|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 13, 2007 23:47:06 GMT -5
Black desert, white sun. The sun is high for a sweltering noon. The lack of humidly might seem a blessing, but it only compounds the problem. What might be muggy air, laden with moisture is instead barren and searing, a furnace's tongue. The black substrate absorbs the heat and reradiates it like charred coals.
Life would have to be insane to make its way here, even for a short time.
Madness is in the air, because there is a golden robot sprawled haphazardly on the black ground, like a toy dropped by a careless child. His form gleams fiercely and reflects onto the ebon expanse.
Emirate Xaaron wakes quickly and completely. No hazy fuzz consumes him; no fragments of dream veil his mind from waking life. It is a survival skill and one that he learned long ago. He quickly surveys his surrounding as pulls himself into a sitting position.
It could still be Cybertron. There are places there that even he does not know. Oh yes, the gravity and sky are all wrong. It lacks the... feel of Cybertron. It could be virtual reality or a fevered delusion.
But most likely, it's not Cybertron, and really, he cannot afford to act as if it is anything but. Emirate Xaaron stares up into the lavender-laced sky, as if beseeching it, and moves to his knees. Bowing his head and clasping his hands together, he murmurs a quick prayer, "Please, let what little we have be enough."
Then he is on his feet and walking. Emirate Xaaron is painfully aware of how obvious he is here, a gilded speck of life against dead black, but he consoles himself in the fact that anyone approaching will be nearly as obvious as he is. And if they have cloaking technology? Well, he couldn't have expected to notice them, anyway. He flicks his radio to broad band to listen for a hint of anything, anything at all.
First, he needs determine if there is any other life out here. Then, the how and why of his appearance here. Emirate Xaaron has never been off once Cybertron, and he reckons that the universe picked a cruel time to introduce him to its other worlds. No matter. Cybertron will stand without him. It must. In the meantime, he will do all that he can to return. He heads south, as the colour difference on the horizon seems promising.
OOC: Perceptor and Long Haul will both be appearing in this area. Feel free to notice or not notice Emirate Xaaron at your discretion upon awakening. He is a bright golden robot, though, even if he isn't very tall, and it's a sunny day. Also, the desert is very flat. Shouldn't be hard at all to see him, especially for Perceptor.
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Apr 13, 2007 23:59:18 GMT -5
There is other life out here, and not very far away at that. Of a sort. Mechanical life of a very similar sort to Xaaron, although there are certainly some differences.
This one's lime green, for one.
Long Haul awakens actually rather close to where Xaaron is, and in fact, he would probably have been spotted rather quickly, had he not been tucked just behind one of the strange outcroppings of jagged black rock. He isn't hiding intentionally; Long Haul doesn't know the meaning of the word "stealth!"* No, he just came-to just after Xaaron, and given the direction the other robot is walking, would probably be spotted quickly enough.
However, unlike Xaaron, Long Haul has no survival-honed instincts, and his first move is upon wakening is to unknowingly "blow his cover" as he groans once, stares up into the too-bright sky, and mutters, "What the frag?"
* Well, in all honesty, Long Haul has a vague concept of what the word "stealth" means on a literal level, but mostly it's one of those more respectable words that stay as far away from him and his usual associates as possible. The word "subtlety" also feels this way about several of his bunch.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Apr 14, 2007 16:08:37 GMT -5
Only a little distant, and tangential from a line between Long Haul and Xaaron, slowly stirs a third life form. Perceptor, too, might have been more easily spotted by the others, had he not been shielded by a scattering of the same juts of stone and rock that had shielded Long Haul.
Fortunately, whatever force it was that had left Perceptor in the midst of this desolate plain had more carefully arranged the scientist than Xaaron had been. Perceptor lay curled on his side, the length of his scope resting in a hollow of parched black soil and parallel to the ground rather that at any angle the unforgiving sunlight could penetrate. The heat pressing down from above and radiating up from the unforgiving black ground is uncomfortable enough without adding the unnecessary blast-furnace energy from light unintentionally focused through precision-tuned lenses and prisms.
