| abstract | - Glass Plains -- The Past The Glass Plains were split, long ago, creating the deep Istoral Trench, which divides the Glass Plains. The exact cause of the split is now known to only a few, but even to the untrained, it looks as if the entire was quickly heated and cooled by some momentous event, producing the brittle, glassy surface. Some of the weaker areas crunch under foot, but others are deceptively smooth, almost frictionless. Shattered reflections are everywhere, looking back at any travelers, silent witnesses to the massive thermal upheaval that transformed this land. Fairway says, "If you want, friend, I shall keep you from him. You needn't deal with him if you don't want." Patchwork sniffs quietly before her head tilts back, blinking up at Fairway. "You will? R eally? OH, thank you!" And Patchwork does what comes naturally to her. She steps forward and hugs Fairway. Fairway is a bit...surprised, but he returns the hug in kind. "Certainly," he says, "think nothing of it." Specter is sneaking as silently as possible in the Glass Plains, which isn't -as- easy as it sounds. The rookie Autobot does the best he can, and avoids detection. Spotting a pair of the strange Autobots, Specter crawls forward and peers at them from a fair distance; utilizing a pair of oversized binoculars. "Are they hugging?" Patchwork steps back after another moment of the hug, her usual grin having returned. "But I -do- appreciate it, even though you haven't done anything yet, it still means alot to me!" Fairway nods, smiling an embarrassed smile. He offers a clumsy reply, "It is in my programming to serve." There are things about him Patchwork doesn't know...and he doesn't aim to tell her NOW. Specter continues to plod along crouched low, crawling forth while keeping an optic on them. "Sentinel Prime told me to report on these two, wonder what their talking about? Only one way to find out!" he remarks to himself, inching forth at an increased speed to within ear shot. Patchwork steps forward and gives another, much briefer, hug before she steps back and starts leading the way bacak the way she'd come earlier that cycle. "Come on...we should find Ultra Magnus, I cant ell him how I faced off against -four- Decepti-jerks and didn't end up with a single scratch, and how Bluestreak is -crazy-!" Fairway doesn't notice Specter. He returns this smaller hug and follows Patchwork. "You encountered Bluestreak? The Autobot?" Patchwork pauses midstep, thnking that over before she shakes her head, and waves her hand dismissively. "No...Blue/shift/. Sorry!" Specter gets up to a crouch, waddling after them both. He's about ten or so feet from the Autbots now, trying to keep himself hidden from view ... but lagging behind horribly. In a moment of desperation and inexperience, Specter picks up his pace and stumbles out into the path before the two. "Ooof!" Combat: Specter appears from the shadows... Fairway ahhs. "Even worse," he hisses. He's about to launch into a vitriolic diatribe about the Blueshift's peculiar mania when Specter appears. Fairway draws his weapon instinctively and steps forward to put himself between Specter and Patchwork. "Hold," he demands, "State your designation!" Patchwork skids to a stop herself, shoulders hunching as she's pushed behind Fairway. She peeks around the other Bot, eyeing the stumbling Specter. "Jeez, you'd think a nice fellah like you would lend a hand?" Specter grumbles, getting to his feet and dusting himself off. He peers quizically at them, before shooting out a hand in greeting. "Names Specter buddy, special operative of the Autobots! You guys are those weirdo ones, right?" Fairway looks at Specter with a hard and incredulous frown. "The 'weirdo' ones?" He only stashes his weapon and shakes Specter's hand after a moment of intense staring to see if this new mech is going to make a move. "Specter, you say? I am Fairway. Behind me is Patchwork." He doesn't want to give up too much to a stranger. "You shall have to be more specific with your question, I'm afraid." When a fight doesn't break out, Patchwork steps forward around Fairway, offering a brief wave to the other Bot. "Why does everyone call us weird? We aren't weird...!" she protests. Specter shrugs his shoulders at Patchwork, staring back at Fairway. "Fairway, Patchwork ... it's nice to meet you. Sorry, it's what Sentinel calls you guys ... just sorta.." he pauses, shying back away and coyly staring at his feet. "..rubbed off." "Rubbed off," Fairway says, his expression cold as he tries to think of how to obfuscate the truth. Deception is not his strong suit. "Well, when we first met I was...disoriented and malfunctioning. I can see why he would think so. But We are as normal as anyone else, I assure you." "I told you he was mean..calling us weirdo's..