The wheels on the bus go-- OH MY GOD JENNY THERE ARE BRAKES USE THEM

[foolishwren]

Who: Anyone on the vans and/or big tourbus shuttling volunteers to Olivine City.
Where: ROAD TRIP ROAD TRIP
When: May 23rd
Summary: Hey. Hey volunteers. It's time for a ~*~FIELD TRIP~*~
Rating: G-PG13 depending on the level of profanity reached every time Officer Jenny careens around a corner way too quickly.
Log:
It's raining.

To put it more accurately, it's pouring.

And to top it all off, there is a sleeping old man sitting at the very back of the bus (or van, as the case may be) with his head back and his mouth wide open, making the most cringe-inducing racket any being has ever made in its sleep, barring nightmare-induced screaming or something. Why is he there? Who knows. He was there before any of the volunteers being shuttled to Olivine City boarded their vehicles of choice, and he will probably stay there long after they get off at their destination. Maybe he will always be there. He is the Man You Don't Want to Sit Next to On Public Transportation (tm)and his presence defies the laws of space and time.

Regardless, no matter how much racket is coming from that last seat, nothing seems to be dampening the spirits of the driver, who turns away from the rain-blurred windshield and back to face the passengers once all the seats are full with a bright, chipper grin that borders ever-so-slightly on the unhinged.

It's another one of the many near-identical Officer Jennies, although this one looks far too excited about the prospect of a several-hours-long road trip through pouring rain. As a matter of fact, her earrings are little raindrops. How... appropriate. Her hair seems just a little crazier than most of her cousins (sisters? ... clones??), and she has a faithful Treecko lying across the back of her seat.

"What a fine group of young men and women! Volunteering to help the citizens of Olivine like that! I admire your spunk, taking the time out of your day to do a good deed!"

She beams.

"It'll take us a good few hours to get there, but don't worry, there'll be plenty of mud to dig in once we arrive!"

Turning back to the wheel, she lets the Treecko scamper down her arm and man the stick-shift-- yes, these vehicles are stick. And yes, she is letting the Pokemon help her drive.

"Off we go! It's time to take chances, make mistakes, and GET MESSY!"

With the force and enthusiasm that only overly-cheerful-and-possibly-crazy people seem to have, the Jenny slams her foot down on the gas and sends the party (or parties-- yes, she will be saying a variation of this speech to every single group of people she drives) off on a bumpy, swervy, and way-too-fast start to their journey to Olivine.

With luck and possibly a few prayers to Arceus, the volunteers may survive until they roll to a stop in Olivine.



[ooc: Sorry this came a little late, guys! This is an OPEN LOG, so anyone going to Olivine can feel free to start their own threads, mingle, whatever! Freak out at Jenny's TOTALLY INSANE driving, scoot around and try to avoid the snoring man, make conversation/argue/start rap battles/play the 'I'M NOT TOUCHING YOUUUU' game with your fellow passengers, or maybe just drive everybody else crazy by starting a round of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall". ALL IS FAIR GAME.]

Comments

[show_my_cannons]

Ironhide just accepts the man's words. If he says it works, then it works. There's no reason to dwell on it. Even if the specifics don't quite translate, the basic understanding is there -- the stranger knows he isn't human, and he knows the stranger is a medic of some kind. Good enough for him.

It actually takes him a moment to figure out why there's a hand extended toward him, he has to cycle through his memories until he can see a clear image of Major Lennox doing the same thing. Ah, a greeting. He does the same, gripping the human's hand.

"Ironhide, weapons master," he says. And then cants his head slightly to the side. "Your name... I like it."

Mostly because it sounds almost Autobot, in its own way.

[usedfakestache.livejournal.com]

The time it takes for the other to process this whole hand-shaking conundrum is somewhat... endearing. It reminds him a little of how some of the villagers living close to the 4077th would take to American customs with an air of curious apprehension and just like back then there's a very satisfying feeling when it stands clear that they've made a connection over the cultural borders.

"Thanks." he smiles, pretty darn pleased that they're getting along this well so far. "It's from the Last of the Mohicans. Only book my father ever read."

[show_my_cannons]

"Never heard of it," he answers, with a slight shrug of his shoulders -- it's an apology, of sorts. There's probably a lot Ironhide hasn't heard of, in terms of Earth culture and literature.

In return, he offers, "It sounds like an Autobot name. Sharp one, good with the optics." He gestures at his eyes, in case the meaning of that statement is unclear. "Could be a good medic's name, for one of us." His eyes flick over the man. "Or a human, too."

[usedfakestache.livejournal.com]

He mirrors that nod - it's fine, really. A lot of people back home hadn't heard of it either, let alone read it and mentioning the emotional bond was more a habit than an attempt to gauge the other person's reading habits.

