Out in the Desert

Log Title: Out in the Desert

Characters: Dreadwind, Just-Hiss

Location: California/Nevada - North America

Date: May 15, 2016

Summary: Just-Hiss encounters a little black raincloud in the desert.

As logged by Just-Hiss - Sunday, May 15, 2016, 7:41 PM

California/Nevada - North America
Beautiful and warm, California and Nevada are the western most states. California is known as the entertainment center of the United States, as most movies, television programs, and record albums are recorded there. It's also known for some of the worst traffic, smog, and riots in the world, especially in Los Angeles. Nevada, on the other hand, could be considered the Sin capital of the world. Home of Las Vegas, it's the land of casinos and gambling, where people lose their fortunes in the blink of an eye. Incidentally, it's also one of the only states with legalized prostitution.

A large custom bike heading down the highway seems far too large for a human driver, although it appears to have one hunkered down behind the handlebars. The front of the bike is dominated by the stylised head of a king cobra, its reptilian eyes serving as the vehicle's headlights. The bike's wheels are armoured, and the petrol tank bears an Evil corporate logo. The engine is hidden behind massive exhaust pipes, and the bike seems to hiss malevolently when it moves through the area.

Just-Hiss is in his cobra-bike mode, zooming down the highway. He approaches a lonely, Sponsor-forsaken place, and slows down, scanning along the side of the road. His holographic human rider is somewhat translucent in the bright desert sun, unable to keep up the illusion in the dust and heat of the desert. His engine is loud in the isolated desert, and with his scaly green armor he sticks out like a swollen thumb.

Dreadwind is just a little black raincloud, hovering under the honey-tree. Well... Maybe not. He's certainly as ominous as a raincloud, though. And rather than hovering, he's flying over the emptiness of Nevada's deserts, looking for the bleakest wasteland he can find. He might as well be a green slug-alien. Flying low, at only about 200 feet, the gloomy drone of his engine is audible from miles away. As his flight path coincides with a desert highway, starts to follow it, quickly blasting over the scaly motorcycle.

The sleek aircraft is usually a staple of the US Air Force. However, the odd paint configuration rules this out as a human vehicle. And if that's not enough, Decepticon insignia adorn both wings. The overall coloration of the jet makes it look like a stormcloud on the horizon. The body is mostly light grey, like a cloudy day preparing for a storm. The wings are plated in sky blue armor, like a break in the cloud about to overshadowed once more. The belly and tail section are a much darker grey, like a raincloud ready to ruin someone's picnic. Weapon pods rest against the body, beneath each wing. The F-16 is normally a small and agile fighter aircraft, but this one seems to be a little slower and bulkier than average. Nevertheless, there's an undefinable quality that seems to make this jet ominous and foreboding. You'd probably be much happier staying away from it.

The translucent driver of the emerald motorcycle frowns as he looks up, his green eyes following the flightpath of the F-16 as it blasts overhead. As Dreadwind follows the highway, the jade motorcycle suddenly peels out, leaving a long, curving black mark across the highway, and races down the highway, following the Decepticon from below. Although far slower than the jet, the bike is pretty fast for a ground vehicle, and at least for the moment keeps the F-16 in sight.

Dreadwind's sensors pick up on something marginally more significant than a human vehicle following him. The F-16's nose pulls up rather dramatically, elevating to climb perpendicular to the road. When he reaches about two thousand feet, he suddenly transforms. The Decepticon plummets toward the ground, righting himself and landing with a thud. As the dust clears, Dreadwind stands tall in the middle of the road, arms crossed over his chest.

The F-16's tail disconnects and slides onto the back. The fuselage disconnects and splits in half, folding down into a pair of legs. The wings fold backward as the nose and cockpit fold underneath. The weapon pods expand, becoming a robot's arms. A head slides up between the shoulders, glowering at the world around it.

Just-Hiss rolls to a stop before Dreadwind, and then transforms as well. As a robot, Just-Hiss is tall, but much less bulky than Dreadwind - Just-Hiss is nearly skeletal by comparison, although he mostly hides this fact beneath a large scaled cape. As soon as he achieves robot mode, Just-Hiss gives Dreadwind a sweeping bow. "Hello," he hisses in a low, somewhat sinister voice. "I don't mean to intrude, but I wished to make your acquaintance. Few Decepticons dare venture this close to Autobot City alone - I just had to meet someone who would."

Dreadwind glowers at Just-Hiss for a few moments. His head pivots to look over his shoulder, in the direction of Autobot City, then back to regard the other robot. He emits a sigh before speaking, "It's nothing really special. Just wondering if they'd bother blowing me out of the sky, if they'd just ignore me as usual..."

Just-Hiss follows Dreadwind's gaze, as if he'd be able to see Autobot City from here, or spot incoming Aerialbots on the horizon. When they fail to appear, Hiss shifts his gaze back to Dreadwind. "It seems like you're being ignored for now. What brings you out this way, then? Surely just not curiosity and a bit of a deathwish, I hope." Hiss grins smarmily, although the faked warmth completely fails to reach his optics.

Dreadwind's head tilts to one side, sunlight catching his helmet. It doesn't quite reflect, as if it's not too keen on being reflected by somebody so morose. "No, that's... about it, really. One of these days, they might decide to bother with chasing me off." His shoulders sag slightly as his sighs, "Apparently that's not today."

Just-Hiss cocks his head somewhat to the side and frowns. "Uh… cheer up," he suggests, looking a bit at a loss at how to deal with Dreadwind. "I'm sure they'll want to be about to kill you eventually, and then you can… show them the error of their ways? Bring the misery to them, as it were?" Hiss glances around before stepping slightly closer to study the big, ominous robot. "Are you looking for an outlet for your existential depression?"

Dreadwind shakes his head slowly, "Returning the misery is really more my brother's forte. I'm not especially preemptive about it." He, in turn, studies the unusual mech, "Why, what sort of outlet did you have in mind?"

A wicked grin slowly crawls its way from one side of Just-Hiss's face to the other. "I might be able to arrange something," he says. "What's your favorite way of dealing with your unhappy condition? Solitude? Vice? Violence? I'm the kind of person who can makes things happen. I'm known by many names, but if you wish you can call me Just-Hiss. Might I inquire as to your nom de guerre?" Just-Hiss fixes his unsettling grin on Dreadwind.

Dreadwind's yellow optics regard Just-Hiss with a modicum of skepticism, but mostly just hopelessness and despair, "I suppose if you're really interested, I'm Dreadwind." He considers the odd Cybertronian's offer, "Usually I just try and find the most awful, bleak, and desolate place I can." He rolls that thought inside his miswired cranium for a second or two, "Sometimes I make it worse."

Just-Hiss chuckles, a hissing, evil laugh. "I've spent a lot of time riding around this world - I know some its most desolate, remote places. I know even more off-world. Maybe I can sserve as a guide if you need someplace to hide out and get away from the world and everyone else. I can even promise not to try to cheer your up, if you like - I can imagine that must get pretty tiresome." He raises his optic ridges and looks up at Dreadwind sympathetically as the Decepticon settles into a sullen slump.