(DONE) Ep. 1.5 - A Gallery of Rogues [Closed, Deuce]

[Deleted]

Deuce tapped a finger against the side of his head as she recited the address, his brow furrowed. When she was done he lowered it and smiled.

"Got it!" he said, and laughed. "Don't worry about the scruffiness. She always looks like that, at least so long as I can remember. I guess we both do."

He looked down at his own scratched and dirty frame with amusement. "But I'm glad to know she wasn't injured. That's a big relief. She travels with dangerous people. I'm always worried about her safety so long as she's with them. Especially..."

Deuce trailed off as a dark cloud passed over his face. His expression grew serious, and a cold look glinted in the back of his optics. But the moment passed swiftly, and in a heartbeat he was smiling again.

"Anyway, we got separated not that long ago," he said. He tossed a thumb over his shoulder. "We travelled around for a while in Australia, but then she got recalled back to the States and I was, er, unable to follow her. Work stuff. Now I think I have a shot at finding her again. I'll keep on searching until I do. So I'm extremely grateful you've seen her and told me as much. This address gives me a place to start looking. Domo arigato."

Deuce pressed his hands together and bowed at the waist, still sitting cross-legged.

"I owe you one, big time. Is there anything I can do to help you out, repay you at all? Can I take you anywhere? I'm a cheap flight. No in-flight movie and not much leg room, but the view is killer."

[Deleted]

"I owe you one, big time. Is there anything I can do to help you out, repay you at all? Can I take you anywhere? I'm a cheap flight. No in-flight movie and not much leg room, but the view is killer."

...Well.

Sarita hadn't expected that reply, of all things.

The woman stared at Deuce with a goggle-eyed expression, face firmly stuck somewhere between, "Would you really?" and, "Are you fucking kidding me?" Her brain had skipped entirely over the comment about "dangerous people", and was focusing intently on the fact a Cybertronian wanted to take her on a fucking ride. As a wee child, she had once gone to a military museum, gawking at all the retired planes and at how big they were; she always wanted to go up in one. For a while, she exclusively hung out with a bunch of planespotters in her girlhood, trying to figure out if it was a Boeing or a Falcon flying over her town. She wasn't about to say that Deuce, for sure, turned into such a machine, but there was great appeal in the idea of a flight that wasn't on a cramped passenger plane.

The logical part of her brain was yelling that she had just met this Cybertronian. The impulsive part, meanwhile, was waving signs, blaring horns and yelling, "Yes! YES! DO IT!!" as a smile crept across her face. Oregon and Nevada would look so pretty from the air, as would the rest of the United States....

"...I have to get some things for the human kitchen here at base," said Sarita, after a moment of purely staring at Deuce in awe. "I...understand if there's not much leg room, but it's only a few things, and...and I always wanted to fly in — "

She peered at what appeared to be the cockpit on his chest, now an orange-highlighted piece of decoration.

"...What model is your alt-mode again, sir?"

[Deleted]

Deuce stuck out his chest and preened.

"Just an F-16C Falcon!" he said. "Yeah, it's super hot. And fast. Fly by wire, baby! It reminds me a little of an old alt mode I once had. Just this slick dart with wings. I had it back when I was young and stupid, doing young and stupid things. It was space-capable too, though not interstellar. I used to go buzz orbital tolls until they got a hold of my registration and told me to fuck off."

He laughed and slapped his knees. His optics were bright.

"So, shall I take this to mean you'd like to come with me?" he said. "No worries, happy to have you along. It's been a while since I've been to the States myself. You can point out landmarks for me. We'll be flying at around twelve thousand feet to stay out of Class A airspace. It's all IFR traffic and airliners above that. We might have to steer around more thunderstorms and bad weather, but I'd rather keep a bit lower and not have to worry about flying through controlled airspace because god, that's boring. Who wants to fly with someone constantly in their ear, telling them where to go and what altitude to maintain, just to keep them outta the way of some heavy iron? Pssh, hell no."

Deuce grinned. "Besides, the view is nicer the lower you get. We'll go buzz some cool shit, it'll be awesome. Anyway, pack whatever it is you need to take along, do whatever you need to do first. I'm in no huge rush. How long do you think you'll need to get ready?"

[Deleted]

Not two minutes after he asked, she was standing in front of him with a small suitcase at her heels; her hands were fumbling to fit her guitar into the sleek, iron-grey-and-black marbled case it rested in. Sheila was parked in the main atrium for convenience, out of the way and staying there for the time being; Sarita had fetched a suitcase of items she had pre-packed for emergencies. "When in doubt, bug the hell out," had been a harsh (if eye-opening) lesson to learn, and the woman could be...surprisingly futuristic in her thinking when she had the means. Having all of her basic means met meant that she could think further ahead than, "What I am going to eat tomorrow morning?"

