re_alignment_logs | 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.))

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Looks more like just a scrap heap to me. And I know my scrap heaps."

Is this going to be a bonding moment about hating Starscream? Because he's totally down for that. A hand rests on his hip, gesturing to the distance just casually. "That waste of a spark made an imposter of me and put me in prison. First thing I'm gonna do when I see him is pound a few dents into his scrawny chassis.

I like ta think it's stress relief."

"Right...." Slipstream wasn't too sure about bots being familiar with scrap.

And, Starscream was a much more interesting topic, anyway. Not that she was interested in him. The loser! She laughed, an involuntary trill at 'waste of spark', then tried to school her expression. Starscream hadn't even had a spark, recently; not the one she knew.

Slipstream put up her open hands. "Don't look at me to stop you. Though- one might think, by now, that he likes it."

"That only makes it all the more satisfyin', ya know. If he enjoys it, and I enjoy it, then everyone wins, yeah?"

He gave a slight chuckle, gesturing to her. Now that he thought about it, he'd never seen a femme seeker, let alone one on the Decepticons...And one that promoted the smacking of Starscream?

"Apologies for this comin' out odd, Slip, but you're a bit odd for a Con. Most try and tear out my spark by now."

Slipstream gave a skeptical look to Wheeljack's reply. She wasn't sure beating on a bot who could take a beating like no other was an effective means- to anything.

"Designation's Slipstream, Wheels."

She shifted weight to her left leg. Her hand on that hip, she raised the right, as if were inspecting the tips of her talons for sharpness. "Don't know what Decepticons you've met, but I can't say ripping open spark chambers on strangers sounds fun. Don't see you guarding a space bridge, or even drawing weapons on me. Don't see any warlord, here, deigning to give me orders, either."

"If you're goin for a nickname, Jackie works."

This is all sorts of awkward to him, actually. Is he really having a conversation with a Decepticon that didn't have them on either sides of a blaster? It was a new feeling. He unhitches his grenade, tossing it up and down idly as he listens to her, eyebrow perking at every part of the statment.

"Strangers with Autobot symbols? Thought that was your job. Snuffin out sparks, I mean. Least, that's what I've been dealin' with for the past few centuries. Rotostorm, Seaspray, Inferno. All of them scrapheaps. And strangers to a Con."

Not that he expected sympathy, but he's trying to figure out if she's just putting on the charm and claiming she's not as evil as expected.

"You're meanin' to tell me not all of ya are like that? What's the occasion?"

"Do I look like some slagging maintenance bot, Jackie?" She demanded. Her vehemence, to her thinking, should have suggested 'No' to be the correct answer.

Her optics tracked the grenade, which she supposed to be a type of explosive device, though it was not identical to those she knew Starscream to use.

"An air warrior is not some debris-sweeper, or exterminator!" She didn't have her brother Thundercracker's ego, but Slipstream did count herself as a Seeker, and an Air Commander. She had some pride, an possibly a fair amount of elitism to match.

"I'm not some frontliner who lacks for strategy." She smirked. "But, keep asking why my claws are still clean, and I might just have to dirty them, Jackie."

"If ya were, I'd say you're the best lookin' maintenence bot out there."

They're all really ugly, usually. It's not like they have time to put on robot make-up or dress nicely for the day.

"You really think you can take me, Princess? Not that I'd turn down a good fight, but like ya said, I'd like to avoid a scuffle after a two second meeting."

She didn't know if this was sincere flattery, or some of those heavy platitudes Sunstorm uses, or some kind of diversionary tactic. The lack of knowledge annoyed her as much as being judged for her appearance, so it was probably most effective as a diversionary tactic.

Ultimately, she hissed in annoyance. "You want to find out?" Fight she could do. Win? A lot of variables went into that calculation, and she didn't have enough data to know one way or the other.

He put his hands up in defense. Hey, if she was asking for it...

"You sayin' you wanna scuffle?"

"Did I say that?"

Slipstream took a single step back. "We could have mutual enemies here for all we know. No purpose injuring each other."

"Atta girl." It didn't sound condescending this time, at least. He held out a hand for a slight fist bump. You know what those are, right, Slipstream?

"Whattya say to a truce?"

Slipstream cocked her head at the offered fist. This, like the shaking of hands, involved getting in melee distance. That gave a bot with bladed weapons some advantage.

She curled her talons, then slowly, cautiously advanced her fist.

"We'll just- take each others' word?"

She bumped, then drew her hand back quickly.

The fist bump is well received, and he draws his hand back to reassure her that he's not going to sucker punch or...sucker stab. A smirk draws upon his lips as she states that.

"Don't really got a reason to betray ya.

I gotta admit--and don't take this the wrong way--you're the first Con that's been approachable."

Wheeljack's observation causes Slipstream some hesitation. Truthfully, although she has respectable rank and knowledge, perhaps due to her particular origin, she hasn't been a Decepticon all that long. That she could be doing it poorly, or that universes can be so different each leave her unsettled.

But she needed an excuse. "You're not even from my universe, so it's not like you are part of the Autobot regime there."

And, if she were to target someone, it would be in a fashion that prompted the least resistance or retaliation.

Wheeljack's already started inspecting the place out, picking up a piece of metal or two to inspect as she talks. Don't worry, he's still listening! He's just very good at multitasking.

"Autobot Regime? That what they're calling it now?"

That was certainly a new one.

OPENING LOG: Awakening

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