| abstract
| - Trinidad Oil Fields Only newly becoming an oil power, the wealth of Venezuela doubled in size when five new superwells were found here and two more in Venezuela-controlled land in Antarctica. Now this once small pigmy has become a thundering giant, able to contest all but the largest oil companies. Well after well pump the ground and collect the sweet blood of the Earth. Two towering skyscrapers mark to the world the city of Trinidad's coming of age. F/A-18 Hornet is returning from a standard, boring patrol of Tetrahex, flying low as usual and grazing leaves from hapless trees. When they clear out into the expansive oil fields, Broadside descends and transforms to land with a dull thud in the grass, having decided on a break first. Out comes his ornate flask which he takes a swig from, and lowers himself into a seat, crushing a log in the process. It's a relatively sunny day out, with high, warm winds. Civilization is too far away for anyone to notice any untoward presence. "Birdman!" Roadbuster comes clanking up to sit beside his Wrecker bro, looking a tad worse for wear. "You get that thing I sent you?" He falls back, arms out, and stares up at the sky. "The intel I managed to gather before Snapdragon billywhipped me? I sent it about to all the Wreckers...it aint much, but it's somethin at least. Coulda gotten more if I hadn't been jacked. Thanks for comin ta help." He props himself up on his elbows. "An I hope ya gotta belt a that for me." G'damn, that's the most sentences Broadside has ever heard Roadbuster fire off in one greeting; usually you gotta' talk him into the conversational mood! "Talkative t'day," he murmurs, smiling under his mask. "Yeah I got yer' intel. Sure thing 'bout the help, s'what teammates are for." He offers his flask and tilts his helm to the sky, visor dimming. "S'nice, innit." "Strong," Buster says, "the way I like it!" He pushes himself up to sit, massive, with his legs bent at the knee and his arms braced behind him. "Talkative? Err..I..." And, just as quickly as it manifested, Roadbuster's confidence drains away. He falls silent for a bit, seeming to brood. "Well, ya know," he manages, "been wand'rin." Broadside looks down and almost chuckles, "Naw naw wait now, c'mon," A big hand, but not comparibly too big to Roadbuster reaches out and playfully shakes the battlejeep's shoulder. "Tell me where ya' been wanderin' - ? Don't you clam up now!" he laughs, taking the flask back for another belt. Roadbuster tilts his head in an expression Broadside will know is one of admiration. He hands the flask back and looks up into the sky again. "Here n there. Just ramblin, I guess...nowhere in particular in mind to be." He hums, troubled. "Aint been in a good fight for a bit. That scuffle with Snaps and...whoever that conehead was...it didn't get me goin, ya know? Didn't fire my circuits like usual. Maybe it's just cause I got beat. Understimated Snaps bad. It was...ya know. Didn't go the way it shoulda or coulda." "Y'can't win 'em all," Broadside answers a little too quickly. "...Yeah, I underestimated Snaps too," he mutters dejectedly. "Next time we see 'im, you n' me, we'll tagteam him, yeah? Don't worry mech!" He gives Roadbuster a hearty slap on the back, "Your circuits'll are fine, we just gotta' pound some purple metal into the ground." He falls back into the grass as Roadbuster had, gazing up at the clouds. "Still... it's nice to... ya' know, take a break from all that, right?" he asks, wondering if Roadbuster even thought on those terms. "A break, huh?" Roadbuster looks over at Broadside. "I dunno. Maybe." He definitely has not thought on those terms. He crosses his arms behind his head. "Ya know, honest, I aint a 'break' kinda mech. But lately...maybe combat's wearin on me a bit, as weird's that sounds. Ya folla? Thought I'd never get tired. But...maybe it happens ta everyone." Broadside falls silent for a good long moment, unsure of what to make of that statement. Fighting was everything he knew, plus more. It was literally what he was built for, as was Roadbuster. Eventually he answers, voice low. "It'd be nice ta'... do somethin' else for a while," he admits, almost sounding ashamed for it. "I mean, ya' do the same thing over and over and ev'entu-ally ya' get tired of it. S'just what happens. It's a... long war." Roadbuster isn't happy with the way this conversation has turned. He's showing far too much, but, without combat to occupy his processor, he simply doesn't know what else to talk about besides the feeling that roil constantly within him. He's sure it's not what his fellow Wrecker wants to hear, so he subtly shifts the subject. "A long war, yeah. But, eh. We aint sentimental, right? Wreck and rule!" If this sounds a bit manufactured, hopefully Broadside will understand and forgive him. "I tell ya, poundin purple sounds freakin awesome, Bird. Just what we need. Say...you remember that slugfest we had against Soundwave an those Seekers...Thundercracker an Skywarp? That was back in the day." Broadside isn't a very bright mech, but he knows Roadbuster well enough to sense his defensive walls going up. Unlike the battlejeep, he /is/ capable of thinking beyond combat, but for Roadbuster's sake, he goes along with it, with an inward, good-natured sigh. "Uh huh, those were the days. What I'd give to tear those Seekers down again. We're stuck with these new generation slagfaces! Didja' know there was one out there named /Backfire/? Bwaha! Only the best for the 'con aerospace!" "Backfire, huh? Haha!" Buster has good long guffaw at that. "That's a name that just screams 'pound my aft into powder'!" He hops up, jabbing at the air a little bit. "A nice right fer Thundercracker!" He laughs, imagining smashing Seekers' faces. "And a left cross fer Skywarp! Man, did he ever deserve it!" He swings hard, splitting the air nicely with punches that would certainly have taken the heads off those erstwhile Decepticons. A little bit of his destructive impulse exorcised, he falls back again to sprawl huge beside his friend. "It's a long war," he says, "but that just means more good ol' days to look back on, right?" He chuckles. Broadside sits up and watches the enthusiasm usually only younger mechs wield. "You got that right," he agrees with a hidden grin, before pulling himself back onto his feet, which is a task in itself; gravity has always been unkind to him. "A'ight Buster, wanna' head back to Debris and watch some wrestlin' or sommat?" he asks over the clank and whirr of transforming. Roadbuster laughs a bit. He's abruptly tired of wandering. With no battles to fight and with the recent battles having been less than gratifying, he's still feeling restless and bored. But the camaraderie of his comrade - and the promise of spending the rest of the cycle with his feet up watching wrestling and getting overcharged - has done much to improve his mood. "Birdman, I aint heard a better idea in cycles."
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