But what had been meant for emergencies was now being used to get in the air as fast as possible. In short, she was grinning ear to ear like a fool. The expression was leaking into her voice as she said, "How about now?" and shifted eagerly from foot to foot. The noblewoman's grace she usually carried herself with had been replaced with the eagerness of a young woman, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to see the world.

It wasn't a face she wore often. The stranger — and really, Deuce was a stranger — was somehow lowering Sarita's defences and common sense faster than any other mech. Maybe it was the pang of familiarity in her chest, a reminder of friends long gone; they had been like Deuce. Like Mr. Deuce, she mentally corrected herself — she had to rein herself in. She knew Layby somewhat well, not this mech; Sarita didn't dwell on her feelings.

Besides, she was going to be flying in a fucking F-16C Falcon. That, in her mind, was trumping a lot of things her brain was trying to get her to consider.

[Deleted]

Deuce had clambered to his feet while Sarita packed her few sparse possessions. He waited patiently, stretching his stiff legs. Despite his rambling and incoherent manner of before he seemed collected now, assured.

"Beauty!" he said when the girl reappeared, her suitcase in hand. He grinned at her, enjoying the sight of her enthusiasm. "Let's hit the road. There's no time like the present, I always say. This way - we'll hit the Atrium first and sneak out from there. It's pretty late, I don't think we should disturb or wake anyone if we're quiet."

He motioned for her to follow him and turned for the hall. For a giant robot with big mouth he walked rather softly, picking his steps with care.

Jury-rigged lamps glowed warmly on the rough stone walls and lit their path. Deuce led the way to the Atrium with ease. Once there he turned in place a moment to get his bearings before picking the tunnel that led eventually to the exit.

"I always hate long goodbyes," he said. "So I usually try to leave out the back door without telling anyone I'm going. Besides, I figure I'll be back here sometime in the future. What am I saying - it has a bar, I'll probably be back within a week's time. What are you going to do when you reach the States? Do you have any family there?"

[Deleted]

Late? "It's actually seven or eight in the morning on our time, sir," said Sarita. "But we'll be flying by night when we get to America, so I suppose it still counts."

A frown was carefully hidden when she was asked about family. "No," said Sarita, avoiding the note of finality she was worried would slip into her voice. "Other than the Haven cohort, I'm pretty much on my own, and have been for a while. Speaking of which...."

She paused, turning around on her heel.

"I should leave Mr. Layby a note. It's fairly early, so he might wonder where I've gone. If you could wait for me in the Atrium, sir, I'll be right with you in a moment."

Once given the all-clear, Sarita would run back down the hall towards the bar. Instead of turning into the previous room, however, she would keep running — her quarters were literally a hole in the wall, snug but big enough for her to stand up in. She kept a paper and several pens in her little abode, neatly laid on her dresser so she always knew where to find them. Unlike Layby, Sarita was a sucker for obsessively-neat spaces.

Tearing off a sheet with one hand, Sarita held it to the pad and wrote, in a neat and tidy scrawl:

Mr. Layby,

I'll be off for a day or two doing business in the United States. I'm picking up some things for Haven, as well as some things I was looking to add to my room. I'm also fairly certain there's a sale coming up at one of my favorite outfitters, and I'm expecting a line there — that will also be holding me up. If anything unexpected happens, I'll comm in for a groundbridge (out of sight of course).

She paused, looked up, and then added a second, quicker paragraph.

I'll likely be with a Mr. Deuce when I return. I believe he keeps to himself in one of the spare rooms — let me know if this is a problem.

- Sarita

Rolling up the paper, the girl ran back to her door, opened it quietly, scurried out and placed the note in-between the door and wall. It held fast after she shut the entryway on it, making a mental note to pick up tape while she was out. A minute later, she was back at Deuce's side, smiling and glancing at the groundbridge.

Part of her was saying she was stupid. Part of her was yelling and ranting about how this was no different than her getting into a strange guy's car. Sarita looked uncertain for a brief second, then quickly schooled her expression into something more sure. Layby would check on her room, no doubt, and find the paper she'd left for him.

"Shall we go, then?"

[Deleted]

Deuce regarded her curiously as she trotted up again, but did not question her brief disappearance. There was a knowing look in his optic as he cheerily waved for her to follow.

"Copy that!" he said. "Let's mosey."

A short tunnel led up and out of the old mine that made up Haven. Outside the air was warm and hazy with dust and a distant layer of smog. Already the heat was gathering as the sun rose up the broad steppe horizon, its pale rays casting long shadows from the trees.

