We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
Though Deuce yelped when she stomped her foot smartly into the floor, he quickly resumed laughing again once she had lifted her heel.
"Don't worry, a number of air force pilots are allowed to take a jet and visit family with it once a year," he said. "Special treat. I just told them that's what I was doing, and was taking you for a ride. People will swallow a lot of things if you say it with a smile and a laugh. Ha! Besides, you gotta take stupid risks sometimes. Otherwise life gets hella boring. Take it from the five million year old space robot, he knows what he's talking about when he's talking about crippling boredom, yo."
The jet had taxiied to the hold short lines of the runway by then, and was doing exactly that. A Twin Comanche had landed just ahead of them, wisps of smoke curling from one wheel. Deuce wolf whistled at it before turning his attention back to Sarita.
"And what is what?" he said. "A coin? Oh! Hold it up! Yeah! That's Canadian, I recognise that. Their money is adorable. Seriously. Hey, we should head up there sometime. Trees everywhere. We'll go for Tim Hortons. I would so disguise myself as John Paul Tremblay. Just walk around with a rum and coke all day. Oh shit, speaking of which though... you still game to head to Oregon next?
Sarita jerked her head in surprise. How did he — oh, fuck me, I can't remember if they have supersensitive hearing or not....
A slow blink was followed by her slowly holding up the coin, and her eyes darted towards the window as Deuce spoke. She nodded at his words, agreeing that they should see Canada — she'd always wanted to go there. Tim Hortons was apparently better than Starbucks, and that was saying something. The only thing that topped Starbucks were the mom-and-pop coffee shops one had to look for.
"Oh shit, speaking of which though... you still game to head to Oregon next?"
"Yep," Sarita said crisply, sticking her change back into her pocket. "I don't see any reason why not. We have to find your girl, and if she's a courier, then she's not going to stay in one place. For all we know, she could be heading to New England and we'd fly right over her — speed is key. We'll sight-see later."
She fished around in her purse, and pulled out a series of bumper stickers. Blazoned with various fonts, colours and all manner of hi-res photography, they were cute and cheap things she had bought on a whim. Several of them were far too campy for Sheila, but there was a cute one with a waving beluga on it....
She held up the stickers for the dash to see, quickly glancing out the window again. When her head was turned back to Deuce, she said, "Which one of these looks good on a Sedan, you think?"
Last Edit: Sept 21, 2014 22:02:29 GMT -5 by Deleted
Already the jet was pulling slowly out onto the runway, it's nose aimed towards the northwest. It positioned itself along the centreline and slowed to a halt, its flaps already lowered with the gear. Things whined somewhere inside it as it stared down the runway, takeoff clearance granted.
"You got bumper stickers?" the jet said in delight.
Because priorities.
Immediately the jet lunged forward as it went to full throttle. The kickback would knock Sarita back into the seat, an intense blast of power that sent the aircraft hurtling down the runway. Its engine howled and the wind roared around the canopy and the cockpit rattled and shook until an instant later the jet's nose lifted from the ground. The main gear departed the runway as the jet began a graceful climb, surging upwards into the scattered cloud above.
Oblivious to the fact that his passenger was flattened back by G-forces, the jet gushed, "I love bumper stickers! I love kitschy stuff like that, seriously. Ooh, hold them up for me to see! Do you have any that read, 'I knit so I don't kill people'? Not that I knit or anything, I just think it would be funny."
"I-I would...but can you please tell me when it's safe to sit up, Mr. Deuce?"
She looked like a cat that was clinging to the ceiling in fear, only with G-forces pinning her instead of claws sticking into a ceiling. Her hands tightly clutched the bumper stickers, which were held to her chest as if they were God's greatest gift to mankind. Deuce's package, arguably the most important thing she had been holding, had jolted to the side and was resting on the edge of her thigh. It was close to bumping into Deuce's stick.
When given the all-clear, Sarita would lean forward and hold up the stickers, giving Deuce ample time to take a look at them. "I don't see anything about knitting..." she began hesitantly, "but dibs on the one with the beluga, that's cute. What about, um, this one?"
