[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]Arrival of an Old Unexpected Friend [Open]

[Deleted]

[Episode 2.5: Week 2: Day 3: 4:00 AM]

[Location: Earth: North American Continent: United States of America: Southwestern Region: Nevada: Goldfield Mining Junkyard]

Something wasn't right. He'd been able to have at least determined that, especially after the turbulent ride in the former pilot's seat, and the last surviving remnant of that old exploratory cruiser he'd found. The old warrior had been fortunate, if not a little surprised, to have discovered an old cruiser dating back to the early cycles of the Golden Age when the Space Bridges had been active and after he'd spent time jury-rigging it to provide him a means to depart his dying home world. The old cruiser had been decommissioned with some fuel still remaining in the tanks aboard and following a little persuasion, the old cruiser had left the surface of the metallic world with him at the controls. He'd managed to jury-rig an old recharge berth back to operational status, and when he hadn't spent time at the controls had spent time recharging during the lengthy trip. There had been more of an inkling that he'd meet up with Optimus Prime and the rest of the Ark's crew, but about halfway through the journey had discovered the old cruiser's navigational computer hadn't held the coordinates for the rendezvous he'd been given prior to the Ark's launch.

He'd managed to make it the third planet of the local Star System orbiting a single star and had been about to open an encrypted channel to the Ark or any Autobot signature when Master Fire Alarm had sounded, prompting him to have checked the monitors to have discovered a rather large chunk from the cruiser's outer hull had started flaking off panel by panel. Having tried to activate the cruiser's fire suppressant systems, Kup had found those systems had malfunction -- something to do with crossed wires or clogged lines. The cruiser had started falling apart around him, and he hadn't a choice other than to have ridden the fireball through the atmosphere.

“At least, the fire didn't get my Ci-gar,” Kup said quietly, reaching into a belt pouch fishing for one of the ci-gars he'd been so fond of. Drawing the cylindrical item that flared near one end from the pouch held between two servos, he'd raised it to lips only to find the cylinder had snapped in two. “Of all the lousy times to tell me to stop smoking, this isn't one of them,”

The command deck's canopy had somehow swung open either from the flames having melted the hinges or that he'd somehow fallen against the canopy release button, but he'd soon found the pilot's seat had been blown clear of the disintegrating hull.He'd recalled having scrambled for the straps, and had somehow managed to strap himself in only after the seat had cleared the hull. He'd cursed himself softly for that one.

“Now, where did I wind up on this blasted planet?” he'd asked himself, quietly. He hadn't wanted to have alerted or at least allowed any of the native population to have narrowed in on his location, even if he hadn't had a clue as to whom on this planet had been hostile or not. Reaching with his right arm up to his chest, he'd tapped the release button for the crash straps except found the straps held firm. He'd been about to press the button again with one of his hands when motion out of the corner of his optics caught his attention, and with a brief turn of his helm he'd recognized parts of the ejection seat raining down around him. Before he'd been able to react, the frame of the ejection seat gave way sending him crashing into the mound of junk beneath him. “That's one for the record books...” he softly chuckled.

“Anyone listening in on this frequency....” he began, having activated his wrist-mounted com-link. “...hone in on this frequency. Kup to Autobot Command or to any Autobots listening in. Hello? Oh blast. I think my com-link's on the fritz again,” The old warrior's com-link sparked a bit before having faded, rendered inert unless he'd been able to find a machine shop or a medical bot to have repaired it. Fortunately, the old warrior had landed with his aft plate first on the encrypted auto-homing beacon from the cruiser's ejection seat.

[Bumblebee]

Ooooof, it was early.

Far, far too early. With a long, grumbled vent of a sigh, Bumblebee rolled and flopped down off his berth, landing with a lazy clunk of his pedes. He pulled himself up straight, sleepily rolling his shoulders as his optics adjusted to the dim light of his quarters – several different colored lava lamps at the far side of the room making colors dance and roll on the walls. Huh, neat...

Even though they didn't need 'eight hours sleep' or whatever it was like humans, Bee sure felt like he needed it right now. He was tired – even though nothing had been out of the ordinary, he felt particularly drained, unable to fully slip into recharge. Or at least, recharge that seemed to do its purpose. He'd dimmed his optics, settled down against his berth - but was still completely awake.

And it was annoying.