>!" Patchwork hisses up to Fairway as she inches closer to the other familiar Autobot. "We aren't weirdo's." "Okay okay, I get it ... you're not weridos. Jeez, take it easy." Specter blurts out, placing both hands in front of him at Patchwork; an attempt to calm her fury. The little white ninja relaxes a bit, sighing. "So, what you guys doing out here all alone? Don't you know there's a war going on?" "We know all too well," Fairway responds cryptically, "We were just confronted by Decepticons." This isn't a complete lie, as Patchwork can attest. "We're...on a DATE. We were just taking in the scenery here when we were attacked." The sound of thrusters cuts across the sky, followed by the telltale transformation as a streaking comet of light dips down over the opposite side of the Istoral Trench. That's right, Astrotrain has returned to the scene of the 'crime' where Patchwork had the misfortune to run into him earlier. It's easy to tell it's him, even from a distance, afterall who else on this planet has a giant purple shuttle mode? And what else but a future-Decepticon would be soaring the air even -after- assuming his robot mode, gliding easily as he flies with his hands thrust forward in the classic 'superman' style flight as he cuts over the top of the Istoral Trench, a specific destination mind. And apparently deep in thought, as he doesn't take notice of the trio of Autobots along the plains. Patchwork really doesn't seem furious, just...annoyed. Rather like a five year old who took offense to something. "I came for a walk because he was mean before and I wanted time to think, and I ran into Astrotrain and some other Decepticons. They all ended up running away, and I didn't get damaged!" To that, she adds her grin, chest puffing up with pride. And then she turns, blinking up at Fairway. "A date?" she echoes. Fairway stammers. "Uh...certainly. We are here together. Yes? As a pair." He is terrible at this, and decides, from here on out, to simply deactivate his vocal processor. "Date?" Specter asks, looking from Patchwork to Fairway in a confused manner. "Oooooookay. But that don't excuse it dude, if Sentinel finds out you two were out here alone ... hell, he'd probably throw a fit!" he adds on, preferring to leave out the part about drunken rage and frat-boy antics. Astrotrain continues to fly along the lip of the chasm's entrance, finally spotting figures standing out in the open. Optics narrow, before the triplechanger abruptly dives straight -down-, disappearing past the cliff edge and amongst some treacherous looking peaks that he has to slow down and fly through, leading to a cavern down below. It's almost as if this location was picked deliberately for the difficulty of reaching it, requiring either a small flying alternate mode, a good ability to climb, or of course, the ability to fly as a maneuverable humanoid. "He's too over energized to be aware of anything other than where his next drink is coming from." Patchwork mutters quietly as she eyes Specter before she huffs a heavy sigh. "Besides, he doesn't care what happens to me...or any of us." "Now now...uh...darling," Fairway makes the mistake of speaking again, "Surely we think better of him than that." He frowns at Specter again. "You're right, Specter. We've been remiss. Apologies." "No, we don't. Well, I don't." Patchwork mutters, n ose scrunching up in mild confusion as she eyes Fairway, clearly not quite catching onto his little fib. "But...wait. YOu were out here alone!" She turns to Specter as that bit of information dawns on her. Rushing forward, Specter places his index finger in front of his mouth. "Shhh, you wanna get excommunicated?" Sagging in stance with hands on his hips now, the rookie looks them both over once more ... something just doesn't feel right about them. "Now, I understand he can seem pretty rude to some strangers ... but imagine having responsibility thrust on you like that? Sentinel has a heart of gold, but it doesn't always show. You know?" he blathers on, suddenly halting his little speech ... attention perky and aimed southward. "Umm, I'm a covert operative Patchwork ... sometimes I have to work solo." Fairway glances back to Patchwork, hoping to try and show her what ruse he is attempting to perpetuate with a look. "As LOYAL Autobots under Sentinel Prime, we could not agree more, friend Specter. You say that you are a covert operative. What are you searching for here?" "He wanted to squish Andi!" Patchwork protests, a little more quietly. She starts towards Fairway as Specter rushes towards them both. "That's not a good golden heart!" But she falls silent, arms crossing over her chest as she listens to the duo talk ove rher. "What's an Andi?" Specter questions, comparing Fairway's easily discernable facade of playing dumb and Patchwork's effort to hold back something; something she'd much rather explain to him. "What am I doing here?" he says, trying to buy himself some more time. In reality, he's here spying on them for Sentinel Prime ... but you just can't tell them that, can you? "Uhh, collecting data on recent Decepticon troop movements. A call came over the public broadband about shenanigans in this area, I came to confirm." "Andi's my friend. The organic, as Prime calls her." Patchwork explains quickly before she looks back to Fairway and then to Specter again. Fairway can sense that Specter is not buying his lie. He isn't entirely sure that he believes what Specter is saying either. "Andi Lassiter is...my pet. I'm certain you've heard about her. An organic. And she's in desperate need of organic matter to consume for food. You wouldn't know where to find any of that, would you?" Specter whistles, "Damn, organic? I've heard you can get a bit of it off the black market, but pretty expensive that stuff is." Clearing a spot to sit with his foot, the rookie Autobot takes a seat on the ground and leans back on his hands. "Hey, where'd you get this pet anyways?" A robotic creature modeled after the techno-animals of Cybertron