re_alignment_logs | What is lost can't be found [open]

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What is lost can't be found [open]

WHO: Four and everyone
WHERE: Junkpile
WHEN: Today
WHAT: Four searches for his family.
WARNINGS: Sad stitchpunk.

Everytime he heard something familiar, he felt hope. The longer and longer it took him to find the source, he felt the hope begin to die. This happened so many times that the tiny stitchpunk was emotionally exhausted by the time he flopped over a coffee can.

Day in and day out Four has searched for them. It was maddening how he would hear their small footsteps or hear their voices among the junk, but never be able to find them. It was like a terrible nightmare, where the faster and harder you try to catch something, the farther and farther away it got. Four couldn't give up though, not now not ever. His family had been everything to him, and he knew that they wouldn't give up if he was the one who was lost. Deep down inside it felt as if the soul fragment he had was twisting around until every movement he made felt painful. It hurt so much to love and miss them.

1 to protect us...
2 to inspire us...
3 to define us...
4 to teach us...
5 to guide us...
6 to lead us...
7 to defend us...
8 to guard us...
9 to save us.

He repeated this in his head until it gave him strength to stand up again to continue his search. They all had a purpose, they were together for a reason. They couldn't be separated now... Even though it hurt to do it, he knew they were still out there, somewhere.

Four was so tired...

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Thundercracker was . . . not bored. He was a soldier, and a Decepticon. He wasn't allowed to get bored. If he needed something to do, he found something productive, something that would further the cause, something-

Frag. Who was he kidding? The cause didn't exist here, and he had no one to please or to keep off his case. He'd spent the past two weeks interacting with people - mechs and flesh creatures alike and one or two other things besides - that he normally would never have given any direct attention to, nor really even much thought.

But . . . again, almost nothing that he'd lived with for most of his life existed anymore for him, not here. So . . . what else was he to do?

Periodically, he visited the Junkpile. Out of curiosity, out of boredom, out of the hopes of finding something - anything - useful or amusing or . . . frag, he didn't even really know.

He was idly picking through a section he'd not yet visited when movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Turning, he sharpened his sensors to focus on the general area, and he shifted to investigate.

The fact that he was moving silently, somewhat prowling, was mere habit.

As quietly as Thundercracker thought he was being, Four was only seven inches tall. He could feel the vibrations of the approaching mech and was instinctively alarmed. He wasn't really afraid of the robots anymore, even though he was well aware of what they could do to him, but he didn't want to get hurt either.

He managed not to run and hide. Instinct kept telling him how to survive, but he was starting to ignore it more and more often. Yes, he wanted to survive as much as anyone, but he wanted to explore and discover new things and meet new people too. What was the point in living if you could experience life? Deep down, Four could feel the faint stirrings of guilt as he realized he was putting his personal desires above his purpose. His purpose should always come first...

But he recognized this robot! He knew that face, it was a familiar one he had seen only recently. Any fear he had instantly fell away, and he scrambled on top of the coffee can as if an extra six inches would make much of a difference. Tiny optics click and blink as he tiredly catalogues the sight of the approaching Decepticon into his memory.

Why not come closer Thundercracker? He can only do so much examining from all the way down here.

It was certainly true that while he was being quiet for a Cybertronian, he was probably downright thunderous to a being who was probably bounced a half-inch off the ground with every step the twenty-foot-tall mech took. Something Thundercracker had never really considered before.

Scanning the area carefully, he finally spotted the tiny creature that stared back at him. What the frag...?

He moved closer, peripheral sensors alert for any possible threats as he focused the majority of his attention on the creature before him. Oh! He realized that he recognized it. Closing the rest of the distance - slowly so as not to alarm the tiny thing - he crouched way down to get a closer look at the creature. Primus, it wasn't even the size of his thumb.

"Four?"

Imagine a mountain bending over to examine you. It was a pretty frightening thought wasn't it? Four didn't run though, and instead stands on his very tip-toes and reaches out a hand, as if eager to have to robot come a little closer. He smiled eagerly at the mention of his name and nodded, as if it were possible for him to be mistaken for someone else.