Deuce sagged in relief as he hurried out of the cavern and into the sunlight.

"Primus!" he said. He tilted his head back and squinted into the sky in exhausted relief. He exhaled. "Finally! Don't tell anyone, but being in that place gives me the willies, the willies being a legitimate psychological condition. Really. No, seriously though, I just hate closed spaces. Haven is fine. It's a nice hangout to chill in. But god. Underground. Aghaghagahblagh."

He shuddered, his wings rattling. "Anyway! Enough about my mental issues. Let's get this show on the road, shall we?"

Without any further preamble the lanky jetbot transformed. An instant later a sleek grey jet sat on the hardpacked earth, sunlight glinting off its canopy and fuselage. Its control surfaces shifted up and down, flaperons and stabilators twisting. The rudder wagged.

"Feels good," it said. "I'll do a proper run-up in the air. Beauty! Okay Sarita, feel free to climb on in."

The orange canopy clicked and slowly rose open, revealing a narrow cockpit crammed with avionics. An unmarked package no bigger than a shoebox sat on the pilot's seat, wrapped heavily in brown paper and plastic.

"Make yourself comfortable! Er, sorry about that package - just set it on the floor next to one of the rudder pedals if it's in the way."

[Deleted]

Sarita frowned as the jet shuddered and wiggled his wings. She was both impressed and worried by his composure in the bar — by "mental issue", what exactly did the mech mean? And furthermore, hadn't he mentioned "dangerous people" his friend was travelling with?

She was suddenly a lot less enthused to be flying. Even more so when he mentioned doing a "proper run-up in the air" — to that, Sarita said, "Uh, really, I don't mind if you want to, um...doing anything necessary on the ground. I, uh, trust your instincts, but I don't want to be a bother, really!"

...She hoped that didn't sound too unsure. God forbid if that sounded too unsure. Still, she couldn't help but peer into the cockpit, curious and surprised at how small it looked. The package wasn't unnoticed, either; placing her guitar in one space, her suitcase tucked carefully on top of it to protect it, the woman decided to adjust it last. She gingerly picked it up off the seat.

"...I can hold it in my lap," she said, with a small smile that tried to be reassuring. "Assuming, that is, it's okay for me to do so, sir. I really don't mind, it's not bothering me one bit."

Perhaps a bit forced, but at least it was still polite. She glanced again at the complex array of dials, lights and buttons, squinting her eyes at what looked to be strange pictures in lieu of words and numbers. Her eyes flickered again to the seat, and she considered, just for a moment more, running back into Haven and using the groundbridge.

But that wouldn't be polite. If anything happened, anyways, Layby and Cleaver might get distracted from something. She was a grown woman — if anything happened to Sarita, she had saved herself before. With a careful placing of one hand on the edge of the cockpit, she slowly vaulted in, tucking her skirt neatly onto the seat and around her legs. If there was a seatbelt, she'd clip herself in, and the box — which had been under one arm — was held out for Deuce to tell her what to do with it.

"Seriously, don't take off if you need to power up something," said Sarita, a hint of caution seeping into her voice. "Don't rush just for my sake. Isn't it a long way to America, anyways? I don't want you to get too tired before we get there. And, um, you should avoid West Africa — there's an epidemic right now that makes humans almost cough up our insides."

[Deleted]

The cockpit was cramped, and yet it was clear to be seen that it had been designed to place every switch and instrument within easy reach of the pilot. Two big unlit MFDs dominated either side of the instrument panel. A few of the old steam gauges were easy to figure out - the airspeed indicator, altimeter, HSI, artificial horizon, gear position lights, pressure and temperature gauges. Next to her right hand was the flight stick itself, studded with buttons.

Between her knees was the handle for the ejection seat. Probably shouldn't pull that one.

The robot's disembodied voice echoed from somewhere behind the instrument panel.

"Oh shit, seriously?" it said. "Ugh, that's terrible. Those poor bastards. Okay. Make a note on our vacation agenda to avoid West Africa then. We might have to make a fuel stop somewhere along the way though. No worries, I'll coast us through it. I've been writing the bills off on the American air force. Their fault for making their jets so easy to scan, ha!"

Deuce chortled.

"Anyway! Let's jet. Seatbelt fastened? Don't worry about the shoulder harness, that thing is a pain in the ass to strap on. So long as the lap belt is done up you should be good. Thank you! If you could hold that package for me, that would be brilliant. And no worries, I always do my run-ups while airborne. Just a few little auxiliary things need to be checked on now and then. It's all good."

