[ti]Ep 3[/ti]Desert Winds ((Open))

[Cassandra Cassidy]

"Who doesn't 'trust you'?" Butch asked. "Why would the military not trust you? What the hell did you do - "

She was cut off by rapid gunfire and the tearing apart of asphalt. Butch looked back, and despite the raging whirlwind outside, she saw sparks. Flickers of light striking downward exploded into small bursts of debris. Butch half-yelled, ducked and covered her head, flinching away from the sight and sound. She looked over at Thomas, and she was afraid.

Thomas made a quip - something about pilots and getting vision checked. Butch stared at him, panting a little. One hand fumbled and reached for her boot, her legs having pulled up in a defensive curl when the shots fired. Fingers jabbing between skin and cloth, she seized the end of something and yanked it into the open. With a swift flick of the thumb, the glinting knife of a switchblade appeared. The sharp part was a little longer than it should've been, and would've raised eyebrows in public, no doubt.

With a swift swing that had a little force to it, Butch pointed the knife at a spot between his shoulder and neck. It hovered over her left armrest, meant to intimidate but kept close for drawing back. Butch gritted her teeth and glared down Thomas, and her voice became cold. "Tell me what's going on, old man," she growled, "or I will cut your fucking throat, take this car, and drive the fuck out of here."

The storm shifted outside, the change almost imperceptible. The winds, as if intrigued by the jet's pursuit, shifted to follow plane and car. Dirt began to blast at their flanks, bringing thicker clouds of dust to batter turbines and grind down paint. Hopefully their filters could handle the grit that came from behind.

[Starkrieger]

Was this Fragger serious?

Wait… maybe he was.

As Krieg streaked ahead, something started to trigger his proximity sensors. They were getting somewhere, somewhere… with structures.

Clever Glitch.

Just like that, the dynamic shifted.

The jet shot up into the sky. As he hit a sharp angle, he cut his turbines, stalling into a hard turn. Once his nose was pointed down his engines engaged to drive him earthward, rolling nearly the whole distance back to the 150 foot mark. The laugh that transmitted over the comms was a mixture of amusement and elation, and perhaps a hint of relief.

::So that’s your play:: Maybe he was going to enjoy this encounter after all. Attempts at commanding or encouraging the other to give him an excuse to disengage were dropped. He believed he understood now, and that was what he'd needed.

Structures meant cover for the grounder, possibly a trap, and yet everything in him wanted to be close. Short range missiles, sensors honing his situational awareness… the nature of his default melee ‘weaponry’, his frame was constructed to press his advantage in proximity. The Cybertronian below wasn’t airborne, the rules were different engaging a grounder, but that didn’t change what he was. Would he follow wisdom or instinct?

::Alright Sweetspark, game on. Primus help you if you’re no Autobot:: The mischief in his vocals was thick, his final words conveying the kind of respect that could only be given to a crazy aft risk taker. It'd take a pretty gutsy neutral to play with a Decepticon, the faction wasn't known for fighting fair… but he was sure this was an Autobot, trying to get him to fly into a sticky situation.

As he leveled out, an extra burst of his turbines preceded him cutting the thrust entirely as he flew at Kup, head on for the second time. Calculations were being run as his velocity slowed, the Seeker used his inertia to dictate the rate of further drop in altitude.

The dust kicked up was of no more concern; traveling the cosmos required plenty of debris and fine particles to be filtered out to prevent ventilation failure. This Earth filth was no challenge for the space worthy flier, unless he let it collect on his wings. Thank Primus for the harsh winds tiding him over until he got to the washracks.

Spoilers flared, bringing him lower. He anticipated his target to have three options: keep driving at him, allowing the Seeker to barely fly over, swerve to avoid, or transform on his current path and likely be flown straight into. Krieg was hoping for the first option. Tackling a solid ground-pounder wouldn't feel great, especially if he got shot full of holes on the way there. If the mech merely avoided him, well his response would be to reclaim altitude, and how boring would that be?

If his bluff was called this time, his opponent would be in for a ‘treat’. Starkrieger intended to gift his new ‘friend’ with a harsher version of his favorite way to tease fliers he chose not to fire on. If he reached that point of no return, where there was no avoiding his overhead pass, the old mech might pick up on the sounds of transformation. Plating, rearranging, and reforming into the fairly standard build Seek root, his flight visor covering his optics, not that there was much time to zero in on his features. As he passed, the passenger Krieg hadn’t noticed was in for a surprise, but then so was the Seeker. He couldn’t tell that the grounder’s top wasn’t metal. When his claws made contact it was with enough force to lightly dig in, leave a little ‘love scratch' in far sturdier material...

[Deleted]

“Do you think the US Military possesses Delta-Winged Fighters?” he asked.

The Aging Tessaran had plenty of Cycles after his introduction to the Omega Outpost to have read up on the local Files ranging from the Flora, Fauna, some of the Local Laws in particular for Speeding and other things he'd filed away only for his faulty RAM to have burned them to the wrong sectors. He believed he'd read about the Aircraft available to the US Military, and with the Intercepted Transmission from the Seeker following them had cemented the reality that he'd picked up a Decepticon that had planned on more than hitchhiking.