Four jumped off the coffee can and scuttled slowly within Thundercracker's reaching distance. It was at this point his boldness started to wear off a little and he stopped. What should he do from here?

Imagine trying to get close enough to a small insect to really get a good look at it "up close". Not impossible, but it took a sharp eye - or optic - and careful movements.

Even more careful when the "ground" one walked on consisted of shifting, haphazardly-piled detritus. Thundercracker moved as mindfully as he could, watching for threat of what would amount to an avalanche to the tiny creature. He saw Four reach for him before jumping down to dart even closer. Huh. Brave little thing, I'll give him that. Not sure what else to do, he put his hand down flat on the ground a little in front of the Creation, palm up - an invitation.

Four drew away from the hand for a moment before scuttling up to it and placed two delicate little hands on a finger. He accepted the invitation, but first he wanted to examine the metal 'skin' or whatever it was called. He tapped the metal and listened to the sound, mentally comparing it to the sounds Earth metal made. It may seem like a very pointless thing to do, but to Four every bit was very important.

The texture and colour were important, and he took his time examining both, carefully cataloguing the information to his memory. Eventually, he climbed onto a finger and scuttled to the centre of the palm. Peering up at the Cybertronian face, Four clicked his eyes several times, as if he were taking pictures of him.

Thundercracker was not one a person would normally call a patient mech - himself included - but he could say he understood now the fascination of getting a close-up look at something thoroughly foreign to him. Just about everything on Earth, for example.

He held very still as the little Creation studied his finger. Only once Four was safely in his hand did he move, no longer worried about upsetting the environment and harming the tiny creature. He stood, straightening as he brought Four up higher in front of his chest, watching with interest as the stitchpunk's optics shuttered and opened a few times in such rapid succession. He started to ask a question, then remembered the tiny thing was mute. "Do you have your communication device on you?"

Four was physical adept enough that the upwards motion didn't knock him over. He wanted to get a close look at the robot's face! The question drew his attention away from his plans of Cybertronian mountaineering though. He shook his head and showed his palms at Thundercracker as if to say "I have nothing."

Considering its size, Four couldn't exactly carry it around with him wherever he went.

Thundercracker knew of technology capable of micro-sized devices, so he figured he had to ask before assuming anything. He nodded. Moving carefully, he found a place to sit down, then pulled a datapad from subspace, setting it on his lap. After a moment's consideration, he switched the setting from text to graphics, bring up a program that allowed one to draw, figuring that would be easier than the little thing hopping around on a keyboard where each key was bigger than his feet. His stylus was too big for the stitchpunk to wield, but Thundercracker managed to dig into the junk next to him and unearth an ancient television set, from which he snapped off the end of the antenna. He offered the bit of metal to Four. "It's set to draw on. You can use this to write."

The only reason, and perhaps luckily so, Jetfire saw the positively (to him) miniscule stitchpunk was a stray glare from Prima's spire which reflected off the upper edge of his eyes... and the only reason Jetfire actually looked was because that bundle of junk looked like it could have contained something...

Well, it did, but nothing immediately useful in his usual pursuits. Rather...

"... Four? Are you all right?" Jetfire carefully walked closer, attempting to leave the surrounding garbage undisturbed so as to not accidentally bury the tiny thing, and then kneeled down closeby.

No he wasn't alright, but his feelings weren't important right now. What was important was the familiar robot approaching him. Despite the great weight in his chest, he managed to jump up and watch the robot with an expression of awe and excitement. It was his favourite information partner!

The vibrations caused the coffee can he was perched on to topple over, causing him to jump lightly to the ground. A few months ago, the sight of a Cybertronian leaning over him would have caused him to panic and run. Now, however, he scurried a couple steps closer. His own curiosity was almost blinding.

If Jetfire was a bit more... proficient at reading emotions/body language, it'd probably have been easier to tell how unsettled Four was. As it was, while he could tell that while something might be off, not exactly how bad it was.

Further, despite his attempts to be careful, there was a limit to how little he could affect his surroundings, which was made obvious when Four's seat toppled. At least the stitchpunk was all right.

