[ti]Ep 3[/ti]"Summer and Lightning"

[Feldspar]

Week Four, Day Five. Windshield and Dart. 

Time: 11:45 PM, Pacific Standard Time. 


Rain spattered across the parched desert floor, deeply pitting the powdery soil.

A pale flash in the distance illuminated the tall, craggy mountains. A while later, a distant growl of thunder made itself known. This storm was out beyond the hills in this section of the Nevada landscape. The wind was harsh and gusting, rattling the creosote bushes and causing the sharp leaves of the yuccas to twist and click. The air was muggy and smelled as if it were an old, junked hot tub with four inches of green slime caught in the bottom.

The heavy lines crisscrossing the sky above the electrical transfer station were swaying. Tall towers of metal braced against the encroaching weather. A constant, heavy hum reverberated in the air, the sound of machinery hard at work sending electricity across the desert and down into the concentrations of humans in cities and towns along the way. 

Access was by a quiet paved road that crossed over a huge concrete pipe sunk into a dry wash. The road led up into an employee parking lot behind a black chain-link fence. Several cars were parked there, from battered and well-worked pickup trucks to a small silver Yaris with a bobble-head dog plopped firmly on the dashboard. Behind them were several dull and squat concrete buildings. Warm light spilled out of several windows, but most were dim and dark.

Swing shift had cleared out an hour earlier, leaving only the overnight workers to monitor the building and keep an eye on the softly lit dials and the inner workings of the facility.

When the greenish portal opened up in the desert, it was some distance away. Easily explained as one more flicker of lightning as it shone brightly for only a brief few seconds, waiting for Windshield to get through. It would quickly close behind him, leaving him standing in a barren expanse of country with the air currents driving raindrops sideways against his dark plating. 

In the distance, there was a faint glow on the horizon that wasn't lightning. A city. Probably the closest one that this station supplied with power. 

Windshield also had a mission directive. His talents had been recognized, his skills hand picked by one of the higher ups. He was to get into that facility warehouse, make it through the security, find a small electrical turbine that was in there being worked on, and steal it. In and out, keep it quiet, and don't get caught by the humans - or Autobots, for that matter.

Maybe they figured that he was absolutely, one hundred percent on board on not getting caught with that after his previous situation with them.

Apparently, he was supposed to have some outside help on this mission. A scout, or lookout of sorts, but well, whomever it was didn't appear to be in the same spot they'd dropped him at. Perhaps they were hunkered down by the station already. 

Which meant he was going to have to hike down there himself from where the portal had dropped him off.... 

[Windshield]

The shift between the quiet of their home base and the cacophony of a raging storm was stark. No sooner did Windshield exit the portal than he could hear the crackle of lightning and feel the rain whipping his frame. He took in the static, letting it linger on the olfactory sensors (not that there was much choice in the matter), and had a good look around.

His objective loomed in the distance across a desolate, rain-soaked terrain. A nearby road stood between him and the place, but he could not reach it in vehicle mode. The mud and slick and rocky terrain were no place for a muscle car like himself. The flat mesas of Cybertron were sorely missed at the moment.

He'd have to walk at least for a little while.

The fact that his teammate wasn't present did not escape Windshield's notice either. They could've been on stand-by already, waiting for him...or they were slacking somewhere, shirking their duty and letting Windshield do all the dirty work. That'd just be typical.

No matter the case, Windshield resolved to track through the rain and the muck towards his goal. Shrouded by the elements and darkness, his glowing lights were as wisps in the squall; a trick of the light to those with rational minds.

It was a lovely night for grand theft.

[Dart]

In the shadows by the stone edges of the concrete wash tunnel a pair of soft blue lights glowed, hazed by the rain.

The courier ducked her helm as she looked out over the landscape towards the fence surrounding the station. Water streamed down off her dull and battered plating and pooling in the gap of her throat-guard. Nervously, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Mud squelched under her weight and motion. With a soft huff of air, she lifted her nose and sniffed warily at the air for the hundredth time tonight.

