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

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Butch pressed the knife a touch harder against Thomas's skin. "Why?" she asked, thinking that his comment about "easier prospects" was some sort of quip. She keep that slight increase in pressure up, steely eyes unmoving from the man's face. Her brow furrowed as he continued to speak, his tone turning grave.

Butch was about to tell him to go or hurry up with talking - her patience was just about run out - when he asked for a promise. A vow, even. This made Butch hesitant, the pressure on Thomas's skin wavering back. The blade was still within slashing distance of a jugular, but no longer did it threaten to draw blood. Butch looked conflicted, glancing away for a moment as she took time to gather her thoughts. Thomas had been earnest enough in his words, and serious enough in his conveyance, to make Butch ease up. She could tell he was no longer lying.

But that didn't mean Butch could let her guard down. After seconds that seemed more like minutes, she looked back up at Thomas. Her knife pressed back into his skin. "If it involves human trafficking or terrorism, I'll have no choice," she said. "And if that, then I'd have to go to the authorities, obviously. But you have my word I won't cut your throat and leave you bleeding out."

She pulled back and, very slowly, put her hands in her lap. Butch's good hand was still gripped around the black handle of her switchblade. "For now. As long as you don't pull any 'quick moves' in the next few minutes, I think I can keep my hands to myself," she said, glare cooling. "But you should explain yourself before I change my mind."

[Starkrieger]

Hmm… nothing huh?

Despite the stubborn comm silence he'd been facing, this was unexpected.  Of course, Starkrieger had no idea that his new ‘friend’ had a very good reason for not coming out to play. There were plenty of scenarios he came up with to explain it. Maybe he had been a neutral all along? Perhaps he'd assessed that the building was clear and bridged out? Had he panicked, and now was trapped in a loop within his own processor, unable to respond to the situation unfolding around him? Or, maybe he was a coward and was legitimately willing to gamble with the lives of the squishies inside.

That was just cold… Slag.

The absolute last thing he would imagine was that Kup would have invited a filthy, organic fleshbag into his interior. Could one successfully decontaminate if they purged, or shed, whatever unspeakable byproducts they created? Disgusting… So, there was no noble explanation for the Autobot to be behaving as it was. Too bad it wasn't a trap, the challenge would have welcomed.

::Really, Bunny? You’re just going to allow the meatbags to be killed?:: He still wanted to tease but instead his vocals conveyed surprise and a hint of disappointment. Was this really how far gone they were? He’d never put faith in The Prime, but from what he’d heard, the Bots could be counted on to be sentimental, at least in regards to lesser species. Energon for thought… A Seeker he might be, but it was unlikely the Autobots would see the difference between him and Decepticons at large… if they no longer cared for even innocent sparks, or whatever humans had, in their victory there would be no peace for his kind.

Not exactly a welcome angle that inserted itself into their game, the intrusive thoughts were dark and hardly something he wished to dwell on. Unfortunately, sometimes reality walked up and punched a mech right in the faceplates…. Oh well. Not like he was making it through to the other side of this thing. Soldiers were coded to fight, and to offline; he held no delusions about his place in the world within that role. It was the impact that it would have on those that did survive that was unsettling. Regardless of the broader implications, his part in this wasn't made easier… His target was hiding again, though this time in a more traditional sense. There was no honor to sending in comrades to hunt it down.  Frag, it wouldn't even be sporting.

About to comm base, he decided to make another loop around, focusing on the data he confirmed, and the calculations he reran. The small stay of execution could be justified, for accuracy’s sake. Precise, and complete information would be expected to enable the higherups to run their risk assessments and formulate strategies.

::I suppose if you don’t value their function, there’s no reason for me to:: A final effort to ferret out his quarry. It wouldn’t be good for his reputation if he didn’t follow up on the threat, but then if he had to contact command, and the grounders were sent in, there likely wouldn't be a witness returning to Autobot headquarters.

[Deleted]

“It doesn't involve Human Trafficking, and it doesn't involve Human Related Terrorism,” the Aging Tessaran began. “You have become Involved, Involuntarily more from being a Bystander, in a War that began when your Planet was still young. It's a War between two Separate Camps, Warriors, Diplomats and Formerly Innocents,”

“My Kind is different than yours. I don't mean we're Superior, Morally or Otherwise. On my Planet, Silicon and Metallic Life developed and evolved. Our Society became Stagnant, a Breeding Ground for Resentment and Unrest. The Planet's vast Resources dried up, and we were scattered to the Stars. Others gave pursuit and as our Pilot Friend back there, they followed a few of us here to this Planet. It's not something we're proud of, and I'm more than certain the Leader of my own Camp -- along with others would have seen to leading them away from this World. We have been fighting first for Reuniting our Kind in a Better Society to simple Survival longer than when the first Dinosaurs took to the Forests and Beaches,” he explained. It hadn't been his best story, but Kup had learned the time for Lies or Half-Truths had come and gone. Butch had deserved the Truth.

