[ti]Ep 2.5[/ti]The Lament of Chauncey Pilkington (Closed, Javelin, Bandit)

[Bandit]

Week 2, Day 5

A somehow disappointed-looking motorcycle slinked out of Jasper a short way as night fell on the surrounding Nevada desert.  The bike's helmet-clad rider seemed to flicker out and disappear entirely as the bike drove itself a short way, leaving the main clusters of buildings making up the town a half-mile or so behind as it pulled into a deserted parking lot connected to a small boarded-up building.

After a moment of determining that there were no natives about, the bike unfolded, panels shifted, and several annoying local laws of mass and proportion were violated as Bandit transformed into his robot form.

As Bandit completed his transformation and straightened up, his hooded cloak phased in out of subspace and arranged itself dashingly over his shoulders and head.  He stretched a bit, then sighed, and leaned against the small boarded up building.  He sat himself cross-legged on the ground, and drew out some tools from some hidden compartment under the cloak.  He pulled out further technical bits and bobs and started using the tools to assemble them in various configurations, seemingly haphazardly to any random onlookers.

After a moment of thought, he reached into his cloak again and drew out Chauncey Pilkington, now much smaller in his green and grey fingers.  Bandit set the Furby on the ground beside him and went back to work on his gadgeting.  

"Beeeerrrrrooooni," Chancey intoned.

"Don't you start," Bandit warned.

[Javelin]

A dark blue vehicle had left Jasper not too long after the cycle. As it was night, the darkness cast its shadow around the area, lengthening shadows that slowly blended into the ground and spread, until it seemed to lay upon everything. The vehicle’s headlight were bright, and it almost seemed to have a very faint glow coming from beneath it – almost like pale under car lights. They were so faint, however, it was actually hard to see if they were really there or not, or just a trick of the eyes.
It was hard to completely hide biolights, even if the owner could dim them somewhat when needed.

Javelin had forgone the need for an avatar, as no one could see inside.

She had just come from a little patrol around Jasper, as part of her duties to the base. There was a truce on, but that didn’t mean the Decepticons might not be up to something, and sometimes it was just a good idea to drive around and listen to what was being said.

That was one of the things Javelin excelled at. Languages, and listening, picking up stuff casually mentioned in passing.

The patrol had been a bust, however. The only things the humans loitering around in Jasper seemed interested in were the latest movies, the newest video games, and something called “reality tv” that had several of the humans making bets with each other as to the actions of some of the stars.

She left Jasper behind, and was making her way back to the Omega Base.

It’s a pretty world, she thought, taking in the sights around her. The atmosphere made the stars seem to twinkle here, didn’t just leave them cold, unmoving pinpricks of light the way you sometimes saw them on Cybertron.

The sky’s so velvety looking, so beautiful tonight, she thought, lost in admiration, the sky, the stars, that guy, the shape of those rocks against the-

Brakes suddenly bit into the pavement with a short skidding yelp, a whiff of a chemical not quite unlike overheated rubber, yet not quite. The aft end of her alt mode skidded to the side, and she quickly recovered, swinging her back end around so that she had done a complete about face. She sat half on the pavement, half on the shoulder, her scanners sweeping the area.

There was a Cybertronian over there. Just there. Fully transformed. Just sitting there, where someone could see him.

Javelin felt oddly exposed, as if a bunch of humans were suddenly going to magically appear and start pointing and hollering, and everything was going to just fall apart right in front of her eyes.

Who was he?!

Javelin didn’t recognise him as an Autobot. Mentally pulling up the scans she had been given when she first arrived at the Autobot station, she tried to compare them with the Who’s Who of Decepticons. It was certainly possible, of course, that this was a new Decepticon, one that wasn’t yet known to Optimus Prime and the others.
Meaning she had to take this carefully.

Pulling back onto the road, Javelin started making her way back towards where she saw the Cybertronian seated on the ground, and opened her comm., broad channel.