The unexpectedness of his surroundings when he awakens holds Perceptor immobile for a few moments as he carefully checks through his systems for damage. His scope is intact and remains in optimum adjustment, none of his sensors appear to be offline or damaged, and even his weapons are present and carefully tucked away. Other than the anomalous location he finds himself in, all of his systems return acceptable values. Perceptor frowns and shifts to sit up, leaning back against the outcrop of stone that is doing nothing to shield him from the ever-present press of the sun upon him. Like Xaaron, Perceptor examines his surroundings, absently filing away details such as the shade of the sky and theories as to the possible high altitude atmospheric content that would result in that particular shade of washed-out blue-violet. A handful of black soil and rock is crumbled thoughtfully through Perceptor's fingers as he studies it, adding more details of chemical composition and molecular analysis to the files he is only just beginning to collect on the location he finds himself in. Gravity and humidity, temperature and barometric pressure, every value and reading from every sensor is carefully and neatly filed away, annotated for swift reference later.
This is not Cybertron, nor is it Earth. This is, in fact, no world that Perceptor is familiar with, either from personal experience, nor that he can reference from his databanks.
He shifts slowly, rolling on one hip to peer around himself and get a 360 degree view of the landscape. The flicker of gold and of bright lime green through the heat haze make Perceptor pause, and he hunkers down a little more behind the shield of rock that hides him. The gold mech he does not recognize, however Long Haul's boxy form is rather unmistakable, even through the mirage shimmer of oppressive sun beating against the unrelenting black plain.
With slow and deliberate care to minimize the disturbance of sound or soil, Perceptor transforms to bring his scope to bear on each of the other mechs. Perceptor is all too aware that he has neither the armor nor the weaponry to match up against Long Haul alone, and where one Constructicon lurks, others are almost always sure to be near. He needs a clearer look at these other mechs before he can hope to formulate any hypothesis.
Xaaron is, indeed, non-descript. Nothing about the gold armor, yellow optics, or unfamiliar configuration offers Perceptor any additional clues. Long Haul's blue optic band, however, brings the scientist up short even before Perceptor notes the Autobot symbol the Constructicon sports. This development requires further observation. With all but the length of his scope barrel concealed behind the thrust of stone, Perceptor remains motionless in his alt-mode, waiting for the other two mechs to notice each other.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 14, 2007 17:49:27 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron, it should be noted, bears no Autobot symbol. It is not a mark of neutrality or any sort of objectivity with regards to the conflict. It is merely that an Autobot symbol would be redundant on Emirate Xaaron, who has been the soul of the Autobot cause on Cybertron for so long. One might as well gild a lily for all that this gilded figure needs an Autobot symbol.
Well, Emirate Xaaron needed no Autobot symbol on his beloved, battered Cybertron. If he is indeed on an alien planet, which is the most likely option as compared to this experience being some sort of illusion, his exact factional identity may not be so clear. His styling are old, perhaps antiquated enough to be unfamiliar to younger Transformers, and they speak of a time before such rigidly separated design-lines. He bears no weapons, though, and perhaps he will suffer the humiliation of being mistaken for a neutral.
Sighting a flash of lime green, Emirate Xaaron grimly wonders if he will not suffer yet more than mere humiliation. A quick mental check of files suggest to him that the figure is Long Haul, a Decepticon recently manufactured on Earth and a component of the titan Devastator. Special teams tend to run in packs, and if there is a Long Haul here, he may have five other special friends with him.
Emirate Xaaron looks down at the ground and wonders if maybe, just maybe, he can grab a sturdy rock, trick Long Haul into transforming into truck mode, and take out one of Long Haul's tires. As slow as the Constructicons are, lasers travel faster than Xaaron can run. This land is unbearably flat, and Emirate Xaaron craves the safety of labyrinthine tunnels like this desert craves the rain. Retreat is not an option here, because 'being shot in the back' is not on Xaaron's to-do list. He has to face Long Haul.
Emirate Xaaron lets the thought of wild schemes with rocks fall away. He cannot aim worth dirt, and he knows it. Instead, he turns to face Long Haul, not a trace of fear showing, and he takes a few determined steps in the direction of Long Haul. Perhaps he can bluff that reinforcements are on the way and send the Constructicon running.
As he closes range, Emirate Xaaron notices something decidedly odd. Long Haul is wearing an Autobot symbol, as clear as day. Something is dreadfully wrong here, and Emirate Xaaron suspects Unicron's machinations. Was he not stripped from Cybertron when his planet needed him most? Still, slapping an Autobot symbol on a Constructicon seems far out, even for the Lord of Chaos. Emirate Xaaron calls out, "Hello there! What brings you to such a desolate locale?"