“I was right about you. You have more talents, and are more capable than simply Housekeeping as you put it. Your grip on that Knife is proof of that. It only comes with a practiced hand. It isn't something to be ashamed of. Everyone has a Right to Defend themselves, and others if there is need,” Thomas continued. His eyes hadn't even left the Highway ahead of them, the dust blown thoroughfare or the winding turns around abandoned ruins.

He wasn't too concerned about the Seeker behind them or rather above them. He'd been in far more Engagements than the Majority of his Kind that remained Operational in these recent Cycles. Kup had a knack for surviving what would have otherwise left other Mechs or Femmes offline or in need of Reinforcements.

The sound of something catching the Vinyl-Top carried through the Cab over the howling winds outside coupled with what could have been described as nails on a chalkboard the length of the Vinyl-Top before pushing off. Kup had known how a Tubo-Revvin' Young Punk would behave, and during his Stint as an Instructor at the Academy even the rudest or even most egotistical of his Students hadn't been so bold as to think they could have gotten away with scratching the roof of his Cab. It was one of the things -- one of the many things -- where he could tell the Decepticons apart from even his most foulest of Students.

His available RAM tried to find some means, some course of action where they could have disabled their Pursuit or at least lost the Seeker long enough for them to have reached the Outskirts of Las Vegas. While he hadn't thought too highly of the massive Hotel Destination -- which Prided itself on selling the Entertainment to be found rather than anything else -- from what he'd read of the Local Data Files on his PaDD, he'd made a promise to Butch to see her to Las Vegas and he'd honor that. The Humans seemed to have built Las Vegas at least in its current form to slightly resemble a few of the more Entertaining City-States on Cybertron before the hostilities had broken out. Even in his Younger Cycles, he'd had to visit those City-States with his Platoon on R&R or had to accompany one of the Primes -- Zeta or Sentinel on their planned visits or out of some of their own Vices.

The problem or blessing of a train of thought meant that it led to others, and resulted in even older thoughts or in his case ones that in all of the excitement his own RAM had skipped over. He'd kept quite a few of the Old Oil Rations he'd found on the Exploratory Cruiser that had brought him to this Planet and summarily dumped him in a Junkyard, and he'd recalled having at least a few of those in his Belt Pouches along with a Pair of Fuzzy Dice on a String and a Rubber Ducky although he hadn't quite knew why he'd had the Rubber Bath Toy to begin with. He hadn't been able to have Transformed, not with Cassandra in his Passenger seat or that she'd held a rather sharp knife against his Holoavatar's throat. There had to be some other Course of Action available to him, only for it to have dawned on him in the form of the light in his trunk flicking on. What was that meme or symbol humans sometimes used to convey an idea in a cartoon or comic strip? A Light Bulb winking on? In his case, it had been a light bulb embedded in the roof lining of his trunk.

While he'd continued to assume the Alt-Form of a Ford Falcon Futura, his Belt Pouches had shifted to be stored in his trunk in case anyone had been able to have opened his trunk in that form. It would have simply used the trunk for storage. With all of the jostling around on the asphalt of the maintained highway to the weather worn asphalt of the older side road from rocks or other debris, his sensors had picked up on how the oil in those rations had reacted and given those old rations had been kept under pressure -- to keep it rather fresh or at least that had been the original intent -- the idea formed in his Cranium. The Seeker had raked the Vinyl Top, most likely leaving small gouges in the material rather than in the alloy beneath and given their speed coupled with the Seeker's Lower Altitude, he had planned on having the rear tires go airborne briefly from a dip in the side road either from a lack of maintenance or that the land itself had shifted over time causing it.

The Falcon Futura hit that sharp dip at speed causing the Sedan to be gripped by the Negative-G Forces allowing momentary weightlessness and as the front tires touched down on the other side the rear tires had gone briefly airborne. Flipping the trunk open which in humans would have been similar to kicking something with their knee cap, the oil rations stowed in the trunk went airborne.

The packages containing the rations went airborne with enough force both from his “kick” and the Negative-G Forces from the sudden drop had given them enough momentum -- and height to get into the path of the Seeker's cockpit canopy. If Kup's timing had been right, the fighter wouldn't have had time to have corrected before the packages impacted tearing them open to cover the canopy in oil blinding any optical sensors for even a brief time. The rear tires of the Futura touched down with the rest of the Sedan causing the trunk to flip closed again allowing Kup and his Passenger to continue down the weather worn path.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

That simple question about fighter aircraft made Butch look as if she'd dropped into an ice bath. Her body, already tense and ready to spring, went as taut as the human form could. She might as well have been a paralyzed rabbit, caught between two wolves circling the bushes she hid in. Outside, the wind howled and the jet engines screamed closer. It was hard to tell where the storm's wailing began and the turbines' screaming ended, adding to the chaos.

But she wouldn't submit to this fear. Butch leaned in with the knife, expression schooling into a glare like a winter storm's. In a low growl that was still loud enough for him to hear, Butch said, "I can do a lot more than 'defend myself', stranger. So it's not our military chasing us - who's is it, then?"

Before she could ask anymore, something raked across the top of the car with a screech. Butch screamed - a sudden, short, surprised sound - and recoiled back, almost losing the grip on her knife. Fumbling with the switchblade for a moment, the cleaner ended up gripping onto her seat as the car lifted. For a few moments, the vehicle was honest-to-god flying, caught in the whirlwind of a low overhead pass. Butch was incredulous, staring out the front window with a slack jaw.

