Bonecrusher: *finally snarls*  FINE.  YOU WANT ME TO FIND A DIFFERENT PUNCHING BAG?  I WILL.  *and stalks out.  ooooh dear.*

Tracks: *Tracks is out at the edge of comm range, engine idling in his alt-mode as he talks privately*

Bonecrusher: *and bonecrusher?  Bonecrusher is currently pissed.  and outside.  and you know what?  There's no one around....  he lets out a pissed roar and transforms, taking off across the grounds.*

Bonecrusher: *...death to whoever happens to be innocently sitting in his path.*

Bonecrusher: *srsly.*

Tracks: *is a wee bit focused on his conversation right now*

Bonecrusher: *and at the corner of his sensory range, juuust out of his direct path........ oh-ho.*  ...... *makes a split second desision and swerves, chuckling darkly to himself.*

Bonecrusher: *if they want him to take it out on someone else.... heh.*

Bonecrusher: *and slag, bad luck for Tracks but Bonecrusher's still in audio range of the vok's pain - oooh, man.  that's a good shudder going through his hydraulics.*

Bonecrusher: *and fucking roars out loud, coming up on Tracks at breakneck speed - not as fast as the corvette could go, buuuuuut*

Tracks: *Realizes suddenly that he's being targeted - and then realizes who it is. His engine revs loudly and he takes off, intending to get some space between them at the very least*

Bonecrusher: *snarls aloud at that and presses his engine to go faster, chuckling viciously into a private commline, just for tracks* :: LUCKY DAY, I NEEDED AN OUTLET.  STAY AND PLAY, GORGEOUS. ::

Tracks: *Was expecting something of the sort and has a line open for 'Crusher but no one else.* ::I don't have a death wish, Bonecrusher. Didn't get off on your little play date?::

Bonecrusher: *laughs darkly* :: PRIME INTERRUPTED MY TIME, BUT IT'S ALL RIGHT.  YOU'RE HERE NOW.  I KNOW YOU  WON'T DISAPPOINT. ::

Tracks: ::You think so highly of me..:: *Revs a little more and armor slides aside as his launcher is deployed* ::I'll be sure to give you as good a time as you deserve.::

Tracks: *braking suddenly, he fishtails around to face Bonecrusher and launches a rocket directly at him*

Bonecrusher: *swears seven shades of blue and swerves, transforming just barely to skid around it, stumbling FUCKING HATES ROCKETS FUCKING HATES HATES HATES*  :: FILTHY AUTOBOT, I'M GOING TO HAVE FUN WITH YOU- ::

Tracks: *transforming, he draws his gun and targets Bonecrusher* ::Filthy? Me? I'm not the one who takes such delight in others' pain. Disgusting is barely a word that encompasses what you are, Bonecrusher.::

Bonecrusher: *smirks darkly at that, bracing himself and moving forward, bringing himself right on up to the very barrel  of the gun*  :: YOU HAVE NO IDEA JUST HOW DISGUSTING I AM. :: *purrs* :: LET ME SHOW YOU HOW RIGHT YOU ARE. ::

Tracks: *scowls and shoots Bonecrusher at point blank range. Unfortunately, it's just a black beam gun - blinds, but doesn't hurt that much. Of course, as soon as he shoots, he dives to the side and transforms, wanting a little more space*

Bonecrusher :  *snarls as Tracks' stupid FUCKING gun blinds him FUCKER and lashes out with his mine scoop, shoving himself forward in the direction he assumes he should go* 