Smile. There are few things more terrifying than when an unarmed Autobot smiles in the face of danger. It is the look of a poisonous butterfly.
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Apr 14, 2007 18:21:30 GMT -5
It can be noted that Long Haul talks to himself. A lot. When not working with the rest of team green, he is traveling alone, and to fill out the time he makes conversation with the only one available: himself. The constant stream of grumbling that he's known* for is actually just a side effect of this, for he's gotten so much in the habit of speaking to himself on his own that he doesn't realize he still does it with people around.
"Wickin' reverse-weld smelt-fodder..." Long Haul begins a long, soft stream of build-related swears as he sits up and rubs his head. He stops a moment as his internal radio activates, then immediately shuts down, glares at his driver's-cab shoulder, and grumbles, "Slaggin' thing," before thumping that shoulder hard with the palm of his hand, a move which results in a loud clanging. It's only about this point that he realizes he's been addressed by a strange gold-colored Transformer.
Long Haul studies the other as he stands up, but can't place any specifics on the design. Obviously another Transformer. He doesn't think much of the lack of a faction symbol. The things went rather out of fashion after the First War (Long Haul remembers some very old coots calling them "slave brands"), and while the Second War caused a surge in their popularity, that was a long time ago and not everyone bothered about them these days.
Finally it occurs to the green machine that maybe he ought to answer the gold guy. Ever eloquent, he shrugs and grunts, "Damned if I know." He looks around. "Don't even know where 'here' is, and that ain't normal fo-..." Finally, the transport trails off and his optic band flashes brighter. "I... I don't think this is Cybertron..." he says, not far above a whisper, as he struggles to keep the fear out of his voice. Sadly, he's never been very good at acting. "Don't match any of my maps, an' I can't access none of the nav-sats or stations..."
Long Haul doesn't know to fear a confident Xaaron, but there's a hint of panic that's being forced into submission in both stance and tone as he asks, not the Autobot, but the sky, "What did bring me here?"
* He would be very surprised to hear that he's very known at all; some of the others in his group are known in the right circles, of course, but he's just the guy who makes sure they have the materials on hand to do their job.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Apr 14, 2007 21:45:37 GMT -5
Curious and more curious. Thus far, Perceptor is not noting any additional mechs in evidence, and hiding amidst the shards and scatters of stone like he, himself is doing, is not particularly a Constructicon tactic. For the Constructicon to approach an unarmed and apparently unaffiliated potential opponent, and not immediately draw a weapon also seems rather out of character for the Long Haul he is familiar with.
Perceptor is far enough distant that he must strain his audio sensors to catch their words, and even strained, he misses Long Haul's whisper, but Perceptor hears enough from his position. To admit deficiency, any deficiency, to answer so plainly without attempt at subterfuge is as out of place on the green mech as the blue optic band. Additionally, the distortion of distance is not severe enough to explain the faintest warble of discomfort in the Constructicon's vocalizer.
This is not the Long Haul he is familiar with, and this Long Haul is... afraid, try as he might to tame it.
Clearly, this situation is more complex than it would appear upon initial inspection. Perceptor sighs, certain that he will regret what he is about to do, but equally certain that it is necessary. Cooperation will be necessary to discover the extent of the situation they all find themselves in, and a solution to remedy it can come only after that.
Perceptor transforms and climbs to his feet, stepping around the stones that had shielded him from their view thus far.
"Speculating on the method of transport must, I'm afraid, wait until a proper evaluation of where, precisely, 'here', is can be completed. Cursory evaluation indicates that we are no longer on Cybertron, nor any planet I am familiar with. Admittedly I am not extensively traveled, however I can find no correlating data in my banks to indicate that Cybertronians have explored this particular stretch of xenogeography," Perceptor explains, pitching his voice to carry as he warily closes the distance between these other mechs and himself.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 14, 2007 22:01:13 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron considers Long Haul's response critically. Most Deceptions would know him, hated as he is by their kind. Emirate Xaaron fondly remembers a deck of cards retrieved from a Decepticon base, one card of which bore his face. There seems to be no recognition in Long Haul. Even stupid Decepticons can usually muster a weapon at him on sight. Long Haul's behaviour is downright unnerving, although he is careful not to let it show.
