Post by Nines on Dec 1, 2019 23:50:33 GMT
((Nines , Jeffrey Devlin ))
The Autobot probation station boasted new paint, new floors, and new renovations. Similar to countless government owned buildings the structure’s design was for Cybertronians and Humans alike to exchange delinquents or for any necessary juvenile courts. Standing at the entrance, a single mech leaned against the wall. His fresh paint job dimly reflected the sun’s rays even in the shade he confided within. As instructed, Nines repainted himself his old rustic crimson, with hints of bone white to compliment his primary color. Mediating the two shades was his buffed out greys and blacks from his very own endostructure. While He appeared substantially less scrappy than he normally did, Nines felt slightly uncomfortable with his slightly formal appearance. Thus he equipped his pipe, sucking in sumptuous breaths before letting them steam through the crevices of his mouth guard. His optics were shielded by his visor as per usual, allowing his optics to dart freely to any passer by.
I’m ten minutes early. Nines reminded himself impatiently. He felt his spark heave at what kind of work the Autobot command was cutting out for him. I read what little they had written on this kid’s file. Juvenile delinquent in need of a probation officer due to neglecting school and being a general nuisance to the public. Nines reviewed carefully. Why on earth they’d choose a Medical Sgt. eludes me. They have plenty of those silly rookie recruits who recently popped out of boot camp. Or those other Ensigns that have nothing better to do than organize energy cubes. Nines thought to himself. Yet secretly he knew why he’d been chosen.
Ex-Decepticons always do it right. At the end of the day, Autobots are historically too soft. He exhaled, imagining the cliche friendly femme or mech trying to mirror Optimus Prime as much as they could through whatever virtues they were instilled with. Meanwhile, Nines continued his wait for his newly assigned human.
I’ll do my job. He mentally informed the individual, as if the youngster could hear him already.
The Autobot probation station boasted new paint, new floors, and new renovations. Similar to countless government owned buildings the structure’s design was for Cybertronians and Humans alike to exchange delinquents or for any necessary juvenile courts. Standing at the entrance, a single mech leaned against the wall. His fresh paint job dimly reflected the sun’s rays even in the shade he confided within. As instructed, Nines repainted himself his old rustic crimson, with hints of bone white to compliment his primary color. Mediating the two shades was his buffed out greys and blacks from his very own endostructure. While He appeared substantially less scrappy than he normally did, Nines felt slightly uncomfortable with his slightly formal appearance. Thus he equipped his pipe, sucking in sumptuous breaths before letting them steam through the crevices of his mouth guard. His optics were shielded by his visor as per usual, allowing his optics to dart freely to any passer by.
I’m ten minutes early. Nines reminded himself impatiently. He felt his spark heave at what kind of work the Autobot command was cutting out for him. I read what little they had written on this kid’s file. Juvenile delinquent in need of a probation officer due to neglecting school and being a general nuisance to the public. Nines reviewed carefully. Why on earth they’d choose a Medical Sgt. eludes me. They have plenty of those silly rookie recruits who recently popped out of boot camp. Or those other Ensigns that have nothing better to do than organize energy cubes. Nines thought to himself. Yet secretly he knew why he’d been chosen.
Ex-Decepticons always do it right. At the end of the day, Autobots are historically too soft. He exhaled, imagining the cliche friendly femme or mech trying to mirror Optimus Prime as much as they could through whatever virtues they were instilled with. Meanwhile, Nines continued his wait for his newly assigned human.
I’ll do my job. He mentally informed the individual, as if the youngster could hear him already.