Beeps and Buzzes

🌒 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 13

　　　　　　

In terms of stealth, you were no better than a belled cat.

Didn't prevent you from creeping out from your makeshift quarters in a facility full of highly trained Soldiers, aiming to visit your dear Scout.

Normally you wouldn't be skulking round like a petty thief, then again it wasn't normal for a twenty-something year old to have a curfew at nine o'clock sharp.

Dodging a couple of soldiers, successfully crossing over towards the main hanger doors. Behind them would be the Autobots, under an identical curfew (met with various types of outrage).

Naturally, you'd planned ahead. Covering as many minute details possible, gathering Intel via eavesdropping and crafting hypothetical scenarios to solve.

Ryder Carson, who've you since befriended during group therapy, begrudgingly lending a hand. Offering a bit of respite from humans who were perhaps too wary of you, no cloak and dagger required, providing off-hand information after some prodding.

Welcoming your friendship, theoretically for the fact you'd saved him, sometimes being your sole companion on base. He had a family, married for three years, a cousin in Texas who drove round in rally cars (to great family disapproval) this all without forgetting Ryder despised sweets of all things.

He also happened to have an access key!

You weren't permitted to own any high-level access cards that went beyomd the medical wing, as it was no secret a few of thd Autobots had grown restless. Mearing started fearing you'd initiate a prison riot, spearhead some kind of wacky escape at a moment's notice.

Not that Optimus would allow anything that may potentially cause harm to his kin, kept them in check like a dissapointed father. Similarly, kept a close optic if you ever do much as joked about the matter.

Waiting, tucked in behind a dimly lit doorway, black hood up anxiously anticipating his arrival. Searching this way and that, growing restless.

Before you caved to impatience and attempted to short circuit the lock; quick footfalls cane from your left accompanied by heavy breathing. Smiling in relief as the familiar crop of brown hair approached in full tactical gear, fresh from patrol in the East Sector, panting ever so slightly.

"Can't hang about," fiddling with one of the multiple pouches, gun leaning against his leg, retrieving a card "I'll be up at five, patrolling at six. You need to be out on time -"

"- or they'll discipline me, I know" sidestepping, Ryder reaching across and swiping the card downward. It beeped in recognition, clicked, door shifting with your weight.

Picking up his weapon, you slipping inside, lingering with your head poking out "really, man, I owe you for this" there was a great sense of appreciation stemming from your existence, that he waved off.

"Just so long as you stick to your end. Think you can do it?"

"Oh, easily. Supercharged personal WiFi hotspot to contact your family? Not a problem"

Nodding curtly, adjusting his hold on the M4A1 Carbine "you won't back out? 'Cause I really want to see Sarah's recital" said in the way of a guilty father, commonly known as puppy eyes for adults.