::This is Autobot Javelin, to unknown Cybertronian seated on ground. I am several clicks from your position, and approaching with no hostile intention. There has been a truce declared between the Autobots and the Decepticons. I repeat, there is a truce.::

Despite her broadcast, Javelin approached cautiously.

[Bandit]

The moment Jav’s headlights illuminated Bandit against the squat brick building like he was an album cover, he engaged the chameleon matrix on his cloak. The cloak took on the color and texture of the building behind it, making Bandit a bit harder to spot. Except for all those robot bits that were currently engaged in his toolwork, of course. That was the problem with the cloak -- it was rather useless when the wearer was already spotted.

Bandit regarded Chauncey Pilkington accusingly. “Some lookout you are.”

“Bruump,” the disinterested itinerant Furby replied.

Bandit disengaged the cloak and set the spanner down on the ground, holding his empty hands up and responding to the femme’s hail. Green eyes scanned the vehicle as it approached.

“Easy there, soldier. Name’s Bandit. Just passing through. I’m not with anyone in particular, just me.” He cocked his hooded head at her. “Javelin, yeah? Good to meet you. Please don’t shoot me.”

He put his hands down and sat back against the building, bringing a knee up to lean his forearm on it, while stretching his other leg out in front of him. “... wait, truce? Between the ‘bots and ‘cons? This here’s Earth, yeah? Not some weird parallel reality? I swear, if you all have little metal beards and mustaches, I’m out.”

[Javelin]

Javelin eased her alt mode up towards where the other was seated, her senses on high alert. She was ready just in case he decided he didn’t believe in the truce, and was going to attack.

Until his words caused her to pause.

Not with anyone in particular? He’s Neutral aligned?

His show of empty hands, then the following relaxed posture caused her own anxiety to lessen to a degree. Remaining in her alt mode, however, she spoke once close enough to do so without her comm. Her engine hummed softly.

“Yes, I’m Javelin, and...you really shouldn’t be this close to a highway out of your alt mode...Bandit, you said? I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but there’s a group of humans that have decided to start hunting us, and you’re close enough to the road for any passing human to see you. I certainly did.”

Pausing for a second, his next words confused her. Beards? Moustaches?

Javelin couldn’t help but laugh gently, “Oh, yeah, it’s Earth, all right. And normally the Cons and us would be at each other’s throats, except for the threat I just mentioned...”

There was a pause as she tried to sort through her thoughts in a more organized manner.

“Excuse me for asking, but...how long have you been here? Earth, I mean? Are you from Haven?”

Another pause as she scanned the area, still keeping an eye out for passing humans. While not an Autobot, she wouldn’t be in trouble if Bandit was seen....but it would cause a nightmare for Optimus and Fowler, so in the long run, it could still be a pain in the aft. And she was a little concerned about the fact he was just sitting out near the side of the road – where it just wasn’t safe.

“Actually, you know what? Would you mind if we moved away from the road a little here, so I can transform and talk to you like a normal person instead of this?” there was a note of amusement in her voice, “If you haven’t heard about the threat, I can fill you in on some stuff. Let you know just what’s going on.”

[Bandit]

Bandit cocked his head at the femme’s altmode. “Hunting us? Fan-bloody-tastic. Suppose it was only a matter of time, though. You’ve got a point, and my lookout has apparently decided to take a nap”.

He spared a reproachful glare toward Chauncey Pilkington and quickly kipped to his peds, then folded into his cycle form. Bandit’s avatar faded into existence and scooped up Chauncey Pilkington in a swift dive of leather-bejacketed hololimbs.

“Not sure what Haven is, to be honest. Like, I know what the word means, but the way you say it implies a proper noun, so I’m a bit lost as to the context. I’ve only been back here for a few days, haven’t even opened my comm lines outside of local transmissions.” Bandit’s avatar leaned forward on the handlebars casually.

“I’ve largely been just driving from KFC to KFC from Vegas to here.” The avatar gave a light shrug.

“That said, lead on, Javelin. It’s time I get the lay of the land a bit.”