Something inside the aircraft whined into life. The F-16 shuddered and then gently lofted into the air. It rose straight upwards, buoyed on Cybertronian anti-grav generators alone. Eddies of dust swirled under it as it gracefully raised its landing gear - clunk-clunk, and three green lights on the panel clicked off - and aimed its nose upwards.

"Okay, grab hold of the seat. I''ll try not to rocket into the takeoff, but I tend to climb out steep and it can be a bit of a surprise if you're not used to it. All set? YOLO!"

With that battle cry the jet blasted into full throttle and roared into the sky.

The force of it would squash Sarita back into the seat. The noise was muffled by the sealed canopy at least, but the cockpit was still buffeted by wind and fury as the jet shot for altitude like a cruise missile. Within seconds the ground had shrunk below; in less than half a minute clouds were streaming past the jet's wingtips as it casually lowered its nose and levelled out at ten thousand feet.

[Deleted]

Sarita's eyes bulged in a way that, once more, resembled the look of a startled potoo. Voice cracking in a squeak, the busker meeped, "You steal fuel from the U.S. Air Force?" before unconsciously pressing her legs into the seat. Somewhat hypocritical a reaction, as she stole fuel and other things all the time — but never from the government. Holy shit, would that ever be a suicidal idea to pursue.

And she was riding in the jet that was doing it.

"Anyway! Let's jet. Seatbelt fastened? Don't worry about the shoulder harness, that thing is a pain in the ass to strap on. So long as the lap belt is done up you should be good. Thank you! If you could hold that package for me, that would be brilliant. And no worries, I always do my run-ups while airborne. Just a few little auxiliary things need to be checked on now and then. It's all good."

With a serious re-evaluation of her life choices spinning through her head, brain flailing this way and that as her common sense banged its head against the wall, she squeaked again in affirmation. Her occupied hands became unoccupied as she put the box down in her lap — she considered buckling it in, but decided against it. The seatbelt might squash the contents, and the harness...was a mess of fabric and clipping things she couldn't figure out. It would remain a tangled ornament to her seat, and hopefully, she wouldn't regret not using it.

The plane began to lift. One hand slammed down on the box in her lap, the other digging into the seat like a cat's claws. She almost whimpered as Deuce gave his warning, nodding quietly instead as her stomach did a flip. Her eyes went up to the sky, tinted orange by the windows of the jet-bot's cockpit —

" ... YOLO!"

The woman was pinned back in her seat. G-forces she had never bore witness to pulled at her being like a rope around a neck; the sky rushed up to meet them. She couldn't even turn her head to look out the window, to see Africa and Haven vanish into the landscape below, a mere speck in the world of the flight-blessed. Her heart was thundering and the world was roaring, and Sarita squealed like a pig on the way up. Even for a woman, the loud, "EEEEEEEEEEEEK!" Deuce was subjected to was exceptionally girly.

When they finally levelled off, Sarita jerked forward, startling herself. She could move again, and frantically began to pat herself down when she did. The box nearly tumbled off her lap as she made a checklist — Arms, hands, legs, feet, body, head, good — and she let out a deep, tense sigh as she plunked back against the seat. One hand caught Deuce's package before it fell.

"...Well then. That was something."

The busker looked like she'd just seen a ghost.

[Deleted]

Somehow, the HUD managed to beam at her.

"Liked that, eh?" said the jet. It chortled, rocking its wings lightly. "Yeah, that's always a blast. It's even more fun when you do a couple vertical climbing rolls before going inverted at the top. Talk about a wild ride!"

Outside, clouds raced past the canopy in wispy ribbons. At that height the horizon curved like a rind, the broad expanse of the northwestern side of the African continent stretching tan and dusty all the way to the dark blue Atlantic Ocean. The jet's engine settled into a dull roar as the aircraft blasted through the sky at a little over ten thousand feet. Below its wings the ground was shrunken with distance. Already the pitted deserts of Algeria were in view, dotted with green oases and their spindly irrigation systems.

The MFDs flickered to life. Data flitted across their screens.

"Welp," said the jet. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. It looks like everything is checking out okay. We're currently flying over the Algerian Sahara, the third largest desert in the world. From here we have two choices: we can head south to Liberia or Sierra Leone and cross the Atlantic to Brazil before working our way northwards in the US, or we can head north and jump from Ireland to Iceland before buzzing Canada and hitting American airspace over Maine. Ish. Any preferences? It's a pretty nice sightseeing trip either way."

The jet spoke casually, as if this was something he did often.

[Deleted]

"No," Sarita said firmly, politeness damned for a moment. "No vertical climbing rolls. I mean...."

She swallowed, daring to take a peek out the window before flinching back.

