CHAPTER 11: THE DUALITY OF BOTS
On the shore of Lake Michigan, the Combaticons emerged from the water, their once-pristine forms now caked with mud and algae along their legs.
"Great job landing, dumbaft! Really stepped it up this time!" Vortex shouted, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she glared at Blast Off.
"Do you seriously intend to complain for the entirety of this impromptu deployment?" Onslaught shot back, his tone sharp and authoritative.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Vortex sneered, "should I just thank him for letting the Autobots strong-arm him into crashing the ship? Didn't even try to fight back!"
"They ambushed us, locked you all out of the bridge, and the big one broke the controls!" Blast Off growled in defense, his optics narrowing. "I couldn't pull us out no matter what I did!"
"And now we're stuck on this slag heap of a planet! How did we even get defeated like that anyway!?" Vortex snapped, her frustration mounting.
"Ya two gonna keep bickerin' like an ol' pair o' Conjunx," Brawl interrupted, his gravelly voice cutting through the argument, "or are we gonna get movin'?" He turned to Hard Top, ignoring the petty squabble. "Hard Top, what do we need ta fix the ship and get outta here?"
"Fuel required. Communication relay damaged. Command console requires repair. Windshield shattered. Engines, water damaged," Hard Top replied in his steady, shrill monotone, listing the issues with clinical precision.
"Thank you for reorienting this conversation," Onslaught said, his tone lighter as he acknowledged Brawl.
"Sooner we fix the ship, sooner we break those flukes," Brawl grunted, already turning to assess their surroundings.
The Combaticons froze momentarily as dozens of military vehicles and aircraft converged on their position, forming an imposing blockade of tanks, Humvees, and attack helicopters. The soldiers moved quickly, weapons trained on the Cybertronians.
"So, these are the planet's indigenous life forms," Onslaught said, his tone one of detached curiosity. "They must be attempting to blockade us. Hmmph, adorable."
"If they think they can contain Megatron's greatest commandos, let's show them how wrong they are," Brawl growled, already preparing for a fight, his fists clenching.
"Now, hold on, Brawl," Onslaught interrupted, his voice firm and commanding. "Let's not be too rash. We know little of this organic species' combat capabilities. It would be prudent to observe for a spell."
Brawl let out a frustrated huff. "Aye, alright. But while we're watching…" He glanced at an Abrams tank in the blockade, an idea sparking in his optics. "Might as well take the chance to blend in better." Without waiting for a response, Brawl scanned the tank, its form shifting into his new alt-mode.
"I could not agree more," Onslaught said, his approval evident as he scanned an anti-aircraft truck. Vortex followed suit, scanning an Apache helicopter. Blast Off locked onto an F-35 fighter jet, while Hard Top scanned a Humvee.
With their new alt-modes configured, Onslaught strode toward the line of soldiers, his movements calculated and deliberate.
"Uh, Onslaught, what are you doing?" Vortex asked, hesitating.
"Testing this species' courage and intelligence," Onslaught replied, his voice cold and unwavering. He continued forward, and the rest of the team followed, forming a menacing line as they approached the blockade.
Once Onslaught was close enough to see the faces of the soldiers, he stopped. His optics scanned their expressions: fear, uncertainty, and a hint of defiance. He tilted his head slightly, his voice booming across the line.
"Is it fear that plants you in place, or arrogance?" he asked, his tone as sharp as a blade. The soldiers remained silent, their weapons trembling slightly as they kept them trained on the Combaticons.
"If it is fear," Onslaught continued, "then step aside and allow us to find the materials we require. If it is arrogance, then stand your ground and prepare to be driven into it."
The soldiers exchanged nervous glances, the weight of Onslaught's words crushing any illusions of bravery. They began to calculate the odds: face down a towering war machine or risk the wrath of their commanding officers for disobeying orders.
The towering robots won out. Slowly, the soldiers began to step aside, clearing a path for the Combaticons.
Onslaught smirked, pleased with their response. "Wise," he said, motioning for his team to follow as they walked unchallenged into the distance.
The Combaticons continued their trek along the road until the distant hum of an approaching engine drew their attention. An SUV was speeding toward them, kicking up dust in its wake.
"Whoever's driving that is either lost or has a death wish," Onslaught muttered, narrowing his optics.
"Death wish," Brawl growled, already bracing for confrontation.
The SUV skidded to a stop a safe distance away, then transformed into Jeopardy, who immediately raised his arms in a gesture of peace.
