Achy, Achy Tires
[Saturday Mid-day]
*Mirage was dead on his tires. His paint job was scuffed up and dull and he had what had to be at least an inch deep amount of dust clogging up every crevasse and grove in his armor*
Mirage incoming, I need to meet with Jazz and whoever else is on call.
*Mirage was far to cagey to discuss things over even a supposedly secure comms channel and pushed his tired chassis faster to cross the last few miles back to the Ark. He'd been driving for almost 20 hours straight and was in desperate need of energon but it would have to wait until he was debriefed.*
*Mirage was dead on his tires. His paint job was scuffed up and dull and he had what had to be at least an inch deep amount of dust clogging up every crevasse and grove in his armor*
Mirage incoming, I need to meet with Jazz and whoever else is on call.
*Mirage was far to cagey to discuss things over even a supposedly secure comms channel and pushed his tired chassis faster to cross the last few miles back to the Ark. He'd been driving for almost 20 hours straight and was in desperate need of energon but it would have to wait until he was debriefed.*