“This Projection looks Human with the Effort to make it pass as an Older Man, but it's not my Form. The Futura you're sitting in is my Real Form in an Altered State. It's how we have been able to Survive, by not drawing attention to ourselves and by attempting to keep a low profile. It works some of the time,” Thomas said before Kup allowed his own voice to filter into the Cab. His voice had remained low enough to have avoided being overheard by anyone that may have been in the Parking Deck. “My Camp are filled with those that share a similar mind or at least a partial goal to preserve Life, and to Reunite our World. We're known as the Autobots, and those more Warlike -- that have pursued us are known as the Decepticons. Their own goal is to Annihilate those that Resist them, and those that help them before Reuniting our World in their Image,”

“I did not want you to become Involved. I do hope you can Forgive me,” Kup said. His concern had been for her safety, that he hadn't wanted to have an Innocent -- a Human Innocent to be a casualty of their War.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Butch became quiet and still as words came out of the car's radio, metallic and echoing. Her eyes had widened and her eyebrows had arched. Her lips pursed into a small line. She waggled her jaw left and right a little. Like most people, she wouldn't have expected the dash to start talking.

After a few moments, she looked up at Thomas and said, "That's a clever trick you've got there, but ventriloquism isn't exactly unheard of. You realize you're not giving me any suspension of disbelief to work with, right?"

Butch shook her head, turned away, and began to reach for the door. "Unless you somehow magically poof in some kind of proof you're a fucking alien, I'm out. Clearly there is some bullshit here and you're trying to bury me in it." She put her good hand on the handle and went to pop the door - that is, if Thomas didn't lock her in.

"Either that, or you're so far up your ass in crazy that you might as well be a damned ouroboros. I don't care. You know what? Keep your keys, because you're too addled in the head to find them if you lose them. Whatever this pilot has with you, I'll figure a way out of this place whether you start telling me the truth or not."

If he didn't stop her, Butch would unbuckle her belt and hop out. She was too rational a person for a voice on the radio to convince her sentient robots existed. If Thomas wanted to show her how serious he was, he'd have to give her some better means of proof. That could mean turning off his hologram in front of her, or transforming.... Or letting her discover for herself what that jet really was.

Which was likely going to happen in the next several minutes if Butch had her way.

[Deleted]

“Ventriloquism?” Kup asked. “You think I'm throwing my voice? Well...I suppose you're right in that. I'm not exactly something new in the Galaxy. A Talking Car, of all things? I guess you're right. No one would have believed that,”

He had to admit, she had a point there. Whereas that Tactic would have worked on other Planets, apparently as he'd found out from her stance that it hadn't worked on this one. Too many new fangled ideas floating around there, he'd say. People, and Bots seemed to take anything for granted when it could have been explained by Science or a Trick of the Media.

“Alien? Where?” he began before chuckling. “Oh yeah... I am one. It's been a while since I had to think of myself as one,”

“I don't suppose the Universal Greeting would work, would it?” he had to ask. He hadn't certain the Universal Greeting would have worked with Humans. It worked with Silicon and Metallic Life and some Carbon-Based Lifeforms, but with Humans it had been a guessing game.

He recalled how she had offered his Holo-Avatar a Cigarette, and that he hadn't exactly had a chance to put it away either. Though he did smoke Cy-Gars and they had a nasty habit of being cut in half at the worst possible moments or from accidents, he'd noticed the Cigarette had burned well past the Filter Line and that it would have given a Human a nasty burn. The reality that she wouldn't have bought that either, but would have explained that away as simply a High Pain Threshold crossed his mind. He had to find another means to let her see the Truth of the Matter.

“I'm about to do something that I'll probably regret or have a lot of explaining to do, but here it goes...” the Aging Tessaran began when his Holo-Avatar timed out. Thomas winked out of existence, folding first into minute fine lines before vanishing and withdrew back into Kup's own Frame mostly in the Steering Column. “Isn't that the way of things? I start to talk, and if it isn't Blaster Bolts and Mortars flying overhead it's the Internal Fire Alarm of a Space Cruiser about to Fall Apart or my favorite Cy-Gars getting cut in half,”

“I'm going to put my Pede in the Aft Plate of whatever Joker up there decided to find my File and make a Prank out of it,” the Old Cybertronian muttered. “I'll show him a Universal Greeting. He's probably a Quintesson, or one of their Lackeys,”

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Her worn leather boots hit the pavement with a soft thud; she was barely listening to Thomas as he went on. She'd dropped her knife after going for the door, and now leaned down to grab it. The man's "truth" didn't matter now that she was out of the car, having turned to get her blade after standing up. It was all prattling to her, or the ramblings of an incompetent old criminal. Or maybe an LSD-fried hippie. Or maybe someone with a head injury.

