Ep. 1 - Nevada - Reporting In, Checking Out
Aug 3, 2012 12:54:37 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 3, 2012 12:54:37 GMT -5
OOC: Takes place on Day Two!
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Was he a terrible person for prioritizing a call to his bookie over reporting in to his commanding officer?
Yeah, thought Smokescreen, as he watched a security guard pull a bra from the bottom of the hotel fountain. He probably was. That was a detail he might not want to include in his next report. 'Arrived on Earth. Drove three thousand miles to Las Vegas. Achieved primary objective in the city. Lost two thousand in local currency on horse race. Initiated secondary objective by contacting Autobot Commander in Nevada.'
The desert sun beat down on the blue Subaru where he sat parked on the street in front of the Silver Rock Hotel. A row of palm trees offered him flimsy shade, a little shelter from the heat. Contrails streaked across the sky, high above the towering apartments and neon signs. Amazing. All those aircraft, those big jet airliners, flying in and out of the city. Every day. Every hour. It never stopped. Vegas never stopped. It was just his kind of town.
Smokescreen sighed and shook dust off his windshield with a flick of his wipers. None of the humans strolling past him on the sidewalk seemed to notice. That was good. It was better not to draw attention. He'd already been carjacked out of the parking lots of two separate casinos. The first time it happened he'd only needed to slip quietly out of a warehouse after night had fallen. Break the lock, nip over the fence. The second time had required... negotiations. He probably shouldn't mention that in his report either.
Whew. The Subaru wearily sank over his tires. It had been a long night. Places to be, people to call. Things to arrange. All on a low tank of fuel. What he really wanted to do was return to the hotel's cool, dark underground parking and lay low for the afternoon, until a red Nevada sunset took the worst of the heat from the air and the Strip's neon lit up. But there was still one more person he needed to contact:
Optimus Prime. The Optimus Prime.
And while Smokescreen was admittedly a lot of things, he could not be called disrespectful. Especially towards a fellow Autobot.
It had been a while since he had used his internal radio for anything other than phone calls, but he fired up his comm and prayed the commander was within range. He knew the Autobots were somewhere in the desert, but the details he had been given were sketchy.
He hesitated. What to say?
His comm clicked. "Optimus Prime, this is Autobot Smokescreen, reporting in from Nevada. Do you read me, sir?"
----
Was he a terrible person for prioritizing a call to his bookie over reporting in to his commanding officer?
Yeah, thought Smokescreen, as he watched a security guard pull a bra from the bottom of the hotel fountain. He probably was. That was a detail he might not want to include in his next report. 'Arrived on Earth. Drove three thousand miles to Las Vegas. Achieved primary objective in the city. Lost two thousand in local currency on horse race. Initiated secondary objective by contacting Autobot Commander in Nevada.'
The desert sun beat down on the blue Subaru where he sat parked on the street in front of the Silver Rock Hotel. A row of palm trees offered him flimsy shade, a little shelter from the heat. Contrails streaked across the sky, high above the towering apartments and neon signs. Amazing. All those aircraft, those big jet airliners, flying in and out of the city. Every day. Every hour. It never stopped. Vegas never stopped. It was just his kind of town.
Smokescreen sighed and shook dust off his windshield with a flick of his wipers. None of the humans strolling past him on the sidewalk seemed to notice. That was good. It was better not to draw attention. He'd already been carjacked out of the parking lots of two separate casinos. The first time it happened he'd only needed to slip quietly out of a warehouse after night had fallen. Break the lock, nip over the fence. The second time had required... negotiations. He probably shouldn't mention that in his report either.
Whew. The Subaru wearily sank over his tires. It had been a long night. Places to be, people to call. Things to arrange. All on a low tank of fuel. What he really wanted to do was return to the hotel's cool, dark underground parking and lay low for the afternoon, until a red Nevada sunset took the worst of the heat from the air and the Strip's neon lit up. But there was still one more person he needed to contact:
Optimus Prime. The Optimus Prime.
And while Smokescreen was admittedly a lot of things, he could not be called disrespectful. Especially towards a fellow Autobot.
It had been a while since he had used his internal radio for anything other than phone calls, but he fired up his comm and prayed the commander was within range. He knew the Autobots were somewhere in the desert, but the details he had been given were sketchy.
He hesitated. What to say?
His comm clicked. "Optimus Prime, this is Autobot Smokescreen, reporting in from Nevada. Do you read me, sir?"
Also feel free to make up more details of what Thundercracker's pet was and what Jazz and Smokescreen decided its name was. I'm imagining that it was a mech or something else that was following Thundercracker around at some point. LIke most in-jokes, it's likely not terribly funny unless you were there.