Emirate Xaaron is not particularly fond of people suddenly appearing in his field of view. It usually means bad things. So sue him. He's only survived a few dozen assassination attempts. He's gotten good at quickly recognising friend from foe, though, and at the sight of Perceptor, he almost allows himself to relax.
But he remembers that he's standing before a Long Haul with an Autobot symbol who hasn't pulled a gun on him. He looks for a symbol on Perceptor and is pleased to see the Autobot symbol, whatever it means here.
Well, nothing to do but keep talking. He greets, "Perceptor! Well, I see you're just as confused as I am." Nice to know everyone is on the same page, even if it is a blank page. He hates being left behind in the information race. He speculates, "Possibly this is some machination of Unicron or a residual effect of the Time Wars..." Emirate Xaaron rubs his chin thoughtfully. The latter point almost sounds more likely to him, despite the terrible timing.
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Apr 14, 2007 22:13:51 GMT -5
Long Haul straightens, his optic band again flashes, and his fingers get part-way to clenching before straightening again at Perceptor's sudden appearance. He then tilts his head and considers. Times aren't as safe as they once were, but this one is even sporting a recognizable symbol.
"Not... not anywhere known?" he asks, a bit hesitantly, as internally, a brief war is fought between panic and elation. On the one hand, he's out here, in the unknown... that's like exploring, isn't it? But on the other hand, he was snatched so suddenly and without explanations... sure, he often daydreamed of leaving behind Cybertron and exploring the universe, but he always imagined his build-mates would be with him. And Omega... Omega has that great new alternate mode, and just what use is a rocket to a CITY Guardian, anyway, but if the group of them were to just...
Long Haul shook his head and forced himself on the problem at hand. He points at Perceptor. "Okay. Now... you seem ta be tryin' to talk like Hook, only worse, but I got the gist... you ain't got any better idea where we are or why than I do, but you figger figgerin' the where is the most important bit." Then he jabs a finger in Xaaron's direction. "But you? I ain't got no clue what the slag yer talkin' about." There. Stave off panic by focusing on the practical. That should work.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Apr 14, 2007 22:47:02 GMT -5
There is a moment of hesitation, a bare skip in the scientist's stride as he approaches, as Xaaron greets him by name. Additionally, Perceptor is aware that Long Haul might be dissembling, however there is a subtle air of... innocence about the green mech that seems to hint that this Long Haul is not only incapable of performing that complete of an act, but that his basic core programming has never suffered the corruption of imposed Decepticon ideals. Long Haul does not recognize Perceptor any more that Perceptor recognizes Xaaron.
Curiouser and curiouser.
"I am afraid, good mech, that you have me at a disadvantage," Perceptor admits to Xaaron.
"You clearly recognize me, however, I am afraid that I have no recollection of you. I am, additionally, unfamiliar with this 'Time War' event," Perceptor explains, holding his hands out, palms up in a gesture of incomprehension. That it doubles as a subtle gesture of peaceful intent is quite deliberate.
Perceptor pauses close enough to hold a polite conversation with the others, but with enough distance to maneuver should his current observations prove false, and either of the others makes a hostile move. He fixes Long Haul with a speculative look.
"My name, as he stated, is Perceptor. As I am known to him, I believe you are known to me. You are Long Haul, correct?"
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 14, 2007 22:51:06 GMT -5
Rather rapidly, Emirate Xaaron changes his evaluation of the situation. This Long Haul really has no idea who he is and isn't acting threatening towards Perceptor. Because he can do nothing else, he must operate on the assumption that this Long Haul is not a threat and may even be an ally. That certainly smacks of the Time Wars, when strange figures from other times appeared and familiar figures vanished. During the Time Wars, however, he had the Wreckers at his command to deal with such troubles.
Also, Perceptor seems to have no idea who he is. Emirate Xaaron had Perceptor under his command on Cybertron for several million years until Perceptor shipped out. He would like to think he isn't quite that forgettable.
So. Assumption: timestream is borked. While assuming that all of time is out of whack may seem crude, it does elegantly solve the quandary of an Autobot Long Haul and a Perceptor who does not know his name.