After a minute too many of this, Butch's head whipped around and she glared down Thomas again. The knife stayed close to her, held in a defensive position. "Give me the damn Cliffnotes if you have to!" she snapped. The maneuver with the trunk went unnoticed, her attention all on the Falcon's driver.

[Starkrieger]

The give in the material his claws dragged along was shocking. Having no unit and no formation had its drawbacks. The same conditions that let him toy with the Autobot allowed Starkreiger’s field to flare with his shock. Kup’s maneuver went unnoticed; the mech’s becoming airborne and the opening of his trunk were lost as flier focused on recovering from the initial surprise. He hadn’t returned to alt, and that was about to benefit the old Autobot.

Proximity Warning!

Too late.

Canisters deployed, an explosion of an unknown substance hit not his cockpit, but his helm, coating it, his visor, and the exposed portion of his faceplate. The surprise in his field elevated to panic, the Seeker jerking into a half roll. Harsh winds drove dust into the oil, thickening what would have wicked off.

The subroutines that locked his frame, restricting reflexive movement to intentional overrides, faltered. His legs deviated from their stiff position, sending him shooting away from the grounder on a chaotic arc. If Kup was unlucky, he might feel a cruel lick of heat as Krieg's thrusters fired during his loss of control.

Frame memory kicked in. Fearing no fall, the disrupted flight only focusing him, Sol's training served him well. His array, made up the difference in his compromised input, keeping a lock on the earth below, matching the orientation of his gyroscope, which enabled him to plot and execute a flip mid spiral. Thrusters blasted hard as he the ground closed in at an angle, blasting dirt and gravel from asphalt, the surface scorching as the force slowed prevented him from wiping out.

Cutting the power, he skidded into an awkward landing. The impact was jarring, as the momentum brought Starkrieger to his knees, his left servo dropped to scrape grasping claws into the softened pavement. The moment he halted, Krieg’s free claw flew to his face, hooking into the bottom of his visor, ready to rend the incorporated tech regardless of the damage it’d cause. His quick processor stopped him as it sunk in.

No pain.

It wasn’t caustic.

He vented heavily, waiting for his sparkpulse to die down as dread at the prospect of being assaulted with acid weaponry dissipated.

Well… that was… genius.

Despite the heavy film of filth marring his face, and chassis, his derma pulled back in a smirk, as he rose.  That the grounder was fleeing like some mad mech with the Unmaker on his bumper was of no concern. More troubling were thoughts of where all the gunk would end up if he transformed. While considering his options, the flier attempted to clear his visor manually.

It hadn’t taken Kup long to get out of his range, especially as he was in root, something that was starting to make him uneasy, given his now really fragged up his visuals. Time to turn their game of chicken, to cat and mouse. Enthusiastic strides carried the Seeker forward, before he leapt into the air, rearranging his features once more to adopt his alt form, and take to the skies.

That felt… yeah, he was going to spend two weeks in the washracks after this. Ascending to an easy 300 feet, he used his target’s last known trajectory, and velocity as a base, Starkrieger weaved his way through the sky, looking to locate the mech with his sensors.

Where did his Autobot go?

::What’s the rush Geliebte? Don't you like games? ::

[Deleted]

“The Cliffnotes...I do owe you those at the minimum,” Thomas said. “The Pilot that is chasing us belongs to a Mercenary Unit that Prides itself as a PMC Unit -- one left over from World War Two with Traces of their Origins going back as far as World War One that has accumulated and enjoyed that same experience earned through various different Wars and Conflicts to the more recent Brushfire Skirmishes. Their numbers include Mercenaries drawn from the ranks of Thieves, Con-Artists, Assassins, Pit Fighters, and those with a Hunger for Killing that would make even the most Devious of those held currently in the Penal System Pale in comparison,”

“They don't need a reason to follow, to hate or to attack. It's bad, but it isn't the worst from these Wretches. They will attack for the Thrill, whether it is to Kill or Pillage. It isn't so much as what I did to them, as to what they believe I did. I was an Instructor, a Professor and did my best to guide many of them to the Truth except my Lessons had little effect. They bought into how decayed, and corrupt Society is. I won't go into the Particulars highlighting the Hypocrisy of it, but they believe what they fight for is to bring a better Tomorrow. They don't care how many will be hurt or how many they must lay low to obtain that Goal,” the Holo-Avatar explained.

His eyes remained on the weather beaten asphalt. He'd managed to have regained control after launching the oil from his trunk, and Kup had opened his throttle even more letting the sandstorm cover their tracks. He'd altered course, merging onto other back roads before searching for the nearest signs of habitation -- the nearest signs for Las Vegas.

“I have managed to do my best in keeping them at bay, and in insuring -- up until now -- that they haven't been able to determine my location. Most of the time, I have to be a dozen steps ahead of them. As for the one that had been following us, it seems it had been a random chance that he'd found me,” Thomas explained. He'd been aware of the Knife she'd held and while the Knife wouldn't have caused his Cybertronian Form anything more than a scrape against his paint job, he'd been more concerned that the Knife could have damaged the Holo-Avatar or worse could have caused her to freak out more.