"Don't worry, not here to fight!" Jeopardy shouted, his voice steady despite the tension in the air.
Onslaught's optics darkened as he recognized the Autobot, the very same one whose hand he'd crushed in their last encounter. Without hesitation, he powered up his shoulder cannons and fired two warning shots into the ground near Jeopardy's feet.
"WOAH, HEY! NOT HERE TO FIGHT!" Jeopardy yelled, stumbling back from the impact of the blasts.
Brawl stepped forward, his forearm-mounted machine gun whirring to life as he aimed it squarely at Jeopardy's chest.
"DON'T SHOOT! I COME IN PEACE!" Jeopardy shouted again, his voice rising with the hope he'd convince them to not blow him to smithereens.
"He seems genuine," Blast Off said, tilting his head as he observed the Autobot's stance.
"No, it could be an Autobot trap," Onslaught countered sharply, keeping his cannons primed.
Jeopardy stood his ground. "No trap, no tricks, no games. I just want to talk!"
"Talk about what?!" Brawl barked, still aiming his weapon.
Jeopardy held his hands even higher. "I want to negotiate."
Onslaught scrutinized him for a long moment, his optics cold and calculating. Finally, he raised his hand, signaling for Brawl to lower his weapon.
"Speak," Onslaught commanded, his tone a mixture of curiosity and menace.
Jeopardy cautiously stepped closer, his arms still raised in a gesture of peace. "Look, I get it. You're all upset we shot you down—"
"Upset doesn't even begin to describe it," Vortex muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.
Jeopardy pressed on. "And I'm sorry you're stuck here. But you've gotta understand, we couldn't just let you leave knowing where we are. For all we know, you were about to call in an army to come and kill us. It's not the craziest assumption in the galaxy, is it?"
Onslaught narrowed his optics. "If you wish to avoid conflict, it only shows you are ill-prepared for it. Why should I heed the words of someone who could barely hold his own against my partial effort?"
"Because I'm all that's standing between you and total annihilation."
Brawl burst out laughing, his deep voice echoing through the wilderness. "YOU, our savior? Oh, this is rich!"
Jeopardy ignored the jab. "I don't blame you for underestimating the situation. You haven't been here long enough to see just how gung-ho and trigger-happy this species is. If I hadn't intervened, the microsecond you crawled out of that lake they would've flattened you with bombs. I know because they almost did it to me."
Onslaught considered this for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Primitive minds often attack what they don't understand or cannot control."
Jeopardy raised an eyebrow. "Is that why you showed up and immediately started shooting?"
"Nonsense," Onslaught replied, waving dismissively at the backhanded comment. "I was about to diplomatically detain the traitor, Slipstream, before your brute began yelling in glee for battle." The truth in that statement was debatable.
"Yeah, Impulse can be a little… overenthusiastic." Jeopardy sighed, then paused. "Wait, what did you just say about Slipstream?"
"She has betrayed the Decepticons in favor of your pathetic group, for reasons only she knows. Thus, it is only fitting that we deliver the full punishment her treachery deserves."
Jeopardy tensed, his voice lowering. "And I'm guessing that 'punishment' would be swift death?"
Onslaught's optics glinted dangerously. "No, of course not."
Jeopardy exhaled in relief. "Oh, thank Primus—"
"Her death will be public and excruciatingly painful," Onslaught interrupted coldly. "She will beg for mercy before the crowd in Kaon and Megatron himself. Such is the proper treatment for a traitor of her status."
"Is there a chance you could be convinced to put that whole vendetta on the back burner?" Jeopardy asked, already knowing the answer but still hoping to be surprised.
"That is as likely as our groups ever joining forces: extremely low." Onslaught countered, his voice as resolute and uncompromising as his statement.
"Then if not cooperation, how about neutrality? We do our own thing and stay out of your business, as long as you leave humanity alone. Sound fair?"
Onslaught's optics narrowed in consideration. "The resources required to repair our ship can only be acquired by taking them from the natives of this planet. And given their common soldier's lack of courage, I doubt it will be difficult."
"Then we'll fight you at every opportunity," Jeopardy said, his voice steady.
Onslaught's laugh was deep and scornful. "You? The same bot who was mere cycles away from meeting his end at my hand, now postures as a threat?"
"Hey, we're getting better."
"I doubt it. Your confidence may have grown, but from what I have seen, it would take a miracle for you to ever become my equal. And even more to make me acknowledge such a shift."