On a leap of faith, he tries to explain, "I am Emirate Xaaron, an Autobot. In my timeline, Cybertron is about to be devoured by Unicron, a god who can transform from a planet to a massive robot. I suspect that such does not sound familiar to you and that if you explain what was happening to you moment before... here, it will sound as alien to me as my tale does to you. Previously in my timeline, we experienced a trouble known as the 'Time Wars', where mechanisms from the future displaced those from the present. I suspect that something similar has happened here."
Now, Emirate Xaaron just hopes that they don't think he's crazy. He's always prided himself on being a convincing fellow, but some tales are harder to swallow than others. Especially when they're true.
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Apr 14, 2007 23:04:12 GMT -5
Long Haul leans slightly towards Xaaron, his shoulders slumped, and stared. "Somethin's gonna eat Cybertron?!" he exclaims, once more the panic attempting to take hold. "Bu-wha-HOW? That'd have to... anything what could do that... that'd have to be HUGE?" His work-mates, of course, could totally build one if they wanted to. But why would they want to.
It takes a moment for him to realize he's been addressed by Perceptor at all, and at first he brushes Perceptor's introduction off with, "Yeah, sure, Long Haul." Then he turns back to Xaaron and gestures slightly with his right hand. "Now, this guy who wants to e-" Long Haul's optic band flashes suddenly, and he turns back to Perceptor. "How'd'ja know me?" He pauses and attempts to work it out for himself. The alternate transform, whatever it may be, seems wrong, but perhaps... "You in design or construction or sumptin'?"
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Apr 14, 2007 23:30:03 GMT -5
Perceptor listens thoughtfully to Xaaron's explanation, every evidence of quiet belief in his expression. He, too, has come to the conclusion that, regardless of who Long Haul appears to be, this is not the Constructicon he is used to, and is likely a transport from at the very least, a different chronological era, if not an entirely different universe. As unbelievable as it seems, it is the only logical explanation, short of treachery, and Perceptor is quite frankly unconvinced that this level of confusion and innocence can be feigned.
"Intriguing. In my timeline, Unicron has already attacked, and has been defeated by Rodimus Prime who wielded the Matrix after retrieving the artifact from Galvatron. I cannot verify the speculation of the Unicron entity's 'godhood', however. After Unicron's defeat, the Decepticons, under the leadership of Galvatron, have retreated, leaving Cybertron in Autobot control. Outposts on Earth, including Autobot City, are still fully manned, as well. Unicron retains some influence, however his power has been significantly reduced and curtailed by the near complete destruction of his physical form. Damage to Cybertron was... extensive, however repairs are fully underway," Perceptor explains to Xaaron, sensing some faint surprise and... perhaps disappointment that Perceptor did not recognize him?
No help for that just yet. "And, yes, Unicron is quite immense. The destruction and consumption of both of Cybertron's moons was accomplished quite easily and in very little time. Too little even for those mechs and life forms in residence on those moons to affect their own escape. Fortunately, the majority of those individuals were rescued by Rodimus's team before they could be processed into raw materials by Unicron."
Perceptor sighs a little sadly. Many good mechs were lost in those few days, either to Unicron, or to Megatron's forces before.
"You and your team mates are known to me in my timeline and universe. The Constructicons are known to a great many mechs of both factions in my timeline. Perhaps you can tell me, Long Haul... What date stamp do you most recently remember?" Perceptor pauses here, hesitantly debating if he should go on.
Explaining Long Haul's potential fate seems cruel, however, if mechs are being abducted from various times and universes, the possibility of running into a Constructicon that would be as familiar with Perceptor as he is with the Constructicon should not be overlooked. Such a situation could - would most likely - prove to be hazardous, if not deadly to Long Haul, as well as to Xaaron and Perceptor.
|
|
|
Post by Emirate Xaaron on Apr 15, 2007 9:03:38 GMT -5
Emirate Xaaron says quietly, diplomatically, in Long Haul's direction, "The work of your team is famous, Long Haul." Infamous, as the case may be, but Xaaron affects the tone of fan more so than critic. He reasons it better that Long Haul not know what he could be - and is, in another timeline - lest he gets ideas. At least, he doesn't need to know right this second, when Xaaron doesn't have a good enough feel for his likely reactions. He adds, "Unicron is beyond imagination. Count yourself lucky that you haven't endured the sight of him." Of unrelenting orange that blots out the entire field of view, of talons like mountains, of skeletal wings that seem to stretch to infinity...
