for Lady to go first.
As soon as the door closed, Throttle started stripping off his clothes- vest first, then his pants. Finally he was down to his sunglasses, and scowled slightly at Lady before tilting his head back and letting out a sigh.
Slowly, although speeding up with passing seconds, his face and body began to change. His antennae and ears folded, retreated, disappeared into his head. The tan fur went away, vanishing in a thousand microscopic little squares, the brawny muscle becoming gleaming, dark steel cables under plates of shining silver and platinum. "Wings" of steel topped with dull grey-green replaced fur-coved ears, the wings unfolding from the sides of Throttle's head.
One minute, two minutes, three passed, and then the transformation was complete. Throttle straightened, his long muzzle glittering with the many separate plates of metal.
That took much longer than usual, Lady said. Are you sure you're okay?
I'm tired, Throttle said. His voice was still the same, his lips now made out of the same metal that graced the right side of Vinnie's face. You would be too if you worried this much.
Damn right I would. A cable popped out of what normally passed for a electric port just below Lady's windshield. It twisted and moved gracefully, and Throttle lifted his palm and opened a port so that Lady could plug in and scan him.
Scanning. The bike's engine revved affectionately, sensing Throttle's slight discomfort. Don't worry. You look good without your clothes on.
You said you weren't attracted to my organic form, Throttle growled irritably. Lady laughed.
I'm not. But your mech form certainly isn't an eyesore.
He let out a wordless groan and sagged, his fatigue showing. I wish I could show this form to them.
You know they wouldn't understand, Lady said. All these organics know is distrust. You- we- see it every day.
But when I'm mech, I'm still me, Throttle replied, his voice sounding desperate. Even Carbine doesn't know. I want to tell her.
Niqulsta.
Throttle's ear wings drooped as he remembered the woman who bore that name. Carbine's better. I know she is.
Hah. Lady disconnected the cable and drew it back into herself, then bumped Throttle's knee affectionately. You do what you want, Throttle. But there's a whole civilzation that bears the name 'mech', not just you. Remember that.
Throttle nodded forlornly, white-and-red eyes blinking behind the green glasses still perched on his muzzle.
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I'm a Transformers fan now. Can you tell? 0.^
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