We are a literate, intermediate to advanced AU Transformers RPG Based off of the first season of TFP with dashes of other incarnations sprinkled here or there. Characters from any continuity are welcome however must be restyled to match the TFPrime universe.
Active, with ongoing plotlines, we are always willing to integrate new characters into storylines once incorporated into the setting.
That made Smokescreen sit up and preen. Looking awfully pleased, he pretended to straighten a tie while his blue optics glowed.
Inwardly, he wondered. He thought he had a pretty good eye for humans, but he could also admit that most of the humans he dealt with tended to be both middle-aged and male. The hardlight avatar he had adopted for himself to use in his more hands-on dealings reflected this familiarity. Young females were still something of a mystery to him. Though Soledad had the fresh and freckled face of youth, and a reserved manner that put him to mind of cautious inexperience, something in her eyes seemed to hint that she had seen more in life than most girls her age.
And what was that age, really? Perhaps sixteen, he thought. No more than seventeen, certainly. With paperwork to back her up, she could pass for older. How old depended on her determination to be whatever age she wanted to be. It all came back to the eyes.
Smokescreen was not about to unduly pry, nor stand in her way. But perhaps he could stand in as a friend. And, if needed, an accomplice.
"And I don't just invite anyone!" he said. He grinned at her good-naturedly. "Just those who seem like they might be up for a bit of an adventure in life from time to time. I hope I'm not presuming anything when I say you strike me as the type, Miss Soledad."
Soledad had to laugh. Sneaking out of her home, hopping Greyhounds all over the southwest, living by her wits or her voice until some chance had gotten her kidnapped by an evil giant robot - 'adventure' was one word for it. "You know? I think I am."
She shifted closer, propping her elbows on her knees. "It's good to know a person who isn't afraid of adventure, too. You could probably blow my mind with all the things you've seen, huh? Stuck on one planet with the rest of my species as I am."
Smokescreen's expression grew misty as he was reminded of space. Of travelling between the stars.
He did miss it. The variety of culture and technology outside of Cybertron, the terrifying scope of the greater universe. And to think there were Cybertronians who looked into the night sky and thought of nothing more than conquering it. Good god. It made him laugh. Absurd small-mindedness from mechs who had likely never even left their own galaxy before. It was that kind of ignorance that had led to their species being blackballed by the Galactic Council, the socioeconomic equivalent of being sent to the corner. Lord almighty.
"It's too bad we don't have a working space bridge," he said aloud. He rested his elbow on his knee and cupped his chin in his palm. "I mean, a functioning shuttle is one thing, but a space bridge would offer you a glimpse of Cybertron that would be merely a step away. Not that our planet is much to look at at the moment, but still. It would be something."
He laughed and joked, "Of course, you'd need more than paperwork to get there. Like, a pressurized suit with oxygen. But still. Travelling to other planets is fantastic, if you overlook the occasional brutal tariff. A space bridge is just what we need, all right. It could really revitalize the space tourism industry for your planet. Oh god. Can you imagine what Agent Fowler would say to that?"
An embarrassingly girlish squeal escaped Soledad before she could stifle it - she clapped her hands over her mouth, but the damage was done to her dignity. Might as well go full Squealy Teenage Fanbrat. "A space bridge?" she squeaked. "This is a thing? Like, total Star Wars, wormhole, travel zillions of light years in a few minutes? It actually exists?"
Yes, in fact, Soledad liked sci-fi. Who didn't?
She stood up and pointed dramatically at Smokescreen. "We are making this happen. I don't care who we have to swindle, blackmail, or outright sit on until they give us funds. We are building us a space bridge."
Tickled pink, Smokescreen sat bolt upright. He pointed dramatically right back at Soledad.
"Swindle and blackmail?" he said. "You! Are truly a human after my own heart."
He grinned hugely. "And you bet. Total Star Wars. You'd like space, I think. It's great out there. Also kind of horrifying. I'd describe it as eighty percent amazing, and twenty percent sheer terror. Fortunately the terror bits don't tend to get snappish unless provoked. But wormholes, faster than light travel, space cantinas and music and blasters and old Jedi masters? It's all out there."
He made a show-girly wave of his hands. "Oh god, that song is stuck in my head now. But seriously. You know what the real kicker is? Don't quote me on this, because I haven't fully investigated it yet myself, but I believe the Decepticons really do have a space bridge on their hands somewhere. Wish I knew where it was. That sort of thing would really help- us out a lot, by crickey."
Soledad laughed delightedly when Smokescreen copied her Dramatic Point, flopping back down on her pallet again to grin at him. Then Smokescreen mentioned the Decepticons, and she scratched her chin musingly.
"Well, you know..." she drawled. "I kind of, maybe, sorta made a few contacts among the 'Cons when I was their guest. Not, y'know, officers or anything, 'cause they're species snobs. But maybe I can catch one or two of them on Facebook and see if they know anything. Maybe I can spark in them a taste for adventure, too." She raised her eyebrows meaningfully. "You, me, and a couple of Eradicons on one of those planets that's all casino? We could spend a week there and clean the whole place out."
Smokescreen stared at Soledad with a mixture of amazement and glee. He was genuinely shocked. When he had first spied the girl after her rescue, he had been struck by how overwhelmed she had seemed, despite her bold face and the trace of flippant good-humour that underlined her words. A teenaged runaway, he had thought, with the bad luck to run afoul of the Decepticons. He would never have imagined she could have forged an alliance of any sort within the ranks of a faction known for its politics of superiority. A sense of guilt passed through him at the thought that she was more resourceful than he had given her credit for.
It was a humbling reminder that underestimation was something that someone in his position- his line of work could not afford to do.