Maybe a walk around the base would help. At the very least, maybe he'd find someone around to talk to... What was it the humans called them? Early birds? That was cute. Not that people were birds, but... birds did get up super early and sing their songs, letting the World know about what they were doing and what kind of day it was going to be. Or at least that's what Bee assumed they were doing! Not that there were many birds here – and not that they could hear them in the base anyway even if there were, but still.

With a quiet hum of his own, he pushed off into a lazy walk. Not aiming to go anywhere particularly fast, he left his quarters, shutting the door behind himself, and made his way down the corridor. He'd stretch his arms above his head, giving a rather satisfied beep as his spinal-strut flexed with his movement.

Everything was so quiet at this hour, he realized. Everyone either still in recharge, or those that were awake were elsewhere – getting in some early morning training downstairs, or still in their quarters. One place he knew there would be someone was the Control Room. He couldn't remember who was supposed to be there at this hour, only that someone would be – and so he rounded the corner and made his way there.

Ah! There's someone he hadn't seen in a while – then again no wonder if he got stuck doing this early shift at the console. Someone had to do it, he figured! Then again it might be nice in a way – nothing probably happened at this hour, could just sit around and watch cartoons! Maybe Jazz would appreciate the company regardless, Bee had lots to fill him in on!

--Jazz! Hey! Anything interestin' happening over here?-- he quickened his pace, making his way over to the other mech, beeps chipper and cheerful despite how tired he felt. His servos shifted to his hips, and he turned his attention to the console to see what Jazz was doing.

[Jazz]

     Jazz had volunteered to take the early shift, which had now turned into two shifts. He didn't mind. It gave him something to do and it meant that the others could recharge for a bit longer. An hour of recharge here and there was more than enough to sustain him. Of course, 'giving him something to do' was the overstatement of the millennia! 

     He was leaned back in the chair, servos locked behind his helm with his pedes propped on the flat surface of the console. He'd been through two shifts, going into a third, and had been doing nothing but sitting in his seat listening to music with one audial while keeping the other open in case someone radioed in. The odds of something happening were slim to none, but one could never really know for sure. Their ranks were increasing as time went on as more of their faction located their signal and found their way here. They were falling anywhere, everywhere, and at all times, which was why someone had to be here around the clock.

     Just when Jazz was losing hope that he would have anything going on this time, that bubble was popped. 

     A faint line of static came across the frequency and Jazz shot up to attention, removing his pedes from the console and turning off his music so he could listen in as he leaned in close to the system to try and hear what was being said.

     'Hone... fre... up...' He pressed a couple buttons and turned the dial to try and up the signal strength but there was nothing else coming through. Whoever it was trying to call in was clearly having an issue on their end. So, Jazz did what he could and went to work trying to pinpoint the location of the transmission. The machinery they were using here was definitely obsolete, but Jazz had thankfully worked on much older junk so he could at least figure out what he needed to to get everything operational. He almost had it by the time Bee came in, and the older mech looked over his shoulder at the yellow scout, a smile on his faceplate.

     "Hey, kiddo! Perfect timin'." Jazz turned his sights from the monitor after it picked up the homing beacon and spun around in the chair. "Looks like we got another trooper rollin' in and we're the only ones awake to go pick him up. Feelin' up to bring the boy on home?"

[Deleted]

Staring up at the darkened sky above -- a darkened blue sky although to his optics that hadn't quite become accustomed to the planet's particular atmosphere the sky had appeared a myriad of purples though with a few quick blinks of his optic covers, the sky had quickly shifted from the purple spectrum to the darkened blue nearly black hue. He'd found himself staring up at the sky from the bottom of a pile surrounded by junk, by bits and pieces which at first when he'd spotted a car's front bumper with its headlights staring back at him had mistaken as another Cybertronian only to have discovered that it hadn't been a live sentient being from his home world and had been a rather lifeless inert assembly. That had been before he'd found rusted out lamps to cup holders, to cracked mugs among the other flotsam and detritus that surrounded him, but he'd mused if his journeys across the stars and his eon long operational life had led him to rest on his aft plate in a junk pile even with his senses intact he had to have counted himself fortunate. He could have ended up in pieces, melted down for spare parts and billions of other rotten possibilities the Universe could have thrown at him, but to have landed in a junk pile had to have been one of the better outcomes.

