Ep 1.5 - Phone Home (Germany - Closed)
Apr 23, 2013 9:41:48 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Apr 23, 2013 9:41:48 GMT -5
((Version 2.0! Remixed and reposted to better accommodate for future plot.))
Agent Fowler had an accommodating philosophy for the wide range of scenarios that fell under his care and jurisdiction. It was that the sun never rested on the fan that shit would always invariably hit, and for some lousy miserable God-forsaken reason he would always be the one cleaning it up. Expecting the worst to happen was part of his job in keeping ol’ Uncle Sam sleeping safe and sound, from the threats that assailed it from all the shadowy places and intentions on this Earth: which was now a much smaller and more fragile point in this universe than he had ever, ever wanted to so intimately know as well as he now did. Planet and country jostled for his already stretched time and resources, and made his job that much more demanding and difficult (and – though he’d never admit it out loud – scarier) than anyone could have ever predicted it to be, if they weren’t wearing foil hats in their basement fortress and living off nothing but a diet of canned beans.
There were times where he sometimes wished he could trade places with them instead. Such as right now.
‘And HOW in God’s name does a kid like you get a number like this?’ Fowler yelled into his phone. ‘This is no time to be making prank calls; this is a serious line for serious emergencies to the security of the United States! And I can’t have weirdoes like you tyin’ up my lines. Thank you and good– .’
‘Nonono wait! TheDecepticonsbrokeintoNESTinGermanyacoupleofdaysago!’
A pause at the other end.
The agent’s voice was clipped. ‘Go on.’
‘TheDecepticonsbrokeintoNESTandhackedabunchofstuffandthat’showIgotyournumberand– ’
‘Whoa okay, easy. You slow it down right there. So basically what you’re saying is that you’re a ‘Con?’ He straightened up. ‘And what in the sweet Jesus are you doin’ making a social call?’
‘No!’ The voice was indignant. ‘I’m not a ‘Con, I’m a tricky Autobot. It’s a completely different thing. I’ve been tracking Soundwave’s deployers for months now. That’s how I got in on this,’ she said. She tactfully left out the part where she'd lifted 'this' number and the details to match from the NEST servers herself, after the Decepticons had so helpfully blown out all the energon detectors.
‘You are NOT an Autobot.’
She bristled. ‘I AM an Autobot.’
Fowler threw his arm wide. ‘Then go bother Prime! Go on, ‘git! Why in all the heck blue blazes are you callin’ ME lookin’ for his number?’
‘Because my comm.’s beyond busted!’ Her volume and frustration matched the agent’s own perfectly. ‘D’ya think I’d be talking to YOU if I had a choice?’
‘Well I don’t know!’ He said, turning sharply as he started to pace. ‘Here’s an idea: why don’t you turn it off and turn it back on again? I’ve got all the acne-ridden whizz-kid techheads that you could shake a can of skittles at and that works for me most every time.’
‘Because what part of ‘BUSTED’, and ‘I’M AN ALIEN’, and ‘YOUR TECH ADVICE STINKS’ don’t you understand?’
Somewhere in a side alley, an ushanka containing a metallic head gently thunked against a brick wall. Be nice, Electrocap. Nice nice nice. You need him, you really do, so don’t fuck this up.
‘You only got the internet a few decades ago, so I wouldn’t be getting carried away with your “superior” technical knowledge.’ Complete with air quotes. Nope, that definitely wasn’t nice. But she was on a roll now, and for better or worse she was now rolling along with it.
‘Hell, you know what? I’ve been turning it on and off since before YOUR parents were even a gleam in THEIR parent’s eyes. I’ve been turning it on and off for a hundred years but it’s still so broke it’s not even funny. I’d gi– ’
‘Woah woah woah wait, STOP. Hold it RIGHT THERE.’ He – oh good Lord, he didn’t even WANT to know what he was thinking right now.
‘Are you seriously tellin’ me that you’ve been here – on Earth – for a hundred years?’ He exclaimed, his tone incredulous.
In her private little alley, Electrocap held up gloved servoes to her optic line for her own personal detached inspection. ‘Well, I was telling you how broken my comm.’s array is, but yeah: I’ve been here for a bit.’ She threw her hand up in exasperation. ‘Over a hundred years. I’m not sure how many exactly, I was pretty out of it for a good while there because, you know, I crashed. And my comm. got broken. Which is why I’m calling you. On my MOBILE.’
In the stony silence that followed, the minicon’s shoulders hunched against the wall, thumb and servoes pushing down her sunglasses as they pinched to both sides of her nose ridge. Her voice became softer, almost pleading. ‘I’d give anything for it to be easier than this at this stage, I really would. I just…’
She took a deep vent in, and cycled it out. Hand to her forehead, she adopted a harder tone. ‘…Look, I just really need your help. Primus, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope. I hate to admit it, but you really, really are.’
The pause at the other end seemed to stretch on into eternity. Finally, a low growl reverberated over the line.
‘I’m puttin’ you on hold.’
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘PRIME! PRIME!! The peaceful calm that permeated the control room was shattered by the explosion that could only have ripped itself from Agent Fowler’s comm. line. He was Not Happy.
‘Lord so help me, I have someone claimin’ to be one of your bots on the line right now, an’ they’re clamourin’ for me to put them through because apparently their comm. broke when they crash-landed on this planet OVER A HUNDRED YEARS AGO!’
His irritation and disbelief was palpable; a living, breathing thing with a pulse; and, despite his best efforts, so too was his worry. Agent Fowler was currently a man in the dark, and that was one place where he fought tooth and nail to never, ever be.