And then Thomas disappeared, folding down like paper in front of her. Butch froze, fingers only a few inches from her blade. His voice echoed out from the radio again, and Butch could swear it sounded tinny. It almost reminded her of a cheap speaker repeating audio.

What had happened then decided to hit Butch. The two sides of her shocked brain finally connected, and she jumped back. Butch's switchblade came with her in a swift pull. "What - shit - what the hell - what the fu - !" she choked out, flailing the knife in front of her after thumbing out the blade. Hopping backwards several more steps, she stopped a few feet away from the car. There was a metallic rattle from her as she moved.

Butch wasn't close enough to hear the muttering that came next. Even if she had been, her mind was blanking on how to respond to.... Whatever the hell had just happened. She had braced herself in an offensive position, knees bent in a slight crouch. Butch's arms were up, positioned in a way to keep her knife close and to cover her center. Her rapid breathing began to slow after a few seconds, the woman fighting to control it. Outside, the sandstorm began to wane a little.

[Deleted]

“I need to get Ratchet to or someone to help re-calibrate that Projector,” Kup muttered. Noticing his cab had been vacant and that the Passenger Door had opened with Cassandra standing outside of the vehicle, the Aging Tessaran realized he'd caused her to blow a few fuses.

“What can I do to have you trust me again? You did trust me earlier,” he asked.

He used to be good at First Contacts, or rather he used to be good at standing by as an Honor Guard or an Old Advisor to the Insane Zeta Prime during those Contacts. There were times he missed those Cycles, but there were others where he honestly hadn't been able to remember what those First Contact Situations were with. The Situation had spiraled out of control once that Seeker had managed to zero in on them, and through the Tessaran's own bungling had made the Situation worse especially for Cassandra and any other Innocent Bystanders. He tried to reactivate the Holoprojector only for the function itself to register as being Off-Line, a result of a Faulty Connection somewhere and he'd opted to have left it alone lest it frighten Cassandra more.

“I'm sorry I startled you, Butch. I'm far from a new Model fresh off the Line. I have parts that fall off, malfunction and even turn on me at times. I wasn't lying earlier when you asked Thomas my Age. I'm an Old Soul, and an even Older Model,” Kup said. He had been sincere in his Apologies for startling Butch, for causing her to doubt herself and that she'd find some means to at least have forgiven him.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

The human didn't respond. Butch stared down the car with pupils wide, body tense, braced and ready for a fight that didn't come. She'd begun to tremble, the slight tremor making the knife in her hand wobble. Her breathing was rapid, and sweat began to dapple her forehead. A sudden gust made a howl outside, the eerie sound echoing through the garage.

When the...the car finished apologizing, there was silence. Only the wind made noise, singing its strange, warbling song. The seconds ticked by at a crawl. Butch's breathing began to slow, one foot sliding back. The woman looked ready to bolt, her face a myriad of shifting emotions. Confusion, incomprehension, disbelief, panic - all of it appeared and reappeared in a rapid cycle.

Butch tried to speak. All she did was croak. Her eyes darted to her knife-wielding hand, then back to the car. Her mouth, which had gaped open in a pant, slowly shut into an uncertain line. Butch relaxed her posture a little, but still gave the car a look one might give a poised rattlesnake. Her brows furrowed, and she schooled her expression into a fierce, firm glare, but it was unsettled. No amount of posturing could hide how shaken Butch was.

"What's your name, really?" she managed to ask. "Where did Thomas go? And...what are you doing here? Out in the desert, I mean." Her own face betrayed that she couldn't believe she'd asked the fucking talking car a question. Let alone three questions - three questions - instead of running away!

"You're obviously not a goddamn Tesla."

[Starkrieger]

Loop completed, Starkrieger had run out of time. Still the other had neither said anything, nor had he emerged. It was by sheer luck that, for whatever reasons, they were practicing subtly on this planet. The structure could have easily been decimated by his missiles, but the evidence left behind would be problematic. His claws might leave marks the human would never suspect; however, the chances of him being seen while he assaulted the building would be high. Attack was out of the question.