“They are not part of the United States Government, Law Enforcement or its Military as you so elegantly pointed out. That Unit draws those from around the World, but none in their number is from this Country or any of its Allies. I used to know a few of them. Quite a few of them had either been my Students, or we'd see each other on a Daily Commute or would even encounter each other at the local Coffee shop. I held no Allegiance to them. I wouldn't be Bought by them and they knew it. They saw me as a Relic from an Older Age, and one that needed to be Eliminated,”

“I am sorry that you have been caught up in this. It was not my intention to have you become involved, and I do ask for forgiveness. If you wish, once we reach Las Vegas I'll take you wherever you wish and will let you out. If you wish, I will still drive by to make sure you are fine and that you haven't crossed that PMC Unit,” the Aging Driver began. Kup had genuinely been sorry that she had to become involved, but of all of the things within his capabilities he hadn't been able to have altered the past. He had wanted Butch to have remained safe, but would have kept an eye on her regardless of her decision. “I will leave it to you to decide if you wish to be Alice going farther down the Rabbit Hole or if you do not. I will understand either decision,”

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Butch stared at Thomas for a long time. It might've only been a couple of minutes in the great scheme of things, but it was hours to her. She tried to keep her face stoic, but the disbelief was as loud and clear as the scrape across the roof had been. That disbelief then morphed into deep thought, then confusion, and finally something deadpan.

"So let me get this straight," said she, her tone level but her glare unimpressed. "You want me to believe that you were an instructor to a top-secret military group. Not only that, but this group possesses aircraft that aren't in use by the US military. Said aircraft would stick out like a sore thumb on radar and thermal, especially in a place like Nevada, which is home to numerous secret testing areas. So, in a place with as much security and eyes everywhere as Nevada - even with the uninhabited desert - and with measures such as NORAD, you expect me to actually believe you?"

She shook her head, huffing and incredulous. "Are you fucking serious right now? That's your cover story? Something ripped off from GI-fucking-Joe? Do I look like a meth-head to you, you old coot, or a child?"

The woman glanced outside. It was getting hard to see where they were going. "Do you even know where we are, or is this the part where I should consider bailing because you're taking me somewhere to kill me?" Despite the biting sarcasm there, Butch glanced over with a suspicious eye.

"It's only a matter of time before we hit potholes or no pavement at all, old man. And, because I'm not stupid, I'm going to assume our pursuer has radar and thermal as well. The storm might be making things shit to see, but even if they don't have a physical visual, they have other means of finding us."

[Starkrieger]

:: Now you’re starting to hurt my feelings:: his gentle chide finished with an amused chuckle, primarily for his quarry's benefit.  Starkrieger’s processor barely paid mind to his own words, occupied with finding Kup, as well as a concerning matter. 

Where were they headed? With his lack of navigation, he couldn’t have known they were on a course towards one of Earth's cities… However, logically increasing frequency and sizes of buildings, meant higher population density.

They'd assumed disguises for a reason. Even the highest ranking officers had adopted terra-alts to conceal their true nature. More natives increased the chances of detection. Regardless of whether his alt form was appropriate for the local Airforce, Krieg knew, on earth, military vehicles didn’t belong in a city.

::You aren’t going to make me share are you Shatzi?::

Ah, there he was.

The grounder was eating up the miles quickly enough to disappoint the Seeker.  He’d intended to report the sighting eventually, after their game was over. Why didn’t he check in immediately? Why, he was engaging the enemy obviously, by the time the opportunity arose, he was long gone… but with the possibility of entering a city, he couldn’t go charging in, and not comming HQ might result in some uncomfortable questions.

Reluctant, the flier had to set aside his personal wants. As much fun as he was having, he was still a soldier, loyal to his lord. Switching to an encrypted Decepticon channel, he made the call, his tone appropriately serious.

Sorry Sweetspark

::Starkrieger to base. Location verification required. Suspected Autobot sighted. Potential trajectory into flight restricted zone. Request orders::

There was a momentary quiet after the message had been relayed to Blackridge Hold, before a familiar voice would cut through the silence.

::And what makes you so certain it is an Autobot, mm? Stay within the perimeter, do not rouse suspicion, and keep your little project under observation. Do keep us updated should you require assistance, though I should hope you are capable of handling a single Autobot yourself.::

His first thought was that he was busted. The Air Commander seemed to know. Yet, as he continued, the orders issued suggested he wasn't displeased.

He'd expected to be recalled, and likely replaced by grounder.  Instead, Starscream was trusting him to exercise discretion and not turn his little game into a major issue. Perhaps he was also being tested, but that was a minor detail.

::A-acknowledged:: Official comms were no place to try to sort the implications of the moment; though, his vocals lifted subtly. There was no denying he was pleased that he could carry on, albeit more cautiously.

Speaking of caution, Krieg began to climb, diverting from his direct path, to begin to circle. Leveling off at 700 feet, nearly the max range of his additional sensors’ reach groundward. He was hesitant to put greater distance between them, and be restricted to standard input. It was less accurate, and while normal for other mecha; for him, it was like reading something too far away to focus on… but it reached farther, allowing him to better avoid being spotted.

---

Starscream's involvement scripted and permission to post provided by Ren.  Thank you. 