Smokescreen raised his hands reverently and said, "I will never say a bad word about Facebook again. I will never again mock the Like button. You can prod the Eradicons over the internet and ply some handy info from them? Sweet mother of mercy! If you can pull off such a thing I will personally foot the bill to warp us out to the Rising Sun for a cycle of high-stakes shenanigans. You want to break the bank and then go all Johnny Depp on a hotel room? I will pay for it all. Right down to the drinks with the little umbrellas in them."
Soledad laughed again, too amused and too delighted to worry about how high-pitched her voice went. "Awesome. I'll borrow Raf's laptop - well, maybe I'd better do it at the library. Facebook's privacy settings suck, and if I accidentally brought the Decepticons down on top of us I'd feel like a real jerk." Despite the somber scenario, she was still grinning. "Going on XBox Live should still be good though. Steeljaw fixed that so we could use it without giving away our location, and I know for a fact I can catch Harold on there. He talked my ear off about the new Silent Hill."
She tilted her head up at Smokescreen, amused at herself. "I don't guess you're a gamer, too. Or I'm going to be talking your ear off and you're going to want to drop an anvil on me."
Grinning, Smokescreen sent one of his hands whooshing over the top of his head.
"I admit, I have played maybe some Fallout and maybe a bit of Grand Theft Auto with a colleague's seventeen year old son," he said.
That had been the time he had sent his holomatter avatar into a crime boss' apartment to investigate the delay on a certain police auction acquisition that might have been an alleged drug boat. He had gotten into an argument over the man's stereo system and nearly gotten shot for his trouble. Later there had been mimosas and a football game. Thank god his avatar was a robust one.
"But I don't think I really qualify as a serious gamer yet," he said. "If Steeljaw has truly secured a connection I may just have to rectify that. There are Decepticons on Live, seriously?" Smokescreen cackled. "That is hilarious and great. I don't know who Harold is, but if you can prod information from him I will buy you so many Silent Hills. I will buy you all the Silent Hills."
"There are Decepticons on Live," Soledad confirmed with a grin. "Harold likes Silent Hill. Abigail and Marie kick ass at Halo. Devon is addicted to GTA, I'm totally going to introduce you to him, and Mike - oh god. Do not get Mike started on South Park: The Stick of Truth. He had his vocalizer retooled so it sounded like Cartman, got away with it for almost a whole week."
She ran out of steam a little, and let her shoulders fall, resting her chin on her hand. Terrifying, painful, and annoying as her captivity had been, she missed the Eradicons. And - well, she'd been trying not to think about it and had mostly succeeded, because there hadn't been any real battles, but - if she stuck around long enough, she was going to start hearing about her friends dying, wasn't she? At the hands of the Autobots, no less.
"I wish the war could be replaced by a Halo tournament," she blurted. And, mortified, she covered her face.
At that, Smokescreen winced. He had heard a lot of wishes regarding the war during his millions of years spent in his line of work, but that... well, that was a new one on him.
But poor Soledad looked so embarrassed that he was moved, and he quickly assumed his very best professor-face. He sat up and stroked his chin, feigning an air of wisdom and contemplation.
"Nah," he said, staring thoughtfully into space. "I think it would have to be, like... a Team Fortress tournament. That way everyone could still play as their respective roles. Bluestreak could be a sniper, Ironhide would definitely be a Soldier and maybe Bulkhead would fill out the Heavy role... and Ratchet would be the Medic. Yeah. Definitely the Medic. Ach du lieber Gott!"
Last Edit: Feb 10, 2013 17:57:49 GMT -5 by Deleted
Soledad actually spluttered behind her hands, embarrassment flattened by shock and amusement. "Oh god, I can see that all too easily," she admitted, eyes glimmering over her hands. "Somebody, quick, make it happen." She glanced up at Smokescreen, hands falling to reveal her grin. "So what would you play? Demoman? Or maybe Scout?"
This being a far more satisfactory thing to think about than dead friends, Soledad was going to milk it for all it was worth.
Smokescreen lifted his hands to the sky in mock supplication.
"I'm a black Scottish cyclops!" he growled, his voice thick with accent and tragic drunken rage. Then he laughed and lowered his hands and looked around at Soledad. Sheepishly, he said, "Actually, do you know what? I would totally be Miss Pauling, and she's not even a playable character. Performs background duties, keeps channels of communication open throughout the team, purchases quicklime and hides a body or two, loyal assistant to a shadowy Administrator that no one ever sees... that's me all over. Where's my shovel."
He grinned down at her slyly. "So, lemme guess... you're a Scout? Or maybe a secret Pyro?"
Soledad giggled. "Me? I'm definitely an Engineer." She propped her forearms on her knees and affected a lazy, satisfied drawl. "I sove problems. Not problems like 'what is beauty' - because that would fall under the purview of your conundrums of philosophy. I solve practical problems."
Not that my problem-solving skills couldn't use some work, said a snide voice in her head. Soledad huffed at it and leaned back on her hands.
"Thanks, Smokescreen," she said more quietly. "For keeping me company."
Smokescreen had laughed at her Texan drawl, but her last comment made his expression soften. He smiled at her, his blue optics warm.
"Hey, it's my pleasure," he said. He set his elbow on his knee and laid his chin in his palm, looking relaxed. The lanterns flickered and shone over them both, a toasty oasis of light that cast fuzzy shadows like soft black blankets. "You're good company, Soledad. Heck, I feel like I should be the one thanking you. This had been a pretty lonely night of isolated office work before you came along. I am the most exciting Autobot ever."
He chuckled. Then, remembering what had first brought her wandering into the quiet storage room on quiet cat-feet, he said kindly, "Hey... think you'll be able to sleep a little better now? Gosh, it must be late. I hope I haven't kept you awake."