An odd organic thing, that he'd heard another bot had categorized as birds that he'd observed on at least several other planets during his earlier cycles chirped in what he'd only been able to have guessed had been the early part of a day or what passed as such on this planet. A younger more recent model of his kind might have found the noise form an organic form to have been annoying, but Kup had found it hadn't been that bad and had come to actually find some odd serenity in it. For once, there hadn't been any blasters or lasers or Ion cannons ripping apart the landscape to a myriad of alt-forms grinding across the ground to passing overhead at supersonic speeds. Hearing the birds chirping had lent a kind of calmness to the entire affair, and simply laying there motionless the old warrior -- old even among his kind paid the early morning song provided by a native life form to the planet that had otherwise been entirely unaware of a Cybertronian's presence the respect it had truly deserved.

A glint of white, more of a blob of white with black specks dropped from above as one of the birds whose feathered silhouette had passed over head, and as the blob splattered against the old warrior's chest plating he'd found the blob or rather the droppings had not only smelled horrible but hadn't actually been an intentional insult either.

'What is it with organic things and having to drop their load wherever they roam?' he'd thought to himself. A moment after that thought had crossed his processor, another white and black speckled blob splashed against his chest plate.

[Deleted]

Whirl had been training late, and now he was sloping around in the halls. He didn't feel a need to recharge, but didn't feel like he had anything to do either. He heard Bumblebee and Jazz discussing the new signal.

He tilted his head in interest. Whirl got bored far too easily, even though it was only hours ago that he had been okayed for active duty and the pains in his neck subdued by Ratchet the Hatchet.

It promptly seemed like a fun idea to go with them. The only question, in his opinion, was whether to ask before he followed, or just follow without asking. After all, it was unlikely he'd not do it.

He walked into the control room, but not silently. Just standing near the door, listening - at least for the moment. Thanks to his lack of face he knew how to blend into the background. In fact that was why he was usually so loud - so that he didn't go overlooked.

Technically if nobody actually told him not to come he wouldn't be disobeying orders if he come anyway.

Then again, he'd never let direct orders get in the way of doing stuff before and he wasn't really thinking they would now.

"And I'll come too," he told the two mechs in a matter-of-fact way.

[Bumblebee]

Bee's optics whirred some as he looked over at the console screen. He'd sat here himself enough times by now that he knew at a glance what he was looking at. Huh, Nevada? That was close at least! With how little Energon they had, at least the Ground Bridge wouldn't have to be opened somewhere across the planet. A small blessing, and he'd take it!

--Good thing you were here, huh!-- He chirped, bobbing his helm. --Don't think we've had a call come in this early in a long time! Did they give any info? Are they hurt?-- normally with a crash, there was some injury involved, and he wondered for a moment if they should risk waking Ratchet to start getting things ready in the Med Bay. But on second thought... waking Ratchet when he wasn't needed? Well that'd be a surefire way to annoy him.

Best to go check it out first, then report back.

There were more footsteps then from behind, and he'd swivel his helm to glance over his shoulder at who'd entered the Control Room. Another early bird! Hhhm. Whirl? That had to be Whirl – he'd only arrived yesterday. Maybe that was why he was up at such a stupid hour as well - he remembered when he'd first arrived to Earth it took a little time to adjust to things and so he wouldn't question it too much.

--Oh hey! Whirl, right?-- His beeps were chipper, and he'd swivel to face Whirl and raised one servo to give a gentle wave, before replacing it to rest on his hip. --That totally works out better! This way we can go and Jazz can stay here and man the bridge!-- the last thing he wanted to do was have to call someone and say 'hello yes we need a bridge back now please' this early in the morning! Plus this way Jazz could be the one to wake Ratchet if they needed him after all, and it was sticking to the whole buddy-system rule. 

Good timing indeed!

Even though he was totally excited about spending time with Jazz after not seeing him around in so long, this also worked – he did always love meeting the new arrivals to the base and going to pick up this new arrival? Meant he'd get to meet two at once!

[Jazz]

Jazz was excited to be hanging out with Bee again, especially out cruising. The two had been off doing their own separate things for so long that they really hadn't even seen much of one another ( and to finish that race of theirs to best one another that had been interrupted before ). Crossing paths here and there, yes. Offering gestures to one another as they went about their duties, yes. Actually sitting down and having a conversation? No.

This was the perfect opportunity being presented to them. Not only did they get a chance to get out and pick up the fellow bot who had landed FAIRLY close to their location, but they would be bringing someone else home ontop of it. A deed well done for the two. Frankly, Jazz would have rather been out and about doing something other than sitting around an otherwise silent console.