"I'm warning you, if you mess with humanity, you mess with us."
Onslaught's optics glinted. "Why throw your life away for these organic primitives? Their planet is insignificant, barely worth marking on a starmap. I doubt its name is even cataloged. What do they offer you in exchange for your so-called protection, if you can even call it that?"
"For all their flaws and annoyances, they've given my people safe haven. I owe them."
"No, you do not. Why tolerate their nonsense? We are gods to them, physically, technologically. With the proper leverage, they could be made to repair our ship for us."
"That's not right."
"It does not matter what is right. We have no backup, no resources. Morality is set aside in favor of survival."
Jeopardy softened his tone, attempting reason. "We could give you resources. We have energon, shelter. If you're worried about survival, we can help you."
Onslaught's optics flared as he scoffed. "I will not accept such a condescending offer from an Autobot."
"So, we're at an impasse. You don't want our help, and you just want to plunder this planet and leave?"
"Precisely. And once we rejoin the Decepticons, your pitiful resistance cell will be on borrowed time."
Jeopardy frowned, his voice heavy with frustration. "Why even rejoin the war? What's to gain from another 10,000 stellar cycles of conflict?"
"Dominance over the galaxy," Onslaught replied coldly. "Unless, of course, you wish to attempt to stop us here and now."
Jeopardy hesitated, stepping back instinctively.
Onslaught smirked. "As I suspected, hollow words yet to be filled with resolve. Run home, little Autobot, and count your days."
With that, Onslaught transformed, his team following suit. The Combaticons roared away, leaving Jeopardy standing alone on the road, their threat lingering heavily in the air.
Meanwhile, back at the base, Stormsurge and Slipstream were flipping through channels on the TV. Stormsurge's thoughts were preoccupied with the Combaticons and the unsettling possibility of having to defend herself against them. Slipstream, on the other hand, seemed more relaxed, her main concern being what to watch. Whether her confidence was justified was anyone's guess.
"Whatcha guys watching?" Impulse asked, walking into the room just as Slipstream changed the channel again.
"We're still figuring that out," Slipstream admitted.
"Too many good choices?"
"More like we can't make a decision," Stormsurge added.
"Mind if I join?" Impulse asked.
"Oh yeah, sure." Slipstream agreed.
"Awesome! First, I gotta check something," Impulse said, then yelled out, "HEY SIMMONS, ANY GAMES ON TODAY?!"
No answer.
"SIMMONS? C'MON, HERE BOY!" Impulse yelled, followed by a whistle, the kind used to call a dog.
"Pretty sure that's not how you get humans' attention," Stormsurge pointed out, watching him with mild amusement.
"Agree to disagree," Impulse shrugged, hopping over the back of the couch to plop himself between Stormsurge and Slipstream. His exaggerated stretch to get comfortable made Stormsurge shuffle away for more personal space.
"So, what are we watching? I vote either cartoons or an action movie," Impulse said.
"Cartoon Network doesn't really have anything good on," Slipstream complained, flipping past it just in time to catch a glimpse of Teen Titans Go. "See? Still trash."
"Fair. But have you checked the streaming services?"
"Streaming?"
"Yeah, Hulu, Netflix, Disney+... all the good stuff."
"How'd you find that?"
"Well, I was messing around with the TV settings and found the option to buy it. So, I found Simmons' credit card and got us all of them." Impulse admitted, unaware of the inevitable freakout Simmons will have after getting the bill for all the subscriptions Impulse bought.
"Alright, what's on Hulu?" Slipstream asked, scrolling through the menu.
"DRAGON BALL!" Impulse yelled, practically vibrating with excitement.
As Slipstream and Impulse debated over what to watch on Hulu, Stormsurge noticed Jeopardy drive into the base, transform, and stomp toward the workshop. He muttered to himself, clearly frustrated, his movements sharper than usual. Stormsurge's attention drifted from the TV to Jeopardy, curiosity sparking as she wondered what had happened with the Combaticons.
"Hey, Storm, what'cha thinkin'? Me and Slipstream narrowed it down to Dragon Ball or Archer," Impulse said, snapping her out of her distraction.
"I'm not really into that stuff," Stormsurge admitted, her tone a bit distant as her thoughts lingered on Jeopardy's demeanor.
"How can someone not be into two guys beating each other up with awesome energy powers and screaming to get stronger?" Impulse asked, genuinely baffled.
"It's just not for me." She simply explained.