Tracks:	*The scoop clips his tail and he fishtails again, but not controlled this time -- he transforms and rolls to come to a stop sooner, gaining his feet* ::I'd rather -not- be proved right. I'd -like- to not have to worry about Decepticons ruining the lives of those I care for, ever again.:: *He draws his tertiary weapon - a plasma gun - and fires at Bonecrusher with fair-to-good aim*
Bonecrusher:	*laughs viciously as he's struck, stumbling backwards and optics rerouting so that they can actually see  now*  :: YOU?  CARE FOR SOMETHING?   IF IT ISN'T YOUR OWN AFT, THE REST OF THE WORLD CAN GO SLAG ITSELF, AFTER ALL. ::  *grins that same twisted grin he gained playing with the Vok* :: I'M GOING TO ENJOY YOU. ::
Tracks:	*So soon after being accused of nearly the same thing by one of his own fellows, the comment hits him especially hard and he roars wordlessly in anger* ::I HAVE LOST AS MUCH AS ANYONE -- BECAUSE OF -YOU AND YOUR KIND-!:: *And in an entirely foolhardy move, he activates his thrusters as he leaps forward, aiming a jet-powered fist at Bonecrusher's twisted grin*
Bonecrusher:	*reels backwards as he's struck, laughing maniacally at the other's anger over the commline, claws reaching out and grab the Autobot's shoulders, squeezing tight and dragging him back as he falls, twisting to try and get the other under him before they hit the ground* :: YOU HAVEN'T LOST NEARLY ENOUGH, FILTHY LITTLE SLAGGER! ::
Tracks:	*Growls as he's grabbed, fighting the larger mech's grip with a hard kick to 'Crusher's midsection, squirming as best he can within the huge clawed hands* ::Don't you dare tell me that! What would you know of losing -anything- of worth?::
Bonecrusher:	*growls at the kick, claws digging into his shoulders in retaliation, and manages to slam the other down against the ground*  :: YOU THINK THE AUTOBOTS ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO HAVE LOST SOMETHING OF WORTH?   DO YOU BELIEVE DECEPTICONS DO NOT HAVE THEIR OWN PEOPLE TO LOSE, THEIR OWN MINDS, THEIR OWN SPARKS?!  WE ARE NOT ALL BORN TWISTED. :: *snarls in rage* :: YOU FILTHY AUTOBOTS ARE THE CAUSE OF OUR DEMENTIA! ::
Tracks:	*Tracks feels his frame groan as Bonecrusher slams him to the ground and he snarls kicking again, as viciously as he can, trying to get Bonecrusher to back off of him* ::You chose to betray us! You turned on us, joined Megatron, just to claim the power of the Allspark--:: *Hands gripped tightly at the Decepticon's arms, fingers digging in as much as he could make them*
Bonecrusher:	*hisses and twists a hand, sliding claws under plating and twisting  harshly* :: YOU THINK THAT REDEEMS YOUR SLAGGING FACTION?!  YOU THINK THAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO FIGHT US, TO KILL US?!  YOU DESERVE MORE THAN WHAT I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU. ::
Tracks:	*He yelps in pain, and redoubles his efforts to get free, internal systems already rerouting to heal damaged areas.* ::We deserve to fight for our lives!:: *Tracks snarls, optics narrowed* ::You don't deserve the spark you were gifted with.:: *And he fires his thrusters again as he kicks up at Bonecrusher, trying to get leverage*

Bonecrusher: *the kicking does nothing but excite the Decepticon, who's still floating on the high given to him by the Vok's agony - he bears down on the other and presses their foreheads together, face twisted in rage. oo-hoo, you pissed him off~* :: AND WE DO NOT? DO WE NOT DESERVE TO DEFEND OURSELVES - TO FIGHT BACK WHEN YOU FILTHY AUTOBOTS BLOW OUR LOVED ONES UP?! :: *
Tracks: ::I'm surprised you have the CAPACITY to love--:: *Tracks hissed over the comm line, his normally aesthetically composed features twisted with anger and old grief. He still twisted and squirmed, trying to get free -- he pulled one leg up, trying to press the sharp jut of plating at his knee to Bonecrusher's chest, trying to dig in near his spark*
Bonecrusher: :: AFTER YOU WRETCHED AUTOBOTS BLEW EVERYTHING UP, I FOUND IT RATHER DIFFICULT TO LOVE. :: *sounds deceptively calm, and actually lets out a low groan as the other's knee jams up against him* :: OH, GORGEOUS... :: *hisses now, a smirk growing across his face* :: YOU KNOW JUST WHAT TO DO TO DIG YOURSELF DEEPER WITH ME. THE VOK... THE VOK WILL APPRECIATE YOU.:: *his knees slide up and he's more or less straddling the other now, uh-oh*

Tracks: *Tracks' optics narrow as he looks up at Bonecrusher, mouth curling into a disdainful sneer* ::You would hand me over to them? Another betrayal, so surprising. But I thought you were interested in playing with me first?:: *He was glad for a brief respite, cycling air through his intakes, trying to decide how best to vie for freedom next as he flexes, pressing his knee into a seam, hoping for weakness*

Bonecrusher: *his engine is rumbling in his chest as he grins widely at the other, laughing maliciously at his assumptions* :: OH, NO. I WOULDN'T GIVE YOU TO THEM. I MEAN THAT THE VOK I WAS PLAYING WITH JUST GOT A RESPITE BECAUSE I FOUND A NEW TOY. :: *even arches into the knee, grunting a little* :: YOU'RE MUCH BETTER, ANYWAYS... YOU FIGHT BACK. ::
Tracks: *Gritting his dental plates, Tracks glared at him, a sudden frisson of fear and unease sliding through his system.* ::Always! I WILL NEVER GIVE IN TO YOU.:: Renewing his struggles, he growled and fought to bring his second missile to bear, hauling his shoulder off the dirt with as much strength as he could muster -- he'd shoot Bonecrusher in the face with it, no hesitation, if he could only get it to swing to the left a little...*