[Deleted]

“I was a Teacher of History, and Ethics in High School,” Thomas corrected her.

“With my Credentials, any Gate Guard would have forced me to turn around and vacate the Grounds of a Military Installation,” the Holo-Avatar explained. Though Thomas' Eyes kept the road ahead Kup's Optical Sensors allowed him to have seen not only the road, but a larger magnitude of things including Street and Highway Signs obscured by the sandstorm. He'd been able to have read the wind speeds, avoiding the potholes or at least dips severe enough in the asphalt or the terrain to have caused them to have gone airborne as that Negative-G dip had earlier.

“I knew some of those that call that Unit home as Students, but only when they were teenagers. I'd imagine quite a few of those still resent me for one reason or another or perhaps that I may have assigned some heavy homework to them one night,” he smirked. “That PMC Unit doesn't possess that many Delta-Winged Fighters, and most likely possess fighters similar to the United States Military,”

“G.I. Joe?” the Holo-Avatar asked. He'd heard her mention the name, but it hadn't rung a bell. Kup hadn't exactly been aware of a Film or even a Series known as G.I. Joe although he had found himself oddly tired when he'd watched TV back at the Omega Outpost if he'd watched it for too long. “No, you don't look like a meth-head or that you've become addicted or experienced other Narcotics. I wouldn't have implied you were to any degree. I have more Respect for you than that,”

“You would be willing to leap out of a vehicle moving at the speed we're currently achieving?” he had to ask. “You're safer remaining seated. Have you noticed that we're traveling at too high a speed since our encounter with that Pilot? I don't believe he'll be able to track us quite so easily. The Oil must have covered his cockpit, if everything worked as planned. He must have been forced to land in order to clear his canopy,”

She'd mentioned how the Fighter had most likely utilized Radar, and would have been able to have tracked them at least. It had been a valid concern.

“Normally, yes. He'd be able to track us using his Radar and other Instruments, but do you know of any Pilot that would be able to continue in Flight when their Cockpit is covered by Crude Oil?” he had to ask her.

“We've managed to make our way back onto the South Las Vegas Boulevard, and are rapidly making our way North towards the Strip,” the Driver explained. While the two had been speaking, Kup had found his way back onto the Southern Las Vegas Boulevard leading straight into the Heart of the Strip if the Seeker hadn't had other plans. “We should be able to see the various High Rise Hotels along the Strip within a few minutes,”

The Aging Cybertronian had realized that they hadn't so easily lost the Seeker's attention, but with the detritus being tossed around in the Sandstorm and he'd had to assume the people in Las Vegas had experienced them before they might a chance to have evaded their Pursuit. Kup could have pulled into a Parking Deck, or a Garage of some sort -- though with the City of Las Vegas having been a Major Tourist Destination and Entertainment Mecca -- that finding a Parking Deck might have been easier.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

She was beyond believing Thomas at this point, it seemed. And yet, she listened as he corrected her, explaining he'd been a school teacher. That made a bit more sense. Her posture relaxed slightly, but then tensed up again. "You're not telling me something," she said. "I don't know what you're trying to cover up, but you story stinks like horseshit. You want to try that again, or are you running out of ideas for the 'truth'?"

And then me mentioned the.... Oil? Their pursuer's cockpit was covered with oil? "Since when?!" Butch near-yelled. "Are you telling me that, in the span of the last few miles, we somehow managed to pull some kind of pocket-sand trick on this guy?"

At least they were getting close to the city. Maybe Thomas would slow there and Butch could jump out. He was right - she was more likely to kill herself, or at least be seriously injured, if she dove out at their current speed. Having cleaned up accidents and witnessed a few herself, Butch wasn't keen on becoming a red smear. For one, she had a job to get to, and two, she had more self-preservation than that.

The woman then had the look of someone who had experienced a terrible realization. Looking at Thomas in alarm, she said, "Wait, the Boulevard? We can't go into the city with a fighter jet on our ass! Let's just say for a moment you are right about this being some rogue mercenary force - aren't others going to be at risk? What if they fire on us and hit someone else? We can't lead them into one of the biggest fucking cities in the state, you moron!"

It seemed they had little choice but to do so, since Thomas was so hell-bent on taking that route. Butch growled under her breath and looked out the window, trying to glare through the dust. She could see the vague outline of some signs and buildings - there was a cluster of houses to their left. An overpass was approaching them, which they would speed under in seconds if not stopped. There was the faintest shadow of a high-rise in the distance that disappeared into the storm. Butch's hands, clenched tight in frustration, flexed a couple of times.

"Don't take this exit," Butch said. "There's only a spa and some restaurants that way. You're going to pass two roads after this that head due east into some residential areas, I think. When you hit the third, turn right then, and you'll hit a road called 'West Silverado Ranch Boulevard'. You'll drive along it until you come to some lights, then turn right - south - onto Ensworth Street. South Point Parking Garage is right beside it, and if you slow a little, you should be able to spot the way in and go there."

[Starkrieger]

The size of the buildings increased until there was no doubt his previous suspicions were correct, the course was leading them to denser populations. Abandoned structures were ideal for concealed traps, or a set up, but whole and occupied they amounted to mere obstacles, and sorry excuses for them at that.

