Wreck-Gar (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
idle_time) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
re_alignment_logs2012-08-13 08:46 pm
idle_time) wrote in re_alignment_logs2012-08-13 08:46 pm
Just Like Home (open)
WHO: Wreck-Gar and whoever comes his way
WHERE: The Junkpile
WHEN Sometime after Wreck-Gar learned of the Junkpile from Soundwave
WHAT: Wreck-Gar explores the Junkpile.
WARNINGS: Wreck-Gar remains as moderately comprehensible as ever when talking.
Cybertron. It was not Wreck-Gar's, and even if it were, it was not his world in the first place. Blaster's cassette Rewind had once theorized that the Junkions, along with some of the other robot-races of the galaxy, were descended from Cybertronians who had left the planet during its numerous Great Wars. Wreck-Gar, though, had never been much for reruns, and only occasionally appreciated a retrospective, and had opted not to give much thought to the matter. He was content to be an ally to Rodimus Prime and his Autobots, when it did not distract from his responsibilities to his people. He owed them much, for helping the Junkions step into the future and opening vast trade routes that had made them a very rich people indeed.
This, however, was not that Cybertron. And Wreck-Gar was utterly uncertain of his place here. His people needed him, and he missed his friends, and his main squeeze, Nancy. But most of all, he missed his home, the Planet of Junk. The massive fields of junk, as far as the eye could see, the vast sorting machines, the soft crunch of compacted metal and plastics under his feet, the warm glow of televisions scavenged from the junk and loving restored to functional condition, the gentle hum of the planetary power sources.
But here, in the Junkpile... this felt like familiar territory. He walked through it, looking this way and that, pausing once and a while to dig into a pile and pull something out, sometimes tossing it away, sometimes letting the junk just run through his fingers.
"Ooooh, Luuuucy," he said, to no one in particular, "I'm hoooOOOoome."
WHERE: The Junkpile
WHEN Sometime after Wreck-Gar learned of the Junkpile from Soundwave
WHAT: Wreck-Gar explores the Junkpile.
WARNINGS: Wreck-Gar remains as moderately comprehensible as ever when talking.
This, however, was not that Cybertron. And Wreck-Gar was utterly uncertain of his place here. His people needed him, and he missed his friends, and his main squeeze, Nancy. But most of all, he missed his home, the Planet of Junk. The massive fields of junk, as far as the eye could see, the vast sorting machines, the soft crunch of compacted metal and plastics under his feet, the warm glow of televisions scavenged from the junk and loving restored to functional condition, the gentle hum of the planetary power sources.
But here, in the Junkpile... this felt like familiar territory. He walked through it, looking this way and that, pausing once and a while to dig into a pile and pull something out, sometimes tossing it away, sometimes letting the junk just run through his fingers.
"Ooooh, Luuuucy," he said, to no one in particular, "I'm hoooOOOoome."
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"Hello, who's there?" She called. And frowned. "You're looking for, uh, 'Lucy?'"
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He shook his head. "Just happy to be come on down to this locality. Junkpiles just like mom used to make."
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"Perhaps a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away," he offered.
He looked the human over. "...Do I know you from somewhere? Have you been on TV?"
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"Television? The telly? The Boob Tube? The small screen?"
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