re_alignment_logs | OPENING LOG: Awakening

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OPENING LOG: Awakening

WHO: Everybody!
WHERE: The Junk Pile.
WHEN: Right here, right now.
WHAT: Game opening! Our Heroes find themselves in a strange place not of their own world, however familiar (or not) it may be.

Consciousness is slow, and a struggle to obtain. The moments before darkness are hazy enough; a great vertigo, a twisting, and then, falling. Falling for what seemed like forever. And when you are finally aware of your surroundings, it is most decidedly not where you came from.

Instead, you are now in what appears to be a wasteland. A wasteland...of junk. Debris as far as you can see, heaped in mini-mountains that offer only so good of a view of the world around you. Perhaps in the distance, you can make out some flatter land, perhaps you can just make out what looks like a crevice - but it's difficult at best. The light here is all wrong, the two greatest sources being a white line in the alien sky that doesn't so much give off light as simply have it - and something in the south that glows like a setting sun.

You may or may not notice it at first, but you, too, have something alien - something on your arm, more likely than not. A marking that glows softly, but offers no clue as to how it got there - no pain, no sensitivity. It's simply there, as you are here.

So.

Now what?

((OOC: This is it, you guys! Have a blast! Please remember to keep everything under the first thread for now; we'll be adding the Firstforged in in a little bit...

OKAY There is now a second thread to post in! Feel free to make new threads there to react to the arrival of the Firstforged, or respond directly to the Firstforged themselves.))

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Ratchet was expecting maybe an extra set of hands probing around his chevron to try to untangle it. Maybe some help flipping themselves into a position that wasn't quite so overly terrible.

He was not expecting to have his leg almost pulled off.

"Fraggit, Wheeljack, you're gonna tear my leg off!" He kicks out, attempting to pull his leg free from the other mech's grip, bitching all the while, "If that happens, I'm gonna limp after you and beat you to death with it."

His chevron is going to be so bent after this. It breaks his heart in the tiny part of him that still worries about vanity.

Knock Out actually flinches when Wheeljack grabs him, and he's too damn stressed out to even try to bluster past it. He does groan when the Autobot starts pulling him apart though, snapping, "Careful! You're going to leave dents!"

Not that he isn't already dented and scratched all the way to the Pit and back, but that doesn't mean he welcomes new ones.

He doesn't fight otherwise, though, focusing instead on kicking at Ratchet's hips and legs, trying to catch an armor plate or a seam and add some extra impetus to their separation. The sooner they're apart, the better.

Wheeljack could feel the grip on his shoulder. "Good idea, champ, keep hold of that," he advised, really putting his metal muscle into it now. The two were tangled well and good, and he almost wondered if all those metal do-dads on the two were really necessary. They just got in the way, really. A slight shift in position, now, as he set Knock Out down on the junk heap, pressing him into it as he moved his hand up to Ratchet's lower abdomen, exerting for there at full potential.

Slowly but surely they were coming apart, but he can't help but make a little remark.

"No worries Docs, you'll be free in no time. Just not in front of the kid next time, okay?"

"Or you could let me down first?" Raf suggested, shifting his grip some so the metal isn't digging so hard in to his palm. He really doesn't think Wheeljack will take him up on that, so he just- well.

Keeps hanging on.

And pointedly gives Ratchet the benefit of the doubt. They're robots. How would that-no, he's not going to wonder how that'd even work.

Ratchet snarls when Knock Out's heel clangs against his back, and ~~stops yelling because obviously that's going to have no effect on anything~~ keeps shouting loudly even as he tries to ignore the pressure Wheeljack is exerting on his torso.

"If you are actually implying that I would willingly do that sort of thing with a Decepticon, you've got another thing coming, Wheeljack. And that thing is my fist. Coming. To. Your. Face!"

The last word comes out particularly stressed -- Wheeljack's efforts are pulling the two apart, and Ratchet's chevron just buckled under the pressure. It feels like his head is splitting in two.

