Ops Trio: Rainy Day Recon
The sickly glow of the street lights meager illumination wasn't enough to pierce the shadows that seemed to constantly linger. Even during the daylight the city seemed so sullen and dark that it was little wonder why it was considered to be vagrant and uncivilized. It rained a lot, a consistent, drizzling, annoying rain that turned the poorly maintained roads into a slippery mess. Occasionally it would sleet, turning said slippery mess into an ice slicked demolition derby without the consent forms.
Recon and surveillance is a game of cat and mouse on the best of days, in the most ideal of situations. But lately, it's seemed more like some twisted version of water torture. There's this annoying lamp post that seems very well suited to that task as it tends to drop water at intermittent times, most of said droplets seem to land in the exact same spot. It's distracting, annoying, irritating and flat out aggravating. All at the same time.
It's cold out tonight, too. After sitting in this mess for more than three solar cycles, the chill has settled in at a frame numbing temperature. There's nothing for it, however. Orders are orders and information is information. The problem is, there's been nothing going on out of the ordinary. Three solar cycles and there's no data to collect. Frustrating.
When the call came in for Mirage to head back, he found himself even more aggravated than before. Knowing his commander, a simple 'Mirage, report back to base' was simply to easy. No, instead, he'd been greeted with NSYNC and "Bye Bye Bye" blaring over his internal comm-system. With a long-suffering sigh, Mirage quickly stowed what little gear he'd brought and transformed, headed towards their make-shift camp.
There were many things one should expect when one works with the likes of Jazz and Bumblebee as a full-time gig. One of those things was the often erratic and seemingly random things you could find upon returning from a mission. Today's choice, it seemed, was a rather crude Neolithic-esque artwork depicting Mirage being eaten by a deranged Sunstreaker. All done in sidewalk chalk. And garbage bags. And zip ties.
Yes, definitely Jazz's work.
Grumbling, the still dripping wet spy trudged past the impromptu artwork and, after triple checking the security grid, made a bee-line for the dispenser they'd brought with them.
Gently, he wrapped his hand around a freshly-prepared cube, hoping to rest for a moment before having to deal with anyone else. If he was incredibly lucky.
"Hey! Figured you'd be getting back around now." Jazz said, sauntering into the room and plopping down in the vacant seat next to Mirage. "
Luck, he found, just wasn't on his side.
"I think that a lamp shade, with frill mind you, would suit your style perfectly, Jazz." Mirage said, grumpily, as he sipped his cube. "Now bugger off and go find one in hot pink."
"Wow. Harsh, 'Raj, real harsh. You'll hurt my feelin's." Jazz replied, giving the most hurt pout he could muster.
"I'll worry about 'hurt feelings' when I'm not dank, cold, hungry and annoyed at the fact that the intelligence we were given, you remember, the one saying this place needing more intelligence gathered," he said, waving his free hand for emphasis, "was -wrong-."
Jazz shrugged, downing the remainder of his cube.
"That's military intelligence for ya, Mirage."
"Yes, it appears to be painfully limited." Mirage said, dryly.
"Oh c'mon, it wasn't -that- bad." Jazz replied.
"Oh. I do beg to differ."
"We did learn something' about the place."
"Yes. That it was empty." Mirage replied, testily. "And that there are 1,453 chipped bricks in the south wall, fourteen pigeons living on the second floor, and a family of squirrels in the attic. The amount of information is simply -staggering-."
Jazz snickered, earning himself a glare from Mirage as the blue mech downed the rest of his energon.
"All for the war effort, right?"
"Indeed. The amount of bird feces alone should be enough to power the Decepticon's latest 'weapon of the week'." the spy added, giving the impression of serious contemplation. "We'd best not be caught unawares."
"Ha! Bird shit cannon? Ya think the 'Cons got it in'em?" Jazz asked, laughing and offering Mirage a second cube.
"It's entirely possible. The feats of engineering alone could potentially put Wheeljack to shame." he replied, accepting the offered sustenance with a curt nod. "And we all know that they are full of something thus it might as well be avian fecal matter."
The white mech snorted in reply and the pair lapsed into a companionable silence.
"Where's Bumblebee?" Mirage inquired after several minutes had passed.
"He's meetin' us back at the Ark in the morning. Figured you'd wanna get a bit of recharge before heading back."
"So long as I can get -dry-, I couldn't really care less about recharge."
"Heh. Well, good thing the heat is on in the third bunk and there's spare thermal sheets to go with." Jazz said, standing and headed towards the entrance. "Go get some rest, Mirage. I got watch tonight and we'll head back when it ain't rainin' no more."
Mirage gaped as his commander headed outside. "Thank you." he said, quietly.