Ep1 - "Rules of the Road" - Closed
Apr 27, 2012 21:43:52 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 27, 2012 21:43:52 GMT -5
“What,” demanded Barricade in the tone of most wheat threshers on the blink, “do you think you are doing?”
It had been nearly a week since they hit the border out of New Mexico, heading due north out of what had been, Barricade conceded, a rude wake up for the infiltrator; so the prospect of a long travel with no destination in particular held an intense appeal for him. He was an infiltrator in function, that was true, but he’d been built a racing model and that didn’t go away for his kind. He covered the distance with alarming speed, his systems humming clean now, no real pain anyhow. Just a dim ache, easily deactivated. Barricade drove on. The road was a ribbon laid flat across the desert, black and stretching straight on before them, empty for hours and when it wasn’t Barricade simply threw on his sirens and hit eighty miles per hour with no protest from the natives.
He'd intended to go to Los Angeles – high population density, more news, more knowledge, more humanity to network into while he tried to decide on his next move, but mostly… the Saleen wanted to keep giving his auto-repair time to knit his insides back together. Cade was almost back to full strength. Healthy save for the systems Cleaver told him he’d been stripped of – like weapons. Very important think to have in the middle, beginning or end of any war… but what he had was a bored mini-former fragging about with his radio dials. Reflector had come online a few hours ago, unaware of anything his link-partner had been up to save being in a poor mood, and decided – to Barricade’s irritation – to disconnect from his carrier and take root mode inside Cade’s cab.
It was like having the human back again… except Cat had only fiddled with his steering wheel for five minutes, whereas Reflector was busying himself all over the Saleen’s tinted interior. He put up with this for nearly an hour before it finally got to him.
“Reflector,” Cade snarled, after the cassette had displaced his clutch from drive to neutral and yanked on his turn signals one too many times, “Either link up with me or, if that is reprehensible to you, sit the frag still.”
It had been nearly a week since they hit the border out of New Mexico, heading due north out of what had been, Barricade conceded, a rude wake up for the infiltrator; so the prospect of a long travel with no destination in particular held an intense appeal for him. He was an infiltrator in function, that was true, but he’d been built a racing model and that didn’t go away for his kind. He covered the distance with alarming speed, his systems humming clean now, no real pain anyhow. Just a dim ache, easily deactivated. Barricade drove on. The road was a ribbon laid flat across the desert, black and stretching straight on before them, empty for hours and when it wasn’t Barricade simply threw on his sirens and hit eighty miles per hour with no protest from the natives.
He'd intended to go to Los Angeles – high population density, more news, more knowledge, more humanity to network into while he tried to decide on his next move, but mostly… the Saleen wanted to keep giving his auto-repair time to knit his insides back together. Cade was almost back to full strength. Healthy save for the systems Cleaver told him he’d been stripped of – like weapons. Very important think to have in the middle, beginning or end of any war… but what he had was a bored mini-former fragging about with his radio dials. Reflector had come online a few hours ago, unaware of anything his link-partner had been up to save being in a poor mood, and decided – to Barricade’s irritation – to disconnect from his carrier and take root mode inside Cade’s cab.
It was like having the human back again… except Cat had only fiddled with his steering wheel for five minutes, whereas Reflector was busying himself all over the Saleen’s tinted interior. He put up with this for nearly an hour before it finally got to him.
“Reflector,” Cade snarled, after the cassette had displaced his clutch from drive to neutral and yanked on his turn signals one too many times, “Either link up with me or, if that is reprehensible to you, sit the frag still.”