The grounder thought he could find refuge in a city?

Krieg mastered his wings in a true metropolis. Ages had passed, but he would never forget. He recounted every tower he’d darted around to get the drop on Void, each architectural crevice he’d frequent where only Strike would find him, that wasn't counting countless drills through Vos, where he'd often earned his fair share of drone duty upsetting the towerlings by not observing 'clearance protocols'.

Any human ‘city’ would be a joke by comparison, and they weren’t even in the heart of one yet, just the outskirts, an intermediate zone that hosted the lowest level of urban activity.

Still, Starscream was trusting him to exercise restraint.

The chances of being noticed by firing or assaulting the Autobot were already high, and were increasing exponentially. Constant monitoring of flight conditions assured the Seeker that, thanks to the density of the dust cloud, it was unlikely he would be seen at his current altitude. How long would the storm last?

What was this grounder’s game anyway?

Flying a tight perimeter with Kup, as the approximate center, the Seeker got a partial reading on the parking garage he didn't know his target was potentially considering. Engaged earth vehicles on the top level registered distinctly. Other than that? There was little he could make out about the lifeless structures. Hints of electromagnetic energy escaped where windows were present on the adjacent buildings, but to properly judge their size he’d need to actually see, or to drop lower and sweep them with his proximity sensors. As he was just tracking a moving Cybertroninan, it didn’t warrant his further consideration, but should Kup choose to hide there, there were few locations in the immediate area that made useful vantage points. Everything close to the garage was shorter, or at an angle that fully obstructed most of its sides. Without proper visuals, he couldn’t assess the placement of exits, as he was only able to pick up on a vehicle emerging or disappearing.

No, he would have no good place to observe such a hideout, except the sky. Unfortunately, the clustered block was relatively exposed, courtesy of the surrounding open spaces and lesser residential zones.  It would be a secure location to regroup, but not necessarily an ideal way to shake a persistent Con. 

[Deleted]

Jun 28, 2021 12:16:54 GMT -5 Cassandra Cassidy said:

She was beyond believing Thomas at this point, it seemed. And yet, she listened as he corrected her, explaining he'd been a school teacher. That made a bit more sense. Her posture relaxed slightly, but then tensed up again. "You're not telling me something," she said. "I don't know what you're trying to cover up, but you story stinks like horseshit. You want to try that again, or are you running out of ideas for the 'truth'?"

And then me mentioned the.... Oil? Their pursuer's cockpit was covered with oil? "Since when?!" Butch near-yelled. "Are you telling me that, in the span of the last few miles, we somehow managed to pull some kind of pocket-sand trick on this guy?"

At least they were getting close to the city. Maybe Thomas would slow there and Butch could jump out. He was right - she was more likely to kill herself, or at least be seriously injured, if she dove out at their current speed. Having cleaned up accidents and witnessed a few herself, Butch wasn't keen on becoming a red smear. For one, she had a job to get to, and two, she had more self-preservation than that.

The woman then had the look of someone who had experienced a terrible realization. Looking at Thomas in alarm, she said, "Wait, the Boulevard? We can't go into the city with a fighter jet on our ass! Let's just say for a moment you are right about this being some rogue mercenary force - aren't others going to be at risk? What if they fire on us and hit someone else? We can't lead them into one of the biggest fucking cities in the state, you moron!"

It seemed they had little choice but to do so, since Thomas was so hell-bent on taking that route. Butch growled under her breath and looked out the window, trying to glare through the dust. She could see the vague outline of some signs and buildings - there was a cluster of houses to their left. An overpass was approaching them, which they would speed under in seconds if not stopped. There was the faintest shadow of a high-rise in the distance that disappeared into the storm. Butch's hands, clenched tight in frustration, flexed a couple of times.

"Don't take this exit," Butch said. "There's only a spa and some restaurants that way. You're going to pass two roads after this that head due east into some residential areas, I think. When you hit the third, turn right then, and you'll hit a road called West 'Silverado Ranch Boulevard'. You'll drive along it until you come to some lights, then turn right - south - onto Ensworth Street. South Point Parking Garage is right beside it, and if you slow a little, you should be able to spot the way in and go there."

She hadn't been one to have fooled for long, he noted. He'd have to be more clever in his stories, or at least more creative when it came to Humans and the Earth. He doubted Humans would have believed stories about giant rampaging robots involved in a War older than their Species.

“Stinks like horseshit? I need to remember that,” he chuckled a little. “I can't say I've had someone describe my stories with such a colorful euphemism,”

“Didn't you notice you were weightless before having to grip the dashboard and the sides of your seat? We hit a Negative-G Dip back there, and when you weren't looking I managed to flip the trunk open. Some old oil cans I'd kept in the trunk were the perfect means to give our friend back there an unpleasant surprise,” Thomas said. She'd been surprised, for a lack of a better word, that they'd managed to have pulled off that stunt.

He'd felt her grip on the seats, and when she'd almost slammed into the dashboard. Kup hadn't wanted to have told her that, not that she would have believed the notion she'd been in a Talking Car -- which given what she'd become involved in might have at least been a little more easier to understand.

