Ep. 1.5 - Las Vegas - The Paper People - (Closed)
Feb 21, 2013 1:29:44 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Feb 21, 2013 1:29:44 GMT -5
<< OOC note: takes place about four business days after Shady Characters! >>
----
She woke to the sound of a rap on the door.
Soft dawn light filtered down through the blinds. She buried her face in her pillow and cursed out the morning, the birds singing outside her window, and whatever unfeeling bastard had just woken her up with his knocking. Argh. Bleagh. Cotton-mouth.
When she was a little more awake she crawled out of bed, taking care not to jostle the lump slumbering under the covers beside her. She pulled on her windbreaker, picked up her cane, and limped barefoot across the trailer galley. Boy, there sure were a lot of empty pop cans and chip bags lying around here. Last night had been a movie night. Mel Brooks flicks had abounded. Call a locksmith!
She opened the trailer door and peered out across the camping site. Everything was still and quiet. Dew lay thick upon the grass and the picnic tables. The windshield of her green Nissan truck sparkled with it. The air was cool, the breeze faintly scented with pine needles.
Her feet were cold. She shivered and stepped back into the travel trailer. And then she saw it.
A bouquet of flowers, laying on her doorstep. Bright yellow ones, wrapped in a red bow.
Her heart skipped.
Oh, no. Not again.
A little card was nestled within the leaves. Moving stiffly, she bent down and picked up the flowers. She sniffed them, then plucked out the card and unfolded it with a frown.
'You will be forever cherished,' it read in elegant cursive. Below that someone had written in ballpoint pen, 'We miss you, Aunt Flo.'
She made a face. Oh lord. Last week it had been a hospital. Now he was robbing cemeteries. Even when he was trying to be a gentleman he was still a very strange man.
But still. It was a sweet gesture, if just a little bit bone-chilling. She breathed in the floral scent again, her eyes closed. Gosh. The flowers really were pretty. Maybe she had a vase to put them in. She definitely had an empty two-litre Coke bottle.
The door clicked shut behind her. Above the campsite the dawn sky brightened into shades of pale rose and blue, streaked with golden contrails as jets flew in and out of the distant city of Las Vegas.
----
Smokescreen was very keen about taking Soledad on an afternoon outing to his favourite city on Earth. That is putting it mildly.
"Oh my god, I should take you to see the Neon Museum while we're here," he gushed as they drove down Fremont East amidst the morning traffic. It was a bright and sunny day, the city lively beneath a brilliant sky. "There are over one-hundred fifty historical neon signs from the Nevada area preserved there. I thought the old Hacienda horse and rider one would give my avatar an electrical seizure, but it's still totally amazing to see in person. And then there's the Museum of Organized Crime! It's not as creepy as it sounds, honest. Or the Zoological-Botanical Park! Man, Rhinox might enjoy that one if he hasn't been there already. Oh, oh! M&M's World! It is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Do you want to know the history of the peanut guy? I think his name is Yellow. It's all there! One time I took a drunk to the Liberace Museum. It was an interesting experience, though it might have scarred me for life."
The blue Subaru weaved expertly between lanes with a flick of his signals. Smokescreen was in high spirits. Earlier that day he had nearly skipped to Soledad's makeshift quarters with the cheerful announcement that her documents were ready, then graciously offered to take her to Las Vegas to pick them up in person.
The drive into the city had been a pleasant one, at over eighty miles an hour. Soledad would be forgiven if she were to wonder if perhaps the usually composed Autobot had forgotten to take his anti-psychotics that morning.
But despite his zeal Smokescreen was a perfect gentleman who seemed to take his job as her escort into the city quite seriously. His good-natured chatter had continued unabated as they drove through Vegas. He liked to pepper his banter with colourful stories about the various sights they passed along the way. If his tales were to be believed, then he had participated in quasi-legal adventures in at least a third of the city.
Ahead of them the intersection lights glowed yellow. Smokescreen politely slowed to a halt.
"This is Fremont East," he said. The Subaru had rolled down one of his tinted windows to invite in the breeze. The warm air brought with it the sounds of traffic and music. Many patio restaurants lined the streets to either side of them, each one playing an assortment of classic rock and lounge. Many people strolled the sidewalks or sat outdoors, soaking in the sun and casual atmosphere. "I think this is one of my favourite places in the whole city. It's much more relaxed here - less club scene, more laid back, you know? It's a good place to visit before you hit up the casinos. Or after you hit up the casinos, if you still have any money left. Oh, speaking of which, we should go check out the Golden Nugget! Except I'd probably get arrested for bringing a minor into a casino. But you'll have your new ID by then! Although there are still the moral implications to consider..."
Smokescreen paused, possibly because he had run out of air. The light turned green and he turned left onto a new street.
It was quieter now that they were off the main drag. Palm trees lined the sidewalks. The shops lacked the friendly glamour of those on Fremont; they were a little more shabby, run down. A few had barred windows, with expensive looking used electronics behind the glass.
"We're not too far from my friends' shop now," said Smokescreen. He turned down his radio and hummed thoughtfully. "Just a few blocks more, I think. They're good guys. Ralph does excellent paperwork. I hope they've got coffee on. Not that I can drink it, but you must be getting hungry by now. Oh, I hope you're not starving! I feel kind of bad now. We should hit up lunch after we get your documents! I'm not talking your ear off, am I?"