Behind her dark, narrow shoulders, the tips of her spoiler lifted and pricked forward as she focused on the area in front of her. The left side twitched once before settling into stillness.

She'd been quietly tucked away here for hours now quietly watching the people come and go, having received a terse message earlier this evening with her instructions.

Go there. Scout the area. Make sure that there are no Autobots and that the mech we are sending has access to the facility. He's in charge- what he needs you to do, you do it.

Dart was used to that kind of directive, though.

What made her more nervous though that he was targeting a human facility again. The last time he'd done that was down in Portland, and that had been a mess. Pyrotech was cautious and careful, and did nothing without researching it, but... what did he need? Why does he need it?

Right now, this hard rain in the desert also concerned her. Not only were the air scents pushed downward and away which meant they were harder to get a direction on, but because there would no doubt be flash flooding. Water oversaturated landscapes like this quickly, which meant it didn't have anywhere to go except frothing into the rutted dry washes. The thin layer of sand and soil would roil into a red-stained mess that could roll a car or even a giant alien robot off their feet.

Even the big ones.

Dart truly had no idea of who they were sending here, but she hoped they had some experience with terrain, especially after the recent excursions she'd found herself involved in.

[Windshield]

Soon, the rain proved more than a simple annoyance, ground giving in with every third step as the onslaught only continued to worsen.

Visibility in such conditions was poor even by an optimist's measure. How fortunate was it then, that Windshield always remained prepared for the worst. Putting a servo to the back of his neck, one plate shifted downwards, revealing behind it a pair of goggles. He gently pulled them out by the rim and placed them to the fore of his eyes. They linked perfectly, snapping into place over the amber optics.

To peer through the night and storm, that was their purpose. Humans used similar principles in thermal cameras, yet Windshield could see clearer than any man-made appliance under the present circumstances.

It took a few seconds for his optics to adjust, but as he neared the access road, Windshield noticed a conspicuous source of heat close by the drain tunnel directly below. He couldn't make out any details of course, but the shape and size was unmistakably Cybertronian.

This had to be the lookout.

With care, he diverted from his original course, skipping across the most solid ground to the rocky tunnel access. His figure cut through the streaks of water, rain drumming fiercely against the hacker's sleek form. Surely, the lookout will have spotted his silhouette in the distance long before he arrived.

Any bot worth their Energon most certainly would.

[Dart]

A small sigh escaped the courier.

Dart brought up her forearm and wiped it across her optics. It left behind a muddy, gritty smear. A wince as she glanced down at the duct tape wrap. While it worked great to keep most of the dirt and worse out of the internal spaces where her broken wrist-blade had once been, it was one of those things she had to replace constantly. She was out and about constantly, and between brambles and sticker bushes, tree branches and sharp rocks, the tape took a beating.

If she didn't have her avatar, she had no idea how she would have managed to keep it on there. Or pay for it for that matter. Luckily duct tape was fairly cheap, and Dart was an excellent pop-can collector as well as a darn good money sniffer in parking lots. She'd never really thought about how many people touched a paper bill over the course of a few weeks, but her nose sure knew. It made dropped change and bills at least somewhat noticeable, and Dart wasn't going to pass up a single quarter at this point in her life.

Even used books weren't cheap on her incredibly limited income.

She did her best though, and didn't mind if the poor books had mangled covers and weren't shelf-pretty. They were readable, and that's what mattered. Wasn't like she had shelving of any sort to put them on anyway.

With a little rueful smile, Dart lifted her jaw and sniffed at the swirling, erratic air currents.

Everything was muted by the wind and driving rain. Dart struggled; the storm was dispersing scent all over the place, and visibility was low. So when she finally caught a whiff of Cybertronian, the mech was easily within shooting distance. Actually, the fellow could have picked up any of a thousand handy rocks close by and clocked her right in the head. Erk.

Luckily, as much as scent had failed her, it also gave her a bit of instant comfort. The familiar odors of the Decepticon outpost were all over him, which meant he certainly was no Autobot. This had to absolutely be the mech that command had told her they were sending out.

