re_alignment_logs | 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

It was really weird looking up at Perceptor, but by now Hot Rod knew to expect multi-versal variants of Autobots he knew. It made it no stranger for him, but at least it helped as a reminder. Shaking his head, the younger Autobot backed off.

"I- Sorry. I didn't... I shouldn't have said that. I just..." Just what?

"Just...?"

He waved a hand, as if doing so was going to prompt a better answer from the... Autobot. Yes, according to the symbol on the center of his chestplate, he was one of them.

"Speak up, now."

"-just...oh, I don't know!" He tossed his hands up in frustration. "I can't explain it Perceptor- you're a Perceptor, right? You kind of look like him, except- Well that's not important."

Now he was just rambling. He'd jump on any subject so long as he could just keep his mind off of other, more destructive thinking. He could still feel it though, lingering at the back of his mind.

"You aren't even trying. Regardless, yes, I am Perceptor."

Perhaps he'd be more considerate if he hadn't nearly been run into. Perhaps. Then again, this was Perceptor -- the one with fewer friends than even Ultra Magnus.

He tilted his head, and, slowly, proceeded to give the other Autobot a long, considering look. The more he stared, the more something began to occur to him.

"... You share several similar structural and design elements with one of Commander Magnus' crew." His head tilted further, optics narrowing in thought. "Hot Rod, I believe...?"

His calm was really unnerving. Hot Rod probably would have blown a fuse if he'd found himself called Rodimus again instead.

Hearing his name did help a little. He nodded. "Yeah. That's right. You with the Ultra Magnus that's here, then? You...don't happen to know where he is, do you?"

"With him? Primus, no." He shook his head, as if the very notion were distasteful. "Referring to him as 'commander' is simply a habit born of association with the one in my own universe. Not close association, mind you, but I knew of him, had met him on occasion. Very large, very droll sort of 'bot. Always carried a ridiculous hammer."

He waved a hand. So maybe he'd gotten carried away in his explanation. No real harm done.

"Mm, no, unfortunately. I don't keep tabs on him. Why?"

Judging from the blank look on Hot Rod's face, it was obvious that most of that explanation made absolutely no sense to him.

"It's...nothing. No- that's not true." Again, he shook his head. "Why am I telling you this?!"

It's all right, Hot Rod. Perceptor is generally used to getting those looks. Generally.

The hand he'd been waving in the air came to rest under his chin, fingers tapping at plating idly. "Likely because I asked you a question," he said. "You were answering it, if I'm not mistaken."

"No. I'm not." He didn't have to answer anything. This was just a waste of time. Why was he even bothering to say anything anyway when this guy was clearly in the way?

Hot Rod jerked his arm up quite abruptly, an unmarked arm, should Perceptor be paying attention. It clearly wasn't a friendly gesture, but in fact he looked about ready to fire at the other Autobot.

"I'm afraid that, yes, you were."

Because, even in the face of irrational, glyphless outbursts, logic had to be stated. Though, he did take a step back when Hot Rod's arm came up. The only reason he didn't deploy his own weapon was, unfortunately, confusion.

What on Cybertron was happening...?

... Ah.

"Tell me, Hot Rod," he began, slowly, his optics on that raised arm. "Which temple did you say you arrived in?"

     The smaller Autobot kept his weapons trained on Perceptor, his own optics narrowing at the question.

     "I didn't."

     Hesitation was no longer a concern. The problem was clear, and clearer still, the solution. Without another word wasted, Hot Rod fired his photon charges.

Perfect. This was meant to be a leisurely supply run. And now he was having a confrontation with one of Magnus' Wreckers. Or an alternate version thereof.

The blast hit the tank in one oversized shoulder, despite Perceptor's startled attempt to duck sideways. This was why he stayed off the frontlines, blast it all. He didn't want to fight.

But maybe there was a time when a superior show of force was enough to stave off a potential conflict.

He transformed, the normally smooth motion jerky, halting, and aimed the massive cannon of his alt-mode toward the rogue 'bot.

It would have taken less effort to bring down the Perceptor he knew. It seemed wrong for this one to be a fraggin' tank. Seeing the cannon aimed in his direction seemed to be enough of a wake-up call that Hot Rod held off firing another blast. He took a step back, now on the defensive.

The tank stood its ground. At least until Hot Rod stepped back. Then he advanced -- ever so slightly. His cannon made a short, shooing motion.

Go on. Get out of here.

     He had half the mind to attack again, but reason was bolstered by the massive cannon aimed in his direction.

     You just shot at someone.

     That realization brought in the moment's clarity was enough to make him wince. Hot Rod couldn't even find words for an apology or otherwise. No. He couldn't stay here. He'd do something stupid again and either end up hurting someone or getting himself killed.

     Twisting around, he dropped to the ground, landing on four wheels to zoom off in alt-mode.

Get a Move On

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