[Javelin]

Javelin watched as Bandit spoke, referring to a lookout. She gave another swift scan, trying to see who he was talking about and became all the more confused when he turned on his avatar and picked something up off the ground. It was small and fuzzy, and the quick glance she got of it, she saw what looked like a beak and rather large eyes.

Where did he bring that from? she wondered, and what’s it subsisting on? I'm not familiar with any race that small. I’m going to have to ask him about it later – I’d hate to think it was sickening for something.

She carefully backed up, moving away from Bandit, until she was able to turn around. Remaining off road, she carefully moved further away from the highway, going slowly so the rough terrain didn’t damage her undercarriage too much. She also didn’t want to leave tire tracks that might draw the local law enforcement.

As she travelled, she spoke, “I’m sorry – what’s a KFC? I didn’t think Earth was developed enough to have anything we might really find useful. I certainly know they don’t have any space ports or bridges. Getting around can be a pain in the aft.”

The moonlight and her headlights cast enough light for the blue car to ease down a slightly shallow incline, rocks and gravel spitting out from in under her tires, as she lead Bandit down into what appeared to be a slight ravine. Dry grass grew here and there, and occasionally a small animal would dart from a shadow to hide in another. The ravine looked like it hadn't seen water in years - the floor sandy and apparently containing only the tracks of wild animals. It was fascinating, she thought, how so close to human settlement some animals could live their entire lives, and not one human would ever see.

As she moved, she spoke again, “You said you had only been back a few days? Do you just come and go when you want?”

[Bandit]

Bandit fell in behind Javelin as she lead him away from the lot.

“KFC. It’s one of the human eateries. They sell -- well, they used to sell this thing that’s worth a lot of money back in the Rift of Kruul. Seems like they don’t have them anymore, though, so that plan is pretty shot and I’m currently in need of reassessment.” He said this like one who is, in fact, very used to plan reassessment.

“KFC is an abbreviation, I believe. I think it stands for ‘Killing Fluid Carnage.’” Bandit offered this tidbit, his avatar nodding knowledgeably. “... that might be a lie. I can’t remember. I’ve been making things up about Earth to aliens for awhile now.”

Bandit followed the car, staying directly behind her as she moved over the rough terrain. He gently started meandering back and forth behind her as she led into the ravine, his own tire tracks seeming to bounce between hers on the rough dirt and sand. As they entered the ravine, Bandit’s avatar dropped something into the sand behind him. A quick rev of his engine and a spin of his rear wheel sent sand and gravel to cover the object before he made his way down.

“Ah, not so much. I don’t have a ship or anything, I usually pay my way with freelance teleporters or ships or stow away or something. It’s not quite as ‘whenever I like’ as I’d prefer, but the freedom to come and go is, I suppose, an advantage of being a filthy neutral.” The tone of Bandit’s accented voice suggested he was amused by this term.

“This time I had my pal Goolie open a portal for me from the Rift. Cost quite a pretty penny, so it was a one way trip for now. Fine by me, not in *too* much of a hurry to get back.”

His holoform absently rubbed his holo-shoulder. “Well, here we are, Autobot Javelin,” Bandit eyed a small animal that darted through some of the dry brush. “Does the non-sapient fauna hate us too, yet?”

[Javelin]

The more Javelin listened, the more confused she became. What at an Earth eatery could be worth anything on other planets? Most of the food stuffs Javelin saw humans eat looked..well...disgusting, to be blunt. They were usually solid but with dripping bits.

Killing Fluid...what?

His casual announcement of it being a lie caused her to pause for a minute, then laugh. Ah, that explained a lot.

When they finally came to the stop, and Javelin felt it was safe enough to transform, she moved back a small ways, and moved into her true mode. The familiar sound of gears whirring to life, pistons firing, metal plating turning and moving, folding or opening as needed. The sound echoed out among the singing crickets. For a moment, there was silence, before the insects started their tunes again.

Standing now on two legs, the femme turned and looked around again – a habit, but now she was a little taller and could see father.