“Even Mercenaries, depending on how greedy or blood thirsty they are, will avoid firing into a city. Most Mercenaries would rather not be found guilty of committing War Crimes according to the Geneva Conventions, and wouldn't be protected unlike the Armed Forces fighting under a Country's Banner. Even Rogue Mercenaries would fear that,” Thomas explained. Kup had at least read up on the Geneva Conventions in Question, mostly for his own curiosity and to help himself blend in if someone had pressed him on the issue.

He thought he'd owed her an explanation towards why, and even how they'd managed to wind up in the Limits of Las Vegas.

“I don't want others to be hurt as a result of something they haven't any knowledge about," the Driver explained. He'd learned long ago that involving Non-Combatants could have, and always did have unforeseen consequences in their War and he'd wanted to have avoided that if possible. Though, he hadn't any way of knowing whether the Seeker that had been following them had held to the same. He had earnestly hoped the Seeker had. "I didn't choose to follow this Boulevard, but in the Storm with extremely limited visibility it wasn't exactly easy to find a route that granted us distance from our friend back there. If I could, I'd find a way to avoid getting others tangled up in this mess,"

“I appreciate the Directions,” the Holo-Avatar said.

Following the Directions she'd given him since the Aging Cybertronian hadn't exactly been able to have checked a Map or the Global Positioning Satellite the Humans had invented -- not that he'd been able to have one installed in his Cab anyways. It would have tipped Cassandra off that something hadn't exactly been right with the old Ford Falcon Futura Sedan. He'd found her Directions, and the fact she'd been up front about how his stories hadn't quite managed to be believable had been refreshing if not a little irritating. It must have been the Old Storyteller in him that found someone criticizing or cutting him off early in one of his Stories to have been offensive, but he'd had to become more tolerant about it.

The tires kept to the more refined and finished asphalt of the Boulevard adhering to the local Traffic Laws by following the nice and tidy white border lines and yellow lines. The Traffic Lights had been barely visible through the sandstorm, but unless the Tessaran had wanted to have blown his cover -- and his existence -- by having sped through a Red Light he'd either slow at Yellow Lights or would come to a complete gentle stop at the Red Lights. He'd merged onto the side roads she'd recommended, and had been forced to have reduced his speed to keep to the Posted Limits a few times after having turned onto those side streets.

Finding the Parking Garage in Question, the South Point Parking Garage as the Sign had indicated had taken a far shorter time than he'd expected, but he'd had to come to the reality that Human Cities -- if Las Vegas were a Prime Model for them -- weren't the vast Sprawling City-States of Cybertron. Turning off of the asphalt onto hardened cleaned concrete marking the Parking Garage's Boundaries, the Futura Sedan pulled up alongside the Main Security Guard Shack with the Parking Arm barring the Entrance. Rolling the Driver's Side Window Down, Thomas reached out to take a Ticket Printed from the Guard Shack and watched as the Parking Arm lifted. Rolling the Window back up, the Futura Sedan pulled passed into the Parking Garage with its headlights flicking on or rather Kup had turned the headlights on. The Parking Arm dropped back down behind them. 

The Finished Concrete Deck with columns supporting the Concrete Deck above greeted them, and while the Parking Garage's lights had been turned on the sandstorm outside made it feel that much darker. Kup's own headlights, mostly the low beams, had been brighter than the Garage's own Light Fixtures. The Futura drove around for a short time before having found a nice spot on the Second Floor to slide into, having passed that had been filled by other Drivers, and once he'd found a vacant spot he'd pulled in. The Spot had been far enough away from the opened sides of the Garage to have minimized visible contact if the Decepticon had somehow managed to have peered inside from the Street Level, and had been near enough to other cars and the built in heating pipes to have masked his own signature. Thomas applied the Parking Brake or what had appeared to be the Parking Brake, he'd turned the Ignition off before having switched the headlights off.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

"Didn't you notice you were weightless before having to grip the dashboard and the sides of your seat? We hit a Negative-G Dip back there, and when you weren't looking I managed to flip the trunk open. Some old oil cans I'd kept in the trunk were the perfect means to give our friend back there an unpleasant surprise."

Cass stared, opened her mouth, and shut it again. "I...didn't," she admitted. "This isn't the easiest situation to notice details in."

She listened to him talk on, and he was finally speaking some sense. From the sounds of it, he was banking on their pursuer having enough scruples to not commit some kind of war crime. Butch could get behind that idea - but there was a significant flaw in Thomas's logic. He was assuming that this 'mercenary' was playing by international rules.

And, as Butch pointed out, "You're making it sound like there's some kind of nation that'll come down on them for that. Enough money and influence can hide the tracks of anyone. Are you trying to tell me you know people who would actually get them tried for war crimes? Or that you know where they're operating out of?"

Butch gave Thomas a suspicious squint. She would've said more, but the slow stop at the traffic light caught her attention. Her hand went to the door - body bracing for a jump and roll - and gripped the handle hard. She then realized, just as she was about to push/kick the door open, that they were only at the lights. Butch's muscles slowly untautened, and her hand unclenched a little.

They were approaching a security station now. Butch's expression went flat, save for a pinch to her eyebrows. Forcing out a careful exhale, she relaxed into her seat and dropped her shoulders. Nervous energy buzzed through every tissue and fiber of Butch's being. All her instincts were telling her to get out, run, lash at Thomas with her knife, but the pilot might have thermal. He'd see her run, be able to lock on whatever guns he had to her position, and tear Butch and the surrounding lot to pieces.

