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A will to survive and a voice of reason
May. 13th, 2018 08:16 pmIn his time spent on this assignment for Lord Megatron, Blackout had learned that there were many, many perks to being Cybertronian instead of a member of a-- ...less-advanced race. His onboard suite of sensors could replace the tools and equipment of whole teams of organics, especially with Scorponok's abilities complimenting his own. His mobility was exceptional; his processing power better than almost any organic computer system; his durability and longevity were of course unsurpassed by any other species he'd yet encountered. He was a logical choice to head up a construction project of the scale that he had been hired for, and he knew his work thus far had been invaluable.
He also knew his investors and directors were wary of him. Most non-Cybertronians were. Generally he tolerated the necessary restrictions this placed on his operations; he'd been tapped for this assignment in part because of his phlegmatic personality. But occasionally-- oh, occasionally, it grated on him.
Like any time he had to try and fit himself into buildings designed to accommodate much smaller organisms. Like any time he had to tolerate the oversight or interference of the alien races he was here to play nice with. Like any time he had to hobble himself to an alien stride, lest he leave the people he was trying to form mutually beneficial relationships in his backdraft.
Oh, he was looking forward to this trip-- even if he had to bring along one of his staffers.
Blackout crouched in an open lot adjacent to the main headquarters of the company that currently employed him, his rotors rattling quietly against his back. He was feeling uncharacteristically impatient to be gone, waiting with ill grace for his companion on this expedition to emerge. Come on, Jackal.
At least he didn't say it aloud.
He also knew his investors and directors were wary of him. Most non-Cybertronians were. Generally he tolerated the necessary restrictions this placed on his operations; he'd been tapped for this assignment in part because of his phlegmatic personality. But occasionally-- oh, occasionally, it grated on him.
Like any time he had to try and fit himself into buildings designed to accommodate much smaller organisms. Like any time he had to tolerate the oversight or interference of the alien races he was here to play nice with. Like any time he had to hobble himself to an alien stride, lest he leave the people he was trying to form mutually beneficial relationships in his backdraft.
Oh, he was looking forward to this trip-- even if he had to bring along one of his staffers.
Blackout crouched in an open lot adjacent to the main headquarters of the company that currently employed him, his rotors rattling quietly against his back. He was feeling uncharacteristically impatient to be gone, waiting with ill grace for his companion on this expedition to emerge. Come on, Jackal.
At least he didn't say it aloud.