With a polite duck of her helm, Dart hurriedly touched her fingertips to the sigil on her chest in salute before she tucked her hands to the small of her back and waited.

[Windshield]

It was but a short while from then before Windshield joined his contact at her present location. She was already standing at attention at the time. Clearly, they hadn't assigned him a slacker as he so worried. Still, a workaholic could be just as annoying, but maybe it'd be best if Windshield did not read too much into her mannerisms as was his wont. It could be counterproductive in this case.

He stopped a few steps away from her, shaking off the muck and grime off his pedes. Thank Primus for a solid, flat sole. Those with claws or stilts would have a much harder time doing that. Regardless, once he was clean, the hacker inclined his head into a slight bow, far from courteous and more akin to a mockery of proper conduct.

"Hey," he said ever-so-casually. Most Decepticons would be all dour and formal, half-way through asking for a status report right about now. Windshield wasn't like that. He wanted her to feel comfortable with his presence and establish a casual mood, sporting a toothy smile. The others were such bores, but not he. Not for as long as it helped him get his way.

"You must be the scout command sent ahead. Am I warm?"

His tone was calm and the voice friendly, like it didn't know of the ugly, raging storm right behind. But Windshield did, he knew they were on a schedule enforced by the conditions, and so he cut rather quickly to the next sentence.

"How about we start with names. Mine's Windshield."

He did not know hers even if she might've known his. Frankly, Windshield knew very few Decepticons by name. There were your Starscreams and Soundwaves, and then there were your Darts and Breakdowns and Backwaters. He liked to consider himself somewhere between those two, even if it was just his ego trying its best to mask the thought that he might've not been nearly as famous as he'd like.

[Dart]

It was the color of his optics that threw her.

On seeing them bright and glowing through the sheets or rain, Dart's main pump had skipped a pass. It was only a fleeting moment though; her brain went no no, no, too short, too dark. These were solid, bright orange, not the hue that almost seemed to shift from near yellow into a gorgeous deep copper depending on the ambient light and shadows. Immediately, she pulled all of her thoughts into a hard hold. No. Not him. Not even close.

That wistful moment came and went, washed away not by the rain, but the mech's approach.

As he moved down to where she was, the courier quickly shifted her weight over her toes, lifted her chin, and turned her nose. Another automatic sniff of the air; Dart depended on her sense of smell for recognition, more than she did her sight or even the sound of voices. This mech wasn't familiar to her at all, but that didn't surprise her. Ever since the Nemesis fell, there were so many folks in and out of the area that it had become almost overpowering.

It wasn't that anyone smelled truly bad (well, okay, maybe a few folks) but that it so many mechs in such a small space. She'd spent most of her aware time here on Earth stationed in the middle of nowhere, with a limited crew. The only comparison she even had was when the Decepticons in Australia had lived under the junkyard, packed in tight tunnels. That place had been horrible, and the smell of oil and rust had forced itself onto every square inch of space. The saving grace out here was that it was wilderness, empty and dry.

This mech didn't stink though. Honest. Far from that. Even through the pouring rain, there were all the light touches that made up the mech. A light, metallic tone, overlaid with the smell of the outpost, of course. That familiar smell settled among those who even simply passed through it. The scents were muted and soft though, as dark and elegant as the black metal he wore.

At the casual greeting, there was the tinest motion from the tips of the spoiler behind her shoulders. They pricked upward ever so slightly, and as he bowed, she was completely unsure what to do. No one bowed to her, and the gesture seemed as if it was laced with humor and not formality. Oh gosh, do I bow back? I don't know. I- no idea.

Windshield?

She'd heard the name in one of her hurried moments to report to Pyrotech. The only reason she remembered it was that it had taken her a moment to realize they weren't talking about er- actual windshields. This mech had been discussed between her commander and another, but she hadn't been paying as much attention as she should have, she supposed.

She'd been too nervous; when Pyrotech called her in, it was usually not for anything good.

Better to be safe than sorry though. Dart did a quick polite bob of her helm again.

