byrnstar

The woman arched her eyebrow at the young man standing before her, plucking the cigarette out of her mouth to address him better.  "Raoul?  What kind of name is that?" The young man in question shuffled a bit with embarrassment at her inquiry.  Taller than her by about four inches, with slightly wavy black hair that fell down to his shoulders, he wore a black leather jacket and boots of the same color and material, though the boots were somewhat scuffed and the jacket sported dull patches where grease had come in contact with the leather.  He kept his hands stuffed in his pockets to hide the black grea

Despite his heavy metallic feet descending in even steps upon the rigid floor, the yellow mech glides silently down the hallway with nothing more than a faint klink as metal collides together. It’s not his size that causes his noiseless step, because many of the other small Autobots clamor down the corridors like a one-mech stampede. No, his ability to slip soundlessly past is simply a Primus given talent, one that makes him the perfect espionage agent. One often forgets that the cheery bot is one of the most secretive mechs in the army, but that’s what makes him such a talented spy. So, he probably knows I’m following him. I

When you're six years old, you think childhood goes on forever. There are no days, weeks, or months to keep track of, no weekly paychecks or monthly bills or yearly tax statements to mark the passage of time as in the adult world. Sure, there's the quarterly report card – but that's mostly for the parents anyway. In the young mind, time marches by in a continuing spiral of weekend cartoons, insufferable school days, nightly battles to avoid baths and bedtimes. The only indicators of elapsing years are the school clothes that you outgrow the month they're purchased and the switching of teachers as you ascend up the grade ladder. Otherwise, you