- closed rp with phoenixqueenofsilvermoon
With that, Roy G. Biv was safely
stashed. She hoped it was anyway. The broken ship was parked in a
semi-circular pit lined with loose tiny stones and ringed with green
alien grasses. She’d stripped the branches off more green plants –
tall ones, with hairy tines arranged in tufts along thick pithy stems
loaded with sticky stuff — and draped them over the top of the
ship’s hull. Still, those Reflectors had better work
against Terrestrial radar the way that salesman said they would, or
whatever camouflage she used now wouldn’t make any
This area looked pretty uninhabited.
Roy’s sensors still caught a whiff of various industrial
Human-made pollutants but that was to be expected. The people here
actually burned carbon-based material for fuel! Oh they had a few
other methods to generate power, including a leaky system of
radioactives that made her protomass lurch at the thought of it, but
“petrochemicals” were what they mainly used. Some if them even smelled nice after processing. Gasoline, for example. A daub behind
each audial and you’d smell like you’d just spent a fortune in some
Iocon perfumery. But once they burned them — nasty stuff!
She was glad Roy burned energon. It was hideously expensive
and hard to come by, but it burned cleanly.
She was an oddly streamlined ‘bot for a
four-wheeled grounder. She was the same colour as a Vehicon and
she’d been shot at more than once by her own side in the heat of
battle because of it. Up close she
didn’t look anything like those poor drones. She was obviously a fem
and her face was her own. She was a simple monochromatic purple from
head to pede, broken only by a few dull grey strips. From a distance
she looked a little like a Terrestrial dragonfly, having two
automotive tail-fin “wings” on her shoulders and two longer
jointed panels that hung down at a slight angle to her sides. She was
tall, but “all struts and beams”. She’d never make warrior
class, not at her weight and strength level. At her left hip she
carried what looked like either a short sword or a very long knife.
She had no other visible weapons. A small Autobot symbol rested at
the base of her throat. Not that much of
this would mean anything to a Human observer. To them she’d look
like a giant mechanical woman with tires on her heels. Once she got
to a roadway she’d better change or there’d be trouble.
she was close to a town – a small one, for preference. THAT was
the best hunting ground! And if some poor lone Human did see her
root mode it would take weeks for the story to leak out to their media, and even then no one would believe him. She patted a small pouch at
her other hip. Yes, these would do nicely.
* * *
The road felt
strange under her wheels – almost spongy. It was so much softer
than the metal fairways back home. She wondered briefly if there was
any point in transporting some of this “tarmac” stuff home in
the future. Maybe the rich would buy it, a sort of outdoor carpet
for pampered pedes. There will always be people with more credit
than sense, she thought. Solus knows she’d once made her living
based on that premise.
A few buildings - a Human house? Quite possibly - could
be seen over the horizon. Not to big, nor too fancy, but just right
for her kind of prey. She stopped short of the buildings and did a
brief scan– no large lifesigns. Somewhere a set of chimes could be
heard tinkling in the wind. Those were pretty. And a good sign –
folks wary of intruders didn’t leave things lying around in the open.
She changed out of
alt mode and crept closer to the house. Her right hand instinctively
went to the pouch, rattling something inside. This was going to be
prime territory to find something new for her collection!