(DONE) Ep.1 - Close Encounters of the Cybertronian Kind [FW]

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Primitive species were annoying to such a degree, and in so many ways, that their annoying-ness almost warranted their annihilation. Their transports were glacially slow, their communications networks barely tolerable, and, at best, they could barely comprehend life off of their own planet, and were more inclined to attack any they encountered.

They were, however, exceptionally, hilariously gullible. This specimen would believe pretty much anything Fairwinds told her, from the 'conversation' they'd had so far. The complete lack of a challenge, and that fact that the human was all moist and pathetic, zapped any kind of pleasure she might have from making her believe that they were powered by bees and ginger hair follicles.

"Electricity is good for a quick, short buzz." The shrug was conveyed in Fairwinds' tone; nonchalant and borderline dismissive. Sheila's roof was looking almost normal again, and she stepped backwards out of the car to inspect her work.

Deciding that the dents and dings were aerodynamically beneficial (speed holes, yo) and that there were no structural impediments to the human using the car as a home, Fairwinds waddled around to the front of the vehicle.

"Ho'okay, roof's all flat and glass ain't bad." She beamed a grin at Rita and popped the bonnet with a flick with one toe. "Let's see what she's got going on under the hood."

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Sarita flinched a little as the hood was popped, but made no move to stop Fairwinds. "...What do you have in mind?" she asked, slowly moving towards the car to see the bird-thing at work. "Sheila was just serviced a few months ago, so I, er, am not sure what you could do.... But I'm somewhat excited to see what you have in mind...."

Okay, that last part was a bit of a bluff, but Sarita wasn't keen on mouthing off at the bird. The fact the creature was interested in what was going on with Sheila's internals, combined with the fact that she was using gendered pronouns to refer to Sheila with, was a bit endearing. In fact, the more Sarita thought about it, the more the creature seemed like one of the dysfunctional runaways that occasionally hopped the trains the singer had rode.

But she wasn't going to start talking about that, nor was she going to stop the bird-thing. Instead, Sarita would watch with wary curiosity, and just let the thing...do its thing. It had kept her alive so far.

"Are you, um...what exactly can I call you?" the singer couldn't help but ask. "You remind me of a parrot from Earth — not to be taken as an insult, I assure you, Miss — but is there a name for your species...? My kind has many stories about aliens, sometimes giant robots included, but never, um...something such as yourself. I'm more likely to hear stories about those 'gray people' you mentioned, er, miss."

Well that was an awkward babble, now wasn't it, Sarita? You'd better not be high on some sort of fumes when morning comes....

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Fairwinds popped her head back up from inside the engine block, her beak striped grey and black from nosing past the hoses. As much as she was content for Rita to be aware of the extraterrestrial self and get locked up somewhere small without windows if she blabbed about it, she wasn't inclined to give her any concrete information. If the human started throwing words like 'Cybertronian' around, MECH would likely get wind of it, interrogate Rita an track back to this meeting, and then she'd lose her favourite thieving site.

And that was unacceptable.

"I'm Windy, not 'Miss' anything, and I'm fantastically unique." She made a show of squinting one eye. "Think I've met the same squishy grey guys you're talking about. Big heads, poor interior decorating? Invented proctology?" Utter lies, of course, but she'd seen enough of the Sci-Fi channel to spin it.

She stuck her head back into the engine, tack-tacking her beak here and there. It was the equivalent of kicking the tires, but it sounded good, and gave her something busy-sounding to do whilst her scanners flicked over the primitive equipment. There really wasn't much she could do with what she had on her in her subspace, but she could swap up some electricals to Cybertronian standard, spray a hyperelectrial coat into the fuel tank to eek out a few extra miles to the gallon and nix the developing rust on the sills. Basic stuff.

Fairwinds clambered up onto Sheila's bumper and braced her wings on their foremost joints on either side of the engine. Leaning down, she transformed her lower beak into a cutting laser and began playing Medic.

She spoke using her comm.s and speakers, which put a marinal but noticeable metallic note into her voice. "You always this painfully polite to folk who threaten to maim you? I know an expert sycophant who could teach you a thing or ten..."

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Sarita's left eye twitched a little at the word "sycophant".

"I'm...polite to everyone, ma'am," said Sarita, flinching inwardly as Windy began to mess with Sheila's undercarriage. "It's only proper. I...do realize you threatened to maim me — as you put it — but truth be told, I'm really not supposed to be here. I'm technically trespassing, and if I happen to be trespassing into a place that is yours...I suppose I deserve the fright I received."

She watched, silent, as the bird-being worked. Her lip twisted back and forth, fighting between an expression of interest and one of concern. She really, really should have considered running and leaving the car to a different fate...but that would have been stupid. The thing would have probably caught her and killed her, and she wasn't dead yet. Furthermore, it was offering to fix the damage done —

"And besides, you were nice to me, after all. You're fixing my car...no offence, ma'am, but I don't think you realize how much of a godsend that is. And...you're a lot nicer than the grey guys, of course; they probably would have cut me open by now. You...um...haven't."

She had to be high. She had to be high, there was no doubt about it. Ill, high, experiencing a nightmare, something. Her brain felt ready to break, but at the same time, something in her head was screaming THIS IS ACTUALLY FUCKING HAPPENING as loudly as it could. Sarita sorely wished that it would shut up already.

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"Still early, yet," Fairwinds replied in a sing-song voice, wiggling her rear stabilisers for emphasis. "Could probably fit some gutting in before I go home."

Something big creaked and clunked in Sheila's engine block. The cassette made a thoughtful sound, shuffled around a little bit, and then there was the distinct sound of duct tape being pulled off the roll.

A few minute of tinkering, smacking stuff and some welding work that sent out a pleasingly thick plume of oily black smoke passed, then Fairwinds stepped down from the car and knocked the bonnet down. She shuffled backwards with a serious of loud smacking noises, working her beak and glossa to get some of the dried oil and dirt out of her intake. She was filthy.

"So-pleh- there ya go, all pimped and suped-up and, well..." Fairwinds gave the car and Sarita a long-suffering look in turn, sighing as if she were about to break some distressing news in a sensitive way.

"Sheila, yeah? She's pretty crap. Like, scrap on wheels, an' there's only so much awesomeness I can inject into crap. But she goes hella, now, and you'll get, like, an extra 40 kilometers to the gallon. Maybe. I totally made that up, but she is definitely better for having me root around."

A shrug, then she narrowed one beady optic.

"But neither of us were ever here and we never talked or nothing, right? No awesome bird-like aliens. Goblins pimped your ride. Gottit?"