Disclaimer: I do not own "Transformers" in any way, shape, or form. They are the property of Hasbro, Michael Bay, and all the other masters of the craft. I am just a humble college student and make no money from this.
The Moonlessnight: This is interesting. I just got a new computer this week and, that said, have been spending a lot of time on it getting everything set up. It came loaded with Windows Vista, which looks and runs great so far. A little bit of a learning curve for me but nothing major and then…BAM! I open Word to start typing the next installment of this story here and find myself completely and utterly lost. What on Earth did Microsoft do to this interface?
I think I can feel for the Transformers now. I am lost in a very unfamiliar, alien place that is somehow familiar…but in a frightening way. –Moonlessnight eyes the top of her screen warily and pokes at it with an imaginary stick.-
To sum my Word '07 experience up so far I have one word for you: confusion. It took me five minutes to find the save button. Enough said.
Forgotten
Captain Lennox sat at the farthest edge of the field, as close to the road as he dared to get but ready to roll out onto the blacktop at a moment's notice. A monstrously huge foot came to rest in front of him for a brief moment before it hastened off in a new direction, pacing the length of the field. Back and forth, inch by inch, the foot in question edged ever closer to where Lennox sat. He had moved away from them twice now and shouted at them repeatedly, but they had yet to notice him. Worry clouding the mechs' sensors to the presence of the human in their midst. A foot landed less than a hand's breadth from his shoulder and Lennox swore under his breath. Swallowing his soldier pride, William Lennox resisted the urge to kick the offending appendage and calmly walked across the street. "Better tumbling down the hill there than ending up under someone's foot over here," he muttered.
Picking out a spot on a boulder a safe distance from the thirty foot "hill", Lennox settled in to wait. Idly he wondered if the distracted Autobots would even notice if he ended up truly "underfoot". The military techs claimed they were living metal, a fact Ratchet had yet to protest. What exactly that meant, Lennox was not sure, but he thought it might have something to do with the nanites his own tech discovered covering the surface of the scavenged Decepticon scrap. A million little cell-sized machines that acted the part of human cells, feeding upon the energy provided to them and in turn relaying pulses back to their host. Feeling the beginnings of a confusion headache, the captain filed his thoughts away under 'things to ask Ratchet' and closed his eyes. By the time Ratchet emerged from the rocks cradling Sam in the palm of his hand, Captain Lennox, soldier extraordinaire, was asleep at his post.
The Moonlessnight: Wow. It's the world's shortest chapter! No. Not really. It's called a severe case of writer's block. Yeah, I know there's no such thing as writer's block so how about calling it a case of 'silence' instead? Sam isn't reacting to anything I throw at him, and until I find the key to waking him up again the next real chapter will be rather difficult to write. Bear with me. This fiction here is definitely not forgotten and (hallelujah!) I have some time off this next week. In the meantime, I apologize for the delay and beg forgiveness. Thank you.