Still alone. Good.

Stretching out her left leg slightly for a moment, like a cat, she turned and regarded the motorcycle again, now giving him her full attention.

A faint smile, “Ah, no. It’s only the humans, and not all of them. The majority of them don’t even know of us, but for that one group? Yeah, it’s not good.”

Moving her weight from one leg to the other, Javelin crossed her arms, resting easily. Tilting her head slightly, she studied the Cybertronian before her as she spoke again.

“Have you had any trouble since you showed up, Bandit? Any humans seeming....more interested in you than they should be?”

[Bandit]

Bandit transformed himself with a little hop, landing smoothly cross-legged on a boulder as his cloak appeared over his head and shoulders, the fabric barely rustling as it settled around him. He craned his neck to consider the femme, and green eyes peering out of the eyeholes in his mask assessed her.

“Can’t say as I have. I’ve pretty much been incognito since I arrived, though. My little lapse back in the lot was the first time I’ve transformed in days. Needed a bit of a stretch, you know?”

The mech looked around the ravine. “Clearly I could use a bit of a lesson as to the current state of play on this weird little planet. Last time I was here there were no humans hunting us, no truce. Just, you know. Hullcrabs versus aftholes, business as usual.”

Bandit sat there for a few moments before pulling out some object from his cloak and turning it over in his fingers. Someone was a fidgeter.

[Javelin]

Javelin took a slight step back as Bandit jumped onto the boulder. Someone certainly seemed...flighty.

A faint smile tugged her lips, though, and she nodded, “The planet is...very unique, that’s for certain. It’s a weird situation. You may have encountered one the same out there on your travels....but I doubt it.”

She frowned for a second, watching as he took out something and started to fiddle around with it. Yes...someone was very flighty.

Turning slightly, Javelin eyed the small area they were in, and not wanting to sit directly on the ground, opted for a low edge of a concrete lip jutting from the edge of the ravine. Weeds and dried grass sprouted from the sides, almost covering what was probably once some sort of underground flood pipe to catch any water from a flash flood. She eased herself down on it, stretching her legs out before her. She loosely crossed her arms.

“Well...let’s see. Humans. Um. Well, you obviously know what they look like, having been here a while now. Organics, making them...well...pretty...soft. Very easy to injure. Support frame is inside their bodies, all that. Um. Really, the most important thing, is that they don’t know we exist.”

Shifting, Javelin leaned back slightly, “And by that I mean they don’t know anything exists if it didn’t form here on Earth. I don’t mean they don’t know about us, they don’t know about any other life form unless it’s here. They literally don’t believe that life exists on any other planet in the entire universe.”

She tilted her helm slightly, watching his face, “As Autobots, we’re not allowed to give our presence away unless it’s literally the only way to avoid death. The Decepticons aren’t under quite the same limitations, but even Megatron wants their existence kept quiet. As neither faction, you’re not really beholden to those rules, but....well. Here’s the thing. If these humans find out that we exist, it’s gonna open a huge can of worms for them. For their cultures, for some religions, the works. Some will be ok with it....others....not so much. They’re coming along very well, but they’re completely alone in their solar system here, so despite being as advanced as they are, they haven’t had any neighbours to come visiting as they evolved.”

Javelin folded her servos together, resting them on her knees, “Now, there are a few humans that do know about us. As far as I know, the military leaders of the landmass we’re on know about us, and are being very careful to make sure we don’t accidentally upset the cart by revealing our presence. So....I honestly don’t know what would happen if you just decided to walk into the middle of the human town there and transform, saying hello and howdy. There would be a huge mess to clean up, and...well...I think everyone would really appreciate it if you just kinda....laid low in their towns and cities.”

She smiled at him, “I told you it was a weird situation.”

[Bandit]

Bandit fiddled with a half-finished springmine while the femme spoke. He had plenty of experience with organics -- too much experience, some would say -- and in dealing with humans, so he tuned out a little when she started ‘botsplaining them and the entire concept of stealth to him.

