re_alignment_logs | Get a Move On

Entry tags:

Get a Move On

WHO: Hot Rod (

young_upstart) and OPEN!
WHERE: Around central Haven
WHEN NOW
WHAT: No matter what they say, can't keep the madness at bay
WARNINGS: Potential violence?

     It had been subtle at first, the agitation that surfaced not seeming to be anything more than appropriate for the building frustration of this place and what the Autobot had learned not too long ago. He'd told Ultra Magnus he would let him know if he felt 'off' in any way, but so far, nothing had happened that made him feel the need to bring it up. After all, if there wasn't any trouble, why make some?

     And yet, it was because of that nothing that it only served as a further irritant for his dwindling mood. Hot Rod felt even more restless of late, and no one seemed to have any answers. The last time he'd gotten answers hadn't been very satisfying though, and clearly none of those that held rank in this weird place was willing to help. No one wanted to help. No one knew how to help, and even though he knew that probably couldn't be helped, it just made him so. Angry.

     In order to try venting some steam, he decided to do some target practice around the Junkpile. Blasting random things to bits had never felt so good. There was something definitely satisfying about seeing smoking debris scattering after your photon charges slammed and burned clean into your target, sending them into oblivion-

     The thought startled him. That wasn't like him. That wasn't like him at all.

     "What...was that?" His imagination? He hoped it was, but the smoldering remains in front of him certainly couldn't be lying. It scared him. Something was happening, and he couldn't let it.

     Turning, he started to move. He wanted to run, to get away, somewhere. No, you're not thinking clearly! You need to tell Magnus! -but what can he do? Or any of the others for that matter? What if you slip like that again?

     He couldn't allow that, and he didn't want to take any chances either. Within seconds he had collapsed and twisted into his vehicle mode, and wheels peeled away the moment they hit the ground, the bright magenta sports car emblazoned with orange flames speeding off. Somewhere. Anywhere.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Anywhere, apparently, meaning a similar path Elita was using. Or rather, perpendicular to it, and since there was a huge pile of junk in the way, it might be forgivable that neither of them noticed until it was nearly too late. She came around the "corner" of the scrapheap, and, startled at the sudden appearance of another car in her way, veered sharply aside, flinging junk everywhere as she drove up against and partly into the pile they'd both been passing at their own angle.

Transforming midair and launching herself away from the pile to avoid getting stuck in it, Elita landed somewhere behind Hot Rod and sent a brief query ping about how he'd managed just as she turned around to see for herself.

That had been a bit awkward.

Too late had he realized someone else in the immediate vicinity, and by then Elita was almost right in front of him. Cursing, the Autobot slammed on the brakes as he transformed, vaulting into the air in hopes to clear the other. His landing wasn't nearly as clean, not nearly high enough to give him enough room to get his feet under himself in time as he landed rather roughly on his back.

He probably didn't need to send a reply considering the groan that came from behind Elita. That...had not been fun at all.

No, that couldn't have been fun at all. The wince as Hot Rod groaned was merely a twitch of her back-mounted panels, more focused on taking the few steps that separated them to get up beside him and offer a hand.

"Sorry about that. Nothing critical?" Compared to the Springer that was here for a while, and she does wonder where he disappeared to, Hot Rod isn't familiar as more than someone who currently is part of Optimus Prime's crew on Earth to her. It's something of a relief, almost, to not yet have met any more that she recognises as a friend.

"Just the damage to my pride," he muttered, but he pulled himself up with Elita's assistance. He'd taken worse beatings, so a landing like this wasn't anything to worry about, rough as it was.

Hot Rod stared a moment at the female Autobot before he shook his head. No, wasn't the one he might've thought it would be. "...er, I should apologize about that too..."

"Well, you were hurt more than I, and since damaged pride usually repairs itself rather quickly, seems we should be be okay," she couldn't help but smile slightly, though it wasn't really meant to be teasing.

"Just feeling out what speed you can use out here?" She tilted her helm, admittedly curious, since there weren't many other reasons to be roaring around in the Junk Pile... Though as she glaced over him, she did catch that he lacked a glyph.

That might explain what he was doing out here as well, even if the Hub had been given for the Glyphless' use if they wanted it. And he was... hm. She had to think a moment or two and then nodded.

"Hot Rod, right? I'm Elita One." Introductions would make it slightly more easier...

He seemed a little reluctant to answer, glancing away. At the very least, the near-collision had cleared his mind of whatever earlier antagonism that had been simmering in his circuits. For the moment, anyway.

"I just felt I needed to really get away from here..." he said after a moment, finally looking back at her. "That's right though." He was getting tired of being called Rodimus three times out of four around here. Elita One, the name was familiar. Hot Rod nodded at her.