Pulling out of an inverted path as he passed skirted the the furthest reaches of a good reading, the Seeker, in rare form for this encounter, had remained silent. Angling to raise higher in the skies, he discounted the blast of grit against his frame, as he opened the comm to Blackridge.

::Starkrieger to base:: With a sharp tip along the vertical axis he cut his engines.

Now to see if fortune found favor with the caged grounder.

::Target's taken refuge in a structure at current coordinates... Tread roller's locked his wheels, sir::

As the stall started to overtake him and the decent began, he activated his T-cog. Returning to root at a more than comfortable altitude, his limbs and wings extending to maximize his surface area, giving command the to decide if they wanted to request additional information to strategize follow up action, or if in this case, discretion was preferred.

He was relieved, but not too surprised to receive orders to return to base.

With the increased wind resistance, his descent had been adequately slowed that it was no issue reverting back to his altmode. Only once plating clicked properly into place, did he reengaged his engines, climbing above the dust storm to put significant distance between him and civilization. Best not to open a bridge over a city needlessly, even with the reduced visibility, they couldn’t be certain how far the light given off by the portal would be seen.

::Primus must walk with you, my sweet Petro-rabbit. Do consider keeping my mark... I want to recognize you.:: His capacity for amusement, and playful ‘affection’ had not diminished, despite Kup cutting the game short, and his subsequent ‘loss’.

They'd meet again. 

---

Permission to assume orders to return granted by Ren.  Thank you . (Starkrieger Out) 

[Deleted]

“A Tesla? That Line of Bucket of Bolts?” Kup asked. “I'll take it that I'm not a Tesla as a compliment. Thank You,”

“I'm known as Kup among my friends, and the Nutty Instructor among other such nicknames by my Former Students,” the Aging Tessaran began. “I decided to stretch my legs rather than endlessly spinning my wheels going nowhere. I was on Patrol when the Sandstorm kicked up, and I saw you on the side of the road. Even on my own Planet, someone wandering around in a sandstorm or a rust storm is a good way to go missing or rendered Offline,”

“Thomas was my Holographic Avatar. I'm sorry to have startled you when he folded, but my Holo-Projector's old and badly in need of a Re-Calibration,” he explained. The Holographic Projector in his Steering Column had still emitted sparks, but the amount had lessened over the last short while. “I'll project Thomas into the Driver's Seat to give the illusion there is a living being behind the Wheel to make it easier on others, to be able to interact with humans and the world around me. He's still in my Databanks, but with the Projector on the fritz he's stuck in my Databanks. I wasn't trying to deceive you, Butch. When you spoke with Thomas, you were speaking with me and when you offered the Cigarette I did enjoy it,”

He'd said his mind hoping that he'd at least provided answers for Butch's questions, but he'd had to wait to see if she'd believed him this time. He'd told her the Truth, or at least as much as his Alt-Form could have provided short of having Transformed in front of her. He doubted in her current state that she'd be able to take seeing a nearly nine meter tall sentient robot, though given that he'd seen some odd Giant Mecha in something called Anime on TV there had been a chance he'd been wrong.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

Butch stared down the aging mech as he spoke. Hesitant caution and bewilderment warred on her face. She appeared to be listening, her posture slackening until her shoulders sank. By the end of his explanation, she looked more confused than afraid. The woman pursed her lips.

"Your name is Kup," she repeated. "You were on patrol. 'Thomas' is an alias you use for...a hologram. Because you're a living car, and not a Tesla."

She stared for a moment more. The knife in front of Butch slowly lowered as she processed what she'd said. She then asked, the words abrupt and uncertain, "Do you work for the military, then? Or are there more of you? Do you, uh...happen to turn into anything?"

Butch hesitated again. "And you wouldn't happen to do anything wlith transforming robotic toylines, do you?"

[Deleted]

He wasn't exactly a Living Car, but Kup hadn't been about to correct Butch on semantics given her current State of Mind. If he had, it would have made things worse.

“That's a complicated subject,” Kup said. “There are those that know of our Existence, but in large part few know about us. The United States Military in large part doesn't even know we Exist. It's unfortunately part of the reason why we're on this Planet. We've learned to keep a low profile, without alerting the locals to our Presence or at least alerting the majority,”

“I can't disclose how many there are of us here,” the Aging Tessaran explained. “Turn into anything else? My Kind has the Ability to change Forms, but are often limited to only one or two. I wouldn't ask the particulars about that. I'm not a Scientist, or a Medic. I only know the damned process happens. It isn't painful, ...well, mostly,”