"I mean, um, I need a moment to get used to, um...being off the ground. I-I've never been up this high except in a B-Boeing, Mr. Deuce. And, um, there was more in the way of the window."

She was still regretting the day's choices, as well, but she wasn't about to voice that. In fact, there were a lot of things she was repressing, and...were those deserts, outside? Sarita couldn't help but lean as far as she could, tempted to press her hands against the window for balance. No, wait, those'll leave smears on the inside.

Deuce's voice caught the singer's attention, and she looked back over at the display. Taking a moment to digest her options, she said, "Ireland to Iceland. Liberia and Sierra Leone are hotspots for the current epidemic — it's called 'ebola'. Vicious illness, causing humans to vomit blood at its worst; it deceptively looks like the flu, and then just gets worse over time. We have no business being there while it's still digging itself in."

Sarita looked back out the window...and that's when it hit her. The view, the altitude, the clouds and the arid horizon — clashing hues of rusty, wine-dark and scattered green, features small enough to belong on model playsets. She took one hand and cupped it in the air — the silhouette of a mountain fit right into it. The singer tilted her head, her look thoughtful as she said nothing.

[Deleted]

"That's too bad," said the jet. "I've always had a bit of a soft spot for Sierre Leone. That said, Ireland is pretty awesome to see from the air. So tiny. Aite, to the north it is!"

The jet gently banked, angling its wings to the right. Sunlight gleamed off its metal skin, shining briefly before the reflection faded. To a ground observer the aircraft was little more than a crumb of light in the pale morning sky, flickering and then gone.

It settled again on its new heading, the HSI falling still. The desert slid past below, the great dunes glowing as they were caught by the sunrise.

"You're awfully quiet," said the jet after a moment. "Still okay back there? I hope the G's didn't get you too badly. I once pulled a ten G turn and nearly ripped my wings off. Obviously I wouldn't do that with a passenger on board, but wow! Talk about a head rush."

[Deleted]

"Hm?" said Sarita, snapped out of her reverie. "Oh, no, I'm fine. It was...intense, yes, but the shock's wearing off. You must understand, Mr. Deuce, you must be highly specialized on Earth in order to fly a Falcon, from what I understand — you would be a military plane here. Any civilians with a Falcon in their possession, if I am right, would be under serious investigation."

She looked back out the window, eyes wandering over the landscape.

"It's beautiful up here, Mr. Deuce. I'm...transfixed, to be honest — the ground has so much colour. I can see sediment and plant patterns and everything. And the sun...the sky's so vibrant. People write songs about the sky, all the time, but I don't know how many have been up in the air."

She went quiet again after waxing poetic, interrupting the engine-tinged stillness with a hum. There was a song on her mind and ready to dance on her lips, but she kept it to herself as much as she could. Still, if Deuce paid attention, he'd catch a few notes and words from his cockpit —

"I dream of rain, hmmm hmmm hmm...gardens in the desert sand, hmm hmmm...."

Desert Rose by Sting. Not one of her top favourites, but a friend of hers had played it on repeat so much, the song sometimes came to mind, and she could remember almost every lyric from memory. Flying over the desert reminded her of it.

[Deleted]

The jet cackled at Sarita's first comment, but by the time her voice had softened into a quiet and mellifluous tone his manner grew more sombre.

"Wait, I know that song!" he said. "That's, uh... that's Desert Rose, right? I love that song. Wana nh'awis ana wa'la ghzalti - 'and I am looking for myself and my loved ones.' It's beautiful. Okay, uh, don't tell anyone this, but..."

From the instrument panel there came a guilty cough. "I kind of maybe might really like Sting. Really. Walking on the Moon? Fields of Gold? Englishman in New York? Oh shit, Russians! I think that one is one of my favourites. They're all good, really. Oh! Don't Stand So Close to Me! Okay, that was the Police. It's still awesome. It sort of counts."

Anxiously, the jet waggled its wings again. "But seriously, don't tell anyone. My hard rock cred will go down the toilet with certain associates of mine if they find out I secretly rock out to Sting. I will never hear the end of it. But yeah. I totally get you on the desert thing. I lived in another desert for a while recently, and while the heat and the sand and the dust are killer, there's something very - I dunno, very discomposing about the desert."

The voice deepened, grew melancholic. "'For years we lived anyhow with one another in the naked desert, under the indifferent heaven. By day the hot sun fermented us; and we were dizzied by the beating wind. At night we were stained by dew, and shamed into pettiness by the innumerable silences of stars. We were a self-centred army without parade or gesture, devoted to freedom, the second of man's creeds, a purpose so ravenous that it devoured all our strength, a hope so transcendent that our earlier ambitions faded in its glare.'"