"I should be insulted," Knock Out grumbles, forcing the words through clenched dentals. "My charms are-- hn!-- irresistible."

His hands scrabble through the junk until he manages to find something big enough to anchor him when he grabs it. He hangs on tight, leaving off the kicking in favor of trying to brace himself. Sure, he might be cooperating with Autobots, but that was far better than being stuck to Autobots.

Sorry kid. His hands were tied right now, but if you find a slide or something, go for it. He's not going to stop you. Ratchet'll get pretty upset, though. He could feel the metal starting to unhinge, and with a CLANK! both bots are removed from each other.

His apologies, Ratchet, you might go flying a few feet. It's unintentional. Really. The Wrecker gave a slight smirk, still keeping his grip on the Decepticon Medic, looking over his fine method and end result.

"Irresistible, huh?"

His brow perked up. Someone wasn't impressed.

oh god there really is such a thing as robot sex, isn't there.

Raf tries to blank this thought from his mind and focus on hanging on, hoping desperately he's just jumping to conclusions and that they're talking about something completely difference. He is entirely too young for this - whether or not a couple of the kids in school are trying to flaunt it, they're all too young thank you - and follows Ratchet with his eyes as he goes flying.

You know what? Ratchet seems a little safer than Wheeljack right now, especially with Wheeljack looking as though he may be about to get in to a fight with Knock Out. Taking advantage of his experience in climbing Autobots, Raf makes his way down Wheeljack's armor, landing hard on the ground but not hard enough that he can't start running towards Ratchet to make sure he's okay.

"Oooh, Mister Knock Out, ooooo-OOH PRIMUS.", snarks Ratchet as Wheeljack tugs and something gives and he goes flying back into the trash heaps.

"Fraggit, Wheeljack, did you really have to send me flying?"

It takes a bit for Ratchet to struggle himself upright, rubbing at his abused chevron (it's bent now, making him look permanently annoyed ... as if he weren't already). He's more forward, but Raf is running his way and Knock Out is free, so he bends and scoops up his human friend, protection ever his first priority.

"Mm, that's right. To anyone with taste, anyway." Knock Out's words are mocking, but his voice is flat, missing its usual sing-song lilt. He's utterly tense under Wheeljack, engine veritably roaring in his chest. He knows that if this comes to a fight, he's as good as scrap.

Sarcasm probably isn't the best way to keep the confrontation from escalating, but he can't help it. The snark is kind of habitual.

He glances nervously between the two Autobots, even spares a second of appraisal for their little pet, then attempts to smile up at Wheeljack. "Thinking of letting me go anytime soon?"

As long as Raf didn't get himself killed, Wheeljack was fine with it. A little bruise or two was healthy. Builds character. He was even more reassured when Ratchet scooped him up. As for the threat...he's probably had worse than a punch from you, old man. He's not too threatened.

Turning his attention back to Knock Out, he gives a simple smile in return.

"Nah, I got the warm, fuzzy feeling just holding you like this."

And then he dropped Knock Out like a lead balloon, dusting his hand off on his chassis.

Raf trusts Ratchet. He trusts Wheeljack, too, but he knows Ratchet, and he's more than willing to let himself be scooped up by his large friend and to get a grip on him as well.

"Are you all right?" he asks, noticing the dent chevron. That sort of thing doesn't hurt too bad, does it?

Ratchet smiles in what he hopes is a comforting way as he cradles Raf in his hands, glad to see that his friend is well after what must have been quite an ordeal, dealing with Wheeljack.

"I'll be just fine. My head aches a bit, but it's fixable."

He's a bit distracted while speaking, half of his attention directed at Wheeljack and Knock Out. He hopes the Decepticon just ... leaves at this point. He's not in the mood for a fight, not with Raf here and so vulnerable to damage.

"What about you? Are you well?"