"Yes sir," she nodded. "I am. Er, Dart, sir. My name's Dart."

The courier hesitated and then looked back at the facility, where the lights were glowing and hazed with the driving rain.

"I've been here for a while. Most of the humans have left, sir."

[Windshield]

Yes-sir this and that.

Dart. Goodness! What a stick in the mud. Maybe in a more literal sense at the moment with the heavy rains and whatnot. Oh well, they didn't have much time to go through the motions, so, Windshield went ahead and said his piece as soon as she wrapped up being awkward.

"Hey, what's with the sirs? We're not at boot camp," he chuckled in a soft tenor with a tasteful hint of condescension. Just enough to make things interesting.

"I've got a name. No shame in using it, yes?" A reassuring smile. A tilt of the head. The least he could do to ease her in before picking at the specifics of their assignment. They had a mission, yes, but they didn't have to turn it into a chore on top of that. Dart was already heading in that direction, so he quickly corrected their course and followed up with some swift motions.

One set of digits on his hip, the other thumping the sharp end of his chin. So casual about everything. Only those thoughtful, distant optics betrayed his true colors. He stood there, thinking—quite hard at that. Scarily so, even. Windshield was relaxed and informal, but no slouch. Rap-tap-tap against the tip of his jaw, fingers drumming to the rhythm of the rain.

Then? They stopped. Moved back to his side, they did.

"Anyroad, why don't you tell me a bit more about what we're up against? I have an idea or two, so let's see if we can use them."

There was that smile again. Not as reassuring this time. Maybe it was the slant of his eyebrows or the slight shift in posture or even the request for intel, but something turned it rotten.

[Dart]

His first smile seemed friendly.

The mech was right. They weren't at boot camp.

Mostly because there was a path out of some militaries that could be as simple as you getting up one morning and making the choice not to re-enlist when your tour was over. The ability to say nah, I'm good, I've had enough, it's time for me to get my things together and head out to the civilian world.

That wasn't the case with the Decepticons. She'd seen first hand what happened to those folks who didn't quite fit in. The folks who were being watched, and the mechs that were considered expendable on the battlefield. It wasn't pretty, and it certainly was nerve wracking to be part of. As he settled his weight and brought his fingers up to his jaw, the small points of metal behind her shoulders raised as she quietly watched him. The left one twitched before sloping back down.

His second smile made her nervous. Really, though, Dart was the first to admit that everything made her nervous. Sounds in the woods, voices on lonely paths in the wilderness, smells that were familiar and out of place at the same time. Weird things out of nowhere, like plastic bags blowing across a field. Those were low on her list too. They snuck up on you, tangling around your feet, crinkling and crunching in an almost predatory way.

Like so many smiles she'd seen over the years. In both factions.

"Okay," she said, pulling her thoughts back to focus on the fact Windshield wanted information. She had that to offer, and she could offer it quick.

"It's- it's just a civilian power transfer station. They have a full crew on in the mornings, but a very limited one at night. I think there's still a guard on duty in there, but it's probably for the check in desk at the front?"

The lanky femme shifted her weight back and forth in the red, squelching mud, fidgeting without lifting a foot.

"I've seen them swipe cards at the front door though," she offered. "That's how they get in, keyless entry."

[Windshield]

A sage nod, a dip of the chin. Respectful, polite, but hollow.

"Right! Very good," the amber-eyed mech commended his accomplice with a kind, pitying face.

"We'll use that to our advantage. Here, take these and follow my lead."

Windshield pressed two hooked thumbs against his temples, one for either side. There was a click. The goggles unhinged from their position. Held down by another pair of fingers, the mech tugged at the device lightly, removing it from his face.

Then he extended it towards Dart.

"Y'know how to use them?"

He did not doubt for a moment that she had used similar equipment during the War. They all had to at one point or another. Just as they all had to know how to fight hand-to-hand or how to wield a blaster. There were no excuses for not knowing. And yet, Windshield made sure to ask. Perhaps he was even willing to show Dart how to operate the equipment if she needed it.

