- Motto: "So I just write something here and it shows up on my posts?"
- Weapon: Rapid-Fire Sonic Shell Cannons
OoC: Holy long post, Batman!
Wheelie's Mind - Streets of Cybertron
Wheelie strode forward, trying to comprehend why Cleff was in tears. She sat there, lubricants washing out her optics and Energon trickling from a gash on her cheek. It would have sufficed to say this was why she was in tears, but it wasn't like Cleff to cry over physical pain. She was strong like that. It must be some other reason.
"Why are you sad, Cleff? What's wrong?" Wheelie asked, sitting next to her o top of some boxes.
"I was attacked, Wheelie, for what I do." Wheelie's mother figure stated, wiping lubricants from her optics.
"You haven't cried about this before... Pirates attack our freighter all of the time!" Wheelie said, peeking behind Cleff at some demolished boxes.
At the boxes were two transformers. One of them was green and blue, the other blue and yellow. They seemed to be kneeling over the boxes, poking and prodding about. The green one moved to the left to tend to some onlookers, revealing a limp arm reaching out of the box. Noticing Wheelie's prying eyes, the blue and yellow transformer moved in a position that hid the arm from Wheelie deliberately.
"Don't look, Wheelie, your mind hasn't been spoiled by death yet," kneeling down in front of him and still looking taller, Cleff continued, "Wheelie, there is a storm coming, and you need to be prepared. It is time you know what we do for a living."
Wheelie was puzzled.
"We work as freighters... Delivering goods to colonies, right?" Wheelie said, a little bit worried.
"Partly, yes, but we do more than that. There is evil on Cybertron, Wheelie, and it coming fast upon us. We work for the resistance movement fighting this evil, and we supply them weapons, nourishment and information." Cleff placed her hands on his arms, looking at him with her still moist optics.
Wheelie didn't answer. The whole thing was so baffling to him. Evil? On Cybertron's best millennium? What monster would destroy such a thing?
"I know it is difficult to understand, but you mustn't tell anyone. They have spies in law enforcement... You have a good heart, Wheelie, I have faith that you will do the right thing." Cleff said, turning to the now approaching blue and yellow transformer.
Behind him, a large black tarp was being placed over the dead transformer by the blue and green mech. Another transformer, colored red this time, walked over and began to carry the body away, no doubt to autopsy.
"Miss, my colleague here's name is Siren. I'd like you to talk to him about what happened here." The blue and yellow transformer said, then knelt down next to Wheelie.
"I really appreciate your working on this... Thank you, again. Could you... Take Wheelie back to the frieghter for me?" Cleff said, moving over to a rather hyper Siren.
Pulling back his orange visor, the blue and yellow transformer put on an amiable smile.
"Hey there, son, my name is Nightbeat, I'm a private eye..." Nightbeat said, but then faded away, along with the rest of the world, leaving the future Wheelie behind. Much like his past self, Wheelie didn't understand what this meant. Cybertron doesn't have weather other than acid rain... Was it a massive acid rain storm that decimated Cybertron?
One thing was for certain, however, he needed answers. As soon as the thought entered his mind, another place formed, and this time, it was a starship in hyperspace.
Holding Cell #117
Nightbeat, upon hearing Pointblank's voice, Nightbeat remembered who he had just been in a fight with. Reaching into his hidden compartment on his thigh, Nightbeat reached in, hoping for the best. Fingering around inside his compartment, Nightbeat felt a jab on the end of his first digit. Silently thanking Primus, Nightbeat grabbed the piece of Skyhammer's armor and brought it up o his faceplate.
The reflective surface of the shard let Nightbeat see his forehead, and with it, a glimpse at whether or not he had a Cerebro Shell implanted. To his relief, he saw a blank forehead. He did not have a Cerebro Shell.
Turning to Pointblank, he replied simply, "You know, a little bit of luck, a little bit of skill, a lot of reflexes. You'd be surprised how littered the ground looked after all of the Insecticons me and Hosehead-."
"Say, you haven't seen Hosehead around here, have ya? The last I saw him was in the battle with the Insecticons..." Nightbeat said, fingering the sharp shard of metal.