No, it was wiser for her to slip the knife under her left thigh, adjusting her leg as to press the blade into the seat. She could feel the tip of her weapon push up into the meat behind her knee. Remaining still to avoid injury and suspicion, she nodded at the guard as Thomas took a ticket. She moved little as the man drove around, eyes taking in as much of their surroundings as possible. The many cars, blind corners and little side-rooms meant for plenty of places to hide.

They were definitely a lot safer in here. Now would be a good time to bail and make a run for it. But first, as Thomas turned off his lights? Butch would try to yank out her switchblade before he stopped her, lean over, and grab at his collar. Simultaneously, the weapon would swing up to - or so she hoped - be pressed against Thomas's throat. Butch would try and lean in, eyes cold and steel-hard.

"No more bullshit, old man," Butch growled. "You're going to fucking tell me the truth. Now. And then, you're going to give me your fucking keys and get out of the car."

[Starkrieger]

With Kup taking cover in the parking garage, the formerly mundane building, and those clustered around became immensely interesting. He needed a good ‘look’ at what he was working with. Cutting his engines, the Seeker continued to maneuver as he decelerated naturally. Once lift bottomed out, Krieg initiated a quick transformation sequence, wings snapped tight against his back strut to reduce his resistance to gravity. In a state of free fall, he minded his altimeter, weighing his options as he neared the 600’ mark.

Would he follow his whim, and stick to Root? Sacrificing speed for increased maneuverability would allow him to hug the sides of the buildings with minimal impact to his surroundings. However, the substance coating his visor complicated already poor visuals. Technically he could fly without it, but his optics were unaccustomed to being exposed in flight, and the middle of a dust storm hardly seemed like the time to get into the habit.

He elected to do the responsible thing, and maintain distance for the moment. Reverting to alt, he scouted the building cluster. Information flooding his processor, his focus razor sharp as he assessed potential vantage points. Part of it was regulated to his senses, simply the way he'd perceived the world since he’d been brought online, but there was also hard data and running calculations. The return signals compared to his velocity produced a sense of surface areas. While the angles and comparative distances gave him a handle on what he wouldn’t be able to monitor from the various positions.

Physical layout wasn’t his only concern. How would he know that the Autobot wouldn’t bridge out? How long did he have before he was obligated to hail the base and give command the choice on whether someone should be sent in to investigate?

Opening the standard comm Starkrieger decided to attempt mild deception... Not exactly a favorite tactic, but it was still in the spirit of continuing the game. 

::Do you really think this is wise, my little petro-rabbit?:: His vocals lowered, the term of endearment offered softly, the overall tone that of one humoring a youngspark. Of course, he had no idea how far off the mark he was on that score. ::You’re going to trust the sparkless Decepticon to concern himself over the lives of a few insignificant organics?::

::Perhaps a small experiment would go unnoticed by the humans. Do you think they build their structures as sturdy as ours? Will they withstand my weight? My claws?:: Dropping lower still, the Seeker edged in closer, where the other’s audials might detect the sound of his turbines, despite the wind, and his shelter.

::Can you risk gambling on a filthy Con’s scruples?:: A part of him recoiled from issuing such a bluff. Vos would always be a fresh memory, and to suggest intentionally burying innocent sparks… alive. He wasn’t keen on the implications against his character either but, Starscream’s opinion mattered more to him than some random Autobot. Besides, given that he could easily do far worse, this tactic wasn't so bad, surely.

::What will The Prime think if you lose?::

[Deleted]

'I'll give you Petro-Rabbits...' Kup muttered. The Con's Transmission had filtered over his own internal comm unit.

“You want my keys and you want me out of the car? It's a Prospect easier said than done, I'm afraid,” Thomas said. She'd pressed a knife against his -- Kup's Holoavatar.

“I was more than honest with you. I gave you a choice, whether to decide if you wanted to be dropped off somewhere or that you could continue as Alice going down the Rabbit Hole,” the Holo-Avatar explained. “You've become involved in a matter greater, and far more reaching than a simple Mercenary Unit waging War on an Old Man. There are matters in this World that go far beyond simple Borders of Nations, and where Morality is a Luxury most of its Participants can't afford,”

The Aging Tessaran hadn't wanted to have explained to her the details of the Situation she'd found herself in, but with the Seekers' persistence -- even when he found it unerringly frustrating -- he had been hard pressed to have kept the Truth from her. The cold carbon-steel edge of the knife against his Holo-Avatar's Throat had unfortunately been a deciding factor -- or at least one of them. He had hoped Optimus wouldn't have held it against him.

“Do I have your Word? A Solemn Promise that what you may be told will not be repeated to anyone else and that you won't make any quick moves with that knife?” Thomas asked.

His Processor attempted to work on a plan, or at least a plan and a contingency leading to that plan. He hadn't held any notions the Parking Deck could have kept them hidden, but he'd known if they had driven back out into the Storm that the Seeker could have not only tracked them but could have taken Kup back as a nice little Trophy for Starscream or Megatron. It wasn't a Prospect that had thrilled him. His internal Sensors tried to find some other means, a tunnel or even a lower chamber they could have gone to.