‘What, in the name of Uncle Sam, has SHE been doin’ here all this time?! Is she another one of those scouts that were sent ahead, or something like that? A tourist? Photo journalist? Do you know ANYTHING about this, Prime?’
Agent Fowler had an accommodating philosophy for the wide range of scenarios that fell under his care and jurisdiction. It was that the sun never rested on the fan that shit would always invariably hit, and for some lousy miserable God-forsaken reason he would always be the one cleaning it up. Expecting the worst to happen was part of his job in keeping ol’ Uncle Sam sleeping safe and sound, from the threats that assailed it from all the shadowy places and intentions on this Earth: which was now a much smaller and more fragile point in this universe than he had ever, ever wanted to so intimately know as well as he now did. Planet and country jostled for his already stretched time and resources, and made his job that much more demanding and difficult (and – though he’d never admit it out loud – scarier) than anyone could have ever predicted it to be, if they weren’t wearing foil hats in their basement fortress and living off nothing but a diet of canned beans.
There were times where he sometimes wished he could trade places with them instead. Such as right now.
‘And HOW in God’s name does a kid like you get a number like this?’ Fowler yelled into his phone. ‘This is no time to be making prank calls; this is a serious line for serious emergencies to the security of the United States! And I can’t have weirdoes like you tyin’ up my lines. Thank you and good– .’
‘Nonono wait! TheDecepticonsbrokeintoNESTinGermanyacoupleofdaysago!’
A pause at the other end.
The agent’s voice was clipped. ‘Go on.’
‘TheDecepticonsbrokeintoNESTandhackedabunchofstuffandthat’showIgotyournumberand– ’
‘Whoa okay, easy. You slow it down right there. So basically what you’re saying is that you’re a ‘Con?’ He straightened up. ‘And what in the sweet Jesus are you doin’ making a social call?’
‘No!’ The voice was indignant. ‘I’m not a ‘Con, I’m a tricky Autobot. It’s a completely different thing. I’ve been tracking Soundwave’s deployers for months now. That’s how I got in on this,’ she said. She tactfully left out the part where she'd lifted 'this' number and the details to match from the NEST servers herself, after the Decepticons had so helpfully blown out all the energon detectors.
‘You are NOT an Autobot.’
She bristled. ‘I AM an Autobot.’
Fowler threw his arm wide. ‘Then go bother Prime! Go on, ‘git! Why in all the heck blue blazes are you callin’ ME lookin’ for his number?’
‘Because my comm.’s beyond busted!’ Her volume and frustration matched the agent’s own perfectly. ‘D’ya think I’d be talking to YOU if I had a choice?’
‘Well I don’t know!’ He said, turning sharply as he started to pace. ‘Here’s an idea: why don’t you turn it off and turn it back on again? I’ve got all the acne-ridden whizz-kid techheads that you could shake a can of skittles at and that works for me most every time.’
‘Because what part of ‘BUSTED’, and ‘I’M AN ALIEN’, and ‘YOUR TECH ADVICE STINKS’ don’t you understand?’
Somewhere in a side alley, an ushanka containing a metallic head gently thunked against a brick wall. Be nice, Electrocap. Nice nice nice. You need him, you really do, so don’t fuck this up.
‘You only got the internet a few decades ago, so I wouldn’t be getting carried away with your “superior” technical knowledge.’ Complete with air quotes. Nope, that definitely wasn’t nice. But she was on a roll now, and for better or worse she was now rolling along with it.
‘Hell, you know what? I’ve been turning it on and off since before YOUR parents were even a gleam in THEIR parent’s eyes. I’ve been turning it on and off for a hundred years but it’s still so broke it’s not even funny. I’d gi– ’
‘Woah woah woah wait, STOP. Hold it RIGHT THERE.’ He – oh good Lord, he didn’t even WANT to know what he was thinking right now.
‘Are you seriously tellin’ me that you’ve been here – on Earth – for a hundred years?’ He exclaimed, his tone incredulous.
In her private little alley, Electrocap held up gloved servoes to her optic line for her own personal detached inspection. ‘Well, I was telling you how broken my comm.’s array is, but yeah: I’ve been here for a bit.’ She threw her hand up in exasperation. ‘Over a hundred years. I’m not sure how many exactly, I was pretty out of it for a good while there because, you know, I crashed. And my comm. got broken. Which is why I’m calling you. On my MOBILE.’
In the stony silence that followed, the minicon’s shoulders hunched against the wall, thumb and servoes pushing down her sunglasses as they pinched to both sides of her nose ridge. Her voice became softer, almost pleading. ‘I’d give anything for it to be easier than this at this stage, I really would. I just…’
She took a deep vent in, and cycled it out. Hand to her forehead, she adopted a harder tone. ‘…Look, I just really need your help. Primus, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope. I hate to admit it, but you really, really are.’
The pause at the other end seemed to stretch on into eternity. Finally, a low growl reverberated over the line.
‘I’m puttin’ you on hold.’
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------
‘PRIME! PRIME!! The peaceful calm that permeated the control room was shattered by the explosion that could only have ripped itself from Agent Fowler’s comm. line. He was Not Happy.
‘Lord so help me, I have someone claimin’ to be one of your bots on the line right now, an’ they’re clamourin’ for me to put them through because apparently their comm. broke when they crash-landed on this planet OVER A HUNDRED YEARS AGO!’
His irritation and disbelief was palpable; a living, breathing thing with a pulse; and, despite his best efforts, so too was his worry. Agent Fowler was currently a man in the dark, and that was one place where he fought tooth and nail to never, ever be.
‘What, in the name of Uncle Sam, has SHE been doin’ here all this time?! Is she another one of those scouts that were sent ahead, or something like that? A tourist? Photo journalist? Do you know ANYTHING about this, Prime?’