energonguardian:
☢ ;; Another night, and yet another pointless argument with his father. It felt as though every day was a new battle with him as their family worked to move forward, and no matter what he tried, Kicker could not gain ground. Their relationship had never been a good one, of course, but after the Cybertronians had left, it only seemed to get worse.
The teen trudged down an old, empty roadway, having told High Wire to sit out of sight while he tried to clear his head. His father’s words echoed in his mind, ‘You haven’t even tried! I’m working to restore my career, and what have you done? You can’t keep blaming me for all of this!’ Oh yes I can, he thought. The Autobots may have been able to survive a bit longer if his father hadn’t gone for glory over properly aiding the Cybertronians.
“Yeah,” he grumbled, moving in between abandoned buildings, looking for somewhere to settle down, “it was me that asked him to send energon, but I didn’t think he’d go and send all of it! And then coming to Cybertron and… UGH!” He stopped in his tracks, kicking at a door that was partially opened. The sound of it slamming open and against the wall stung his ears, but he cared little; it was a way to at least release a bit of energy.
Kicker sighed, shaking his head. “At least I’m taking responsibility for what I did to them. Maybe he’d actually be able to, I dunno, support his family and be a dad if he could do that much. …Wait, what?”
It had come from around the old building he had been shuffling past and kicking at, but he recognized the sound–it had been mechanical, hydraulics of some sort. Was something out there? He took a step forward, peering around the corner before he heard another sound, this time what sounded like a voice. Again… metallic. This time, he saw it, a blue frame glistening under the moonlight. A Cybertronian. …At least, he thought it was. Their frame seemed slimmer than most he had seen, though they were about the same size. But what were they doing here?
“Uh… hey?”
Arcee groaned inwardly when the human addressed her. She was not in the mood to explain what she was, why she was here etc, etc, blah blah. She unarmed herself, her gun withdrawing with a quiet ‘click’. She lowered herself to sit on the balls of her pedes, assessing the human with curious optics.
He had dark hair that fell shaggily over his ( human ) features. She was surprised to observe that his nervous system did not seem to be registering sufficient shock. Mild surprise maybe, but certainly not shock. Immediately suspicious, she scanned the immediate area for any Decepticon life signals. She detected none, but did not let this lull her into a false sense of security. Decepticons had been known to use cloaking technology before.
Maybe they were using the human to lure her into a trap?
She rose back up gracefully to her full height; ready to attack if a ‘con appeared out of nowhere.
Finally, she addressed the native.
“Who are you? Who sent you?”
