Beeps and Buzzes

🦕 ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 16

　　　
　　　
Chicago hadn't changed, that much was clear. You weren't sure if you should be grateful or not.

Every ounce of destruction left behind remained in place as though locked into position by old father time. From fractured roads to a partially collapsed stadium, upturned cars and decimated bridges all of it carried a haunting sense of familiarity.

Driving through, echoes of a prior life fleeting past the forefront of your mind; once upon a time a corner shop had been there, just down this street a pawn broker and somewhere nearby was the worst pizza shop in the whole city. Little details like that. Things you didn't as such cling to as you did ignore them, wanting to remain firmly in the present (no matter how hard that may be).

Anyways... trips down memory lane hadn't prompted today's quaint little adventure.

They'd been falling, you know? Cybertronians. Every so often an escape pod would plummet down like a handcrafted meteorite, expelled from the remains of Cybertron glory. There was this new task force prowling around for these very pods, carting them away before the poor Transformer had a chance to breathe Earth's air.

So far your track record was at three saves. All of them informed of the situation, advised to head straight for Cuba (the last Transformer safe spot in the world). You weren't crystal clear on how they managed to arrange that king of sanctuary for a species hated on a global level, but you applauded whoever or whatever decided to gift that mercy.

You'd did as much as you could, explaining in-detail how exactly to get there and who to avoid, otherwise they seemed perfectly content with just driving off at their own accord not wanting to be in the firing line drawn by Optimus' most direct followers shenanigans.

Which was a reasonable assessment.

Hound claimed to have seen something fall not too far away, estimating the impact zone to be just within city limits. With Cade preoccupied with interviews over Skype, you volunteered the limited medical knowledge at your disposal and Bee almost instantly assigned himself to be a bodyguard.

Nobody was surprised. By this point you were both a package deal and, if we were being completely blunt in a way which threw shade at others, proudly claimed a joint title of best communicators. No, you didn't know morse code. No, Bee didn't really grapple well with sign language. Yet vague gestures and noises proved to be all that was needed for you both to function cohesively as a team.

Either way... you two got the job done. Yet today, as Bee signalled that he couldn't detect anything, was proving to be somewhat of a miss fire;

"Maybe Hound was seeing things" you pondered aloud, sliding out onto a pathetic slab of concrete. Tugging your jacket downwards, aware of Bees shadow contorting within seconds and finding his figure surveying the immediate vicinity "like, we'd have better luck with getting a decent vantage point but... man, those buildings are not stable"

Indeed, none of these buildings were trustworthy. Some promised to collapse under light rainfall, others held themselves together by spite alone. Wasn't necessarily good engineering, more like 'just had not collapsed yet'. There was a crucial difference.

"Oh, look... it's still sideways" gesturing vaguely to one half of a skyscraper lying completely on its side after Shockwaves massive sand worm attacked, miffed by what type of powers kept that thing from caving in entirely.

"I'm not picking up any signs of life, Captain" came a voice synonymous with Star Trek, helm turning every which way possible as your other half scouted the area with a fine toothed comb. Heavy footsteps propelled him forwards, arm swooping low in his passing, standing tall after you'd hopped nimbly into the safety of his gentle clutches.