"Well, what is for you?" Impulse pressed.
"Have you ever tried the Discovery Channel?" Stormsurge suggested.
"Isn't that the one with all the animal stuff?" Impulse asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Yeah, it's relaxing," Stormsurge replied.
"That doesn't sound very fun," Impulse said, wrinkling his nose.
"I think they might have something you'd like. Do you know what sharks are?" Stormsurge suggested, recognizing what might draw Impulse.
"I think so," Impulse replied, recalling the word from watching Jaws during one of his adventures into human media.
"They're doing a whole week of shark content. It started a few days ago."
"So, like Jaws?"
"Probably, but more educational," Stormsurge clarified, though she hadn't actually seen Jaws herself.
"So, like The Meg?" Impulse asked, referencing another shark movie he'd seen.
"I don't know," Stormsurge admitted, also having not seen The Meg.
"Only one way to find out!" Impulse declared, grabbing the remote and searching for Discovery. "Alright, let's see if these sharks are as cool as the movies make them look."
In the workshop, Jeopardy stood by Hermit Crab, who's optics were focused on the intricate work Hermit was performing to repair his damaged hand. Despite Hermit's meticulous attention to his task, he was actively engaged in the conversation.
"You get what I'm saying?" Jeopardy asked, his tone firm but tinged with concern.
"I understand your concerns," Hermit responded, not looking up as his steady hands worked on the damaged circuits.
"And what about Stormsurge? Aside from some… stressful side effects, I feel like she's been really improving since we met her," Jeopardy continued.
"For one, she's talking to us and isn't scared of you," Hermit noted, his tone neutral but not dismissive.
"Right? I'm just worried if I let her go into battle, she'll get injured or something will happen, and she'll go back to square one," Jeopardy admitted.
Hermit paused briefly in his work, tilting his head slightly. "Perhaps rephrase, you sound paternalistic."
Jeopardy frowned, then nodded and reconsidered his wording. "I'm worried if she goes out with us, she'll be damaged in a way I can't immediately repair," he said carefully.
Hermit mulled over Jeopardy's words for a moment, then replied, "Trauma, both physical and mental, is inevitable in war. Though I would hardly count our current predicament as war, more of a skirmish."
"I don't care what you call it," Jeopardy countered, "I don't want her being retraumatized or worse."
"Yes, and given her lack of any combat experience, her odds of battlefield failure are much higher," Hermit acknowledged.
"That's why I'm going to let her stay back with you until she can sufficiently defend herself," Jeopardy decided.
Hermit stopped his work momentarily to glance at Jeopardy, gauging his sincerity. "As long as she stays out of my workshop, I have no issue with that," he said dryly, resuming his task.
"I like that, and I didn't say it earlier, but thanks for helping out with gun training," Jeopardy said, trying to lighten the atmosphere.
"You're welcome," Hermit replied without looking up, his tone steady and measured. "Even though it was a short session, I'm glad you and Stormsurge were able to grasp the basics of standard firearm safety."
"Didn't feel that short," Jeopardy remarked.
"At minimum, we were all out in that lot for 30 cycles," Hermit noted. "During that time, you learned basic melee combat, Impulse and Slipstream play-fought, and then there was my aforementioned course. More practice is required to be on par with the Combaticons."
Jeopardy mulled that over, realizing Hermit was right. "How likely are we to succeed if we fight them again?" he asked.
Hermit stopped his work momentarily, glancing up as he began running a statistical analysis in his head. "What variables are we assuming?"
"Uh… no reinforcements for either side, and no major injuries on our side," Jeopardy guessed.
"A stretch, but fine," Hermit agreed, returning his focus to the hand. After a few moments, he gave his answer, "42.76%."
"That's it?"
"It's not a fixed number," Hermit clarified. "We can improve our odds by enhancing our capabilities in deployment, equipment, and battlefield proficiency. Specifically, you."
"I didn't think I did that bad," Jeopardy protested.
"Then remind me, whose hand am I repairing right now?" Hermit replied with a sharp edge of sarcasm.
"Touché," Jeopardy admitted, smirking slightly.
"Perhaps, since you respect them so much, you can ask the humans for combat training. They seem to excel in fighting whatever inconveniences them."
"I'll consider it, but I don't want to get them too involved."
"A futile effort," Hermit said dryly. "They've already begun to mobilize."
"Still, I feel bad about it."
"If it's any consolation," Hermit said, glancing up briefly, "they may reduce their efforts if they perceive us as sufficient in defending the planet."