Fleeting civility. Unnecessary. Uncommon, perhaps unwelcome.

He did not do it out of the kindness of his Spark.

But still, he'd wait for an answer, moving slightly towards the whipping rains, beckoning her over once she took the glasses—if she took them—ready to move out and explain along the way. They had time, of course, but the higher-ups preferred swiftness.

[Dart]

Dart once again shifted her weight as Windshield extended the goggles towards her. She immediately reached out her hand, but was still careful to keep that respectful distance between them. Wound around her forearm, the ragged edge of her duct-tape wrap fluttered with her motion, but then went limp, solid with rain and spattered with splatters of red mud.

The points of metal behind her shoulders angled back, slipping into a lopsided slant as she cocked her head in an effort to grab a quick sniff of the item. Maybe that would help her place it.

It didn't. There was no familiar smell to it, and not even a wisp of memory slipped through.

Her shrug was immediate and apologetic.

"No, I'm sorry. I've never used anything like that before," she admitted. 

"I'd try and learn, honest, but I'm not sure we have time for you to teach me," she said with a worried look to the facility below them.

"Er, I don't tend to put things on my face, sir. If I have to move fast, it isn't good for them."

Or me, she thought. That was the joy of Dart's speed; while her own plating and frame took dings and scratches, things she carried needed to be in her hip carriers. The idea of goggles on her face wasn't one she had ever even thought about, and now that it was front and center, some little voice in her brain was giving her a resounding no thank you. It was that same voice that balked at dragging a makeshift sled over snow and ice, or being stuck in dark places with no windows and no doors.

Even tucked in her panniers, she'd cracked a screen by complete accident; twists and turns and sudden stops were not good on delicate electronic equipment. There was a reason her commanders gave her things like tough data-pads to carry. However, they mostly relied on her ability to recall the important things that were said to her, word for word.

Even better was that she didn't actually understand what was being relayed most of the time, so she really was nothing more than a glorified pager.

"I'll- I'll follow though," she hastened to tell Windshield immediately. "Or take the point, whatever you need me to do."

[Windshield]

Here she was with the sirs and ma'ams again.

Windshield would let it slide this time.

"Alright, no thermals. Got it. Gonna make things a little more difficult," he shrugged instead of commenting on Dart's formal register and did away with the delicate spectacles, "You can follow. We'll jump the fence further from the entrance, find a nice, lonely spot to do it."

She could learn another time, perhaps back at base. For now, the mission was priority number one, and he would not endanger it simply out of insistence on having his comrade use equipment she did not know how to operate.

Only a brief silence followed. Then...

"Let's get going."

He focused on her one last time, making sure that they were both ready to depart, and pending any signs of hesitation, the Decepticon struck back out into the rain and the mud. He found purchase on a rocky outcrop and looked towards the faded, blurry structures of the facility which suddenly seemed ever-so-slightly closer than before. Simultaneously, he also took a moment to plot his course before dropping down and breaking into a run.

Then he did.

And as he dashed across the treacherous terrain, he made a point to avoid lingering in one spot for too long, keeping on the move constantly. Windshield purposefully sought out the most stable ground, knowing better than to trust the perilous weather of this planet. One wrong move and they'd be trudging knee-deep in mud, leading to unnecessary dangers and pointless delays.

[Dart]

"Okay."

The tall femme nodded as he tucked the glasses back into wherever things like that went. She was always amazed at the amount of tiny nooks and spaces that a lot of Cybertronians had. She didn't... or if she did, she had no idea how to make it work. Although it made sense for her not to have any. A messenger who was down and out needed an obvious place where the message or item was for someone else to possibly get it where it needed to go, and no one wanted to drag a body along until someone could manage to find a can opener.

Well, that was a macabre path to let my brain wander down, Dart realized.

Maybe it was the weather. Or maybe it was the mech's casual urging to hurry up and get a move on to jump a fence.