He was about to get up when they were joined by another one of the newbies.
And then his hopes were shattered.

Yes, it was a better situation. Bee was following the rules by sticking with the buddy system, and Jazz was staying behind on his rotation for manning the controls. Didn't mean he was happy about it, but not like they had much of a choice, either. Bee hadn't hung out with him much since his arrival here, but this way Bee could get a chance to get to have a feel for Whirl as well, so that was good.

Jazz, on the other hand?

"Great timin'. Ya'll better get goin' before our buddy gets rained on," Jazz said as he made himself comfortable in the seat again. He typed out on the console for a moment, sending Bee the coordinates that had popped up as the location for the downed bot. Just to Bee, though. He didn't want the newbie to go off on his own. Jazz didn't know if he followed the rules or not, but he knew he could trust Bee to do so, at least. "You've good the coordinates, Bee. I'll stay here and check in on ya from time to time. Lemme know if anythin' goes bottoms up and I'll be there in two flicks of a rattler's tail to cover your back."

So that was the plan. Now it was a matter to see if it was executed properly.

[Deleted]

“That should do it. At least, I remembered to pack a little wax in case of an emergency,” the Old Warrior said. He'd spent a little while cleaning off his breast plate of the bird droppings after having found container of wax in one of his belt pouches, in particular the brand of wax he'd favored since the Age of Wrath and his time in the trenches as a younger bot. He couldn't exactly remember the nano-klick when he'd been introduced to the old fashioned wax, but he'd sought out and even specifically ordered that rather potent and valued brand if rare in the cycles of the Golden Age. It may have cost a little, but he'd saved more than enough and he'd spent very little of the vast credits outside of oil changes, mugs of oil and the occasional maintenance. He hadn't believed in spending more than what one needed, and nearly all of the young recruits he'd seen in the Academies to even the Towerlings had been surprised at how much he'd saved. In some ways, having lost that vast savings after the War had broken had been a pity and a loss. In those other ways that counted, only a few credits had been lost.

He hadn't found the bird droppings offensive as some might have, and as soon as his breastplate had been scrubbed clean and shone with the wax Kup had been content. Replacing the container of wax back into its pouch, he'd considered climbing out of the pile of junk to have found his bearings except he'd learned the best way for someone to have found you had been to have stayed put. Whether this planet's life forms had proved threatening, or scavengers if the junk surrounding him had been any indication or if they'd been among the few that had been curious about the sentient metallic beings had yet to be proven. If the local life forms had proved a threat, he hadn't been unarmed at least and had learned more than a few other tricks to have insured his chassis had remained operational. If the local life forms on the other hand had proved either to be scavengers or curious about him, he'd deal with the situation when it arose.

A thought occurred to him, that if he'd have to check the junk pile for any information pertaining to the planet or at least his location. Checking the surrounding trash for anything relevant, he'd soon exhausted it by only finding shreds of news papers with incomplete listings or shredded pieces posters. Finding the front grill of a car he'd initially thought had been another Cybertronian, he'd brushed away some of the detritus and found the car's cabin had mostly remained in tact with the roof of the car having remained structurally intact keeping most of the trash from falling into the cabin. The bench seats had seen better days, but he'd found the steering column with its steering wheel missing poking out from the dashboard as if some odd grave marker and his optics fell on something that might have given him some hope. Carefully reaching with his right arm through the open frame of the missing windshield, he'd reached across to the right of the dashboard and attempted to use the built-in catch to have opened the glove compartment only to find it had been missing. Grabbing the glove box casing with his servos, he'd pressed in on it gently enough to hear it pop open. Reaching inside, he'd produced first the user's manual for 1952 Chevy Bel Air which he'd placed inside one of his belt pouches knowing it would at least come in handy later. With another sweep of his servos inside the glove compartment, he'd found a few old folded maps and even an object consisting of two fuzzy dice dangling off of a chain.

Sitting back against the junk pile, he'd readjusted his optics to allow him to scan and read the information after unfolding the maps. He'd been able to ascertain Highway and Interstate Numbers to surface street names along with listings for towns accompanied by stars or asterisks denoting their importance in the area, and had at least learned either the name of the territory or the country he'd found himself on since none of the maps had appeared to have encompassed the planet. He'd crash landed or rather ejected in the town of Goldfield, Nevada -- apparently a mining town if the symbols on the side of the map from 1968 had anything to say about it.