She flicked one sticker until it stood out a bit more, portraying a silhouetted jet against a gorgeous sunset scene. It was nestled amongst a sticker with a bass against a bass clef, and one of those "COEXIST" slogans. "I think it looks nice. What about you?"
The jet soared gracefully aloft. He cleared the scattered cloud and sunlight sparkled off his canopy.
Once again the landscape shrank rapidly behind them, growing pale with distance and atmosphere. At eight thousand feet the jet levelled off again, his engine whining down as he set it for cruise. The forces that pressed against Sarita’s chest gently eased off again, allowing her to shift into a more comfortable position against the seat.
“Ooh, lemme see!” said the jet.
A moment passed as he examined the stickers that Sarita held up into his line of sight. Evidently he still possessed optical sensors in his jet mode as well, capable of keeping surveillance of his own cockpit.
“Oh!” He cheered. “I like those! I’ve always liked those COEXIST stickers. Just a nice idea, using a little selection of varying ideological symbols, you know? But that jet one is hot. Maybe I’m a little biased – you know, Mr Big Shot Jet over here – but I don’t care, all flying machines are sweet. Hey, would you be willing to part with it? I totally need to rock some decals, stat.”
On the empty pilot's seat did Sarita place Deuce's selection. Positioning it in the least likely way for it to slide off the seat, she said, "I bought several with planes on them, actually; there's at least half a dozen with aircraft or an aircraft theme. There's also many of the sky, and a few with vistas of the Appalachians...."
She produced more stickers from her purse, a grand total of twelve or fourteen held up for Deuce to see. Among her choices were a shot of the Appalachian Mountains; Canadian geese against a stunning backdrop of blue and clouds; several jets performing some sort of aerial trick next to the words "AIR FORCE STRONG"; a close-up of Deuce's model with the text "MY OTHER CAR IS A JET" underneath it; a picture of Bugs Bunny riding in a WWII-era Mustang; and a Boeing silhouetted against a fading image of a Bald Eagle. There were definitely many to choose from, some tacky and others not, and Sarita seemed somewhat relieved to part with a few. She wouldn't admit it to Deuce, but most of the stickers had been impulse purchases.
"Where would you put these?" Sarita said suddenly, giving a small frown. "Would these interfere with your drag, or would they only be seen when you're in robot form?"
“To be honest, I’m not entirely sure where they would end up,” said the jet. “I think if they were stuck on my canopy they would end up on my chest once I flipped back into robot mode. Other wise the best place would probably be either on my wings or just below my canopy.”
He laughed. “That way they’re nice and visible when I transform. And I’m all for that.”
The jet studied the arrayed stickers with a thoughtful hum.
“Man, they're all wicked,” he finally declared. “I think my favourites are the Air Force Strong one, and the Other Car is a Jet one. You collected a lot! Did you get a chance to do so souvenir shopping while we refuelled? I hope you got a chance to grab a bite to get and stretch your legs anyway.”
"I'm well-fed and of lighter pockets, believe me," said Sarita with a laugh. She couldn't remember having a conversation that sounded so...natural, so full of ease and good cheer. Layby she could talk comfortably too, yes, but there again was an uncanny familiarity with Deuce. She felt like she could have known him forever at one point....
The thought made her sad, but it wasn't obvious. She was smiling and putting down the stickers Deuce light, adding to a neat pile he could adorn himself with. "I should try finding ones that match your highlights," said she, "and your optics. I don't know about you, but I think it would look incredibly stylish if you were that colour-coordinated. It would give you a sharper, more professional look, whilst still retaining your sense of fun and adventure."
Sarita rubbed her chin with a few fingers, tilting her head a little to the side.
"Yeah...yeah, I can see it: the stickers could be placed to create a seam- or bracelet-type effect. It adds textures to your robotic form, and definitely would make you more eye-catching. Of course, we're going to need some new paint, maybe a lighter shade of grey so that those bold oranges and reds pop...."