----
She woke to the sound of a rap on the door.
Soft dawn light filtered down through the blinds. She buried her face in her pillow and cursed out the morning, the birds singing outside her window, and whatever unfeeling bastard had just woken her up with his knocking. Argh. Bleagh. Cotton-mouth.
When she was a little more awake she crawled out of bed, taking care not to jostle the lump slumbering under the covers beside her. She pulled on her windbreaker, picked up her cane, and limped barefoot across the trailer galley. Boy, there sure were a lot of empty pop cans and chip bags lying around here. Last night had been a movie night. Mel Brooks flicks had abounded. Call a locksmith!
She opened the trailer door and peered out across the camping site. Everything was still and quiet. Dew lay thick upon the grass and the picnic tables. The windshield of her green Nissan truck sparkled with it. The air was cool, the breeze faintly scented with pine needles.
Her feet were cold. She shivered and stepped back into the travel trailer. And then she saw it.
A bouquet of flowers, laying on her doorstep. Bright yellow ones, wrapped in a red bow.
Her heart skipped.
Oh, no. Not again.
A little card was nestled within the leaves. Moving stiffly, she bent down and picked up the flowers. She sniffed them, then plucked out the card and unfolded it with a frown.
'You will be forever cherished,' it read in elegant cursive. Below that someone had written in ballpoint pen, 'We miss you, Aunt Flo.'
She made a face. Oh lord. Last week it had been a hospital. Now he was robbing cemeteries. Even when he was trying to be a gentleman he was still a very strange man.
But still. It was a sweet gesture, if just a little bit bone-chilling. She breathed in the floral scent again, her eyes closed. Gosh. The flowers really were pretty. Maybe she had a vase to put them in. She definitely had an empty two-litre Coke bottle.
The door clicked shut behind her. Above the campsite the dawn sky brightened into shades of pale rose and blue, streaked with golden contrails as jets flew in and out of the distant city of Las Vegas.
----
Smokescreen was very keen about taking Soledad on an afternoon outing to his favourite city on Earth. That is putting it mildly.
"Oh my god, I should take you to see the Neon Museum while we're here," he gushed as they drove down Fremont East amidst the morning traffic. It was a bright and sunny day, the city lively beneath a brilliant sky. "There are over one-hundred fifty historical neon signs from the Nevada area preserved there. I thought the old Hacienda horse and rider one would give my avatar an electrical seizure, but it's still totally amazing to see in person. And then there's the Museum of Organized Crime! It's not as creepy as it sounds, honest. Or the Zoological-Botanical Park! Man, Rhinox might enjoy that one if he hasn't been there already. Oh, oh! M&M's World! It is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. Do you want to know the history of the peanut guy? I think his name is Yellow. It's all there! One time I took a drunk to the Liberace Museum. It was an interesting experience, though it might have scarred me for life."
The blue Subaru weaved expertly between lanes with a flick of his signals. Smokescreen was in high spirits. Earlier that day he had nearly skipped to Soledad's makeshift quarters with the cheerful announcement that her documents were ready, then graciously offered to take her to Las Vegas to pick them up in person.
The drive into the city had been a pleasant one, at over eighty miles an hour. Soledad would be forgiven if she were to wonder if perhaps the usually composed Autobot had forgotten to take his anti-psychotics that morning.
But despite his zeal Smokescreen was a perfect gentleman who seemed to take his job as her escort into the city quite seriously. His good-natured chatter had continued unabated as they drove through Vegas. He liked to pepper his banter with colourful stories about the various sights they passed along the way. If his tales were to be believed, then he had participated in quasi-legal adventures in at least a third of the city.
Ahead of them the intersection lights glowed yellow. Smokescreen politely slowed to a halt.
"This is Fremont East," he said. The Subaru had rolled down one of his tinted windows to invite in the breeze. The warm air brought with it the sounds of traffic and music. Many patio restaurants lined the streets to either side of them, each one playing an assortment of classic rock and lounge. Many people strolled the sidewalks or sat outdoors, soaking in the sun and casual atmosphere. "I think this is one of my favourite places in the whole city. It's much more relaxed here - less club scene, more laid back, you know? It's a good place to visit before you hit up the casinos. Or after you hit up the casinos, if you still have any money left. Oh, speaking of which, we should go check out the Golden Nugget! Except I'd probably get arrested for bringing a minor into a casino. But you'll have your new ID by then! Although there are still the moral implications to consider..."
Smokescreen paused, possibly because he had run out of air. The light turned green and he turned left onto a new street.
It was quieter now that they were off the main drag. Palm trees lined the sidewalks. The shops lacked the friendly glamour of those on Fremont; they were a little more shabby, run down. A few had barred windows, with expensive looking used electronics behind the glass.
"We're not too far from my friends' shop now," said Smokescreen. He turned down his radio and hummed thoughtfully. "Just a few blocks more, I think. They're good guys. Ralph does excellent paperwork. I hope they've got coffee on. Not that I can drink it, but you must be getting hungry by now. Oh, I hope you're not starving! I feel kind of bad now. We should hit up lunch after we get your documents! I'm not talking your ear off, am I?"