Post by blindspot on Apr 1, 2012 2:56:08 GMT -5
New Orleans, Louisiana
December 31st, 8:47 PM
The sun was setting on New Orleans, and slowly, bit by bit, the Big Easy was coming to life, illuminating the gathering darkness with wild flashes of neon. Elsewhere in the city, people were gathering in throngs to celebrate the rise of a brand-new year.
Blindspot looked brand-new, too.
Frankly, it was embarrassing. He had never been the sort of mech to preen, obsessing over his appearance and constantly monitoring his finish. Those things were not for him. If anything, he was inclined to be a bit scruffy, going longer than most between buffing sessions. So, when he had returned from the fiasco in Italy to have his heavily-damaged exoskeleton repaired, he had full expected to be rendered unconscious for the complicated process of removing and replacing most of his armor. He had not expected to wake up to find that his new shell had not only been carefully repainted, but had been polished to a shine and given a healthy coat of wax.
He knew who was responsible for it. There was only one person he could think of who would go behind his back and have him decked out in such a ridiculous fashion, and when he had confronted 866 about it, his fellow drone had shrugged. “Hey, you look good. Is that such a bad thing? Besides, last I heard, you were going to go have a little rendezvous with that Earth ‘bot, weren’t you?” He elbowed Blindspot. “Eh?”
Blindspot drew himself up in indignation. “Well--eventually, yes, I--but that’s hardly--”
“Well, it never hurt to put on a little shine every now and then. He’s certainly shiny.”
Blindspot paused, cocking his head. “Yes. Yes he is.” For a moment he remained silent, and then he gave his head a little shake. “But I do not… I do not want him to think that I am vain,” Blindspot rasped helplessly, looking down at his hands.
“Nah, he knows you well enough by now, I’d wager. But I don’t think it’d hurt for him to think maybe you were trying to impress him a little.” If 866 had had a mouth, it would have been grinning wickedly. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”
Blindspot had wanted to make a retort for this, but he reminded himself, instead, that the shine wouldn’t last forever, and soon he’d be back to looking normal. Surely it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Surely. A few days later he’d tentatively pinged KITT over the internet, giving him a time and a place to meet. He wouldn’t know until he arrived whether or not the Mustang would be able to make it, but he hoped so.
Even so, he was terribly nervous as he weaved through downtown New Orleans. The neon lights flashed and gleamed across the spotless surface of his chassis. Before things had gone to hell back in Italy, he had been feeling… well. He didn’t know exactly what, but definitely something between himself and KITT. He’d been flirting, for Primus’s sake. He’d never flirted before in his life! He had certainly… never met anyone like KITT before, and he wasn’t really sure how it all made him feel. He felt anxious, nervous, and strangely hopeful all at the same time.
Then, of course, there was the matter that KITT was not what he had originally thought. He’d assumed he was befriending a sentient car, but KITT was much more than that. He hadn’t had time to ask KITT about it, and he was curious, but it just made him all the more nervous. He made an attempt to calm himself down as he sat at a red light, his engine clattering away under his hood.
The fact that he’d been waxed to a damn shine didn’t help matters, either. He was going to repay 866 for this particular kindness. Yes indeed.
Finally he drove up to the place where they’d arranged to meet. With the festivities clustered mainly around the city’s boisterous center, there were a few mostly-quiet working districts that were free for a pair of highly-advanced technological beings to relax and enjoy one another’s company. Perhaps KITT might even like to drive out and race on some of the riverside roads… if they could avoid getting caught. That was if his Earthborn friend had even managed to make it here.
Blindspot pulled out of the main road and down a side street, pausing outside of a large, abandoned parking lot. If KITT had gotten his message, he should be waiting there. The Vehicon rolled tentatively up, peering about for KITT, the streetlights chasing themselves in polished brilliance across the complicated angles of his low-slung alt mode.
December 31st, 8:47 PM
The sun was setting on New Orleans, and slowly, bit by bit, the Big Easy was coming to life, illuminating the gathering darkness with wild flashes of neon. Elsewhere in the city, people were gathering in throngs to celebrate the rise of a brand-new year.
Blindspot looked brand-new, too.
Frankly, it was embarrassing. He had never been the sort of mech to preen, obsessing over his appearance and constantly monitoring his finish. Those things were not for him. If anything, he was inclined to be a bit scruffy, going longer than most between buffing sessions. So, when he had returned from the fiasco in Italy to have his heavily-damaged exoskeleton repaired, he had full expected to be rendered unconscious for the complicated process of removing and replacing most of his armor. He had not expected to wake up to find that his new shell had not only been carefully repainted, but had been polished to a shine and given a healthy coat of wax.
He knew who was responsible for it. There was only one person he could think of who would go behind his back and have him decked out in such a ridiculous fashion, and when he had confronted 866 about it, his fellow drone had shrugged. “Hey, you look good. Is that such a bad thing? Besides, last I heard, you were going to go have a little rendezvous with that Earth ‘bot, weren’t you?” He elbowed Blindspot. “Eh?”
Blindspot drew himself up in indignation. “Well--eventually, yes, I--but that’s hardly--”
“Well, it never hurt to put on a little shine every now and then. He’s certainly shiny.”
Blindspot paused, cocking his head. “Yes. Yes he is.” For a moment he remained silent, and then he gave his head a little shake. “But I do not… I do not want him to think that I am vain,” Blindspot rasped helplessly, looking down at his hands.
“Nah, he knows you well enough by now, I’d wager. But I don’t think it’d hurt for him to think maybe you were trying to impress him a little.” If 866 had had a mouth, it would have been grinning wickedly. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”
Blindspot had wanted to make a retort for this, but he reminded himself, instead, that the shine wouldn’t last forever, and soon he’d be back to looking normal. Surely it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Surely. A few days later he’d tentatively pinged KITT over the internet, giving him a time and a place to meet. He wouldn’t know until he arrived whether or not the Mustang would be able to make it, but he hoped so.
Even so, he was terribly nervous as he weaved through downtown New Orleans. The neon lights flashed and gleamed across the spotless surface of his chassis. Before things had gone to hell back in Italy, he had been feeling… well. He didn’t know exactly what, but definitely something between himself and KITT. He’d been flirting, for Primus’s sake. He’d never flirted before in his life! He had certainly… never met anyone like KITT before, and he wasn’t really sure how it all made him feel. He felt anxious, nervous, and strangely hopeful all at the same time.
Then, of course, there was the matter that KITT was not what he had originally thought. He’d assumed he was befriending a sentient car, but KITT was much more than that. He hadn’t had time to ask KITT about it, and he was curious, but it just made him all the more nervous. He made an attempt to calm himself down as he sat at a red light, his engine clattering away under his hood.
The fact that he’d been waxed to a damn shine didn’t help matters, either. He was going to repay 866 for this particular kindness. Yes indeed.
Finally he drove up to the place where they’d arranged to meet. With the festivities clustered mainly around the city’s boisterous center, there were a few mostly-quiet working districts that were free for a pair of highly-advanced technological beings to relax and enjoy one another’s company. Perhaps KITT might even like to drive out and race on some of the riverside roads… if they could avoid getting caught. That was if his Earthborn friend had even managed to make it here.
Blindspot pulled out of the main road and down a side street, pausing outside of a large, abandoned parking lot. If KITT had gotten his message, he should be waiting there. The Vehicon rolled tentatively up, peering about for KITT, the streetlights chasing themselves in polished brilliance across the complicated angles of his low-slung alt mode.