[Deleted]

Whirl tilted his helm, cheerful at the acceptance from Bumblebee and Jazz - although more than a little surprised too. They probably hadn't heard what a horrible, monstrous person he really was.

He liked kids, too. True, Bee was a little older than the kids Whirl usually liked but Cybertron had been dead for millenia and beggars couldn't be choosers. Bumblebee was one of the youngest pre-war mechs. In war, innocence tended to be the first casualty.

He shifted his gears slightly so that he was standing shorter than usual, rather than looming over the other two mechs. Now he was almost on optic level with them.

"Da name is Whirl, but all my friends call me Whirl," he told Bee and Jazz cheerfully, "Wow, ya really tink I had a good idea?" he started checking his weaponry, drawing his Shoomer and checking down the sight, racking the slide, "Neatness! Back in da Wreckers..." he put the large weapon on his back again, "Dey would get all whingey about," he faked a high-pitched whine, "'Whirl, ya can't go off and capture an entire laboratory on yer own what if ya need backup' and 'Whirl, ya know paperwork ain't as much fun as levellin' an engineerin' plant' and 'Whirl, torture ain't an effective interrogation method'."

He drew his rotary blades from his back and checked them over. Each one was almost as long as Whirl was tall, and just as sharp.

"Well sure, nobody's gonna be interrogatin' anybody successfully with dat attitude. Ya need more'n practice. Ya need experience. Otherwise you're just some everyday sadist," he added, before rapping the blades together, listening hard to the ringing noise they made. He sheathed only one on his back.

He turned to Bumblebee, studying the kid and his torn voxcoder intently, "Somethin' we're both more'n aware of, huh?" he tapped his own yellow optic meaningfully. It wasn't exactly tactful, but Whirl had long ago given up on tact getting his message through. Tact was for people still capable of expressing nuances.

"Well, ready ta have some fun, kid?" he asked Bumblebee, starting to jig up and down excitably, tapping the still-drawn blade on the ground as he did so. He looked over Jazz's shoulder at the map again, "So... we're close enough ta fly? And by fly, I mean drive. Drive and fly. Right?"

Some people said that if you didn't have at least one bad Autobot, you'd never know what a good Autobot was. And there was definitely a difference between a traitor, and a guy who just wasn't so hot at being a good guy. Whirl, a mech with all the impulse control of a rattlesnake with tourettes, was the kind of guy who really made you appreciate reliability among the rest of your troops.

[Bumblebee]

--Good idea?-- Bee chirped, tilting his head --Ya just had good timing, that's all!--

If anything it was Bee that had the good idea in suggesting that he and Whirl check out the signal and Jazz stay here, but eh, he wouldn't comment further on it.

His optics whirred audibly, watching as Whirl began checking his weaponry right there and then. He felt a little uncomfortable at the action – it wasn't like they were charging into a battle or any kind of fight, and he made a point of sidestepping to stand next to Jazz as Whirl looked down the sight of the massive gun. It wasn't that he didn't trust Whirl it was just so strange – especially when paired with his words.

How to even reply to that?

Maybe Bee was just tired, or maybe he and Jazz had given the wrong impression as to what they were going to be doing? They certainly weren't going to be interrogating anyone – not unless the signal was a trap or something and it was actually a Decepticon, and even then there was a truce in play right now so...

Whirl turned to him then, and he seemed to be staring. Was easy to tell with the whole one optic thing, and Bee would shift his weight awkwardly. Everyone knew about what'd happened to Bee with Megatron, how he'd been interrogated and left for dead – but it was something that Bee didn't really like talking about. It was bad enough that humans couldn't understand him because of it, or that it still haunted his processor at times.

--Uh, yeah. Somethin' like that.-- He replied quietly, optics narrowing just slightly as he averted his gaze, looking down as if it'd make Whirl stop looking at him so intently.

Quiet then, and then a mood shift – Whirl hopping up and down and tapping one of the blades on the concrete floor. Unfortunately, Bee didn't have the same enthusiasm – but he'd try to bring some chipperness back into his tone.

--Ah, yep! Jazz gave me the co-ords, we don't have to go too far – which is lucky for whoever it is we're picking up!-- He was trying to be cheerful, but man, Whirl's earlier words were playing on repeat. He'd get over it though, they had a job to do.