"That helps a bit," Jeopardy admitted, exhaling slowly. "How's the progress on my hand?"
"Slow but steady," Hermit replied.
"Is that why you haven't been making optic contact?"
"Would you rather I distract myself with social etiquette, or focus on the delicate internals of your hand?" Hermit asked without missing a beat.
"Alright, alright. How much longer?"
"At minimum, five solar cycles."
Jeopardy nodded, appreciating the progress even if it was slow. "I'm gonna get some air," he said, turning to leave the workshop. When he stepped out, he saw Stormsurge standing by the entrance, trying to seem like she didn't notice him.
"Oh, hi, Storm," Jeopardy greeted.
"Hey, Jeopardy," she replied softly.
"You doing alright?"
"Yeah," she nodded.
Before Jeopardy could say more, a loud shout came from the tv area.
"What are they doing?" Jeopardy asked, glancing toward the commotion.
"Shark Week," Stormsurge explained simply.
Jeopardy wandered over to the tv, seeing the program about Great Whites. He plopped down onto the couch, Stormsurge joining him at the edge of the seat.
"Oh, Jeopardy, check it out!" Impulse yelled from his spot in front of the TV, bouncing slightly in his seat like a child hyped on too much sugar.
"I'm watching, Impulse," Jeopardy assured him, leaning back. He glanced at Stormsurge, curious. "How'd you guys find this?"
"It was my idea," Stormsurge said with a small hint of pride.
"Didn't know you were into this."
"I like their shows. This planet has such fascinating life," she expressed, gesturing to the screen. "Or, as you'd call it, 'lots of greens and blues,'" she teased, quoting his initial observation when they first arrived on Earth.
"Heh, yeah," Jeopardy said with a wry chuckle. His gaze shifted to the TV, where a man on screen was enthusiastically narrating. "Does that host seem familiar to you?"
Stormsurge tilted her head. "I don't think I've seen him in anything."
"I'm sure I've seen him somewhere. What was his name? J... Jo… Ja… Something with that 'zhu' sound."
"James? Jack? Joe?" she offered.
Jeopardy tapped his chin, before suddenly snapping his fingers. "JOHN, it's John Cena."
"Oh… who's that?" Stormsurge asked, intrigued.
"I watched a movie he was in once. Not bad."
"Oh, I know John Cena!" Impulse interjected, turning around excitedly. "He and Margot Robbie fought a giant starfish in Argentina!"
"I remember that one," Slipstream added, "Margot Robbie kicked ass, and looked good doing it."
Jeopardy raised an optic ridge. "You know that was a movie, right?"
Impulse didn't respond, his attention already back on the TV, completely absorbed in the aquatic drama playing out on the screen.
Stormsurge thought for a moment, glancing at Impulse and Slipstream, who were still engrossed in Shark Week. Something had been bothering her, and she needed to talk it out.
"Do you mind if we talk in private?" she asked Jeopardy, her tone not over a whisper.
"Everything alright?" Jeopardy asked, immediately concerned.
"I'm not sure," she admitted.
"Then of course," Jeopardy said, standing up and following her to her studio.
Once inside, Stormsurge hesitated for a moment before starting, "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"How do you motivate yourself to go out and fight? Because I know you and Hermit are expecting me to join you, but… I really don't want to."
Jeopardy paused, considering her words. "I don't want to either," he finally said. "If I had it my way, I'd wake up tomorrow and Onslaught would be ready to negotiate a settlement."
Stormsurge sat down on a stool, gathering her thoughts. "So if they do attack us, or we have to stop them… how do you make yourself want to go and not just stay here?"
"What do you mean by that?"
Stormsurge took a deep breath, trying to articulate her feelings. "I'm scared of what's out there. You lost a hand and got all beat up, and I know I'm nowhere near as competent as any of you. If that's what happened to you, then what hope do I have? And… then there's the violence. Whenever I think about it, it just feels, feels…"
"Like you weren't yourself," Jeopardy supplied, fully understanding her predicament, "like you're going against your nature."
"Exactly!" she exclaimed, relieved he understood. "I mean, it felt good to learn how to shoot, but using that on another person…" She trailed off, looking down at her servos. "I don't want to kill."
"Neither do I," Jeopardy assured her, "and no one said you had to."
"I get that, but it doesn't feel like it when they want to kill me," she said, her voice trembling. "Do you ever feel like you weren't meant to do this? Like we're WAY out of our depth?"