Smiling faintly, Jetfire carefully sat down, folding his legs in front of him and reached out a hand, though with the size, he wondered if Four would be able to get up on his hand by himself...

"I apologize for nearly tipping you over... Even careful, I suppose at some point you can't just help but affect your surroundings."

Four was becoming more and more used to having people reach for him, and stayed still as Jetfire sat down. The moment the hand was in reach, Four walked up to it and placed both hands on the smooth metallic surface. His eyes flickered several times as he was, once again, awed by the sheer size of this titan.

Getting on top of the hand wasn't much of a challenge, with the aid of the coffee can and a stick he found lying around. Stitchpunks were nothing if not resourceful. Four stood fearlessly on the center of Jetfire's hand. He looked up at him with an excited expression as he raised both arms in an 'up' motion that many human babies use.

He wanted to examine Jetfire's face, to see his eyes up close.

Waiting until Four was more secure and in his hand, Jetfire chuckled and did as wordlessly asked; at least Four was small enough there was no risk of his falling off his hand even if he stumbled around a bit.

It was... Interesting, to be interacting with something as tiny as this and intelligent; at this size, organic as well as mechanical, intelligence and sentience wasn't usually something that happened.

Compared to a human who might be slightly more uncomfortable and have hard to focus on something held up close to their face, Jetfire didn't have any issue with this, guessing how high Four wanted to go by pausing at moments and let the stitchpunk gesture for higher if he wanted to.

Up close, it was obvious his optics were covered by something similar to glass, though it'd be harder to tell whether the blue light came from behind, or was part of the glass itself... probably a little bit of both. Behind, the workings of the optics themselves could vaguely be seen.

Four was instantly captivated by the eyes, they were incredible in every way imaginable. Having never been one to be shy about personal space, Four instantly got close and started exploring the mech's face with his tiny hands. It looked so human-like! With his nose and his lips. He decided that he'd get to those in a minute, right now he wanted to examine the optics.

They were so alive! Four reached out and placed a hand flat against the optic, not considering that it may or may not be uncomfortable to the robot it belonged to. He's not sure why, but seeing the life glowing behind these alien eyes makes him feel... happy. As if a questioned had been answered somehow.

Up those close Jetfire could probably see that Four was not made out of the most sophisticated equipment: His eyes are made of tiny spyglasses, hands are made out of copper, and his entire body itself happens to be a left-handed gardening glove. On the surface he could very well be a ragdoll stitched together for someone's granddaughter.

His expression, however, is one of intense curiosity. There are so many things here he wants to know.

Luckily, while there were some sensors to register that something was up against the surface of his optics, as there was no damage being done, all that was registered was the pressure, temperature and resistance put on the surface, not any sort of actual discomfort.

Four's exploration didn't pose enough of a danger to produce anything but factual feedback, unlike a human's (or other organic's) eyes, which were a lot more sensitive and vulnerable to influence.

The material was smooth, and unless he held still or kept himself balanced, it was frictionless enough Four's hands would slip around.

Jetfire took in the details of what the stitchpunk seemed to be made of with curiosity - he didn't at first recognize what Four's body consisted of, but having been around humans for a while prior to coming here, it didn't take long to reconstruct what it had been, and it seemed...

Like a very curious mix of more hardy materials and softer ones, sophisticated or not.

"Were the materials used for you intentionally chosen, or do you know if that was what was at hand?" Jetfire murmured, keeping his voice low especially now that Four was as close as he was, changing not just pitch but volume to affect the materials of the stitchpunk as little as possible.

Whenever Four got to the "nose" there'd be no nostrils; the nasal ridge was flat and smooth, but close enough and one could feel or see slight unevenness in the structure.

Four actually played around with the frictionless surface. He'd place his hand on Jetfire's eye, and try to keep it as still as possible as he applied some pressure to it. His face would take on an expression of childish glee when his hand ended up sliding away from him, as if this game was the most fun he has had in a very long time. Yes he still wanted to learn all he could about Cybertronians... but experience has taught him that there was always time to play.

Oh, he was asked a question! Four stopped his fooling around long enough to shrug. He suspected that it was a little of both. The Scientist used the best of what he could find. But Four didn't like to leave questions like that unanswered, so he pointed at his left hand with his right. The Scientist used what he had at hand.