He looked at her with a little half-smile that didn’t quite reach his optics. “No worries. Just needed to stretch; it was a mistake, that all. Won’t happen again until it does. It’s not my first time on Earth, remember; I know the score. Granted when I was with the ‘bots in Australia there were no humans hunting us down, so I’ll be careful.”

Once she finished giving him her rundown, he nodded, one-sided smile giving way to a wicked grin. “Right, no pulling the Golden Space God con here, got it. I don’t have the right hat for it anymore, anyway.”

His smile faded as something she mentioned in passing sunk in. “Oh -- oh, wait a tick. Megatron is back? Primus’ glowy dredgesumps, why did I come back again?”

He muttered to himself, darkly, withdrawing Chauncey Pilkington from the folds of his cloak and holding the tiny blue furball in his fingers. The Furby opened its eyes asynchronously.

“Eeerup veeep broooooo,” it intoned in a stretched, tinny voice.

“Oh, right, right, people trying to kill me back in the Rift. There’s a human expression about ‘frying pans’ and ‘fires’ but I forget how it goes. It seems vaguely applicable. ‘You can lead a frying pan to fire but you can’t… something something.’”

Bandit looked up at Javelin as if he just remembered she was there again. “Well! Super. Javelin, this is Chauncey Pilkington.” He seemed to be introducing the half-charred little blue fuzzball in his hand.

[Javelin]

She faintly tilted her helm, listening as he spoke. There was something...interesting...about Bandit, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. It was possibly just the way he spoke. She was reminded of some of the chatter on the Tourist Planets she had been to. So many mixed species, all trying to get along. How wild it was, how jumbled at times. Just sitting in a tavern somewhere and watching as different species butted heads, trying to talk, trying to trade. It was like a mixed bag of insanity, and it was wonderful.

When he spoke of Megatron, she nodded, quiet for a moment.

“Yeah, he’s back.” She said nothing else. There wasn’t much to say to that. Just a deep sense of dread.

She focused a little more on him when he spoke to what appeared to be a small blue, furry creature, and it spoke to her in an unknown language.

What on Cybertron was that? Javelin had never seen that species before. And the language was completely unknown to her, too. Even if she couldn’t speak it, she should be able to identify it. It had a strange quality to it. At first she missed what he said to it, frowning faintly when Bandit introduced the creature to her. It had the oddest name. Assuming Bandit would interpret for her, she smiled, and spoke.

“I’m pleased to meet you, Chauncey Pilkington. I....wait. People were trying to kill you?”

She sat back.

“Why were people trying to kill you?”

[Bandit]

Bandit looked down at the Furby at his hands and back at the femme. He casually tossed the small thing over toward the femme in a gentle underhanded lob with a deft flick of his wrist. “Say hi, Chauncey Pilkington, don’t be rude.”

Bandit readjusted the cloak around him and thought about her question.

“People are constantly trying to kill me. For some reason. I’m not sure why,” he said with the tone and bored inflection of someone who knew perfectly well why people were constantly trying to kill him.

The ‘creature’ that Javelin caught in her hands was no organic being, but a plastic device with alarming eyes that didn’t blink in time with each other, half-scorched blue fur, and giant ears. It seemed to regard her with soulless eyes for a moment before chirping at her.

Now, Chauncey Pilkington was a well-travelled Furby. It had mastered the curse-words and invectives of many languages in its time in the Rift of Kruul. So, to a hypothetical bystander, it would answer Javelin’s greeting with a phrase of atonal, digitally distorted squeaky babble that sounded like:

“Eeeeeroooo. Neeeeek tooooo. Vaaaa!”

Potentially adorable larval-chatter to our hypothetical bystander. But if Javelin was conversant in Krikaluk Gutter-speak, she would identify Chauncey Pilkington’s reply as a string of curses meant to query physiology, taste in mates, and genealogy.