Bonecrusher: *practically purring now, Bonecrusher shifts his weight to the right, dragging his left set of claws down the other's shoulder, sliding one into the seam of his chestplate* :: I WOULD HOPE NOT. :: *he starts to dig that one claw into the seam, looking not just to scratch paint - no doubt a huge infraction in its own right - but to actually pry it up*
Tracks: *More fear, sudden panic as claws push through and slide under where they shouldn't be -- the curling, flaking paint is almost the worst, his finish marred now and getting worse as Bonecrusher tries to take him apart. Tracks shouts at what is much more sudden pain, the feel of being crushed under Bonecrusher's greater weight almost negligible now, and he jerks again, his launcher caught at the wrong angle.* ::STOP -- GET OFF!::

Bonecrusher: :: NO. I DON'T THINK I WILL. PRIME INTERRUPTED MY TIME WITH THE VOK, AND I NEED MY FUN. :: *he's laughing in Tracks' face, claws sliding deeper and working to pry the cheastplate up, the other set of claws slipping up and pricking at major wires in the other's neck - not really aiming to hurt, though.....*

Tracks: *Tracks' optics widened, glad that they'd not been talking out loud or his voice might've failed him then. He could feel those claws against important and integral wires and stilled a moment, grunting in pain as his chestplate groaned and parted from its anchors* ::---Slagger... Only someone unstable-- unbalanced-- would find this 'fun'--:: *Despite his earlier thought, his distraction made forming words more difficult than he'd anticipated; he felt helpless, millimeters from being bled out or irreparably damaged, and he hated it, quivering with pain/fear/rage*

Bonecrusher: *once again leans down to touch foreheads with the other, optics slitting and mouth twisting into a leering grin* :: DID YOU EXPECT ANYTHING LESS FROM ME? :: *his claws at the autobot's neck twitch a bit, and he wonders if it's the same.... hmmm. he twitches them again, sliding them along the fuel line in a way he's sure the other might at least enjoy - and he pulls his other hand away from the chest, leaving the plating as it is, shifting now to instead drag one sharp claw up along a window, making extra sure to draw out that horrid scraping noise - like nails on a chalkboard*
Tracks: *The surprising sensation - pleasure and not pain, gentle and not forced, made Tracks hiss and fight the touch of Bonecrusher's claws despite how close they were to severing important things. His optics blazed bright with indignation and disgust, wincing and shaking a little at the piercing sound of claws against his window.* ::Just because-- Blackout can't suffer your touch-- doesn't mean -I- want it-- glitchy, overgrown, fragged up--::

Bonecrusher: *and that gentle touch shifts, hand reaching up to backhand the other across the face, leaving light slashes* :: IF I WANTED YOU, YOU WOULD HAVE REALIZED IT FAR BEFORE NOW, YOU DISGUSTING PILE OF GARRISH TRASH! :: *pissed*
Tracks: *...Optics wide and blank, diagnostic systems quickly calculated the damage done and reported back, and Tracks' spark jumped before he realized it was not as bad as he'd feared. Relief was sharp, but now he raged. He looked up at Bonecrusher once more and hissed across the comm line* ::So much attention wasted on a mech you claim no interest in!:: *He gathered himself and fired his thrusters again, giving himself those slight inches -- then dragging his launcher those last few inches and firing his remaining missile*

Bonecrusher: *snarls but lets go of the other as the missile connects, exploding against the left side of his chest, sending him reeling back, back arching into a deformed U from the momentum - but slag if he's gonna crush the other's legs, much less move off the other - not with the upper hand!* :: YOU WANT ME TO BE INTERESTED IN YOU? :: *he's hissing, wincing as the damage readouts suggest maybe he should be a little more slaggin' careful nex time-*
Tracks: *Tracks attempts to turn and scrabble for purchase against the ground to pull himself away, kicking at the Decepticon in an attempt to dislodge him - from a mech barely a third his weight, it's almost kind of sad, though a brave try*

Bonecrusher: *lurches back up out of that hideous u-shape in time to see the other gripping at the ground, trying to get away - and slag that.* :: I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO PLAY, TRACKS! :: *he throws himself down on the other, claws grabbing at any available plating and ripping at it, forcing the metal to bend, he's pretty sure he heard some glass shattering -* :: DON'T RUN AWAY LIKE A COWARD! ::

Bonecrusher: *is, for the record, pissed.*
Tracks: *Arms free, Tracks reaches up as he is pinned again, screaming wordlessly as he feels his chest compartment half-collapse and tear, one wing sheared off nearly completely under the 'Con's assault. He grabs for Bonecrusher's head, grimly and desperately holding on to whatever he can get his fingers into, wishing for the first time ever that he had claws to rend and tear as he tries to force blunter fingertips into seams or optics or whatever is vulnerable.* ::N- Not-- A-- COWARD!::