Dart wasn't keen about getting that close to a place like this, but she knew better than to hesitate. As he broke into a run, she lifted her chin to take one more nervous sniff of the air before she scrambled after him back up the draw, all coltish limb and leg. The courier touched her fingers down at the top to balance herself. With a quick, full-body shake that spattered muddy rain into the night, she quickly loped after Windshield, making sure to keep her focus on the dark mech.

Huh. He- he knows how to keep his footing on this mess. He's being careful.

It was one of those things she'd noticed among the Decepticons. A lot of mechs didn't know what to do with sand and soil, much less rock and rain. This guy did. Dart assumed he must have been on Earth a bit, and certainly scouted more than most. It was unexpected, but quietly appreciated on her part; he wasn't going to get mired. Which was good, she wasn't awfully keen at yanking on random strangers that outranked her. 

The fence was quickly in front of Windshield and the remaining cars within the lot crouched in the distance, barely noticeable under the steady drum of the rain.

Windshield would have to make a decisive choice. They could hop the fence on a spot to the left of him that would leave them exposed on the lot itself for a few seconds, but get them far closer to that front entrance. Or, he could keep going a bit to the right and end up somewhere around the back of the building.

[Windshield]

Taking but a moment to think over their present situation, Windshield decided to play it safe and turned to Dart with that simple smile, "Gonna check things out further in the back. This spot looks a little risky."

He did not seem too pressed by thinking on the spot, perhaps because to him, it was a simple choice to make. While their time wasn't unlimited and the elements were at constant odds, the two Decepticons did not need to risk exposure this early into the mission. Whether or not Dart agreed did not matter, so long as she played along.

With a few jolty movements, he continued to the right. Along the way, he made sure to keep tabs on Dart, reluctant to let her out of his periphery. There might come a time where they would need to split up or where Windshield would benefit from a second pair of eyes, and Dart offered a much-needed advantage in both instances.

He made sure to be reassuring and vigilant, comforting even. Yet underneath that thin veneer of civility? It was simply a matter of convenience and strategy. He did not care for Dart's safety, not truly. But he needed her, the Decepticons needed her, and it would reflect poorly on him if they weren't synchronized in their actions or if he lost her.

Maybe she did not need to be watched like this, coddled ever so subtly, but Windshield left nothing to chance. This was as close as he got to empathy and comradery. An imitation?

Consciously? Yes. Subconsciously? There was a long pause in his thoughts.

...

Not as much as he'd like to think.

[Dart]

A quick nod, and Dart followed him.

It was a good choice.

Dart was all about taking as little risk as possible. Not so much because humanity wasn't ready to accept the presence of aliens among them, but because she personally didn't like things like bullets and soup cans tossed at her. She had a healthy respect for how far a person could throw a can, thanks to that little old lady who'd assumed that her outdated alt-mode parked quietly outside an apartment building was the one with the faulty car alarm that kept going off every fifteen minutes. It was downright weird how the smell of tomatoes could seriously cling to metal for a long time.

The courier continued to follow behind Windshield, and made sure keep a wary nose and eye on their surroundings. She followed his cue exactly, did not balk or fuss. The red mud on their feet left thick clay spatters along the asphalt parking lot as they made their way towards the back of the building, but their prints were quickly obscured and wiped away by the driving rain.

They were able to find their way without an issue to where the big building protected them slightly from the oncoming weather.

Back here, there was more of the parking lot. It had very few cars in it and the pink-toned halogen lighting was dim and sparse, fuzzed and flickering in the rain, providing a safe place to pause. Even the lighting from the interior windows on this side was dim and dull, the rooms behind them shut down for the night. Around the back of the building was a no-nonsense plain sidewalk. Small scrubby bushes framed it on either side, the sparse foliage about waist-high on the average human.

The curving concrete path led to a heavy, industrial metal door. It had obviously seen better days, there was a bit of rust flaking through the battleship grey paint. It appeared to be a back entrance to the facility that rarely was used this time of day.

On the right hand side of the old door, there was a silver key-card swiper. A tiny red light flashed on it, saying it was locked and set.