It was probably a good thing then that while Jetfire could feel it, there was no discomfort associated with the sensation, even if he had to abort the action that popped up, demanding the "obstructing items" be removed from his optics.

And despite the reply being wordless, it wasn't particularly hard to figure out. Nodding, slowly and carefully so as to not dislodge Four too much or make him slip, Jetfire glanced over Four again, considering the materials he was made of...

"How do you move? Would it be all right to scan you?" Because that might cut down on some questions... or add more.

Scan him? Well, that certainly sounded like an interesting idea. Four wasn't sure what Jetfire was hoping to find, his insides were mostly cogs and gears, all made out of toy parts. Jetfire might notice during his scans that Four didn't have an obvious power source, though Four had told him before that he was a part of a human soul.

He shrugged and nodded, giving Jetfire permission to go ahead and do his scans.

Drawing back his hand from his faceplates some distance, Jetfire frowned thoughtfully while he raised up his right arm level with the hand Four was on. There wouldn't really be any visual proof of the scan having taken place, and Four would certainly not feel it - partly because he wasn't made out of sensitive organic material like flesh.

And while he might not have found anything amazing, the fact that there was just cogs and gears and no distinctive/obvious power source was interesting in itself. Being able to see how everything was structured and what it was made out of easily made it worth it for Jetfire.

"That's a very elegant construction, for having to use what he had on hand." Jetfire looks up from... Well, he'd been reviewing the results on his HUD, which meant his optics, but obviously that hadn't been visible to Four.

Joe felt... sick.

He was usually angry but the anger was back now, boiling in his blood, and there wasn't even anything to be angry at. He got it now. He hadn't been brought here on purpose. The Firstforged didn't actually seem to run anything or belong to anyone (even if they did, he didn't care and hadn't noticed). So what the hell was there to rage at?

But there it was, burning in his blood, boiling in his ears, and he didn't even have any alcohol to temper it all.

So yeah. Junkyard. His home, basically. He wandered for a while, sometimes slipping and stumbling on bits of discarded scrap, eventually sitting down in the shadow of a rusted old... he didn't even know what. Something alien.

Damn it all.

Four heard him as he walked through the junkyard, and curiosity made him follow the human. He could tell that something troubled this man greatly, and he wondered if he could find out what it was. Though he had gotten much bolder over the past couple of months, he was still slightly wary when it came to approaching people he had never met before. Or so he thought he never met before.

When the man sat down, Four hovered behind a burnt out microwave, wondering if he should approach him. He seemed very angry, and Four would rather not be kicked or anything if he could help it. A closer look wouldn't hurt he supposed...

Four ducked and weaved until he hid behind a plank of wood that was merely five feet from the angry man. He decided that now was a good time to make his presence known, as it would give him a chance to see if the angry man would attack him. He was far enough away that he could easily disappear in this junk if he was in any sort of danger.

Small eyes flicker and click, sounding very much like camera shutters. Is someone taking a picture of you Joe?

Joe's eyes snapped open at the sound. No. Not Wily's camera-bots again, no, they wouldn't see him. He jumped to his feet, grabbing the nearest length of scrap, and...

Realized that this was just the damn Junkyard and if something was clicking, it was probably just a broken piece of shit. The Firstforged, if they wanted to spy on him, would probably use something that didn't make a sound.

"God damn it," he sighed, sitting back down. He still hadn't seen where the sound had come from.

Hm, that reaction was less than comforting. Jumpy humans, as Four can recall from his own world, were unpredictable and dangerous. If he wanted to make his presence known, he should do it by giving the human plenty of time to react to it.

Summoning up his courage, he scaled a glass jar and tapped a finger against it, as if to draw the man's attention towards him. This was a good idea, righ?

Edited 2012-09-28 04:57 (UTC)

Tapping noises now. What the hell? Were there rats around here? He turned to look in the direction of the tapping.

"Uh," he managed. What... exactly was he looking at, here?

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What is lost can't be found [open]

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He'll think to pull out a datapad for Four to write/draw on in a minute =3

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