Bonecrusher: *howls as the other gets those stupid fingers into one of his optics, raising one hand to viciously sink into the seams on either side of the other's face* :: I'LL RIP YOUR FACE OFF JUST LIKE THE SLAGGIN' VOK- :: *is no longer having a good time - now he's just angry, enraged and violent and in pain and that, my friends, is not a good thing*
Tracks: ::YOU. WILL. NOT.:: *It was as much for himself as for Bonecrusher, fortifying his will to fight just a little more. He could feel another cable snap, following several others and a fuel line gone when he was half-crushed and then clawed at, and internal alarms flashed silent warning of damage more than just superficial. Fear raised to a fine, white-hot point as claws pressed into his facial seams and he panicked, almost insensate with fear, as he dug his fingers in harder just to push Bonecrusher's head away from him, ducking his own down in a reflexive, protective motion*

Bonecrusher: *his claws scratch up through the seams as the other ducks his his head, getting dislodged from the motion - he shoves his head backwards and actually bites one of Tracks' hands, getting a few of the fingers between his teeth and gnawing at them, one of his own hands going to brace himself against the ground, the other reaching back for the other's chest, looking to rip his plating clean off, letting only a garbled, incoherent roar through the commlines*
Tracks: *Screams again as his chest plating is torn away completely, his thoughts just a continual repetition of painpainpainohPrimusmyfacepainpain-- he's not entirely coherent as he tries to form words, something fluid garbling his vocal processor, but he grates out in desperation, hoping for reprieve* Please-- stop!

Bonecrusher: *his claws are digging into plating now and he just wants to rip the slagger into pieces - but his audios pick up something and he thinks the Vok said he'd never give in but he did and now he's giving in and - and.... and..... oh primus. His working optic shutters and he pulls his claws back, accidentally scraping against the plating in their rush to get out, and he stares at Tracks in a kind of dazed stupor* ......OH PRIMUS.
Tracks: *Optics dimmed, power resourced to greater needs, Tracks looks up at him dully* ...Nn? *Relieved and realizing dimly that Bonecrusher is finished, he falls back on the ground, a little disturbed to hear the creak and whine of sheared metal*

Bonecrusher: *his processors are telling him that he's dented up a bit from the other's attacks but he's more focusing on the thoughtline of "ohslagohslagohslag" - and he looks around - a decent distance from the base - and the other's utterly slagged, and if he just left now no one would notice right?* ............. *primus.* :: I SHOULD LEAVE YOU HERE. :: *he tries to make it sound violent but it's a little too shaky for that. he hadn't meant to get carried away...*
Tracks: *It takes a moment, and an attempt at speaking through vocal processors too flooded to work, for him to answer* ::Saved... your aft... once...::

Bonecrusher: ....... *fuck.*

Bonecrusher: *he clambers to his feet, crouching down over the other and trying to decide where he could grab the other that would result in the least pain - finally he decides to get him by the waist, heaving him up into a really, really demented kinda hug - the Autobot's comparatively small... could probably just carry him...* .............. *fuck, fuck, fuck - and he slides an arm under the other's knees, hauling him up into his arms* WASN'T SUPPOSED TO GET LIKE THIS..... SLAGGIN' VOK, COULD'VE JUST KEPT ON HIM....
Tracks: ::'S'it matter? Autobot. 'S tradition.:: *He gurgles in pain and winces, leaving a pool of mixed fluids behind, as well as a wing and the discarded chestplate*

Bonecrusher: 'S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE - SLAGGIT! *is pissed at himself now, damn it, oh man, this is just great -* SLAGGIN' SONOFA.... *makes his way back to base, going as fast as he can without actually knocking more stuff loose - he'll come back for the plate and wing, he supposes* SUPPOSED TO BE ON THE SAME SIDE NOW!
Tracks: *Snorts wetly* ::Face hurts.:: *He tries to shift, leaning into Bonecrusher as though the support would warm or heal him*

Bonecrusher: *is a few shades off from panicking, moving faster now that the other's moving in his arms and primus stupid, stupid, stupid -* SLAGGIT THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN - FUCK! *he's not even sure if there's a medic on duty, sonofabitch - is basically running at this point, a little off kilter what with one optic out but whatever, man, whatever*

Tracks: ::Was. Is.:: *He can't do anything but hang on, dimly thinking that recharge is not an option yet, no matter how tired he is*

Bonecrusher: *and has pretty much made up his mind as he gets to and enters the base, heading directly for the medbay, that he's gonna have to stay with the other.* NEED A MEDIC, NEED A MEDIC - *but of course, no medics around when he gets into the medbay. damn it. so he takes the time to actually put the other on a medbay berth and does some of the most basic, crude medical tricks he knows to at least stop the other from being leaky.*

Tracks: *Tracks stops leaking for the moment, but, still dimly, he wonders if his face is gone -- he'd really rather not live if it is. It's probably just as well he doesn't think to say so, instead lapsing into a miserable haze until a medic comes.*