She peered at dash, then at the cockpit's roof. Looking all around her, her voice dropped to a murmur as she said, "Yes, yes, and we can stick the ones that don't match in here — maybe the more personal slogans, the inspirational ones that keep you flying through metaphorical and literal storms.... Yes, yes, that would be perfect for you...."
“Lady, when we set down again and I can finally transform out of sight, we have gotta sit down somewhere and let you work your magic,” he said. “I barely comprehend even half of what you're saying. It sounds way too artistic for my humble brain to grasp. But if the end result is me looking even more stylish and or glittery and or strange at the end, I’m all for it.”
Full of fresh fuel, the jet seemed even calmer and more relaxed. His rollicking voice echoed from the instrument panel, full of good humour. The ground whipped past below, the sharp green peaks of the Appalachians giving way behind them to forests and open fields.
“Actually, now that I think about it, that brings up another good question,” said the jet. He hummed pensively. “I’m not terrifically familiar with Oregon myself. Do you know of any places in the state or nearby that would decently hide a giant robot? I’m thinking large forests, ideally. I, er... I don’t handle caves or other enclosed spaces all that well.”
"The Rockies are our best bet," said Sarita. "Most of the cities and towns are on the other side of them, right on the West Coast. Not everyone has a plane they can up and fly away from, so the harsher parts of the mountains will often have less people. We find you a secluded valley, tuck you away from enough roads and small settlements, and we can set up a little secret hideout to come back to."
She had been smiling as she spoke, but her lips were twisting into a frown.
"Which brings us to our second problem: subtlety. That courier job is near the more heavily-populated areas, so we can't sit and stay in one place without risk of being noticed. We'll probably have to make flight plans, trips back and forth, maybe rely on sightings of your friend...."
She was in thought again, looking down at the controls but not really noticing them.
"Then there's the weather. The mountains have all sorts of complex factors and micro-climates, as far as I know, that can mess with flight at the drop of a hat. Depending on how long you stay there, too, I'm not sure how healthy it'll be to stay in the mountains during the wetter or colder seasons.
"...Yes, I'm planning for the long haul."
Last Edit: Sept 27, 2014 20:54:55 GMT -5 by Deleted
"I love the Rockies," declared the jet. "They're so... rocky. That's a familiar stomping ground, we can always lay low there. Well, I can anyway. I won't ask you to stay exposed out in yonder mountains, Gandalf, mountains. There's bears up there!"
But a moment later his voice sobered as he considered Sarita's point.
"The weather won't bother me much, aside from the killer microbursts and downdrafts," he said. "Even then, I can power through most of them. The cold and rain won't hurt me either. You're the one I'm more worried about. Unless you packed for a camping trip, in which case heck, let's go live in the misty mountains! We'll make s'mores."
"...I already have," she said, sinking down in her seat a little. "I'm a transient worker, Deuce. Don't tell Layby, but, um...I kind of have had to sleep in my car a few times. Motels can get expensive."
If Deuce knew her better, he might be flattered she'd let something like that slip. Then again, she trusted the Cybertronians more than her own kind, as they had proven generous and considerate of her more than humans had. She had not yet experienced the horrors the Decepticons partook in, or even a Cybertronian who wasn't good with humans. If her fantasy world of a benevolent-but-troubled species had already been broken in two, she might have said nothing at all.
It wasn't because talking to Deuce was like talking to an old friend again. No, not at all — no one would replace Jakob, not even the jet. Wistful smiling tugged at the edge of her lips as Sarita thought of how amazing he would have found Deuce, and how excited he would have been to fly. Jakob had mentioned flying once, and his face had lit like it was the sun itself as he babbled on excitedly.
"Honestly, I could probably live out there a couple of months, between my current supplies and running into the small towns and hamlets out there. The problem is...well, I'm the grocery girl for Haven. I have to do my part, and honestly, that Catherine girl seems to just throw her shit in the sink and go back to her computer."
The slipped swear and dark tone of voice betrayed any true feelings Sarita had about Catherine.