With a roll of his shoulders, he'd nod and push forwards, walking toward the tunnel that led to the outside. With a familiar shift of metal and hydraulics, he shifted forms, transforming into his alt-mode.

--I guess let's get goin' huh? Jazz, I'll keep in contact and let ya know if we need anything!--

And with that he'd set off, pausing just outside the entrance so that Whirl could shift forms and take to the skies with no issue.

[Jazz]

     Jazz watched Whirl and right away his frame shifted when the odd mech got a little too close to Bee with those tools of his that didn't look none too friendly. He was flashing them around in a way that made Jazz regret thinking that it would be alright to send Bee off with this mech, who seemed one can short to a full barrel. He leaned forward in the chair and propped his arms on his knees as he watched the exchange between the two. He'd be able to let off a light show at any moment should he need to distract the blue mech.

     Definitely would need to keep a sharp optic on that one. Nothing to bother Optimus with... not yet, at least, but certainly it wasn't anything he would let fly under the radar. He disliked not being able to trust someone who wore the Autobot badge, but then again... sometimes it was for the best to not open your arms so wide to welcome someone until you knew for sure they wouldn't plunge a knife in your back.

     "Yeah, we got it that you're name's Whirl. Wanna know mine?" Jazz frowned at the pencil-legged mech and dropped his tone from his usual lively cheerful one to the stern uncle. "Mine is 'I Will Kick Your Aft If Somethin' Happens To Bee, and if you need me to spell it out for ya, I'll gladly carve it into your arm so you can always look a it. Ya know, as a careful reminder." Jazz stood from the seat so he could walk to the other side of the console and started to type away, pinpointing the coordinates again and just... pretending to be focused on something else while he send a message through Bee's private comm.

     :: Keep this line open while you're out, just in case somethin' happens. I don't trust this mech less than I can hurl Megatron and, trust me, that's not very far. Report in anythin' that seems off, okay? I'm gonna keep an audial out. Watch yourself out there. ::

     Jazz turned back towards the two.

     "Bee, you got the coordinates. Go ahead and head on out. Be safe out there, and radio in if somethin' don't seem right. Don't play hero, and don't make foolish choices. Lemme know if ya'll need me to toss Ratchet your way."

[Deleted]

[In a junk yard/mining camp: Goldfield, Nevada]

He'd folded the map correctly before having stored it in one of the belt pouches alongside the pair of fuzzy dice he'd found in the wrecked 1952 Chevy Bel Air, and had decided to have taken a look at his surroundings with his own optics. While the map had given him limited information and other details, the notion of having observed his surroundings with his own optics hadn't been the only deciding factor since being on other planets had always fascinated him -- although not as much as some of the scientists he'd used to know. He could have gathered little tidbits about his location and about the species on the planet from the twisted metal and other detritus of the junk pile, but Kup hadn't been one to base anything on assumptions which had an all too real tendency of unfortunately resulting in a war with countless deaths and destruction.

If he'd thought like that, he could have joined the Decepticon cause except for that one very important fact he hadn't liberated his own planet from the five-faced judicial mockeries known as the Quintessons simply to see it turned into a lifeless hulk by a group of former gladiators and the like that were led by a delusional pit fighter that had taken the mantle and designation of one of the Thirteen Primes as a means to make himself look better. Or, Kup mused, to stroke his own ego and give him some odd sense he'd be able to make a difference. Their race had been dying for many cycles, and Kup had known it. Their entire species had been set on a death spiral by Sentinel Prime and that blasted Caste System. Rather than thriving as their species had following the liberation, the fate of their species had been set into a non-forgiving mold and given non-realistic expectations by a misguided Prime. In a way, he hadn't wanted to have continued to exist to see the nano-klick when his species had laid dying and that their planet had been rendered into such a state it hadn't been able to have sustained them. If his kind could have cried, he might have for the sheer stupidity of one of his own students having brushed aside his own teachings in favor of a societal decay.

Climbing out of the junkyard, it hadn't taken him long to have reached the peak of the junk pile and while he'd kept his helm low the opportunity to have scanned his surroundings had if anything provided a change of scenery. He'd been stuck in the bottom of that particular junk pile for a while at least. He'd recognized the wooden buildings as those of a mining operation having compared them to his own archived memories of Energon mining operations, and had after setting his own scanners to detect any local life had between the varying states of decay to the lack of activity had discovered those particular buildings had been abandoned.

