[ti]Ep 3.5[/ti]Your Autobot is Outside [ Miko | Closed ]
Jul 29, 2023 20:15:18 GMT -5
Post by Sunstreaker on Jul 29, 2023 20:15:18 GMT -5
Episode 3.5 | Week 1 | Day 3
Sucks.
The word ran itself ragged through Sunstreaker's mind, round and round.
Because a certain bot couldn't fulfill one of their usual obligations, it had fallen to someone else to do the deed instead. It meant the unenvious task of picking one of the resident fleshies up from late school detention, and someone else meant Sunstreaker. The fleshie had a name of course, although Sunny wasn't on a name-basis with any one of the mudball's billion or so native inhabitants. Why would she be? They were... gross. All that flesh... blood... hair.... teeth. Plus they shed -- they actually shed.
They shed like. Hair. And skin. And teeth, apparently.
Sunstreaker made a guttural noise to give life to her disgust as she cruised through Jasper, holding it in through her soundproof interior. They'd better not shed any teeth on her seats, now.
In reality, it wasn't accurate to say she was cruising through Jasper, per se. She'd blinked through it, to be apt. The town was so small that Sunny could speed through it, glance up at the sky, and manage to miss almost every identifiable landmark as she left the city limits. Why couldn't they have based right next to a city, instead? Some place with infrastructure, and overpasses, and towers, and life. Instead, this.
Thank goodness nobody was around to bear witness to her lament. Sunny would drop the first person to call her a bitchy diva to her faceplate (even if it were true, proven, and validated). It was a big reason as to why the job had fallen to her of all people. The other Autobots, all happy and hopeful and annoying, had more or less had human interaction in one way or another. Not Sunstreaker. The sum total of her human interactions since coming to Earth had been in the form of honking at some poor trucker who'd broken down on the side of the road one night. She was much less than an upstanding representative of her species, by that metric.
And so the Lamborghini, which in all likelihood cost more than the City of Jasper's municipal budget, rolled up to the front of Memorial High School. Who's memorial? Did some stupid human die so they could build a school? Questions she didn't want the answers for.
Hopefully her passenger was perceptive enough to recognize the Autobrand on her hood. Otherwise her aft was walking.
Sucks.
The word ran itself ragged through Sunstreaker's mind, round and round.
Because a certain bot couldn't fulfill one of their usual obligations, it had fallen to someone else to do the deed instead. It meant the unenvious task of picking one of the resident fleshies up from late school detention, and someone else meant Sunstreaker. The fleshie had a name of course, although Sunny wasn't on a name-basis with any one of the mudball's billion or so native inhabitants. Why would she be? They were... gross. All that flesh... blood... hair.... teeth. Plus they shed -- they actually shed.
They shed like. Hair. And skin. And teeth, apparently.
Sunstreaker made a guttural noise to give life to her disgust as she cruised through Jasper, holding it in through her soundproof interior. They'd better not shed any teeth on her seats, now.
In reality, it wasn't accurate to say she was cruising through Jasper, per se. She'd blinked through it, to be apt. The town was so small that Sunny could speed through it, glance up at the sky, and manage to miss almost every identifiable landmark as she left the city limits. Why couldn't they have based right next to a city, instead? Some place with infrastructure, and overpasses, and towers, and life. Instead, this.
Thank goodness nobody was around to bear witness to her lament. Sunny would drop the first person to call her a bitchy diva to her faceplate (even if it were true, proven, and validated). It was a big reason as to why the job had fallen to her of all people. The other Autobots, all happy and hopeful and annoying, had more or less had human interaction in one way or another. Not Sunstreaker. The sum total of her human interactions since coming to Earth had been in the form of honking at some poor trucker who'd broken down on the side of the road one night. She was much less than an upstanding representative of her species, by that metric.
And so the Lamborghini, which in all likelihood cost more than the City of Jasper's municipal budget, rolled up to the front of Memorial High School. Who's memorial? Did some stupid human die so they could build a school? Questions she didn't want the answers for.
Hopefully her passenger was perceptive enough to recognize the Autobrand on her hood. Otherwise her aft was walking.