Ep. 1 - Close Encounters - Open
Mar 3, 2014 23:30:00 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Mar 3, 2014 23:30:00 GMT -5
Wash fought back an un-diplomatic giggle at the name. Matilda! Don't laugh, idiot. You are a smooth-talker, just like Rook said. You are a grown-ass giant negotiator robot. Act like it!
"Matilda it is," he said suavely. "And did you say we'll be clear to transform in two miles? Okay, copy that. I take it in two-point three miles things are going to get too rough for our vehicle modes to handle? Ahh, we'll be fine. A bit of walking never hurt anyone. How bad can it be?"
Very bad, was how bad.
The gravel road weaved through the wild terrain, climbing steadily upwards into the foothills. It was a narrow path, wide enough for the three Autobots to drive along it in single file, but too narrow and winding for them to pick up any speed. Not that they would want to, perhaps - deep ruts and large stones marred the dirt, which was cratered with potholes. Even Wash, a rally car, was forced to drive slowly, wincing at every jolt. Big rocks clanged off their undercarriage and banged against their exhaust pipes as he led the way up the road, dust billowing in his wake.
Aside from a pair of cyclists on mountain bikes they saw no humans. Spooked rabbits dashed across their path and whipped into the dusty sage brush that littered each side of the trail. A big red-tailed hawk soared over Fairwinds once, turning in slow circles as it eyed her. But aside from that there were few signs of life beneath the hot desert sun.
At the two mile mark Wash finally slowed to a halt.
"God, this road!" he gasped. He transformed and bent over, his hands on his knees. His blue paint was caked in dust. "Walking will almost be a relief after that. I think I shook all my nuts loose. Hey, Matilda?"
He touched the side of his head and switched back to his commline. "Yo, Matilda! We're at the two mile mark, ready to continue onwards. Do you have bearing we should follow to reach the source of that signal?"
From Fairwinds' perspective, the little group of Autobots were but a speck at the bottom of a rocky hill. The peak to the northwest that the signal broadcast from was closer now, the signal stronger. And now her sharp eyesight would spot something new: perched on the eastern side of the slope was a small hut, little bigger than a shed. It looked wooden, rickety, half-hidden by brush. A jeep was parked next to it.
Both shed and jeep appeared to be on a bearing of roughly three-thirty degrees from the Autobots' current position.
"Matilda it is," he said suavely. "And did you say we'll be clear to transform in two miles? Okay, copy that. I take it in two-point three miles things are going to get too rough for our vehicle modes to handle? Ahh, we'll be fine. A bit of walking never hurt anyone. How bad can it be?"
Very bad, was how bad.
The gravel road weaved through the wild terrain, climbing steadily upwards into the foothills. It was a narrow path, wide enough for the three Autobots to drive along it in single file, but too narrow and winding for them to pick up any speed. Not that they would want to, perhaps - deep ruts and large stones marred the dirt, which was cratered with potholes. Even Wash, a rally car, was forced to drive slowly, wincing at every jolt. Big rocks clanged off their undercarriage and banged against their exhaust pipes as he led the way up the road, dust billowing in his wake.
Aside from a pair of cyclists on mountain bikes they saw no humans. Spooked rabbits dashed across their path and whipped into the dusty sage brush that littered each side of the trail. A big red-tailed hawk soared over Fairwinds once, turning in slow circles as it eyed her. But aside from that there were few signs of life beneath the hot desert sun.
At the two mile mark Wash finally slowed to a halt.
"God, this road!" he gasped. He transformed and bent over, his hands on his knees. His blue paint was caked in dust. "Walking will almost be a relief after that. I think I shook all my nuts loose. Hey, Matilda?"
He touched the side of his head and switched back to his commline. "Yo, Matilda! We're at the two mile mark, ready to continue onwards. Do you have bearing we should follow to reach the source of that signal?"
From Fairwinds' perspective, the little group of Autobots were but a speck at the bottom of a rocky hill. The peak to the northwest that the signal broadcast from was closer now, the signal stronger. And now her sharp eyesight would spot something new: perched on the eastern side of the slope was a small hut, little bigger than a shed. It looked wooden, rickety, half-hidden by brush. A jeep was parked next to it.
Both shed and jeep appeared to be on a bearing of roughly three-thirty degrees from the Autobots' current position.