“I guess I can't complain. I could have landed in a lake, or a volcano. I had to have landed in an abandoned mining camp. Talk about irony. I guess whoever's looking out for Ol'Kup hasn't quite given up on me yet,” he'd mused, quietly.

[Deleted]

Whirl looked at Jazz, and tilted his head. Apart from that, he was unreadable. It was like looking at a version of Shockwave, or possibly the faceless Soundwave.

Whirl wasn't personally offended when people were worried about how he might behave. Prior to the war, one of the favourite pieces of Senate propaganda had been that Empurata was only carried out as a punishment on criminals who deserved it - and only pressed harder as the war got closer. Technically this was true. Where things got more complicated was whether you were aware of the Senate's real definition of 'Empurata-deserving criminal' - and why it was so effective.

Especially since the only people who spoke up for Empurata victims were Empurata victims themselves.

Besides, Whirl wasn't exactly the heroic exception to that claim, since it was common knowledge that he had a criminal record of his very own making. Less people were aware that it had only been gained after he'd been Emped.

"Ha! Somethin' bad happenin' ta the kid while I'm dere?!" he spread his arms wide and let out a sharp cackle of a laugh, "I like your sense-a humour, Buddy!" Just what this was supposed to mean was anybody's guess, but unlike Jazz, Whirl didn't lower his voice for covert comments; anybody in the room could hear it.

He turned away from Jazz and performed an agile forward-flip, transforming as he did so into the rotary. He was hovering by the time he had completed. He followed Bumblebee closely, hovering about five feet off the ground as he did so - which took skill, no denying that.

Once he was outside, he rose up off the ground, hovering about fifty feet above Bumblebee, where he could shout down to the kid if he needed to, but Comms were simpler due to the sound of his rotors. With a slight whir, his automatic Avatar activated - an eight-year-old girl who looked a bit like Miko, but with blue hair, an eye-patch, and dual uzis. Not that it could be seen from the ground.

: Man but it feels good to be outta dat hole! : he spoke through an open comm link cheerfully to Bumblebee, although everything he said on this line could also be heard through the comm back to base, : You're da ones with da co-ords, kid. Lead da way! :

Now that they were out of the base, they headed for the road so that they could follow it to the co-ordinates. Given the co-ordinates Whirl could have flown straight there, but he was just over Bumblebee and following him along the road.

He could already tell that Bumblebee was an excellent driver, especially considering his youth. Young ground-pounders were often fast and agile, but it all came back to bite them when they didn't have the skill to use it properly. They'd be there very soon.

He saw something, and took on some altitude to try and see it better.

: Hey, with da roads we're takin'... From up here I can see someplace... it looks like a graveyard or somethin', : he commented to them both, still following Bumblebee, : Not exactly well-maintained though. :

[Bumblebee]

Luckily, Bumblebee had already begun walking by the time Jazz made his reply. It was… a little awkward, that’s for sure - Bee heard every word of it, but didn’t stop in his tracks. He did slow his pace a little, just incase he was called back - or just incase Whirl took it badly and started some sort of fight then and there but…

He didn’t quite get it. Yeah he was the ‘child’ of the base in terms of age, he was used to the over-protectiveness of some, especially after what’d happened to him and what he’d been through with Megatron, but this reaction from Jazz had caught him completely off guard. Whirls comment hadn’t been exactly out of line. It’d come from nowhere, but Bee hadn’t taken offense by his words. He was used to the stares he sometimes got from others, the questions and comments that they couldn’t hold back - simply because they were curious. Heck if it were anyone else, Bee might’ve been the curious one and asking what happened.

Jazz was far angrier about it than he was, that much was certain.

His commline clicked to life just as he was about to depart, and he’d swivel - walking backward slowly and nodding to Jazz as he spoke to the pair.

::--Yep yep, got it! Try not to stress it okay?--:: he replied to Jazz on his own private comm, the beeps chipper, trying to bring up the mood some of the other mech. He didn’t want Jazz sitting here the entire time and stressing!

Outwardly, he’d throw a servo up into a playful salute - Jazz was the one in charge right now, and he’d bob his helm in the affirmative. Words received loud and clear!

--Will update ya when we find whoever it is, don’t worry!--

He turned once more, and it didn’t take long for Whirl to follow and shift forms - hovering above the yellow muscle car in no time at all as Bee began to drive in the direction they were needed.