While it was Rodimus now as well for the one in her reality, it hadn't been that way for long (and it was a personal, aesthetic choice, nothing to do with having the Matrix or not) and she had further been paying attention to the Link.

"I'd say it was nice to meet you, but the circumstances aren't ideal." While it was said lightly, there was a strain of seriousness beneath it, and she didn't exactly mean the near-crash. Near-crashes, or even actual crashes could be recovered from. If things go as implied with the Glyphless, that would be a lot harder to recover from.

Replaying his first words, Elita nodded, taking them both literally and... given everything, metaphorically.

"I could get you out of the Junk Pile... Easier to just drive around out in the open." And out of the Haven, away from the temples, so there'd be no worrying about that, and hopefully less for Hot Rod to be frustrated by. If anything was affecting him, which Elita wasn't sure of yet.

     "Well...yeah," he had to agree. Waking up in some foreign Cybertron when you knew the last place you were at was a ship wasn't exactly the best of situations, especially considering that you had a massive planet-eater poised to make its next snack your home. The whole Glyphless deal was just icing on the cake.

     Hot Rod nodded slowly, although he couldn't help but feel a little suspicious at that. Or was that the earlier antagonistic sensation starting to worm its notions back into his circuits?

     "...that... Yeah. I was thinking kind of the same thing."

"A lot of us left our own realities at a bad time," Elita said with a nod, not going to assume if he did or not, merely noting it. She, herself, hadn't left at a dangerously bad time, but she still would want as much as anyone else to get back home as soon as possible.

The only thing she hoped for was that time had not passed at home.

"I'm sure you would get out sooner or later, but I could definitely get you out faster since I've learned a few good paths." There wasn't enough details to pick up on any warning signs that Hot Rod might be getting suspicious or that the Glyphless thing was starting to get a grip again, so the offer was completely open.

Hot Rod wasn't sure how things worked between worlds and alternate universes, and then this place. Obviously time wasn't a constant thing considering the two that he did know (or would eventually, in the case of Wreck-Gar) from his world were both apparently from further along the line in that they knew things he didn't. And for all that, Hot Rod wished that Springer had been a little more tight-lipped about mentioning what he knew to him.

"That's definitely useful," he said, deciding either way, sooner and faster was definitely much better than lost and later. "Okay, I'll follow your lead then. You must've been here a while, I take it?"

Transforming and revving her engine briefly before replying, Elita hummed briefly in agreement. Too long for her taste, and yet it didn't seem impossibly, incredibly long at all. Frustrating nonetheless, despite those she'd met and more or less befriended here.

"Yes. Several orns. As far as I could figure out the group I arrived with was the first in a good while. There's been others here before us, but they were obviously gone by the time we started dropping in." Despite the fact that her altmode was balancing surprisingly gracefully on a single wheel and should probably fall over, Elita remained upright... which was due to strategically placed hover devices for this purpose.

     That made him wonder how long the others he'd spoken to here had been around. "Gone... like...gone how? Sent back?" Did that happen here? It was a small enough hope.

     Hot Rod dropped down, transforming smoothly into his flashy sports car self. He didn't marvel too much at how well Elita One was able to keep her balance, and as unusual as her design was, it didn't make her any less graceful. Well, when she wasn't in a near head-on collision, of course.

     "After you."

Head-on collisions did make it hard to be graceful, yes.

She immediately sped away as he transformed, though not far or fast enough to not be able to continue to have a conversation. Swerving between two large piles of scrap that didn't look much different from any other, Elita hummed thoughtfully.

"I don't think the Firstforged have actually said if they did... If I remember right, they've barely talked about those who've obviously been here before us, which makes me inclined to believe it might not have ended as easily as that." She couldn't quite keep the faint static sigh in, because she wanted to believe it could have ended by whoever was here before them going home.

It wasn't difficult to keep up, after all, he was made for speed. When was the last time he'd ever gone driving like this and not having to worry about being under enemy fire?

"...they don't seem very inclined to say a lot in general," Hot Rod said, not quite able to keep from sounding bitter about it. He'd spoken to two, the first of whom had very politely been beating around the bush while the other while upfront with him had the tact of a sledgehammer.

As soon as it was obvious that Hot Rod could keep up, Elita sped up accordingly, clearly picking her way through the piles of junk with some knowledge of where she was going. She mostly sped up because she enjoyed the speed, and not to lead Hot Rod on a constant catch-up chase.

"I know. And sometimes they give us what they know too late. On the other hand... that some of them are willing to deal with us, despite the fact that all of us are intruders even if not by our own design..." She trailed off, and if she'd been in root mode, she would have shrugged.

