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Post by Rodimus Prime on Jan 25, 2012 20:44:07 GMT -5
OOC: M6W2D4, night. Belle Isle Park, near Detroit. Semi-private.
A red-headed human is in the island park late at night, well after the normal visiting hours, leaning against a rather plain compact car as he waits in the empty parking lot. He's tall, by human standards, and good looking, by human standards. His eyes are an intense green, and though his stance is casual, those eyes are alert as they watch the approach road, waiting for a rather distinctive sports car.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Jan 25, 2012 21:00:17 GMT -5
The sports car Rodney is waiting for, a blue Porsche with yellow detailing and flame decals, drives slowly into the parking lot, headlights just bright enough to be visible. It radiates an air of watchfulness, almost as though the car itself is expecting trouble.
The man driving is wearing a trenchcoat and a fedora. He parks the car, goes through the motions of turning it off, and gets out, pulling a cigarette from his mouth and flicking it onto the pavement before grinding it out with his foot.
"The local cigs are trash," he comments to no-one in particular. "And the local booze."
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 26, 2012 1:39:44 GMT -5
Three's company, and here comes Randy, making his way across the park through the trees. It took him a little longer, but in case of being followed, he can slip away easier between buildings and down alleys on foot than he can by car. He's a small man, far shorter than most. Compact, one might say. His clothes are plain; his colouring is a drab brown under the streetlamps, short, dark hair peppered with grey, and his eyes glitter shrewdly as he strolls up to the parking lot.
"You just ain't drinkin' the right booze, then," he jeers in a voice that's virtually identical to his real one. His stench is comparable, too. He avoided showering after work today.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Jan 26, 2012 14:47:13 GMT -5
Rodney starts to respond to Muzzle with, "Just because there's not as much mercury as you're used t-" but then he cuts himself off when he realizes he and Nightbeat aren't alone. The familiarity of the voice, however, and more than that, the owner of the voice's familiarity with Muzzle, however, clue him in.
"... Rattrap?" he asks uncertainly. He was on Nightbeat's list of missing, after all.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Jan 26, 2012 21:38:03 GMT -5
There are not nearly enough heavy metals in Earth cigarettes.
Muzzle touches the brim of his hat as Randy appears. "You were right, you're hard not to notice," he says, nodding at Rodney as he guesses correctly. At least, he's supposed to be meeting Rattrap here as well, so this better be Rattrap.
"So now we get to do the little dance where we confirm we're all who we say we are, and then if you both get all the steps right, Santa reaches into his bag of goodies." Muzzle sounds thrilled at the prospect. "You two can go first, if you don't mind."
Normally he wouldn't give orders to superior officers, but he feels it's pretty obvious who he is. Who else would paint a Porsche that way?
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 26, 2012 23:29:50 GMT -5
"Ehh… ya still ain't got a sense of humour, Gumshoe," Randy grumbles, running a hand through his short, sweat-sticky hair. To Rodney, he adds, "In the flesh, sad to say. I'm not diggin' this naked mole rat look."
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Jan 27, 2012 18:08:12 GMT -5
Rodney frowns at Randy for a moment, expression vaguely puzzles. He's always had senses that he couldn't quite explain, but they seem to have been heightened since he's taken this form. While it hasn't been completely reliable, he'd been able to sometimes sense human life, but now he finds his sense of Nightbeat is stronger and slightly different. He can just tell that Nightbeat's life force has more in common than his own than the human's.
Nightbeat's... and Randy's.
Something to work out later.
"You want me to prove I'm me?" Rodney asks warily.
He pulls up his t-shirt, showing the Matrix embedded in his chest. "Good enough?" Then he pulls his shirt back down.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Jan 28, 2012 13:36:44 GMT -5
Muzzle curses when Rodney lifts up his shirt to reveal the Matrix, head swiveling around as if every streetlamp and trash can is going to transform into a Decepticon now that Rodimus has revealed his identity in such a glaring fashion.
"Alright, you're you, put that away!" he snaps as quietly as he can. "Sheez, you two are gonna turn both of us into Headmaster Red Alert with they way you're carrying on," he says softly, reaching for another crappy local cigarette and lighting it with cupped hands.
"You still got your little passenger in there?" he asks.
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Jan 29, 2012 21:29:25 GMT -5
"Well," Randy says at a low conversational level, shrugging with both hands near his shoulders as if to say what can you do, "now I can cross 'flashed by a hot rod' off my list o' stuff to do before I die." He doesn't have much else to add at this point.
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Jan 30, 2012 12:33:20 GMT -5
Rodney had pulled the shirt down pretty much as soon as it had come up, so now he just shrugs, a faint smirk pulling at one corner of his lips.
He frowns at Nightbeat's question. "Yeah, and I'd be more worried if he wasn't - I'd want to know where he went. For some reason he's not quite as loud. I seem able to use more of my powers without risk, although a lot of them are new powers, anyway, so they might not even be connected." He shrugs.
On the flip side, it could just be that Rodney's much shorter lifespan as a human means that Unicron knows he'll be able to burn the young Prime out much faster.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Feb 1, 2012 18:22:29 GMT -5
"Alright, so tell me something only you would know, boss," Muzzle says around his cigarette, gesturing to Randy.
Once everyone's identity is confirmed they can get to issuing everyone alien weapons and technology.
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Feb 5, 2012 13:55:47 GMT -5
Randy pulls a dismayed face at both parts of his second and shakes his head, scoffing.
"Y'oughtta lay off the local poison," he pronounces. "It's dumbin' ya down, Slick. Or are you seein' another mole rat on the side and not tellin' me?" His tone turns deliberately dramatic near the end and he sidles up close to the Porsche, bypassing Muzzle entirely. Why would anybody talk to the car?
For that matter, why would anybody who stinks this badly have the nerve to get this close to other people?
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Post by Rodimus Prime on Feb 5, 2012 18:41:52 GMT -5
Rodney's brow wrinkles in confusion at Randy's response to Nightbeat, since he doesn't know the context of the "naked mole rat" reference. He looks between Randy, Muzzle, and Nightbeat, interested to see if the comment satisfies the detective's suspicions.
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Nightbeat
Minor
Eternal Foe of Kitsch
"Truth is revealed in the smallest detail."
Posts: 453
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Post by Nightbeat on Feb 6, 2012 19:22:17 GMT -5
Muzzle nods, and is that a non-ironic smile? "Okay, I caught that one the second time around," he says. Maybe there are things he can still learn from Rattrap after all.
He walks around the car and pops open the trunk. Or maybe the trunk pops open by itself right as he gets there. It's hard to tell in the dark.
"Gather 'round, kiddies, and let's see what Santa brought you," the detective says, dripping ash onto a neat pile of Rattrap's signature forearm-stored munitions, strapped together for storage. One of his pistols is there too. It was easy to get his stuff, because it was already tiny. There's also a bunch of radio components, spandex, and all the other stuff Randy and Rodney asked for.
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Rattrap
Major
Sarcasm as a Lifestyle
Posts: 695
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Post by Rattrap on Feb 10, 2012 12:25:45 GMT -5
The spandex earns a dubious eye from Randy, who looks from the fabric to Rodney – because Randy sure didn't ask for it – then shrugs.
"Whatever floats yer boat, kid," he mutters. Then he rescues his gear from Muzzle's cheap-cigarette-based assault and starts tucking everything away into a backpack. He adds with a mischievous snort, "Wit' a haul like this, Santa must not've been payin' very good attention t' me this year."
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