EP 1.5 [AR] - "The Humbling River" (Closed)
Aug 1, 2014 12:48:14 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2014 12:48:14 GMT -5
OOC for Rocket: Takes place in week 1 of EP 1.5 and after "Oh Look a Lion" at the end of week 5.
OOC for Halocene: Takes place in week 1 of EP 1.5 and after "Working Hard, Hardly Working."
Settling into base had been blissfully simple compared to the slag she'd gone through getting there. Once actually on base, she'd been ushered off to the medics where, after a few repairs and tests, she'd been deemed active duty and shuffled off to a First Arrivee for integration. Bumblebee had been nothing but helpful, and compared to some, his human just as much. He'd gone through protocol, showed her what needed showing and had even helped outfit her with a suitable disguise. To say she was glad to have an alt mode now would be putting it lightly. She'd gone so long without any sort of armor that the Mustang felt natural and was at least built for the same thing as she: speed.
Rocket had been left to her own devices after that while command tried to integrate a position for her. She was a communications officer and they hadn't really had the position ready, nor had her on roster for anything. So, until then, she was graced with a small period of downtime before reporting to whomever for monitor duty. She wouldn't have cared if it was cleaning duty (Alright, maybe a little, she DID happen to like her paint job enough to warrant a grimace at the thought), just being able to do something for a change had her happy enough. This down time left her with the task of unpacking her things in her given hab suite.
She didn't have much, most of her original personal things having been destroyed with her home in Praxus, but she did have a large collection of interstellar crystals that she coveted and a nice collection of data pads that she was constantly filling with information, new codes and breaking techniques. One could never be too careful when code breaking, and having something to reference while doing so was key. It was during the unpacking of said data pads that she came across one of the reasons she'd gone through the trouble of finding earth. While she would swear up and down to anyone who asked that she was there specifically for the Prime's call to arms, the nine boxes glaring up at her from the cargo crate were the driving force in getting there so fast.
One by one she pulled the gilded boxes from the crate and stacked them reverently on the desk beside her berth. Each box seemed to sparkle at her immaculately, as boxes of the sort normally did, and she couldn't help the painful pull at her spark when she remembered what went inside of the boxes and why they'd been created in the first place. Attached to each blue box were the medals earned by the names engraved above them, glittering as all new things did. She'd made sure, on the lonely portions of her trip, to polish them gently and thank them for their service before locking them back up in the crate where they’d be safe.
“Y’get that to ….y’hear? Keep strong, she gon’ need ya.”
Each box was incredibly precious and important to her as they would be to the person she was to deliver them to. It was with both honor and dread that she placed the data pad down and stood. Optics going over the boxes silently one more time, she left her hab suite in search of the recipient. Schedules and a few questions to passing bots had her standing at the rec room door and staring in the direction of a rather large black femme.
“Cover the femme! Cover her! On your left! Duck!”
Gunfire raining down over their head as a large hand held her down behind cover as another gripped at her arm to staunch the leakage of the blue substance. Her optics were trained on the still form in front of her as the leader shouted and hollered at the ‘Cons that had surprised them.
“Get the femme outta here! Move it mo—“
Shaking out of her reverie, she moved towards the femme who was now staring at her and inhaled deeply, centering herself. This wasn’t going to be good for either of them.
“Are you Halocene? I… My Name’s Rocket… I have… I have an important delivery for you…”
OOC for Halocene: Takes place in week 1 of EP 1.5 and after "Working Hard, Hardly Working."
Settling into base had been blissfully simple compared to the slag she'd gone through getting there. Once actually on base, she'd been ushered off to the medics where, after a few repairs and tests, she'd been deemed active duty and shuffled off to a First Arrivee for integration. Bumblebee had been nothing but helpful, and compared to some, his human just as much. He'd gone through protocol, showed her what needed showing and had even helped outfit her with a suitable disguise. To say she was glad to have an alt mode now would be putting it lightly. She'd gone so long without any sort of armor that the Mustang felt natural and was at least built for the same thing as she: speed.
Rocket had been left to her own devices after that while command tried to integrate a position for her. She was a communications officer and they hadn't really had the position ready, nor had her on roster for anything. So, until then, she was graced with a small period of downtime before reporting to whomever for monitor duty. She wouldn't have cared if it was cleaning duty (Alright, maybe a little, she DID happen to like her paint job enough to warrant a grimace at the thought), just being able to do something for a change had her happy enough. This down time left her with the task of unpacking her things in her given hab suite.
She didn't have much, most of her original personal things having been destroyed with her home in Praxus, but she did have a large collection of interstellar crystals that she coveted and a nice collection of data pads that she was constantly filling with information, new codes and breaking techniques. One could never be too careful when code breaking, and having something to reference while doing so was key. It was during the unpacking of said data pads that she came across one of the reasons she'd gone through the trouble of finding earth. While she would swear up and down to anyone who asked that she was there specifically for the Prime's call to arms, the nine boxes glaring up at her from the cargo crate were the driving force in getting there so fast.
One by one she pulled the gilded boxes from the crate and stacked them reverently on the desk beside her berth. Each box seemed to sparkle at her immaculately, as boxes of the sort normally did, and she couldn't help the painful pull at her spark when she remembered what went inside of the boxes and why they'd been created in the first place. Attached to each blue box were the medals earned by the names engraved above them, glittering as all new things did. She'd made sure, on the lonely portions of her trip, to polish them gently and thank them for their service before locking them back up in the crate where they’d be safe.
“Y’get that to ….y’hear? Keep strong, she gon’ need ya.”
Each box was incredibly precious and important to her as they would be to the person she was to deliver them to. It was with both honor and dread that she placed the data pad down and stood. Optics going over the boxes silently one more time, she left her hab suite in search of the recipient. Schedules and a few questions to passing bots had her standing at the rec room door and staring in the direction of a rather large black femme.
“Cover the femme! Cover her! On your left! Duck!”
Gunfire raining down over their head as a large hand held her down behind cover as another gripped at her arm to staunch the leakage of the blue substance. Her optics were trained on the still form in front of her as the leader shouted and hollered at the ‘Cons that had surprised them.
“Get the femme outta here! Move it mo—“
Shaking out of her reverie, she moved towards the femme who was now staring at her and inhaled deeply, centering herself. This wasn’t going to be good for either of them.
“Are you Halocene? I… My Name’s Rocket… I have… I have an important delivery for you…”