Knock Out grunted as he hit the ground-- or what passed for ground around here, anyway. He lurched to his feet and immediately started to backpedal up the nearest mound of trash, his eyes fixed on the two Autobots.

"Ahaha well this has been fun--" 'Fun' here to be read as 'nothing of the sort'. "--but if you two don't mind I think I'll, ah, I'll just be taking my leave. Don't want to overstay my welcome and you have your little friend now and--" And he was babbling. Scrap, if that wasn't a tell, he didn't know what was. He tried to salute jauntily when he got to the top of the junk pile, but his hand was shaking.

He had to get out of here.

Turning, Knock Out threw himself out of sight down the other side of the mound. Transforming and skidding away in his altmode on a wave of junk, he could only pray that they wouldn't pursue.

Wheeljack watched the medic drive of, throwing a hand up as the car sped off along the junk pile. Good riddance.

"Bah, not worth it to chase."

And with that, his attention turned to the medic of the Autobot variety. "Ya okay there, Doc? Apologies for gettin' a little rough on ya. Desperate times call for desperate measures, yeah?"

He gave a slight nod to Raf. "Ya held on pretty good there, kid."

"I'm fine! I've been through worse."

Nothing he can name offhand, but. Frankly, as Knock Out retreats, he's considering this anything but the worst thing he's been through.

(All things taken separately, of course. He still doesn't know where they are, but he has friends! If only...)

"Have you seen Bumblebee? Jack or Miko? Optimus?..."

He props himself up on Ratchet's armor, looking from him to Wheeljack. Sure, he and Wheeljack haven't found anything, but maybe...before he got, ah, stuck...

"Mm, well. If you need anything, you let me know. Hopefully we won't be here for long, but if we have to find you supplies, I'd rather know sooner than later."

Inwardly, Ratchet is itemizing a list of fuel components that humans need for survival. Oxygen is obviously checked, but they also need water, protein, carbohydrates, fats, a plethora of vitamins and minerals and other trace elements... if he has to synthesize that out of the junk lying around in the middle of nowhere, that's going to be problematic.

"And ... no, I haven't seen any of them." He snorts, hiding his worry behind annoyance. "Haven't seen anything except Knock Out's front plating since I woke up here."

"Goes double for me. You guys are the only familiar faces other than the mad Doc.

Ratch, if we're on our own, ya know we're gonna have to look after the kid."

He pats his back, where the two katanas lie. You bet your aft he's not leaving you two to fend for yourselves.

You know what?

Normally Raf would protest about being taken care of. He even starts to, about to remind Wheeljack that he's practically the most mature one in his family.

"Hey, I-!..."

It trails off. That was...back on Earth. He seems to sink in to himself, a little...frowning with a furrowed brow.

"...where are we, anyway?"

Ratchet squints up at the sky for the first time since waking up -- in this pile of junk, the only good landmarks are the stars... and boy, are they telling him strange things.

"It looks like-- No." Ratchet squints more, covers his eyes to help him see better. "These are Cybertronian constellations, but... not." He points, guiding his friends' eyes. "The Mirtonian constellation is missing at least three of its points, and Lambda Scorpii is... much dimmer than it ought to be, aren't they?"

Already, the mech's brain is turning over this problem, but the only ideas he's coming up with are absolutely ludicrous... right?

Wheeljack's attention turned to Ratchet, at full attention. Did he just say...constellations referring to Cybertron skies? That was beyond anything logical by Wheeljack standards. His optics turn towards the sky.

Well, whattya know. There they were in plain sight. Or...half of them at least.

"Can't say I looked too closely at the stars before, but I know them. Traveled through em, in fact. And...there's a couple missin'."

Considering Raf's knowledge of astrology was limited to a single planet, he doubted he'd be much help. But he followed Ratchet's arm, frowning as he tried to make sense of them.

"So...they're just not there? Not even faintly?"

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OPENING LOG: Awakening

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in which Toast abuses ellipses until candy comes out

Candy's always nice!

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