Considering that feed they saw of the tailend of one of the Firstforged's meetings, it's obvious there's more than the seven around that they end up aligned with... Elita's not sure what to make of that.

"Huh. They weren't so benevolent when it came to being open about our situation," he said flatly, the growl of his engine seeming to punctuate just how he felt about things. He caught himself edging a little too closely to Elita, forcing himself to pull back. Get it under control...

Hot Rod had seen that meeting, and in fact it was that very transmission that had upset him so. Just thinking about it was starting to agitate him again. Maybe this was a bad idea.

"Unfortunately not." She kept it brief and hopefully somewhat reassuring, no edge at all in her voice even if she caught Hot Rod's agitation and that he'd sped up... And she was immediately ready to do whatever would be needed.

Speed up, stop and transform and attempt to subdue him, whichever.

But, for now, it didn't seem to be needed... If barely so. Elita speeds up slightly anyway, especially as they're nearly out of the Junk Pile.

"Others are working on the problem, however. They might find a solution."

He followed suit, feeling the ground level out beneath his tires, sensing less things crowding them in from the sides or overhanging from precarious piles. It helped to calm him a little, and he could feel himself get a better handle on whatever it was that had been threatening to rear its ugly head.

"...I hope so," he murmured, barely audible above the rumble of his engine. "I don't... I'm not sure what's going on, but something's happening."

They still needed to get out of Haven itself, but it wasn't as if it'd be difficult to avoid the temples as the quadrants were large. As the piles of junk dropped away, Elita automatically speeded up to enjoy the more open landscape, but was still keeping an audio out sharply for their conversation.

"Already? How? Maybe a bit of open space will help." And hopefully away from the direction of the Badlands, since those does not surround the Haven. "Can you keep up?" There's a slight edge of teasing there, not making light of what he just said, but an attempt at taking his mind off of it.

"I'm...not sure how to describe it. It just sort of creeps up on me, this weird feeling..." If he weren't in alt-mode right then, he'd have shaken his head.

Elita's intent to distract Hot Rod from such seemed to work for the moment, at least. He sped up, offering a snort at that question. "If we weren't playing follow the leader I'd be way ahead of you by now!"

That does sound... worrying, but good to know as well. Look for details, little things, then. She can do that. That's part of her current occupation after all.

And then she laughs, swerving unevenly on that single wheel.

"Oh, really? Shall we see? If you get ahead of me, just follow in the direction we're going now, and we'll get out of Haven eventually." She'll just speed up a little more as she says that.

     Oh, was that a challenge? Elita One was moving ahead again, so Hot Rod decided to take it as that.

     Engine revving in accordance, he wasn't going to let her have any more of a head start. "Out of Haven- what's out there?" What was it that seemed to draw him?

     As soon as he found a good opportunity, he was going to try zooming past her.

It was definitely a challenge.

"We're not sure exactly how far it stretches or where the borders are, but there's the Badlands... But I'm quite sure they're not exactly in this direction, so for the rest, merely developing Cybertron." In a way, it was really sort of intimidating to think about it.

None of the usual landmarks, just shifting, moving metal as things started to take shape, as canyons deepened and revealed cables, wiring and fathoms of smooth metal deep down, or as what might become some mountain chain anyone of them knew to exist in the future started to laboriously shooting upwards...

As he pulled up alongside her, and, creepingly, started to pass, Elita gunned her engine at the same time as laugher slipped out. If he wanted to get past her, he'd have to fight for it. Race-wise, anyway.

     The Badlands... The sensation that ran through him was like someone had dragged something sharp across his chassis. He slowed down, if briefly, gunning his engine again not a second later.

     Keep it together...

     He caught himself just before he swerved too closely towards Elita, a move he realized had almost been deliberate. Hot Rod focused ahead, trying to force his thoughts back to the conversation.

     "...so long as we're not headed there. It's...weird though, being reminded that this is supposed to be Cybertron- a Cybertron, anyway."

She'd been ready to swerve away, but since Hot Rod caught himself... But it's obvious, by now, that he's only barely keeping his processors straight and uninfluenced by the darkness that their glyphs aparently protected them from.

At least usually.

"No, not my aim at all." She'd shake her helm if she were in altmode; instead a faint, brief burst if buzzing escaped her. "And it is. Not even when Cybertron looked its worst during the war, it'd have looked like it does beyond the Haven. Everything is so very... unfinished." She doesn't bother to hide the faint strain of bewilderment in her voice, because, she realised, that's exactly what it is.

Unfinished, everything creating, moving, the planet moving in fits and starts and slow, inexorable change as it attempts to become what it should be in the future. For the native "second generation" of cybertronians.

Get a Move On

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