::--Aw, yeah I bet it’s nice to fly huh?--:: He didn’t really know what it was like - he wasn’t a flier, he didn’t get the ‘cramped’ feeling they got of wanting to stretch their wings - or rotors in this case - but he could definitely sympathize! Sometimes he got a little stir crazy, and with the buddy system in play, and the lack of resources it wasn’t like they could go out as often as he’d like. These moments of getting outside the base were few and far between and Bee would take them when he could.

The already quiet area seemed to be even more still at this hour, the normally warm desert was cold. He could see for miles down the straight stretch of road, normally there’d be at least one or two cars but for now, it was empty. All the more reason to maybe have a little fun with this - and as such, Bee would speed up just a little. It was for Whirls benefit as well as his own - it can’t have been very fun for a flier to lag behind and fly slow! Plus this way they could get to the destination faster and meet whoever it was.

Normally he’d put on his radio, nothing like a bit of country music while you’re driving through a desert - but he left it off for now so he could remain in constant contact with his teammates. He didn’t have a Holoform in his seat, the windows blacked out and impossible to see in - the only time he found it was needed was the brief moment when Raf opened his door at the school, just incase someone peeked in.

With the speed they were going, they’d made a lot of progress - with not another car or vehicle in sight! Bee could appreciate that - it was very rare he got to drive as such speeds, he’d never ever go this fast with Raf around. Well, not unless Raf wanted to anyway!

Things were quiet, and it was nice in a way - just driving like this. But the silence didn’t last, and Whirl’s voice pinged through on the comm.

::--A graveyard? Like- a human one?--:: huh. Then again he’d not really explored this area a whole lot - probably because there wasn’t a whole lot! There was the Omega Base, the town of Jasper where the school was, Rafs house… His own little area where he used to go for target practice and racing (before the buddy system, oh how he missed that!)... But that was about all he could think of off the top of his helm.

::--Is that where we’re supposed to be heading?--:: He couldn’t tell from down here if the co-ords would match the location that Whirl had spotted - which he couldn’t see yet himself - but they were super close now so maybe!

[Deleted]

A sound, a distinct echo of rotors blades both pounding upon the air and passing through it triggered his audio receptors and knowing there had been three possibilities of its origin with one being the Decepticons -- an outcome he hadn't been all too fond of thinking about while the other had been an Autobot patrol and lastly a patrol of local forces. The accompanying rumble of an engine, a V8 if he had to call it had also been detected, evidence the flier he'd heard hadn't been alone and there had been a ground-type too.

If it had been an enemy patrol or even a native patrol, it'd be either two on one or if they had carried passengers which meant even more rifles and inquisitive eyes. The Old Warrior mulled over the three possibilities, of which two hadn't been ones he'd been eager to try while the third had been a far and remote possibility held a far more enjoyable outcome. Keeping his helm about him, the Old Warrior scanned the nearby vicinity for any vehicles or perhaps places to hide if those on the patrol had proven inquisitive and an old vehicle -- a sedan caught his attention. Focusing his optics on it, he'd found the old sedan had been a a Nineteen Sixty-Four Ford Falcon Futura with its hard top covered in vinyl and given that he hadn't had a greater selection within the mining camp's junkyard he'd allowed his optics to have scanned the older sedan. Less than the time it would have taken an organic to have undergone the process of breathing, the older Cybertronian in a myriad of shifting plates and gears assumed the form of the older Ford Falcon Futura even if the chrome along the alt-form complimented the dark green finish and slightly lighter vinyl top. The older sedan he'd scanned from had lacked side-view mirrors, but Kup hadn't entirely minded more due in part to how he'd felt a bit comfortable in that form. The older Sedan had long passed its prime or it wouldn't have been in an old mining camp, but its more retro look hearkening back to an older decade seemed to have only been a reflection of his own views and the patience he'd garnered.

A younger mech might have chosen a newer, more flashy and gaudy alt-form in order to represent some rebellious outlook on life, but for a Cybertronian his age he'd given up being flashy. It hadn't hurt that he'd believed that to be flashy had been a distraction at best, and having a giant target painted on one's own dashboard. Angling the rear-view mirror around or at least as much as he'd been able in order to get a clearer view from behind him, Kup in his new found alt-form slowly eased himself over on all four tires towards a series of other derelict vehicles with varying shades of finish left by whomever had left them there. Kup hadn't even bothered to have turned his headlights on since he'd known that even if all else failed the beams from those headlights might have brought the patrol that much closer.