When Perceptor again resumes speaking, Xaaron trains his concentration to listening to the scientist. Xaaron's own Perceptor had an unshakeable addiction to polysyllabic communication, and it seems that some things are constant, for this one does, too. Emirate Xaaron rubs his temples, thinking. This Perceptor could be faking. He's certainly intelligent enough for it. Emirate Xaaron finds it hard to imagine someone who does not acknowledge Unicron's divinity, but he supposes that perhaps this Perceptor is an atheist. There were always those odd souls who felt that they arose from naturally occurring gears and pulleys, rather than the work of Primus, created to fight his ancient enemy.
Or it could go back to his earlier assumption that the timeline is borked. Maybe it's just that.
Emirate Xaaron glances around, wondering if any other anachronistic anomalies will appear. He states, tone wistful, "Your timeline seems perhaps a bit more fortunate than mine, Perceptor." Then, he tries to turn their attention to a more pressing subject, "We may wish to get a move on. We may not be alone here, and I do not feel safe in so flat an area with so little cover. We should at least seek some reasonable sort of shelter, and then we can discuss differing chronological backgrounds at our leisure."
He considers Long Haul. The design's a little rounder than the files indicate as correct for him. In fact, it looks a bit more Cybertronian. To be safe, he inquires, "Are you still a dump truck, Long Haul?" And, for completeness, "And you a microscope, Perceptor?" Long Haul's probably not going to like what Emirate Xaaron is thinking, but Long Haul will be in good company in that regard.
|
|
|
Post by Long Haul on Apr 15, 2007 13:00:45 GMT -5
Without thinking (because all of the thinking is being taken up by an attempt at processing what the other two are saying), Long Haul answers Perceptor's request for a time stamp with a Cybertronian date that's some nine-million years prior to what Perceptor would view as current. It corresponds to the winding down of the Golden Age and the winding up of the war, a time when a few areas have been hit hard, but where the majority of the population of Cybertron views hostilities as a distant problem, and one that's not likely to ever trouble them, personality.
Eventually, he does manage to get the rest of what the two are saying as processed as it's likely to get. Long Haul straightens, his optic band brightens fractionally, and there's almost a cheerful 'bounce' to his movements as he turns towards Perceptor, then Xaaron. "Famous, huh? I like the sound of that. Think I'd like it better if you guys weren't soundin' like you was running jittered-ticks in yer processors where you're needin' a fixed clock while tryin' to process the after-effects of onna Mixmaster's 'brews,' but them's the breaks."
Then, if nothing else has convinced Perceptor and Xaaron that this is not the Long Haul they know, his next move might well do it, for with this move, Long Haul proves himself, likely beyond a shadow of a doubt, to be the most naive, unsuspicious, and foolishly trusting robot present. What does he do? He casually, unthinkingly, turns his back on the other two in order to fully survey their surroundings, a move that displays a degree of casual trust in two individuals he's known for only a few moments that could well be thought insane by even the most generous-natured Autobot of later years.
As he turns, he speaks, "Well, intermittent shorts in yur processors aside, good point about finding cover." He makes a broad, sweeping gesture with his right hand, indicating the south and the east in a semi-circular motion. "Get us outta this sun. That funny green stuff looks to be all I can spot from here, though." He turns part-way back towards Xaaron and tilts his head. "Dump truck? Yeah, pretty much." He never cared much for his alt mode, but it's not something he gives much thought to, either.
|
|
|
Post by Perceptor on Apr 15, 2007 18:55:02 GMT -5
As Long Haul effectively places himself deep in Perceptor's past, the scientist nods, an expression on his features that speaks volumes of having a theory confirmed. Long Haul's blithe trust simply reinforces Perceptor's already confirmed suspicion; not even upon pain of death could the Long Haul he was most familiar with be forced to act the same in so natural and casual a manner, regardless of how badly he wish to deceive his foes.
Although there are no guarantees that they even hail from the same universe, for the moment, at least, it gives Perceptor a very superficial reference. One that he will gladly accept.
He turns his attention back to Xaaron, nodding. "I agree. Prolonged exposure to these elevated temperatures may prove detrimental to our systems. And... yes. My alternate mode is that of a microscope. I am afraid that I must prevail upon one of you if haste is to be achieved," he replies apologetically.
|
|