"Which kind of worries me, honestly, because it seems like she lives on a diet of ice cream and coffee. I run out and get things for the both of us, but I'm...not really on good terms with her, to be honest. The cat puked on me and we kiiiiind of had a disagreement about it.
Immediately the jet was leery. The truth of the matter was that he liked Cat, and admired her fiery spirit. And he really did not want to find himself drawn into what sounded to him like a spat between college roommates. Not even one of the sexy kinds either.
Those didn’t usually involved knives. More like pillows, if all those eighties movies he'd watched hadn’t lied to him.
“Yeah, she does that,” he said. “Look, I wouldn't worry too much about Cat. She can get by on her own. And I’m probably the last person on this planet who should attempt to lecture someone about their diet and lifestyle choices, so I won’t even try. Anyway, maybe this little road trip of ours is an additional blessing in disguise? It sounds like you needed to get outta Haven for a while. Stretch your wings, so to speak.”
The jet sighed.
“Anyway, it sounds like you’ve had a rough time of it. While I'm glad to hear that you can hack it in a less than hospitable environment, I certainly won’t ask you to live out of a back of a car on my behalf. Listen. I’ve, uh... got a few friends here on the west coast. If you like we can stop by and rope them into this too. They’re pretty transient themselves. And they’ll be keen to locate Dart as well.”
"...I don't see why not," she said. "Though I am a bit surprised. You said you didn't have any cohort here — unless I'm botching up that term in my head. I, uh, still need to catch up on a few things about how your culture works. Some things make sense and others...are alien, for lack of a better word."
Great. Just great. Ruin the warm-and-fuzzy moment with the admission that she and Cat got along as well as oil and fire. Catherine had seniority on Sarita, and with any social group or close-knit organization, the newcomers did not fuck with those that came before. If they did, they had to tread lightly, lest they be seen as a threat or overstaying their welcome. She had made sure to downplay and not really mention what had gone on around Layby, but Deuce....
"I'm not going to go berserk and stab anyone soon," Sarita added. "I was holding the cat like a sack of potatoes, and I...was mad enough that I was yelling for Cleaver and Layby like a schoolchild, I'll admit. You're right — maybe I need a break. I'm not used to staying in one place for so long, even if it's less than a week."
She looked out the window to her left. A flock of birds was in view, little specks on the horizon. The jet passed them with ease, and then parted through a cloud that filled her view with fluffy white. A minute passed until she could see the below again, now consisting of square-cut farmer's fields.
"Stretching my wings is a good way to put it," said Sarita. "If I'm not in motion and above the situation...it's kind of like dropping a stone in a river. I feel like I sink, and I need to get going again, or the inertia will catch up with me. I just — "
She faltered. She was partially lying, partially telling the truth; she had grown to love her wandering ways. There was a definite craving for freedom that ached even now, a want to hit the open road and travel across dust-covered side-routes again. And yet....
"Haven's a safe place, and I need to get back there in a couple of days. I owe Layby, and I need to make sure my part is done. That doesn't mean I can't go on a wild crazy adventure with you, though; your charm is refreshingly honest, you sly devil you."
“Well, there’s always the ground bridge if a return trip to haven is needed,” said the jet. “It shouldn’t be too much of a hassle to arrange a drop–off with Layby now that I know the comm frequencies he uses. So really, Haven is just a massive rip in space away.”
He sounded awfully cheerful about that.
“Anyway, you may regret tagging along on any of my particular brand of adventures,” he added with a laugh. “They tend to be a bit, um, hmm. What’s the word. Shadowy? No – shady! Shady works. But it’s good times all around, no worries.”
The jet hummed a bit, thinking.
“I think what I’ll do is buzz over Oregon a bit and hail Dart over one of our frequencies,” he said. “It that comes up dry I’ll land somewhere and try calling my friends on foot. As an avatar. We can hit up a bigger town or city that way, stretch our legs a bit. Got any cities in mind in the state you’d particularly like to visit?”