"Ever since we arrived," Jeopardy admitted. "The truth is, I feel like every decision I've made is wrong, because I KNOW someone could have made a better one. That's why I was talking to Hermit earlier, because I know he has answers I can't find."
Stormsurge looked up, listening intently.
"Right now, you probably feel like you're made of glass," Jeopardy continued, "but as long as we're here, we can help make the glass stronger. If you want, me and Impulse can help you work on some non-lethal self-defense techniques."
"I'd like that," she said softly.
"And don't feel pressured to join us as soon as possible," Jeopardy said, kneeling slightly to meet her optic level. "When YOU feel like you're ready, come help us. And when that day comes, I'll have your back, always."
"Thanks," Stormsurge said, her gratitude evident. She hesitated, then added with a small smile, "Also, I did listen in on some of your conversation with Hermit."
Jeopardy blinked. "How much did you hear?"
"Enough," she said, "and just so you know, I don't think you sound that paternalistic." Though internally the feeling was less clear cut. Its not that she wanted to be in the field, but it still hurt he'd seemingly dismissed the idea of her going out entirely, but she wasn't about to say that out loud.
"Thank you," Jeopardy said, then chuckled. "I think."
"Also, what did you mean by 'stressful side effects'?" Stormsurge asked, her tone curious but tinged with concern as she recalled Jeopardy's earlier phrasing.
"Oh, that," Jeopardy said, scratching the back of his head. "I was just observing medic-patient confidentiality. Hermit doesn't need to know about your nightmares."
Stormsurge was surprised by the mention. "Speaking of which… how are they?" Jeopardy asked.
"They're still pretty bad," Stormsurge admitted, "but not as bad as when they first started."
"Yeah," Jeopardy said with a somber nod. "I still remember that night."
"Have you found anything to help with them?" she asked, a sliver of hope in her voice.
"Ah, I'm still looking," Jeopardy confessed. "I've got a lot of resources stored from my training, but since it was cut short, it's incomplete. There's no guarantee I'll find anything useful."
"Oh," Stormsurge said softly, her shoulders sinking slightly.
"But hey," Jeopardy said, his voice lifting with encouragement, "if I can't find anything there, we'll still figure something out that works. We've already made progress, right?"
Stormsurge nodded. "I guess."
"Good," Jeopardy said, starting to make his way toward the door. "Now, how about we get back to the couch and watch Jock Cena talk about sharks? I think it'll help take your mind off of things."
"I'd like that," Stormsurge replied with a small smile, moving to follow him. As she passed him and opened the door, she added, "And it's pronounced John Cena."
"Right," Jeopardy said with a chuckle, trailing after her.
As Jeopardy made his way to the couch, Impulse appeared in the doorway, leaning casually with a knowing smirk plastered across his face.
"Couldn't help yourself, could you?" Impulse teased, his tone mock-accusatory.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jeopardy asked, already sensing the incoming nonsense.
"Oh, come on, don't play dumb. You and Stormsurge get up in the middle of Shark Week after all that whispering to each other and vanish into a private room? We both know what's going on,…" Impulse let the words hang dramatically.
"What the frag are you even talking about?" Jeopardy asked, exasperated.
"I'm talking about the situationship between you and Storm," Impulse declared, making finger quotes in the air.
"You are severely misinterpreting this situation," Jeopardy deadpanned.
"Did I?"
"Yes."
"DID I?"
"Yes."
"DID IIIIIII?" Impulse dragged out dramatically, arching an eyebrow.
"Impulse, where is this going?" Jeopardy asked, visibly done with the conversation.
"I'm just saying, if you need dating advice or romantic schemes, the most eligible bachelor in Praxus is here to help." Impulse proudly offered, even puffing his chest to show off how much of a catch he was, at least according to him.
Jeopardy stared at him flatly. "The fact that you just said 'romantic schemes' unironically makes me question if I'd ever want your help, even if your assumptions about me and Stormsurge were correct."
"Hey, I'm just offering my services. My door's always open."
"And I'm just saying, I'd prefer if it stayed shut. Permanently."
With that, Jeopardy walked past him and rejoined Stormsurge and Slipstream to continue watching Shark Week.
Impulse stood there, stroking his big chin in exaggerated thought. "Hmm, continue to hound him or watch TV?" He pondered aloud to himself, before concluding, "How is this even a question?" Grinning to himself, he turned and hopped over the back of the couch to join the others.