Krikaluk Gutter-speak is a strange and complex language, though, with many dialects in which intonation and syllables could be swapped in and out, changing the meaning entirely. So, depending on the dialects Javelin was fluent in, what Chauncey Pilkington said was:

“The Mouthless King arises from his crystalline star prison; apotheosis approaches. All will be changed. He will shine through every mirror. Happy day!”

If Javelin was, however, fluent in Krikaluk High-speech, the same syllables, letters and tones take on an entirely different meaning, as the mouth-parts of the higher castes were often entirely different. In that case, what she heard was:

“Would you like to know the date and time of your death, Autobot Javelin?”

Bandit made a face. “We’ve talked about first impressions, Chauncey Pilkington. Stop being creepy.”

[Javelin]

Javelin tilted her head slightly as Bandit spoke, and instantly thought she smelled something fishy, as the humans would say.

It was highly unlikely anyone didn’t know why “people were constantly trying to kill” them. You weren’t just walking along, minding your own business and suddenly assassins dropped out of the sky.

“No reason, huh?” she put her hands on her hips, grinning at him, “they just drew cards and you were the first person to walk around the corner?”

She leaned forward, the grin slipping just a little, “And just how many are we talking here? Like...should Earth be concerned about a massive group of hitmen suddenly popping into orbit?”

Javelin opened her mouth to say something else, when suddenly, the small creature travelling with Bandit was picked up and chucked at her without so much as a warning or heads up.

Sqawking in alarm, Javelin managed to catch the small thing, after a clumsy fumble, and managed to hold it in a more secure grip, expecting the little individual to start cursing Bandit out, or if nothing else, panicking that it had been thrown like a rock at a stranger.

Looking the small thing over – she was amazed she had managed to catch it – to ensure it wasn’t hurt, she froze, when it spoke. It seemed perfectly content to be used as a ballistic, and what it said was a crossmatch of garbled words and creepy warning.

“The Mouthless King like to know crystalline date and time of your mirror death, Happy Autobot Javelin?”

She remained perfectly still, almost frozen in place, optics wide, now holding the small thing out from her frame slightly, as if it not sure just what to do with it.

“What!?”

Optics flashed back to Bandit, before looking back to the tiny creature, then again to Bandit as he spoke.

“Why did he say that? Did he threaten me?!”

The little creature wasn’t moving, and wasn’t saying anything else. After a second or two, Javelin cautiously brought it in closer for a better look.

Only now was she able to really see it. The eyes had no life in them whatsoever, and the fur seemed to be...well...poorly maintained.

It wasn’t alive.

Javelin looked to Bandit, face and field showing a little irritation, “What is this thing? I thought it was alive, but it’s not. What the hell is this?”

[Bandit]

Bandit gave a little snort. “I wouldn’t worry too terribly much about an invasion of hitmen. Any price on my head isn’t high enough to warrant that kind of firepower. Also most folks in the Rift of Kruul are afraid of Earth. Only the very motivated would risk a trip here to take down little old me.”

He seemed to be doing some kind of death algebra, ticking off fingers as he took a grim inventory of death marks. “So that leaves, like, maybe *six* sentients who want me dead bad enough. Two crime lords, one or two bounty hunters, one Decepticon architect, and an ex. It’s fine.”

Bandit watched bemusedly as Javelin interacted with Chauncey Pilkington, seemingly unphased by her building ire.

“That there is a human toy called a ‘Furby’ I got the last time I was here,” Bandit said with a shrug, wincing at the femme’s reaction to Chauncey Pilkington’s jabber. Cybertron’s shadows, she was a jumpy one. “Can you believe they give those things to their young? For entertainment?”

Bandit gave what he hoped was his best disarming grin. “Anyway, Chauncey Pilkington got damaged when I was on the job one night so I patched it up. Replaced the power source with an orokin power cell, and it’s been a bit squirrely ever since.”

‘Squirrely’ in Bandit’s lexicon apparently meant ‘given to obscene outbursts and ominous eldritch prophecies'. It didn’t really phase him, though, Chauncey Pilkington's grim prognostication was only accurate 1 in 48 times.