“Transforming Robotic Toylines?” he asked. He hadn't exactly heard of that on Cybertron, but he'd learned albeit by harmless mistake while flipping through the channels that there were some Cartoon Series that had reflected it. “It's comparable. I think some of your Writers either let their Imaginations get away from them or they knew about something they weren't about to admit hadn't been borne of those Imaginations. We're fairly Individualististic, with others even more so. We come in different Builds, Shapes, Sizes, Attitudes and each has their own preferences much like humans do,”

[Cassandra Cassidy]

He couldn't tell her how many of his kind there were. That made sense. Butch wasn't an expert in human-alien relations, but had seen enough movies about first contact. Humans were wired to be suspicious, envious, and hostile toward that which was unknown. It'd be suicide for a group of...whatever "Kup" was to openly declare their existence to the world.

Kup didn't, however, suggest that the military was wholly unaware of his kind. "'In large part'?" Butch repeated. "Who knows about you? The president, I'm assuming?" It was a stupid question to ask, especially considering Nevada was the same state with Area 51 in it. Still, governments were governments, and if this was some kind of high-tech, super-intelligent.... Something from another planet -

I can't believe this, thought Butch. I'm stuck in a garage, in a sandstorm, with a jet trying to kill us both. And while I'm here, I'm interrogating a fucking talking car. Her nerves felt like they'd reached a breaking a point. Butch made pains not to show it on her face.

"Show me what you are," the woman demanded. Her tone was a little shaky, but her words were clear. "Prove it. Show me what you can do. Turn yourself into a gun, or a calculator, or something. Then I'll believe you, and...."

She hesitated once more. This had to have been the most shaken-up she'd been since her father had passed. "...And then you have a lot of fucking explaining to do. More than you are now. I'm not letting you out of my sight until you tell me everything."

Outside, the sandstorm weakened more. The harsh, lashing winds had softened. The air, once choked with ruddy dust, now had a tinge of visibility back. Distant buildings began to fade into view, even if they remained blurry outlines amid the sand.

[Deleted]

“I can only tell you that certain Groups do know of us, but I can't disclose whom they are. It's not that I can't. It's more that I can't remember. It's one of the things that comes with Age. Gaps appear in your Memory,” Kup said.

“I can show you, but not here. The Ceiling would be too low, and there are Cameras. I doubt the Drivers of these other Cars would be understanding either,” the Aging Tessaran said. “I can take you out of the City, or an old Ruined building or something and then I can show you my Form,”

“I can't turn myself into a Gun, or a Calculator. I can't take on a Form I haven't scanned, and I haven't scanned those,” the Aging Warrior explained. “It doesn't have anything to do with there being too many moving parts and chemicals either. I can show you my other Form, but if I did that here I'd either wreck my back or would punch a hole in the reinforced concrete above,” He'd recalled having heard that line from a Film about two warring Cybernetic Life Forms that wound up in the Past or were sent there.

“I know I have a lot of explaining to do. It's only natural to expect that, and you'll have an explanation,” he said. “Would you please climb back into the Cab on the Driver's Side? With my Holo-Projector on the fritz, it would look odd -- and would draw too much unwanted attention -- to have a Driver-less Cab while you're in the Passenger Seat. I don't think the Local Police would be too likely to let that pass,”

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to have an encounter with the Local Police, or Enforcers, but at the same time Kup hadn't wanted to take the risk of being discovered. It wouldn't have been a discussion he'd wanted to have with Optimus Prime.

[Cassandra Cassidy]

“Stop,” Butch choked out. “Just...stop. I need a moment to - to think. I need to think.”

Butch turned away from the car and sighed. Her unscarred hand mashed against the side of her face. She pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling. A deep, long, drawn-out breath followed, and Butch held that point of her nose in silence. Her jaw ground from side to side.

“We can’t go outside again,” Butch finally said. “If that - that thing - spots us, we’re dead. If it decides to try and go after us, in a crowded city? Then many people are dead. We’re fragile, and that’s probably why there are so many of us. To replace the ones lost, I mean....”

Now she was waxing poetic. Why on Earth was now, of all situations, a time to wax poetic? Butch was fairly certain this was a sign she was losing her mind. Insanity would have to come later, as neither her nor the car were safe enough to process current events. Yes, it was time to get things over with.

“I’m probably about to ask the most stereotypically-human thing you’ve heard so far far,” Butch said, looking at Kup, “but do you have some kind of...oh, God...some kind of invisibility or teleportation device? If not to move some kind of distance subtly, but at least to go somewhere sight unseen? Unless those are also on the fritz because your projector is.”

Oh, how tempting it was for Butch to coat those last words with sarcasm. Despite this, she held back.

~ To be continued....