Ep 0.5 - Sleep Over - Closed
Oct 14, 2012 15:30:10 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Oct 14, 2012 15:30:10 GMT -5
The United States Postal Service, naturally enough, didn't deliver mail out to disguised army bases in the middle of mesas in the middle of nowhere in the desert. Neither did FedEx or UPS. All of them, however, would deliver to a mailbox at the primary Jasper post office, they key of which Steeljaw had entrusted to Jack Darby. It was Jack, therefore, who arrived in the afternoon and pulled a package out of his backpack to deliver to the symbiont, in exchange for a small 'tip' in the form of iTunes gift cards.
The package went into his subspace until his shift was over, after which duryllium claws made short work of organic packaging material the moment Steeljaw was safely ensconced in the relative privacy of the air ducts. Chortling quietly to himself, he flipped out a few manipulator tendrils to pick up the even tinier box and can inside and within moments was on his way, pedes clicking against the duct walls as he traversed the interiors of the base ventilation system.
Humans, uniformly, needed to breathe - not just to cycle air as a means of temperature regulation, but to actually absorb elements only found in fresh air. The entire mesa, once belonging to the species, was riddled with the vents necessary for the humans comfort, at least one vent opening to every room. It made it very easy for a small Cybertronian symbiont to get from point A to point B, and also to get into wherever he wanted. The vent opening he was aiming for was actually guarded, set with several traps, but Steeljaw was familiar with them and circumnavigated them easily, letting himself down and into Shadowrunner's room with the familiarity of having done it several times before.
The room was quiet and empty, the femme's duty roster listing her as out on patrol. Traps rearmed, vent closed, and it was a simple leap from there to her berth, where Steeljaw curled up to wait around the offering of a new tin of polish and a box set of Monty Python DVDs.
The package went into his subspace until his shift was over, after which duryllium claws made short work of organic packaging material the moment Steeljaw was safely ensconced in the relative privacy of the air ducts. Chortling quietly to himself, he flipped out a few manipulator tendrils to pick up the even tinier box and can inside and within moments was on his way, pedes clicking against the duct walls as he traversed the interiors of the base ventilation system.
Humans, uniformly, needed to breathe - not just to cycle air as a means of temperature regulation, but to actually absorb elements only found in fresh air. The entire mesa, once belonging to the species, was riddled with the vents necessary for the humans comfort, at least one vent opening to every room. It made it very easy for a small Cybertronian symbiont to get from point A to point B, and also to get into wherever he wanted. The vent opening he was aiming for was actually guarded, set with several traps, but Steeljaw was familiar with them and circumnavigated them easily, letting himself down and into Shadowrunner's room with the familiarity of having done it several times before.
The room was quiet and empty, the femme's duty roster listing her as out on patrol. Traps rearmed, vent closed, and it was a simple leap from there to her berth, where Steeljaw curled up to wait around the offering of a new tin of polish and a box set of Monty Python DVDs.