We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
The former soldier was well attuned to Sarita's nervousness now; that anxious cloud of abandonment and threat that followed her everywhere. It was at the root of her politeness and formality, he suspected. Some unconscious reasoning that if she was nice to everyone then no one would hurt her. She'd had significant experience of evidence to the contrary, but Layby was hoping that someday she'd start relaxing and trusting that she was safe.
What was happening now with Cleaver was rather scuppering that, though. Layby wished that he'd just been able to speak to Deuce and keep Sarita in the dark until he had more information. It was what he was doing with Cat, in part because he didn't want Cat to worry, but also because he didn't want the woman to digitally weapon-up and go hunting. Or worse.
Layby nodded. "Yeah, Altruous and Cat're both here doin' their things. Nothing ta suggest that Haven's coordinates have been compromised. We're locked down from casual visits from the factions for the time being, though."
As a weary, almost guilty-sounding admission, he added, "Ain't much for hosting right now."
<<OOC: Fast-forwarding in your next turn sounds good, Lex, if that's cool with Potential?>>
It ended up being nearly two hours before anyone radioed back.
The transmission came abruptly, with little warning. It was a little broken up with static, as if the jet were transmitting from a low altitude with a line-of-sight signal that was being interrupted by terrain.
"Layby and Sarita, do you read?" it said. "This is Deuce. Sorry it took so long to get back to you. Traffic over the southern end of Utah was a little heavier than I was expecting. Had to do some repositioning to stay out of the way of the heavies and off local radar."
The jet's voice sounded tense, though his words were spoken casually. Static crackled over them.
"Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I've done a sweep up Nevada and over Utah. I've been on station for over an hour now, just flying a grid while I scan the air and the ground and... sorry, guys."
He spoke apologetically. "I've got nothing. Zilch. Haven't seen any sign of her, or of any suspicious activity. It's business as usual over the state right now. No crash site, no MECH - nothing. Man, I'm sorry. There's just nothing out here."
Layby had passed the time by himself, quietly excusing himself from Sarita's comm. channel. Small talk whilst waiting for word seemed like a particular brand of Pit he had no inclination to enter into. Waiting was a large part of the military, and ingrained habits lasted a lifetime.
The former soldier took the small cache of weapons from the safe and cleaned them; did a quick inventory count in the bar; and fed James with the tweezers he'd made for managing the food pouches. He was just opening a maintenance kit to deal with a little burr in the armor covering his shin from misjudging an excavation load yesterday when Deuce pinged back in.
He'd resolved himself to not getting his hopes up, and had been keeping his mind carefully blank whilst he'd waited. There'd been no stopping the little surge when the jet began talking, however, despite the terse tone of his voice that indicated there would be no positive news.
Finally, Layby nodded to himself with a grunt. Some menial time to himself had allowed him to pull some of the tattered threads together, and now he stood with a straighter back. "Thanks for tryin', Deuce," he rumbled, closing his hands into massive fists and releasing them slowly.
An avenue checked and confirmed as a dead end. Move on. Ratchet may still come back with something from an Autobot in the field, and he could set Cat on scanning online for any kind of clue.