"You do need good eyes as a surgeon. Perhaps my dad knew that I'd be walking in his footsteps before I did?" he starts, pausing for a second to let the pang of homesickness fade. "Ironhide... that's a General's name. Or perhaps an indian chief."

A thought hits him then, or rather a habit from spending too much time pouring over medical textbooks and the long hours in the OR. The man sure looks human enough but who's to say what lies under the skin? It's worth asking about, just in case their driver makes good on her constant threat of putting them all in a ditch.

"So... how does this work, if you don't mind me asking? The.. mechanical life form thing."

[show_my_cannons]

"Maybe," he agrees, with a short snort of amusement. And then he shakes his head, leaning back in his seat to regard the ceiling for a moment. "Not a general. Just a captain."

Before the war, anyway. There weren't any ranks anymore. Only Prime as commander. And everyone else leading whatever teams they could piece together for as long as they could hold together. Complicated. Messy. Just like the war itself.

He blinks, then, turning back to his traveling companion. "Same as any life form, just mechanical," he says, and shrugs. "Framework, sensors, vital fluid..." An awkward gesture with his hand. "But with armor, weapons. This form is lacking all of it."

It's entirely human. And it's vulnerable. Ironhide doesn't like that feeling.

[usedfakestache.livejournal.com]

"Huh. That makes us the same rank, technically."

An amusing thought if he ever saw one - Hawk is quite possibly the most unmilitary man you can find but being a surgeon automatically put him in officers country. Pulling rank did come in handy more than once in the past but it's still odd to think that they share the same rung in the hierarchy ladder, if by title only.

"I guess it's pretty much the same when you go down to the basics..." he muses. Machines were never his strong suit but at the same time he can understand that a mechanic looks at a car much like he'd look at a human patient. "Skeleton, circulatory, lymphatic, nervous system, muscles... it's the same basic components. Toss a handful of gravel in the machinery and we'll all have a breakdown."

[show_my_cannons]

"Huh. That so?"

Which would also make the medic the same rank as Lennox was, when Ironhide first met his human comrade. Strange coincidences. Of course, after Mission City, Lennox had gone through a major promotion -- no pun intended. But still.

"Probably," he answers. "Ratchet would be the one to speak to... about all that." But his friend, his medic isn't here. His face falls for a moment, before he can school his expression back. "Always was more interested in organic behavior."

[usedfakestache.livejournal.com]

That slight change in expression doesn't go by unnoticed and Hawk soon realizes that he'll probably never be able to think of the other as anything but human. If it walks like a duck... but he's already discovered that this place does things to people, like all places do.

"Friend of yours?" he asks in the end, casually. There's honest curiosity in his voice, this conversation has turned into something familiar and safe, probably the most familiar thing he's had since he arrived. Getting to know a complete stranger in the back of a bumpy van on the way to do something exhausting but necessary - it's Korea all over again.

[show_my_cannons]

"Yeah," he says simply.

He almost leaves it at that. Almost. It would be easier to, rather than try and explain things. But that wouldn't be right. His temporary companion is curious, and only asking. He should answer honestly, as best he can.

"Old friend. My medic... Been through a lot with him. Put me back together more times than I can count." A shrug. "Strange. Being here without him."

[usedfakestache.livejournal.com]

"Yeah... I hear you there, buddy."

It's an ache he hasn't quite allowed himself to register yet, being in a strange place with strange people. It was the same back when he first got to the 4077th but that was still somehow different and being pulled away from everything he knows and loves yet again makes him feel vulnerable. Back on square one.

There's nothing to do but go forward though. Make new bonds. Create a new safety net.

"Get through enough chaos with a person and you can't call them anything but family."

[show_my_cannons]

Family, in the human sense, isn't a concept his kind ever had. There were bonds, certainly. Between friends, younger and older 'Bots, partners... But the word, the concept, as their new allies used it, didn't really exist. It didn't take much time for it to translate over, though.

So he nods, blowing out a long breath, and absently fingering the scars over a knuckle. The loss of Prime had torn them all apart inside. He wants nothing more than to be back there, supporting the 'Bots he cares for.

"Got that right," he says, finally. A pause, and then, "And here we are... with more chaos on our hands."

[usedfakestache.livejournal.com]

He nods, takes a moment to glance out the window at the blurry, wet world outside. They seemed to have found common ground in this, despite their differences and that is something that ties right into the concept of family - it was the same at the 4077th. It didn't matter who you were or where you came from or - in Charles case - how much money you had in the bank. When it came down to it everyone was the same, a human of flesh and blood and heart and that was all that mattered.

Even here, talking to someone who isn't flesh and blood (although he sure plays the part well) Hawk comes to the same conclusion - some things matter and others doesn't.

"It never seems to end, does it?" he replies after a moment, attention turning back to the Autobot. "There's always something that goes wrong or someone that needs help... and that's why it's so good to have people around you can trust."