Mission City, March 15th, 12:01 AM
Humans love risk-taking, almost for its own sake. Even the safest of them, even those who may profess to love the safety and comfort of
their homes, their lives, their everyday routine, will thrill to the promise of the unexpected, particularly when it becomes part of the very routine they call
'safe'.
Morpho had been waiting at a light, at a tremendously busy intersection where Mission City touched onto the Interstate highway. The human
on the lane next to his had taken one look at the sleek, powerful lines of the Ultimate Aero and had rolled down its window, expecting the other
'driver' to do such as well, to engage in some manner of chatter over the unique vehicle. The assassin did not oblige. Yes, he was fast, and yes, he
was good at his job. But his holoprojector had never been more than merely adequate; he had no intention to reveal to the human the mannequin-looking thing he
had sitting at his wheel. The heavily tinted window stayed up, and the human apparently didn't appreciate that.
When the red light on the traffic signal went out, the human charged blithely ahead. In the fraction of a second that followed, Morpho
had enough time to realize a few things: first, that the light's cycle had been cut short by several seconds; two, that the light hadn't actually
changed - it had gone dark altogether; and lastly, that it was not the only one who'd done so.
Then the second was past, and the shriek of metal, fiberglass and reinforced glass meeting at high speeds in ways that had never been
meant to come about slammed into his senses almost like a solid blow. A heavy pickup had been traveling down the highway, taking the speed limit merely as a
suggestion and confident in the service the traffic light provided and the right-of-way it had guaranteed him. It had slammed into the car's side and
almost nearly cut it in half, crumpling down with the impact like a cheap smelting barrel in a refuse press.
The suddenness with which the two lives in the vehicles were snuffed from his sensors shocked the Aero, though he gave no outward sign of
it at all. Traffic, fortunately, was light enough that there were no immediate additions to the crash. Humans poured from their nearby vehicles and ran to the
two wrecks. Someone with sense, he was glad to see, drove around them and started their hazard lights, red warning beacons in a world that was quickly going
dark in far more ways than the natives could perceive, but to the assassin's keen sensors it was unnerving, like that ineffable sense at the back of your
neck when something, unknown but ever-present, tells you that a mission has been compromised. Everything, every scrap of technology that humans truly
depended on, heat, communications, water, light, was going offline faster than he could follow. And still within that brief moment, he knew those would not be
the only two lives he'd see lost before the night was over.
He opened and encrypted a line to any Autobots in the vicinity, as well as to the Prime, even as he placed an anonymous 9-1-1 call for
the wreck… only to discover the communication lines were down as well, giving off white noise in response. <<Blue Morpho, here. Communications and sector
service grids for Mission City and surrounding areas have failed for unknown reasons. Staying on-site for observation purposes.>>
Slowly, carefully mimicking the behavior of any human who just might not want to get involved with the wreck and the mob slowly gathering
around it, he twisted around, turning onto an empty lane and accelerating smoothly away, towards the center of the town, cloaking and vanishing from any
sensors. He needed to be at a central location, somewhere where he could move quickly to anywhere else where he might be needed.
Something was coming. Something had been started, and causality dictated a follow-up of some sort. The Autobot assassin would be
ready.
