Ep. 1 - Close Encounters - Open
May 18, 2014 14:12:23 GMT -5
Post by Bluestreak on May 18, 2014 14:12:23 GMT -5
Footsteps crunching on the dry soil and stone, Bluestreak took his position after Wash and triangulated off of Rook. It was obvious he was used to this, and he seemed to be far less anxious once orders were accepted.
The mech held his rifle next to his side, tucked against him in such a way that he could snap it up to his shoulder at a moment's notice. He was flicking his gaze around the landscape over and over, looking for any slight bit of movement that was out of the ordinary. Humans moved very different than most animals, even if they were prone and targeting using cover...
He glanced around again. This place oddly had a lot of cover for a landscape that was mostly two tone desert and covered in rocks. Lots of places to fire from or attack from - and the cloud cover was getting a bit thicker; oh he hoped that didn't mean a downpour at some point. He'd learned that desert downpours were terrible - well, at least for him. It messed with line of sight something awful. Well, maybe it would turn some of this dust to mud on him, which would be-- yeah, no. Not exactly what he wanted either.
For once, the sharpshooter's mouth was closed in a thin line; he wasn't chattering away. There was a look of concentration on his face - he was taking his job seriously.
Well, not chattering outwardly. In his head, he was having a whole conversation with himself.
No, that's clear, that's clear. That's clear too. Don't like the look of that section of rock, scan that - no, clear. So, okay, they right now haven't caught wind of us either if they're hostile, which means they aren't scanning - well, or maybe they are scanning and we're walking right into it. Hmmm, no, let's not go down those thoughts, let's go onto better thoughts, like oh, they're two rather flaky science humans out here in the desert and they're going to step out of that shack wearing tinfoil hats and yell, "aliens "and we can point back and yell "aliens!" and then they'll be wandering the talk show circuit and no one will ever believe them.
Which is good, right? Yeah, that's great, that works for all involved.
His weight came down on a dry patch of sagebrush; immediately the mech shifted his feet and slowly lifted his foot off to minimize the crackle. The doors over his shoulders shifted at the noise, flicking back and forth softly in a nervous twitch. He understood that in the situation it wasn't a noise that he needed to worry about, but back home that sound was more than enough for sensors to pinpoint your position and --
Bluestreak shook his head and glanced up at the sky after the Decepticon and shifted his rifle against his shoulder. Well, there was no doubt soon to be more noise than that...
The mech held his rifle next to his side, tucked against him in such a way that he could snap it up to his shoulder at a moment's notice. He was flicking his gaze around the landscape over and over, looking for any slight bit of movement that was out of the ordinary. Humans moved very different than most animals, even if they were prone and targeting using cover...
He glanced around again. This place oddly had a lot of cover for a landscape that was mostly two tone desert and covered in rocks. Lots of places to fire from or attack from - and the cloud cover was getting a bit thicker; oh he hoped that didn't mean a downpour at some point. He'd learned that desert downpours were terrible - well, at least for him. It messed with line of sight something awful. Well, maybe it would turn some of this dust to mud on him, which would be-- yeah, no. Not exactly what he wanted either.
For once, the sharpshooter's mouth was closed in a thin line; he wasn't chattering away. There was a look of concentration on his face - he was taking his job seriously.
Well, not chattering outwardly. In his head, he was having a whole conversation with himself.
No, that's clear, that's clear. That's clear too. Don't like the look of that section of rock, scan that - no, clear. So, okay, they right now haven't caught wind of us either if they're hostile, which means they aren't scanning - well, or maybe they are scanning and we're walking right into it. Hmmm, no, let's not go down those thoughts, let's go onto better thoughts, like oh, they're two rather flaky science humans out here in the desert and they're going to step out of that shack wearing tinfoil hats and yell, "aliens "and we can point back and yell "aliens!" and then they'll be wandering the talk show circuit and no one will ever believe them.
Which is good, right? Yeah, that's great, that works for all involved.
His weight came down on a dry patch of sagebrush; immediately the mech shifted his feet and slowly lifted his foot off to minimize the crackle. The doors over his shoulders shifted at the noise, flicking back and forth softly in a nervous twitch. He understood that in the situation it wasn't a noise that he needed to worry about, but back home that sound was more than enough for sensors to pinpoint your position and --
Bluestreak shook his head and glanced up at the sky after the Decepticon and shifted his rifle against his shoulder. Well, there was no doubt soon to be more noise than that...