approaches. He is very small, much much smaller than most Cybertronians, and he appears to have two mesh slings of glowing energon carried on his back. Andi Lassiter is curled up seemingly asleep, huddled into the pile of colorful silk-like fabric given to her by Solar and probably tucked away in a secure little hidey hole somewhere nearby so that Patchwork and Fairway can talk to these Autobots without the reactions she caused in others...like Sentinel Prime. She's got her now-empty bottle of water held in one hand and curled up against her chest, and her little phone's music player is playing songs quietly. She's at the point where she doesn't care anymore if the battery's run down to empty. Fairway shifts from foot to foot. "Also on the black market. And you...say organic food can be purchased at the same? You wouldn't know where would you. Or how?" Lowering his tone to a whisper, "Listen, you didn't hear this from me ... but yeah. You can purchase organic foodstuff from the black market. I can put you in touch with one of the Inglorious Fraggers for a connection." Specter remarks ... still seated on the ground. Andi Lassiter listens to the conversation going on nearby, starting to learn the odd word or two of the language being used. 'Organic'. That one she's learned and learning to hate. "Hey Autobots! Have you seen Sentinel Prime? I've got some high grade with his name on it!" Steeljaw heads closer to the group, "What are you guys doing out here?" Then, the smell hits him. Faintly metallic, but with an overall scent of carbon and other chemicals he has not ever encountered before, "Can you smell that?" Fairway's spirits fall as he sees yet another past Autobot approach. He can't keep up his charade...though he knows how dangerous revealing everything will be. He sits down next to Andi, his internal heater switched on. "I...I'm sorry," he says to the others, "I must enter recharge. Good cycle, all. Specter." He also spares a nod for Steeljaw as his optics dim and he shuts down. Specter nods at Fairway's exit, then eyes Steeljaw suspiciously. Getting up, the Autobot approaches the animalistic Cybertronian and sighs. "Dude, you totally screwed that up ... he was about to spill the beans on where they -really- come from." he whispers. Andi Lassiter shifts a little, getting closer to the source of warmth she feels nearby. Nestled in a fold of the fabric near her head, her phone's tiny speaker starting to play a new song: One, by Metallica. "Did I?" Steeljaw is unconcerned. "Who cares. Anyway watch who you're talking to. I'm one of Sentinel's elite. We don't 'screw up'. Time, and everything else, is on our side." "Sure little buddy, you got it." Specter replies, pulling up to full height and stretching his arms out to the sides. "And I doubt Sentinel will be so forgiving, when he finds out -you- screwed up the chance to learn their -real- wherabouts; without having to wade through their trickery!" he laughs, making a face at Steeljaw. "A stranger had to recharge," Steeljaw shrugs, "Not my problem." The little "lion" looks way up at Specter, feeling a little envious of the height difference and growls a little. The strong scent teases his sensors, "What is that?" Now there's a faint, wailing and rythymic series of sounds coming from... He creeps over, energon still on his back and glowing. The odd sounds (music) are coming from what looks like nothing more than a disorganized pile of multicolored fabric next to the recharging Fairway's hip. Specter drops the subject, quite convinced his vertically challenged friend won't come off his Sentinel pedestal to see the complications the obtrusion caused. "What is what? You are an odd one, Steeljaw. It's probably that weirdo's recharge thinger." "It smells," Steeljaw purrmurmurs, reaching out a metal paw to pull away some of the strange fabric, which has an odd scent of its own, to see what's underneath it, "Can you hear that?" the strange, very faint sounds of Metallica, and he's not sure he likes it. Specter shrugs, "Meh, it's probably Fairway's organic pet." The covert operative looks out over the horizon line as Cybertron rolls through space aimlessly. It can be discomforting to some, but not to this rookie. "Anyways, I'm late for a meetup with Prime. Next time you come stumbling out of the brush, try radioing ahead ... give me a heads up man." The song ends and another starts -- Queenryche's Silent Lucidity. When the quadruped pulls on the fabric, something inside the rumples audibly complains and pulls back in a small tug of war. She's speaking in English, which presumably none of the Cybertronians from this time period are familiar with. Like any true feline, even the Cybertronian variety, Steeljaw regally pretends not to have heard most of what Spectre was saying. The Autobot is currently in a tug of war anyway, with something making unrobotic sounds. He can tell it's irritated, so he sticks his nose right up at the source of the scent, letting the blanket fall, "It is that organic. The first time I've ever seen it." "I just told you that, jeez." Specter remarks, walking down the trodden path and back towards the bar that Sentinel Prime calls a base. "You'd think if those high and mighty bots could get a clue if they removed their heads from their afts?" he mutters to himself, chuckling. He'll have to tell Fortress Maximus that one!
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