Disclaimer.
All of this is OOC information. Some of it may even be events unfolding within the mind of the character at the time. Or Seventeen escaped and got a hold of the keyboard. Or something. Just enjoy as is.
I know I should change back. Just not yet. Savour the feeling for just a few moments longer. The start was good and it got better from there. Singing as I went, hitting top speed, redline screaming at me. Then all that the anti-grav I could give! It worked! I jumped into the air as a car! Then through the front wall! I'm surprised that the Commander didn't even raise a smile at that. Rumble loved it, which for my mission today, was all I needed.
I got to sit down with Rumble, talk details and managed to keep cool. I'm so excited though! Despite Blast Off's near terminal depressive stint these days. If this works . . . I can't even say what it'll mean. In fact I'm wondering about that now. I tell the others I hate the costume, the abilities and training but right now . . . it feels good. It felt even better when they started feeling rowdy. It took weeks to lace that wall right with just the right amount of goodies.
But when I snapped my fingers. Power. It's seductive. I can handle it. I can live with it. I like it.
All those battle hardened war machines suddenly reacting to it. Some liked the drama, some experienced uncertain feelings but they all payed attention. It's so freeing acting like a maniac. They like it too! Not just the Decepticons either. I get praise for the information I bring back over the line, I'm encouraged to switch for insights, they love my tricks and my style . . . it makes me wonder. Without the costume. Is there really anything people'd sit up and take notice over?
There must be. Someone thinks so. I'm leaving it too long. I have to change back . . . . and there. I'm shaking. I blew up a building! For attention! This is already risky. The assets I'm using, the unsanctioned operation, the expert who's process I'm trying to steal . . . but, even now, the prospect of it. To know somehow, someday, to be free of this accursed costume! Even if she leaves, even if no one even remembers me, it's too much to pass up. It's worth the risks. I know my judgement is off on this as I don't need it . . . I want it.
I need a cig. Should get a normal one from the compartment. Or . . . I could do this. A little slight of hand and there's the cig.
Now . . . I just snap my fingers. I might miss this. I can give it up. Can I?